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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 21/??

[(Anonymous)]

“I arrived at the end of a valley,” Dyce began. “There was mist everywhere; I could barely see my hand in front of my face, but that was Alduin’s doing. When he died, it cleared. The sky was...alight. I could see stars but, the light was different. It was like the aurora but a thousand times brighter, like daylight. And there was a stream there...”

It was like hearing someone describing a dream, rather than a real place. Dyce was no bard, as he had said, and he’d often remember a detail he’d forgotten and go back and add it. He spoke of Shor’s Hall, and the ancient heroes he met within. No one else spoke, everyone seemed to be barely breathing.

Ancient names rolled of Dyce’s lips; Jurgen Windcaller, Ysgramor, and Olaf One-Eye. Dyce did his best to describe them, but to him they were just men. Just Nords. Like all of them. Ulfric’s heart ached. He knew, like all Nords knew, that Sovngarde awaited him, and at times in his life he had wished desperately for it, but it had never felt so real to him as when a Breton stumbled over his words, inadequately trying to describe it.

All the stirring speeches in the world couldn’t compete with the simple truth.

Dyce didn’t talk about Alduin. Ralof had asked for Sovngarde after all, and Ulfric knew every soldier there was considering the possibility he would be seeing for himself what Dyce had described before the next sundown.

He spoke of the food, of the singing and sparring, and of the welcome he’d received. Ulfric hung his head; he had not been made so welcome in his own hall, after all. He could only hope, after all the things he’d done, all the friends he’d betrayed, when his time came he would be judged fit to enter those halls.

Eventually, Dyce ran out of things to say. He shrugged, as if to say he’d done his best. Some people left then, and Ulfric knew the story would be throughout the camp by tomorrow morning, and within a month would be retold across Skyrim. It would become part of the tale of the coming battle; whichever side would win, all would know that the Stormcloaks carried a vision of Sovngarde in their hearts, and fought alongside the only man who had seen it and returned.

Ulfric looked up and realised Dyce was watching him. Ralof leaned over and said something and Dyce shrugged and smiled. They got to their feet, bidding the others goodnight.

Ulfric stepped out of the tent, “Dragonborn, I would speak with you.” He didn’t want him to go just yet.

Dyce nodded and joined Ulfric in the command tent.

“I didn’t break any Nordic traditions by talking about Sovngarde, did I?”

“We’re Nords. Our culture is made of stories. You should feel proud that you’ve added to them. You will not be forgotten.”

He shrugged, “The Dragonborn will not be forgotten. But ‘Dyce’? I’d rather be remembered by people who knew me.” He paused. “I saw High King Torygg in Sovngarde.”

Ulfric did not miss that Dyce had omitted this detail from the story earlier, but he didn’t know how to thank him for it. “I’m glad. The boy behaved honourably and bravely until the last.”

“You had to know he didn’t stand a chance, no matter what rules of combat you adhered to.”

Loyal one moment, insolent the next. As always. And as always Ulfric felt himself being drawn into it. “Of course I did. What would you have me say? I regret killing a good man, I do not regret starting this war.”

Dyce’s shoulders dropped and he sighed, “I wish you hadn’t. We’re going to lay siege to a city tomorrow. Not a fort. People live there. Old men. Children. I’ve bought spiced wine from the markets there, I’ve gotten terribly drunk at their Burning Man Festival or whatever it was. I’ve wasted entire afternoons and countless arrows trying to shoot eagles over the harbour. It’s a city not a bloody battlefield.”

Ulfric stepped up to him and placed his hands on his shoulders and Dyce looked up into his eyes, startled.

“I know you are not a man of war,” Ulfric said. “You play the part well because you must. Let me play my part now; trust me to lead you to Solitude. I am your jarl, and someday I may be your king.”

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 21/??

[(Anonymous)]

" I’ve gotten terribly drunk at their Burning Man Festival or whatever it was."

*passerby!anon cleans soda off of her monitor*

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 21/??

[(Anonymous)]

Another passerby!anon does the same, except with tea.