At the ripe age of 20, Ulfric had seen and done things that men in their 60s never would. He had gone through experiences and felt pain and betrayal that no one else could compare with. He had fought in a war, lost that war, and had been taken prisoner in a time span of only a couple years. Yes, he had seen and done things others never would. He was a grown and worn man.

Only the familiar sight of his home could make him feel like the boy he had been when he'd left. Even though the Empire had lost the war against the Thalmor, he still came back a hero, whether he felt like one or not. He didn't care for the title, but he didn't correct anyone. The only thing he cared about was seeing his friends and family again.

Though, there was one person in particular that he enjoyed seeing the most, and she was in front of him at the moment, hands on her hips as she looked at him in disapproval. Siri was a sight for sore eyes he had to admit, though the Nord would never admit it out loud; not if he valued his life.

Though the woman was three years his junior, the way her blue eyes were glaring into his very being reminded him of the many times he had been scolded for misdeeds. Maybe it was just a woman thing, though he didn't have much time to think over it before Siri was muttering again.

"A complete idiot," her thickly accented voice said, her thick, red mane swinging behind her back as she threw her hair out of her way, "You never were very careful on the battle field, were you?"

Ulfric's dark eyes narrowed at that. "I came back alive, didn't I?"

"For worse or better, I'm not sure!" Siri huffed, wanting to cross her arms over her chest, though she resisted the urge. Instead, she let out a calming sigh and stepped forward, placing her hands on the man's face as her soft fingers traced over the newly healed scars.

"Those were inevitable," the blonde said softly, not wanting her to pull away. She let a finger or two caress the smooth skin, imagining in the worst of ways he had gotten them. She was certain each one was possible.

"Not if you wouldn't have left in the first place; or if you would have let me go with you."

Ulfric hated it when she brought that up; it always managed to make something in his chest tighten with worries and rage. "No Siri. Not only were you far too young, but you didn't have the skill to fight. You wouldn't have been able to stop all this from happening."

Siri pulled away from him then, this time folding her arms, and resumed her foul mood from moments prior. Ulfric was so infuriating sometimes!

"Da's been teaching me how to fight, you know," she spoke, softer than the man would have expected, "And not like a dagger wielding maiden or a damn milk-drinker. Like a real warrior Nord. He says I'm better than you were at my age."

Ulfric didn't doubt that for a second. Even when they were children, she had always been great with their play fighting, knowing things children her age shouldn't. She was a great warrior, he had no doubt, but she was still innocent Siri, who had no experience with the death of those close or the pain of taking an innocent life. Siri was still too fresh, and Ulfric would never wish the sights he had seen upon her. No one deserved that.

"The Thalmor have already won, Siri," Ulfric sighed, rubbing his large hands over his worn and tired face, "There's nothing to fight for anymore."

"If you really believe that," the woman almost shouted, "then you are a fool and not the Nord I always thought you were!"

"Excuse me?"

"You're just going to roll over and say that it's done? You're going to let some idiotic Altmer tell us Nords what we can and cannot do? We are the children of Skyrim, Ulfric!" Siri persisted, her eyes alight with a fire that he'd never seen before, "I'd rather die than let those bastards dictate the way I live. Will you bow to them like a weak animal?"

No, he decided then and there. No, he would not. He'd gone to Oblivion and back fighting for what he knew was right. He would not have anything taken away from him, least of all his God. He may have been one man, but damn it, so had Tiber Septim and look what it had gotten him.

"The end of all of Tamriel would come before I would ever bend to them," Ulfric finally said, surprising the redhead. Her face held a bewildered look for only a moment before a smile lit up her face and she was holding onto his strong hands.

"I'm behind you all the way, Ulfric."

Siri the Unbroken, so she had been named by her Jarl, deserved her name. She had done many things that would have made many cringe; hand undergone torture that would have killed most, yet she stayed strong and loyal to Ulfric, her Jarl, Commander, True High King, and best friend.

The blonde Nord, however, always had a way of making her lose her temper. Maybe because he knew how to push her buttons, or maybe it was in his genes to do so, but he did it well, whether he knew it or not. No matter what he'd done, she'd never felt her anger boiling like it was right now.

Her name right now should have been Siri the Jealous.

She absolutely hated the way that the damn Nord looked at the Dragonborn, how his eyes lit up knowing he had her power in his hands. He'd acted the same way when he'd first laid eyes on the brown haired beauty, her smirk and words of confidence only intriguing him more.

It hadn't bothered the redhead at first, because she was just as spell bound by the almighty Dovahkiin as he was. The spell broke, however, after the young woman came back to the Palace of Kings time and time again as a victor. First with the stupid crown, then the annulation and take-over of Imperial camps. Had the woman not been pretty or charming or eye catching, Siri would have regarded her as an impressive warrior who deserved respect.

But damn it, she was pretty and charming and eye catching; Ulfric knew that, she knew that, everyone knew that. That's why Siri the Unbroken hated the Dragonborn, hated her more than she hated anyone else. Because she was fucking pretty.

It was a petty thing to hate someone over, Siri had to admit, but she was a woman at heart—because she sure as hell didn't act like one—and the way that she had Ulfric's attention boiled her blood to no end. Though there wasn't much she could do about it. She could only put her opinion in when asked for it and glare at the woman at every passing.

"You did a damn fine job in Whiterun, Dragonborn."

"Please, my Jarl, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Eiruki?"

"As many times as it takes for you to address me by my name as well," the blonde flirted, only making Siri's mood worse. By the Divines, someone impale her with a poisoned blade; this was almost unbearable.

"The way that you got our troops through each barrier, fought your way through Whiterun in the very front, and brought that damn Jarl to his knees was inspired. Single handedly and all without a single scratch."

Eiruki blushed under her Stormcloak head gear and turned her head away, looking at anything other than Ulfric. "It was nothing, my Jarl."

Single handedly?! Had Ulfric's eyes been on nothing but the brunette to realize that she wasn't the only one fighting on the front lines? Siri had been there as well, slicing her way through her foes so she could make her way into Dragonsreach. She was sure that on more than one occasion, she'd been far ahead of the Dragonborn.

Though, she had fought well, and like Ulfric said, without a scratch. Looking down at her arms, Siri narrowed her eyes at the fast healing cuts and bruises, though there were more on her face. More scars to add to the collection.

As the two continued to flirt and talk of battle strategies, Siri stood in the corner to watch and listen. It usually would have been her and Ulfric alone, doing the same thing, but with the way they were discussing things so in depth, the redhead decided it best to just fume in silence.

Not like it helped her mood any. If anything, she only grew sad instead of angry. She'd spent mostly her whole life at Ulfric's side; helping him, healing him, fighting for him, defending him. Was it wrong to have fallen for the infuriating man? Was it too much to ask to be acknowledged in the same way?

As her eyes gazed over the two Nords, she thought that yes, it must have been too much. Ulfric was Jarl and Siri his shield and friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

Eiruki, however, was the Gods damn Dragonborn. Though younger than him by decades, she deserved his attention, his respect, and his love. With her by his side, the blonde was close to unstoppable. Once he became High King, he'd make her his queen and they'd rule Skyrim together.

While Siri was standing in the corner, waiting for her orders.

The redhead made a noise and shook her head, scowl coming back to her face as she shook those thoughts out of her head. She was a warrior, for Talos' sake! She had to think like a warrior instead of a weak woman if she expected to make it through this war. Throwing away her femininity had worked so far, there was no point in abandoning it now.

So, with scowl on her face, Siri continued to stand in her corner in silence while the two talked, though it was all business now.

"So, come tomorrow night, we'll march to Solitude with night as our cover," Ulfric finalized with a nod of his head, moving his flag towards Solitude. Once he had it pinned, Eiruki unpinned it and used it to knock over the red pin for Solitude.

"Then we take back our land, kill Tullius, and give Skyrim back to the Nords!"

"Exactly," Ulfric said with a sly smirk, causing the Dragonborn to blush again.

Only a few moments later they said their goodbyes, Eiruki leaving Ulfric's tent, and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his dirty, blonde hair. His dark eyes turned to look at Siri, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the evening.

"Are you down with a fever, Siri?"

Hearing her name, the woman snapped back to reality, her eyes focusing on Ulfric staring at her. She narrowed her eyes at him out of habit as she asked, "What?"

"You've been so quiet. Not once in my life have I seen you shut your mouth for more than a minute. I'd wished for this moment to come for a long time, but I never thought I'd see the day."

Siri growled and had to stop herself from punching the man in the face. By the Nine, how had she put up with his antics for more than twenty years? Love couldn't possibly been enough.

The man gave her a childish smirk and he sat on the bed next to her, winking one of his eyes at her. "Now don't get those pretty feathers all ruffled, you know I only tease."

"I never found your humor all that funny," Siri snapped back, moving away from Ulfric to stare at the map, looking at all the blue pins that consumed more than half of Skyrim. So the time had truly come.

"Your words hurt my heart, old friend," Ulfric announced, pretending to sound hurt. When he didn't get a response from Siri, he furrowed his own brow and got up, moving to the other side of the map so he could see her face.

"But, really Siri, what is plaguing your mind?"

You, she wanted to scream at him, but kept her gaze to the aged map.

"It's just the war," she lied smoothly, her hands running over the creases on the map, "It's slowly coming to an end."

"It's in our favor," the blonde commented, trying to catch her eye again.

"It is," she continued, "But the Empire is skilled. I'm a little nervous, I guess. We lost many good men in Whiterun; I don't want a repeat of that in Solitude."

"Is Siri the Unbroken finally going to back out of a fight? Our last, no less?" Ulfric jested, making the redhead's head snap up to look at him.

Insulted, Siri let the words hiss from her mouth, "Never. I pledged my loyalty to you years ago, and I'd never take it back."

Shocked by her boldness, Ulfric stood back up and gave his oldest friend a serious look. "I never doubted that Siri. You've been by my side since we were kids. Once I became Jarl, you took it upon yourself to fight for what we believed in, for what I believed in, and protect me," his eyes trailed over her war raged body, "Most of those scars are from you risking your life to save my own."

Siri's eyes softened at that and she too stood up, her hand stretched out in offering, which he took. "Your life is more important than mine Ulfric. You are our True High King. Without you, Skyrim has no hope left."

Ulfric's hand tightened around Siri's, though it was in an act of anger. "I hate when you say that Siri. You're not a tool to be used and throw away; you're my friend."

"And friends don't let their friends die," Siri retorted, pulling her hand away with a small smile, "So I carry each scar with pride."

Ulfric didn't let his hand fall. Instead, it reached out further and brushed against Siri's longest and most ragged scar that ran across her chest. The woman shivered under his touch and looked down at his large hand.

"This was the first scar you got for me. The first time of many that you saved my life."

Siri laughed softly, though it made her chest bounce. "You really expected to leave Solitude alive after killing the High King. Your eyes too blinded by pride, you almost let something as insignificant as a guard take your life."

"So you took the wound upon yourself and killed him in one hit," the blonde man said, his voice holding a bit of awe, "Something I might not have managed with that wound."

"I guess I'm just made tougher than you," the redhead joked, her brown eyes sparkling like they had when she was a kid. It warmed Ulfric to know that she hadn't really changed since then.

"Which is why I named you Siri the Unbroken."

Siri smiled at her oldest friend and turned her eyes back to the map, her mind going to the fight that was yet to come. Her soft eyes hardened and another scowl stretched her lips.

"Tullius will still be expecting us, you know that right?"

"I know," Ulfric agreed, twirling a red flag between his fingers, "After our victory at Whiterun, he'll be preparing for the main battle. Right now, he'll be calling every warrior he can find to defend the city. Our army will be seen, even at night, but we'll have at least an ounce of surprise. He doesn't know how fast we can move."

"You truly believe we can do this?" Siri said, her eyes searching her Jarl's face for the truth.

"Yes, I do. Not without the loss of life, but we will win. I know we will. With great warriors like you at my side, there's not a doubt in my mind."

"Solitude is larger than I expected it to be," a young man by the name of Ralof muttered to no one in particular, though Siri heard his hushed words. She turned a curious gaze towards the blonde man, who blushed under her gaze.

"Sorry, didn't mean to say that out loud."

"You've truly never been to Solitude?" Siri asked, keeping her gaze on the young Nord. He shook his head no.

"I was born in the small town of Riverwood. Before I joined Ulfric in his fight, I didn't have a need to go anywhere else."

"I've only been here once before."

"That was when Ulfric killed the High King, right?"

Siri nodded her armored head. "That it was. One and only time I'd been there, and Ulfric made sure we were never allowed there again."

Ralof chuckled, easing his stiff mood. "You really have been there since the beginning. And I was impressed by Galmar's service. To have been there for every battle… I'm surprised you're still alive."

"Trust me, so am I," Siri confessed, her eyes looking forward towards their path, "I've been in more than my share of battles for this rebellion, killed hundreds of men and almost died myself too many time to count."

"Are… are you scared of this fight?" Ralof asked hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with the woman. He had pledged his loyalty to Ulfric as soon as he had been able, breaking friendships to serve a true Nord. The blonde had faced death a time or two without fear, but as he marched to Solitude, with the walls so close in sight… it was a little intimidating.

"I fear it more than I've feared anything else," the redhead said truthfully, making Ralof turn to her with wide eyes.

"But I've heard the things you've been through, stood in awe at the stories told to me of your triumphs. How can a warrior like you be scared?"

"Because it's the last fight, the big hurrah," Siri said quietly, turning to the young Nord who looked like a lost child. She gave him a small, sad smile before continuing. "Whether we win or lose this battle, it is the last in the name of the Stormcloaks. I've trained most my life, preparing for this day; I only know how to fight. When this is all over, what will I do?"

She laughed then, shaking her head back and forth. "It sounds so silly, but that's what scares me the most; what comes after this last battle."

The two were silent after that for a little while, both deep in thought about what Siri had said. The woman was actually surprised at her words, never having thought she would say her fears aloud. Somehow, it calmed her. There was no longer this tightness in her stomach. Her body was calm and ready for the fight ahead, whether it held their victory or her death.

"We drink to our youth, to the days comes and gone," Ralof suddenly started to sing, making the group around him stare, "For the Age of Oppression is now nearly done."

"We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own," Siri joined, along with a few more around her, "With our blood and our steel we will take back our home."

When the next line of the lyric came, their whole group was singing it in time, their words echoing out into the war silenced air to reach the very ears of Ulfric, who stood in front. Hearing their chords, he turned to look at his army as they sang in his honor.

"All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King. In your great honor we drink and we sing."

Feeling a Nord pride well up in them all, every Stormcloak let the lyrics belt out from their hearts, throwing away their fear and doubts to let trust and victory take its place. Their eyes were hard with determination and their weapons ready for battle.

"We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives, and when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies. "

"But this land is ours, and we'll see it wiped clean," Ulfric joined, turning back around to lead his troops forward, feeling the magic their words were weaving, "of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams."

Though the song was over, each and every Stormcloak went back to the same lyric, the chilling male voices thundering around them like the Greybeard's Thu'um.

"All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King. In your great honor we drink and we sing. We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives, and when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies."

Their singing led them straight towards the abandoned gates of Solitude. The city was already in flames from the previous wave of warriors before them, men too eager to wait for their High King to give his orders and aid. It was deathly quiet behind those walls; the men had paid the price with their lives.

Ulfric stopped his army with a hand, a simple motion that caught every warrior's attention and kept them silent. The blonde Nord turned to look at them all, to glance at their waiting faces. So many would give their lives today, they knew that, yet they were still here; still here fighting for their home and honor.

"This is it men!" he started, his face hard as stone, "It's time to make this city ours!"

A yell of encouragement from them all pushed him to continue.

"We came to this moment carried by the sacrifices and courage of our fellows. Those who have fallen. And those still bearing the shields to our right."

The many faces of the fallen rushed at Ulfric's memory then, both from the Great War and the rebellion he had started. So many gone to Sovngarde, so many lost, so many wept over. Their lives were not to be in vain. He wouldn't leave Solitude without their victory.

"On this day," Ulfric shouted, voice sounding angry though it was full of emotion, "our enemy will know the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger, and the exalted righteousness of our cause! The gods are watching. The spirit of our ancestors are stirring. And men under suns yet to dawn will be transformed by what we do here today!

Fear neither pain, nor darkness. For Sovngarde awaits those who die with weapons in their hands, and courage in their hearts. We now fight our way to Castle Dour to cut the head off the legion itself. And in that moment, the gods will look down and see Skyrim as she was meant to be. Full of Nords who are mighty, powerful, and free!"

"For Skyrim!" Eiruki screamed, her sword raised above her head.

"For Skyrim!" the army said at once, their words chilling to the very bone.

"Ready now!" Ulfric exclaimed, "Everyone, with me! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

With his speech now done, Ulfric watched as they all yelled their battle cries and surged passed him, breaking down the already broken door. He unsheathed his weapon and slowly walked forward, his face full of determination. He felt a presence at his side and already knew who it was.

"To our victory, my Jarl," Siri said, her own weapon drawn. Ulfric looked over at her and could feel her body radiating confidence. She was ready to stain her sword with the blood of her enemies.

"To our victory," he repeated. With a nod at one another, they both charged forward.

"To our victory indeed," Siri breathed in triumph, her battle ragged body filled with pride and accomplishment as she looked over her fellow Stormcloaks.

Though the legion had started to prepare for their attack, they hadn't expected this large of an army to back up Ulfric. He took only the best warriors; ones who could stand out numbered in a fight and still come out victorious.

Another thing they didn't expect, however, was the aid of the Dragonborn and what seemed like her pet dragon. In times of need, it had swooped down from the sky like a blur of red and taken a claw full of enemies with it, pushing the troops forward.

Only moments ago, Ulfric, Galmar, Eiruki and herself had gone into Castle Dour to confront Tullius and his lapdog Rikke. Surprisingly, the woman had given into Ulfric's words without a fight, leaving Siri a little suspicious. However, she was right to give up when Tullius himself had surrendered like the coward he was. He had not a scratch on him from the battle, showing that he didn't have the guts to fight himself. It sickened all the Nords.

Ulfric had then given the Dragonborn the honor of taking the General's head, letting it be a dramatic end to a long and hard battle. Though she seemed a little squeamish of it, she did it without much hesitation, letting Ulfric's sword behead him. And like that, it was done.

The four of them walked out of the Castle into the still morning air, their noses sensitive to the smell of blood and steel. Their eyes saw the same, but they also saw many still alive, gathered into the court to await their Jarl. Or should she say, their High King.

"You were right to choose our side, Rikke," Galmar said to the woman, "you were able to spare your life."

She only nodded her head slowly, walking past the group and off to the side a little, her gaze down cast and sad. No one paid her any mind, however, once Ulfric emerged through the doors to look at his men and women who were all chanting his name. Eiruki and Siri took his sides while Galmar stood next to Siri.

"I am indeed Ulfric Stormcloak, and at my side the woman we know as Stormblade, and the world knows as the Dragonborn."

Both Galmar and Siri turned to the brunette without a word, letting their High King regard the hero. Even if the redhead didn't like the younger Nord, she could respect what she'd done today. She'd earned her name as well.

"And indeed," Ulfric continued, "there are many that call us heroes. But it is all of you who are the true heroes! It was you who fought a dying Empire who sunk its claws into our land, trying to drag us down with it. It was you who fought the Thalmor and their puppets who would have us deny our god and our heritage. It was you who fought your kin who didn't understand our cause, who weren't willing to pay the price of our freedom."

The last line seemed to stir something from Rikke, Siri noticed, her keen eyes watching as her fists clenched at her sides. The redhead could tell that she was shaking from her anger, though she wasn't sure why. Was the fact that she had been on a losing side and was now being ridiculed for it making her blood boil? She had gotten away with her life, she should be happy.

That's when the Stormcloak noticed the hidden blade at her side, the one she was now gripping and pulling from its sheathe. Her head snapped up to look at the talking man, her eyes filled with a rage that Siri had never seen before. Even so, she knew what the woman planned to do, and her brown eyes widened.

She started to run at them with the dagger drawn, her face contorted in anger. It interrupted Ulfric's speech, and he could only watch as she ran towards him. She'd been too close, he'd let her get too close, and he'd never have time to pull his own blade out.

Luckily, Siri had seen her first.

She jumped in front of Ulfric as Rikke charged, her blade striking out to catch the woman through the heart. However, Rikke had almost cat like reflexes that allowed her to move farther to the side so the blade caught her other shoulder.

But Rikke's dagger hit its mark. Straight into the belly of Siri the Unbroken.

She cried out in pain and let go of her sword, her hands going to cling to the dagger embedded into her flesh. Everything else moved so fast it was hard to tell what happened. Eiruki grabbed Rikke and restrained her while Ulfric managed to catch the woman falling in front of him. Her armored body was heavy enough to force them both to the ground. Siri's headpiece fell from the impact, the bear head tumbling away from them.

All Siri was aware of, though, was the intense pain in her stomach. She felt so hot, like her skin was bubbling and burning. Through the pain, she opened her eyes to see that she wasn't on fire, but it seemed like a lie.

"You bastard, that poisoned blade was meant for you!" the brunette screamed, struggling against the Dragonborn and crying out when Galmar pulled the sword from her shoulder, "Poisoned so your army could watched as you died a slow and painful death!" After her explanation, Galmar used the sword to behead Rikke, just like Tullius.

"Poisoned?" Ulfric almost whispered in horror, looking down in his arms to see Siri's face contorted in pain. She was gripping the pommel of the blade as if she was trying to pull it out, but her hands were shaking too furiously.

"Siri!" Ralof shouted, running forward to try and do something, but the glare his High King sent him made him stop in his tracks.

"Go and find a healer! I don't care if you have to knock down every door in this damn city! Find one!"

"Y-yes sir!" he stuttered, though did what he was asked, and took five more men with him. The rest of the army could only watch, like Rikke had intended.

"Let me take the dagger out, Siri," the blonde said in urgency, his hands wrapped around hers. A wound like this might have killed on impact, so he didn't doubt there really was poison. As he looked at her sweating face, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was.

Ulfric had to struggle with her at first; her head was so full of pain that she didn't understand anything but it. After shaking her whole body and forcing her to look at him, she finally understood.

She nodded her head rapidly, fearing that if she said anything she'd scream out in pain. By the Nine, the wound burned; burned like she was being toasted by a dragon. The fire was spreading all over her body, engulfing her in an inextinguishable flame. By the gods, she'd never felt this kind of pain before.

When Ulfric pulled the dagger from her belly, Siri let out a scream that chilled his heart, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood starting to seep from the wound. The blood was too thin against his skin, too much like water to really be blood. And the wound—it was so clean and so deep, and if he looked close enough, he could see the clear goop of the poison. Siri's body spasmed in Ulfric's arms and the redhead cried out again, her hands clenching around his large ones.

He'd never heard such an agonized sound from his friend, and it hurt him to hear such a thing from her.

"You idiot! Why would you throw yourself in the way of a blade meant for me?" When she didn't answer the man became enraged. "Damn it Siri, answer me!"

"You're the hope for Skyrim, Ulfric," she managed to hiss out through her pain, her eyes barely opening so she could see his concerned and angered face, "I can't let the High King die right after his victory battle… Just like I couldn't let you die before the war even started."

How many times would the woman use her body as a shield for him? How many times would she forget the importance of her own life and sacrifice it for his. With the way the blood was flowing from her stomach, the way she screamed again in agony, this would be the last time. Gods, this would be the last time. She was going to die here.

"What kind of hope can I bring if you're not by my side?" Ulfric continued to yell, his hands pressing down to try and stop the blood while she whimpered.

"You're just going to roll over and say that it's done? You're going to let some idiotic Altmer tell us Nords what we can and cannot do? We are the children of Skyrim, Ulfric!" Siri persisted, her eyes alight with a fire that he'd never seen before, "I'd rather die than let those bastards dictate the way I live. Will you bow to them like a weak animal?"

Their hands, pressed atop one another, were letting warm blood seep through the cracks, staining their skins a sick red. It seemed so much worse when it was the blood of a friend that was dying. Their life was literally slipping through your fingers and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to stop it.

"With the Dragonborn at your side, you're unstoppable," Siri breathed, closing her eyes for a moment as a wave of flames went through her body, making her shake, "High King and Queen, bringing peace and order back to Skyrim. It's… perfect."

Ulfric moved one of his bloody hands to roughly cup Siri's face, forcing her eyes open to stare into his stormy ones. Her eyes were so wide, so full of fear it was hard to ignore. And Siri had never seen the man so worried in his life. There was a first for everything.

"Eiruki is the Dragonborn, she doesn't want to be Queen or Jarl or anything like that. She's done her part for Skyrim. I need you Siri; only you!"

"Why?" she whispered, feeling weak. Her body ached for sleep, her lids heavy with it. Better yet, the fire was starting to cool down. Sure, she was still flinching with pain but… the fire was slowly dying away.

"You've been there with me for everything," Ulfric bit out, teeth clenched, "I need you there to help me rule. I need you to be my Queen."

He kissed her then, pressed his warm lips against her cooling ones and just kissed her. He'd been wanting to do this since they were teens, struggling to understand what they stood for. He should have done it all those years ago, told her how he felt about her; now he'd never get to show her.

"You should have told me earlier," Siri said, for the first time since she was a child letting tears fall from her eyes, "I'd have shown you how to kiss a woman."

As her blood continued to spill from his fingers, he could feel it cooling as well, watching as it spilled slower and slower, though showed no sign of stopping any time soon. Even her blood was starting to give up. It was like letting cold stream water build up in your hands…

"Your life was one I never wanted to lose," Ulfric confessed, finally accepting that she was dying, "I was so stupid to have let Rikke live."

"Your heart is too big to kill a friend unless necessary," Siri mused, her words slurring together as her eyes fluttered. She was trying to keep them open, but it was so hard. "Do you think Sovngarde is everything we think it to be?"

"Even more," Ulfric whispered, leaning in close to her so she could hear him. She smiled up at him and managed to nod her head.

"Good. There are a lot of people I want to drink with up there."

"Save me a seat by your side."

Siri blinked at him and gave him that famous look of hers, one that told him without words he was being an idiot. "I've always been by your side. Sovngarde will be no different."

Ulfric chuckled. "Of course, of course. How could I be so silly?"

"Ulfric! We've got a healer!"

"It's too late," Siri mumbled, closing her eyes, "I can already hear them singing in the Hall of Valor…"

"I love you," her muddled ears heard before she sagged in the man's arms.

She had heard of Sovngarde as being a lot of things: a land more beautiful than Skyrim with a never ending sky, a mead hall longer than the eyes could see, more friends and family there than you could count. A small and cold bed chamber, however, had never been described to her.

If that's all Sovngarde truly was, Siri had to admit she was a little disappointed.

And if this truly was Sovngarde, then why did her body hurt and ache so damn much? What could she have possibly done to deserve that torture? Stretching out her body, she let a whine out as it only hurt worse. Yeah, not the best idea.

But Siri had never let a wound keep her down; Sovngarde wasn't going to change that. She tried to sit up, wincing at the pain, and made it half way there when her body violently protested, making her lay back down. On second thought, Siri had a feeling she wasn't in Sovngarde

"Siri… you're awake."

"Ulfric?" the redhead questioned in confusion, her head turning to the side to see the blonde laying there, his eyes looking a little dazed. They were unclouded in seconds, revealing relief. Now she was sure she wasn't in Sovngarde. That, or the man had perished not too long after her, and she seriously doubted that.

"So you're okay, thank the Divines you're okay."

His hands went to brush against her face, his touch so gentle Siri thought she was even worse for wear than she thought. The reason she was in this bed slowly started to come back to her mind. The battle, their victory, Rikke, and her death; or rather, what she had thought would be her death.

"I… how am I still alive Ulfric?" Siri questioned. She remembered the pain that the woman's blade had delivered and the poison that had coursed through her blood. So, really, how had she survived?

"Ralof and his men found us a healer as well as an alchemist. After hearing what the poison was doing to you, she had gotten a simple remedy and removed the vile substance from your body. The rest was the magic from the healer."

"Huh," Siri summarized dumbly before looking up at the ceiling of the room. So she was alive, and by the looks of it, in the safety of Ulfric's bed chambers in Windhelm. She had to admit, she liked being here rather than the plain of the dead.

"I didn't think I'd get you back, not after all the blood you lost," the man said, causing Siri to turn her head back to look at him, "I'd given up with a broken heart."

Ulfric's confession to a dying woman triumphed over the angered words of a scorned woman. The last words Siri had heard, the last words she thought she'd ever hear from the mouth of someone she loved, was that he loved her back. She could only hope it hadn't been a dying hallucination.

"Did you-did you mean everything you said?" Siri inquired softly, almost too softly for the man to hear.

Her brown eyes were wide as she stared at the blonde, looking like the innocent child she'd been before this war even started. He'd never seen her this vulnerable, no matter how wounded she had been. And it was all because of him. He gently stroked her cheek while nodding his head, watching as her eyes seemed to brighten with relief.

"I meant every word Siri. About needing you, wanting you to be my Queen—"

"And loving me?"

"And loving you," he said almost silently, wrapping her up and pulling him towards his warm body, "By the Nine, I've always loved you. I should have told you when we were kids but with everything going on—"

"I understand," Siri interrupted again, resting her head against his large chest, "I didn't say anything, either, after all this time."

"You loved me as well?"

"Why else would I throw myself in front of an enemy's sword?" she asked, turning to give him a look. For the first time in a long time, Ulfric barked out a laugh that warmed up the whole room.

"Promise not to do anything that stupid again."

"I promise," Siri agreed quickly, not saying a thing about his stupid comment, "I… I realized I'm not prepared to go to Sovngarde unless I have you by my side."

Ulfric blinked at Siri's confession, not having expected it. In all the battles they had fought in, she had never been afraid to go to Sovngarde. It was an honor for a Nord. But now… Ulfric realized he felt the same way.

"I've always been by your side," the man repeated in a whisper, "Sovngarde will be no different."

A/N: After so much time spent writing, a night spent writing until 2 in the morning, and a whole other day for editing, my Ulfric One-Shot is done :D I'm actually really happy with it. Ulfric is such a fucking stud, unf, but he's a little old to have me as his queen :'[ Which is why I made Siri a friend from his childhood. Usually like younger characters, but this fit well :] I hope you guys liked it! Review :D?