Ulfric paused, unsure what to write this time. This would be the tenth letter he had written in the months following Tomas’ second disappearance. They had either been tossed in a drawer, never to be read, or returned unopened a few days after they were sent. Something told him that nothing he wrote would reach his friend, but he couldn’t keep himself from writing again.
It doesn’t feel right to apologize on paper for our last interaction. I’d much rather apologize in person, where I can show you in person how sorry I am.
He sounded clingy, Ulfric noted with a sigh. He didn’t want to beg him to come back, not on a paper that he could show to anybody. It didn’t help that he still wasn’t certain where Tomas had gone, and even the couriers he sent out were becoming exasperated with the king’s fruitless hunt. He groaned aloud, dipping his quill into the nearby inkpot and continuing on all the same.
I hope you’re well, wherever you are, and that you’re taking care of yourself. I…
“He’s in Riften.”
Ulfric looked up abruptly from his letter to find Galmar standing in front of the throne.
“Riften?”
“One of our contacts there saw him in the inn there. He’s been picking up jobs for the citizens of the city, and he’s recently purchased a home there. From what they can tell, he’s planning on staying.” The old man paused, raising an eyebrow at the crumbled paper on the armrest of the throne. “Writing to him again, are you?”
“Not anymore, I don’t think,” the king replied, leaning back. “I suppose I could send some men to order him to come back. Arrest him, if need be.”
“On what charges?” Galmar scoffed. “Don’t let your power get to your head, Ulfric. You may be King, but you owe something to your friends first.” When the king remained silent, he softened slightly, moving up on the steps to place a hand on his old friend’s arm. “Don’t worry about Tomas. He’ll come back when he’s ready. You can’t expect him to stay away forever, that isn’t his way.” With that, he returned to the war room, leaving Ulfric to rip his paper in half and pick up another, fresher piece.
Jarl Laila,
I am sending you a letter intended for one of your citizens. Please ensure that this is delivered directly and promptly to the Bosmer Tomas.
Best,
King Ulfric of Skyrim.
Tomas was decorating his bedroom in Honeyside when the knock sounded on his door. Surprised, he opened it to find a guard there, firmly grasping a neatly folded piece of paper.
“Letter for you, sir,” he said shortly, extending his hand. “From the Jarl herself.” Tomas frowned, but nodded his thanks as he took the letter. What could the Jarl want?
When he opened the letter, however, he recognized the handwriting immediately. And it certainly wasn’t Laila’s.
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timeasmymeasure
M!DB/Ulfric: "Unforgettable" 9/?
Date: 2015-06-30 07:01 pm (UTC)Ulfric paused, unsure what to write this time. This would be the tenth letter he had written in the months following Tomas’ second disappearance. They had either been tossed in a drawer, never to be read, or returned unopened a few days after they were sent. Something told him that nothing he wrote would reach his friend, but he couldn’t keep himself from writing again.
It doesn’t feel right to apologize on paper for our last interaction. I’d much rather apologize in person, where I can show you in person how sorry I am.
He sounded clingy, Ulfric noted with a sigh. He didn’t want to beg him to come back, not on a paper that he could show to anybody. It didn’t help that he still wasn’t certain where Tomas had gone, and even the couriers he sent out were becoming exasperated with the king’s fruitless hunt. He groaned aloud, dipping his quill into the nearby inkpot and continuing on all the same.
I hope you’re well, wherever you are, and that you’re taking care of yourself. I…
“He’s in Riften.”
Ulfric looked up abruptly from his letter to find Galmar standing in front of the throne.
“Riften?”
“One of our contacts there saw him in the inn there. He’s been picking up jobs for the citizens of the city, and he’s recently purchased a home there. From what they can tell, he’s planning on staying.” The old man paused, raising an eyebrow at the crumbled paper on the armrest of the throne. “Writing to him again, are you?”
“Not anymore, I don’t think,” the king replied, leaning back. “I suppose I could send some men to order him to come back. Arrest him, if need be.”
“On what charges?” Galmar scoffed. “Don’t let your power get to your head, Ulfric. You may be King, but you owe something to your friends first.” When the king remained silent, he softened slightly, moving up on the steps to place a hand on his old friend’s arm. “Don’t worry about Tomas. He’ll come back when he’s ready. You can’t expect him to stay away forever, that isn’t his way.” With that, he returned to the war room, leaving Ulfric to rip his paper in half and pick up another, fresher piece.
Jarl Laila,
I am sending you a letter intended for one of your citizens. Please ensure that this is delivered directly and promptly to the Bosmer Tomas.
Best,
King Ulfric of Skyrim.
Tomas was decorating his bedroom in Honeyside when the knock sounded on his door. Surprised, he opened it to find a guard there, firmly grasping a neatly folded piece of paper.
“Letter for you, sir,” he said shortly, extending his hand. “From the Jarl herself.” Tomas frowned, but nodded his thanks as he took the letter. What could the Jarl want?
When he opened the letter, however, he recognized the handwriting immediately. And it certainly wasn’t Laila’s.