Ulfric awoke the following morning to the sound and scent of salmon sizzling in a pot. He sat up laboriously, catching the attention of the Argonian clearing off the table.
“Ah. Good morning, my Jarl,” Derkeethus said. “Would you like some salmon on toast? I'm sure it's nothing like what you eat in Windhelm, but Finn told me you're a fan of fish.” The Jarl in question rose shakily to his feet, nodding slowly as he went.
“That sounds delicious. Thank you,” he replied, suppressing a yawn. “Where is everyone?”
“Outside,” his host answered shortly, hurrying back to the fireplace. “These days, the dragons are restless indoors. They're likely hunting right now, and Finn is likely eating breakfast on the porch and listening to them.” In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Ulfric cleared his throat, looking around the small, dangerously wooden cabin.
“I'm glad you haven't had any trouble keeping them here,” he admitted, trying to lighten the mood. “As a hatchling, Inkahlok once set an entire store of alchemy ingredients on fire.” Derkeethus nodded, allowing himself a light smile as he brought the meal to his guest.
“Yes, it's been no small miracle,” he agreed, handing over the plate. “Your breakfast, my Jarl.”
“You don't need to call me 'my Jarl' if you don't want to,” Ulfric offered as he took the dish. “Any friend of Finn's is a friend of mine. You can call me 'Ulfric.'” Derkeethus winced now, turning back to the fire.
“That doesn't feel quite right for me,” he replied bashfully. “Enjoy your meal.”
Finn could hear her children calling to each other. It was a faint sound, barely carried to her by the breeze, but she could make out hints of their native language as they searched for prey and entertainment. In retrospect, it was amazing that she had never realized that dragons, alone or in groups, spoke as they flew.
Behind her, she heard the soft squeak of the door's hinges, then heavy yet tentative footsteps. She turned just in time for Ulfric to join her, leaning against the railing and looking out into the forest.
“They sound hungry,” he remarked. Finn nodded and slid up to his side.
“They're always hungry these days, it seems. Especially Sulpaazov. Last week, she ate an entire bear on her own. Fur and everything!” She shook her head, still bemused by the memory. “Thankfully none of them have gone after a mammoth yet. I've seen giants take down a dragon.” Ulfric frowned down at her, trying to imagine the battle, then shook his head.
“Are you going to tell me why you brought me here soon, Finn?” he finally asked. “Your letter sounded urgent. I thought somebody had gotten hurt.” The Breton kept her eyes down now, her small hands tight around the railing as she steeled herself.
“I...wanted to tell you in person,” she began, forcing her eyes up. “I went to see Paarthurnax.” Ulfric closed his eyes.
“...You did,” he echoed with a sigh. “They're ready, aren't they, Finn?” Finn nodded wordlessly, and the Jarl's shoulders slumped. “I...I see. How soon?”
“Paarthurnax gave me a week. That was two days ago.” The girl paused, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I wanted you to be there to see them off with me.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Ulfric replied firmly, before faltering. “But...you're certain there's no other way?” Finn looked up at him, surprised, then laughed openly.
“Well, listen to you!” she chortled, slipping under his arm and looking up tenderly. “Trying all this time to tell me you're 'not their bormah,' and here you are--” The rest of her sentence was cut off by a kiss, and she grinned, wrapping her arms around him. By the time Ulfric pulled back, they were both breathless and tearful, and the Nord settled for resting his chin on her head.
“You know there are certain things I don't like to say out loud,” he murmured into her hair. Finn hummed her agreement, closing her eyes and listening for a moment to his heartbeat and the distant, pleased roars of three dragons as they swooped towards their breakfast.
“Then use these five days to remind me,” she answered softly.
"Something Like Parents" 28/?
“Ah. Good morning, my Jarl,” Derkeethus said. “Would you like some salmon on toast? I'm sure it's nothing like what you eat in Windhelm, but Finn told me you're a fan of fish.” The Jarl in question rose shakily to his feet, nodding slowly as he went.
“That sounds delicious. Thank you,” he replied, suppressing a yawn. “Where is everyone?”
“Outside,” his host answered shortly, hurrying back to the fireplace. “These days, the dragons are restless indoors. They're likely hunting right now, and Finn is likely eating breakfast on the porch and listening to them.” In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Ulfric cleared his throat, looking around the small, dangerously wooden cabin.
“I'm glad you haven't had any trouble keeping them here,” he admitted, trying to lighten the mood. “As a hatchling, Inkahlok once set an entire store of alchemy ingredients on fire.” Derkeethus nodded, allowing himself a light smile as he brought the meal to his guest.
“Yes, it's been no small miracle,” he agreed, handing over the plate. “Your breakfast, my Jarl.”
“You don't need to call me 'my Jarl' if you don't want to,” Ulfric offered as he took the dish. “Any friend of Finn's is a friend of mine. You can call me 'Ulfric.'” Derkeethus winced now, turning back to the fire.
“That doesn't feel quite right for me,” he replied bashfully. “Enjoy your meal.”
Finn could hear her children calling to each other. It was a faint sound, barely carried to her by the breeze, but she could make out hints of their native language as they searched for prey and entertainment. In retrospect, it was amazing that she had never realized that dragons, alone or in groups, spoke as they flew.
Behind her, she heard the soft squeak of the door's hinges, then heavy yet tentative footsteps. She turned just in time for Ulfric to join her, leaning against the railing and looking out into the forest.
“They sound hungry,” he remarked. Finn nodded and slid up to his side.
“They're always hungry these days, it seems. Especially Sulpaazov. Last week, she ate an entire bear on her own. Fur and everything!” She shook her head, still bemused by the memory. “Thankfully none of them have gone after a mammoth yet. I've seen giants take down a dragon.” Ulfric frowned down at her, trying to imagine the battle, then shook his head.
“Are you going to tell me why you brought me here soon, Finn?” he finally asked. “Your letter sounded urgent. I thought somebody had gotten hurt.” The Breton kept her eyes down now, her small hands tight around the railing as she steeled herself.
“I...wanted to tell you in person,” she began, forcing her eyes up. “I went to see Paarthurnax.” Ulfric closed his eyes.
“...You did,” he echoed with a sigh. “They're ready, aren't they, Finn?” Finn nodded wordlessly, and the Jarl's shoulders slumped. “I...I see. How soon?”
“Paarthurnax gave me a week. That was two days ago.” The girl paused, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I wanted you to be there to see them off with me.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Ulfric replied firmly, before faltering. “But...you're certain there's no other way?” Finn looked up at him, surprised, then laughed openly.
“Well, listen to you!” she chortled, slipping under his arm and looking up tenderly. “Trying all this time to tell me you're 'not their bormah,' and here you are--” The rest of her sentence was cut off by a kiss, and she grinned, wrapping her arms around him. By the time Ulfric pulled back, they were both breathless and tearful, and the Nord settled for resting his chin on her head.
“You know there are certain things I don't like to say out loud,” he murmured into her hair. Finn hummed her agreement, closing her eyes and listening for a moment to his heartbeat and the distant, pleased roars of three dragons as they swooped towards their breakfast.
“Then use these five days to remind me,” she answered softly.