Just FYI, this is also posted on my ArchiveOfOurOwn account too. Same name, same story. Enjoy. And don't forget to comment please.
For a long time, Loriel stood there in stunned silence at Ulfric's side and just stared at Isran, founder of the new Dawnguard.
From what Ulfric knew, the Dawnguard had made a comeback about twenty years ago and punctuated their place in the world by taking on an incredibly motivated clan of vampires and winning. Vampires who were organizing attacks, causing panic in just the right spots. It was the vampire's war to claim the human race and they had been put down because of Isran's efforts.
Yet…
"You can call me by my name, Isran."
The Dawnguard snorted and he stepped to close the distance between the three of them, stopping a comfortable distance away. It was close enough though that Ulfric could see the grey that heavily flecked through the man's beard.
"Jarl of Windhelm, good evening," he greeted with a very slight bow, standing just an inch shorter than Ulfric himself and Loriel almost towering over both of them.
"Good evening," Ulfric replied, slow and cautious.
Loriel pursed his lips for a moment and sighed. "You seem to have changed considerably since we last spoke."
"Only in age. That, though, hasn't seemed to touch you," Isran replied, lips curling upwards minutely.
Loriel's lips in turn curled downward heavily.
"Why are you here, Isran?"
The Redguard tilted his head, those eyes lifting to Loriel's before he asked, "An old man can't visit an old lover now that he's surfaced from hiding?"
The words made Ulfric breathe in in surprise while Loriel's ears and face steadily flushed a shade of angry scarlet, visibly going tense as Ulfric felt.
What?
What?
"If you're here to ask me to rejoin the Dawnguard just so you can prove to me just how expendable you think I am, the answer is no," Loriel growled.
The Dawnguard leader shook his head, those blue eyes almost glowing. "I'm not here to try to convince you of anything, Loriel. I just came to give you this. That's all. Bat wanted you to have it," he said and reached up to pat the box that was secured to his back.
Ulfric felt his jaw tense.
But Loriel though, his anger seemed to dissipate a little in surprise.
"Bat?"
Isran glanced away, his eyes along the bridge before he tilted his head. "Could we speak somewhere a little more private?" the man requested.
The Jarl frankly wanted to say no but this conversation seemed to be entirely between Isran and Loriel. He glanced to the elf, not wanting to leave him alone with Isran. Not wanting to leave him alone with an old lover for fear that there was still embers that just needed to be stirred with a poker to come back to life again.
Was Ulfric feeling a bit territorial?
Absolutely.
And the bard licked his lips quietly, expression concentrated before he glanced to Ulfric.
"Could I borrow your main hall?" he asked.
Praise Talos!
He tried not to show his incredible relief at the request and only nodded.
Loriel gave him a small, thankful smile.
And Ulfric turned back to the gate, pushing it open ahead of them all, and lead the way back to the Palace of the Kings, Loriel a few short paces behind him and Isran even further back. Nothing was said between the three of them until Ulfric reached out and Loriel's long arm beat him to the door.
Again.
Their eyes met with shared small smiles at what felt like an inside joke between just the two of them and the Altmer pushed it open, letting both Ulfric and Isran in before closing the door after.
Isran gazed about the hall and nodded, approaching the end of the great table and eased the wooden box from his shoulders, finally placing it down on the table and Loriel came to stand beside him at the table.
Ulfric only watched and observed, noting how slender Loriel was in comparison to the Redguard who was at least ten years his own senior. How young Loriel looked in comparison to them both.
How old was Loriel?
He knew that he had said he had come to Skyrim 34 years ago, had been on the run for quite some time before then, but how old was he? With the Mer races, one could never be certain.
It would have to be a question for later though.
Isran breathed in, his shoulders rising with the movement, "Bat left a few years ago. Decided to go back home and challenge his father for the title of chief. He seems to be doing well."
"Is he happy with that life? He always seemed…"
"Adventurous? I think the journey that brought him to this might have started to cure him of that," Isran said, a small amount of a laugh on the edge of his voice. "The scroll you brought back from the Cairn lead us straight to it. It helped us stop them. You helped us stop them, even though you cut and ran to live your simple bard's life at the College like you always wanted."
"Isran, I almost died in the Soul Cairn. I don't know about you but I personally think that dying is terrifying," Loriel told him curtly.
"You're an Altmer. Your kind has always been a bit more protective of your long lives when not causing havoc."
"Compare me to the Aldmeri Dominion again and I will beat the teeth out of your head."
The threat made an relaxed smile cross Isran's face.
Open fondness.
Perhaps Loriel made those kinds of threats often to Isran's face in the past.
"Just open the box, Elsinlock."
And Loriel's face turned red with irritation.
Or embarrassment.
With the bard's expression, it was hard to tell.
He breathed in deeply and slowly let it out before he began to carefully undo the straps which kept the box closed and carefully lifted the fitted lid off. His movements slowed to a halt though as he rested his eyes on the contents.
His jaw went slack, eyes growing wide in shock and awe, and he stood there frozen in stunned silence for a long time.
Isran's eyes glanced to Loriel's expression and a small smile rested at his lips. "He said that the Bow of Auri-El best belonged in the hands of a devout worshiper."
The elf looked to him, expression still surprised but peaceful almost, lips parting to speak but he only drew in a breath.
Then another.
He closed his mouth.
And then swallowed.
And then he took one more breath.
"He found Forgotten Vale."
The words were so quiet Ulfric almost missed them.
And Isran nodded.
"Serana thought you should have been there with them."
And Loriel took a surprised breath.
And Isran gazed down to the contents of the box, changing the subject a little as he stated, "I thought the draw weight might be a bit much for you."
Loriel let out a soft breath, a small laugh maybe. "If it is, I'll learn it," he murmured, smiling at Isran in a way that made Ulfric frown, and looked down into the box before he reached in and drew out a bow that looked almost elven in design, uncharacteristically modest in comparison to the modern versions but undeniably ornate and lovely. There was also no sign of wear or use on the bow at all. No sign of scuffs from anyone ever dropping the bow or having it knocked from their hands or ever shot an arrow from it. It looked…
Timeless.
And unlike the modern versions as well, this bow stood out silvery against Loriel's golden skin.
As did the unique quiver full of arrows that he drew out as well.
Loriel seemed absolutely entranced by the gift Isran had brought to him, and for a long time, there was only silence as those amber eyes took in every detail of the perhaps priceless artifact. And those pale sky blue eyes never left the elf's face.
He recognized the soft look Isran wore.
He recognized the thought behind it.
And that thought was that the creature he was looking at was undeniably beautiful.
The Jarl felt a pang in his chest.
He knew the definition behind the word jealous and the definition behind the word territorial and he wasn't sure which one he was feeling now.
Jealous was wanting something that wasn't yours, but Loriel wasn't Isran's.
And territorial was protecting something that already was yours, but Loriel wasn't his.
The difference between them though was that Isran had already had Loriel once.
Ulfric still had the dragons and the war to deal with before he could allow himself the opportunity to seize what he wanted.
Isran reached out and put a dark hand on Loriel's forearm. "Send a courier to the Dawnguard if you ever need more of those sunhollowed arrows. I'll send up Serana. Let you two catch up. Maybe go on an adventure to explore the Forgotten Vale yourself," he suggested.
Loriel tore his eyes away from the bow.
"Thank you, Isran."
The Redguard looked away, almost not seeming to want to meet those amber eyes after letting his expression slip into fondness. "Don't get all sentimental on me now, elf."
And the Altmer huffed, a slight smile on his lips as he muttered something crass under his breath.
Those sky blue eyes met those amber ones, an amused smile on those dark lips. "Take care of yourself," and he gave Loriel's arm a light squeeze before he turned and walked out of the Palace of Kings, leaving the elf standing there, looking after him with that bow and quiver in his hands.
He settled on which definition that feeling was.
And he breathed out, long and slow and soothing.
Su'um ahrk morah.
Breathe and focus.
And Ulfric stepped close to Loriel, lightly nudging his bow-hand with the edge of his knuckles, the action making those amber eyes focus on him instead of the retreat of Isran and their eyes met.
"I'm assuming there is a story behind all that that I would enjoy hearing?" he suggested.
And Loriel smiled. Relaxed compared to how he had been at the fort.
"If that offer for a drink is still on the table, I'll be happy to tell you it."
That drink would always be on the table if it meant having Loriel looking at him with those eyes.
And as the evening lingered, Ulfric got to hear about Loriel's grand adventure of joining the Dawnguard after returning to Skyrim after spending years in Solstheim. Eighteen years ago. He had spent two years in the Dawnguard before leaving after a near death experience while locating an Elder Scroll in a place called the Soul Cairn, a plane of existence in Oblivion where all souls that were once contained in soul gems went after being used, proving that the souls were never really destroyed. He, an Orc named Bat the Axe, and a woman named Serana, a Nord noblewoman Ulfric had never heard of and good friend to Loriel during those years, ventured into the Soul Cairn to find the woman's mother who had in her possession the Elder Scroll that could reveal the location of a great weapon that could destroy the vampires that had been organizing attacks on the population of mortals, wanting to be able to feast without abandon and reign power over the living.
Loriel hadn't seen the point in dying for anything let alone anyone. Especially not because Isran wanted to complete his goal in destroying the vampires and didn't seem to care about the number of Dawnguard members that were lost in the effort.
"You and Isran though… You seem to have history."
Loriel sighed as he stretched out his legs, bare feet towards the fire, his head resting against the back of Ulfric's headboard, his bottle of mead loose in his fingers and he made a face. "I guess it could be called that," he admitted.
Ulfric tilted his head, sitting on the floor not far from him.
He couldn't remember the last time he had sat on the floor by the fire, just talking with someone. Maybe the last time had been with his father, when he had been just a boy.
"I originally met Isran while he was still a Vigilant of Stendaar, before he got fed up with their laxness on the whole threat of vampires and left. Actually, now that I think about it, he's probably one of the reasons I survived long enough to get out of Skyrim before the war," he said and took a long swig of mead, unaware of Ulfric's eyes upon his throat as he swallowed. "I was traveling through the south of the Pale when I got attacked by a group of vampires Isran and his partner had been tracking. Got hurt pretty bad too, but the two of them showed up before I could either be killed or infected. It was his partner though, Celann, he's the reason I didn't get left for dead. He took the time to argue with Isran about helping me, about bringing me back to the Hall of Vigilance to recover. Keeper Carcette was pissed. Apparently Isran had been acting out more and more on his own. She assigned him to being responsible for my recovery. He looked at it like it was a punishment. Pretty sure he hated me for it. Pretty sure I hated him too. By the Gods he was an ass back then, but that hasn't changed much. I was stuck there for a couple months before I heard whispers about the oncoming war and I took the first horse I could find to the docks of Windhelm to ship out while still recovering," he explained.
He drained the rest of his mead and neatly set the bottle on the floor, curling his toes absently.
"When I came back, I heard about the vampire attacks that were starting to become more obnoxious, and the effort to stop them going on to the east of Riften. And low and behold, there was Isran in all his self-entitled righteousness, leading it all. Celann was there too. We had always gotten along so I decided to stick around, see if this threat was anything close to what Isran was all up in arms about. Turned out that it was. I met Serana about that time. She was the very daughter of that leader of vampires, and I had brought her back to her family like the honest idiot that I was. Her father offered me a chance to become one of them. To become a vampire. A vampire lord, an incredible subset to vampires as a race. Stronger, faster, better than normal vampires with the ability to transform themselves into another creature entirely. It was terrifying. I got out of there as fast as I could. The Dawnguard was under attack when I got back. Isran… I had been gone without contact for so long that he thought I had been killed."
And Loriel drew his feet up the steps of the elevated platform, draping his arms around his knees and resting his chin on them, making the tall Altmer look very small.
"He had been worried. That took me by surprise. He didn't worry about anyone. But there he was, worrying about me. I guess it all went from there. When I wasn't running around Skyrim, stopping vampire attacks and doing as ordered, I found myself sharing his bed. I suppose my biggest problem with Isran as a lover was that he wasn't kind, to anyone really. His biggest problem with me seemed to be that I cared too much. It made us butt heads pretty often. A lot of screaming matches happened. My last straw was when out of ten Dawnguard members only Serana, Bat, and I survived infiltrating the castle, just to find Serana's mother. He just…"
And Loriel closed his eyes in frustration.
"He just didn't care. He didn't care that I came back terrified after the Soul Cairn. He just cared that we came back with the Elder Scroll. I cut my losses after that. I didn't want to be with someone who only saw me as an expendable resource."
Expendable.
Loriel was anything but expendable.
Any mortal with eyes would know that.
"And then you went to the Bard's College."
"Yep. And lived a safe and incredibly boring life after I completed my year-long journeymanship for the College out in Rorikstead. And then you came along and turned everything on its head," Loriel said and fixed him with a look that ended up transforming into a mirthful grin when Ulfric laughed.
For a long time, the two of them sat there, enjoying the fire and the quiet and Ulfric opened another bottle of mead for the elf. He didn't want their conversation to come to an end just yet and it wasn't as though Loriel had someplace he needed to be quite yet. The cat that was waiting for Loriel back at his room in Candlehearth Hall could wait a few more hours, Ulfric thought.
Ulfric took a swig from his bottle as he gazed to the fire, soaking in the warmth not far from the Mer.
"So tell me about the bow Isran gave you," Ulfric absently requested.
The answer would hopefully explain to Ulfric a second question that he had without him needing to flat out ask.
It was a request that Loriel was all too happy to fulfill.
Loriel spoke with such enthusiasm about the bow, explaining that the bow's powers were suggested to be drawn from Aetherins itself by channeling it through the sun. Using sunhallowed arrows with the bow made it a powerful weapon against vampires or undead in general. It was also rumored that it was the same bow used to send Lorkhan's heart into the sea. It didn't answer Ulfric's question about who Auri-El was, leading for the Jarl to finally ask.
"He is better known as Akatosh in your culture," Loriel told him, tugging his amulet out from beneath the collar of his shirt.
Oh.
Ulfric lifted his eyes from the amulet, following the curve of Loriel's throat and up to his eyes.
He liked knowing that those eyes were on him.
"You'll have to forgive my curiosity on this next question, some think it's rude to ask, but how old are you?"
Loriel blinked and tilted his head thoughtfully. Ulfric took another long pull from his bottle.
"94."
And the Jarl inhaled his mead.
Coughing, choking, and sputtering, Loriel gave him a few hard pats on the back, his expression startled from Ulfric's seemingly random fit until Ulfric wheezed out, "How old?", looking at the Altmer through watering eyes.
Loriel blinked and then his brow furrowed.
"You're seriously surprised at my age?"
Ulfric rubbed his throat, wincing, "It's hard to tell with your kind."
And Loriel frowned gently and rubbed his forehead. "Well… It is suggested by lore that it was Phynaster who taught the Altmer how to extend their own natural life by taking shorter strides. Most of us can live into our second century, although rare individuals have survived to be 300," he admitted.
Ulfric found himself staring in surprise.
300?
That meant that one Mer could easily accomplish three times as much as a Man could in one lifetime.
"Then might you live a long life," Ulfric found himself saying.
Loriel shook his head and looked back to the fire. "Frankly, I'd rather live a short one knowing that I've done something good with it."
And he took a sip from his bottle.
He wondered.
"And have you?"
It made those glowing amber eyes look back to him and Loriel smiled, something small and almost sad. "Lived a good life? Not as good as I would have hoped," he admitted, "Although I have to say that burning down the Thalmor Hall of Records has certainly been the highlight of the good I can do."
A smile reached Ulfric's mouth.
"And how long ago was that accomplished?"
"If I recall correctly, 50 years."
"That's a long time for the Thalmor to be looking for you."
"I've found that any mistakes I've made give them encouragement. I was captured while traveling through Valenwood six years after I got out of there, managed to escape, and had to give them the wild goose chase of a lifetime after I was spotted in Morrowind before dropping off the radar until-" and he gave an absent wave of hand at Ulfric.
They didn't need to really bring that part up.
"So how did you escape from Valenwood?"
And Loriel grinned sheepishly.
"Let's just say that the Bosmer are just about as fond of fire as spriggans are."
That made Ulfric laugh before he saw Loriel's expression shift and then he yawned widely, the visual contagion making the Jarl yawn as well and he inwardly cursed.
He was enjoying Loriel's company and conversation.
"I guess it's about time for me to turn in for the night," Loriel said and hid another yawn behind his hand.
"I suppose so," Ulfric agreed, making his way to his feet while Loriel went about pulling on his boots, not bothering to lace them properly before standing up as well.
And Ulfric walked Loriel to the doors of the Palace, stopping the Altmer though with a hand on his shoulder when the thought struck him, "If I might make a request, bard, before you leave."
Loriel looked at him with curious eyes.
"Come visit."
And those lips curved into a smile.
"If that's what my Jarl wishes, I will."
And Ulfric was satisfied.
My jarl.
That sounded very pleasing on that tongue.
And Ulfric carried those two words on that voice into his dreams.
And in that dream, he had the bard pinned down against the great table in the main hall, bottles of mead rattling with every sharp thrust he made into the elf's lean body, one long leg over his shoulder as he kept a bruising hold against those golden hips, the other hand keeping his neck hyperextended, thumb and forefinger under his jaw, his palm feeling every throb of those veins in his throat, every swallow, every sound as Ulfric extracted it from those vocal cords.
On the table above his head, the bow, the quiver, and the arrows rattled every time Ulfric made Loriel cry out.
"Say it," he heard his own voice request.
That sultry smile was so intoxicating as his back arched up off the table with a pleased moan and Loriel obeyed.
"Yours."
Ulfric woke on his stomach, the heat of the sun on his back, feeling well rested, and for the dream that he had woken from, incredibly satisfied. The last sensation he was aware of though was that his bed felt wet.
Huh?
The Jarl sat up and looked down at the spot on the bed, realizing that for the first time since he was a young man he had managed to orgasm in his sleep.
Now that was impressive.
And vaguely embarrassing.
He breathed deeply and let it out slowly before he got up for the day. A bath was in order, followed by meditation, and then, breakfast.
Yours.
By the Divines did he want Loriel and he wanted all of him.
It was approaching two months of longing for the elf, three of the most recent weeks desperately wanting to know what the bard's lips tasted like and maybe a considerable amount more, and a day longer than a week of wanting to fuck Loriel so completely and utterly senseless.
He had to reign himself in quite a bit over the next two days.
Actually he had to reign himself in a lot over the last two months but since that dream, it was growing rather difficult to not keep his head on swivel every time he walked out of the Palace of the Kings hoping to spot the Altmer.
And Galmar noticed it too.
And his displeasure on the subject was vocalized.
"What are you, in love with the elf?" Galmar grumbled once they were away from prying ears.
The suggestion made Ulfric's heart stir and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Fond. He is good company."
"Fond my axe, your eyes follow him everywhere. Just whet your appetite with the bastard and be done with it."
Ulfric was fairly certain Galmar had no idea what he just suggested. He knew that what Galmar meant was for Ulfric to simply have a one night stand with Loriel and think no more about it but that would only make him want the elf more.
The Jarl sighed and told Galmar not to be so crass and went about putting his bear skin cloak on for a visit to the Temple of Talos that morning.
He was about to open the door when it opened just ahead of Ulfric's reach and he found himself face to face with Loriel.
They both blinked in surprise at each other.
It took a moment before Loriel flushed. "Is it a bad time to visit?"
"Only if you don't mind accompanying me to the Temple of Talos?" Ulfric asked in reply.
And the elf smiled.
The Mer had his traveling cloak over his shoulders, which likely meant that he planned on traveling again very soon.
"Off on another adventure?" Ulfric asked as Loriel held the door open for Ulfric to step out.
"Yeah. There's something I got tied up in that needs my attention," he admitted.
"Any idea when you will be back?"
And Loriel shook his head. "That one I don't know yet," he admitted, "But I'm hoping it will be less than two weeks."
Two weeks was going to feel like a long time to Ulfric in his absence but he only gave a small nod despite his displeasure. "The city will certainly miss you in your absence."
Loriel smiled and opened the door to the Temple of Talos ahead of Ulfric and the Jarl heard a soft, heavy sigh behind him as the elf stepped inside after him.
And Ulfric gazed up at the statue of the god-hero to mankind.
The emperor Tiber Septim. Hjalti Early-Beard. Ysmir. General Talos Stormcrown.
These were all names that the deity held, all of them representations of different points in his life, but to be know about Talos as a man was to know that the General Stormcrown had been someone who could unite the people together. Who could make peace among the warring.
Taking a deep breath, Ulfric broke from Loriel's side and approached the altar in silence. He drew his amulet from beneath his collar and clutched it in his hand before he knelt and bowed his head. And he prayed.
Slow deep breaths.
Su'um ahrk morah.
Breathe and focus.
All he was aware of beyond himself was the absent sounds of the temple around him as he beseeched Talos for strength until he felt that calmness that came with praying, that feeling of peacefulness that he always felt when he was ready to approach the rest of the day after worship. Ulfric's eyes opened and he stood.
Loriel was waiting for him by the entrance of the temple, patient and peaceful.
"When you pray to him, what do you pray for?" he heard the elf ask quietly.
He gazed over his shoulder back to the statue. To the altar.
To his patron god.
"I pray for strength," he told him and under those intense amber eyes, he took a breath. "I pray for the strength to be a good man. For the strength to do what is right. For more than just myself but for my people as well. I pray for strength that should I face a challenge that scares me I might overcome it."
Those eyes softened.
"You're already the strongest person I know."
You're already the strongest person I know.
He wished he felt that way about himself.
And his eyes dropped from the Altmer's eyes, trailing down his face, over that long nose and slim lips, down his throat, and they stopped at the chain for Loriel's amulet of Akatosh.
"Do you pray to your Auri-El?"
Loriel smiled softly. "Every day."
There was no altar to Akatosh in Windhelm. No small shrine to Akatosh in Loriel's room either.
"When you pray to him, what do you pray for?" Ulfric asked.
The Altmer drew in a soft, deep breath, and their eyes met again.
"Patience," he answered quietly and he smiled.
Ulfric took a breath.
And smiled back.
The quiet between the two of them was calm as Ulfric escorted Loriel to the gate of Windhelm and watched him go.
And as he left, the Jarl of Windhelm prayed for Talos to protect him.