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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, 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.