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“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6b

[(Anonymous)]

Ulfric appeared downstairs early that afternoon, dressed and seeming perfectly unperturbed. Jaenna began to clap as he entered the main hall. “Well done, Ulfric,” she said, winking. She slid off his throne and bowed.

The Jarl smirked at her and took his seat. “Just been keeping it warm, have you?”

Jaenna lowered her voice to a whisper. “I was so hoping to bear witness to the indignity of the Jarl found naked in my bedroom - all from such a regale vantage point.” Her own lips quirked. “I suppose you stole all of my invisibility potions, hm?”

“Do not be a sore loser, Jaenna,” Ulfric said. He hid his mouth behind one hand. “It does not suit you.”

The doors to the Palace of the Kings swung open, letting in a burst of snowflakes and sunlight. A hassled-looking Galmar entered, trailed by a small army of soldiers. He halted midstride when he saw the Jarl seated on the throne.

“Ulfric?” he shouted, his voice accusing. He held up Ulfric’s sheathed sword in his fist and shook it angrily.

Jaenna leaned close to the Jarl and whispered, “Oh, did I mention Galmar assembled the city watch to search for you while you were blissfully invisible?”

His lips pursed into a thin line. Ulfric didn’t look at her as he replied. “Did I say you were a loser? I take it back. We are clearly at a stalemate.” He pushed himself off the throne and went to meet the housecarl.

“Where in Oblivion have you been?” the man shouted. “I return to Windhelm, find that – that harpy with your damned sword - gods man, I half expected she’d served you to the Imperial Legion as desert!”

“Galmar, I have been here-”

Galmar began to sputter, his voice rising in both volume and pitch. “Have you – have you been sleeping? All morning?”

“I did not get much sleep last night,” Ulfric mumbled.

”You didn’t get much sleep?” The housecarl looked ready to strangle his Jarl. “Your soldiers and I defeated a patrol twice our size two days ago. We trudged for home all night through a blizzard so I could bring you a crucial report. Yesterday morning, I killed four bandits who ambushed me while I tried to take a piss. I finally arrived in the city after being on my feet for forty-eight hours.” He was shaking with rage now. “Guess what I got to do then? Sleep? Have a warm meal? No! I spent the next three hours scouring Windhelm in search of Jarl Ulfric-Bloody-Stormcloak!”

Jaenna smirked and sat on the throne, watching Ulfric attempt to explain himself. Well, it wasn’t quite the show she’d been expecting, but it would do.

***

Later that afternoon, an uncomfortable Jarl sat on his throne. Galmar, exhausted, had tired of his tirade and gone to sleep. Before doing so, he’d warned that Ulfric had better not disturb him with anything pettier than the imminent destruction of Windhelm.

Jaenna wandered up and down the main hall, growing bored making her regular circles around the palace. Ulfric had been less inclined to talk after Galmar yelled at him all morning (and with good reason), so the dragonborn was painfully bored.

Fortunately for her, action was coming their way. She hesitated midstride, pausing as if to scent the air. Her keen ears heard it, then. The low moan in the distance, almost like thunder. Beneath her feet, the floor trembled almost imperceptibly.