Outside my command tent, the soldiers were making merry. Dancing around the fire, sharing drinks, regaling their old war tales. They laughed, drank, sang, and made fools of themselves.

I, on the other hand, was about as far from "merry" as anyone could get. Unused to being in command, hunching over a table covered in maps, notes, and other things related to war was one of the last things I ever thought I would be doing. I was not used to being the one behind all the planning. I was usually the one who executed the plans, boosted the troops' morale by claiming to be the leader when I was little more than figurehead.

The flaps to my tent parted, and Marina stepped inside. She held a pewter cup in her hand, and she wore a concerned look on her face. She set the cup down next to me. "Water. You should stay hydrated."

I took the cup and drank. "Thank you."

Bobbing her head, she unstrapped her helm and laid it on the table in front of her. The braids in her hair fell into her face, and she tucked them behind her ear. "Do you have an exact plan, Ylva?" she asked, motioning towards the cup. "Keep drinking."

"If I wanted to be nagged, I would've brought my husband along." Regardless of my irritation, though, I took another drink from the cup. "And no, I don't have an exact plan." I leaned over the map and pointed to an "X" marked in charcoal. "The main camp is here, right in the middle of the volcanic tundra. The terrain is rough, and the climate is far warmer than the rest of the Hold."

"They probably chose this location because they couldn't stand how cold the rest of Eastmarch is. The Thalmor are used to the warm Isles."

"They didn't choose it because of its wildlife. There are bear dens everywhere, giant camps in every basin, and frostbite spiders crawl out of any dark crevice they can find. Aside from the Reach, this place is the most dangerous in all of Skyrim."

"Do you remember this from your youth? I know you were raised in Eastmarch."

I shook my head. "No, I remember it from my mercenary days. One of my clients was an alchemist, and he insisted on hunting giants for their toes' alchemical properties. I still have a scar from the last encounter."

"So we should be wary of the giants?"

I nodded, looking at my map and pointing out known camps. "As long as we don't hurt their mammoths or get too close to their treasure, they should leave us alone."

"If I may offer a suggestion for taking the prison camp itself..."

I stood straight and motioned for her to continue. "I need all the help I can get right now."

Marina used a stubby piece of charcoal to circle the location of the prison camp, only a mile from our position. "Our scouts reported the camp is surrounded by a wall, and a strong one at that. We've speculated they used the prisoners to build it."

"They forced them to build their own cage." I sighed and braced my knuckles against the table. "What else?"

"Even though the wall is strong, and there is only one way in or out, there is a ridge on the south side of the camp." Marina stroked the charcoal in a wide arc around the bottom of the circle she had just drawn. "Here. It's unguarded, and it's an easy shot into the camp from there. We could position our archers on the ridge to pick off the men watching the gates."

I nodded along as she spoke. "Excellent. We could have a small force of fighters waiting just outside the gate. When the archers take out the guards, we'll make our attack."

It was Marina's turn to nod. "Once we're inside, we should free and arm the prisoners. With our combined forces, taking out the Thalmor should be easy."

"We're bound to lose men, though. I feel we're in for a long and bloody battle."

"It's a sacrifice we're all willing to make, Ylva. Every man out there is celebrating because they know this night could be their last. If any of them were afraid, they wouldn't be here now." Marina reached across the table and laid a hand to my shoulder. "I know you're used to doing things alone, but this is something you can't beat by yourself." She leaned back and jerked her head towards the tent flap. "Come on, relax with the men. You'll feel better."

"Someone has to stay sober—"

"No excuses. You may be my superior, but I'm still ordering you to listen to me. Let's go."

With great reluctance, I followed Marina out of the command tent and into the welcoming company of my men. As one, they raised their voices, some even lifting their pewter cups in a salute.

Marina took a mug from one of her Legionnaires, handing it to me. "While I prefer Cyrodiilic wine, your Nordic mead has its appeal."

Gratefully, I took a deep swig from the cup, savoring the honeyed liquid pouring down my throat. It was not quite as good as the mead we had in Jorrvaskr, but it would do.

Marina was right; I already feel better.

I mingled with the troops. I laughed at terrible jokes, and cracked a few of my own. With as much mead as these men had in their bellies, all pretenses were sent far away. I was not their leader. I was merely a fellow soldier, celebrating as though it were my last night on Nirn.

Which, I realized with a sobering jolt in my stomach, it could very well be.

I was not allowed to worry on that thought long, for someone at the center of the camp whistled at me. I turned, seeing Ralof motion for me to join him by the fire. "Our fearless leader, Ylva Sky-Shatterer!" he roared over the noise of the crowd. The soldiers around me parted, giving me a clear path straight to Ralof. He smiled at me, arm outstretched. Hesitantly, I took his proffered hand, and let him help me stand on top of a crate of supplies. His soft blue eyes were glazed over, but he was not completely hammered. Yet, anyway.

"Let's hear it from the hero of Skyrim! Raise your voices, lads, so that the gods themselves hear us!"

The men gave an almighty cheer, one that rattled the ground around us. My cheeks flamed, and it took every ounce of self-control to tell myself to stay where I was.

The cheering eventually died down, and once it did, a single, crooning voice emerged from the silence.

"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart," sang one of the Stormcloaks closest to me. He was gray at the temples, and crow's feet adorned the corners of his eyes. His weathered face was the most sober in the crowd; I wondered if he had been drinking at all.

The soldiers close by joined him in singing, "I tell you, I tell you, The Dragonborn comes!"

Within no time, every man and woman in the encampment had raised their voices in my honor, singing a song far older than ourselves. The valley in which we were encamped resonated with the sound of song. The trees rustled in the night's wind, and in the distance, a wolf howled. It was as though nature itself was joining in, creating a harmony more beautiful than any human voice could.

Gooseflesh crawled across my skin under my armor, and my heart swelled with emotion. I had heard this song many times over the years, but somehow, it was like I was hearing it for the first time tonight.

"With a Voice wielding power
Of the ancient Nord art,
Believe, believe,
The Dragonborn comes!

"It's an end to the evil
Of all Skyrim's foes!
Beware, beware,
The Dragonborn comes!

"For the darkness has passed
And the legend yet grows.
You'll know, you'll know
The Dragonborn's come!"

Before they could sing the song all over again—and I knew they would if I allowed it—I raised my hands to silence them. "I need your full attention!"

Marina, who had sometime during the song moved to stand on my left, grinned up at me. "Don't worry, you have it."

I gave her a small grin in return. "All right, remember why we're in the middle of Eastmarch's wilderness. Remember our objective. We are here to free our brothers and sisters from their elven overlords. We are here to liberate them from their chains, and take them back home. Tomorrow, we march on the Thalmor's chief camp in Eastmarch. I fully expect a long and fierce fight awaiting us. So we must be at our best. I believe we've drained enough of our mead reserves for the night. Sharpen your blades. We march at dawn."

With Marina's help, I jumped off the crate and pushed my way back to my command tent. Outside, the noise began to die down, until it was nothing but the rasping of whetstones being run along blades and whispers of prayers for the day to come.

"Spirits lifted?" asked Marina, her arms behind her back and shoulders squared.

I nodded and peeled off my gauntlets. "You were right. Thank you."

"Just doing my job."

I snorted out a laugh. "Your job isn't to babysit me."

She shook her head, shoulders relaxing. "No, but it is my job to make sure my commanding officer is at her best." She pressed her right arm over her chest. "General."

I returned her salute. "Get some rest, Marina. Talos knows we all need it."

"Same goes for you." With that, she turned and pushed open the tent flap. "Good night, General."

"Good night, Marina."

Once the flap fell closed behind her, I finished stripping out of my heavy armor and changed into a black tunic and matching leggings. The dead grass prickled the bottom of my feet as I strode across the tent to the small desk in the corner beside my bed. I retrieved my inkwell, fresh roll of paper, and writing quill from one of the drawers. By candlelight, I wrote to Vilkas, saying:

My dearest love,
Thank you for your last letter. Hearing from you in this trying time never fails to lift my spirits. I miss you and the children greatly. It is like there is a hole in my chest, that can only be filled by my family. Without you, I'm incomplete, and I readily look forward to returning to your side and being whole again.
Tomorrow is the day. We march to liberate all those men and women held in the Thalmor prison camps. While I am as physically prepared as I can be, I am nervous, my love. I pray that the gods will grant us victory. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of leaving you and the children alone in this cruel world.
Do not worry for me, though. Only pray, love.
Give my love to the children. Tell them that Mama cannot wait to see them again.
All my love,
Your Ylva

Once the letter was dry, I folded it up and sealed it in an envelope, setting it aside to be sent out in the morning. I blew out the candle, stood from my desk, and sat down on my bed. I nestled into the furs, forcing my eyes to close, but my mind refused to calm. My stomach coiled around itself, and my throat closed.

Oh, Talos, I prayed silently, please grant me rest. Grant me strength to fight. Grant me wisdom to lead. And keep your hand over all of us tomorrow. Be with us all, though many of us have forsaken you.

With a troubled mind, I lay buried under my pile of furs, praying until I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.