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Summary
The last time he saw her like this had been the night of the battle for Solitude. The Stormcloaks had been victorious. (Only just, Ulfric admits to himself. Had the Dragonborn not taken a treated arrow during the midst of battle, well…it may very well have swung the other way.)
Feverish and sporting fresh stitches, she’d shaken off the healer, stormed down the main thoroughfare of the city. In only her night shift. So determined to see to her home, to the vagabond children inside—left in the tender care of her housecarl—that even the smoking husk of the city and the Stormcloak guards (who’d been advised not to impede her movements but to let Ulfric or Galmar know when and where she went) wouldn’t stop her.
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