Skyrim One-Shots

Ulfric x Reader(Female) ~Mistakes of a Lifetime(3)~

2 years later.

Your heart pounded in your ears.

The simple, lovely dark gown you'd dawned trailed behind you slightly, the cut of it modest and elegant with lace sleeves. Your hair was done in curls, brushed aside from your face. Lydia blew out a breath (was she nervous?) beside you, forcing her back to stay straight and stuffing a hand in her pocket.

"A moot," she murmured, "I can't believe it. That... That I'm here."

You smile, "It will become not so glamorous very quickly."

She snorted. "Of course you would say that, bearing ill with the High King himself. You two still haven't sorted that out?"

"Oh, be quiet," you chide nervously. 

"My thane," she huffed, "you don't need to be so uptight all the time. Just because you only have two daggers stashed away compared to your normal, what, 20, doesn't mean you're going to die."

You roll your eyes, finally shuffling into the large capital of Solitude, nobles of all sorts crammed into the space. 

A scan of the hall.

You spotted most of the Jarls, and one, in particular, you preferred to avoid.

You didn't know if he still wanted to give you a chance so you weren't going to risk it. It... It had been quite some time, anyways. Hopefully, you both could pretend you never had ever even met before.

A hopeful thought, you knew, but it gave some sort of comfort.

You cleaned up your posture, laying your hands on top each other over your waist and proceeding forward. Jarl Balguuf- you could chat with him until the moot actually began, right?

Lydia hummed, "I'll be off, gonna try to find Vilkas."

"Have fun," you state with slightly forced and teasing grin, to which she rolled her eyes and flicked you off as she stalked off in search of her current fuck-buddy.

Honestly, it was a miracle the woman didn't get herself knocked with how often she was off at Jorrvaskr during the long nights.

You stayed in around the same spot, choosing to simply mingle with those around you instead of going in search of one of the Jarls. It would not doubt attract attention and that was the last thing you really wanted.

Nearly an hour you listened to people spew bullshit, tongues loosened by wine. About their supposed great journeys to fame, about how they gained their wealth, about their favorite whores.

Thankfully, the crowd around you had started to thin, becoming more bearable as those where were still sober seemed to keep their manners about them.

"____," a deep voice rumbled behind you, to which you turned. 

The man had dipped to a bow, eyes trailed to the ground.

Did... Was he...

Within a swift motion, he stood upright, so much taller than yourself. His breathtaking ocean eyes glanced to yours with a film of protection. A mask. His lips curled into a thin smile, the rich tunic on him only glimmer it with its golden accents and dark base color.

He seemed more relaxed. More at ease. 

"You look stunning, indeed. I had heard of it, but I find you in person much more pleasing than simple rumors. Congratulations on your triumph over the last Dragonborn as well, I can hardly imagine spending years in a daedric prince's realm would be pleasant."