Ulfric was again pacing. He was confident that they will take Hraggstad. It was an easy attack, just his soldiers rushing in to neutralize the Legionnaires and greatly reducing their numbers for the impending attack on Solitude.
He wasn’t sure why he was nervous though. He paced and waited for hours. News would come in the form of a certain Dunmer. Was she the reason that he was as nervous as a boy bedding his first woman?
The doors creaked open and Sahara stalked in. Her armor was ripped and she was bloody in places but the injuries were minor, nothing a spell wouldn’t cure. It didn’t sit well with him that she was the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. He never was one for the magic users.
“Hraggstad is ours, my Jarl.” Sahara said, bowing. Ulfric nodded.
“And the men?”
“Not too injured.” She said, “Give a few days of rest and we’ll be good as new.”
“Good.” Ulfric said, “We storm Solitude at week’s end.”
“Yes, my Jarl.” Sahara said and turning to leave.
“Did I say you were dismissed?” Ulfric asked coldly. Sahara stiffened and made her way back in front of his throne. She was tense and didn’t meet his eyes, “What did I say about where you’re looking at while I am speaking?”
She lifted her eyes hesitantly. Her crimson eyes were bloodshot but blank. This was the eyes of the Listener, the eyes that the dying see just as their soul leaves them. He had put it there in his arrogance and he wanted to make amends.
“Follow.” He said snappily, stalking past the war room and up to his chambers. Sahara closed the door and hesitated before starting to undress, “Stop.” He snarled, not wanting the distraction. She froze and fixed her clothes once more.
“My Jarl?” She cocked her head sideways.
“Ulfric,” He ground out and she bowed her head.
“Ulfric,” She murmured, shivering slightly. So he did still affect her. He sighed and walked towards her.
“Sahara.” She shivered again as his velvet voice seduced her, “About the Forsworn,” She stiffened, she knew this was coming.
“I know where Madanach hides, my Jarl. I can kill him for you if that is what you wish.” Sahara said though she didn’t want to. The old coot reminded her of Galmar.
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timeasmymeasure
Adoration 16/?
Date: 2014-04-06 06:47 pm (UTC)He wasn’t sure why he was nervous though. He paced and waited for hours. News would come in the form of a certain Dunmer. Was she the reason that he was as nervous as a boy bedding his first woman?
The doors creaked open and Sahara stalked in. Her armor was ripped and she was bloody in places but the injuries were minor, nothing a spell wouldn’t cure. It didn’t sit well with him that she was the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. He never was one for the magic users.
“Hraggstad is ours, my Jarl.” Sahara said, bowing. Ulfric nodded.
“And the men?”
“Not too injured.” She said, “Give a few days of rest and we’ll be good as new.”
“Good.” Ulfric said, “We storm Solitude at week’s end.”
“Yes, my Jarl.” Sahara said and turning to leave.
“Did I say you were dismissed?” Ulfric asked coldly. Sahara stiffened and made her way back in front of his throne. She was tense and didn’t meet his eyes, “What did I say about where you’re looking at while I am speaking?”
She lifted her eyes hesitantly. Her crimson eyes were bloodshot but blank. This was the eyes of the Listener, the eyes that the dying see just as their soul leaves them. He had put it there in his arrogance and he wanted to make amends.
“Follow.” He said snappily, stalking past the war room and up to his chambers. Sahara closed the door and hesitated before starting to undress, “Stop.” He snarled, not wanting the distraction. She froze and fixed her clothes once more.
“My Jarl?” She cocked her head sideways.
“Ulfric,” He ground out and she bowed her head.
“Ulfric,” She murmured, shivering slightly. So he did still affect her. He sighed and walked towards her.
“Sahara.” She shivered again as his velvet voice seduced her, “About the Forsworn,” She stiffened, she knew this was coming.
“I know where Madanach hides, my Jarl. I can kill him for you if that is what you wish.” Sahara said though she didn’t want to. The old coot reminded her of Galmar.