Dawn approaches as I travel north, toward Windhelm and the end of the war. I pass a few soldiers on the way, escorting a Stormcloak prisoner. I'm not totally sure this is the best use of manpower at this particular time, but I don't need more people getting in my way.
So I bid them a good morning and continue on my way down the hill...
...and right into a Stormcloak. Seemingly oblivious to what's coming, the man tries to arrest me for the twenty-something murders I've committed in Eastmarch. But whether under the auspices of war or just normal policework, any Stormcloak who crosses me dies the same way.
Dawn breaks as I arrive at Windhelm. I remember the first time I crossed this bridge. It feels like years ago, years since I first crossed these frozen stones, dripping frigid river water, clad in naught but my pajamas and carrying a rusty iron dagger.
Things have changed.
Tullius and his men are at the front gate. I take my place at the front of the group, ready for the final fight. After a moment's thought, I take off my hood and mask. I want these Noses to see me. I want them to know that it was me, the dockworker, the lizard who scurried beneath their feet every waking hour, who turned their little revolution on its head.
I put Vittoria's wedding band on instead. So I killed her, but now her spirit will be with me as I complete the work she never lived to see completed. It's what she would've wanted.
I think.
So we storm the gates and rip into the last scraps of Ulfric's army. I take the lead by far, rushing ahead with my two swords, draining the lifeforce from my enemies, enough to offset the fact that it's daytime now and I haven't stopped being a vampire.
No more sneaking in the shadows for me this time. No more sniping from afar. It's just me, my swords, and my undying vendetta against the Stormies.
I pass through some familiar territory as I dig deeper into the heart of the city. I know this neighborhood--last time I was here, I was searching for a dark elf who turned out to be nowhere near. Had I been thinking more clearly at the time, I would have remembered that of course the Noses wouldn't have let a nonhuman live in such opulence.
But I think that's mostly irrelevant now. I've refined myself, since then, become something other than the angry spy-for-hire. I've become many things since then. Thief, assassin, vampire, soldier.
And now it's come to a head. I'm here, in Ulfric's throne room, for the second time. But this time I'm here for something a bit more important than just running messages for politicians.
Tullius and Rikke follow me inside, obviously eager to share in my accomplishments. I suppose it's just as well--Tullius is good to add a degree of much-needed formality to the whole proceedings. Making it official.
Had I gone in by myself, I probably would have cut Ulfric off mid-speech and created a rather different narrative. Rather than the story being the Empire putting down an upstart revolutionary, it would've been the psychotic vampire who wanted a taste of finer blood.
Not that I'm averse to bloodshed.
Ulfric refuses to surrender, so a fight breaks out. I dispatch Galmar Stone-Fist (a thuggish fellow if there ever was one) with a swift kick to the groin and a blade to the neck.
It's then that I remember what people said about Ulfric "shouting Torygg apart". It all comes back to me shortly after I bounce off a cheese wheel.
Rikke and Tullius are knocked senseless by Ulfric's shout, leaving me to fight him alone. I'm fine with that.
I gather myself back together and rush Ulfric head-on. Our blades clash violently, echoing in the empty spaces of Ulfric's throne room. How pointless it now seems--all this finery, for a man who claims to be one of the people. A man of the people, alone in his last minutes, with no one to witness the last moments of his empire but those who would end it.
And in the end, that's just what Ulfric is--a man. And that's all he ever claimed to be. A representation of all that he saw was great about Skyrim. A man, tall and strong, forged in winter and tested in battle, worshiping his god Talos and spurning the wealth of foreigners.
Well, that's all well and good for Ulfric. But I'm a lizard, not quite as tall, sneaky more than strong, and a vampire to boot. And I have no problem taking help from daedra, Imperials, and anyone else who thinks I'm worth hiring for my skills.
So really, it couldn't have gone any other way. With Ulfric beaten and broken on the floor, Tullius and Rikke pick themselves up and come on over to dispense justice. Or, rather, Tullius hands me a sword and tells me to get busy.
I'm happy to comply.
Ulfric hits the floor, no longer even the man he thought he was, never to rise again and shout at dinner tables. Then again, this is Skyrim, and he's about as traditional as you get. But when he goes crawling out of his grave two hundred years from now, it'll be someone else who has to deal with it.
Or it could be me. I am a vampire, after all.
Anyways, Rikke and Tullius head for the doors, ready to address the people outside and let them know that the war has ended. I decide to stay back and catch my breath, scarcely able to believe that this whole thing is actually over.
And like I've said...I'm not one for speeches.
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