Survivor (A Skyrim Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Twenty Four

I was lying on the ground clutching my smoking arm, struggling to maintain consciousness when the large wooden door not blocked by rubble burst open.  Ulfric scanned the courtyard of Castle Volkihar with his teeth clenched tightly like he usually does when he's stressed.

His eyes followed the trail of blood leading to me and my wounds, fixed to the spot in brief shock. With a clatter, his axe fell out of his hands and he ran to me as fast as he could.

"Aemilia," he hushed, "Stendarr's mercy, what happened? Who did this to you?"

I pushed myself up to my elbows and attempted to get up. "It's...nothing..."

Ulfric's familiar touch grasped my waist and pulled me to him tightly. His hardy arms enveloped around my shoulders in a protective embrace, yet this time it felt as if he never intended to let me go. 

"Galmar, tell the men that we're ready to leave and to start heading back to Solitude. Make sure all of the wounded are treated and that every soldier gets a warm meal tonight."

The small group of soldiers, including Galmar Stone-Fist were standing awkwardly at the door clearly uncomfortable by mine and Ulfric's affection. They shuffled back through the way they had come, leaving me and Ulfric following behind. 

In an easy sweep, I was lifted off my feet into Ulfric's arms. For a second, his strength faltered and he so very nearly dropped me. 

Even so, there was nowhere that I felt so safe as I did when I was being held by him. No armour or strong walls could provide that security and trust than what Ulfric could. 

I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest, listening to his beating heart as we passed through the empty halls of the castle. 

As the air became cooler and the light became brighter, I opened my eyes to see two burning pyres at opposite ends of a field of trodden mud.  One of the piles was significantly bigger than the other, though both were made up of charred corpses beyond recognition.

"What happened here?" I whispered.

Ulfric looked down with an unreadable expression. He sighed heavily and paused for a moment to catch his breath. 

"I told you once that I could never let anyone hurt you and that I would send every single one of my men to hunt them down... And I failed. I failed them, I failed myself - I failed you."

I stroked the side of his cheek and looked into those sad green eyes. 

"Look at me - I'm still alive, and that's thanks to you and all of those brave men and women who fought. You didn't fail them; they died honourably with their swords in their hands and earned their place in Sovngarde. You didn't fail yourself; you were a true High-King today, and a true husband. Ulfric, I can't say how proud I am of you and how much I love you. You haven't failed anyone."

He ever-so slightly smiled and kissed me on the head before continuing forward. I had noticed that his back was hunched when it would usually be straight, his arms were shaking, and his steps were limp and strenuous.

"Are you okay? I'm sure I'll be able to walk just fine on my own if you're struggling."

He shook his head weakly and continued. "I'm just tired...from the battle," he heaved. 

The majority of the Stormcloaks had already left, leaving only a remaining few trailing behind. Galmar turned around from his conversation sporting a reproachful look as he saw the crescent wound on my cheek and the hideous gaping laceration stretching across my chest. He didn't even spare a glance at my smoking forearm.