Ulfric | That's Us (THREE)

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No, I haven't been listening to a lot of Anson Seabra writing this series, why do you ask? Anyways, I researched quite a bit for this one, seeing as I believe Ulfric has some PTSD from what happens in this part (which is canon), so I really tried to understand the symptoms to make this as realistic as possible. If you guys ever want to jump in on the series and come up with headcanons or just want to ask what they would do in 'x' situation, I'd be happy to write a blurb.  Enjoy!


Title: That's Us

(Part 3/6)

Word Count: 2863

Pairing: Ulfric Stormcloak x Nord! Reader

Requested?: Nope.

Summary: She grew up with him, but what happens when life gets hard? What happens when Ulfric becomes less of the boy she knew and more of a man ruined by war?

Preview:

"Y/n..." his voice shook as he said her name," why, old friend, would you give me this? We haven't talked in 15 years-"

"Because I still care about you, dammit! Why else would I be here?!"


4E 172

The Imperial Legion's Skyrim training camp had been set up in Falkreath, providing a quick entry to Cyrodiil upon training completion. It was no surprise that Ulfric had joined the Legion, but it was quite the surprise that Y/n had followed suit. The citizens of Windhelm were well aware that she was the best swordswoman in Eastmarch, but she had always expressed her disinterest in warfare. Reinferth simply claimed that Ulfric was persistent that she join with him, spouting nonsense along the lines of 'I need you there' or 'It'll be boring without you'. Somehow she relented to that nonsense.

Jump to the present, where four trainees sat in a circle, savoring a meal and getting to know each other.

"So... Rikke, where are you from?" Y/n asked, setting down the soup bowl in front of her.

"How is it not obvious that I'm a Nord?"

The dirty blond man sat next to Ulfric let out a loud snigger.

"Rikke... I meant where in Skyrim, we all go to the Talos shrine together. I don't know of any non-Nords who worship Talos."

"Ah, Haafingar. You?"

"Eastmarch. Same with him." She nodded over at Ulfric.

"It's quite cold in Ysgramor's city, isn't it?" Rikke asked, looking over to Y/n.

"You have no idea. Summer only feels three weeks long."

Ulfric answered, placing his bowl in the grass, speaking in Y/n's stead.

"So, Galmar," he continued," What hold are you from?"

"Whiterun. Not anywhere near the keep though, much more East."

His voice was quite rougher than Ulfric's, regardless of the fact that the two were only 2 years apart.

"Too scared to say Eastmarch, eh?" Ulfric jabbed his elbow at Galmar's ribs.

"It was most certainly Whiterun!"

"Sure, it was."

Rikke rolled her eyes," It's as if they're still children." She groaned, a smile ghosting her lips.

Y/n in turn, stifled a laugh, as to not interrupt the behavior of the men in front of them.

"Shut it, princy boy!"

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