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What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 6/??

Date: 2013-02-07 09:45 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Dyce was gone for two weeks, and he returned empty-handed.

“I told you Balgruuf would come around,” he said to Galmar.

“Not so fast,” Dyce said sharply. “There are conditions attached to Balgruuf’s co-operation.”

“I told you to deliver an axe, not to open negotiations.” Ulfric never knew how much Balgruuf actively suspected about his contact with the Thalmor, but ever since the Great War, the other Jarl had barely tolerated him. Easy for him to say; he had his family safe under his own roof.

“I am a Thane of Whiterun,” Dyce said. “Balgruuf is both my friend and my Jarl. Besides.” He took a deep breath, “If we can’t provide Whiterun with what they ask for we won’t be able to persuade anyone else, either.”

He was so intense, this little Breton. Ulfric had missed it at the peace conference, but when he actually had something to say he said it clearly and forcefully, and left no doubt that he was behind every word he said. It was irritating in one way but refreshing in another, and Ulfric could picture him browbeating Balgruuf into letting him cage a dragon above his palace all too easily.

And now he was repaying the debt. It was a useful insight that Ulfric filed away for later.

“What would you have us do, Dragonborn?”

“Defend Whiterun. The Imperials don’t know that Balgruuf has given his answer, but once they do they’ll try and take Whiterun back. Prove we can hold Whiterun on the way to holding Skyrim!” He threw his words down like a challenge.

Ulfric glanced at Galmar. “Well?”

“If the choice is defending Whiterun or laying siege to her, I think we’d all prefer the former. Holding the plains won’t be as easy as holding the city, however. Inflict enough losses the Imperials’ll cut and run eventually. We need to show them they’re wasting their resources against us. That’s where the Dragonborn comes in. His Thu’um will send them packing with their tails between their legs.”

He could tell Galmar was champing at the bit to test his army in a full battle against the Imperials and it was time to see what Dyce was like on the battlefield.

“Very well. Mobilise our forces. Whiterun will be ours in two days.” Galmar left to start giving orders, but Ulfric called Dyce back. “Balgruuf would have sided with the Imperials?”

“He has no love for the Thalmor, but he believed the Imperials were the only ones capable of defending his city. He trusted I could prove otherwise.”

“Hm.” Ulfric dismissed Dyce and he hurried off with that strangely noiseless tread of his.

~~~
The battle for Whiterun lasted two days, but in the end the Imperials cut their losses, as Galmar had predicted, and the news that the Stormcloaks had struck the first decisive blow crossed the country as fast as men could ride.

The title of Ice-Veins was bestowed on Dyce for his part in the battle. He didn’t take it well.

“What?” He laughed. “Wait, are you serious? Um, my name is Dyce, I’m quite happy with it, really.”

“Just go with it,” Yrsarald prompted him.

“But. I don’t have icy veins. People say I’m hot-headed. I mean, um, thanks. It’s an honour. Although know I do want to know why you guys call him Thrice-Pierced-”

At this point Yrsarald hauled him off and Ulfric could hear him laughing delightedly from the hall.

“He already knows, doesn’t he?” Galmar said. “He wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t.”

Ulfric really didn’t want to think about it. “How did he fight?”

“He hired a dark elf to watch his back.”

“I never took him for a coward.”

“He didn’t shirk the fighting. He was going through the motions the first day, but he got the hang of it.”

“So it’s worth putting up with him for now.”

“I don’t think he realises what he’s capable of, but he will. You did well to get him on our side. I’d hate to face him in battle.”

Ulfric didn’t say anything, but he wondered if the smiling Breton might someday be a rod for his own back. Still, the man couldn’t be immune to a dagger in the ribs if it came to that.

When Ulfric retired to sleep that night, one image stayed with him, of Dyce, jaw set, eyes flashing, demanding that Balgruuf’s city be defended. That was loyalty, pure and unwavering. And what could he do to earn that?

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