Frina rolled over and nearly fell out of her bunk.
She blinked several times, looking around in that state of exquisite confusion that sometimes happened to people who had gone to bed in a different place for the first time – or for the first time in a long while. It took a moment to register that she was in her own apartment in Windhelm; and once she realized that she giggled.
“Gotten too used to the Jarl’s bed, is that it, Frina?” she said aloud, laughing at herself. She stretched, not quite ready to leave the warm comfort of the bunk, and smiled. It had been a couple of days since Ulfric had said that he needed to work and would likely be up very late consulting with Galmar over matters he’d been avoiding and neglecting by spending every hour with her. Frina had come here that evening, to her equally-neglected home, and had found that she was in fact exhausted. She’d tried to stay awake, to work on a bit of alchemy, to read a few pages of a book; but her eyes had closed and she’d slept long and deep.
She’d spent the time since then taking care of little, relatively unimportant things. She’d gone to Oengul and purchased a new set of armor to replace the scaled armor that had been ruined in the raid on Japhet’s Folly. This new set was also scaled armor, but boasted a horned cap on one shoulder that both added to the set’s level of protection and made her look, or so she imagined, slightly more menacing, as befitted the Jarl’s own Stormblade. Even people who had no real reason to know who she was, such as the beggar woman who often lingered near the graveyard, called her that as she moved around the city.
She’d checked in with Nurelion’s former assistant Quintus Navale, now the owner of the shop, to share her condolences and do a bit of business. He’d been happy to purchase some of the potions she’d made in order to practice – not for very many coins, but it was something at least, and she felt as though she’d improved her skills. She’d worked on her clothing, and read some of the books she’d collected in her travels, and spent a few hours at the tavern listening to the local bard while resting her tired and bruised limbs. All the while she’d waited to see whether or not Ulfric would ask for her attendance in his court again.
It’s possible that he won’t, Frina, she had told herself. Perhaps he tired of you once the novelty wore off. But she smiled even as she had those thoughts; she didn’t really believe that was the case. It seemed to her that they had connected, she and Ulfric, in ways that transcended their differences in station, age, and in experience.
She finally pushed herself out of the bed and made her way down the stairs to set water to boiling for some tea. And she smiled to herself again, thinking about what had happened since she’d returned from Japhet’s Folly.
Frina and Ulfric had spent more hours in his quarters than they had anywhere else. He seemed not to want to leave her side, or her to leave his. After the first few hours of mutual discovery he’d had his people coming and going to take care of their every need while barely stepping out of the room to do those things only he could do. She’d listened to him as he spoke to her of his much longer life, his many experiences in times before she’d been alive and people and places she had never seen. She’d found herself at times wrapped in a covering from his bed listening to tales of the Greybeards, laughing when he told her irreverent stories about these people she’d always thought of as nearly divine. From the point of view of a young boy they’d been stuffy old men; and he had dozens of amusing things to share about them including the fact that Arngeir snored loudly enough to knock things from the shelves nearby. Ulfric had seemed to take delight in her laughter.
And she had made him laugh. It wasn’t that she had a vast repertoire of experiences to draw from; but in the years since her sister and then her parents had passed Frina had found that a good sense of humor had buoyed her up when other things had not. She saw things differently than some, and had a quick mind for finding the amusing in what Ulfric told her. There was nothing quite like Ulfric’s laugh, she thought. It was deep, and joyful, and burst from him with all the enthusiasm and power of one of his Shouts. She’d been as happy to hear this laugh from this otherwise deathly serious man as she’d ever been at any time in her life. His green eyes would crinkle at the corners, and sparkle with life; and she loved seeing the look on his face when the laughter came. She had thought about the horrible things he’d lived through, the betrayals he’d endured that most people knew nothing about, and had decided that if she did nothing else in her lifetime, making Ulfric laugh would be enough for her. They had talked, and laughed, for hours on end.
And they had loved.
Frina had been more than a bit nervous about whether or not she, a girl of less than half his age, could possibly satisfy a man known throughout Tamriel. Oh, she knew she was pretty enough. Everyone told her how much she resembled her sister Briinda, and her memories of Briinda were of a beautiful woman. She’d been tiny, a little pixie of a thing who was nearly dwarfed by Roggi; Frina, on the other hand was tall and willowy. It was her inexperience that had made her nervous. Ulfric must have had many partners during his life, this she knew without his saying a word to her about it. Somehow, though, Ulfric made her feel as though she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched, a jewel to be treasured. He had gently coaxed feelings from her that she didn’t know she was capable of feeling.
As the kettle came to a boil and began screeching its noisy alarm, Frina smiled yet again. She poured the hot water over the leaves and inhaled the delectable fragrance of the tea she’d chosen, smiling in the small space Ulfric had given her as her own. Her mind turned to thoughts of the one person alive in the world who she considered family.
She could see Roggi’s caring but sad expression as he’d told her to be careful with Ulfric. She knew he would be worried if he knew what was going on. And yet, he’d also said “I know what it’s like, trust me.”
He does know what it’s like to be in love, I know he does. He was married to Briinda and now he’s married to Dardeh. He does know what it’s like. He will understand.
She could still hear Briinda, on that day when she’d taken Frina aside and told her about being married to Roggi. “Don’t tell anyone yet, Frina,” she’d said. “Roggi and I got married while we were in Cyrodiil.” Frina had needed to clap a hand over her own mouth to keep from squealing. “We’re going to surprise Ma and Da with another wedding in Skyrim. I love him so much, Frina. He’s such a good man. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Her eyes had been shining, her face alight with the smile that filled it; and Frina would never forget the joy her sister had brought into the room because of it.
That’s what I feel like, sister. I can only hope that Ulfric feels the same way about me.
And that, of course, was the question that kept poking at the bubble of joy she’d been in for the past days, threatening to pop it. There wasn’t any question that Ulfric had enjoyed her company. They’d had a wonderful time together. She felt as though she’d made a friend, as well as a lover. She was certain that he at the very least considered her a friend. It was the external situation they found themselves in that made her uneasy.
Frina sat with her tea, thinking about everything that had happened to her since she’d returned to Skyrim. She’d joined with the Stormcloaks for the purpose of winning the civil war and to put Ulfric on the throne. Even Roggi and Dardeh, two people who had no problems saying they personally disliked Ulfric, both agreed that he was Skyrim’s best hope for enduring the next inevitable wave of Thalmor aggression.
It’s going to happen. He and Galmar said so, even before the fires in Solitude were out. We’ve had a short time to catch our breath and think about the future, but we all know that they’ll be looking for the earliest opportunity to strike again, before all the wounds are healed.
There was no Emperor, at present, Titus Mede II having been assassinated aboard his ship some long while ago now; that had made the matter of settling the civil war even more urgent. It seemed likely that as soon as a new High King was named in Skyrim that issue would be the next hurdle to leap. She’d heard all of them muttering about it under their breaths, even more frequently once news had come that Elisif of Solitude had remarried. That news had shocked everyone; it had been such a short time, relatively speaking, since Torygg perished that nobody had expected anything of the sort.
He’s a powerful man, Elisif’s new husband. He must be, to be the Archmage of the College. And now he’s married to Elisif. There’s a good chance the Moot will want her as High Queen because they are a strong couple, a royal family. Especially if Elisif has a child to raise.
And from there it’s potentially just a step to being named Emperor, if a person is powerful and influential enough.
Frina frowned. They had fought, and bled, and altogether too many of them had died on behalf of Ulfric – a true Nord to be king of the Nord’s homeland. It simply wouldn’t do for anything else to happen.
She stood and paced the room. Something that Roggi had said, seemingly in anger, kept nagging at her. Ulfric would say or do anything at all to get what he wanted, he’d told her. Several times he’d warned her against Ulfric, sadly, even. But Ulfric had admitted to her that he’d tried to drive a wedge between Roggi and Briinda, and that he regretted having done so. Surely that honesty counted for something, didn’t it?
Ulfric had also made it a point to mention that Elisif was of child-bearing age. That was something else that kept nagging at Frina. She didn’t know Elisif, but she was positive that the woman must hate the man responsible for her late husband’s death. To what lengths would she have gone to put obstacles in Ulfric’s way? Would she go as far as to become pregnant simply to demonstrate the continuance of her line when he had none of his own?
Frina rested her hand on her own stomach and stared down at it.
Would Ulfric go so far as to get himself an heir simply because of the throne? Do I know him well enough to know that?
She ground her teeth, thinking about it. She had been inexperienced, that was true enough; but a fool she was not. She wouldn’t know, not for at least two or three weeks, whether there was a possibility they had started a new life. If they had, well – she had been taught several ways to deal with such an event, one of which would entail staying here in this apartment and raising a child alone. She thought about Ulfric holding her near, though, murmuring words to her that seemed as close to a confession of love as she’d ever had, and wanted to believe that he would never abandon her. Even so, she had to admit that she couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t reject her if she had become pregnant. It had been days, after all, and he hadn’t called for her.
Frina sipped more tea, and wandered over to her alchemy table, looking into the storage for ingredients and pondering what sorts of things she could brew with them. She started grinding things up, the repetitive motion of the pestle against the mortar taking her mind off the problem at hand. She lost track of time. It wasn’t until the alembic was distilling the mixture that she realized that she’d come to a decision.
I don’t care. It doesn’t matter whether he loves me or not. I love him. I loved him as my king before I knew him as a man, and I love him now as a man and a king. I will do whatever I need to do. Our people will not have died in vain if I have anything to say about it. The Thalmor will continue trying to remove the worship of our mighty lord Talos from this land, and if I can help prevent that in any way – well that is what I have lived for ever since I was a small girl.
When the knock on her door came later in the morning Frina smiled to herself and took a deep breath before opening it. As she had expected it was one of the servants from the palace, the one who had come to remove the dirty towels from Ulfric’s quarters after he had washed Frina’s face. She’d been sent to take Frina back to Ulfric.
“He wants to see you, my lady,” the girl said to her. “Please come.”
Frina smiled at her. I wonder whether she’s afraid of him being angry if I don’t. If she’s in awe of him enough to call me ‘my lady’ again, maybe so.
“Alright,” she told the girl. “Let’s go see what he’s up to today.”
The girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Frina chuckled to herself as she followed the girl up the broken steps to the palace. This must be what Dardeh feels like when people insist on calling him Dragonborn. Simple people pushed by circumstances into extraordinary roles.
Ulfric looked up and smiled as she walked down the long room toward him. He rose and descended the dais to meet her. He took her hands and raised one of them to his mouth, kissing it.
“Stormblade. The time since we last spoke seems very long, although I know it has been only a few days. Would you come with me? I wish to discuss something with you, privately.”
“Of course, my Jarl,” she said, grinning as he rolled his eyes at her. Even people born into their roles get tired of the titles after awhile, I suppose.
She followed Ulfric through the hall and into the stairwell, sensing but doing her best to ignore the knowing smirks that the various guards were attempting to hide. Everyone there knew she’d spent long days sequestered in Ulfric’s bedchamber, and Frina could only imagine what they thought.
But I don’t care. She could feel Ulfric’s energy even as she followed him up the stairs, and knew that he could feel hers. She could picture it even now: she would step through the door into his chambers; he would shut the door behind them and turn to her and they would lose themselves in each other in the almost ravenous way they had spent those previous days.
To her complete surprise, Ulfric ushered her into the room and indicated that she should take a seat at the table. He neither embraced her, nor kissed her; instead he behaved the way he had the first time she had taken a meal with him here. Frina’s heart sank.
What is this? Is he pushing me away after all?
It didn’t seem likely, not the way he had greeted her from his throne. Still, she was thrown completely off-balance and felt icy fingers of dread creeping up around her heart.
He took the opposite seat and poured them each a goblet of wine, then sipped at his own and stared at her for a moment. Finally he cleared his throat.
“I hope you have been well, these past few days.”
What is this formality? Aren’t we past this?
“Y-yes, sir, I have,” she stammered, not quite knowing what she should be saying. “I was… more tired than I realized.” In spite of herself, she couldn’t keep from grinning at him.
Ulfric chuckled. “Yes, I will admit that I was more than ready to sleep once I was finished with the more pressing business at hand. I am not as young as I once was.”
“You seemed young enough to me,” Frina murmured, hoping she wasn’t crossing some line.
Ulfric laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. But let me get to the point. I wish to speak to you about your future,” he said, averting his gaze from her face and seeming to examine his goblet very closely.
“Sir?”
“Ulfric,” he said with a small smile. “Not sir. Not unless we are in public, my lady.”
In spite of herself, Frina burst out laughing. “My lady, indeed. Point taken, Ulfric. But I thought we had already talked about my future. That was why you gave me the apartment, yes?”
He nodded, but reached across the table to take her hand. He still didn’t look at her directly; he just squeezed her hand gently.
“Yes. At the time that was all I felt prepared to discuss. But now I would like you to consider another proposition.”
He rose and walked across the room to his desk, opening a strongbox atop it. Frina watched in confusion as he pulled an item out of the box – what, exactly, she couldn’t tell – and then reached up behind his neck. He returned to stand before her, and pulled her up from her chair, holding her hands.
At first, Frina couldn’t break her gaze away from his. He was staring at her intently, his expression giving no clue as to what was going on behind his green eyes; and she could feel that he was nervous, waiting for her. She forced herself to look down at his neck, to see what he’d fastened around it.
Ulfric was wearing an amulet of Mara.
Frina shivered. Her heart began to beat faster.
“An… amulet of Mara, Ulfric?” she managed to whisper, looking back up at his face.
He reached up with one hand and cupped her face. “Yes,” he said quietly. “An amulet of Mara. I am unmarried, and have been a lonely man until very recently. I would be so no longer – that is, if you are interested in me. What do you say, Stormblade? Would you join your fortunes to that of the Jarl of Windhelm?”
“Ulfric, I – I…” Frina stammered. “What are you asking me?”
Ulfric leaned forward and brushed the lightest of kisses across her mouth.
“Surely you know what the amulet of Mara means, even though you lived in High Rock for many years.” He sighed heavily. “Frina. I know that I am an old man, and that I will likely be in Sovngarde many years before you, even if the gods are gracious to us. I am an old soldier, and set in my ways, and I have a poor temper. You have seen that. I am used to being obeyed, and do not suffer fools gladly.”
He dropped her hand and turned away from her, taking several paces toward the windows and then returning to her. Once again he took her hands. “In spite of my station in life I haven’t a great deal to recommend myself as a suitor to a young and beautiful woman. And yet you have brought me laughter and a great deal of joy since you arrived in my court. I… simply would not be without that again, if you will have me.” His voice was quiet, and his gaze intense.
Frina stared at him. She felt the sting of salt behind her eyelids and ground her teeth. She refused to cry in front of him yet again.
Oh Ulfric. I have wanted to hear these words from you, so very much. And yet…
“You hesitate. What can I do to reassure you?” Ulfric looked almost hurt, his expression almost pleading.
“Ulfric, I…” Damn, I don’t know how to approach this.
“What is it?”
Frina looked down at the calloused hands holding her own and smiled, in spite of herself. So much for coming to a decision.
“Well, first of all I need to ask you this, and I don’t know how to do so without just blurting it out. Do you want me simply because you couldn’t have my sister?”
There was a moment of utter silence in the room before Ulfric sighed and she dared raise her head to look at him. He wore an expression that spoke of sorrow, and understanding, and perhaps even concern or fear all at once.
“I … have told you before. I would be lying if I did not admit that at first you caught my attention because of my memories of Briinda. But… Here, let us sit down. I need to speak freely and this is very awkward.” Ulfric led her up the platform and sat down at the edge of his bed, patting the spot beside him. She lowered herself slowly onto the soft covers and waited.
Ulfric stared across the room, his brow furrowed. He began speaking as though he was alone in the space.
“I must say this, and I hope you will not be offended by it, for she was very special to all who knew her. When I looked at Briinda, all those years ago, I looked at a woman who I … imagined as a consort, and nothing more. Someone to bear my children, to cement my hold on the throne of Windhelm and maybe even of Skyrim. I …” He paused again, clearly searching for the right words. “I did not know her; all I knew was the idea of her that I had created in my head. I told you the truth that I very much wanted her as my wife at that time; but I did not love Briinda. I did not know her. I wanted her in part because she wanted Roggi.” He looked down at the floor and a small smile creased his face. “And that, of course, is a very poor reason to become someone’s spouse. I was and am a jealous man. It’s not something I am proud of, but it’s the truth.”
He turned to smile at Frina, then, and a small shiver of delight ran out from her core at the warmth in his eyes.
“But you, my dearest Stormblade, are everything that I thought I saw in your sister and so much more besides. You are strong and steadfast, passionate and earnest in your love for Talos and for Skyrim. You make me laugh. You are not afraid to stand up to me and even disobey me if you feel the cause is just. I know these things because of the reality of you that I have experienced, not because you are a notion in my head. You make me glad to still be alive in Tamriel.” He reached up and stroked her face again, and smiled once more. “And you are lovely.”
Frina smiled, and nodded, and yet the nagging questions still poked at the bubble of joy that wanted to overwhelm her.
“So are many other of the women in your city, Ulfric,” she said quietly. “I do believe that your smith’s apprentice, for example, worships the very ground you walk on.”
Ulfric pulled back and sat up stiffly, his eyes widening in shock. “Hermir?” It was quiet for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. “Of all things. I suppose, now that I consider it, some things that have happened in the past make more sense.” He grinned and took Frina’s hand yet again.
“Frina, I can imagine what you may be thinking. But it had been a great many years since I shared this bed, or any other, with anyone until you joined me here in it. I simply had no time, nor was my heart in it. Not for a very long time. You have made me remember what it is to be truly alive as a human being and not just as a Jarl.”
Frina felt the mists begin to gather in her eyes yet again, and not trusting herself to look at him she merely nodded.
“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. “That is the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard. There is another thing, though. I’m sorry to bring it up, but I must.”
“What is that?”
“There are those who will say you want a bride simply to cement your hold on the throne of Skyrim. As you put it. Especially now that Elisif is again married. I have heard whispers.” She slowly dared to turn to him, fearing that he would be angry and hoping that he would not.
Ulfric nodded. He didn’t look angry, she thought; just resigned.
“I know that will be the case,” he said quietly. “I cannot deny that I have pondered that possibility. The timing of it could not possibly be more convenient. And yet,” he paused, his voice becoming as soft as she had ever heard it, “I can only tell you that I would not marry out of mere convenience and hope you will believe me. I was mad with worry when you were on Japhet’s Folly, and wish not to be parted from you again.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again, and Frina felt nothing but the tenderness and sincerity in that kiss. He pulled back from her and looked down at his chest, picking up the medallion of the Mara amulet and grinning at it. Then he smiled at her.
“I am sorry that I am no romantic, and lack the soft words a beautiful woman should hear under these circumstances. All I can ask is: what do you say, Frina? Are you interested in me? Will you be my wife and consort? I know it won’t be easy, but will you stand with me?”
Frina took one last moment, one last deep breath, while she pushed the tiny nagging doubts down as far as she could push them and let the bubble of joy well up into her chest. The smile that broke across her face grew wider with each moment.
I love Ulfric, and I believe that he at least cares for me. If I am wrong about this I will accept it as the sacrifice I willingly make on behalf of my people.
“I would be honored, my lord Ulfric.” He started to open his mouth to protest, but she threw her arms around his neck and smothered whatever he’d been about to say with a kiss. “I love you. And I will happily stand with you, and the rest of the world can go hang if they think anything different about it.” She reached behind Ulfric’s neck and worked at the clasp of the amulet. “Now could we get you out of this silly thing, at least?”
Ulfric’s joyful laugh filled the room. “That at the very least. And perhaps more, if you’re interested.”
Frina grinned at him. “Oh I am very interested. It has been several days, after all.” She climbed up onto her knees on the bed and leaned close to Ulfric’s ear. “In fact…” She whispered to him for a few moments and then giggled as his eyebrows rose and his eyes began to sparkle.
“I’ll see what I can do about that, my future Queen,” he told her.