Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 4:00 PM

It was time.

After years of blood, sweat, and tears it was finally time for Ulfric Stormcloak to plan the final stages of the war. This year his army of the loyal sons and daughters of Skyrim would take back Solitude for their own instead of allowing the greedy, cowardly Imperials to rule in name if not deed.

The large blonde man leaned back into his throne and sipped from his cold mug of mead as he imagined the scene of his victory in Castle Dour, the main station of the Imperial army, with the defeated body of General Tullius at his feet as Elisif the Fair was brought before him. Oh, the songs the bards would sing of how he not only fiercely defeated the Imperial general, but how gently he forgave naïve Elisif for meekly following the Imperial flag after her husband Torygg died.

Elisif would resist at first; it would only be proper and expected. No doubt the woman would bemoan about how the slayer of her husband had stolen his throne. Few rulers wedded for love, but against all odds Torygg and Elisif had truly cared for each other. However, time would pass and Elisif would find it harder and harder to remember the details of her dead husband's face. Meanwhile, Ulfric would be there in Solitude helping rebuild Skyrim to be better and more glorious than ever under the banner of Talos. Elisif would see everything the Bear of Eastmarch had done had been for the benefit of their country and eventually consent to marriage. It would be a tale worthy of the bards.

And if he had to spend the time in between dallying with Lydia, then that was a burden Ulfric would bear willingly.

Ulfric chuckled lowly at the thought of the former housecarl. Lydia was everything Ulfric would have dreamed for in a Dragonborn. Idealistic, loyal, strong, steadfast, and best of all a Nord. Unlike that hellcat Diana who had spent most of her time either stomping her foot in a tantrum or with her nose in the air looking down at others, Lydia was what Skyrim needed in a hero.

Galmar might occasionally grumble at Ulfric's love of bardic tales and songs, but it was that particular fondness that let Ulfric read people so well and convince them to join his side. He had seen how lost and depressed Lydia had been when she returned to his city after losing track of Diana and he had given her a purpose again. Ulfric hadn't forced the matter on the brunette. No, it had been essential that she decided to claim the title of Dragonborn on her own; but Ulfric had made sure to show her every reason why she should use the name instead of leaving it in the dust to rot and be forgotten like the dragon scale armor Ulfric's men had found along the roadside in the Pale.

Ulfric had been personally insulted when he heard the reports of how they found that unique, symbolic armor discarded like yesterday's trash. Given the time frame of when the armor had been found and Diana's last visit to Windhelm, the Dragonborn had intentionally left her precious armor behind—a fact that Ulfric had carefully kept from Lydia. It was better for the woman to believe her charge had died using the armor instead of abandoning it. After all, given Diana's fickle nature it was more likely she had decided to leave for another country after becoming bored with Skyrim's politics instead of conveniently dying. Regardless, Ulfric had been sure they would not hear from or see that woman again.

Then his carefully laid plans had started to wobble when a courier had arrived in the Palace of Kings three days ago with short message from Lydia. "Diana lives," was all it said. Ulfric had sent a silent prayer to Talos that Lydia was discrete enough to not include that Diana was the Dragonborn in the message in case the courier had grown curious enough to read his missive.

It was inconvenient and dangerous for Diana to resurface now of all times. If only if she had held off for three more months. Maybe even only two! Skyrim would be liberated and it wouldn't matter about the truth of the Dragonborn then. Hell, Ulfric could probably even spin a tale to convince his kinsmen that Lydia was the true Dragonborn even if Diana openly challenged the claim. If that didn't work, there was more than one way to silence those who didn't know how to be quiet. Especially an obnoxiously loud Imperial Dragonborn.

Ulfric wanted to consult with Lydia before making any contingency plans. No doubt there were details that Ulfric would need to know and Lydia was competent enough to report to him directly about such an unexpected turn of events. Equally likely Lydia would have some questions of her own that Ulfric would have to soothe over. Ulfric wasn't worried; he still had the situation under control.

Then yesterday another courier arrived with even worse news. Hadvar, Lydia's second-in-command, had reported that Lydia had disappeared while fighting assassins on top of one of the towers. A dragon had swept down from the night sky and taken all of them away. Ulfric's shout of rage had been strong enough to invoke the thu'um; thunder had rattled the castle for an hour as Ulfric broke many of the decorations in his war room. The Dragonborn borne away by a dragon on the eve of Ulfric Stormcloak's victory. Years of careful planning ruined!

Once Ulfric had calmed down, he had decided that it was of little consequence. Lydia was a competent warrior. Either she had managed to survive the combined dragon and assassin attack and would make her way back to Windhelm and Ulfric's side, or the Nord was dead and her memory could still be used to rally the men. Regardless, the bulk of her usefulness had been achieved by acquiring the forts in Imperial command. With one major battle left, surely Ulfric would win it with his own reputation, honor and strength, and not rely on a fabrication.

"We should kill the jester," Galmar growled. At this angle, Ulfric's right hand man looked more animal than human with his bear skin stole pulled low over his face. The large, older man had never recovered from the brutal murder of his brother, Rolff. It was bad enough it had happened right here in Windhelm where the man should have been safe, but it had been clearly performed by the Dark Brotherhood.

"As much as I would like to, you know we cannot do that," Ulfric rumbled. He looked at the small figure capering around the throne room.

The creature had shown up at the Palace of Kings about an hour ago. Clad from head to toe in black and red motley and a porcelain mask, the right half pure white with the comedy smile and the left side obsidian black with the tragedy frown, it was impossible to tell anything about the jester including gender. The jester had shown a folded message to the guards, but when presented to Ulfric, he had slipped the message into a glove and started a foolish dance instead.

Ulfric had always heard the saying "Trouble sires three children," but he had not given it much mind until today. Three messengers in so many days and so far all of them bearing bad news. Ulfric was tempted to evict the jester purely on principle, but he was also intrigued. Diana had never shown any grace with the subtleties of politics, but she had a sharp enough mind to understand what she couldn't execute. Ulfric wished to interpret the message before allowing Galmar to stick his foot firmly up the jester's ass.

The jester himself was a message. Jesters were native to Cyrodiil and were part of the personal entourage of the Emperor. The jester was the only person in all of the country who could speak plainly to their ruler with no fear of repercussion. Or speak frankly to anyone in the court, for that matter. They might be named fools, but it was fools they made of courtiers who earned their ire. They wore no armor and bore no weapon except their velvet motleys and barbed tongues.

Ulfric remembered the jester who had visited the army's camp when he had been a soldier during the Great War. He had been a young man, newly appointed to his post, and strangely out of place with his laughter and jokes. Although the fool had teased the commanding officers mercilessly, he had been just as gentle with the tired foot soldiers by giving words of encouragement. What had been the man's name? Caesar, maybe?

There had been rumors of a jester seen before mysterious deaths attributed to the Dark Brotherhood. Ulfric recalled a story of a jester interrupting King Olaf's effigy burning three years ago during the Emperor's cousin's wedding. Last year when such an attempt had been made on Ulfric's life at Rorikstead, he had seen a jester then too. It was hard to tell from a distance, but Ulfric was certain that jester had been a male. Did the jester represent Ulfric's death or Diana's allegiance to the Empire? Possibly both.

"Why don't you tell us a story, jester?" Ulfric asked. The jester stopped his dance and faced Ulfric. He placed his gold curled gloved hands over where his mouth would be under the mask and shook his head before returning to capering. Was the creature mute or forbidden to speak? What would be the purpose of a jester who could not utter undesired truths? Definitely intriguing.

The grandfather clock rang the hour causing the jester to stop what he was doing and cock his head to the side. The small creature skipped to the base of Ulfric's throne and finally pulled the message from his gloved hand and presented it to the jarl. The piece of paper bore one word, "Soon," with the personal insignia of Diana; a stylized dragon curved into the shape of a crescent moon.

Ulfric crumpled the piece of paper in his hand angry. She dared to make threats to him in his own home? The arrogance of that woman knew no bounds. Before the jarl could give Galmar permission to evict the jester, a guard hailed, "The Dragonborn approaches!"

The jester danced backwards as Ulfric suddenly stood. "Is that so?" Ulfric asked smiling. "Then by all means give her entry and leave us." No one noticed the jester as he silently backed to the side doors of the hall and barred them.

The wide doors of the main entrance of the Palace of the Kings opened and in walked the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn looked resplendent in her shimmering dragon scale armor. With the helm's visor down and face bent forward, the face was obscured, but Ulfric wasn't fooled. He recognized that confident swagger. If Diana wished to pretend to be Lydia, she would have to do a better job of imitating the Nord woman's posture. While Lydia walked with the quiet, unassuming air of a bodyguard, Diana walked like she was royalty and everyone should acknowledge her presence.

As the dragon scale armored warrior entered the palace, Ulfric walked down from his own throne. "It looks like the prodigal has returned. I had thought you lost to us forever," he said pleasantly. Ulfric halted five feet from the figure. Galmar, ever vigilant, had moved into position to Ulfric's left to protect his lord's flank. "Why don't you remove your helm so we may converse face to face?"

The dragon scale figure shrugged and reached up to remove the helm. Before the helm had cleared the face, Ulfric breathed in and Shouted, "FUS RO DAH," sending his opponent flying through the air. The helm clattered to the ground. "Did you really think I wouldn't realize you were not Lydia?" Ulfric bragged.

The jarl, followed by Galmar, stomped to the fallen figure. The two of them pulled their weapons as they advanced. Ulfric paused, surprised by what he saw. The prone person wasn't Diana, but some red-haired Imperial man. The man looked up at Ulfric and laughed loudly.

"Actually, I was counting on it," a female voice said from behind Ulfric. Ulfric whirled around to see the jester rip off its porcelain mask to reveal the true Dragonborn. "ZUN HAAL VIIK!" The disarm Shout sent Ulfric's and Galmar's weapons flying away. Diana placed her fists on her hips in that arrogant pose he remembered from years ago. "I think that puts us on more equal grounds, don't you?"

Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 5:00 PM

Gods, it was worth suffering under that damn porcelain mask to see the look of first utter shock and then complete rage on Ulfric's face when he realized how he had been tricked. I had gambled that Ulfric's curiosity and pride would keep him from unmasking me immediately when I entered the Palace of Kings. I love when I'm right.

Behind Ulfric and Galmar, Cicero kipped up to his feet in one smooth motion. It was a truly impressive action to perform in the dragon scale armor. I had feared that Ulfric's Shout might severely harm or even kill Cicero, but I should have known after years of suffering my temperamental Shouts, Cicero would be able to handle Ulfric's point blank Shout.

"On behalf of Elisif the Fair, I command you to surrender and stand fair trial in Solitude for your crimes against Skyrim and her people," I declared pointing an accusing finger at Ulfric.

"Foolish woman, I don't know where you've been these last years, but obviously you don't know that I am winning this war!" Ulfric barked a laugh before launching towards his fallen weapon. I ran forward and managed to kick his steel war axe away.

"Only because you stole my name, you hypocrite!" I yelled as I tried to stomp the larger Nord's hand. I cried out in pain when Ulfric dodged and I slammed my heel into the hard stone floor. The soft velvet boots provided no protection at all. "How do you fight in this?" I complained to Cicero.

The Keeper was wrestling Galmar for his two-handed iron battle axe. The Nord had forced Cicero to one knee. Instead of straining against the bigger man, Cicero rolled backwards and slammed his boot into Galmar's midriff before kicking the man over his head. As Galmar landed heavily, Cicero finished his roll so he was standing again. "Years of practice," Cicero smirked as he twirled the large weapon.

Before I could comment, Ulfric grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. As I landed on the ground, Ulfric swung me around and slammed me against the wall. "Don't ignore me, Dragonborn," Ulfric growled.

"I guess that means you're not going to surrender?" I snarked as I struggled to sit up. My chest hurt from the impact with the wall. "I keep trying to offer the easy option, but no one ever accepts."

"Maybe you need to make a better sales pitch, Imperial," Ulfric said as he tried to kick me in the face with his own iron boots. I leaned back in time so his foot sailed over my head. I could feel the force of his foot as it passed an inch from my face. "It's hard to take such an offer seriously from a fool."

Ulfric drew his breath to Shout. He had only the one trick, so it was easy enough to counter. We both Shouted at the same time, "FUS RO DAH!" The castle shook from the Voice-created thunder. When the Shouts collided, Ulfric and I both flew backwards from the force. I flew farther with my lighter mass and lack of heavy armor to hold me down. I tumbled to land on my feet as Ulfric skidded backwards.

Cicero swung the two-handed axe as Galmar charged him. Unused to the heavy weight, Cicero wasn't able to swing fast enough and Galmar easily stepped under the arc. The Nord grabbed the shaft of the weapon and used it to butt Cicero in the face knocking him down again. Galmar swung the axe up to use a downward attack to cleave Cicero in half, but Cicero kicked Galmar in the knee to throw off his attack. As Galmar reeled, Cicero rolled away so he was back to back with me.

Cicero quickly drew the two ebony daggers strapped to his side. We had not been able to have Cicero wear my bow into the Palace. Although we anticipated that Ulfric would know it was not Lydia coming to the Palace of Kings, it would not have been believable for the former housecarl to be wearing a bow, especially a daedric bow. Instead, Cicero handed me the Blade of Woe, Astrid's old blade. It had not been used in a long time and I felt it was time for it to drink again.

It felt good to have a weapon in hand, but the ebony daggers felt ridiculously small compared to the war axes our opponents were wielding again. The Keeper and I held defensive poses as Ulfric and Galmar circled us.

"What now, my Listener?" Cicero asked softly so only I could hear. He turned to grin widely at me. I could make out the beginning of a black eye from where Galmar had butted him with the axe.

"I hadn't thought that far," I said. "I had hoped they would just surrender." Cicero laughed as I mock shrugged.

"What is so funny, Dragonborn?" Ulfric asked suspiciously.

"It's funny that you have the gall to address me that way. Can't bring it in you to call me by my name?" I taunted. "Can't stand the thought of making the legend into just a woman by using a boring, normal name?"

"You did enough to ruin the legend," Ulfric snarled. "Instead of embracing your legacy, you hid yourself away in caves and bandit dens. You could have been someone great instead of a mere bounty hunter. People didn't see the child of prophecy; they just saw an indecisive, weak Imperial. Not that any of us should have expected or hoped for more."

"You accuse me of being a mere bounty hunter," I spat back, "but I was clearing barrows for dragon walls to further my learning of the thu'um. At least I didn't quit my training like some people. Did you really leave the Greybeards because you were too eager to fight for the Empire or were you afraid that you would fail to be good enough to learn more Words?"

Ulfric screamed with rage and charged the two of us with his axe. Cicero and I rolled out the way as the weapon came down. The strength of Ulfric's blow destroyed the stone tiles. Galmar continued his fight with Cicero as Ulfric turned his attention to me.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" I laughed. "I might not have chosen to be the Dragonborn, Stormcloak, but at least I finished my job. Alduin has been dead these three years and by my hand. Can you say the same for the faceless Empire that you rally against? Or the Thalmor, your true enemy, who you only strengthen by tearing Skyrim's resources apart with your petty whining?"

I danced backwards as Ulfric continued his flurry of assaults. I jumped up onto the bench around the long dining table and hopped onto the table's surface. As Ulfric slashed and stabbed, I danced among the candlesticks and plates left out for dinner.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil! I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath. I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must," Ulfric said. "What do you fight for? Money, fame, pride?"

I snorted. "Like I haven't heard that speech before. It's one of your favorite methods of converting eager soldiers. I can clearly recalling you saying those very same words as you stood so nobly on the steps of your throne." I had to keep Ulfric mad so he would make a mistake. "I don't doubt your sincerity, Ulfric; I just fear you want the story of heroism more than the reality of being wrong."

Ulfric halted his attacks and looked at me with the first hint of uncertainty I had ever seen on the man. This was my chance! As I lifted my dagger, I heard Cicero scream in pain. I turned and saw that Galmar had managed to score a hit on the Imperial. Blood was running down Cicero's right arm and his dagger had fallen from useless fingers. Galmar kicked Cicero in the chest knocking him down. As Cicero fell, Galmar raised his axe to finish the job.

I had to choose – Ulfric or Cicero.

As if there really was a choice.

"Sithis guide my strike," I prayed to the Dread Lord for the first time as I Shouted, "WULD." I cleared the distance in seconds and my dagger sank into Galmar's unprotected back. The general grunted in pain, but couldn't move from the pain of my blade sinking into his kidney. I twisted the blade before roughly pulling it out.

As Galmar fell, Cicero fumbled his dagger with his off hand and slit the man's throat as he fell. Behind me, I could hear Ulfric cry out his friend's name, but I ignored him. I knelt by Cicero. "Are you okay?" I asked as I pressed my forehead to his.

"Cicero fears he may lose full use of his hand," Cicero lamented. He slowly flexed his fingers. "I might need you to help me masturbate in the next several months until I heal."

"Fool," I laughed nervously as I slapped his shoulder before helping him up. Cicero couldn't be hurt that badly if he was joking around.

"You bastards," Ulfric trembled with rage and sorrow as he readied his blade. "Who in Oblivion do you think you are?"

"I am Cicero – the Keeper, Fool of Hearts, and Laughter Incarnate," Cicero said grinning evilly.

"I am Hecate – the Listener, Fool of Fate, and Death Incarnate," I countered. I held my ebony dagger so it was pointing at Ulfric. "We are the Dark Brotherhood and you are our Black Sacrament."

"You truly have gone insane, Diana," Ulfric said lowly. "I'll be doing the world a favor killing you."

"Good luck trying," I said.

Cicero and I moved as one as we charged Ulfric. The man was ready for us and swung his axe forcing us to part, but we were faster in light armor and velvet motley. Cicero and I began our dance of death, striking Ulfric repeatedly with shallow cuts, punches, and kicks.

The jarl of Eastmarch tried his best to defeat us, but without Galmar to protect his flank, Ulfric never had a chance. If he pushed me away, Cicero would be inside his reach striking quickly and away before Ulfric could turn back. If Cicero was knocked back by a blow, I was there raining punches and kicks like furious drops of rain.

It would have been easier to just slit Ulfric's throat, but I really did want to take the man prisoner. Let him stand trial for his crimes. Let his beloved Skyrim see him for what he was instead of allowing Ulfric to become a martyr.

Ulfric fell to his knees unable to fend off our onslaught any longer. I placed my knee on his back and grabbed his chin with one hand while the other held the Blade of Woe under his chin. "Surrender," I whispered.

"So I can be another puppet for the Empire's amusement?" Ulfric laughed bitterly. "I think it would make a better song if the Dragonborn killed me." A large hand with an iron grip wrapped around my hand and with a jerk Ulfric ended his own life on my blade.

"Gods dammit!" I yelled. I swore to myself I would not explain my motives to my opponents in the future if they were going to keep dying on me.

"Another soul for Sithis," Cicero smirked. He had not particularly cared for my "take Ulfric alive" plan, but had supported it nonetheless. "Can we leave now?"

"Yes," I said. I grabbed my porcelain mask as Cicero retrieved the dragon scale helmet.

Hands entwined, the two of us threw open the front doors of the Palace of Kings and fled into the night.

Morndas 16 First Seed 205 4E 11:00 PM

I leaned back to enjoy the light spring breeze that had sprung up. The large stone felt cold on my bottom as I dangled my leg over a ledge. In my hands, I fiddled with the porcelain mask I had used for my disguise.

Cicero and I were at some remote hill nowhere near civilization. We had buried the dragon scale armor so no one would ever use it again without my permission. I had carefully memorized the spot in case I needed it again someday. Maybe I would use it for my own or I might feel generous and bequeath it to some inspiring hero. Who ever knew what the future held?

Cicero stepped out from the brush having changed back into his motley. The Keeper looked especially handsome tonight in the light of the twin moons. He smiled down to me and offered his hand to help me stand up.

"You did well tonight," I said.

"Cicero lives to serve," he murmured pleased at my praise. The jester smiled at me waiting to see what I would do next.

As I glanced at my smiling jester in the moonlight, I had an overwhelming urge to say something to please him. To show the extent of my affection. I nibbled on the edge of my mask as I thought of exactly what words to utter when it came to me.

Three little words.

The same three words Cicero thought of when he woke in the mornings and the three little words he dreamed of when he went to sleep at night. I had heard him say them to me time and time again. It would be the first time I would say them to my Keeper and I think it would please him.

I took Cicero's hand before leaning in close. My breath brushed against his ear as I whispered.

"Let's kill someone."

Our combined laughter filled the still night air as we ran off to do our Mother's bidding once again.

A/N: That's the end of For the Future of Skyrim. I hope you all enjoyed the ending. I will be posting an epilogue under a separate story titled "For the Dark Brotherhood Forever." There is also a plan for a parallel story featuring Aventus from his point of view.

Thank you to all of my reviewers. I loved receiving your thoughts and comments.