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“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7h

[(Anonymous)]

Violence warning for part 7h.

“Nice to see you have Skyrim’s interests at heart, worm,” Tullius spat. “You need to be cut down. You, who should be the hero of Skyrim, are nothing but a warmongering, cruel outlaw. You say you have no interest in the politics of Skyrim’s war, but I say that a responsible woman would care to have the right people maintain law and order in this country.”

“The extent of my caring about politics,” Jaenna replied, “is that I will ensure you are removed from them. Maintaining Skyrim’s law and order, indeed. Ha!” Jaenna pointed her sword at him. “Fight me, traitor!”

The man charged at her, swinging his sword down. Jaenna parried the crushing blow and kicked him back, retaliating with a sweep of her own blade. She relished in the scream of steel on steel, the brute force and desperation in their fight. Jaenna vowed to defeat him in a traditional battle, without the use of her dragonborn powers.

Tullius swung around a corner and kicked a bench in her path. Jaenna leapt over it and ducked into a somersault to avoid a decapitating slash. Rolling behind him, she swung out her leg to trip him. He stumbled backwards, catching himself on the wall and managing to turn aside the upward thrust of her blade. He pressed the advantage of his height, but Jaenna danced back again regained her feet.

Animalistic fury contorted Tullius’s face even as giddy joy filled Jaenna’s. She let out a sound close to a cackle as she maneuvered the man until his back was against the balcony. She rained blows down upon him. When he dared risk a break in his defense to make an offensive sweep, she deflected his blade and stepped in close. The hilts of their swords crashed together.

“I learned this little trick fighting a bandit leader south of Riften,” Jaenna panted.

Tullius saw what was coming the moment before she did it. Jaenna gave his shoulders a sharp shove and he went sprawling backward off the balcony. He grabbed Jaenna’s shoulder as he fell, dragging her with him.

For a timeless moment, the air suspended them. Then they hit the ground. Jaenna landed on top of the man, the impact knocking the wind from her body. She rolled aside, picking up her sword and staggering to her feet.

Tullius wheezed and moved more slowly. He sat up and reached for his own weapon. Jaenna leapt forward to slam her heel down on the flat of his blade. She lowered her sword to rest against the man’s neck.

Tullius stared up at her, wheezing, his face red and twisted with a grimace that spoke of broken ribs. His eyes were dazed, blood matting his short grey hair and dribbling down his temple. “All I want for Skyrim,” he breathed, “is peace.”

Jaenna said nothing, unmoving.

“I want Skyrim to have its best change against the Dominion.”

“But all the dragon wants,” Jaenna said, “is your blood.”

She wound back and swung. General Tullius closed his eyes. The blade cleaved his head from his body.

The execution should have sent a righteous surge of joy through Jaenna’s blood, but it only left her feeling empty. Wiping sweat from her face, she watched the general’s body sag to the side and collapse. A befitting end to the man that had presided over what could have been her unwarranted execution at Helgen.

Overhead, the ceiling trembled, giving a foreboding groan. Jaenna cleaned her sword on the sleeve of Tullius’s scarlet undertunic and sheathed it before sprinting for the stairs. Chunks of stone began to rain down around her. She took the stairs two at a time, her lungs still labouring after the fall.

She burst back into the entrance room of Castle Dour and dodged for the doors. She shouldered her through them and staggered out into the courtyard.

Dust and smoke exploded from the mouth of the doorway and punched her back, throwing her forward. Jaenna landed on her belly and slid across the stone. Behind her, the castle collapsed, spewing up grey rock debris and flames.

Stones spilled down into the courtyard. One the size of Jaenna’s head crashed into the ground beside her hand. She scrambled to her feet and fled out of the courtyard and into the streets.