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BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
>Please post your prompts with the paired characters and any notable kinks/trigger warnings in the title.
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>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
>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 9b
Date: 2014-06-28 11:41 pm (UTC)Everyone continued to work well until after nightfall. Exhaustion tugged at Jaenna’s heels. She returned to the Palace of the Kings later than most of the others did, still looking around for her blasted sword. Giving it up as lost in the chaos, she disappeared into the empty kitchen to find something to eat.
After finishing a late dinner, she went back out into the main hall. It was disturbingly quiet. One soldier stood at the entrance. She could hear snoring emanating from the barracks. The dragonborn certainly wasn’t the only one fatigued by the day’s intense events.
Despite her tiredness, Jaenna’s thoughts still swirled around the image in her mind of Ulfric’s heated gaze, following her all afternoon while they both worked. She wouldn’t be able to sleep without going to him. After all, he was the reason she had returned to Windhelm, although her hate of the Imperial Legion had encouraged her to stay and fight.
No guards challenged Jaenna as she headed for the Jarl’s room. Ulfric’s bedchamber was almost pitch-black, but Jaenna’s glowing eyes pierced through the darkness. Ulfric sat on the edge of his bed, wearing only his trousers. His armour, cleaned and shined (by Hrothar, no doubt), rested nearby on a rack.
He stood at the sound of her entering and closing the door. In two big strides, he crossed the room and wrapped her into an embrace. She sank against the delightful warmth of his bare torso. “You made a timely appearance today, my dear,” Ulfric murmured into her neck.
Jaenna let herself relax, enjoying the feeling of his sturdy arms around her. She was so glad he was alive, and that she was alive to be here with him. “I consider dramatic entrances something of an art,” she sniffed.
He chuckled, his breath stirring the frazzled hair by her ear. “Does this mean you have chosen to join us?”
Jaenna knew what he meant. Had she decided she wanted to be a Stormcloak? Jaenna drew back, scowling. “No. It just means I like you. And that I hate the Imperial Legion.” After everything that had transpired in the past weeks, she didn’t think she could ever stomach being subservient to another’s leadership again.
Ulfric sighed and moved his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders, trying to hide his disappointment. “Look, I understand.” He was quiet for a moment. “I know your reasons for destroying the Imperial Legion differ from mine. Nonetheless, I appreciate what you have done to help my cause all the same. Thank you.”
Jaenna nodded once, quickly. She hoped that question hadn’t been the only one smoldering in his eyes all day. “So,” she said, to change the subject, “I don’t suppose you found my sword in all the mess downstairs?”
Ulfric gave her a wolfish smile. “I am holding it hostage.”
Jaenna smirked at him. “You’re lucky I’m too bloody tired to go looking for it right now.”
Ulfric swept his arm towards the bed. “Care to join me?” he asked, his eyes alighting again. Jaenna let him pull her in that direction. Once she stood beside his bed, Ulfric’s big hands moved over her body almost tenderly, unbuckling and removing her worn armour. She let out a soft sight as its weight left her, piece by piece.
While she was still in the clothes she wore under her armour, Ulfric tried to pull her into the bed. Jaenna wouldn’t have any of that. She shrugged them off first. They were sweaty, grimy, and bloody. They had no place in a bed.
Then she collapsed against Ulfric’s broad chest, resting her head where she could hear his heartbeat. There was a dimple on his skin, a scar to remind him of the near-fatal wound from that day. Thanks to the long hours of travel, battle, chaos, sorrow, and reconstruction, Jaenna fell asleep before she could think much else.
***