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By the time the carriage halted, Ulfric was silent, pale and sweaty. His grip on Galmar's hand bordered on the painful, and Galmar noticed that his lip was bleeding where the High King had bitten it to silence moans of pain.

They managed to gently lift Ulfric from the carriage, using the bedroll he lay on as a stretcher. Ulfric never once made a sound, although Galmar knew that despite the best of intentions, the High King’s injured leg had been jostled as they moved him to the Dragonborn's bedchamber, and deposited him gently on the bed. Galmar signalled to Greta the Shield - Maiden to examine Ulfric for signs the injury had worsened; Ulfric was so pale and his breathing so shallow that Galmar was worried.

Ulfric screwed his eyes shut and hissed in pain when Greta made adjustments to the splint and raised his leg up on top of some pillows, but he did nothing to impede her work, and soon she had left the Jarl and his Housecarl alone together.

"What do you need?" Galmar asked quietly.

Ulfric, sick from pain and still with his eyes shut, merely shook his head. Galmar sat on the edge of the bed. He picked up Ulfric's fisted hand and gripped it tightly, much as he had done in the carriage. Ulfric gave a ghost of a smile to his oldest friend.

"Do you know any good tales?" Ulfric asked. "With the company you keep these days you must have some new ones."

"A tale? It's years past since you've wanted a tale, Ulfric," Galmar said, shifting on the bed to get comfortable. "Is it a tale of the Jagged Crown you want? Or dragons? Or would you rather a tale of the Dragonborn? I think I can make some of her rambling anecdotes sound reasonably dramatic."

"You may choose," Ulfric said, trying (and failing miserably) to relax his tense muscles.

"Very well," said Galmar, settling back against the headboard, and he began to tell his tale.

Ulfric didn't remember falling asleep, although he must have, for he woke suddenly during the night when he shifted unconsciously, and sent a jolt of agony through his wounded leg. Galmar still held his hand in a loose grip, though he was fast asleep, and snoring lightly. Ulfric smiled fondly at his friend; Galmar had talked himself hoarse that night, telling tale after tale, tirelessly. Galmar twitched and woke up, blinking blearily when he saw Ulfric awake.

"And then the talking dog led her to a talking statue in a shrine that had been taken over by a coven of vampires..." Galmar said, as though sleep had not interrupted him.

"Is a group of vampires called a coven?" Ulfric mused lightly. "I rather suspect that might be mages, hags and hedgewitches."

"Oh, my," said Galmar around a yawn. "I need a drink. May I fetch you an ale or mead, my Jarl?"

"My friend you need not stand on ceremony here - and I would dearly enjoy a mead," Ulfric replied. "You can finish the tale another time."

Galmar left and returned quickly, two bottles clinking in his hand. Ulfric smiled tightly, and beckoned Galmar over. The Housecarl opened the bottle, then paused. Ulfric was lying flat on his back – he’d choke on a sip. He rolled his eyes, then moved behind Ulfric to haul him into an upright position. It was so sudden that Ulfric could not suppress a pained groan as his leg slid off the pillows.

"I'm sorry, Ulfric," said Galmar.

"You were only trying to help, my friend. It was not your fault," Ulfric said, although he was blinking tears from his eyes.

"Yes it was," Galmar muttered darkly. "Here." He thrust the bottle at Ulfric and crossed the room, keeping his back to Ulfric.

"Galmar," Ulfric said quietly. "Galmar. Will you - can you help me lift my leg back up? The Shield-Maiden said I would heal more quickly if I kept my leg elevated. I find it too ... much ... to raise my leg myself."

Galmar remained tense. Then he turned to the High King, glaring at him like he would any fool.

"You've just grown lazier since becoming High King," Galmar muttered, although he was as gentle as possible while moving Ulfric's injured leg.

"Yes, that's it. I cannot stand the thought of doing anything for myself anymore," Ulfric agreed, disconcerted by his Housecarl's reaction to his helplessness. Galmar worries, that is all, Ulfric decided.

Ulfric, you moron. Of course he worries, his friend has a serious injury that he insists upon curing the slow and painful way because the alternative gives him TERRIFYING TORTURE FLASHBACKS. I'd say he has some cause for concern.

My narrative kinks, you are hitting them. I'm such a sucker for gruff, stoic men offering comfort without getting too mushy about it. Ulfric is a devastatingly proud man, and the fact that he swallows his pride and asks for help - and the fact that Galmar recognizes that, and offers him an out by way of banter - says a lot about their friendship.

I'm also torn between D'AW, laughter, and "you poor thing, you really are having a terrible day" over the High King of Skyrim asking his housecarl to tell him a bedtime story.

Really interested to see where this is going!

I MIGHT be just being paranoid, and I would hate to de anon, but Dyce Anon, have you posted any of Dyce's stories on FF.Net? Because I found two by the same author (er, on the same account), which I would find off that you wouldnt post them all, rather than just one or two.

Um yeah. Im asking because I care; and this nonny, along with many, I'm sure, will happily go report the fuck out of the person if they are not you.

Dyce!anon seems to be afk right now, but yes, that's his usual username. I believe they're not all on fanfiction.net because of its rules about "mature content". You can find the entire Dyce collection under that same account name on Archive of Our Own, which is much more lenient about smut.

~Martin!anon

Exactly what Martin!Anon said. I have other fics up at ff.net I'd rather not lose if someone got trigger-happy on the mature content rules. I only posted a couple Dyce ones that had a greater ratio of plot to porn in the hopes that would entice a few readers over the whole set on Ao3.

But thanks for your concern :)

Okay, good! That's a fair point about not wanting them to get deleted (this nonny really just doesnt care and throws all her stuff up). Was just being paranoid and double checking :3

A!A here... erm... this is a little awkward, but did you like the fic you're after commenting on?

And loves all Dyce!stories, end of discussion :3

Wow, I didn't realize I'd posted this under your story, rather than Dyce!non's, for whatever reason until now, and I feel really, really awkward. I should probably learn how to actually Kinkmeme rather than stumbling around like a blind drunk man.

And sorry.

/crawls under a rock/

But yes, I do like your story. I've only recently discovered Rozenn'verse, but I am very much happy with it. I do hope you continue writing and filling other prompts :)

Re: ....cough

(Anonymous) - 2013-07-18 19:47 (UTC) - Expand

Ulfric slept well into the next day, although Galmar woke at his usual early hour. He wondered where Rozenn was, and did she miss waking up on top of him today. Galmar found he missed her warm weight on his chest, and he was annoyed at himself for it. He grumbled to himself about uppity Breton mages worming their way into his life and turning him sentimental as he went about his breakfast routine.

"Wake the Jarl and I will find you a position guarding a draugr infested tomb of no importance," Galmar threatened Ralof and the others as they made their way to the dining room table.

Ralof yawned. "'S too early to wake anyone up," he mumbled.

Galmar looked again at the three soldiers and healer and noticed a definite bleary-eyed look. "Got into Rozenn's mead barrels last night, did you?"

Ralof nodded. "She's got a nice brew. Too nice. I may never drink again."

"You say that now," Galmar said wickedly. "I know for a fact she has the last of Vilod's bottles of Mead with Juniper Berries from Helgen, and I know she put some in my pack. You used to visit Helgen often, didn't you?"

Ralof was staring at Galmar. "She went back there? Did you go with her?"

Galmar shook his head. "It was before we really knew one another. She took care of some vagrant bandits and gathered the mead as a souvenir. And if you're good I'll share."

"I'll be on my best behaviour," one of the other Stormcloaks chipped in, and Ralof nodded agreement.

"Good. Now who here is good at making turnovers and dumplings?"

*-*

Ulfric awoke alone, in an unfamiliar place, with pain in his leg. For a moment he thrashed about half trapped by the bedcovers, fearing in his sleep-addled state that he was still under Elenwen's merciless eye. He groaned loudly when his broken leg twisted under him.

Galmar was in the room in an instant, leaning over the bed, and meeting Ulfric's anxious gaze steadily.

"You broke your leg and took a knock to the head when your fool horse tossed you at the first whiff of a dragon," he said bluntly. "You'll be fine in a few weeks. You need to wake up, now, Ulfric. Wake up!"

Ulfric took some deep calming breaths, and released them slowly. He smiled tightly at his Housecarl. "Thank you, Galmar. The dream was particularly vivid, that is all."

"You were back with Elenwen?" Galmar asked shrewdly.

A single reluctant nod was the answer.

"You do realise that Rozenn and I have friends who could wipe that Elven bitch off the face of Tamriel. If the Dark Brotherhood can do for the Emperor, then they can do for Elenwne, too," Galmar said, shifting back to give his Jarl room to breathe. "Talos knows there's enough people in the world that she's wronged that nobody would accuse us of performing the Black Sacrament."

Ulfric smiled wryly. "Did nobody ever tell you that it shows fearlessness to show clemency to one's enemies? Besides, as long as she lives she will always be the one who let me escape, and I prefer it that way."

Galmar snorted. "Maybe I'll just perform it myself, and leave you none the wiser," he muttered. "You want some breakfast, then, fool? Ralof made some apple turnovers."

"I'd like that, Galmar. Thank you. And - thank you," Ulfric said again, catching Galmar's wrist.

Galmar shrugged uneasily, unhappy with the direction the conversation was taking. "It's just breakfast," he said and fled, sending Ralof in with a tray of breakfast for the High King.

*-*-*

A/N: Apologies for disappearing like that, but work basically beat the shit out of me for a sustained number of weeks, and chased my Muses away. Thank the Divines for the sunny weather. This chapter has been brewing since I saw the prompt (how it took four intervening chapters to get here I will never know)

*-*-*

Later that day, as Ulfric napped lightly, Galmar took up his pack, and, sitting across from Ulfric's Jarl-sized bed, searched for the Mead with Juniper Berries that Rozenn had promised to him.

Rifling through the bag, Galmar shoved aside potions, daggers, Rozenn's lucky Glass Mace (which he had given to her, originally), and a battered Homecooked Meal she had made especially for him - despite barely being able to cook - and, at the bottom of the pack several bottles of mead. Chuckling lightly to himself, Galmar lifted the six bottles out, depositing them carefully on the low table.

The edge of a note stuck to one bottle fluttered in the slight draught coming under the door. Expecting one of Rozenn's explicit personal letters, he snatched it up, and glanced around to see if Ulfric was awake. The High King was still breathing deeply and evenly. Galmar smiled to himself, and opened a bottle, settling back in the winged chair to read.

The bottles with green labels contain Ale and a potion of Vigorous Stamina. The Bottles with red labels contain Mead with a Potion of Plentiful Healing. There's two of each. These may hasten your return to me. All my love, R

Galmar inhaled sharply, rage clouding his vision. He stood slowly, and turned and blindly hurled the bottle from him; it smashed against the wall, the crash obliterated by Galmar's enraged bellow.

"GALMAR!" Ulfric roared, jolted from his rest.

"My Jarl! General! What is it?" Ralof asked, having burst through the kitchen door, sword in hand.

Rayya, the Steward stood in the external doorway, clearly having come from quarrying stone for the Thane. "What is the danger, High King?"

"Uhm, Galmar saw a ... skeever, Ralof, but it's quite all right. The noise scared it off," said Ulfric cagily.

Rayya flushed in mortification. "High King, I am so, so, sorry. I told Thane Rozenn there was rustling in the cellar, but she went to deal with some problem in Whiterun Hold before she could deal with it. I'll look after the infestation myself!"

"Do you want me to remain, Jarl Ulfric?" Ralof asked after the Steward left. He was not fooled by Ulfric's prevarication. He eyed Galmar with wary suspicion.

"No, thank you, Ralof of Riverwood. You are dismissed," Ulfric told the younger Nord.

Ralof nodded, and left, sheathing his blade as he turned.

"Well," Ulfric said to Galmar. "Now that we are alone, will you kindly explain to me why you felt your mead had given you mortal offense?"

"No," Galmar replied, and stalked from the room.

"Ralof!" Ulfric head Galmar bellow. "You're promoted to Housecarl!"

*-*-*

Mm, the plot thickens. Poor Rozenn. She's just trying to help, but yeah...not helpful. And poor Galmar. At first somehow I missed that there were two new parts instead of one - so it's twice as good to see more of this!

:D I think I'll be starting a new thread on Part 6 to make it clearer.

Thanks!

I'm really liking this story and interested to see how it continues!

Thank you!

I miss this story and hope to see more of it. I can't wait to find out where Galmar is stalking off to!

(No pressure, though - real life is more important than fic!)

Thank you!

I *wish* fic were more important. Gods know it's more fun! I'm glad you're following!

A?N: Yeah, I have no real excuse for letting this go for so long without an update. Mea Culpa. A prompt from Page 5 caught my eye recently, and I need to finish this before tackling that one - so hopefully that will kick my Muses into gear.

Summary: Ulfric has a broken leg and a cranky, temperamental Housecarl. And Ralof is also there.

Part 6

*-*-*

Galmar was kneeling before the shrine that Rozenn kept in the Manor's cellar, praying to Talos (and any other Divines that might have been listening) for a way to talk with Ulfric about his sudden burst of temper. Skeever bodies were piled in a corner, having made the ultimate sacrifice to placate Galmar's sudden fury. He snorted, wryly amused that Ulfric's flimsy excuse had had some truth to it.

As he breathed in the calming straw-and-sawdust scents of the room and meditated before the altar, Galmar missed the telltale creak of the trapdoor opening. He didn't, however, miss the sound of heavy booted feet upon the ladder.

"Can't a man have some privacy in which to pray?" Galmar bellowed.

"My apologies, General Galmar, but, well, you try saying "no" to the High King," Ralof replied, reaching up overhead.

"I do. Often and vocally. You'll learn, soon enough or - oh no," Galmar muttered, then halted, struck by a sudden, horrific thought. He turned and shook his head vehemently, pointing back upwards as he strode to the ladder. "No. No, no, no, no! Ulfric, no! Your leg's not even remotely set right! Get back in bed! At once!"

Ulfric Stormcloak looked down through the trapdoor at his long-time friend, and glared at him. "I will do no such thing, Galmar. It is high time we spoke of that which troubles you."

"You trouble me, Ulfric!" Galmar hissed. "You'll be lame the rest of your days if you are not careful! Do you want that?"

"Do you want that?" Ulfric countered.

Galmar shoved his way up the ladder, past Ralof, to stand tall in the small sitting area, glaring ferociously at Ulfric, who was braced on the shoulders of two of the young Stormcloak soldiers.

"You know, for a man famed for his rhetoric, your rejoinders are severely lacking in wit," Galmar said, shoving the two soldiers aside, and taking Ulfric's weight himself. The High King sagged slightly against him, testament to the pain he was hiding from his subordinates. "Idiot."

"Galmar," Ulfric began, but trailed off, uncertain for once how to talk to his friend.

"We'll talk in private, in the bedroom. Once your damned leg is elevated again and you've taken something to dull the pain," Galmar ordered, turning them both and walking back to the bedrooms.

"I often wonder, Galmar, if you know which of us is in charge," Ulfric murmured, although a jolt to his leg, crossing the threshold to the bedroom, left him gasping for breath.

"I know precisely who is in charge, Ulfric, and it's not some snotty, spoiled Jarl's son," Galmar said, in perfect imitation of himself at age fourteen. Ulfric managed a weak smile at Galmar's poking fun.

It took a little while for Galmar to get Ulfric settled comfortably, and then to have Greta bring in a small dose of some manner of poppy juice to dull the throbbing pain in Ulfric's leg.

"Now, you may tell me," Ulfric said.

"Oh, may I, indeed?" Galmar responded in an arch tone of voice.

"I could order you to tell me," Ulfric pointed out, without any real heat in the threat.

Galmar stiffened perceptibly. "You wouldn't, though, would you?" he asked warily.

"No. It would not be well done of me to force you. But I wish you would confide in me," Ulfric replied tiredly.

"Fine. It's all Thongvar Silver-Blood's fault. Him and the barkeep in that damned tavern of his," Galmar replied, sitting down in a comfortable armchair.

"What? Markarth? What has the ale from this afternoon got to do with Markarth?"

"Will you let me tell the story, please, Ulfric?" Galmar asked pointedly.

*Dances for joy*

I am so, SO glad to see more of this, and now I'm really interested to hear this story and how it ties in to the Silver-Blood Inn. Also, I laughed at the dead skeevers. At least they're good for soothing Galmar's temper. :)

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 6/?

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-04 20:46 (UTC) - Expand

A/N: Part The Seventh, In which there is exposition and chat and ACTUAL PLOT (for once). The end is in sight!

*-*-*

"Do you remember the day the Thalmor took you?" Galmar asked.

Ulfric froze and gave a chilling stare. "Do you think I do not?"

"That's not what I meant, Ulfric, and well you know it."

"I'm sorry, Galmar. But you know I try to think of that time as little as possible," Ulfric replied.

"Do you remember there being much warning that the elves were coming for you? Sounds of a fight outside your door, perhaps?" Galmar asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, and addressing his knee.

Ulfric frowned as he thought back. "No," he said slowly. "I was taken by surprise. I only had time to Shout one of them into the wall before they swarmed and overwhelmed me. I - I confess, and I am sorry for it, but it did not occur to me that I heard nothing from you."

"I wondered if you had realised or not. I was too much of a coward to ask you, though. And then there was the business with Rikke, distracting me," Galmar said, flushing dark in shame.

"Galmar you are avoiding the point. My patience is not unlimited," Ulfric said crossly.

"Fine!" Galmar barked unhappily. "You want to know why the damned witch-elves took you so easily? Fine! I'll tell you!"

Ulfric blinked and took a deep breath, hesitating to remind Galmar that he had, in fact, asked about something completely unrelated to that event.

Galmar stood, too agitated to remain seated, and began pacing, crossing half the room before doubling back on himself.

Ulfric allowed the Housecarl to remain pacing in silence for a long minute, then lifted a hand to call him over to the bedside.

"Galmar. You are my most loyal... my oldest... You are my friend, my trusted friend, in a life where true friends are few and far between. You may speak candidly with me," Ulfric said quietly, meeting Galmar's reluctant gaze steadily.

"You'll change your tune," Galmar muttered.

"Do you think so little of me?" Ulfric asked softly.

"No. That's why I am so certain," Galmar muttered, turning away from Ulfric, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the hem of his tunic. "I failed you, Ulfric, in the most fundamental way a Housecarl can fail his charge. They tricked me, fucking Silver-Bloods, and the Thalmor got you in their hands."

Ulfric shifted himself so he sat higher in the bed. "Galmar. Tell me all."

Galmar glared at Ulfric, although Ulfric suspected the irate look was intended for the Thalmor. The Housecarl sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you. That night - the night they took you - we were in the Inn. There was a big crowd, many new faces. All of them merrily buying rounds and cheering for the Legion. There was a lovely tavern wench there that I hadn't seen before, and for once she was more interested in me than you. Now I know why," Galmar said, shaking his head and sighing.

"A lovely little thing she was. Blonde. Buxom. Nice... assets, if you know what I mean, and had a lovely smile that suggested good things for later on. I was merry but not in my cups by the time the crowd dispersed, and she came to me with one last bottle, and a saucy wink."

Galmar paused, clearly fighting himself, but Ulfric suspected he knew what was coming.

The Old-Fashioned Way 8/?

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-04 22:06 (UTC) - Expand

The Old-Fashioned Way 9/?

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-04 22:31 (UTC) - Expand

The Old-Fashioned Way 10/11

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-04 23:11 (UTC) - Expand

The Old-Fashioned Way 11/11

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-04 23:12 (UTC) - Expand

Author's Note: facepalm

(Anonymous) - 2013-08-07 12:20 (UTC) - Expand

Whee! There's more! I love how hideously uncomfortable Galmar is with emotions, and I love that Ralof is sticking around (and making apple turnovers, haha). I'm sort of wondering if you're me, actually - the first time I played the game I had this weird sentimental moment when I discovered the mead with juniper berries, and I carried it around for half the game thinking maybe Ralof would be a follower and I could give it to him.

I have NEVER thought about it that way, but Ulfric does have sort of a point there at the end - assuming the Stormcloaks win and start causing trouble for the Dominion, it is kind of amusing picturing the Thalmor scratching their heads and going hang on, WHOSE brilliant idea was it to LET THIS GUY ESCAPE, again? :)

Yeah Galmar's a bit like me when it comes to emotions. If you can't hit it or eat it then RUN AWAY!!! :P

Oh gods I was so sure Ralof would have some dialogue for taking the Juniper Mead that it really surprised me that there was nothing doing with it. I still never drank it. I gave it to my lovely husband Balimund, instead.

I know, right? It's like in movies and stuff, the arch-nemesis is always *just* defeated by the end, letting the heroes away, and that's totally Elenwen. And I think Ulfric wishes he could be a fly on the wall of whatever interrogation room her superiors take her to to find out HOW did she let Ulfric get away to cause trouble?

Thank you for a lovely comment!

Mm, especially since one of the dossiers (I forget which one) implies that the previous First Emissary came to a rather sticky end for making a similar blunder. That said, Galmar's more bloodthirsty solution sounds extremely cathartic. I will admit to glitching into the Embassy once only to discover that I COULD NOT bring myself to kill Elenwen - I simply couldn't get over feeling that that kill belonged to Ulfric. (And let's face it, nothing I could do would approach the epicness of Ulfric bellowing "TALOS SMITE YOU!" and then axeing her in the face, which sadly will never happen in the game). She's a fun character to loath, though - I love a good villain.

I never drank the juniper mead either. It's still stuffed in a barrel in my kitchen. :)

Meme Announcements!

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

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Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

Because thieving bother me...

Re: Because thieving bother me...

Dyce!Anon here

Nonny's been spending too much time with Delphine

Re: Nonny's been spending too much time with Delphine

Delphine's favorite nonny returns!

....cough

Re: ....cough

The Old-Fashioned Way 4/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 5/?

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The Old-Fashioned Way 6/?

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The Old-Fashioned Way 7/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 8/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 9/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 10/11

The Old-Fashioned Way 11/11

Author's Note: facepalm

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/? A!A here

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/? A!A here

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

OP Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 3/?

Because thieving bother me...

Re: Because thieving bother me...

Dyce!Anon here

Nonny's been spending too much time with Delphine

Re: Nonny's been spending too much time with Delphine

Delphine's favorite nonny returns!

....*cough*

The Old-Fashioned Way 4/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 5/?

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The Old-Fashioned Way 6/?

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The Old-Fashioned Way 7/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/? A!A here

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 4/? A!A here

....cough