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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Overview
Date: 2014-04-29 06:17 am (UTC)“Don’t Shoot the Messenger”
Characters: F!DB Jaenna, Ulfric Stormcloak
Relationship: F!DB/Ulfric
Tags: relationship:Het, race:Nord, char:Ulfric_Stormcloak, char:F!DB, kink:bondage, kink:denial, kink:prisoner, kink:slow_build_relationship, kink:secretive, kink:invisibility
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1a
Date: 2014-04-29 06:24 am (UTC)They knew she was the dragonborn, but they had no idea why she was here.
Grip tightening on the handle of the axe, Jaenna lifted her chin and strode forwards. She shoved her way through the doors and into the Palace of the Kings. The woman blinked snowflakes out of her eyelashes and squinted into the relative dimness of the long hall. The place was well guarded, soldiers lining the walls of the interior. Heads swivelled in her direction as she glided down the corridor.
Ulfric Stormcloak sat on his throne. His gaze followed her approach. “Well, well,” he said. “What is it? I am a busy man.” His eyes narrowed, warning the dragonborn that he already knew exactly why she was here - warning her to turn back now.
Jaenna stopped at the base of the throne. “You know what this is,” she replied. Locking eyes with the man, she held out the axe. “Jarl Balgruuf sends his regards.”
Nearby, Galmar Stone-Fist growled. Armour rattled as Stormcloak soldiers edged closer, hands on their swords.
Jaenna watched the emotions play over Ulfric’s normally composed face. The Jarl inhaled deeply and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “You are quite brave to carry such a message,” the man murmured. The corner of his lips twitched. “It is a pity you chose the wrong side.”
The dragonborn snorted. “My arm is getting sore,” she said. “Will you take the axe or not?”
At a nod from the Jarl, the dozen nearby soldiers drew their swords. The ring of steel shivered through the air.
“I think… not,” Ulfric said. He stood, looming over Jaenna from his position on the dais.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jaenna demanded. She threw down the axe and drew her own sword, shifting into a crouch.
“You think I will just let you walk out of here?” Ulfric said, spreading his arms. “The odds are already in the favour of the Imperial Legion. I will not serve them further by announcing my plan to attack Whiterun like desert on a silver platter.”
Jaenna rotated slowly, taking into account each man and woman surrounding her. Twelve to one? The odds were in her favour. “Before they sent me on this mission,” she said, “I promised I would harm no one. That I would do no dishonour.” She eyed the soldiers. “When they forced my oath, I daresay they were not expecting… this sort of reception.” Her glare returned to the broad-shouldered Jarl. “If you do not order your men to stand down, I’ll put them down.”
Ulfric studied her. “Will you?” he challenged.
The dragonborn’s fist clenched around the hilt of her sword. It would be so easy – almost… enjoyable to cleave through the wretched Stormcloaks. Her voice could throw the soldiers across the room, stunning them. They wouldn’t even have a chance to deflect her sword before she executed them one by one.
But why stop there? Jaenna’s predatory eyes flicked back to Ulfric Stormcloak. If she were to go on a homicidal rampage through the Stormcloak ranks, she might as well shove her blade through the gut of the most wanted man in Skyrim.
But, damn it, Jaenna had given her word. She was not to harm any of them. The Imperial Legion had forced her to promise, and she was honourable. They knew what a bloody mess she could create if threatened. She cared little of politics and the impact of her actions on the people she represented. Both the Legion and Jaenna knew her oath was to prevent her from doing something stupid and sabotaging all they’d fought for.
Even though she could make the Legion’s troubles all go away, she wouldn’t.
It would serve them right for sending her on this suicide mission. They could’ve sent any soldier, but no, they’d ordered her, the dragonborn, to do this menial task.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1b
Date: 2014-04-29 06:30 am (UTC)Jaenna tossed aside her sword. It slid along the stone floor, throwing up sparks. The soldiers around her shifted uneasily, inching closer, but the dragonborn only had attention for the Jarl. “I will not harm your delusional warriors,” she said. “I, unlike some who are present in this hall, have a sense of honour.”
“I am counting on that.” Ulfric’s eyebrows lifted. The Jarl hesitated. “When you fight a war for freedom,” he said, “childish traditions like the deliverance of that war axe mean little.”
“And if you cannot even honour such a simple tradition,” Jaenna snapped, “I shudder to imagine you as high king.” She threw back her head and laughed. “You fight for freedom, yet you forsake honour to take me prisoner? A fine and just king you would make, Ulfric Stormcloak.”
There were gasps and murmurs. Galmar drew his blade at the insult, his lips twisting into a snarl.
But Jaenna was not done yet. “You are nothing more than a coward,” she mocked. “You are an opportunist and a hypocrite.” She looked around herself, spreading her arms and smiling grimly. “Fine qualities in a man who wants to lead Skyrim to its supposed freedom, don’t you agree?”
“Clap her in irons!” Galmar commanded.
One nervous soldier held out a set of shackles. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He approached the dragonborn as if she were a wild sabre cat.
Jaenna’s head whipped around. Her eyes pinned him to the floor like a lance. “If you touch me,” she said, “I will kill you.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d ended the life of a Stormcloak soldiers with her bare hands.
The soldier froze. He sent Ulfric a pleading look. The Jarl gave a near-imperceptible shake of his head. “Lead her to the dungeons,” he ordered. “And do not touch her.”
The soldiers surrounded Jaenna. She let them direct her through a side door. The dank passage wound downward, past the barracks and into the cold dungeons. Four empty cells lined the right wall. She waltzed into the farthest one without any prompting.
“Lovely accommodations,” Jaenna said, her feet tramping on rotting hay. “Here, allow me.” She smiled and closed the cell door for the soldiers. One of them gave her a very uncomfortable look as he locked it. “The bars seem rather insubstantial, but it’s quite cozy,” she continued, one eyebrow arching. “At least the Imperial Legion will know where to look when they send their warriors to rescue me.”
The Jarl had followed his Stormcloaks into the dungeons. He gave her an unreadable look through the bars. “Swear that you will not attempt to escape,” Ulfric said.
Jaenna flashed a toothy grin at the soldiers standing by the Jarl’s side. “I will swear no such thing. It is only a matter of time before I grow bored and am on my way. No one will even notice me slip out, unless I’m feeling particularly dramatic that day.”
“Promise.”
“To you?” Jaenna said. “Never.”
Ulfric spun away and strode towards the exit. To the soldiers following him, he said, “I want three men guarding ever junction. Should the dragonborn leave her cell, do not move to let her pass. She will not break her vow and hurt you.”
Soon, they were all out of sight. Jaenna heard the distant grating of Galmar’s voice. “And if I find out some milk-drinker let her past, there will be pain to pay.”
The dungeon descended into silence. There was a steady drip drip of water sliding off the craggy ceiling. Jaenna expelled a deep sigh. The cold cell sucked the bravado out of her as easily as it leeched away the heat from her skin. She collapsed into a corner and drew up her knees. Her head rested in her hands.
She was a prisoner to her own honour. Maybe Ulfric Stormcloak had the right of it, being a disreputable bastard.
***
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1c
Date: 2014-04-29 06:37 am (UTC)“Your meal,” the servant said. She knelt down, opened the small latch in the bottom of the door, and slid the bowl into the cell. She didn’t stick around to watch Jaenna eat, but turned and hurried away.
From her corner of the cell, Jaenna sniffed. Whatever slop was in that bowl didn’t smell the least bit appealing. She shuffled over and stared into the murky liquid. There wasn’t a spoon. She dipped her finger into it. The stuff was only lukewarm.
“Disgusting,” Jaenna muttered. She stood and clasped the bars. “Guards!” she shouted.
After a minute of shouting, two soldiers, a man and a woman, arrived at the lowest level. “What is it, prisoner?” the woman demanded.
Jaenna smirked. “Prisoner? That’s cute.” She beckoned the two soldiers closer, bending over to pick up her bowl of gruel. “What is this?”
The two exchanged looks. The woman leaned nearer to inspect the gruel. As she did, Jaenna threw the contents of the bowl into her face. The soldier jumped back with an indignant gasp. Clumpy, milky liquid dribbled down her face and armour.
“If the servants can’t bring me proper food,” Jaenna snarled, “then bring me nothing at all.” She tossed the bowl against the iron bars with a clatter and turned her back on the two guards. The first soldier looked ready to barge into the cell, but the man grabbed her arm, stopping her from drawing her sword. With some coaxing, he persuaded her to leave.
The dungeons were quiet once again.
***
By the third day, Jaenna’s stomach ached with hunger. That was nothing compared to her thirst. She could go days without eating – she had before, travelling the frigid, unforgiving mountain ranges of Skyrim. At least then, she’d been able to melt snow in her mouth. Now, her tongue felt like dried leather.
She rubbed her sunken eyes and glanced at the glistening walls of her cell. Moisture beaded on the cold stones. She considered licking the stone, wondering if she could bear the indignity. That, or she could just barge out of her cell. Easily. A Shout could take the cell door off its hinges.
Her promises seemed much less important with thirst dogging her.
Jaenna slept again, as there was little else she could do. She awoke to the sound of a set of heavy footsteps approaching the dungeons. She shivered and stirred. Without a proper meal, the cold was sucking away all her body’s warmth.
Ulfric Stormcloak entered the dungeons. He walked to stand a ways from her cell. He tilted his head and studied the dragonborn. A soldier stood nearby bearing a torch. Jaenna wondered if they both would be taken aback by the way her eyes glowed like a dragon’s, reflecting the firelight.
“What is this I have heard about the servants refusing to feed you?” Ulfric demanded.
“I sent them away.”
The man stared at Jaenna as if he thought she wasn’t quite right in the head. And maybe she wasn’t. The dragonborn never professed to think like regular people. “You sent them away,” he repeated.
“A starved dragonborn is less accountable for her actions,” Jaenna replied with a toothy smile.
Ulfric shook his head. “I will have someone send you food and water,” he said.
As he turned to leave, Jaenna scrambled to her feet and went to the cell door. “Wait,” she said. “What news of Whiterun?”
Ulfric hesitated.
“I promise I won’t roast you alive,” Jaenna cajoled.
Ignoring her, the Jarl left.
True to his word, a servant arrived later that evening. He shoved a tin of hazy water into the cell, followed by more of that foul gruel. Jaenna growled under her breath, causing the servant to jerk away from the bars.
“I said,” Jaenna murmured, “to bring me nothing at all if you can’t bring me proper food.”
“This is what we feed prisoners,” the servant responded, hopping from one foot to the other.
Jaenna took a deep breath. Her hands clenched around the bars of her cell, her knuckles blanching. “Come here,” she said.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1d
Date: 2014-04-29 06:45 am (UTC)Jaenna shook the cell door, testing the strength of its hinges. “This is the last time I will tell the Jarl’s staff,” she said. “Bring me this… this disgusting sludge one more time, and I will tear this palace down stone by stone.”
The servant lifted his chin, rebellion sparking in his eyes. Jaenna, confident that the bars could withstand at least one word of power, turned to him and said, “Fus.”
The air rippled as a wave of force surged past the cell door. Hinges groaned. The servant let out a shriek as the blast threw him off his feet. He landed on the bed of the torture device sitting against the far wall, saving him from a nasty bruising on the stone floor.
The stone chamber rumbled around them, dust and debris fogging the air. Shouts echoed down the stairwell.
The servant clawed at his chest as if unable to believe that he was unharmed. “T-they said you wouldn’t hurt no one!” he babbled. “They p-promised!”
Jaenna snorted. “If I meant to hurt you, you’d know it,” she said. “Now get out.”
The man scrambled off the torture device, his face paling when he realized flakes of dried blood covered his shirt. With another screech, he staggered for the exit and ran out of the dungeons.
Moments later, soldiers stormed downward. Half a dozen men and women filled the dungeons, their weapons drawn. Jaenna sat back down in her corner, pulling the smelly furs over her legs to keep them warm. She admired her handiwork with a smile, gulping down the water the servant had brought her. She set the tin cup on the floor with a sigh.
After a while, the soldiers edged back out of the dungeons. Not a word was spoken.
***
A thin, ugly-faced man brought Jaenna her water the next day. Fortunately, there was no gruel, but there was no real food, either. Jaenna growled and snapped at the man and demanded he bring her whatever the soldiers were eating upstairs. The man stared at her blankly, unfazed, and left.
With her keen senses, Jaenna could smell the meal the soldiers ate in the common room above the dungeons. Her stomach twisted angrily. She could almost taste the warm, fresh bread, the roasted pheasant, gently scorched, the gourds steamed and filled with melted cheese.
Nothing of consequence happened for several days. Jaenna tracked the time by counting when the stolid, ugly man brought water. He was the only person she saw, appearing twice a day at what she presumed to be morning and evening.
At this point, Jaenna remaining locked in the dungeons was a battle of wills. Ulfric wanted her to break. He wanted her to smash her way free, to prove to him that she couldn’t keep her word. But she was not as dishonourable as that wretch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
So she would await her rescue.
Except… it wasn’t coming.
Jaenna had been incarcerated for at least a week now. She hadn’t even had a single guest, never mind a hint that the Imperial Legion had sent a rescue party. Either they couldn’t, or they wouldn’t.
The dragonborn wondered which it was.
Ulfric visited her on the eighth day of her imprisonment. He was alone. “Well,” he said, coming to stand a safe distance from her cell door. “Have you changed your mind about the food yet?”
Jaenna glared at him. It was too much effort to feign indifference and joviality at this point. She didn’t bother to stand. She felt so weak she thought her legs might tremble and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that.
“I could not convince any servants to come down here to ask,” the Jarl continued. “Not even Hrothar. He’s the one with the broken nose. A man of few words, but quite loyal.”
Jaenna continued to watch him through narrowed eyes.
Ulfric’s eyebrows lifted. “I suppose I will take your silence as a ‘no.’”
“Tell me,” Jaenna said, her voice venomous, “how many rescue attempts have you foiled? How many of the Imperial Legion have you slaughtered because they’ve tried to rescue me?”
The Jarl regarded her evenly. She would swear there was some pity in that cool gaze. “None,” he said. “Although I doubt you believe me.”
“You’re right,” Jaenna replied. “Why trust a man with no honour?”
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1e
Date: 2014-04-29 06:54 am (UTC)“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaenna stood, her knees wobbling with weakness.
“Perhaps the Imperial Legion’s pet dragonborn has become too unruly,” the man said. “Perhaps she is too headstrong. Too defiant. Perhaps they said, ‘Let’s use her defiance to our advantage. Let’s send her to our enemy to deal with.’”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Jaenna spat.
Ulfric rounded on her, his own gaze heated. “That is the only explanation,” he retorted. “Why else send the dragonborn on such a menial task? Why make her swear not to harm the Stormcloaks, when you could easily have killed us all? Tell me that, dragonborn.”
Jaenna’s jaw worked, but she couldn’t think of a good reason. Finally, she felt something inside her snap. She was tired of playing this game, feigning patience. Her lips drew back into a snarl. “Fus ro dah!” she Shouted at the Jarl.
Air whispered across the floor. Small pebbles rolled up against the man’s boots. His blond hair whisked back in a breeze.
Even Ulfric looked surprised.
Jaenna stumbled away from the cell door. For the first time, dread stirred in her belly. Her Shout had no power! The matted furs caught her heel, and she fell hard on her rump. The cell walls seemed to close in around her now that she realized she couldn’t break free.
Jaenna Shouted again. Rotten straw puffed across the floor. Her empty tin cup rolled away and clattered against the cell bars.
Oh, no.
Ulfric approached, his shadow falling over her. “You have weakened,” he observed.
What a genius! Jaenna folded her arms across her chest to disguise the tremor in her muscles. “I just decided I didn’t really want to smash you against the far wall,” she retorted. “You know, didn’t want to sully my honour. It seems to be in short supply around here.”
Unimpressed, but also not mocking her, Ulfric turned away. “Guards!” he called. He waited a moment. When none arrived, the man grumbled and stormed back up the stairs and out of the dungeons.
Jaenna listened with interest to the sounds of shouting the next level up. The voices echoed down strangely, so she wasn’t sure what was being said. Eventually, Ulfric returned to the dungeons, towing with him a white-faced guard and the ugly, impassive man Jaenna assumed was Hrothar. The guard slowly approached the cell door and shoved the key into the lock. Perspiration glistened on his forehead in the light of the torch Hrothar held.
“What is this?” the dragonborn asked, rising into an unsteady crouch.
“You are hardly a threat now,” Ulfric said. “I thought I may as well take this opportunity to show you that the Stormcloaks can treat the dragonborn better than the Imperial Legion has.”
Jaenna stared at him for a moment. “I see,” she said. She walked forward, exiting the cell. As she did, she stumbled against the guard.
He reached up and caught her shoulders. In one smooth motion, Jaenna drew the man’s sword and whipped around. Her stolen blade arched toward Ulfric Stormcloak’s neck.
Steel screeched against steel. Ulfric’s own sword flashed out, parrying the blow. Beside him, Hrothar didn’t even blink. The soldier, on the other hand, panted with fear.
“Are you sure I’m no threat?” Jaenna grinned.
Her eyes remained focused on Ulfric’s even as she heard the soldier behind her draw his dagger. Jaenna’s free hand snapped out to catch his wrist. However, she didn’t account for the weakness of days without food. Even the dragonborn was mortal.
The soldier was able to rip his arm free of Jaenna’s grasp. He grabbed the dragonborn’s long braid and jerked her head. In a second, the soldier had her staggering backwards, a dagger at her throat.
“That is enough,” Ulfric said.
The soldier wrestled his sword away from Jaenna and backed away. He gave her a sharp push, sending her sprawling onto the straw of her cell.
“At least someone can take a joke,” Jaenna muttered, rubbing the back of her head. She gave the soldier an ugly glower.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1f
Date: 2014-04-29 07:05 am (UTC)Jaenna squinted at him. She didn’t want to be petty, so she accepted his help up.
“I will make you a deal, O Honourable One,” the Jarl continued. “If you swear not to leave the Palace of the Kings, I will leave you free to wander within its walls. Maybe you will see enough to convince you that you have chosen the wrong side in this war.”
Jaenna arched an eyebrow. “All I’m like to see is your battle plans, which means you’ll never allow me to leave here.”
Ulfric’s lips quirked. It was subtle, but she caught it. He said, “Promise you will not leave the Palace of the Kings. And assure me your promise not to harm anyone within will continue.”
“And if I won’t?”
“You can go back inside,” Ulfric nodded back towards the cell. “And satisfy yourself with gruel and nothing else.”
The man had her there. Jaenna felt light-headed at the reminder of her hunger, but she forced her discomfort back down. “Will I have access to your kitchens?” she asked. Her stomach rumbled at the thought.
“Once I have your promise,” Ulfric said.
Jaenna made a show of considering it. “And… a guest bedroom?” she wheedled.
“There are some available. You may choose one to your liking.”
“Is there anywhere… off-limits ?” Jaenna grinned.
The Jarl narrowed his eyes. “If you ever want to leave here alive,” he said, “you might choose to avoid examining my battle plans in great detail.”
Which of course meant it hadn’t even crossed the Jarl’s mind that she would snoop around his personal quarters if given half a chance. Would it really be thieving if she ‘borrowed’ a few things from the man keeping her prisoner?
Jaenna restrained a giddy laugh. She pretended to give her cell a wistful look. “Well, I suppose I must accept. I, Jaenna, swear I will not attempt to leave the Palace of the Kings… unless I see the doors unguarded or you are dead.”
Ulfric Stormcloak didn’t seem to like that much, but he nodded his acceptance. “Fair enough. And?”
“And I again promise I will not harm anyone within the walls of the Palace of the Kings,” she said. She tapped her index finger against her lips. “Well, not physically.”
Ulfric turned on his heel and marched away, beckoning the others to accompany him. To the soldier, he said, “I want four warriors guarding the entrance at all times.” To his servant, he added, “Hrothar, attend me.”
“So just like that?” Jaenna called after him, annoyed.
“I will let the soldiers know you are free to explore the palace,” he said over his shoulder. “For now, I have work to do.”
With the three men gone, Jaenna breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned against the back wall and sank down. Her muscles trembled at even that small exertion. She was so hungry, still so thirsty.
She would rest a bit, and then venture out of this icy place.
***
I will see about posting part 2 in the next couple days! Let me know what you think so far. :)
Re: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-04-29 12:30 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 1f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-04-29 10:03 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Overview
Date: 2014-04-29 12:17 pm (UTC)“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2a
Date: 2014-05-01 07:00 am (UTC)***
The first order of business was food.
The second was a bath and a change of clothes.
After ransacking the kitchen (the cook only sat in a corner and stared at the dragonborn in horrified fascination, not daring to intercept her), Jaenna entered the main hall and looked around. Soldiers glared at her from the doorway.
The dragonborn considered for a moment. The Jarl had said nothing about threatening his servants. She strode across the hall and entered another stairway that led up a floor. Here, she found several guest rooms, largely unoccupied.
Next, she intercepted a servant, grabbing her arm. “Excuse me,” she said. “I need a bath. I want you to bring me some fresh clothes.” Jaenna would have been happier with armour, but she would need to clean and oil the leathers she’d been wearing until the stench of the dungeons no longer hovered around her like a miasma.
The serving woman bit her lip and looked down. “The Jarl said not to speak to you, ma’am.” She pulled on her arm, her nose wrinkling at the other woman’s smell.
“Fine. You need not speak,” Jaenna said. “Draw me a bath and fetch me clothes - silently. Also, lavender soap would be lovely.”
Unable to argue with that, the woman scurried away.
After washing the stench and dirt from her body and dousing her hair and skin in a fresh lavender scent, Jaenna finally dressed in clean clothes. Washed, her hunger and thirst sated, the woman felt her eyelids sagging.
With a yawn that popped her jaw, she claimed an entire guestroom to herself – never mind that it had two beds – and closed the door. For good measure, she slid one of the beds in front to defend her privacy. At last, she collapsed into the other and let out a sigh of pleasure. Sleep found her so swiftly she didn’t remember closing her eyes.
***
A loud, rapid knocking on the door startled Jaenna awake.
“Dragonborn?” a voice called. There was a flurry of mutterings. “Dragonborn!”
The door handle dipped, and someone tried to barge in. There was commendable cursing when the door did not budge. The man thrust his shoulder against it, grunting as the bed blocking the doorway screeched across the floor bit by bit.
Jaenna wiped sleep out of her eyes and scowled. She sat on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs, smiling pleasantly towards the door. Why take the stranger out of his misery?
Finally, a soldier was able to stick his head into the opening. Upon seeing Jaenna, a mixture of annoyance and relief flashed across his face.
“Well?” she asked.
The man coughed. “We were just seeing…”
“If I was were here?” Jaenna filled in.
The soldier cleared his throat. “Orders.”
“How is this for an order? Knock next time before barging in on a woman’s personal chambers, you heathen!” Jaenna grabbed the book resting on her bedside table and hurled it at him.
Jammed in the doorway, the man couldn’t move fast enough. The spine of the book dinged off his helm and fell to the floor. “I did!” he protested.
Jaenna reached for another book.
The man squirmed and his head disappeared from the doorway. The door closed with a gentle click.
Fetching the tome she’d thrown, Jaenna returned it to the stack on her bedside table. Straightening a few bent pages, she told the book, “My apologies.”
***
That afternoon, the dragonborn explored the rest of the area surrounding her self-proclaimed room. She found an arcane enchanter at the base of a set of stairs. Nearby, there was also an alchemy lab. She studied it curiously. Apparently, Ulfric was unaware that the dragonborn was also something of an alchemist. She took note of the materials set out on the tables and shelves. Pleased at the variety of ingredients, she made her way back to the main hall.
Did poison count as physical harm? Did paralysis potions or sleeping droughts? Jaenna considered this as she walked.
It appeared to be past noon. Jaenna helped herself to the food in the kitchens once again. Then, she wandered towards the room left of the throne. Ulfric Stormcloak was there, speaking with another man. Upon seeing Jaenna approaching, Ulfric dismissed the warrior.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2b
Date: 2014-05-01 07:06 am (UTC)The Jarl gave her an appraising look. “Whiterun is now in Stormcloak hands,” he confirmed.
“If the fools had sent you someone else with that stupid axe,” Jaenna growled, “you wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Then they sealed their own fate, not using their resources wisely,” Ulfric said, a smile in his eyes.
“Oh? And what would you have done instead, O Dishonourable One?” Jaenna asked. “Would you have used me as your private assassin against the opposing leaders? Try to order me to kill them in their sleep, when they wouldn’t have a chance to defend themselves?”
Ulfric shot her a cool look. “No,” he said. “I would have treated you as an equal.”
“Oh, of course,” Jaenna said, unconvinced. “Forgive me to not recognizing how noble you are. I was too busy locked in a cell and dying or boredom to notice.”
“You are free now.”
“If freedom is where you can’t see the sky.” And a dragon needs the sky.
Ulfric turned away, the broad line of his shoulders unsympathetic. “Go look out a window.”
***
There was a knock on her door the following morning. The dragonborn sighed. She thought she’d done such a good job of scaring away all the servants. It pleased her to no end promoting terror in the Jarl’s household. If she continued long enough, maybe Ulfric would let her leave the Palace of the Kings out of sheer desperation.
Thud thud thud.
She didn’t respond to the knocking. For about half an hour, she tried to ignore it and sleep. However, the knocking continued in short bursts. Three knocks. A short pause. Another three knocks. Never rising in volume or tempo.
Thud thud thud.
Jaenna groaned and covered her head with a pillow.
Thud thud thud.
“Oblivion take you,” she muttered. Throwing away the pillow, Jaenna stumbled out of bed and changed from a thin night shift into regular trousers and a shirt, overlaid with a leather vest. They were the clothes from yesterday, but at least they were clean. She still had to clean the mess her armour had become.
Thud thud thud.
“Damn it, what do you want?” Jaenna called. Whoever it was probably had bloody knuckles. “You may enter.”
Thud thud thud.
Seething, the dragonborn went to the door and hauled away the extra bed that blocked it. Grabbing the door handle, she yanked it open.
The ugly-faced servant that had attended her in the dungeons stood waiting. He gave her a flat look. In his arms, he held a pile of clean clothing.
“Oh, you again?” Jaenna asked, nonplussed. She stood back and allowed him inside. He must be the only servant with any guts.
“Yup.” Hrothar entered the room and set the clean clothes on the edge of her bed.
“Do you like me or something?” the dragonborn asked, sending the man a lascivious wink.
The man did not smile, but his eyes crinkled. “Of course. The dragonborn is most beautiful.”
Jaenna smirked. “You and I,” she told the ugly-faced man, “are going to be great friends.”
The man bowed and turned back towards the door. Jaenna cleared her throat, stopping him. “Since you insist on not being frightened,” she said. “I might as well keep you busy.” She glanced pointedly towards the armour she’d set out on the floor in one corner of the room.
Hrothar looked at the pile of stained, reeking armour, and then back at her.
“I want you to clean it,” Jaenna said.
“You are not Jarl.”
“I am dragonborn.”
Hrothar’s nose crinkled. Without a word, he turned and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Well, it had been worth a try.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2c
Date: 2014-05-01 07:11 am (UTC)There was another soft tapping at the door. Annoyed at being bothered again, Jaenna answered it.
Two young servants, a man and a woman, stood outside, fidgeting. “We were sent to tend to your armour,” the woman said.
Jaenna smiled.
***
“You have an interesting way of convincing my staff to serve you while also keeping them terrified,” Ulfric Stormcloak told her the next time they spoke, on her fifth day of freedom within the Palace of the Kings.
Jaenna smirked. “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from me.”
Ulfric only grunted. He was busy writing a letter, seated in his plans room before the map of Skyrim.
Jaenna hopped up onto the table beside where he was writing. The man shot her an unimpressed look, but did not spare her much more attention.
“Where does your next conquest lay, O Dishonourable One?” Jaenna asked.
“You will see soon enough.”
“Will I?” she asked. “Unless you plan to release me, I anticipate having to pry that information from one of your soldiers and piece together the events myself.”
Ulfric ignored her.
“Tell me, if I were on your side, what would your command to me now be?” Jaenna wanted to know.
The Jarl glanced upward again, his blue eyes almost as difficult to read as Hrothar’s. “I would ask if you would be interested in participating in the rescue of Stormcloak prisoners,” he said.
Jaenna’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. You actually rescue those who are captured while under your command?” She crossed her arms. “I’m impressed.”
“The Imperial Legion rescues theirs, as well, dragonborn.” Ulfric continued to write. “Just not you.”
She recoiled. Slipping off the table, Jaenna strode out of the room.
The man was right. Time had long passed for the Imperial Legion to rescue her – or at least try. Either they thought she was dead – which meant they had so very little faith in her – or they didn’t want her back.
Maybe the Jarl was right.
Rescue in itself didn’t matter. She didn’t need their help. She could get herself out of here if she wanted to. It might mean stooping to Ulfric’s level, but she could. Right now, all she wanted was some sign that the Imperial Legion valued her, even a little bit. She’d done so much for them already.
The thought that they cared so little about her well-being made her chest tighten.
What if Ulfric were behind this? She paused her marching, looking up the empty hall towards her room. Maybe, dishonourable as he was, the man was lying to her. Could it be that he sent word to the Imperial Legion that she was dead?
That was ridiculous though. So many people saw her, alive and well, at the Palace of the Kings. Surely someone would have let it slip to the rest of the world that the Dragonborn still lived.
Jaenna’s lips pursed. He might have done something else, though. Perhaps the answer to her questions lay in the letters Ulfric Stormcloak wrote and received – letters, she guessed, that were secreted away in his personal chambers.
She would have to pay them a visit tonight.
She returned her room and waited for a while. When she was certain the guards in the hall had changed duties, she left her chambers and tiptoed down to the room where she recalled discovering an arcane enchanter and an alchemy lab. Making sure no one followed her, Jaenna closed the door.
Rubbing her hands together, Jaenna smiled and went to work. She found a set of ice wraith teeth, a rare nirnroot, and some chaurus eggs. It took her about an hour, but she mixed a potion of invisibility. Storing the milky brew in three thin vials, she hid them in her pockets and snuck back out of the room with none the wiser.
***
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2d
Date: 2014-05-01 07:18 am (UTC)Of course, the potion could not affect her clothing as well. She shrugged out of her white nightclothes, lest someone see a disembodied dress and think she were a ghost. As she padded towards the door, the floor chilled her bare feet. At least this way, she would be able to move more silently.
Jaenna snuck out of her chambers. The halls were quiet, but she heard a guard inspecting one of the empty guest rooms. The dragonborn headed for the main hall.
Opening the door slowly, she peeked out. No one looked her way. The guards at the entrance to the Palace of the Kings stared straight ahead. Jaenna slipped out the door and closed it again. One of the soldiers twitched and looked her way. The potion worked, however, as he merely frowned and turned his gaze back towards the throne.
Jaenna hurried along the wall to the Jarl’s plan room, and then snuck through the door that led upstairs. She squeezed past another guard in the narrow hall, and eventually reached the highest doorway, which she knew had to be Ulfric’s personal chambers.
She prayed that he was asleep and opened the door.
There were no cries of alarm, so she crept inside. It was very dark. Shutting the door after herself, she looked around. There was a shadowy form resting on the bed, which was elevated on a three-tiered platform. Jaenna resisted the urge to snort. His bed was on a dais, just like his throne? Please.
The man snored lightly. Emboldened, Jaenna slipped to the side, inspecting the tables for any scraps of parchment or envelopes. When she found none, she tried the other table, with a similar lack of success. This, of course, meant that if he had any correspondence with the Imperial Legion, it was likely locked away in that chest at the base of his bed.
Biting back a groan, Jaenna went to check. Sure enough, it was locked tight. She sat back on her heels and considered. She went to check his wardrobes, patting down the pockets of his clothes for any sign of a key. Nothing. Next, she checked the bookshelves, seeing if he might have hidden the key in a secret compartment in one of the books. No luck.
If the Jarl was suspicious enough to lock up his things, he must have the key on his person.
Biting her lip, she crouched beside the Jarl’s bed. She saw his chest rise and fall with his breaths. The blankets were up to his chin. In the shadows of his face, she could see his closed eyes. A soft snore escaped his parted lips.
Jaenna wondered how badly she wanted to know the truth about the Imperial Legion and Ulfric Stormcloak. Bad enough to take this risk?
She had to know what they were all playing at. She wanted to know who was using her and who was benefiting from her confinement in the Palace of the Kings.
She had to know whom she’d kill first. No one betrayed the dragonborn!
Jaenna reached out to touch the edge of the blankets. Ever so slowly, she pulled back the one corner, exposing Ulfric’s bare chest. Angry, rope-like scars blemished his pale skin. Jaenna grimaced in sympathy, thinking for a moment that she could understand the fire fuelling the rebellion in his heart.
After revealing his shoulder, she spied a leather thong around his neck. Dangling from that strip of leather was a silver key.
Now this would be tricky.
If she cut the key off, he would know someone had been snooping through his things. If she tried to untie it from his neck, he would surely feel her touch and awaken. She may be invisible, but she wasn’t armed.
Some things were just not worth it. There had to be a better way. Cursing under her breath, Jaenna stood and backed away from the bed. Maybe she would request some hairpins from Hrothar tomorrow. She could always try to pick the lock—
Her foot slipped off one of the steps. With a sharp inhalation, Jaenna stumbled backwards and landed on the floor. She broke her fall by throwing out a hand, wincing at how the bones in her wrist ground in protest. Tears sprang out of the corners of her eyes.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2e
Date: 2014-05-01 07:29 am (UTC)Jaenna froze. The Jarl’s head rotated slowly, taking in the silent room around him. She could see the glimmer of his narrowed eyes. He threw back the covers and stood, muscled body bare. Jaenna didn’t dare to move as he walked past her sprawled form, his foot almost tramping on her toes.
Ulfric grabbed the cloak that rested on the back of one of the chairs and wrapped it around his shoulders to ward off the chill air. He pulled the thong with the key off his neck and crouched by the chest. Jaenna heard a tell-tale click as the lid sprang open. He hummed as he assured himself no one had robbed him.
A suspicious man, wasn’t he? Jaenna bared her teeth. Rightfully so.
Careful not to make a sound, Jaenna got back to her feet. She tiptoed towards the door. The dragonborn was about to sneak out when she instead paused to look over her shoulder. Ulfric shuffled through a pack of letters. There was one that bore the seal of the Imperial Legion.
An idea came to her. Jaenna tapped her knuckles on the door, loudly.
Ulfric’s head came up. “What is it?” he called. His next words were a low grumble, “At this gods-forsaken hour.” He tossed the letters back into the chest and stood, walking towards the door.
Jaenna lunged forward and snatched up the top envelope, the one marked with the Imperial Seal. Employing all of her considerable sneakiness, she followed Ulfric to the door. As if in a dance, she stepped in time with him, almost touching him. She held the letter well above his head and out of his sight.
The Jarl tightened his cloak around his nakedness and opened the door. He halted when he saw no one in the hall. “What…” he started. He turned to look behind him. He sniffed the air.
The man moved to shut the door. There was a distracted look in his eyes as he stared into the darkness of his room. While he did, Jaenna slipped around him and through the doorway. Holding her breath and watching her feet, she escaped down the hallway.
***
When she returned to her room, undiscovered, Jaenna almost giggled and started clapping her hands. Giddy at her unexpected success, she reached to don her nightdress.
Angry fists hammered on her door, making the boards rattle. Jaenna jumped, the stolen letter still clenched in her hands. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She jammed the night shift over her head. “What is it?” she called, instilling as much ire onto her words as she could muster.
“By the order of the Jarl,” an irritated voice said, “we must know of your whereabouts this night.”
“My whereabouts?” Jaenna replied. She fought to push her arms through the right holes of her nightdress. “I’ve been sleeping in my soft bed, of course. I may be part dragon, but I don’t cozy up in the dungeons because if feels more like a cave.” She threw herself into her bed. Suddenly not sure where she could hide the letter, she tucked it down into the bosom of her nightdress.
“Open up,” the soldier demanded.
“Don’t order me around,” she snapped. “Open the door yourself.”
Even as she said it, Jaenna realized there was one big problem.
She was still invisible.
“Damn it,” she hissed, “damn it, damn it!” She dove under the sheets and tugged them over her head.
Two soldiers entered, one of them bearing a torch. The light filtered through the blankets Jaenna had tucked over her head.
“Barging in on a lady!” Jaenna screeched, her voice high-pitched. “You barbarians!”
“But you said—”
“Are you satisfied? I’m here, now get out!” Jaenna interrupted, the blankets muffling her voice. “I-I’m not decent! I sleep in the nude, you dolts!”
There was an exchange of mutters. Embarrassed coughs. After a moment, the footsteps left her room and the door closed.
Jaenna let out a shaky breath, peeking out from beneath her covers. For the next hour and a half, she couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Not while her body remained translucent. Eventually, though, the potion wore off and she was once again whole and flesh-coloured. No more soldiers barged into the room, and no one came to accuse her of thievery.
***
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2f
Date: 2014-05-01 07:55 am (UTC)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.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2g
Date: 2014-05-01 08:11 am (UTC)After all, Jaenna had no qualms about burning Solitude to the ground. And why not make her actions in Ulfric’s name, so she could ‘have a good chuckle,’ as the Imperial Legion so quaintly put it?
Gods knew she was this close from marching out of Windhelm and doing just that. Oaths and promises be damned.
Last night, Jaenna had wanted to know who was using her. Now she had her answer. Both the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloaks wielded the dragonborn against each other as if she were a piece on a game board.
Jaenna bared her teeth. Their mistake was that she liked games. The time would come when they’d all see how foolish they were. But she wouldn’t rebel. Not yet. Let the civil war rage. Let them plead for her help. She would bide her time. Perhaps she would focus on fulfilling her own duties as dragonborn while people fought over Skyrim like the mangy pack of dogs they were.
Once this war was done with, she could visit whoever rose victorious and show them the real meaning of supremacy. A dragon’s meaning.
While it seemed that neither the Imperial Legion nor the Stormcloaks were honourable, the dragonborn still could be. She was the only person involved in commanding this civil war who still had her honour intact. It was the Nord in her, she supposed. She’d show them all that you could still get what you want without betraying oneself and others.
In the meantime, she considered her oath to the Legion void now that they’d betrayed her trust. Once Ulfric released her from her promise to him, she’d be a free woman again.
Jaenna sat for a time in quiet, letting the hot anger swirl with the cold calculation. When she finally judged that humans would be safe in her presence, she stood and walked to her door. While she was prisoner to her promises, she might as well take full advantage of the services rendered by the palace staff.
She poked her head out of the room and looked up and down the hall. Catching the attention of one of the soldiers, she beckoned him over. “Send for Hrothar,” Jaenna ordered. “I want him to draw me a hot bath and find some more of that lavender soap. Oh – and send someone to clean my room.” Jaenna hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. “Or several someones, if they want to be done by dinner.”
The soldier hurried away. After the ungodly crashing and screeching that had echoed from the dragonborn’s room, it was unlikely there’d be any servants who’d wilfully protest her requests.
***
The next chapter may be a bit of a longer wait. I want to make sure I have enough sections buffered and don’t want to get ahead of myself. Happy reading!
Re: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-01 12:40 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-01 07:08 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-01 09:52 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 2g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-03 09:27 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3a
Date: 2014-05-03 09:14 pm (UTC)She wondered if the Imperial Legion let Ulfric’s messengers go free.
She wondered if the Stormcloaks sent their most esteemed, important members on mundane courier runs.
Screw them both, Legion and Stormcloaks. Jaenna returned to her midday meal, baring her teeth at it. At least Ulfric’s actions she could understand – he had no allegiance with her. It was the Imperial Legion’s betrayal that really got her blood boiling.
Whenever the Jarl let her free of Windhelm, she’d do one of two things. First, she might show up in Solitude for a nice how you do. Alternatively, she might take herself far away from all the blasted politics, from all the people who moaned and complained and wanted her to do petty tasks for them. Let them realize how bloody hard she’d been working for all of them, and beg for her to come back.
Either option would do wonders in soothing her damaged ego.
“So, you are still in the Palace of the Kings,” Ulfric’s low voice said from the entrance to the kitchen.
She didn’t bother turning. “Have things become so boring without me pestering you that you are now returning the favour?” she asked sweetly.
The man walked up behind her. Jaenna’s shoulders stiffened. She felt his fingers touch her hair. In a flash, she leapt off her stool and whipped around. In the same motion, her hand closed around a tall candlestick and brandished it at him. She hoped he didn’t notice the tremor that went through her sore wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“I heard the servants complaining there wasn’t any lavender soap left in the palace,” the man said, lips quirking.
“Oh, feel free to smell my hair and mark me a criminal!” Jaenna exclaimed. Then she cleared her throat. “Uh. A criminal for stealing your soap, that is. Which I’m not. Not a criminal. Because I had the servants bring me some.”
Ulfric gave her a bland look. “Of course. No one accused you of stealing. I have only heard the usual list of complaints: that you were terrorizing this servant or that solider, your general rudeness to the palace staff – you know, that sort of thing.”
“No one made me promise to be courteous,” Jaenna said. Keeping a wary eye on him, she sat back down before her half-eaten meal.
“Should I have?” Ulfric asked.
Jaenna considered. “Yes.”
“Any chance that you will promise that now?”
“On one condition.”
It was Ulfric’s turn to consider. He stepped around the table so he could see her face. “You do realize I am something of an expert in negotiating terms,” he said.
“Do you want to hear the condition or not?” Jaenna snapped.
Ulfric smiled. “Go on.”
“Return my sword,” Jaenna said, “and I will promise not to use it to threaten the servants.”
“But you will still threaten the guards?”
Jaenna fidgeted.
“And you will still threaten the servants and order them around, but without the sword?” Ulfric’s smile grew.
“I just want my sword back,” Jaenna growled.
The Jarl leaned against the table and folded his arms across his broad chest. “You may have your sword back,” he said, “if you agree to not threaten my soldiers or my servants. And if you agree to say ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’ when requesting – not ordering – anyone’s services.”
“No deal.”
Ulfric shrugged. “Then no sword.’
Jaenna shot him an apathetic look, her knuckles blanching around the grip she had on her butter knife.
The Jarl straightened. “Your loss. If you change your mind, come see me later and we will discuss this again. That is, if your pride can allow it.”
After he left the kitchen, Jaenna grabbed her goblet and took a deep drink. Into the cup she muttered, “We’ll see who loses what around here, Stormcloak.”
***
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3b
Date: 2014-05-03 09:27 pm (UTC)The servant paused in tidying up her room. “Most beauteous dragonborn,” he drawled, “I have already anticipated the need to adorn your lovely honey-coloured hair.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two barrettes, dainty silver things with amethysts on the tops.
Jaenna grinned at the old Nord. He had a crooked nose – it must have been broken three times – and silvery hair. There was a sharpness in that gaze. He was at least as intelligent as he was unflappable.
“I suppose you just magically had these lying around somewhere for me?” she said.
“The Jarl said any needs you have should be attended too,” was the servant’s reply.
“Hm. Except to give back my sword.” She put out her hand and Hrothar handed her the barrettes. They were long and thin. No doubt they would make excellent lock picks. Actually, they’d make perfect lock picks.
Jaenna frowned. Interesting.
***
Again, after midnight was Jaenna’s hour of choice. She undressed and drank the second of her three invisibility potions and slipped out of her room. When it came time to cross the main hall back towards the barracks and the dungeons, she moved low to the floor. No one noticed the flicker of thin silver barrettes as she slipped by, keeping to the shadows as best she could.
The barracks was full of sleeping soldiers. Their snoring disguised the sounds of Jaenna picking the lock to the chest she presumed stored all the belongings of prisoners. It creaked open. She paused. No one stirred.
Poking around in the darkness, she found nothing familiar. She scowled. Old, rusty blades, daggers, stolen necklaces and other silly trinkets. But not her sword.
Angry, Jaenna left the barracks as quietly as she’d come.
***
Jaenna found the Jarl the next morning. He was seated on his throne, speaking with the fierce-looking Galmar. The housecarl did not seem too impressed to see her. He moved off to stand nearby with his arms crossed as the dragonborn approached the Jarl.
“Come to discuss the terms of me returning your weapon?” Ulfric said by way of greeting. He glanced at her, the corner of his lips quirking. At her lack of response, he shrugged and looked away. “Mind you, I am not sure where I put it after I moved it out of that chest in the barracks. I had forgotten about it until you reminded me yesterday, you see.”
Jaenna bristled, but she felt a smirk crawling across her own lips. She looked him up and down, wondering how much he knew. What he guessed. Her smirk grew. Did he wonder if she’d seen him in his bed… and when he got out?
Her brain stuck on that thought. She shook her head and managed to reply. “How about you give me my sword,” she said, “and I promise only to threaten you? You’d be a self-sacrificing hero.”
Ulfric snorted. “You will have to try harder than that.”
“It would be maintaining the status quo,” Jaenna protested.
“Exactly. Except you would also have the bonus of your treasured sword back.” He stretched out his legs and reclined on the throne. “I do not see how I would benefit from such a deal.”
“Fine,” Jaenna said. “We’ll speak again when… the terms have changed.” She smirked and turned away, marching back to her own quarters. She heard Galmar grumbling about her as she went, and the Jarl’s dry chuckle.
“Dragonborn,” he called to her. “Did you hear word from the soldiers that someone spotted a dragon north of Windhelm?”
“Oh, did they?” she said over her shoulder. She turned and levelled a glare at him. “Too bad I don’t have a bloody sword and I’m not free to leave the Palace of the Kings.” Her eyes flamed at the reminder of her pride-induced imprisonment. “Besides, I’m through with helping people. Deal with the damned beast yourself!” With a final snarl, she left the main hall and headed for her room, the only place in this palace where she didn’t have to deal with people.
***
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3c
Date: 2014-05-03 09:37 pm (UTC)It wasn’t long before inspiration struck Jaenna. She set about brewing her favourite potion, another one that was milky white like the invisibility draught. For this, she added briar heart and swamp fungal pods. It would need to be potent, though. She giggled to herself. She added imp stools and canis root, just to extend the solution’s effects.
She strained the pale liquid and squeezed out enough from a bundle of cheesecloth to fill a single vial. Holding it up to the firelight, she gave the vial a light tap with her fingernail.
There. Done. She was feeling much better already. She’d feel even better when she had the opportunity to use it on someone.
***
Revenge was still on her mind after midnight. While invisible, Jaenna could have stolen any sword she wanted within the Palace of the Kings. Of course, only stealing one sword in particular would send the right message.
Jaenna once again found herself in the Jarl’s personal chambers, her third potion consumed. Naked but invisible, she wondered how, exactly, she presumed to take the Jarl’s sword halfway across the palace to hide it in her room. It wasn’t as if someone wouldn’t notice the weapon floating through the air.
After a few minutes of consideration, an idea came to her. Jaenna went to the Jarl’s wardrobe and quietly drew out the smallest shirt he had – a thin, white tunic. She slipped it over her head. The sheer fabric hung over her, baggy on her more slender shoulders. The sleeves were nice and billowy. Cut for a man taller than her, the tunic reached mid-thigh.
She hoped the Stormcloaks were a superstitious lot. Although, it wasn’t as if she herself hadn’t seen a ghost before. She slunk over to the Jarl’s bedside and found his sword resting there against the mattress. Taking it inspired no feelings of guilt whatsoever.
Jaenna tiptoed towards the door. Flourishing the Jarl’s weapon in one hand, the one that didn’t still have an achy wrist, she eased out of the room and glided down the narrow corridor. As she went, she questioned her idea to hide Ulfric’s sword in her room. Perhaps she’d hide it elsewhere, instead. While she might fool the guards, no doubt Ulfric would not be so easily convinced that a ghost had taken his blade.
The first soldier to see her in the narrow hallway stood stock-still. His eyes widened, pale moons in the darkness. His hands began to quake as the disembodied figure floated towards him, sword point lowered to almost drag along the stones.
The soldier flattened himself against the stone wall as she whispered by, his breath coming in sharp, horrified gasps.
As she returned to the main floor, Jaenna realized the man was following her, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. Jaenna moved faster.
The soldier shouted something as she ran across the hall. One of the guards watching the palace exit shouted back. “Gods, I see it!”
“A ghost!”
“By the Nine!”
“We can’t leave the doors, by the Jarl’s orders.”
“I’m not following it alone,” the first soldier gibbered.
By then, Jaenna had passed through the doorway that led to the dungeons. She ran into the barracks and knelt by the chest where they stored prisoners’ belongings. It was still unlocked from when she’d rummaged through it last. Flipping it open, she buried the sword at the bottom of the pile of junk. She made sure rusted blades and silver and gold trinkets covered it.
Closing the chest lid, Jaenna glanced over her shoulder. No one had seen her. She stood quickly. The door at the end of the hall slammed open. Men and women startled out of their beds.
“A ghost!” the newcomers shouted, charging down the hall. “It went in here! Did you see – did you—”
“Gods, this can’t be happening!” one of the waking soldiers gasped. She flailed and leapt out of her bed. Two more soldiers burst into the barracks. Everyone stared at Jaenna – or rather, the floating shirt.
It was well past time to disappear. Jaenna breezed past the startled guards and went farther into the dungeons.
“Silver! Does someone have a silver blade?”
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3d
Date: 2014-05-03 09:56 pm (UTC)Once she’d reached the lowest level, Jaenna turned and faced the soldiers. They approached warily. Jaenna drew her arms into the baggy shirt and thrust it up and off her body, ducking downward at the same time. Then she dodged sideways, hiding in her old cell. The white shirt fluttered, lifeless, to the cold stone floor.
There were gasps. Finally, one brave woman strode forward and poked the shirt with her sword. Others followed. One man picked it up. “We should burn it,” he said.
“I’ll stick it in the braziers outside,” another muttered.
“It smells like lavender,” a third soldier said, her voice shaky. “What does it mean?”
Murmuring amongst themselves, the group left the dungeons, shooting wary, fearful looks over their shoulders.
Jaenna waited a solid hour for the men and women to settle down. When she deemed it safe, she snuck out from the dungeons and passed through the barracks. Fortunately, the stone archways in the main hall shielded most of the motion of the opening and closing doors from now-suspicious eyes.
After having led the soldiers on a merry chase around the Palace of the Kings, Jaenna was satisfied.
***
A swarm of disgruntled soldiers rudely awoke Jaenna the following morning. Five men and three women burst into her room, startling the dragonborn awake.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jaenna demanded, sitting up and hugging the covers around her shoulders.
“The Jarl’s sword has been stolen,” one said. They began throwing around her clothes, the books, tossing back the sheets on the other bed.
“What, so he had to send an army to look for it?” Jaenna snapped. “Or are you too scared to come alone?”
The soldiers didn’t rise to the bait. They systematically tore apart her room, piece by piece. They were even more thoroughly destroying the place than when she’d ripped it apart in a rage more than two weeks ago. One of them took her newly shined helm off the shelves and tossed it onto the floor.
“Careful with that!” Jaenna snarled.
The soldiers ignored her. This bunch didn’t scare as easily as the others did. The Jarl must have handpicked them. When nothing was found, they all turned to look at her and the bed.
“It could be under the mattress,” one suggested.
“Or she might be sitting on it,” another said.
No one volunteered to check.
Jaenna’s face heated. She threw off her covers and stood, not at all liking the sets of eyes that followed her. She wore a nightgown, but the material was gauzy at best.
“Well? Check the bed before I Shout you all out of my room,” Jaenna growled, thrusting her shoulders back and daring them to stare.
Two of the soldiers stepped forward. One tossed away her pillow. The other yanked off the blankets. Together, they both lifted the mattress and hauled it to the floor. They found nothing except three innocently empty potion vials.
“Now that you have destroyed my personal quarters,” Jaenna said, her voice low and even, “I want you all to get out.”
As if the order had come from the Jarl himself, the eight soldiers marched right out of her room. Since the last one out neglected to close the door, she Shouted. The door slammed shut. There was a yelp from the hall as the boards slapped the soldier in the ass.
Jaenna stared at the mess of books, blankets, clothes, mattresses, candles, firewood, baskets… everything was a disaster. Her room looked a dozen times worse than when she’d raged through it. Finding some clean clothes amidst the mess was a challenge, but she managed to dress. She couldn’t find her hairbrush. Or her barrettes.
Hrothar came by half an hour later. He tapped on the door his customary three times. At Jaenna’s call, he entered. And stopped dead, dropping the washed clothes he held.
“Good gods,” was all he said, staring at the disaster that was her bedroom.
“I didn’t do this,” Jaenna said before he could leap to that conclusion. “I don’t throw stuff around. I destroy it.” As the ruined books, smashed basket, and broken lantern that had been removed from her room two weeks ago could attest.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3e
Date: 2014-05-03 10:07 pm (UTC)“Thanks.” As he turned to go, Jaenna added, “Also, if you see a soldier with my barrettes, express your condolences, because when I find out who stole them…”
Hrothar sighed and left.
***
After taking her midday meal, Jaenna once again approached the Jarl’s throne. “So, Ulfric. Can I have my sword back today?”
It was hard to read the man’s composed face. “I find it unusual that my own sword has gone missing.”
“Come, now,” Jaenna said. “Don’t be petty. All because your sword is missing doesn’t mean you can’t give me back what is mine.”
Ulfric regarded her. Did the corner of his thin lips twitch? “I do not see why my… guest should have her sword while mine is absent.”
“Oh, so you also don’t like not having your sword, either?” Jaenna smirked. “Annoying, isn’t it? Not knowing where it is?”
Ulfric leaned forward on his throne and folded his hands. His head was level with hers. Now she was certain that his face expressed amusement, although the signs were subtle. “Would you like to know where your sword is? Not that you can have it back, of course.”
Jaenna snorted. “Of course. Fine. Where is it?”
Ulfric inclined his head. He reached for the leather thong around his neck and pulled the key out of his shirt, looking at it almost pensively. He twirled the bit of silver between his fingers. “There is a chest at the end of my bed,” he explained. “I keep it in there. It is locked, though, so you need not worry that your sword is unsafe.”
Jaenna’s eyes widened. Gods, was he teasing her? Had Jaenna ever wondered who had ordered her barrettes taken? The man that surely had them was staring her right in the face. He knew she couldn’t pick the lock, and he was dangling the key before her nose. She had to admit that the longer he participated in her little game, the more her respect for the Jarl replaced her dislike.
“If you are still unconvinced I have taken good care of it,” he added, “I would be pleased to show you your sword if you come by my room.”
Jaenna swallowed. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. He met her gaze squarely.
This was… unexpected.
She licked her lips. Ulfric sat back, slouching again on the throne. “By the way,” he said, “I don’t suppose you saw a ghost last night?”
Jaenna smiled. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my hair barrettes this morning?”
Ulfric only chuckled.
***
Chapter 4 will be up in a day or two! This one was a little short because this was the best place to stop. Some more Ulfric and Jaenna action coming up soon… although whether Jaenna’s opinion of Ulfric improves (and his of her) remains to be decided until much later.
P.S. Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I’m so happy to hear people are enjoying the story and are liking Jaenna’s characterization. <3 I love how you anons were able to see how Jaenna’s pride has trapped her and how her understanding of the Stormcloaks is changing. I also look forward to her upcoming display of awesome draconic vengeance! You inspire me to keep writing. :)
Re: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 3e
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-05 05:22 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4a
Date: 2014-05-05 10:22 pm (UTC)“This time,” Jaenna muttered to herself, “I’ll make sure the bloody potion doesn’t last all night.”
Omitting nirnroot, the dragonborn made another brew of invisibility potions. She refilled the three vials she’d initially procured from the alchemy lab, hiding them in her pockets. If the Jarl suspected her presence as he had the first time, at least she wouldn’t still be invisible when his soldiers came to tear apart her room.
Returning to her bedroom after dinner, she found that Hrothar had arranged for the servants to set the place back to rights. If anything, the room looked even tidier than when she’d claimed it as her personal quarters. Hrothar was quite the taskmaster and a stickler for cleanliness, it would seem.
There was little to occupy her time with during the day, and the sun had yet to set. Jaenna busied herself with converting a thick book into a means of storing her potions. If the guards came to search her rooms again, stuffing them under her pillow wouldn’t cut it. The first time they’d searched, the vials had been empty.
Using a knife she’d stolen from the kitchens, Jaenna sawed out a hole in the middle of one of the books, grimacing as she destroyed the poor thing. It was a stupid story anyway. Eventually, she was able to stuff two of the three vials inside and close it, returning it to the shelf. The third vial she would use that night to reclaim her sword.
Ulfric had given her a challenge, if she’d ever heard one. Maybe more than that. She smiled to herself and sat at the window, watching the moons move into the sky and the stars pop out from behind the clouds.
When all was quiet and most in the Palace of the Kings slept, Jaenna once again stripped her clothes and downed her invisibility potion. The idea of finding that torn up white shirt from last night and running around scaring the guards tempted her, but she refrained. She had a mission to take care of.
Now familiar with the pattern of soldiers in the halls, it was a simple task to find her way back to the Jarl’s personal chambers. She entered. Closing the door softly behind her, Jaenna let her eyes adjust to the near darkness. Slowly, she tiptoed over to Ulfric’s bed.
He slept as before, on his left side facing her. His breaths were unusually quiet. Jaenna narrowed her eyes. Resting on the second pillow was a pair of silver barrettes adorned with amethysts. Her eyes flicked back to the sleeping man. Watching him for any signs of alertness, she reached out and picked up the two barrettes.
Mindful of the stairs this time, she backed away from his bed, moving around towards the chest.
“My, my,” Ulfric’s deep voice surprised her. “I did not know barrettes could fly.”
Jaenna gasped and dropped them both. They bounced on the floor, and she dove to the side.
Ulfric leapt out of the bed towards where she’d crouched a moment before, his arms closing on empty air. His bare skin was a pale blur in the darkness.
Jaenna covered her mouth and nose with her hand, stifling her breathing. She worried her thundering heart would give her away.
Ulfric froze and listened intently. When he heard nothing, he looked around himself. And sniffed. He took a step in her direction.
Jaenna scuttled backwards, around the bed. Ulfric followed her, tracking the sounds of her hands and feet brushing against the floorboards. She crouched on the second step by his bed and froze again.
“I know you are there,” the Jarl rumbled. He reached out into the darkness like a blind man, testing the empty space around him.
Jaenna held her breath as he walked by. The breeze of his body passing an inch away stirred her hair.
Ulfric prowled around the room, between her and the doorway as he checked beside the bookcases, under the tables, behind the chairs. “You know,” he said, his voice warm with amusement, “when I invited you to assure yourself that your weapon was safe, I meant during the day.”
Oh, did you? Jaenna thought. She lifted one eyebrow. It didn’t sound like that to me.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4b
Date: 2014-05-05 10:32 pm (UTC)So he’d guessed what she’d been up to? Figured.
Ulfric was on the opposite side of the bed now. “You enjoy defying me when you can,” he murmured. “And you cannot resist letting me find out about your every little infraction. It must be a matter of pride.”
He was a fine one to talk! He’d been playing this little game just as much as she had. Jaenna almost snorted. She wished she could tell him how stupid he would look if a guard entered and asked who he was speaking when no one appeared to be there.
Ulfric crouched on the other side of the bed, brushing his arm beneath it to see if she hid there. Then he crawled back onto the mattress, still feeling the air with wide swishes of his arms. Jaenna swallowed as his head and reaching arm appeared into the air above her.
The Jarl hesitated. It looked as if he would turn away… then he whipped back around and extended a hand out towards her.
Jaenna yelped as his fingers closed over her shoulder. She managed to wrench away, but Ulfric leapt after her. His weight crashed into her. His arms and legs pinned her limbs. The stairs dug into her belly. She let out a hiss of pain and anger at the indignity of her situation.
“Apologies,” the man said. “But you were not exactly volunteering to acknowledge your presence.” He eased off, but refused to let go of her arm.
Jaenna stood, holding herself away from him. He might not be able to see her, but… she could see all of him. Couldn’t he have at least had the decency to put on some small clothes considering he’d practically goaded her into venturing up here to reclaim her weapon?
“What gave me away?” Jaenna asked.
“That soap you use,” the Jarl responded. He tugged her closer. “Why are you really here?”
“To get back my sword.”
The man grunted. “Why at night? I am sure there is plenty of opportunity for covert affairs during your – dare I say it? – boring daylight hours.”
It was lucky she was invisible, because Jaenna could feel a blush heating her cheeks. “It’s much more satisfying stealing from under your nose,” she offered. His astuteness was as attractive as his well-toned figure, the physique of a warrior.
“Maybe it will be just as satisfying being caught?” Ulfric suggested, pulling her even closer. His other hand ran down her back, causing her to shiver. When his hand reached the base of her spine, he pulled her body against his.
Jaenna expelled a breath at the sensation of skin on skin, at the light whisper of hair on his chest. The heat between his legs. She swallowed again. The cold silver of the key he mischievously wore around his neck burned into the skin above her breast like a brand.
Ulfric dipped his head against her hair, inhaling deeply. How strange it must be, not seeing her at all, yet feeling. “You have been troublesome, terrorizing even my staunchest warriors,” he murmured. His breath tickled her ear. “I think it is time I do something about that. I cannot have it said that I do not discipline unruly guests.”
“Guests?” Jaenna said. She leaned against his sturdy frame, considering his unspoken offer. She’d given up on politics. Who cared what the Imperial Legion thought of her now, consorting with the enemy? Who was the enemy, now, after what they’d done? “I am no guest. I am your prisoner.” She drew back and glared up into his face.
The man’s eyes gleamed, as if he could sense her gaze. “If I wanted you to be my prisoner, you would know it, dragonborn.”
“Forced guest, then,” she amended. “And I have a name. It’s Jaenna.”
Ulfric’s hand released her arm and brushed down her side until both of his hands rested on her hips. He tugged them flush against his. There was no mistaking his desire. “Jaenna,” he said, drawing out her name as if tasting it.
He lifted her and swung her onto the bed. “Even the dragonborn needs to be put in line, sometimes,” he murmured. This was followed by a chuckle. He was provoking her again, saying things he knew would make her blood boil.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4c
Date: 2014-05-05 10:38 pm (UTC)Ulfric stood nearby in the darkness, unmoving. He was giving her the opportunity to flee his bed, but she only straightened out on her back and made herself comfortable. The effect was lost due to the translucency of her skin. “And sometimes a dishonourable Jarl needs to be taught a lesson,” she countered archly. “But by all means, you go first.”
Ulfric followed her onto the bed, questing out to find where she lay. Once certain of her position, he reached over the other side of his bed and found his discarded trousers, jerking the belt free of the loops. Jaenna eyed him as he took one of her wrists and secured it to the bedpost.
He probably wanted to make sure he knew where she was, but she teased him anyway. “Worried I’ll give you a hard time?”
“This is the sort of lack of respect,” he said, “that I will punish you for.”
“This is punishment?” Jaenna asked. “Are you really that bad in bed?”
Ulfric chuckled and bent down to claim her lips, blocking any further attempts at rudeness. His coarse beard brushed against her cheeks. Jaenna kissed him back, biting his lip and causing the Jarl to growl a warning.
His tongue pushed into her mouth, twirling with hers. With her free hand, Jaenna reached up tugged at his hair. Ulfric’s own hand circled her narrow throat. She shivered at its warmth and a sudden feeling of vulnerability.
But his fingers did not tighten on her neck. Rather, they slid down her body, feeling a form he could not see. His palm glided over one breast and squeezed lightly. He tweaked her nipple, causing Jaenna to gasp. He caught her breath with his mouth as his clever fingers continued to tease the tightening bud.
Ulfric’s lips left hers as he kissed down her neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin. Jaenna closed her eyes at the swell of pleasure caused by his larger frame above hers, his hands and lips moving over her body with a promise of what was to come.
The man kissed a moist trail along her collarbone, then down to trace the curve of her untended breast. His lips fastened on the nipple and sucked lightly, his teeth pulling at the skin. Jaenna let out a cry and Ulfric pulled away. “Quiet,” he ordered. Without waiting to see if she would oblige, his head ducked down again.
Ulfric sucked and licked until her nipple ached and desire twisted low in Jaenna’s belly. She tried to pull his mouth to her other breast, but he was not swayed. She groaned and arched her hips into his, grinding against the hot, heavy weight of his cock.
He inhaled sharply. Jaenna opened her eyes to see him meet her gaze. The potion was wearing off. Sure enough, she could see her flushed body in the dimness of the room. Eyeing her hungrily, Ulfric turned his lips to her other breast. His hand went back to the first, rubbing torturous circles around the darkened, sensitive nub.
Mindful of the man’s wise order for quiet, Jaenna could only whimper as Ulfric’s lips eventually left her nipple and continued venturing down her body. The muscles in her belly quivered at the light brush of his hot mouth. One big hand ran down her thigh and hooked her leg over his shoulder. Jaenna’s muscles tensed, her breath quickening.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4d
Date: 2014-05-05 10:44 pm (UTC)Her muscles tensed as Ulfric introduced a hand, calloused fingers teasing her slick entrance in ever-shrinking spirals. She bucked her hips, trying to hurry him, which only made him start all over again. Biting back a growl, she held still. His lips returned to her center of pleasure, tugging gently, his tongue applying firm pressure.
One finger slowly pushed inside as his mouth continued to glide over her. Jaenna thrust her hips forward, drawing his finger deeper. “More,” she whispered.
Ulfric withdrew and pushed two digits into her this time, stretching her inner walls. He began to slide them in and out, his clever tongue still dragging breathy gasps from her lips. Her thighs clamped around his head, her hips rolling against him.
His fingers found the spot inside her that made her moan, and then continued to push against her there, again and again. Molten need coiled in Jaenna’s muscles, causing her belly to clench. Her breaths turned to pants, interspersed with half-formed words that might have been pleas.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her hand falling from Ulfric’s hair to twist in the sheets. She jerked against him, feeling the heat building, building, a pressure needing to be released—
Ulfric abruptly pulled back. His fingers slipped out of her, leaving a slick trail down the inside of her thigh. Jaenna let out an inarticulate cry of protest. Ulfric crawled back up her body to kiss her, cutting the sound off.
Orgasm foiled, Jaenna twisted her head away. “Don’t stop,” she groaned.
Ulfric gave her a wicked grin.
“Two can play at that game,” Jaenna said hoarsely.
Her hand slid between their bodies and wrapped around his hard cock. It throbbed in her hand, and Ulfric let out a groan. She stroked him once, and then ran her thumb over the sensitive crown. “None of that,” the Jarl managed. He wrestled her hand off him and up to the bedpost. He undid the belt and refastened it, this time binding both her wrists.
Jaenna pouted at him. “You’ll regret this,” she warned.
Ulfric smirked, bowing his head to breathe against her cheek. His tongue flicked her earlobe, and he kissed along her throat. Jaenna lifted her chin, letting his lips suck gently at the thin skin.
The man’s body shifted. He lay down on her, his hard chest pressing against her breasts, his abdomen flattening against her own. Then he shifted upward, the head of his cock nudging her slick entrance, sliding against her.
Jaenna let out a strangled groan. She’d been so busy with the Imperial Legion, it had been a while since she’d been with a man. Jaenna wanted to grasp his hips, to control how far and how fast he entered her, but that was not an option. Ulfric lifted himself on one elbow, with one hand reaching down to curve around her rump. Then he leaned forward, slowly pushing into her, but only barely.
Jaenna’s inner muscles clenched and then relaxed around him. Ulfric’s lips found hers again, his tongue plundering her mouth. He eased into her a bit more, a groan rumbling out of his chest. His muscles coiled, and his hips crushed against hers, thrusting himself deep inside her.
The man’s mouth stifled Jaenna’s exclamation. He pulled out and plunged in again, his hot breath spilling across her face. Jaenna pressed her breasts against him, tugging at her wrists but unable to free her hands.
Ulfric angled his hips and leaned back, his hands lifting her bottom. His hot gaze found hers. It was enough to make her stomach clench. He put a finger to his lips. Jaenna swallowed and clamped her mouth closed.
Ulfric pushed into her again, filling her. He rocked against that delicious spot that made Jaenna want to scream. Her breathes came harsh and fast. One of the man’s hands left her hip and traced downward, his knuckles dragging over her clit.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4e
Date: 2014-05-05 10:48 pm (UTC)She fought against the belt that bound her wrists with vigour, but still could not free herself. All she wanted to do was to grab his hips and tug him along faster. She settled for grinding against him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She didn’t trust him to keep going when she neared her peak. All her attention focused on the meeting of their bodies, her breasts rising and falling with her sharp gasps.
Sure enough, the wicked man removed his hands and untangled himself. He drew out of her slowly, leaving Jaenna’s inner muscles shuddering and clenching. If she could just touch herself, just for a second, she knew climax would hit her.
“You’re evil,” Jaenna gasped.
Ulfric lay back upon her, the hard ridge of his cock bobbing against her thigh. His tongue teased her lips. He paused. “It is fair punishment for all the trouble you have been causing,” he said.
“I’ll really show you trouble if you unbind my wrists,” Jaenna promised.
The man smiled. His hands kneaded her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the tight peaks. “Not again,” she groaned. “Stop now or finish it.”
Ulfric pinched her nipples, eliciting a sharp inhalation from the woman beneath him. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips soft and moist, reminding her of what it felt like when his mouth focused on her breasts and between her legs.
“You know,” Jaenna gasped, twisting her face away. “I thought that torture device in the dungeons might have been a relic from your predecessor. But now seeing firsthand your predisposition towards torture, I’m sure you had it installed yourself.”
Ulfric laughed quietly. He nuzzled her neck. His hands slid up her arms. Goose bumps jumped out all over her skin as his warm palms glided over soft flesh. Fingers teased the thin skin on the insides of her elbows, travelling back down to her armpits, and then under the swell of her breasts.
“Just take me now,” Jaenna enticed, squirming beneath his feathery touch. “You’re supposed to be dishonourable. Why are you holding true to your vow put me in line?”
“Right,” Ulfric murmured. “How could I forget?”
His hand threaded through her hair, bring her face close so his lips could crush over hers. His other hand anchored her hips as his knee pushed between her legs again. He pressed himself against her, a hot, throbbing pressure between her legs. Jaenna nipped at the man’s lips, a warning for him to cease his teasing.
Ulfric thrust into her, opening her up all over again. Jaenna let out a sigh as he rolled his hips. The sighs turned to gasps as he increased his pace, driving in and out. The man bit back groans, and Jaenna craned her neck to capture his lips. She ached to run her hands over the muscles that flowed above her, to feel all that delicious strength directed towards their shared pleasure.
Every heated stroke reached her core, sending Jaenna’s thoughts reeling. She surged upward, meeting his thrusts. Her legs wrapped around his torso, heels digging into the hard muscles of his back and pulling him deeper into her. Jaenna’s body went rigid. Behind her eyes, stars exploded. Her walls clamped down on him, pulsing. Ulfric drew in a harsh breath and sealed her mouth with his lips, drinking in her scream.
He thrust into her another half a dozen times, riding out her orgasm. Jaenna’s entire body remained tensed, the man’s every movement drawing out her pleasure until the friction was unbearable. With a deep groan, Ulfric shuddered and emptied himself inside her.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4f
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-17 11:48 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6e
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-17 11:55 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-18 12:03 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-20 04:29 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:59 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-20 04:07 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:02 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-20 07:35 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:03 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-05-20 10:09 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:07 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-03 02:57 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 6f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:15 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7a
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 04:51 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7b
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 04:52 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7c
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:01 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7d
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:02 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7e
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:10 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:12 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:16 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7h
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:21 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7i
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:27 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 05:33 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 06:57 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-05 01:32 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-06 05:12 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-07 11:33 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-17 05:53 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-19 06:11 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-20 04:18 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-21 07:46 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7j
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-21 05:24 pm (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-24 02:28 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8a
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 03:32 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8b
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 03:41 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8c
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 03:50 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8d
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 03:58 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8e
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 04:15 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8f
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 04:23 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 04:35 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 05:18 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 07:39 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-25 06:37 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 05:03 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 09:25 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 8g
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 11:08 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9a
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 11:26 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9b
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 11:41 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9c
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-28 11:53 pm (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9d
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 12:26 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9e
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 12:30 am (UTC) - Expand“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 12:52 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 12:59 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 01:44 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 05:07 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-29 10:57 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2014-06-30 03:33 pm (UTC) - ExpandRE: “Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 9f/9
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2017-05-05 10:39 am (UTC) - Expand