Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Twenty-One

In all honesty, I could not blame them. If I were not standing right next to Ulfric, I would not believe it, either.

We marched across the bridge, the footsteps of the troops behind us heavy and loud. The guards on the bridge moved out of our way when they saw us coming, needing no prompting from Marina. All she had to do was raise a hand when we reached the massive front gates, and the men standing there opened them without question.

Windhelm was always bustling, regardless of the time of day. It was no surprise to me that the Stone Quarter was filled with men and women alike making their way to the inn for a drink. Dunmer moved between the crowds of Nords, as if trying to slip by unnoticed. A few children raced through the streets, even, their parents nowhere to be seen. All that activity stopped, though, when we came parading through. People carrying loads of firewood or other goods dropped them. Eyes grew wide, jaws dropped, and one poor woman nearly fainted.

As we made our way through the crowds, whispers of my name, Ulfric's, and Marina's surrounded us. Vilkas took my hand in his as we pushed past the masses, interlacing my fingers with his. He knew how much I hated being the center of attention, and how I hated being viewed as some sort of goddess incarnate. His touch reminded me that he was with me, and he was not going to let me ride this out alone.

I was so thankful for him.

Mounting the steps leading to the Palace of the Kings, most the soldiers stayed behind, while a dozen or so joined Marina, Ulfric, Vilkas, and myself as we continued forward. My heart thumped in time with the steady pounding of marching footsteps. My palms became slick with sweat, and my breaths came in shallower gasps. Vilkas gripped my hand tighter.

Before us, the doors to the Palace swung open on well-oiled hinges. Ulfric came first, Vilkas and I only two steps behind him. Our cloaks billowed as we came inside. I set my jaw, curls bouncing in time with my gait. It was time.

Upon the throne sat Brunwulf Free-Winter. His steward stood next to him, as did two Imperial soldiers. He wore a crown upon his head, and he lounged in the throne as though he had done so his whole life. On his face was not an expression of fear, but an expression of boredom. It was as though he knew we were coming, or had expected it.

"Your short reign is at an end, Brunwulf!" said Ulfric, his deep voice echoing in the long, stone hall. "That throne belongs to me!"

Brunwulf stood from his seat. "It doesn't belong to you, Ulfric. Not anymore."

I let go of Vilkas's hand and moved to stand in front of Ulfric. "Please, Brunwulf, step down. This doesn't have to end in bloodshed."

"How can I let a man like... him," He pointed at Ulfric, tone laced with venom, "sit on this throne? He has ripped Skyrim apart with his aspirations. And now he has you following blindly in his schemes!"

"This isn't his scheme; it's mine. I'm here to take back our land and drive the Thalmor out for good."

Stepping down from his throne, Brunwulf approached me. He drew his sword of his belt, pointing the tip at me as he came closer. "If this is truly your cause, then it is you I must duel."

"No!" said Vilkas behind me. I whipped my head around to see both Ralof and Benor holding him back. He fought against them, desperation on his face. "Ylva, you can't accept!"

"Nord custom dictates she cannot back down now." Brunwulf began pacing, his sword's tip dragging the ground. It made a horrible rasping sound against the stone floor. "What will it be, Sky-Shatterer?"

I swallowed, licking my dry lips. The hand around my sword hilt tightened. "You don't have to act brave, Brunwulf. We don't want trouble."

"It's much too late for that, I'm afraid. Draw your blade, or I will be forced to kill you."