Still-Born Shout [#wattys2017]

Chapter Seven

Sif had done what she had wanted to do. Not only did she utterly betray General Tullius and Legate Rikke, she also managed to wipe out an entire host of Imperial troops in the process. If that didn't set them back, she didn't know what else could've.

When she brought Jarl Ulfric his damned Crown, she saw the conflict in his eyes. She could almost feel the distrust radiating from him, but he accepted her, nonetheless. She wouldn't be a soldier, she knew that, but she would do everything she could to cripple the Legion. She would even help those Stormcloaks get them out of Skyrim. She wanted Tullius, the Empire, and the Thalmor to suffer the most. If joining Jarl Ulfric's cause was the way to make them pay for their false judgement, she would join it a thousand times.

The man called Galmar Stone-Fist had hatred in his eyes when he handed her the armor, along with a pair of boots and gauntlets. She supposed that in order to fight with them, she had to dress like them. She wasn't exactly looking forward to being rid of her shrouded gear, but she had no choice. She returned to Dawnstar and hid it away in the Sanctuary, briefly speaking to Nazir before riding back to Eastmarch. She even caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before she left; she looked like a walking corpse.

Jarl Ulfric immediately summoned her to the Palace of Kings as soon as she arrived at Candlehearth Hall. News must travel quickly in this city, she thought, as she left her temporary lodgings for the Palace.

She knew that by helping the Stormcloaks with their little battles, she would probably cross paths with the remaining races whose blood she needed to collect. She had already gotten a sample of Orsimer blood from a bandit thug that had made the mistake of attacking her on the open road, and she had obtained a Falmer sample from a Dwemer ruin she was forced to detour through on her way across the mountains. She shuddered at the thought. She hated all the machinery; it was so loud, and it reeked.

Only three more samples, and she could return to Septimus. Which meant she could see Mora again. If she helped him open the Dwemer box, in return, he would have no choice but to disclose what he knew about her parents. And if he didn't... Sif would think of something.

She entered the Palace of Kings, but didn't see the jarl on his throne. She went through the hall to the war room, where he was standing over the map table. Galmar Stone-Fist was nowhere in sight. As soon as she entered the room, he looked up. She saw his pupils contract.

"You summoned me?" she said in a low voice, after neither of them spoke for a moment. Jarl Ulfric looked to the table and nodded, placing a finger on Falkreath.

"Like I said before, you're going to the camp in Falkreath," he said. She turned to leave, but he spoke again. "I want you to answer a few questions first, though." She sighed to herself. Everyone always had questions, about something.

"Questions?" she turned and looked at him again. He hadn't looked away. She never backed down from anything, and Ulfric Stormcloak did not intimidate her in the least.

"Are you living, here?" he asked, clearing his throat. "In Eastmarch?" She wanted to huff with frustration. What was he gaining by asking such a trivial question?

"I am not." Silence, again. She sensed that he was thinking.

"You do know of the farm," he began, choosing his words very carefully. She raised an eyebrow. "If you are who you say you are. Sif..."

"Still-Born." She filled in where he could not. He gave an affirmative nod. She spoke. "What farm are you talking about?"

"The farm where you were born. It is here, in Eastmarch," he said, spitting out the words as if they had a contemptible taste. She remembered what Urag had said, about the farm from the story. He did say that it could've been in Eastmarch, but she never thought to ask.