Night had fallen by the time Finn returned to the Palace of the Kings. Ulfric's eyes widened when he took her in, her clothes in tatters and her eyes red, and quickly rose from the throne to meet her.
“What happened?!” he asked worriedly, all anger from before gone. Finn wiped her eyes and bowed her head, only to start crying all over again, and gestured at the crate between them.
“Inkahlok...” she sobbed, hugging herself for comfort. “H-he got so excited to be outdoors again, and he ran off...he can't even fly yet, but I lost him! I couldn't find him anywhere!” She ended on a wail, falling to her knees beside the crate and hiding her face. His mouth dry as he remembered the lively dragon he secretly liked so much, Ulfric crouched in front of her, taking a hold of her shoulders.
“Shh,” he soothed, helping her to her feet again and hoisting the crate up. “Don't cry. Here's what I'll do for you.” He handed the box back to its rightful owner, watching Finn's tearful eyes flash with confusion. “Take them back to their room, and wait for me there. I'll go find Inkahlok, and I won't come back until I do.”
“...Huh?” Finn frowned, not entirely sure she had heard right. Ulfric motioned at the stairwell simply, already fastening his cloak around his shoulders.
“You heard me. Go to the spare room with these two and wait. I'll bring him back, you have my word.” Before the Breton could reply, he swept from the room, leaving her to process it all.
“...Het. Come on,” she murmured, gesturing for the remaining two to follow her as she half-stumbled up the stairs.
Ulfric could see his breath rising in the freezing air as he wandered through the woods, arms crossed and his cloak loose on his shoulders. He couldn't help but wonder if Inkahlok was accustomed to the cold yet, if he was uncomfortable in the face of such weather, and shook his head irritably.
“He's fine,” he muttered to himself, before stopping in his tracks, wondering. Finn had been teaching them their names, which means that Shout would work, in theory...clearing his throat, he raised his voice, and for the first time since the end of the war, the Thu'um returned to him.
“In! Kah! Lok!”
The words were accompanied by a burst of power, and for a moment, the cold air seemed to tremble. But then, the silence returned, and Ulfric groaned, trekking forward again. In the distance, he could hear the menacing chatter of Skeevers, along with a high, hoarse voice...
Wait.
“Bormah! Bormah, het, het!” That was all the invitation the Jarl needed to hurry after the sound, soon hearing the scratching of claws as the hatchling fought viciously against a small pack of Skeevers. Ulfric drew his sword as well, cutting the vermin down in a few quick slices, then knelt beside the dragon as it observed the now dead creatures.
“Dilon hokoron...” he purred, pleased, before returning his beady gaze to Ulfric. “Drem yol lok, bormah.”
“Kos hiu ni krah, dovahkiir?” Ulfric inquired, scooping the hatchling into his arms and starting back again. Inkahlok curled up against his chest, watching the dark scenery as they started back towards the city.
“Aam...Daar su'umu iiz,” he remarked, letting a puff of air float up from his nose. “Mu daal nu?”
“Geh,” Ulfric affirmed with a nod, before trying his luck with the hatchling. “'Home,' Inkahlok. Mu daal 'home.'” Inkahlok frowned at the Common word, looking suspiciously up at the Nord for a moment.
“...Home.”
When he pushed the door to the spare room open, he found Finn curled up in the rough blankets, an arm draped over Sulpaazov while Gaafyahzin slept by her stomach. Inkahlok squirmed from Ulfric's grasp, eager to return to his siblings, and the Jarl crouched beside the sleeping Breton.
“You are a perfect fool,” he grumbled, scooping her light body off of the floor and carrying her from the room.
He wasn't sure what inspired him to take her to his bed instead of her own. At three in the morning, he could safely say his only intention was to sleep, but having Finn in the bed beside him, fast asleep and warming him as he looked up at the ceiling, was more comforting than he would have ever guessed. He leaned over to ruffle her hair, allowing himself a smile as he dozed off.
Re: "Something Like Parents" 8/?
“What happened?!” he asked worriedly, all anger from before gone. Finn wiped her eyes and bowed her head, only to start crying all over again, and gestured at the crate between them.
“Inkahlok...” she sobbed, hugging herself for comfort. “H-he got so excited to be outdoors again, and he ran off...he can't even fly yet, but I lost him! I couldn't find him anywhere!” She ended on a wail, falling to her knees beside the crate and hiding her face. His mouth dry as he remembered the lively dragon he secretly liked so much, Ulfric crouched in front of her, taking a hold of her shoulders.
“Shh,” he soothed, helping her to her feet again and hoisting the crate up. “Don't cry. Here's what I'll do for you.” He handed the box back to its rightful owner, watching Finn's tearful eyes flash with confusion. “Take them back to their room, and wait for me there. I'll go find Inkahlok, and I won't come back until I do.”
“...Huh?” Finn frowned, not entirely sure she had heard right. Ulfric motioned at the stairwell simply, already fastening his cloak around his shoulders.
“You heard me. Go to the spare room with these two and wait. I'll bring him back, you have my word.” Before the Breton could reply, he swept from the room, leaving her to process it all.
“...Het. Come on,” she murmured, gesturing for the remaining two to follow her as she half-stumbled up the stairs.
Ulfric could see his breath rising in the freezing air as he wandered through the woods, arms crossed and his cloak loose on his shoulders. He couldn't help but wonder if Inkahlok was accustomed to the cold yet, if he was uncomfortable in the face of such weather, and shook his head irritably.
“He's fine,” he muttered to himself, before stopping in his tracks, wondering. Finn had been teaching them their names, which means that Shout would work, in theory...clearing his throat, he raised his voice, and for the first time since the end of the war, the Thu'um returned to him.
“In! Kah! Lok!”
The words were accompanied by a burst of power, and for a moment, the cold air seemed to tremble. But then, the silence returned, and Ulfric groaned, trekking forward again. In the distance, he could hear the menacing chatter of Skeevers, along with a high, hoarse voice...
Wait.
“Bormah! Bormah, het, het!” That was all the invitation the Jarl needed to hurry after the sound, soon hearing the scratching of claws as the hatchling fought viciously against a small pack of Skeevers. Ulfric drew his sword as well, cutting the vermin down in a few quick slices, then knelt beside the dragon as it observed the now dead creatures.
“Dilon hokoron...” he purred, pleased, before returning his beady gaze to Ulfric. “Drem yol lok, bormah.”
“Kos hiu ni krah, dovahkiir?” Ulfric inquired, scooping the hatchling into his arms and starting back again. Inkahlok curled up against his chest, watching the dark scenery as they started back towards the city.
“Aam...Daar su'umu iiz,” he remarked, letting a puff of air float up from his nose. “Mu daal nu?”
“Geh,” Ulfric affirmed with a nod, before trying his luck with the hatchling. “'Home,' Inkahlok. Mu daal 'home.'” Inkahlok frowned at the Common word, looking suspiciously up at the Nord for a moment.
“...Home.”
When he pushed the door to the spare room open, he found Finn curled up in the rough blankets, an arm draped over Sulpaazov while Gaafyahzin slept by her stomach. Inkahlok squirmed from Ulfric's grasp, eager to return to his siblings, and the Jarl crouched beside the sleeping Breton.
“You are a perfect fool,” he grumbled, scooping her light body off of the floor and carrying her from the room.
He wasn't sure what inspired him to take her to his bed instead of her own. At three in the morning, he could safely say his only intention was to sleep, but having Finn in the bed beside him, fast asleep and warming him as he looked up at the ceiling, was more comforting than he would have ever guessed. He leaned over to ruffle her hair, allowing himself a smile as he dozed off.
“Mother of dragons...” he murmured simply.