26th Sun's Dusk 4E 202
It's been just over a year now since my very first entry and this one may well be my last. Every moment feels rushed now, time seems to slip from me ever faster the closer I get to the end of my journey. Whether it is the end of me or not, is not for me to know. For all my training with the Greybeards, all of the power I've come into, I know that Alduin is my equal in it all. I can't help but feel that it's up to Akatosh who will win this battle between his children.
I should be sleeping, for I know tomorrow is the day we will attempt to capture Ohdaviing. But for all of my effort, sleep evades me. The Jarl has granted me the use of his castle's trap and his men to help control the beast once ensnared. But, I can't help but wonder what his aid will cost me upon my return. I know what he wants, what he still believes I will give him in time but I can not. Despite all of my time spent at Dragonsreach over the past year, I still harbor no feelings of affection toward the Jarl. And even if I did, it would matter little now that I am betrothed to another.
Fortunately, my efforts to achieve a ceasefire in this war proved successful in the halls of High Hrothgar. Though my hopes for an armistice nearly burned to the ground the moment General Tullius walked in with Skyrim's chief Thalmor agent, a clear attempt to provoke the Stormcloaks into a fight despite his agreement to negotiate in good faith. Dishonest men like that don't deserve their station and on the day of his death, I will be more than glad for it. Even worse, was that I was forced to set aside my own hatred and desire to end that foul creature Elenwen for the sake of the negotiation. The sight and smell of her torture chamber still lingers in the back of my mind, haunting me. I remember all too well my fathers stories of the war, but seeing such atrocities with my own eyes was, so much worse than a re-telling and I could not have imagined such a horrific scene actually existed, without bearing witness to it first. I do believe letting her walk away while knowing the monstrosities she's capable of, was among the most difficult things I've ever done. I can only pray that she will fall to the Stormcloaks alongside Tulius.
My biggest challenge was overseeing the negotiations in good faith myself while knowing my own life may soon be tied to the Stormcloaks and their victory in this war. This betrothal I've agreed to, not a day goes by that I don't replay that conversation in my mind, regretting every bit of it. For all the praise my father spoke of the Jarl and his aims to distance Skyrim from the Empire that now bends it's knee to the elves, I can not believe he would have allowed me to agree to wed him. Furthermore, my mind is troubled by the more disturbing rumors I've heard of him and the gravity of what I've agreed to is only now settling in. The realization of what I've done to myself is a startling one. If I am successful in my efforts to defeat Alduin, it will do little good for myself with another foe waiting just behind him to fill the void. The consequences of my success or failure will be lasting either way. Worse still, is that I don't know which outcome I fear more, dying in battle with the World Eater, or subjugating myself to the Bear of Eastmarch.
Arielle was standing on the lone balcony the palace had to offer. Her inexpressive face gazed down at the bustling city before her while the tips of her fingers mindlessly tapped against the stone balustrade in front of her. It was snowing, thick clumps of white fell generously from the sky, blanketing the landscape and making the harsh stones that made up the city of Windhelm seem softer. Though, as beautiful as the sight was, it had done little to deter her from her brooding.
She discovered the balcony a few days prior in her exploring of the upper level of the palace. Without court to attend, it left Arielle with plenty of time during the day. She resolved to familiarize herself with each part of her new home since she would be living in it for the rest of her days. Of course, the majority of her time was still spent in the library, one of the only places in the castle she didn't mind occupying due to it's exclusivity and the fact that it now housed the majority of her belongings. But upon discovering the balcony, she mentally noted it as her second favorite place in the massive palace. Even better was that it wrapped around to the back of the palace as well and from there, she could gaze upon the training grounds. Which was exactly what she and Lydia had been doing until a few moments ago. She spotted Galmar there, leading the training for the newest of recruits. They seemed to pour in even quicker now, all too eager to join the fight against the treacherous Empire. The Jarl chocked the sudden influx of soldiers up to their marriage, maintaining the notion that their union was the will of the gods. But Arielle could not bring herself to believe that the gods did this to her. Rather, she knew that it was her own poor choices that led her here.
Only when Galmar discovered their presence on the balcony, did the women migrate to the front of the palace. The balcony's large size meant Arielle would have plenty of access to fresh air. The icy air seemed to penetrate her lungs better, almost allowing her to breathe deeper than she had inside the sometimes too-warm castle. Which is why she continued to stand outside, despite the snow falling around her.
With a sigh she leaned forward, resting her velvet covered forearms against the stone balustrade in front of her. From where she stood, she could see the hundreds of lanterns, garlands and streamers that decorated the majority of the city before her. The bright green, gold and red colors stood out clearly against the backdrop of snow covered stone. Today marked the first day of a new year and the beginning of the New Life festival that would run through the month of Morning Star. Memories forced themselves to the surface of her mind, despite her best attempts to keep her thoughts under control. This festival, would be her second one without her parents and she was just as downhearted this time around as the first. So much so, that she hadn't even waited for Rona to do anything with her hair before slipping out of her room. When she rose from the plush furs of her shared bed, she threw on the first dress her fingers touched, tossed the circlet onto the top of her blonde tresses and slipped her cloak around her shoulders before stepping out of her room.
"If we stay out much longer, we will surely freeze to death." said Lydia, snapping her out of her thoughts and she looked over at the woman covered in steel, looking all too unbothered by the snow falling around her and picking at her nails with the sharp end of a dagger.
"So says the Nord." she replied dryly, earning a snorted laugh from the woman beside her.
"If I did not succumb to the elements myself, the Jarl would surely have my head for allowing his wife to do so. Either way, I will be right behind you. As promised." she said, sheathing her dagger to cross her arms.
Arielle's face took on a deep frown as she continued to gaze at the decorations, while the memories of much happier times danced in her mind. "It's New Life again." she said, her voice thick with the sorrow she felt in the pit of her heart. Back in Helgen, Arielle and her father would turn their hunting into a friendly competition during the month of Morning Star. In the more recent years, they would finish their days off with a drink at the inn and when her mother returned from work they would continue to celebrate with games, dancing and occasional gift giving. It was one of those times of the year when Arielle really got to appreciate being born half Breton and half Nord. Her parents worked flawlessly to combine the New Life festival with Saturalia so she would know every bit of her heritage. It was wholesome and good and her heart bled from the memory of it. Even worse was the realization that the Jarl himself was as Nordic as they come and judging by their very traditional wedding, she garnered that while their children may carry Breton blood, half of the traditions she holds close to her heart will end with her. "I fear I may never again celebrate Saturalia." she confessed.
"Have you talked to him about it?" Lydia asked, to which she scoffed.
"There's no reasoning with that man." she said with a shake of her head. The consequences of the last time she tried were still all too fresh in her mind.
The sound of a door suddenly opening behind them caught both of their attention. Arielle's arms abandoned the cold stone as she turned to see the newcomer. It was Jorleif, and he was looking as flushed and unkempt as ever as he stood in the doorway. "You are a most difficult woman to find, my lady." he said, almost breathlessly so and she wondered how long he'd traipsed around the castle looking for her. "The Jarl would like to see you in the war room, before dinner, if you're able."
Her eyes fell closed and she released a sigh at that announcement. Still, she gave the man a short nod and made to follow him back inside the palace. He was already hurrying down the hallway when she was greeted by the warmth of the candle lit hallway. It was nearing nightfall now and the sky was so darkened with heavy snow clouds that it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness inside the castle from the candle light. Immediately, her fingers unclasped the cloak from around her neck and hung it to dry on one of the coat hooks mounted against the wall. After parting ways with Lydia, she made her way down the hallway and stairs before finally reaching the war room. The door was closed but it not deter her and she pushed it open to find the room's sole occupant scribbling away at his desk and surrounded by half a dozen candles and an ever-growing pile of parchment.
Upon hearing her entry, his hand stilled and she watched his icy blue eyes find hers before the corner of his mouth turned up at the sight of her. "Arielle." he greeted, which was a continuation of the newest development between them over the past few days. Ulfric had been overly cordial toward her despite her previous protests of pretending. And when they were alone, which wasn't often since he'd spent nearly every waking moment planning to take on Morthal and Markarth, he would use her name. Letting the door close behind herself, she took the few steps to where he sat at his desk. Though, the man was so huge he may as well have been standing beside her. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, only for him to hold his hand out, palm up.
"Your hand is like ice." he said, in that deep, masculine voice of his when she placed her hand in his before bringing the back of her palm to his lips in a chaste kiss. Truthfully, she hadn't noticed their coldness while she was outside. But now, with the warmth of his own hand enveloping hers she could absolutely feel the differences in their temperatures and see with her own eyes, the flush of her skin from the cold. Her eyes strayed from his false display of affection to land on a cluster of candles occupying the corner of his desk. The flames danced slow and methodically, undisturbed by the stagnant air in the room. "I was outside." she explained, watching a drop of melted wax slip down the length of a candle, drying before it could reach the dish beneath it. He hummed in response and released her hand before her eyes watched him rifle through a few papers. He selected one, briefly observing the torn wax seal before holding it out for her. "Read this. Tell me your thoughts." he said, only for a confused expression to cross her face as she took the offered letter.
It was addressed to him and bore the seal of the Jarl of Hjaalmarch. "Why?" she asked, wondering why he suddenly wanted her opinion on anything. He certainly never needed it before. She kept her eyes trained on the paper in her hands, waiting for his response. "Because I'd like to hear your thoughts." A deep frown crossed her face when his words reached her ears. The memory of the last time she'd freely spoken her thoughts in the very same room was still fresh and she had no desire to be struck again. She set the letter on his desk with a shake of her head. "I think your knowledge of high politics far surpasses my own." she said abruptly, turning away with the intention of leaving only for one of his large hands to wrap around her thin wrist in a vice grip before she took a single step. She met his eyes, icy blue irises bore into her own and she could see the irritation brewing in them before he held out the letter once more. "Your thoughts?"
It felt like a trick, but for her lack of options, she relented and took the letter. Her eyes scanned the written letter, her lips parting for a scoff to escape her at what she saw. Idgrod wanted to surrender, as long as it kept her in power as the presiding Jarl. Arielle's expression morphed into one of irritation as she read the rest of the message. Her hatred for that particular woman had steadily brewed for the better part of a year now. It was just so typical of her to look out for her own neck with little regard for others. "I saw her once," she said, taking the time to refold the letter before passing it back to Ulfric. "she was inside the Thalmor embassy. Enjoying a dinner party and having a drink of wine with Elenwen herself." she finished, not bothering to hide the disgust in her tone.
"And what were you doing there, at the Thalmor embassy?" he asked, a genuine expression of curiosity on his face.
"The Blades and I raided their embassy looking for information on the dragons." A deep frown came to her face at the memory of what she found instead. The sight of the bloody cells of Elenwen's interrogation chamber was still burned into her mind, bringing about a fresh wave of hatred for the demon bitch. "They didn't have any. But if you want my thoughts I will give them, Idgrod plays both sides for her own gain and is no friend to Skyrim. Anyone that could stoop so low as to sit at a Thalmor's table, should burn." She watched him process her words before the corner of his mouth turned up. Seemingly pleased with her response, he stood from his chair, leaving the letter on his desk and she was forced to crane her neck to keep his eyes.
"And burn she will." he said, his voice ringing clear with absolution before offering his arm to her. "Now, I believe it's dinner time."
He led her to the dining hall, as he had so many times by now. Though tonight was the first time they'd dined together in several nights. The Jarl had been so occupied by his war that he'd taken his meals in the war room more than a few times in the past week. The table was full, as it usually was and she noticed that Lydia was already there as well. She greeted the woman with a half smile when she took her seat and wasted no time bringing the goblet of wine to her lips while the soft strumming of a lute reached her ears. It was an odd flavor, sweet at first with a distinct aftertaste of tart. Conversations erupted around the table and small bowls of soup were placed in front of all the diners. After her lengthy stay in the cold, Arielle eagerly brought a spoonful of the still steaming liquid past her lips. Potato soup, she discovered upon the frst taste. It was thick and creamy, heavily flavored with garlic and sage.
"The temple opened today. Jorleif finally found someone to take the position." Ulfric said and a frown came to her face at the news. More than a few soldiers had returned from skirmishes along the outskirts of Hjaalmarch heavily wounded and in need of supporting care.
"One person?" she asked incredulously. "They'll be run ragged by week's end." she told him, to which he scoffed.
"Does nothing please you?" he said with a snap, not at all attempting to hide his mounting irritation. The sudden harshness of his deep voice brought a halt to the conversations around them. She clenched her teeth, the man was entirely impossible to deal with and she could feel her own irritation rising for it. "I could help." she said, meeting his eyes.
The corner of his lip twitched as his icy blue eyes narrowed into a harsh glare. "No."
"Why not?" she pressed, mirroring his expression of irritation. She was skilled in the arts of healing. It made no sense to stand by while soldiers were ill when she had the ability to help them. "My mother was a healer. I have the skill to help them. I can-"
"Enough!" he bellowed, his fist coming down hard on the table as he did, causing the cutlery to tremble and startling her in the process. Her eyes closed while she listened to the angry breathing beside her. A sardonic laugh escaped her while she came to grips with the ridiculousness of her own actions with a shake of her head. She should have known better than to try to reason with a man such as him. A man that only wanted her opinions when it suited him. Without another word spoken, she rose from her place at the table and left the dining hall, her hands curled into fists so tight that her knuckles were white from the tension. She cursed her own foolishness the whole way back to her bedroom.
When her dress was removed and her blonde hair was free of the circlet, she slid beneath the plush fur blanket with a book on herbalism she'd borrowed from the library. While she was thoroughly versed in the various plants that grew in the southern regions of Skyrim, there were more than a few plants native to the chill of the north that she was unfamiliar with. Judging from the sizable pile of parchments she'd seen on the Jarl's desk earlier, she assumed it would be another late night for him. The past few nights, she fell asleep long before he joined her in bed. Only knew he did from the slight jostling of being pulled against him.
She was surprised however, when she heard the door open sometime later and she turned from her position on her stomach to watch the Jarl as he immediately started the task of undressing. A cloak of fur and a steel chestplate were removed to reveal a blue linen tunic. Though she tore her eyes away from him when he stepped out of his boots. The sound of him removing his trousers reached her ears before light footsteps and finally, she felt the dip in the mattress beside her. While she could see him settling beside her in the corner of her vision, she kept her eyes trained on the chapter in front of her. The wilds of Eastmarch were teeming with jazbay grapes and the chapter was going into great detail about their applied magical properties.
"You can't leave the palace, not until the war is over. Maybe not even then." he said calmly. Although there was no hint of his earlier irritation in his voice, it did nothing to stop the deep frown that pulled at her features. The news of her imprisonment didn't surprise her, but hearing it audibly confirmed was a hard potion to swallow. With her lack of a response, he sighed. "There are few things I would deny you and this is one of them. If you're not yet with child, you will be soon and I have no desire to see our unborn babe cut from your womb by our enemies."
She felt the blood drain from her face, her expression morphing into one of horror at his words. She met his eyes with her own wide ones, could see the seriousness of his warning in them. "And that's just the start of what they'd do to you as my wife if they got their hands on you. This is war. You may be the Dragonborn, but you're still a woman." She watched him close the book in front of her before moving it to the bedside table behind him. With the book now gone, he pulled the fur blanket away from her body and though she'd slept next to him for nearly two weeks now, her hands still went to her chest in a desperate attempt to cover herself as she was rolled to her back. Then he was above her, a wall of hardened muscle caging her against the soft mattress, his strong hands pulling hers away from herself. Unmistakable, was the fire in his eyes as they raked over her bare skin. "A very, very beautiful woman." he said, palming the delicate skin of her upper chest.
She knew this was coming, expected it even, but that knowledge did nothing to keep the fear of laying with him again from welling in her. Her pulse raced through her veins and unable to meet his icy stare and hardened features from the glow of the fire while he touched her, she turned her face from his. Her eyes landed on the jar of troll fat still resting on her own bedside table and she reached for it. He quickly stopped her, his large hand stilling her own much smaller one. "We wont be needing that." he said, almost too calmly and her body reacted instinctively, her muscles trembling beneath the body that caged her.
"Please." she said, though it came out little more than a whisper. "Don't hurt me again."
She saw the flash of anger in his eyes, heard the audible snap of his teeth and sudden tightness in his jaw. Fearing the worst, her eyes screwed shut, her breaths coming faster from the memory of the first time. He scoffed, unaffected by her emotional display. "Of all the men you should fear, Arielle.. your own husband isn't one of them."
And how could he say that? When it was he that brought her physical pain not once but twice now. However, she was torn from those thoughts when lips, that were far softer than they had a right to be, landed on her collarbone. The feeling was foreign and not at all pleasant, though that fact did little to deter him from palming the skin of her chest while his lips continued to move across her skin, accompanied by a slight prickling of the hairs of his goatee. And she could feel the hardness of him, resting between her legs, a prelude that only encouraged the panic that welled within her. A deep crease appeared in her brow when his lips migrated to the swell of her breast. But her confusion was short lived, her mind abruptly occupied by a sudden warmth blooming deeply inside her when his mouth closed around the peak of a breast. He suckled there, causing a brand new sensation to shoot down her spine and force a gasp past her lips.
His lips released her breast with a gentle pop, only for his teeth to graze across her painfully hardened nipple. "Stop." she breathed in a panic, suddenly flushed from the feeling that was far too intense to endure for any length of time. Her eyes remained tightly closed, but she felt the laugh he exhaled hit her skin, causing gooseflesh in it's wake and only serving to stimulate her further. "Is it unpleasant?" he asked, with no small amount of amusement in his voice and no sooner did her lips part to reply, that his own closed around her other breast. The hand he wasn't using to hold his weight above her massaged the first breast, groping the swell of it before pulling at her nipple and the combination of his lips and fingers against the sensitive buds was overwhelmingly strong. A soft cry escaped her from the intense stimulation that caused her body to twitch and she felt blood pool in her cheeks in a blush of humiliation. She'd never made a sound like that in her life, she was sure.
The Jarl's lips and fingers abandoned her then, though his breaths still hit her skin rhythmically and she suddenly registered the sheet that was clutched tightly in her small fists. A finger was pressed against her nethers and she didn't know what startled her more, the feeling of his digits sliding easily between her folds or the sudden dampness that allowed them to do so. The tips of his fingers moved higher, pressing against a spot that had an immediate affect on her body. Her hips bucked, a breathy exhale leaving her lips and her blush deepened for it. "Please." she pleaded, half whining around the stimulation when his fingers focused on that spot, moving in slow circles that forced her body to respond.
An exhaled laugh hit her face while her body moved against his hand of it's own accord. "I will please you." he said, an audible huskiness in his deep voice that she'd never heard before. "Whether you want me to or not." With that said, one of his thick fingers plunged inside her, his thumb moving to that most sensitive spot and rubbing against her in a way that had her lips parting, her face morphing into an expression of ecstasy and she cried out as her back arched from the mattress. "Sweet Dibella, you're perfect." he cooed approvingly. Though his words barely registered over the feelings that were welling within her while his finger continued to thrust inside her. A sensation that could only be described as fire was steadily building, enveloping each of her nerves in a fiery blaze that stemmed from the pit of her belly when another finger joined the first. The feeling of his hand against her, inside her, was too strong to endure and her heavy panting turned into a steady stream of moans that only grew in volume as the blaze threatened to consume her.
Her hands released the sheet in favor of clutching fistfuls of his tunic. "No more." she breathed as she neared the precipice of what she was sure was her limit for such stimulation. Instead of doing as she asked, his lips closed around her breast again, suckling there and the tension in her muscles only coiled tighter for it. Her body arched into his mouth and hand, despite her wishes for it to end. When his fingers curled within her, all forms of rational thought abandoned her and she keened, her hips jerking fervidly against his hand. His thumb pressed harder circles against that most sensitive spot, quickly bringing the budding fire to a blazing crescendo and she cried out as her body was overwhelmed by a rush of pleasure enveloping her from head to toe. Sparks danced behind her closed lids, her mind wiped clean of everything but the pure ecstasy that radiated throughout her body, touching her very soul. And when it was over, she was limp against the soft mattress beneath him.
Only a second of silence passed before her legs were spread wide by his own and she felt him, hard and ready at her now slickened entrance. She was far too exhausted from his efforts to fight him and he gave her no time to recover before he pushed himself between her delicate folds. He entered her much slower than the first time he had her, but he was still so much bigger than her and the stretch of her muscles around him burned. She whined from the sudden pain when his hips were flush with her own. A deep groan that reminded her of a wild animal reached her ears, though he slowly pulled himself back, only for his thumb to return to that especially sensitive spot between her legs. He massaged her there while he thrust himself back into her with the softest of strokes, setting a leisured pace designed to stimulate her sensitive insides and he was rewarded when throaty moans were forced from her lips. As much as she didn't want him, she was soon made aware of the fact that her body definitely did and though she was incredibly sensitive from his earlier efforts, her body eagerly accepted him inside her as she writhed against his girth. Her legs found his waist, welcoming him deeper than before as the fire returned to the pit of her belly, earning a deep groan of approval from the man above her.
"You have the cunt of a queen, Arielle." Ulfric groaned, low in her ear while he continued to move his sweat-slickened skin against hers. Despite her wants for it to be over, that fire blazed even hotter when his thumb stopped it's ministrations only for his large hand to wrap around her shapely hip. "And I can think of no better way to celebrate New Life, than for your queenly cunt to milk the seed from my cock." She whined from the filthy words his deep voiced poured in her ear, hating the way her body reacted to them, the eager gyrating of her hips over his girth. He held her in a tight grip, pulling her against his every thrust. Each one more rough than the last, reaching a fevered pace that caused more throaty moans of passion to erupt from her lips. Her hands found his tunic again, only for something to hold onto while he controlled her body that now shook in time with his thrusts, forcing her to endure the overwhelming pleasure that was quickly reaching another peak. And when his teeth sharply sank into the skin of her shoulder, her delicate flesh erupted with a pain that ripped a cry of ecstasy from her lips as she came undone in his arms and around his girth. She didn't even notice that her toes curled or her back arched, all she could think about was the pleasure that had her nerves coming alive like sparks of lightening and her muscles contracting with each wave of bliss that washed over her.
He was still inside her, but stilled when she came back to her senses. Her breaths were shallow from the weight of him pressing her into the mattress as his warm exhales collided rhythmically with her neck. The fireplace crackled and popped, undisturbed by their coupling and the sound lulled her in the otherwise quiet room. So much that she barely registered the loss of him between her legs and his weight shifting to the side of her. Far too exhausted to consider the new experiences thrust upon her, she happily accepted the warmth of the fur blanket enveloping her and the blissful sleep that embraced her.