A set of steel orbs slowly open and peer up at the man beneath her as he brushes disheveled flaxen strands of hair from her line of sight. "Now that's a welcome home I could definitely get used to. Shame it doesn't happen more often though, but I will take what I can get... I assume you missed me then since you're putting the key I gave you to good use, didn't you?"
"More than you'll ever know or understand, Rhiannon," he murmurs as dry lips plant a loving kiss on the woman's head, dutifully ignoring a quiet snort followed by a 'Of that I highly doubt' from said female. "Not many things get me away from the capital as I'd like. The unfortunate side effects of being the High King, I'm afraid. The preparations for the impending war with the Thalmor has taken up much of my time as of late."
"Not just your time, Ulfric. I spent last week checking the camps and the defenses down in the Rift, this week I'm up here in Dawnstar and dealing with some aftereffects of Skald's nonsense- I do think it will be time for him to step down soon. His age is certainly catching up to him. Then the week after according to Galmar I'm due to visit Winterhold- besides checking the preparedness of the camp south of Snow Veil Sanctum and the one we took over from the Imperials southeast of Nightcaller Temple for the General, there's a project I have one of my associates in the Hold's capital working on something for me. I'm due to see what progress he's made on it."
"Perhaps when you're finished seeing how things are in Korir's hold you can take a few days to rest in Windhelm? I'm sure Galmar and Jorleif would like to make sure you're still alive, as well as some of the others. I can always send Ysarald to check Falkreath and Whiterun in your stead." The broad male doesn't say anything else for a few moments, then hums in agreement regarding Rhia's comment about Skald the Elder. "There are not many candidates that come to mind that could handle Dawnstar right now. The only person I could trust with such a position that's in the Hold now is Frorkmar, but I'm not just going to drop such a responsibility on him without discussing it. When the Thalmor are permanently dealt with, however, that will be one of the first issues I address."
"I think not, my King," Rhiannon goes, jabbing his scar covered chest with a long finger. "The first thing you must take care of as soon as the Thalmor are permanently dealt with is getting your wife with child. It's been two years since you were wed to Elisif, Ulfric. You need a legitimate heir, love- a bastard cannot take the throne, you know this."
"You know that and so do I, but the harridan is having none of it. She is making too many demands that I will not cave in on, forgetting that she is the one who lost the war. Lady Elisif seems to think that by withholding her performance in bed will get me to capitulate. I'm not complaining though about her obstinance- you're the only one I can and want to share any bed with my dear."
"If that was the case you would have fought the Moot tooth and nail when they demanded you wed her. To Oblivion with the bloody throne, Ulfric- it's still not worth giving everything up to keep!"
Gray flecked brows furrow as what was the beginning of a wonderful night hits the first proverbial bump in the road. "Rhia, you know I had to... After everything we all fought for, everything our brothers and sisters died for- should I have let it all be for naught and just hand it all to the Thalmor on a silver platter? If I had, Talos only knows what they would have done to you. The best case scenario would have been a long drawn out death for you as they force me to watch." Ulfric's arms tighten around her body just a touch as his own mind turns against him momentarily. Yes, that would have been the best case scenario, but we both know that the Thalmor would not have been kind, not to you, not to the woman who I'd raze the entire province to find... After it passes, the ruler continues "Besides, I seem to remember you also being resigned to your own arranged marriage by the other Jarls."
The Nord woman knew her paramour was correct, not that she would admit it aloud of course. "There were... worse options... than my having to wed Erikur..." It had bothered her more than just a little that the ability to make her own choice was once again taken away, this time by mortal beings- namely the Moot with members seemingly loyal to the Jarl of Eastmarch. They had felt, in order to show the rest of Tamriel that Skyrim was no longer being divided, both the victorious Jarl of Windhelm and his Stormcloak Dragonborn had to marry someone from the opposing side. For the good of the province they called it, Rhiannon muses as she focuses back on the conversation. "Like Siddgeir, for instance, with his rather peculiar sexual activities? Or perhaps the former Jarl of Whiterun- maybe I could have been the lucky third wife and not mysteriously die? Oh wait! Here's one- they send me to 'marry' some Thalmor noble with the threat that your behavior determines how well I'm taken care of by my new Lord..."
Before Rhiannon could continue her verbal train of thought, Ulfric growls at her, rolling the pair over and pinning the younger woman on the massive fur blanket that covered the mattress beneath them. "Do you want to turn me prematurely gray woman? Or do you want to just skip that and send me to an early death- accomplish what the Imperials and Thalmor haven't yet?"
"Obviously if you're still walking the roads of Skyrim, Sovngarde isn't ready for you yet... I just wish..." A remorseful look flickers across her face.
"I know." The ruler cups her cheek, scarred from a burn received during Alduin's attack on Helgen five years ago. Ulfric thought that, despite the rags the Imperials had placed her in and the rather untidy appearance, Rhiannon was a good looking woman by Nord standards. He had found, even months after escaping captivity once more, his mind drifted periodically to the blonde haired, silver eyed woman- did she escape, where was she, things of that nature. Needless to say, he received the answers to those questions and so many more when-
"Ulfric?"
Emeralds peer down into stormclouds as a sheepish expression flickers across his face. "Sorry, I was remembering the first time our paths crossed after Helgen. You certainly made an entrance into Windhelm that day."
"The Ancient Dragon," Rhia goes, her right hand going to rub at scars on the opposite arm just below the elbow. "I remember that- and the scars tend to remind me of it every so often with phantom pains. I did try to have it not land in Windhelm proper, but trying to get a dragon to do anything logically is like trying to figure out how touched in the head M'aiq really is- extremely impossible. At least we were able to keep it contained in the courtyard of the palace."
"At the risk of your own life."
"Needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one, in my case."
"You were bedridden for over a month," Ulfric points out to her. "Granted I was able to learn much about you over that period of time," he adds, dragging a slow finger over parted lips, "however I would have enjoyed it more had you not been physically...indisposed. Really, going up against a dragon in leathers..."
The younger woman lightly bites at the digit, the man not being able to pull it back in time. "My leathers haven't failed me yet... though the look I got from my blacksmith when I went to replace them on the other hand..."
"Ah, and how are your guild mates doing? Does the redhead still hate me for keeping you from his rather lengthy list of conquests?"
An exasperated huff escapes Rhia as she jabs his chest again, this time a bit harder to emphasize her point. "Maybe if you didn't throw it up to him every time you two cross paths Brynjolf would stop breaking into the Palace and stealing something that has no importance to anyone but you. Besides, if he truly wanted to hurt you, he would have done it already." She chuckles softly as she adds "You know, there is someone he doesn't like more than you, so be grateful for that."
"Oh, and who's that?"
"Your wife- says even if she paid him to fuck her, Bryn claims he wouldn't touch her with a ten foot polearm. Of course he says this, whether or not my Second would actually do this is something else. To this day I have yet to see Brynjolf turn any woman down who wanted a night with him in bed, so I would not hold my breath that he'd deny the Royal Consort... There is a first time for everything though."
A wry smile graces Ulfric's face. "I'm glad there is something he and I can agree on... And your bodyguard- the shade?" the High King glances around, almost expecting said specter to show up out of nowhere. "Normally he would have tried to kill me at least once by now."
Ulfric had the dubious pleasure of meeting his lover's ghostly protector one night as he was getting to leave her home in Hjaalmarch, the specter none too pleased that the ruler had put his desire for his throne before his love for the woman laying against him now. If it wasn't for being around Galmar's paranoia for so long, there was a very good chance that the assassin would have gotten the drop on him.
"To keep you on your toes darling- have to be constantly aware if you're going to bed his Listener, you know. And in answer to your question, Lucien's not here- had matters to tend to elsewhere."
"Elsewhere, hmm? So, I take it that means we're alone? No Housecarls, no Stewards, no annoying Guildmates popping up out of nowhere?" At Rhiannon's nod, the bearded man says nothing more but gently nudges her legs apart. Darkening emeralds lock with sparkling hematite as he slowly presses into her, the woman's soft intake of breath blending in with Ulfric's low groan. When he's fully sheathed in her, his head buries itself into the side of the younger Nord's neck and proceeds to nip at the pale skin there. The smell of dragon's tongue envelops him, bringing the ruler back to much more simpler times- before his time learning at High Hrothgar, before the Great War and the Thalmor, before the Empire he believed and bled for bent the knee to the elves, before Markarth, his imprisonment and subsequent release, before the Civil War. It was warm and inviting. Safe. Home. And this is why I keep coming back for her embrace, because no other can replicate this...
"She might be my wife, the supposed Elisif the Fair, but that is in name only. It is a marriage that is as empty as the one you have with Erikur." The man takes a hold of his lover's chin as he starts moving with shallow, gentle thrusts at first, then starts to mix in rougher, deeper penetrations. "You were mine from the moment you woke up in that blasted cart. You reaffirmed that claim the minute you defended Windhelm and her people from the dragon. Our bond was forged over fire, blood, betrayal by those we trusted and a love for each other that was solidified on your wedding night- the night you should have been with Erikur and instead chose to spend it with me. It will be a cold day in Oblivion before I willingly release you."
A strangled gasp escapes Rhia's mouth as her long fingers latch into unbound goldenrod locks. "As if I'd let you do that-" Whatever else the woman was going to say gets swallowed up by his mouth claiming hers, Ulfric's rough hands forcing her very willing and eager body up to meet his as he continues to drive into her. The slighter Nord tries to wrap her legs around him, but the way he was digging his nails into her skin, the feel of his teeth biting at her neck- it was as if he was possessed. Not that Rhiannon would ever complain, her own animalistic disposition showing through more than once when it came to one Ulfric Stormcloak.
The man in question knew his paramour was close when all he heard coming out of her mouth was a combination of partially formed words and sounds that could only be defined as guttural. Ulfric never could fully translate what he heard, as it sounded like a strange combination of dragon and common tongues. That never stopped him, however, from relishing in the thought that he was and would continue to be the only one who could make her like that. Pushing himself in fully, a smirk crosses the ruler's face as Rhia bucks her hips against him, trying to get her tormentor to move again. "Losei dii."
"Talos help you Ulfric if you don't start moving," she growls out, trying to force his broader frame down onto hers, long nails dragging on his arms and leaving bloody trails in their wake.
Rhia's only response is a dark chuckle, followed by him painstakingly pulling out her. As the ruler slowly pushes back in, the Dragonborn felt as if she was underneath the influence of the Slow Time shout. That tightening inside her was too much for the woman and she groans up at him "Ulse. Ahrk losei dii."
With another stroke, Ulfric plunges back inside her madly, needing the woman beneath him as much as a dehydrated man needed water. Not to be outdone, Rhia meets each of his thrusts with one of her own, that familiar feeling of a coil tightening inside her then shattering as the Nord woman's body arches off the mattress. Stars exploded in her eyes as everything around her faded into nothing, her muscles clamping and constricting around him, forcibly dragging him into orgasmic bliss. One rough thrust of his hips, then a second. Finally on the third, the bearded male lets out a low moan into his lover's ear, all the aggravations of the past few weeks vanishing with his release.
The two lay there, Ulfric carefully on top of Rhiannon, each trying to regain control of their breathing while ignoring screaming muscles and other aching body parts. The slighter Nord tries to slide out from underneath him, failing due to being partially tangled up in the cover, the other being the man's muscular arms on either side of her. She doesn't say a word, only huffs in annoyance.
"And where, pray tell, do you think you're trying to run off to my dear?" Nearly black orbs look down on Rhia's face, the soldier's normally neat hair disheveled in some spots and plastered down with sweat in others.
A thin eyebrow arches slightly at the question. "I was planning on dressing- it will be a cold day in Oblivion before I bring you to the door naked, especially up here in the Pale."
"Who says I'm leaving?"
"You can't stay."
"Expecting someone else to warm your bed tonight?" Ulfric's bushier eyebrows furrow at where his brain took him once more. She's loyal. She's always been loyal. That would never change... Rhia would never betray me... Right?
"I think not. It's more along the lines you never stay for fear of someone noticing your departure then sending word to your wife. Then knowing her she'd try convincing those malleable fools we call Jarls that you've proven to not be as honorable as you claim. There'd be a good chance she'd be able to sway some of them into believing her-"
"Damn the onlookers. Damn the Jarls. And damn my wife," the Nord male grumbles darkly as he rolls onto his side, then starts to pull his woman flush to him. "Right now, all I want is to hold you in my arms as you fall asleep and just forget the outside world exists for awhile."
Rhia lets out a soft yet pained chuckle as she allows herself to be pulled snug against his chest, her tousled strands of hair meshing with Ulfric's. The beating of his heart is enough to start lulling her to sleep, a thought that has the younger Nord snorting with amusement. Trying to hold back a yawn and failing, she manages to get out "That sounds almost domestically normal, love. I don't think anyone would believe you are capable of such a thing."
"You're the only one lucky enough to see such a thing." The Stormcloak curls around Rhiannon, his legs entwining hers as he gently puts his chin on top of her head. "There is no one more worthy. But you need to rest, Rhiannon- you've been pushing yourself too hard, and do not try to tell me you're fine. I have known you and your tells for too long- you need to take better care of yourself." Blindly he searches for part of the snow bear blanket that was bunched around their legs and somehow manages to pull it over their bare forms.
The younger woman goes to protest but the rumbling of Ulfric's voice in his chest, the warmth emanating from his body, plus the fact that yes she was rather tired causes Rhia to just nod in agreement. She'd never openly admit that he was right, of course- the Last Dragonborn, She of Many Titles, had a rather bad habit of putting her well-being at the bottom of her list of priorities. It wasn't her fault that she had so many things to take care of and not enough time in the day to do them. "High King's prerogative?"
As silver eyes eventually droop closed and her breathing evens out, slumber overtaking her, the still awake Nord male presses his mouth against the woman's head and murmurs "No... Now as someone who loves you, that's a different story..." Eventually Uflric himself drifts off to sleep, not looking forward to when he will have to wake and part from his lover again.
Four Hours Later
The High King of Skyrim leans against the door frame, tired jade eyes watching Rhiannon still sleeping on the bed. He hated leaving like this, not saying goodbye before he traveled back to Windhelm, but the man knew that if he woke her the ruler would find some reason or another to delay his trip back home. The Stormcloak also knew that, having already given his farewells to Jarl Skald earlier the day before, his staying around Dawstar could and would be questioned by the less than sane older Nord. Perhaps Rhia was right in that I should have said something when the Moot first brought up the idea of my wedding Elisif. It's been nothing but a hassle since day one.
Turning to head down the stairs and out into the cold Skyrim night, he pauses and glances over his shoulder. A pained whisper can be barely heard over the crackling flames "Zu'u lahney fah hi. Zu'u fen krii fah hi. Zu'u fen dir fah hi."
When the door leading outside clicked shut signaling Ulfric's departure, a pair of watery hematite orbs flicker open. For a few minutes the only sound that could be heard was coming from the roaring fireplace, then the sound of quiet sobbing blends in with it- tear tracks which no one would see running down her face, cries that she believed no one would hear.
But the Dragonborn was wrong.
People did see and hear, as they had seen and heard this and other events like this in the past from both Rhiannon and Ulfric. And they were not happy at the situation that the young woman and the man who held her heart so carefully were in. And they decided to do something about it.
This is their story.
A/N: Crap, Seph's brain is at it again. Why won't she just finish something already?
Well. This is a thing. And honestly, I still can't believe I wrote this. My feels are kinda hurting and I hate when I do that. But my brain wouldn't let me go to bed tonight until I had this chapter finished and put up... and I have to be up for work in about six hours. Thanks Inspiration.
Could I see the Moot doing this- Oh yes. Political unions were a thing, still are a thing, and I have no doubt that the Moot would have hoisted some spouse on Ulfric just to make sure there was an heir. And a spare or three. As for making Rhiannon wed, well... The Dragonborn belongs to Skyrim, is Skyrim, and must also do her duty to the province. And I totally agree with Rhia- imagine being wed to Siddgeir or something. Yuck, the manchild is oily and greasy and makes me feel like I need a bath.
Translations!
"Losei dii." - You are mine.
"Ulse. Ahrk losei dii." - Forever/For eternity. And you are mine.
"Zu'u lahney fah hi. Zu'u fen krii fah hi. Zu'u fen dir fah hi." - I live for you. I will kill for you. I will die for you.
Thank you for reading. Feel free to send any comments, questions or the like- I do enjoy reading what people think about what my brain and fingers come up with.
Now I need my bed. Night!