Stallion of Whiterun (Skyrim Balgruuf SI) Chapter 22 (Patreon)

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The dinner was a tame event, Irileth found, as the Jarl and his guests walked onto the Great Hall of the Palace. There was not much pageantry to speak of, no flowing banners and bards annoying the guests with their music and song. As was said earlier, a simple dinner. The fare was far from it however. Seared slaughterfish swam in a butter garlic sauce, crab cakes served with a spiced dipping sauce of cream and onion, golden brown apple pies and bread freshly baked in the Palace kitchens. Mead and ale washed it all down. They dined well and quietly, the mood for conversation stifled by the failed negotiations from earlier. 

Balgruuf stole glances towards Ulfric's way, wondering how best to approach the explosive Stormcloak. Jarl Hrolfdir would have his army and they could best be on their way in the morning but leaving out one of the few Tongues around would be a tactical blunder. He did however note with interest how both Ulfric and Freyja were quietly looking at their father as well, the Jarl grumpily eating away at his meal. 

A part of Balgruuf resisted the urge to laugh. Certain family dinners in his old life were more coherent and friendly than the air he now breathed. As the meal went quickly, consumed amidst quiet conversation, the Jarl stood up to his full height, ready to retire. Eyes turned towards him then quickly, towards Ulfric as the Jarling stood up. 

"My Jarl!" Ulfric cried aloud. On her chair, Freyja held onto her fork and knife a bit tighter.

Balgruuf watched with interest as Jarl Hoag stopped in his tracks. He turned towards his son. "Lord Ulfric, what is it?" He asked quietly, his expression tense and lordly. Ulfric faltered slightly at his father's gaze. But, he felt a squeeze on his arm. It was Freyja, urging him on. 

He took a breath. 

"Father, I must know what is it you intend to do with the matter of Markarth," Ulfric asked, putting in more life into his words. "Jarl Hrolfdir has come all the way here to ask for our help in reclaiming his Hold from rebels. Are we truly going to abandon him in his hour of need?"

Glances and whispers were exchanged as Jarl Hoag sent his son a furious glare. He took a breath, nursing his rage, before answering. "Windhelm will answer, Lord Ulfric, but only when Markarth agrees to our simple demand; to restore what is our people's right!" 

"And if this is not met, is Windhelm ready to sacrifice the Reach?" Ulfric argued, his fear of his father slowly giving way to his frustration. "The Holds look to us for leadership and strength! What use is that when we turn away our brothers and sisters suffering from the Reachmen?"

"The Holds will think twice before supporting us in the future." was what left unsaid. The implication was not lost to Jarl Hoag. 

"Windhelm leads, Ulfric, for we see what is best for all of us. To restore the worship of Talos, the Ninth Divine, is the best. For he is a man that became God!" Hoag's voice rose. "I will not let good Windhelm men die while they cannot worship Talos, as is their right!" His voice was like the roar of his banner's spirit animal, loud and fierce. It echoed off the walls, each man and women in the room feeling it reverberate in their bones. 

Ulfric however did not give up. He stood tall and proud, not backing down from his father's challenge. This only enraged Hoag further. He rounded onto his son, his quiet rage now in the open. "Our children were sent to fight the elves and what did we get in return? Our dignity and our god made cheap for peace! My own son, my boy, languished in a Thalmor prison for an Emperor that tossed his sacrifice, the sacrifices of those that fought for him, like trash!" 

He breathed down steam as he halted before Ulfric, glaring at him. "I will not allow, I forbid, any more sacrifice from Windhelm unless a sacrifice is made for us in turn. This I have decided and this I have decreed!" Hoag snapped. 

Those assembled in the court watched quietly as Hoag breathed in and out, Ulfric watching his father with open eyes. From his seat, Balgruuf finally grasped why Hoag was being such a hard ass. He no doubt would have been informed that Ulfric was captured and spent time in a Thalmor prison. The failure of the Empire to rescue him as well as the Concordat being passed broke the man. If he were in Hoag's shoes, he understood his stubbornness. 

The sentiment he could agree with. But it was a sentiment unneeded for Skyrim demanded action at the Reach. 

And Ulfric grasped that, the words of his sister and Balgruuf playing in his mind. 

He took a breath yet again and placed his hands on his father's shoulders. The move calmed Hoag slightly, feeling his son's hands on him. "I lost your mother to illness. Freyja lost her husband to the war. I feared for your life when I heard that you were capture, Ulfric," Hoag said quietly, enough only for Ulfric to hear. "I will not allow more of Windhelm to bleed and sweat for others unless they bleed and sweat for us in turn," he said firmly. 

Ulfric felt his heart drop. Gone was Hoag's anger to him. He did not sound like a Jarl here but rather, a scared man looking out for his children. 

Ulfric felt that deep in his heart and stomach. Which made the next thing he was going to do hurt even more. But it was fine, Ulfric thought. 

For Skyrim.

"Father..." Ulfric said, squeezing his father's shoulders. "I understand now why you ask of this...but if we fail to act, I shall be the one who will bear the weight of your inaction." He levelled his gaze with his father, his lips curled in a sad smile. "Do not move the Hold. I will go, with your blessing or without." 

"You defy me, son?" Hoag asked quietly. 

Ulfric walked forward, embracing his father. Hoag did not resist, letting his son embrace him fully. "For Skyrim, I must," Ulfric whispered to his father before pulling back. Hoag watched him stoically, not reacting as Ulfric turned around and glanced towards Jarl Hrolfdir. 

"Jarl Hrolfdir! Windhelm may not move for you, but I shall. I am one but I fight with the strength of a hundred men. Will you have me?" he asked, amidst the gasps of the court. 

Jarl Hrolfdir glanced up. 

He gave his answer.

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A/N: So there's Hoag's MO.