High King Ulfric watched from the doorway as Boltraz's fingers moved meticulously through her thick hair. In her frustration, her nose crinkled on the end and one corner of her mouth turned upward in a snarl. She had recently committed to wearing her hair longer, but now that it hung in her face, she was getting tired of it. Ulfric had taught her how to braid it as a compromise but Boltraz wasn't used to the concept of fashion.
He looked down at the amulet in his hand and tightened his fingers around it. It was a big step in their relationship, but he felt that they were ready. She had practically won the war for him, and he had tried to reconcile the way he treated her near the end. Boltraz said that she had forgiven him, but sometimes, Ulfric wasn't so sure. This will be the tell-all, he thought, If she says yes, then she really has forgiven me.
Boltraz stood suddenly, and Ulfric hid the amulet in the inside pocket of his robes. As she growled and reached for the dagger, Ulfric's hand caught her wrist. He shook his head solemnly, and smiled at her. Tutting, he reminded her "Practice makes perfect," and she ripped her arm from his hold.
"I'm going crazy." She snarled, throwing herself into the chair once more. Ulfric took her hair in his hands and began the familiar steps of braiding. "I'm not meant to stay cooped-up like this." She turned her head to look out the window and Ulfric moved it back. "I miss the battlefield..."
He hesitated. That was another thing that set him on edge about showing her the amulet. She yearned with all of her heart to return to war while most of Ulfric's men were still having nightmares. Did it not bother her to kill the other men, to see her comrades fall at her feet? But he knew this was just another cultural difference they would have to overcome. Ulfric took a deep breath and reached for the amulet in his pocket, but Boltraz took his hand in hers and turned to stare up at him. Ulfric stilled, it wasn't often he looked down at Boltraz, and he did like to every once in a while. She smiled sadly at him and rubbed the inside of his wrist with her thumb for a moment. Ulfric was dying to know what she was thinking, but when her mouth opened, she quickly closed it and turned back around. Ulfric finished the braid and secured it with a piece of leather. "Boltraz, I-"
The courier ran in breathless and thrust a sealed letter into Boltraz's hands. "It's a letter. Not sure who from. Said he was a friend of yours." Ulfric turned and looked at the courier with a pseudo death glare. The young man turned and began running again.
"Boltraz," She read aloud, "You caused a bit of stir in Solitude when you demonstrated the power of your Thu'um. Not everyone is anxious for the return of the Dragonborn. I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days." Ulfric looked at Boltraz and saw the excitement in her eyes. He'd never seen her receive a letter like this, but it was clear she'd seen them before, and awaited their arrival. "You should turn your attention to Volskygge. I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn. Sincerely, A Friend." Boltraz stood, knocking over the chair and moving quickly across the room to her wardrobe.
She whipped her dress off over her head and replaced it with the layers she wore under her armor. "Wait." Ulfric said as she motioned for him to tie the straps at the sides of her banded Iron Armor. "How do you know this isn't a trap?" He asked, and Boltraz laughed.
Epilouge [1/5]
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High King Ulfric watched from the doorway as Boltraz's fingers moved meticulously through her thick hair. In her frustration, her nose crinkled on the end and one corner of her mouth turned upward in a snarl. She had recently committed to wearing her hair longer, but now that it hung in her face, she was getting tired of it. Ulfric had taught her how to braid it as a compromise but Boltraz wasn't used to the concept of fashion.
He looked down at the amulet in his hand and tightened his fingers around it. It was a big step in their relationship, but he felt that they were ready. She had practically won the war for him, and he had tried to reconcile the way he treated her near the end. Boltraz said that she had forgiven him, but sometimes, Ulfric wasn't so sure. This will be the tell-all, he thought, If she says yes, then she really has forgiven me.
Boltraz stood suddenly, and Ulfric hid the amulet in the inside pocket of his robes. As she growled and reached for the dagger, Ulfric's hand caught her wrist. He shook his head solemnly, and smiled at her. Tutting, he reminded her "Practice makes perfect," and she ripped her arm from his hold.
"I'm going crazy." She snarled, throwing herself into the chair once more. Ulfric took her hair in his hands and began the familiar steps of braiding. "I'm not meant to stay cooped-up like this." She turned her head to look out the window and Ulfric moved it back. "I miss the battlefield..."
He hesitated. That was another thing that set him on edge about showing her the amulet. She yearned with all of her heart to return to war while most of Ulfric's men were still having nightmares. Did it not bother her to kill the other men, to see her comrades fall at her feet? But he knew this was just another cultural difference they would have to overcome. Ulfric took a deep breath and reached for the amulet in his pocket, but Boltraz took his hand in hers and turned to stare up at him. Ulfric stilled, it wasn't often he looked down at Boltraz, and he did like to every once in a while. She smiled sadly at him and rubbed the inside of his wrist with her thumb for a moment. Ulfric was dying to know what she was thinking, but when her mouth opened, she quickly closed it and turned back around. Ulfric finished the braid and secured it with a piece of leather. "Boltraz, I-"
The courier ran in breathless and thrust a sealed letter into Boltraz's hands. "It's a letter. Not sure who from. Said he was a friend of yours." Ulfric turned and looked at the courier with a pseudo death glare. The young man turned and began running again.
"Boltraz," She read aloud, "You caused a bit of stir in Solitude when you demonstrated the power of your Thu'um. Not everyone is anxious for the return of the Dragonborn. I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days." Ulfric looked at Boltraz and saw the excitement in her eyes. He'd never seen her receive a letter like this, but it was clear she'd seen them before, and awaited their arrival. "You should turn your attention to Volskygge. I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn. Sincerely, A Friend." Boltraz stood, knocking over the chair and moving quickly across the room to her wardrobe.
She whipped her dress off over her head and replaced it with the layers she wore under her armor. "Wait." Ulfric said as she motioned for him to tie the straps at the sides of her banded Iron Armor. "How do you know this isn't a trap?" He asked, and Boltraz laughed.