Summary: He’s old and in pain and she knows someone who might be able to help. ~~~ The doors of the Bee and Barb swung open, and the Khajiit girl serving drinks nearly dropped them when she saw who had walked in. The newcomer wore a magnificent gown and a cloak trimmed with fur, jewels at her chest and brow. She was flanked by two guards wearing fine armour and the Stormcloak colours, and they drew the eyes of everyone in the room.
“Princess Ysolda,” the Khajiit breathed. “Hey Boss, you want to field this one?” she called over her shoulder.
The innkeeper, a wiry, weathered Breton with bright blue eyes and red hair streaked with grey, left the conversation he’d been having at the bar and approached their glittering guest with a polite bow and a friendly grin.
“Dyce,” the princess said. “We need to speak in private.”
“Certainly.”
Ysolda left her guards in the bar, knowing there were few safer places in Skyrim for her than this inn. Dyce led her to his quarters after she refused food or drink. She took a seat at a table piled with correspondence while Dyce leaned against the wall.
“How are the children?” Dyce asked.
“Fuulgar’s doing well in Solitude. He’ll make an able administrator in a few years. Rikke keeps sending me letters about how dull it is in High Hrothgar, but she can stand another season. The girl needs discipline.”
“And your husband?”
“Kjar is fine. You know about Ulfric, do you not?” She got to the point.
“He sends me a lot of letters. Even more so since he fell.”
“Yes, well, he’s not getting better. He refuses to see a healer- I’ve tried everything, threats, cajoling, bribery. But he only listens to me on matters of statecraft. For more personal things, well, with Galmar gone you’re the only one he might listen to.”
Dyce sighed and shook his head. “He’s not going to change his mind.”
“He’s in pain, I can see it. And it’s only going to to get worse when the weather gets colder. He’s nearly seventy and I know he won’t live forever, but I had twenty-five years without him, is it too much to ask for a bit longer? At least until his grandchildren are home again. He’s not sick. He’s not frail. He’s just too damn stubborn to let someone look at his knee!”
Dyce hadn’t realised it was so bad. Ulfric had only been wryly self-deprecating about his own clumsiness in his letters.
“Did he ever tell you why he’s so determined about this?”
“No. He won’t even talk about it. That just makes it worse.”
“It’s probably not my story to tell, but since he’s causing so much trouble for everyone I will. You remember Elenwen?”
“He’s still got her skull in the study.” Ysolda did not look like she entirely approved.
“Well, he told me once she was the finest healer he’d ever met.”
Ysolda met his eyes for a long moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “I see. So there’s nothing we can do.”
Dyce gave her a thoughtful look. “Hmm. Maybe there is. Can’t just stand by and let the old fool suffer, can I? Just don’t tell him I’m coming. And make sure the guards are hard of hearing.”
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing you should know about in advance.” Dyce grinned, “Don’t worry, he’ll forgive me afterwards. He always does, after all.”
Dyce collected his pack and a few scrolls, although he doubted he’d need more than one.
You didn’t win two wars without taking wounds. And you didn’t go to war without someone at your side whom you could trust to treat them, no matter how much you snarled and wept for them not to.
A/N: I just realised 'letting them heal naturally' is not quite the same as 'having someone who will sneak up on you or hold you down and heal you' so I apologise for skewing the prompt slightly.
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timeasmymeasure
Inevitability 1/1
Date: 2013-05-08 12:14 pm (UTC)~~~
The doors of the Bee and Barb swung open, and the Khajiit girl serving drinks nearly dropped them when she saw who had walked in. The newcomer wore a magnificent gown and a cloak trimmed with fur, jewels at her chest and brow. She was flanked by two guards wearing fine armour and the Stormcloak colours, and they drew the eyes of everyone in the room.
“Princess Ysolda,” the Khajiit breathed. “Hey Boss, you want to field this one?” she called over her shoulder.
The innkeeper, a wiry, weathered Breton with bright blue eyes and red hair streaked with grey, left the conversation he’d been having at the bar and approached their glittering guest with a polite bow and a friendly grin.
“Dyce,” the princess said. “We need to speak in private.”
“Certainly.”
Ysolda left her guards in the bar, knowing there were few safer places in Skyrim for her than this inn. Dyce led her to his quarters after she refused food or drink. She took a seat at a table piled with correspondence while Dyce leaned against the wall.
“How are the children?” Dyce asked.
“Fuulgar’s doing well in Solitude. He’ll make an able administrator in a few years. Rikke keeps sending me letters about how dull it is in High Hrothgar, but she can stand another season. The girl needs discipline.”
“And your husband?”
“Kjar is fine. You know about Ulfric, do you not?” She got to the point.
“He sends me a lot of letters. Even more so since he fell.”
“Yes, well, he’s not getting better. He refuses to see a healer- I’ve tried everything, threats, cajoling, bribery. But he only listens to me on matters of statecraft. For more personal things, well, with Galmar gone you’re the only one he might listen to.”
Dyce sighed and shook his head. “He’s not going to change his mind.”
“He’s in pain, I can see it. And it’s only going to to get worse when the weather gets colder. He’s nearly seventy and I know he won’t live forever, but I had twenty-five years without him, is it too much to ask for a bit longer? At least until his grandchildren are home again. He’s not sick. He’s not frail. He’s just too damn stubborn to let someone look at his knee!”
Dyce hadn’t realised it was so bad. Ulfric had only been wryly self-deprecating about his own clumsiness in his letters.
“Did he ever tell you why he’s so determined about this?”
“No. He won’t even talk about it. That just makes it worse.”
“It’s probably not my story to tell, but since he’s causing so much trouble for everyone I will. You remember Elenwen?”
“He’s still got her skull in the study.” Ysolda did not look like she entirely approved.
“Well, he told me once she was the finest healer he’d ever met.”
Ysolda met his eyes for a long moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “I see. So there’s nothing we can do.”
Dyce gave her a thoughtful look. “Hmm. Maybe there is. Can’t just stand by and let the old fool suffer, can I? Just don’t tell him I’m coming. And make sure the guards are hard of hearing.”
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing you should know about in advance.” Dyce grinned, “Don’t worry, he’ll forgive me afterwards. He always does, after all.”
Dyce collected his pack and a few scrolls, although he doubted he’d need more than one.
You didn’t win two wars without taking wounds. And you didn’t go to war without someone at your side whom you could trust to treat them, no matter how much you snarled and wept for them not to.
Tags: char:M!DB char:Ysolda char:Ulfric relationship:slash kink:angst series:Dyce
A/N: I just realised 'letting them heal naturally' is not quite the same as 'having someone who will sneak up on you or hold you down and heal you' so I apologise for skewing the prompt slightly.