Ulfric's head was spinning. Everything was happening so quickly- Svala was charging towards Wuunferth and Sofie had taken to hurling ice spears at him with her magica as the old mage expertly ducked them both. "Are you both mad?!" He cried, grabbing Sofie by the waist and covering her arms with his own. "This is Wuunferth, for Talos' sake, you know him!" The silver haired man looked lost, clutching a greatsword and looking bewildered as the scene unfolded in front of him.

"Wuunferth is dead!" The Dragonborn cried, her weapons still pointed at the old man. "I saw his body at a Thalmor prison."

"Oh come now, this is lunacy!" Wuunferth cried, keeping his ward shielding him. "You know me, Dragonborn!"

"Exactly!" Svala howled sending a particularly nasty fireball at his head. Ulfric unconsciously took a step back, Sofie still in his arms. "I know you, Trearil!"

There was an inhuman howl of pain from the mage and Ulfric watched, in amazement, as the pale withered flesh of his friend faded away into gnarled, burned, pink flesh, touched with that familiar golden Altmer hue..."Insolent brat!" The elf spat, sending a torrent of lightning directly at Svala. She caught the brunt of it in the chest, its velocity moving too fast for her to dodge...Ulfric heard himself cry out as the archers made themselves known from the parapets of the castle.

"Harm her again and you'll be dead where you stand," he growled, his hand poised to give the signal for the archers to fire. He could see her lying in a groaning heap on the ground, her body still twitching from the shocks. The grey haired warrior stood in front of her protectively, staring down the intruder.

"As you will, my king," the burned elf said mockingly, holding up slender palms in surrender. "And don't worry, my pet," both Ulfric and the elf's eyes traveled over to Svala's crumpled form. "I'll be back for you soon."

As Ulfric's hand descended to give the signal to fire, there was a loud crack, a plume of smoke, and the elven mage was gone. Arrows rained down and struck only stone. Ulfric let out a roar of rage, causing Sofie to unfurl herself from his grip and run to her guardian's side. "Mala!" His guards had already departed into the city in search, shouting orders.

When he arrived at her side, Sofie was already using healing hands on her more superficial injuries. On the whole, actually, she looked relatively unharmed. It was the hollowness of her gaze that troubled him. "He'll be back," she was saying to him repeatedly. "He'll come back for me I know he will."

"You are in the safest place in all Skyrim," he told her soothingly, helping her sit up and lean against his broad chest. His heart was thundering just to have her in his arms once more. "No one will touch you here. Not him, nor anyone."

There was a flash of fury within her green eyes as she abruptly shoved him away from her. "I don't need your protection," she snapped at him, swaying on her feet. "You're the one who let him in in the first place! Talos only knows what he's learned since he's been under your roof! The war-"

"Bonebreaker," Ulfric cut her off tersely. "I'm aware. Not for one single second does my focus shift from this great land and her people."

"Only if they're Nords," she retorted. "The Argonians and Dark Elves could be used for cannon fodder for all you care."

"You will not speak to your Jarl that way," he snarled, taking a step towards her with his palm raised. She merely arched an eyebrow and chuckled venomously at him.

"I belong to no man nor mer nor dovah," Svala sneered at him, pressing her nose against his. "And I will speak to you any damn way I please."

"Master Wuunferth is dead?"

Even though the girl spoke softly, it was as though she had Shouted at them both. Stricken, Svala met his eye before placing a hand on Sofie's shoulder. "Aye, I'm afraid so. He died a hero's death to save us, and he feasts with the gods and ancestors in Sovngarde now."

Ulfric's stomach knotted painfully. He remembered Wuunferth so suddenly, sneaking him an extra sweet roll from dinner, away from his father's always watchful eyes. Wuunferth was more than his court mage and a trusted advisor, but a dear friend- his own kin, something Ulfric did not have in large supply. "It is the greatest honor for a Nord." He added to the child reverently. Svala snorted. Ulfric ignored her.

"Sofie, I'll be back soon," she told the child, giving a pointed glare at Ulfric. "I just need to get some supplies- I'll be staying in the city overnight."

"Okay Mala," the girl agreed sadly, and with one last look at the child and himself, she ran off.

Sofie sighed from somewhere near Ulfric's hip. "She's going to leave again, isn't she."

"Your...guardian has been given and important destiny from the gods," he answered her stiffly, thinking only of Wuunferth's form transforming into a bloody Thalmor in front of him. "She will return when she can."

Sofie smiled in such a way that made him second guess if the girl really was Svala's by blood. "I knew it wasn't really him. Master Wuunferth taught me how to sense other people's magicka and his felt...wrong."

"The Altmer are highly magical creatures. They have a strong connection the arcane arts."

"No," Sofie was insistent, shaking her head violently. "Like Mala's. Like dragons' magica feels."

Before Ulfric had a chance to process that particular bit of information, the previously forgotten warrior cleared his throat. He cleared shaggy silver hair from his face before dropping into a small bow. "Is it a bad time to ask to enlist?"

"Out," snarled the dunmer barkeep at her. "We don't serve your kind in here."

Svala occasionally visited the New Gnisis Corner Club when she wanted to be discreet. Most of the Nords in the city frequented Candlehearth, after all, and wouldn't dream to drink with those they thought beneath them. However, having tasted both brews she found the mer's to be infinitely better. But this... hospitality was new. "What's going on? I've drank here before."

"You'll never drink here again! Now out!"

She sighed and rolled her eyes- it was going to be quite expensive indeed to get a simple bottle (or two) of mead and some privacy, but after seeing Trearil she'd just as rather take skooma. She held out a bulging sack of gold towards the unhappy owner. "Is this enough to buy your drinks and your silence?" Her fingertips danced dangerously on the hilt of Sanguine's Rose. "I'd hate to have this evening get even nastier."

"Honestly Ambarys," scowled one of the (very) few other patrons in the tavern. "Show some respect. She may be a Stormcloak, but she's also the Dragonborn." A low growl worked its way up her throat, immediately sensing danger, until she saw the smirk on the dunmer's face. Sadri, the shopkeep she did the sort of shill job for. "And her gold is just as good as any of ours and I'm positive you are in no position to turn away a paying customer. Am I right?"

Ambarys snorted and turned his back on her, snatching her gold as he did so. "Still don't understand why Ulfric's whore is slumming it in the Grey Quarter when she could be-"

"Be very careful how you finish that sentence," Svala snarled, calling a small flame to life within her palm using her sheer rage alone- no magicka required. It was odd, and troublesome, and something she mentally filed away to worry about at a later time. "And to be perfectly honest, I've found that you serve the best mead in the city. Now would you please sell me two bottles of such mead and leave me the fuck alone?"

Moments later she had her wish while Sadri snickered in the corner, giving her a salute with his glass. Two bottles of mead later and everything was pleasantly fuzzy enough to allow the Daedric Prince of Debauchery to make his way into her mind once more.

Mmm, my champion is drunk, she could hear him purr inside her mind. So plaint and already beginning to become wet for me...

To her horror, she found Sanguine to be correct. She was begging to feel the warm, pleasant tingles of her arousal...a heat beginning to spread...abruptly she stood and began to make her way to the Palace. Ulfric could sate this hunger.

He might be the only mortal left who can. She didn't like that particular note of confidence in the Daedra's tone. As she stumbled along Windhelm, though, she got a good smell of herself and decided that a bath in her palace quarters would do her good first.

Which is why she nearly set half the palace on fire when she learned her palace quarters no longer existed.

"Lady Svala, please!" Jorlief was nervously hushing her (all while keeping a healthy distance- the fires on the braziers flared with each burst of her anger). "There is a reasonable explanation for this-"

"Where's Ulfric?!" She shouted, taking menacing steps toward the panicking steward as she did so. "Get me Ulfric!"

"Like anyone could sleep through the racket you're making, woman."

She looked up and saw Ulfric hulking on the staircase behind Jorlief, his voice thick with sleep making it even rougher and deeper than usual. He hadn't even bothered to throw on a tunic. Her mouth went dry. "Where's all my shit?" She so eloquently asked.

"Had you stuck around earlier I would have told you." Ulfric scowled at her. "I've made you my Thane. You get a house in the city and a housecarl named Calder. Congratulations."

She lifted Jorlief up in order to get past him, ignoring the poor steward's squawking. "My house is in Whiterun." Just how much had she had to drink?

Ulfric ran a hand down his face tiredly. "That's not the house I'm referring to, woman. Come. I'll show you." He motioned to a servant. "My cloak." The fur was draped over his shoulders (much to Svala's displeasure) not a minute later, obscuring his scarred and powerful chest from view.

As they walked through the dark streets of Windhelm, Svala kept her thoughts to herself. Ulfric, however, had other ideas. "You cause such a commotion the dead would rise to get my attention, yet now that we're alone you're suddenly shy?" He teased her with a smirk.

"I didn't need another house," she answered him, her head still swimming with thoughts of his broad, naked chest.

Ulfric scoffed at that. "Of course you did. Sofie could not be raised in the palace, and you have done more than enough for the city to be considered Thane. It was quite a simple solution, really."

It was her turn to scoff. "You grew up in that palace, hell you even brought in that Aretino boy-"

"Oh?" Ulfric's eyebrows raised. "You'd have liked Sofie to be a scullery maid?"

They had stopped walking. Svala stared at the house they had come to pause in front of before punching Ulfric with a closed fist. "You gave me a murderer's house?!"

Was it her drunken imagination or was he blushing? "Aye, well, technically it belonged to the Shatter-Shield's and it's been cleaned thoroughly and it was really the only vacant house in the city-"

Svala laughed, taking pity on him. She couldn't stay angry while so inebriated. "I think I still have the key someplace," she slurred, digging through her pack. Ulfric had placed one of his large hands on her shoulder to steady her, and all she could concentrate on was the warmth emanating from his palm. "Ah! Here it is!" The door opened with a satisfying click. She gave him a toothy smile. "Want to carry me over the threshold?"

But once inside, her jovial mood vanished instantly. If she closed her eyes tightly she could still see the bloodied floors, the altar where so many mangled bodies laid...however gazing upon Hjerim with fresh eyes she found nothing to remind her of the horrors once within. There was a spacious kitchen that smelled of herbs and simmering stews, a large dining table, and even a small room with two child beds. Sofie slept peacefully in one.

"Come upstairs," he murmured in her ear, as to not wake Sofie, before leading her up the stairs. The second floor was decorated with various armor stands and weapon racks, some containing various pieces of weaponry she did not remember owning. There was the sound of fitful snoring coming from one of the rooms as well, which Ulfric quickly explained came from her new housecarl, Calder. "And this is your room."

He opened the door to a room almost identical to the one that housed her in the palace. A large bed, various bookcases, and more weapon racks decorated the space. There was even a small table with two chairs in the corner, a bowl of fruit on top. "I trust it is to your liking?"

Svala could feel a new wave of desire crash over her, starting to suspect it was less and less due to Sanguine's ever-present niggling in her mind. Still, just to be safe, she cast the Daedric artifact aside with the rest of her weapons and armor, leaving herself nearly bare in front of the Jarl of Windhelm. "Could have had less murders happen in it, but yes. It's lovely. Thank you."

Ulfric had seated himself upon the bed, his eyes a shade darker and hooded as he gazed upon her form. "Come sit," he commanded in a deep voice, patting his own broad lap instead of the sheets next to him. There was a soft smirk playing on his lips. She rolled her eyes but obliged, hissing slightly when she felt his growing arousal underneath her. His large hands came to settle on her hips and, the mead still making her tipsy (that's all it was, surely), she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

For a moment they were still, just happy to be in the company of the other. She could feel Ulfric's calloused hands rubbing patterns against her skin and, although she expected him to ravish her, he merely placed a chaste kiss upon her nose and pulled her down next to him, covering her with the fur bedding. "Sleep," his gruff voice spoke in her ear and, miraculously, even with anxieties of Trearil and Sanguine's disappointed moaning echoing within her mind, she did.