Song of the Dragon and the Bear

Chapter 63

A/N This is it, the final chapter. Enjoy, my fabulous readers!

. . .

"Is it decided then that Sybille Stentor will serve as interim Jarl of Solitude until a more qualified candidate is presented?" Ulfric heard Vara ask--they had agreed that as the Dragonborn, she was the perfect person to preside over the Moot-- and the Jarls all nodded. Sybille stepped forward from her place and turned to address the Jarls.

"I loved High King Torygg, and I still mourn him, but I recognize that Skyrim needed a new ruler, and I will serve that ruler as long as the decisions are what is best for Solitude and her people," the woman declared solemnly. Ulfric nodded. He knew the transition of power was going to be difficult, especially for the people of Solitude, but he had a feeling that this woman would be able to lead the city into peace.

Sybille sat, and Ulfric turned his attention to the other Jarls. "Now that we have Jarls present from all nine holds, the matter of the office of High King," Vara stated. Outwardly, Ulfric kept his face and tone neutral, but on the inside, he was a swirling storm of emotion, and a tight knot of fear had settled in his stomach. He had worked for this moment for years, but by the law of the country, his country, he didn't have to be chosen as High King. "Are there any nominations?"

Ulfric held his breath, tense as he waited for someone to speak. He couldn't nominate himself, and while he knew that most, if not all, of the Jarls in this room supported his claim to the throne, he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't uncommon in Skyrim's history for the throne to be contended by people who had once been allies.

After what seemed like an hour but could only have been a few seconds, Jarl Balgruuf spoke. "I nominate Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, to lead Skyrim as the next High King," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

The knot in Ulfric's stomach loosened, and he struggled to keep a relieved grin from spreading across his face as Vara asked, "Is there anyone who seconds Jarl Balgruuf's nomination?" At Balgruuf's side, Korir, the Jarl of Winterhold, raised his hand.

"I second," he said.

"Are there any other nominations?" Vara asked, and Ulfric had to resist the urge to clench the arms of his chair. There was silence.

"Then I offer a vote to the Moot. All in favor of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak to take the mantle of High King, raise your hand." Around the room, eight hands went up, and after a moment of shock, Ulfric added his own. "Very well," Vara said, placing the Jagged Crown on Ulfric's brow, "I present to you Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim." In a daze, Ulfric stood from his seat as Vara knelt before him, the rest of the Jarls following suit.

For a moment, Ulfric's voice abandoned him. Eventually, he managed to say, "I swear by my forefathers that I will serve this country with all of the strength that I possess." His voice grew stronger as he continued, "I will see that Skyrim is made whole again. This is our homeland, but it is the homeland of many others as well, and together the people of Skyrim, all of them, will make her a haven for all who seek to live in peace."

Ulfric turned to Vara and pulled her up by her hand until she was standing face to face with him. "But first, I believe I have a wedding to attend." Vara laughed, the sound clear and free, and the other Jarls stood, smiles decorating almost every face.

. . .

Vara spent the next hour or so by Ulfric's side as he accepted the congratulations of the Jarls and their entourages. The entire time, a kind of happiness radiated from Ulfric, one that Vara had rarely felt from him before. Finally, his fighting was over. There would be straggling pieces of the Imperial forces that would need to be taken care of, of course, and his rule would not be immediately accepted across the country, but for the most part, Skyrim was united. Ulfric would no longer have to battle the people he had once called friends.

Finally, the last of the Jarl's left and Ulfric turned to Vara, a happy weariness in his eyes. "That crown suits you," Vara remarked, reaching up to adjust the headpiece. And it truly did. On others, the jagged teeth would look intimidating, tyrannical even, but on Ulfric, the crown was noble, a symbol determined strength rather than simple brute force.

"Thank you," he said. "It feels strange, as if a new weight has settled on me, one far heavier than a simple crown should merit."

"Well, it is made of dragon's teeth. I can tell you from experience that their bones are heavy!" she teased, gesturing at her own dragon scale armor. Then her voice grew serious. "I know you worry about the responsibility you now have, but I can promise you that there is no one in this country better suited to bear it than you." She laced her fingers through Ulfric's. "And when that weight becomes too heavy, I will be here to help you carry it. Always."

Ulfric smiled. "I know you will," he said softly, leaning forward so that their foreheads met. They stayed that way in silence for a few moments before Ulfric spoke again. "Marry me."

"I already said that I would," Vara laughed. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"No, I mean do it now. I know we were planning on waiting until the New Life Festival next week, but the Jarls are already here in Windhelm, and the priest from Riften arrived early. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we moved the ceremony up."

"I don't have a dress yet!" Vara protested.

"So? We can both wear our armor. It'll be a symbol of the strength of our union." Vara swatted Ulfric's arm, but he only laughed. "I don't want to go a single day as High King without you as my Queen, Varaduilwe Oakensong," he declared, and try as she might, Vara couldn't stay angry with him.

"I can see now why you never would have made a good Greybeard," she grumbled. "You're too impatient."

"Please?"

Vara sighed heavily, but a smile found its way on her face anyway. "Fine, but I have to get ready, so you're in charge of organizing everyone and making sure this all works out."

Ulfric smiled happily. "I'll see you in the courtyard at sundown, Miss Oaken-Song," he stated, kissing her lightly on the lips. Vara simply kissed him back, shaking her head inwardly at the man's antics.

. . .

Ulfric fidgeted, his hands playing with the fur of his cloak restlessly. It was almost sundown, and Vara hadn't arrived yet. Logically, Ulfric knew that the woman wouldn't back out of their marriage, especially now, but he couldn't help the worry in his gut. And so he shifted his feet, earning him a pointed glare from both Wuunferth and Galmar, who stood on either side of the Riften priest.

They stood in the courtyard in front of the large ceremonial brazier that Ulfric and Vara had lit together almost a year ago during the New Life Festival. It amazed Ulfric to think that he had only known Vara for a little over a year; he felt as if she had always been a part of his life, and he knew that most of the city felt the same way.

Turning his gaze to the large crowd, Ulfric found himself smiling. Seated in a few rows of chairs were the Jarls and their courts, but behind that, was a wonderful mixture of people from all parts of the city. Vara had insisted that their wedding be a public one, and Ulfric found himself glad for that decision. In the crowd, Argonians, Dunmer, and Nords mixed, and as Ulfric looked closer, he saw people of nearly every race, people who must have come from other parts of the country. Instead of separating into the segregated groups that had once been so common, the people were mixing and talking to one another, smiles evident on almost every face. It was a beautiful sight to see, one that would have been impossible without the intervention and wisdom of the woman Ulfric was about to marry.

The sound of the Palace doors opening drew UIfric's eyes away from the crowd, and a gasp fell from his lips as Vara stepped into his view. The woman was gorgeous. She had worn her armor, as he had suggested, but she had forgone both her gauntlets and helmet. Her hair long white hair flowed down her back, carefully woven braids snaking throughout. Her pointed ears, a feature that Ulfric had first ignored and then found repulsive before realizing just how beautiful they were, poked through her hair and twitched slightly in the cool air.