Just FYI, this is also posted on my ArchiveOfOurOwn account too. Same name, same story. Enjoy. And don't forget to comment please.
Ulfric's head was throbbing and two very specific men were not helping his situation by any means.
The first of those two men, and the greater but less present problem, was Commander Maro of the Emperor's Penitus Oculatus.
Not five days after the meeting with Balgruuf, he as well as the other Jarls of Skyrim had received official letters from the commander issuing that, under the pending investigation of the murder of the Emperor's cousin, a detailed observation of security was being demanded of the entire country.
This however led to Ulfric's second and more active and persistent problem: his own housecarl.
Galmar protested Ulfric's will to accomidate the demand quite actively, and quite vocally as well, to the point that he occasionally had Loriel in destress under the man's sheer volume. Even after Ulfric explained the political reasons behind agreeing, that the idea of denying would be an affront to the Emperor and Commander Maro would see such as a threat to the safety of the Imperial leader which, in turn, would lead to even more scrutiny under the suspicion of plotting more than just a war of independence against the emperor, something that Ulfric was not willing to take the risk of in even the slightest fashion, Galmar still complained.
And it had gotten old fast.
"Galmar, if you don't stop, Ulfric's gonna be looking for a new housecarl."
Loriel's musical voice was refreshing to his ears, but when he looked up, the Jarl's brows rose in surprise.
Loriel had a pair of winter coats slung over his arm.
And those amber eyes were right on him, glimmering like fire.
"I'm borrowing you for the rest of the day. You need to get out of this room," the Bard declared, and tossed one of the coats at him.
Catching it on reflex, Ulfric frowned at the Mer, "Loriel, I have things I need-"
"To take care of, yes I know, it's unfortunately your job," Loriel interrupted and quirked his brows at him, "but I wasn't asking, Ulfric. Come on."
Even Galmar gaped at Loriel's boldness as Loriel sharply turned and stepped back out of the room.
It was startling.
But thrilling at the same time.
And after a moment of hesitation, Ulfric swallowed his nerves and got up from the war table's desk.
"You aren't seriously going to let that elf speak to you like that," Galmar stated, gaping as Ulfric shrugged on the coat. "You can't be serious."
"He is right, Galmar. I have been in this room for too long," Ulfric told his housecarl.
"You're letting him lead you around by your dick like its a leash."
A stillness settled among the room, even Ysrarald went silent with surprise, and the Jarl's eyes rested on his friend, and his subordinate, in a cold stare.
"I did not hear that," he stated, voice low with threat. "Did I?"
And Galmar swallowed.
His posture straightened uncomfortably and his head ducked a little bit and he answered softer, "No, you didn't."
And with that, Ulfric turned out of the room to gather himself with Loriel.
"My ears rang like the first time I heard my mother curse," he heard Ysrarald comment to his housecarl.
"I was out of line."
"You were out of your mind."
At least Galmar realized it quickly as Ulfric watched Loriel at the end of the great hall, pulling the heavy coat on and straightening it with a few strategic tugs.
"So where are you leading me?" the Jarl inquired as he kept the coat folded over his arm, and Loriel smiled.
"It's a surprise. You'll like it, I think," the elf answered with a cheeky grin.
It was one of his rare true smiles that slipped out between the cracks of his heartsickness, and Ulfric quietly admired it as he motioned for Loriel to lead him to this 'surprise'.
The Altmer's Legionnaire's Disease seemed to finally be falling asleep, allowing Loriel to rest with fewer nightmares, less screaming. The mornings where the sheets did not need to be changed from Loriel sweating through them were increasing, and he seemed to be coming back easier after every anxiety attack.
Now all Ulfric hoped to be able to accomplish was to protect his bard from any more surprise onslaughts that would trigger another episode, be it Legionnaire's… or heartsickness.
An impossible task, but one Ulfric was willing to put his whole heart into.
For as long as Loriel would let him.
But how long would he though, the Jarl wondered as he watched Loriel's shoulders, the Mer quietly lead him through the city and towards the docks, down the stairs, and Ulfric listened as the elf greeted the Argonians who still chose to work down by the waters. Those that met Ulfric's eye greeted him formally and the Jarl politely returned the gesture before Loriel led him away.
And off the edge of the dock.
He couldn't remember the last time he had wandered this way, up the snowy mountainside that hugged the cold stone wall of Windhelm, letting only the wind speak between them until they had almost passed the wall entirely before Loriel stopped and turned to him.
A nervous breath clouded the cold air in front of him and his smile was equally anxious.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
The question itself made him feel uneasy, but after a long moment, the Jarl nodded.
Somehow this didn't ease the tenseness of Loriel's smile and he rubbed his hands together briefly, "Auri-El, this is gonna be different," he murmured before he turned away and drew a deep breath.
And Ulfric realized what for only a heartbeat before he did it.
"Odahviing!"
The Thu'um was not as loud as Ulfric thought it would be, and in fact it barely carried on the wind, but he could feel its power resignating, practically ringing through the air.
Winged Snow Hunter…
And then…
And then came the overwhelming pressure.
The sound of that quiet thu'um being answered with a distant roar.
"A dragon?"
And Loriel looked back to him.
"I want you to meet my general, Ulfric. And my teacher."
Cold seeped into the Nord's bones, fear and awe in equal measure, as the wingbeats grew louder, stronger, closer, and then he saw the beast.
Wine colored. With snowy wings.
An image vaguely familiar but he couldn't remember from where.
The wind swept Loriel's hood back from his face as the dragon batted its wings and then landed in the snow with still ground-trembling force, wing-knuckles nestled in the snow and its keen eyes peered down at Loriel, a growl in its throat before those eyes flicked over Ulfric.
"Drem Yol Lok," Loriel greeted, his voice dropping and accent growing thick with the tones of Skyrim.
The voice of Arson.
"Drem, Dovahkiin. Wo hin wundun los?"
Peace, Dragonborn. Who is your guest?
The beast's voice rattled in its throat, the Thu'um polite but not without power, just as Loriel's call had been.
And Loriel looked back to Ulfric, awe in the Nord's throat as he turned his back on the creature to face him fully.
"Ulfric, this is my general. He was my escort to finally defeat the World Eater," he introduced, and then looked back to the great beast. "Odahviing, this is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Strunkodaav. He has been keeping me safe this last year while I healed from the battle."
Strunkodaav. Stormbear.
The memory of the title was a distant echo, like a long forgotten memory, or a faded fond dream.
And Ulfric managed a nervous bow in his awe, "zu'u bonaar."
I am humbled.
The beast snorted in amusement, and almost seemed to smirk. "Onik konahrik. Your warlord has adequate manners, Dovahkiin."
And Loriel shot Odahviing a look that was worth ten sarcastic quips, "you could take a leaf from his book, bud."
It was amusing to see a mere Mer sass a dragon, but perhaps Loriel was the only one who could get away with it.
"I want you to escort us to Monahven, if you would. There is a golden war on the horizon and it is long overdue that Ulfric be introduced to the Old One."
The great beast huffed, almost irritated, but held itself in check, "Mu bo kotin stinselok. Come."
And then the dragon bowed and remained lowered.
Loriel looked back to Ulfric and the smile he gave him was full of life and thrill.
"This is something I've wanted to share with you for a while now. Come on."
And without hesitation, the Dragonborn hoisted himself up onto the crimson dragon's back, settled behind the spikes of its neck and offered a hand to the Jarl. And with hesitation, he took it.
He couldn't believe what Loriel was doing.
What he was doing.
They were on the back of a dragon and-
And Ulfric couldn't restrain the shout of surprise when the beast suddenly shot into the air, his arms locking around Loriel's waist in his fear, and above the wind he thought he heard laughter, no, more clearly than that was the fact that he felt it, quaking between his arms and against his chest.
Loriel's.
After a moment to regain his bearings, the muscles and scales beneath him rhythmically rippling from every powerful movement, Ulfric pushed Loriel's whipping hair away from his face, hugging close and shouting so the elf could hear him the only thing he could think to say, "I thought you didn't like riding!"
Looking back over his shoulder, so close that Ulfric could almost feel the warmth from the other's chilled cheeks as Loriel grinned without shame, "I thought you did!"
The Jarl couldn't withhold his own grin, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he held on tightly and got to see what dragons saw every time they flew. He got to see the same last glorious sight of the world that Loriel did before he defeated with World Eater, and the thought that Loriel was sharing this rare gift with him was thrilling.
This, all of this, it was so much more than he would have ever guessed.
It was marvelous, and wonderful, and amazing, and Loriel was sharing it with him.
He was sharing this secret world that only he as Arson had been part of before.
And he couldn't help but marvel.
Eventually Ulfric became aware that despite the heavy fur coats that they wore that they were both shivering from the cold altitude, the wind needling right into them and Loriel receiving the brunt of it by sitting in front, the Altmer trembling in his arms as the peak of the Throat of the World drew closer and closer.
And then, they were upon it.
The dragon landed just as rough as Ulfric imagined, jarring in an ugly way that made his bones ache.
Stiffly, Loriel threw a leg over the back of Odahviing's neck and drooped down to the snow, his legs collapsing beneath him. And like a fool, the Jarl jumped down after him, in the heroic effort to help, only for the jarring ground beneath the thick of snow to send shooting aches up his legs, asleep in the worst way, and he toppled over, nearly landing right on top of the Altmer.
The great beast didn't wait any longer.
And it launched itself back into the sky, grounding them to the snow with its powerful downthrust and dusting them with fresh powder.
Above them, the dragon circled the mountaintop once before flying away, and then he heard as much as felt the tremble of laughter against his elbow, Loriel's head thrown back against the snow with joyful laughter that seemed to take every hint of sadness that hid within his chest and throw it to the wind, a sound so rich and warm and full of life.
It was the most beautiful sound that ever existed.
And he just couldn't stop himself.
It was the catch of stubble against the grain of his beard, and the sensation of a cold mouth against his lips, the sound of delight swallowed and cut off in surprise by his mouth for the long lingering innocent single second that he dared to do the one thing he had wanted to do for so long.
Hesitation.
And he retreated.
Loriel was just as stunned as he imagined he would be, staring up at him with wide eyes, confusion and bafflement clear on his face, and the Jarl wondered if he shouldn't have done that. Divines, he wouldn't trade that one moment for the world but he still wondered.
Had he overstepped himself and intruded on Loriel's comfort? It was a boundry they hadn't discussed, one he didn't know the rules of and he dared to cross for the sake of his own impulse.
It was all they could do to just stare at each other for a long moment before an anxious burst of bravery wound itself in the Jarl's gut and he swallowed his nerves enough to speak, the words awkward and jerky in his throat even before they met the cold mountain air, but…
Every word was true.
"I couldn't go on like that any longer. Pretending. That I didn't want you as much as I do."
At first there was nothing, only stunned silence before Loriel slowly sat up and Ulfric gave him space, discomfort obvious on his face as he tucked his chin, not meeting his eyes.
Reluctance.
And he wondered with shame if Loriel might have thought…
"It has nothing to do with you being Arson," he added, anxious, "I've wanted to do that for a long time."
"An endearing display. Paar," a deep voice suddenly rumbled, so startling that Ulfric near put a crick in his own neck when he whipped his head around to look for who spoke.
And instead found, leaning over the top of a decrepit Word Wall, the large head of a grey dragon, one of the beast's large horns broken.
It lazily blinked at the two of them and then carefully clambered over the top of the wall, Loriel hauling himself quickly to his feet.
"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax," Loriel greeted, bowing slightly.
The name was all it took to forget temporarily his own anxiety over the impulsive kiss, and his breath caught in his chest.
Paarthurnax.
Master of the Greybeards.
A dragon.
And suddenly it made so much sense.
Even in his years of learning under Arngeir, Borri, Wulfgar, and Einarth, he had never heard of the Greybeards having another master, another leader.
Paarthurnax.
The Greybeard Ulfric never got the chance to meet.
The dragon bowed low, "Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin. Hin sil lost haas. Your heart is light once more."
Then, the great creature turned his gaze to Ulfric.
"The young greybeard. You finally come to my strunmah. No longer student of Thu'um, but master of your own ambition. Konahrik."
Ulfric nervously swallowed and glanced to Loriel as the Dragonborn spoke.
"We need your advice. There is a war coming for us all, Paarthurnax, and I can't stay out of it any longer. Please."
The Old One rolled an eye back over to the Dragonborn and hummed in thought.
"The wars of men are not wars of the Dov. Evgir Unslaad. Season Unending. They are brief affairs in our eyes, but continuous. Like ripples on a lake. Where one breaks upon the shore, another will soon follow."
Loriel's face flushed with irritation, "the Aldmeri Dominion won't stop until it has everyone and everything under its control! Once they have the races of Man and Mer and Beast kneeling at their feet, who do you think will be next? The Dov will be their next target and they'll put damn good effort to have nothing but obedience from all!"
"Drem, goraan gein. They will try and they will fail. It would not be the first uprising against the Dov. That honor belonged to the very first of your kind, Dovahkiin. The land where he erected his own worship was torn away and set afloat when Sonaak Miraak's insolence was recognized. The Tongues. The Blades. War will come to the Dov and we will persist."
"That doesn't help me!" Loriel shouted.
His voice echoed, sharp and pained and he was shaking.
"That doesn't help," he said, softer, his voice trembling and weak. "I like this world. I like living in it. I don't want to die, and I don't want the people I care about to die either. If the Aldmeri Dominion isn't stopped, the world will burn in the fires of Magnus. Please, Paarthunax, I need something. Anything. You don't need to do anything. Just… Just tell me what to do."
The great beast gave him a look of patience and sighed, slow and deep.
"I cannot give you what you want. Krosis. The advice you desire is none I can give. But you will do as you always have, wunduniik, with or without the advice of an old dragon."
He sounded almost apologetic.
And Loriel looked down to the ground, distress so loud in his body language that it was Ulfric's first instinct to lightly touch his shoulder. Except he shied from the touch.
"Please. Don't. I… I need some space. I'm sorry."
His words were barely above a whisper, and he took a step back and then away.
And Ulfric watched with his heart heavy in his chest as Loriel retreated to the edge of the clearing, clambered onto a shelf of rock, and looked out to the rest of the world.
He needed some space.
He needed some time.
And Ulfric couldn't help but blame himself as well.
"He wars with a darkness in his heart. Tiiraaz. It is lighter than when he first came to me, but it still weighs heavy. Trusting himself does not come as long as it casts shadows," Paarthurnax murmured, watching Loriel as well.
Ulfric swallowed, and closed his eyes. "He has been through so much. I just want him to have peace."
A soft huff scattered the snow before the dragon's nose and he lifted his head.
"You mortals are not meant to experience sadness and fear in prolonged duress like what he faces. Unslaad tiiraaz. Unslaad faas. He tires."
"I won't let him be alone in this," Ulfric said, calm and feeling strong.
It was a promise.
Even if Loriel didn't want his help, he would give it, until there was nothing left to give and even then he would continue to try.
And the Jarl turned to Paarthurnax.
"He needs time. And I will give him time. He brought me here to finally meet you, an opportunity I lost when I left my teachers behind. I will not waste this opportunity, Paarthurnax, if you will indulge me."
The Old One sat up, a little more proud, almost amused.
"It has been long since I held tinvaak with a stranger," he murmured.
And, Ulfric discovered, this dragon greatly enjoyed conversation.
Between he and the teacher of the Tongues, hours passed and they discussed many topics, the history Paarthurnax held with the Greybeards, the Tongues he had taught, of Dragonborns, of dragons who held similar ideals to Paarthunax. Of the Way of the Voice, of Jurgen Windcaller, and with the great creature's love of talk, Ulfric was repayed with a gift.
Paarthurnax helped him meditate on a Rotmulaag, a Word of Power, and with it, one of the few Thu'ums that he knew became stronger.
As you push the world, so does the world push back, he advised. Think of the way force may be applied effortlessly. Imagine but a whisper pushing aside all in its path. That is Fus.
Su'um ahrk morah.
You will push the world harder than it pushes back.
And when the word finally settled in his chest, warm like the heat of a candle, Ulfric opened his eyes, and thanked him.
The sky was darkening, so high up on that mountain, and it was an unfortunate fact that he could not stay at the Throat of the World as long as he desired. He hoped one day he could return, to learn more from the Old One.
And as Paarthunax retreated, to return to his own meditation, Ulfric quietly approached the Mer who had not moved from where he had settled himself hours ago.
His hood was pulled up high and tight, the small opening in the material blocked by his fur-lined sleeves.
Calmly, he sat beside Loriel.
A soft breath.
"I'm going to sit here until you're ready to talk. You don't have to say a word until you're ready, but I'm not leaving you alone until you do."
It was several long moments before Loriel moved, his legs slowly uncurling from his chest and he lowered his hood, his nose still red, and his cheeks streaked with tears long dried and frozen to his cheeks, looking in equal parts miserable, and ashamed, but also at peace. Like whatever he had been warring with in his heart, he had come to terms with.
A wet sniff, and he shivered, hugging his arms around his chest.
Silence.
And then a very quiet, "we can't."
His voice was like an aching wound, scraped raw.
Another sniff.
"It's… It's nothing to do with me, Ulfric. Nothing to do with Arson. I… I already knew how you felt. I have for a while," he admitted, turning to the Jarl but not looking at him. "It was… Your feelings are kind of a poorly kept secret in Windhelm. It was a rumor I heard, when I was still recovering from what the Thalmor did to me. That you might care for me more than just as a friend. I overheard all sorts of ideas on it. That it was just lust or something more whimsical," and he let out a wet laugh, accompanied by a bitter smile. "In the past year I heard it whispered so often that I started looking for signs of it as well, that maybe you cared more than you said you did. What your motives behind your kindness might be. And… And I believe you, when you've told me that you care. But… We can't."
Finally, those amber eyes rose and met his and he felt a stab of pain in his chest.
Sorrow.
"If any of the Jarls you put into power learn that… that this rumor is more than just rumor, they won't throw their lots behind you to become High King at the Moot. Some might even hesitate if they just hear word of the rumor. They'll worry about the truth behind it and wonder if you're being manipulated by an Altmer, that you might not be as true to the ideals that you preach against the Dominion."
Ulfric swallowed down the dryness in his throat and frowned deeply at him.
"I don't care what they think," he said firmly.
And Loriel looked at him sharply, his brow crinkled and lips trembling, "You better start caring, Ulfric!"
The edge of a sob was on his voice and he barely kept it back, taking a deep breath, "I will not be the reason all your efforts go down in flames. We can't. I won't be the reason you don't become High King. You're the only one I think is truly capable of holding your ground against the Dominion and I'm not worth the cost of making you able to do so. I will never be worth that price."
It was selfish and selfless all at once.
That he truly believed that he would cost Ulfric everything.
But that was the thing though.
"But you are," Ulfric murmured. "I want you, Loriel. And I am willing to pay any price to be able to love you out loud. I don't want to wait until Sovngarde just to do so."
And this time, when he touched Loriel's hand, the Altmer didn't pull away.
He stayed.
Hand trembling under his.
And all Ulfric wanted was to bring him peace.
"Do you want me too?"
Loriel closed his eyes and tears fell from his lashes, pained.
"It's not safe."
That was his whisper.
But that wasn't an answer to his question.
"Do you want me too?"
It was silence and hesitation, of frost growing on the edges of Loriel's wet lashes and he sniffed again.
Then his eyes opened, barely able to part at first and after wiping his eyes with a bare hand warmed by magic, the bard looked at him properly.
Nervously.
And he drew a breath to give his answer.
Hehehehehe cliffhanger.
I love you, please don't kill me.
Also, for those who are interested, if you take a gander at this chapter on AO3, you will also find art of Loriel at the very end. Go take a look ovo/
archiveofourown works / 10933092 / chapters / 34062945
Just remove the spaces.