Stalemate.
After the celebration in Windhelm, the war had stalled. We had expanded as far to the east as we could, and had decided the next move would be to make our way to Solitude. Unfortunately, the Thalmor had a strong front built out west, and we were unable to get past Whiterun Hold. The enemy had forts, camps, and strongholds erected, with a surplus of men and supplies in each of them. We had no way of getting enough supplies to fight them without Falkreath's help. The Jarl there had thus far refused to offer his aid.
So we were at a stalemate.
In a way, I was grateful. The troops did not need me on the front lines, so I was free to stay at home with my family for the time being. I made the plans—with help from Marina—and sent couriers to relay the orders to the soldiers. By day, I was the Dragonborn General.
But at night, I was simply Ylva, mother of two, wife, and Harbinger of the Companions.
I made my rounds through Jorrvaskr, having just finished the evening meal. Tyra had retired to her room for the night. She was only a few months away from delivering her child, and this pregnancy had taken a lot out of her. I pitied her, but she was a strong woman. She would be okay.
Still, I wanted to help her in any way I could.
I poked my head into the room, waving at her as she sat up in bed. "How are you feeling?"
She sighed and rested a hand on the curve of her belly. "I'm tired. The little one has been really active these last few weeks."
"Have you and Farkas thought of any names yet?"
Smiling, Tyra beckoned me into the room with her. I sat down beside her, putting an arm over her shoulders. "Well," she said, "we have been going back and forth about what the baby will be. If it's a girl, as Farkas suspects, we want to name her Tovanna."
"And if it's a boy?"
"If it's a boy, we're naming him Kensley."
"That's a very strong name."
She nodded. "We thought so, too. Whatever it is, we'll be happy." She rubbed her hands over her stomach. "I can't wait to meet the child, Ylva."
"Me, either. I hope we can have this war won before it arrives, though." I patted her shoulder, offering her a weak smile. "So don't go into labor any day soon, all right?"
She chuckled. "I'll do my best."
I stood from the bed. "Get some rest, sister. I'll see you in the morning."
She reclined on the bed, sighing as her head hit the pillow. "If you see my husband, send him down, would you?"
"Last I checked, he was putting your children to bed. I'm sure he'll be in shortly."
"Thank you."
I left, shutting the door behind me. As I walked down the hall towards the children's room, Vilkas intercepted me. "Can I ask a favor, love?"
"What do you need?"
He reached behind his head, undoing the leather tie he had around his hair. Since I had been gone for so long, Vilkas had let his hair grow out. Instead of hitting him just below his jaw, as it normally did, the ends now brushed over his shoulders. He shook his hair out with his hand, then gave me a sheepish look. "Will you cut my hair for me?"
I smiled, resting my hand to his chest. "Of course. Let's put the children to bed first."
Together, we walked into the bedroom. Embla was scratching something out on paper, and Jergen sat in his chair, book in his hands. When he saw us, he jumped out of his chair and strode to Vilkas. He held the book for my husband to see, pointing directly at some word. "Papa, what's this word?"
Vilkas took the book from his hands, kneeling down beside him. "This word? It's 'threatened,' Jergen."
"What's that mean?"
"It means that something could happen that would put someone or something else in danger. Like a loose rock on a cliff could fall and hurt someone walking underneath it. There's no guarantee that it will happen, but it could. Do you understand?"
He nodded. "Sort of. Will you read the story to me?"
Vilkas closed the door and glanced at the cover. "Kolb and the Dragon, hmm? This was the first book I read after I learned how to read. It was my childhood favorite."
"Read it, Papa!" said Embla, putting aside her drawing and rubbing her charcoal-covered hands on her dress. "Please!"
Vilkas stood, carried the book with him towards the chair between the children's beds, and took a seat. Both Embla and Jergen settled at his feet, staring at him with intent.
"Won't you join us, love?" Vilkas asked me.
"Of course I will." I dragged another chair and sat down. Within moments of me sitting, Embla got off the floor and crawled into my lap. Jergen copied her actions with Vilkas, and I could not help but chuckle at them. I brushed my hand over my daughter's head, kissing her temple.
After clearing his throat, Vilkas began reading, and as soon as he came to the first choice in the book, the children were arguing about which route to take. Despite their bickering, I laughed.
It was so good to be home.
To satisfy the children, Vilkas read both versions that they wanted, then we put them to bed. I gave them each a kiss on the forehead, then left. After that, Vilkas and I went to our room, where I grabbed the scissors while he grabbed a chair.
"How long has it been since I cut your hair?" I asked him as I started snipping. "Two months?"
"More like three. Since you've been going all over Skyrim to fight in some battle or other."
I knew he did not mean it, but the tone in his voice made him sound displeased. "You know I can't help that."
"I know, Ylva. I know. I miss you, is all."
"And I miss you. I'm just grateful to be home."
"Do you know how long you'll be able to stay?"
"Until they need me. That's all I can tell you."
He sighed, and we lapsed into silence. Bits of dark hair littered the floor around my feet, and the sound of scissors cutting through hair was the only sound passing between us.
"You know I would change it if I could."
Again, he sighed. "I know, but..."
I stopped what I was doing when he did not continue. "But what?"
"I'm just worried that something's going to happen to you. Every general we've had in the last decade has ended up dead, captured by the enemy, or on the run."
"Vilkas, I've spent the last fifteen years running from the Thalmor. I'm finally taking a stand against them."
"I understand that avenging your parents means a lot to you, and I want them to get the justice they deserve, but would they want you to throw away your life for them? They died so you could live."
I put the scissors down and picked up a brush. I smoothed out the ends of his hair, making sure I didn't miss anything.
"Ylva, answer me."
I stopped what I was doing and scoffed. "They didn't deserve it, Vilkas. They should've lived long lives. Why should their murderers get to have what they can't?"
He turned in the chair, wrapping his hands around my wrists. "You're not answering my question. Would they want this?"
I dropped my head, much like a child would after being caught doing something wrong. "No, they wouldn't."
"Ylva, I am in no way asking you to give up this fight. I'm just asking you to be careful. I don't want you to be hurt."
I kissed his forehead, closing my eyes for just a moment. "I'll be careful, dear. Don't worry about me." Then, I pulled my wrists from his grip and looked him over. "I think I'm done."
He stood up, wasting no time in ripping his shirt off and shaking it out. "Gods, I hate that feeling."
I swept the discarded hair into a pile and dumped it in a waste bucket. "What feeling?"
"The scratchy feeling you get when hair falls down your back."
I laughed at him. He could be so dramatic when he wanted to be. "Oh, Vilkas."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What?"
Still chuckling, I walked around to his back and helped him by scraping away any remaining hair stuck to his back. When I was done, I kissed his shoulder blade. "I love you."
He turned around, grabbing my biceps and bringing me into a kiss. "And I love you, Ylva."
-------
The letter came the next morning.
Marina and I stood around the map-strewn table in Dragonsreach's upper level, positioning and repositioning the wooden models of our troops as we discussed our next move. No matter what we did, though, required us to somehow get Falkreath's Jarl's aid in the war effort. That was seeming more and more unlikely as the days went on.
But then, one of our couriers came dashing up the stairs, a piece of white parchment in his hands. He slapped it on the table in front of Marina, then doubled over and gasped for breath.
"Soldier, what is this?" asked Marina.
"Letter... from... Falkreath's Jarl, Legate," he said, standing upright once he caught his breath. "One of his personal message boys handed this to me. He said it was important."
"Did he say anything else?"
"No, ma'am. He seemed pretty scared."
Marina handed the letter to me. "If it's important, you should read it."
I broke the seal and unfolded the paper. The letter read:
Dragonborn,
For too long I have held off my aid to your war effort. It has come to my attention that it would be most beneficial to be on the winning side of this war. I ask of you to come speak with me personally about our options. I have heard of your legendary negotiation skills, and hope that you and I can reach a swift agreement. Please come as soon as you can. The Thalmor know nothing of this letter, and if they found out, it would mean my head.
Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath
I handed the letter to Marina after reading it. "What do you think?"
After skimming over the letter, she set it down and fixed me with a hard look. "It seems to me that we might just win this war."
For the first time in a very long time, my face broke into a real smile. "Then I have to leave immediately. We can't afford to wait around for another chance."
Marina nodded, then turned to the courier patiently waiting close by. "Go gather up six volunteers to go with the General. She'll need an armed escort. Pick the best."
"I'll only need to find five, ma'am." He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "I'll be the first volunteer."
Marina nodded at him. "Good man. Now go."
With that, he spun on his heel and took off down the stairs.
"I should go with you," she asked me when we were alone.
I shook my head. "Just in case negotiations fall through, I need someone here working. You're the only one I trust, Marina."
Judging by the look on her face, she wanted to argue with me, but after serving alongside me for this long, she had learned how to pick and choose her battles. "How soon do you expect to leave?"
"As soon as I say goodbye to my family. I have my satchel and saddlebags packed already."
"That's... resourceful of you."
"I never know when I may be called to the front lines, and if running from the Thalmor has taught me anything, it's to be ready to leave at a moment's notice."
"I won't keep you from your family, then. Gods be with you, Ylva."
"And with you, my friend."
Within the hour, we were riding out of Whiterun. Saying goodbye to my family had been hard, but they knew I had to do this. For the first time in a month, we had a chance to break the stalemate.
We kept our pace gentle, not wanting to push the horses too hard in case we had to make a swift retreat later. The six men in my company, half former Stormcloak and half Legionnaires, made sure that our ride was an enjoyable one. They passed jokes around, told stories, and laughed. I joined in every now and then, but I felt that my silence would be best. Let them cut up and have fun. I would be the responsible one.
At noon, we stopped at a stream to let the horses drink. We stretched our legs, then sat down for a meal of fruit and loaves of bread. I took the quiet time to prepare for the negotiations. I had to make sure to be fair to Siddgeir, while also making sure that our needs were met.
The quiet did not last long.
The first indication that something was wrong was the horses' shift in behavior. They shook their heads and pawed at the ground, ears flat against their heads. Kes was the worst; he squealed and pulled at his lead rope keeping him tied to a nearby tree. I jumped up to calm him down, taking the time to untie his lead.
That was when it happened.
Like magic, more than a dozen Thalmor officers clad in golden armor came racing towards us on horseback. We scrambled for our weapons, but with the noise, our horses were going crazy. Kes got away from me and took off, but not before I was able to grab my sword from the saddlebags.
Within seconds, we were under attack. I set my feet as one of the Altmer soldiers crossed blades with me. I snarled, kicking his knee and ducking under his arm. I lopped his head clean off his soldiers, moving onto the next fight before his body even hit the ground.
I tackled one man as he was about to strike one of my soldiers down from behind. I planted my knee into his chest, ready to deliver the death blow, but one of his comrades knocked me off him and crossed blades with me. I pushed back, screaming in his face as the strain made my arms shriek in pain.
Around me, my men yelled battlecries. Some of the horses broke away from their leads, following after Kes. The one who were not strong enough were killed by the Thalmor.
We had no escape.
I had to think fast, before my men were killed. We were not going to win this fight. We were outnumbered and outmatched. There was no need for their lives to be lost today.
"Wait! Stop!" I cried, and by some miracle, everyone stopped.
One of the Thalmor still on horseback rode up to me, sneering down at me. "What?" he asked, as though he were talking to a dog.
"What is it that you want?"
"That's simple. We want you."
My throat tightened. I had just promised Vilkas nothing would happen to me. I had promised him I would be careful. And now here I stood, faced with an impossible choice.
"If I go with you, will you let my men go?"
Behind me, my troops screamed, "No!"
I looked over my shoulder, shaking my head. "Please."
The man on horseback chuckled. "Come with us."
With the weight of the world on my shoulders, I dropped my sword. "I surrender myself."
Two of the Thalmor officers tied my wrists together, and a third bound a gag around my mouth. I looked behind me, at the disbelieving looks on my men's faces. I shook my head again, pleading with them silently.
The Thalmor lifted me onto the backs of one of their steeds, the woman riding behind me ensuring that my bonds were secure. I kept my eyes on the distant horizon and prayed to the gods that my husband could forgive me for what I had done.
The leader of the Thalmor tied my sword to his saddle, looking at it with a sparkle of glee in his eye. No doubt my sword would be hanging on the Embassy's wall within the week. Then, kicking his heels into his horse's side, he snapped his fingers.
And the last I saw of my men as we rode away was the deep red smiles carved into each of their necks.