"Freyja? What are you doing here? Last I heard, you and Ulfric were headin' up to your room for some alone time."
Silver eyes narrow as the woman stares at her long time friend. "Today's the anniversary of my father's passing Galmar. I spent the two hours or so as I always do this day- praying down at the temple. There is no way I would not do that, you know this as does my husband." Blonde brows furrow in thought for a few moments, then Strong-Heart continues with "I would have gone earlier, but there was a wedding going on during the afternoon- I think Oengul's apprentice was marrying Calder, the one Ulfric appointed as Gisele's Housecarl when she became Thane of Eastmarch... You don't think he...?"
"Ulfric would never reinstate First Night, especially since he has you as his wife. We might be traditionalists, but I'd like to think the three of us are of the same mind when it comes to that."
"One can only hope, but I'd like to go check just to make sure. Care to take the walk with me?"
A gray flecked eyebrow arches slightly at the stupid question the Warrior Queen asked. "Well, as your and Ulfric's Housecarl, I'm sworn to protect you both with my life. Even if you weren't his wife, you and I have been friends since we were children- I'd follow you straight into Oblivion, Freyja, if you asked it of me."
The slighter Nord slips her arm through Galmar's as the two make their way to the stairs that led to the back part of the palace. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you... Sometimes I don't think I deserve half the things I have in my life."
"I think we all needed something from each other at some point in our lives," the General goes as he holds the door to the stairs open for her. "You were Ulfric's rock and I was his conscience. You showed me that I wasn't a failure when I allowed him to walk into that ambush at Darkwater Crossing and he constantly keeps me on my toes when he sneaks off with you without warning. Ulfric showed you that you were and still are worthy to be loved and I back you up when he wants to do something stupid. That's why I think the gods gave us each other."
"When did you become so wise and philosophical, my friend? Must be old age and boredom catching up to you, no doubt. Perhaps we should find a way to get you back on the battlefield, hmm? Maybe that's what the three of us need- we've gotten complacent with the peace."
A noise could faintly be heard echoing through the stone corridor, and the closer the two Nords got to what was the bedroom the High King shared with his wife the louder and more distinct it became.
"Open the door, Galmar. I want you to do it because if I go in first I know I'll kill both whoever took my form to fuck my husband... and probably Ulfric simply because if he doesn't know my body after thirty-five plus years of knowing each other..."
Ulfric, I swear to Talos I hope you have a damned good explanation for this, the Housecarl thinks as he throws the door open with a bang.
Everything is going right for once, Hermir thought as her King moans underneath her- not that Ulfric knew it wasn't his wife thanks to the enchanted amulet she wore to take on said woman's appearance. He'll never be the wiser, and I get my dreams fulfilled.
All she had ever wanted since she was a little girl was to please Ulfric Stormcloak, whether it was being a model citizen of the Hold, excelling in her studies as a blacksmith in the hopes of making the armor for his future soldiers, or, since he hadn't taken on a wife prior to three years ago, a lover of sorts. The first two were easy enough, but when he had returned from Talos knows where with her wearing an Amulet of Mara, Hermir knew she would have no chance in swaying Ulfric from Freyja Strong-Heart (no relation)'s side. Even worse was, despite the new High King being a traditionalist in the strictest sense of the word, he emphatically refused to bring back the High King's right to claim First Night with any newly married female- claiming one woman was enough for him.
And so the blacksmith apprentice quietly studied the art of enchantment, of using the pieces of jewelry she crafted to hold the magic of changing her appearance, even for short periods of time. It took a lot of time, sleepless nights, and many ruined attempts before the young Nord could get the enchantment to hold, and many more attempts after that to get the change to hold longer than five minutes. The best Hermir could do- the piece around her neck- was four hours, and she was about three hours in. She was going to have to end this much sooner than she'd like, but, the woman thought, it would be on her terms... or so she thought.
Suddenly the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. She lets out a soft squeak, rolling off of a clearly displeased Ulfric and pulling the sheet up around her bare form.
"Galmar, what's the meaning of this?"
"I think you better ask the woman in your bed that, my Lord." Icy orbs narrow at Hermir and she swallows- How did he know?
"Have you hit the bottle a little too hard tonight? You know who this is- she's my wife!"
"If she's your wife, Ulfric, then who is standing right behind me?" The angry Housecarl steps to the side, revealing the expressionless face of Freyja.
"I know they say impersonation is the sincerest form of flattery, but to take on another woman's face to get their husband to fuck you is a new one for me." Silver eyes move from the now panicking woman in the bed to the man who's emotions flickered from confusion, to anger, to regret. "And you. What day is it today, Ulfric?"
Blonde brows furrow in thought, then he sighs in resignation as the man figures out what she was aiming for. "It's the fifteen day of Rain's Hand...and the tenth anniversary of your father's passing."
"Very good," the woman says, mock applauding him. "And what do I do every fifteenth day of Rain's Hand?"
Another sigh. "Go down to the Temple of Talos and pray that he, and all those who came before us, to continue watching over us and guiding our actions." He looks up at her, adding "But you normally go earlier in the day, not this close to dinner."
"Funny you should mention that, my rather obtuse husband. It seems that after you and I chose to marry here in the temple here in Windhelm, others also wanted the honor as well. Today Calder, the Housecarl of the Thane of Eastmarch, was getting married to War-Anvil's apprentice- Stormblade had written to us of the occasion, but she was unable to make it because Jarl Thongvor of Markarth had need of her assistance with some problems down in the Reach. Regardless, I was unable to utilize the temple until a little over two hours ago, after the festivities were finished and cleaned up."
"I was quite confused when I saw Freyja here walking in from the Valunstrad, when I thought she was with you, Ulfric," Galmar goes, then rubs at the back of his head in a slightly sheepish way. "I too forgot what day it was. Some friends we are, my Lord."
"So, do we need to further prove that the woman you have been fucking is not your wife, Ulfric Stormcloak? Perhaps things that only your wife would know, like how you asked Gisele to find me, or how you told Galmar in the temple there was supposedly no one more worthy than Freyja Strong-Heart to be your wife..." Freyja bites back the sob that threatens to come out and shakes her head. "We've known each other over thirty-five years, Ulfric. You're more intimately acquainted with my body than any person save my mother, and I yours... Could you seriously not tell the difference? The scars- the ones you told me that showed my strength of character, my love for my fellow shield-brothers and sisters, the scars I received from making sure you made it home alive, the same scars I had started to hate- she has none of them! Did you not notice that rather large fact?"
The ashamed look that crosses her husband's face says everything and the woman shakes her head. Her gaze turns towards the slight copy of her own body in the bed and goes "You picked the wrong day to mess with me. Get out of that bed, get dressed, and General Stone-Fist will take you to a cell in the Bloodworks- after you give me whatever it is you have on that allowed you to wear my face."
The fake Freyja slowly slips out from under the blanket, picking her blue dress off the floor. A look of fear mixed with just a hint of loathing flickers across their face as the material lowers over her head, covering her naked body. She takes her boots, not bothering to put them on, then moves to stand in front of the High King's wife. Without warning, Hermir spits on Freyja's face, snarling "You don't deserve him! You're not good enough for him!"
Instead of violently reacting like both Ulfric and Galmar thought she would, Freyja just wipes the drool from her face with her tunic sleeve and responds "You're partially right. I don't deserve him. I deserve better- at least better than a man who can't tell the difference between his wife and someone who covets a married man who openly stated more than once he wasn't reinstating the tradition of First Night. You ended up making a liar out of perhaps the most honorable man I knew, all because you just had to have him." Stormy orbs glance at Stone-Fist, the woman not willing to turn from the spiteful shrew before her. "My General, please bring her down and make sure the newest resident of the Bloodworks is comfortable in her cell. I'm sure you will have many... questions to ask them and it will take a long time until you are fully satisfied."
"That's true Lass... but should I leave you alone with...?"
"Galmar, I swear on all three of our fathers that I will not physically harm the High King while you are gone unless it's self-defense... Unlike some Nords, I keep the oaths I make." The older man just nods at Freyja's promise, then takes a rough hold onto the other woman's arm and bodily drags her from the room, leaving the married couple alone.
Repentant emeralds stare into emotionless hematite. "Freyja..."
"Don't, Ulfric. Just...don't." The flaxen haired female turns her back on him and moves towards the wardrobe where her clothes were kept, and, after picking up a backpack, starts putting her more functional items in it. Behind her, Strong-Heart can hear him climbing out of the bed, then frantically tugging a pair of pants on. "Don't bother."
"You can't leave, Freyja," Ulfric tries to plea with her, his normally strong yet level voice cracking. "I need you here."
She doesn't turn her head to address him, her hands moving automatically as they add a few more things. "Then it seems anyone wearing my face is enough for you. Perhaps you can find someone from the order of Chirurgeons out in the Summerset Isles to manipulate someone to look like me permanently- that way you're not wasting money on enchanted items to keep the appearance. Of course, you would have to worry about the person they send being a Thalmor plant to kill you. Choices, choices."
"Will you come back?" When his wife doesn't respond, he moves behind her and slowly turns her around to look at him. "Please, Freyja, promise me you'll come back. I can't go through you running from me again. You're my wife. We can talk this out-"
"Right now we can't, Ulfric. I just caught you, knowingly or not, fucking another person wearing my face in our marital bed. If the roles were reversed, most likely you'd have killed first the person first and asked questions later. I'm showing that woman more leniency right now than she deserves- truth be told, I want my hands to bathe in her blood as I take her life."
"Promise me."
"I don't make promises I can't keep." The blonde woman growls out, then looks up at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't follow me this time, because that's what I'm asking for- time. I have to know if it's Mara's will to stay with you after this revelation."
"I don't make promises I can't keep either." Before Freyja could retort, the man amends "I don't make promises I knowingly can't keep."
"For some reason, I don't believe that." She gently frees herself from Ulfric's grip and moves towards the door. Before the woman leaves, she goes quietly "Perhaps being your Warrior Queen has made me soft- never before would I have let someone who wronged myself or my loved ones live as I have done tonight. Perhaps I'm not cut out for court life... Perhaps I need to find something to fight for again... Goodbye, Ulfric. I do hope you can keep yourself out of trouble- hopefully you'll start listening to Galmar more often, yes?" With that, Freyja is out the door, down the stairs and heading towards the stairs to the main hall before the ruler could get a word in. And as much as the lone Nord wanted to go and drag his wife back kicking and screaming, he wasn't that worried.
I've got eyes and ears in every Hold, people that she doesn't know about. It shouldn't take me as long to figure out where she runs off to this time. Opening a drawer, Ulfric tugs a blue shirt free and pulls it on, then slips his feet into a pair of boots. First though we find out exactly who was in my bed tonight. Then we find out if anyone else was involved. Then, after handing out their punishment, see if anyone has seen my wife and bring her home. I refuse to lose her due to my stupidity- again.
Little did the High King of Skyrim know that forces were moving against him to make sure he truly learned his lesson this time around.
A/N: This just came to me while I was pretty much having writers block on most of my stories. As I said, this is not a true sequel to The Only Thing That Matters, at least at this point in time it's not- it's more of just a what if kinda thing. I'd like to think Ulfric would be more than aware of his wife's body, especially if they have known each other for more than thirty years. But he is a man, and man is fallible, especially when magic of some sort is involved.
Regarding the concept of First Night: Yes, the concept of jus primae noctis ("right of the first night") is barbaric. It was a supposed legal right in medieval Europe that allowed feudal lords to have sex with the women of their lands, especially on their wedding night. I could see the Kings of Skyrim's ancient times utilizing this concept, though, while Ulfric can be seen as a traditionalist of sorts, I'd like to think that he loves Freyja enough that he doesn't need to sleep with half of Skyrim.
Hermir... I don't know why I chose her out of all the possible women of Eastmarch or the province as a whole. Perhaps its the fact in the game she seems to hero worship Ulfric and thinks the world of him. But I'd also like to believe that every person out there- man, mer, orc, cat or lizard- has dark desires they wish they could act on, and Hermir did, taking the time to learn some enchanting and finding a way to look like her High King's most prized possession. Having her marry Calder was just a slight bonus, as Calder is the Housecarl you receive when you become Thane of Eastmarch. Considering the Thane of Eastmarch is Stormblade, and Stormblade is the Guild Master for the Thieves... everything just wrapped up nicely that way. I do feel sorry for Calder though...