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Prologue

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

There are several scholars who have written on High Queen Stormblade of Skyrim, but few of those scholars had the personal experience of having met her before those events. I knew her even before she was named the next Arch-Mage. I will interject that perspective throughout these works. While the High Queen went by many names and titles before rising to High Queen, Stormblade is most fitting of all the actions detailed within these pages – even more than being Dragonborn. Stormblade is also the only name she went by, once given that name by High King Ulfric.

Stormblade may have had a birth name, but no sources can confirm or deny any of the names she gave were her birth name or that they were in use prior to her appearance at Helgen. Survivors of Helgen, of which there were few, all noted that Stormblade was not on the Imperial lists at all. What we do know is that she was to be executed just prior to Ulfric Stormcloak and both were saved from their fate by Alduin. The very same dragon that she deals with directly in Sovngarde while still very much alive. This sense of the dramatic has followed her events as much as it followed those of her husband. This theme will be repeated by multiple authors in these texts. It is not meant to be repetitive, but indicative of how often this sense of fate or drama is felt by those people that Stormblade encountered.

With the passing of the High King and High Queen, I can present some materials on her life prior to earning the title Stormblade. These details have been purposely left, until now, at her request and at the request of several others that donated their knowledge to these volumes. In these volumes, I will include some of her letters after the war as well as those after her rise to High Queen. Three of her titles, which I knew before the rise to High Queen or even Thane of Eastmarch, were those of Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, Harbinger of the Companions, and Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold. She once noted, with no humor intended, that she found the Thieves Guild in Riften’s Ratways to be more honorable overall than the knowledge-thirsty mages at the College of Winterhold. The issue with Ancano, a Thalmor agent that attempted to take control of an artifact at the College, may have been a factor in her statement. She did secure many books and artifacts for the College’s library after the Thalmor were removed from the College grounds.

She had already raised the status of the Thieves Guild across Skyrim before she came to the College for studies. In fact, she only came here at the suggestion from others as a way to get what she needed to face Alduin. Nord biases, perhaps, had kept her from formal studies of the arcane. Stormblade is not one that I’d have thought would be selected for the Guild as she seemed more comfortable with large weapons and some schools of magic than the more subtle methods of the Guild. From reviewing sources, she had met with the Companions prior to making Riften her home. Whatever the reason, she took to the Guild more than her work in the Companions. I have heard that she was close, very close, to some of her brothers in crime, though I couldn’t confirm it directly. Letters that I will publish, as requested, confirm a portion without naming the parties in question, if those letters are accurate. The other rumors may have been the tales that came after her rise to Guild Master and in her status outside the Guild. I could confirm that she did remove one of her guild brothers from being captive by the Thalmor at the Thalmor Embassy, after her rise to Guild Master.

Another facet, often ignored by other scholars, was that the High Queen was a widow. In one of the failed attempts on her life – of which she said she lost count – her first husband fell to one of the Dark Brotherhood. She took the blame for it, saying that she should have wiped that scourge from Skyrim sooner, but she had gotten complacent with the constant threat. In the winter snows, the red and black stood out worse than an Imperial soldier, she noted once. Perfect for trapping in black soul gems, she commented at the Frozen Hearth one evening. That was the depth of her disdain for the Dark Brotherhood. Compared to Alduin and more direct measures within the Guild, the Dark Brotherhood barely registered to her until they forced the issue with collateral damage. Several in Riften noted that she was absent from view for a week after his death. When she did emerge, she took a carriage directly to Windhelm and was not seen in The Rift for some time.

In the time between her first husband’s death and the eradication of the Dark Brotherhood, she had seen to Alduin and also joined into the ranks of the Stormcloaks. I hear that the battles she attended had no prisoners taken. It was noted that she led from the front, even as an Unblooded, when they could see her at all. Her first few battles had her wading in with a battleaxe. Later battles came after she secured a temporary truce to use Whiterun as a staging ground for the capture of a dragon. In those later battles and gaining recognition in the Stormcloak ranks by Jarl Ulfric, her style changed to a sword and dagger method that was apparently quite gruesome. It would seem that the Imperials bore her rage before she turned her vengeance on the Dark Brotherhood. Her names within the Stormcloaks were many, but towards the end of her battles under Ulfric’s banner, she earns the name Stormblade.

This name becomes her adopted name, once given. All other names are forgotten until her death. When she was not using her blades in an act of vengeance, she could have been seen as the needed spring rains that may come in a bit harsh and fast off the coast. While the final ties to the Stormcloak line do not appear right away, this change certainly heralds of more to come in Windhelm.

Addendum: [4E 255] It has been 20 years since collection of these works began. The volumes are now numbered according to chronology, rather than as they were published. This change should make it clearer for the reader on the order of events. Original dates of publication are still noted.

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Volume 2: The Rogue

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Tracking down where Stormblade was in 4E 201 following her near execution was abnormally difficult. Not impossible, just difficult. Within days of the dragon sighting, she was seen within Whiterun in what may have been found Stormcloak armor. Certainly, she had not officially joined them at that point. Jorrvaskr appears to have been close behind. From what I have heard, she only ever spoke much to Farkas and kept everyone else at blade’s length. The Companions note that her favored weapons were axes at that time. Whatever her initiation was with Farkas, it allowed him to be able to talk to her outside of duties. There are long gaps in her time with the Companions.

She disappears from Whiterun after defending them from a dragon. She was named Thane of Whiterun at that time, but left the assigned housecarl at Dragonsreach. According to records I could find, she was summoned by the Greybeards. She did not answer it directly. What I did find was that she immediately went to Windhelm and entered the court there. Jorleif noted the interruptions, stating that Jarl Ulfric only barely allowed the transgression of court protocol until the topic became clear. Both surviving Helgen and a summons by the Greybeards mentioned together had Jarl Ulfric’s attention and he gave her leave to ask questions related to his time on High Hrothgar and about what the summons might mean. Jorleif noted that her interruption of court had brought a welcome change, even if only for a few moments, while anger and rebellion planning took a pause. Jarl Ulfric offered that they could use someone resourceful enough to get out of Helgen. She declined for the time being and disappeared from Windhelm. It was noted that she had backed out due to the summons. It would be at least 6 months before she is listed in records as appearing in Jarl Ulfric’s court again.

Her next appearance is in Riften. It is possible that she was only intending to stop in Riften on the way to Ivarstead and High Hrothgar, but it was more than a stop. She stayed at the Bee and Barb once or twice, but she was known to be around Riften and even other places in the Rift for over a month before she was ever seen in Ivarstead. Even after she answered the summons, most of her time was within Riften. It is at this time that she was calling herself “of the Rift” with whatever name she used at that point.

I’ve been able to track at least five different names that she used at that time. These names were all different from the one used in Whiterun. If she had varied more than her name, it might have been harder to piece together. The scars on the left side of her face that may have been from an animal and the claw style war-paint on the right helped piece together which identities were hers, along with her insistence to use the location moniker. Otherwise, she may have blended in too well with the other blonde and blue-eyed Nord women of the area.

It is during this time that it is believed she was lured into the Thieves Guild, which is headquartered in Riften’s undercity of storm sewers, dubbed the Ratway. The Guild does not let many details out, in general. I do have several members that were willing to share details, as will be seen in several unattributed letters, with the caveat for when they could be disclosed. Unlike the Companions, it is noted that she willingly called the majority of the Guild her brothers and sisters.

There is a period of time where her trust with the Guild is shaken, for justifiable reasons, but once restored, they were her family. It was in this period of not trusting the Guild that I had met Stormblade. Having known her for some time after that incident, I can say that I met her in one of her darkest times and, even then, she was in control of herself during the storms that broke around her.

From one of my sources within the Guild, I present the following on her early days within the Guild:

I first met the lass as she entered the Riften market. There was an air that I couldn’t ignore. Something different. A change. I attributed it to my sense for finding new footpads. She didn’t fit the normal mold, but there was that feeling that she’d be one of us. It wasn’t what I thought. It was Luck itself, of which the Guild had afoul. I’m not religious. Others have been, including her, and they were more correct than they knew at the time.

I targeted the lass for a job and she did it well enough. To see if she could hold her own, I sent her through the Ratway. Very few among our number came through with a battleaxe. She sauntered in to the Flagon with blood dripping off it like it was absolutely normal. Since the legend of our current Guild Master started, we have seen more large weapons down there. After finishing another job for me, she was brought in as one of us.

Our Guild Master, then, must have also sensed the change in luck that came behind the lass. He sent her on the most dangerous jobs he could find. Dangerous for our experienced lot and she was new. In weeks, she was raising standards. She took on every job. No complaints. Her questions were to the point and only for details to plan her move. I watched as she put every bit of gold from her jobs into the pockets of others in the Guild to train her. She also gained respect from each one with it. Respect from all but the Guild Master. When she brought a pet skeever in to stay at her bed, the Guild Master lost it. She didn’t see that part, since she was out at another job when he found out.

[The Guild does not discuss internal matters. However, it should be noted an attempt on her life was made by the Guild Master himself. The dangerous jobs noted may have been a warning sign of what was to come, though this is not confirmed.

It was also noted by others in the Guild that the skeever became a Guild pet. Others would care for it while she was out on jobs. After each job, when she returned, she’d play with it as if it were a lanky dog. Her one moment of letting her edge down. She had also trained it to both protect her as well as find small items for her in the Ratway. Skeevers do not live long, however, so it didn’t live too long into her tenure as Guild Master.]

Rumors are always a thing among thieves. We live in shadows. Those shadows take on a life of their own. With that lass, the rumors ran like wild fire. Each time she left for a job, someone else was rumored to have gotten close to her. Not many lasses among the Guild. She acknowledged none of the rumors, either way. If they were to be believed, she’d have bedded down with half of the Guild. In those early days, though, she had quite the laugh and was willing to entertain their flirting. The more status the Guild earned, the more stories there were of her in the shadows. That lass has more legends now than of things she actually did.

With one of our jobs, she used her status with the Companions to hide her intentions. They were known for handling animal issues and that could be a cover for her work. Hiding in plain sight was her method of choice. Rumors floated about where she was from, though all she would acknowledge was “Of the Rift” once she had started to make her way in the Guild. A couple of the lads thought some of her words, such as older names for the gods, sounded like she might be from up in the mountains or at least rather remote.

There was a dark patch in our history. Our Guild Master attempted to kill the lass. I don’t know the full details on how it went down, but both were missing for some time before she turned up again. While she was missing from our view, she married someone from The Reach. We hadn’t seen him before that point. She kept him separate of Guild activities, until his death. Being married spurred on new rumors in the shadows.

As time wore on for us, luck moved with her. Her sixth sense is part of how she became our next Guild Master. After what happened with our last Guild Master and the attempt on her life, she wasn’t speaking to most of the Guild. Even with her cold quiet, she was the best one to be Guild Master. We all knew it. She just needed time to make sure no one else was going to do the same. Under that lass, the Guild regained and surpassed any status I had seen in a long time. She found items we had only heard of in rumors. She managed contacts in every hold. She made her way into Thane of the Rift. She wanted to see personally what might damage the Guild from the Jarl’s court rather than trust the contacts we had.
When a rumor made it to the Flagon that she was also now Harbinger of the Companions, there were chortles from some of the lads. Our bartender had tally sheets for those of us that knew her best, for what she was going to do next after Harbinger. Those tally sheets would hide for a few weeks when word came down that her husband had been taken out by the Dark Brotherhood. A hit that was meant for her, no less. When it was obvious that she was going to be out of Riften for some time, the tally sheets were brought back out quietly. It was somber, but we were hoping she’d not be gone long.

News came down to the Ragged Flagon after several weeks that she was now Arch-Mage and bets exchanged hands. Our bouncer merely commented, as he won the Arch-Mage bet, “Bored.” Aye, she might have been. Even if most in the Guild didn’t know what she was up to, the fire they had seen, however, was inspiring the new recruits. It didn’t matter that she stayed away and only a few of us knew she was gathering titles from across Skyrim. We’d get word back of new contacts she had made. New jobs were coming in. Our trainers could barely keep up with the requests as we had more and more members as our status became known in the holds.

It was at this point that she started getting secretive in addition to her silence. She’d wear cowls that hid her face. As Guild Master, she’d be referred to only by that title. She no longer had a name in the Guild, though anyone that saw her prior to her title knew it. We knew what she said it was to us, at least.

Her joining the Stormcloaks just got a shake of the head from those of us that knew her. No one had picked that option. War didn’t seem her thing, to us. The betting board was dismantled so that the newer members wouldn’t see and get ideas. No one tried to judge what she was up to, as she just added to the gold and jewels that made it down to the rest of us with each change in direction. Rumors still followed that lass, though. Even when she appeared for an hour to approve a few jobs and ensure things were where they should be, there would be a rumor following it. They may have increased, even, now that she was distant from the lads. We heard a rumor that she rode a dragon at one point, but I never asked her on it.

[Perhaps more legend than truth, it has been noted that when the Thalmor invaded the Ratway around this time, the skeever let them know that something was not right. The skeever had started clawing at the doors leading from the Guild areas just before Stormblade arrived. Once she arrived and started asking questions about denizens of the Ratway that were not of the Guild, but still under her supposed protection as Guild Master, the Guild started to go on alert. It was too coincidental. The rumors of Thalmor in the Ratway were supported by the guards finding the bodies of several deceased Thalmor in the lake a few days later. The Rift, being under the Stormcloak banner at that time, did not investigate the cause of death for Thalmor agents.]

Later, after Solitude fell to the Stormcloaks, we saw her appear with yet another rumor. Her latest find of odd curiosities. One more item at her desk. We had merchants and armorers down at the Flagon. Every job was bigger than the last. She started adding new rules to our lot, but no one was really complaining. While her presence stayed limited and her face obscured, she did start to open back up and talk to her family again. Her laugh was still very rare, though, and the flirting that was seen had disappeared.

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Volume 3: The Blade

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

This volume is a collection of letters that Jorleif, Steward of Windhelm, had retained from the year between Stormcloak victory and the Moot the following summer. It is not a complete collection as some have been lost. Stormblade was now her moniker. She had been released from the cause by both Jarl Ulfric and Galmar Stone-Fist after the taking of Solitude. Stubborn as any of Nord blood, she refused to acknowledge that she was released or that her Thane status didn’t have duties assigned. Perhaps more curious is that she was recognized as a Thane in all holds at this time, but she only ever refers to the one in Eastmarch. Her letters never appeared in Windhelm via a standard courier or even via one of the Stormcloak scouts. Many times, a guard had noted that the Khajiit caravans were delivering sealed messages at Windhelm’s gates. At other times, they would appear in the Palace of the Kings without any delivery being seen. While the court at Windhelm treated it only as a curiosity, she clearly only entrusted the Guild with matters she found important. It has been rumored that her ties remained until her death.

1 Sun’s Height, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak,

If at all possible, I would like to petition that Windhelm assist in brokering the rebuilding efforts of Winterhold with the College. The tensions between Winterhold and the College are high. I have been conversing with Jarl Korir to bring about a reconciliation in my standing as Arch-Mage. It appears we may need the neutral ground of your court. If not now, I ask that you keep this issue on your docket for when you are given the mantle of High King.

Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch

[This matter does wait for the Moot to settle the status of High King before further attempts are noted.]

14 Sun’s Height, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak,

Let this missive be two-fold. I confirm any rumors as to my involvement in removing some pirate barriers for the East Empire Company. Our ports could use the coin from additional shipping, even if it is with Imperials. I’ve already seen the warehouses filling in Windhelm. I also regret to inform of the loss of a good soldier at Fort Snowhawk today. A dragon attacked and, while slain, it was not before Tyr Salt-Stone fell in battle. I stayed with the fort to see proper rites done. The fort commander will also be sending a courier along with notifications for the family. Please send along my own.

Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch

Kin of Tyr Salt-Stone – On this day, 14 Sun’s Height, 4E 202, know that your son died valiantly against a dragon. He ran at the beast’s maw to protect his Shield-Brothers and Sisters at Fort Snowhawk. Tsun will, no doubt, allow him entry to the wonders of Sovngarde for his bravery. I oversaw his rites personally. I will carry some of his effects to the shrines as offerings. May the blessings of the gods be with your family in this terrible time. – Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch

[It is noted that these letters showed signs of water droplets, but rain was not reported for the day when the letter was authored or in the time during its delivery in Windhelm. Jorleif noted that they sent a copy of her letter ahead, but kept the original due to this notation.]

20 Sun’s Height, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak,

I have visited Fort Greenwall and Shor’s Stone. The mine continues to run well. The spiders that plagued it earlier have not returned. Morale at Fort Greenwall appears to be good. Mead supplies are, of course, well stocked here and the conditions are acceptable.

Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch

25 Sun’s Height, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak,

Istar Cairn-Breaker has things under control within Solitude. The training here appears to be proceeding. The populace is settling down. I have secured a property within town, so their coffers should be less exacting. I have overheard conversations in the Blue Palace with the court mage that are quite intolerable, were it your court. I can detail it when I come to court next.

4 Last Seed, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric,

You will hear word, no doubt, of a dragon attack in Morthal. In this case, the beast was taken down without a loss of life. We do need to discuss some matters concerning Hjaalmarch, however, when I come to Windhelm next.

In the time following, I removed another Imperial camp that I found on the way to Fort Dunstad. The spirits at this fort are tolerable, given the climate. Several noted that they were honored for the visit, so I will continue to visit the forts as I can. More blankets, thicker wall coverings, and rugs would go a long way to improving conditions for those not on active wall patrols. The beds and larder here are in fine shape. They managed a few hunting parties before the snows started again. If it becomes necessary, I know of a caravan that could be persuaded to bring them some provisions outside of our normal lines.

Yours,

Stormblade

[It should be noted that the letters begin to change in Last Seed, with this letter being the first that the Steward had retained. There is no indication from court records what may have prompted the longer reports or the shift to a more familiar tone.]

20 Last Seed, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric,

Fort Greymoor is in poor condition. When possible, this fort needs a mason and a carpenter to correct the damages, along with a crew for each. If left to be, this fort will not be worth defending in 2 years. The timbers show rotten areas. Leaks abound. It is not an area we should have undefended. The soldiers here are in fine spirits, despite the many leaks and collapsed areas. If the coffers are lacking, we can discuss when I return to court.

Yours,

Stormblade

22 Last Seed, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric,

I will be arriving in court in a few days. I paused within Whiterun to check on how the city is faring under Jarl Gray-Mane. I would recommend having a few more of our men here, as a precaution. The Battle-Borns are constantly complaining, vocally and publicly. The rivalry between the two families appears to be just vocal for now. Given what occurred with Thorold Gray-Mane last year, I am not confident that the older clan leaders won’t be an issue. I have contacts that can contain some of this privately, if desired. If rumors reached you that I assisted with Thorold’s extraction from the Thalmor, prior to when I joined officially as an Unblooded, they may be confirmed with this missive.

Yours,

Stormblade

2 Frostfall, 4E 202

Jarl Ulfric,

Due to some circumstances that need not concern the court, I will be absent for a time. I have had to travel to Solstheim. I may be out of Skyrim until 4E 203. Calder has travelled with me, for now. If I need to return early, missives can be directed through the Northern Maiden. They may be a bit expensive, however, as I am beginning to understand why Captain Salt-Sage does not like travelling here. If I find that this will concern the court, I will travel back to deliver that report personally.

Yours,

Stormblade

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Volume 4: The Mage

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Jorleif’s records indicate that 3 evenings before the Moot was to finally convene on the 1st of Last Seed, 4E 203, Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch, was on the court docket. She had specifically requested to be the last item for the day’s matters. Her appearances at court had been noted before, though infrequent.

This appearance was noted to have caused a stir before she even spoke. It was noted that, in 4E 203, she typically wore armor crafted of dragon, stahlrim, or that of the Stormcloak Officer’s Bear, depending on her reason for attending. This instance is the first time noted in which she wore the Arch-Mage robes since they were bestowed on her. Hated to be without something protecting her neck, she had said when she acquired them and promptly left them in her quarters at the College. As she found Solitude’s form of court attire unpleasant, it is likely that the Arch-Mage robes were the closest she could manage to an appearance of lacking armor. The whispers were not limited to the unheard of robes, but that she also came with Ysgramor’s Wuuthrad slung against her back.

While court business was conducted, Stormblade was quietly standing against the wall near the War Room. Calder, her housecarl appointed by Jarl Ulfric, stood at her right and carried a strongbox. Both of them were apparently without expression as the various subjects for the court to hear were brought up. When Jorleif noted that they had come to Stormblade’s matter, she stepped forward into the silence.

As Jorleif wrote –

28 Sun’s Height, 4E 203. Sixth matter for the court to be raised by Stormblade, Thane of Eastmarch, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold and Harbinger of the Companions. Topic undisclosed at registry.

Stormblade rarely commanded the attention of the court. She even more rarely used more titles than her thane status in Windhelm. When she requested this slot on specifically this day, I knew that we’d need to record this specific business in detail. She arrived with Arch-Mage robes and Ysgramor’s Wuuthrad, perhaps as symbols of the additional titles that she was using. Against the robes, there was silvery 3-pointed amulet with black orbs that caught the light. As she stood before Jarl Ulfric, she slowly unstrapped and held Wuuthrad in front of her. Entwined on her right hand as she offered forth the axe of legends were three notable amulets – Kynareth, Mara, and Dibella. Her housecarl, Calder, quietly stood behind her, and to the right, carrying a strongbox.

“My Jarl, I bid that you hear out my petition. I do not generally speak at length and know your preference for brevity. Indeed, offering my axe should be enough for you to understand my meaning, but your court may not. In this case, I need to lay out an entirety of the claim to be heard as my axe, Ysgramor’s axe, is offered.

“For your blacksmith, I secured Queen Freydis’ sword to be more worthy of you than a replica. With Galmar Stone-Fist and your forces, we secured a legendary crown. It was I that was entrusted to bring to you the Jagged Crown to legitimize your claim. With my own strength to bear down with blades that you bestowed, I beat a path with you to Castle Dour to unify Skyrim under your banner. Our Voices sang together for Kyne then. For a dramatic moment that will play in songs for you, I took the head that would have taken both of ours at Helgen.

“I have only one last token that I can offer to you to aid in securing your rise to High King with the Moot: The time of Dragonborn rulers ended in the Empire and they have grown weak. The gods brought the Dragonborn back here, to Skyrim. I offer my blood as Dragonborn, to begin a new lineage in honor of Talos, if you will have me as your queen.”

Ulfric rose in silence and stepped down to meet Stormblade. With his attention not wavering from her, he took Wuuthrad and the amulets from her hands.

“You honor me, Stormblade,” was how Lord Ulfric accepted her offer. The listing of work to commence was noted by Jarl Ulfric before court was declared at an end. In quiet words that I could not hear, the strongbox was presented to Lord Ulfric. Wuuthrad changed hands back to Stormblade, though the amulets did not, and then Lord Ulfric accepted the strongbox.

Many legends have arisen on the response. Most of them include responses noting the fire that Ulfric is known to have displayed in other speeches, while keeping Stormblade as concise as she usually was.

Jorleif’s notes and those of Galmar Stone-Fist are the only ones that give this reversal. Stormblade, known for brevity, has spoken at length. Jarl Ulfric was known for lengthy, even inspiring, speeches, here is to the point. The Bard’s College would do well to consider this legend for their songs rather than those that appear to match their typical speech patterns.

The practice of dowries among the families of the jarls was noted historically, depending on the status of the holds at the time. This practice hadn’t been seen in roughly 100 years when Stormblade re-introduced it. The terms and amount of the dowry have remained undisclosed to most, with only Stormblade’s housecarl, Calder, having direct knowledge of it.

The betrothal may not have been necessary for the Moot, but it did not hinder Ulfric’s claim. According to the litany of the Moot, Jarls Silver-Blood and Gray-Mane were the first to back Ulfric, followed closely by Jarl Skald. There was some discussion among the others with Jarl Elisif stating her claim, but she was largely ignored. Casting lots for Ulfric, a few did note that they had also heard a wedding was to take place. Stormblade’s Thane status in every hold was noted. Jarl Korir had comments about the College, which Stormblade noted they could discuss outside of the Moot. I’ve seen what some of that discussion led to, which will be in future tomes. Clearly, none of them knew of her Guild status, even if it was rumored across Skyrim. She had managed to keep it to mostly whispers. Perhaps her contacts in every hold saw this as a mutually beneficial agreement or they thought her time in the Guild had ended.

Once the Moot declared Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak as the next High King of Skyrim, Stormblade began setting out tasks to be done with Jorleif. It was noted that she’d arrive well before court was to begin for the day and they would work on the upcoming wedding until late into the evening. Couriers were being sent to all hold taverns with the news of decision of the Moot as well as the wedding. Additionally, messages were dispatched to Raven Rock on Solstheim via the Northern Maiden.

There are rumors, though I could not confirm them, that when asked by Galmar what could be possibly fitting of this union, Stormblade responded with: “Permission to burn the Thalmor Embassy in Haafingar to the ground and salt the earth that nothing may come from the befouled lands?” This event does not happen as part of the wedding festivities.

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Volume 5: The Healer, Day 1

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

High King Ulfric Stormcloak married Stormblade only a few weeks later on 17th Last Seed 4E 203. At her insistence, it was in the courtyard of the Palace of the Kings. Legends abound on this wedding. As one of the College members to attend, I can confirm that there was a dragon present. On the mountain peak by the Palace, a red dragon was seen overlooking the events. It did not attempt to attack Windhelm or the surrounding area. The dragon being present was not the only piece that caught attention.

The officiant for this wedding was not one of Mara’s priests, though there was more than one in attendance. Leading the blessings of hearth and home, of Windhelm and Eastmarch, was Danica Pure-Spring. These were Kyne’s blessings, not Kynareth, as Stormblade clarified later. Also, from Whiterun, Fralia Gray-Mane was asked to offer the blessings of a hearth mother, as neither Stormblade nor Ulfric had one to speak for them. Later, Fralia would mention that Stormblade’s rescue of one of her sons from the Thalmor had made her more family than even being in the Companions. Blessings to the union were requested, then, of both Mara and Dibella -- to bring fertility to the union and Skyrim under their lead; that the arts and beauty, in many ways, might flourish once again.

An exchange of swords was done during their oaths to each other. The oaths themselves didn’t mention love or anything of sentiment, but rather how they would weather storms together and keep each other safe from any harms that might come. I have seen other weddings in Skyrim, but none that sounded so ready to stand on a battlefield together. It was, in many ways, a reminder of what they had already seen together. Maybe even a foreshadowing of what they assumed to be in their future.

Perhaps symbolic of their meeting two years prior, or another Nordic tradition I hadn’t seen before, they held each other’s right forearm as cords were wrapped around their wrists. A binding that was said to make them as one. There were additional oaths uttered with each round of the cords. Once again, the oaths uttered were of battles, honor, valor, loyalty, and facing adversity. The tone of the wedding was as grim as the stony exterior of Windhelm. At the conclusion of the rites, both looked skyward and used that Voice that they were both trained in. It was at whatever word they both spoke to the sky that the dragon took flight. The dragon flew off with their own roar echoing off the mountains. It was during that echoing thunder that the briefest of kisses happened to finish the ceremony. I suspect most missed it due to the dragon and that may have been exactly as Stormblade intended.

In Windhelm, the feasts following the wedding were attended by guests from all over. Knowing what the populace in Windhelm itself would accept, there were cooking spits added near the stables for the caravans that were just outside the city. Stormblade insisted that some of the meats, produce, meads and ales be sent out for the Khajiit to cook as they would see fit for a feast.

Captain Salt-Sage had made a special trip to Solstheim for Stormblade, as well. Three days before the wedding, he brought in a full cargo of food and drinks from Raven Rock for the Gray Quarter. Stormblade was insistent that Sadri’s Sujamma had to be included in the shipment. Rumor was that she paid triple the normal cost and cleared out The Retching Netch of a good portion of its stock.

Candlehearth Hall and the Palace saw feasts that lasted for multiple days. Candlehearth Hall saw locals and some travelers from Eastmarch that had wanted to catch a glimpse of the wedding. The Main Hall of the Palace of the Kings was packed with Jarls, Companions, faculty from Winterhold, and families with enough connections to be included. The Companions and Gray-Manes, alone, were enough make the feast a rather loud event on their own, but the sheer amount of Nords and mead were set to make this event one of the livelier things to be seen in Windhelm in a long time.

Feasts were planned in other holds as well to mark the occasion. Riften’s was the longest and, perhaps, saw the most mead consumed from the reports that I was given. Stormblade had claimed Riften, and The Rift in general, as her home prior to moving to Windhelm. She had sent ahead that the festivities there should last a full week, if at all possible, and provided funds of her own to help. Both Anuriel, the Steward of the Rift, as well as Keerava, owner of the Bee and Barb, had retained letters that came with the funds to secure the feasts for Riften.

Additionally, Stormblade made sure that the Guild was involved, though not publicly. From one of the contacts down in the Guild, I was given a description of how things were in Riften during those feasts:

Notes from the Thieves Guild

None of the senior members, who still knew the Guild Master’s public identity, were surprised to hear that she was ascending to High Queen. When that lass wanted something, there was no stopping her. We had seen how she got when she was nearly killed among our own or in dealing with the Dark Brotherhood.

We didn’t attend the wedding. It would have raised questions. However, she didn’t forget Riften or the Guild. While Windhelm had a three-day feast, that lass said that Riften should get a week. The topsiders had an unending tap at the Bee and Barb. She sent bards ahead. Rumor was Keerava and Talen-Jei’s actual reason for closing it for two weeks following was for their own wedding that she funded, not just the clean-up. The local Temple of Mara must’ve been beside itself since Stormblade was funding such displays and the Temple was often trying to get the topsiders out of the tavern. I heard that wedding was not officiated by Mara’s priests, either, but that she was going with something much older up there.

Our tavern in the Ratway was raucous. She had it arranged that no expense was spared for us. To the lot that knew her, she sent ahead that she wanted the Guild to celebrate what they had a hand in, even as she became a more elusive shadow. The Guild Master was to remain a shadow without a name, and it was up to the Guild to maintain it. The lass was already a nameless shadow to those that joined after her rise, but now it was an order to be kept.

The official notice from the Guild Master was that the change to local rule of Skyrim should make it easier for us to hide our tracks in the businesses that we’d be skimming. As the rebuilding efforts started, the Guild could start picking through construction efforts to get their own entrances installed. First, however, we were to let Skyrim have time to adjust to what it was seeing. No need to dampen the spirits during the High King’s wedding, as that might catch far more attention than they should get at this time.

She funded the Ragged Flagon for a full week. Some of the newer lads and lasses thought our Guild Master might be a bit daft leaving that much coin on the table. Not one of them wanted to question a Guild Master that just paid for a week-long revelry, though. The few that did start to question it got a dunking in the waters and not always from our bouncer. A couple of the lads that knew her before that lass rose up to Guild Master were fast to dunk anyone questioning her decisions.

How she managed to find a bard that was willing to come to the Flagon, I’m not sure. That lass did wind up joining us not long after. A singing pickpocket! A few of the lads were definitely worse for wear by the end of that week. Our bouncer was better for the week, though. He obviously enjoyed dunking several of them in the waters to cool off.

As the first night’s feast was starting to wind down, as much as Nord feasts calm down overnight, the High King and his new bride excused themselves and were led back into the residential wing. According to Jorleif’s notes, the bedding tradition had Galmar Stone-Fist, himself, and Stormblade’s housecarl Calder lead them through the hallways. This tradition was also an older one that had fallen out of favor, but not entirely gone. It was unclear whose decision noted that it would be observed for this wedding, though it may have been in part because of the terms of the engagement involving a promised bloodline. Calder rarely had notes regarding his work as housecarl, but here he shared his notes on that night:

Housecarl Calder's Records Entry

Stormblade requested that I be her family present for the bedding. She didn’t have actual family that she would acknowledge, but I was surprised the request fell to me. I had worked with her the least of all her staff. High King Ulfric had only assigned me to her at the end of the war, as she became known as Stormblade. I was honored, whatever her reason might be.

On reaching their bed chamber, Jorleif excused himself to make sure that the kitchen was ready for any requests as the feasts continued. Galmar took up a position to the right of the door, outside the room, telling the guards that we’d watch the room for the next few hours. As I was about to take up position at the left side, Stormblade had a request for me.

She asked that the salves that she requested I keep on hand be set up on a nearby dresser. They were the type that she usually used the night after a battle. I watched her as I crossed the room to where she designated. She had removed her bear helm and was vaguely picking at the fur as she was placing it to the side. She had me travel with her to Solstheim and the dangers she faced there were many. I have seen her battle dragons and things out of nightmares with less nervousness than she had that night. In the time that I had been her housecarl, this time was the first that I thought she wanted a protector and was in no position to request it. The gods had led her to this path without indication of how to proceed.

I set up everything as she usually had it at Hjerim. Seeing her this skittish, I took a few extra moments to do everything to give her the time to settle. She had been so steady during the proposal and the wedding. I think she was afraid she might offend somehow. I gave her a nod when they were set, then went to take up my position. Once I was outside the room, to the left of the door, we could overhear her talking with Ulfric.

“Can I assist with the removal of your armor, High King?”

“We are past titles, now, Stormblade, but yes. What did you have Calder bring in?”

To the sounds of buckles and straps being undone, “Extracts of the mountains. They ease the areas where armor and stays may have dug in.” She paused briefly, “They work best when paired with Restoration spells, if you’ll allow it.” She was starting to sound steadier, but this was not the Stormblade I had known. Certainly not the same one that would storm into Lord Ulfric’s court on occasion.

“You may proceed. Stormblade, I said before that I wanted my trusted close. I have no reason to now doubt that trust you earned earlier.”

“I’ve only seen you in court or in battle. How far that trust goes in private, though...” After the sound of that metal chest plate being placed aside, there were a few other sounds of either cloth or furs being removed, then jars opening. I heard her gasp a little, “I had expected scars from your battles, but not so many. You’ve bled for us all more than even I thought, Ulfric. Maybe I can help…” If Ulfric had a reaction, we didn’t hear it.

Galmar looked over at me, “She has a sea of tears to cross to help him. Might take her longer than the whole war. Her battle through Solitude will be pale in comparison.”

“She has all the time Arkay will give her. She said the gods have bound her to him to protect and ease his burdens.” I glanced in to see Stormblade rubbing one of the compounds into Ulfric’s bare back as she knelt behind him on the bed, with a golden glow coming from her hands. Her expression had changed as she concentrated on the work of her hands and had broken the nervousness she was under. From the movement of her fingers, I suspect she was tracing scars to ease any tightness or pain that resided in those areas. I thought I could hear her singing softly, but I couldn’t make out the words. Ulfric’s expression was unseen as his head had bowed enough to hide it from view. I pulled the door a bit more closed. Things were settling in. She may have found her path, at least for tonight.

Galmar shook his head. “If the gods have given her that task, she’ll want to go back to battling dragons and Thalmor.”

It was some time later, but we could confirm that the consummation took place that night.

Chapter Text

Volume 6: Healer and Pilgrim: Snow Quarter

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

On the second day of the feast, Stormblade excused herself from the Palace early before many of the guests were awake and went to check on the city’s own festivities at both Candlehearth and New Gnisis Cornerclub. While in the Cornerclub, some of the area’s concerns were raised. From what was noted, Stormblade had replied that she had looked out for them before the rise to High Queen and it would be no different now, but to give her the feasts before she began work to address what she could. She would prove to be true to her word after the feasts had ended.

On the first day of court resuming, High King Ulfric had split duties with his new bride. Stormblade was given authority within the court to see to the hold’s concerns, while High King Ulfric focused on matters of Skyrim as a whole. It was assumed that in the beginning phase, she would request his advice often on the city of his family’s lineage as she hadn’t managed the concerns of a hold previously. Some of her early interactions in Windhelm and Eastmarch, however, point to her using her new status to do what she felt was necessary, without the knowledge or concern towards what was traditional in the hold.

This change in leadership eased some of the tensions that had been brewing for decades. Stormblade was already known for investing in the Gray Quarter and petitioning for better wages for the Argonian dock workers. When she had returned from Solstheim, she had some status among Houses Redoran and Telvanni. I’m told that they would still say that she was slumming at the Cornerclub, but now it was in jest as she was seen there more often than in Candlehearth. Rumors started that she was even holding court in New Gnisis, but given her docket in the Palace, it doesn’t appear to be more than rumor.

She was informed that funding was not available in the Eastmarch budgets to manage the concerns, right away, but that many could be addressed. Much to the displeasure of the stewards, Golldir (Stormblade’s personal steward) and Jorleif (Eastmarch), Stormblade began to bring in personal funds and note that she’d pay for things if the hold had been stretched too thin with the war efforts. She was determined to get things done and she didn’t care how they had to work the numbers. When the work began on the roofs in the Gray Quarter and the large stone walkways around Windhelm, she insisted that she would be present and would assist where she could (while she could).

For the Gray Quarter, she also wanted the residents to be able to help as much as possible. It had to keep its ancient Nord appearance, but they were free to continue to decorate with anything that made them feel that it was their home as well. Whatever tools were needed to do the work properly, she procured them for any willing to work. How she came by tools when others were noting shortages was also a matter for the rumor mills, though it is far more likely that she pulled strings with all the blacksmiths that she had personally financed prior to becoming High Queen.

Enough happened in those first days with Stormblade running roughshod over the normal procedures that several staff were glad to hear that she’d be going on a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar at the end of the month. Stormblade noted that when she returned, she had further plans for the east side of the city. The Palace staff was not used to Stormblade’s level of activity as she was even less stationary than Ulfric was.

Her housecarls, however, were used to the quick pace that Stormblade ran through things. They were individually given instruction on consolidating her items to a few properties that she intended to keep, with the majority of her personal belongings moving to Windhelm. Valdimar and Jordis were to get her items secured from Windstad Manor and Vlindrel Hall to either Proudspire Manor or Windhelm. Rayya was to pack the few things from Lakeview Manor for the Palace, as Stormblade had mostly used it for gardening and hunting, but kept little of import there. Lydia and Gregor were to work on packing Breezehome and Heljarchen Hall to be directed to Windhelm, for either additions to Hjerim or the Palace. Iona and Calder were to work on bringing items from Honeyside up to Hjerim. As Iona and Calder would be back in Windhelm first, they would then assist in unloading as the others returned. Argis the Bulwark was to stay back with Stormblade, for now.

In the last week of Last Seed 4E 203, only a few weeks into their marriage, Stormblade did her first pilgrimage to High Hrothgar as High Queen. For this trip, unlike many of the ones that followed, Ulfric went with her. The Vilemyr Inn was honored to have them both there as well as their staff. Erik the Slayer met up with them that night. For this journey, we have notes from Stormblade’s housecarl, Argis the Bulwark.

Housecarl Argis the Bulwark's Records Entry

4E 203 Pilgrimage: Stormblade’s had me take this trip before. Now she says it might be only annual. Markarth prepares one for stairs. Just colder up there at High Hrothgar. Calder had warned me that she wasn’t settled in the marriage yet. Not settled. She was a rabbit before the guards joined us. Might be a fire in court. Out of court, timid.

The trip to Ivarstead was uneventful. We met up with Erik the Slayer at Vilemyr Inn. She gave an introduction of how she had trained him as he left behind Rorikstead. That got her a bit more settled. Then came the stories that went with that kid’s dragon plate armor. The armor she fashioned from the bones of 4 dragons that he helped slay. Battle stories settle her. Saving towns. Saving people. Ulfric was listening intently. Learning more about Stormblade that maybe his men hadn’t told him. Verifying what he had heard. When they retired for the evening, I took one of the early shifts at their room.

Just past dawn, we started out of Ivarstead. Stormblade insisted that she was going to carry the supplies from the town. It was good that we started early. She stopped at each of the 10 tablets with offerings to Kyne. Mostly snowberries. I don’t think Ulfric expected how she took those steps. How the steps are as much a part of the pilgrimage as High Hrothgar itself. The winds picked up towards the top and snow fell. Stormblade was not moving any faster. At least this looked like the Stormblade that I walked with before. This climb is always serious. Always slow. Always quiet. The rabbit had left for now.

It was into early afternoon when we made it to High Hrothgar. Erik and most of the guard bid that they’d head back down the steps. Wanted to be back in Ivarstead by nightfall. They’d be back in a few days for our return. We headed inside. Stormblade must not have let Arngeir know exactly what was happening this trip.

“Dragonborn, this is a place of peace. You know that.”

“Yes, I know. We’re not here as warriors, Arngeir. We are here to worship Kyne with you, under your wisdom.” Arngeir did not look convinced. She added, “Ulfric was the one that convinced me to answer your first summons. He is now my husband. I asked him to return with me for the autumn reflection.”

“That was the thu’um we heard a couple weeks ago, then?”

“Yes. It was not in war or violence. It was after asking Kyne to bless our union. We sang unto the sky for Eastmarch and Skyrim. We do have our failings, but that time was not one of them.” She gave a rare smile and sounded proud as she added, “You thought he’d be a Greybeard, once. Instead, he is High King and will need your wisdom more than ever.”

“She speaks true, Arngeir," said Ulfric. "We’ll both need it when we are not on the mountain. The concerns of Skyrim are many.”

Arngeir was quiet. He was looking between them. Finally, “Very well. Remember your training, then, Ulfric. There will be no discussions of war up here.” He looked back to Stormblade. “Will you be visiting Paarthurnax this time, as well?”

“I was hoping to. Meditating on the Words is a gift. I intended to offer him tinvaak in return. Odahviing, too, if present. For obvious reasons, we did not get to converse at the wedding.” She looked to Ulfric, “If you walk with me further up the mountain, Paarthurnax will want to test your Voice. Tinvaak los grah, as he said once.”

“Your pronunciation outside the thu’um is improving.” At that, Arngeir allowed us all entry and noted where we would be able to stay for the week. The roles looked to have reversed. Ulfric was now the one that was more cautious. Stormblade was calm. The rest of the evening was spent in quiet reflection. This part is why I appreciate this trip.

The next day was similarly quiet. Meals. Reading texts. Meditating. Hearing them practicing thu’um outside. The furniture is like Markarth. Easiest duties as her housecarl are relaxing at High Hrothgar.

Second day, mid-morning. I heard Stormblade getting her heavier gear on down the hall.

“I will be going further up the mountain. You’re welcome to join, but you will need to stay behind me. Kyne’s storms are fierce. I will need to ask them to clear, before we can move forward.” Ulfric must have nodded as I heard her helping him next. He probably didn’t need it. She’d help me with armor if I wasn’t fast enough. It’s how she was. I knew she’d be coming to get me. I readied quickly.

I got to where they were as she was finishing up. Working on adding more braids in Ulfric’s hair. The wind can be strong up there. That’s when I saw it. No wonder she’s a rabbit when she’s around Ulfric. Calder didn’t see it. Can’t see it. Too young. I got one good eye after Markarth and I could see it. I don’t think Ulfric sees it. Not yet. He doesn’t know her enough off the battlefield. Politics? That’s what she wants to call this marriage. Then it was politics for her in Markarth, too. Need to keep watch on Ulfric for her. He’ll twist her once he figures it out if it stays just politics on his side. Another battle line. That would be bad. For everyone.

Stormblade used the thu’um to get rid of the heavy weather. I walked behind Ulfric as we went up the mountain. Not usually much up this way. Sometimes an ice wraith. We’ll see if he recognizes the dragon from the wedding.

“Drem Yol Luk,” I heard Stormblade in front call out. “I seek tinvaak, Paarthurnax. Odahviing, too, should he wish of it. I bring another with me. A wunduniik.”

“Dovahkiin,” was the rumbling reply as we rounded the last turn. I saw Ulfric pause. Both dragons were perched on the mountain. The white one on the Wall, as before. A favored spot. “You are… learning.” The white one’s attention shifted to Ulfric. “Ahmul, yes?”

“Yes. He studied with Greybeards on the Way of the Voice years ago.” She looked back at Ulfric. He was still sizing up what he was seeing. She looked back at the dragon. “Krosis. War called. Our land called. As it ever does. We try to only sing for Kyne, but sometimes we must defend her land, too.”

Her word choice around the dragons had been changing each time we met. Might be learning their language that does it. Starts to sound like them. It was after that point that Ulfric was asked to demonstrate his thu’um. I didn’t follow most of what was said from that point. Never can. I heard something about meditating on a word. Things went quiet for a while. Stormblade sat down in the open area between the dragons. Took a while before Ulfric followed her lead. I kept watch on the pass up there. No ice wraiths came, this time. There was more discussion with the dragons into the afternoon. We went back down to High Hrothgar before the sun started to set.

The rest of the week was back to quiet. Mostly. I could hear that Ulfric was asking questions in low tones. Stormblade giving responses that I could partly hear. I didn’t hear what the questions were. I didn’t need to. The questions would be on the dragons.

Chapter Text

Volume 7: The Diplomat

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Heartfire 4E 203 saw Jarl Korir arrive in Windhelm with his staff. From Jorleif’s records, this arrival was to include the meeting referenced in Stormblade’s earlier letter and the litany of the Moot. To be clear on her position, it was noted that Stormblade wore the Arch-Mage’s robes for a second time, but without a weapon present. Knowing what I do of her skill with the Conjuration school, she didn’t need a weapon present, but it was the display that she was giving. She said that Jarl Korir should present his demands and suggestions, first.

Jarl Korir’s complaints about the College came first, along with a re-telling of the Great Collapse. When his speech had wound down, High King Ulfric asked if the Jarl had more than a history lesson in mind. It had been noted many times that High King Ulfric did not have a lot of patience for lengthy conversation with no purpose. Jarl Korir’s first suggestion was for the College to be shut down in entirety. At this point, the dialogue begins to get recorded directly. From the written accounts:

Palace of the Kings, Court Records

Winterhold vs College of Winterhold : Great Collapse Reparations

“If we close the College of Winterhold, what trade will Winterhold have then?” inquired Stormblade. “I was told by your innkeepers that the College brings the only visitors they see. Perhaps we could attract more trade to Winterhold, first, before you remove us entirely?”

Jarl Korir was suspicious of this suggestion. “What does the College propose?”

“You have no blacksmith. Perhaps we can repair some of your houses and get a blacksmith out there. Winterhold could become the center for getting enchanted arms and equipment. Start with your guards, perhaps?”

“The mages would repair houses? Winterhold’s guards would have enchanted arms at what cost?”

“I can fund such repairs being done. I doubt a mage-built house would get many offers in Winterhold.” She paused. “Our students in enchanting could use the arms and armor as class projects. I believe we could perhaps come to an agreement with Birna that could assist us both, as well. We could allow her to sell some things from the College to allow more of the traffic into the town for those looking to procure lesser items from the College without wanting to join in the studies of magic. While we will be giving up the coin, it will also allow our research and classes to go on without distraction. Those wishing more specific or higher level items would need to have their skills assessed at the College first.”

“You mentioned funding. What about our fishermen? The hold’s fishermen lost a lot of our shacks and ways up to the town in the Collapse.” Jarl Korir still sounded suspicious of what the Arch-Mage was up to, but was now quickly assessing what he could grab from the College.

“Roads down to the sea, then? I can approve funding from the College towards that end, if you point to where you would like the fishing villages. I believe the actual approval of redirecting some of Skyrim’s rebuilding efforts in this direction may need to come from the High King, though. Should there be a need for some of the mages to offer support against the elements and wildlife during this building, however, I believe that would be a fine task for some of our initiates. Certainly more respectable to our countrymen than digging through Saarthal.” At this statement, Stormblade looked to the High King.

“Possible,” High King Ulfric responded. “I hear what the College is giving to Winterhold. What is the College requesting in return, Arch-Mage?”

“The work that Winterhold and, perhaps, Skyrim can offer is what the College is requesting.”

Jarl Korir looked from the High Queen to the High King, then back. “What are you playing at, Arch-Mage?”

“A full explanation, then?” She took a deep breath, then looked at the High King. “Forgive me, but if I must fully explain, then I will be speaking at length.”

“We had the history of the Great Collapse. We should have why the Arch-Mage desires to get the mages out of the College and into the holds,” Ulfric stated.

“Very well. Shor’s Hall has mages within its ranks, but none within the College as it is now would be worthy. We do not have Clever Men. Tsun may disagree with me, but I see no valor in the College at present. The College has lost its way. Many in its ranks are too thirsty for knowledge without reason, which leads down a dark path. I understand it has always been separate from politics of our land. This is one case where I believe I need to break with tradition.

“At least one is gone to Oblivion, another is a spirit after attempting to recreate Dwemer mechanics without all the equipment needed. We lost the previous Arch-Mage by bringing up an ancient artifact when Thalmor were present. An Arch-Mage, I might add, that saw the College as separate from Skyrim and had no need or desire to involve itself in the matters of our country. I am Arch-Mage precisely because I dispatched that Thalmor intruder and one of his assistants to whatever Oblivion plane they go to when they die. They attempted to use the Eye of Magnus to their own ends.

“Secrets are many in the College, despite requests that findings be shared among all. Books disappear and have to be reclaimed; left to be found by whoever might want the book in question. Students disappear and no one looks for them. It’s a disgrace. If we are to have mages that can help us withstand the Dominion, we need to steer them away from a road that leads to Oblivion and rot. The bridge to the College is as tenuous as their hold on what is outside its grounds. A fellow Nord, rare as we are in the College, said he didn’t even feel like he was still in Skyrim up there. If that doesn’t prove that the College needs to change, I don’t know what does.

“It is not just the College, either. I have been within every hold and been a Thane across Skyrim before I was High Queen. Only Hjaalmarch had a battlemage worthy of standing that I was granted as a housecarl. Jarl Ravencrone’s insights would be to credit for that. We Nords have grown disdainful of what Tsun himself called the Clever Craft when we talked. There are very few Court Mages that are definitely honor-bound.” She looked to the High King. “When have you last talked to your own court mage, High King?” She answered before he could respond. “I believe I have heard that neither of you have a use for the other. That sentiment needs to change. We are too fragmented. The Thalmor are not. I request that the College be given work within every hold, starting with Winterhold, to regain a purpose.”

The High King sat back at that and looked at Jarl Korir. “It appears the Arch-Mage has quite the open request. Would the terms be acceptable to Winterhold? The rest of Skyrim will come in time.”

Jarl Korir was quiet for a moment, studying Stormblade. “Are you suggesting we have mages within the guards? I will not have a court mage.”

“That alone, Jarl, would be a welcome first step. Should a dragon attack, they could pair up such that one skilled in magic is providing shields from the dragon’s fire or frost while the other is firing arrows. The three Tongues had a mage among them. I imagine you would lose less guards if one of our restoration mages was there to heal them before their wounds were too severe. A court mage is up to you. I understand the distrust, Jarl Korir, unlike previous Arch-Magi. If we prove our worth to you, you need only ask.”

In the end, Stormblade secured that Winterhold would get funding for rebuilding from the Great Collapse without acknowledgement that the College was in any way responsible. Initiates at the College were soon expected to perform times of service to Winterhold to protect those working on the new roads or villages, the fishermen themselves, or within the town of Winterhold as guards. There was some grumbling, to be sure, but the Arch-Mage was not backing down on getting the initiates out of the snowy-tower that was the College.

It would take another three years to fully settle out on the repairs outlined. After those repairs, there was an effort to further reinforce the bridge between the College and Winterhold. The efforts of these steps between the College and Winterhold proper started to gain some attention from other holds. Falkreath was the next hold to request initiates to be placed in their guard, with a special request for those skilled in turning undead. Jarl Korir, however, never did request a Court Mage and continued to give negative commentary towards the mages that were now more present.

Chapter Text

Volume 8: Healer: Orphans and Exiles

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Other than the meetings with Jarl Korir in early Hearthfire, Stormblade continued her work on the east side of the city that she had started in Last Seed. Stormblade had a vacant shop cleared of its contents and offered to Shahvee to run as a boarding house for those working at the docks. The Saxhleel dock workers were free to continue to use the Assemblage, but now had an option within the city. The only ruling that came down was that when it opened, along with the improvements to the Gray Quarter, both Saxhleel and Dunmer needed to keep any tensions from their homelands to a minimum. In the meantime, she would make sure that guards made regular rounds.

She had made a point to using those racial names, rather than Dark Elf and Argonian, to distance herself from those Nords that were causing issues within Windhelm. This step proved to be a thorn to her leadership in that first year as attempting to change the status quo resulted in some rather negative commentary from some rather vocal contingents.

As the Gray Quarter was repaired and even built up, she established an orphanage there as well. The war with the Empire had left plenty of children without a home and Riften’s orphanage couldn’t take them all. There were rumors that some had taken to calling the Gray Quarter by a new name, for all of the attention: Queen’s Quarter. (Many of these rumors that included this epithet were not flattering towards the High Queen. Some were rather suggestive and scandalous.)

There was also an offer to the Dunmer that she could locate a place in Eastmarch for them to build an ancestral tomb, if it was desired. This offer was not taken up. The tower to the refugees near the border with Morrowind had taken on a lean in more recent years and had been neglected. Stormblade had it shored up to stop it from toppling over, even though it was more often visited by wildlife than anything else.

On the western parts of the city, she had ordered repairs to the stone facades and walkways. These repairs would be on-going for several years and slow-moving. Much slower than the progress on the eastern side. Near the cemetery and on a few walkways, she had planters installed so that the plants and herbs along the walks didn’t damage the paths in the future.

Her focus was clearly on revitalizing Eastmarch by starting with its central city, though she did not ignore any of the towns when anything was brought to her attention. In the first year, the grumbles were the opposite of what plagued Jarl Ulfric during the previous years – she was too concerned with the plights of the non-Nords, to the detriment of her Nord populace.

In Frostfall, reports had come in that there were bandits operating out of Uttering Hills. Stormblade requested Valdimar and Iona to join her and immediately left Windhelm. On their return, Jorleif noted that Ulfric had requested they meet in the War Room. From these notes, Ulfric had stated that the High Queen couldn’t just go off to deal with bandit menaces. Stormblade had started to give argument about how she was capable of handling such work, as she had many times before, when Ulfric reminded her that she could be carrying an heir. She had no argument following that statement and future threats had bounties put out for their handling.

In Sun’s Dusk, the High King and High Queen travelled to Solitude with some of their staff. While considered out of protocol, Stormblade was insistent that they would stay primarily at Proudspire and not in the Blue Palace. Their first order of business was not with Jarl Elisif, but instead with the Jarls in Exile that were residing in a rather cramped accommodation.

As High Queen, Stormblade offered to donate her hold properties to those Jarls, if they would accept her gift and agreed to the Moot’s ruling from earlier that year. Ulfric allowed her to lead these offers, though he would be the recipient of the loyalty requested.

The first offering was made to Jarl Ravencrone with the offer of Windstad Manor. It’s reported that Stormblade noted: “Please take it for Joric. He should not stay here any longer.” What she meant by that is only known to the Ravencrone family; they agreed.

For Jarl Balgruuf, she noted that Breezehome in Whiterun was really too small for his needs but that he could have both it and her house in The Pale. The exchange of words was not nearly as polite as those with Jarl Ravencrone. Jarl Balgruuf and his staff were the last to leave the Blue Palace, several months after the offer.

Jarl Igmund and his staff moved to Vlindrel Hall in a way that was less contentious than the discussion with Jarl Balgruuf. The Silver-Blood family was not quite as pleased with the arrangement. There was a rumor that later, when the report from Jarl Silver-Blood came in of his dislike of this move to Windhelm’s court, she quipped that maybe they expected to put Jarl Igmund in Cidhna Mine. I cannot confirm that she said it or that any response was sent back to Markarth.

Jarl Siddgeir was perhaps the most flattering of the exiled Jarls as he and his staff were offered Lakeview Manor. Stormblade made note of the excellent hunting in the area and that she had installed mead casks in the basement. That appeared to be enough for Jarl Siddgeir to move out of the Blue Palace, where the hunting prospects were far less.

There were a few other meetings noted during that trip to Solitude, though most of the notes left by Falk Firebeard do not point to anything of major importance. If any of the court had thought the arrival was to announce that they would be moving to the Blue Palace, then they were disappointed to hear that the seat of the Stormcloak rule was going to remain in Windhelm and was not relocating to Solitude.

For a rather political sounding marriage, it did not appear to suffer the same strains that often come of those alliances. In court, they were both as cool and stormy as they had been before their wedding. Stormblade and Galmar (when he was in Windhelm) would appear on opposite sides of High King Ulfric, as two imposing bookends in bear skin armor. She appeared more like she was taking on the role of a second housecarl to the High King, rather than that of High Queen. To outward appearances, very little between Ulfric and Stormblade seemed to change, aside from that she was present more often and would follow him further into the Palace of the Kings at the conclusion of court duties, rather than leave for her place in the city.

In the beginning of 4E 204, as couriers were being sent to the College to denote all the changes that would be coming, a courier arrived in Windhelm from Hjaalmarch.

Letter from Jarl Ravencrone, Windstad Manor

2 Morning Star, 4E 204

High Queen Stormblade:

A response to your query –

A kind little cub grounded in family history. He will need your allies in times ahead. Dragon’s teeth will be at his temples. Fear not for this one, unless you fail to teach the values of action.

Jarl Ravencrone

After this letter arrived, it is noted that Stormblade spent the remainder of the day at the Temple of Talos. It is noted that her housecarls took turns staying at the Temple of Talos with her. When court duties allowed, Ulfric joined her for prayer as well. They walked back to the Palace of the Kings together.

The following day, she was out on the snows east of the city, north of the docks. While High King Ulfric was scheduled for another full day of court matters, Stormblade had her steward, Golldir, move anything that required her attention directly to the following day, otherwise he could handle the queries for the day. Various reports were given of her time in the snows, which became known as her prayers to Kyne that occurred for each of their children. Based on the various statements from the guards on the walls as well as the housecarls, Stormblade had gone out to the snows with several wolf pelts and hawk feathers that she arranged for her prayers. In the snows, she etched motifs of moths, wolves, and hawks in flight.

In this first year as High Queen, until her pregnancy wouldn’t allow it in the summer of 4E 204, she took regular tours of the docks, the city, and outlying farms. She was always in arms and armor during her tours, as she had been prior to being High Queen. As her pregnancy wore on, it is noted that she tended towards that of the Stormcloak Officer’s Bear armor more often than not. A modified leather cuirass was constructed when she was beyond simple expansion of her normal one. To this modified one, she had howling wolf and moth motifs added while retaining the bear imagery in the rest of the armor. Those requested were very similar to the story walls in the Nordic tombs. If someone had tried to tell her that the High Queen was supposed to look courtly, and less warrior, they clearly did not succeed.

Chapter Text

Volume 9: The Whirlwind

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

[The following text is not mine. I was presented a few texts, with caveats of when they could be released and without attribution. They belong in these volumes due to their subject matter. My commentary is presented to enlighten as necessary. – Enthir]

[Initial commentary: This text will give a more detailed, inside view of the Thieves Guild than is usually permitted. It is also a very different accounting on Stormblade’s personality and motivations, which the family has allowed. The author also assumes a knowledge of the Guild that most would not have. This text covers a broad area of time starting in 4E 201, but the main end point of the timeframe covered puts it somewhere in early-to-mid-204. The inclusion for this volume is based this ending point.

“Mercer” referred to in this text is Mercer Frey, now deceased and disgraced Guild Master of the Thieves Guild. “Brynjolf” was one of the senior members of the Guild, known for recruiting new members into the Guild. Both were inducted into the Nightingales at different times from what I am given to understand. There are different texts which go into more detail on the subject of Nightingales. “Thrynn” is or was a name down in the Thieves’ Guild; current status unknown. “The Ragged Flagon” is a tavern down in the Ratway, which caters primarily to the Guild members. “Dirge” was or is the bouncer at this tavern; current status unknown.]

This is not what was supposed to be. I heard how it went down. Maybe it was expected of her now, fighting out in the open, but she didn’t always. If I find Mercer in Oblivion, I’m going to end him there somehow. Late 4E 201. It started as training when she joined. I flirted. She responded to it. Women in the Guild never do, but she did. Outside the Guild, well, that’s how I operate. It works. Get close. Get what was wanted. Get out. Inside, though, they know that’s the game and don’t want to play. Usually. Not many women in the Guild, anyway.

The scar on the left side of her face mirrored with the war paint on the right. She’d get close until my back was to the wall. Her eyes would be a hot blue fire, just challenging me to say anything back. I could feel her breath as she spoke and just barely feel her hand in a pocket. She was improving. Her other hand was going up my arm. Had she started that a few seconds earlier, I wouldn’t have noticed her hand in my pocket. Just practicing how to get close to the mark and keep them unsuspecting her real reason. Like being stalked by one of those saber cats. That’s all, just practice. A lot of practice. Practice that always went further.

Telling her where she could improve just made her lust stronger. To her, it was a sign to start over, but closer. She was daring me to find reasons to tell her where she went wrong. She wanted the challenge, she said. Let her know where she could improve. Not just in the heist, but the methods around it. The distractions, too.

What if the mark was by the lake, when the moon is out, she’d ask. Or the glen east of Riften? It’ll cost you, I’d say. The distractions didn’t need to go that far. I wasn’t going to say no, though. Practice that, too. More of her training time was spent on the distraction. There was a cheap silver ring she found somewhere. ‘Find the ring’ as we stole it back and forth from each other in the midst of the distraction. There were times I found it in one of my pockets, afterward. I wasn’t the one to put it there. I also wasn’t complaining.

She had a new place in mind every time. I asked on the jobs that she was taking, but she never took anything related. She’d infiltrate a place to find out what was going on. Come back and ask for training. She’d change out the books. Training. She’d plant items for the guards to find. Training. Clear out a house. Training. Riften. Training. Solitude. Training. Extra training, even, as Solitude was maddening, she’d say. Whiterun. Training. Markarth. Training outdoors. Couldn’t be near the sounds of people after Markarth. By the lake. In the lake. Never anything as personal as what I was training her on.

I heard others say they had gotten close to her when she’d leave for a job. I knew. Those shadows were mine, alone. It was just training. Distractions. Nothing more. Even when all the pockets to be picked were off on a nearby shore. I knew I was the only one she was training with. A lot of training. Let them claim it, I knew who was really in those shadows. Didn’t talk about it. Didn’t have to. I had other tales. She wasn’t one of them. I paid for it later.

Early 4E 202. Taking her on a mission, Mercer said. Gone for more than a month. We couldn’t locate either of them. When she turned up, she was someone else. He ruined her trust in the Guild. He tried to kill her. In another month, she was married to someone from The Reach.

I let it go. Had to. Never said it was more than just something we did. I played it off as training, like she said. She let me think I was being honest for once. I wasn’t. At least not with myself. I knew that when she disappeared. It was… unexpected. If it was just training, just fun, then the shadows shouldn’t still dance like that. I shouldn’t be looking for her.

It hit again when she went cold and unreachable after her vengeance on Mercer was complete. I’d try to talk to her. She’d give me the same response as she gave everyone else, like she was barely there. She had walled off the whole Guild. If it was just fun, it shouldn’t sting.

Even when she was in charge, the trust was barely there. Our time was more than done. Just like that. Everyone in the Guild was behind a wall. Even Brynjolf couldn’t get her to say more than a word or two for a long time. There was a chance time would heal that wound. A chance that was stolen away. The Dark Brotherhood took down the wrong person. I saw it. I was in the shadows when that happened.

I was on the way to Whiterun for another target. Just leaving Riften when I saw them coming back. Another 100 feet, there would have been guards on that assassin, too. Her reflexes kicked in and she jumped back. The double daggers hit him, instead. Larger guy. Almost built like Thrynn. Blades came out. In the mess of blades, I saw the daggers hit at the guy’s throat next and there was blood everywhere. She yelled in a rage, her blades became a blur, and that assassin wound up in the air on her blades, as if they weighed nothing. Thrown clear in a heap of red and black.

I had never seen her with dual blades. She always trained on bows down in the Guild or a rather impressive battle-axe that she had when she first arrived. I saw her flick blood from those blades and lean down. Blades like Mercer’s. Son of a bitch twisted her up when he tried to kill her and now she was fighting like he did. I guess she had been studying magic or maybe she had a scroll that I couldn’t see. There was a flash of something and then I heard her yell out again, in frustration.

I thought for a moment. I backtracked a little towards Riften, so that it didn’t look like I was creeping up on her.

“Boss?” I asked as I stepped out of the shadows.

When she looked up, I’m not sure she saw me. Just someone from the Guild. “Get the guards. Won’t be our hides on this one. Dark Brotherhood hit. I’ll make sure this lands on their door.” Sometimes, you don’t question things. When the Guild is involving the guards, it sometimes requires more septims to get everything to work. This time, bringing the guard got attention for free. Not much they could do, but note it and help get him to the Hall of the Dead. However, the letter about it being on her head – one of her aliases, at least – did get extra guards at her Honeyside house for a week. They sent word to the Jarl’s staff as well. Forgot she was a Thane now.

She sent me back to the Guild to let everyone know. The Flagon went on alert for possible Brotherhood. Dirge actually seemed happy to hear it. Must’ve been in a mood to break someone. They didn’t show down there, though.

[Commentary: It should be noted that, previously, there were contacts between the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild for when the work needed to transition between them. While the Thieves Guild still does not offer assassination services, it is my understanding that they will now provide services that could land someone in a hold’s jail permanently (instead of temporarily), if the pay is high enough, after the possible decimation of the Dark Brotherhood.]

When I got back from the Whiterun job, she had gone to Windhelm. I didn’t get to see her again for months. When she did come into the Guild when I was there, her eyes were hidden in her hood. She was disappearing from us while still being in the Ratway. Mercer’s betrayal had changed her and this death completed it. There was no laughter, no flirting, nothing. She’d walk past in complete silence. A ghost amongst us.

She’d come back occasionally after she joined the war effort, but it wasn’t her anymore. We got word out of Windhelm each time there was a new name placed on her by the Stormcloaks. Our contact in the guard up there only knew that we were keeping tabs on her, not that she was even one of us. Given her status from Riften, they assumed it was a political reason. Ice-Veins. Snow-Hammer. Mercer and the Dark Brotherhood had turned her inside out. There were rumors that she had been a little vengeful in working with the Companions, as well, but they are a bit more violent than we are.

The stories the guard had of the battlefield sounded even worse. There were kill counts. Soldiers couldn’t always be identified from what she left behind. Led from the front. She’d save her own with a healing hand, while her sword gutted another in front of them. Then came Stormblade. That’s what I saw that night with the Dark Brotherhood. A dark storm on the horizon. It kept getting worse from there. She started bringing fire and lightning to the field.

After the war, she went on a ship out of Windhelm for a while. We lost track of her, mostly. When she returned, she came back with a letter for one of the crew. She had handed it over with a few emotionless words. Once she was back in Skyrim, we got our eyes back on her. She was the Guild Master, so those of us that have been around awhile and knew what she did for us, we had to keep her back. Mercer didn’t, but we would.

As we tracked her, we found out that she went after the Dark Brotherhood. Directly. She had meant it that it would wind up on their door. Our contact in Windhelm said she came back, probably from Dragon Bridge, with a sack of septims. Walked into court as a Stormcloak Officer, dropped the bag on the table without any ceremony, and said something about it being payment for removing the Dark Brotherhood as the Empire knew of them. It’s from the Empire and she wanted no appearance of allegiance with them, she said, so place it in the rebuilding funds. Stormed back out without waiting to hear any responses from the court. Just dropping coin like that was unusual for her. From our contact up there, that behavior was unseen from her appearances there and she wasn’t usually that direct.

It was a long time before I would see her eyes again. If she came to the Guild, she was hidden from view. Her face was hidden away. Now she was an unknown shadow to the new folks. She’d come in, check things left at the desk, and be gone. She said nothing to anyone in the Guild rooms. Words were few in the Flagon, but it wasn’t always silence there. She had a small, tight group of leaders among us that she would say a few things to, pass things down. I wasn’t in that group at that point.

After she was High Queen, I had a job up in Windhelm. Once the job was done, I felt I needed to check. See if those eyes were still dead and cold. Supposed to be some political marriage for her dragon blood, I guess. Never did follow it when she spoke of the gods. That was usually after training. She could’ve said anything then.

I was able to get into the Palace of the Kings with the right pay-off and waited in some back corners of the kitchen until it sounded like it was late. The amount of guards were tight, but I could tell I was on the right path. A bedroom at the very end of a long hall had the sounds of her voice.

The door was open and there was just enough shadow to hide in. She was seated in a chair. She was pregnant. Due soon, I would think, from the size of her. Her eyes were on Ulfric. I couldn’t catch what either said. It was her eyes that had me.

I used to see those eyes in the training room, right before she’d offer coin for training. I still don’t remember when it changed that first time. It was training, then it wasn’t. That hard edge that Mercer put in those eyes wasn’t there. Back to a dangerously hot blue fire. It’ll cost you. She’d smile as she held out the coin purse and I’d know that she wasn’t there for just training. It might start that way, but that was just her cover if we got caught. How many times had she used the same coins? I didn’t collect them. What she offered was better.

That smile was starting to appear now for Ulfric as she got up to cross over to where he was. It stung, but it meant Mercer hadn’t entirely won. The ice was breaking. I snuck back out and down to Riften. It’d be another decade before I saw those eyes again.

Eyes open, walk with the shadows, Stormblade.

Chapter Text

Volume 10: The Cycle of Time

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

The author of the letter from The Whirlwind may have thought they were unseen. My research among the notes of the housecarls, however, proved that this was incorrect. Iona had these notes, starting from the day before. These should illustrate how the previous intrusion could happen with the amount of personal staff that Stormblade added to the already significant staff at the Palace of the Kings:

Housecarl Iona's Journal

27 Rain’s Hand, 4E 204.

We don’t have defined schedules yet. It isn’t clear when Stormblade wants or needs us around. She hasn’t answered when we ask. Golldir’s stewardship of her duties was easily set up right away when he moved in from Heljarchen. Her pilgrimage up to High Hrothgar with Argis the Bulwark was mostly because he volunteered before anyone could say anything. If she wants to train with magic, it’s Valdimar that works with her. When she did the prayers in the snow fields, we all went out. None of us were sure how long she’d be out there or what to expect. The old ways she follows are not familiar to most of us. I don’t think she knows what she wants or expects from us, either.

Now that we’re all in the Palace of the Kings, we talk more often and get a better picture of the High Queen that we had all sworn to protect in different holds at different times. It seems we’ve all seen someone slightly different. I suspect that Argis and I may have seen the most similar versions of Stormblade. Sounds like we saw her the most, as well. She’s been distant with most of the others, leaving them to guard her things and not herself. Lydia seems sure that Stormblade’s never figured out what her status means to the holds, just that she managed to get it by running into any trouble put in front of her. Old Nord ways, she’d say with a sneer. Run at the trouble, kill it, and grab some mead. To Lydia, Stormblade gathered titles and properties in the way that she earned gold. It all went in the same pile.

Lydia noted that Stormblade never attended court as thane on Whiterun, even though it was honorary. She thought it odd that Stormblade didn’t seem to get the honor. Calder was the only one of us to have seen her do something very different. He said that she regularly attended court here before she was High Queen. She also sent in regular updates from her travels to the court of Eastmarch, which had her title on them. I’ll admit that she didn’t go that far for The Rift, though she did occasionally go into court when the docket had anything related to Riften’s criminal activity.

Calder’s apparently the newest of us, assigned by High King Ulfric himself. He thought she was always cold and warrior-like. He’s only seen her as a bear in Ulfric’s retinue. He didn’t know what to think when Golldir told him about how she helped him with a necromancer defiling his family’s crypt.

Golldir said that she had come up to the crypt with a young warrior named Erik after seeing the bonfire from the road. When he explained his predicament, she led them through the crypt without touching anything, except the arrows she used to put down draugr. She had even refused payment that he offered from the family heirlooms after all was done. She had offered to help with the burial of his aunt and the crypt cleaning, but he wanted some time. He thought that would be the only time he saw this mysterious warrior, but then she came back after a couple days to say she had prepared a room for him at one of her properties. No one should live with the dead. It showed an emotional concern for someone she just met that Calder hadn’t seen from her. Golldir said that the kindness he had seen from her led him to offer to steward one of her properties in payment and he’s been managing things for her ever since.

When this child is born, though, we’re going to have to set up a schedule amongst us. Dragons and bandits are one thing, but she’s already had one husband taken out by an assassin. Losing a child will send her to a really dark place. I don’t want to see that Stormblade. Galmar’s often out of Windhelm, but I did talk to him about it as Ulfric’s housecarl. We’ll act on his behalf where we can without conflict. I really hope there is never a conflict that causes us to choose. Political marriages can be a treacherous dance without the mix of them both knowing thu’ums.

28 Rain’s Hand, 4E 204.

Tonight, I thought I saw a shadow that moved in the halls. It was a hunch, but being from Riften, I don’t trust shadows. The Palace was rife with them, as always. The dark grey halls were almost crypt-like with dark areas that weren’t lit by torches and the flickers from the flames made the shadows dance. I went to the King’s Hall, just to make sure that Stormblade was safe. Just barely visible in those shadows, I could see someone watching the bedchambers. I recognized the leathers, too. I have seen Stormblade wear something similar. I moved back into the shadows, myself, to watch after waving back a couple of the guards. If the Guild was here, I wanted to see what they were up to and I didn’t want the guards to spook them.

After a few minutes, I saw the head bend down, as if looking to the ground or at something in their hands. Then I saw them begin to dart through the halls. I tried to keep up, but I didn’t want to be seen. I lost whoever it was in the shadows of those halls. I headed back up to the King’s Hall and noted to the guards that they could resume regular rounds. I now had something to discuss with the High Queen.

As I approached their door, though, I caught a glimpse of what I was about to interrupt. There was a yellow glow of magic coming from the door’s opening. I could see Stormblade’s hands on Ulfric’s back with the yellow spreading out from them as I came up to the door. She may have been kissing his shoulder at the same time. I couldn’t see past her hair, but the angle looked that way.

“Stormblade, you are already with heir,” I heard Ulfric say in a low rumble.

“Are you asking me to stop? Marriages of politic must be distant now?”

“No, but--”

“Then, leave this to me, Ulfric,” Stormblade said without letting him finish.

Well… this was unfortunate. At least it’s not as distant as she sometimes seems. She’s due in a couple months, so she could’ve been off in another room, if they wanted. This is not what I wanted to interrupt, but duty calls. I knocked on the frame of the door. Stormblade looked back at me and her expression was quickly hidden under a layer of annoyance.

“What is it, Iona?”

“I hate to interrupt, ma’am, but I need a few moments of your time. It is urgent.”

Now they both looked annoyed as she grabbed a robe to wear over her muslin garments in the hall. I walked down a side corridor and then looked back at their room.

“I didn’t think you’d want Ulfric to hear this,” I whispered. “One of your old associates from Riften was here tonight.”

“Here? Who?”

“I don’t know. I saw the leathers, though. I tried to stay in the shadows while I followed, but I lost them. They were watching at your chamber door. I don’t know for how long. I know they aren’t usually dangerous to life, just to property, but it seemed strange. Are they supposed to be keeping an eye on you as we do?”

“No.” I saw the expression change a bit as she started thinking. “You’re familiar with the Ratway, correct? Do you think you could find the Ragged Flagon?”

“I know of it. I could probably find my way in.”

“In the morning, I’m going to send you there with a message. In the Flagon, you’ll be safe enough. They know who you are. Don’t start anything and talk only to who I mention. Getting there is sometimes dangerous, so keep your guard up on the way.”

“Understood. Do you want me to keep guard tonight?”

“Certainly not the whole night. You’ll need to be rested to get to Riften. If you think we need to keep an eye out, though, get Lydia or Rayya to come up in an hour or so. Is that all?”

“Yes. Sorry for the interruption. I know you were…”

“No, you were right to do it, as unfortunate as the timing was.” With that, Stormblade turned and went back to their chambers. That’s when I noticed that you couldn’t hear her move through the halls. Her bare feet were silent. I know I saw her garments move, but there was no sound to it. No wonder she loved Riften. She fit in with the elements that others didn’t like.

I took her meaning that I could remain on guard, if I thought it necessary, for the next hour before I started us on a schedule for the night. I didn’t like the Guild being this close. When I got back to their door, I heard her set aside the robe she had been wearing.

“I believe we have something unfinished,” I heard Stormblade say. Her voice was shifting out of court mode quickly.

“Stormblade, it is not necessary.”

“Unless you tell me outright that you are not interested, Ulfric, necessary doesn’t matter,” she was trying to soften her voice, but there was still some irritation in it. “Has something changed since last night? You had no objections, then.”

“Your housecarl, Jordis the Shield-Maiden, asked about separate chambers for you. I can make those arrangements. Continuing is not a part of our agreement since you are with heir.”

“Hmm. I had no such request for her.” There was another shift, as her voice went softer and lower. I think I heard the tone used a couple times back in Riften. That seemed an age ago. “I’ll leave if you ask, but I don’t want separate chambers. Trying to seduce you, my husband, is a welcome challenge.” In the shadows on the floor by the door, I saw the yellow light from her spells creep out to the hallway. She must be tending to his back again. I’ve heard that mentioned since the wedding.

I heard Ulfric give a brief laugh at that. “After all I’ve seen you do, you claim this is a challenge?”

“Yes. Sounds like my staff may even be working against me. You are a challenge as I have to battle against all the needs that come at you as High King and the ghosts that haunt you from wars long past to gather your attention.” She added, with a little gentleness, “Maybe we need more mead in the hall. Real strong mead. A lot of it. Let the ghosts rest for a time.”

“Are you not also High Queen and Dragonborn? Skyrim calls to you, as well.”

“You’ve had the concerns longer. The soldier in front of me is what concerns me right now. The others can wait.” There was a pause. I could hear her shifting around a bit. “Is this old wound sore tonight?”

“It was earlier, before you started,” he said slowly.

“Let’s see what I can do for these old pains, first, but that won’t be all as long as you don’t object.” Didn’t sound like there was any complaint regarding her intent.

29 Rain’s Hand, 4E 204.

Her instructions regarding the Ratway were fairly straight-forward. I didn’t think the Ragged Flagon would look so busy, though. The ring of merchants along the edge was not something I expected. How many blacksmiths are in Riften, now? I thought it was just Balimund. Down here is lit a little better than the Palace of the Kings, though there’s a scent of mildew in the damp air.

I went past the man she described as the bouncer and headed to the bar. There were a few people scattered at various tables. It being around noon, I guessed most of the Guild would be sleeping off the previous night.

“Must be feeling a bit brave to wander the Ratway,” said the bartender.

“I’m told you know who I work for. I need a message delivered.”

“I know who you are, lass,” I heard behind me. “Who is to get the message?”

I turned and looked at the man behind me. He matched the description, down to the darker leather clothing. “You are, I believe. Used to sell the Falmer Blood Elixirs.” He smiled at that. “Is there a place we can talk without so many ears?”

He led the way to a small room filled with beds. May have been a living quarters for the bartender, the bouncer, and a few others out there. I held out the sealed letter.

“Wax? Oh, she’s getting clever.” As he broke the seal, the wax changed into two different colors on each half. A laugh followed. “Very clever.” He read the letter, then looked at me. “Tell her we’ll handle it. I know what came back from Windhelm and it was nothing of theirs.” He made sure the letter hit the fire warming the room. Gone into the ash.

“I also have a second one, which was only supposed to be delivered after that one. If I could do so personally.” I offered up the next sealed message, which was thicker.

He took that one and opened it quietly. He caught the keys as they started to slide off the letter. He looked at the keys, then back to the writing.

“I can take you there, if you would like. Show you what has been left for you to start with,” I said.

“She’s serious?”

“She is. She still has keys. It’s still hers on the official books. Less suspicion. Rent just happens to be paid in full.”

He shook his head. “All right. Lead the way, lass.”

I led him out through the Ratway, but we stayed on the lower level walkways until near the alchemist’s shop. From there, it was a quick few steps to get into Honeyside without drawing too much attention.

“If you need to get in and out without the Guard noticing, the door by the bed leads to a balcony. The balcony has a private dock and you’re out of Riften. She… She may meet you outside, if the need arises.”

He turned and smiled, “Lass, you didn’t think she was still with us, did you?”

I sighed, “No. This complicates things.”

He shook his head. “It shouldn’t. She trusted you this far. Any of the Guild get caught up there, let the guards deal with them. Most of those in the Guild don’t know that the High Queen has any part in the Guild, so it would be curiosity. She’s covered her tracks that far. We’ll deal with our own, lass. If they threaten her or anyone in the Palace, deal with them as you would non-Guild. She’d tell you the same.”

I showed him what she had left behind. After a few more minutes, we went separately. I left through the docks to grab Stormblade’s horse at the stables and head back to Windhelm. At least I got to be out of the Palace gloom for a day.

Chapter Text

Volume 11: The Hermit

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

To return to the more public histories of that year, however…

As the changes from the College started rolling out into Winterhold, it started to gain some of the standing it had lost long ago. It certainly took some time for word to go out via courier to bring more visitors out to Winterhold. There was definitely some improvement among the guards’ demeanor when it was suggested that the armors should have at least one warming or frost resistant piece for when the blizzards up from the seas started to come in. True to her word, as soon as one of the houses had been rebuilt, a smith was brought out to Winterhold. Stormblade, personally, invested in the blacksmith to make sure that she could survive in Winterhold before her wares started to sell enough to survive on her own.

In the midst of 4E 204, the first of the Stormcloak children was born. As Ulfric and Stormblade welcomed the first of Ulfric’s heirs, Hoag, there was a temporary pause on any of the Winterhold projects that required the Arch-Mage’s input. Word also reached the College that Stormblade presented Hoag to a dragon on the day after his birth. As she had gone into labor, she had gone out to the courtyard and gave voice to a thu’um. A day later, against advice of her staff, she had walked out to present Hoag to the dragon before returning into the Palace. Suffice to say, the grumblings among the faculty at the College with all of these changes could get quite strong and this news added to the words that doubted she was working in anyone’s best interest at the College.

As 4E 204 started to draw to a close, Winterhold’s prospects were starting to look less dire. As more items were available to Birna from the College and the blacksmith’s forge was almost a lighthouse beacon to pair with the magic of the College, a few more visitors started to show. The College had more initiates that came as the prospects of additional and practical work other than research started to appear. The new initiates, being less inclined to research, were a minor irritation to those that were looking to answer deeper questions.

The High Queen’s attempts to improve the College’s reputation within Skyrim as Arch-Mage were aided by being Dragonborn, in addition to being a Nord. Her standing among the faculty was less stellar, except with Colette Marence. Stormblade’s continued work in Restoration studies had led Colette to be one of her few supporters in the College. The more time that slipped away from the incident with the Eye of Magnus, the less support Stormblade would have as Arch-Mage.

Lastly, the fishing sites were scouted out for building in the coming years. It would take time and patches of decent weather to get the shacks built out and some decent pathways carved down to the water’s edge. These fishing areas were all along the coastal areas and the paths were from all edges of town.

A new issue started to rear up behind this change, however. As Stormblade’s work as Arch-Mage and High Queen were improving one hold, it meant that the tides were changing for other holds. The delicate balance of those holds started to shift ever so little. The major holds, such as Whiterun or The Rift, wouldn’t notice the changes at this stage. However, the balance between Winterhold, The Pale, Hjaalmarch, and Falkreath was starting to move. With that shift, the newest of those Jarls – Sorli the Builder – started make more rash decisions.

Just as those tensions were starting to come up, a missive appeared from Jarl Ravencrone:

Letter from Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone

5 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 205

High Queen Stormblade:

Massive bear of the snows. Protector of smaller cubs. His temper, his rage will be of legends, mirroring his father’s without the underlying sadness.

Jarl Ravencrone

Ulfric questioned Stormblade in court on this missive, as well as the one that came the previous year. She responded that she respected Jarl Ravencrone and her family’s visions and insights. Wise women were becoming very rare among the Nords, but Stormblade wasn’t ready to let it fade into history. It was her regret that Jarl Ravencrone had not sided with the Stormcloaks, but she also noted that Jarl Ravencrone was not exactly loyal to the dying Empire either. When she was Jarl of Hjaalmarch, she had told Stormblade that she stood for Hjaalmarch. Given the remote nature of the area and its people wanting quiet, Stormblade understood the case for being a bit more distant to the cause. Ulfric was not in agreement with Stormblade’s more nuanced approach to loyalties seen during the war, but accepted the answer.

Following this letter, Stormblade observed a day at the Temple of Talos. The day after was another observation to Kyne, with her court calendar moved to accommodate. Golldir was getting adept at shifting her schedule while noting that it was her faith that was dictating changes. At least within the confines of the Eastmarch Nords, there were few grumbles whenever a concern was moved a day or two due to observation of her religious ways.

Through my connections in Riften, I also have verified that this letter was seen in the Thieves Guild as official orders. I have determined that this is penned in Stormblade’s handwriting.

Official Missive from Guild Master, Thieves Guild

8 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 205

Approval has been granted to 2 measures –

1. Actions that may cause issues within Markarth are approved. Reminder that Cidhna Mine still is active and we cannot rescue those caught within The Reach. If the actions point towards the Silver-Blood family being behind them, that is acceptable. Use of the fence in Markarth should be limited when causing visible issues to not draw attention to their family.
2. Request has been made to sanction activities within Hjaalmarch. As there is likely little to be gained directly, any wanting to lure in bandits or animals to watch the outcome as a novelty from normal jobs will be compensated for their time. This request is to be long-term. Warning – no authorization is granted towards Windstad Manor. The Ravencrone family are prone to visions and protection is beyond our scope. If I hear of activities against the Ravencrone family, I will personally return to Riften to exact punishments. Make this clear.

Guild Master

Galmar would be sent out to Morthal several times in the coming year to give advice. On the return from his first visit as advisor, he gave the High King a report that it was merely inexperience on dealing with bandit raids and would be handled soon. He was sure that it would settle down soon enough. That year proved Galmar wrong.

While Galmar was off on his third visit, Stormblade gave birth to Ulfric’s second heir, Lothar. As with the previous child, on the day after his birth, he was presented to a dragon that came to Windhelm. Tensions in Hjaalmarch had added a shadow over this birth.

The status around Morthal was starting to get a little repetitive by Galmar’s return from his third visit. High King Ulfric was getting terse in response to the reports. Jorleif notes that the temper previously seen in 4E 201 was starting to appear when Stormblade came in through the War Room. She was wearing the Bear cuirass, but was bare-foot as she padded across the hall with a blanketed bundle.

Ulfric’s ire was redirected at Stormblade. “You are supposed to be resting.”

Stormblade shrugged at that. “Resting. I’m restless. I was told Galmar had returned.”

Galmar gave her a look. “Stormblade. Go rest. I’ll be up to see you and this new one soon.”

Jorleif noted that as Stormblade exited towards the War Room, she gave him a small smile. He was fairly certain that she was intentionally pulling their ire to her, rather than letting it remain at each other or Hjaalmarch, though he was not sure as to how she knew when to appear or why draw it on herself that way. Whatever her reason, the anger had lessened enough that the two began planning. It would only be another month before another issue took Galmar back to Hjaalmarch.

In between Galmar’s visits out to Hjaalmarch to give advice to the newest of Jarls, Stormblade went on her pilgrimage to High Hrothgar. As Ulfric was noted to be getting irritable, her pilgrimage brought both children and several of her housecarls for their 3 weeks away from Eastmarch. Court logs note that these three weeks had seen Ulfric’s temper start to return. The temper did not dissipate immediately on Stormblade’s return, but it ceased to increase and then slowly started to diminish.

By the end of the year, the workers at the lumber mill were openly complaining about the Jarl and crime was ticking upward. The majority of the guards were either close to the Jarl’s residence or out at Stonehills, leaving the rest of the roads completely open. The lumberyard was even noting that it felt a lack of protection. The only other places that were defended were the few forts where the Stormcloaks were garrisoned.

The caravans already avoided Hjaalmarch, so there was little discussion from them. There was a note that came up from the Companions – they were seeing an uptick in requests to deal with animal incursions around Hjaalmarch. Aside from mentioning reports that she was getting from the Companions, Stormblade was staying out of the discussions. The drumbeat of unrest was beginning to sound louder.

As if tensions in Hjaalmarch hadn’t been high enough, there were reports of dragons taking up residence at both Eldersblood Peak and Skyborn Altar. While neither dragon was attacking Morthal directly, they were heard vying against each other or the trolls that were along either mountain. The noise from the pair was unsettling to the town’s folk and was always the worst at night. Sleep was uneasy in Hjaalmarch that spring.

As the dragons caused unrest in Hjaalmarch, a new missive from Hjaalmarch came to Windhelm for Stormblade:

Letter from Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone

26 First Seed, 4E 206

High Queen Stormblade:

Swift cub. In his flights, he will see the worst of doom. Care for this one to not become melancholy under the darkness before dawn.

Jarl Ravencrone

As with the previous two times a letter had arrived with a vision on a pregnancy, Stormblade then went to the Temple of Talos. The following day, she went out to the ice fields. She quietly carved animal figures in the snows while her housecarls kept watch for wildlife. With this third observation of the old gods in the snows, some of the guards noted in their logs that they had brought their children up on the walls to witness the High Queen giving observances. It was also beginning to get noticed by the crews of the ships in Windhelm’s port.

Stormblade was bound by her own duty and health to remain at the Palace. Her focus remained on Eastmarch and the College’s efforts with Winterhold. It was also getting increasingly obvious that the infants Hoag and Lothar were soon to have another sibling by fall, as well. Whatever could be said of the tensions in Hjaalmarch, Stormblade was not in the vicinity during any of it. In her condition, she certainly could not battle a dragon, let alone two.

Chapter Text

Volume 12: The Missteps

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

In the early part of Sun’s Dawn 4E 206, it was noted that Stormblade was not feeling well. It didn’t take long for the healers to figure out the cause. Where her pregnancies with Hoag and Lothar had been fairly easy in the early months, this third one was the opposite. Jordis the Shield-Maiden wrote:

Jordis the Shield-Maiden's Journal

12 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 206 – Stormblade has been without appetite, and it has become a bit worrisome. When we managed to get her to eat, she felt more unwell. We’ve gotten some mixtures from The White Phial to help settle her stomach.

At breakfast, I inquired of High King Ulfric if we are to now move her to a private room, as I have asked with the previous two pregnancies. With as distant as they always are, it is unusual that they would force their political marriage to remain in such close quarters during her pregnancies. With her current state of sickness, he may not be sleeping well.

“Is she requesting a private room? Or are her healers?” he asked.

“No, High King. Her restlessness and unease is likely keeping you awake, though. I thought you might need the rest.”

“Jordis, no. I will not abandon Stormblade while she is unwell with another heir,” he said. I was about to say something more, when he continued with an edge of irritation, “Unless she requests it, I see no reason to have separate chambers. Have I made this clear enough for you?”

“Yes, High King.”

“Good. We do not need to have this as a recurring discussion. It may have been typical up in Solitude, but this is not the Blue Palace. I know her proposal was for political implications. If she wants separate chambers, then you have her come to me and request them. She has denied asking you to request them previously when we have spoken. Persist in this and you and I are going to be on some difficult terms for wasting my time.”

“Understood. She hadn’t mentioned it. I didn’t mean to offend. I was only anticipating a possible need. I won’t ask again.”

Ulfric was about to say something more when Stormblade’s steward, Golldir, walked into the main hall. Golldir was walking over to confer with Jorleif when Ulfric asked, “What brings you here, Golldir? I thought you were assisting with our sons.”

“A moment, sir. Stormblade had a request.”

I saw Ulfric’s expression darken further. I had started this storm, but Golldir just walked into it. There was a quiet conversation between the two stewards. Iona gave me a look that appeared sympathetic. I saw Argis shaking his head slightly. Calder, Rayya, and Lydia were exchanging glances further down the table.

Golldir cleared his throat as he looked from Jorleif to Ulfric, “Sire, your docket appears free for a few hours this morning. Would you be willing to attend to Stormblade? She has requested your company, if available.” He had read the mood Ulfric was in and switched to formal. No wonder Stormblade kept him as steward when she moved into the Palace. It was almost like watching Falk Firebeard navigate concerns among the thanes in the Blue Palace.

Without a word, Ulfric got up and walked to the War Room. We could hear the residential wing door opening, then closing. Golldir looked at us at the table, then followed Ulfric.

Argis spoke up, “Golldir saved you, Jordis.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ulfric wasn’t done with you,” he said. “Solitude’s politics are a different breed. He doesn’t like to be reminded his marriage is of politics. He trusted her on the battlefield. Politics would deny that trust.” He looked over the table, “Who is with her right now? Gregor or Valdimar?”

Iona spoke up, “Valdimar.”

Argis sighed. “I’ll go warn him. Valdimar’s humor will not set well with the High King today.” We watched as Argis got up and disappeared into the residential wing.

Argis’ own account adds further to the records:

Argis the Bulwark's Journal

12 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 206. Jordis needs to remember this isn’t Solitude. Maybe the Blue Palace separates the couples. Sounds like something Imperials would do. She put Ulfric in a mood. Suggesting to put them apart while Stormblade’s unwell. Reminding Ulfric that Stormblade’s proposal was politics. If it was, this would be it. Three heirs would complete it. I don’t think Ulfric’s seen what I see, yet. I have suspicions it is no longer politics for Ulfric.

Stormblade requested Ulfric’s presence this morning. Then I find out Valdimar’s scheduled to be with her. That would be problematic. Ulfric barely tolerates Valdimar on a good day.

I got up to the room. Valdimar’s entertaining Hoag. Casting one of his armor spells for Hoag to bat at. Thank Mara. Golldir was checking on Lothar. Ulfric’s sitting next to Stormblade.

“Valdimar. A moment,” I said quietly.

He picked up the toddler and came over. “Is it time to switch already? I didn’t think it was that late.”

“It’s not,” I said. “Watch your humor. Jordis made her suggestion again.”

“Again? Now?” Valdimar winced and looked back at Ulfric and Stormblade. Hoag slapped at Valdimar’s hand. “How about I take Hoag for breakfast and you stay here, then? Lothar’s asleep.”

“Good plan.”

Valdimar quickly headed out. His less formal forms of address sometimes got him in trouble as is. He’d encourage Stormblade in things she probably shouldn’t do. Especially when ill.

“Argis?” I heard Stormblade’s voice. She sounded a bit weak. I could only see her back from where she was sitting. “Where’s Valdimar?”

“Took Hoag to get breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” I saw her back relax a little. Then Ulfric put an arm around her and pulled her closer. She flinched a bit before I saw her relax again. I could hear Ulfric’s voice talking to her, but not the words. A low concerned rumble. I saw her lean into him more with his words. Losing her face in the fur on his shoulders.

“I’ll be outside the door,” I said and stepped out. Golldir wasn’t far behind me on reading them. I heard her say thank you in a soft voice. Politics. Stormblade might have taken Jordis’ question worse than Ulfric, if she had heard it. Until Jorleif came for Ulfric, they talked in quiet words.

18 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 206. The sickness passed a few days ago. Stormblade requesting Ulfric’s presence in quiet did not end with the sickness. Perhaps fulfilling the agreement occurred to her.

Chapter Text

Volume 13: Turn of the Wheel

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

In the summer months of the 3rd year of High King Ulfric Stormcloak’s reign, there was an unusual amount of bandit activity within Hjaalmarch and The Pale. Vampire and werewolf incursions along the salt marshes were also on the rise, but not to the level of the bandits. Jarl Skald put out notices for bounties and made sure that Dawnstar’s shipping was untouched. Jarl Sorli the Builder already had a fairly low approval among the residents. It grew to where it could not be ignored when one of the residents managed to make it all the way to Windhelm to report the issues of Hjaalmarch in court to the High King.

When asked what prompted this status to be delivered personally to the High King, it was noted that Jarl Sorli the Builder had started to refuse entry to Highmoon Hall for the residents to give voice to their complaints. These concerns were very similar to the ones that had pulled Galmar out to the hold several times the year prior, but were increasing in intensity. With the dragons at the two peaks continuing to make considerable amounts of noise, it was getting more difficult to get shipments out along the roads from either the lumber mill or from Stonehills. Horses were too skittish. Prices from the other holds to get shipments of supplies in and out of Hjaalmarch were increasing, putting further pressures on the residents. If it weren’t for the wildlife in the salt marshes, the residents of the hold might have started to go into starvation measures. Revolt was starting to get voiced openly. As far as the residents were aware, there wasn’t even a bounty out for someone to attempt to handle either of the dragons. All this led the resident to risk coming to Windhelm before Hjaalmarch erupted.

High King Ulfric Stormcloak thanked the resident for this information and noted that he would need to confer with Galmar on their following action. The High Queen offered some quiet suggestion that Jorleif couldn’t make out, according to his notes, but Ulfric just shook his head at it. She then requested that Jorleif make sure that the resident was given a sum of 100 coin to pay for their travels for this news. To present a situation potentially this dire should not be placed on the residents of Hjaalmarch as an additional burden. Additionally, a stay at Candlehearth before returning to Hjaalmarch would also be covered.

As the resident was leaving, High King Ulfric and Galmar moved to the War Room. After some discussion, it was determined that a letter was to be sent to the commander in the area, Arrald Frozen-Heart, to inform him of the coming visit. After Jorleif was informed of the contents of the letter, the two went back to planning in the War Room. The other matters of court that were present that day fell to High Queen Stormblade to cover. An announcement came soon after that court was going to be left to the High Queen to handle, or place on hold, until their return.

The day that they left for Morthal, it was noted that the High Queen also had scheduled a visit at Hollyfrost Farm. Her walks would be ceasing in a couple weeks, once again, in preparation for the third child’s birth. (Kjorik would be born 2 months later in Sun’s Dusk 4E 206.) On the way to visit, it was recorded that she had paused at the Khajiit caravan that was outside the walls. Supposedly, she presented them with some fire salts to help keep warm as winter approached and noted that she’d begin working on more permanent shelters, if they desired, when spring returned.

It was recorded that on the return to Windhelm, Torsten Cruel-Sea walked with the High Queen. They redirected to the home of the Cruel-Seas for over an hour before the High Queen, toddler Hoag, infant Lothar, and her attending staff of housecarls went back the Palace. These facts are presented as there were rumors that the High Queen was not present in Windhelm during what transpired in Hjaalmarch, but it appears that those were false. She had been in Eastmarch for the time when things began to happen in Morthal. Additionally, due to the timing of her pregnancy, it was noted that the fall pilgrimage was postponed into winter. One of several times her pilgrimages had to move.

As High King Ulfric and Galmar arrived in Morthal, a courier was also coming in to town. Stonehills had been subject to another bandit raid. This courier was being sent by Thane Bryling of Solitude, requesting that the protection of the mine be increased. While discussions were being had about the nature of the attacks and what to do of them over the next day, the guards interrupted with news that thieves had also broken into the alchemist’s shop and the inn in Morthal itself, stealing what little they had. Tempers flared. Men of the town were gathering on the steps of Highmoon Hall, again.

By the end of the week, enough other issues rose up that High King Ulfric had Jarl Sorli step down before the angry mob stormed the Hall. There was a transition period of two weeks as leadership went back to the Ravencrone family. Before the High King had left Hjaalmarch to return to Windhelm, it was noted that there was another raid on Stonehills. Sorli and her family were among those that did not survive this particular raid. High King Ulfric was able to make it back to Windhelm just before the birth of Kjorik. Not long after Jarl Ravencrone was re-established, a bounty was put out for each dragon. It was weeks before anyone even attempted it and well past the birth of Kjorik that one of the dragons flew off to another peak and the volume of dragon roars subsided in Hjaalmarch.

Through my connections in Riften, I also have verified that this letter is penned in Stormblade’s handwriting:

Thieves Guild: Guild Master Notice

1 Sun’s Dusk, 4E 206

It has come to my attention that actions in Hjaalmarch have reached their conclusion. 200 coin bonus to the thief that managed to steal anything in the inn. 300 for the alchemy shop due to its location. The conclusion at Stonehills was unfortunate, but inciting bandits can be unpredictable. With Jarl Ravencrone moving back to Morthal, the Guild is to cease any activities without prior approval.

Addendum to previous actions approved in Markarth: Leave the denizens of the Warrens be, unless providing stolen items to them for their survival, such as potions or food. The Warrens is in worse condition than what our Ratway used to be; do not forget where we were in 201.

Bonuses are approved for any information relating to piratical activities under the employ of families within Solitude or Windhelm. There is approval for altering the books within the mines in Dawnstar. It is believed at least one of them is taking contracts with the Empire. If any evidence of this behavior is found, forward documentation to our Guild contact in Windhelm, Torsten Cruel-Sea.

Guild Master

In Windhelm, the birth of a third son was met with both celebration and speculation. With three children, it was wondered whether there would be more Stormcloaks to come. It seemed widely agreed that Stormblade’s offering of a bloodline was complete. Just the same, the Inn and Cornerclub both offered specials around this third birth, such as a third drink being on the house.

Chapter Text

Volume 14: Wise Women

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

This volume will contain a mix of letters and diary entries from some of her staff, to give a better view into daily life in the Palace of the Kings as we near the 4th of the Stormcloak children. The diary entries will be predominately from the royal midwife, Hemina Wolfs-Bane.

Journal of Hemina Wolfs-Bane

2 Rain’s Hand, 4E 207

When the missus started having trouble with sickness last year, Steward Golldir hired me into her staff from the temple. Figured they might need a midwife staying at the Palace, rather than just having me come out to check on the High Queen. I told them that sickness passes, but the menfolk get concerned.

Now she’s got another on the way, so maybe not such a bad idea to be here to keep an eye on her and the newborns. Her Steward does keep quite the watchful eye on her. She’s got some fiercely loyal staff that I see. Guessing the High King wants to make sure she lives up to that oath of hers for a lineage and those kids be his. He isn’t letting her out of his sight much, unless absolutely necessary. When she is, she’s got housecarls and everything’s on a list. He knows where she is at all hours.

Mara’s blessing the missus quite fast, too. Not getting much time to recover from the last one and another’s on the way. This one don’t seem to be causing issues like the last one. 3 boys so far.

The next day, a courier arrived from Morthal for the High Queen. -- Enthir

Letter from Morthal

3 Rain’s Hand, 4E 207

High Queen Stormblade:

She of the ice fields comes. Not a wraith, but also not as much bear as the others. This one will stand as her father’s tribe often has. The court will keep her and she will belong to it.

Jarl Idgrod

Journal of Hemina Wolfs-Bane

4 Rain’s Hand, 4E 207

The missus got a letter from that Jarl out in Hjaalmarch yesterday. I had heard that they have some sort of visions out there and the missus gives them a serious listen. After she got that, a few of us went with her to the Temple of Talos. Her staff told me she did this for all the boys. From that Jarl’s letter, we may be seeing a girl this time.

Today, the missus went out to that ice field near the docks. Oh, she follows some old ways, that one. I had heard rumors of it, but it’s another to watch her rituals. I stayed back with some of the housecarls, who were on the lookout for wildlife. The missus carved animal images in the snows. She don’t wear dresses, which is just as well. That armor will be better for her back if she’s going to be snow carving. She brought hawk feathers and wolf pelts with her while wearing those bear skins for the Stormcloaks. We were out there for about an hour. Any longer and I might have made her come back in, but she seemed to be handling the cold well enough.

The High King’s been asking on her. While she allows for more informality, I need to remember that he don’t. At least, not yet. Let him know she’s not showing signs of sickness this time. He looked relieved at that. She’s been heading in to court quite a bit, so he must’ve thought she was just forcing herself to go and hide any discomfort. I did get him to allow her to go in without her boots, if she wishes, though. Told him those cold floors might feel good to her later on and that’s all he needed to hear. I didn’t even get to mention that those boots might get tight on her feet, as they started to with Kjorik.

25 Rain’s Hand, 4E 207

The missus took most of today to sit with her boys, rather than be in court. Little Hoag has his grandfather’s heart. I can see it, even though he’s only three. The missus wasn’t in Eastmarch back then. She don’t have memories of Jarl Hoag Stormcloak. I do, though. If all this had happened sooner… He’d have loved having littles in the Palace. Might’ve helped him through the time of Ulfric’s imprisonment after Markarth. I know that weighed heavily on Jarl Hoag. Hopefully he’s resting easy, seeing what his son’s accomplished.

Lothar’s going to be a big one. He’s got Jarl Hoag’s build, that one. More surly, though. More like when both his parents are in a bad humor. He likes to climb up the missus’ back when they play. Good thing the missus is from mountain stock. She don’t mind the rough play of boys like some of the wealthy ladies in Eastmarch do. He’ll have a few more months before we’ll have to stop him from climbing on her, if she starts to have issues. She’s raising them in a manner of the older mountain folk, rather than the city that they belong to.

Kjorik’s just about 3 months on. As little as he is, he’s quiet and watchful. He rises with the sun, that one.

2 Midyear, 4E 207

The missus needed to rest at mid-day. She had taken her morning walk to the farms. Coming back, she started to feel a bit weak, though. Saw her lean on Argis’ arm briefly as they entered the Palace. Had to ask Steward Golldir to delay her time for court. He said he could handle most of her queries today. He’d just have a few things to bring to her when I let him know she’d be awake. Her resting brought Ulfric up, though. He sat with her till Kjorik woke up.

He picked up Kjorik and went down to court with him, before the noise woke the missus up. Steward Golldir told me that Ulfric wants the court used to those boys being there and for them to get used to hearing it, early.

22 Sun’s Height, 4E 207

Oengul War-Hammer was beside himself. Hermir Strong-Heart was finding it terribly funny. Said she had some ideas. The missus’ bear cuirass wasn’t fitting right. Even the modified one wasn’t fitting her this time. She’s carrying this one all different and Oengul’s having a hard time getting the leather and skins to work for her. They met her in the War Room to do the adjustments, so she didn’t have to go to the blacksmith’s quarters. Definitely a girl coming with the way she’s filling out. They are going to make her something that helps with the weight. In the meantime, High Queen Stormblade’s using her mage robes and she’s not pleased.

I don’t think she’s noticed Ulfric watching her. You’d think she was some delicate mountain flower with his concern over her carrying his heirs. He’s been asking if we should cease the play with the boys. She’s still allowing Lothar to climb her back when she sits down. She gets this amused look when she pulls Lothar over her shoulder into her lap, losing all her seriousness for a moment. Hoag has a little wood sword and she’ll hold up a target shield for him to tap at. He’s not got any power yet. He’s too little. She fought alongside Ulfric in Solitude, from what I heard, so he should know she’s capable of judging herself as long as we don’t see anything concerning.

On 25th of Last Seed, another courier showed up in court with a missive from Whiterun. Whiterun, this year, had seen exceptional crop yields in its farms and smaller towns. Increased carriages had been seen travelling from Whiterun to all of the other holds that summer. -- Enthir

Letter from Whiterun

23 Last Seed, 4E 207

High King Ulfric, High Queen Stormblade,

Thorold brought it to our attention that your next child is due soon. We were told that you are likely to have a daughter this time, so Eorland made a special locket for her. Please accept the locket with our continued well wishes.

Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane

The receipt of this locket is noted by housecarl Argis the Bulwark as follows. == Enthir

Journal of Argis the Bulwark

25 Last Seed, 4E 207

This pregnancy has Stormblade a bit moody and tired. She was not allowed to make her pilgrimage on time, again. We sent word ahead and Erik the Slayer brought up the supplies for her. Hemina’s not wrong on the thought. Stormblade barely made it to the Gray Quarter last week. High Hrothgar is out. Maybe if she recovers enough, we could attempt winter. Might be rougher. I’d do it, though.

Today, she got a gift from Whiterun while I was on duty. She was resting up in their chambers when Ulfric came up with it. She held it up. Light played over the engraved locket. Her eyes narrowed.

“What have they wanted in court lately?”

Ulfric let out a short laugh.

“I’m serious,” she said. Now those narrowed eyes were on him.

“I know that. Even as you are nearing this birth, you’re still seeing the politics that are coming at you as queen. I’m proud that you asked. You are right to do so.” He sat down next to her. “They haven’t requested anything in court. They have, however, had a good season. Gold has been flowing into Whiterun from the other holds, securing its central position once again.”

She looked back at the locket, then at Ulfric, “Then Balgruuf may be his concern?”

“You did give him that house. It’s possible. I’ll put a few men on it.”

She thumbed open the locket. She started to smile a bit. “Perhaps it is just Eorland and Fralia and not Jarl Gray-Mane.”

“What changes your mind?”

“A summer seed,” she held up a small seed that was in the locket. “It was part of a phrase that I gave to Fralia, to let her know that Avulstein and I had secured Thorold and both of them had come out here while Whiterun was not safe for them.”

Politics. Stormblade was looking at the locket. While she wasn’t watching him, I saw how Ulfric reacted to her comments. He might not be saying it to her. Looked like I didn’t need to worry about him using her, though. Good. She put the seed in the locket and closed it. She offered the locket back to Ulfric. Politics they said. I stepped out of the room to let them be. Looked like he was staying a bit longer.

Journal of Hemina Wolfs-Bane

21 Heartfire, 4E 207

The missus gave birth quickly today. A little girl. Quite healthy. She insisted when the pains started that she go out to the courtyard. Had to do that call of hers. I know she’ll be forcing herself to go out tomorrow. Couldn’t talk her out of it for the others, so there’s no talking her out of it now. Iona had stood guard in the room during the birthing.

Once we had the missus and the little one cleaned up, we opened the door to let the menfolk in. You’d think Ulfric was storming Solitude again. Argis was keeping pace right behind Ulfric. Guess he was swapping with Iona. As soon as Ulfric was at her side, she was holding up their daughter to him.

“Freydis, meet your father.”

He took the little one, but his eyes were on the missus.

“Freydis? As in High Queen Freydis of Eastern Skyrim?”

The missus smiled, “The same, yes. I thought it appropriate with the sword we dug up for you. If whispers in the halls are accurate, I believe there was another with that name far more recently.”

She had caught Ulfric off-guard. He looked between the infant and the missus. The room had grown quiet. He sat down next to her on the bed. The missus propped herself up a bit and touched his shoulder. Her voice was real soft, “I do hope Jorleif did not tell me something I wasn’t supposed to know. I know it wasn’t common knowledge as a name gifted with honors.”

“No, just unexpected,” he said. He took a deep breath, looking at the infant. “Our first son was named for my father and now this… You keep placing honors on me, Stormblade. What about your family?”

“The dragon tongue honorifics are for me. I rid myself of the name I was given at birth long ago. My blood that was in the mountains is of no concern to me. I had no ties to them even before Helgen. You gave me honors as I fought for you. Let me honor your kin,” she said. She paused, then added, “If you were about to ask, her second name is Bromgaaffeyn.”

He looked up at the missus and leaned over to kiss her. I swear, it was one of the few times I saw Ulfric’s sadness lift for a moment. The missus, though… She had her hands at his shoulders as soon as he leaned over. If she isn’t in love with him, then she’s learned more acting from that Bard College out in Solitude than anyone has said.

The day after Freydis was born, a missive from Hjaalmarch arrived. -- Enthir

Letter from Morthal

27 Heartfire, 4E 207

Stormblade:

A new bear comes. I don’t think you could know of this one yet. You will. This one will stand like Velothi or Jerall. Patient, but do not take for slow. Content to work with his paws among those he sees as kin.

Jarl Idgrod

Chapter Text

Volume 15: The Logbooks v1

It Starts Here
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Ed. Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

My mother had spent 2 years on the road between her near execution and when she married my father. Her legends are many. Some are even verified. The time in the mountains prior to Helgen may not have been stationary, either. We don’t really know. She wouldn’t talk about it. By the time I was born, she had spent 4 years in Eastmarch. Mostly in Windhelm.

The day after I was born, she got a letter announcing the arrival of another of us. I’m told that it came just after she came inside from presenting me to the dragon. There was no chance that she had recovered enough that she was pregnant already. For the news to arrive so close, I imagine it was a bit of a shock just the same. She wasn’t the sort to dismiss the visions of Jarl Ravencrone. Father was always more suspicious of Jarl Ravencrone. He was probably displeased with this correspondence and what it seemed to cause with Mother.

Looking through our guard logs from the end of that year, I think I found when she started leaving in the night. She may not have expected to be quite so stationary when she made her proposal. I’m not sure what she may have expected. I don’t think any of us would have expected Mara’s blessings to suddenly be so prominent so quickly. Her own need to be on the move again started causing issues with Father.

From what I’ve heard, those early years of their marriage were an interesting dance of saying nothing and everything all at once. That dance was more nuanced and intricate in the later years, where it was more important to watch what they did than what they said. By then, they had an understanding of what was between them. How they managed to understand one another is perhaps part of the blessings that they received from the hearth gods. It certainly kept us all as one tightly banded family, despite what history says about families of notable parentage.

I’ve edited the entries into what may be the correct times for where it may have been her on the move.

Official Logbooks

24 Sun’s Dusk, 4E 207

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: Heard stirrings down the hall. Freydis had awoken in the night. Stormblade was tending to her.

Felt a breeze through the hall. Checked chambers. Stormblade is not in their chambers. All others asleep.

Logbook: Armory

11 bells: Heard the door open. Went to investigate. Found no one. In the Queen’s Wing, the black bow is missing.

Logbook: Palace Main Hall

11 bells: Housecarls Iona and Calder are up late. Left to take a walk in the city.

Logbook: City Guard

11 bells: Housecarl Calder went to check on High Queen’s Hjerim house. Haven’t seen anyone near it, but Calder said he had a feeling.

Housecarl Iona was seen walking around Windhelm. Noted she had trouble sleeping. Went out the front gate to walk the bridge.

25 Sun’s Dusk, 4E 207

Logbook: Bridge Guard

Midnight bells: Near the Khajiit camp, saw a few flashes of light. Went to investigate. Some bluish flame horse was near the edge of the camp. A rider in black was nearby. Saw them talk to the Khajiit before getting on the horse and riding south, towards Kynesgrove.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

2 bells: Very early morning. Hours before sun is due. Freydis stirred awake again. Ulfric awoke to tend to her. Inquired as to Stormblade’s location. Unknown. Missing 3 hours.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

4 bells: Sun is starting to peak over the Velothi. The gates opened, but didn’t see anyone nearby. Need to check the mechanisms.

Logbook: City Guard

4 bells: Housecarls Calder and Iona were seen leaving Hjerim around sunrise. Both headed to the Palace.

Logbook: Palace Main Hall

4 bells: Allowed entry to Housecarls Iona and Calder.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

4 bells: Heard noises down the hall. Went to investigate. Stormblade had returned, but we hadn’t seen her in the hall. Asleep close to Ulfric. I swear she wasn’t there at last check on the bells. Also, there was a small sack on one of the nightstands that didn’t look familiar with a larger one near the dressers. Odd.

Logbook: Eastmarch Patrol

After dawn, we spotted traces of blood coming down a nearby slope. Investigation turned out not to be wildlife. Blood was seen at the edges of Stony Creek’s pond along with a few bodies. One appeared to be an Imperial Scout. Two others were likely bandits. Four other bandits were found dead on investigation of the nearby cave. All dead by a mix of ebony arrows and a blade of some sort. We’ll have to see who claims the bounty.

30 Sun’s Dusk, 4E 207

Logbook: Palace Main Hall

9 bells: Housecarl Iona exited to Windhelm. Heading to Candlehearth Hall for the evening.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: Completed rounds. All that are present are asleep. Missing: Stormblade. Didn’t see her leave the hall.

Logbook: City Guard

11 bells: Saw the main gates open and a flash of purple light. No visitors seen on either side of the gate.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

11 bells: Near the Khajiit camp, saw a few flashes of light. Went to investigate. Some bluish flame horse was near the edge of the camp. A rider was nearby. Saw them talk to the Khajiit before getting on the horse and riding east, towards the farms.

1 Evening Star, 4E 207

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

3 bells: Very early morning. Freydis stirred awake. Ulfric awoke to tend to her. Inquired as to Stormblade’s location. Unknown. Noted missing 4 hours ago.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

4 bells: The gates opened, but didn’t see anyone nearby.

Logbook: City Guard

4 bells: Housecarl Iona seen leaving Candlehearth around sunrise. Checked Hjerim, then headed to the Palace.

Logbook: Palace Main Hall

4 bells: Allowed entry to Housecarl Iona.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

5 bells: Completed rounds. All that are present are asleep. Stormblade has returned. Didn’t see her arrive, but she’s present next to Ulfric.

Logbook: Eastmarch Patrol

Mid-morning patrol along the border found a High Elf left mostly naked, multiple types of battle wounds, and throat slit. Evidence in the surrounding area of magic use. Nearby, damaged Thalmor Justiciar robes were found near the tower to the refugees, with a Talos amulet hanging on the wall over them. Will bring this finding to the High King and High Queen.

5 Evening Star, 4E 207

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: Completed rounds. All that are present are asleep. Missing: Stormblade. Again.

6 Evening Star, 4E 207

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

1 bell: Ulfric inquired as to Stormblade’s whereabouts. Noted she’s been missing two hours. Last time I saw his expression that dark was during the Liberation.

Logbook: Eastern Wall Watch

1 bell: Saw a figure just appear on the wall overlooking the docks. Approached with weapon drawn. Turned out to be Stormblade in a heavy fur cloak. She apologized for startling the watch. Had been lost in thought and forgot to cast invisibility. Stated that she doesn’t need to be invisible if she wants to join us on the walls. She gave a small smile at that. After a pause, she commented that she could see the Northern Maiden was in port. We had a short discussion on which ships were currently docked and the current schedule, as we get it from the docks. She then said I could continue my rounds, as she’d go back inside.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

2 bells: Stormblade came through the hall and went to chambers. Could hear rumbles of her talking with Ulfric briefly before things settled back to quiet.

These sorts of logs continue every few days throughout Evening Star and into Morning Star. After some of these evenings, there would be fewer reports of bandits or other concerns around Eastmarch. She was still close to Father, in her own way, from other logs, but she was just as likely to have vanished in the night.

Chapter Text

Volume 16: The Maelstrom

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

As 4E 208 started, the drumbeat of war was starting to sound again in Skyrim. It had been a few years of consolidation and rebuilding under High King Ulfric, but peace does not last forever in the hearts of Nords. While The Reach had its share of issues with the Forsworn, it was being mostly contained within that hold. It was, however, High Queen Stormblade that was advocating for a more warlike posture.

Galmar Stone-Fist’s reports were now less on the holds and more on the forts. His reports were detailing which commanders were ready and where improvements could be made. Some forts still required repairs after the decades of neglect. The War Room was getting updated every few days with reports on the progress of repairs and where scouts seen activity.

Patrols along the roads in Falkreath and The Rift, where there were known passes, were being increased. Stormblade added some passes through The Rift that weren’t on their maps, noting that she had personally been on them and, in part, they were what led to her being at Helgen. Hunting. Poaching, if you’re the Jarl. She also noted which were susceptible to avalanche, which would effectively block them through the year.

Valdimar, Stormblade’s housecarl from Hjaalmarch, had quite the entry from that first month.

Housecarl Valdimar’s Journal

6 Morning Star, 4E 208

I had the three toddlers entertained in the Main Hall, casting Stoneflesh and batting away their hits. Lothar’s hits were getting harder than Hoag’s, and they’d both wear down Oakflesh too quickly. Kjorik had just turned 1 and was unsteady when on his feet.

“Are we ready, then?” I heard Stormblade asking from within the War Room. She was sounding a bit irritable today.

There was the rumble of Ulfric’s voice from in that room. His voice wasn’t carrying the way hers was.

“Valdimar, could you come to the War Room for a moment?” The irritation in her voice was getting worse. I looked to see who else was in the hall. Iona came over to handle the boys.

“Go,” she whispered. “Careful, she’s in a mood.”

“If she is, they all are,” I said. I walked over to the War Room. “What do you need, High Queen?”

She had her left hand held up in front of her, close to her chest. Fire danced over her fingers. Worse than I thought if she’s readying magic indoors. She laughed, without humor, “High Queen? From you? Interesting.” Ulfric looked unamused. She continued, making the fire dance on her fingers as she spoke, “I wanted your opinion, Valdimar. The Thalmor Embassy up in Haafingar is made of stone. You think we could lay waste to it with those staves I brought back from Solstheim?”

“The staves from Master Neloth set with Incinerate?”

“The same.”

“Might need to recharge them during use. Some well-placed empty mead kegs might help the explosive potential. You’d probably have half-collapsed walls and other debris,” I said. She must be looking to make this a personal matter. At least I could see why she called me in for this one. She knows I love a good explosion.

The flames that were dancing on her hand went out as she walked over to a side table. Ulfric and Galmar were silent as they watched her. The room felt like it was full of traps on the edge of snapping. She came back to the main table and laid out a smaller map on it.

“I don’t want debris,” she said. “I want it buried and gone. Salt the befouled earth. This is the map of the Embassy that I have… acquired. It includes where there is a cave tunnel underneath it, which I had used some years ago.”

“Acquired how?” I heard Ulfric asking.

“Several Stormcloak scouts remember me well enough from the war. A favor for me.”

Galmar’s arms crossed. “Stormblade, those men and women are under my command.”

“So they are. It was not a command. A favor.” Her smile was dark and a bit too vicious. “Now, this tunnel has occasionally had a troll or two in it. Sadly, I don’t mean Ambassador Elenwen. What if we collapse the tunnel under the Embassy?”

I looked down at the map. It was safer to study the map, as it was tempting to comment back and nudge her on. Her early battles had been fun that way. She can be amusing to set in motion. Not in this room, though.

“That could help,” I said cautiously. “Are you thinking of having miners go in first to weaken the walls? Have them roll in full mead barrels that happen to leak when they are done? The Thalmor vacated it a couple years ago when it was obvious as to the Empire’s status up here, so no need to be subtle.”

“A liquid fuse? That would go nicely as a play on her wretched parties that used to be there. I remember well who was there, then. I bet most of those Jarls and Thanes have never remembered that I was there or what they told me, then.” That was the closest I’ve heard to Stormblade making outright threats in Skyrim politics. By Kyne, she was in a mood. Another trap set. “So… may I lead a small force there to loot whatever they left, weaken the walls, and burn the thing to Oblivion?” I looked over at her and saw her looking at both Galmar and Ulfric.

Ulfric sighed. If it had been anyone other than Stormblade, I think we’d have seen his infamous temper by now.

Stormblade’s smile remained vicious. “Someone I know once told me that nothing says that we mean business like a column of smoke. It would be beautiful.”

Ulfric remained calm, somehow. “You will be provoking war with the elves.”

“If not now, when?” she asked. “You mean the bodies I’ve left in Lake Honrich or the fields of Whiterun have gone unnoticed? I assure you that my stripping them naked for the hawks of Kyne and leaving their robes at Talos shrines has been noticed. They might not have openly declared war, yet, but they will. Why wait for when they are ready?”

I had to bite my lip to not laugh at that. I had seen her do that in the past, but it was a while ago. Her defilement of Justiciars was a legend in every hold. She’s definitely looking for a fight today.

“That was before you were High Queen, Stormblade,” Galmar was rumbling.

“I believe there was a sacrifice noted around North Winds Prayer in the Rift. With one prior here in Eastmarch.”

“By Ysmir,” I heard Galmar mutter. “That was you?”

“Indeed, I have been given that title. However, I just said there were sacrifices. I did not admit it was my doing.” She looked at Ulfric, who was definitely not pleased at the moment. I don’t think I’ve seen him that angry since moving to the Palace. “I should have asked, but the timing was short. I had to act in the moments allotted. When I’m missing from our bedchamber, it’s because I am letting blood seep into our land and no other reason. Now. Now, I have admitted it.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, proud of what she’s admitted. If they had forgotten she was Dragonborn, she just brought it front and center.

“We will discuss this more, you and I. Galmar, Valdimar – excuse us.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I headed towards Iona while keeping an ear back to the room, in case we needed to separate them. Off to one side of the War Room door, it looked like Galmar had the same thought. “Hoag, Lothar, are you hungry?”

Iona’s eyes were staring back at the War Room and the low rumblings. “I didn’t think you’d survive that storm. Argis been teaching you when to stay quiet?”

I chuckled, “Around those tempers, it was clear. She wants the embassy in cinders. Now she’s provoked the bears multiple ways. She even admitted to having been called Ysmir by the Greybeards.” We rounded up the boys and took them closer to the kitchen to eat. Further from the continued sounds coming from the War Room.

Stormblade came out of the War Room and stalked towards the main doors. I saw one hand flash blue – probably Ebonyflesh, knowing her – and the other flashed brightly as she was surrounded in a swirling lightning cloak. Her hands then went a darker blue as she conjured a bow in her hands and a quiver on her back. The guards quickly moved aside, seeing the state she was in. The boys were chattering excitedly, watching their mother become a literal dark storm.

“Stormblade,” I heard Ulfric saying as he came from the War Room.

“I’m going to go find some ice wraiths in the eastern fields,” she grumbled.

“What if I joined you on your hunt?” he asked as he started to cross the hall.

“You haven’t joined me in battle since Solitude,” she looked back at Ulfric. She was somewhere between irritated and upset. Lightning danced silently around her as she watched him close the distance. With a flick of her hands, the bow and quiver were gone and she crossed her arms in front of her.

The boys remained fixated on both of them. I tried to get one of them to eat, but this was too interesting.

“Then we should change that.”

Stormblade took a deep breath, then nodded. “Very well,” her voice had lost the irritated sound. As he was closing the distance to her, she looked between us and Galmar. “I know your oaths. They won’t be in jeopardy. Just… leave us on this one.” She was trying to sound less irritable, but it wasn’t working.

Galmar and I weren’t going to listen to that one, entirely. I left the kids with Iona. We followed, but held back to give them space. Thankfully, we did not have to step between them. When they came back in the city, Galmar and I went back to the palace to wait for them there. There was no need for us to join them when they went to prayers in the Temple.

A little less than an hour later, we saw them both return. The mood between the two appeared to have improved.

[Undated] Update: The rumors went wild with Stormblade being a storm as she walked out of the Palace. Need to warn her about that, if Ulfric doesn’t.

Chapter Text

Volume 17: The Logbooks v2

The Hunt
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

Enthir had a text in while he mentioned my mother’s foul mood regarding the Thalmor Embassy on the morning of the 6th of Morning Star. While the housecarls stayed further back, as requested, the guards logged what they saw in more detail than Valdimar did. Unfortunately, this hunt with Father was not enough to curb Mother’s temper for long.

Official Logbooks

6 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: City Guard

5 bells: High King Ulfric and High Queen Stormblade came through the city. Stormblade’s got some sort of magic running over her. Stormblade, indeed. She’s a full storm. Since she’s often championing the Dunmer repairs, they look a bit amused by this display through the Queen’s Quarter as she’s clearly taking the lead in where they are going. High King and High Queen left through the East Gate to the docks.

Update [no time listed]: Oh, the gossip in the Queen’s Quarter is going to get the elves in trouble. We’ll need to report to High Queen Stormblade some of the less pleasant rumors about the High King that surfaced with her leading the way through that part of town as a storm. The nicest was how she managed to get the High King to finally come through their section of Windhelm.

Logbook: Dock Guard

5 bells: High King Ulfric and High Queen Stormblade came through the docks and went through the northern gate by the warehouses to the snow fields. Partway to the northern gate whatever spell she had that was causing lightning to race over her was dropped. That certainly got attention from the sailors and dockhands.

Logbook: Eastern Watch

5 bells: Saw the High King and High Queen down on the snow fields. Kept watch from above. High Queen cast something on herself, forcing a shimmer over her furs, then a bow appeared in a dark-blue light. As they started up the fields, I saw Galmar Stone-Fist and Valdimar appear at the gate.

Stormblade darted up the field, briefly, while Ulfric held back. First time I’ve seen the High Queen stalk anything. I heard she had been a hunter back before she joined the Liberation. She checked the wind several times, adjusted course, and then continued up the field. Her whole stance was different. She looked even more like a bear in her furs than she usually does. When she paused, blue arrows were shot up the fields to the north.

Ulfric had his axe at the ready as she came running back towards his side. Ice wraiths were lured back to them, then dispatched by the pair. 3 wraiths in total. She followed by tracking down and bringing back a few ice wolves and, then, an ice bear. By the time anything made it back to Ulfric, it already had several arrows in it. Looked like she was allowing him to have most of the killing blows.

How long has it been since we had a High Queen that hunts ice wraiths? She’s going to get some of the old rites brought back into popularity.

Logbook: Dock Guard

6 bells: High King Ulfric and High Queen Stormblade returned from the snow fields. The High Queen had something in her hand that released a frost mist; perhaps ice wraith teeth. She noted that there were some ice wolves and an ice bear that they dispatched. She was going to let them know in the Blacksmith’s Quarter. We may see some increased visits to the fields for the leatherworkers and any that want to butcher the meats for other purposes. After they went in the gates, Galmar and Valdimar followed silently.

Logbook: City Guard

6 bells: High King Ulfric and High Queen Stormblade came from the docks and headed into the Blacksmith’s Quarter for a time. Heard she was announcing some open kills for their use. She had something small she was carrying as well.

When they left the Blacksmith’s Quarter, they were seen entering the Temple of Talos. Galmar Stone-Fist and Valdimar didn’t enter the Temple with them, but instead went on to the Palace.

7 bells: Whatever she had with her must have been an offering. She didn’t have it when they left the Temple. High King and High Queen headed toward the Palace after leaving the Temple. Near the Palace, Torsten Cruel-Sea intercepted them with a query, then he went on to Candlehearth.

11 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: City Guard

11 bells: Nearing midnight bells. Housecarl Iona entered Candlehearth Hall. The main gate opened with a flash of purple light. Will check with Palace guard to see if High Queen Stormblade is on the move again.

Addendum: Confirmed by King’s Hall Guard.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

11 bells: Almost 12 bells. Near the Khajiit camp, saw a few flashes of light. Went to investigate. Some bluish flame horse was near the edge of the camp. A rider was nearby again. Saw them talk to the Khajiit before getting on the horse and riding west, towards the mill.

12 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: Bridge Guard

5 bells: Saw purplish flashes along the bridge this morning. The main gate opened with a similar flash. Based on what the City Guard are mentioning, it’s possibly the High Queen.

Logbook: City Guard

5 bells: Saw housecarl Iona leaving Hjerim, headed to the Palace.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

6 bells: At some point since 5 bells, Stormblade returned. Pulled the door closed a bit more. Stormblade was attempting to awaken Ulfric, but certainly not for court.

15 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: Main Hall Guard

3 bells: On 6 Morning Star, we heard High King and High Queen disagreeing in the War Room. A similar disagreement started again this afternoon. The High Queen’s temperament has been unpleasant this year. Her temper has been inciting a similar mood in the High King.

16 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: Main Hall Guard

11 bells: The High Queen left for a tour of the Queen’s Quarter this morning. Her schedule was also noted to include a tour over to the farms.

3 bells: The High Queen returned from her tours.

17 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: Main Hall Guard

10 bells: The High Queen left for a tour of the farms again. Her temper was evident at the early meal. The High King requested an additional guard to watch over the High Queen on her walk.

Logbook: City Guard

12 bells/Noon: The High Queen returned from the farm tours with Torsten Cruel-Sea. She walked back to the Cruel-Seas home with him.

1 bell: The High Queen was seen leaving the Cruel-Seas home; walked back to the Palace.

Logbook: Main Hall Guard

1 bell: The High Queen returned from her walks. She went up to the residential wing to check on Freydis. High King received the report on Stormblade’s movements this morning.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: Others are asleep. Stormblade’s already missing. Sent word to the bridge.

Logbook: Dock Guard

11 bells: Gate to the fields opened with a flash of purple. Few minutes later, it looked like a horse and rider appeared, then went off to the north.

18 Morning Star, 4E 208

Logbook: Dock Guard

2 bells: Heavy snowstorm tracking in from the north. The rider came from the snows. The horse disappeared after dismount. The rider then disappeared in purple light. Saw a few doors move. Sent word up to the Palace.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

2 bells: Got word from the docks. Keeping an eye out for any shimmers in the air. Did see the High King and High Queen’s door shift a little more open. On inspection, Stormblade has returned and was cozying up to Ulfric. Near one of the pillars, I saw a pack that had ice stuck to the edges. I wonder if we’re going to hear of a bounty being unclaimed again.

Chapter Text

Volume 18: The Eye of the Storm

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

The month of Morning Star seemed to see Stormblade’s mood get progressively worse with each passing day. Her shift in attitude is noted throughout all of the records in the Palace of the Kings and even somewhat within Windhelm. It is perhaps expected that the Thieves Guild was not immune to the change in temperament.

Letter from Thieves Guild

19 Morning Star, 4E 208

Winterhold Associate,

Be alert to the latest missive from our Guild Master, enclosed. As you have additional contacts that may procure other difficult to source items of a similar nature, be aware we have a buyer identified.

Ragged Flagon Management

Official Thieves Guild Missive

18 Morning Star, 4E 208

Authorization granted towards a high-profile, high-security mission – Thalmor Embassy.

It is expected that there may be traps laid and some may be magical in nature. Extreme caution is warranted, even if they appear to have vacated a couple years ago.

Items sought by a buyer:

1. Anything related to Thalmor files on Skyrim’s High King, High Queen, and Jarls
2. Anything related to potential sympathizers within Skyrim, including business interests
3. Documentation on possible whereabouts of Ambassador Elenwen since vacating Skyrim

If they have, in fact, not completely vacated the property, report back on that status before proceeding. Anything else not nailed down in the Embassy is fair game for those that take the job and are welcome to keep as trophies or fence as desired. Full sweep is authorized. It is encouraged to make this a team effort as there are a couple buildings in the compound.

Etienne Rarnis may be able to provide some background to the area, depending on what he remembers. If he wishes the job, he gets priority on the sweep. However, it is completely understood if he wants nothing to do with this job.

If there are any that enjoy vandalism in our midst, approval is granted to allow for destruction of property after 2 nights have passed following the sweep. Any loss of Thieves Guild personnel during said sweep and vandalism will be punished at triple rate as we cannot be seen as behind what occurs at the former Embassy.

Guild Master

According to some of the records, Stormblade had even stepped up her training in the eastern snow fields. Her temper was not improved by the training in these instances. It didn’t seem to matter which weapons she brought out for training purposes.

Valdimar, Stormblade’s battlemage housecarl, has another recording of events within the second half of the month of Morning Star, 4E 208.

Housecarl Valdimar’s Journal

19 Morning Star, 4E 208.

The High Queen has been in a state for most of the month. None of us have been sure how to handle this shift in moods. It appears that she’s in a mood for war and cannot drop the idea. The more she digs in, the more the High King puts his heels in to deny it. The rumors that her temperament has been stirring up out in Windhelm are unpleasant and certainly not helping get her out of it.

She had been surly again this morning. I had been talking with Argis and Lydia, as we overheard things get heated before someone opened the door from the War Room to the residential wings. Argis had a thought as to what it might be. Lydia went to go get Hemina.

High King Ulfric came from the War Room several minutes later. Stormblade had soured his mood, again. I was sure I was about to regret what came next.

I walked up towards the front of the hall. I spoke up, “High King, a moment.”

“Valdimar, now is not a good time.”

“It’s about Stormblade,” I said as I stood before him. I glanced to the War Room to make sure I didn’t see her coming. “This mood. She’s never like this, but now it’s been weeks.”

The anger coming from him amplified. “Do not waste my time, housecarl.”

“It’s been a while since her last letter from Jarl Ravencrone,” I said quickly. “Argis had the insight. Lydia is getting Hemina.”

Ulfric looked at me, considering this statement. I saw his gaze move, probably to Argis, before it settled back on me. We heard the door opening from the residential wing, as well as the higher pitched sounds of Freydis’ babbles.

“We will see. It would be good if you are correct,” he said.

I walked back over to where Argis was sitting. I felt Stormblade looking over at us. When I met her gaze, her eyes flashed, but she stayed quiet.

Argis leaned over, asked quietly, “Thought he’d listen if it was my idea?”

“Instead of one of mine, yes. Unless it has to do with magic for field practice, we do not get along.”

“I noticed. Fair assessment.”

Stormblade, further down the table, at the front of the hall, was playing with Freydis. Her expression was the opposite of playful. Freydis didn’t seem to care, though, and let out delighted squeals.

“Stormblade, are you feeling well?” I asked. Better she rage at me than Ulfric.

I saw her eyes narrow. “Yes. Why?”

“Storms have been churning around you a lot lately.”

“Are you saying you want to be a lightning rod for the next training?” Her gaze briefly left Freydis to look towards us. Towards me.

We heard one of the hall doors open. I didn’t look away, but I was hoping it was Hemina and she knew something that would say definitely what we were seeing. Once Hemina stepped over to Stormblade, she drew Stormblade’s attention away from us.

“Excuse me a moment, missus. I’ve been told you’ve been upset a lot lately. They’d like me to check on you,” said the midwife.

I saw Stormblade take a deep breath rather than say what she might be thinking. She still looked ready to take on a dragon, even with Freydis’ cheerful sounds. Hemina concentrated with a hand towards Stormblade’s lower abdomen and her hand glowed a purple color. Then I heard Hemina chuckle.

“No wonder you’re fit to destroy the world, missus. Nothing wrong, but the next is present. There’s a strong spirit to that one. Mara definitely favors this marriage.”

Stormblade took her free hand and ran it over her face. As she did, I saw the irritation start to fade. She was forcing the mood to back down. She looked behind her to Ulfric for a moment. I couldn’t see what her expression changed to, but whatever it was, Ulfric read it clear enough. She silently got up and crossed to the War Room with Freydis. Ulfric was following close behind. We then heard the doors to the residential hall open and close.

Hemina sighed and came over to us. “I guess the missus didn’t want that news.”

Argis shook his head. “That’s not it. Knew it was coming at some point. She’s been cruel. Now they both know why. It’s not going to resolve shortly. She’ll have to keep on top of it.”

Hemina looked between us, “How cruel?”

I chuckled, “If she tried Ulfric’s patience more, their next argument may have been a thu’um battle.”

Argis sighed, “A bit of exaggeration. Just a bit, though. She’s been asking for war.”

Hemina got a bit wide-eyed, “Oh, dear. Well, then, I better go get the missus something from The White Phial. Hopefully Nurelion had left the notes he had for humors to Quintus. I’m sure he found some teas that will work, if we don’t need anything stronger.” She darted out to Windhelm faster than I have ever seen that midwife move.

Chapter Text

Volume 19: The Logbooks v3

The Rituals
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

20 Morning Star, 4E 208.

Logbook: Eastern Watch

11 bells: Saw the High Queen come out to the snow fields with several of her housecarls and her midwife. Must be that time again, given that she’s carrying skins. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long since Freydis was born. Word was that the letter from Jarl Ravencrone, however, came right after the birth. Guess that letter’s been verified now and that’s what she waited on. Can’t imagine her midwife would have let her do those prayers right after birthing Freydis.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: High King Ulfric came up to inquire on the whereabouts of Stormblade. Housecarls Jordis and Lydia were present with the children. They noted that the High Queen had gone to her prayers. Lydia noted that since yesterday was at the Temple of Talos, today was expected to be in the eastern snow fields.

Logbook: North Eastern Watch

12/noon bells: High King Ulfric came up on the walls. I asked if it was an inspection, but he said not this time. He wanted to see the High Queen’s activity in the snows. I pointed out the animal images that she had carved in the snows, which surrounded where you could see her kneeling on a wolf pelt. She always makes them big enough that we can tell what they are up here.

"Her housecarls?"

"You’ll see them further north, sire." I gestured a bit. "While she’s giving prayers, they stay further up the fields and watch for predators."

"Her midwife?"

"She’ll be mostly down by the gate to the docks, until she sees the High Queen picking up her things."

"This is typical, then?"

"For all your heirs? Yes, sir. She follows some old ways. You see she’s carved out the Hawk, the Moth, and the Wolf. She’ll have her boots off in the snow, too, from what the dock guards have said."

The High King went silent as he watched her. I’d guess he hadn’t seen the previous prayers. She went through several ritual motions to each of the carvings, one by one. Then she did something we hadn’t seen her do before. She used the thu’um while looking up at the sky. I have no idea what she spoke, then, but it sounded like it may have been to Kyne herself. Maybe High King Ulfric knows, since he studied on it.

"Has she always used a thu’um?" His eyes hadn’t left Stormblade.

"No, sire. That’s the first time that I remember her using it during these prayers."

He looked more thoughtful at that. It wasn’t much longer until she put her boots back on. As she did, we could see her housecarls moving toward her in a tighter circle. The gathering then went towards the gate at the docks. High King Ulfric had, at some point, left the wall as they prepared to come inside.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells. Stormblade is missing, again. We’ve passed word along. Hopefully, the guard makes it to the bridge before she does.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

11 bells. The Palace Guard warned us that Stormblade may be leaving again.

As expected, we saw the gate open with flashes of purple light. Over by the caravans, we saw a rider and a ghost horse appear. With a flash of light, we saw the rider enveloped in a bluish cast. The rider took off to the west, near Anga’s Mill.

21 Morning Star, 4E 208.

Logbook: Bridge Guard

2 bells. The rider reappeared, but from the south, then went west again. Will have to check to see if there was a note of a rider near Kynesgrove.

Addendum: Kynesgrove reported that they did not see the rider that we queried on.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

2 bells. Freydis awoke Ulfric. He inquired on Stormblade. He was displeased that we hadn’t seen her leave, again. We did, however, have confirmation from the bridge guards seeing a rider and a ghost horse appear and a general direction.

Logbook: Dock Guard

4 bells. We saw the rider approaching from the north. The horse disappeared on dismount. The rider disappeared not long after. We heard the gate into the city open and a flash of purplish light, but couldn’t see anyone there.

Addendum: Heard word back from Fort Kastav that High Queen Stormblade (in her Bear armors) came up to the fort on a blue steed in the early hours. The horse disappeared on dismount. She warmed up from the snows, then summoned the spectral steed and left.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

4 bells. Didn’t see Stormblade go through the hall. However, I could hear her in the bedchambers. By the sounds, Ulfric and Stormblade were both irritable. She had a bear cloak wrapped around her when she stormed from the room.

Logbook: Eastern Watch

4 bells. Stormblade came up on the walls, wrapped in a cloak. When I inquired if she was here to do a surprise inspection, she waved me off and pulled her hood down. I had heard she had been in a state this month. She stayed at the wall for an hour, either watching the sky or the docks. Can’t say which. As the sun came up over the Velothi, she went back inside.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

5 bells. Stormblade came through the hall. As she neared the bedchambers, I saw her hood fall back. From the pattern of red across her face, I’d say she had been crying while outside on the wall. I heard she might be pregnant again. If so, this one has her upside down.

There were terse sounds from the bedchambers, then the squeals of Freydis. This time, Ulfric was the one to leave the room. He did not return for several hours, until after morning court.

9 bells. Golldir came up to inquire on Stormblade for court. He left briefly and had kitchen staff with him when he returned. They had brought up something for Stormblade to eat. He left and then we saw Iona and Argis show up. They noted that Golldir was cancelling her court date and handling what he could, but had sent them up to see if she might need anything.

Chapter Text

Volume 20: The Logbooks v4

The Suspicions
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

22 Morning Star, 4E 208.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: Most are asleep. Stormblade noted that she needed air and would be out on the city’s walls. Said she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t irritable tonight and didn’t disappear. Heard yesterday morning, they were both in a state.

Ulfric awoke and inquired on where Stormblade might be. He seemed surprised we knew this time, though still displeased.

Logbook: Eastern Watch

11 bells: Stormblade came up on the walls. Not an inspection, again. She took off her boots and stood barefoot on the cold stones while she watched Kyne’s Lights over the harbor. Word has gotten to all the guards on the wall that she watches the Lights barefoot. Even in snow. For being from the Rift, she tolerates snow like she’s from Winterhold. Close to 12 bells, we saw her put her boots back on, wrap her bearskin cloak tighter around her and go back inside. She had been quiet and still the whole time she was on the wall.

23 Morning Star, 4E 208.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

12 bells/midnight: Stormblade came back through the hall. Her face was hidden in the hood of her bearskin cloak, but it was definitely her. Looked like she had her head down, as well.

Torn pages found hidden in the binding of the King’s Hall Guard Logbook:

23 Morning Star, 4E 208

Stationed outside the High King and High Queen’s chambers is both an honor and daunting. Lately, the High Queen disappears and the High King gets more suspicious. Tonight, she had walked out, rather than disappear. Thought that would make it easier, but it didn’t. That seemed to make him more irritable. When she came back… Kyne forgive me, but I had to write it down. Someday, this might matter.

Ulfric’s low rumble came as the door started to close behind her, “Where have you been, tonight, Stormblade?”

“The East Wall. I didn’t leave the city. Multiple guards saw me. If you don’t trust me, that is.” She had said it rather matter-of-fact, which was a change from the irritable barbs she had been throwing out the past few weeks. There were sounds like she was putting the cloak in one of the wardrobes.

There was a pause before he asked, “Do you require separate chambers?”

“Separate chambers? Why?”

“You have been restless of late. It’s a political arrangement that we have, after all.”

I heard her laugh. Stormblade rarely laughed and this sounded like she found the idea both humorous and horrifying all at once.

“Political! Ulfric, you’re going to fall back to that position? Of all times, now? Did I misread these last few years that badly? Have you been listening to Jordis?”

It didn’t even sound like her. When she was irritable earlier this month, it was still her. This. This was not her. It was bitter and, maybe, scared. I didn’t think she was ever afraid of anything, but the questions were rapid and falling on each other. Surprisingly, Freydis was still asleep. If she awoke, I certainly didn’t hear sounds of it.

He sounded far more calm and serious than she was. Almost deadly calm. “You’ve been seen at the home of the Cruel-Seas.”

“Of course I have. I don’t deny that.” Her tone was quickly changing again. No wonder I’ve heard that her humors were off balance.

“You’ve also been seen visiting Torsten at Hollyfrost Farm.”

Now she was coming to match his seriousness, “I tour all of our farms. It’s even on Golldir’s docket when I do. My visibility sometimes eases our people. Until they remember that they dislike how I try to unify those that live within our city, at least. What are you implying, Ulfric?”

“There are rumors about Torsten and you…”

“You’ve put me in charge of this hold, Ulfric. I have business with Torsten, not relations. He’s married, too, and you know that. His daughter was murdered years back, not his wife. By Shor, think of what you just suggested!”

“Stormblade, what I have suggested is what your actions are leading me to believe.”

“Are my actions also leading you to think I’m bedding all the Dunmer and Saxhleel on the east side of the city? I have undone old proclamations.”

“Not precisely. Not all of them.”

While there were rumors among the guards that I’d hear as to potential lovers for both, I can’t say I had heard of anything that involved. Those of us up in this hall never acknowledge them one way or the other. It’s against our oaths up here. As barbed as she’s been, I was surprised at how she handled this accusation.

I heard her take a deep breath before she answered, “You should know me better than that. Do you take me for some Imperial Dibellan follower? There are rumors about yourself with others, but I give them no credence. Should I? No. Don’t answer that. Mara forgive me, I know the answer and retaliation is unwarranted.”

There was a pause before I heard her speak again, resigned, “Politics. The politics of the proposal was for your court. Clearly, that has led to a different set of issues than the ones I was trying to avoid. Perhaps it has been solely politics for you. If so, I’ll give you the leverage you’re looking to gain over me, then, which I did not want anyone in your court to have.

“If it was just for the bloodline, that agreement is fulfilled. It has been for some time now. You have a way to wound me that requires no weapons. You’ve drawn first blood. I trust that you won’t take that option each night. I keep coming back to this bed.” Her voice wavered a bit. “Just this bed, Ulfric. No others. I don’t need or want another’s bed.”

“You lied during your proposal, then? You had other motivations.”

“No. There were no lies. I listed what I had done to help you rise to High King and was offering the one last thing I could to secure it.” Her voice had fully lost the hard edge that it had gained when it didn’t sound like her. “I didn’t limit it to just that offering. Those in court could take it any way they liked, but I admitted nothing. It was for my protection as well as your own. I wasn’t even aware of the depth of my respect for you at the proposal. I may have omitted the possibility, but nothing I offered was a lie.

“After Lothar, at most Kjorik, I had fulfilled our arrangement. Yet… we have Freydis and another on the way. This one has me irritable. I have never stayed in one place so long. I want to fight something. I leave so that it isn’t you that I battle with.”

“You have fought me often in the past month, Stormblade. Here. The War Room.”

“I know. Now I know why. It’s not really you. I knew that before Hemina determined what it was. You don’t deserve it. I leave. I find ice wraiths, Thalmor, anything else.”

“Stormblade, that’s not an improvement.”

I heard her sigh. “Perhaps. It’s what I can do, though. There’s a dragon being held at bay. Better that it is unleashed on those that deserve it. I am not a Greybeard that has mastered what I am.” She paused. When she spoke again, I could tell her emotions had shifted and I didn’t dare peek in to see. Something told me she was trying to get close to Ulfric. “Kyne led me here. I have not requested arrangements to be any different. What about you, Ulfric? Are you wanting things to be different? A separate wing for me to reside in now that you will have 5 heirs with Dragonborn lineage?”

“No, not precisely. When you leave our chambers, there will be rumors. You know that. When your actions look to match those rumors, they become difficult to deny.” There was a pause before he continued, “I would like to return to the spells you used when we first were wed, though. A challenge, you used to say.”

“I can certainly offer healing touch and try to pull you from your other thoughts. Come here,” she said with her voice taking on a much softer tone. It sounded like she might be sitting on their bed. “You only needed to ask. I wasn’t sure it was helping your back anymore. I didn’t think I was helping anymore.”

“It was and you were. I thought that was part of you pulling away as our arrangement was complete. Then you started leaving in the night. You have been upset. I thought I had misread your intentions. They had changed course.”

“No, no. Not at all. I have no intention of pulling away. I gave oaths for life and beyond as a Stormcloak and as your wife. I meant those and continue to. Damn the politics of court. My protection of you has caused harm that I didn’t mean.” There was a sound of something glass, like jars opening. “Something different tonight, perhaps. I don’t think I’ve tended to these scars low on your back first, before.”

“What did you mean by Kyne leading you here? You believe the gods led you to Windhelm?”

“The gods did more than lead me to Windhelm. They led me to you. We’ve been bound together since Helgen, though I didn’t think that at first. When I tried to avoid my destiny, people died. When I tried to tell the gods to take their destiny away, it held tighter. I’ve walked the testing grounds. Once I agreed to follow where I was led, though, I was brought before you time and again. I have found I don’t want their will to be different. I want to be here. With you.”

“You’ll have to tell me more on these bindings of yours on another night. A night without accusations,” as he spoke, the edges were fading from his tone. There was a pause and I almost didn’t hear him say, “I want you here.”

“Whenever you ask, I will answer on matters of faith around our marriage. I see the touch of the gods in many places. Perhaps I am supposed to see their presence more than others do.”

A few minutes of silence followed before I heard Ulfric’s voice again. “There, Stormblade,” was in an almost pained whisper. She must’ve found an old wound that was particularly bothersome.

“I’m adding some calming magic in, Ulfric. Let me know if you don’t approve. It is not to change your mind, but to ease you away from that fear that I think was causing your accusations earlier… That feeling will only make these old troubles sore.” There was a patch of silence, then she spoke again with a gentleness that didn’t sound like Stormblade. At least not this month. “Don’t let others persuade you that I do things that are not to your benefit. I am oath-bound to protect you from all ills that come our way. I gladly keep that oath.”

Things grew quiet for a time, then. Telltale signs of magic filtered out of the shadows around the door. The quiet receded as the faint glow disappeared. The tides had changed and the storms had passed for now. Maybe being stationed outside their room wasn’t so terrible.

Chapter Text

Volume 21: The Battlemage

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

The majority of 4E 208 was a lot smoother than the start. There were few notations of things occurring near The Rift or Falkreath holds with spies from either the Empire or the Thalmor being caught. High King Ulfric did have some of the smaller, lesser travelled paths set with avalanches and closed off, which Stormblade had pointed out. A few ice mages were able to get them sealed for the year, as she had suggested.

Additionally, the maneuvering between the holds was fairly small. Winterhold continued to get rebuilt. The Pale’s port was seeing an increase in traffic. Hjaalmarch’s quiet status had mostly resumed. There were still some minor tensions with Jarl Idgrod, but it wasn’t as noticeable as the tensions under Jarl Sorli. The known association of Jarl Idgrod with the High Queen was considered a mixed blessing. For Morthal, there was increased traffic, as alchemical ingredients were being requested from Lami by The White Phial in Windhelm, but it also meant that their concerns wouldn’t fall on deaf ears in eastern Skyrim. There were reports of destruction of the former Thalmor Embassy in Haafingar, which were sent up by Steward Falk Firebeard. Investigations hadn’t turned up any leads.

In the Palace of the Kings, Stormblade’s demeanor during this pregnancy continued to be a concern. Valdimar had, apparently, come up with a suggestion for High Queen Stormblade’s desire to do combat that was approved by her midwife. While her midwife was completely against Stormblade training with any weaponry, the use of spell-casting and staves were not forbidden.

The housecarls on that pregnancy:

Valdimar's Journal

2 First Seed 4E 208

Stormblade’s still a bit thorny, but whatever happened toward the end of Morning Star has kept her from being as combative. I asked Hemina if training with magical attacks would be acceptable. She had already removed weapons training from Stormblade’s allowed list. She thought Stormblade’s increased anger might make her overexert herself and do some harm. Magical training, however, she thought might be acceptable. Stormblade was actually a bit excited for this idea when I asked her about it.

I got things set up on the eastern snow fields for her, then went to get her. High King Ulfric didn’t seem pleased, but I’m not sure he ever is. At least not with me. Stormblade followed me out to the fields.

“Oh, you set up cairn stones?” she sounded a little surprised.

“Of course! I figured you might want to be out here for a while. No sense in setting up straw men and Thalmor robes, only to have them burned to cinders in minutes.” I leaned in next to her and whispered, “You’ll notice the colors painted on those stones.”

“Wait. That’s intentional? You painted them to match Thalmor robes!”

I smiled at that reaction, “Of course I did. You’ve wanted to attack something. Well, I made sure of what it would be. You just won’t be able to leave remnants of these at shrines in your usual way.”

She put a hand on my shoulder, “You know this is why Ulfric doesn’t approve of you. You encourage destruction.” She laughed, “It’s a better reason than why Jordis gets his ire, though.”

I grinned at her, “I’d never suggest you two have separate chambers. Unless you want to stop Mara from blessing you, perhaps. I think Ulfric would have my head for suggesting it. I’ve seen the looks you two get at night.” The flush may have been from the cold, but I doubt it. Ha. Good. I can still get to her. “Now, go on. I think he’s probably up on the wall, watching. If you don’t start destroying things, he’s going to wonder about my intentions.”

She stepped away a bit and I saw her hands start to glow with elemental flares. Amusement was in her voice, even if I hadn’t gotten her to laugh with those comments. “I would hope Jordis stopped that.”

“After the reaction that I heard about from Iona when you were sick with Kjorik, I’d say so. She apparently got the Royal Anger treatment for it.”

The first strike went from her left hand. Lightning charges. Her right hand danced with fire. She closed distances and struck fire against the rocks. She then backed up quickly, as if there was a combat I couldn’t see dancing in front of her eyes. Both hands went to sparks of white. With both hands, she cast Thunderbolt and the first cairn tumbled apart. I saw her dart sideways and move to the next cairn. The elements shifting again. Blasts of wind that matched those coming in off the water. I heard her start to laugh, as she used to do in the Hjaalmarch swamps when we went hunting. Even better.

I glanced up at the walls. As I thought, the High King was watching. I could tell he was up there among the guards, even if he was too far away to make out any reaction. I looked back at her. She was flashing between elements and blasting rocks. She came over briefly when she took off her helmet and gave me that bear head. Despite the cold winds, I could see droplets across her face.

“Stormblade, don’t forget – there are still vampires in Hjaalmarch, too.”

It took her a few moments and she saw the cairn I meant. She darted over with fires raging on her hands. After blasting a few times, I saw her back up suddenly. She then did something that I was sure Hemina would grumble at me for later. She swapped to conjuration and went to bow and arrows.

“Remember, no blades. Hemina’s probably going to be upset enough by a bow,” I called over to her.

After a few more seconds, I saw her flick the bow away without firing an arrow. Flames danced over her with a cloak of fire. Her blonde hair turned the color of chokeberries in the fire as it danced in the wind that the heat generated.

“What about cloaks? Think those are acceptable?” she called over.

“Should be. They won’t stress you. Did Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone say whether this would be another girl or another boy?”

Fireball. “If I read her missive correctly, boy.” Ice spikes.

“You are outnumbered, Stormblade.” I chuckled, “Mara needs to give you more girls!”

She ran another thunderbolt, then came over giggling. “Shh. Don’t give the She-Wolf any ideas. I’ll wind up pregnant for the next 6 years.”

I laughed at that. “I don’t think you could take it. I’m certain Ulfric couldn’t. Feeling a bit better?”

She smiled, “Yes. Much. Let’s see how often Hemina will allow this exercise.” She wiped off her face and took back her helm as we walked back in the Palace. She was still sounding like she did back when Jarl Ravencrone had assigned me to her. Before she was married, then widowed in a time when she didn’t come out to Hjaalmarch often. If she uses that smile on Ulfric, we’ll have to cancel court for them both for a while. I don’t know if he loves her, but I don’t see him look at anyone else like he does with her.

Update (undated): That was something she could do every other day for a while. It became our routine and it kept her from growling at everyone. At least until she got an estimate for when she might be due and asked if she could do a summer pilgrimage to High Hrothgar.

Argis the Bulwark's Journal

22 Sun’s Height 4E 208

Stormblade was going to be big by Heartfire. Mara help us. I don’t know how Stormblade manages. We sent messages ahead to Ivarstead and Rorikstead. This year’s pilgrimage would be early. If we waited, she’d be well into 209. Hemina thought she’d come with us to keep watch.

Freydis was old enough to be separated, but hadn’t made a pilgrimage yet. Golldir was able to convince Stormblade to let Iona carry Freydis on the journey. Stormblade let him remain for court business. Valdimar made noises about coming. Stormblade said she needed calm and refused. Ulfric was probably relieved to hear it. He doesn’t approve of Valdimar. Not even a little. Even with the tempering of Stormblade’s anger, Ulfric has little civility for him.

We got to Ivarstead. Erik the Slayer had made it to Vilemyr Inn before us this time. He looked up from his mead and started laughing.

“Oh, is that why? I wondered why we were going so early. Fifth one, correct?”

Stormblade sat down near him. “Yes. I don’t think they’ll have to worry about their father being as overprotective as yours was, though.”

He looked at me, then Gregor, then Iona with Freydis merrily babbling, then the guards. Erik started laughing again. “Are you certain? I didn’t have guards flanking me when I was born.” He noticed Hemina. “Oh! Someone new to your group?”

Stormblade introduced Hemina to Erik. Until it was time to take shifts, Erik told his past year’s stories. As usual, he noted that his mercenary work was still not as exciting these days. Not like when he was training under Stormblade. He’d walk with caravans. No one wanted to face draugr or dragons. Sounded like Erik wanted her to go adventuring again. Not helping. Stormblade looked a little more faraway than normal for his recount. She’s been missing battle.

The next day, we took the mountain. Gregor took the pack of supplies before Stormblade could. He just quietly looked at her when she asked. She got the hint. Iona wrapped up Freydis against the cold. Stormblade’s pace was actually made slower by Hemina. It was going to be a long ways up the mountain. Hemina was cautious about Stormblade sitting at each of the tablets. When we got to the cold wind and snows, Hemina wasn’t sure about continuing the trip. Stormblade made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that this is a pilgrimage she undertakes for Kyne every year. She’ll do it with or without Hemina.

Our time in High Hrothgar was cut short, as well. Hemina didn’t like Stormblade sleeping on stone. Good enough for the ladies in Markarth. They don’t complain. Stormblade didn’t complain about them. Not in Markarth. Not here. She looked ready to complain at Hemina, though. She held her tongue while we were in High Hrothgar. Freydis’ babbles echoed in the stone hallways.

Stormblade stated she was going further up the mountain, but not with Hemina. There were disagreements. Stormblade’s temper was starting to flare. Hemina backed down as long as Gregor and I both walked with her. She got to spend a few hours calming down. With the dragons, she was calm. Sounded like she was learning something of calm and keeping her temper down from the white one. The one that sounds more like the Greybeards. The red one, which comes to Windhelm, sounds more like Stormblade.

We let her take her time going back down. The further from the dragons, the more she was using the shout to clear the way. Even when the weather wasn’t there. When she wasn’t using the thu’um, I could hear her whispering prayers to Kyne on the wind.

The next day we left. Had to make the trip down without Erik or the guard. We met them at Ivarstead. We explained why we were back early. Mara better give Stormblade a break soon. Hemina is going to not agree to these pilgrimages. Stormblade will get surly again. At least it won’t be at Ulfric.

Chapter Text

Volume 22: The Worry Stone

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

In early Frostfall 4E 208, Stormblade gave birth to their fifth child. As noted by Argis the Bulwark, Stormblade’s pregnancy was a bit larger than the last few. When born, this infant, Pedr, was noted as a big, but very healthy, male.

Stormblade’s walk outside to present the infant to the dragon the following day was very different from previous births. Instead of being generally on her own, this walk was noted for including the High King, healers, and that she required assistance to make the walk. Argis the Bulwark was practically holding her up for the walk. Ulfric was carrying the bundled infant as he walked with her. He passed the bundle to her for the presentation and immediately took their son back. The guards noted that she had to rest several times on the way out and back.

Stormblade was largely unseen for the next several weeks, even by most of the staff within the Palace of the Kings. High King Ulfric had several court matters delayed for nearly a fortnight, while others were handled by either of the stewards Jorleif or Golldir. Rumors spread like wildfire on how serious the condition of High Queen Stormblade was, but nothing official was heard from the Palace of the Kings. If it weren’t for journals among her staff, the full weight of what transpired in that time would be left to the rumors that ran rampant across Windhelm.

Hemina’s Journal

10 Frostfall, 4E 208

The missus might not have survived this one, if she weren’t the fighter she is. This boy wasn’t a little one and he took a lot to birth. Priestess Jora had to assist in keeping her from losing too much. We had to get deliveries in from the White Phial as fast as her staff could get them. Her pained screams brought several of her staff up. Told them to get all the menfolk watching the other children and to keep them out of earshot. The littles didn’t need to hear their mother birthin’ this one.

Soon as we had that little boy out and the missus a bit more cleaned up, we let Priest Lortheim in to assist with the prayers for strength and Wuunferth to assist with the healing spells. He said he’s not as Restoration skilled as some of the College or even Stormblade’s advanced work in it, but he’d do what he could. It’d take too long to get word up to the College to get their professor down here to help. While they prayed to Talos for the missus, I finished tidying up the little boy and the missus. The missus wanted to hold the infant, but she was a bit too weak to hold him steady so Iona came over to help her out.

I wasn’t sure she’d want the menfolk fussing over her right away, so we gave her the option once we were done with the initial prayers, cleansing and healing. She did. Asked for Ulfric to be there, if it wouldn’t interrupt court. Poor dear. She didn’t even realize it had gotten into night hours. Iona said she’d see if the kitchen had the teas and broths ready, then got Argis to stand in while she left.

Ulfric studied her a moment when he came in, then looked at me. Asked if she was staying in the birthing chamber for the night. He said she looked too pale to move and I agreed. I’m not sure how she’ll do her walk tomorrow. He leaned over her, kissed her cheek, said something quietly to her and left.

Found out he got the stewards and other housecarls together. He set up rotations for them to keep track of all the littles, had the stewards handle as much of court as they could for the next few days or so, and gave the littles their stories before asking the staff to take over while he came back to the missus. When he came back, he thanked Jora, Lortheim, and Wuunferth for assisting and asked if there was more we needed to do tonight for her, or just wait. I think he expected that waiting would be the answer.

When Iona returned, she had Jordis with her. They brought in bone broth, some restorative wheat and flower teas, and some additional blankets. We left Stormblade be with Ulfric and the housecarls. She still might not survive, but she’s stable for now.

Argis the Bulwark’s Journal

15 Frostfall, 4E 208. Stormblade has everyone worried. Pedr took a lot out of her. Hemina has been hovering as much as Ulfric. There are rotations. Stormblade’s better than she was after the birth, but still weak. It’s been a few days. She’s requested that Ulfric and I are the ones mostly present. I had to help her walk to the dragon. Lighter than I thought she’d be.

When I rest, Gregor comes in. Calder was also allowed, but he’s uncomfortable with the state Stormblade is in. The other housecarls are to help with the children and keep them safe. I’ve been giving the others updates out of earshot of Ulfric or the children. Golldir is handling the updates the worst. I hadn’t realized he was that devoted to her after her rescue at his family tomb. Jordis helped bring up items from the kitchen at first. Even though she’s good at the care of Stormblade, she knows she’s overstepped with Ulfric before.

Tonight, Stormblade touched Ulfric’s shoulder. I saw her hand glow golden. “I’ll be fine. The Snake hasn’t visited. Kyne’s said it’s not my time to be ushered away, yet.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. He took her other hand in his. “Stormblade, rest.” Then I saw a bluish tone come from her other hand. It started to envelope Ulfric. Weak as she was, she was using magicka.

“How could I do anything else? I haven’t left this room in days.”

“You are casting spells,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want you to think I’m pulling away again.”

“I won’t. Not when you are recovering. Rest. I’ll still be here.”

The glow from her hands dropped and the hand on his shoulder went his hands. Her eyes closed. I don’t know when it happened. They must have acknowledged something of what’s been sitting between them. The politics were dropped. When no one else was around, at least. Hemina wasn’t here. Things were quiet for a while before murmurs came from the nursery bed. Ulfric quietly moved to get the infant as the murmurs started to fuss more.

“Hemina said this one looks like you, sire.”

Ulfric looked from the infant to Stormblade. From Stormblade to me. “Hemina claims that of all the sons at birth. Argis, we haven’t spoken at length before. Before Markarth, did you also serve in the Great War?”

“Yes, sire. I was at the Imperial City when it fell.” I paused. I thought I saw his shoulders shift a bit, but I’m not sure. “They did you wrong in The Reach; did all of us wrong. The Silver-Bloods aren’t much different. They had Stormblade put in Cidhna Mine. Before the Liberation, that is.”

Ulfric looked down at Pedr making noises as he gently rocked the infant. He then looked to Stormblade. “Thongvor was the first to cast in favor.”

“I don’t doubt it. She has their family ring. Proof of her exoneration.”

“She hasn’t mentioned it, Argis.”

“She won’t, sire. She’s not proud of it. She went by other names, then. She had to leave Markarth for a while, afterward.”

“She was exiled from The Reach?” Ulfric asked.

“Not exactly. Self-exile. She hated The Reach after that. She only returned if she had to.” I cleared my throat. “Said it was ‘worse than the bottom of Lake Honrich when Haelga’s washing the Bunkhouse linens’.”

I saw a flicker of amusement come up at that. One of Pedr’s hands got free of the swaddling and reached up at Ulfric. “Stormblade has never held back on insults. What crime had she done to be put in the Mine?”

“Murder. Looking into the Forsworn incursions into the city. Forsworn attacking specific mines outside the city.”

“She looked into murders here, too.”

“Were the murders here tied to a prominent family?”

“The Shatter-Shields lost a daughter to the murders.”

“Different ties, then. The Silver-Bloods had her framed for the murder of a Breton. The Breton was soon to be a father. He had asked for her help. Never saw his infant born. Murdered in the Temple of Talos. Guards were bought by the Silver-Bloods to take care of him and Stormblade. In the mine, she talked to imprisoned Forsworn. They were imprisoned there since we took it back. King Madanach among them.”

Ulfric switched his attention to me at that. “Madanach was still alive? He was supposed to have been executed while we were imprisoned.”

“Was, yes. She killed them all. She said they wanted to turn Markarth into another blood bath. They attempted escape and she slaughtered them. Thonar said killing them was a service to the Silver-Bloods. They had outlived their usefulness. He was waiting for her as she left the mine.

“You should know that you have that in common with Stormblade -- The Reach has seen you both in prison by those that have you do their dirty work. Talos was used against you both.”

Ulfric looked back to Stormblade. He quietly sat down next to her again, still holding Pedr. He placed a hand over one of hers. After a moment, he asked, “Was that before or after her first marriage?”

“Imprisoned in Cidhna Mine was during. She was disgusted. Good thing Vlindrel was stone. He couldn’t calm her rage at first. They left. He said exploring a Dwemer ruin might help her. It was after the move to Riften that saw him killed. Iona probably knows more on it, I would think. Joined your forces after that.”

Ulfric was quiet.

“If I may speak out of turn and plain, sire?”

Ulfric looked up. “You may.”

“I’ve been under your command, but I’m sworn to Stormblade. The magic I saw earlier. Healing, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes, the healer needs healing. I wasn’t sure about this marriage. She had her reasons. Those that she told what she planned, it was an announcement. She wanted no advice. I thought with it being politics, you might use her. She’s not from a political line. She doesn’t play like an Imperial. When hurt, she becomes a dragon. More than you’ve already seen. It would be bad for us all.

“You’ve been good to her. Good for her. We’ve been starting to see her come back to how she was before. Before she was a widow. When she’s better, remember she wanted you here. At her weakest, she still tried to be strong for you. She’ll put on her armor again. Like nothing happened. She may vanish on you. She’s trusting you’ll be there when she returns.

“If you wound her, I will be first in line to defend her. I will not be as easy as High King Torygg was. If you continue to keep her safe, though, I will be first to defend you both.”

Ulfric was silent as he thought that over. He looked down at Pedr, who had also gone quiet, then at Stormblade, finally back to me. “To speak that plain, Argis, you are to be commended. What we discuss stays here.

“She became one of my most trusted for her dedication to the sons and daughters of Skyrim. I named her Stormblade and counted her as kin before we took Solitude. I took an oath at the wedding to keep her safe from harm. I did not enter into this agreement with her lightly, though the thought of heirs with Dragonborn blood was certainly a prize to be had. Children with a legitimate claim to rule beyond Skyrim. The Stormcloak clan continuing on. She continues to be among my most trusted, though she tried to push me away during this year.

“She has given more than she offered.” He paused, looking back at Stormblade as she slept. “She says she was led to me by the gods. I only hope that I have proven worthy of the honors she has placed on me.”

I hope Stormblade heard that in her sleep.

Chapter Text

Volume 23: Clouds on the Horizon

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

By the end of Frostfall in 4E 209, it was noted that Stormblade was moving with less assistance and had continued to steadily improve. Ulfric would be seen keeping more regular court again. Golldir would take issues for Eastmarch up to the High Queen if they required her to review them, rather than delaying the issues further.

In the midst of Sun’s Dusk, she started to attend court again. She wasn’t quite keeping full court hours at first. It wasn’t until Evening Star that she was mostly back to court and had resumed her position as a stoic guard at Ulfric’s side. With her more present in court, it was noted that the 4 year old Hoag was now seen playing near Stormblade’s side. When she started to resume her tours of the city in Morning Star, Hoag was always with her along with Pedr in arms. The others were usually held back at the Palace.

Just as the Palace of the Kings was resuming a normal schedule and the worries of Pedr’s arrival had passed, a new missive arrived from Hjaalmarch:

Letter from Morthal

23 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 209

Stormblade:

A little cub of the waves. The blood of Atmora calls this one back to the seas. The vision was short. My apologies.

Jarl Idgrod

Jarl Ravencrone’s letter was not seen as welcome news. As soon as court matters for both Skyrim and Eastmarch were cleared, the High King and High Queen went to the Temple of Talos. It was noted that both were seated in prayer for some time before meeting with both Jora and Lortheim, privately. After this discussion, it was noted that Jora started making weekly visits to the Palace in her role as a priestess of Talos.

As with most other notices, the day after prayers in the Temple of Talos, Stormblade would do prayers in the snow fields off the docks. This time, however, it wasn’t clear if she was already pregnant or giving observances early due to the letter. While on the wolf pelts, she called out to the sky with the thu’um. Unlike the previous prayers to Kyne, this series of prayers saw Ulfric and Galmar standing at the gate to the docks in observance. When she started clearing her items to come in, Ulfric joined her and helped gather the pelts.

The first half of 4E 209 continued under a similar dark cloud that never released its rains. Shipping lanes were reporting an increase in pirate activities, but not enough to cause shortages. Severe storms kept the fisherman up in the town of Winterhold and away from the rebuilt shacks for weeks at a time. Gloomy weather across southern Skyrim in early spring had a double-effect – honey production was down in The Rift, while skeleton and vampire sightings were on the rise in Falkreath. As spring rolled into summer, the troubles began to dissipate just as slowly as they started.

Back in Windhelm, Hoag was about to turn 5 and Lothar was soon to be 4. Both boys were seen on every tour of the city or farms that High Queen Stormblade went on in those warmer days. Often on the way back from a farm tour, one of the boys would be spotted up on Stormblade’s bear-skin covered shoulders. According to the notes from several of the guards around the walls or in Windhelm, the boys were often seen as more playful than is usually expected of royal stock.

The rumor mills loved that the High Queen was not the courtly type. The more she showed she was not of a noble family, the wilder and more unbelievable the rumors would become. One often seen through notes and journals in Windhelm was regarding how she could be close to her children if they were out of the Palace, but how cool and distant she and Ulfric remained in court – how it was proof that they actually despised each other in this marriage of convenience. There were even rumors that there were physical altercations between Ulfric and Stormblade, which is why she was absent around Pedr’s birth. Just as present, though, were the rumors that it was clearly the opposite case because of how quickly Mara’s blessings of children were appearing for them. Visitors to Windhelm took back varieties of these rumors to other holds, where they took on a new life of their own. Rumors would go from tempers in the War Room to shouting matches to actual thu’um battles in the Palace.

At the start of Midyear 4E 209, a courier came in from Riften. Jarl Maven Black-Briar was requesting an audience with the High Queen to discuss shipping concerns. (Despite her tenure as Jarl of the Rift being only a few months, she made sure to use the title whenever possible.) The request was seen as irregular, as Maven’s request was towards the High Queen and not the High King. Even if the shipping was landing in Eastmarch, the trade with lands beyond Skyrim put it more in his court than hers. The response that went back to Riften was a date for when her request would be on both dockets, as well as making sure that the representatives from various shipping concerns were present along with both Captain Lonely-Gale and Torsten Cruel-Sea as masters of shipping and the nascent Skyrim navy, respectively.

As Midyear rolled into Sun’s Height, Maven Black-Briar appeared in Windhelm’s court. Tours of the docks were conducted. Maven met with the various representatives to secure shipping contracts. Lastly, Maven managed to get a private meeting with the High Queen during her time in Windhelm. The meeting may have gone well as both women were noted to look displeased on exiting back into the hall.

As the days were going into the second half of Sun’s Height, Stormblade started sending out the couriers to prepare for her trip to High Hrothgar. Weekly checks with Hemina and prayers with Jora were starting to seem more ritual than required. That status changed as Stormblade had the final check done before leaving on her pilgrimage on the 1st of Last Seed. Hemina thought she might be sensing a change in Stormblade and told her to be careful on the trip. A shortened variation of her prayers in the eastern fields occurred, then the pilgrimage began.

A courier arrived from Falkreath a few days after Stormblade’s pilgrimage had left. A few soldiers from the Empire were noted near the border, but managed to stay just inside their own side. Scouts were sent out to some of the other passes to ensure that the few spotted weren’t meant to be a distraction. With the proximity to Ivarstead, Galmar sent additional scouts to The Rift to make sure the borders and passes were watched more carefully during the pilgrimage. Several other bands were spotted, always making sure to stay just outside of Skyrim.

During the almost three weeks that Stormblade was gone, court was noted to be a little tense. The children were unseen, off in other parts of the Palace with various staff. For that tense period, two housecarls had noteworthy entries:

Argis the Bulwark’s Journal

5 Last Seed, 4E 209. Stormblade has been sullen on this trip. We made it to Ivarstead without issue. We didn’t need to bring Pedr, as he’s old enough to separate. Stormblade wanted him to make a pilgrimage before he was one, like the others. Gregor came along to help with defending along the way.

Golldir came along this year, as well. We’re heading to his family’s tomb on the way back to Windhelm. Stormblade was insistent. She noted that he hadn’t tended to it since she became High Queen. She felt responsible. Golldir had been thanking her for the thought, before Hemina’s warnings. I overheard Golldir trying to talk her out of going. That Stormblade shouldn’t be near crypts in her condition. The most she would budge is saying Gregor would go in with him and we’d wait outside.

When Erik joined us at Ivarstead and heard the discussion, he chimed in. He was excited to go in if the draugr might’ve risen again. Golldir eased a bit at that since Erik had helped the first time. That decided it. Gregor and Erik would tend to the crypt with Golldir, in case of anything occurring, while Stormblade, Pedr, and I would wait outside with the guards.

We scheduled our various watches for the evening, then went up to High Hrothgar in the morning. Stormblade did her slow pace up the shrines, but she kept looking everywhere. There were ill omens this year, she noted. She didn’t say what they were. Refused to back down on the trip, as well. We made it up to High Hrothgar as normal, though. That was two days ago.

Today, Erik showed up without the guards. He wasn’t due up, but had reason. A courier came in to Ivarstead from Windhelm. We’re to remain at High Hrothgar until there are signal fires set. Imperial scouts and small bands had been caught along the borders in Falkreath and The Rift. Testing for weaknesses. Galmar didn’t want Stormblade coming down until he knew what to expect. Erik offered to stay or go back to Ivarstead. I saw Stormblade was lost in thought. Told Erik to wait the day, head back down tomorrow if we don’t see the fires. Gregor and I can handle anything up here, but he’d be too exhausted to help if he went back down now.

Iona’s Journal

9 Last Seed, 4E 209 – It’s been a few days since the news came in about the scouts. We’ve kept the children mostly back up in the King’s Hall. Galmar and Ulfric are getting reports from scouts fairly regularly. Most court business seems to have gone on hold. Calder says he’s seen Ulfric this way before, but it was years ago. When it is nearing the bedtime for the boys, Ulfric comes in and gathers them close. He allows me to stay to help. Jordis and Valdimar are keeping out of Ulfric’s line of sight, if they can help it.

I think Hoag’s noticed that something is bothering Ulfric. I’m positive that Kjorik has. Kjorik may be only 3, but he goes straight to Ulfric when he comes to the room. The boys always gave Ulfric distance before, but this week, Kjorik is requesting to be picked up constantly. Hoag’s request of stories at night has changed. He’s been wanting to hear stories of Windhelm’s past.

Tonight, as they went to sleep, I followed Ulfric from their room. “Sire, if it would ease your mind any, we can start a rotation on the children’s rooms at night in addition to the normal guards.”

“No, Iona. It would not.”

“Is there something we can do to help, in the meantime?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. The only thing that would help is if the Empire had waited another week before testing defenses.” He turned and went off to their bedchamber.

Argis the Bulwark’s Journal

15 Last Seed, 4E 209. We saw the signal fires earlier today. Bid our farewells to the Greybeards. Made quick work down the mountain. We stopped in Ivarstead only long enough to give them thanks for the earlier stay. Stormblade wanted to get to Golldir’s family tomb before anything else happened. From there, we could redirect further into The Pale or even to Whiterun, if something were to happen. I couldn’t disagree with the thought. The further from the border right now, the better. I know that’s the border that she was caught at years ago. Being near Darkwater Crossing, where Ulfric had been ambushed right before, has to be on her mind as well.

Erik was a bit disappointed. There were no moving draugr in Golldir’s family tomb. They laid out offerings, as needed. Cleaned out some of the intruding weeds. Golldir kept thanking Stormblade for allowing him the time to tend to his family’s tomb. She said that they should make that a part of the pilgrimage, when they can. Golldir looked a bit surprised that she wanted to make it yearly, but she insisted that he could make sure it happened. He’s steward. He controls the schedules that she tries to follow, she said.

Gregor laughed at that. The idea that Stormblade, Dragonborn and High Queen, just told Golldir which of them seems to have more power in the Palace was highly entertaining, he said. Golldir looked uncomfortable at that. Stormblade remarked that it was a different form of power, but that yes, she was implying just that. It’s good that Golldir has more than earned the trust he has. Ulfric would not have been pleased to hear the words spoken so openly. Tonight, we’ll stay at Fort Amol. Stormblade is sure that they will welcome our group. Her presence is always respected at the forts.

Iona’s Journal

17 Last Seed, 4E 209 – As the boys were settling around Ulfric before bed, Stormblade appeared at the doorway. The boys were quick to run to her. She touched each one’s hair as they hugged to her legs. The look that I saw pass between Ulfric and Stormblade, though, was not one I had seen between them before. Normally they are both hard to read, but not tonight. Stormblade knelt down to the boys, gave each a kiss to their foreheads, and urged them towards their beds.

She rose and stepped further into the room. Ulfric met Stormblade after a few paces. The moment she was in his arms, I saw a glow forming on her hands at his back that surrounded them both in a shade of pale green. Her face buried into the fur on his shoulders.

“I’m home. Even made our anniversary,” I heard her say quietly into those furs. If Ulfric said anything in response, I couldn’t hear it. They both went so still, you’d have thought they were carved of stone on the spot.

At the doorway, I heard someone come up. “Sire, we can handle the boys,” said Argis. “Golldir’s getting Pedr to his bed. Asleep on the way here. Saw Freydis was already down.”

The moment held out a little longer before the spell broke and they silently left. We managed to get the boys settled, which wasn’t easy. Kjorik had the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. He stumbled over the words as he tried to ask questions of Argis. Hoag and Lothar had a lot of their own questions for Argis about the trip. When they heard about staying at Fort Amol, there were queries about the fort, the soldiers, what they saw while there. The queries finally wound down so that they would wait for the rest tomorrow.

As I closed the door to the boys’ room, Argis looked at me. “Something bothering you on getting the boys to bed?”

I sighed, “No. Seeing Stormblade with Ulfric. Even if I doubted the reasons for the worry I saw these past few weeks, there’s no denying what I saw when she came in. That’s not politics anymore. Not even a little. Think she might be ready to stay put for a little while with your adventures?”

“Maybe.”

“How long have they been hiding it?”

“From each other or from everyone else?” Argis shook his head. “She’s been hiding it for longer, I think. They dance around it. Never saying anything to each other, either of them.”

“Knowing how her last marriage ended outside Riften, I don’t think she’ll ever really say it.” Just the memory of the shift in Stormblade’s personality then, before she was Stormblade, was unnerving.

“No, she won’t. I remember how that one started. There were a lot of spoken words, then. She was far more animated.” Argis took a look down the hall to their room. The door was closed. “Was it Dark Brotherhood? The rumors that came to Markarth weren’t always clear.”

“Yes. Saw him down in the Hall of the Dead after she joined the war. Slit his throat. Twice. He was probably defending her, since she was the target. Jarl Law-Giver had guards posted everywhere for a while. Did you know him?”

Argis sighed, “Yes. Before she did. I wasn’t surprised when he started asking if she was in town. She was his type, then. Exploring Dwemer ruins around the Reach. She said one night that she found him calming.”

“Like how she was tonight?”

“No. He was the calming influence. Just as content to be at a fire as looking over a Dwemer item. She never used spells like she does with Ulfric. She’s still hiding a bit. Walled off. So is Ulfric. Getting close, but it’s dangerous. For both of them. I think that’s why there’s magic used between them. There’s been too much lost already. Magic is their way around the barriers.”

Chapter Text

Volume 24: Tasseomancy of Mead; Casting Dragon Bones

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Fall and early winter of 4E 209 were largely uneventful. The borders of Falkreath and The Rift had some activity through fall, but as winter snows started to come through the mountains, scouts and small bands from the Empire to test defenses along with occasional small pockets of Thalmor decreased. Reports came from Istar Cairn-Breaker in Solitude of shipments containing unaccounted for travelers that were immediately sent to the prisons (if from the Empire) or the headsman (if obviously Thalmor). Executions were no longer always a public affair.

Stormblade was, as Hemina thought, pregnant once more. Another full round of prayers in the fields by Windhelm was seen with the confirmation. Ulfric and Galmar were noted as attending these prayers down by the fields once again.

Stormblade was just starting to show as pregnant as 4E 209 ended. The start of 4E 210 had the court of Windhelm full of commentary as a courier showed once again from Hjaalmarch.

Letter from Morthal

1 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210

Stormblade:

Another cub will come! Mara brings you many. This cub is not for Ulfric to guide. It will be his, as they all are, but he will be limited here. This cub belongs to you. More importantly, this cub, like you, will belong to all of the sons and daughters of Skyrim.

Jarl Idgrod

Valdimar wrote of this letter:

Valdimar’s Journal

4E 210 – 2 Sun’s Dawn. Jarl Ravencrone’s humor is perhaps liked even less than mine, now. By Ysmir, she knows what she’s doing. The last few have been in advance, but this one is just to start the year with a prophecy or a warning. I’m not sure which. She’s daring Stormblade to try to change her fate. Today, a letter came in and she’s foretelling of a seventh for Stormblade when six isn’t even close to here. When that letter arrived, I saw Stormblade and Ulfric look at each other. I suppose if there’s anything that’s going to keep putting a pause to the idea of taking a fight to elves, it’s the constant reminder that they’ve got a growing family while Skyrim continues to rebuild. Unless a pregnancy puts her in a foul mood again, that is.

“Stormblade, should I set up cairns today?” I asked at the noon meals.

She looked over, “Oh, yes, please. Let’s just hope that this doesn’t mean I’m getting more letters from Jarl Ravencrone this month.”

I couldn’t stop it in time, “4 more, you mean?”

“Valdimar! I told you, the gods will hear you!” She was laughing, her old laugh even, but I was getting some extremely dark looks from Ulfric.

I laughed and started to head out to the fields.

“Housecarl Valdimar,” came the rumble from Ulfric. I paused and turned around, prepared for his ire. “Have a full training set ready on the fields. My sword is in need of usage, as well.”

“Yes, sire,” I said and headed down through the armory. They’d know best what Ulfric has trained with previously.

On hearing what happened, the staff down in the armory were quick to work. During the Liberation, they had some items that Ulfric would spar with, but not usually outdoors. They noted that they’d meet me out on the fields. While we were setting up the fields to have a magical training area as well as a martial one, it occurred to me that the rumors that we’d hear when we snuck Stormblade out at night were going to get wild again. Her training would sometimes start rumors, but if they were both going to be out in the fields, it was going to get creative in town.

Iona always came back with some rather interesting, violent ones that would even get Rayya laughing. The affairs were one thing, but the potential violence in the Palace was another entirely. Rayya didn’t go out into Windhelm often to hear the rumors directly. She didn’t blend in enough for them to forget who she was when they were drunk. Too few Redgaurds here. She was quick to point out that while the Redguards were warriors, as well, these rumors would have been a bit much, even in Hammerfell.

If the rumors are this bad in Windhelm, Iona was sure that Riften was worse, especially since Stormblade was well known for braving the Ratway to return items, even after becoming Thane. Jordis said that they would be scandalous, were we in Solitude. There, the violence wouldn’t be heard, but there would be rumors about almost every one of us, the Winking Skeever, the Argonians, and every ship’s captain to ever come into port. Never mind that half the rumors would start at the Bards College as Stormblade was known there, too.

Argis does not approve of repeating any of the rumors about Stormblade or Ulfric, no matter how outlandish. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell. The one that Lydia heard about Iona and Calder’s usage of Hjerim, however, was where we saw Argis smirk. Calder looked embarrassed enough that we’d have almost thought there was a grain of truth to it…

When the fields were ready, I headed back inside. I didn’t have to say a word when I entered the main hall. Just coming in set everyone that was still there in motion. Ulfric and Galmar had been discussing something when they noticed Stormblade was on the move. All three were headed out without any additional words. Argis had young Hoag with him and came over to talk to me.

“Hoag is going to watch. Martial side closer to the palace?”

“Yes, the spells will be closer to the water,” I said as we headed out behind the others. Ulfric and Galmar would have less likelihood of something accidental hitting Hoag, where Stormblade’s spells could send debris flying. I didn’t ask, but I’d assume it was Ulfric’s request to get Hoag some exposure. Around spring, he’ll probably ask to start formal training and not just the play that I’ve allowed the kids against magic. Ulfric and Galmar were already training, but Stormblade had waited. Frost and fire danced over her hands.

“It appears you have a scenario ready, if I’m seeing a pattern correctly,” she said.

“I can’t hide much from you,” I said with a smile. “I did, however, bring something up from the armory. You aren’t dealing with just cairn stones today. I have no real warnings from Hemina, this time.”

“You aren’t carrying anything, Valdimar.” Her eyes narrowed and started to scan over the snow.

“Of course not. It’s already up here. That would give it away. Get started. You’ll know when it happens.”

She studied me for a moment, before starting a series of attacks at the nearest cairn. We could hear metal slamming into wood and straw. Ice shards cracked against stone. I took a few paces back and uncovered the staves in the snow field. I snuck up behind her and aimed one of them about 50 feet in front of her and off to the right.

“Now,” I said, and a frost atronach was summoned in. I heard Hoag speaking excitedly to Argis, but not the words. The fire shifted on her hands and then she was surrounded in a flame cloak. Fire spells came in one after another as she darted off to the right to keep it over there. As it started to close the distance, we heard the thu’um and fire lashed out like she was one of the dragons themselves.

I hadn’t thought she’d go that route. I was sure I’d hear about it later, but… if I was in for trouble, I might as well earn it. As that one splintered apart, I brought in the next one. Stormblade hurled more fire at the second one while backing up. I readied the second staff and brought in an ancestor ghost. As close to a draugr as I could get for her.

I saw movement off to my right. Ulfric ran over to be next to Stormblade. Now his thu’um was heard and the atronach staggered back while Stormblade unleashed spell after spell before I saw a bow appear in her hands. Ulfric’s thu’um rang out again to stagger their opponents as blue arrows went into the ghost. His sword was the final blow for it. Stormblade unleashed another round of dragon’s fire as the atronach lumbered towards her. As it shattered into shards, I could see Stormblade smile at Ulfric through the fire that danced around her.

Might’ve been the flames, but she looked the happiest I’ve seen in years. The brilliant and disarming smile that made folks forget she was a backwoods hunter had returned. I couldn’t see his reaction, but I’d have wagered a week’s worth of septims we were going to see another call for the stewards to handle court.

Next to me, I was suddenly aware of Galmar. “A good plan. They have hunted together, but not like that. Not since taking Solitude. They need the reminder of how well they can fight as one.”

“Did they fight many battles together? We didn’t get a lot of reports about the war in Hjaalmarch.”

“Just Solitude. She didn’t use fire then, but a different thu’um. Ran up next to him and the two of them shouted their way to Castle Dour. Like legends of old,” said Galmar. As he crossed his arms, he added, “He’d say it was his sense of the dramatic. Stormblade has given him that moment more than once.”

I saw the flame cloak drop on Stormblade as she started to walk over. “How many charges are left on those, Valdimar?”

“Several, I believe. Master Neloth gifted you with rather impressive staves.”

“Again, then. We’ll say when to stop… or when you run out of charges.” Her hands shifted colors as she started to walk back to Ulfric. Armor and cloak spells. This time, lightning danced around her.

Once she was in position, I used the wands to continually keep two summons in front of them for almost a quarter of an hour. Galmar had stayed next to me, watching them do battle and ready to jump in if things started to go wrong. By the end, they both looked exhausted, but Stormblade was also beaming. Hoag ran to them as they started walking towards Windhelm. He was quickly asking all sorts of questions about what he saw. Once Stormblade’s spells were down, Hoag was holding her hand as they went through the streets. Before going into the Palace, they went in to prayers at the Temple.

Stormblade didn’t ask any of us for help sneaking out that night… or the next few. Ulfric got to see her old smile directed at him. I wager that’s the first time he’s ever seen the Stormblade we’ve been missing. If the delays for court in the morning are any indication, Ulfric approves of the old Stormblade’s return.

Chapter Text

Volume 25: The Logbooks v5

The Kindling
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

Enthir, in one of his books on my mother, noted an entry from her housecarl, Valdimar, about training that started with Father in 4E 210. Valdimar noted that she didn’t ask anyone about disappearing in the night that evening. I checked through the logbooks. The guards rarely noted anything of her leaving or being absent through the first half of 4E 210. Either the hall guards became less observant or this training sparked something new between my parents. I suspect the latter, given the entries that I did find and patched together.

As was noted in volume 4, I had found where one guard managed to document a discussion between my parents where they danced around what their marriage was. Father always managed to get Mother to admit to more than he would. Where he demanded loyalty, she just assumed she had it until proven otherwise. After the difficult time around Pedr’s birth, with a sixth on the way and news of a seventh to come, I suspect Mother thought that Father needed further reassurances in their dance of saying nothing.

At this time, the public perception of their marriage was still fairly cool and stormy, like Windhelm in the fall. The guards, depending on where they were stationed, got to see more of what we thought was common knowledge. It doesn’t appear that the logbooks were routinely reviewed by the captains of the watches, either, as some of the comments made will show. The guards had figured out what they could get away with in those logbooks. However, while we kids knew it, even half of mother’s staff still didn’t know what was going on. Some refused to believe it. Others just couldn’t see it.

2 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

10 bells: All children asleep. High King and High Queen had quite the training session earlier today from what we could hear inside. She’s using magic and ointments on his old scars tonight. Could see the golden and pale green glow from the door opening even before checking on them.

11 bells: All present and asleep.

3 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: All children asleep. Checked on the High King and High Queen. Thought they were asleep, propped up in bed, but there’s a glow. Stormblade must be casting something like those calming spells I’ve heard about while in his arms. I think I heard them talking as I pulled the door closed after the check.

5 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: All children asleep. Didn’t need to check on the High King and High Queen. Blessings of Dibella are many.

7 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

10 bells: Children were asleep. Master Hoag awoke. Went to the High King and Queen’s chambers. Looked scared. Ulfric walked him back to bed and sat with him for a little while.

11 bells: Ulfric went back to their chambers. After a few minutes, saw the glow of Stormblade’s magic. Healing, I think she said it was. Healing. Skyrim could use more healers.

10 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: Eastern Wall Guard

10 bells: Stormblade came up on the walls. Asked if this was for an inspection, but she said it wasn’t this time. Took off her boots and stood on the cold stone, watching Kyne’s Lights over the harbor. Closer to Kyne, we’ve heard. About 15 minutes or so after she arrived, High King Ulfric came up on the wall. They spoke briefly and he stood with her. After a while, she put her boots back on and they walked back inside.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

11 bells: High King and High Queen came through the hall and went to their chambers. After some time, the telltale glow of Stormblade’s magicka was visible around the edges of the doorway. Not being subtle tonight.

11 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

5 bells: Dawn should be soon. Young master Kjorik came from the boys’ room. Asked if he needed something. He shook his head and went to the High King and High Queen’s Chambers. He climbed up on their bed next to Stormblade and patted her arm until she awoke. Couldn’t hear what was said but he said something, then started crying. Stormblade held him and they both fell back asleep.

7 bells: Heard some noises coming from the High King and High Queen’s chambers. A few minutes later, Stormblade and Kjorik came out. She was already in her Bear armor. Went to the boys’ room to get Kjorik dressed. Went down to the Main Hall.

8 bells: High King went down to the Main Hall.

Logbook: Eastern Wall Guard

12 bells/noon: Eastern fields are being prepped for training again.

1 bell: Ulfric and Stormblade were jointly training again. Several of their staff were down there. Housecarl Valdimar was probably the one we saw using the staves to conjure up their exercises. It wasn’t long before we heard them using their shouts down there. No wonder High King Torygg didn’t stand a chance, nor did Solitude later. During training, an ice bear came close due to the noise. It became their next target. One of the guards went to let hunters know, as the bear was free game to be skinned or otherwise gifted to the people, per the High Queen.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

9 bells: Stormblade was putting the boys to bed with the assistance of housecarls Jordis and Rayya. The boys were a handful tonight. Only Hoag was at the last training, but this time Hoag, Lothar, and Kjorik were down by the fields. Pedr gave them the least trouble, but he’s still real little. Ulfric is seeing to Freydis.

10 bells: All present. Can hear Hoag and Lothar quietly talking. Other children appear asleep. Stormblade’s magicka glow can be seen at the edge of the door. Blessings of Dibella.

14 Sun’s Dawn, 4E 210.

Logbook: Eastern Wall Guard

6 bells: Stormblade came up on the wall. Inspection of the guard at the dusk change-over. As requested, showed her where we may see some new cracks in the wall at spring’s thaw. We reviewed arrow stocks on the wall. She asked if we might need to add smaller towers or lighthouses along the land’s edge for the shipping traffic into port. We could certainly add more braziers along the wall, but she would need to check with the docks to see if they recommend additional light towers. She said she only noticed based on our overlook. Inspection was satisfactory.

10 bells: Stormblade came back up on the wall to watch the Lights. A few minutes later, Ulfric was up on the wall at her side. A short time later, Stormblade followed Ulfric back inside.

Logbook: Kings Hall Guard

11 bells: Ulfric and Stormblade came through the hall and went to their bedchambers. Not for sleep. Not with that look I saw her giving him as she followed him. Heard she’s from The Rift. Might need to volunteer to go on her next pilgrimage. Maybe there’s someone like Stormblade in Ivarstead. Rift ladies may be less cold than the ones here.

The logbooks continue this way for a few months, until our little sister was born. Unlike Pedr, Ranveig was an easier birth. Mother didn’t scare anyone this time.

With advice from those coming in to the docks, as well as from those that were a part of the seas in town, such as Captain Lonely-Gale, a few light towers were set up along the way to the Sea of Ghosts. I’m not sure how, but the glow of those fires has always seemed sad. As if lighting the way to Windhelm was a path in a funeral procession in its own way.

Chapter Text

Volume 26: The Silent Calm

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Skyrim’s rebuilding efforts continued through 4E 210 at much the same pace that they had seen the previous few years. If any of the Stormcloak soldiers had thought that they’d be at war with the Dominion by now, they were disappointed. There were skirmishes at the borders. There was the occasional dragon. News out of the Palace of the Kings seemed less war-like than it was a couple years previous, though the rumors of the training sessions that would happen on the eastern snow fields were definitely seen as an encouragement of what was to come.

After Ranvieg’s birth and some time to recover, the training saw Stormblade working with actual weaponry alongside Ulfric, instead of her magic usage. While Valdimar remained as the housecarl in charge of these training sessions, at least when conjuration was used, it was noted that occasionally Galmar would be seen giving additional pointers to Stormblade when she was using a battle-axe.

In the minor holds, there was some small amount of positioning, with the exception of Hjaalmarch. In Falkreath, Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn passed away in his sleep one evening. His brother, Thadgeir, stepped up to run the hold. Jarl Thadgeir was also not a young man, but there was no desire to put his nephew back up in charge. Jarl Siddgeir didn’t offer, either, since he was fairly comfortable in the lodgings that he was provided by High Queen Stormblade. It was unclear if Jarl Siddgeir would take over if his other uncle passed away or if someone else within the hold might be next. There were rumors that Solaf, having been a Stormcloak and injured at skirmish near Windhelm, or his brother might attempt to get the notice of the residents of Falkreath, if the situation arose. There weren’t many warriors of note that walked among the living in Falkreath.

The lumber of Falkreath, however, was quickly becoming prized during all of the rebuilding and ship-building. While Falkreath had once been looking to be a major hold, it was now ensuring its wildness. As growth was cleared, farms were not necessarily moving in. Near the passes, there was encouragement of underbrush as well as other vegetation. They were selectively letting parts get wilder. Hunters were hardly persecuted for poaching. It was even noted that the hunters may be seen as an initial line of defense, as they might spot enemy movements before anyone else. There were open bounties for anyone that could bring tips of movements from the Empire. Some of these bounties were even posted by the forts, rather than the Jarl of Falkreath, which lead to more of them being picked up as the fort commanders had no interest in going after potential poachers.

Winterhold was continuing to slowly grow, despite its brutal climate. More Nords that were interested in the challenge of fishing along the coast were finding their way up to frozen coasts. The traditional rite of passage of fighting an ice wraith was starting to make a resurgence and that, too, brought more Nords up into Winterhold. In general, with the capital moved back to Windhelm and the High Queen showing favor to the Old Ways, there was a renewed interest in traditions that had begun to die out under the many decades of the Empire’s influence.

The College was barely keeping to Stormblade’s reforms to assist the various holds of Skyrim. There were new adepts that were encouraged by the work in the holds, mostly the Nords and Bretons, but the others weren’t so keen on the intrusion of local politics. As Stormblade was rarely physically at the College, they were able to bend her rules to suit themselves. No one was forced to take internships in the various holds, but the notice board remained rather active for those that might also need to send funds to their kin.

The Pale, however, saw Skald take ill. Jod and Madena were splitting up the responses back to Windhelm when queries came on Skald’s health or the status of the port. While still not officially recognized, Brina Merillis was taking up more of the work around Dawnstar as the residents brought it up to her. There were also rumors that some of the residents of The Pale, in the southern portions, had been seen going to Jarl Balgruuf’s residence at Heljarchen Hall with concerns. As the hold continued in its split state into 4E 211, the status began to falter below that of its neighbor, Winterhold. To make sure the port remained secure, Torsten Cruel-Sea sent a couple naval ships up to patrol just outside the main port.

The major holds, however, remained fairly steady. The Reach was continually dealing with Forsworn. The level of activity was less than it had been several years previous, but it was still present. However, between the mines and Dwemer expeditions, the wealth of both currency and knowledge were abundant. There was talk by a few mages of setting up a secondary college for the advancement of tonal architecture and Dwemer studies, but it had yet to secure a funding source to kick off in earnest. Court Mage Calcelmo had sent queries over to the High Queen about the idea for a college, hoping to secure funds from the College of Winterhold. No response was seen during the following year.

Haafingar seemed to be more run by the court of Jarl Elisif than herself as time went on. Istar Cairn-Breaker would meet with Steward Falk Firebeard, Housecarl Bolgeir Bearclaw and the thanes. Jarl Elisif was still present, mostly, but now all concerns that were brought to her were first filtered by the court, by her own orders. To some in the court, this status was preferable as it made things fairly steady for Haafingar. Thane Erikur was the most displeased in the current state of things as the amount of shipping that he could bring in and out of Solitude had dropped. Falk Firebeard and Thane Bryling were able to keep the appearances up so far, so the residents were largely unaware that Haafingar’s funding was starting to run thin.

Whiterun’s crops had been doing well enough to form bumper supplies, even with the northern holds buying so much from them. As time had passed, the Battle-Borns were causing less of a vocal issue for the Gray-Manes. In some ways, old friendships between the families were starting to resume as it became more evident that the Empire was not going to be making any full-scale assaults into Skyrim.

The Rift and Eastmarch remained as they had for the past several years. The Rift had extra patrols along the border, as Falkreath did, but it also had a favored status from being where the High Queen had claimed her home before moving to Eastmarch. Eastmarch had settled into Stormblade’s reforms, though there were still complaints from all quarters of Windhelm. Now the complaints were centered on what actions she took, rather than a lack of action at all. Since there was action – even when it didn’t work out – the complaints stayed fairly mild. The populations of both holds were more content to gossip about the High Queen than to complain about any actions she did or didn’t take.

As time marched into the spring thaw of 4E 211, there was no sign Stormblade being pregnant with another heir. The letter from Jarl Ravencrone, over a year ago, had faded from memory. In the Palace of the Kings, plans started to be designed for a tour of the fortifications in 4E 212. A 10th year memorial as the battles raged after the taking of Whiterun. Most of the planning was being left to Galmar and Ulfric, though Stormblade was expected to lead them through the gates of each one that she had personally fought at as the Dragonborn High-Queen. It would be a dramatic moment, a re-telling as it were, of the old battles. She agreed, only if she was allowed to be the one to do the litany of the fallen for those forts -- as the Stormcloaks that had died there had fallen despite her own efforts to minimalize the casualties among her brothers and sisters in Liberation.

Chapter Text

Volume 27: The Logbooks v6

The Seventh One
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

After enough recovery time, Mother had done her pilgrimage in late fall of 4E 210 with Ranveig in tow. As she was still not pregnant by the spring thaws of 4E 211, it was looking like this might be the first pilgrimage in years that it would be just Mother and her staff. In the small part of her planning for the memorials in the following years, she did request they plan for when she could make her pilgrimage up High Hrothgar in 4E 212. One suggestion that came up had Mother leave for her pilgrimage during the portion that went through The Rift’s western half as her major battle there had been at Fort Greenwall.

Since he would be 8, she noted that Hoag should be prepared to make that pilgrimage as the future High King. Mother did not intend to wait for summons from the Greybeards. With her lineage, she wanted us all up there a few times and to get some instruction, whether we found ourselves able to learn thu’ums as she did, with a lot of study as Father did, or not at all. If that meant that she was bending tradition, so be it. From what I could tell, the Greybeards never contradicted her on bringing us up there, possibly because it meant that she kept trying to stay with their philosophies and Dragonborns seldom continued to learn with them as she was doing.

As the summer started to warm up Windhelm in 4E 211, Mother had not escaped Jarl Ravencrone’s visions. Mother had very specific requests for the cooks, suddenly, and honey-laden sweets were at the top of her requests. It wasn’t long before it was determined that she was now expecting the seventh of us. From what I saw in the logs and journals, there was a general sense of ease as this one didn’t bear the moodiness or sickness that some of us brought, but instead brought out a side of our Mother rarely seen.

Guard logbooks -- 12 Sun’s Height, 4E 211.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

6 bells: The High Queen is supposedly pregnant again. That’s quite the lineage. 7 of them? At least she doesn’t seem to be in a mood with this one. If anything, she’s been a bit nicer the past couple weeks. She came up in the hall to gather Kjorik from his reading primers for dinner. She was all smiles with him and Kjorik took her hand as they walked back to the Main Hall.

10 bells: After getting the children all put to bed, I saw Stormblade reach out to Ulfric and touch his arm, as he started towards their chambers. She inquired if he’d go with her to the walls to watch Kyne’s Lights. I thought she normally snuck off to be alone to watch the Lights.

11 bells: Ulfric and Stormblade returned from the walls and retired to their chambers.

Housecarl Iona’s Journal

14 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. At breakfast, Stormblade asked Ulfric if he’d mind if she took a trip down to Lake Honrich and back. It could be under guard, if it would make him feel better, but she wanted to travel through Kynesgrove and Shor’s Stone down to Riften. She could stay at Fort Greenwall, instead of in Riften itself, as well. She just really needed to see the lake at dusk and it had been awhile. It’s the first time any of us have seen her ask to leave, aside from her yearly pilgrimage, instead of just vanishing. It was also unusual that she was giving him options about her travels.

Ulfric said he’d like a couple days to request a report from Fort Greenwall on their status before she left. She found that acceptable and didn’t press for it be faster or to just leave. Ulfric had Jorlief send a message down to Fort Greenwall for status and if their commander would have any concerns with the High Queen visiting.

18 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. Word came back from Fort Greenwall yesterday. Ulfric had no verbal objections to Stormblade leaving for a few days. She made plans with Golldir to clear her docket for a few days, then asked Calder and I to make the trip with her. Today, we left after her court business was finished. She gave her farewells to each of the children. Ulfric’s brooding seemed a little deeper, but he didn’t say anything to keep her in Windhelm as we left.

We made it down to Kynesgrove. The Braidwood Inn was welcoming enough. Kjeld came over to talk, as he runs the town, in his own words. Stormblade was a bit warmer to Roggi Knot-Beard when he came by, saying how long it’s been since she’s been to Kynesgrove. She had noted to Roggi that we were headed down to the Riften area and she could get him something special from the meaderies, if he wanted. He was very grateful for the thought, but said it was unnecessary.

19 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. We stopped in at Shor’s Stone on the way to Fort Greenwall. Stormblade asked if the spiders had come back to the mine. Calder gave me a look at that. She would’ve gone in without pause, if they had noted any, but the miners said they were fine. After a short visit, we went on to Fort Greenwall.

There was no getting to the lake tonight. The fort commander had a full tour and inspection planned for Stormblade’s arrival. They also have part of her morning already planned, as well. Stormblade’s taking it all in stride, too. The moment we went through the entrance, you could see her shoulders relax a bit. Maybe she’s gotten more used to being within walls.

20 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. After the morning plans were completed, we left for the day to head towards Riften. The fort knew that we’d be back after nightfall. The commander made sure to state how long they would wait before he started sending out scouts to look for us.

After a quick trip through the market in Riften and getting some special reserves for Roggi, despite his refusal, Stormblade headed back out towards the stables. I knew where she was going, even when Calder gave me a questioning look. She went up the dock for Honeyside, followed the stairs and sat at the table that used to be hers. I took a seat on the stairs, blocking anyone from heading up that way.

Calder asked in a whisper, “Where are we? Who owns this house?”

“She does. It’s called Honeyside.”

“Wait,” Calder said. “She’s only got Proudspire and Hjerim.”

“No, those are the only houses she kept anything at. She rents this one out.” I looked at him, “You know nothing of this house. If you meet the tenant, you never did see them.”

Calder settled down on the stairs with me. Stormblade was content to sit and stare out over the lake for some time. I looked up at a noise and saw she had gotten up to lean on the railing. The bear helmet was back on the table.

“Iona, do you miss being here?” she asked. Other than the addition of years adding lines near the scars, she had lost some of her hardened look for the moment. You could almost see the woman that became Thane of the Rift for taking down a skooma dealer while wearing leathers that marked her as part of the Guild, for those that knew what they were looking at.

“I’ve gotten used to Windhelm, ma’am.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she said with a vague smile.

I sighed, “Yes, sometimes.”

“Lass! I thought I heard someone out here,” came along with the sound of the door to the house closing.

I looked up in time to Stormblade smile as she quickly embraced the ginger-haired man that came out on the deck, who looked completely taken off-guard for it. It was over before he could even react and she was moving to the table. At the same time, I nudged Calder and gestured further down the steps to the lower dock.

“Is that the tenant?” he whispered. “Stormblade isn’t..?”

“It is, and no. If she was, she’d have never married Ulfric. She’s known him longer than I’ve known her.”

“And she’s safe with him?”

“As safe as anyone in Riften is. He knows people. She was known to associate with him before she was made Thane of the Rift. That she’s renting her home out to him, she’s made it clear that he’s one of her associates within Riften. That’s the politics that she will play. She’ll pull connections and see where the strings lead, keep the ones she likes. That’s why you’ll see her talk more with the Cruel-Seas than the Shatter-Shields, and they both know what she’s implied by it and why Torsten finally got the approval to start that Navy he wanted a couple years back.”

“She has to know that it starts rumors. I know there have been some rumors about her gracing Torsten’s bed out at Hollyfrost.”

“She found that out, from what I heard. Price of what she’s doing. Doesn’t seem to have caused any long-term issues with Ulfric, from what I have seen.”

We went quiet for a while, watching the lake while Stormblade had her discussions on the upper deck. It occurred to me that Calder wasn’t as familiar with Riften, so I pointed out Goldenglow beyond the docks and all the fishing. I noticed it was getting dark over the lake as we talked. Calder looked behind me suddenly, at the stairs that led to the upper deck.

Stormblade was at the top of the steps with her bear skull helmet back on. How long she had been there was not clear. She looked between both of us, then a slow smile came up. “We can head back to the fort now, unless I am interrupting something.”

22 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. The last two days were uneventful as we came back up to Windhelm. The stop in Kynesgrove wasn’t that long, as she offered over her present from The Rift. Nothing else happened. Calder keeps looking away when Stormblade looks at him, like he’s looking for danger. Except, we both know he’s not. Now there’s going to be another rumor about us.

Guard Logbooks -- 22 Sun’s Height, 4E 211. <.h3>

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

10 bells: It happened again. Stormblade’s back from a trip down to The Rift and was helping put the children to bed. I could hear lots of questions from all of them about where she had been. When done, she asked Ulfric to join her on the walls to watch the Lights.

12 bells/midnight: It was nearly at midnight bells when Ulfric and Stormblade came back from the walls. With it being summer, I guess the weather allows for spending more time up on the walls. Hall is secure.

4 Last Seed, 4E 211.

Logbook: Eastern Wall

10 bells: As long as it isn’t raining, we’re seeing the High King and High Queen up on the walls every other night. There’s a spot on the wall that has become known as the Queen’s Vantage that overlooks the harbor, in a shadowy spot between the wall braziers. Tonight, as I was keeping watch over them, I witnessed Stormblade get closer to Ulfric than they normally are and lean on his shoulder a bit. Maybe there is something to the rumors that she’s warmed up some and isn’t just acting like another of his guards.

17 Last Seed, 4E 211.

Logbook: Main Hall Guard

6 bells: Dinner was set a bit special for the family tonight. Jorlief and Golldir had requested the kitchens prepare something special. The Stewards had remembered that it was their 8th anniversary, even if they were intending to keep it fairly quiet. The High Queen’s current preference for sweets was welcomed by the children. The kitchen staff is going to be up late tonight getting after all that honey.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

10 bells: With all of the sweets that we heard were at dinner tonight, it’s no wonder that this hall is full of laughter. It’s been ages since there was laughter in this hall. When I was in training to come up here from the rest of the guard, the rumor was that the last time there was laughter in this hall, Ulfric hadn’t yet been summoned to the Greybeards. I hope Jarl Hoag is resting easier to see the change in the Palace. With as excited as they all are, the children were left to the housecarls after Stormblade and Ulfric gave their stories. Only the smallest was able to put down. The boys were barely settled for the bedtime tales, but then started a wild game of draugrs and daggers through the halls.

Saw both Ulfric and Stormblade headed up to the walls, after Argis gestured for them to go.

Logbook: Eastern Wall

11 bells: The High King and High Queen are up at the Queen’s Vantage again. Heard the Stewards surprised them with an anniversary dinner for their 8th year. Maybe that’s why they look so close while up here. I know she arranged this marriage to make sure he would be High King at the Moot, but that was 8 years ago. Something must’ve bloomed between them. Even as cloaked in shadow as they are over there, you can tell. We’re giving them as much space as we can while ensuring nothing happens to them up here.

Chapter Text

Volume 28: The Procession

Memorials of the Liberation
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

In the second half of Second Seed 4E 212, we began a tour through Skyrim. All of us. We took several carts and horses. I was 5, then, but it was a long trip so it stays in memory. We started when we did because Hemina and Mother’s healers were no longer worried about her or newborn Loknir being on an extended trip. This trip through Skyrim was not one filled with feasts, though it could have been. It was a tour of the forts with particular attention to the dates that each one came under Stormcloak rule. Those that had been since the start and were never lost or regained waited for the end. I think it was planned so that we would enter Winterhold in the late summer months. The exception was with The Rift.

The Rift had been Mother’s home. She had also lost it in trade to save us all from Alduin. It held some particularly painful memories for Mother. She told me, when I was much older, that it was one of the times when she had faced Father’s disapproval and the sting of that stuck with her for a long time. I sometimes wonder if that hurt was because her bindings to Father were already starting to take hold. I didn’t ask. I’m not sure she’d have known. The Rift was set to be the last hold, including her pilgrimage to High Hrothgar, before we’d finish the memorial tour.

Our first official memorial, however, was at Whiterun. It was the first decisive victory and started the Liberation in earnest. Mother had noted that taking Whiterun was her first battle as a Stormcloak that took a settlement or fort. As a statement, though I’m not sure whose idea it was, horses were changed out and the order of how we were to enter Whiterun was set out in the outlying farms.

Several of the housecarls started to voice objections, until Mother’s gaze landed on them. She was not allowing discussion of the matter. They could protect the children. She was Dragonborn. She was doing what she did in 202. She almost sounded like Father or Galmar. I remember Galmar laughing over it. Back then, she would have been in the basic armors of the Liberation, but that didn’t matter for what was about to happen. Her blonde hair peeked out from under the bear helm.

Mother got on a dappled horse that would follow our banner bearer. While riding that horse, she had cast one of those flesh spells for good measure. She was carrying Father’s axe in her right hand, by her side. As she drew closer to Whiterun’s walls, she held it high. She had both bow and sword slung with her on the horse, but it was Father’s axe that was the draw of attention. Close behind Mother was Galmar on another horse. Father stayed with us on the cart that followed, as this was their show and not his. Not yet.

At the bridge near the stables, in full view of the guards, Mother dismounted from her horse. She called out to the guards on the wall, “I was the bearer of this axe to Whiterun, to request allegiance with the Stormcloaks. With the refusal of the axe I brought then and hold now, we came back with a new message for the sons and daughters of Skyrim. ‘A new day is dawning and the sun rises over Whiterun!’” Amid the cheers that came from the walls, she walked back to the cart.

With Father’s axe now in her left hand, she offered her right as support as he climbed down. She knelt on one knee before Father as she offered his axe back. He took the axe and fastened it to his side. As close as we were, we could see Father’s expression shift as he offered a steadying hand for Mother to rise. He had quickly hidden his proud expression behind a scowl often seen in court. She then grabbed Wuuthrad from the cart and walked over to Galmar.

While she was walking over to Galmar, the rest of us climbed down from the carts. The housecarls traded out who had the littlest of us. The two warrior bears with large, heavy axes held at the ready lead our way in. A staging of what occurred 10 years ago, but without the bloodshed and the destruction. Father’s two closest friends – his bookends, I’ve heard others say of Mother and Galmar – leading the way through the city.

Our procession went through the main streets and up towards Dragonsreach. I don’t remember the speeches that we had there on the stairs up to Dragonsreach. I remember they were given by Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane and Father. Galmar did a litany of the fallen; first the Stormcloaks, then for the Nords that died in defense of the Empire. Though they were not Stormcloaks, those Nords died honorably in battle and should not be forgotten, they said. We were invited into Dragonsreach.

Later, we had dinner out on a massive open porch where Mother said they had captured a dragon. The same one that Hoag was named kin to, even. We got to see the large chains that had held the dragon. Off that porch, Mother pointed the way that she had flown to reach Skuldafn. I remember Father standing close to Mother as she pointed the way. Years later, when I was older, I’d see them hold that same pose on the walls when Mother was watching Kyne’s Lights.

If all of the memorials had been this even and theatric, I might have only remembered our stay at Whiterun because of the Jarl’s house. However, this memorial was unique for being so steady. The forts, for me, became memorable for when Mother had reason to be in the center of things. For being Dragonborn, Mother was not the same style of conqueror that had come before in our lessons of the past. She had married Father to let him lead with her bloodline to bolster it. At least, that’s what she said. She did let him lead in a lot of things, but she would be the power behind it all. In ways none of us knew, then.

For the forts where Galmar had placed Mother in charge of their taking, or some part of it, Mother led us through the gates. Just before the fort could be seen, she’d switch from the carts to one of the horses. She preferred the dappled ones from The Rift, if they were rested enough to do the walk with her added weight. She had the banner bearer lead the way, but she’d be close behind. There would be somber speeches by Galmar and Father, but then Mother would rise up for her piece of history. I was young, but I remember it vividly for each of those forts.

As Mother stood before all of those men and women that were stationed at that particular fort, Argis and Calder would be her shadows. She would begin the litany of names for those Stormcloaks that fell during the taking of the fort. She said that they were all her brothers and sisters, whether they knew it back then. Now, 10 years on, she would call out their names so that they would not be forgotten. Usually by the 10th name, she’d already have tears fighting their way free. If she had seen how they fell, or worse if she couldn’t heal them in time, then she called that out in the litany. By the end of those litanies, most of the sons and daughters of Skyrim would be moved the same way. With the names called out, some of the casks of mead that we had picked up in the hold’s capital would be unloaded. Drinks were dedicated to the fallen, that they should be in Sovngarde.

I don’t remember these forts just for Mother’s litanies that were so sad to hear. It was in those litanies that I saw Mother sailing the sea that Father was always on. Father saw it too. Each fort had a special barrack room that they had converted just for our stay. When we had retired for the evening, at those forts, Father would hold her close.

The armor would be removed, replaced with what they would wear to bed. However, Father had kept his fur mantle at his shoulders, just for Mother to bury herself in. With how he placed kisses in her hair, I could almost forget that they were more than old warriors. He would be so gentle with Mother and she’d allow it.

It was so different from their usual behavior. Anywhere else, she was fierce and ready to lay waste to anything that came near Father. Father would be distant and didn’t treat her much differently than when she was thane, mostly. In those forts, Father was now her protector in the storm of memories that came from the Liberation.

It would make some of the others uncomfortable. Hoag and Lothar would ignore it. The other siblings were too young to understand much of it. Some of the housecarls would claim that they needed to rest before their shift began, like Jordis. Lydia would look confused by the change, but then go on to check our belongings to be ready for the next day. Argis, though, he’d stand watch nearby. He’d see me watching and give a small smile before returning to watching for trouble from one of the doorways. Galmar would keep a similar watch at another doorway. I couldn’t read his reaction to it.

There would be no words those nights. Father would hold her until she would look up at him. In the moments that they looked on each other, they must’ve understood something in the silence. It was only then that they’d both finish getting ready for bed. Each fort that Mother had a litany for, these moments lasted longer and longer. The fort in Haafingar before we went on to Solitude saw Mother holding on to Father as if he was saving her from drowning in that sad sea of theirs. Father seemed almost content to be what steadied her in this time. As if the last 9 years, he had been waiting for her to come to him and let him be there for her. Maybe he had been waiting that long.

The next morning was the end of the first half of our tour. Our carts were brought to Solitude. Both Father and Mother had tightly locked away what I had seen the night before. There were more speeches at Castle Dour. Mother and Galmar were bears at Father’s side. When the litany of names was read out, Mother gave the first reading to a guard who she said had been beheaded for allowing Father to leave the city after the duel; an execution that she witnessed as she first arrived. The final name, however, was reserved for Father to call out. Legate Rikke was given a special reading, recalling the battles where she fought alongside Father and Galmar rather than against them.

We did not stay in the Blue Palace. Mother refused. She didn’t care if it was disrespectful, she would have us all stay in Proudspire. It was tight. Galmar laughed at how Mother would fit a dragon in there to avoid the Blue Palace. She said she’d fit two. Father was curious as to why she was so determined to not be in the Blue Palace, but she said she’d talk about it when back in Windhelm.

The remaining weeks were uneventful and blended together. I know we traveled through The Pale and Winterhold, which were still fairly snowy for summer months. We’d huddle together during those carriage rides. The last phase was through the western part of Eastmarch and down through The Rift. There was a short while in The Rift that Mother, Hoag, and Loknir split off for her pilgrimage with a few housecarls and met us all back in Riften. We stayed with Jarls. We stayed in forts. Finally, we headed north and went to Fort Greenwall.

If Haafingar had been a breaking point in a storm on the Sea of Ghosts, Fort Greenwall was their Winterhold. The storm that battered away a lot of their remaining walls. She had already said that she wouldn’t talk about Proudspire until we were in Windhelm. Something had happened on her pilgrimage and no one was talking about it. Argis was keeping as close to Mother’s side as Father did. Hoag looked thoughtful and said he needed to think on what happened more before he could talk about it. Now, we were at the fort that Mother had to bring back under Father’s rule, or die trying. The memorials in the day were the same as the others, but that night was longer.

As Mother buried herself in Father’s embrace, we could hear her speaking to him. She was quiet enough that none of us could hear the words, but the tone was pained. Several of the housecarls had excused themselves to keep watch outside of our barrack room. Valdimar offered to take us kids on a tour, which Hoag and Lothar took up. I didn’t want to leave. Iona stayed with the younger ones until they got to sleep, then sat quietly with me. We could just make out low rumbles that were Father’s words back to Mother. When she finally looked up at him, this night saw him wiping the tears away before they readied for bed. The next day, they hid everything away once more. We went back to Windhelm with that stop complete. Once we were home, though, what had transpired in the forts was harder to hide. The ship on the sea of tears had both of them together. Father no longer sailed alone. Married 9 years and Mother found a new way to be with Father.

Shortly after our return, at dinner, Father asked Mother what bothered her so deeply about the Blue Palace. She replied that the ghosts that resided in Solitude were not the same as those in Windhelm. When pressed for more, she sighed.

“Here, we are given the ghosts of our kings. Ysgramor, Harald. We have your father, Jarl Hoag, who I have heard such fine things about.” I saw Father flicker a smile at that. She continued, “The Blue Palace has the ghosts of Pelagius and The Wolf Queen. Madness and death. Fitting for those that gave up the Old Ways. I cannot stay there. I cannot subject our children to it. I could not subject Jarl Ravencrone’s visions or her children to it, either. There is something rotten there.”

Chapter Text

Volume 29: The Pilgrim

Voice of the Sky
Hoag Odahbrod Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim
4E 250

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

The pilgrimage to High Hrothgar is not one taken lightly. I was eight when I made the first pilgrimage with my own steps. Mother did them every year, usually in autumn, health allowing. Several of her staff would go along, first taking a stop in Ivarstead. They would bring along provisions to see the Greybeards through the winter. Mother would spend a week on that mountain before she would begin the journey back to Windhelm. For those two to three weeks for her journey away from Windhelm, that was usually the only planned extended time every year that she spent away from Father’s side while he was in Windhelm.

That Last Seed, 4E 212, pilgrimage started a little different from others since we had been a tour of the forts for several months. Along with several guards that had volunteered to come along, her personal housecarls, Gregor of the Pale and Argis the Bulwark, were flanking us. Just behind us, her steward, Golldir, was carrying my brother, Loknir. Mother said that Loknir was too young to stay behind as my other siblings had done. We all made this trip by the time we were 1, as well. As we got to Ivarstead, Golldir noted to me that we’d be meeting a mercenary that Mother had trained some time ago. According to Golldir, this mercenary always went with Mother on her pilgrimages.

The Vilemyr Inn could barely contain our group spending the evening, but there was no complaint to be heard, either. Mother was definitely known here. The locals were quick to greet her. They had added extra space for everyone to stay. Shifts were assigned so that we had extra watchful eyes, even though Mother was certain the Rift’s guards were more than adequate for overnight.

Just as I was getting ready to sleep to the bard’s songs, I heard Mother’s voice rise above the din with an uncharacteristic cheer. I peeked out from the room to see a redheaded warrior in armor made of dragon bones being offered a mug of mead and a spot at her table. She noted that he’d need to come to Windhelm, soon. She might know someone coming of age that he could train, as she had trained him. Golldir saw me watching. With his signal, I went back to bed before he alerted Mother.

The next morning, we all grabbed our warmer underclothes and cloaks from our packs before beginning those steps. Mother noted that it was time that I tried to read the shrines on the way up the mountain. I was to consider their meaning as we went up the steps. The mercenary in dragon bone, Erik, noted that this pilgrimage was the first training Mother gave him on leaving Rorikstead. The armor was something she fashioned from four of the dragons that he took down at her side. It was his yearly honor to walk with her and he would be glad to help with the words, if I needed it.

It didn’t take long for the weather to turn. Snow and wind started to chase us up the mountain. The steps started to get slick. The guards and housecarls made quick work of any frost troll that decided to come at us. Mother was carrying the supplies from Ivarstead. I looked back at Golldir as the wind picked up. The bundle that held Loknir deep within was starting to gather ice at its edges. It is here that I learned first-hand that Mother’s ways ran as deep as Father’s, perhaps deeper. The words that day could have been said yesterday, as clear as they are.

“Mother, is Loknir going to be safe in those blankets?” I asked. “Ice is starting to stick.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s a Nord,” she said without even looking at me or Loknir.

“What if he’s not? If he doesn’t make it?” I think all the travel up to this point had worn on me more than I thought.

She stopped at that and her eyes fixed on mine. They grew dark and watchful. I’ve seen stahlrim blades look less dangerous, but the color was similar. My questioning her may have been the first thing I had done to disappoint her.

“Have we taught you so little about life outside the Palace? If he cannot survive this trip in blankets and under guard, then he could not survive anything that Skyrim will put in his path ahead. He would be too weak to rule anything. All of you have made this trip as infants. If Kyne or Talos have already judged one of you unworthy to lead, they will show us on this path. It is but the first test he faces.

“You’ll be old enough, soon, Hoag, to go against the Ice Wraiths. Galmar had me tested as I was unknown. It is, however, an old ritual. Those that lead, at the least, should prove they can. If we face an Ice Wraith on this mountain, study it and how it moves. We cannot and must not return to Jarls and High Kings too weak to do what needs to be done. All of you, even down to Loknir, need to be ready.”

The rest of our path up the mountain was in silence, except when Erik assisted with a shrine’s meaning. I had to pause longer at the 9th shrine. Talos’ shrine, covered in snow, was more imposing than the one at the temple in Windhelm, even if it was not as large as Windhelm’s. A serpent hidden in snow, but still under his boot and not avoiding that blade. We held no direct relation, yet all these words and that statue seemed to be a call for Mother to be similarly ready to vanquish everything.

Loknir wasn’t even heard until we got to the doors of High Hrothgar. Erik and the additional guards were to head back down the mountain and stay in Ivarstead for the week. Before they left, I saw a few of the guards leave their own offerings at the box between the stairs. Some of those guards volunteered to make this trip with Mother whenever she made the trip, much as Erik and Argis did. They noted that they would be back in a week to escort us back down.

Our smaller group headed inside. In the slightly warmer building, Golldir started to remove some layers from Loknir. Mother took the smaller bundle. After I was introduced to the Greybeards, she introduced my youngest sibling. Loknir, only in his fifth month, made a small noise that I could feel. It sounded like his normal cheerful noises, other than having a physical echo. The silent monks all exchanged a glance that then went to my mother.

“It appears you are not the last, Dragonborn,” said one of them.

“Merely the last for the Scrolls to mention and left to a fate of his own, perhaps,” she replied in a tone that was closer to the one she used in court as High Queen than the one I normally heard in our private wing. “The Scrolls hadn’t mentioned Miraak, either. Apocrypha may have altered more than we know. We will have work ahead. I was not so young when it came to me.”

Loknir would go on these pilgrimages more than the rest of us, in time. For now, he had their attention and there were quiet words passed on how to teach such a young Dragonborn to use their voice, or perhaps more appropriate at this time, how to keep them from using it. They would still test and guide the rest of us, though. I was the first to try to learn their ways, though I would not find it as easy as Mother or Loknir.

Chapter Text

Volume 30: The Bear

The Shackles That Remain
Lothar Yolkunod Stormcloak, Great Bear of the Eastern Front
4E 251

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

The graves were barely cold and the College was requesting volumes before any of us fall. I do not have my Father’s words. Hoag, Freydis, even Loknir have more of Father’s speech. Jorleif once said he wasn’t sure if I sounded more like Mother or Galmar during the Liberation. Mother said she may have put too much emphasis on the Yol when she named me. Perhaps. I was almost 8 when that fire was lit, though. I remember it well. That’s what I will share.

4E 213. First Seed. Mother called for Hoag and me to meet her in the War Room. I got there just before Hoag. No one else was there. Mother had her male housecarls outside the room at every door. Her orders to keep the room secure were clear. Even Father was to be denied. Hoag looked surprised at that. Doors were closed. She shifted chairs in front of them to bar them further, which was very unlike Mother. “You’re both of age, now. I need to entrust you with insight into your father and I. Before anything should happen, as I have it on good authority that tensions are increasing outside our borders -- I need you both to understand. What you hear here, what you see here, it stays here. Clear?”

We both nodded. My brother looked a little uneasy. When Mother was serious, it always fell to him first. If it was serious enough to include me as well, then we had something big to consider. Mother stepped to the other side of the war table and placed a worn red leather letter case on it.

“In early 202, there was a disturbance at the former Thalmor Embassy near Solitude. Disturbance, indeed. Infiltrated. Breeched. Prisoners freed. Documents stolen. Lapdogs of that Thalmor bitch, Elenwen, taken to whatever Oblivion deemed fit for them.”

I glanced at Hoag. His eyes were getting wide. Mother was in battle mode. She’d start to sound like Galmar if the anger took her.

“I did that,” she continued. “If I knew then what I do now, I’d have set it ablaze. It was before we had the Elder Scroll. Before it was clear that the dragon at Helgen was Alduin. A prophecy, with High King Torygg’s death and the Liberation as the final piece. One of the few living Blades thought it might be the Thalmor.” She snorted. “Gave them too much credit.”

“Blades? I thought we were taught that they protected the Emperor, but were gone a long time ago,” I asked. Asking questions when she was in battle mode was risky.

“Yes. There are only two that remain, now. I think. Maybe they found others without my help. We have a different view of the future, so you have not met the current Blades. However, the Blades are not the concern for you both. The Thalmor wanted one of them. A historian of the Blades. The prisoner was a denizen of the Ratway of Riften with some vague knowledge of that historian. I got him out of the Embassy. I also secured the historian from the Thalmor. I left Thalmor to rot in the Ratway.

“I said that documents were stolen. This set is on your father. His imprisonment. His torture. If I ever get within range of Elenwen again, Wuuthrad will sever her head from her shoulders. It was made for Ysgramor’s battles with elves. There’s none fitter for it to fell.” Her eyes were growing darker by the second. The fingers of her right hand were turning white as they pressed on the wood of the table. Just the memories from over a decade ago was causing this reaction. Mother must’ve been vicious at the time. “I will let you read these for yourselves. How they made Ulfric think that he gave them information that led to the fall of the Imperial City. It is also not everything. You are not old enough to see the exact nature of some of their methods. He does not know the extent of the lies they piled on him, that I have these documents or what I know of what happened. Not entirely. How do you tell your husband that his grief and shame was twisted against him? That his enemies were using his anger to weaken the country he would die for?

“I’ve said before that we were linked, Ulfric and I. We were both to be executed at Helgen. The Imperials put my head before his, while I listened to their General speak down to Ulfric like he was a vicious hunting dog. When I first slayed a dragon in Whiterun and managed a thu’um without any training, just knowing, Ulfric allowed me to bend his ear on what the summons from High Hrothgar meant. Courageous or foolish to come to him unsummoned, he said, but my reason was justified enough. Looking for the reasons for the dragons in a Thalmor Embassy, I find these?” She shook her head a bit. Clearing it, I think. “You recall that I managed a temporary truce to get a dragon in Whiterun, yes?”

Hoag and I both nodded silently.

“The damned Imperials brought that Thalmor bitch that tortured Ulfric to it. To make sure it would be in accord with the Concordat.” She snorted again. Her hand clenched into a fist. “If it wasn’t at High Hrothgar, I’d have gone after her then.”

“And start a war?” Hoag asked. I saw him shift a bit under her gaze.

“Indeed. It would have, but that wouldn’t have been anything I’d have considered. Vengeance would have been mine for mistreatment of a prisoner. Stuhn would have approved, I think. Ulfric and Galmar have a better sense for battle lines and strategies as it runs in a war. My training was not in that area, especially not at that time. I did have a sense of place, though. I would not start hostilities in front of the Greybeards. I just dictated that she was not welcome and had her removed. After Alduin was dealt with, then my blade came to be here in a stronger capacity. I followed the course set forward by Ulfric and Galmar for the war.”

“Was there further prophecy on the war?” I asked.

“No. It was only on Alduin. The Scrolls were vague or did not apply to other matters that I saw to for Skyrim. Beyond the prophecy for Alduin, I was freed of any destiny that the Scrolls had written, that we know of. I was bound in other ways, just not the Scrolls.

“However, these ties to Ulfric were still felt. Our land suffered. I had already made The Rift my home, but in order to get the Imperials to agree to anything, I had to give them that hold. I was to bring the message to Whiterun. Whispers and the Imperials made sure that what I brought back was not encouraging. From there, you know the way of the war from our observances last year. You have probably both heard of my proposal to your father before the Moot, yes?”

We both nodded. She had made it sound so political. Maybe it was to start, before I was old enough to remember. Even by my earliest memories, though, I knew it wasn’t politics. Just watching Mother redo Father’s braids in the morning would tell you that there was more between them than politics and woe to anyone that dared to come between them.

“Good. He had many names for me by then. The sons and daughters of Skyrim had given him several. Imperials fell before me. Ice-Veins. Bonebreaker. Snow-Hammer. He was to count me among his kin, as Stormblade. Now I was asking for a title, to continue to be at his side.” She looked at us both, tapped that red pouch. “This is part of why. He’d have secured the Moot without me, most likely, but a Dragonborn bloodline, in Talos’ honor, might sway any on the edge. What Ulfric really needed is what Skyrim needed – more healers. He needed a shield from the Thalmor.

“Since you were old enough to remember anything, you’ve seen my magics on Ulfric at night. Your father is not blind. He knows what I do. I am not manipulating him as other mages of the mind might. I ease the tensions in his shoulders from the heavy weights that he carries. I do what I can to unwind that damage done, but without telling him what I know. Without their lies, he would still carry the memories of soldiers dying in his arms, speaking of kin they wouldn’t see again. He’d still have the scars of battle, though I can tell which are not from battles. He fought for the Empire that bled Skyrim until she almost couldn’t stand, then told her to stop worshipping Talos because the High Elves decided they can say who we worship. That alone has weighed on him. They made him think he was part of the fall, but he had nothing to do with that decay.

“I want you to understand his drive, his love for Skyrim. He grew up here in this ancient city as you have. Kyne – not Kynareth, but Kyne the Hawk – is at every corner and walkway. Solitude looks more like Cyrodiil than Skyrim, as you saw. Madness is in the halls up there. This place is far older. The ways are deeper. The throne of Ysgramor, of other High Kings, of your grandfather – the Great Bear of Eastmarch, and now of your father. Hoag, you were named for that grandfather. The honor of that throne will be yours, someday.”

Hoag looked uneasy about being on that throne, though he had to know that’s what we were both being instructed to do when the time came. He would need to think on what he’d heard. My brother was always able to hold on to things long enough to think it through. That’s not my way.

“Ulfric was worthy of that honor, even when he didn’t sound like he was sure,” Mother continued. “Galmar and I saw it when he wavered. We believed in him. We’ve both said we’d go through Oblivion for him, if asked to do so. Your father’s torture and his imprisonment weigh on him in ways that you can’t always see, but I needed you to know of what might drive your father or cause him to pause when you wouldn’t think that’s what he’d do. Certainly where my rage may come in.”

I took up the pouch and started going through it. Mother had to know I’d be the first to look. It did help explain why Father had thunderheads of sadness and anger during the weeks that Mother would pilgrimage to High Hrothgar. Court was always a bit stormier, then, like the docks. I’m sure I didn’t want to know what Father was like when he visited other courts and Mother stayed in Windhelm with us.

“No wonder you train with Thalmor robed dummies,” I spat. I had read of Father’s imprisonment after Markarth and grandfather’s death while he was there, but this was worse. A fire was starting to kindle. I’d have to train more under Galmar when he was in Eastmarch. “What did they have on you, Mother?”

“At that time, nothing that I found. A bit surprising. I had already stormed one of their keeps with the Gray-Manes to get one of the brothers free. I’m sure they have documents now, but none were found after they vacated the Embassy.” She continued, “I was not shy about attending Talos shrines. I’ve fed the ground of Skyrim with their blood. Several Talos shrines have been given Thalmor robes that have been torn from the dead. I do not leave any honors with them. They deserve none. Let the animals feed on their bodies.

“They would treat no one in this country any better. The Dunmer? The Bosmer? The Bretons? I can only protect those under Skyrim’s banner, but none are safe from them. I have heard of purges elsewhere. Right now, we strengthen and prepare.”

“You mentioned the names that Skyrim gave you,” Hoag spoke up as he started looking at the documents that I laid out. It was easier to look at those documents, right now. “What about your birth name, Mother?”

“What about it,” she replied. Her tone was starting to soften again. I looked to see if she was starting to cast something illusory, but I didn’t see anything. Perhaps she let the fire burn hot enough for it to cool on its own.

“Will you ever mention it?” my brother asked.

“It’s unimportant,” she said. “History will know me by enough names. Dragonborn. Stormblade. High Queen of Skyrim. What I was before I was linked to your father matters not. Alduin, waking from his slumber, blessed and cursed me. Kyne gave me a Voice. Dibella granted me your father, while Mara gave me all of you. Talos continues to guide me with the strength to continue on. My kin is here. Skyrim claimed me as a daughter. I became a Stormcloak twice, through different oaths.” She paused to put the papers back in the pouch, then looked at us both.

“I needed you to know what drives us both against the Thalmor. Never doubt what we do for Skyrim, each other, or any of you. We do what we do because we must, even when we have a very personal agenda. May the gods watch over us,” she said before moving the furniture from the doors and dismissing her housecarls.

Chapter Text

Volume 31: The Courier

Southern Winds
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

It was summer in Windhelm, 4E 213. Summer just means that it snows a bit less now, sometimes it rains, and the breezes off the river aren’t as strong. There’s a thaw and the farms can drag some life from the soil. Our trips to the other holds allowed a reference to what summer may be elsewhere. The light coming through the windows had been bright enough to wake me early. I was in the main hall, getting an early breakfast, when the doors went wide. A pair of soldiers in red uniforms were being escorted in by several of our soldiers. There was no longer any silence in the hall. Jorleif was suddenly at my side. I needed to get the High King and he would alert Galmar. Now.

I raced through the halls to the bedchambers. I saw one of Mother’s housecarls, Lydia maybe, raise an eyebrow as I opened the door without knocking. As it was creaking open, I was hoping that they’d be awake already and I wouldn’t be interrupting.

Father was almost ready for court. Thank the gods. Mother was redoing and adding plaits to his hair. She had a knack for getting the graying streaks to look like lightning strikes along his face. He could do plaits, but not with the same artistry for bringing in Kyne’s storms. Father looked my way, but Mother kept her eyes on her task.

I noted, quickly, that Jorleif had sent me to get him. I told him what I saw – of the soldiers in red, under guard. As Father responded that he’d be down shortly, Mother tied off the braid and went to get his chest plate.

“Imperials,” she muttered. “I will take a little longer. Get your older brothers. They need to be present.”

Hoag and Lothar needed to be stirred awake. Lothar was already starting to spar with Galmar over the other trainers and his sleep was always deep. They wouldn’t take long to get ready and would be right down. I went back to Jorleif with the status of the High King and my brothers. I asked if I could stay during whatever was to happen. It was allowed, so I sat back down at the long tables.

Mother wasn’t as far behind as she mentioned. Maybe Father decided he didn’t want to do this without her. She was right behind him as they came into the Hall. Maybe other Queens look fancy, but Mother went for fierce instead. Her blonde hair peeked out from under the bear’s head helmet. Ysgramor’s Wuuthrad was peeking around her back. She didn’t always bring the axe to court, but she did today. Galmar and Mother formed matching bookends around Father at the throne with arms crossed and expressions that just dared someone to start something. Father was wearing the jagged crown with its dragon teeth. He rarely wore it, saying that a crown didn’t make him king, but he was wearing it this morning. My brothers came in to stand at the walls and watch.

The soldiers looked nervous as they were brought forward. Messengers don’t always have the best of fates. One spoke of how the Empire was recognizing Skyrim as an independent state. I heard Lothar laugh near me as Galmar said it was about time, they hadn’t even been in Skyrim for a decade. It was the first we had heard that Skyrim wasn’t free of the Empire. Clearly, we hadn’t noticed that the Empire thought differently. Father had no reaction at all.

The other soldier cleared his throat and said that they were there to ask for help. A new war was beginning with the Dominion. Cyrodiil was in need. Mother shifted on her feet slightly, mirroring Galmar’s stance almost exactly. Galmar now laughed. Father asked what they were specifically asking for Skyrim to do for them. He was looking to get information, though they had to know what was coming given the reactions from the Bears.

They needed more weapons and people, it was said. Ores, if we could spare it. Wood, too.

“Until your new emperor deems fit to send an emissary to work out an arrangement, rather than scouts, you’ll get volunteers only. I will not bleed Skyrim until we have terms of an alliance that suits Skyrim as much as it might the Empire. We have prisoners you may want in exchange,” Father said. He was starting to sound vaguely bored with the messengers.

Mother spoke up, then, which had Father give her a glance. “The College of Winterhold can provide escort from the border for the Moth Priests and any artifacts that need to be held safe from the Dominion. Lodging can be provided for them, as well. We cannot provide support through Imperial lands, however. Bring them to the border, we can secure the remainder of the way.”

There were more words exchanged. Both soldiers looked relieved when they were told they were dismissed to return to Cyrodiil with word that Skyrim was willing to negotiate.

As the doors closed, all three went to the War Room. The maps were now about to get an update. Fronts and patrols would be established. I overheard Mother mentioning the docks. Increased inspections of cargo in case the ships coming from the south were not carrying what they should be, again. Galmar spoke of the dragons. Father was deciding against this idea when I heard Mother laugh. Only, it wasn’t her normal court laugh. It was bitter.

“Which of you wants to underestimate me, this time?” That laughter was present in her words. Mother was in a fine mood if she was going to stand up to them both in the War Room and loud enough for us to hear. Galmar’s laughter followed along with a rumble that told me Father was speaking.

Hoag and Lothar glanced my way, then went to the War Room. Next in line, they both needed to know what would be planned. No time like the present.

Training drills increased after that news. We still had time before it came this far, but we didn’t know it then. Teams of messengers were dispatched to High Rock and Hammerfell. Father wanted to see if alliances were forming and to what end. Galmar was pessimistic that we’d hear back, but Father wasn’t sure that this time would be the same. It wouldn’t be an alliance against the Empire, but against the Dominion.

Mother requested additional word be sent over to Solstheim. She thought they wouldn’t have the ability to offer much help, but she wanted them to have as much advance warning as possible. House Redoran, she said, had treated her well years ago and she had not forgotten. Similarly, Master Neloth of House Telvanni and the Skaal needed warning of the Thalmor getting more aggressive. If it became necessary, she would travel personally. Father was against that idea, but agreed that it might need to happen eventually.

Chapter Text

Volume 32: The Bard

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

Summarizing from our previous volumes and expanding on some details: The first year of the marriage finished out with a child already brought to the couple. Several records confirm that a thu’um was heard as the High Queen went into labor. It was also noted that a red dragon circled the Palace of the Kings not long after and roosted on the mountain overlooking it, but there are no indications that it attempted to attack the city. The first child born was a boy named Hoag Odahbrod Stormcloak. Against advice from healers and guards, at barely a day old, Stormblade made her way to the courtyard and presented the baby up to the dragon. The dragon circled three times and flew off after the name was spoken. Mother and child then returned to the indoors. Six more times over the years she would present a child to a dragon, usually noted as red in color.

By the birth of the fourth of their children and the first daughter, there were whispers as to whether this marriage had remained a political convenience. Ulfric was High King and had his heirs, as Stormblade had offered, even should one fall. Castle staff would quietly confirm that Stormblade did not have separate bedchambers. Neither had taken on any affairs, which was more common for those of political leanings. There were plenty of rumors, as to be expected, but none ever appeared credible for very long.

The confirmation of the state of their marriage came at the festival marking Ulfric’s 10th year as High King and of the wedding anniversary. I travelled down from Winterhold for this festival. By then, High King Ulfric had seven heirs: Hoag Odahbrod, Lothar Yolkunod, Kjorik Bovullok, Freydis Bromgaaffeyn, Pedr Golzstrunmahiiz, Ranveig Okaazgaaffeyn, and Loknir Dovahbromven. It was at this time that the murmurs in shadows became bard songs in taverns.

Festival and competitions gave way to feast. Roasts of all sorts were everywhere in the main hall. It was similar to that feast that came with their wedding. Feast gave way to bardic and drinking competitions with mead flowing. Depending on the cask, there was some exceptionally strong mead present. Their children roamed the hall with the various staff and housecarls keeping the youngest ones out of trouble. Other children from Eastmarch that were brought to the festivities played along as they darted around the rowdy adults. Depending on the song, the hall could be rather loud and celebratory, as one could expect of a Nord celebration.

A trio of bards came forward to do a version of “Tale of the Tongues”, which was slower than the previous songs. The trio, two males and a female, sang parts so that they were intermingled without repeating lines. Their voices were accompanied by twin lutes and a drum.

Something in the rendition or the amount of mead caught the High Queen. A hard-fought tear fell from her eye and she started to look away. Ulfric noticed and lifted her head to wipe it away. The tears started to fall quicker as she looked at him. There was something she was trying to say to Ulfric as he brushed aside the tears.

The moment that followed has been captured in no less than 20 verses, as there were so many bards in attendance to view it directly. I don’t believe any of the songs have quite caught how silent that hall went until the bards finished, but none of them exaggerate what was witnessed between the High King and High Queen. It was certainly unexpected to see their usual stormy and distant behavior cast aside, much as the High King had set aside Stormblade’s bear helm. I have heard of bards singing of the glint on the dragon teeth of the jagged crown being stronger with the proximity to a Dragonborn as a nod to the display. Politics does not brew anything as warm as that kiss was.

It should be noted that even their children paused in their play, as they sensed the shift in the hall’s mood. The children’s reactions, for those that saw them, confirmed that this display was not new to them. Kjorik, the third born and closing in on 7, was the first to notice it from my view and hid an amused expression before his older brothers noticed why the hall had grown so quiet. Of the housecarls, I noticed Argis the Bulwark moved closer to the High Queen while watching the crowd. He seemed to have almost no reaction to the event, other than cautious protection from those also in the hall.

With the end of the song, the hall erupted in quite a raucous display. It was possibly the loudest point in the festival. The trio that had been singing were lauded for how moving their rendition obviously was. Several sources note that Galmar Stone-Fist was quick to state that Ulfric had gotten his dramatic moment, again. I noticed Housecarl Valdimar helping the smallest of the Stormcloak children get through the crowd towards the front of the hall as the cheers rose up.

The Stormcloak children all crowded around the High King and High Queen with the noise. The two youngest, Ranveig and Loknir, wound up in Stormblade’s lap. Lothar stood behind Stormblade’s left side with a hand on his mother’s shoulder, while Freydis was at Ulfric’s right side. The oldest four children had taken on serious faces, like they were ready to defend both the High King and High Queen from something only they sensed happening around them. It is perhaps that the children didn’t hear the noise is a positive light, but thought it was a warning of something to happen.

As I was listening to the crowd and moving more to the front of the hall to continue to witness this historic time, I heard Galmar note to Jorleif that he had again underestimated Stormblade. I am unsure how much of those that lived within the Palace knew how close Ulfric and Stormblade had grown. The hall slowly went back to a more typical noise level, just as the next set of bards came up and started a round of “Age of Oppression”.

As the first verse ended, Stormblade leaned down to the two in her lap and said something. The three started tapping out the beat with the empty flagons on the table. While it wasn’t quiet in the hall before, Stormblade’s actions spurred on the noise in the hall back to the previous level. Nords are not known for quiet feasts and this was certainly becoming one of the louder ones. With the second chorus, the Stormcloak children all started singing along as the older children relaxed a little.

While they were all singing, Loknir reached out and managed to take the bear helm off of the table. Stormblade placed the helm on the toddler’s head and gave Ulfric a rather bright smile while singing the refrain. It was rare that anyone got to see Stormblade’s blonde braids, as I was realizing at that moment. As time had passed, her braids also had lightning shots of silver running along them, mirroring those that Ulfric had. A half-hour previous, no one would have thought there would be a display that would be so full of love mixed in with the sadness that resides in Windhelm. Summer storms in the early fall, as one of the bards would later phrase it.

After this date, the public tone of the marriage between the two became a bit less cold and formal. It was less reflective of Windhelm’s weather and more like that of Riften, where the High Queen had made her home for a while. While displays of their affection were often not like those seen during the song, here, they could no longer hide under a cloak of politics.

Chapter Text

Volume 33: The Bindings

Battles of Hearts and Prophecy
Hoag Odahbrod Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim
4E 250

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

Mother had a sense for the dramatic, almost as keen as Father’s. Despite going to the Bard’s College, she was rarely poetic and never seen with an instrument. I’m told she assisted their historical efforts and scoured moldering dungeons for whatever bardic lore was sought. As a child, I thought her saying that her life changed the day she met Father was her one time to lapse poetic. When I was nearly 9 and attending the festivals for their 10th year of rule over Skyrim, I learned how understated Mother was being about the events to state it as just the day they met.

Mother was often reserved in court, even with those that we knew she counted as friends. Her words could be few and simple, except with Father and Galmar Stone-Fist. When the contingent from Riverwood arrived at the festival, Mother greeted them with warmth. A blond man in officer’s furs received an embrace and a kiss to his cheek.

“Hoag, this is your Uncle Ralof, of Riverwood,” she said when she saw me watching the display.

“Uncle? Father didn’t have any brothers," I said. "Are—Are you from Riverwood, Mother? You never say.”

She gave a small, almost sad, smile, “No. Technically, only a shield-brother, but Ralof’s more than that. The day that I met your father, I also met Ralof. He saved my life that day. We stormed a few keeps and forts together, as well, in a time later.”

Ralof shook his head with a laugh. “She’s almost right. She saved my life that day. I still bested her at the forts, though.”

I could feel that my reaction was being watched by both of them, even with them both laughing. Then it came to me. A flash from what I had seen in my lessons and a talk we had earlier in the year. With a feast as our background, I didn’t feel like I should say what came as an answer, “Helgen? That's when you met?”

“Yes. Hmm. Perhaps a detail I hadn’t thought to mention,” she mused. At Ralof’s amusement, she continued, “I woke up on a damned Imperial cart in bindings. Ralof was across from me with a horse thief from Rorikstead. Next to me, your father not only bound but gagged. To keep him from using Kyne’s Voice on them.”

“On the same cart?” I stole a glance towards Father, trying to imagine it and failing. “I thought Alduin’s arrival is what saved you and Father that day, though.”

“From the headman’s axe, yes, but Ralof helped get me out of the mess that became Helgen. We were split from Ulfric and other Stormcloaks by Alduin’s attacks. We made it to Riverwood by going under the keep, while they went the other way through The Rift.”

As I listened to the two of them, I became aware of how little Mother had spoken of her battles. Mother and Ralof talked like old warriors do of battles under Helgen and of forts that they won during the Liberation. It was a different retelling of those battles from what I saw last year, with the litanies. Ralof was often quick to point out where he had put down more Imperial soldiers, causing Mother to laugh. It wasn’t often any of us got to meet someone that could be on such friendly terms with Mother. Ralof had to be the only person in all of Skyrim that could tell her that she only made officer before him because Galmar knew she was the Dragonborn, and she’d be amused by the slight to her battle skills. It was the opposite of the year before, when it was so awkward to see Mother so upset for those that died under her watch.

The stories of the war reminded me of when I had seen her on the training grounds. She had different weapons and armors that she used in her training, but in the moment, I could only see the armor she was already in – Stormcloak Officer’s Bear armor. She would only train with Wuuthrad if she was in the mantle of the Bear. She had a seamstress that would repair Thalmor robes that were put on a target body and Wuuthrad would be used to rend it until the cloth fell in pieces. If that look was what the Imperial Legions saw coming at them… I came out of my thoughts to hear them discussing Riverwood itself and how the children she had met then were now faring a decade later.

“… Alvor’s daughter is now smithing right next to him. Hardly enough room for the both of them there,” I heard Ralof saying.

I wonder if reminiscing with Ralof earlier in the day had been part of why Mother’s carefully crafted public image broke that night. She never wanted to put Father in a position where she could be used against him. I suppose it’s a bit odd to think that a Dragonborn could be seen as a weakness, but she was extremely protective of Father.

Her own interpretations, she had told me later, led her to keep close to Father, to stay at his side as if that cart at Helgen was more than mere wood and their bindings more than rope. She was firmly convinced that the gods had bound her to our Father, starting right then. She was very thankful to the hearth gods for the blessings that she had been given after she followed their will and formally bound herself further to him.

I’m still not sure that she understood what she meant to him, though. At least from what I got to hear between them, it was a subject that they both danced around. As if speaking about it directly would break the magic spell they were under and they’d both wake up, back in 201 on that cart.

At that age, I didn’t quite understand what happened that night, other than it was so loud when everyone got a glimpse of what we’d see between them. At first, we weren’t sure if the loud noises were approval or if something was about to happen now that it was no longer cloaked in shadows. It was no longer seen as a marriage of coldly calculated politics and bloodlines, if it ever really was. It changed the whole tone of our home and perhaps Skyrim as well.

Chapter Text

Volume 34: The Apprentice

The High Queen’s Gift
Grimvar Cruel-Sea, Rear Admiral, Skyrim-Solstheim Joint Fleet
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

If it weren’t for the High Queen, I doubt I’d be in charge of any portion of our fleet. I would have kept rebelling against my family name, as my father did, until it destroyed me. However, the High Queen was a family friend. She had been to our house so often when I was young that I would have thought that we were related. I know there were rumors about her with my father, at times, but that’s just chatter and jealousy. My mother was never concerned about their friendship, though I’m not sure how the High King viewed it.

They talked about the farms, about his desire to start a fleet. Father said that once the High King put her in charge of the hold, Eastmarch changed. The High Queen had more time to devote to the hold. It was not a slight on High King Ulfric as a Jarl, but as he had the Liberation and the entirety of Skyrim, his time was more constrained. Father had said that they met before she was High Queen or even Thane of the court. I remember seeing her on the streets of Windhelm, back then, as well. It was hard to miss seeing her, once she moved into the house across the way. All the guards spoke of her, but I can barely remember the names she had before Stormblade.

At the 10th anniversary festivals, I was nearing the age to embark on my own adult trials. While my parents were talking with the High Queen at the festival, I saw her wave me over to where they were. As I started over, I saw the High Queen gesture to elsewhere in the room, but I wasn’t sure who was also getting summoned. I got close enough to hear them talking about the ice wraiths. This discussion was before the event most often associated with that festival.

“Congratulations on your anniversary, High Queen,” I said. I had barely finished when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Thank you, Grimvar, but I called you over as I have a gift for you.” Stormblade was looking out into the crowd. My parents were looking at each other with obvious confusion.

“For me? At your festival?” I asked.

She chuckled, “Yes, though you do need to earn it. You need to challenge the ice wraiths, first, but I am sure they won’t be a trouble for you.” Her attention shifted from the crowd to me. “I have heard you mention adventuring over the years. That hasn’t changed, has it?”

My father’s brows came together at that. “Wait, Stormblade. We haven’t discussed it.”

A tall redhead came up to us at that moment. As her other hand dropped on to the shoulder of the armored warrior, she grinned. “No, we haven’t, Torsten. As your friend, not as your High Queen, do not fight me on this one. Grimvar, this is Erik the Slayer of Rorikstead. When he was your age, I apprenticed him. He has slain dragons with me in the time before I was High Queen. These days, he accompanies me on my pilgrimages up to High Hrothgar. Erik, this is Grimvar Cruel-Sea. I believe he needs an adventurer to apprentice under and I know none finer than you, once he challenges the ice wraiths.”

“How did I earn this honor, High Queen?” I asked. Her hands left the both of us and she stepped back.

“You are Torsten’s only son, Grimvar. If anyone can keep you safe on the roads while teaching you, it’s Erik. I owe your family that much, at the least,” she said. “Your family has done a great service for us, many times. It is not forgotten.”

I looked to my father. Torsten was not happy, that was obvious. “I know you want me to do as our family name, but I don’t want to do that. I want to adventure on the roads.”

My father started to say something, when Stormblade’s hand went up. “Torsten, you didn’t follow your family name at first. Would you not allow your son the same option?”

My mother was silent during all of this exchange. My father looked even more irritated with Stormblade’s words. He excused them both to talk a few minutes amongst themselves. Stormblade gave a small smile to Erik, “Not too different from a decade ago in Rorikstead, is it?”

Erik laughed at that. “Do you tell parents all over Skyrim how to raise their children?”

Stormblade’s laughter came and I don’t think I’d ever heard her sound so amused in the years that she had visited our house. “Only the ones that try to stand in the way of the children making their own paths. You still return to Rorikstead. I am hoping Grimvar will return to Windhelm as time permits.”

Erik crossed his arms, watching her. “And you don’t go back up into the mountains, except for High Hrothgar.”

My parents returned at that point, before she could reply, and the agreements were made. After my journey to defeat an ice wraith, I was to meet with the blacksmiths and get my first kit. Stormblade said that she’d see to it that I was outfitted properly, even when Father tried to object that our family could handle it. While the kit was being fitted, I was to send a letter to Rorikstead. Erik would meet me at Candlehearth to begin my training. Initial term would be for one year and we’d start with bounty requests in Eastmarch.

My father, Torsten, was not entirely pleased. Not then. A couple years later, when I did join his navy, though, after my fill of walking the dusty roads, he saw what Stormblade had done. She had ensured I was safe enough while I tried a different fate, only to do what my father did – change course and return to the seas. Another course correction would come a few more years after that, which would give me a reason to always return to Windhelm. I don’t think that’s what Stormblade meant for my returning to Windhelm, but maybe her Old Ways and being a Dragonborn gave her a connection to time and fate that are beyond what we understand. That’s a story for another volume, though.

Chapter Text

Volume 35: The Tower

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

[The following text is not mine. I was presented a few texts, with caveats of when they could be released and without attribution. They belong in these volumes due to their subject matter. The author of this text will be quite evident, without the attribution. I was hesitant to publish such a raw account, but was encouraged to do so by the family of the author. If one wanted to study the depth of Nord rage held at bay, this text would be a good place to start. – Enthir]

…I’m waiting on a cart as we head down the road in the cool morning. Reflecting on what got me here. Bound hands, left in tattered rags that weren’t even mine. Bound by destiny to sit by the Jarl that would be my husband. Across from the Stormcloak that would get me out of Helgen…

21 Last Seed, 4E 213, but looking back to 201. Ghosts have plagued me lately. A few days past ten years of being the Dragonborn High-Queen. If anyone is to understand, the bindings first being set must be understood. Walk with me, but mind Orkey in the grasses. He trails my shadow and takes many that walk at my side. As with any of the dragon, we are harbingers of change, destruction, and death. We are of our own time.

The Imperials didn’t care that I wasn’t on any list. I was to die anyway. Life means that little to them. Nords mean that little to them. Our blood on their fields was all they wanted. They no longer had a Ysmir. The Thalmor were watching on horseback. The Empire’s General thought the end of a rebellion comes by only removing the head, not the cause.

Arkay’s rites were begun. A brother bid them to just get his death done. Alduin’s fire brought down many around us. Alduin awoke and blessed and cursed me that day with bindings no one can cut or see. Time is our own undoing. It had been marching to this point. Kyne’s Voice came unbidden on another. If the gods were so interested, then why was I so close to death? Death was all around, but not to claim me. Instead, to forge a path ahead. Death rides with me for I am to become the handmaiden of such.

My vision wavered. I wasn’t down. Neither was Ulfric Stormcloak. Through a burning town, we took different paths.

I lost count of those that met my blades that day. Getting out of Helgen. Out of Falkreath. At first, it mattered not. I was already on borrowed time. It was only a matter of time for the authorities to grab me one more time. We of the mountains have seen it before. If not the Legion, the Thalmor. Sometimes the Jarls’ own men for the deer we take.

I fled into Whiterun hold. I wasn’t known there. I shed blood as a mercenary for Companions. I’ll always be a bit distant with my shield-kin there. They are a good lot. I… am not. I shed blood for Jarls in Whiterun and Falkreath. The blood wasn’t doing it. Not yet. That would come later. Skyrim would be fed with blood soon enough.

When I took down a dragon, I was summoned. I wouldn’t go. Jarl Balgruuf said to, but no. There was one other that knew more about what I could do. Rumors abounded on his usage of it. To Windhelm. There were hawks on every corner. Kyne stared down from everywhere. Jarl Ulfric let me have his ear. He, too, said to go. He had been summoned before, himself. So, we were bound. One more cord, one more knot. Not yet. I couldn’t do this yet.

I started to head that direction. I headed into The Rift, but the Guild found me before I went to the mountain. I had to race directly into what could’ve earned me a place at the axe again. The Guild became my forbidden ground. They brought me into a realm that was dangerous. I was always on the brink of getting caught. Caught with enough, I could see the axe again. I never did.

The next time I saw a headman’s axe, I had walked into Solitude for the Guild. Another public execution. A Stormcloak sympathizer. I couldn’t wait to get back to Riften. There was more than a little bit off up there. Still is. I figured out some of it. The gods weren’t the only ones to take notice of me. Especially up there, where the tests run rampant.

You could say I brought a bit of the Silver Moth down to the Guild. Closer to the way the Empire sees her than her older form of us mountain folk. There was only one that mattered to that end. A celebration for each job. There were other forms of recognition, but not as thrilling. Finding places to hide in a den of thieves was a challenge. In the training room. In the Ratway, in lost corners. Sometimes it was under the moon, by the lake. Out in the woods. Out in the glens. We had places. So many places to hide. We never discussed if it mattered. I suspect the Silver Moth didn’t appreciate the Imperial style worship. It would be some time yet before her true blessing would be felt.

Things went sideways. That’s an understatement. I didn’t think I was heading to Orkey’s door when our Guild Master wanted my help. Deep in the bowels of a Nordic ruin. The cuts from those you trust go the deepest. I hadn’t ever met with Boethiah, Prince of Plots, but maybe he had. There were more than physical scars. How many in Riften knew what he was doing? How many down there were in league to leave me to rot north of Windhelm?

Windhelm.

Damn the gods. Orkey teased me with the end once more, but when among thieves. There was Kyne’s ancient city in my shadow. Damn the gods, I was not going to be bound to follow a fate like a painted cow being sacrificed to the giants. No further. So I would think, but I am bound.

Following my rescuer, we made our way to Winterhold. From Winterhold, the path led to Markarth. What I had back in the Guild was an unknown. I didn’t think anyone back in Riften could be trusted. Anyone. In hopes that I could get information without resorting my Guild ways, I hired a mercenary to help with a few requests that led into Dwemer ruins. He was helpful and it sparked. We married quickly. Mara and Dibella had other plans. They did not bless us, though I had asked.

The gods are not the only ones that require my attention. I have bindings with those I would rather not, in order to do what must be done for those that I consider kin. So it was when I was determined to deal with the Guild Master that betrayed us all. Down into the shadows once more. Into the land of Dwemer with she who rescued me and he who recruited me. I hoped the trust was earned. Lady Luck kept that bastard Guild Master from striking me again and my arrows found their mark. May that Breton rot in the watery shadows.

Sithis would steal my husband not long after. Other powers and fates were in my path at various times, but this time, I wasn’t going to just let it be. I’d take down every bit of the Brotherhood I could find. In time. Orkey, help me, I’d take them all.

I could feel the bindings from the gods grow tighter. I couldn’t avoid Kyne and Alduin any further. I travelled up the mountain. Perhaps if I followed the gods a bit, these bindings would loosen, I thought. The bindings stayed tight. Shackles that led me on my way. The path took me several places, but I was pointed at Windhelm again. It wouldn’t be the last time. If Kyne was so insistent I have her Voice, then I would take that hint. I began to sing for the Hawk.

When I managed to defeat Alduin outside Shor’s Hall and Tsun, the Bear, sent me back from Sovngarde, I went back to that ancient city. Under that Bear banner, as if it were Tsun’s own banner, I ran roughshod for Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. If I was meant to survive all those battles, I would be as Talos was. And so it was. I had no fear of dying. Blood ran all over Skyrim. I cut down many under that banner.

I did not honor Stuhn’s wisdom in those battles. The Imperials thought so little of life, I’d send them to wherever they think they’ll go. Oblivion take them all. To Sovngarde with the Nords that thought to follow that dying Empire who cares not for them. I didn’t sing for Kyne in those battles as we took hold after hold. I didn’t have to. Ulfric did in Solitude. I followed suit. We were a chorus unto Kyne, as he pushed them back and my blades became the wind of storms itself. Side by side, like Nords of old. So the west fell to the east.

Their General was ready to crawl like a worm when we found him in Castle Dour. Not even leading his own against us directly. Imperials. Ulfric and Galmar said it would make for a better song if I took the head that would have taken ours. So it was. In Bear armor and spattered with the blood of so many, I, Stormblade, walked with Ulfric for his speech. I didn’t hear half of it, though I was by his side. Words didn’t seem real in that moment. Released to my own ends, they said. That the gods might know best where I was needed. Were the bindings that obvious to Ulfric?

Jarl Ulfric said he wanted his trusted to stay close. Windhelm was my home starting just prior to our march on Solitude. I was bound here. Running the Guild in every corner, but I was no longer there in Riften. When Cultists came for me, it was out of Windhelm’s docks. I followed those bindings, with Solstheim to be my next binding. More Daedra. I wasn’t terribly surprised. Into Oblivion. Jhunal kept watch. The runes here were needed. No less than five times did I meet The Woodland Man. My feet have trod places none should ever be. I have walked the testing grounds more than once.

I returned to Eastmarch. More blood called. Arkay was visible, again, as I dealt with vampires. Arkay was more visible than ever. Unsure of me, he had his conduit say. Unsure! Oh, the gods can be rich with their own humor. I don’t doubt that the priest talked directly to Arkay. Arkay just didn’t tell him of the bindings that I have in the old gods. The runes carved deep on my soul.

Hero, I have heard. I get thanks from guards. The sons and daughters of Skyrim have given me names to take the place of my own. I cut down bandits, brigands, forsworn, Thalmor, and anyone under that dying Empire’s banner. Greybeards have said I’m Ysmir, Dragon of the North. I am Dragonborn. I am bound.

My will is often not my own. Much as there are Words carved on stone walls, the gods have carved their runic path on my soul. I have read Elder Scrolls that told of some of my fate. Rather than blind me, they illuminated the paths ahead. Ulfric’s own deeds, aided with Kyne’s Voice, was the final step that brought my bindings. Alduin awoke and I bid him back to sleep. Kyne’s Voice. Shor’s Hall. Dragonborns have been revered as leaders, but they’ve been missing. Until now. The bindings brought me before Jarl Ulfric once more. It sounds harsh. I was getting used to following the bindings. It began to feel as if I had roots that led from my feet into the slate and stone of that ancient city. I offered my blood, but for a different oath.

I had a reason to think he needed a healer. I had been studying Restoration work for my own needs, among the other schools. Healing those that would walk with me, for where I go brings danger and death. Death was how I became Arch-Mage, as well. I had used it during the Liberation for those under the Bear banner. I did not expect the other gods to speak here in Windhelm. They did. As I followed those bindings, I did find something that was my own.

I had stopped fighting what I was destined for and found the unexpected. By the time our wedding came, I had realized he had won me long ago. I had been too busy fighting destiny and leaving blood in my wake to see it. To let it be felt or noticed. A binding that was most welcome from all three of the hearth: the Hawk of Storms, Kyne; the Silver Moth, Dibella; and She-Wolf, hand-maiden to Kyne, Mara.

At first, I thought I might offend as I was raised of the wood, not the nobility. Here, again, he understood. He has a deep sadness and has allowed me to accompany him there. His guilt for things he did not do mingles with those he did. I have heard what other Jarls have thought of him. I have heard what some of those in Windhelm have thought. We all pass judgement through another’s eyes. Only Galmar might believe what I have seen within Ulfric.

Where I am the dragon and harbinger of death, I have married the agent of change. Stormcloaks. Indeed, in the power of storms, he has been the agent of change and uprising. We bring a new age, as we harken back to the old ways. We are wolves in the storm, howling at the hurt and death that we’ve seen among our people.

I’m not sure when Ulfric felt the same. It doesn’t matter when it started for Ulfric, as long I don’t lose it. His actions have told me that I won his affections. We’re both stubborn and proud. We’re called heroes, yet neither of us feels it. The flaws are similar. I have sung for Kyne to keep this binding. I would do whatever the gods bid me to do to keep this one binding. Perhaps my walks through the testing grounds were to prove my readiness.

It has not been easy to stay put. There was always the pull to continue on, except now it was hard to tell which god speaks the loudest or when. It’s all very difficult to see. Seven times, there has been a blessing of fertility. Mara, Kyne’s hand-maiden, has made sure that my oath was filled many times over, though not always easily. Kyne even made sure my youngest knew he was blessed before he could speak a full word as a Nord. A reminder that I was to remain. This was where I was to be, even when there may be a call to do more for Skyrim in a different capacity. The High Queen can’t be everywhere, even if everywhere calls out.

Alduin has gone back to sleep these days. In winter snows, we ask for another year. I have spoken with my dragon cousins. There have been a few that will listen. A few that are willing to work at a co-existence, for a time. An uneasy truce with one that could harvest their souls. They respect their own, when strength is present. I have been learning their tongue. They have been learning our ways. My children have names in their tongue as honor to the dragons that work at my side. Names that come from scryings or visions seen ahead of their births.

I could force the dragons to follow me under my own power, but then would it make me any different from the tyranny of the Dragon Priests of old? Of Alduin? Of what the Thalmor wish to do to us? No. I follow some of the Greybeard’s teachings. I watch what Words I may use often. I do not need those paths etched deeper than they need to be.

We Nords are a lot like the dragons, though most wouldn’t see it. We had their speech. Like the dragons, we used it too much and were taught a harsh lesson long ago. My blood calls to bring it down on the Thalmor. I war with myself; keep it to Skyrim lest the power get corrupted. Used in protection, not in anger, Kyne may see the blessings. We favor her land and the mountain she breathed us on. Kyne has kept me to her Palace, until it is time to walk the mountain once more. The time of snows must be coming with Orkey. There is but so long I can avoid death. I only hope that I can meet that fate with Ulfric at my side once more. Orkey, let me go first again.

Chapter Text

Volume 36: The Lady

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 245

[The following text is not mine. I was presented a few texts, with caveats of when they could be released and without attribution. They belong in these volumes due to their subject matter. My commentary is presented to enlighten as necessary.

To that end, this recording of events has some details that may only be known to a select few. “Honeyside” is the name of the property that Stormblade owned in Riften, which had its own exit to the lake and a small dock. “Mercer” is referring to “Mercer Frey”; former disgraced Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, who once attempted to kill Stormblade. “Vex” and “Niruin” are the aliases of Thieves Guild members, at that time. Lastly, “the Ratway” is the underside of Riften, mostly comprised of storm sewers, in which the Thieves Guild and the beggars tend to make their home.

Also noted in their dialogue is a reference to Maven Black-Briar, matriarch of the Black-Briar family at that time, as well as Sibbi Black-Briar. Back in 201, he would have been in the Riften jails for the murder of his former fiancée’s brother.

– Enthir]

Two weeks after the festivities for the decade anniversary in Windhelm, there was a noise at the Honeyside dock. There were only two lasses that would go to that door. Only one would sit at the table, rather than knock, and make it obvious. The lass needed to talk. I went out with some bottles I had available.

“What is it, lass?” I placed a mead near her hand and sat at the table. Mist was rolling over the lake. Her hood was back and her eyes were lost in the fog.

“I just needed to be back,” she said with a voice as distant as her eyes.

“Ha. You expect me to believe that? You’d have been here and gone without me knowing if that was it,” I said. “Is it the Guild Master or the High Queen that’s gracing me with her presence, tonight?”

I saw her flinch. Good. She wasn’t keeping court in her head.

“Neither, Bryn. Guild Master, if it needs to be one, though.” Her fingers traced the edge of the bottle without looking toward it.

“Missing the Ratway, then? You know the way. The lads would love the visit. Been a while. Might even get Vex to smile.”

“Now you’re the one with the tales,” she said before she took a long drink. “Missing the work. Niruin wasn’t wrong.”

I replied, “Now, lass, I never believed those rumors…”

The mist broke and her laughter echoed over the water. It had been years since I heard her laugh in amusement. I thought Mercer had taken that laugh to his watery grave.

“I don’t mean his idea for a brothel.” She paused, blinked. “Are you—no… Niruin wasn’t one of those that had rumors, was he? I hadn’t caught that one. I—I meant how his noble life was dull.”

“It was a long time ago, lass. Maybe.” It was my turn to laugh. I hadn’t seen her walk through several paths and stumble on her words in years. “I’m sure we have a job you could do, if you’re coming back to it.”

“I can’t. You know that. This is risky enough.” Her voice shifted a bit. The Guild Master took a bow to the High Queen. “If I got caught breaking in to change the books now, the guards wouldn’t keep it quiet enough and it would tarnish the crown. I’ll not see a Moot called because I miss the work we did.”

“You were never caught before, lass,” I noted.

“I didn’t have a country to think of, then. At least not in the same way. Skyrim herself has claimed me now. It would distract me at the wrong time.” The mists were returning. Her voice shifted back to the thief I knew long ago. “I wouldn’t give it up. I know you’re not religious, but you have to trust me on it. I felt it. Destiny tugged me. Kyne, Mara, Alduin, Talos… I was needed there. I am still needed there.

“Do you remember when I was finding those gems for that paragon that Vex knew about? I lurked in the shadows there. I had gone all over Skyrim, finding them in places I shouldn’t have been. It made me bold. The Palace of the Kings was a dangerous one, but I was in every bedroom while I was still just a Thane.” Her eyes switched to her mead. “Jarl Ulfric’s bedroom, while he slept. That. That was exhilarating. He didn’t have one of those gems, but I had to look to know for certain. His court mage did, instead. The pull to stay in Ulfric’s room was very strong.”

“Now, lass, you’re the one with tales…” I stopped as I watched her reaction. “Wait. You did. That’s why the guards now have mages among them.”

“It is. I may have removed the Dark Brotherhood, but that doesn’t mean we won’t see the Morag Tong or even just some random assassin from the Imperials or the Thalmor. I added guards that can sense those that stick to shadows. If I could watch him sleep from the shadows while the guards wandered the halls, another could.” Before I could read on her emotions, her eyes closed and her expression shifted again. She could hide her intentions better than many among us when she wanted.

“I doubt that,” I said. “Few can keep up with your shadow even now. You said you felt a pull to stay, lass. Were you getting soft on us then?”

“No,” and her laugh started to spark again. Maybe she just needed a decade to heal from Mercer’s wounds to her pride and trust. “It was the pull of the forbidden. I wasn’t supposed to be there. The guards would have shown no mercy. I had blades with me. The Liberation was complete. He’d be High King soon enough. Other Jarls, I snuck in from their kitchens while they were having meals. Some didn’t even have guards in their bedroom wings. Here, there were guards on regular patrols and I had to dodge around them in various other bedrooms. I had to do it at night as there was no path from the kitchens. If I wasn’t casting spells, I’d have gone through at least ten potions to stay hidden around their paths. Almost got caught when one changed his circuit.”

“You sound like when you managed Goldenglow, lass.”

“It was similar, but more costly if caught. Maven has nothing on Ulfric’s temper. Maven’s worst would have been placing me in a prison cell with Sibbi for a week, which wouldn’t have been so bad in 201. Maybe even fun, to her disgust,” she said with a grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that image. She was in form tonight. As I watched her finish off the first bottle, I slid another across to her. She was starting to look like the lass I targeted back then.

“It’s a good life, there. I just need to breathe sometimes. Maybe that’s Nocturnal’s pull.”

“Lass, you can always rest here,” I offered. “It’s still your house, after all.”

“No, no. Only on the records. I knew you’d need to be out of the damp in time. Besides, if I stayed here in Iona’s old room, not only would Ulfric have my ear when I returned, the Guild would be rife with a new rumor or three.” She shook her head, “Brynjolf kept company with the High Queen.”

“The old ones of your exploits still cross the Cistern. Your shadow still dances down there with one of your aliases, as if you’re still new to the game.” Her laugh came back again, so I continued. “If you had time and snuck down there, you’d hear plenty with tales of where and how often they had private meetings with the Guild Master. The training room is a popular choice.”

“There were two,” she said quietly.

“Lass?” Her eyes were studying the lake. She never acknowledged the rumors before.

“One caught me off-guard one evening. Too many strong drinks at the Flagon for us both. Last I knew, that rumor had subsided mostly. New exploits since 201. The other, he didn’t used to talk about it at all, but he could have. That was… a training method. A damned good one.” Her laughter rang out again. “Started in the training room, even.”

“You’re serious. There’s a ghost of a relationship in the Guild beyond our bartender?”

“It wasn’t serious, then. Just a good distraction. I think.” She paused and I wasn’t sure she was going to say more, when she broke the silence. She sounded thoughtful and far away. “Maybe it was on its way to more. Never did discuss what was to become of it. It started after Goldenglow. How we were never caught… Luck, I guess.

“Mercer changed even discussing it. Changed a lot of things. I couldn’t trust any of what was going on or anyone in the Guild. Didn’t know which of you were aligned to what he was doing. Mercer even said that he’d give you my regards as his blades went deep, Bryn. Wasn’t sure I should come back, after that, but I was convinced to do so by Karliah.” She finished off the mead and sighed. Storm clouds had rolled in across her mood. “I seem to have brought ghosts with me. I better ride back to Windhelm.” She brought up her face covering and hid her hair under her hood. “Thank you. I needed to get away.”

“We heard rumors that things might not be just politics up there. Ulfric requiring more of a show, lass?”

“No, no. Not at all. He demands what the Guild does – honor, loyalty, respect. He’s earned it.” She stood and started walking down the steps. “That status, however, would be difficult to deny now. I’m sure the rumors have been wild. Hard to say that seven children is just politics, even though we managed to convince people it still was.” There was a pause before she said, “Maybe I have gotten a bit soft.” There was a flash at the bottom of the stairs and I knew she was gone.

I hadn’t heard her mention our old Guild Master, Mercer, that way before. Certainly what he did to the Guild changed us all. It hadn’t been long after he nearly killed her that she had gotten married the first time and to someone that was never seen in The Rift beforehand. Now it sounded as if that attack had also caused her to break off with whoever it was in the Guild that she just acknowledged wasn’t rumors. I knew it had damaged her trust in the Guild, but only now was she willing to discuss it and how deep she had been cut.

The ghost in the Guild was far more interesting to figure out than what she had with Ulfric. As she said, seven children was a good indication that it had ceased being just politics some time ago. It was unlikely that anything would come at them from the Guild, but I’d have to track down this ghost to be certain.

Chapter Text

Volume 37: The Logbooks v7

The Restless One
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

I almost didn’t find this entry, hidden as it was. I think it may even be the same guard that hid a notation a few years previous, as the handwriting is very similar. If I can find who it is, they will be compensated for documenting my parents in such tender ways when it had to have been forbidden and dangerous to do. Documenting the private matters of the High King and High Queen shouldn’t be encouraged and I certainly wouldn’t reward someone for doing so with my brother. In this instance, with this treatment… Well, I’ll let their words speak for themselves and why I’d bend the rules.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

31 Last Seed, 4E 213.

11 bells: The children are asleep. The High Queen has just returned from her afternoon travels. Location wasn’t given, but Steward Golldir had noted she was travelling around 4 bells. The High King had been reading in their chambers when she returned.

Torn pages found hidden in the binding of the King’s Hall Guard Logbook:

31 Last Seed, 4E 213.

Kyne, forgive me. I knew when Stormblade was coming in later tonight, I would have to write down what I heard outside their chambers. It’s been so long since she disappeared. Tonight, I heard she was gone before their dinner. Her steward, Golldir, had said that Stormblade had a need to travel. She didn’t take any guards or any of her housecarls with her. Just told Golldir, took one of her horses bought from the Riften stables, and was gone. She didn’t disappear like she used to, at least.

I heard that, after the evening meal, High King Ulfric went to the Temple of Talos. After he returned from the Temple, he came up to this hall around 9 bells. I saw him gather the three older boys. It sounded like he was taking them out to the walls around the city. When they came back, all three of those boys were quiet. Lothar had a protective look about him, while Hoag and Kjorik looked more thoughtful. Stormblade’s housecarls had already been tending to the other children. While most went down easy enough for the night, Loknir was fussy and wouldn’t settle until Ulfric held him for a while.

At 11 bells, Stormblade came through the hall. She wasn’t in her usual armor, either. She was in riding leathers and a dark cloak. With the hood of her cloak up, she could’ve been mistaken for any traveler on the roads.

“Ulfric, you’re still awake,” I heard her say as she entered their chambers. “You weren’t waiting for me, were you?”

“I was. Where did you need to be this evening?” There was no accusation in his tone this evening. Just curiosity.

I heard her removing that cloak and putting it away in the wardrobe. There was a deep breath, “I… I had to go speak to an old friend.”

“Something troubles you," he said. "Something you cannot speak to me about?”

“Ghosts and shadows of a previous life, Ulfric. Missing parts of a life that I no longer have and won’t see again,” she said. There was an almost sad note to her voice. “The past year with memorials stirred up some old haunts. Rose up like draugr in the tombs. I thought I had managed to get it under control until our anniversary. I… I may have put you in unnecessary danger.”

I had to peek in at that to see the reaction. There was a glimmer of a smile as Ulfric responded, “I am High King a decade after starting a rebellion. I haven’t had a dagger find my back yet. True, it could still happen, but it hasn’t yet. How have you added to the danger that I may be in?”

“I let things slip at the feasts. It’s gotten to Riften, already, that we’re not just politics.” There was a note of worry in her voice. I am not entirely sure how they managed to seem so cold to each other for so long out in the main halls.

“Stormblade, that moment was my doing.” Where Stormblade sounded worried, Ulfric was amused. I sometimes heard that tone when he was with their boys.

“If I hadn’t—“

“No,” he said, stopping her reply abruptly. I could hear him rising from the chair. “I was waiting for the time to present itself. It has been obvious for those willing to give it much thought that this cannot be political in nature any longer. Now I have made it clear that it is more than just a secured bloodline. It was as I wanted it. Let the bards sing.”

“Now, our enemies will know they can use me against you,” she replied.

“Stormblade, that’s no different now than it was a month ago. This is what troubled you?” He sounded like he still didn’t believe she was being honest. I could hear him undoing buckles and straps on his chest plate.

“Yes. I lost my first husband to assassins.” Her reply sounded a bit like she was trying to hold a hound at bay.

“I had heard as much from your housecarls. Wuunferth and Valdimar have ensured that we have wards and regular checks for life signs, per your request. To our enemies, nothing has changed, Stormblade. A few years ago, perhaps, but not now.” He paused a moment, “Speak plain on this one, since it bothers you. Not our usual dance.”

I could hear her voice getting a bit uneven as if she was speaking from far away. “Did they also tell you that the Dark Brotherhood had been after me? It wasn’t the first time they had sent assassins at me. I had gotten used to it and hadn’t dealt with it. He was just in their way. I couldn’t protect him from the death that follows me. Orkey’s presence has been felt a lot lately and I’m bound to see more taken. I feel it on the wind.”

“Ah, the real reason emerges. Come here.” I peeked in to see that she was holding onto him rather tight, with her head on his shoulder. The brooding cloud that normally is seen around Ulfric was a little lighter, as if it had transferred to Stormblade. If that’s what they saw in the festival hall, no wonder the songs were already starting. His tone was gentle with her. “Just as you couldn’t protect every Stormcloak that followed my banner in the Liberation. You had managed to put aside the cries of the fallen until the litanies. However, the danger in these walls is unchanged, Stormblade.

“When your temper was less even, you asked when we were going to take the fight to the Thalmor. With how you are taking these signs from Orkey now, I would have to ask in response: Are you ready to give the order that would lead to the deaths of many of our own? To walk another litany when complete and the anniversary comes?”

“I’ve gone to Oblivion planes for our land before. I would do it again,” she replied.

“That’s not what I asked. I know you would take up the sword. Are you ready to ask others to do it for you? A war with the Dominion will not be just you taking on their Justiciars in open fields. Could you give that order, as I did for the Liberation? Are you ready for Hoag and Lothar to take up swords with us? To work additional terms on our alliance with Cyrodiil so that we could march through their fields? Lothar thinks he’s ready. I’ve seen his training. He has a passion for it. Can you send Torsten’s Navy beyond our shores and the passages to Solstheim?” Ulfric went quiet for a long moment. When I snuck another look in, they hadn’t moved. “When that order goes out, then things will have changed. Not until then.

“Our dramatic moment was just that -- a moment. It added no danger that wasn’t already there. It may have lessened it.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Lessened? How?”

“Rumors of indiscretions will be obviously more false,” Ulfric said as an almost sly smile came across his features. “Even our people will know them for what they are. Let them try to come between us. We have given a song to our people that may lift their spirits.” He brushed his hand over her hair. “It’s been ten years. If death did follow you, then it only came in this palace once. It came then to remind me of what I would lose if one of my most trusted were to no longer be at my side.”

Stormblade was watching him closely. “And… you planned that moment at the feast?”

“No, not planned. I was looking for an opportunity at our feast to make our status known. I let it happen when it arose. It has made for a good song. The Dragonborn and her King, I’ve heard.”

A vague smile came up on her features. “That one may be nicer than Storms of Windhelm.”

“Both are less bawdy than White River Rapids. That one may have confused the Hall with later that evening. I might have to have words with that bard regarding how they knew what you thought of the Jagged Crown that night,” he said. On seeing Stormblade struggling to keep her smile erupting into laughter, Ulfric continued, “I know about ghosts in memory, Stormblade. No magic tonight. Your ghosts will get the attention tonight. Not mine.”

It’s an honor to be up here. No one would ever believe me on these moments. I only hope that they happen more often, now.

Little did the guard know then, but they would. Once Father got past her armor, she had a harder time of keeping him at length. Father always got what he wanted. His demands of Mother may have been more subtle than those that he gave to other Jarls or the Empire. Still, the moment he thought he found a place where Mother was hiding something, he shined a light on it and dragged it out of her. It wasn’t one-sided, though, as he used that same tactic to find out what she might want and gifted it to her.

Chapter Text

Volume 38: The Frozen Blood in the Pale

Enthir
College of Winterhold
4E 250

It was not surprising when news came toward the end of 4E 213 that Jarl Skald had succumbed to his illness. What did come as a surprise, however, were the calls from the residents of The Pale in the summer of 4E 214 for the High King to assist in settling out the matters of the hold’s next Jarl. The split state had continued for months. What was curious was why the residents couldn’t determine it on their own. Continued meetings had remained in a stalemate and were often heated.

From what I found documented, Stormblade did not approve of High King Ulfric going without her. She was insistent that there was a bad feeling around going to The Pale and she was going to go with them. All of the children were left behind in the Palace of the Kings with most of the housecarls and Steward Jorlief. The procession out to Dawnstar consisted of the High King and High Queen, Galmar Stone-Fist, Steward Golldir, and Gregor of the Pale along with a small retinue of guards. When I was brought the following letter from an explorer that was visiting locations that Stormblade frequented, I knew this has to enter our documented texts.

Steward Golldir’s Letters (Unofficial Writings found in Hillgrund’s Tomb)

[Undated; approximately Sun’s Height, 4E 214.]

Aunt Agna,

I hope to leave this for you at our next pilgrimage to High Hrothgar. It should be in a couple months. Right now, we have travelled into the Pale under some unpleasant circumstances. Jarl selection has been going poorly. Poor enough that the High King was requested to mediate. Stormblade has been unsettled, which has everyone looking at every shadow.

I was glad that Gregor managed to convince Stormblade that one of her housecarls had to attend with her. If she’s having premonitions where she doesn’t want to leave Ulfric’s side, then someone needs to be watching her back. I know Gregor well and he’ll be good out here. We used to keep her house in The Pale, over a decade ago, before she became Queen. Before we all moved to the Palace. Before everything changed. I certainly never thought I’d wind up a royal steward after she found me in need of assistance at the family tomb. I know you’d be proud.

We don’t go out to The Pale that often. Last time was during the Litanies, but there wasn’t as much activity out here, then. From the correspondence that Stormblade has received as well as what I overhear from her speaking with others, the contenders for this hold were both against the Liberation of Skyrim. Even a decade on, she thinks some of that sentiment will still hold sway. With the hold unable to rectify who should be Jarl, we travelled to Dawnstar to assist in the selection process.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when we got to Dawnstar. I know I didn’t expect there to be a Dunmer priest of Mara waiting on the porch of the inn. He was quick to get Stormblade’s attention before we could get to the Jarl’s house. He said he knew we’d be coming and wanted to warn Stormblade that “while it’s not like what she faced at the temple, it has the town almost as badly distraught”. Whatever that may mean, her reaction told me that she understood. Seeing Ulfric and Galmar getting a bit tense at the informal address, Stormblade introduced him as priest Erandur and noted that they had worked together to rid some unfortunate influences on the town. Through Stormblade, I have met a surprising amount of Dunmer that she calls honorable.

From the inn to the Jarl’s house, White Hall, priest Erandur walked with us. His words of caution noted that tempers had continued to flare as various leaders in the Pale gave their views. It wasn’t just on who the Jarl would be, but the issues at hand. The workers and sailors of the port wanted someone with experience in logistics. The two mines, which continued to have a rivalry, were at odds here, as well. He wasn’t sure if the arguing between them really looked at what either Jarl would propose, but a continued marital rivalry. The innkeeper in Dawnstar was remaining neutral. However, the inn and mill down by Eastmarch were noting how they were often forgotten, except by those that remembered that the south of The Pale wasn’t just the land of giants. If there was lost sleep, he noted, it was “not through machinations of those dealt with previously.”

As we entered the White Hall, the heated debates abruptly ceased. Erandur tried to sound like a voice of calm, invoking Mara’s blessing in the hall, but I’m not sure he caught the barely hidden glares. Tables had been set down either side of the narrow hall. I realized how I had gotten used to how open the main hall of the Palace of the Kings was. Here, things were too close. I went first towards the empty seat at the front of the hall. The one under debate. I made a quick inspection of the Jarl’s seat, then Galmar followed suit before Ulfric took the seat to preside over the hall.

The debates rose up quickly. Jarl Balgruuf and Legate Merilis were mostly silent, letting the various civic leaders argue for them. While the outcome is in my official documentation, I didn’t present in there the words that came between Jarl Balgruuf and Stormblade when a break for meals was called. His disdain was evident. It hadn’t changed at all in the years since he finally agreed to take her house in the Pale with her stipulations, years ago. I had made sure to document this exchange, but then removed it from the official records. I’ll leave it with you to guard over --

“I see you continue to be his lapdog, Dragonborn,” Jarl Balgruuf the Greater hissed at her. “I had hoped for better from you by now.”

Her hand went to Ulfric’s arm before he even moved, while a cold laugh came from her. “Ah, Jarl Balgruuf, most queens would probably take offense at such words. I may be moved to pity instead. Perhaps it is lonely in your new house, where there are no whispers in the basement? The children are grown. Left you to weather the cold with only your own thoughts?”

His eyes narrowed, and he came closer to her. Gregor was immediately inches away. “What do you know of whispers in the basement?” Galmar was also now on alert. The only one remaining as calm as Stormblade was Ulfric.

“I know where they came from,” she said as she tilted her head. Her arms crossed. “You never did ask about the sour mood from your children. I know those whispers. I got rid of it from that basement, but not soon enough.”

Balgruuf took a step back. His eyes clearly tracked over all of us, looking for something. “You have it?”

Stormblade’s cold laugh struck again. “Yes, but no. That foul thing is elsewhere. I don’t need such vile whispers. You were still hearing it when the Legion told you lies of what the Liberation would do. A true Nord would never have listened to an Imperial over his own countrymen.” She paused, then added, “Unless they were reminded of childhood slights by whispers in the dark.”

Balgruuf crossed his arms. He was silent, but clearly not pleased. His own staff were watching the exchange with his housecarl getting a bit closer to him. Whatever bad blood there was between Balgruuf’s staff and Stormblade was certainly no cooler now than it had been a decade ago, despite how calm she was.

Ulfric spoke up at this point. “Stormblade, are you implying that the return of my axe, years ago, may not have been in clear thought?”

“Not certain,” she replied, “but possible. It was more than just the Imperials piling lies into Whiterun, back then. I don’t know what old wounds there are between you. There were rumors, though.”

“You have suspicions on what they were,” Ulfric stated.

Stormblade looked between them, “High Hrothgar.” When Balgruuf stiffened, she added as if she was reading a book, “How dare they select someone from the old palace than the center of prosperity in Skyrim? How dare he then leave to go to war and defend his home? That honor should have been yours, yes?” She shook her head. “Do you not see how lucky you were, Jarl Balgruuf?”

Now Balgruuf looked confused. “Lucky? For what? Losing Whiterun to your rabble?”

Stormblade shook her head. “You had a fate that was free of implications. The gods have written our parts to varying degrees, but you… you were free to make your choices. The whispers may have influenced you and your kin, but you were free to ignore them. Maybe get Farengar to do something with it. The choices made were all your own. Ulfric’s selection tied him into the tapestry of fate. Our destinies are written into Scrolls. The gods themselves have written our parts. You are your own. Had you not listened to the lies, you would still have Whiterun. Did you really think we’d lay siege, even if you accepted us?”

Galmar then spoke up, “To that end, Jarl Balgruuf, the residents will need to know if you’ll be loyal to your High-King.”

Official Records of Moot of The Pale

Day 1 after High King’s Arrival

Invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur

Initial debates were unordered. Requested order.

Port of Dawnstar workers and ship captains spoke towards concerns.

Pause for side discussions and meals.

Afternoon concerns were presented by the mines and mills.

Day 2

Another invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur

Concerns raised by inns, blacksmiths, and alchemists were next.

Forts presented the next listing of concerns. They fort commander presented a roll of the soldiers’ preferences.

Day 3

Another invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur

High King Ulfric requested Legate Merilis to address concerns.

When debates began during her answers, the High King spoke up to silence them until she could finish her initial address. At her completion, the debates were allowed to proceed until tempers started to flare.

Day 4

Another invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur

High King Ulfric requested Jarl Balgruuf the Greater to address concerns.

At the completion of Jarl Balgruuf’s address, the debates were allowed to proceed. Tempers flared multiple times, requiring several minutes of silence before they would resume.

High-King Ulfric requested the initial round to be called. First round favored Legate Merilis, but not by enough.

Day 5

Another invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur. Invocations are becoming longer with the tempers flaring.

High-King Ulfric requested the second round to be called. Debates broke out before all tallies were marked. Second round was delayed. The two mining operators had to be removed temporarily to separate chambers, as marital matters were brought into the debate. After tempers calmed once more, second round of tallies resumed. Second round favored Jarl Balgruuf by only 2 tallies.

Day 6

Another invocation of Blessing of Mara – Priest Erandur.

High-King Ulfric requested the third round to be called. After another round of debates, the tallies were handed in. It was just barely enough to call in favor of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. He requested that Legate Merilis join his staff in order to ensure that the entirety of the hold was able to be heard adequately. This step appeared to settle some of the tempers that flared. After all ceremonies completed, it was determined that the High King and his staff would reside in the White Hall until morning and would then vacate back to Windhelm with matters settled. Jarl Balgruuf would begin moving to Dawnstar after returning back to what he has determined will be the Jarl’s winter home at Heljarchen Hall.

Chapter Text

Volume 39: Atmoran Tales

Giants and Dragons
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

The delegation that had gone out to Dawnstar thought that Stormblade’s ill feelings may have been unfounded. They were leaving Dawnstar without anything other than heated words being spoken. Gregor, however, was the one to mention to me that it was just as they were entering the southern portion of The Pale that things started to turn. I had heard of the events when I was young. As I grew older, I pieced together the events from those in the delegation. Father and Mother were those that would give the least details, letting others speak for them.

Knowing my parents, there was likely the quality of a children’s tale to what happened. The flair for the dramatic followed them both. Mother often said her fate was already recorded; we were only just learning it in our own way. No one knows how this would have unfolded without her there, but it certainly would not have been the same.

My mother had slain Giants for bounties before; bounties that included those put out by my father when caravans were attacked. Age or perhaps circumstances in Dawnstar had tempered them both. Then again, perhaps this was Mother daring Orkey to bite her once again and watching him slither back to hold for another day.

In the fields between Heljarchen Hall and Korvanjund, south of Fort Dunstad, there were several rather taciturn Giants. I have heard that they may have finally figured out that Jarl Skald was gone at this point, as there hadn’t been bounties on them for over a year. The Giants, despite how they act and use limited speech, are not without intellect. Retaliation for the years of hunting under Jarl Skald was not surprising. Destroyed carts were seen nearby.

When the Giants roared out to the delegation, Stormblade was the one to step forward. Gregor wasn’t sure what she called out in thu’um, but it didn’t seem to have an immediate effect. The High Queen spoke out to the Giants that they could either parley or things would be far more unpleasant. Clubs were shaken at the Nords. Insults hurled from the Giants, but no one moved right away. The Nords remained quiet.

One Giant began to step forward and not to parley. He was already swinging his club. He sped up to a lumbering pace. His purpose was clear. Stormblade gestured for everyone else to back up. She stood her ground. If Gregor’s recounting is accurate, she didn’t even move to unsheathe her weapon. She just stood there as the Giant came toward her. The Giant stopped, however, when the ground shook behind him.

“Ah, Qahnaarin, thank you for my freedom,” spoke a dark dragon, whose wings were tatters. “Giants, is it?”

The Giant turned his head to look at the great beast. This dragon was like none of the others that the delegation had seen. Many have seen Mother speak with a red dragon. However, this black one struck several as more terrifying for reasons they couldn’t quite pinpoint. I have heard it described with battle-worn wings or with a visage like death itself. I’ve also heard that it had a blue sheen over its black scales, like it was both present and not present at the same time.

“It is,” said Stormblade. Her arms crossed over her chest, but she still looked like a giant bear in her armor. “It has been some time since I allowed you flight. Too long. The Giants need a sign of strength and reason to ally. My people have subjugated them without reason.”

“Ah, pahlok of dov in bron,” rumbled the dragon. There was a rumble that some have reported as possibly being the dragon finding amusement in its own words. Stormblade laughed at the dragon’s words without moving from her spot. The dragon edged closer to the one Giant that had advanced on Stormblade. Its great head made a serpentine movement as it studied the Giant.

The dragon intoned, “Do you mean to take on dov, as well? You would not fare well against this one.”

The Giant grunted. He shook his club. The words were stilted with disuse. “Nords always fight. No words.”

“Always?” queried Stormblade. “Do our farmers not leave you painted cattle? Are we not speaking now?”

Another Giant came forward at that. “Too few. Hunt our mammoths. Steal our food.”

Seeing that the events would unfold in speech, Ulfric stepped forward to stand by Stormblade. “If we punish the bandits and poachers, could we ally as in rumored times of old? What tribute do the Giant tribes require for their defense of the land?”

The Giants gathered back together. They spoke in a guttural tongue that no one present understood.

The dragon of tattered wings rose up to its full height and stretched wide. The shadow fell over most of the field that was between the parties. With a mighty beat of those wings, the dragon rose up into the sky and circled the area as the Giants spoke amongst themselves. It landed between the two parties again.

The dragon spoke to Stormblade, saying, “This field is good. I have missed warm sun and skies of Tamriel.”

“I will visit this field again for you, then,” replied Stormblade.

The Giant that came forward first stepped forward again. The Giant spoke once more, “Why trust? Who are you to your kind?”

Ulfric responded, “High-King of Skyrim. I lead the people between the mountains and the seas.”

Stormblade added, “I am his mate. The dragons are my kin and kind.” She paused and added, “The people south of the mountains would hunt you more than our own. We have forgotten our Atmoran ways. We should return to them.”

The Giant looked between the smaller Nords and the large dark dragon. “She controls you?”

“No. She frees me from a prison of others,” spoke the dragon. “She has moved forward a cycle of tiid. Another age waits longer. Time, itself, has bent knee to her. You would be wise to listen to her. If she has taken him as ahmul, his words should be heeded.”

Thus, the dragon mediated between Nords and Giants to remember the old agreements. As the agreements neared their ends, the dragon stretched, rose up into the skies, and disappeared. In the time that was to end, Nords and Giants had fought against each other. In the time to come, Nords and Giants would fight together once again. While Stormblade had stopped the ending of ages by Alduin, her own work had set in motion other beginnings and endings.

Skyrim reinstituted the tributes to the Giants in larger scale. Painted cattle were more frequently seen on the roads. Farmers and guards that led the cattle to the Giants were safe from most retaliation. The Giants that did not respect the exchange were dealt with by their own and tribute, including grisly offerings, were sent back as compensation for the transgression. Due to the length of time that there was no trust, the Nords established trade with the Giants via the caravans of untrusted Khajiit, for they had no quarrels with either the large men of the snows or the Nords.

There have been tales told of Giants battling off invaders with the Nords. There have been tales told of them helping to battle against the Sea Giants that plundered the northern coasts. While they were considered children’s folly, Father and Mother worked to make these stories come to be again. Father was once more an agent of change. Mother was to lay claim as the dragon that healed the wounds of time.

Thus, the first of the true allies of the liberated Skyrim were the Giants within her own borders. The dying Empire was hardly an ally, though there were agreements in place.

Chapter Text

Volume 40: The Harbinger

Kyne’s Axe
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

4E 215 had been a time of quiet. The matters of Skyrim were stable, for the time being. The Empire to the south would send calls to Skyrim, which she would vaguely acknowledge. Agreements with the Giant tribes made the roads safer than they had been in decades. There were even the occasional agreements with the tribes of Orcs within Skyrim’s borders to negotiate for minerals from their mines while they continued to self-govern.

12th of Sun’s Dawn in 4E 216 saw the Palace of the Kings full of visitors. There were always some visitors as Feast of the Dead approached. This year, Mother had invited the entirety of Jorrvaskr out from Whiterun. She hadn’t thought it was necessary, until she had a discussion with Vilkas during her last visit there in Morning Star. I had been told that she often sent word to them before going to deal with an unreasonable dragon.

I was helping Jorleif with all the duties that came with the Feast of the Dead. I was almost 9 and starting to learn the ways of both stewards. This year would be the first year that began the standing invitation for the entirety of the Companions to relocate to Windhelm for the feast. As our Hall began filling, it looked like half of Whiterun might’ve come with the Companions. The Gray-Manes, alone, were numerous. I had to get staff to clean some extra rooms quickly.

On the feast day, I got up with the sun. I’d have to get everything ready with Jorleif, starting with the morning meals. He already had the kitchen staff preparing the meats while the casks were rolled out to the hall. It was one of the few times I was down in the hall before Kjorik. It was never this busy so early.

“Casks at dawn’s light?” I asked Jorleif. He was in more regalia than he usually used for court days. I guess Mother had stressed how important she saw this feast over previous years. Golldir was in somber dark tones as he started coordinating the housecarls at the far end of the hall.

“Warriors,” Jorleif smiled. “It will start early. Mark my words.”

He wasn’t wrong. Some of our guests were quicker to the casks than others. They weren’t yet eating when I saw Mother appear. The Officer’s Bear armor, with the fur freshly brushed out, and Wuuthrad peeking out over her shoulder. Before she was distracted by our guests, she came over and asked if the training grounds had been set up yesterday. They were. My older brothers started to appear in the hall. Hoag looked a bit unsteady with the crowd, but Lothar appeared ready to challenge his way into the Companions.

Mother went over to the gathering crowd, said a few things, and a large group followed her out of the Palace. Hoag and Lothar went with the crowd. Not all of them went, but enough that it would make Jorleif’s task with the kitchen a little easier. I was helping settle those that stayed and direct any others to the grounds, if they wanted, when I saw Father come in the Hall. He looked over the gathering crowd, then came over to me.

“Where is –” he started to ask when we felt the sound. He paused, then asked, “Training grounds?”

I nodded.

“Jorleif, I’m taking Freydis to watch the drills,” he stated. By his tone, it was clear this was not something we were to discuss. I didn’t have an option. Jorleif just nodded. Father didn’t go the same way that the others had. He went to the stairs that led up to the walls.

“You’re not going to join them?” I asked.

“Perhaps later. This is Stormblade’s time,” he said as he opened the door to the walls. “Avulstein and Thorold Gray-Mane will be among them down there. Good men. Avulstein and your mother rescued Thorold from the Thalmor a while back.”

“Was that during the war?” I grabbed one of the spare cloaks that were hanging near the door. They were often left for the guards to trade out on their shifts.

“Not precisely. She did it on her own. She hadn’t joined with the sons and daughters of Skyrim in our Liberation, yet.” Father went quiet for a minute. I didn’t think he was going to say anything else on the matter, but as we neared where we could see the snow fields, he added, “She said there were at least 4 others that she removed after they killed every Thalmor they found in the keep. I had heard similar from Avulstein.”

Looking down from the wall, we could see some sparring in the snow while others took to the training dummies. Hoag looked like he was taking lessons in keeping his shield up from one of the Companions. From up here, it was hard to tell the twins apart, but it looked like Lothar was trying his blade against one of them while the other watched. Mother was a different story. She was over at one of her special training dummies outfitted with Thalmor robes. Galmar had his arms crossed as he said something to her.

Her head tilted back and we all heard it. She barked a thu’um at the sky. Wuuthrad became a blur in her hands. No large axe should move that fast. I’m not sure how she kept her feet. The robes fell in tatters from the training dummy. There were a few more hits to the dummy before Wuuthrad was more visible. As if to signal the end, I saw her hold the axe over her head as if offering it to a giant looming before her.

“Ysmir. Dragon of the North,” he said. He sounded proud in that moment. “Arngeir’s teachings have stuck with your Mother. In her way, she’s offering her blade to Kyne. Given her choice, it is also in memory of Ysgramor; fitting for today. The Greybeards might view her training here as similar to their worship. Thirteen years ago, I would not have thought I’d see that from her. Her ways have deepened and she is not shy of displaying it anymore. With each of your arrivals, she allowed more of her ways –- the Old Ways -- to be seen in these fields.”

Father’s voice had softened when he mentioned us. I hadn’t heard him talk much about the Greybeards before or even us, and now he sounded far away in his thoughts.

Down below, I could see Galmar adjusting Mother’s hands on the great axe handle. When finished, we heard the thu’um directed at the sky again. The axe took apart the next training dummy. I noticed some of the Companions had stopped to watch this time. When the axe slowed and she offered it up again, I saw one of the twins walk over to her.

“Hmm. They think they will improve her form. They may be right, by a little, but there’s something blocking her,” Father said.

“What do you mean?” I looked up at Father, but he was continuing to study Mother.

“Anger is moving her. That’s why she uses Thalmor robes. If she can learn to ignore those robes, her strikes will be more defined. She hasn’t quite gotten there yet. Vengeance is still driving her, but I’m not sure for which incident. She has not shared what specifically drives her hatred of the Thalmor. There is clearly something personal which has bothered her these many years.” He crossed his arms over his polished chest plate and watched.

Mother started lashing out at another dummy. At the one next to her, Lothar was training with his blade. Though he was slower in attacks, not using a thu’um, they seemed oddly similar in attack patterns. The trio around them started in with advice again.

“Father,” I asked, “Has Mother been training Lothar? His strike pattern looks similar.”

Father’s brows lowered a bit. “She has not, but yes. Your insight is accurate, Freydis. Lothar looks almost as angry as your Mother does, as well.” He fell silent for a time, watching the training sessions.

After several minutes, Father looked at me, “Let’s get back to the Hall. Jorleif will need your help. Golldir is busy with your mother’s schedule. The bards will be starting in soon. Those on the fields will be coming in and they’ll be ready to start the feast as if it was mid-day already. You won’t have long to clear the morning and ready the next feast while the litany starts in the Stone Quarter. Not for this crowd.”

Unlike many other feasts that we’ve had at the Palace, I have never seen the mead casks empty as fast as they did for that first Feast of the Dead that brought Whiterun to Windhelm. In the hall, Lothar looked almost as large as Farkas. It was also the day that I saw Lydia speak with many of the guests. Normally she’s one of the quieter housecarls, but as she grew up in Whiterun, she was among old family and friends.

Chapter Text

Volume 41: The Valley in the Shadow of Death

Sailors Warning in the Sea of Memory
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

In 4E 216, we had The Companions from Whiterun in the Palace for the Feast of the Dead. It may have been because of the importance of the Feast of the Dead that Mother took on the Thanes of Eastmarch. We haven’t documented much on our Thanes, since these texts were requested to be about Mother. The Thanes avoided her. With good reason.

The few Thanes that we had were not in Mother’s good graces. She was often at odds with them. The Feast of the Dead in 4E 216 was no exception. Thane Grim-Axe was trying to get our father’s attention regarding the villages that were starting to form along the caldera’s edge, now that there were agreements with the Giants. He was already looking to further encroach on the Giant camps and bend the negotiations that had just finalized. Thane White-Caps was discussing, loudly, what ales she could get imported for the Feast, even though my sister had noted that all the casks were mead out of Riften and the only other drink was specific to the Dunmers.

Mother had ignored both of them, and the other Thanes, for the morning. She was surrounded with a mix of Companions and the Dunmer of the Grey Quarter. This feast of ancestor worship had often brought the Dunmer out of the Grey Quarter, especially since Mother had been listening to their concerns. I had been listening in with this group, along with my older brothers, as we had been training with the Companions in the morning. Lothar had caught their notice more than the rest of us.

When Torsten Cruel-Seas and Captain Lonely-Gale showed up, they blended into the sea that surrounded her. She introduced them to the Companions that didn’t know them. Discussions around Mother remained on everyone’s ancestors and ghosts of the past, as Feast of the Dead is supposed to be. There weren’t many left that could trace lineage to any of the 500, but that wasn’t a requirement. No one asked on Mother’s exact lineage as she listened to everyone else. She claimed spiritual lineage to all Ysmirs of legend. That was enough.

As Torsten Cruel-Sea was recounting the ancestors that first took to the seas and gained the family name, Thane White-Caps got too loud for Mother to ignore further. I saw her eyes narrow as she looked to the gathering that was around Father. None of them were talking of ancestors. She laid a hand briefly on Torsten’s shoulder and backed away from the gathering without a word. Torsten gave only a slight nod and continued his tale. He had been around Mother long enough to know that was her way of excusing herself without interrupting. I moved close enough to hear what Mother was about to say.

“Thane, business dealings are not part of ancestral worship. Is the day lost on you?” Mother asked coldly, interrupting the dialog. I saw Father start to place a hand on Mother’s arm. He didn’t look displeased by her interruption, though.

Thane White-Caps glared back at Mother, but said only, “No, High Queen.”

“Good,” Mother replied. I could almost see a dragon standing in her place, breathing ice on the gathering. “I expect, then, that these business dealings you speak of were with an ancestor. Especially since imported ale is not within my hall for this day. The mead was imported from Riften and sujamma from Solstheim, but no ale. Was it, perhaps, for Jarl Hoag Stormcloak?”

Oh, the whole gathering straightened at that. Mother was calling out Thane White-Caps lies for all to see and giving a way out that was just going to lead to disaster if she took it. The “backwoods hunter”, as I have overheard Thane White-Caps call Mother, had cornered her in among the political wolves of court. In the silence, I watched as Mother shifted to lace her arm around Father’s.

Mother’s group got a bit of a bemused look. Torsten tried to hide a smirk, but he didn’t have much patience with Thane White-Caps, either. I saw a couple of the Dunmer start to murmur among themselves. I overheard House Redoran mentioned, but no context. Vilkas and Farkas shared a look that said they had seen her like this before.

Mother didn’t wait much longer. The cold look left her eyes as she looked to Father. “Ulfric, come listen to the tales of the earliest Cruel-Seas. I’d be interested to know if that was before Thane Mera Stormcloak rose to her position or after.”

“Thane Mera Stormcloak was in 2E, under the Skald-King,” Father said as he walked with Mother to her group of warriors and Dunmer. Mother knew that much. We all did. I also knew, even then, that Mother was pointing out that the Cruel-Seas were an older family than the White-Caps, despite the political status. That status was only because Torsten had gone to the farms, rather than retain the waves of his family’s name, until later.

Torsten bowed his head slightly. “The earliest Cruel-Seas, High Queen, did run ships for the Ebonheart Pact. Windhelm to Vivec City, predominately. It was, however, in the battles around Davon’s Watch that the name was earned.”

The Thanes were not happy. I could see them talking amongst themselves, but now it was quietly. It wasn’t a big secret that Mother’s proposal to Father had ruffled a few of the political feathers. Even though she was Ysmir, Dragon of the North, she had been mostly an unknown to the politics of Eastmarch prior to her rise during the Liberation. I’ve heard there were grumbles from the Thanes after the displays at the 10th anniversary, despite the reaction from others.

Father and Torsten were now speaking of family histories from 2E. The others were listening in. Meads were refilled. Mother was giving the appearance of the loving, doting wife, while everyone knew that the dragon had already appeared to guard her treasure. She made sure that for the rest of the Feast of the Dead, no one bothered Father with politics.

When the Litany started, Mother and the Companions began drinking a bit more and getting louder with each name that passed. It was halfway through the Litany, as one bard looked to another, that they tried to figure out if they got off track. Mother leaned against Father. Quiet words were spoken between them. Father guided her into the Temple of Talos. I didn’t see my siblings around, so I followed them inside.

As my eyes adjusted to the darker light in the Temple, I asked, “Mother, are you all right?”

“I just need a moment, Kjorik,” I heard Mother say. She and Father were seated in the back pew, with Father holding her as he sometimes did up in their chambers.

Father sounded more amused than she was, “Too many battles for your Mother. Sparring with the Companions didn’t wear her down, but the Thanes did.”

Mother’s response was a bit chilly, “This is a special day. They are lucky that was all they got for disrespecting the Feast of the Dead with their behavior.”

Father went quiet at that. I sat down on the other side of Mother in the Temple. After a few more moments, Mother straightened up. I looked over in time to see Father run a thumb over her cheek.

“Ready to face them once more?” he asked.

Mother took a long breath, then nodded. “Talos will grant me the strength to face them without pulling weapons, once more.”

Father gave a quiet laugh at that. “They will say that you’ve already cut them fairly deep and blame the Grey Quarter.”

I added, without thinking about it, “Or because Mother was a backwoods hunter with no place among the Thanes.”

“They’d do better to blame Hircine,” Mother replied grimly. “Have you heard them say it before, then, Kjorik?”

When I replied quietly, “Yes, Mother,” I saw her stiffen again. Father’s eyes narrowed a bit.

Father said, “Not today, but that will be repaid. Today is about ancestors, not descendants… and those descendants will know the missteps their ancestors made today.”

Chapter Text

Volume 42: The Steward’s Eyes

Past Tense
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

There are as many clouds on the horizon these days as there are stories of my mother’s past. Most of the High Queen’s previous life was left shrouded in mystery, never to be discussed. She would acknowledge that she met our father when both were headed to be executed, but not why she had been there. She may have been hunting illegally, as she did that back then, but we’re not sure if that was the actual offense. Life between that time and her joining the Stormcloak Liberation officially was also rarely discussed. Her previous marriage was definitely not something mentioned, unless you were Father and he only did so on a few occasions that I know of.

A small view into that past was raised once. A courier arrived in court in the summer of 4E 216, requesting an audience with her regarding official matters in Riften regarding taxation. The High Queen immediately asked for it to be moved to the War Room and had everyone there vacate for a few minutes. I was 9 at the time, but I could tell that Father found this highly unusual and curious. When they emerged again, the courier left the hall already on the move to their next destination (likely Riften), while Mother just resumed her place without a word. It wasn’t until court concluded that more was said about it.

She declared that she’d be heading to Riften that evening, as Jarl Law-Giver’s taxing authorities required her to visit and a funeral required her attendance. She tried to go on her own with Iona, claiming that court needed to be maintained, but now she had our father’s full curiosity and stubbornness to attend. If there was no talking her out of going somewhere, there was no telling him that he wouldn’t go with her. Father was determined that Mother would not face the storm of a funeral on her own, just as she wouldn’t let him face the Moot in The Pale alone.

Mother did not look pleased, but accepted it. Another courier went out that night to warn Jarl Law-Giver of the impending visit of several of our large family. The three youngest of us would remain behind with several housecarls. The rest of us were to show support for our mother. A response came as we were on the road the next morning – Mistveil Keep would be awaiting our arrival.

In the conversation between the Jarl and High Queen, the older Stormcloak children learned that our mother still had a property within Riften named Honeyside. If Father hadn’t known, he kept that reaction hidden. For at least the past 10 years, she had rented or given permission (unclear as to which) to one of her associates to remain at Honeyside. Now, housecarl Iona was going to assist the Riften guard with cataloguing what would be subject to inheritance tax and what would not.

Due to how late we arrived, the funeral was moved to the next day, at the dock off of Honeyside. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t what I saw that day. A pyre had been built in one of the smaller boats and was set for a man that was almost as tall and broad-shouldered as my father, but with streaks of red remaining in his grey hair.

The crowd that gathered was almost all in a light armor of blacks or browns with more pockets and buckles than I had ever seen. Most wore hoods that kept their faces hidden. There were also far more Khajiit than I had ever seen at this funeral as well. I wasn’t aware of how many Khajiit lived within Skyrim, but outside her cities, if this was just a fraction of them. A couple of ladies (by the forms at least) arrived in armor as black as night. After the priestess of Arkay concluded her rites, one of them stepped forward.

The woman’s voice sounded very similar to Mother’s, who I had noticed had disappeared from our ranks at the upper deck of Honeyside’s dock access. I wasn’t the only one to spot it. Father’s eyes were narrowed as he studied the dark forms. The woman in black led a series of final chants, which sounded very similar to the ones that were given for Companions that have fallen. The others in attendance followed her lead, though it didn’t sound like this was common among them. The Companions have it memorized. At the end, I remember she said one final thing before lighting the pyre:

"I give you to the flames so that none may raise you. May you serve the shadows well for a time, old friend. I will await you in Sovngarde. I will ensure Tsun knows that I have seen you fight with honor, by my side, not just hidden within shadow. I will ensure your terms do not keep you elsewhere."

The two in black had a short discussion and went separate ways. One talked to another in attendance, and they moved off the dock. The other, who had done the speaking we could hear, seemed to just disappear. I went back to watching the pyre. After a few moments, I became aware that Mother was off to one side behind a few others in attendance down at the lake’s edge. Perhaps she had wanted to mingle or she needed space from Father, but I moved down the steps to be near her. Father went inside the Honeyside residence with several of my siblings.

As the pyre moved further out into the lake, I asked quietly on who this was. She said he was a man with a voice like the silk in a dagger case – warmly inviting and carrying danger. I’ve only ever heard Mother speak in such ways about Father. She clearly respected this man. She said that I met Brynjolf when I was 3 and he was quick to give me an apple while they talked.

"An apple that would have been one of the few things he ever sold that didn’t come with strings and an abundance of half-truths," she said with a sad smile.

That aside, she had offered that he move to Honeyside when he needed to be “topside”. I had no idea what that meant, back then, but with age and more knowledge of Riften, I believe I do. It also explains the crowd that I saw.

Another of the assembled was requested to meet at Mistveil, however, privately with both High King and High Queen. When I snuck up on their door in Mistveil to listen in, later, I found out his name was Etienne. Breton. I also heard my father grumble something about the Thalmor.

Father had been very quiet earlier when we were having meals with Jarl Law-Giver. I know the look well. It’s the same look he would have when there was to be discussion of any aid to be given to Cyrodiil against their new hostilities with the Dominion. That look was what I glimpsed past the door while they talked with Etienne. I got an earful from one of mother’s housecarls when I was caught at the door and missed any other details I might’ve learned that evening.

After Etienne left, Iona brought me to their door, stating that no matter what I saw that day, the High Queen would not want me skulking in the shadows. She then said, loud enough to be just heard within the door, that I had come to the room. I’m not sure how the status of their marriage had been only whispers for so long. That evening, unusual only for it being at Mistveil, I walked in to find Mother leaning against Father’s chest and her head on his shoulder as they sat on a bench at one wall. He was using that great bear mantle of his like a blanket over her shoulders.

Anyone looking in would have thought she was asleep there under his arm. The glow on her hands in her lap – one yellowy-orange and the other a very green teal – was faint, but causing a swirling mist to envelope them both. She had become extremely subtle in her casting. Back in the Palace, her mix of Restoration and Illusion schools after court were known to all of her staff and the children. It was a time when we could see Father as Mother saw him, rather than the High King fueled with anger and sorrow that the court saw.

When I asked my father about the funeral, he replied only that it confirmed a title that he had heard mentioned but Galmar’s men hadn’t verified. He was short on words that night, but not with anger. The visitor that they had was someone that Mother had extracted from the Thalmor at one point. It was confirmation of something else Father had heard in the mysteries of her life before becoming a Stormcloak. She was even quieter and tears leaked from her closed eyes on occasion. I could tell Father was holding his own questions to let her be while they were in another Jarl’s keep and she was processing the death. However, she had once again gotten his attention and he was not going to be denied.

A few days later in Windhelm, we could hear some of those questions without sneaking up to their door in our wing. Mother could be just as stubborn. We still didn’t have a great insight into what happened between Helgen and what was documented in a bunch of other texts, but it appeared that our mother, the High Queen, had been a thief. Even more of note, she had worked up their ranks to Guild Master for the Thieves Guild in Riften.

She had maintained it, through proxy, even as High Queen and used its funds for the efforts of rebuilding Skyrim. She sounded as if she was on the defensive as we heard her say that she had rebuilt more than he knew.

“There is a lot you don’t know. It is safer if you just trust me, as you always have,” we heard Mother say.

Father was … displeased. “This is proof that perhaps I never should have trusted you at all,” he growled.

When things got quiet at that point, we all looked at each other. While they sometimes disagreed, this one was starting to get a bit more turbulent than they usually were. It normally didn’t sound as if they were angry with each other. Kjorik and I exchanged a look. I asked Hoag and Lothar to keep our younger siblings out of trouble. We were going to dare to peek in on our parents and report back.

We managed to get up to their room with only a couple cautioning looks from the guards. None of the housecarls were around to warn us back, which in itself was a bit odd. I can’t speak for Kjorik, but I wasn’t ready for what I saw, once again. I was expecting the full scale anger that we see when Mother’s training, but instead she was in Father’s arms and looking pained. It looked as if she taken a hard hit from Galmar during one of their sparring sessions. Father’s expression wasn’t entirely readable, but it seemed like he didn’t intend to cut as deep as he did.

“As you wish. Everything,” I heard her say. “You won’t like it, but I can’t lose you this way. Jhunal, let me find the words. Stuhn, let this truth see us through.” She took a deep breath and stepped away from Father. She looked away from him for a moment. When she looked back at him, she looked steadier and a bit more determined.

“I am bound by oaths that were made before I joined your cause. Oaths that put me within the Thieves Guild and caring for them as my brothers and sisters. After you let me have your time on the summoning of the Greybeards, I was … drawn into the Thieves’ Guild. Brynjolf, whose funeral was but a few days ago, was the one that lured me in. Jobs that I could do for them for coin,” she said.

“I am from people of the Jerall Mountains. That’s why I was at the border when we met. That aside, the Thieves’ Guild was a dance with the forbidden. If I was going to die by the Empire, I’d earn it.”

“They would not have been looking for you after Helgen,” Father stated as if it was just simple fact. His arms crossed as he watched her.

“I wasn’t so sure. Ralof and I took down several on our way out and Tullius wasn’t killed by Alduin. I had borrowed Stormcloak armor to get out alive. I would have been seen as one of yours.” She paused for a second. “Before I would listen to the gods, I reformed the Guild. I brought them back from the edge and gave them honor. We take care of those that the Jarls don’t always see. Those that the wealthy families, mostly, cannot be bothered to see. It… It meant a binding to a daedra and becoming a Nightingale, but I needed vengeance on one that would leave me for dead near here. I needed to restore the family that took me in. If you need all the details, I will give them, but you’ve seen the scars on my chest already.

“You see thieves and dishonorable ne’er-do-wells. I see orphans. Those left behind by shipwrecks, wars, and bandit raids. Oh, we also have others that aren’t noble and love the thrill of it, but so many have nowhere else to turn. The shadows that no one wants to see. The beggars, the veterans with injuries, the lost souls who are willing to do anything for a coin and a place to sleep. We hide those that need to be hidden. We protect the caravans from bandits and they help us get things to where they are wanted. We give an outlet for the wealthy families to handle each other without resorting to blood in the street. We donate to the temples to care for those we cannot. Not all stay there. I also offer a way out, but once out, they cannot return.”

“You make thieves sound like a positive thing,” Father sounded suspicious of the words he was hearing. Mother rarely spoke at length. In the moment, Father and Mother had traded places.

“The Guild is, in some ways. They’d hate to hear it, but The Companions are close cousins. More above-board in their honor, but there are some similarities. In both cases, I protect my kin. The Guild were less prone to be in Oblivion than the College in Winterhold. I… bring things back from the edge.” She added, rather quietly, “Or shove them over it.”

“After I was already Guild Master, a remaining Blade thought they had an idea of who might know more about the dragons,” she continued. “This idea was before we knew it was Alduin or had an Elder Scroll to lead the way. I would get into the Thalmor Embassy for this Blade and find out what the Thalmor knew. Thus, I rescued Etienne from the Thalmor while I was there to find information. He was one of my lost souls, a brother of the Ratway.”

She went over to one of the dressers and opened a drawer. We couldn’t see it clearly, but from the sound of it, there was a false back or bottom. When she stepped away from the dresser, she had a red letter pouch in her hands. Father had gone so quiet during this part of Mother’s explanations, we almost forgot he was there.

“I… I really don’t think you want to see this, but I agreed to everything,” she said. She was looking down and there were tears rolling down her face. “Back then, I found what the Thalmor had on you in their files instead of anything about the dragons. The lies they laid on your shoulders. What they did to you. What they planned. I knew full well at the diplomacy table that Elenwen was more than just an ambassador. That there was a history there. Thalmor bitch, you said, then. If only that’s all she was. If only we weren’t at High Hrothgar, I’d have cleaved her head from her shoulders then for you.”

Father had grown so still, I wasn’t sure how he was going to react. “You weren’t Stormblade then. You were still new to us,” he said in a low rumble. It almost sounded like he was in court, but he couldn’t quite stay so formal with Mother. Not anymore. His face was hard to read.

“True, but I’d have killed her for you then, just the same. Tullius was spinning falsehoods to win Balgruuf. Nords and their damned honor, I overheard him say. As infuriating as that was, it held no candle to what the Thalmor did to you and how they tried to use you.” She laid the pouch down on a table. “Please, Ulfric. I beg you, do not open this wound. Leave it to the past. Let me continue to work the scars they left you.”

He made no move to pick it up, but kept studying Mother. “Why would it anger you, back then? You did not know me. We had only spoken briefly.” He didn’t sound suspicious, but genuinely curious.

“Oh, but I did,” she replied with a smile under the tears that kept fighting their way free. She moved closer to Father as she spoke, “Kyne bound me to you on that cart, Ulfric. I’ve told you that before. I had seen you look after your people at Helgen. I had heard you state to Galmar why you fought for Skyrim. You gave me the time to bend your ear on the Greybeards and told me of your imprisonment when I was brave or foolish enough to come before a Jarl without summons.” There was a flicker of a smile across Father’s face as she spoke those words. “I don’t know when the gods spun the bindings that gave me to you, but it may have already been knotted and done by the time I was in that Embassy. If not, then it is still a dishonor to Stuhn for a prisoner to be treated that poorly.” She reached out to touch the plaits that she had put in his hair that morning. Her voice grew softer.

“You gave them nothing they didn’t already have.” She was studying his face. “If I could steal away the pain, it would be my greatest victory. The last thing I want to do is add to it.”

There was a moment of silence before Father took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, I will have more questions, then. It’s a lot to consider.” There was a pause. “No magic tonight,” he said quietly as he pulled her close. Kjorik and I took that as a sign that the storm had passed and we best leave.

As we headed back to our siblings, we heard our mother agree, “As you desire. I’ll give you any answers you need. Just don’t doubt that what I do, I do for you.”

Chapter Text

Volume 43: The Querent

Future Imperfect
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

My sister, Freydis, put Past Tense out there, but she was not around for what came next. None of them were, so this one falls to me. I heard some of Father’s questions to Mother the next morning. I wouldn’t have put this out for all of Skyrim to know on our family, except that it was left incomplete. If we’re going to start airing everything, then let the arrows fly.

I had been up early, again. I was often the first up. I didn’t want to wake my brothers, so I took the book that I had been reading out to the hallway. The torches in the dark grey stone halls were always more than enough to read by, even sitting on the floor with my back to the wall. I had gotten a few pages in when I noticed someone bending down next me.

“Master Kjorik,” whispered Valdimar; Mother’s battlemage housecarl. He had a smirk already coming up, which was fitting since he was trying to be formal. He was never formal, unless absolutely necessary. “Up early, again?” When I nodded, he continued, “What are you reading? Not Lusty Argonian Maid, I hope.”

I snickered quietly, “No. I’m not old enough for those. A Dance in Fire, actually.”

“If you can read out here and ignore what you hear,” Valdimar said while glancing down the short hall at my parents’ door, “you are old enough for those books. New book series, Lusty Nord Rulers.”

It was a struggle not to laugh at that. I had been trying to ignore the sounds that were barely audible, but now Valdimar was grinning and pointing it out. I couldn’t avoid it now. I chided him, “You’re going to get me in trouble. Mother wouldn’t be pleased with you, either.”

“I imagine not. It wouldn’t be the first time I upset her since I met her in Morthal, either. Jarl Ravencrone has a sense of humor with her visions,” he said. His grin wasn’t disappearing this morning. “Had a grand assignment for me when a thane would emerge for Hjaalmarch. A thane that would live outside of Morthal. She didn’t state just how far outside of Morthal we’d be.

“Anyway, I had to check on what was the sign of life in this corridor, though. Your mother is very particular about this hallway.” He stood back up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading. I’ll be down the hall should you need anything.”

I nodded and went back to reading.

Mother’s housecarls were an interesting assortment of personalities. Valdimar, being the only battlemage among them, tended to have special duties with the guards. He was also more willing to be less formal around us than some of the others. When we would be out training, he’d help give instruction on aiming with spells. His aim with ice shards was impressive.

After a few pages more, I started to hear a discussion in the background. Despite what I had already heard that morning, I cautiously listened in. If they were going to begin sounding like last night, I’d know to stay in the training fields and avoid the court sessions.

“I said I’d answer anything. I meant it,” I heard Mother say as there was the soft sound of a drawer opening. She might have been putting back that letter case that she had out last night.

“The chest scars. You said you needed vengeance on someone that left you for dead. Who?” Father didn’t sound angry, but he wasn’t usually so controlled with Mother in private. He must be a bit bothered, still.

“Mercer Frey. The previous Guild Master, who pilfered everything he could from the Guild and was letting the Guild fall to rot. He tried to kill me to keep his deeds from being seen. I didn’t even know what he was doing at the time, but it certainly had my attention afterward. Left me for dead in Snow Veil Sanctum, not far from here,” I heard Mother’s tone shift slightly, as past gave way to her own way of seeing things, “Orkey made sure I didn’t die through the actions of a Dunmer lady that had also been wronged by him. Kyne and Orkey made sure I noticed I was bound near here, once more.”

“Your status in the Guild now?” The sounds of movement and cloth made his question seem more formal than he may have meant it. Maybe. Father was difficult to read with just sound.

“Guild Master still, but through proxies. When I do go down into the Guild, my face is hidden. That’s rare, though. It’s been several years since I’ve been down in the Ratway. There are only a few from back then that remain and they keep the secret of my identity. I approve any of the larger scale contracts,” Mother replied.

“What sort of contracts?” Father still didn’t sound upset. Now he sounded more like when we’re discussing battle strategies with Galmar or asking on whether High Rock is going to reply to any missives this year. “Is your reach beyond Skyrim?”

“No, no. Skyrim only. The Thalmor Embassy raid, several years ago, though that gained nothing of import. Anything between the wealthy families or that deals with the shipping lanes. Pirates are not our way, but some of the wealthy have thought they could bargain with them. It tends to go badly when they do and then we have to clean up behind them.” There was a slight pause before she added, a little quieter, “Torsten knows when the Guild is helping to clean up.”

“Torsten Cruel-Sea? He’s a member? I find that hard to believe.” Father’s tone was shifting again. He knew how to keep Mother on the defensive, when he wanted.

“Not a member, an ally of sorts. It was his information that allowed me to wipe out a guild coming up from Summerset Isles, many years ago. Their leader had a family heirloom stolen off of Torsten’s daughter’s body. I got that back for him, personally,” Mother almost sounded proud of it. I’m sure Father had to be glaring a bit. “It was mutually beneficial. Those thieves were also threatening some of our merchants here in Windhelm. Torsten’s a good man. He wouldn’t have come to the Guild if he could’ve done it himself. Don’t let it color your view of him.”

“Does he know that you are still the Guild Master?” I caught Father’s shift in tone, though it was small. Freydis would have missed it. Father sounded a bit stung that one of the men that often stands in the War Room would know this fact about Mother, when he did not.

“No, and he didn’t then, either. When I did work for him, I was only a contact within the Guild. He knows I still have contacts back in the Guild, though usually others will contact him instead of me. He will only talk Guild business with me if something requires immediate attention and his usual contacts are not available. It may explain why you thought we were having affairs.” Mother paused and I thought she might have been pacing during her answers. “I have eyes and ears all over Skyrim that I have used for you. Some of my best brothers and sisters in the shadows have been released into your army as spies and scouts. When they take that path, the Guild is closed behind them, but it is a standing offer for those that need help to get into a more honor-bound path.”

“Stormblade, Galmar would never allow it," I heard Father rumble.

“They still have to pass all entrance tests,” Mother replied cautiously. “I do not sneak them into the ranks. I just make sure they know where to go and what lies ahead. To Galmar, they are additional men and women that want to protect Skyrim.”

I heard Father take a deep breath. “Next then, you mentioned the Blade and the Embassy. Are you working with the Blades, now?” Behind the question floated the raspy sounds of hair being brushed. Mother was probably about to add plaits to Father’s hair, then, which meant that this conversation was where I thought it was. Father was past the initial displeasure at a less honorable path and the fear that Mother was doing something against him; now he was seeing where he could use this new information. If Mother was willing to answer his questions, he’d entertain the path a bit further.

“Two remain. You saw them both at High Hrothgar when we had a brief truce. I did not invite either, but they came anyway. One had been hiding in Riverwood, the other in Riften’s Ratway. We have different views of the future. They have a new place to hide and can remain there. As far as I am concerned, their views are almost as bad as the Thalmor. They can add to their ranks without my help and I certainly don’t need what they offer,” said Mother. The last sentence sounded almost disgusted.

“What views would those be?” Father asked.

Mother’s voice got very dark, “Eradication of my dragon-cousins, even if they assisted Kyne in teaching Nords the Voice or if they were instrumental in my defeat of Alduin. The gods’ blessing gives me blood of the dragons, as Talos had. I will not destroy every dragon without regard to whether they are an ally. I can only imagine the reaction from the Greybeards, who I respect a lot more. Those dragons that will listen or have given counsel the most have been here at Windhelm. Remember, Hoag’s dragon name is in honor of the dragon that we captured at Dragonsreach and gave me passage to Skuldafn.”

I heard a chuckle rise from Father. “Did Arngeir ever hear you call them ‘dragon-cousins’?” Mother must’ve nodded because Father started laughing. “You continue to surprise me with how much you’ve taken to their studies.” His tone had shifted entirely away from the courtly one he had been trying to hold. Only up here, late in the evening, do we usually hear Father speaking so warmly.

“Perhaps," she said softly. "The more destructive the Word, the less I use it in my singing to Kyne. There are some Words that I do not want to take hold, as Arngeir cautioned. It is perhaps easier to follow their teachings when one comes from old mountain folk, instead of those born to lead their people and hear their cries. Given the blessings that Kyne has placed on our marriage, I don’t believe we have reason to think there is a problem with your usage of the Voice. It was for the betterment of Skyrim and placing Kyne’s city back in the center.”

Things got quiet after that and I went back to reading. It was only a few minutes until I heard Father’s voice again.

“Kjorik. Come with us to the hall. It should be set by now,” he said.

I looked up to see both Father and Mother standing in front of me. As I stood up, I replied, “Yes, Father.”

Mother was watching me closely as I brushed off some of the dust. “He looks more like you every day, Ulfric. I’ll have to teach him to braid his hair soon to keep it back. Need to make sure that he can see as well as he might hear.”

“I heard nothing, Mother. I’ve been reading,” I said. “Did I miss something said to me?” I was hoping she meant their long conversation that distracted me from reading.

“I don’t quite believe you, Kjorik,” she said, but she sounded amused as she started walking down towards the main hall. “You do look a bit… embarrassed. Perhaps it is your book. Stick to that story. It’s a good one.”

Chapter Text

Volume 44: The Dragon

Voices in the Dark
Loknir Dovahbromven Stormcloak, Dragonborn
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

Kyne help me. Mother would hate all these things said of her. She liked to be in the wind. She wanted to be unseen and unknown, though being a Dovahkiin made that difficult. I watched her vanish in a purple flash more than once.

She hated being stuck in Windhelm. I know. I heard it a few times. It wasn’t Windhelm, though. It was the “stuck” part. She married Father for Skyrim. She loved him, though I don’t know if that was before or after they were married. I never asked. Maybe one of my siblings knows. I do know that she’d have fought through Oblivion for Father, never mind one of us or Skyrim. If you listened carefully, Father felt the same for her.

You had to listen to them both carefully. Neither of them ever used a word like love. Plenty of other people had said that they must have been in love. I’m sure they were. You’d never hear it spoken that way from either of them. I don’t think it existed in their vocabulary. You’ll know which bards have taken liberties with their words to make the songs work when they sound sentimental. There were no pet names, either. That’s not who they were.

She ran through all of Skyrim to protect it from whatever got thrown at it. She loved this country enough that she had a thousand nicks that couldn’t be polished from her untold sets of armor. The scars that she tried to hide, but never could. Dozens of blades, bows, axes and more were hers. She had her own wing in the Armory. The smiths were constantly repairing her blades from the war. Father gave them to her for her actions, so they were her primary blades. Anything that came from Father was what she used the most.

There would be nights where you could see a set of armor missing from the armory, a bow and a sword no longer in the displays, and one of her staff was out at Candlehearth Hall for the evening. Usually Iona. She was almost always missing when Mother grew restless. I heard that my parents fought over these disappearances before I was born and even a bit after. It wasn’t until there was a display of Father’s concern and affection for Mother at their 10th anniversary that some of those disagreements dropped.

Father knew when she was in the wind. You could tell. His jaw would set and he’d walk to the Temple of Talos. I was the only one that would walk with him. He scared the others when he got that way. They would think it was a fire storm about to hit. They never did learn to tell when Father was worried instead of simmering a slow rage.

In the temple, I could hear his requests to watch over Mother in whatever crypt she was crawling through or bandit hideout she had taken a personal score to settle. Sometimes Jorleif knew where she went because there would be a rumor of the draugr being a problem. Worse, there might be a dragon that was not willing to listen to reason and thought she could be challenged. They do that. Once I was old enough, I was also missing on the dragon nights with Mother. I’m sure Father was worse those nights.

Father had stopped asking the stables about horses missing long ago. One of the stable-hands mentioned seeing someone just appear, then a ghost horse appear near them, and both disappear into the night. That was before I was born. She was also Arch-Mage, after all. If she wanted out, there was no one stopping her by any method. The guards would say if she went south or east, if they saw her. Then there were the times that she left by the docks instead of the main gate.

When she returned, she had packs laden down, sometimes. I’m told that Windhelm used to have unstable steps, missing hawk statues, and patches of rubble. The Queen’s Quarter also had am older name, Gray Quarter, for the primary residents. It is anything but gray with the brightly colored flags and banners of the Dunmer there. The rest of the city is gray in comparison.

If anything was mentioned in court about an improvement needed, you knew she’d vanish soon. New timbers for the docks, repairs to the orphanage that was in the Queen’s Quarter, stonework near the Argonian Bunk House cracked in the winter wind… Suddenly, Eastmarch had the funds it needed to pay for the repairs to be done.

Mother said the city needed to stop mourning as Ysgramor did for his lost children, or the loss of the Great Bear of Eastmarch, Jarl Hoag, from so many years past, and honor all the great warriors that had built her, those that would come, and her current High King. She’d try to stop everyone from mourning, but she had joined Father on his brooding ways more than once. She mourned for everyone that walked with her, but died at her side. When Mother joined Father in brooding, or the rare time she pulled him from it, that’s when you’d see what the bards sing about.

She didn’t always go far. Sometimes, she just needed to feel the air without protecting Skyrim from some new issue. Some evenings, I’d watch a door to the parapets open, as if by a breeze, and violet flashes of light would pop briefly. Maybe she needed to be alone. Maybe she didn’t want to bother Father with her thoughts. She didn’t always go to the walls alone, but it was often enough. If Father noticed her missing on those evenings, I’d interrupt that mood of his. There was no need for him to worry when she was just in hiding in Windhelm. Those nights were my favorite. I’d run after him, chasing down that dark mood before it settled in.

“Father, wait,” I’d call out.

“Not now, Loknir.” Father would try walking on, but I took on the stubbornness of both of them.

“Yes, now.” He’d stare at me for daring him, but I didn’t back off like the others. “The eastern walls. Overlooking the docks. Probably watching the Northern Maiden arrive from Solstheim, again.” If you wanted his attention, you didn’t waste his time. Father might give speeches, but he seldom put up with them from others.

“What do-- I see. Come with me.” He’d tug on that bear mantle that he always wore as he turned to go to the walls.

Those nights were the best ones when I was young. We’d walk up to the parapets, sometimes in silence. He’s let me hold his hand. Maybe that’s a boon for being the youngest of his heirs or because I was also a Dragonborn like Mother. I could be closer to Father than the others.

There would be Mother, standing on the wall, with snow gathering on her. Sometimes, it was her stahlrim armor. Ice in snow. Most times, it was her Bear armor. The Bear was her favorite. She could try to blend with the guards, but she stood out anyway. It was also armor granted by Father, so, again, it was the one she used the most. Her boots would be nearby because she could only feel close to the land if she could feel it in her feet. Father would pat my shoulder on seeing her there, then tell me to go back inside. His mood was already changing. Mother had cast so many relaxation spells on him over the years, he’d start to relax just at the sight of her.

I never did go in when asked. Not right away. I would let the door make its noise and watch from the shadows.

The rumble of Father’s voice would get lost in the wind. Eventually, Mother would lean into him. If the wind died down, I could overhear her talking about Sovngarde and gesturing at the lights in the sky sometimes. Other times I could hear her asking about when he was young or when he was in the war. When Skyrim still bled for the Empire. On the wall, it was never anything current that was discussed. The wind would be cold up there, but it was still comfortable in the shadows. It was the only time I could imagine having parents that weren’t thunderstorms about to break and turn the seas upside down.

One of those nights, I overstayed. I could hear her mentioning names that she had seen at Shor’s Hall, as if it was Candlehearth. Then, I suddenly heard her tell Father she’d be in shortly, but needed some time first. I found a way to hide as he walked past. As the door closed, I heard her voice.

“Loknir. Come out.”

“Mother, I— “ I started to speak as I stood out of the shadows.

“Just come here.” She wasn’t even looking in my direction. She was still watching the ships in the docks. “I need you to be careful, more than the others.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I walked to stand beside her.

“There are forces in the dark places,” she said. “The Daedric Princes will turn their attention on mortals when it pleases them. We already know that you are Dragonborn. Perhaps your other siblings will be in time as well. Daedric Princes are especially attracted to someone with our power and ties to the gods. Keeping to the shadows, you may get attention from Nocturnal.”

“Who?” I was too young to have heard the names often.

“Lady Luck. Mistress of the Shadows. Patron of the Thieves Guild. If you listen while in the shadows, you may hear the rustling of the shades that serve her. Gallus or Brynjolf may be here now. We could only be so lucky. Ulfric would not want you to fall in with those that live in the shadows and Riften’s Ratway. You are born of better circumstances than I was. Do not waste it.” She was still watching the ships. Her arms crossed in front of her.

“Yes, Mother.” I expected a storm at being caught, but maybe it was the eye. I recognized one of those names, too. I wasn’t going to ask on that now. “Did I hear you mention Sovngarde?”

“Parry and point,” she said with a slight tone of humor. “You did. When the sky is bright with Kyne’s Lights, like tonight, I am closest to Sovngarde again. This looks like it is bleeding through. Shor’s Hall is what Jorrvaskr could be, were it the entirety of Whiterun.”

“Do you miss it? That was over a decade ago that you were there.” My attention was now on the Lights.

“Miss it. Long for it, even. Not everything I have done was with honor. I only hope the balance tips in that favor. Perhaps Kyne or Talos will intervene. Perhaps I will have to claw my way from Oblivion planes to Sovngarde. I’ve fought dragons, I’ve fought Dragonborn, and I’ve fought the minions of various Princes. One last battle, perhaps, from Evergloam or Apocrypha to Shor’s Hall.” She started to sound far away for the moment, “Hmm, yes. A walk through the testing grounds to ensure that I am worthy of meeting Tsun once more. Jhunal may have that inscribed for me. You need to take care or you will have the same concern.”

I looked up at her to see there were a few tears freezing on her cheeks. They could’ve been pulled from her eyes by the wind off the river, but I doubted it.

“I’ll go get Father.”

She ruffled my hair and shook her head. A blink, a breath, and the moment was gone. She stepped back into her boots. She took my hand as we walked back to the door. When I opened it for her, though, Father was there, leaning against the wall.

His eyes tracked from Mother to me. They narrowed a bit and he spoke quietly, “To bed. Now.” Here is where I will agree with my siblings on Father. That was not a time to check to see if the bear would attack, but a time to flee the cave entirely. As I got to the end of the hall and was about to turn down the stairs, I saw them talking. Father’s concern was so strong it almost had a color of its own. Galmar had said that Father’s anger floated on a sea of tears. I didn’t want to see what happened when Mother’s tears mingled in with his this evening. Now was not the time to listen nor watch.

Chapter Text

Volume 45: The Mason

Kyne’s Stone
Pedr Golzstrunmahiiz Stormcloak, Stormswept
4E 252

I’m told that by the time I came along, there were staff already talking about how I wasn’t needed. Well, needed as an heir, at least. Mother and Father would have had words about whether I was necessary to those that spoke such things. If I was not necessary, I didn’t feel it. When I was old enough to hold a polishing stone, I took to the armory to see what I could make smooth.

When Mother found me in the armory with blades all around in late 4E 216, she paused to ask which I liked more – the blades or the stone. It was an interesting question. I wasn’t that old to think of things that way. It was the stone. I liked what I could do with it and the feel of it.

After a pause, she asked if I’d want to apprentice under a smith while she looked for a mason.

“But… what would Father say?” I had started to rub on the stone and I could feel the fine grit of its edge biting into my thumb.

“That if you can use it for Skyrim with honor, then it would be fine,” she said. “There’s certainly enough stonework in Windhelm. You’d honor Kyne by bringing more of it back to its glory.”

The next day, even, Mother was walking me out to the market. The two smiths in the market were hammering away. The noise was impressive. The heat was like nothing in our palace. I noticed that other eyes were starting to track over to us.

Mother stepped in between the smiths, unconcerned with the sparks or the heat. She spoke above the noise. “Oengul, Hermir, would either of you mind if Pedr and I take up some space on your stairs? Pedr may want to apprentice under you.”

Oengul started to look over at us, but Hermir was quicker on the response: “Apprentice one of Ulfric’s sons? It’d be an honor, High Queen!”

Oengul laughed and gestured at the stairs. “Go ahead, son.”

Mother and I sat on the stairs for hours. I watched metals heated and shaped. Straps repaired. Hermir ran a few blades across the grindstone. Oengul’s hammer would sometimes send sparks flying. They had a banter while they worked. I was fascinated. Mother just stayed at my side, I guess, but she never said anything while we were there. I only noticed the passing of time when Mother placed some fruit in my hand.

“Eat, Pedr. It’s from Hollyfrost Farm. Hillevi says it was just brought up this morning.”

“Hollyfrost? The Cruel-Seas?” I looked past the smiths and, through the mid-day crowd in the market, I could just see where Hillevi Cruel-Sea was selling various fruits and vegetables. That’s when I noticed how many were looking over to us and not actually watching the smiths.

“Yes,” she smiled. “You’re remembering the names you hear in court, then. That’s good. Never too young to keep in mind who you may need to contact in a time of need.”

I started eating while watching the blacksmiths, then looked back at Mother. “They aren’t usually in court to discuss the farm, are they?”

“No. Torsten comes in to discuss the ports and ships. He’s been training up a naval fleet, just in case we have trouble by sea. They have had to handle a few things out by Dawnstar. It takes training and time to get in fighting order. We don’t know how much time Cyrodiil has. Torsten’s been itching to get on ships for some time. I know that itch well. In the meantime, Captain Lonely-Gale and Torsten Cruel-Sea keep track of the increased shipping across Skyrim.”

“Father didn’t like the companies managing it themselves?” I asked.

“Not once he found out about there being some… unwanted cargo coming in through Solitude.”

I thought on that a bit and went back to watching the smiths.

Sometimes Mother would go back down with me in the days that followed. If she was needed in court, she’d have one of housecarls come with me. Hermir started handing me stuff to polish. When she talked of Father, she lit up like the forge. There were a few around town that still spoke so highly of my father after he had ruled for so long.

Hermir found me some chisels and other stone cutter tools to get in shape, when I mentioned what I was looking to do. Might as well learn how to maintain tools and blades for now. When Torsten came by with some broken farm equipment, they pointed him to me. Torsten looked amused to see me at the forge, rather than in court. A few days later, though, when I had the tines on his pitchforks replaced and new handles added to the hoes, he looked more impressed.

Hermir was also the one to note that the hawks on the fences weren’t stone, but metal. Perhaps I should work on the motif in metal, where she and Oengul could help a bit more while Mother was still attempting to find a mason that could come to Windhelm. I started work on the hawks right away. In time, the housecarls would only walk me to the forge and leave me to the protection of the smiths and guards. I became a part of the banter in the market.

It was a few months before a mason was freed up from one of the forts. So many of them were still repairing the decades of disrepair from the Empire and Jarls ignoring their rotting condition. Mother had been insistent on fixing Windhelm and the forts for many years. I was always hearing her argue for sending missives to High Rock and Solstheim to contract for masonry labor. The protector of Skyrim’s people.

Mother was right about the reaction to my interests, too. She understood Father more than I did. A couple years later, I got those metal hawks finished to where they matched. It was going to be hard to tell my hawks from the older ones. As I started placing them in the northwest part of the city, Father came to see them installed.

“Ysgramor would be pleased,” he said. “Kyne’s hawks are special to Windhelm. You still need to train for war with Lothar, but this is very good work. Very good, indeed.”

By this time, Lothar was the only one that could stand up to my warhammer. After I started apprenticing with masons Mother brought back to Windhelm, in addition to the smiths, even Lothar was starting to stagger a bit from my warhammer. When I could land a hit, that is, as he was getting faster at dodging my blows.

Chapter Text

Volume 46: The Star

New Beginnings
Mera Wolfs-Bane, Royal Mid-Wife and Chief of Palace Healers
4E 255

My mother hadn’t wanted to move into the palace, even when her duties to High Queen Stormblade kept her away from home for weeks at a time. We knew she was right up the way, should the family have need to fetch her home. Since we lived in a large kin-house, there were plenty to take care of her children. When I was 15, though, I was brought out to the Palace with her as her apprentice. In 4E 217, my mother had tried to go back to working as a midwife in Windhelm proper. Tried, but failed.

“But missus,” my mother was saying, “I don’t think you’ll be needing my services. It’s been a time since Loknir. I’m sure Mara’s done and I need to work with my apprentice...”

High Queen Stormblade was already shaking her head. “Hemina, you are one of our staff. I appreciate that you have gone beyond your duties with our children these many years. Your healing arts have been exemplary. Do you think I am the only one to give birth in this palace?”

My mother sighed. “Well, no. I have helped a few of the ladies around the Palace as they have had need. Injuries, too, but...”

“You understand my housecarls are soon to need your services?” she asked with a smile.

“They are, missus?” My mother looked perplexed at that statement. Normally she was the first to know these things.

Stormblade nodded at that, then gestured to me. “Your apprentice has already been taught your arts?”

“Yes, missus,” said my mother. She was starting to sound resigned. Everyone in Windhelm, likely even all of Skyrim, knew that when a Stormcloak wanted something, there was no denying them. Like the Bear of Eastmarch, they have always been a stubborn lot. “This is my daughter, Mera.”

“After Thane Mera Stormcloak, yes?” Stormblade’s smile turned warmer at that. I remember thinking that you couldn’t really see the woodsy upbringing that I had heard about in rumors when she smiled. You also tended to forget that she married into the Stormcloak line when she spoke of the history of Windhelm. I was very little when she had proposed and I grew up on stories of the legend that was in front of me. “The Wolfs-Bane clan has roots at least as far back as the Stormcloaks. It’s been noted in many records. If you think you’re up to the task, Mera, I would have you check on my housecarl, Iona.”

I stepped forward at that. I tried to hide the nervousness I felt. “You think she might be with child, your Highness?”

“Stormblade, Mera.” She crossed her arms loosely, “And I do. I do believe that Calder finally chased her down a few months ago. He’s been smitten with her for years. It’s been about time he actually admitted it to her. I’ve noticed a change in Iona’s behavior in the last few breakfasts. It’s small, but I remember those changes well.”

My mother smiled a bit at me, “The missus doesn’t take to titles often. High King Ulfric, though, you mind your manners.”

“He’s earned his titles and was born to manners of court. I was not born to them and barely see the need for them. I prefer plain speak over the false flowers of nobility,” Stormblade said. “You likely won’t need to speak to Ulfric anytime soon. My staff will not concern him, for the most part. Years from now, when you may be midwife to one of our children, we will need to discuss how to give reports to Ulfric. You will have a dance, then, of courtly manners with brevity. I courted his ire more than once before we wed, but you see I still have my head.”

As I blinked and was unsure how to take this statement, I heard my mother gasp. Stormblade started laughing at our reactions.

“Missus, I didn’t think you’d jest at such a thing,” my mother said with her voice cracking.

Stormblade laughed harder and brushed some unseen dust from the fur of her armor. “Ah, but your daughter may not know the history as you do.” She turned her eyes on me and there were sparkles of every color in her blue eyes. “Ulfric and I were supposed to be executed together at Helgen. Quite the way to meet a Jarl. A foot shorter and a lot less talkative were it not for Alduin attacking Helgen may be his phrasing if you catch him in the right mood.”

Her laughter had me forget my place and nervousness. The words came without control. “From executioner’s block to Mara’s altar? That’s not a tale of love I’ve heard the bards tell of your meeting.”

Stormblade smiled, though it looked sad and her eyes had lost the sparks. “The bards won’t sing of such meetings. They have more fanciful ways to bring about how we met. They would prefer to start on a battlefield. Perhaps a shield maiden, even before his capture, though many already know that is not the case. It sounds more poetic, if I’ve always been his shield, even at Helgen. The gods work in their own ways, whether we accept those ways or not. Time’s threads in the tapestry are not always obvious and the bards obscure them further.”

She shook her head briefly those words. There were plenty of rumors, especially in those my age, about what the High Queen had accomplished before and with words like that, perhaps she did spend a lot of time in Winterhold and with the Greybeards. She certainly didn’t sound like the deep woods hunter or even the queen of few words in court that I’ve heard mentioned.

She took a breath, then continued, “My own travels are what brought Iona of Riften to meet Calder of Windhelm here in the Palace. Their meeting was not nearly as doom-driven as my own stories.”

“Are there others in your staff that mother and I should check, as well?” I asked quietly.

Stormblade tilted her head down at that and her brows came together. “No, I don’t believe so. Most of them take their duties perhaps a little too seriously and their oaths to me have been in the way.”

My mother remarked at that, “You’re thinking of Argis, aren’t you, missus? He was always very protective during the blessings of Mara and your pilgrimages.” She looked to me to add, “He’s the one in the hall that required an introduction.”

Stormblade was quiet for a moment, before she looked up. “He is, perhaps, the most devoted, but not the only one I was thinking of. For now, ask Argis to take you to Iona. My steward is likely waiting on my arrival.” With that, she turned and left the room through a different door than we had entered.

Argis led us through the palace wings in silence. Of the housecarls I met that day, he was obviously the largest in build. In the few times I’ve met battle-scarred warriors, he seemed to be the quietest. In time, I’d find he was one of the nicest, as well, but that took more time at the Palace.

I was introduced to a woman with short burgundy hair. She was seated in a chair and looking a bit upset. Across the room, looking out a window, was another redhead. He looked over at my introduction. Both were likely in their later 30s, if I had to guess. I know both had been housecarls for as long as I had been alive.

“Iona,” he said as he stepped away from the window, “Stormblade is making certain that you get care from one of the oldest families of healers in Windhelm. Hemina was her mid-wife, even. I am certain that our status does not bother her.”

There was a flash of anger over the woman’s face as she stood up. “We took oaths, Calder. If the reason she sent us to this room is what she’s implying, then it will impede those oaths.”

I glanced to my mother, who gave a slight shake to her head. Right. Not all couples are happy with a blessing from Mara and I should wait it out.

Calder shook his head. “Will it? Stormblade has requested that we guard her children. The last time most of us left Windhelm, it was for the memorial tours. She never takes either of us on her pilgrimages. Argis and Gregor go on those. Valdimar has combat training. The rest of us guard the children at her request. She even hired guards for her houses, so we don’t leave for those anymore. If you are with child, how could that impede on keeping watch around the Palace?”

Iona stayed quiet, glaring at Calder as he came closer. As he took one of her hands, his voice lost the defensive edge. “Just… let them check, Iona. I can talk to Stormblade about additional shifts or whatever she would require to keep our oaths.”

As Iona took a breath and vaguely nodded in our direction, my mother said quietly, “All right. Remember your training. Start with sensing what you can.”

I got closer to Iona at that. I put my left hand on her shoulder while my right touched her abdomen, and I muttered small apologies. It was weak at first, but mother was right. You’d start to sense the blessing in its smallest form and Mara’s warmth would feel like a fur wrapped around your shoulders while you sat at a roaring fire.

“When the High Queen spoke to us,” I said, “she noted that she thought some of you had taken your oaths too seriously.” I saw a warning look from my mother, but as I was a teenager, I ignored it. “I only just met her, but I think she’ll be pleased that you have been blessed. She did not seem upset that you were together. The opposite.”

Calder’s smile grew as Iona took a deep breath. “Iona, this is a good thing.”

Iona gave him a look that didn’t seem to agree. “She’s going to want us to be dedicated. She’s going to want to arrange all of it.”

Calder started to laugh. “Who would we be to say no? Who wouldn’t want the honor of the Dragonborn High Queen preparing their festivities and arranging the feasts?”

I stepped away from Iona as her look grew darker. “Is this how you would ask?”

“Caution, Calder,” came from Argis. He had been quiet and observing until this moment. The good humor seemed to drain from Calder at Argis’ words.

In the silence, I spoke quietly, “Housecarl Iona, we will be back in a week’s time for the next check on your health. Send for us should something be concerning.” Calder was the one to acknowledge the statement before we left with Argis.

As the door shut behind us, Argis spoke, “The High Queen will want to know. This is not something for the court. If the War Room is not in use, I will leave you there. I’ll have her sent in.”

Argis led us through those dark grey halls to the War Room. Back then, I hadn’t gotten used to how the halls connected and it seemed a maze. While we waited in the War Room and heard court business being conducted behind the door, I looked at all the maps laid out. The main table had Skyrim, but under a few others. The one held down with multiple pins was labelled Cyrodiil. It appeared that there was a flag of Eastmarch blue near Bruma. Another map was noted as High Rock. Pinned to boards around the room were those noted as Solstheim, Hammerfell, the southern areas of Tamriel. This last one had murky lines of separation between the countries, as if the cartographer would only guess and not go into those lands to see for themselves. This map had my curiosity and attention.

The door quietly opened. Stormblade walked in. Before the door closed, I could see the form of Argis standing near the door. Just beyond, the matters of court continued and High King Ulfric could be heard rumbling a response.

“Missus, your suspicions –“ My mother stopped as Stormblade raised a hand. She gestured at me, then, and I knew I was to give the report, not my mother.

“A blessing of Mara has been given to Iona, though she doesn’t see it as one,” I said.

Stormblade allowed a bit of a smile to be seen as she asked, “And Calder?”

“Excited.” I glanced quickly to my mother, but then continued. “They are worried about your reaction, though. What it means for their oaths.”

Stormblade’s smile grew into a grin. That’s when I could see the battle scars that almost cost her an eye. They didn’t tug at her features until she grinned. “Ah, youth. I have missed this openness. My children are already hiding within court manners. Some at least. I assume you have told them what I said earlier, then?” When I nodded, she chuckled a bit. “Good. That will make my conversations with them easier. Thank you, Mera. I’ll have my steward note to the guards that you will be attending the Palace more often.”

So was my introduction to the Palace and High Queen Stormblade, though I was soon to be a regular fixture within its walls. Unlike my mother, I moved into the Palace when my apprenticeship was complete. As the High Queen had noted, reports to High King Ulfric were a bit more delicate, but I had a bit more time before I would have to give reports to him.

Chapter Text

Volume 47: The Logbooks v8

Reports of Questionable Sources
Freydis Bromgaaffeyn Stormcloak, Steward of Eastmarch
4E 253

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

After finding out Mother’s position within the Guild, Father turned it to his advantage. Whether or not the Guild knew how their information was used, they were quickly expanding past the borders of Skyrim. They reached out to cells in other areas. Rather than invade areas and take over, by accounts that we could find, it was deal brokering. Whatever was local was respected, but coins started getting exchanged.

There were numerous unofficial reports that I could find which documented an uptick in information from unknown sources. I had discussed this matter with Enthir at the College of Winterhold, after he requested our information, and he would only note that his sources would acknowledge the speculation, but would not divulge any of the dealings that they had.

One of the earliest records of this change was, again, a secreted notation in a logbook from one of the guards in our private wing. Unlike the others, this one was undated. Perhaps it was to cover who might be leaving the pages behind.

Logbook: King’s Hall Guard

Evening Star, 4E 217.

Something in the way Stormblade came through the halls tonight caught my eye. She was in riding leathers of a dark variety. Snow was still on her cloak as she strode through the halls. The bells had already chimed one of the wee hours and you’d have thought it was early afternoon by her pace. If it wasn’t for the silver starting to lace through her hair, I’d have thought maybe the Dragonborn doesn’t age the same as the rest of us.

As she opened the door to their chambers, I heard her say what she always does when she arrives in the night hours as she no longer sneaks out. I wonder if she honestly is surprised to find Ulfric awake when she arrives in the night anymore.

“Ulfric, you haven’t been waiting on me, have you?” she asked.

I could hear him rising from the chair already. “I was, Stormblade. The snow is still on your shoulders. Come. Warm up by the fire.”

I peeked in, after a moment, to see them already at the far end of the room. Ulfric was removing her cloak as they stood near the fire. The bards would go on another spree of songs, if they could see them outside of court.

“I…” Stormblade paused a moment before continuing and sounding a bit distant, “I smell Jora’s Evening Star incense. You’ve been to the Temple tonight.”

Ulfric replied as the cloak went on a hook near the fireplace, “I always go to the Temple when you leave. I ask that you are returned to us safely. Loknir went, as well.” Things went quiet for a few minutes, before I heard Ulfric once more. “What did you learn this evening?”

Stormblade’s voice was warmer than her subject would indicate. “We’ll be getting another delegation from Cyrodiil within the week, as long as the passes allow it. The Bruma cell is reporting that the crop yields were smaller this year. They also heard with connections to Kvatch that an early frost along the coast around Anvil was problematic.” There was a pause before she continued, “More locally, I have word that Jarl Grey-Mane remains very loyal. His reports on the state of Whiterun’s stocks are accurate. If he believes that we can feed Cyrodiil and our people, it’s likely to be true.”

I could tell by the sounds that Ulfric was removing the armor that he had remained in, despite having retired to the bed chambers. When Stormblade leaves while he’s awake, he stays ready to charge out after her. I’m not sure what he could fight that she would fall to, but the thought is there. It’s even been mentioned in the guard quarters.

“Anything else?” I heard him ask.

Stormblade sighed a bit, “Yes, Ulfric, but… I think I need to work on your back while you get these.”

I heard him chuckle among the other noises of the room. “That dire, is it? If only all messengers were so pleasant.”

“Any messenger gets this close to you, they will meet the daedra of their choosing,” Stormblade said coldly.

I heard Ulfric laugh at that. It was a rare sound, but he sounded far more amused than I’ve heard in a while. He asked, “Is that how I get you to stay in the Palace? If I had known that a decade ago…”

“No, but things would be a lot more grim here. Politics, of course,” she replied. With the ice still in her voice, she asked, “High Rock or Valenwood, first?”

“Good, then, that I didn’t see that as a way to make a statement. You have two, tonight?” The amusement drained out of his voice with the question. ”Valenwood, Stormblade. You continue to prove to be worth more than that dowry you offered, if it had been just politics.”

I heard Stormblade’s voice melt off some of that icy edge. “I only offered what I needed to publicly. You know that. I’ve provided information before, but less directly.” A glow started to appear at the edge of the door. “From Valenwood, I have reports of more insurrection. They are tiring of the yoke that the Thalmor have had on them all these years. More villages were raided. More of them are taking into the trees and higher elevations. It’s only just shy of rebellion. If the legends of what the Bosmer can do when pushed are true, it’s getting very close down there.”

“Good. Very good. You have a way to get news to and from the Wood Elves that have fled here?” he asked.

Now Stormblade sounded amused, “Are you looking for me to inspire a liberation unofficially, Ulfric?”

“Possible. Though I wouldn’t want you to go down there. More concerned that we might need to prepare for refugees. The Rift and Falkreath would need to prepare,” he said. He was quiet for a long moment and I saw the light from her magicka shift colors briefly and then back to yellow. “And High Rock?”

“They still deal with the Empire first, but we’ll see a delegation soon. They have an illness in one of the cities, but it’s been contained so far. The report was unclear as to which city. They will be seeking increased trade through Solitude, via Thane Erikur. He can be useful, at times,” she said. “They prefer his obnoxious ways, but are willing to come out here to secure the final details. Thane Erikur will be travelling with them, as a sign of support. They are in need of supplies as the Empire is draining them, as they used to with Skyrim. The requests they have are alchemical, so Hjaalmarch may see a boon here.”

I heard Ulfric’s amused laughter again, but it was sounding a little drowsy now. “Not Jarl Elisif?”

“Letters from Steward Falk Firebeard assure me that Jarl Elisif is healthy, but no one has seen her in weeks. Her housecarl also agrees. No, we’ll see Thane Erikur instead.” There was a pause before Stormblade added, “Perhaps if you wanted a wife that stayed home, you should have looked to Solitude.”

There was a shifting of the magicka colors again as Ulfric replied, “Ah, but I didn’t ask. You did. Rather dramatic of you, as well. It would have been difficult to say no. Stormblade…” After a moment’s pause, he continued with a serious, but warm tone, “I only asked you to change that behavior when with our children. Have I asked since?”

“Not directly. I know you would rather I stay close.” Her magicka at the door dimmed to a lighter pale green. “How could I get you these reports, if I didn’t leave to meet my contacts?”

It was quiet for several moments and I thought perhaps the question was going to go unanswered. “You would find another reason to go. No matter, I will continue to go to Temple to request your safe passage back to Windhelm. To me.”

Chapter Text

Volume 48: The Dragon, Part 2

Understanding
Loknir Dovahbromven Stormcloak, Dragonborn
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

I’ve written previously that Mother would’ve hated all these stories being written. The College of Winterhold wants to have documentation on the High Queen because she was the Dragonborn that put Alduin back to sleep. If you want to really understand Mother, then it’s more than just stories about her. That’s a part of it, but not all of it. To understand Mother, you have to understand all of us, especially Father. Of course, Father’s not here to put in a word. He’d never have agreed to help out the College, either.

My siblings will never write much on Father. First, the College asked for documentation on Mother, so the good lot they are, they are following the request. Father will be present in those stories, but probably as a background character in Mother’s life. He was more than that, especially to Mother. I don’t know when they fell in love with each other. Certainly they must’ve been when I was conceived because I’m the seventh of their children. Who has seven children in a politics-only marriage? Clearly, some people thought that was normal as they were shocked when Father finally kissed her in public on their 10th anniversary. Shocked! That’s some strong mead, there.

Second, and far more importantly, Father was not an easy one for us to understand. He was demanding. Sadness surrounded him. Mother could sometimes dispel it, but just as often, the sadness would swallow her instead. Many will remember him for his temper, for killing High King Torygg in a duel, for starting the Liberation of Skyrim. There’s a reason that Mother and Galmar looked like matching bears at his side. They were the support that Father needed to move forward. He could get mired down in his own past.

I’ve heard the Liberation was actually stalled for some time, until Mother joined up. She joined Galmar on the hunt for the Jagged Crown and brought it back for Father. Once she was also standing near him, Galmar’s insistence that the Liberation start in earnest was finally allowed. Father was willing to do things that required much of himself. Requesting others to die for him, however, was more difficult for Father, especially when it was his order alone. He had even surrendered at an ambush to possibly save his small force and met Mother in the process. Or so I heard on the wall.

While wrapped up in a cloak of sadness, I’m sure love wasn’t something that came easily. That meant allowing someone in where they could damage him. Yet, there were seven of us and Mother clearly found her way in. The others will probably mention how Mother would cover Father in healing spells at the end of the day or how she’d curl up to him, but they won’t mention how Father displayed his feelings. Maybe it was too subtle for them. Maybe they never noticed.

He was, from my memory, always going off to the Temple of Talos to pray for Mother’s safety. If she was going to be out of the Palace for an extended period, Father was in prayer. If she had become the wind and disappeared from his view, Father was in prayer. He’d ask for continued wisdom and strength for ruling Skyrim and how to handle the Thalmor, but then he’d ask for Mother to be protected and to come home safely. He’d ask for her arrows to strike true, for her blades to cut deeply, for her armor to deflect anything coming at her.

I’d sit next him, unless I was in the wind with her, and listen to his pleas. I was the only one of us that dared to do so. Sometimes, I could hear him using the older names. The ones that Mother was bringing back in vogue by being the High Queen. He still went to the Temple, rather than the open fields. The Empire’s ways hadn’t totally left Father, even though it was a bitter and nasty divorce that he started.

He wasn’t really mad that Mother was running into danger once more. He was hurt that she’d left again. Then he’d be a bit upset that he had let her in so far. When she returned, though, or if I had found where she was in hiding for him, that was quickly replaced with a sense of peace and warmth. He understood that she was driven, but he also kept hoping he’d settle her. While she wasn’t settled, he made sure that every one of her items was tended to by the best smiths and leather workers he could find.

Father was proud of his children, though I’m not sure which knew it. Hoag was going to make a fine successor, he’d say to me. Lothar was fiercely loyal and, perhaps to a fault, had a similar temper. Kjorik was good at seeing patterns, especially on the field maps. (Kjorik also looked like Father while the other two were closer Father’s father, Hoag.) Pedr’s talent with stone and metal was improving the city he loved. Freydis had quickly mastered how to take over for either Steward and manage the royal schedules. Ranveig, dear sister… well, I’m sure he was proud. Myself? I think Father was proud of me for trying to walk in Mother’s steps and listen to the Greybeards, but I never got to hear it. Not directly.

Father had as many scars as Mother, but his were different. A lot of those scars aren’t the type that come from battlefields. Lothar told me to not ask. He knew what it was and said that it would just make me draw in more hate than would be healthy for me to have and still control my dragon blood. He said that it would make Mother’s temper fierce and that’s who he learned it from. Not in as many words, but I know what Lothar meant. I’ll take his word for it. If any of us know anger, it’s Lothar. I just know that blades don’t cause those types of scars in the heat of battle.

Mother had said that I needed to be careful of what I let in, as it would carve a runic path like the walls that hide around Skyrim. A fancier way of saying what Lothar said, I suppose. The Greybeards did not state she was wrong when I asked them. Father talked little of his time with the Greybeards, but he also told me to be mindful of my surroundings.

Father was driven by his wounds, both seen and unseen. He was not the warrior Nord leader that drives his armies across the countryside leaving a swath of destruction in his wake, no matter what some folks in Solitude wanted to say. No, that was Mother and Galmar, and Father kept them from lashing out more than once. No one outside the family and some staff knew how often Father was the voice of reason among the three. When we were in the War Room, Father’s tactics were always at minimizing how many would die under his banner.

That’s the wound that I knew cut the deepest, anyway. Father remembered all those men and women he held as their wounds took them, during the Great War and at Markarth. Mother held the same from the Liberation. From when I’d watch them on the wall, those memories of the fallen were one of the things that they shared and drew them close.

There weren’t a lot of laughs for us growing up. Anyone that’s seen the inside of the Palace of the Kings or even Windhelm knows that’s going to be rare. Dark grey stonework. It’s a damned tomb that we all live in. Ysgramor’s tomb-like palace to overlook the actual tombs of his sons. I wouldn’t live anywhere else, though, because this is where the Stormcloaks have been for generations. We managed to have some laughs, just the same, usually with the myriad housecarls that Mother brought with her.

Father’s staff was smaller and more serious than Mother’s staff. Everything around Father was grim, except Mother. Sometimes. Father’s glare hit a couple of her staff regularly. Housecarl Jordis had been raised in Solitude. While she was nice enough to be around and always meant well, she was far more versed in the dance of politics from the Empire than the way Father would handle things. She was also more used to finery and nicer weather from what she would tell us. Housecarl Valdimar earned Father’s ire for being irreverent. He was delightfully fun. You could get in trouble with him around. He was a battlemage out of Morthal, of all places. He probably sharpened his aim on those giant bugs that roam out there. I would.

Chapter Text

Volume 49: Treaties of 4E 217, Part 1

Kyne’s Dragon of the North Winds, 217, Volume 1
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

[Note: While a part of the series, this book has no interjections or notations from Enthir.]

Evening Star in the Palace of the Kings can be a little busy with festivities as the month wears on. It starts to get bitterly cold as the snows come off the river and down from the Sea of Ghosts to the north. In 4E 217, our home became far more active than previous years.

Right as the North Wind’s Prayer was approaching, the priests were coordinating with the stewards before things got really interesting. Several of us were at the tables, watching the normal bustle of thanes and businesses try to get on dockets with either steward. Both Jorlief and Golldir kept focusing on the various priests and giving the political dealings dirty looks. Golldir was obviously displeased with the constant attempts to shift his attention, since Mother was adamant on ensuring that the gods were appeased at all times. The doors went wide and, in a swirl of snowy wind from Windhelm, came guards and jarls. Jorlief sighed and called for my sister, Freydis, to attend him right away.

I don’t know how coordinated it was between them, but it certainly looked intentional on someone’s part. Jarl Korir and his son, Assur, were flanked by a pair of guards in Winterhold livery. Jarl Balgruuf was just behind him, with his daughter, Dagny, and a few guards of The Pale. Last of the group, though with the larger retinue, was Jarl Grey-Mane. Jarl Grey-Mane had a couple of the Companions along with him, in addition to a few Whiterun guards. He was also the only one with a court mage that came along. As soon as they were through the doors, Court Mage Farengar was already moving to the forward residential wings and waving off any guards that started to come near him.

Jorlief had Freydis gathering servants. The guest wings were to be prepared immediately. While Jorlief was now busy with jarls and Golldir was fully coordinating everything for the temples, the onlookers were all full of commentary. I couldn’t hear them from where I was, but I could see that whatever concerns they had just went secondary to whatever brought 3 jarls out to Windhelm. I exchanged glances with my older brothers, then we looked towards our parents.

Father was, as ever, hard to read. He was watching everything with barely any reaction visible. Galmar and Mother were forming his bookends once again as they moved closer to his throne. Mother’s staff was adding to the security around the throne. Next to Galmar, Rayya moved into place. Next to Mother, Argis the Bulwark stood, crossed his arms, and said some small amount of words that actually got a smirk from Mother. Valdimar and Lydia took up positions over by the door to the War Room and our wing. Gregor stood silently near the entry to the kitchens. Calder, Iona, and Jordis weren’t down in the Main Hall, but up in our wing with Ranveig and Loknir.

Freydis was running back to Jorlief’s side, after getting a third group of servants set for the Whiterun contingent, when the doors opened again. Couriers came in just ahead of another group. The couriers were faster and headed straight for Jorlief. From what I could hear, they were arriving with letters from Jarl Law-Giver and Jarl Thadgier for Father. The group behind them was large.

From what I could overhear as they spoke to Jorlief, Thane Erikur of Solitude and Thane Lami of Morthal were leading a group of Bretons from High Rock. The Bretons stood out because they were clad in more metal than most of us would wear, especially with the conditions the way they were outside. Heavy cloaks were over their shoulders, but the metal pieces glinted. It wasn’t full plate or a typical warrior’s plate, but some showy pieces that really caught the eye with reliefs, inlays, and filigree dancing over the edges. Impressive pieces of status. I had heard that High Rock had knights and finery, but this was the first I had got to see anything from there. Each member of the group appeared to have a different symbol emblazoned by their shoulder. I found out later that they were each of different noble trading houses in High Rock.

After Freydis was able to get this second group settled, court seemed to flow back to something vaguely normal until mid-day. A table was moved over by the throne for Father, Mother, and their close staff to use. The hall was quickly filled as all the visitors came down for the meals that the kitchen had managed together on short notice. Hoag and I mingled. Lothar, however, went to stand near Argis. This sudden influx was not welcomed by Lothar. I didn’t notice where Pedr went to, at that point.

Most of the groups retired back to the guest wings. Business could wait a day for everyone to recover from their journeys. The Companions that came with Jarl Grey-Mane remained behind to talk to Hoag further. Lothar joined them, once it was clear there were fewer folks involved.

If we thought that was busy enough, nightfall brought another contingent. This time, the contingent came in a bright scarlet under the metal sheen. This group was even greater in number than the Bretons and even had a standard bearer… the standard of the Empire. Sharp features, like Kyne’s hawks, dominated the group of Imperials. There were a few others mixed into the group, but it was obvious that the Imperials had the postings with more power than the Orcs and Bretons among them. An ambassador with a few advisors was in the middle of the group.

Jorlief and Freydis started coordinating where they would stay in our guest wings. The tables of visitors, priests, wise women, and our own thanes were getting noisy now that the Empire was also present. I started to wonder if this is what it may have been like when the Liberation began.

I came out of my thoughts when I heard Mother state, “Children, attend us.”

Ranveig and Loknir had been kept up in the private wings, but Hoag, Lothar, Pedr and myself had been down in the hall. Pedr had been watching from near the War Room with the housecarls, but came over to the forward table with the rest of us. Both Mother and Father had the unamused court look, but there was something else to it. Mother was the first to quietly speak when we were all at the table.

“Should we need to separate into different rooms for the discussions tomorrow, I would like Lothar with me. Hoag, stick close to Ulfric. Kjorik, Pedr, you may stick close to either discussion that will keep your interest or remain away from the main hall. Do not attempt to mingle, except if the Companions offer training,” she said.

Galmar, to Father’s right, smiled grimly. “Divide and conquer?”

“I think it would make a more powerful statement to have the Empire speak their request in front of all present. Let the Bretons bring back to High Rock how the Empire begs while they are sick and bleeding,” said Father. “If things require a separation, though…” I saw Father’s eyes track to some movement behind us. His voice grew louder, “Ambassador.”

My brothers and I moved to the other side of the table, in formation. Lothar and I by Mother; Hoag and Pedr by Father. As the Ambassador from the Empire came closer with a smile like Orkey’s snakes, I saw Lothar lay a hand on Mother’s shoulder. Whatever he saw, Mother also noticed as I saw her shift to become taller in her seat. The Ambassador’s movements were as if she was floating over the stones of the floor, rather than the heavy footfalls of our warriors.

“High King Ulfric, I come from Cyrodiil to speak with you…” she spoke in soft tones and her words trailed off as Father lifted his hand.

“Not tonight, Ambassador. Our stewards should have informed you that court matters would wait. Relax for the evening after your journey. I saw the servants were already seeing to rooms for your stay. We will talk on the reason for your visit to Skyrim in the morning,” Father said.

As the Ambassador’s smile faltered ever so slightly, Mother added, “You’ve arrived in time for North Wind’s Prayer. Kyne’s wisdom brings you with her snows.” With Mother’s words, the Ambassador’s look went a bit cooler before she departed back to her entourage.

The rest of the evening seemed to go smoothly, though I’m sure there were plenty of words between the assembled at the various tables. Mother and Father watched everything closely, silently. I know when my parents excused themselves, Mother took Father’s arm and walked by his side. You could almost see a dragon guarding a treasure as I had never seen her look so possessive prior to that evening. With Freydis released from assisting the stewards, all five of us trailed behind them.

As we got up to our wing, Argis started briefing the guards and had a schedule set. Galmar overheard and joined him in securing our hall. The number and type of visitors had gotten the housecarls on edge. Valdimar increased the amount of scans in our wing and said he’d take overnight. Iona would remain with the youngest of us in the morning.

The next morning, things were already underway as I woke up. My brothers were all still asleep, but as I got to the hallway, Freydis was already heading to the hall where Jorlief and Golldir had rooms. Argis and Valdimar were in discussion, likely switching out who was awake for the next few hours.

Argis spoke up on seeing me, “Master Kjorik. A few moments.” He conferred with Valdimar briefly. As Valdimar passed me towards his room, he touched my shoulder. No smirking, no joking this morning. Argis resumed, “I would ask you to hold before going to the hall.”

“Because of our visitors?” I asked.

Argis nodded. “Your parents will be ready shortly.” After a pause, he suggested, “Might be wise to wake your brothers. The High King will want Hoag observing.”

Hoag was easy enough to wake. Lothar and Pedr, however, were barely awake by the time Hoag was ready. As we left our room, I saw that the door to my parents’ chamber was wide and Argis was just inside the opening. The guards remained on this side of the door. Looking in their room, I saw Mother was busy with Father’s hair. She was adding more braids that drew attention to the dragon’s teeth that lined the crown. When she finished, Father rose.

“Stormblade, I have something for you,” Father said as he went to one of their wardrobes. “Argis, will you be escorting us?”

“Yes, sire,” was all Argis replied from the doorway.

“Good. I would have you carry her helm and Wuuthrad, then,” Father said as he started to turn from the wardrobe. Mother’s curiosity was evident as Argis stepped further in and she handed him her helm and the axe of legends. Father’s smile turned sly as he walked over to her, while undoing the twine on the package he carried. “This will be more suitable for the morning.”

As the cloth covering fell away, I heard Hoag take a deep breath. Snowy white pelts formed a heavy cloak, with a wolf’s skull for the hood. There wasn’t a mark in the white fur. It was bright against our gray halls and torch light. Along the edges and forming a crown to the wolf skull were hawk feathers dyed a blue to match the Stormcloak banner. Father carefully placed the skull on Mother’s head, then secured the rest on her shoulders. He took her chin in his hand before he spoke again.

“Clan mother should lead us in prayer to Kyne for thanks on the winds, per the old Nord ways. Jora noted what she had found in the old documents. It took her quite some time to find any remaining texts, but her timing could not have been better. We have an opportunity to remove one more shackle the Empire had on our people,” he said.

Mother spoke cautiously, “This will not be just for display. Our ways are not a show.”

“No, the Empire sending the Ambassador they did was a show,” he said. “I will not be swayed as a king they put in place might be. There will be no private discussions at night of any terms. We’ve been married a long time. Too long for them to try this now. You should have no fear of that, Stormblade.

“Your ways have made Windhelm stronger,” he continued. “Skyrim has seen harvests that the Empire has not. Lead our prayers before our visitors. Before you object, your steward Golldir has already planned for your lead. There is more, though.”

Father went back to the wardrobe once more. He came back to Mother with a staff carved with runes and a small container. When Mother took the staff, I could see her cooler exterior starting to warm up again. He took one of the brushes from Mother’s table and came back to her. She looked up from the runes as he stepped in front of her once more.

“You honor me with the braids you weave. Allow me to add to your paints to honor you.” Father opened the container. Within, there was a tint of sapphire blue. “An old Stormcloak warrior paint. It would be an honor to have you represent my ancestors this way as you have in other ways.” He began painting over the lines she had already done with this deeper, darker blue. This paint glinted and looked like scratches of storms along Mother’s face. Somehow, Father was making Mother look even more dangerous. The dragon was present again this morning, but different.

Chapter Text

Volume 50: Treaties of 4E 217, Part 2

Kyne’s Dragon of the North Winds, 217, Volume 2
Kjorik Bovullok Stormcloak, Stormstrike
4E 254

Mother led us from our wing down into the main hall. Father and Argis were close behind her. I noticed that the guards went quiet as we passed this morning. Normally, there would be some chatter between them that you might overhear as they changed shifts or reported on anything seen, but not that day.

The main hall was already gathering quite a crowd with all the visitors that arrived the day before. By the eastern wall, the thanes were in conversation. The visitors were forming small groups near the long tables. Guards were everywhere. Close to the war room on the western side, Golldir and Jora were talking with a large group of priests and devotees.

Golldir’s serious expression broke into a warmer one on seeing Mother. He didn’t smile much more than Mother would, when active in court, but you could see a change in his behaviors. He was the first to move to her side and already had his book ready. I don’t think I had seen Golldir in tailored hides before that morning. It would’ve been easy to mistake it for leather armor, except that there were runic designs etched into the brown leather and it was edged in grey furs.

I could just barely hear him noting how long they had scheduled for her prayers before he began on the introductions of the gathering near Jora. Argis had only paused a moment to view the room before leading the rest of us to the table near the throne. He carefully placed Mother’s helm on her chair, but he kept Wuuthrad at the ready as he stood nearby. When Galmar came down, he arrived with Lothar and Pedr. From what I could tell, most everyone in the hall was watching Mother. After a few minutes, the group around Mother began to move to different positions around the hall.

Mother came to the front of the hall. As she arrived in front of Ysgramor’s throne and stood facing it, she removed her boots. I’m not sure when she may have done it, but there were spirals and circles inscribed on the top of her feet and around her ankles.

On either side of the hall, two of the devotees started to sound hunting horns. Another pair added in drums. Mother turned away from the throne and faced the assembled. They went silent as Mother spoke.

“North Wind’s Prayer will be in the courtyard,” she said. Mother didn’t bother with any other words before she began walking through the hall. Halfway to the doors, a couple of the priestesses on the side of hall sounded hunting horns again. When the hall doors opened to the cold morning wind, a couple hunting calls went up from a couple of the priests.

Mother’s prayers were often out in the fields and usually by herself. The last couple years, a few might join her, but mostly it had been crowds along the walls. Jora’s sermons in the temple had been shifting with the tone towards Mother’s prayers. There were now multiple sermons, for hearth gods and Cyrodillic divines. I had heard that there were now guarded pilgrimages for the Dunmer to go to other shrines outside of Windhelm, though I hadn’t gone on any.

We followed the devotees outside to the courtyard. While Argis and Galmar kept near to us as we moved to stand along the western wall, along with the guards, our visitors stayed close to the doors into the Palace. They began to form a backdrop for the prayers. The entrance to the city was lined with residents of Windhelm.

The start of the prayers was more startling for our visitors than anyone that’s been in Windhelm. We’re used to Mother’s thu’ums that call skyward. We’re even used to the reddish dragon that sometimes comes to roost after her thu’ums. The other jarls didn’t seem to react much when that dragon flew in, but the visitors from High Rock and the Empire started to talk amongst themselves at the sight of a dragon so near. Perhaps the stories hadn’t reached them or they thought they were only rumors.

Drums and horns sounded multiple times as the prayers to Kyne began. Offerings were placed near the fires at the front of the courtyard. While I couldn’t make out the words she spoke to the dragon, I did hear one that sounded like Kyne – Kaan. I suspect she was asking the dragon to spread word among their kind of the offerings being made. I’m not sure how long Mother’s prayers went, but it was definitely long enough that the Ambassador for the Empire started to look rather bored and cold.

[Editorial: I have found in official documentation of this event, from a few sources, that Stormblade’s chanting took a full bell cycle. It was also noted that a few of the other priestesses also went barefoot during the prayers. It is after this North Wind’s Prayer that the resurgence seen in the Nord totemic faiths really began to take hold outside of Eastmarch. It was also noted that Ivarstead began to see far more pilgrims to the Steps. Far more rescues from the beasts along the way, as well. A small shrine of Mara’s Mercy was constructed on the edge of Ivarstead for healing efforts within the following year. –Enthir]

When the prayers subsided along with the sounds of drums, Mother turned to go back in the Palace. There was no other sign that it was complete. Mother left the conclusion to Jora and the others to explain to the crowd. We followed Mother back into the main hall in silence as the visitors moved to allow a path to the doors. The wind pushed in behind us all.

As Mother stepped into her boots at the front of the hall, the kitchens started sending out servants to deliver food to the long tables. Father stood, waiting for Mother, at our table. I doubt she needed the help to transition from this new headdress to her typical bear helm, but Father was doing so just the same. Even as young as I was, I got the impression that this was Father’s way of reminding everyone that the Dragonborn of legends was at his side. The same one that sang in thu’um with him all the way to Castle Dour. The same one that just spoke to a dragon in the courtyard. Father’s sense of the dramatic in an elaborate display of the power that was within our Palace.

Jorlief announced, with meals winding down, that the Ambassador of the Empire was first on the docket. To say she was not pleased would be an understatement. Everyone present could tell that the entire visit was not going as planned.

“High King Ulfric, may we have a private audience,” the Ambassador inquired as she came up to the front.

“No, Ambassador. We have several jarls present, with representation from others. Almost enough for a Moot on the topic, if needed. Whatever you have to request of Skyrim can be heard by all. Now, what does the Empire want this time?” At Father’s words, I saw the jarls begin to talk quietly. Korir was openly amused. Balgruuf had lost some of his displeased look.

“Very well. I bring new trade agreements. The Empire would like to increase the amount of wood and food that are brought through the passes to the northern parts of Cyrodiil,” she said. “The agreements would also…” Her words were lost to the winds that howled in as the main doors to the hall opened.

Another snow squall had started while we were taking meals as flakes of white fluttered around the hall. At least it had held off for the prayers. A courier came in with the snows and spoke briefly with Golldir before heading to our table.

“I bring a letter from The Reach, your Highness,” the courier said as he placed a sealed letter on the table by Father’s hand. “Jarl Silver-Blood sends his regrets on the delay. There had been an increase in Forsworn activity that required Markarth’s gates to be closed for several days.” Father silently nodded. The courier quickly walked back to the main door. After the door closed against the storm once more, we heard the Ambassador clear her throat.

“The agreements would also increase our payment, per the shipment,” she said. “On delivery in Bruma, of course.”

Jarl Vignar Grey-Mane spoke before Father, “In Bruma? The Empire expects us to cart Whiterun grains down to Bruma without any compensation prior to delivery?”

Jarl Balgruuf added, “The old agreements with Whiterun were for half before the shipment was carted, as those passes are prone to accident and banditry.”

Jarl Korir shook his head. “Even Winterhold knows of your plight, Ambassador. I do hope you weren’t thinking we’d ship barrels of salted fish and horker down without any deposits for the shipment ahead of leaving port. Even the East Empire Company provides a better agreement.”

The table with the Bretons was in an animated, if quiet, discussion. The Ambassador kept her eyes on Father, despite the questions being raised. The noise towards the back of the hall, from our thanes, was starting to get notable. The words were not clear, but the tone was not pleasant.

“Ambassador, they raise sound concerns. Your rebuttal? Why should Skyrim accept all risk for the Empire?” Father asked.

“Your Highness, this treaty is for your review. Not your jarls,” she responded coolly.

Jarl Korir laughed loudly at that. “The Empire thinks that? You forget where you are.”

The discussions around the hall were getting louder still. One of the Bretons near Thane Erikur stood up.

“Your Highness, the agreements that several of us have brought from High Rock will be far more mutually supportive,” she said. “We’ve already crafted several arrangements for our shipping concerns with Thane Erikur ahead of today, so they should meet with more approval. We do not have an interest in wood at this time. However, we do have an interest in several food stocks which would have a better offer than what we’ve just heard.”

Father gestured at the table with the Bretons. “What is the competing agreement, then? Hold other treaties. We were informed there were several.”

“We represent several shipping concerns from the Bay and Rivenspire’s north coast. Holding on those that are for our food stocks in exchange, we would offer most shipments of your food stocks on the half prior to shipment and half on delivery basis. There are others that are more on a barter system, but they are our food stocks for your resources,” she replied.”

“Continue on that agreement. What are these bartered items that would be paid for with food from High Rock?” Father asked.”

“They are part of an agreement with Jarl Ravencrone. We would receive shipments of alchemical mixtures and plants on the same ships that arrive in Solitude with Daggerfall ales and hard cheeses.” Unlike the Ambassador, she was addressing everyone. I saw her look over the various tables several times.”

Jarl Balgruuf replied, “These ships… Are they in need of quarantine?”

Thane Erikur nodded. “They have to remain outside of Solitude’s docks for a fortnight to ensure that there are no remaining illnesses to spread. That is why they will be trading in ales and hard cheeses.”

Father gestured vaguely toward the table with the jarls. “Bring the agreements that detail Whiterun grain stocks, if there are any, to Jarl Grey-Mane. Were there any specific to the stocks out of Winterhold?”

The Ambassador spoke up, “Your Highness, what about the agreements that I have brought? We have not gone over all of the details, yet.”

Father simply put a hand on Mother’s, at which she spoke to the Ambassador, “You’ve dismissed our jarls questions and concerns. As such, your treaties are likewise dismissed. If the Empire would like to respond, however, we are all listening.”

The Breton then replied, “There is a request for salt from Winterhold, due to some of the properties it holds particular to that region, but no other stocks.”

Father responded, “Then bring those to Jarl Korir and Jarl Balgruuf. Jarl Korir will need to assess the supply request, while Jarl Balgruuf will need to review the passages for those stocks to arrive in Solitude.”

That was only the beginning of 3 long days of meetings, each one louder than the last. In the end, the only one looking displeased over the events of those days was the Ambassador from the Empire. We didn’t see her again when the Empire sent additional requests.

[Editorial: What Kjorik does not note here, or perhaps was not aware, is the finalized agreements. It was as close to a Moot for those agreements as it could be without actually calling one. The prices that the Empire paid for grains were far higher than they originally intended, as the High Rock traders were negotiating far better deals. The wood, however, was closer to what they originally were requesting, but with less risk to be assumed by Skyrim.

The finalized agreement was that the payment was completed at the border crossings. While it was not quite what the jarls had wanted, the increase in prices along with the shift in location allowed the agreements to go through. It is worth noting that the issues plaguing northern Cyrodiil would continue for another year. However, the sickness that was noted within High Rock started to wane after the arrival of the alchemical supplies. - Enthir]