I do not own Skyrim, or any of the themes represented in this piece of work. I am making no profit off this piece of work.
The main hall and war room were slightly warmer than the upstairs, but not much. Ulfric rubbed his palms together and leaned over the map of Skyrim, but the little red and blue flags swam through his vision. He was still too tired to think about strategies. Instead, he moved to the main hall, picking out an apple and a piece of bread for breakfast. He took his place in the throne and ate, listening to the quiet murmur of his guards' gossip.
Ulfric had just began to relax, when the doors to the palace swung open, revealing an orc storming her way to his throne, many guards trailing behind her. Ulfric stood, anger rising in his chest. "Pigs are not allowed inside the-"
"There is a murderer in your city." she interrupted gruffly, "why have you done nothing to stop him?" Ulfric parted his lips , the urge to Shout rising in his throat. She raised a hand, meeting his eyes. A familiar glow radiated from them and he recognized her as the young orc from the execution cart a few months ago. "Do not turn this into a Shouting match, Ulfric." her gruff voice echoed throughout the hall.
"What do you know of Shouting, Pig?" Ulfric's eyes narrowed, his thick accent coming through in his anger. The orc gasped, her fist coming undone, going lax in her surprise. She hadn't expected Ulfric to ask if she was dragonborn yet. She looked away from Ulfric just long enough for him to give the guards a nonverbal signal to take her down.
She hit the floor solidly, six or seven men pinning her limbs and torso to the stone floor. "Are you claiming you don't have time because of your "war" efforts?" She shouted, struggling against the men, almost freeing herself. "What if the murderer kills someone dear to your soldiers? What if your soldiers lose the will to fight because their loved ones were murdered by A MAN YOU REFUSED TO PUNISH?" Ulfric sat back down, his anger beginning to diminish. He ordered her to be thrown in the barracks, he would deal with her later.
The commotion woke Galmar, who came from the upstairs, brandished sword in hand. "What's happening?" He asked, reaching Ulfric's side as the guards dragged the fighting orc away.
"Nothing," Ulfric answered, taking an angry bite from his apple. "Let's begin strategizing."
.
In the barracks, Baltruz Gra-Molag growled pointlessly, anger rising to unbelievable heights. Yeah, she had heard that Ulfric had a low tolerance for Khajit and Argonians, but Orsimer were technically mer, not beast. She screamed, punching the wall. "Called me a PIG!" Baltruz shouted. "Should have been taking care of his PEOPLE!" She screamed unintelligibly, the berserker rage filling her to the brim. Her vision turned red and she gripped the bars of the cell, breaking them with strength she didn't normally have. She plowed through the guards, making her way to the main hall, blind in her rage.
Spinning wildly, growls tearing from her throat, Baltruz found that Ulfric wasn't in his throne. She recognized in her power-drunk state that the berserker rage wasn't going to last long and grew desperate. She tore through the long tables and found her way into Ulfric's war room, targeting the tall nord as soon as the power began to dwindle. She fell to her knees, exhausted, before laying her hot cheek to the cold stone.
Ulfric and Galmar stared, bewildered, at the young orc woman who had just almost killed them. Quietly, the orc lifted her face and met Ulfric's eyes again. "I need... to join the... Stormcloaks."
.
.
The first mission was rocky to say the least. Some of the soldiers weren't happy to see such a creature, either working with them or not, and many soldiers weren't afraid to let their true feelings be known. Fortunately for Baltruz, she was used to nords treating her so.
The second mission was a little better, and the third even better. She rose through the ranks with ease, capturing the respect of Stormcloaks and Stormcloak supporters everywhere. Songs were written, rumors were started, hateful stares became adoring, and Baltraz learned from the soldiers. She learned to braid her hair, and use her shield as something more than a blunt object.
Shouts were used against enemies and while they were hunting. The nords loved and adored her, but Baltraz was beginning to feel squeamish about the abandonment of her people. Were they to be granted certain permissions they had been denied because of her success, or was she going to be the only one to receive such permissions? Baltraz had received the title of Stormblade and Ulfric had informed her that they were ready for the seizure of Fort Hraggstad.
Galmar had gone to bed long ago, leaving Baltraz and Ulfric in the war room alone. Baltraz still found ways to piss Ulfric off, ways he didn't know even existed, but something else was growing within him, a closeness that Ulfric didn't know how to handle. Initially, his plan was to use Baltraz to seize his rightful position as High King of Skyrim and then toss her aside, labeling her a criminal to be killed on sight. But recently, the sight of Baltraz was beginning to drive him crazy. The way she celebrated a victory by tapping her toes to a rhythm he had never heard, the small smile that graced her face as her arrow flew into the bull's-eye, her lower lip stretching against the tusks when she did smile, the way her strong fingers delicately painted on that strange design every morning.
Ulfric had his fair share of pretty women, and he loved bedding them, but had never... fallen in love with any of them. Which was a terrible notion to be entertaining. He wasn't falling in love with Baltraz, there was no way. She was a beast, nothing but a creature, a... a PIG! But at the same time, Ulfric had seen the way her eyes lingered on the orc strongholds, he had witnessed the inner workings of her mind, he had seen how hard she worked to not become the dragon tearing away inside her. ... And it had created a soft spot inside of him.
Baltraz was leaning against the table with her arms crossed. She was staring out the tall slender window, thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with Ulfric when he took a step closer to her. It brought her from her day dream, he was standing closer to her than he ever had before, and it was making her neck hair stand on end. She swallowed and opened her mouth. "I miss my stronghold." She said quietly, her brusque voice bounced off the walls. "Before we take Fort Hraggstad, I'd like to visit them." Ulfric took another step, making Baltraz un-cross her arms. She furrowed her brow. "Jarl Ulfric?" She asked, "Are you feeling okay?"
Ulfric pounced, his hard member pressing into Baltraz's upper thigh. She squirmed against him, resisting as he pressed his lips to hers. If I force it, then it won't mean anything, he told himself as he worked the familiar clasps and ties on her Stormcloak armor. It fell away, revealing all her curvaceous and muscular glory to him. He had never seen such creamy, olive-green skin and it mesmerized him. Pinning her wrists to the table, he moved down, taking a dark nipple in his mouth. Blatraz made a noise above him and moved to free her wrists. Ulfric sucked harder, rolling the nub between his teeth and lips and tongue. She continued to struggle half-heartedly. She was an Orc, Ulfric remembered, and if she didn't want this she could get out of it. But that was no good.
In his delirious moment, Ulfric switched his point of view. Beasts responded to carnal rewards better than monetary rewards. And Baltraz was definitely a beast. He was thanking her for all her hard work for his war effort. He let go of his wrists and moved to his knees, his mouth finding her musky sex through her undergarments. Baltraz cried out, her fingers finding purchase in his thick blonde hair.
Ulfric worked his fingers into the straps of her underwear and pulled them down to her knees, his tongue searching for the little button of skin. Finally, he pressed it with the tip of his tongue, making Baltraz cry out, the wanton noise bouncing off the walls. "Jarl Ulfric! Jarl Ulfric." She breathed, pushing his head away from her. "Why are you doing this?"
Ulfric looked up at her from his spot on the floor. The lust clouding his eyes made it hard for Baltraz to find his true intentions. Ulfric stood, seemingly trying to find purchase in his lust driven state. "I am... thanking you." He said thickly, pressing his hard member against her again.
She moved away from him, putting distance between the two and replacing her undergarments. "I do not want it." She stated clearly, gathering her tunic and armor from the floor. "The honor of killing those Thalmor bastards is worth it."
"No." Ulfric answered, pulling his own tunic and trousers off and tucking away his loin cloth. "I'm not letting you leave me like this. I am the true High King of Skyrim and I deserve to reward you how I see fit." Ulfric pushed her against the wall, pinning her arms high above her head with one hand and tearing away her undergarments with another. He slid deeply inside her, causing her to cry out in distress as her hymen blood tricking down her thigh. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he whispered against her neck as he allowed her to adjust to his size. He began moving, and Baltraz, against her inner will, whimpered. The emotional dam all orcs had, had been broken. "Please," she begged "Please let me go. Do not sully me further."
Ulfric continued to move, against her will. "It will feel good. Trust me. It will be fine." He licked his fingertips and pressed them against her magic little button. He found that, rubbing ever so gently caused her little whines of pain to be transformed into mewls of pleasure. He dropped her arms and she wrapped them around him, resting her head on the crook of his neck. Ulfric sucked at her chartreuse ears and neck. She was letting this happen, she was accepting his thanks.
He moved faster, picking up the pace and thrusting harder. Baltraz pressed her palms to the wall and bit her lip, trying to stop the keens of pleasure from escaping her throat. An unfamiliar warmth pooled in the lower part of her abdomen and she made another wanton noise. Ulfric came with a gasp inside of her and pulled away. His seed dripped from her, making lewd splatter noises against the stone floor.
Baltraz stood, breathless, staring at Ulfric, and he did the same. She caught her breath and gathered her things once more. Pulling the tunic over her head and the trousers up to her hips, she left without a single word.
Ulfric stood, catching his own breath as the morning light began filtering through the tall windows. He began dressing and exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure what he had just done, but as he picked up and folded the armor Baltraz left behind, he was sure of one thing. He would never be satisfied by a nord woman again.
The jarl found his way to the throne and sat, a hand over his eyes as the start of a headache pulsed against his brow. "Where is Baltraz?" Galmar asked, eying the pile of clothes in Ulfric's lap.
"Gone to see her stronghold." Ulfric answered. He wasn't sure if it was a lie or not, but knew that Baltraz might not be back.
.
.
The day arrived in which they would begin attacking Fort Hraggstad. Ulfric had heard whispers and rumors about the whereabouts of Baltraz, but serisouly doubted that she would come back. Galmar had asked him a dozen or so times to contact the orc, but Ulfric refused and refused again.
The map of their current location lay spread out on the table in front of Galmar and Ulfric has they reviewed their strategies. "And this troop will move left, and then that leaves this one to move forward and take some ground within the actual fort."
"He-ee-ey!" A soldier laughed from outside the tent, drawing Galmar and Ulfric's attention. Galmar left to inspect the commotion, leaving Ulfric leaning over the map, thinking about back-up strategies. More laughter and celebration came from outside the tent, Galmar's familiar laugh included.
Ulfric opened the tent flaps and stopped dead in his tracks. Baltraz was there, looking as triumphant and confident as always. A smile began to slide across Ulfric's face before he could do anything about it. With Baltraz on their side once again, there would be no stopping them. Baltraz approached him, staring fixedly past his shoulder. "I am ready." She said, her gruff voice music to Ulfric's ears.
He stared at her, she had a black eye and looked a little worse for the wear, but if she said she was ready then... He clapped a hand over her shoulder, causing a wince to explode across her face. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. "What's the plan?" He briefed her shortly, making sure she understood the plan, before they moved out.
He tried to keep an eye on Baltraz as she moved about the battle field, blowing through Imperials and Shouting. He had never seen her battle before and it was quite breathtaking to witness. Eventually, most of the Imperials lay dead or wounded, some were running, but Stormcloaks with bows were picking them off one by one.
Ulfric stared around to see any sign of Baltraz and finally found her stuggling to get up from the ground. Her arms were trembling as she pushed herself up, but to no avail, she fell and closed her eyes, resting her head on the dirt. "Medic over here!" Ulfric shouted, jogging towards the fallen orc. The medic followed him, supplies and restoration magik at the ready. Ulfric removed the heavy armor from her back and cut away her tunic, ready to see the damage. As the cloth fell away from her skin, Ulfric went numb.
There on her back was raised green skin, bleeding and stinging from her sweat and exertion. He dropped the dagger in surprise and moved out of the way of the Medic, unable to keep his eyes off the whip marks. She had gone to see her stronghold and this is what they did to her? Anger bubbled up from his stomach and he threw his head back Shouting into the sky.
As the healing magik touched Boltraz, she winced and tried to move away from the help. "Malacath would be unpleased," she whispered. The medic shushed her and, as he continued his ministrations, Baltraz's eyes slipped close.
.
"Now," the medic said as he laid out a few potions of varying color and size. "restoration magik can only do so much. If you strain yourself, the wounds will open again. And we don't want that." Boltraz made a small noise in the back of her throat in response. Her eyes followed a hawk's movements outside the window. The cavalier attitude towards her wounds was making Ulfric angry again. He would have never let her go into battle had he known her condition.
As soon as the Medic left, he stepped into the room, watching her silently as she stared out the window. "Why would they have done something like that to you?" He asked curtly, discourteously. "Why would you go back if you knew that was something they might do?"
Baltraz was silent, listening to his angry breathing made things seem real. The Hawk dove, finding a rabbit or similarly weak animal. She swallowed and turned her head, meeting his gaze for a split second before looking back down at her hands. "It is the way things are done in our strongholds. We abide by rules that other mer and humans do not understand. When we act out of line, we must be punished, when we must be punished we take it without complaint. No one bests an orc, and an orc bests everyone." Ulfric was silent as he stared at her. "As the chief's daughter, I was to be wed." A smile graced her features, making her lower lip stretch between her tusks, the dry pigment of her warpaint cracking. "I was honored. They dressed me in beautiful garb. It was beautiful. I was beautiful. The chieftain of Largashbur, Yamarz, came just before Midnight, as is custom, but something told me it was wrong. That he was wrong. He was not honorable and I could sense it. While the wise woman set the traditional items and prepared for our marriage, I snuck from the stronghold. But as the years passed, I began to miss my father and the wise woman and my sisters. I longed to return and right my wrongs." She paused and clenched her hands into fists. "Yamarz was there. He demanded to see if I still had my maidenhead. ...I did not. He demanded I suffer the blood price, so my father let him whip me and whip me and whip me. When it was all done and said, Yamarz left, my sister in tow instead of me."
Ulfric stared, dumbstruck. The orcs really were beasts. Boltraz swallowed again and reached for the water the Medic had left. But why was Boltraz different? Had she been assimilated due to the years of living with nord men? Ulfric stepped closer and Boltraz's head spun around to look at him as she remembered what had happened last time. Another step and she put up a hand. Delicate nails decorated each fingertip, making her seem more feminine than Ulfric had ever thought. "Please, no. Not again."
Ulfric was determined to right his wrong. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and then to each of her tusks, finally besetting a considerate kiss to her lips. Slowly, he moved his hands down the length of her torso, pushing her trousers off her hips. "It won't be like last time." He assured her, and she nodded, finally relenting to his wishes.
Ulfric undressed Boltraz with careful consideration, touching her in all the right places as he did so. Soft noises accompanied with little pants escaped her mouth. Ulfric smiled. This time, he wasn't forcing it or thanking her. He was showing her that a little bit of intimacy could go a long way and wouldn't always end in shame, disgrace, or pain. As he undressed and led his member into her throbbing sex, he was showing her what he thought could have never happened.
Ulfric was showing Boltraz that he loved her.