Just FYI, this is also posted on my ArchiveOfOurOwn account too. Same name, same story. Enjoy. And don't forget to comment please.
One unusual thing Ulfric woke up to the following morning was to an incredibly stiff back.
The second was the smell of breakfast.
And when he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in his room, the only evidence that Loriel had even been in the room was a tray of breakfast sitting by the cold hearth, still steaming, with a note in Loriel's familiar curling handwriting.
Thank you.
Lor
A soft smile met the Jarl's lips before he arched his back to help crack and found extreme discomfort in not being able to get rid of the tightness.
If Loriel ever did that again, Ulfric would have to insist upon laying down instead of falling asleep sitting.
If it ever happened again.
Ulfric had high doubts.
As he ate his breakfast, he thought of Loriel's weight against him, the way he felt in his arms, the smell of his hair, the way his tears stung the air, the way his forehead crinkled and his nose wrinkle and the color of his eyes when he cried. How the usually strong elf looked so weak in that moment, recoiling from the roar of the storm overhead, and how he had leaned into his embrace.
His shoulders didn't feel as broad as they looked, but all his muscles were tight even when his body was relaxed with sleep.
The Mer was fully capable of being dangerous when he wanted to be, but it had been a long time since he had seen Loriel with a weapon in his hand.
Not since Helgen.
The only other example he had was watching a very drunk Loriel have the upper hand over an equally drunk Rolff.
Arson had seen more of what Loriel was capable of than even Ulfric had.
He said he was good with a bow.
Ulfric was curious.
He wanted to see what Loriel could do.
And he wondered about the bow he had received from Isran. The Dawnguard founder had said that he thought the draw weight might be a bit much for Loriel. Was it?
Perhaps it was time to see if Loriel was comfortable going outside.
He left his breakfast tray on the desk in his room for the maid to gather when she came to clean the room and he walked down to Loriel's room, lightly tapping on the door before he opened it.
Laronen was sitting on the floor by the bed, Loriel sitting behind him, his fingers nimbly twisting his brother's long hair away from his face in a style Ulfric hadn't seen before. It wasn't a straight braid like most Nord styles, but rather made by taking small bits of hair and adding it into the braid. And finally, he tied off the end and Laronen looked back to his brother with a wordless smile before they noticed Ulfric's presence.
"Jarl Ulfric, what can I do for you?" Laronen spoke up.
"I was wondering how Loriel might feel about perhaps talking a walk outside. I heard from the Dragonborn that he was quite good with a bow although I have yet to witness it," Ulfric said, his eyes on Loriel and he rose his brows curiously at him.
The Altmer bard blinked in surprise and he looked back to his brother.
Laronen smiled up at him. "Would you like to do that? It's been a while since you've been outside. Why don't you go see your old friends of the city, let them know you're still doing okay?" he suggested.
"Why don't you bring that new bow of yours as well?" Ulfric added. "The one from Isran?"
Loriel blinked in surprise from both of their encouragements and he gave a small, shy nod and Laronen grinned.
"Give him just a moment to get changed, he'll be right out," Laronen said and Ulfric nodded, content to wait out in the hall while Loriel got changed into clothes for the cooler weather outside.
And soon enough, Loriel was stepping out of the room, not only wearing that old familiar outfit of soft leather pants and thick cotton shirt, a leather archer's cuff pinning his left sleeve down, and wearing those thick bottomed knee-high boots, the box that kept Auri-El's bow safe and secure on his back. Laronen had even given him a fur-lined jacket in case it was too cold for his brother. The bard seemed to be made of heartier stuff than his ex-Thalmor brother.
But the sight of Loriel as he was now filled Ulfric with a sense of nostalgia.
Loriel looked the most like himself since the last time he saw the bard walking out of Windhelm.
A little thinner, a little more scarred, his hair a little longer, but Loriel looked like Loriel again.
He looked like the man he had fallen in love with.
As the two of them stepped out of the front door of the palace, he heard Loriel breathe in deeply, taking in the morning air.
"Do you mind if we stop at the temple first?" Ulfric asked.
Loriel only gave a smile and jerked his chin in the direction of the building, and Ulfric gave a grateful smile.
They weren't there long, and once Ulfric finished praying, they headed down to the soldier's training grounds where Ysralad and Galmar already were, observing the progress of the men even before the Jarl unexpectedly arrived with his guest, surprising even the Jarl's commanders.
"So you managed to convince the hermit out of his hole," Galmar said gruffly.
"With no shortage of tact," Ulfric replied, raising his brows at his housecarl before he looked back to Loriel. "Ysralad, why don't you set him up with an archery target and some long practice arrows," he suggested to the military commander who didn't argue.
"Come on then, bard," the man said, motioning for Loriel to follow him and with only a silent glance spared to Ulfric, he did.
Galmar frowned at Loriel's back, standing out starkly among the rest of the soldiers whose eyes followed after him. He was gold wrapped in clothes of soft creams, tans, and browns, and they were garbed in armor of blues and greys, taller than everyone except for the tops of the ears of two Khajiit brawlers that had managed to be recruited as soldiers. Since the improvements had been made to the Snow Quarter and Ulfric only found positive results, he had eased up the restraints on who was and was not allowed in the city, although that did not mean that the races who made up the Stormcloak army were fairly equal. The population was still predominantly dominated by Nords, just as the population of Skyrim was. A couple Dunmer had joined the army as well and the ones who recognized Loriel grinned at him in greeting with friendly waves and Loriel smiled back widely, showing off his straight white teeth.
It was the first smile of its kind since Loriel had come back.
And Ulfric got to witness it.
Now that he thought about it, last night had been the first comprehensible words he had heard Loriel say as well, wishing the sound of the storm that had muddied the training yard to go away.
It had gone away.
And now Loriel was here.
"Let's see your bow," Ysralad requested, observing Loriel as he removed the box from his shoulders and set it down on a table, carefully lifting the lid and he withdrew the bow that looked endlessly more ornate than the rest of the Stormcloak longbows and the military commander's eye twitched from the fact that it was an antique bow in addition to being an elven one. It looked too clean, too new, and he said nothing.
If only they knew what that bow supposedly was.
The Bow of Auri-El.
An Aedra bow itself.
"Are you a long distance shooter?" Ysralad asked suspiciously and Loriel made a slight movement. "Let me see how you do with another bow before we go giving you our good arrows."
Loriel frowned with a lone raised brow but remained silent.
By now the Loriel that Ulfric knew would have made at least twenty different snarky comments since they had stepped outside. The soldiers, Galmar, and Ysralad seemed well aware of this as well and were savoring the silence from the elf.
Handing Loriel a standard hunting bow and some practice arrows, he stepped back and inspected Loriel's form as he hooked the quiver to the edge of his belt and settled into a familiar stance, one that Ulfric as well as Galmar recognized.
Altmers had a very particular archery stance in comparison to the races of Men, their posture almost loose yet at the same time it held rigid aspects: their hips and shoulders parallel, back perpendicular to the ground, making them look like they were leaning forward with the bow. And the reason why Ulfric and Galmar had never seen an Altmer with anything shorter than a long bow was obvious as Loriel drew the bow back.
Their arms were too long.
Loriel's reach especially.
He had the string drawn as far back as his leading shoulder before he ran out of arrow.
A few soldiers stopped in what they were doing but otherwise, the area did not get quieter.
But for Loriel, it was as though there was nothing in the rest of the world other than him, the bow in his hands, and the target several yards in front of him. He drew in a slow, even breath, his eyes closing, and when he let it out, his eyes opened.
The look of focus on Loriel's face was almost intoxicating.
And then he released the arrow.
Loriel gave Ysralad a particular look, watching the man's jaw drop at the sight of the arrow being sank up to the fletchings in the center of the target and then he showed off by shooting off another arrow, letting the three leads to the Stormcloak army watch as one of the feather fletchings of the arrow fluttered to the ground, stripped from the first arrow's shaft by the second.
Then the Altmer lowered his stance and offered the bow back to Ysralad.
The look on the military commander's face was worth at least three comments alone.
Ysralad took the bow in a distracted manner and stalked off to get the longer arrows.
While the military commander was away, Loriel looked back at Ulfric and Galmar and gave the Bear of Markarth a particular smirk before he looked back to the target, drawing a loop of fabric from his pocket and pulled his hair back away from his face and exposing his long slim neck.
Ulfric felt his face grow hot and he hoped that his blush wasn't obvious as he tried not to think about scattering kisses and bites over that throat.
Ysralad came back with a quiver full of long arrows and Loriel gave him a quirk of brows and a look that could only be labeled as smug before he picked up Auri-El's bow.
From there, Ulfric watched as he turned and walked across the training ground, coming to stand in the very center, easily 25 yards at the very least, before he got into his stance and Galmar and Ysralad made sure no one blundered into Loriel's firing range as they watched.
He didn't draw the bow just yet, taking slow, even breaths before he lifted the bow.
A few more even breaths and he slowly drew the bow.
Ulfric could almost hear the strain the string was under, watching Loriel's expression become concentrated, and he held the bow at the ready for a long time, the notch of the arrow drawn all the way back to his lips. And then.
He released.
It was like hearing lightning, the arrow zipping through the air and sinking into the target so hard and so fast that the arrow actually went through the target, the fletchings ripped off and clinging where they had been stripped, and shattered against the stone wall behind it.
"Talos…" Ulfric breathed in shock.
Loriel lowered the bow, wincing and he flexed his fingers before approaching the target to see how he did.
Ulfric approached as well.
His aim had been too high, the fletchings half lost in the target at the outward most ring, but there was nothing left of the arrow that was salvageable.
Ulfric could only imagine how deadly Loriel would be once he mastered the bow's draw weight…
What a weapon Isran had given Loriel.
Looking to Loriel, his eyes dropped down to the Mer's fingers. Just drawing the bow once had left his fingers raw from the weight of the string.
"Still want to practice with the bow?" Ulfric asked.
Loriel made a circle with his index finger in the air.
"Tomorrow?"
He nodded.
Sounded like a plan. The more Loriel practiced perfect form with the bow, the better he would get with handling the draw weight. Once he was used to the draw weight, he would be able to focus on accuracy.
Ulfric looked to Galmar and Ysralad who were just as flabbergast as Ulfric felt, picking up shards of the arrow.
There wasn't even a practice arrowhead left to practice with.
Loriel nudged Ulfric and tilted his head.
Ready to go? He seemed to be asking.
Ulfric drew in a breath and nodded, watching Loriel offer Ysralad the quiver of arrows before packing up the bow and shouldering it. Then, he watched Loriel give him a twist of a smile, maybe a smirk, and they walked away from the training ground, no doubt by evening the barracks would be entirely abuzz with stories about that one shattered arrow.
As they neared the great door to the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric reached out to push it open.
And a golden hand beat him to the door.
Startled, Ulfric looked over his shoulder to the Altmer and their eyes met.
Calm amber to surprised sea blue.
Loriel smiled.
"Royalty before common-folk."
His voice was quiet.
Cracked from lack of use.
Playful.
And teasing.
His heart seized in his chest.
Loriel was coming back.
His Loriel was coming back.