Days passed since Amy's departure from Windhelm and Ulfric felt considerably better about the arrangement. Her intentions were clear now and he brought himself to trust her. After all, she did nearly go to hell and back to help his cause and protect him. She opened herself up for him in ways he wouldn't ever have imagined.
He knew they wouldn't be the epitome of romantic compatibility. He didn't love her, after all. But Ulfric assumed that it was best he didn't love her. He had experienced love negatively in his life; from his mother's embrace as a child to his last long term lover in his adult life, he had always found misfortune. He brushed off the thoughts regularly, deciding that wallowing in self-pity over something so menial compared to real issues was a waste of time.
On the third day of her absence, he sent off a letter to High Hrothgar, requesting to see her again. He was pleased when his courier returned the sunset of the fourth day, confirming that the letter had been delivered. He relaxed that evening, expecting a response or if he was lucky, a visit within a day or two.
He ate dinner that evening in the main hall with Galmar, Jorleif, and Yrsarald. Conversation was easy to keep with this company and he was grateful, as he needed to take the time to simply talk to converse with other people. The mead flowed quite liberally that evening, and by the time everyone else was asleep in the castle, sans the guards, the four men were drunk and boisterous as ever.
They moved to the kitchen for the food, talking about old battles, new battles, future battles, love, loss, family, anything really. A few hours later, Ulfric was exhausted. He was about to take his leave from the other men but was quite drunk and comfortable… he didn't want to move.
"So Ulfric," Yrsarald took a hefty sip of his mead, "have you thought about taking a bride yet. You'll be King soon enough!"
Ulfric, who up until this point merrily drank and conversed with his friends, spoke quietly and deliberately, the cheerful drunkenness gone from him, "That's not something I think I need to worry about yet. The time will come –"
"When you're dead? You're becoming an old man, Ulfric. Your ship is about to set sail and when it does… it doesn't come back!" Galmar coarsely joked and the other men laughed noisily. Ulfric grimaced, which made them laugh harder.
"Seriously friend, there are many fine women in this city alone who are waiting to spread their legs after your coronation service." Yrsarald was attempting to make light of the awkward situation and cheer up his Jarl but only wound up grating him even more.
Ulfric prepared to speak up again but this time was cut off by Jorleif, who had remained rather quiet on the whole subject, "He already has a woman, lads."
Everything quieted down swiftly and all eyes were on him. He couldn't find any words to say so he opted for chugging the rest of his mead. The other men watched him like a hawk, making it apparent that they weren't going to say anything until he did.
Ulfric gave in, his voice gruff and displeased, "Fine. I am betrothed to someone. I'm sure you lot would understand my need for discretion."
The three men in front of him all looked down at the floor, seemingly ashamed of pestering and teasing him.
"I'm sorry my Jarl, I didn't know." Yrsarald made the clear apology and Ulfric bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"How did you know, Jorleif?" Ulfric inquired, anxious that his trusted friend was perhaps infringing on his private life.
Jorleif shrugged, "I guessed, sire. I could tell what weighed on your mind recently was a woman."
