A/N - Better late than never. Or in this case: Better really, super-duper late than never.
Disclaimer - I own absolutely nothing from Skyrim. Bethesda does.
The scholar's blond hair danced around her shoulders as she shook her head slowly, skepticism blatant on her sharp features. "I can scarcely believe that Skyrim played any role, even an indirect one, in the fall of the Dominion. The story you tell, it goes against everything written of that time."
"It was kept a very close secret. Only Ulfric and Galmar knew of my involvement, and only a select group of trusted soldiers accompanied him on supply missions."
Lokir continued, "Skyrim supposedly took no side in the war. We ignored the growing internal conflict in Valenwood, and the King publicly declared that our country had no business meddling in another's struggles. But, you're telling me all of that is wrong…"
"Not wrong, Lokir. It's just not the entire story. It is still very much true that not a single Nord raised a sword against the Dominion in Valenwood."
"Does that make much difference, my Queen? I doubt that the Thalmor would have cared much about the distinction; they would have seen Skyrim's aid as an act of aggression. It was a huge risk for both you and Ulfric to take."
"It was. Though we did all that we could to minimize it."
"I am even more surprised that Ulfric allowed you to do this. Not just the danger that it posed to his country and his throne, but to you as his wife."
"Come now, Lokir. You know enough of me that you ought to know better than that. My husband did not allow anything—he was very much against letting me go, but he could not deny me the right to fight for Valenwood, not after I helped him accomplish Skyrim's independence. It bothered Ulfric immensely that he could not be on the battlefield to fight with me."
"It seems so very much unlike the King—to have sat in wait for you in Solitude while you conspired to bring down the Dominion."
She smiled at the scholar's intuition, more proof that her choice of Lokir was the right one. "Well, my husband was never known to be a patient man, but in this matter he was. For the most part, at least..."
ᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃᛃ
The warm mug in her hand steamed in the chill of the Valenwood night as she rolled her shoulders, trying to shake some of the road weariness from her body. She willed her mind to focus on the ongoing conversation between the men standing with her around the bonfire, their words swirling in a fog of exhaustion. It was up to her to make sure that this meeting went smoothly, and thus far, she was pleased with the result. It was a pleasant surprise that Galmar and Eralos were getting along as well as they were, but deep down, she had always suspected that the stubborn Nord could be charming if he really wanted to be. Most of the time he was a grumpy codger, but today he was laying it on thick.
Both of them clearly liked to hear themselves speak, and she conceded that there was much to discuss, but the hour was getting very late and she longed for just a moment of silence. Muted laughter caught her attention, and she realized that both of them were staring at her. She shrugged, careful not to upset her drink. She smiled widely in return, before speaking, "I won't pretend to know what we are all laughing about."
Galmar grinned, "I was just telling Eralos of your exploits amongst the ranks of the Stormcloaks."
"Then I am very glad that I was not paying attention. Galmar is an honest man, but he tends to exaggerate war stories."
"There is no embellishment needed when it comes to the mighty Stormblade," she barely caught the slight quiver in his voice, but he remained stoic.
"I'm impressed that your old ass managed to say that with a straight face."
They chuckled, and it was Eralos who finally interrupted. "Feren is not the only one finding it difficult to concentrate. I believe that we are all weary. It may be time for rest."
"I have tents enough for everyone, if you wish."
Smirking, she caught the mortified stares of her fellow Mer as they grimaced at the animal hide shelters that the Stormcloaks had pitched around their camp. Bosmer warriors believed that shunning nature weakened their abilities; and they refused to sleep indoors when preparing for battle, choosing instead to take respite under the tree canopy. In their present state of mind, tents were an abomination, a barrier erected against Y'ffre himself. But to her weary eyes, the makeshift structures were a haven of solitude, and she would relish a night within their familiar comfort.
"My people and I appreciate the offer, Galmar. But we sleep under the stars."
"Very well. In the morning, I will have my men ready supplies for you to take."
The elf leader nodded, moving towards the woods as the other Bosmer began to follow suit. She broke her silence, "Eralos."
He paused, turning back, waiting for her words. "If it is all the same to you, I would like to take Galmar up on his generosity."
Barely disguised grumbles arose from the other Mer, but she had not a care for their thoughts. Eralos' eyes narrowed slightly, "If you wish."
"For this one night, I do."
He left the campfire without another word, but the look that he leveled at her conveyed his displeasure—no doubt she would get an earful from him on the return trip. She watched their backs as they left camp, off to find their rest.
Turning to Galmar, she caught the curl of his lip as he struggled to keep silent. She shook her head, exasperated. "Get it out."
"You pissed him off."
"Aye. Nothing new there..."
"So, it's not just us Nords you do that to."
"Nah...I provoke all races equally. If there were a Khajit around, I'm sure I'd manage to step on his tail or something."
He roared out while holding his stomach, his laughter clamoring over the din in the camp, and she was unable to resist joining. He finally managed to speak, "Your friends are a bunch of tough bastards—exposure to the elements would kill a man in Skyrim. The climate here allows for such bizarre customs."
She smirked, an amusing idea popping into her mind. "If you think that's odd, you ought to see what they do after combat."
Galmar returned her grin, looking smug, "It takes more than cannibalism to shock me. It is disgusting but efficient."
"Leave it to you to see the positive in it." She tilted her head towards the tents, "Which is mine?"
"Take the one next to the stream. It will afford you some privacy if you would like to clean up."
"Soap and sleep. Two things I could desperately use. Thank you, Galmar."
She moved deliberately through the camp, driven and desperate for simple comforts. The moment she stepped inside her tent, she knew she had made the right decision, Eralos and his attitude be damned. Cozy and warm, a lantern's rays softly illuminated a small table and bedroll. It was hardly luxurious, but it would more than suffice after years of communal living with the Mer. Beside the light, bathing implements: a clean cloth, bar of soap, and pitcher, filled the rest of the table top. The pleasant sight was all the motivation she needed to strip out of her armor. She grabbed the supplies and hurried out to the water.
The stream was far too shallow for a proper soak, but she would gladly take the opportunity to clean the dirt and sweat from her limbs. Kneeling on the damp earth, she took her time scrubbing and lathering her arms, willing her muscles to relax as she pushed thoughts of the Thalmor, Eralos, and the impending fight from her mind. This would probably be the last peace she would know for the foreseeable future, and she intended to enjoy the luxury of some alone time. She was accustomed to militia living, but the Elves took it to another level, and she would savor a night to herself.
Footsteps behind her broke her revelry, and she tensed, waiting for the inevitable interruption. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a patrolman's back as he continued along on his watch. A shadow flickered out of the corner of her eye, and she knew her solitary moment was over.
"Their watchmen are not as good as their supplies."
She sighed, before responding, "Clearly he was not expecting someone to be crawling about in the trees like a common squirrel."
"Then he is a poor guard."
She cut to the chase—she had no time for foolishness. "Be that as it may, I'm sure that you're not here to give me a critique of their skills. What do you want, Eralos?"
"I want to know why you continue to openly challenge me and our ways."
Face turned away, he could not see her roll her eyes at his perceived slight. Her patience was wearing thin, and she was struggling to control her temper. She needed Eralos, but her resolve to keep him as ally was dwindling in light of his thin skin. "I had thought that you would wait until we leave to lecture me, but you cannot even hold your tongue that long."
He sneered, "You are one of our clan and you will watch what you say to an Elder."
"I give respect when it is earned, Eralos. Not because you are aged."
He grabbed her, pulling her by the shoulders off the ground, and his face was but a thumb's width from hers, "I give you much leeway with your words, Feren, because I long to be your promised. Do not tempt me into changing my mind. You belong with us, with me, amongst the trees, and you ask me to allow you to sleep in filth!"
Her body trembled, betraying her, but she had not lost her nerve. "Before I was clan, I belonged to Skyrim. If you think that I will ever forget that, or turn my back on the years that I lived amongst the Nords, then you are sadly mistaken."
"But that is all past, and you must live in the present."
"Presently, the Nords are aiding us to rid Valenwood of the Thalmor!" she hissed, "I am living in the very present. This could be the last time I get to enjoy a few comforts that remind me of the only home I knew for most of my life!"
"If it means that much to you, then so be it. But, I will never understand."
"I am not asking you to understand, only to accept."
He sighed, and it startled her to see the emotions written all over his face. Confusion, avarice, guilt...they all danced across his features, the dispassionate mask she had always seen long gone.
"For your short years, you are wise beyond them. I have asked you to be mine, and it is you, and all of you, that I desire. But, you put yourself in danger by defying our gods, and there are many who find your ways strange, no matter your skill and bravery. My affection for you will be seen as a weakness, one that will invite open challenge to my leadership."
She saw a window of opportunity in his admission, and she hopped through it head first. "I am what I am, Eralos. That will never change, and you should seek a mate who can be what you want."
Silence loomed, and she met his defiant stare with one of her own. "Or maybe…" he started, "I need a mate who is strong enough to be herself. One that will confound me, dare me to think, and open my mind to other possibilities."
"I have told you that I am already committed to another."
"Yes, yes," he voiced the words dismissively. "To some Nord fool who will probably be long rotted in the ground when you see a hundred years. What you are is committed to spending your centuries alone. I am waiting for the pragmatic strategist I know to realize just how ridiculous she sounds."
"You'll be waiting those very same centuries for that realization."
He laughed, a sound she had heard very rarely before. "I am a very patient man. A wife who is more wild, more untamed than Valenwood itself, is worth the wait."
She shook her head, and a yawn managed to escape her lips, very much against her will. Of course, he missed nothing. "Get some rest, Feren. Enjoy your time living in the past."
The jab annoyed her but she resisted the urge to snipe back. Right now, she just wanted him out of her sight, and a response would encourage lingering. He walked away, fading into the dark of night, returning she was sure, to the tree that he would slumber under. She finished the rest of her grooming and returned to her temporary sanctuary. Moving the flap, she expected to see the soft glow of the lantern, and instead found it pitch black.
"Today has not been for me—out of oil and luck," she grumbled to herself. Sighing, she moved forward gingerly in the dark, carefully lifting a hand to brush against the lip of the table. Placing the empty pitcher and soap down, she reached out with her toes for the bedroll. After all, she hardly needed to turn on a lamp to go to sleep, which is all she very much cared to do at the moment.
Having found her target, she dropped to her knees, using her hands to search around for the edge of the blanket, and instead, found a hairy knee instead. Only a very muffled version of her warning scream met her ears as an equally burly hand clamped over her mouth. An arm wrapped around her midsection, flipping and pinning her down on her back, and she thrashed wildly, trying to wiggle out from under her attacker.
"Be still, Feren!" he fiercely whispered, disbelief stunning her into motionlessness, and then she again heard the sweetest sound, a most longed for voice.
"Galmar was right. It was a bad idea to surprise you..."
Colliding with his chest, she pulled him down against her in the darkness, their noses brushing slightly, "Yes it was."
Grabbing his cheeks, she kissed him soundly, allowing all else to escape her mind while she enjoyed the taste of her husband. He broke away, grinning against her cheek, "Seems like a marvelous idea now."
His concession shattered the fantasy, bringing her back to reality. "What are you doing here?"
Ulfric laughed at her, "Did you really think that you would strike Falinesti without seeing me?"
"Yes. Since I thought we had agreed to no contact."
"I have kept my end of the bargain for two..." his fingers slid along her neck. "Very..." down they went along and across her jaw line. "Long..." tracing the outline of her lips. "Years."
Shivering, she barely managed, "And what changed your mind?"
"I know my wife too well, and I know that your plans are coming to a head. So, I thought I'd come and take a look for myself. See just what you have been up to all this time."
"Are you checking up on me?" she huffed, feigning mock annoyance.
His deep rumble of laughter warmed her heart; the sound was something that she swore to commit to the deepest recesses of her memory. "Hardly. I just wanted to see you before..." and his voice stopped, hesitating for just a moment.
"Before you strike. Nothing is guaranteed, and what will come of all this is an unknown. You can not fault a man for this."
Nodding, she traced the outline of his beard, "I would never. Though I do think you're crazy for coming here."
Before he could respond, she kissed him again, running her hands up into his hair as she lost herself in her husband's arms. He finally pulled away, giving them a chance to breathe. "I'll gladly be crazy if it gets me more of this," and his hands snaked down her lower back, reaching gently to cup her bottom.
She giggled at his antics, and he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. He spoke softly, "So tell me of your plans, Feren. You did not share much in your few letters with Galmar."
She tucked her head under his arm, resting her face against the expanse of his chest, as she laid out all of her tactics, concerns, and strategies to the one man in Tamriel that she trusted with all. He listened intensely as the details spilled forth from her like a mountain stream after winter's thaw, mostly nodding and interjecting when he had advice. She covered many subjects: facts they had gathered during reconnaissance missions, fears that she had maybe missed some critical detail, and opinions that she had made of the Bosmer, including Eralos.
"You believe that Eralos will make a good leader?"
"I do. He has been a good ally, and the Mer respect him immensely."
"An ally? He sounded more invested in you than that, Feren."
She looked at him, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. She often underestimated her husband's hearing ability, much to her chagrin. He continued, "I am making some cultural assumptions, but I imagine that being someone's 'promised' is pretty significant."
She sighed, "Eralos has many strengths, but understanding that I am uninterested is not one of them. He may want me as his promised, but that will not be what he gets."
Her eyes were adjusting to the minute amount of light that filtered through the flap, and she could easily make out his handsome face as he grinned, "He surely doesn't seem to think too highly of me."
She chuckled and he grabbed her chin, tilting her head to meet his. "I long for the day that I can claim you as mine to everyone in all of blessed Tamriel. Then I could tell Eralos, myself, just how much of a fool I am when it comes to you."
"We are almost there, my love. The goal, it is in sight."
"My only goal is right here in front of me..." he whispered, his hands sliding down her torso, brushing her navel, sending little shocks all the way to her toes.
Murmuring softly, she almost missed his words, "Soon, you will see Valenwood free of the Dominion. You will win the battle for your country...just like you told me so many years ago."
She kissed him hard, her mouth overridden by emotion that she couldn't put to words. She had always known that she loved Ulfric, but somehow he always found a way to endear himself to her even more.
"Tell me...just how did you manage to get away from Whiterun?"
"Well...Galmar needed dependable wagon drivers for this mission, and here I am."
She tried to stifle her snort, but it escaped. His voice dripped with sarcasm, "You wound me, my love. I am just a humble, hardworking man who took on this job so that I could see my wife."
She smiled at him, "Hardworking, yes. But, humble?"
"I can be humble!"
She laughed, her body shaking from the effort. His playful scowl managed to make him seem put out, but she knew better. "So, my husband, a wagon driver?"
"Just one of my many talents," he winked at her.
"I'd pay a thousand septims to see it," her smirk unmistakable. "Given our history with wagons."
The grin that lit up on his face took her breath away. "Well, I can hardly take you for a ride in the middle of the night. But, maybe I can keep you entertained in other ways…"