It's me again P:
I guess this is a sequel to my other story(It's definitely not a mandatory read.) It's lighter and easier to read. Most of it is dialogue (I love the talking :V) I'm glad some of you enjoyed that last story, made me happy :D

I think I'm in love with the f!Dovahkiin/Ulfric pairing but I hate the idea of them actually getting together. :T...
I don't own anything /singletear

Ulfric had awakened to the sound of Jorleif barging into his private chambers. The steward was an intelligent man and knew that such actions were not to be taken lightly. The Jarl was a passionate man who at times let his temper get the best of him. His expression quickly turned to one of anger, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows furrowed. Had he not spent the entire night gazing at maps of the world and rereading books on past Kings perhaps Jorleif would be met with a much more pleasant atmosphere. But of course that wasn't the case. The Jarl, still in his clothes from the previous day, shoved the various materials off the green silken sheets. "What could you possibly want, Jorleif?" his voice echoed through the Palace of the Kings, as it always did when he threw a tantrum.

"The Thane, Lovise, has been requesting an audience for a few hours," he replied simply. "I understand there were issues the last you saw her. Shall I send her away?" The last Ulfric had seen the Dragonborn had been months previously where she left with tears threatening to fall.

Ulfric shook his head; the bit of rage seemed to have died down. "Did she say what type of audience?"

"Ah, well," he cleared his throat, realizing he shouldn't be the one to bear the news, "no—but I suspect it is a rather personal matter."

The Jarl waved away the older man, "Clear the war room, I'll be down shortly." The steward bowed and took his leave, closing the chamber door behind him, "Of course, my Jarl."

He let out a long sigh and picked up the maps and books he had thrown out of a fit of anger. After having found the proper place for each item, he dug through the chest at his bed for something more suitable to wear than the previous day's attire. "I suppose any time is a good time to discuss what had happened," he muttered to himself as he put on his signature coat.

When he arrived in the war room, she had been plucking red flags, the Empire's flag, off the map spread on the large table. She no longer donned the bear skin he had last seen her in, in fact compared to their last meeting she seemed… different. "So you've discovered food," he jests. Her legs seemed thicker, her hips and breasts fuller, and her arms like they could support something other than a small knife. "But I do hope you haven't been waiting hours just to show me how much more womanly you've become."

"No," she replied with a coy smile. She tucked her wheat colored hair behind her ear. Her small giggled caused Ulfric to raise a brow in question. "I suppose I should thank you for that advice though."

He circled the table before standing in the place directly across from the girl. He stroked his beard with the same look of uncertainty plastered across his face. "And I suppose you really are here to try to start something. I've told you chi—"

"This has nothing to do with you," she interjected.

"So the Imperial-lover has grown a backbone." He folded his arms across his chest. "Or perhaps you've just had too much to drink again. Tell me, Dragonborn, what has brought upon this change?"

"You," she said with a firm stare.

He ran his tongue against the front of his teeth and pursed his lips in skepticism. "Nothing you have said thus far has led me to believe this is not about me."

"I'm engaged." She spoke slowly; or rather it just seemed she did. It felt like time had stopped. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes widened in surprise. This was exactly what he had told her to do, to find another man to share her life with. But that didn't stop the pain that spread across his chest, the regret that sat in the depths of his stomach.

He tore his eyes away and lowered his head. All she could see was the faint smile that he had forced his lips to make. His laughter caused his chest to tremble, and her heart to break. "So that's why you came. To parade around the news of your upcoming wedding?"

She wasn't expecting anything to come from this meeting, but there was a small shred of hope that he'd tell her to stop the madness and simply stay with him. But such words were not meant to come from such a man. "Well, yes, I thought… As my comrade, as my friend, I wanted you to know." She bowed and made her way to the door leading out of the war room. She paused as she passed the man she used to, no… still, loved and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. "I hope to see you attend, my Jarl."

To her surprise there was a tug at her wrist right before she opened the door to the end of whatever they had been. They stood still for some time, simply staring at each other. "You can't do this," she cried. "You can't stop me and insist that you don't see me as anything more than a child." Ulfric released her thin wrist. He dragged a seat across the room to a spot far from the exits and motioned her to do the same. She did so and waited for the man to speak.

"Tell me about the man you're marrying," his tone was no different than her father's, he even said the same thing. Lovise bit her lip and lowered her eyes to hide the wetness that had formed. "And what would he think if he saw you crying over another man."

"And whose fault would that be?" she snapped. She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from her sky blue eyes. "I—I don't even know why I stayed." Again she tried to walk away and again he had pulled her back.

"Stop, stop this nonsense."His grip tightened at her protest.
"You haven't told me about this man."
"He's a Nord, a simple, honest Nord. Now release me." He didn't.

"By the Nine," she whispered, "You don't want me to get married."

He quickly let go of her arm and sneered as if she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Why do you continue to insist there is something between us, child?"

She scoffed and held out her now red arm. "This clearly means that you harbor no feelings for me."

His face flushed and his brows furrowed in shame. He clenched his fist tightly, until the knuckles had sufficiently whitened and his palms threatened to bleed. It had become difficult to control himself after her long absence. He had resorted to grabbing her on a whim, stopping her departing… And now he had to answer for his actions. Honestly. "And what if I do?" Ulfric stood from his seat, his eyes never leaving her small figure. "Would you end your engagement? The one you were so happy to tell me about?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and he knew what the answer was. He ran his hands through her hair, for what he knew would be the last time, and pulled her head back with a quick tug to those silken strands. The sight of her red lips trembling as she stuttered to come up with an answer infuriated him. "Of course you wouldn't!"

Even with the extra weight she had put on she was not match for a man in strength. The more she struggled the harder he yanked the flaxen locks. "If you came here to discover my true feelings for you, then there you have done so. I dream of days where we could have met in simpler times, where I am not threatened by old age and you are not the dragonborn. But I will give up nothing for you."

He shoved her down, forcing her to stare at the map laid across the table, before he released her from his grasp. Lovise pressed her hands firmly against the table for support, for her knees felt weak. He stood bent over her; she shuddered at his hot breath against her neck. "I am not a spineless Imperial merchant who will cater to whatever his beautiful pet desires. And I am no simple Nord who will follow you into Oblivion."

She turned her head slightly and stole a glance out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was tight and his brows furrowed. His dark blond blonde hair fell out of place and covered a face that held many stories. "I know. You are the true High King of Skyrim, Ulfric Stromcloak." She smiled weakly.

Ulfric rest his head on her shoulder and intertwined their fingers against the wood surface. "When will you marry?"

She sighed and let out a disappointed, bitter laugh. "Only you would ask about another man during such a time."
"Such a rude child. Answer properly when an elder addresses you."
"I wasn't aware we were supposed to hold children in such a way… The 17th of First Seed."
"Are you marrying in that hovel of a town, Riften?"
"Of course, so my marry band of thieves can cut noble purses."
"You don't smell of a ratway any longer."
"I don't want my reputation to muddle with the Guild's."
"A selfless sneak-thief. How funny."

"When will the Moot meet?"
"I think I will push for the 17th of First Seed."
"How funny."

They stood hunched over that wooden table discussing their futures for some time. Jorleif had knocked on the door once and was sent away to tell the others requesting an audience the Jarl was sick.

"You're going to let me walk away, aren't you?" Her brows drooped and her head hung low. The pain had dulled but it wasn't gone for her heart still wrenched.

"You know me well." With that his hands released hers and backed away. He hid the twinge of regret by staring out into the white abyss that engulfed the city. His back was to her, like hers had been to him. "Is he in Windhelm with you?"

She nodded even though he could not see. "He's out with my father hunting horkers, bears, or something of the sort."

He chuckled at the thought of a one-armed and one –eyed old man hunting. "Kaiser is a man with no limits… I suppose the next time we meet you'll be wed."
"And you'll be High King."

"Give your father my regards."
"Anything else?"
"No. Do you expect something else?"
"No. Of course not."

Hope you enjoyed. And yeah, I purposely never named the other man. I actually married Farkas (Like a lot of other people) but I wasn't sure if I wanted to cement that into the story... So I copped out and just used "him" or "man."