Hello hello, I come with a snippet from the next chapter of Picking up the Pieces <3 There's just something about rotating through a few different WIPs right now which is helping the creative juices 😆
Tagging @hircines-hunter @chiqita @cresu @sulphuricgrin @friend-of-giants @heavy-metal-dick @theoneandonlysemla @skyrim-forever @blossom-adventures anyone else who wishes to say that I tagged them, obviously no obligations <3
The skies above Windhelm were dull and dark as Ulfric sat on his throne, his posture and the way in which is hands were clasped in front of his face making him look as though he was brooding, and deterred all but the most determined of visitors to the Palace of the Kings. That almost amused Galmar, because Ulfric was decidedly not brooding. He was waiting.
War had been at a stalemate, held in a tentative truce at the Dragonborn's behest. As such, he had scouts spread out across Skyrim to let him know at the first signs of the Dragonborn's victory over the World Eater. That would be the cue to pick things up once more, and send the signals for orders to be resumed from where they left off.
The annoying thing was? The Empire was doing no such thing. Reports had been reaching them that the Imperials were mobilising in places, particularly in The Rift now that they held the hold, as well as in Haafingar. They were up to something, but the Stormcloaks were still trying to hold true to the terms of the truce. It could only be hoped that news reached them sooner rather than later.
Perhaps once the Dragonborn returned victorious, and the war won, she could be invited to Windhelm to celebrate her as the hero she was. If she even would be willing to do such a thing, that was. They knew she was once one of the Empire's soldiers – even though the same could be said for both himself and Ulfric – but her loyalty had run deep, that she would even give them the Empire the time of day during the peace conversations made that more than clear.
Suddenly, the doors to the palace swung open, a soldier adorned in their colours out of breath and with something firmly within their grasp clutched to their chest.
Needless to say, that was the most Galmar had seen Ulfric move that day, as the Jarl straightened up and locked eyes with the soldier who was approaching them. When they were before the throne, they remained silent, at least until he let out that "the Jarl doesn't have all day."
They stepped forward, and began to hold out what was in their hand. “One of our scouts in Haafingar found this and wanted it brought to your attention straight away, Jarl Ulfric. It’s to do with your recent orders about any sign of the Dragonborn’s survival...”
Ulfric took the rolled-up document from the soldier, and as he began to unfurl it, his eyes narrowed, before widening in shock.
Galmar didn’t like what those expressions meant, nor the silence and the eventual bobbing of the Jarl’s throat. “Ulfric. What is-“
“Under the authority of General Tullius, Military Governor of Skyrim, as bestowed upon him by Emperor Titus Mede the Second... The traitor and criminal known as Aevra of Morthal shall be executed by headsman for the crimes of assault, murder, attempted assassination, and desertion. The date of execution shall be three weeks hence upon the publication of this notice, on the Third of Frostfall, in the city of Solitude.” Silence fell heavily across the hall as Ulfric’s hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the paper as he did so. “Bastard Tullius did exactly as we anticipated."
Snatching the paper before it got too ruined in Ulfric's grasp, Galmar quickly skimmed through the paper, and felt his jaw tense. It was an official notice, for certain. But… there was something which caught his attention in relation to the wording. Something which differed to any other notice they had put out when it came to notable figures, certainly different to the one which had been published when they had arrested Ulfric.
"We warned her, and yet-!”
