Thorunn woke as she normally did: Nude, with Ulfric laying upon her chest, snoring softly. She stirred when her eyes opened to the light pouring through the gilded windows. She removed a hand from Ulfric's bare back to cover her eyes. The lack of warmth within that spot seemed to be the only thing keeping his eyes closed; the snoring ceased and he rolled onto his back, peering up at Thorunn with a warm frown.
She caught the odd look. "Yes?" she prompted, removing her hand from her eyes to regard him pensively.
"You leave today," he said heavily.
"I leave many days," Rarely did she linger in the palace. She was not officially part of the royal court and thus wasn't required to remain, and she took full advantage of that freedom. In addition, the blood of the wolf still plagued her, as it reminded her every morning when she woke from restless sleep to aching bones and headaches. The wolf needed to hunt.
Ulfric's frown deepened. "I will be without you for many weeks to come, perhaps longer. We have been together every night for the past month. I fear I've forgotten how to sleep alone."
She reached out to trace her thumb across his cheek, brown eyes meeting blue. Her other hand idly fingered the Talos amulet around her neck. "You will never spend a night alone," she said softly.
He chuckled, but it fell flat, the corners of his mouth twitching downward as his frown returned. "Ah, if only that were true. Talos is not quite the same as a warm, touchable woman."
"Touchable," she echoed. Her thumb ceased its movement.
He smiled, genuine and soft, eyes warm and loving. He reached for her, his large hand gently cuffing her waist as he moved to hover above her. His smile turned to a crooked grin as he gazed down at her, stroking a strand of blonde hair away from her forehead. He leaned down as if to kiss her and she closed her eyes in anticipation, but his lips never grazed hers.
Instead, they brushed against her collarbone as he dipped. He laid tender kisses all along her collarbone until he reached the Mara amulet resting beside Talos's favor. Eyes still shut, Thorunn smiled. Such softness in this man was not something she could have ever predicted from the way he presented himself outside of his quarters.
Ulfric pressed his lips against the Amulet of Mara. "Aavlaas zey, dii krein ahrk iilah," he whispered against it, as feathery as the kisses and looks he gave her. Marry me, my sun and moon, he'd said in the language that came to his beloved as easily as breathing.
She laughed, eyes finally opening. She couldn't help it. "Geh," she responded. Yes. "Rah, geh." Gods, yes.
His laughter joined her and he leaned up to give her a passionate kiss on the lips that dragged on until their smiles were mere memories of the heart. "We can make the announcement when you return," he promised upon breaking away. "And you will return, preferably in one piece. Be careful out there, dii lokaal. The only thing harder than Skyrim is her people, as you well know." And they both loved their country for it.
Thorunn sat up with a certain abruptness, taking Ulfric with her. Her face was hardly an inch from his. "Keep the throne warm for me," she said, followed by a tantalizing smirk. Had this been any other scene, had she been any person else, he would have painted the walls with her blood just then. But not her. Never her.
He laughed. "That I will. You should be preparing yourself. I have two of my best kingsguard standing at the gates awaiting you, Ser Niket and Ser Tinsley, should you change your mind about protective company."
"The only protection I need is my own skin," she said sharply, then she pulled the silk sheets back and climbed out of the bed. From behind her, she heard Ulfric plop back down with a content, affectionate sigh.
Thorunn was dressed for traveling. She wore thick, comfortable furs accompanied by a woolen cloak and hood. An outfit for flexibility and warmth rather than protection, for the further East one travels, the colder Skyrim gets. That cold came fast and hard. Aegetha, her mount, was saddled and eagerly waiting to stretch his legs out. Aegetha always did hate being cooped up in stables. Luckily for him, he had a mistress that scarcely stayed in one place for long periods of time.
More to carry her bags than anything, she had decided to bring along Ser Niket and Ser Tinsley. Their horses were bulky enough to lug her heavy armor and weapons easily; Thorunn's own sheath had only an axe forged from Skyforge steel and her shield was not formidable enough to hold against a particularly tough enemy. She only anticipated giant spiders and wolves, perhaps a sabertooth if she was lucky.
Her pack was full with books regarding the Dark Brotherhood she'd picked up from Ulfric's private library. She'd read them during the inn stops and little more. Reading was for scholars and mages, not warriors and pillagers.
The kingsguard accompanying her quickly became an annoyance. Tinsley was a young man, a few years younger than Thorunn herself she suspected, and talking was his favorite thing to do. He had to comment on everything, from the ingredients the trees they passed supplied to the history of the fortresses they passed. "And this one belonged to Lord Galahan the Feeble," he'd say as if Thorunn cared. "He was slain by his own fishwives! Bashed his head in with sacks full of trout, the stories say."
Niket was an older man, so stern and serious that merely looking his way made Thorunn's blood boil. He always tilted his nose up at her. Each time he did that, it made her want to cut it off. A large thing it was, too, with a long and nasty scar running across it horizontally. Thorunn hoped that where ever that scar came from, it showed him a new realm of pain. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was lesser men thinking they were better than her.
They were on their way to Dragon Bridge to speak with Commander Maro, their greatest lead on the Dark Brotherhood. Thorunn had shared a drink with him once during her travels, long before Alduin was slain. From what little she remembered, Maro was a paranoid man with a revenge complex and a nasty glare, but he always got the job done. "Should I ever fail my job, I will gladly be put to the headsman's axe," he'd told her. He was a man worthy of respect.
Luckily, Dragon Bridge was not far from Solitude. The less time they spent on the road, the lower risk of danger they weren't properly equipped for.
The weather treated them fairly. The air was cool and comfortable, the sky clear and free of clouds that might hide an incoming dragon, though the dragons rarely attacked unless provoked since Alduin's demise. Thorunn was reminded of the egg she had soaking in a fire back in the Blue Palace. Thorunn trusted the task of keeping the hearth heated to Ulfric.
She'd developed a strange bond with the dragon's egg. Perhaps it was the dov within her that made her feel almost motherly in regards to it. Sometimes she'd wake in the midst of night, calm as an eagle perched upon an untouchable mountain, and without really controlling and thinking of her movements, she'd walk into the guest room the dragon's hearth was in. She'd sit cross-legged at the foot of it and merely stare into the fire, nursing the overwhelming urge to reach into it, bare hand and all.
When she had her fill, she'd simply stand up and walk back to bed. Ulfric knew nothing of these occurrences. Perhaps they were only dreams, Thorunn considered.
Dragon Bridge came into view, the stone archway above the bridge of a dragon's head clear as the blue sky above.
"Have you heard the story behind that archw-" Tinsley began, but Thorunn had had enough.
"Tinsley! Shut. Up." she ordered through clenched teeth. She heard the lad's jaw audibly clamp shut behind her.
They crossed into the village without question. The houses were of typical Skyrim make, sturdy and practical. Outside of those houses, children ran amok, chasing dogs or each other, while their parents harvested plants in their farms or milked goats and their grandparents sat on porches and enjoyed the scenery or tanned leather. Haafingar guards patrolled the length of the road, watchful eyes obscured by steel helmets. Travelers passed through often enough that they barely turned their heads as Thorunn and her kingsguard made their way to the Penitus Oculatus Outpost.
She dismounted Aegetha just outside the building. She commanded her guards to remain outside; the last thing she wanted was for these Empire lechers to see her, a well known Stormcloak, as a threat. The Penitus Oculatus guards stationed on either side of the door turned their heads to watch her as she approached and knocked at the door. She paid the guards no mind.
The door opened, revealing the Commander she'd last seen as a fairly young and handsome fellow. Now he looked like he'd aged twenty years, with gray hairs dotting his dark hair and scraggly beard. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his fingers trembled easily. "Yes, what is it?" he said wearily with a tired sigh. His eyes snapped back and refocused when he saw who stood before him. "D-Dragonborn? I... yes, of course, of course. The Emperor's cousin. Come in." He stepped aside, and Thorunn entered.
The place was abnormally clean, like he'd been polishing everything until it shone to keep his mind off of whatever had happened to provoke those gray hairs and slouched shoulders. "I assume you're here about the Brotherhood," he said, closing the door.
Thorunn stood in front of the hearth, watching the bright flames lick and dance around the stone. "Yes," she confirmed, not taking her eyes off of the fire. How could something so dangerous be so comforting? Fire provided warmth as well as injury, she supposed.
Commander Maro sighed heavily and took a seat at the round wooden table. He straightened out the letters atop it, though they had already been the epitome of neat. "They killed my son," he said, so softly that Thorunn had to strain her ears to hear him. "He was out verifying the security of the Holds. He was only doing his job, a job that I assigned him. They took him in the night. Stabbed his back and left his blood to warm the dirt. Even left a letter on his body, speaking falsely of a thwarted assassination attempt."
Thorunn side-eyed him, and from that she could see him bow his head and hear the sharp intake of breath. Her eyes returned to the fire. "I know you are with grief," she said as gently as she could manage. "but I need you to cooperate with me so we can put an end to this. Do you know who the Brotherhood seeks?"
A fire erupted in Maro's eyes as fierce as the one dancing before Thorunn. This was the Maro she'd gotten blind drunk with so many months ago, vengeful and spiteful. "Yes, yes," he answered, louder the second time. "Destroy them we must. They seek the Emperor. My son is dead and my wife blames me for it; she treats me as if I am dead to her, and I might as well be. The Emperor is the only thing I have left to protect." He stood, abrupt and sharp. "Dragonborn, if the Emperor falls, do not let me tremble when I fall on my own blade."
The likelihood of her being present during this fall was slim to none, but she would kindle whatever fire remained in this man. "Of course," she rebuffed, the faintest of smirks on her lips. She rested a hand on the hilt of her axe, out of habit more than anything. "The Emperor." she repeated quietly, entranced with the flames once more.
A tense silence ensued, foreboding and calm as the wind before a storm. She turned her head to address Commander Maro at once, her smirk thick with passive aggression. "Let us burn a brotherhood then, shall we?"