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In a way, Senja mused, only full-blooded Nords could truly appreciate the cold beauty of Skyrim’s winters. Thick snowflakes glided through the air and settled on her nose, drawing her eyes away from the lonely shrine to Talos overlooking the city of Windhelm. Soon, it might worsen to a snowstorm - she felt a snowflake melt on her bare nose - and she should go home to the safety of the city walls. If she were caught in a storm out here, even her thick fur cloak would do little to shield her from the biting cold.
Sometimes she wished that more of her mother’s heritage had shone through rather than her father’s deep affinity to magic. As much as she loved her father, her magical gifts had proved more of a curse when she decided to join her parents in the Stormcloak camps in Falkreath. As another volunteer mage, she’d been met with suspicious looks and sometimes, on long missions, thinly-veiled insults over the campfire. At least, the bitter thought soured her mouth, she had not inherited all of his Altmer features. Instinctively, her hands twitched to ensure the braids over her ears were still secure, but they remained securely around the bundle against her chest. Suspicion or even outright hostility were the usual responses when any elven features were openly visible.
Hiding those features was easier, something she had been doing nearly her entire life. Her mother had started braiding her hair once it had grown long enough. No one paid much attention to a Nord-seeming woman with a newborn. Once her babe was older, she’d do as her mother did before her.
Not that she could truly blame the Nords for those suspicions. After all, only ten years had passed since the White-Gold Concordat was signed, officially ending the War. Three years since the fragile peace shattered when Ulfric Stormcloak challenged High King Istlod to a duel which had ended with the High King dead and Skyrim plunged into a civil war.
Once the worst of winter had passed, she’d return to her parents in Falkreath. She had not seen them for over a year now and it was time she went home. In the first couple years of the war, she had been directly under their command in Falkreath running little hits and missions preparing the Hold for the actual Stormcloak army’s advance. After freeing Ulfric from Helgen that fateful day, she had been unable to return in the depth of winter. When the snow had melted, her shame had been too great and then it had been impossible to travel in her condition. Their latest letter lay on her bed still, waiting to be read once she found the time. Two months before the birth she had written them, spilling what had prevented her from returning and ever since they had planned her return. Since winter was settling in then, the journey into Falkreath would become impossible with a babe; their planning could take its time.
The festivities for New Life fell on the week Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak victoriously returned from conquering Whiterun. An omen, some had whispered. Senja could already taste victory over the Empire in the air. Whiterun had been the only Hold keeping the tide of war from turning in either side’s favour. Soon, the army would gear up to march on Solitude against the child King Torygg and his guardians. The feast in honour of the victory and the New Life celebration had turned out livelier than she had expected. Winter flowers hung everywhere, from high strings between houses and stuffed into the littlest cracks in the walls. Purple and blue strands of flowers, colourful banners and merrily crackling braziers lent life to the drab grey stones. Spirits were higher, the air lighter even as the skies brightened and darkened later and earlier. Long tables had been set up in the Palace’s courtyard for the entire city to convene there to celebrate with Ulfric and the Jarls from allied Holds. Everyone had been celebrating since the early morning hours. Mead was flowing freely, songs were merrily and sloppily sung while soldiers danced with civilians like they had not just survived a campaign.
She had watched him from afar at a table towards the back. Deep down, she had hoped fervently that he’d lift his head to see her, to acknowledge her. But, whenever he let his eyes roam over the crowd, he had never seemed to see her. Had he forgotten her? Did he wish to forget the weeks they had spent running from the events at Helgen? Would he even look for her?
A soft squirming at her chest drew her thoughts out of the confusing spiral that was Ulfric Stormcloak and she looked down onto the downy head of her daughter. The blonde fuzz was not from her, but her ears… those were from her. Frowning, Senja tucked Etheana’s wrap back in place, covering the ears that were too sharp-tipped to be man’s.
“What’s wrong?” She murmured, pulling her cloak tighter around them.
Baby blue eyes blinked up at her, seemingly just awoken. A smile tugged at Senja’s lips as Etheana’s eyes shifted, trying to take in her surroundings. Senja moved her daughter in her arms so she could see more than her mother’s face.
“I know, I know, the world is fascinating,” Senja babbled as if she understood her already.
‘Talk to your babe,’ the healers had advised her when Etheana had been first put in her arms. ‘They understand us more than you’d think.’
She knelt down before the first steps that formed the pedestal to the shrine. Shifting Etheana into the crook of one arm, she tentatively stretched out her free arm to touch the stone hilt carved with runes. For months she had neglected going to the shrine to get her babe blessed by the priests. However, in this moment it felt just right. The shrines in the city were overcrowded and she needed no attention, so she had come out here. Senja had honoured Auriel more alongside her father. Yet, Talos was the god of her mother’s - and now Etheana’s father’s - people. Any blessing was welcome to a babe that most likely would never know her father…
May Talos be kind to those whose parents are elven.
Small kindnesses. Her thoughts turned to Nurelion, at this moment resting his old bones in his apothecary, who had employed her and provided a room to sleep in
“You wish for work?” The Altmer repeated slowly, sunken eyes regarded her with new interest in that moment. “Not many wish to work for an Altmer.”
“Yet they buy from you,” she pointed out the shelves empty from the day’s sales. “Please, Master Nurelion. I promise to learn quickly…”
“So enthusiastic.” Nurelion held up a hand to stop her. “Do you have any knowledge of alchemy?”
“I…,” Senja twisted her hands into the tunic that soon would be too tight. “I learned some from my father.”
“I will be blunt: I am too old to take on more than one apprentice. You would be expected to make deliveries and assist with healers when called upon. And you only know the basics?”
“I am a mage,” she admitted quietly. “I have no home and no means to return to my father and mother. Please, it’d only be temporary.”
“Is your father an alchemist?”
“He is a battlemage for the Stormcloaks. Tamerion Tersmen, he fought in the ….”
“Great War. I know,” Nurelion sighed before clarifying. “I know him.”
“You do?” Senja watched in surprise as Nurelion briefly looked to the ceiling.
“You can stay,” he finally decided. “However, I expect you to keep up with my apprentice and maybe your magic will become useful soon.”
“I am so grateful, Master Nurelion!”
“I owe it to your father.”
The arrangement worked; she would trail after Quintus who taught her various tricks and titbits about potion making and let her accompany him on his visits in the city. During the evenings, she barely had any energy left to think about the past months or the few days spent sleeping on the streets. Only when she found no sleep, when her babe started to flutter and move, did her memories wander to Ulfric as she had known him on the run. Why couldn’t he have told her who he was?
At least her former comrades from the Windhelm Stormcloak garrison still visited her regularly. In the later months, they’d sometimes helped her carry her ingredient baskets, or invited her for a meal at Candlehearth Hall. Today wasn’t an exception. One of the first things they did was barge into the apothecary to start the celebrations early. Only her cautions to be careful around Etheana finally calmed them down. Then she had watched in amusement how grown, battle-hardened Nords melted and fawned over the infant.
“Who is the father, Senja?” Gunjar Iron-Tooth had asked quietly, once he had caught her away from the others. “We’ll happily beat him up for leaving you….”
Senja startled slightly at the utter seriousness in her brother-in-arms’ tone. “He didn’t!” She spluttered and scrambled to explain. “Gunjar, it is so complicated.”
Gunjar frowned. But before he could press further, Hodrick had approached them, glowering at Gunjar. “Leave it,” Hodrick hissed and sent Senja an apologetic look. That made Gunjar back off.
How no one could see who the father was, she did not know. After all, it was no secret with whom Ulfric had escaped the massacre at Helgen. With whom he had evaded imperial patrols and Thalmor scouring the land for him until they had reached Kynesgrove. Well, no secret to her brothers-in-arms. She had told them everything. Nearly everything. Or maybe they knew and hoped she’d tell them on her own. But then… she shook her head. Such musings led nowhere and served no purpose other than sowing doubt and paranoia where it was not needed.
The rest of the day had been spent laughing and reminiscing with her friends at the tables in the Palace’s courtyard. Etheana had been content to sit in her lap and observe the large crowd around them. Many had come over to coo over her: Niranye summoned a little wisp light to hover above Etheana’s nose and Hermir, the blacksmith’s apprentice, made silly faces, eliciting loud giggles from her. For a while, Senja forgot where she was sitting, whose child she was holding and whose summons still had not been answered.
Answering them meant explaining her own lies… who and what she was keeping from him. She could not yet muster the courage for that conversation, even though she dreamt and hoped for a father for her daughter, if not a happy life with the man she’d come to know and fallen for
Towards noon, Ulfric and the allied Jarls came out to sit at the high table close to the castle’s entrance. Speeches had floated over her head as she intently studied the empty plate in front of her. For too long the Jarls spoke and then finally… food was served, with people cheering at the last speech ending. Niranye and she exchanged amused side-glances before digging in. Throughout the feast, Senja felt eyes on her. However, whenever she lifted her head to look towards Ulfric, he would always be deep in conversation with either his housecarl or some Jarl. There was no way he could have been watching her.
Yet, who else could be looking for her?
But then Ivar had sat down next to her, distracting her from the feeling of watching eyes. The lithe Nord, whose eyes were always guarded, retold the tale of the Butcher of Windhelm’s apprehension and death resisting the guards and her brothers-in-arms. On that night she was returning from a late healer’s call at a noble Nord’s manor when the Butcher jumped her. Ivar saved her life. Yet, he was still vehemently waving off any of her attempts to repay him. The city was safe again and she dared to go outside the city walls, alone except for the occasional guards on patrol who nodded at her in acknowledgement.
Gently, she placed Etheana down in the small space between the shrine and the steps. Her hands placed around the base of the shrine, she began to pray to the Divines:
‘Bless my child,
May Kyne’s and Phynaster’s winds be in her step,
May Magnus grant her knowledge and wisdom in her decisions to come,
May Stendarr’s mercy be in her heart to those who wrong her,
May Mara’s compassion guide her deeds to those in need,
May Auriel’s light shine on her soul…’
And she looked up to the stone face looming above her,
‘May Talos’ ferocity grant her victory in her battles to come.’
She reached within the pouch attached on her belt, withdrawing the amulet of Talos she had worn until the Butcher had snapped its chain. Placing it within the folds of the cloth wrapped around Etheana, she bent down to kiss it.
“It has been with me in my darkest hour,” Ulfric whispered into her ear, clasping the amulet around her neck. “May it grant you the same strength.”
She breathlessly regarded the man who seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Here, on a tiny island in the middle of a pond, he looked free and happy. Smiling, she cupped his face, the heavy pendant weighing on her chest, cooling her skin until goosebumps broke out.
The kiss they shared was long, heady… full of promises…
How foolish she had been to believe his lies….
A tingling feeling broke out on her arms and lips. Blue flashes arose behind her eyelids. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw little wisps of light surround her daughter’s head. Relief had her nearly sob out and she picked her infant up, pressing many and light kisses to her forehead. She tugged the amulet more securely into the folds, her fingers lingering briefly on the pendant. Once she returned to Windhelm, she’d have to get the chain fixed. One small piece of him she’d take to her grave.
“Here you are,” a deep voice suddenly spoke behind her, the whisper of power vibrating deep within her bones.
Startled, her head jolted up. Ulfric, she’d know his voice anywhere. Dread curled in her stomach and she felt her chest squeeze. Why now? She was not ready, nor prepared! By Auriel, he didn’t even know!
“My Lord,” she replied hastily as she slowly got up, making sure her cloak fell closed around her chest so he could not see Etheana.
Please, she silently begged her infant, do not cry. Not now.
With a deep breath, she turned around to come face to face with the man she had rescued in Helgen. The one she had fallen for hopelessly until she had hit the ground without him. Fine silver fur covered his shoulders and his tunic and heavy cloak bore the most intricate embroidery. He looked every inch the High King already. Her heart was heavy at the sight. A small smile graced his lips, his blue eyes were warm before they shifted briefly to the Talos statue. Snowflakes had settled in his hair; she had to look away. She clenched her jaw and tried to banish the images of snowflakes caught in his hair nearly a year ago.
Why was he here? Had he looked for her?
She only hoped she could talk her way out of this until she was ready to tell him. Just not now… not here.
But when?
“I come here often when I need to clear my head,” he spoke softly.
She frowned. “My Lord?”
He sighed. “I owe you my life, Senja.” He looked back to her, his smile unwavering. “You know you can call me Ulfric.”
“I…” she swallowed heavily. “I remember.”
Shocked, Senja could only gape at the man who stood straighter, more poised in that moment. Mind blank, she watched the rider, she recognised the insignia of a Jarl’s Housecarl, dismount and clasp Thonulf, no Ulfric, on the back.
“Thank Shor we found you, Ulfric.”
Only half-aware, she felt, more than noticed, the people of Kynesgrove sinking to their knees. The leader of the Stormcloaks, the one whose cause she was fighting for… she wobbled and felt herself sink to her knees too. She had been with Ulfric Stormcloak the entire time…. Her ears still rang from his Thu’um and the ache in her chest pulsated where the Imperial had bashed her with his shield. All this time… all those moments…
“My Lord,” she whispered.
His face fell. “You will always be able to call me by my name.”
His burning gaze shook her out of the memory. In that moment, her world had been swept from under her feet; she had been left alone unknowingly carrying his child. Now, the man in front of her was so achingly familiar and yet so foreign. Unconsciously, her grip tightened around Etheana. At first, the infant squirmed, protesting the tighter hold.
Then she let out a piercing wail.
His smile fell; he froze in place as he looked to where Etheana moved under her cloak. Instinctively, Senja took a step back, trying to create more space between them. Not that it would help much. If she were to flee, she’d have to run past him. Jumping off the ridge was impossible.
“You had a babe,” the statement was delivered in a stone-cold tone.
Gods, how could she even begin to explain? That when she had been told, he had been in Whiterun already? Then she had been homeless and later frantically learning what it took to be an alchemist’s apprentice? Only to be nearly murdered by the Butcher in the days before giving birth?
His face darkened and fear seized her. Once, she had seen this expression before… the moment before he’d unleashed his fury. The moment he had repaid his debt to her by saving her life at Kynesgrove.
“I did,” she admitted. She began to rock Etheana, hoping that she’d soon settle again.
Yet, she didn’t dare to take her eyes off the storm brewing right in front of her. If he made one wrong move…
“Is this why you never answered my summons?” He sounded hurt - betrayed - regarding her with hooded eyes.
She bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from blurting out something she'd regret later. His summons to court, more orders, were his reward for saving him at Helgen. As if the weeks in between had not existed. All the times they had talked, kissed and shared their innermost thoughts, not even acknowledged. Had he really thought she would answer those summons like nothing had happened between them?
“Ulfric, please…,” she hoped that using his name would soothe the anger slowly creeping into his face. She faltered under his steely glare.
“I do not want excuses,” he spoke through clenched teeth, the words echoing around her enough to make the hair on her neck stand up. “I want to see her.”
The Thu’um. Would he use it against her? A whimper escaped her and he jolted. An apologetic look crossed his features and he showed her his bare hands. Free of weapons. Her shoulders sank, the dread in her gut now rising into her throat. After all those nights dreaming of telling him, she now had the chance. Just not anything like how she had wished it to happen Slowly she lifted the cloak up from Etheana. His eyes widened as the infant’s face was revealed and she took a cautious step forward so he could get a better look.
“She is two months old now.”
He grew very still, his eyes glued on the babe. Before him. Nearly a year ago, they had fled the massacre at Helgen together… she knew he was calculating.
“And you kept her from me?” His voice had dropped to a low, furious tone.
Hastily she stepped back until her heels hit the bottom step of the shrine. Instinctively, she pressed Etheana closer to her chest, breaking his view of his daughter’s face. His jaw clenched again and his nostrils flared.
“You had a war to win!” She spat out, her own anger finally surging forth. “When I found out, you were already in Whiterun. I was still so hurt,and then I had no way of contacting you.”
A strangled sound escaped his throat. But she did not care. No King needed a bastard.
“You were still in Whiterun when she was born,” she continued, even though she felt her anger evaporate at the sheer vulnerability in his eyes. “A bastard would have made both you and her vulnerable to the Thalmor…” She choked up before continuing. “I could not subject her to that.”
His face softened, yet his fists were clenched. “You thought I couldn’t protect you or her?” he asked and took a small step forward. “Senja…”
She could not keep her eyes from flitting to each side. No way out there. Now, if she had to run, she’d have to push him over first. Even if she could pull that off, how far could she run before he’d catch up with her?
“The fewer people knew, the safer she’d be,” she whispered.
“Who knows?” His question was quiet but the strain in his voice stabbed into her heart.
Who else other than him had she told?
“My comrades suspect,” she admitted. “Just me and… now you.”
He hesitantly took another step forward until he was a mere foot away from her. His blue eyes seemed to search her face for something she could not identify. Her heart beating faster, she, at last, took in the tired lines under his eyes; he looked as though he’d just fought a battle. Hadn’t he had the time to grieve, to seek solace yet? Had he waited for her and she had never come?
Etheana then cooed, a tiny arm waving out from the confines of her swaddling. Her blue eyes, mirrored on her father’s face, had fixed on Ulfric before her.
“What’s her name?” he asked then, utter awe shining through.
“Etheana.”
Another coo and he started to move forward with his hands outstretched but then held back. As if he had wished to take her.
“Please, don’t take her from me,” she begged.
“No,” he shook his head. He met her eyes, horrified. “I would never. I just…” he swallowed. “I just wish to hold her.”
She tensed. If she let him, he could easily take her away and leave her with nothing again. Could she even survive a second time? Yet, when she searched his pleading eyes, she knew he was sincere. Who was she to deny him? Wasn’t this her dream? For him to hold Etheana and for them to reunite? Sweet dreams, sweet illusions…
“Trust me,” he murmured and once more he held his open palms out to her, an offering of peace.
He was now so close she could almost feel his presence on her skin. They were alone and safe. Neither Thalmor nor Imperial would be foolish enough to venture this far into Stormcloak territory. Another coo and she saw the longing on his face and the trembling hands… She took a deep breath and nodded. Shifting, so her hands were supported Etheana’s neck and bottom, she passed the infant into the waiting arms of her father. As soon as the babe was settled securely into his arms, Ulfric seemed to forget everything around him. He gazed adoringly down at his daughter who gurgled happily up at him. Warmth took hold of her the longer she watched him take his daughter in, as if he could not believe she was in his arms.
“She has my eyes,” he whispered, softly stroking her chubby cheek. “My hair,” he smiled and then tapped the tiny nose. “Your nose.”
He briefly lifted his head to give her a smile that could eclipse the brightest star. Lost in this joy, she returned his smile even though hers was more strained. Just at that moment, his hand shifted to pull away the cloth from Etheana’s head, the cloth that hid her mer ears. Her heart stopped. She leapt towards him. But it was too late.
She crumbled to her knees, watching as his face twisted in horror and something akin to disgust. Her eyes swam with tears as she felt her strength flee her body.
“How?” He breathed out. “You are an elf?”
“No… yes,” she sobbed, hanging her head. “My father is an Altmer, my mother is a Nord.” With trembling fingers, she unravelled her braids that concealed her ears.
Tears were rolling down her face and when she looked back up, she saw in his face a mixture of horror and anger. Betrayed, she could only describe it as such. With a heavy swallow, he looked down to Etheana again, setting his jaw.
“She is more Nord than Altmer then,” he finally said, sounding more cautious than angry.
She grabbed his cloak to prevent him from walking away with her child in his arms. “Does this matter so much to you?”
He jolted. Even though she knew the answer, she also remembered the time Ulfric had sat around a fire with Bosmer and Dunmer in a Falkreath settlement. And she knew that he remembered all this now too.
Thonulf let out a loud laugh. Curious, Senja turned her head from the conversation she was having with Perwen, a young Dunmer woman of this elven settlement. They’d stumbled across this place while fleeing from Imperial soldiers. To her right, Thonulf sat with the other Bosmer and Dunmer. He’d been helping with their work today. She watched him take another swig from his bottle of mead before chortling at some jape. Then he was talking back, eliciting another round of roaring laughter from the Bosmer.
Smiling, she took a sip from her own bottle, unaware of Perwen leaning forward. “Handsome, isn’t he?”
“I lay with a half-elf!” he spat out, his face twisted as if in pain. “I didn’t know… I would have liked to make that choice.”
Her eyes instantly fixed back on Etheana. If he only so much as twitched wrong… Yet, in contrast to his tone and words, he still held her gently, almost reverently. Shivers overtook her, a sob got stuck in her throat. He’d never accept them… All alone again. Unprotected and with no hope left for a happier life. The nightmare she had feared.
“Give her back!”
With still shaking fingers, she reached up to his wrists and tugged at Etheana’s bundle. If he would not accept them, then she would have to brave the Skyrim winter to return to her parents. To safety, even though it would be without Ulfric.
“No! I know you will run away with her!”
She hit his upper thigh. “You will never accept us!” she shrieked. “You’d leave us unprotected! I will go…” she took a deep breath. “I will go far away, you will never….”
“I just found you! Don’t leave! Not again….”
“You cannot protect us!” she argued back. “You will condemn us to fear every shadow!”
“You don’t know that,” he growled and then knelt down so he was at her eye level.
His one free hand gripped her face, holding her still. Firm, familiar fingers curled around her cheek and chin. He was staring into her eyes, fixing her in place. Feverish desperation shone in them, yet for what she could not really tell.
She knew, she knew… yet it didn’t seem to flit into her grasp.
“Listen to me,” he begged quietly, holding Etheana closer to his chest.
Protective, how she was snuggled into his large hand and the crook of his elbow. The sight tugged at her heart, stilling her completely. His thumb brushed over her cheek, drawing her gaze away from Etheana and back to his face.
“I will claim her as my own,” he said earnestly. “She will be protected, I promise you this.”
“Not everyone will accept her.”
He sighed.
“Galmar knew what happened between us,” he confessed. “He had you followed. He knew about your pregnancy and that I was the father.”
Her mouth fell open. Stunned into silence, she grappled for words. Who…? Why had it taken him so long to find her then? Especially if his housecarl had known, then surely…
“During the Whiterun campaign, he considered you two of lower priority,” Ulfric looked sad and apologetic. “He told me once Whiterun was taken. I was looking for you as soon as I returned.”
Her shoulders slumped. So he would have known regardless. This had been inevitable. Yet… where did that leave her?
“Why were you so surprised when she cried?” she had to ask.
“I… I didn’t think you had her with you,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “In that moment I truly realised I am a father.”
She had to look away from the watery sheen in his eyes.
“Why did you bring her here with you?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“I hadn’t had her blessed by the Divines yet. It just felt right to do it here and now.”
His eyes flickered up to the statue. “Was she?”
“She was.” She smiled up at him, forgetting briefly who they were in that moment.
He returned the smile, his relief obvious as he took his hand from her cheek to stroke Etheana’s. Etheana was looking up at him, mesmerised.
“Hello, little one,” Ulfric murmured. “I am your papa.”
“Ulfric. . . she tried to speak, yet her words failed when he returned his attention to her.
“Yes?”
She had to draw in a big breath. “Once you claim her, it would undermine everything you fought for. We are partly elven. Think about us, please! Your followers will… they will feel betrayed.”
His face darkened. Yet she continued, although her tone wavered towards the end. “Please. This is no longer about us two anymore. She is more important. If I can keep her safe by going away from you, I will.”
Shock, anger, hurt… it all warred on his face. Grief above all. He shook his head. Her own heart ached, but she had to do this. As much as she had dreamed and prayed of staying by his side, it would mean putting Etheana in danger. Dreams and hopes belonged to sleepless nights, not the daylight world. She met his growing despair with a renewed resolve. This was for their daughter’s sake. If only he could see it.
“Senja,” his voice was tense. “You don’t know?”
“What?”
“Do you think the Thalmor don’t already know? Or the Imperials?” he snarled. “What happened in Kynesgrove is known across all of Skyrim! And then about nine months later you have a daughter? Did you truly think no-one would deduce who her father could be?”
She flinched. “What happened?”
“Galmar’s spy was good at quieting rumours,” he replied roughly, re-adjusting his hold on Etheana slightly.
“So they have nothing to go on.” She crossed her arms.
“After an Imperial spy left the city with specific intelligence on you and her!” All air had fled her lungs. Her fingers clutched at her throat for breath. “I….”
“He was captured at Nightgate Inn, but his contact was already gone!”
Her knees grew weak. Wobbling forward, she felt his hand close around her elbow. Keeping her in place.
“You will be in danger if you don’t let me help you,” he pleaded once more. “What would happen to you if you decided to run? I would chase you, the Imperials, and worse the Thalmor, would be after you! You both are safest with me!”
Anger surged up within her and she snarled, “May I remind you what I am capable of?”
“I know what you can do. But against an army? Alone and with my daughter? Without support?”
“Is that what this is all about?” she hissed. “You just wish to eliminate us as weaknesses!”
“Do you truly think so low of me?”
“What am I supposed to think? You were disgusted with me being part Altmer! I won’t condemn her to a life knowing her father is disgusted by who she is!”
“She is still my daughter!” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing more calmly. “It is… regrettable that your father is an Altmer.”
How dare he say that she should be ashamed? That Etheana should be ashamed of her heritage?
“If you weren’t half-Altmer,” he continued, “we could have married.”
The only reason why? Was he so repulsed?
“My Lord,” he winced at her mocking use of the title. “How do you wish to protect us? I suppose you already have a plan.”
“You will be made a Thane of this Hold for your brave deeds at Helgen and while escorting me to safety. That will secure you your own Housecarl and chambers at the Palace.”
“What then? What will happen when she’s older? Will you acknowledge her? Will I be condemned to live my life as the mother of your elven bastard?”
“Is this what this is all about? Your status?” Ulfric snapped. “Is it, Senja?”
“You said it yourself,” she heard her own voice grow in pitch. “My heritage disgusts you! Don’t pretend to care -”
“By Shor’s bones,” he interrupted. “It's the best way to make sure you two are safe! We can still work something out once I know you are!”
“I won’t be your mistress.”
“Senja.” He was frowning.“You-”
“This is about the rebellion,” she pressed on. “Admit it. Otherwise…”
“You know why I fight this war! Don’t you dare accuse me of this! I fight for Skyrim’s freedom! Your freedom! Why can’t you see that? Why do I need to explain to you, of all people, that I care for my daughter who, I might add, was deliberately kept from me?! By both Galmar and you?!”
“Oh really?” She could not stop herself anymore. All the bitterness flooded out. “Skyrim for the Nords! I heard it all when I slept on the street! What about her sons and daughters like me?”
His mouth opened, yet for once he seemed too stunned for words. For a moment everything was quiet. Then a wail, Etheana’s face had scrunched up and she was squirming in her bundle. She was scared. Ulfric tried to rock her, unsure in his movements. Uncertain and panicked he looked over to her, seeking her help. She sighed and held out her hands.
“Here, let me…”
Reluctantly, he placed Etheana back into her arms. Etheana only cried louder so Senja started to hum while fishing for the Talos amulet within the folds of the swaddling. Once it was in her fingers, she dangled the pendant from its broken chain above the babe’s face. It only took a moment to distract Etheana with it.
“You kept it?” Ulfric was startled.
She regarded him cautiously. “It reminded me of the time we were together.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes. Slowly, he lifted his hands up and placed them on her shoulders. They were shaking.
“Senja, please. Consider this. The Empire knows, so do the Thalmor… I,” he was begging now, his blue eyes like an ice-lake. “I cannot bear even to think what they would do to her or you. Please… I want you two to be safe. And by Talos, I want you two in my life. I have missed so much of her life already. Being separated from you has left me hollow.”How dare he say this to her? That day at Kynesgrove, when Galmar revealed his true identity, he’d left her reeling without so much a word. After all that, how dare he… her chest grew tight. Could they truly move past all the hurt?
“Did it really?” She had to ask. “First you… insult me for who I am and then… and then you tell me you want me to be with you? What is it, Ulfric? You cannot have it all! I won’t…”
“How was I supposed to react?” he blurted out. “To learn that I had lain with a half-elf?”
“Not like you did!” Tears welled up in her eyes.
Angry at her own tears, she took in a sniffling breath. “How can you expect us both to just move on from this?”
“We both lied. Do you truly think that running away will help?”
“No…. Yet, it won’t be the same.”
“I didn’t tell you who I was and you didn’t tell me…” he did not speak the rest, as if it were something to be kept silent
“Why should I have? We were on the run. I didn’t know you… I was planning on telling you in Windhelm! And then…”
“Everything just snowballed.” He sighed. “Senja, I am sorry for… everything. I wish I had told you earlier. I nearly did, but…”
“I am sorry too,” she muttered.
“I am also sorry I cannot promise you that the future will be easy,” He tentatively pushed his forehead against hers. “But I want to try. Believe me, I have summoned you so many times… I thought… I thought you needed time and I kept sending them hoping you’d know you’d always have a place. And then I was in Whiterun…”
She had spurned him out of anger, out of shame… out of wounded pride that his official summons were the only way he deemed to contact her. He could have just come to the barracks! And then… she had been out on the street, desperately searching for a warm place to sleep. How had everything gone so wrong? How had they made so many mistakes?
“I will acknowledge Etheana,” he continued. “You will be a Thane, with a Housecarl…”
“What will I do as a Thane? Have you thought about what duties I’d have?”
“I…” he paused briefly. “I had hoped you’d be at court, provide me your counsel and be at my side in battle.”
“Ulfric,” she said, straightening herself away from his touch, as hard and heart-wrenching it was in that moment. “What about the elven communities? The Khajiiti caravans? The Argonians? Shouldn’t they have a representative in your court?”
He frowned. “Do you think they need one? The Thanes are there to convey any grievances of the citizens to court!”
“The Thanes don’t care!” she replied bluntly. “Our needs are neglected. The Dunmer are terrorized by bandits beyond the city walls! I couldn’t help them! Do you want another civil war once you gain the crown?”
“Another?!”
“Your supporters already think they’ll be sanctioned to go after the elves and beastfolk. Do you truly think that the Dunmer would stand for it?” she hissed. “ If you want a strong, united Skyrim… you need to bridge the crevasses you’ve allowed to grow. I want to help you.“
“I...,“ he swallowed, then looked down to Etheana. “I will grant you this. To bridge the gap between men and mer.”
She smiled at him, a truly genuine smile now. Maybe this was not much, but, with the earnest smile he was returning, she dared to hope that he was willing to learn. Willing to see and listen and let go of what had happened. He leaned forward again, only to press a lingering kiss to her forehead and then wrap one arm around her shoulder.
“I never would have believed someone could be this small,” he muttered suddenly, once again stroking Etheana’s cheek.
“She has seen only a few moons,” Senja giggled.
“Come with me to the High Table,” he said. “I will grant you the title now.”
“Now?!”
“You saved my life,” he replied, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “You gave me the most precious gift in the world. It is the least I can do to honour you.”
Her head whirled, but the broad grin on his face made her fuzzy and warm. Looking down to Etheana, who was comfortably nestled in her arms with his other arm supporting hers, she nodded. Oh little one, things might be looking up for us..
“Lead the way.”