The Dragonborn's steps echoed steadily as she crossed the threshold of the Palace of the Kings, boots leaving ghostprints on the frost-laced tiles. Guards flanked the great hall, eyes steady, but none dared question her entrance. Her name carried weight—equal parts legend and threat.

Ulfric Stormcloak rose from his throne at the far end, fur-lined cloak draping regally across his broad shoulders. His gaze, colder than Skyrim’s heart, softened ever so slightly as it met hers.