Skyrim One-Shots

Ulfric x Reader(Female) ~The New Dawn After Silent Goodbyes~

You could still remember the moment the Jarl had offered you the current position you held after nearly a month of quiet talks as the sun rose, expecting you to full-heartedly decline the role as War-Council Advisor.

It had been the day that changed your life for the better. In the morn, after you'd agreed, he had introduced you to Galmar, Jorleif, Wuunferth, and some of the citizen nobles. All hold generals were automatically on his council, though because they were scattered throughout all of Skyrim, you'd never catch them all 9 in one place.

Yrsarald was always training recruits as the Eastmarch commander, and he accepted you fairly easily, though then again for the first few meetings he had glared you down something fierce.

However, Ulfric's own housecarl, Galmar, was much more persistent and hissy than the hold general, so by the first few council meetings you were in, you had gotten a taste how generals acted.

You savored in the fact that these people did have honor, something you had dearly missed while running in the guild. If something threatened that honor, that dignity, they weren't about to let it pass lightly.

Often times, that threat was you, but at least they were loyal beasts, and they didn't mark off orders from their leader. Ever.

That being said, you had a knack for picking fights, and Ulfric's word of protection couldn't stop you from yourself. It took a week before you went ballistic on Galmar, his snide and immature barks under his breath finally crossing the line, and as the guards on duty that day told it, the fight was barely a duel.

Least to say, the housecarl was walking around with a purple face and two teeth shifted in the completely opposite direction they once were after the whole ordeal. That- squaring off with a man much stronger than you and still winning, much less it being Galmar Stone-Fist himself, earned you a lot of respect in the eyes of any man or woman in the Stormcloak rebellion, high or low.

The following months after that went smoothly, you were cruising through paperwork, easing a good portion of the Jarl's burden, and kept the main men of the rebellion in good mental health. Not only that, you'd poke the holes in their plans and were a little brat when you had to be, annoying them to no end as they came up with a busted plan after busted plan.

Relations between you and Ulfric were strictly friendly, though there were murmurings of more intimaticy between you two from the soldiers (untrue rumors at that, you'd both merely roll your eyes at what Yrsarald would say in his reports). You and Galmar were finally clicking, more insulting and hardy than that of your bond with the Jarl, but Galmar knew more about you than Ulfric due to one too many drinks on bad nights.

Some days, it felt as if it had never happened, and others, you couldn't bear to drag yourself out of bed before Galmar came, yelling and shrieking like the Talos worshipper in Whiterun that everyone partially dispised, while also appreciating.

On the bad days, you got the most paperwork done, just to try to distract yourself.

But now, 5 months after your joining, the war had been won.

And now... well, now, you had festivities to attend. 

With a grin, you rolled out of your bed, slim feet landing on the cold stone floor as the sun peaked through the small window in your room. You sifted through your wardrobe, finding clothing that would suit the events to come, and humming a quiet tune as you left your den and headed for the barrack showers.

Galmar, who always woke at the ass-crack of dawn, was already up as usual as you passed by the war room, absent-mindedly dodging him.

"Ulfric's in the showers too- a warning," was the grey-bearded man's statement as he gave you a narrowed glance.