He stood but a few feet away, as if chiseled from rock and stone, the ruthless planes of his face worn by time and concern. When he spoke again, his voice weary. “It is not my wish to force you in anything. But Skyrim has chosen you, and war shadows our horizon. Your rightful place is here. This I would discuss with you further.”
She noticed a new scar that scraped down in a line on the side of his lower lip, and disappeared into the hair on his chin. She had the absurd desire to taste it, to lick at him as he had done to her, and she was appalled that her lust could still rule her so wantonly.
Anger at herself poured undeserving vitriol into her words. “War will always be on the horizon, for men like you. How many more must die, upon your commanding of it?”
He looked stricken, for but a moment, before his own anger rose in response. “I do not revel in war, as you seem to think, I only strengthen this land to prepare for what is inevitable. Think you I have choice? I fight because I must.”
“So I should join with you to fight against my own people. It is as simple as that, in your mind?”
“My true fight is not with the empire, it is with the Dominion. The Empire died long ago, even before this rebellion, now nothing more than corpse tied with Thalmor ribbon and dancing to elven tune, a sick song that denies us our heritage. You would have us deny our gods? Our very selves? Think you this freedom worth so little? Do we not have the right to determine our own future, a thing you so claim for yourself?”
His words rang of uncomfortable truth, but she could not admit such a thing, and be lost to his will. She lifted her chin and stared in mutinous silence.
He stalked towards her again, was upon her in two strides, though he did not touch her, despite her yearning for it. “Think you there will not be a day when your people will fight at our side, as I once fought with them? But Skyrim will be leading Tamriel, and her people will fight all the better for it with you at her helm. If you find her your home now, you cannot ignore your responsibility, wife.”
She felt trapped by the jaws of yet another fate thrust upon her, yet another task set before her feet, taking away her will and her choice and was she to be allowed nothing of her own?
“Wife of your choosing,” she protested, desperate to find any way out of this impending trap. “You do but force your own ambition.”
“Skyrim did the choosing of you, Dragonborn, and you are daughter and fitting queen of her. How can you not…”
“Alduin lies defeated, my sacrifice for Skyrim complete. Marriage is your will, and this my suffering for it.”
He let out a small snort of disbelief. “Suffering? Name the physical torment I have…”
She snapped then, exasperation and desperation taking away her original thoughts for compromise. “Your presence is torment, and I suffer from it as would a mouse left to rot in the pit of a viper. You yet stand as enemy!”
A flash of pain, and then a mask of nothing.
“Still I am proven fool, and bested by foolish hopes. I said I would not force you, and to this oath I keep. I but ask that you consider my words, away from the torment of my presence, and perhaps we might begin this talk anew when the day is fresh, and ourselves also.”
His voice was as soft as she had ever heard it, and for some reason his words only sent the pain of regret and sorrow and she could not understand why she was left feeling so defeated.
There was right in his words, and honor in his request, but she did not trust herself to speak. She simply nodded, and saw a flash of relief in his eyes, quickly hidden, before he turned from her to ascend the steps leading out of the council room.
He led her up and down a long hall and into a large room of stone and warmth.
“If there is anything else you need, speak to my steward.”
And then he was gone, the door shut behind her, leaving her with nothing but damning thoughts and an exhaustion that seeped into her very marrow. It was more draining to her energy to spend but an hour with that bear of a man than to battle a dragon.
She sank down on the large bed in the center of the room, tried to close her eyes, tried to sleep, tried to shut down her ridiculous mind.
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timeasmymeasure
Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 11c/?
Date: 2013-03-18 09:37 pm (UTC)She noticed a new scar that scraped down in a line on the side of his lower lip, and disappeared into the hair on his chin. She had the absurd desire to taste it, to lick at him as he had done to her, and she was appalled that her lust could still rule her so wantonly.
Anger at herself poured undeserving vitriol into her words. “War will always be on the horizon, for men like you. How many more must die, upon your commanding of it?”
He looked stricken, for but a moment, before his own anger rose in response. “I do not revel in war, as you seem to think, I only strengthen this land to prepare for what is inevitable. Think you I have choice? I fight because I must.”
“So I should join with you to fight against my own people. It is as simple as that, in your mind?”
“My true fight is not with the empire, it is with the Dominion. The Empire died long ago, even before this rebellion, now nothing more than corpse tied with Thalmor ribbon and dancing to elven tune, a sick song that denies us our heritage. You would have us deny our gods? Our very selves? Think you this freedom worth so little? Do we not have the right to determine our own future, a thing you so claim for yourself?”
His words rang of uncomfortable truth, but she could not admit such a thing, and be lost to his will. She lifted her chin and stared in mutinous silence.
He stalked towards her again, was upon her in two strides, though he did not touch her, despite her yearning for it. “Think you there will not be a day when your people will fight at our side, as I once fought with them? But Skyrim will be leading Tamriel, and her people will fight all the better for it with you at her helm. If you find her your home now, you cannot ignore your responsibility, wife.”
She felt trapped by the jaws of yet another fate thrust upon her, yet another task set before her feet, taking away her will and her choice and was she to be allowed nothing of her own?
“Wife of your choosing,” she protested, desperate to find any way out of this impending trap. “You do but force your own ambition.”
“Skyrim did the choosing of you, Dragonborn, and you are daughter and fitting queen of her. How can you not…”
“Alduin lies defeated, my sacrifice for Skyrim complete. Marriage is your will, and this my suffering for it.”
He let out a small snort of disbelief. “Suffering? Name the physical torment I have…”
She snapped then, exasperation and desperation taking away her original thoughts for compromise. “Your presence is torment, and I suffer from it as would a mouse left to rot in the pit of a viper. You yet stand as enemy!”
A flash of pain, and then a mask of nothing.
“Still I am proven fool, and bested by foolish hopes. I said I would not force you, and to this oath I keep. I but ask that you consider my words, away from the torment of my presence, and perhaps we might begin this talk anew when the day is fresh, and ourselves also.”
His voice was as soft as she had ever heard it, and for some reason his words only sent the pain of regret and sorrow and she could not understand why she was left feeling so defeated.
There was right in his words, and honor in his request, but she did not trust herself to speak. She simply nodded, and saw a flash of relief in his eyes, quickly hidden, before he turned from her to ascend the steps leading out of the council room.
He led her up and down a long hall and into a large room of stone and warmth.
“If there is anything else you need, speak to my steward.”
And then he was gone, the door shut behind her, leaving her with nothing but damning thoughts and an exhaustion that seeped into her very marrow. It was more draining to her energy to spend but an hour with that bear of a man than to battle a dragon.
She sank down on the large bed in the center of the room, tried to close her eyes, tried to sleep, tried to shut down her ridiculous mind.
But sleep was not in coming.