Ulfric was woken, like he usually was, by the need to relieve himself. The cries of sea eagles circling outside his window, however, were new. He felt warm and sated and he started his morning ritual of cataloguing everything that had been done, and everything that needed doing. The war was over. He'd won. He was going to be king. Skyrim was going to be his. He had to organise which troops to leave in Solitude. His chain of thought was completely snapped as he remembered something else.

He had a lover. A flighty and unpredictable one with a habit of disappearing and falling into bed with other people.

This last thought startled him into action and he rolled over, half expecting the rest of the bed to be empty. It wasn't. Dyce was sleeping on his stomach, his red hair half pulled free of his ponytail and spread across the pillow in a tangled mess.

Ulfric moved closer, watching him sleep and resisting the urge to stroke his cheek, or his hair, or the hand that was the only other part of him not covered by blankets. Eventually nature's call grew too urgent and he slipped out from between the covers.

When he returned Dyce was still asleep. "Bloody little thief," he murmured. When he'd disappeared the day before, he'd left Ulfric with what felt like a gaping hole in his chest. Just waltzed right off with his heart along with half a dozen other things he was sure Dyce hadn't noticed he'd missed from his palace.

He couldn't hold it against him. He didn't seem to do it deliberately.

Despite it going against years of habit, he climbed back into bed. The movement must have woken Dyce up, for he cracked open a blue eye and spent a few moments focusing it.

"Hmm." He reached out and patted Ulfric reassuringly on his bare chest and then rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

"Good morning," Ulfric said.

"Yep," Dyce agreed, feeling the mess of hair on his head and sitting up to comb out the loop of linen that usually held it back but was right now doing nothing useful at all.

Ulfric lay back on his pillow and enjoyed watching him, the way he moved, the way the indirect sunlight reflecting off the floor made his skin glow. A lover fit for a king indeed, but he was more than that. Dragonborn. General Stormblade. Mostly just him. Mostly because when he looked at Ulfric, Ulfric felt like a person.

It had been so long since he'd seen someone else just being there. Dyce rubbed his stubble and blinked when he looked out the window and yawned. It was fascinating. Dyce watched him too; he admired him with a series of quick, amused little glances. Ulfric could almost feel his gaze like a caress across his shoulders and chest, and he was well aware of Dyce's opinion on other aspects of his physique. It was a little unnerving, to be the recipient of such gleefully lustful attention, but it was also pleasing as well. Despite the adventures of the night before, he wasn't quite flaccid.

"I could marry you, you know," Ulfric said thoughtfully.

Dyce stopped wrestling with the knots in his hair and shot him a dubious look. "You could try," he retorted.

"Politically advantageous." He smiled, "Certainly a lot of fun."

"You don't need to marry someone to have fun. Case in point; this right here. Also." Dyce pulled his hair back and retied it before turning to face Ulfric, "If you mention the word 'politically' while I'm naked, I'm not going to be naked in future. Not where you can see, anyway."

"All right, all right. You've made your point." For now, at least. This was how it was going to be, he realised, and as much as part of him still wanted to chain Dyce to the bedpost, he accepted that he simply couldn't.

He'd have to trust that Dyce had been honest when he said he couldn't stay away from people who wanted him around. Dyce was always honest. He'd come back. It would have to be enough until Ulfric worked out a way to convince him to stay.

"It's over, isn't it?" Dyce looked worried and uncertain. "The war."

"Yes, the civil war is over. In a few months the Moot will meet and they will make me High King." Dyce actually had the cheek to look sorry for him, and Ulfric frowned. Certainly there were some things that weren't going to be pleasant, but he'd known that he was destined for this since he'd been a boy.

"I suppose there'll be a great party, at least," Dyce said.

Ulfric sighed, "Yes, you look on the bright side for me."

Dyce grinned at him, "Sarcasm suits you, you know."

"It's a bad habit," Ulfric said, and he sensed with Dyce around he'd have to be on his guard against bad habits. Habits like sitting around in bed all morning.

He reached out for him and Dyce smiled and closed the gap, shuffling over to his side of the bed and pressing up against his side. Forget sitting around in bed all morning; he could stay here for a week, he realised.

Ulfric sighed and looked at the ceiling, thinking. "Would you do something for me?" he asked.

"Hm. Probably. Unless you want me to lead another army."

Ulfric shook his head. "Not this time."

Dyce didn't reply, he just buried his face in Ulfric's shoulder. Ulfric lifted a hand and stroked his hair. "I won't ask you to do anything you can't do. I'll be your king, when you need me to."

"The Thalmor were the reason I fought this war," Dyce said, his breath hot against Ulfric's skin. "But-"

"No one knows what war means until they fight. It's a hard lesson to learn." He'd been so young, and looking back, so stupid, when he'd learned that lesson himself. "Right now I want you to do something that suits your talents better. And it's important to me." Dyce looked up, interested, and Ulfric found it hard to speak. "Find her. Find my daughter. I know you could, if you put your mind to it."

Dyce looked utterly surprised. "Maybe I could. But why me? Don't you want to do it?"

"I do, but." He sighed. "When you find her I want you to talk to her. Find out if she's happy. Find out if she'd be better off not knowing me. If her birthright would be too much of a burden for her, I would see her spared. Like Rikke wanted her to be." Maybe it was a bad decision, but he knew he had the option of changing his mind later if he had to.

Dyce was staring at him, "You'd trust me to do that? To make that decision for you?"

"I honestly can't think of anyone I'd trust to do it better." He looked into Dyce's eyes, so full of concern for almost everyone he met. "You know people, Dyce. Better than they know themselves probably."

Dyce shifted, put his hands behind his head and lay back against the pillow. "All right, if you put it like that. I'll do it."

"And don't lay a finger on her, you understand? Promise me."

"Yes, I promise. I guess I'll start in Markarth; if I had to hide a baby, I'd give it to the Temple of Dibella – oh, Divines, what if she's a priestess? I'm regretting this promise already." He groaned.

"Not a hair on her head!"

"Yes, I know," he laughed.

"It would be inappropriate, especially if you're going to be her stepfather."

"Will you give that a rest already?" He rolled his eyes. "What are you going to do if she does want to meet you?"

"She's my heir. She'll live in the Palace of Kings and will start learning the arts of war and statecraft as befits a Jarl's daughter."

Dyce sat up and looked at him, "Are you seriously expecting a young woman to live in the Palace of the Kings?"

"Why not? Where else would she live?"

"Ulfric, you have one elderly chef. And his food is fine, but the dust is ankle deep in some of the corners. You need to clean the place up first. Hire some servants."

"Its a bit short notice, don't you think?"

"I hear there are plenty of underemployed Argonians working at the docks."

So that was his plan. "Dyce," Ulfric began.

"Who's in charge of Windhelm again?" he asked innocently.

Insolent little Breton. You couldn't help but smile.

"We'll see," Ulfric said, and Dyce appeared satisfied.

Ulfric was satisfied too. He knew that for as long as he felt he could help, Dyce would attempt to do so. He'd always come back.

As much as he wanted to stay in bed, they both had many things to do. Dyce took Ulfric's request seriously, as he knew he would. He left as soon as he'd put his clothes on and stolen breakfast from the palace kitchen.

Galmar had sent some troops to the Thalmor Embassy but no one was surprised when they returned to report the place was empty. For a few short months Skyrim would lack a king, and therefore they had a legitimate excuse to avoid any diplomatic relations with the Thalmor. That time was not to be wasted.

Ulfric returned to Windhelm. He couldn't stand his army down, not with the Thalmor on the horizon, but he had to dissolve the split between the Stormcloaks and those who'd fought for the empire as fast as possible. The country needed rebuilding. Solitude especially needed funds to repair the damage that had been done during the battle.

Elisif made it clear that she loathed him personally but a diplomatic marriage would not be off the cards. Ulfric responded with similar sentiments to keep her hoping and politically pliant, but he had no intention of following through. A Dragonborn consort he could trust would be far more useful than a queen he couldn't, especially in times of war.

Thalmor missives were replied to with a polite 'wait and see' but Ulfric wasted no time getting in contact with the independent Hammerfell, a natural ally as he saw it, and even the Empire. Skyrim had to prove she was a country worthy of the title, and not just a few Nords throwing a fit about some obscure religious matter.

The war was over; trade could resume, and indeed, increase. They would need wealth and a lot of it to fund the coming war. But he couldn't stir the country too fast; she needed to rest first, to heal. So while the ordinary folk saw little change, Ulfric worked his fingers to the bone and talked until he was hoarse. Every night he slept the deep sleep of the truly exhausted, and every morning he wondered where Dyce was.

A few weeks later he received a message by courier:

She's not in Markarth.

-Dyce

Ulfric decided that on the whole that was good news. He had beseeched Talos a countless number of times over the years to protect her, and he prayed again that Dyce might find her safe.


The Argonians worked hard. They tended to sluice down the tiles with water when a simple sweeping out probably would have sufficed, but Ulfric was starting to get used to the strange way they looked and moved even if he didn't find them aesthetically pleasing. And they gave him no cause to complain.

He'd changed the rules so that Argonians could be allowed inside the city walls for the purposes of gainful employment, and he gave it another two weeks before the local shop owners got sick of watching them walk out every evening with their wages in their pockets and petitioned him to let them stay in the city long enough to spend some money.

It was one of Windhelm's rare clear days, where the fallen snow reflected the sun so brightly it made your eyes water. Ulfric and Jorlief were going through the latest letters from the Jarls when the doors to the great hall were flung open.

Ulfric's heart leaped when Dyce strolled in, as if he'd only been gone a few hours rather than weeks. Ulfric waved Jorlief away, his eyes never leaving Dyce's face. He looked windburnt and happy; his cloak and boots dusty.

"Well?" Ulfric asked.

Dyce perched on an armrest of Ulfric's throne, and leaned in to talk into his ear.

"She has her mother's eyes," he said, and smiled. "And her father's ambition. If I hadn't shown up, she would have owned half the trade routes in Skyrim in ten years. And have Maven looking over her shoulder in fifteen. I foresee a lot of arguments about Khajiit, and if you try and involve me I'm going to take her side."

"So, what does that mean?"

"I told her you'd need a few minutes to get ready."

"She's here?"

"Wild horses couldn't have kept her away."

Ulfric's heart was pounding. He stood up, and took a shaky breath. "They must have given her a new name. What's my daughter's name?"

"Ysolda," Dyce said.

"Ysolda, Ysolda." He tested it.

"I want a reward," Dyce said abruptly.

"What? Yes, whatever you like, within reason."

Ulfric was startled out of his confusion by Dyce taking his hand. He looked into eyes that were so happy for him. "I want to introduce you," he said.

"Oh. Thank you."

Dyce led him towards the sunlight. The snow was so dazzling, it made his eyes water.


A/N: Thanks for reading. I found Ulfric a really hard character to write, and an even more difficult character to redeem. I hope I did him justice. If you've come this far and want to read more stories about Dyce, you can find them on Ao3. There's a link in my profile.