I awoke long before dawn, long before we were to march. I knew I would never get back to sleep, so I tossed aside my covers and slipped into my boots. The wolfskin tickled my calves as I shoved my feet into the supple leather. Then, grabbing my wolfskin cloak, I stepped out of my tent and into the chilly air.
The fires had long since burned down to ashes, and all around the camp rose up the quiet snores and heavy breathing of slumbering soldiers. I tiptoed around the tents and headed for the edge of our encampment. I had to find a quiet place to clear my mind.
When I reached the outskirts of the camp, I discovered I was not the only one who could not sleep. The solider who first started the singing—I did not even know his name—sat on a stump, back to me and eyes on the slowly brightening horizon. He turned when I snapped a twig under my foot.
"Sorry," I said, crouching down next to him. He started to stand up and offer me the stump, but I waved him off and sat down on the ground. "Can't sleep either, huh?"
He shook his head. "I never can sleep before battles. The others think it's strange I don't drown myself in ale until I pass out, but drinking before a fight never bodes well."
"I never got your name earlier."
"Farister Littleley."
My brow knitted together. "How does a Nord like yourself end up with a Breton name?"
"My parents were killed by the Thalmor when I was just a baby. This was before the Great War, but the Dominion was still out in force, especially in Haafingar, where I was born. They killed my parents and burned the house to the ground. By some miracle, they didn't find me in my cradle, so when a Breton family coming from High Rock saw the house and heard my cries, they were able to rush in and save me. They adopted me and gave me a Breton name."
"I'm sorry."
"That's why I fought for the Stormcloaks, and why I fight for you now. Those... damn elves took everything from me, and that wasn't enough for them." Farister tore his gaze from the horizon and turned to me. "They took everything from you, too, so I hear."
I nodded. "Fifteen years ago, almost."
"How did you find the courage to keep living?"
Gaze lowered to the ground, I gave a half-hearted shrug. "I couldn't let my parents' sacrifice be in vain. They died so I could live. It's not my right to decide when I die. That belongs to the gods."
"Are you afraid of death?"
"No. I've died before. I saw the glory of Sovngarde, and I readily await the day I leave this world and join my parents in that beautiful place."
He sat silent for a while, a brooding look on his face. "For a moment, I thought you said you'd died before."
"I did say that."
"How...?"
I looked up and saw the shocked look Fairster had on his face. I fought off a smile and said, "After the battle, I'll tell you everything. For now..." Groaning, I got to my feet and shook the dust off my cloak, "we have a fight to prepare for."
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Surrounded by my most trusted soldiers, I watched as Thalmor after Thalmor fell off the wall, picked off by Logen and Seredia. I was amazed that we had only needed two archers to eliminate the guards overseeing the gate. I was even more amazed that the rest of the Thalmor had yet to raise the alarm. Amazed, but relieved.
I turned to address the other men and women behind me. They were already split into their groups, with each of their leaders standing at the front, with the exception of the group I was to lead, for they stood beside me. "Remember, we're going in quietly," I whispered as the last guard fell. "Take out the guards watching over the prisoners first, then arm and free our brothers and sisters. Once we have enough of them freed, we'll let the Thalmor know we're here."
Fairster gripped the handle of his battleaxe tighter. "For my family."
"For all our families," said Ralof.
"For Skyrim," said Marina. Her gray eyes were as hard and sharp as a steel sword. "We follow your lead, General."
I nodded once, then motioned for us and the dozen other men and women with us to rush the gate.
We broke the lock and heaved the door open as quickly and quietly as possible. Slipping in, we shut the gate behind us and split up in our groups. I led the first, Marina led the second, Ralof the third, and a seasoned Imperial Legate named Aquitor Velvan led the last group. We fanned out to find where they were keeping the prisoners. One large group of intruders was bound to attract more attention, so we had decided long before we marched to keep in smaller groups.
I led my group towards the east wall, and before long, we came across iron-barred cages filled to capacity with Stormcloak prisoners. Each cage was guarded by two Thalmor soldiers, and they outnumbered us four-to-one.
"How are we going to get past all of them without raising an alarm?" asked Fairster. "We can't stop all of them."
I had not counted on so many guards surrounding each cage. It did not matter now, though. We were in the thick of things, and we had to fight.
"I'll draw them away," I said, unsheathing my sword. "The rest of you free the prisoners. Find the armory and raid it."
"No, General, you can't." Fairster grabbed my elbow. "Even you can't defeat that many Thalmor guards. We need you."
"I'll only engage them if I have to. Just trust me. We don't have much time before the sun rises and we lose the cover of night."
"But—"
"This one trusts the General," said Do'zahr, one of the few Khajiit warriors we had amongst the Stormcloak ranks. "We have our orders."
I gave Do'zahr a thankful nod before easing my arm from Fairster's grip. "Trust me."
"I trust you, General." He sighed. "I just don't want you to be killed."
"She can't be killed," said the final member in our group, a young Bosmer lass named Faerie. For someone so small and thin, she was deadly with a blade and an invaluable fighter. She gave me a smile. "We can handle this, General. Just keep yourself safe."
"Same to you. Don't do anything reckless." I gave them all one final look before creeping away, slinking in the shadows like a thief in the night. Once I was far enough away from my soldiers—but still close enough for the Thalmor to hear me—I used my Throw Voice Shout to hurl an insult at the guards and draw them away.
"Who said that?!" called one, drawing his sword. He motioned for half of the guards to follow him, and as one, they started prowling towards the sound.
Meanwhile, I was crouched twelve yards away, trying not to smile. "Zul, mey GUT!"
"Hey, skeever butt!"
Every solider's back stiffened, faces bent with indignation. "Who is that?" They continued to circle around, looking for the intruder. I kept them distracted while also watching for my comrades. They had subdued the guards by their cages, and were now releasing the prisoners. They armed them with the weapons we had carried in with us, then led them away to help release the others. I took that as my cue to circle back and join them. Hopefully, I had kept the soliders busy long enough that the other groups had found and released their prisoners. We still had to take the fort in the middle of the encampment.
I rendezvoused with my men, finding myself in the center of everyone's attention. All the freed prisoners gasped and stared at me with awe. Murmurs of the Dragonborn began to circle through the men and women, and all were trying to get a look at me.
"We don't have time for this," I whispered. "It won't be long before the Thalmor realize what's happened. We need every able-bodied soldier to fight with us and take down this fort. Once we do that, we'll clear a path straight to Windhelm, and we'll be one step closer to winning this war."
"We're with you, Dragonborn," said one of the men closest to me. "Just tell us what we need to do."
"Arm yourselves and prepare."
"PRISONER ESCAPE!" screeched a voice from behind us. "The prisoners have escaped! Sound the alarm!"
Seconds later, a bell started ringing. Torches flared to life, and a cacophony of voices and clanking metal rose in the air. We did not have much time now.
"The other men outside the gate will be moving in shortly," I said, "but we still have a hard fight ahead of us." I whipped out my sword. "Sons and daughters of Skyrim, to me!"
Behind me, all the soldiers drew their weapons. Fairster came to stand beside me, a gleam in his eye. "For our families!" he cried.
"For Skyrim!" said Faerie.
"For the world!" said a Breton woman standing at my other shoulder.
"Victory or Sovngarde!"
With that, we charged into the fray.
Men and women armored in gold came streaming out of the fort, like ants from their hill. They bore snarls on their faces and murder in their eyes. I clashed swords with a woman over a head taller than me, and she had the nerve to spit in my face while we were locked in battle.
"You miserable cur," she hissed, kicking me in the shin. I yelped and spun away, dodging a blow from another Thalmor in the process. The first came at me with a swipe aimed at my neck, but I rolled away just in time. I parried the next attack, got to my feet, and used my Voice to knock her and three others off their feet. They went sailing into the wall behind them and crumpled to the ground, never to move again. I had no time to revel in my small victory, for my men needed my help. Without a second to catch my breath, I moved to the next skirmish.
I saved Do'zahr from a Thalmor's sword strike, then moved to help Faerie take down two men at once. I screamed as I beheaded two soldiers at once, spinning right back around to gut a third. Thalmor were everywhere, and I was beginning to fear that we were horribly outmatched.
The battle raged on well after sunrise. All around me lay dead soldiers on both sides. Blood coated my blade and soaked into my cloak. My hair stuck to my forehead with sweat, and every muscle in my body ached. My movements were slowing, my throat hurt from Shouting so much, and I feared that I would collapse if I had to fight for much longer.
I almost fell to the ground with relief when the Thalmor finally conceded. All around me, the men erupted in cheers. We had done it. We had actually won.
Marina set to work rounding up the remaining Thalmor and detaining them until we could decide what to do with them. Ralof took a squadron into the fort to inspect the goods and clear out any elves who may have been hiding. I remained outside to oversee whatever needed to be done.
Fairster approached me as I surveyed the carnage. I gave him a small, tired smile as we stood side-by-side. "We did it."
"I knew we would. We had you leading us."
I scoffed. "You don't have to flatter me, Fairster."
"It's not flattery." He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean that."
Marina, Benor, and a few others gathered up another group of Thalmor and herded them towards the cages. Ben hissed at one of the Thalmor soldiers, threatening him if he stepped out of line one more time.
Fairster cleared his throat after a moment of silence. "Didn't you say you were going to tell me about how you died and came back?"
I chuckled. "I didn't expect you to remember that. A promise is a promise, isn't it?" I took a breath, preparing to tell my story. "Well—"
I did not get a chance to say anymore than that before Fairster pushed me into the ground. My head struck cobblestone, and my sight and hearing went dark. I could not tell what was going on, only that there was a heavy weight against me and someone was yelling.
When I regained my senses, I sat up as quickly as possible. Marina had her sword in a Thalmor's back, and the man fell to his knees. Benor and the other soldiers were watching their prisoners with eagle eyes, just daring one to step out of line.
And Fairster lay beside me, gasping as blood poured out of a wound in his side.
I shook my head and pressed my hands to his wound. "Don't you dare die on me, Fairster. I need a good man like you by my side."
He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth and onto the ground below. "I... I'm sorry, General. I... truly am."
"Don't be sorry. You saved my life. Thank you."
"Well, you... you have a family to... to live for. I don't."
"What about those Bretons who adopted you?"
"They're all dead. There's... no one left for... me to care about." He coughed again. "My parents are... waiting for me. In Sovngarde...." His eyes were glazing over, but he was fighting. He was not ready to let go just yet. "Tell me... about it."
I blinked, and tears spilled down my face. "It's as beautiful as the legends say. The sky is every shade of purple you can imagine. Flowers line the pathways to Shor's Hall. Creeks burble down mountainsides, and the grass there never withers. There is no snow, but it's not too hot. It's just right for us Nords. And the singing... gods, the singing is amazing. You can hear the men and women singing battle songs from inside Shor's Hall, and it sounds more beautiful than anything here on Nirn...." I continued talking about Sovngarde, holding onto Fairster's hand as tightly as I could. I wanted to beg him to stay, to hold on until we could find him a potion, but it felt selfish. The look of awe he bore on his paling face told me everything I needed to know: he was ready to die.
"Soon, you'll know all about it," I said, trying not to show just how grieved I was. "You'll see your parents. You'll see my parents, too."
"What... what are their names? I... I want to thank them for... raising such a... wonderful woman."
I choked back a sob. "Tolvar and Aldia. Those are their names."
He nodded, spitting up more blood. "Thank you, Ylva."
"No, Fairster. Thank you. We'll win this war for you."
"I... I know you will." Then, with a smile on his face, Fairster Littleley slipped from this world and into the next.