"Balgruuf and his family have fled the city," Galmar was telling Ulfric after his troops had returned to Windhelm, victorious in Whiterun. The city was now officially under Stormcloak control, giving him a chance to breath and plan next steps. "I think its clear to him that he's no longer welcome in Skyrim."

"Of course," Ulfric nodded, his mind elsewhere. He noticed that Galmar had been suspiciously quiet about the Dragonborn's involvement in the siege. "Were there any casualties?" It was odd; his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of her lying dead in the streets of Whiterun. Still, given Galmar's silence, perhaps this was to be considered.

Galmar raised an eyebrow. "Of course, my lord. There's always casualties in war. We lost about 1/3 of our men that we sent. Still," he grinned wickedly, basking in their triumph. "Those milk drinkers lost significantly more."

Ulfric returned his smile half heartedly, before carefully asking, "Any casualties of...note?"

Understanding shone in Galmar's eyes. Damn the man, he knew Ulfric too well at times. "The Dragonborn, eh? She's fine. Took a few scrapes but she singlehandedly blew the drawbridge down with her thu'um- might even give you a run for your money there- and I had to stop her from nearly taking Balgruuf's head off." Galmar shook his head beginning to pace, something he had a habit of doing whenever he was deeply lost in thought. "She's a good fighter, don't get me wrong, but she's rash. Reckless. Lets her temper control her at times. Might be more of a liability than she's worth."

The Jarl nodded once more, thinking this over. He himself was well versed with her temper, having it been his first real impression of her- Helgen was too chaotic to count. But to turn on her former ally? This didn't seem to match with the character of one whom defended the Dunmer so fiercely against one of her own kin. "I'l make that decision myself, my friend. I'd think I'd like to speak with her. She's in the barracks, I presume?"

Galmar shook his head. "She refused to stay in the palace. Said she has an agreement at Candlehearth, got a room there."

Ulfric frowned. Of course she did. This would complicate matters- the Jarl paying the Dragonborn, or any woman for that matter, a social visit was bound to stir up gossip. It would be best if he went alone and was discreet. "Thank you, Galmar. We'll discuss next steps tomorrow. You are dismissed for the night." He could tell that his friend was curious about Ulfric's sudden interest in the woman, but wisely he did not comment on it. With a brisk nod, Galmar was off to his own chambers and Ulfric was ordering Jorlief to fetch a traveling cloak that would cover his face.

"We're booked up for the night," Elda Early Dawn, Candlehearth's owner, barked at him the moment he walked through the door to the inn. "Might try one of the farms outside the city, sometimes they'll let visitors stay for a bit of extra coin."

"That won't be necessary," Ulfric tried to keep his voice low, but alas, he could see the spark of recognition change Elda's face. "I'm just here to visit someone."

"Of course," The inn proprietor said, keeping her own voice and expression neutral. Smart woman. She had caught on that Ulfric was trying his best to remain undetected. "Can you tell me who it is you're looking to see?"

"A woman. Red hair, green eyes, scarred face."

Elda nodded. "Room's down the hall to your left. I trust you won't make a fuss- I'm not really supposed to betray the trust of my clients like this. They do pay for privacy."

Nodding, Ulfric fished out a gold piece from the pocket of his cloak before tossing it on the desk before her. "Of course. Thank you, kind lady, for your assistance."

He had to knock twice before she answered. "Go away!" He heard her shout irritably from inside. "I'm tired." Ulfric continued to knock. "Are you deaf? I said, go away!" Once more, he rapped upon the door. There was the sounds of shuffling from within in, along with her angry shout of, "If you're that damn courier I'll show you exactly where Delphine can shove her-" the door swung open.

Ulfric's mouth instantly went dry. It was apparent she had been bathing, both from the tub of steaming water located within her room, and from her appearance as well. Her auburn hair was darker with moisture, and it was clear she had thrown a robe on without drying herself, from the way the material clung to her body, emphasizing the curves of her figure. Her breasts in particular were extremely prominent, her nipples hard and standing at attention from the sudden change in temperature. "I'm sorry," Ulfric blurted out, trying his best to remain polite and advert his gaze, even as he could feel the space within his trousers shrink. "I did not know you were bathing,"

She seemed as shocked as he, and she said quickly, "Well I did tell you to go away. But that was before I knew, y'know, that it was you."

"Yes, well," Ulfric cleared his throat. "Might I come in? There's some things I'd like to discuss with you. If you're decent, that is."

The Dragonborn- no, Svala smirked at him, seemingly enjoying his discomfort now. "Why? This isn't decent enough for you?"

He groaned. "Let me in, woman. That's an order from your Jarl."

She laughed and pushed the door open the rest of the way, ushering him inside before locking it behind him. His mind swam with the possibilities of what exactly could happen behind a locked door, before he remembered himself. He was not a green boy, for Talos' sake. He was the Jarl of Windhelm, the rightful High King of Skyrim. This was no time to be fantasizing about bedding the first woman to catch his eye in years. "So, Galmar informed me you were a bit...overzealous with Balgruuf."

Her eyes darkened. "It won't happen again," she muttered, turning away from him. "I lost control."

"I have no doubt," Ulfric sat on the chair across from her bed- sitting next to her on the mattress would be far too tempting for him to handle in his current state. He did not trust himself. "I also trust it will not happen again. Dragonborn or not, my command is law, Svala, and you are respected to obey like any other recruit."

"Even if I could out shout you?" There was that cheeky grin again, but this time it lacked any hint of malice. She was toying with him. "I'm sure your dog also told you how we got into the city."

"He did," Ulfric nodded, keeping his face impassive. "Though I'd advise you against using your powers in the future. Not everyone knows who you are, and it might be best to keep that concealed for now, especially where your political leanings are concerned."

She groaned, flopping onto her stomach. "Yes, yes, understood. Now tell me, you pay all your recruits a post-battle checkup?"

He smiled slightly- she had him there. "Only the ones that are legendary. Now, Galmar said you were injured. Have you had your injuries tended to?"

Svala snorted. "I'd hardly call them injuries, and being Dragonborn does have some perks- accelerated healing is one. I can hardly feel them anymore." Ulfric noticed, for the first time as she spoke, that there was a rather sizable gash on her thigh. The skin around it blackened and puffy- likely the weapon used to create it had been poisoned. It must've hurt more than she was letting on.

"Come back with me to the palace. I want Wuunferth to make that call."

She laughed, extending her uninjured leg so that her toes brushed across his kneecap. "Why? So you can get me into your bed?" Ulfric tried to hide his shiver at the husky tone her voice had taken. "What's wrong with mine?"

He stood suddenly, trying desperately to picture Galmar nude in order to stave off his growing arousal. Damn this woman. She was not making anything easy on him. "Of course not. I just want to make sure you don't die to something as stupid as a festering wound, you insolent woman."

Svala studied him for a minute before shrugging and standing herself. "Fine. Let me just dry off before we go." Suddenly, fire crackled to life within her palms- Ulfric wasn't aware that on top of everything else this woman was, she was also a mage- and she carefully passed them over her body, instantly drying herself. With a brief pang of disappointment, he noticed that the robes had returned to their natural, baggy state.

Putting the hood over his face once more, he walked to the door, only to notice Svala limping behind him. Wordlessly, he held out his arm to her. "It's not a request," he said without looking at her, knowing she would argue. "You can barely walk."

"Fine," she muttered, wrapping her dainty arm around his and allowing him to lead her out of the inn. The entire way back to the palace, Ulfric had a hard time thinking of anything other than how good she felt on his arm.