"We are here," said the dragon, and Ulfric blinked. How long had they been flying? He knew not. He knew only that the dragon was aiming downwards, soaring to the ground beside the beautiful homestead. Ulfric smiled sadly. Yes, this was the manor – how he wished he had known to look here, to find the Dragonborn, to find his beautiful daughter Leola. He had no way of knowing, though.
"Thank you," said Ulfric as the dragon landed, and Odahviing bowed his head. Immediately, Ulfric turned and rushed to the door.
He paused upon heaving open the front door, looking around for a moment. He proceeded through the door ahead of him, and then began up the staircase on his left. He shook his head as he peered through that door, seeing a single bed that probably belonged to Leola. He moved quickly to the next door, and as he opened it, he heard a fit of coughing from inside.
"Ulfric!" she gasped out through the coughing, her voice choked and hoarse. He moved quickly to her bedside. The sun was rising outside, and its pale, pinkish light lit her face through the window. She had wrinkles that didn't dull her exquisite Nordic beauty, and bags under her beautiful blue eyes. She looked weak, and he fell to his knees beside her bed.
"I forgive you," he whispered, taking her hand and gripping it between his own two. "I forgive you. I loved you – I love you. I couldn't just let you die without at least trying to see you one last time."
Tears came to her blue eyes as she gazed up at him. He took one hand and ran his thumb under her eye, catching one gleaming tear that slid free.
"Don't cry," he whispered.
"Ulfric, I told you not to come," she breathed. "Where is Leola?"
"At the Palace, she's at the palace," he answered, breathless. "I'm going to keep her, I'm going to take care of her. She's so beautiful, I can't believe it – I always wanted a daughter."
At hearing this, she began to cry, and he realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, and he shook his head.
"No, no, don't be sorry," he said to her, moving closer.
"I kept her from you. You should have been able to meet her sooner, you should have seen her grow up, but I took that from you!" she said to him.
"You said in your letter that you offered to let her meet me – that's not keeping her from me, love, it's not. You tried," he answered, pressing his forehead against hers.
"Ulfric," she whimpered weakly. "I shouldn't have run away."
"Shh," he said, and his lips pressed against hers softly. Her lips were dry, and though she tried to kiss him back, it was weak. He drew back, opening his eyes and gazing into hers. "I'm not angry, love. I just didn't want you to die alone, I didn't want you to die without knowing that you were forgiven, and that I love you, and that Leola would be safe and cared for."
"I was just so scared," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. Tears now streamed freely from her pretty blue eyes, and her body shook with weak sobs. "You were the King, and we were drunk, and I panicked… I came here, I didn't know where else to go that I could disappear. I thought you would be angry when you found out we were going to have a child, so I kept her from you…"
"How did you disappear?" he asked her softly. "I looked everywhere…I never thought to look here."
"I had the Jarl's steward killed," she whispered, gazing intently up at him. "She sold me the property – she was the only one who knew that I owned this place, so with her gone…no one would know."
Ulfric fought the urge to sigh, to shake his head, and instead just smiled.
"You were always so resourceful," he told her, running a hand through her hair gently. It was tangled and knotty, and he gently worked his fingers through it so as not to hurt her.
"I wish that I could take it all back," she said.
"Stop that," he said to her. "Please, don't dwell on your mistakes. You're forgiven. I want you to be at peace."
He moved from where he knelt, lying down on the bed and pulling her into his arms. She felt cold to the touch, which was strange, given that he had just been high in the sky on the back of a dragon. She nestled herself comfortably into his chest, and he held her close, stroking her hair.
"How did you get here so fast?" she asked weakly.
"Odahviing," he replied. "He flew me here."
"That bastard," she replied, saying nothing further, and he couldn't help but to laugh.
"He told me that you had sent him to make sure I didn't come," he told her.
"He's never been good at following instructions. He was a follower of Alduin, but I called him for help and he helped me. He's been my follower since then, but apparently now he's yours," she said, and for the first time since he'd arrived, he detected a teasing hint of humour in her voice. It put a smile on his lips as he held her close. She was so near to death, he feared that any slight motion – holding her the wrong way, breathing on her the wrong way, anything – might push her over the edge and he would lose her forever.
Before he could say anything more, an eruption of hoarse coughs began to leave her lips, her body shaking with the force of each one, her expression clearly one of pain. One finger weakly pointed at the nightstand, where a small red vial sat just out of her reach.
"Ulfric," she wheezed breathlessly when the fit had subsided, "I need to go."
As Ulfric's blue eyes fell upon the red vial, the realization that it was a poison struck him like a dagger. He shook his head quickly.
"No, no, love," he said, his voice pleading. "Not like that. The Divines are coming for you, let them take you their way, let them carry you to Sovngarde when they are ready for you."
"Ulfric, there is no place in Sovngarde for me," she whispered, her pretty blue eyes half-open as she gazed up at him, her thick lashes fluttering open and closed as she struggled to stay awake. "Give me the vial and let me end this miserable suffering. I am in pain, my love…there is no other way. I have consulted with every healer, restoration mage, and alchemist I can find. I am dying, and I do not wish to prolong the inevitable unless I can do something worthwhile. I can't, so I am ready."
Ulfric felt the stinging of tears in his eyes as she spoke. Each word that left her lips brought him immense pain, and his hand shook as he reached for the red vial.
"Don't drop it," she murmured, a weak smile on her lips as he, hands shaking, brought the poison to her hand and pressed the vial into her palm.
"I will see you again, love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We will meet in Sovngarde, where we shall drink mead and be merry with our brothers and sisters again."
"I already told you, Ulfric, I'm not going to Sovngarde," she said again, and he shook his head.
"You must, love, for you are one of the greatest Nord warriors to ever live," he breathed, feeling the dampness of a tear escaping the lids of his eyes and making its course down his cheek.
"We will see," she said, a weak smile on her lips. "I hope that I will see you again, Ulfric."
With that, she lifted the vial to her lips and downed it in one go, covering her mouth and cringing as the venomous liquid flowed down her throat. Her grip of the vial loosened and it fell from her hand, crashing to the ground and shattering.
"Oh, it's vile," she muttered, and Ulfric smiled sadly down at her.
"I love you," he whispered, holding her close to him.
"And I love you, my King," she murmured in response, snuggling herself into him.
Ulfric was silent, his eyes closing and tears beginning to flow freely. He held her near, feeling her weak breaths beginning to slow until her body ceased to move entirely. For several long minutes, he simply lay there, clutching her lifeless form. Finally, he began to slowly pull back, but he burst into throaty sobs as he saw her, blue eyes shut and a peaceful expression on that beautiful face. He pulled her to him again, clutching her body.
"Please," he sobbed. He had never cried like this before – he prided himself on his emotional strength as well as his physical strength. He had seen death – cheated it himself, even – and held the cold, dead corpses of many comrades. He had laid them to rest, with promises of hearty laughter and delicious mead in Sovngarde. What did she mean that Sovngarde had no place for her? It mattered not. He knew that she would be there.
Lifting the lifeless figure of the beautiful Nord warrior in his strong arms, he turned and began to make his way out. He headed down the stairs, giving the front door a gentle kick to open it. Sitting outside was Odahviing, his scales gleaming in the light of the rising sun as his gaze fell upon the fallen Dragonborn. He bowed his head deeply, closing his eyes.
"Brit briinah," murmured the dragon, and Ulfric gave a single nod.
"She has made her journey to Sovngarde," he said softly.
"Krosis, King of Skyrim…I am sorry for your loss," answered the dragon as Ulfric moved forward, carefully hoisting himself up atop the dragon while cradling the lifeless body against him. It would be a difficult ride home, between composing himself and holding on to both the dragon and the body, but he had to return home. He had to see Leola, and he had to ensure that her mother was laid to rest in a fashion to befit only the best.