Since our victory at the main prison camp nearly a week ago, I had been ordering small pockets of men and women to liberate the remaining soldiers still in captivity, and with their hard work, we had cleared a path straight to Windhelm. The next step in the war was to put Ulfric back on his throne, so we would have control of Eastmarch's ports and mines. Once we had that, we would be able to move south, liberate the Rift, and from there, the rest of the eastern provinces.
Three days ago, I had sent a company of soldiers to escort Ulfric to the fort, where he would then ride with me to Windhelm. With me present, the reclamation of his throne might just appear legitimate in the eyes of Skyrim's leaders. Perhaps more of our Nord brothers and sisters would rally behind us.
Seated within my command tent just outside the fort's walls, I rubbed my writing hand until the stiffness went away. I had been writing condolence letters all morning, for the families of all our fallen soldiers. I had discovered that Farister did have someone who would miss him, a niece who had moved to High Rock after her mother—Farister's sister—had passed away. Each letter weighed heavily on my soul; with every word I wrote, my heart sank lower in my chest. I had never met any of these people, and I had to be the one to tell them that their family, their brothers, uncles, fathers, sisters, cousins, had died on the battlefield.
As I dipped my quill into the inkwell, preparing to sign the last letter, the flap to my tent flipped open. I assumed it was Marina, since I had ordered her to tell me when Ulfric's company arrived. I was expecting them any minute now. I turned, seeing that my assumptions were correct, and stood to greet Marina.
"General, there's someone here who wants to see you," she said, her helmet absent from its usual place beneath her arm. "Shall I send him in?"
I nodded. "Of course, Marina. Send him in."
She ducked her head, then turned and left.
While waiting for Ulfric to come see me, I worked to make myself presentable. I knew that Ulfric would not care what state I was in, but I had an image to uphold. I had to appear like I knew what I was doing and not appear like the witless leader I really was.
Back to the tent flap, I combed my fingers through my unruly hair. Gods, why would it never lay flat? I knew I was fighting an uphill battle, but I had to try to at least look halfway decent. As I was tugging my tunic straight for the sixth time, a pair of familiar, warm hands laid on my shoulders, thumbs beginning to knead into the tense knots in my neck. A kiss dropped to the crown of my head, and a soothing voice said, "Hey, you. Working hard?"
I spun around, and instead of seeing Ulfric, I saw my husband. Completely taken aback by his presence, I wasted no time hugging him around his neck. He hugged me back, taking me in his arms and spinning me around.
When he set me down, I kissed him on the lips and caressed his stubbled cheek. "What are you doing here? What about the children?"
"I wanted to be here for the march, Ylva. The children will be fine."
"Who's watching them?"
"Tilma. She was more than happy to babysit for a few days." Vilkas tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Besides, the children wanted me to come see you. They're worried, just as I am." His hand moved from my cheek so his thumb could swipe over my forehead. "You've got that crease in your brow. What's troubling you?"
"Not now, Vilkas. If you're here, then that means Ulfric's here, and I have to greet him."
"I know, but I was hoping to have some time with you." He kissed my forehead. "You've been so busy. I understand why you've been busy, but...."
"When we seize Windhelm, I promise I'll spend as much time as you want with you. I may be the General, and the Dragonborn, but I'm your wife first."
Smiling, he pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. I giggled a little, unable to hide the smile on my face.
"Now, dear one," he said, opening the tent flap for me, "shall we greet Ulfric?"
Together, we stepped into the noon sunshine. The camp around us bustled with activity. Men and women carried weapons to be tempered by the smithy, guards patrolled the walls, soldiers sparred with wooden staves as well as real swords, and archers practiced their aim on straw training dummies near the ridge behind the camp. Thankfully, due to the excellent healers in our ranks, everyone within the camp was well enough to march on Windhelm. Everyone would be coming with us when we were ready to go.
Watching over the Stormcloaks in the training yard was none other than Ulfric. Gone were the ordinary clothes I had gotten used to seeing him wear. He was wearing his old armor once again, complete with the long fur cloak draped across his shoulders. Two braids had been styled into his hair, the ends hanging by each ear. His war axe hung at his waist, and his big hands clasped behind his back. He turned as Vilkas and I approached, a light in his eyes as he looked at me.
"Well done, Ylva," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've done a fine job as our leader. I see that the men are already preparing for the march."
"Yes, sir. I ordered them to be ready when you arrived. Time is of the essence, after all."
"Indeed. At this rate, we'll be ready to depart in an hour's time, and we'll be within the city before nightfall."
"That's the hope, anyway."
"Can we go someplace more private to discuss our plan once we get into the city?"
I nodded. "My command tent is this way. If you'll follow me...."
The three of us headed back to the command tent, and I signaled for Marina to join us when I saw her. Together, we convened around the war table, Vilkas and I standing together while Ulfric and Marina stood opposite one another.
"The man who now sits upon my father's throne is a war veteran by the name of Brunwulf Free-Winter," said Ulfric, his hands still clasped behind his back. "A good man, but a weak one. He never wanted to become Jarl, but there were no other worthy replacements. We may be able to intimidate him into stepping down. That would be the easiest thing. How we go about intimidating him, however, is the true question."
"What's your suggestion?" I asked. "I mean, we're going to march straight into the city either way. Whether we do so with an army behind us or just you and me is up to you."
"As I said, Brunwulf is a weak man. He will be intimidated with just you at my side. However... having an army at our back will make our march appear more legitimate. More than likely, a host of thirty or so men will scare him off the throne."
"Or it will anger him," said Vilkas, hand stroking his chin. "You said he is also a good man. If that is the case, then he will believe that your claim to the throne will just usher in more prejudice. He may do anything to stop you from doing that."
"He can challenge me to a duel for all I care. We all know how that ended for Torryg."
Marina huffed. "You killed a defenseless boy in unfair combat. Brunwulf is a hero. He knows how to handle himself in a fight."
"What if he challenges Ylva?" Vilkas glanced at me before taking my hand in his. It was as though he were afraid I would run off if he was not holding onto me.
Ulfric let out a hearty laugh. My face screwed up at the mirthlessness in his tone. "Brunwulf, challenge Ylva, the Harbinger, the Dragonborn, to a duel? He might as well throw himself into the sea with the King's Palace's safe tied to his ankles."
"But if he does," pressed Vilkas, "she will have to accept his challenge. She won't be able to get out of it. She'll have to kill him or die trying. I won't have that."
"Boy, you must not have been listening to me earlier—"
"Do not call me boy, Ulfric." Vilkas's eyes had hardened, and his lips were dangerously thin. "I'm just trying to think through every contingency. That's what I do best."
"Sounds to me like you overanalyze."
Knowing that Vilkas was mere moments away from exploding, I intervened. "That was uncalled for, Ulfric," I said, now feeling just as angry as Vilkas looked. "If you continue to patronize my husband, you'll have to find yourself a new General to help you take Windhelm back."
"Vilkas is right, though," said Marina, and I silently blessed her for taking my side. "To prove his strength, Brunwulf may very well challenge Ylva to a duel."
Vilkas gave Marina a grateful nod. "Thank you, Marina. If that happens, we have to be prepared."
"And we will be," I said. "We'll be ready for whatever comes our way."
Vilkas gave my hand another squeeze. "Anything else?"
Ulfric sighed, knowing that he was outnumbered and overruled. "After we reclaim Windhelm, we should throw some sort of celebration. It will boost troop morale and give them a well-earned night of rest. As long as those dirty Imperials haven't—"
One withering look from Marina, and he stopped himself.
"What I meant was, as long as the Empire's troops stationed in Windhelm haven't depleted the food and drink stores, we will have more than enough for a party."
I nodded slowly, knowing that I had to trust Ulfric's judgement on this. "If that's what you believe will work, then we'll do it." I turned to Marina. "Make sure everyone is ready to move within the hour. We have to reach Windhelm before sundown."
Marina pressed her arm to her chest. "Yes, General."
I gave her a look. "How many times?"
She shook her head. "I mean, of course, Ylva." With that, she left.
Ulfric straightened, then folded his arms across his massive chest. "I should leave as well. There's more of this fort I want to see before we march out. I believe there are improvements that can be made."
I nodded. "Be my guest to look around. No one will stop you."
He, too, then left, making sure to close the tent flap behind him.
Vilkas and I were alone.
My husband turned to me, a smile on his face as he pulled me into a deep, meaningful kiss. I sighed against his lips, arms snaking around his neck, fingers carding through his thick hair. I closed my eyes as he deepened the kiss even more, my heart thumping hard within my breast.
"What in the world are you doing?" I gasped when he finally pulled back for air.
"We have about an hour before we leave, which means about an hour of no interruptions. I intend to make the most of that time."
I rolled my eyes. "Are you that desperate?"
"Like a man dying of thirst." He kissed me again, this time just a peck on the lips. "My dear Ylva, you have no idea how much I've missed you."
Taking him gently by the hand, I led him to my bed in the corner of the tent, and we both sat down on it. "I have an idea, my love," I said as I kissed him back. "Because I've missed you just as much."
"Oh, dear one...." And with that, he wasted no time kissing me again.