Just as a warning, this story is rated M! If you're cool with that, then please enjoy! Oh, and the chapter title is from 30 Seconds to Mars, as I realize that hurricanes aren't likely to occur in Windhelm, but the lyrics fit the mood ;)
Zarah stared into the clear blue eyes of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. His gaze was penetrating and intense. He masked his emotions well, Zarah couldn't even begin to tell what was going through his mind.
Their staring match was growing long and rather intense, to the point that Galmar, second-in-command of the Stormcloaks, huffed and stomped out of the room, leaving the two alone. He had heard Zarah storm in, she was never quiet, blatantly loud Galmar often thought. She had snapped at the guard who had tried to inform her that the Jarl wasn't taking visitors at the moment.
He took his leave and the two stared a bit longer, Ulfric finally broke the silence with a soft whisper, "Zarah …" She could see his emotions begin to leak through his mask, worry, disbelief, a tinge of anger. "I thought…I had heard you'd been killed." He stated, his voice regaining its composure.
Zarah pouted, her own mask breaking, her bottom lip quivered for a moment before, "Killed? Have you no faith in me, Ulfric? I'll not be killed until I'm ready to." She said, defiantly, with an angry twist of her hand.
She had not wanted to come back to this place.
She had spent nearly a year in the service of leader of the Stormcloaks, fighting for the cause, as it were, as well as fighting for the future high king's approval, and winning it for the most part.
His compliments of her bravado and skill on the battlefield soon turned to compliments on her appearance and personality. His admiration of her armor and weaponry turned to admiration of the gleam of her hair and the curve of her hips. She had readily, and naively, accepted his affections.
Zarah was a wily Breton, with hair the color of dark sunshine and eyes the color of the sky before an impending storm. He often wondered what her past contained, she rarely spoke of it and gave no inclination as to whether it was good or bad. She didn't care who he was or what he had done and he found it oddly refreshing.
Ulfric ignored her smart remark on his faith in her survival; he took a step forward and cupped her face in his hand, wrapping his other arm around her waist.
Her resolve faltered as she allowed him to pull her to him. His familiar scent filled her nostrils as his arms wrapped around her small frame. She nestled her head against his chest, she frowned though, her fist balling up in the fabric of his robes. She wasn't sure if she was angry at him for luring her in to his traps, or if she was angry at herself for letting him.
He was so damn persuasive! He could make petting ravenous skeevers sound like a pleasant idea.
She let him tilt her head back. He ran his thumb along her jaw line. Her lip trembled slightly before he kissed her. Like all of his kisses, it was commanding and intense. Zarah felt her heart hammer in her chest.
One of his hands remained on the back of her head, as if he anticipated an angry response, the other explored her lower back. He kept her pressed tightly to him, in such a way that made the pit of her stomach burn.
He pulled back for a moment to look at her face, it was flushed, a light pink tinge painting her otherwise porcelain skin. He kept his firm hold on her, knowing it was only a matter of time before the clouds in her eyes vanished and he would be once again pierced with her intense gaze.
She came to this moment of clarity quicker than he thought she would and she quickly squirmed out of his grasp. Stomping a few feet away from him before whipping around and pinning him a glare.
"No." She said, stubbornly, of course, as was her way. She stomped her foot a bit and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll not let you make a fool of me again." Her mouth set in a stern line.
"Zarah," Ulfric started, taking a few steps forward, she mirrored him by taking a few steps back. "I never meant to hurt you." The future High King didn't plead, but if he did, this is what it would sound like, Ulfric was sure of it. "I-"
"You what?" she snapped. "Didn't expect me for another night or two? Was that it, my dear Jarl?" she mimicked the words of harlot that she had found in his bed. "Couldn't keep it in your pants for another day or two?" She stuck her nose in the air, knowing it was a low blow.
He took another step towards her, his hands out, she swatted them away from her. "I was.." He started again.
She cut him off again. "Intoxicated, yes I know, you reeked of it." The Jarl wasn't one for the drink, usually, and she didn't know what had gotten into him to have get as bad off as he was that night. "Let's just blame it on the sodding drink, because that makes it so much more bearable." She could feel her cheeks flushing darker.
Ulfric watched the color spread across her face. He knew she was angry, but she had been angry before, when he had 'messed up' before, as she called it. Usually a few charming words and well-placed touches had her melting in his hands again.
Zarah was as headstrong as they come, independent, and skilled to a fault on the battlefield. He knew he held a power over her though, he wasn't sure what he had that other men didn't when it came to seducing the clever Breton. He knew it wasn't his title or his gold for she had enough of both for all of Skyrim, she was Dragonborn, Thane of more than one hold, she was in good with the Companions as well as the Mages at the College. He honestly wouldn't be surprised to find out that she had ties to the Brotherhood or the Thieves Guild, though she never had mentioned either.
Ulfric took another step closer to her. She narrowed her eyes in warning, but he caught the slight tremble of her lip, the only give away she had. He smiled, a bit smugly, knowing it would only be a matter of moments before he would be carrying her to his bed, and only a few moments more before his indiscretion with the maid would be forgotten as well.
Then she did something that caught him off guard, she sidestepped away from him, finality in her movements.
"No." She whispered, more to herself than to him. She walked to the door, turning to look at him before leaving. "I can't do this anymore. Goodbye, Ulfric." She said in a clear voice that reverberated off him, shocking him.
Months Later
Shor's Stone was a small settlement, but it was quite nice, of course, that was after she had cleared the mines of those foul spiders.
"Sada, there you are." Sylgja came around the corner of the house. "Would you like some dinner? You haven't eaten today."
Zarah had taken back her childhood name of Sada after she left Windhelm. Zarah Storm-Blade, as she was known around the majority of Skyrim, was now Sada Nightwalker. Zarah was a good name, it had been her mother's name, and it had served her well, but she wouldn't be that person anymore.
She didn't feel like the Dragonborn, war hero that Zarah Storm-Blade had become. So she had retook the name that she had been adorned with at birth, Sada. Soon the denizens of Shor's Stone had become accustomed to calling her the night walker, because she rarely came out during the day. It had a nice ring to it, so she tacked it on as her last name.
She had been staying with Filnjar and Sylgja. Filnjar had become a bit infatuated with Sada after she had cleared the mine of spiders. She let him down gently before giving him a nod in the direction of Sylgja, who she had noticed had been eyeing him with a look of adoration. The two had been married recently and were very happy. Obnoxiously so, in Sada's opinion.
Smiling softly at Sylgja, Sada turned down the offer of food and continued to warm herself by the forge fires.
It was time to move on, Shor's Stone was a quaint, quiet town, but she had her fill of the place. She had traveled clear across Skyrim to get out of the shadow of Ulfric, but as the Stormcloaks took more and more land for their own, she found it harder and harder to escape him.
She took comfort in the fact that her heart didn't ache at the very thought or mention of him anymore. It had taken some time and months of travel to reach this point, but she was quickly regaining her independent nature, she didn't need Ulfric to make her happy.
She hopped up from the edge of the forge, a glint of hope in her eyes and a bit of happiness in her step. Inside she quickly packed what few things she carried with her, she gave a quick, but heartfelt goodbye to Filnjar and Sylgja before she set out into the night.