Still-Born Shout [#wattys2017]

Chapter Thirteen

"I have questions for you, Red-Shadow, and you're not leaving Solitude until they've been answered."

Sif looked up from her hands, which were knotted together in front of her. Ulfric sat on the bench across from her and reached to the center of the table, where a plethora of fresh food sat steaming. A large group of the Stormcloaks that helped in the siege were breaking bread together before they dispersed once more across Skyrim. It was the evening of the day they took the city.

She watched him load a wooden bowl with what looked like fresh potatoes, lamb, and vegetables. She had no doubt that the soldiers had found Castle Dour's food supply. They were seated at the long table in the dining hall.

Sif sensed the aromas. She even let them linger on her tongue for a bit, to experience the taste. Still, no desire to eat arose within her. She knew that as soon as the food went into her mouth, she would taste nothing but ash.

"Where in Talos' name did you find those men?" Ulfric asked suddenly, placing both of his hands flat on the table and leaning forward. "Your host outnumbered my own. It took me years to gather my soldiers, yet you were able to amass your own army in a matter of days." He paused and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Did you use your Voice?"

"No," Sif said, almost immediately. "I had to go to Winterhold before I came here. I gathered them along the way."

He shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of food before speaking again.

"Elves? Argonians? They are not sympathetic to the Stormcloaks," he said quietly, scanning the room. Many Mer, Khajiit, and Argonians were scattered around the dining hall, as well as the humans who fought for Ulfric's cause. Sif deduced that Ulfric still didn't care to attract their attention. She didn't understand why. She had already convinced him of their plight, and he had acknowledged her words.

She simply didn't understand the concept of prejudice. To her, everyone lived, and everyone died. She did understand that Ulfric was discriminating against them, however, and her wishes to prevent it from continuing were strong. She saw the way some of them lived... To her, it wasn't acceptable in the least. Something unfolding in her heart wouldn't allow it.

"I promised that you could give them what the Empire would not," Sif said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was still wearing her ebony armor, but she had taken her furs off to let the blood dry. "I told them that you could make Skyrim a fair place for all."

Ulfric's face twisted first with confusion, then smoothed out with contemplation. He drank deep from the tankard at his side and continued to eat.

"And they believed you?" he said through another mouthful. Sif nodded slowly.

"They have reason to. I told them I would not lie to them, and I am not a liar," she said, swinging her legs over the bench and preparing to stand. "It would serve you well to fulfill my promises, Ulfric Stormcloak."

When she had left Paarthurnax and Delphine's body at the Throat of the World, she went directly to Winterhold, as Paarthurnax had implied she should do. Kyne's Peace only lasted her for a few more hours. In the dead of the night, as she was urging Shadowmere through southern Eastmarch and the blinding snow, Mora's return almost knocked her off her horse. His deep voice boomed through her mind as blood nearly sprayed from her nose.

"You little fool," he mocked. "You thought you could be rid of me that easily? You belong to me. Your soul belongs to me."

It took her twice as long to reach Winterhold. She only recalled the route because of the Stormcloak mission that had taken her there months ago to reclaim the territory. She had to stop every few paces; Mora's droning was drilling into her temples. Even Shadowmere could sense her unease. She could feel the inconsistency of the horse's gait, and every once and a while she would see his ears prick up or his eyes roll back. She wondered if he could hear Mora at all.