Skyrim One-Shots

Ulfric x Reader(Female) ~Mistakes of a Lifetime(4)~

A hum from your lips as you flattened out your dress, a brilliant shimming golden to match the beast of a dragon you were.

No more, no less.

It dipped below your collarbone only to swirl up with a thin layer of lace, a nearly 2-foot long train following it. It did not sparkle.

It burned.

Lydia, who had helped you put on the rather troublesome dress, seemed to be stricken with awe. Rare, she was always one for bitching. The thought grew a smile upon your face.

The moot had been postponed a week under the terms that Jarl Balgruuf's son had become deathly ill.

Truly, it was a small case of pox, not severe in the least, but he'd made a scene of it and granted you time to keep your plan in motion. Damn that man- you owed him greatly.

With a small glance to the woman beside you, lips curled, you spoke. "If you do not speak, it means it is the best thing you have ever seen, is it not?"

The housecarl barked out a laugh. "It's not the dress, you idiot, it's you. I... Even I am taken aside. You look like what I'd imagine a child of Dibella and Talos would look."

You clicked your tongue. "Talos? No, no, he raped and pillaged."

"You hold yourself like you've raped men!" she exclaimed. "It's intimidating!"

"Good."

"Oh, by the nine, is Ulfric going to want to hang himself with a single glance," she grinned. "I know you well enough- teasing and taunting, dancing around the fire."

"Fire? Lydia, come now," you laugh. "I am the fire."

"True, true. Hail, my lady, you are more king than the former Stormcrown."

You rolled your eyes, only to hear a knock at the entrance to your current chamber.

"____, the time nears," came a woman's voice, quiet and soft.

"Aye. Do tell my wedded he is in for a hell ride," you smile, sickeningly sweet.

The priestess on the other end let out a warm laugh. "If he does not know it himself, he is an idiot."

"Oh, poor, poor, Ulfric Stormcloak," Lydia cackled.

"May I open the door, Dragonborn?" the priestess questioned.

A nod as you looked to Lydia. She approached the doors and opened them gently, only a crack for the woman to get through. The robed worshiper slipped in easily while Lydia closed it instantly.

Her brown eyes were wide as she looked upon you, a wide smile upon her face.

"You truly shine brighter than the sun."

You bowed briskly. "My thanks. How many minutes do I have?"

"Two at the most," she smiled sheepishly. "The temple of Divines has fast worshipers."

"And very kind, too," Lydia added with a curt smile. 

The woman, in her late 60s, flustered and thanked her.

Another knock at the door.

"Lisset, is she ready?" a male questioned.

The priestess scoffed. "Of course, Wilvan."

"Why must you be so sharp?" he muttered.

"Because you are lazy!" she barked. "Now, open the door, and let the wedding commence, you blithering fool!"