"Get up! Svala, you have to leave! Get up now!"

She stirred awake groggily at the shouting, only to discover her head draped over Ulfric's chest. The Jarl was snoring softly, his arm wrapped protectively around her. It wasn't as though she were tempted to move, but it wasn't like Lydia to cause a fuss for nothing. Reluctantly, she dug an elbow into Ulfric's side and his eyes flew open, focusing on her blearily. "Come on, get up. There's trouble."

Without waiting for Ulfric, Svala descended the ladder only to see Lydia standing by the door with her weapon drawn. "What's going on?"

Her Housecarl thrust a sheet of paper at her with one hand, the other still wielding a sword. Her eyes scanned the page quickly, seeing a crudely drawn version of her own, scowling face staring back at her.

Wanted for questioning

Reward: 20,000 septims (live capture only)

Be warned- subject is dangerous

-First Emissary Elenwen

-Justiciar Trearil Granor

Her own wanted poster. Svala was filled with an odd sort of pride and almost wanted to have it framed and hung on her wall. However, there were pressing matters at the current moment, like having evidence Trearil was in Skyrim for one. "Who gave this to you?!"

"Thalmor agents at The Bannered Mare," Lydia answered tightly. "They're playing nice, for now, but I wouldn't like to put that to the test. Wuunferth is distracting them now but you don't have long. Ulfric needs to leave too- if he's seen with you-"

"I know." Her stomach flipped uncomfortably when she thought about Trearil seeing her with another man. She knew he wouldn't like it, especially given who Ulfric was. He would kill him, slowly and painfully, and probably make her watch or take active part. "Did one have a burned face?"

Lydia shook her head. "Don't stick around to see for yourself, you idiot. Go!"

Ulfric was already coming down into the kitchen as she was ready to dash upstairs and get him. He was dressed in the same simple, dark, cloak he head been wearing before with a black cowl to hide most of his face. "Wear these robes," he said, shoving a pair of mage's robes at her (Wuunferth's?), apparently having listened to her exchange with Lydia. "Take spare cloth and make a cowl from it. Extend your warpaint to cover your scar; it's your most defining feature," he was speaking in that hypnotic, calm, commanding voice of his and she was too overwhelmed to argue. Besides, a small, feminine piece of her realized that he must spend quite a bit of time looking at her to know her "most defining feature" and the thought filled her with a secret sort of glee.

"Fine," she said, already changing in front of both Lydia and Ulfric shamelessly. "But that means you can't speak. Most defining feature, and all." The frustrated opening and closing of Ulfric's mouth made her want to cackle. After a moment of glowering at her, he finally nodded once. "Also, your name is going to be Gunad." She added, smearing some soot from the cooking pit on her face.

"And yours?" Ulfric asked her curtly. She shook her head with a grin. "Don't need one. People only know me by titles- very few actually know my name."

"They're leaving the Mare," Lydia called tensely. "You need to leave, now. There's a sack in the corner filled with potions from Wuunferth and some food. I put your dagger in there. Now go."

"Come with us," she blurted out. She knew Lydia wouldn't, but still wished she would.

"I'm going to buy you some time. Talos guide you," Lydia gave her a genuine smile and a rather pointed look to Ulfric, whose bushy eyebrows rose in shock. She knew Lydia only said it to mock him. Svala grabbed his arm and hauled him out the front door, grinning to herself.

Svala spotted the Thalmor agents walking the market stalls and she fell into a quick stride, Ulfric's long legs carrying him far as he fell into step beside her (with little effort). "We'll take my horse. It will be safer to travel on one," she whispered to him. "I'll get you back to Windhelm and then I'm going to High Hrothgar."

"Nonsense," Ulfric's low rumble replied. "I am going to escort you to Ivarstead in one piece and then we will go to High Hrothgar."

"You're probably the most important person in Skyrim right now, you dolt, it's not safe." she hissed to him, immediately accompanied by "And please, don't let that go to your already huge head."

"I could have your head for that comment," he said smugly. She had never wanted to hit him more. Thank Talos they were closing in on the main gates. "But luckily for you, right now I am 'Gunad'."

"My elderly father," she added with an evil smile. She still hadn't forgotten what Ulfric had said before she left. Since theirs was only a "one time" affair, she thought he would appreciate telling people they were family as they traveled.

"Well that would make our past rather awkward," he said lightly, trying to make her laugh. She ignored him. In the light of day, her health finally improving, she found him insufferable. "Given I know how it sounds when you cum, screaming my name." Incredibly insufferable.

She was about to slap him when she heard sounds of a fight brewing. Looking behind her she saw Lydia, on the threshold of Breezehome, arguing with the Thalmor. "I told you, she doesn't live here! I don't know where she is!" Wuunferth was with the elves, looking apprehensively at her and Ulfric and back to the scene before him again.

"I find that hard to believe," one said in the traditional haughty Altmer tone. "Considering she is your thane and this is her property."

"She's away at war," Lydia said evasively. "I have control of the homestead in her absence." The brunette crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I can't just conjure her out of thin air."

"Who has her allegiance, I wonder?" The second agent remarked snidely. "Imperials or Rebels? Clearly, as her Housecarl you would know."

"The lady is an Imperial," Wuunferth spoke up suddenly and she felt Ulfric go still beside her. "I am here in service to Jarl Ulfric and I can say with authority that she is not part of his ranks."

"Are you sure about that?" Lydia asked airily, catching on. "I could've sworn I saw her in a blue cuirass. I mean, the Empire did try to kill her."

"Hmm," the first elf said, suddenly grabbing Lydia by the arm and motioning for the other to do the same to the mage. The two Altmer stared between the two, obviously unsure of who to believe; she had spent enough time among them to be able to read their body language, find the meanings hidden within. "Best you come with us then, in case we have anymore questions."

Svala froze, every muscle in her body willing her into action. The only thing that anchored her in place was Ulfric's large hand on her shoulder, keeping her rooted. "They're buying us time," his low voice said. "We need to leave, Svala."

"They can't take her." She wouldn't let Trearil destroy Lydia, to do the unspeakable things he had done to her to her friend. She wouldn't allow anyone else to die because of her. She went to take a step forward when she felt Ulfric's iron grip tighten and he began to pull her away. Her head whirled around to face him, her eyes boring into him. She began to struggle so he wrapped an arm around her waist and nearly hoisted her off the ground as he all but carried her to the stables. "Put me down!" She hissed venomously at him, watching helplessly as the gates to Whiterun swung closed, keeping Lydia, Wuunferth, and the damn elves out of view. Only after had Ulfric placed her on her own horse and taken his seat in back of her did she finally allow herself to breathe once more, snapping the reins on Nameless and drawing the horse into fast gallop. The prominent bulge of Ulfric's apparent arousal digging into her ass only made her angrier with him, and once they were a safe enough distance away, she veered into the forest before snapping her head backwards into the Jarl's face and driving him off the horse.

A small shred of concern (there was a rather loud thud when he fell) made her look back and it was a mistake. Ulfric had risen, faster than she thought possible really, and grabbed the hem of her robes, pulling her from her mount. Nameless continued to gallop forward and she called for him, just as Ulfric was trying to drag her back to him. "Let me go!" She screamed, trying to kick him in the face, but the bastard ducked her attack and instead crushed her to his chest. He squeezed her so tightly she felt her bones rub.

"Let me go," she repeated in a snarl, banging her head repeatedly into his chest. "Damn you, Lydia and Wuunferth-"

"Are doing their duty!" Ulfric roared so loudly she could feel the vibrations rumble within his throat. Several birds flew away in protest. "You will dishonor their sacrifice by getting yourself killed!"

"I'm going to kill them!" She was still wiggling against him, trying to free herself desperately, trying to ignore the feel of Ulfric's growing hardness rubbing against her. "You don't understand-"

"I don't?!" Ulfric repeated with a hollow laugh. "I have had bits of my own skin stripped from me and tanned into leather, manipulated to torture myself with my own guilt. I have known Wuunferth since my boyhood, since he served my father! He is more than a friend, he is my kin."

"And yet you do nothing!" There would be bruises of his fingerprints on her skin, they were digging into her so. "You run and hide and have everyone else fight the hard fight for you, but you make damn sure you're there to collect the glory! You're weak!" She was baiting him and she knew it; there was no way she could escape his grip, he had her beat in brute strength.

"I could have you imprisoned for this," his hot breath said against her earlobe. She could feel the finer hairs of his beard scratching her neck, not unpleasantly. "I could even have you killed. Is that what you want?" The anger simmering in his tone made his voice dark and smooth. Divines, she was actually getting aroused from this. Perhaps she was being possessed by Sheogorath.

Svala snorted, craning her head around to try and face Ulfric the best she could. "We both know you won't kill me, Jarl Ulfric. Where else would you put your cock?"

She registered the rage on Ulfric's face and saw his palm raise to strike her, when she spun away from him, rolling under his outstretched arm and off to his side. He staggered, his hand still raised, looking around for her blindly as she began to rush towards him, ready to strike. He moved both arms in front of himself protectively in a defensive position, awaiting an attack that would never come. Svala had stopped, eyes glued to the sky, listening intently.

The low roar of a dragon could be heard in the distance.

"Kicking your ass will have to wait," she spat at Ulfric before going to grab her weapon, only to be reminded of her current attire. Damn mage's robes! Little good that would do her against a dragon. She saw he already had an axe in each hand, ready for battle. He too, had no armor. One direct hit from the beast would mean the end of them both. "We need to find higher ground."

"The horse is gone," Ulfric reminded her flatly. "As you already think me cowardly, I don't feel any shame in suggesting we 'run and hide'."

A second roar sounded and she could feel the subtle vibrations in the earth that meant it was approaching and approaching fast. He was right. They couldn't face the dragon in their current state, not without her full strength. "There's a cave over there," she pointed a few paces ahead to a small clearing surrounded by saber cats. "After we clear it, it should do. Dragons have terrible eyesight, seeing low terrain is hard for them." He gave her a surprised look before nodding and crouching with her, moving stealthily behind tree trunks. As they stood before the group of cats, he tossed one axe to her before jumping on the one nearest to him and snapping its neck.

Svala tried not to notice the way it made the veins on Ulfric's considerably thick arms pulse- she was mad at the man, for Talos's sake! She needed to focus; the other cat, now alerted to their presence, was charging her, all teeth and claws. Swiftly she swung the axe, severing the cat's jaw. It howled in pain, but on the second swing she sent her axe through its skull, silencing the awful yowling. She looked up to see Ulfric finishing the final saber cat, easily driving his own axe through its thick neck, the head bouncing and rolling away. Smugly, he wiped the blood from the weapon on his cloak, his stormy blue eyes locking with her own. She wasn't sure if she was going to fight him or fuck him anymore.

They rushed into the cave just as the dragon came into view on the horizon, its long wings nearly blocking out the sun. She heard his breath catch as he stared beside her, undoubtedly remembering Helgen. "Dovahkiin!" She gave Ulfric a (slightly) panicked look before moving deeper into the cave until she (quite literally) stumbled upon a kahjiit skeleton.

Conjuring a spark of flame into her palm, a small campsite was brought into view, surrounded by the dim light from the glowing fungi lining the cave walls. There was a tent, a single bedroll (to her absolute dissatisfaction, Sanguine must have been having one hell of a laugh) a cooking spit, and a locked chest. "We'll camp here for the night." Ulfric declared, suddenly a Jarl once more. Fight. Definitely fight first. She sent a ball of flame hurtling toward the cooking spit, making sure a few sparks fell towards him.

"You're angry with me," he said, removing his cloak and sitting across from her. There were claw marks on his side from the saber cat that needed tended to- they had started to bleed. His top lip was swollen and split from her hit. "Even this, I do not understand. I rode to you when I heard you were ill, I bathed you. I stayed with you because you asked it of me. What have I done?"

Nothing, in truth. She knew, deep within herself, that she was angry with herself more than anyone else- Ralof was dead, Lydia and Wuunferth had been captured, Brynjolf...her heart nearly stopped beating. In all the bedlam she had nearly forgotten about Brynjolf! Brynjolf, who was waiting for her at Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead. Svala groaned, her head falling into her hands. She knew Ulfric was still waiting for an answer so she decided on the one thing she could be angry with him for- "I'm not your whore, here for you to use as you please."

For a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed Ulfric's impassive face, but he recovered quickly, cool and collected once more. "Even if I were your king?" He asked her smoothly, despite the blood dripping from his nose. "You have already sworn your allegiance to me as such, if only for your dead lover."

Lover? "What are you talking about?" She asked him, genuinely puzzled. The only Stormcloak lover she had ever had was the Stormcloak himself. "If you're thinking Galmar and I-"

"Ralof," his eyes narrowed at her as he cut her off. "This 'Bryn' perhaps, too."

She felt herself go flush with anger first, then cold with shock. "You heard me," she blushed once more as she muttered it aloud, more to herself than to him, remembering Lydia's earlier comments. Talos, this day had gone from bad to worse.

"All of Tamriel heard you," he snorted at her. "But it matters not. You have given your allegiance to me, your service to me. I alone can dictate what that service entails." She must've had a horrified expression upon her face because Ulfric simply shrugged and continued, "I don't understand your hesitation. You clearly enjoyed our coupling and it's obvious you still desire me. I am of a similar mindset. Many women would kill to have such attentions from their king."

"You're not king yet," she snarled at him, moodily removing some leeks, cabbage, potatoes, and tomatoes from the sack Lydia had packed them before slicing them up with her dagger. "And I swore you my blade, not my cunt."

"You swore me your life," Ulfric corrected her. "I would remind you that your cunt and your heart are included."

Thankfully, the low rumble of the dragon still circling above them provided her a brief respite before having to respond. She supposed it was her own fault, baiting and fighting Ulfric, but he wasn't playing fair. He was half nude, sitting across from her, staring at her with that smoldering expression that made it seem like he wanted to devour her. She knew that he knew she was remembering their night together. Bastard. Truthfully, there was an itch building beneath her skin, the urge to lose herself in pleasure and sensation. She needed to stop thinking, stop worrying, stop feeling and riding Ulfric until they both collapsed from exhaustion seemed like an excellent remedy. Still, she avoided looking at him more than necessary, adding some water from her water skin to the pot along with garlic and salt for good measure.

"You're quiet," he hummed, smirking at her. "Does this mean you agree? Or must I convince you?" His voice dropped in pitch, reducing to a throaty growl, and arousal flooded through her. He was standing then, moving slowly towards her like a predator stalking prey. Her heart sped up and her body froze, unsure of what reaction to take. One of his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her back flush against him. She could feel him beginning to harden as he softly ground himself against her rear, his hand cupping one of her breasts. She went to shove him away but his grip on her tightened, one hand going to the back of her throat and squeezing lightly, a reminder of his strength. "Submit," he whispered to her, and she knew she was lost. His teeth grazed her jawline, going down to the junction of where her neck met shoulder, and he bit down harshly, causing her to gasp in pleasured pain. The hand that was on her breast had pushed up her robes harshly, finding its way between her legs and plunging into her waiting wetness. She could feel his chest rumble with a low moan in response, actively thrusting against her now, sloppy and impatient.

Suddenly she spun around to face him, capturing him in a brutal kiss. Her teeth pulled at his lips in more of a bite than anything else at first, until he responded just as savagely, tangling a hand in her hair and using it as leverage to try and control her motions. She did the same, yanking his own shaggy hair by the roots and pulling hard so that he growled, all but shoving her to the ground and straddling her, nearly ripping the robes in half in his haste to undress her. She bit him once more and the iron tang of blood filled her mouth, which only spurred him on more.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head in a vice, freeing his cock from his smalls and pressing it against her entrance teasingly. Wrapping her legs around his waist she surged up to meet him, ramming his cock inside of her with a loud moan. She continued to gyrate her hips against him, keeping him inside her as her cunt squeezed him tightly. He was trying to push her hips down, to have his way with her, but she continued to thrash against him, trying to flip their positions and leaving them in a stalemate. "Submit," Ulfric growled again, exiting her and slamming back inside with such force it knocked her breathless.

"Fus," she breathed when she was able and he was pushed onto his back. She took the opportunity to jump him (quite literally) and impale herself upon his cock, riding him hard and fast. "Never," she moaned in his ear, pulling his hair harshly and biting his neck, leaving marks that would bruise. While there was a healthy dose of surprise written on his features, it didn't seem to quell his desire any as she could feel his hips stuttering. He was close, and that was good, because so was she. She placed one hand on his throat before taking one of his hands and putting it on her own, squeezing just lightly enough that his eyes fluttered close and a final roar left his mouth, his release flooding inside of her. Her own climax crashed over her seconds after as she let out a silent scream on the skin of his shoulder, her teeth sinking into his scarred skin tasting sweat and his own musk.

When it was over, she climbed off him, running a hand through her mussed hair and trying not to look at the smugness that was undoubtedly painting Ulfric's features. She removed the pot from the spit, grabbing a spoon from the sack and thrusting the soup at him. "Eat."

"Well you only had to ask," he purred at her with a wink, crawling over to her on hands and knees before licking a line up her (still sensitive) slit. She shrieked his name, trying to shove his head out of the way, but he only laughed (the vibrations doing wonderful things to her) and slipped his tongue inside of her, cleaning her of his own seed. She managed to put the pot of soup down (thank Talos for handles) before her knees buckled and she found herself sitting on the Jarl of Windhelm's face. His rough beard was rubbing the inside of her thighs raw as she instinctually began to rock back and forth on his mouth, her moaning only increasing in volume the longer he continued. She could feel Ulfric's own moans reverberated against her center and she cried out, her vision going white, her back arching as taut as a bow string.

After her wits returned to her once more, she climbed off him and made her way into the tent, letting the flap close behind her. She was mad, she had to be. She could hear the sounds of moaning and slapping skin outside and peered through the slit of the hide covering only to see Ulfric's hand moving rapidly up and down his impressive length, fully hard once more. Remarkably, the sight filled her with desire (she must be possessed, there was no other explanation for the sheer endless hunger she had for him) and with a sigh she let the tent fall open before beckoning him inside.

It was going to be a long night.