They wandered the city streets aimlessly, Ulfric merely following Asta. As most of her attention seemed to be focused up, rather than forward, he'd had to guide his wife out of the way of obstacles a fair few times.
No rational person would be stupid enough to attack the Dragon Queen. Ulfric countered that it wasn't the rational people he was worried about, his possessive behavior becoming even moreso every day as her belly continued to swell. An attempt to kill their child, their heir, even while safely tucked away in Asta's womb was a very real threat.
But Asta wasn't helpless. She had the Voice, an assortment of enchanted daggers with all manner of nifty effects, and a few magick tricks up her sleeve. Her favorite melee, a Drainblood Battleaxe, would be next to impossible to wield; she wasn't used to moving efficiently with large weapons while also sporting all the extra weight in her front, so had decided to stick to smaller ones. Of course Ulfric seemed to have difficulty remember she was no longer that fragile, delicate woman who'd had a terrible stroke of luck that he'd first met on the way to Helgen.
Letting her thoughts wander, as opposed to her typical flat-out ignoring of what Ulfric was going on about, this time she genuinely didn't hear him, eyes on the stars as her hands lightly wrapped around her belly.
He didn't know she was carrying twins. He was convinced the size of her meant she was carrying a large, healthy Nord boy. He'd be unbearable if he knew the truth.
And truth? Her chances of surviving the birth were not good. The only thing she had in her favor was the babies would be born in late spring. Her age would not be an issue if this weren't her first birth. The fact she had wide hips would help, but likely not enough to make the difference. Twins almost always resulted in a dead mother, and it was fortunate if both babies survived. She'd always die trying to pass the second; would exhaust herself. The Shatter-Shields' birth had been a rare miracle.
The healer had given some crock about how if she simply took her time during her labor, then she'd be fine.
They both saw the irony; the mighty Dragon Queen, who'd been witnessed to slay two dragons back to back (the second attracted by the noise of the first), would be killed by two harmless infants not even eight pounds each.
She flinched as a hand circled around her wrist, eyes snapping to the source- Ulfric. Of course. No one would be able to lay a hand on her so long as he was around to intervene.
"Asta." His voice was softer this time, not having that do what I tell you tone.
Turning her entire body towards him, it was obvious this was one of the rare times she might listen to what he had to say.
"It's late, Asta. We've been out here for two hours. Let's retire." Now that he mentioned it, the woman was suddenly aware that, for once, she was actually tired.
Nodding her assent, Asta followed as he turned back towards the Palace. She must have zoned out, as she was prone to do, as the next thing she was aware of was Ulfric releasing her wrist as they entered their room.
The door was closed and Asta turned her back to Ulfric as he stepped behind her, fingers unlacing the stays on her dress. It was a new habit of theirs, as Asta was beginning to have some trouble with reaching around behind her and getting the miles of fabric from her maternity dresses off of her.
There was a slight squeal when he grabbed her, followed by a feminine laugh. Ulfric was gone before she could smack him, safely out of striking distance. She'd listened at many of the little political parties of pregnant noble women's stories. Some, the arranged matches, grateful they'd soon have an heir to dump in their husband's laps so he'd keep his hands off her, and others who worried that their husband's affections were waning and she was being reduced to little more than some broodmare for when he felt like having another legitimate child. Asta and Ulfric were not be passionate little bunnies anymore, but he made it very clear that he still only had eyes for his wife.
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timeasmymeasure
Domestic [1b/1]
Date: 2013-12-10 07:28 pm (UTC)They wandered the city streets aimlessly, Ulfric merely following Asta. As most of her attention seemed to be focused up, rather than forward, he'd had to guide his wife out of the way of obstacles a fair few times.
No rational person would be stupid enough to attack the Dragon Queen. Ulfric countered that it wasn't the rational people he was worried about, his possessive behavior becoming even moreso every day as her belly continued to swell. An attempt to kill their child, their heir, even while safely tucked away in Asta's womb was a very real threat.
But Asta wasn't helpless. She had the Voice, an assortment of enchanted daggers with all manner of nifty effects, and a few magick tricks up her sleeve. Her favorite melee, a Drainblood Battleaxe, would be next to impossible to wield; she wasn't used to moving efficiently with large weapons while also sporting all the extra weight in her front, so had decided to stick to smaller ones. Of course Ulfric seemed to have difficulty remember she was no longer that fragile, delicate woman who'd had a terrible stroke of luck that he'd first met on the way to Helgen.
Letting her thoughts wander, as opposed to her typical flat-out ignoring of what Ulfric was going on about, this time she genuinely didn't hear him, eyes on the stars as her hands lightly wrapped around her belly.
He didn't know she was carrying twins. He was convinced the size of her meant she was carrying a large, healthy Nord boy. He'd be unbearable if he knew the truth.
And truth? Her chances of surviving the birth were not good. The only thing she had in her favor was the babies would be born in late spring. Her age would not be an issue if this weren't her first birth. The fact she had wide hips would help, but likely not enough to make the difference. Twins almost always resulted in a dead mother, and it was fortunate if both babies survived. She'd always die trying to pass the second; would exhaust herself. The Shatter-Shields' birth had been a rare miracle.
The healer had given some crock about how if she simply took her time during her labor, then she'd be fine.
They both saw the irony; the mighty Dragon Queen, who'd been witnessed to slay two dragons back to back (the second attracted by the noise of the first), would be killed by two harmless infants not even eight pounds each.
She flinched as a hand circled around her wrist, eyes snapping to the source- Ulfric. Of course. No one would be able to lay a hand on her so long as he was around to intervene.
"Asta." His voice was softer this time, not having that do what I tell you tone.
Turning her entire body towards him, it was obvious this was one of the rare times she might listen to what he had to say.
"It's late, Asta. We've been out here for two hours. Let's retire." Now that he mentioned it, the woman was suddenly aware that, for once, she was actually tired.
Nodding her assent, Asta followed as he turned back towards the Palace. She must have zoned out, as she was prone to do, as the next thing she was aware of was Ulfric releasing her wrist as they entered their room.
The door was closed and Asta turned her back to Ulfric as he stepped behind her, fingers unlacing the stays on her dress. It was a new habit of theirs, as Asta was beginning to have some trouble with reaching around behind her and getting the miles of fabric from her maternity dresses off of her.
There was a slight squeal when he grabbed her, followed by a feminine laugh. Ulfric was gone before she could smack him, safely out of striking distance. She'd listened at many of the little political parties of pregnant noble women's stories. Some, the arranged matches, grateful they'd soon have an heir to dump in their husband's laps so he'd keep his hands off her, and others who worried that their husband's affections were waning and she was being reduced to little more than some broodmare for when he felt like having another legitimate child. Asta and Ulfric were not be passionate little bunnies anymore, but he made it very clear that he still only had eyes for his wife.