Jarl of Desire
By Rose Muffins
Prologue: Night Shift
The Jarl was restless in his room. The quiet bed chamber was stirred by grunts and the rustling of fur bedding. The Jarl's fingers curled against the sheets and pulled them in towards his bare chest. All the while he whispered unintelligible words to himself as his dreams tormented him.
A guard just outside his chamber door shifts uncomfortably at his post. He tightened his crossed arms as he was forced to listen to another one of the Jarl's night terrors. He looked over the balcony and to the door leading out of this situation. He thought about it. But he wondered what would happen if the Jarl got up and saw his guard missing. The guard sighed and leaned back up against the wall. It wasn't worth it. He'd wake up any moment.
The bed sheets had been bunched up in the center of the bed, the Jarl gripping tight to the cloth as if he were afraid to let go. He squeezed hard, whispering against the warm furs. "Don't go…" Tears rolled down his cheeks and he grew louder. "Don't…" He shot out of bed and shouted, "NO!"
The Jarl was sitting up in his bed now. Sweat caked his brow and rolled against his bare muscles while those choked furs rested on his loins. He breathed heavily, chest heaving and mind silent. He muttered, "Blasted…" He threw his head to the side and swung his legs off the side of his bed. He made slow, heavy steps to his dresser and pulled out a robe that he quickly threw over his shoulders. He barely attempted to tighten the belt and make himself decent before heading out his bedroom door.
The guard stepped aside before the Jarl opened the door. The guard's head was already turned away from the Jarl and gazing at nothing. The Jarl spoke quietly to the guard, "How is the watch?"
The guard responded in kind, "All quiet, sir."
"Good… You've been good these recent weeks. Go to the barracks and talk sweet to the fire for me. I'll be up for a while." The Jarl walked over to the balcony railing and rested his arms against it, staring down into his trophy room.
"Thank you, sir." The guard stepped away from his post and walked down the staircase. The Jarl watched him the whole while and sighed when he disappeared behind the door.
"Come back soon…" The Jarl whispered.
Chapter 1:
An olive-skinned imperial man with a balding dome walked out to the center of the grand hall, just next to a modest throne. He adjusted his quilted vest over his white collared shirt. He took a deep breath before facing three men who had just entered the hall. "Welcome," the well-dressed man spoke, "We are glad to have you here in Dragonsreach. Here, hundreds of years ago, the great Olaf One-Eye made a cunning campaign against the Dragon menace by-"
The pompously spoken man was cut off by a firm an authoritative voice, "With all due respect, we don't need a history lesson from the Jarl's steward. We need the Jarl himself." The interrupting man stood firm and tall, a binding of papers clenched at his side and a stern glare on his face. He wore a steel chest plate with the Empire's insignia embedded on the front and had two fully armored Imperial guards standing at his sides. "Where is he?"
"Ah… Well, uhm… The Jarl is a bit indisposed at the moment, but-" The well-dressed man began again, but found himself cut short once more.
"Proventus! I told you I was but a moment away and you begin to lecture our company?" A man, larger than the steward with golden-blonde hair tied in a braid behind his circlet adorned head, walked down the stairs into the hall and moved to sit at the throne in front of the three men.
"Ah! Jarl Balgruuf, my deepest apologies. I simply didn't know how long you would take and thought that-" Balgruuf waved his hand dismissively at Proventus and cracked a smile.
"Dear Proventus, calm yourself. I doubt our guests are here to discuss our rich culture. No, they are here to burden us with something else, I presume." Balgruuf turned his gaze down to the three men, the middle of which was beginning to scowl.
"Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun…" The middle man began, "The trade agreement between Whiterun hold and the Imperial Reach will expire soon. Your refusal to respond timely to our letters has resulted in my unfortunate appearance in your court. I am here to negotiate the renewal of said trade deal."
Balgruuf chuckled and scratched his fingers into the bound beard hanging from his chin. "I see… And this renewal of yours… Does it still have the outrageous demands I read in your disrespectful letters?"
"Assumedly." The man responded like a stone.
"Then understand when I tell you that I still refuse to cower down to the whims of the Empire." Balgruuf sat up in his throne and punched down on the arm rest while his voice grew stern. "You can go back to General Tullius and tell him that no letter or messenger will convince me to halt trade with the Eastern holds of Skyrim."
"General Tullius is not involved in the dealings of-"
The Jarl stood up, cutting the man off. "You've outstayed your welcome, messenger. I know who you answer to at the end of the day, and I know who sends those letters. You can pretend you answer to a High Queen or Falk Firebeard all you want, but I know who pays your dues. Now leave my city and don't send another letter until you've all come to your senses over at that palace."
The man bared his clenched teeth in a snarl. He turned himself around, papers crushed in his hand, before giving a tap to his guard's shoulder. All three men made their way out the door, leaving Balgruuf to collapse back into his throne. Thick, calloused fingers stroked through his hair while another hand removed the jeweled circlet. "Ah… Dammit, Proventus... What do I do? How can I serve my people if I can't even keep half of our trade agreements?"
Proventus swallowed and looked to his Jarl with apprehension. "Well… The Empire does make up more income for us than the Eastern holds of Skyrim. Perhaps if push comes to shove, we should accept the offer."
Balgruuf washed Proventus in a disdained gaze. "The last thing I want to hear about it how I'll cower down to the Empire's demands once our treasury has run dry or our stockpiles have turned to crumbs. Gah, blast it all." Balgruuf stood up from his throne and walked back up the stairs to his quarters. Proventus followed.
"My Jarl, I didn't mean to offend. Of course, I only meant that-"
"Proventus, please. I'm going to have a walk among my people for a while. Perhaps you would do well to have the day to yourself." The Jarl continued forward, leaving Proventus to stand and watch.
"Well… Yes, your majesty. Whatever you say." Proventus turned and made his way to his own bed chambers.
The sun was lowering along the low walls of Whiterun while Jarl Balgruuf walked down the cobble pathways. He had removed his royal garbs in place of common street wear. He had let his hair down and decided that his beard could be let out of its binding to breathe for a bit. The bleeding sunlight over the horizon mixed with the cool, crisp air filled him with nostalgia for his youth. He drank in a deep breath and held on to it, savoring the flavor of fallen leaves and a warm tarts in the distance. He released the breath and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers before continuing along.
After passing the Inn, Balgruuf knew his little stroll would be coming to an end soon. Not too many people out tonight. They must have been in their houses, warming by the hearth with their loved ones. Balgruuf longed for nights like that. The fruity scent of baked goods was slowly replaced by the smell of coals and hot iron. Ah yes, the blacksmith was in sight and the forge was still glowing. Must have been a late day then. Balgruuf walked up to the forge, expecting to greet his Steward's daughter when a different sight caught his eyes.
A large man stood hunched over an anvil, hammering a red glowing slab of steel into a sleeker shape. His muscles were thick and wetted in sweat. His body was smooth and bare of hair, letting his skin glow and shimmer in the flame's light. His hair, full and black as the coals he burned in his smelter, draped behind his head in a smooth, singular flow. A few strands stuck to his forehead but were pushed aside when his firm, rotund bicep covered his face and let his powerful forearm swab across his brow. His beard, a healthy and well-tended forest of soot-stained hair, was something to be envied by any working man. But most of all, Balgruuf noticed how his firm back, wide shoulders, and rugged chest were deprived of any protection, leaving them bare to the mixture of cold Skyrim air and the forge's hot environment.
Balgruuf felt choked. He wanted to ask something, but the thought slipped his mind. His eyes found it hard to escape this man's visage that drenched the air around them in machismo. He had to step back, find a space behind the smithy's building, and calm his rapidly thumping heart. Once he had caught his breath, he stepped back out and didn't even wait to have the man back in his sights lest he lose composure again. "Hello there. Where's Adrianne? I thought this was her forge."
The man looked up from his work and turned to see a pretty looking blonde man approaching him. Even in the dimming light, his clothes looked nice and well kempt. "Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm Adrianne's husband. I'm usually inside and behind the counter, but Adrianne is out delivering a shipment to Falkreath. Might be gone a few days. The name's Ulfberth War-Bear. Who're you? Don't think I've seen you around."
Balgruuf was taken aback by the question. The man answered so casually it was like he didn't know who he was. Ah, well with the setting sun and the common clothes, maybe that was exactly the case. "I… Was passing through. Visiting. I don't usually come around here and figured I'd say hello to Adrianne. I know her father, you see." What compelled him to dance around the question like that? He was the Jarl of this very city, and yet he didn't want to tell the man.
"Oh, you know that toity Imperial up at Dragonsreach? Figures, your clothes do look quite nice. Not like they'd be made around here or anything." Ulfberth cracked a smile and shook his head at the idea. "So, you from Solitude or something?"
"Gods, no… I'm from here. Lived here all my life even. But ah… I guess I haven't really been living here as of late. I've had my heads in the clouds recently." Balgruuf went quiet and turned his head up towards the towering keep high above Whiterun's common housing.
"Cloud district then? Would make sense if I haven't seen you. I don't get around there very often." Ulfberth slammed his hammer back down to the steel, flattening the ingot further and sending sparks up into the air that skated off his bare chest.
Balgruuf became choked up again at the sight and turned his head to cough as he leaned a hand on the building. "Mmm… Ahem. You've got a very ah… Thick skin there, eh? No apron or anything."
Ulfberth slammed hammer to steel again, the sparks not even phasing him. "Nah. A real Nord doesn't mind a few shards of steel every now and then." He said with a chuckle. "Besides, it gets hot. Talos knows I sweat enough on a normal day. Guess paper pushers in the Cloud district wouldn't know much about that."
That jab had Balgruuf straighten his back and retort with a strong tone. "Oh, you certainly don't know the half of what I've been through. War and beast haven't phased me yet. The tales from my very own life could make a man your size shake in his boots."
A smile cracked along Ulberth's face as his shimmering blue eyes drifted to the man's silhouette. "Oh yeah? Sounds like we should find some time then. I've got the day off tomorrow. How's about you drop by the Bannered Mare and get down to Nirn with the rest of us commoners?"
Balgruuf forgot himself for a moment and felt his heart leap from his chest. "Gladly!" He replied, maybe a bit too excited. He caught himself on the descent and chuckled about it. "Aha… I mean, I'd be happy to talk your ear off. It'll be a good change of pace."
Ulfberth lifted the sleekened steel bar from his anvil and plunged it into the quench. Steam billowed up from the pool and hissed as the blade cooled and hardened. "Then it's a date."
Balgruuf slammed the door shut and made a speedy trot up to his bed chamber, sweat dampening his clothes and breaths heavy. He gave the guard outside his door a pat on the shoulder and said, "You have the night off. Get some rest."
The guard looked up in surprise and stuttered on his words as he moved off. "O-oh! O-of course, sir! Thank you, my Jarl!" He quickly made his way down the stairs and didn't hesitate to go through the previously slammed door.
The Jarl kicked his door shut without looking back and clambered to pull his hot clothes off. He was sweating so much. His heart was racing. What did this all mean? What was going on in his head that he couldn't think straight? He slipped his trousers down his legs, stumbling as his kicked them off with his shoes just before landing on top of his bed. He breathed heavily, a hand gripping at the hairs on his chest and sinking into his pecs. He would see that man again tomorrow… He would see him and know for sure what this feeling was. He had to know. He had to see him again.
The Jarl slept quietly that night.
5