#jorleif

[helgiafterdark]

brought lydia to court and dressed her up :)

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Jorleif: WOAH I'm pretty sure you shouldn't have a weapon at a Court meeting??

Eryn: Everything could be a weapon to me. That bread would be more deadly in my hands than my sword would be in yours.

Jorleif: That's... probably true.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Ulfric Stormcloak: Well, the Dragonborn and I finally did it!

Galmar Stone-Fist: *facepalm*

Jorleif: *claps*

Ralof: *surprised Pikachu face*

Ulfric: That's right . . . we kissed!

[your-talos-is-problematic]

I visit the Gray Quarter a lot to buy food/supplies and also because it’s in character, and I always feel bad to see Sofie there. I already have two children so I can’t adopt her, but I always wish I could get someone else in Windhelm to take her in.

Confession: I wish there were a Skyrim mod that makes it possible for whatever kids you don’t adopt to get taken in by NPCs. I know there’s mods that let you adopt more yourself but it’s a bit immersion breaking imo. Like maybe if you don’t adopt Sofie, if you win the war for either side you could convince the jarl of Windhelm to take her in or something. Or Adrianne and Ulfberth could adopt Lucia. It’s probably just me but I feel bad that the player is the only chance for a good home for all those kids :(

[thequeenofthewinter]

🥂 | what would happen if they got drunk together

KURI!

...shenanigans. Many shenanigans. You know I should really write them getting drunk together. I have not!

I would imagine it would start out normal. They'd be talking, flirting with each other shamelessly. There would be touching...but also eventually somehow those Idiots would end up rolling on the floor and Divines knows how, they would be wrapped in a bear rug. They'd just be laughing and holding each other. Maybe Ulfric would be singing because Dahlia teases him. Jorleif walks in, takes one look at them, and just walks back out. They do somehow make it back to their bed. Dahlia has no idea how, but Ulfric does.

He carried he back.

...yeah, something like that but also sprinkled with NSFW.

[cowinatrenchcoat]

I've played Skyrim Elder Scrolls for years but I've never actually done thencivil war quests. I could never decide between the empire and the stormcloaks. But I have two characters now doing each side of the civil war and-maybe it's because I'm drunk-some of Jorleif's dialog really got me. As millennials we always say we're sick of living through historical moments, but Jorleif says it's a lucky time to be alive precisely because it's a historical moment and he can influence the outcome. Idk, like I said, I'm playing while a bit drunk but it seems like a much better attitude to have.

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 28: Soothing Touch ~ Ulfric Stormcloak/F!Dragonborn [1,339 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Elsa prowled into the Palace of Kings with a smirk on her face, a couple of fresh scars, and plenty of new stories to tell. Which was exactly how she liked it. High King Ulfric Stormcloak sat on his throne, with no small number of folk gathered in the hall to seek some favour or another from him, and so she decided he could be forgiven for not noticing her arrival. Galmar, however, did – and his responding chuckle was loud enough to draw Ulfric’s attention, who looked to him, and then followed his gaze to Elsa as she approached.

“Dragonborn,” he greeted, low voice rumbling out above all other voices in the hall.

The merchant he’d interrupted seemed miffed at first, but then he registered what Ulfric had said and all heads whipped around to look at her. She liked that just fine – it made clearing a path to the throne easier. Sauntering forth, she dipped into a half-bow, hand pressed to her chest.

“My king.”

“It’s been some time. There were rumours that you’d been killed,” he considered her slowly.

“Did you believe them?”

He offered a low, reverberating chuckle. “Not a chance.”

Elsa glanced in the direction of the merchant, and then around the crowd gathered who seemed to watch the interaction with bated breath, not wanting to so much as cough lest they miss a word. When she looked back to Ulfric, she found his eyes had not strayed an inch from her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said.

And she almost sounded apologetic for it.

“Business has run late,” he replied. “But I believe Wuunferth wishes to consult you on some artefact he found.”

A lovely, convenient excuse for her to walk through the war room and up into the living quarters of the palace, right before the eyes of all those here. Elsa smiled. How she’d missed him.

To her credit, she did go to Wuunferth once she’d jogged up the stony steps that led to the sleeping chambers of those chosen enough to live within the palace itself. But only to sell him a few rare, enchanted artefacts she’d come across for a very steep price – and, as she’d suspected, he had nothing to consult her on. By the time she was done, and her pack was a good deal lighter, Jorleif had found her.

“The Jarl has ordered for a bath to be drawn for you, my lady,” he greeted, before adding quietly, “in his chambers.”

Well, she supposed he saw no use in being subtle when it came to servants of his own household.

The bath, kept scalding hot with a few artful fire spells, worked the cold out of her bones and the soreness from her muscles so well that she had only just climbed out of it by the time she heard Ulfric’s voice in the hallway outside. Wrapped in an abundant amount of soft linen, steam rose steadily from her skin as she sat before the fire, content to air-dry as she dragged a comb through her dripping hair.

Finally, the High King of Skyrim slipped into the room, closing and locking the door behind him for good measure. Elsa had just enough energy to feign an unconvincing look of surprise.

“Did I wander into your chambers instead of the guest wing? I do apologise, your majesty. That Jorleif – always up to mischief.”

He chuckled, casting aside his heavy fur-laden coat and then making quick work of the chestplate beneath with an efficiency that belied his haste. Finally, when he was done, he approached, extending one large hand towards her. Elsa grasped it and brought his knuckles to her lips – like a supplicant.

“Stop that,” Ulfric scoffed, wrapping his fingers around hers and hauling her up.

Elsa allowed it, and then she was in his arms – glad he’d disposed of his armour so that she could feel him pressed against her as she dropped the bullshit and wrapped her arms around him. One of his arms remained wrapped tightly about her waist as if fearing she’d run off again the moment he let go, but the other roamed up the curve of her spine, across her bare shoulders and up into her hair, caring not for the water still clinging to her.

All but purring, she melted into the touch, sighing her contentment. Out there, none touched her unless they intended to kill her. It was easy to forget what this was like. Often because she made sure to do so, by force of necessity. Ulfric felt the same, she knew he did, for few ever touched him without wanting something. A kiss on his hand that preceded a beg. Elsa, however, never asked him for anything. He gave her much, that was true, but she never asked for it. She never would.

He was so wrapped up in touching her – making sure she was here, real and warm and breathing, that it seemed to take him a moment to remember to kiss her. It was funny how, upon each reunion, it simultaneously felt like years since he’d last kissed her but also mere seconds, his lips pressing harshly against hers as he stole the air from her lungs.

When they parted, it was only so he could lead her to the bed, although he made no move to unwrap her from her linen, nor remove more of his clothing. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the enormous bed and he sat, pulling her so that she straddled him and then he buried his face in her hair, keeping her there as he held her tightly. Relief washed over her, the same way it would when she drank her first gulp of water after a battle, or had her first bite of food after being forced to go without without for days. Elsa returned the grip fiercely, thinking of little other than that he was here, as she’d pined for in every godforsaken ruin and cave across Skyrim. And that she’d run through any who tried to interrupt them now.

“I forgot what this was like,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I must strive to make a more memorable bedfellow,” he remarked drily.

“Not that. This,” she squeezed, to illustrate her point.

“…If you didn’t stay away for so long, it might be easier to remember,” he murmured. “If you stayed, you’d have no chance to forget.”

“You want to install me as your mistress, is that it?”

“The Dragonborn would be a fitting High Queen of Skyrim,” he corrected. “And I could hope for no finer queen than you.”

“I’m not made for queening. For growing soft in a palace, eating that which I did not procure for myself, pretending to care for merchant squabbles.”

“There is more than one way to be a queen, Elsa. Particularly in Skyrim, and especially if you were to be my queen. Unless you think me soft and idle.”

The joke was right there, waiting to be said. A lack of hardness was never one of your problems, or some such nonsense. But to retreat into that would be taken as an insult…and he’d be right to do so. Instead, she sighed quietly and said nothing.

“Am I making progress with my case, then?” he hedged.

“What makes you say that?”

“The first time I broached this matter, you left immediately thereafter and I did not see you for half a year.”

He did not know, and she didn’t tell him, that she’d returned expecting to find him wed off to some truly suitable candidate. Nor did she tell him that she had no idea whether she, at the time, desired or dreaded to find that such had been the case. And she certainly didn’t divulge that she now knew she’d have been sick if it had come to fruition.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, glad he could not see her face.

And Ulfric smiled – because no doubt he heard the temptation in her voice.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[hircines-hunter]

14 and 18 for Crowe, Landry, and Dyrvina?

<3 <3 <3 Thanks!!! (go to bed though <3 <3 )

14. Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

Crowe: Brynjolf and Delvin definitely, once she left home. Nowadays, she goes to her husband, Sibbi, or her mother-in-law, Jarl Maven. :3c

Landry: They're mostly self-taught. Buying recipe cards. Eating plants. testing out potions/poisons. They go to Ingun now for all the alchemy questions, which probably leads to chaos. :3c

Dyrvina: She learned any courtly manners from her mother. And any of her survival skills and seafaring from her Father. She gets lessons from Jarl Ulfric with jarl duties and relies heavily on Jorleif as well. I have not decided on who helps her with fighting (Ralof?... Soren?? def not Meeri or Bjorn. Galmar is too busy with Thea.) If she needs any help, she does become comfortable asking Ulfric for help. She does also rely on her maid, Maera, and Housecarl, Lerke.

18. What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

Crowe: After a strict stance on no killing with the Thieves Guild, she does switch that. She will do anything to protect herself and the Black-Briars. She has killed for them and she will do it again, no hesitation or questions.

Landry: They're a baby werewolf puppy. They would do no harm.... Except they love poisons, and I know for a fact they have killed people with poisons and as a werewolf. They don't necessarily enjoy it. But, Science.

Dyrvina: She would prefer to be a pacifist, which is a bit ironic coming from the wife of Jarl Ulfric, but she understands that things must be done for the greater good of saving Skyrim. She eventually has little choice when she becomes Dragonborn after the war.

[woodworksgeek]

“Lots of history in these walls. We’re trying to make some more. It’s a lucky time to be alive.” – Jorleif

A corner of my woodshop that I love it.

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[juniperberries-canisroot]

Every time I do Blood on the Ice, it gets buggier and buggier, to the point that I can't even do it anymore. I'm not looking forward to my new saves going to WindHelm.

Last time it happened, Calixto was inside his MASTER LOCKED house/museum so I couldn't sell him the amulet. Ofc I could just proceed as normal with the quest but then the amulet won't become the strange amulet and it will be stuck in my inventory for all eternity. Also Calixto has been acting up and killing people in broad daylight.

On all new saves after my Stalleo-Io save where I couldn't proceed with the quest and characters who haven't been to WindHelm, I'm avoiding that city and the area surrounding it like the plague. Problem is, even if you don't enter the city and go to Brandy-Mug farm outside, the docks or stables, it still counts as a visit to the city and it makes things more difficult. Plus, if I want to fully complete the White Phial quest, I have to go to the city atleast four times; once to get it, second to bring it back, third to talk to Quintus after he sends his letter and fourth to finally fix it and Nurelion dies in peace. ALSO if I want to do Theives Guild stuff, that's a whole lot more visits to the city, five jobs and one special job.

The graveyard scene is supposed to trigger from 7pm-7am, but it has triggered in the daytime as well so I can't even only go to the city during the day to avoid starting the quest.

PLUS there's also Rise in the East, convince Tolbjorn to give the Argonians better wages, Northern Maiden to Solstheim and back (you can't fast travel to anywhere on Skyrim from Solstheim, it forces you back to the docks of WindHelm), Muiri's DBH contract on the sister, Itchy Scales double distilled skooma quest (he has a habit of not showing up every time I go there, one time I broke into their assemblage and got the quest like that), Shavee's Amulet retrieval, BlackSmiths guy's Queen Freydis' sword, FangTusk bounty, basically alot of quests that involve leaving the city and coming back. I think even going on the docks, going in the city and going back on the docks still counts as each individual visit, so just gettin the Argonians better wages is 3 visits. Not to mention sometimes NPCs won't give me their quests when I talk to them. Octieve San and Noster Eagle-Eye in Solitude won't give me their quests as well as the BlackSmith in WindHelm also won't always give me the sword quest when I first talk to him, the option isn't there. There's also Adanto who wants you to deliver a book to Solitude and he sometimes doesn't give me the quest. Luckily you don't have to come back to him. There are a few quests that can be taken care of inside the city but there are many more that can't.

Even if I condense everything into as minimal visits as possible, Rise in the East and going to Solstheim and back are still gonna fuck me up and put me over the four visits.

I'm doing the quest according to the detailed walk through of UESP to the T, talking to NPCs and retreiving items in the exact order listed in the walkthrou. Tova is still alive (I do the DBH after Blood on the Ice), high elf stable hand lady is still alive, not going to Hjerm until needed, talking to guards and Jorleif, talking to Wulferf the Unliving instead of having him jailed, TRYIN to sell the amulet to Calixto before talkikg to Viola Gordiano, but the game keeps messing shit up for me.

At this point the only real solution is to pick the Imperial side in the war so the guard never has a chance to give me the quest. I'm not sure thou if this will entirely get rid of the quest or if it just 'stunts it', Susanna the Wicked still gets killed, Calixto still locks himself inside his house but no more people die atleast. But now I'll have this permanent quest on my log.

[talesfromthegreatwar]

My passport!

"By my right as Earl of Eastmarch, I hereby decree: Elsie Leifsdotter, long blond hair, gray eyes, 1.58 m height, 48 kg weight ( Altmeri 5.18 ft, 105 lb), has permission to enter and leave Windhelm at any time of the day or night.

Moreover, she can enter the Palace of the Kings at any time of the day and has access to all its facilities except the Earl's quarter where she is not allowed to enter alone."

Now Jorleif, Ulfric's steward... This dude really hates me... Look what he wrote on my document: " This is my liege's order and we all will obey it. But Elsie is not liked by anyone here in the Palace of the Kings except the old man Wuunferth." Hm, I don't think so... Even the cook is a good friend of mine... of ours!

But he don't stop here; he continues with some embarrassing statements: " She does pranks on our respected Galmar and brings all her friends to the kitchen to be fed: more over, they leave with their bags full of supplies from there."

Oh, now he is lying, ah, this is incredible: "Maybe she or her friends also steal things because all our silverware has gone.Let's see what our ruler will say about this."

That's it! Now let's try to clarify the things a bit! Ulfric is a good friend of mine, he is convinced that I saved his life during the events from Helgen. Also, he thinks that my connections within all the Skyrim, especially in the underground world and in Solitude, including my friendship with Elisif, could be very useful.

The civil war is bad for business in my opinion (better said in Nocturnal's opinion…) and, since I have a death sentence in Cyrodiil on my head, I fear the Imperial soldiers.

In fact, I do not like them at all because Elisif, who is another good friend of mine, informed me about the fact that General Tullius had issued an arrest warrant on my name that is valid in all Haafingar but which is not applied in Solitude for political reasons.

And, to be honest, I would very much like to be the High Queen some day…

[lathez]

@lilmothiits tag, @the-elder-polls ill-advised encouragement, and Sabrina Carpenter inspired me so I had to write a fic about this. Never in my life have I given a fuck about Ulfric Stormcloak before this moment. But. Here.

Tell Ulfric He Owes Me A Drink (2217 words) by BodyLathe Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Galmar Stone-Fist/Ulfric Stormcloak Characters: Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric Stormcloak, Jorleif (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Sloppy Makeouts, Literally wrote this off that stupid poll, Drunken Kissing, Fluff, just guys being bros Summary: Galmar Stone-Fist and Ulfric Stormcloak sure seem to owe each other a lot of drinks…

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Ulfric slowly loses Eryn's respect over time but one incident really cements it.

During the war, there's imperial assassins who come after Eryn. To keep his best asset beloved soldier safe, Ulfric orders her to stay in Windhelm for a bit.

Literally everyone protests this, but Ulfric DOES outrank all of them, so... guess she's to stay put. Eryn HAAAATES this.

Well, while she's in the city, there's yet another murder. And this time, it's one of Eryn's friends, Susanna. The guards tell her to stay back, don't get involved, they're busy enough, and they sarcastically tell her if SHE can solve it she's welcome to.

Eryn goes to Jorleif, who admits that the guards all prioritize the war and don't listen to him. And of course she's upset that no one seems to care about this, and she desperately needs something to do.

Eryn goes through the normal questline, following her hunches and instincts. She notices instantly that it's like some sort of ritualistic killing, based on where the killings are. When she investigates Hjerm, she finds the murder scene (and the amulet).

She brings the info to Jorleif as she goes, who is genuinely grateful for her help. He didn't not care, but he couldn't get the guards to care. He recommends she ask Calixto, since he seems to love weird bullshit.

Calixto instantly sets off Eryn's alarm bells. Something about him just strikes her weird. Especially since he keeps trying to insist that she sells him that necklace. Which she doesn't do, because it's part of an active investigation. And he's being WEIRD.

But she does listen to him that Wuunferth is knowledgeable about things like necromancy. So she goes to talk to Wuunferth.

He, of course, informs her that no he doesn't do necromancy, he has the nickname "The Unliving" bc he's stupid old. But Eryn explains that she wasn't accusing him, she doesn't care about what college he went to, and she just wants information.

Wuunferth softens, and they compare notes. He's also quite surprised when she uses magic as a way to visually illustrate her points. She always forgets that people don't seem to think magic and swords can coexist.

So, they realize the pattern, the way these murders are happening, and where the murderer is going to strike next. They agree to set a trap. Eryn would make great bait, but everyone knows who she is and that she's dangerous.

So, the night of the next murder, she stays hidden with some illusion magic from Wuunferth... And a man jumps out at Arivanya. Eryn saves her and knocks down the murderer. It's revealed to be Calixto, of course. But when he tries to jump at Eryn after feigning a surrender, she just fireballs him in the face.

The city thanks her, sincerely. She's avenged the murdered women, and managed to solve a serial killer case.

Wuunferth, especially, thanks her. He didn't know people suspected him, and he's glad Eryn had the sense to come talk to him before accusing him.

As a thank you, he enchants her rapier for her, free of charge. He gives it enchantments he thinks fit her: Fire damage, like her favorite spells, and a health absorbing property, so she'll always have a chance as long as she can swing a sword.

She thanks him and picks up her sword, which she names Redwing after its new red glow. But it's all bothering her. Something about this just felt off.

She looks to where Ulfric is sitting, and makes a face. She doesn't get why she feels so... angry, almost. Angry at him.

Wuunferth says that happens to everyone around Ulfric, eventually. He says things that people believe in, he fights a cause worth fighting, so people like him at first. But sooner or later, everyone gets tired of him.

Eryn realizes it's because he didn't care about his city, or the fact that people were dying. He didn't care. At all. Jorleif tells her that's just normal for Windhelm, hence why he was trying to put the investigation together.

Eryn still doesn't seem to quite get it. She feels upset with herself for being upset. That's the man she's fighting a war for, right? So why does she suddenly dislike him so much?

Wuunferth and Jorleif gently explain it to her.

Ulfric is selfish and short sighted.

Eryn is not.

That's why she doesn't like him.

[stormdrawsstuff]

“Arviris, we aren’t here to catch a killer, we’re here to buy building supplies!” Stenvar said once Arviris had finished telling the others what had happened.

“I already talked to Jorleif. We’re helping.”

Chapter seven is now live! Eight will go up tomorrow.

Summary: Shipwrecked off the northern coast of Skyrim, Arviris finds himself unable to recall anything before the crash. As he travels the province in search of a place to call home, his memories crowd in, reminding him of fire and blood in a land to the East. The weight of past mistakes becomes crushing as he is press-ganged into a crumbling order of assassins, as the only salvation in sight is the people he met along the way. But trust does not come easily, and the dragons and daedra on the horizon would test even a good man.

[st-alessia]

Blood of Empires Chapter 3

Her hopes and plans were wasted. The steward immediately refused her request to adopt Aventus as her ward and live in his family’s estate. She knew it would not not be an easy thing to ask for and be given permissions and rights to but she at least hoped to state her intentions before being shooed from the Palace of Kings. She couldn’t see their faces but Lucretia felt the eyes of the Stormcloak guards follow her–mocking her.��

It was sheer anger and despair that led her to the door of the temple. Her hesitation lasted but a moment before she pushed past the heavy door into the chilled interior; the sanctum was lit by numerous candles and lanterns that cast flickering shadows between the stones. At the apse stood the statue of mighty Talos slaying a serpent, she could almost imagine herself standing in his place, stabbing all who hurt her and those she loved. The excitement coupled with her despair left a sickening feeling in her stomach.

With no other worshippers present Lucretia moves to stand before the shrine, gazing up at the stone face of a man-turned-god seemingly staring down at her. If there is any place she is allowed to show her weakness it should be in the presence of a god, she allowed one, two, too many to count tears to slide down her cold cheeks, heating her skin slightly before they cooled and dried only to be replaced with more. She whispered, “What would you do?” 

The silence was deafening. 

With a shuddering breath, Lucretia stepped back and found a place to sit on a wooden pew. It was as cold and uncomfortable as the rest of the temple but at least she could sit while praying. She lit a small flame between her hands to give herself some warmth. Time seemed to drag yet blurred past and before she knew it no more light peaked through the windows. 

The shadows darkened completely and it felt like the Void was reaching out with black tendrils slowly making their way from the shadows towards her. Lucretia closed her eyes and cupped her flame-lit hands closer to her chest, heart racing and her breath feeling more shallow. 

‘I am not a child frightened of the dark. I am not afraid. I am not–’ 

Lucretia’s heart lurched and flames died when the door to the Temple was roughly opened and slammed shut, the darkness retreated to the edges again. Angry muttering followed the would-be intruder and when she quickly peeked over her shoulder the only features she could make out were those of a stocky Nord man. She told herself that it was out of politeness that she turned away from him before he noticed her staring. 

His muttering paused before loudly grunting in what she suspected as annoyance at finally noticing her. He made his way to the front to stand below Talos just as she had done. He had not spared a glance back at her. Not wanting to intrude, she bowed her head and silently finished off her prayer for strength before standing and heading for the door. She didn’t look back but she was certain she was being watched; it could have been her frayed nerves from earlier creeping back in and making her skin crawl. 

Lucretia made her way back to the inn as quickly as she could without slipping on the ice covered stones. Once inside the warm, better lit interior of Candlehearth Hall, she instantly felt lighter. The oppression that seemed to be hounding her lifted and she could breathe again.

‘Gods! I need a drink.’ 

She heads up to Elda and orders a bottle of mead, something she considered a necessary expense at the moment. On her way back to her room, Susanna catches her eye as she approaches from the kitchen, silently gesturing for them to enter her room away from the listening ears of Elda. “I am sorry for your loss. Elda may have been a bit… dismissive. Were you able to speak with Jorleif? You were gone for a long time.” 

“Thank you, Susanna. And no, he wouldn’t hear a word I had to say on the matter. I imagine being an Imperial did not help. I stopped by the temple on my way back.” 

She made a sucking noise with her teeth as her face screwed up into a scowl. “Stubborn Nord. Maybe you should try again?”

“I had considered heading back in the morning to speak with him, though I am of the mind that it will be a repeat of this evening.”

“It is worth the effort, what you are trying to do is a good thing, you want to bring a boy back to his home, no doubt the Gods will favor you for it. If that fails, perhaps you could just adopt him and live somewhere else?”

Lucretia shook her head but how she wished she could agree to that plan; she could easily picture it in her mind: heading to Riften, having a tearful reunion with her cousin–aside from that fact he was merely a year old when they first met and wouldn’t remember her–before returning to that quaint little village she passed on her way to Whiterun, Val would find them and they would start their own farm or shop or…or something! She stomped down her daydream when Susanna gave her a sad smile and bid her goodnight. 

Finally closing the door behind her and ensuring it was locked, Lucretia sank into the chair in her room and sipped at the mead. Just as it was named, the Honningbrew was sweet but the events and emotions of the day left it sour on her tongue. ‘What a waste.’

*

Over the course of a few days Lucretia made attempts to meet with Jorleif every morning and evening; he was still adamantly refusing to speak with her. She felt it was a small blessing that she never actually saw or encountered the Jarl during her visits, though raised voices could occasionally be heard from one of the side halls. 

She also continued her visits to the Temple of Talos in the early evening just after she gave up on waiting to speak with Jorleif. Each night, the same Nord man from before would come to pray an hour or so after her; a few times she had attempted to speak with him but each ended in failure for his lack of response, there was only one time he made an acknowledgement of her her small talk and it was when she commented on her failed attempts to speak with Jorleif about Aventus–he grunted at her! She stopped trying after that and accepted the silent, easy camaraderie of being fellow worshippers. When she would leave for the night, she was sure he watched her.

Between her attempts of hounding Jorleif and praying to the Divines, Lucretia also made time to explore the city while she waited, wanting to familiarize herself with the layout and shops as well as its people. She had the misfortune of running into a Nord by the name of Rolff, a piece of work that one. She did her best to avoid him but sometimes he seemed to come looking for her in order to harass her for being an Imperial spy and whatever derogatory words his drunken tongue can pronounce. 

The few who were most welcoming were Susanna and Brunwulf Free-Winter, the latter a witness to her plights with Jorleif; it was through a discussion with him that led her to rethinking her approach. As he had told her, she was a newcomer with no history in the city and no definitive relation to anyone; she had also refused to disclose her letters to anyone for fear that they will realize she is not who she completely says she is, it was better to simply be known as just Cassia the Imperial with no ties to anyone important in Cyrodiil. One thing she did disclose to Brunwulf was her ability to cast the novice spell flames but little else. While he encouraged her to keep that to herself, he made the suggestion of learning some restoration. The least likely magic to get her driven out of the city if being an annoying Imperial didn’t do the trick. Only a day ago he had made the suggestion to her and it seemed her best bet to establish herself to the Nords. The tension between the Empire and the Stormcloak were worsening by the day with occasional skirmishes and the men and women of the Stormcloak army were suffering from the lack of healers. 

Though it was easier said than done since not many restoration healers were known in Stormcloak territory; the only ones he could name were Colette Marence of the College of Winterhold–Lucretia did not have the time to formally join the college–and Priestess Danica Pure-Spring of the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, who technically is not part of Stormcloak territory–this one gave her a small measure of hope since she has already met Danica prior to her journey to Windhelm. 

That night in the Temple about an hour after the unnamed Nord arrived, she found the courage to speak to him again. “I am leaving tomorrow and I don’t know when I will be returning.” For the first time in days he looks directly at her, dark green eyes seeming to ask the question he doesn’t speak. “I’ll be heading to Whiterun to speak with the Priestess of Kynareth, Danica. I want to learn to heal, I want… I want to help. I need to do this, I have nothing else now and by doing this I hope to be reunited with my younger cousin. Becoming a healer will also be a way for me to support us.” She gives a dry chuckle, rubbing a palm to her eyes and wiping away tears that had barely developed. With nothing else to say Lucretia stands, planning to retire for the night since she intended to leave by daybreak; she makes it only 2 steps before he speaks to her. 

His voice was low and hoarse, “Why do you pray here?” When she doesn’t respond right away he continues. “You are Imperial, Talos is not your God.” 

Lucretia gaped before the surprise fades to anger and she glared at him over her shoulder meeting his gaze as she challenged,  “This is a temple, is it not? A place of worship for this God and any of the Divines.” She turns to him fully, practically baring her teeth. “Yes, I am an Imperial. Yes, I am too young to remember the Great War and the banning of Talos but he was a God my father worshiped and his fathers before him. Why should I be any different? Are you saying I cannot pray to mighty Talos for strength, for myself and others?” Her teeth and jaw were starting to hurt from how hard she was grinding them. 

He stands and walks towards her, standing nearing a head taller and dark green eyes meet lighter green in a glaring contest. Her palms begin to sweat as she prepares to summon her flames should she need to defend herself from him. He may be bigger and definitely stronger than her but any man is right to fear the burn of flames. His sudden guffaw surprises her enough that her tension fades and he claps a large hand to her shoulder, nearly knocking her down with how heavy it seemed. “You’ve surprised me. You say your father was a Nord? Must be him that gave such a short lass this much spirit; you’ll need it in Skyrim. You are always welcome to pray to Talos, just as anyone else.” With his hand on her shoulder he guides her back towards the door and walks beside her. “It is good that you wish to help, should you return as a healer, the Stormcloaks could surely make use of your talents. Now you have an early morning, best go to sleep little Imperial.”

She shrugs his hand off her shoulder and steps out into the blister cold. “My name is Cassia.”  He chuckles as he steps to the left of her, “Jorleif may have mentioned your name a couple times followed by how…persistent you are. Talos watch over you, Cassia.” He continues on his way towards wherever he lives. ‘Rude. It’s only considerate to tell someone your name too.’ She returns to the inn, none the wiser that someone else was watching her from the shadows now.

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AN: Is anyone curious about the timeline of events so far? I'll take that as a yes! I'll keep it brief, I promise!

Morning Star (AKA January) 1st: Lucretia escapes through the Pale Pass, 3rd: Somehow stumbles into Falkreath alive, 9th: Lucretia passes through Riverrun and gets to Whiterun, 10th-17th: Lucretia harasses Jorleif and prays A LOT

See? Short and sweet! As you should have been able to glean thus far is that the story begins only a few months prior to Alduin's return, that bit will remain canon while Lucretia will influence events from her side a bit sooner, not quite willingly though.

[momowho34]

The palace of kings in windhelm has all of these serious tough people in it that wear like bear skins and teeth and shit and talk about how cool they are and then there’s just fuckin Jorleif. He doesn’t do anything, he just serves as Ulfrics bro and chills in the main hall with his normal civilian clothes. it’s fucking hilarious Jorleif is winning at life man he just chills that’s his job description