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“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2f

[(Anonymous)]

As dawn light filtered through the window, Jaenna rolled out of bed and dressed in some of the clean clothes Hrothar had brought her the other day. Standing by the window, she drew the Jarl’s letter from its envelope. The parchment was warm from resting against her skin all night. Careful of her sore wrist, she smoothed the crumpled letter on her thigh and then held it up to the sunlight.


Ulfric Stormcloak,

I hope you have been enjoying our little gift and are not finding her too… troublesome. We are all impressed she has yet to rip out your throat. She has never been so obedient before! It would seem that the high and mighty Ulfric Stormcloak inspires rebellion in everyone but her.

The dragonborn is something of a Nord legend, is it not? Do you appreciate the irony that she fights against you, most honourable true son of Skyrim? A pity for you, but a good chuckle for the rest of us.

Regards.


Jaenna’s hand began to tremble. Cold flashed through her body, and then hot, righteous anger. How dare they make a mockery out of her! After all she’d sacrificed for the Imperial Legion, this was how they repaid her?

Jaenna crushed the letter in her hand and screamed with rage. She tore the parchment into pieces before throwing it from herself with another angry howl. Her eyes glinted and she stared around her bedroom, considering what else she could destroy to alleviate the draconic fury raging through her blood.

No one betrayed the dragonborn! No one used her against her will!

She launched herself at the bookcase, ripping out tomes and hurling them across the room. A second later and she’d heaved the entire thing to the floor, her nails leaving gouges in the wood.

Striding towards the bed, she ripped the sheets free. Two steps farther and her foot connected with the stupid clothesbasket at the end of her bed, launching it towards the ceiling. When it landed, she gave it another savage kick. Her foot punctured the weave. With an aggressive lashing of her leg, she shook it free.

Chest heaving, Jaenna let out another shout and pushed over her bedside table. The unlit lantern smashed on the floor. The dragon inside her relished the sound of breaking glass.

With effort, she thrust down an anger that wasn’t altogether human. As Jaenna sat on the edge of her stripped bed, cold calculation replaced her rage. This new disposition wasn’t altogether human, either. Amusement slithered through her mind. Despite all the commotion, no one had come to investigate the cause of the dragonborn’s wrath.

Jaenna must have threatened too many Thalamor. Or perhaps she’d done a job her own way too many times. Whatever it was, Jaenna hadn’t been monitoring the Imperial Legion’s opinion on the dragonborn as closely as she should have been. She’d been too self-important to notice they wanted her out of their way. She’d been enjoying the fighting and killing too much. With the joy she took in competing with others, she’d relished the idea of being a hero and saving Skyrim from a man who wanted to divide its people.

Hero, indeed! What was she, now? Certainly not the hero that had cleaned out bandit lairs, found lost treasures, slain dragons, fought the undead, cleansed the world of ancient evils, and pushed back the tide of the Stormcloak rebellion.

No. That wasn’t it.

The Imperial Legion had reduced her to a good laugh. They got off on the idea that the dragonborn had chosen their side. They enjoyed rubbing that fact in the faces of those supporting the rebellion. They’d tossed her to Ulfric Stormcloak for the opportunity to laugh at him and throw him off his game.

She was nothing to them. Worse than nothing, if they’d wanted so badly to be rid of her.

What an idiot she’d been. Her foolhardiness was inexcusable.

And now she was trapped in the Palace of the Kings. Ulfric Stormcloak had wrestled an oath out of her, to protect himself and his people against her. He’d known she was bound to find out the truth about the Imperial Legion’s betrayal, and he’d acted as best he could to keep the Stormcloaks safe.

Funny. He was the only player in this war with a smidgen of respect for the wrath of a woman possessing a dragon’s soul.