A/N: Sexual situations. Not appropriate for children.
5E 20, 16 Sun’s Height
Ben came awake slowly, afraid to open his eyes, fearing that the rescue had just been a happy dream. The thirst was still there, but it wasn’t as urgent, and the scents were different. He smelled the stale air of an old castle, seawater, human blood, and her. He was warm, wearing trousers and covered by a soft blanket, and gentle fingers combed through his long hair. A hand to his chest indicated that all the wounds Ergyu had inflicted were gone. There wasn’t even any scarring. Then again, perhaps he was still dreaming. Well, if he was, he was going to embrace this dream for as long as he could. He opened his eyes to see Serana lying next to him, smiling.
Ben didn’t know what day it was; he had lost all track of time. It didn’t really matter, though, because it was looking more and more like they would never go home again. Serana and the others had probably closed the portal by now, figuring he and Rowan were lost. Which, he guessed, they were. There wasn’t much left for them now except for overpowering thirst. At first, he had thought a lot about Serana, missing her, wishing he could hold her again; but as time went by, all he could think about was the dryness in his throat. He hated her a little bit now. She had made him this way, caused his desperate dependence on living blood, a sweet nectar he would likely never taste again. But she had only been trying to make them stronger; he knew that, and as much as he hated her, he loved her even more.
A/N: Nudity, sexual situations. NSFW and inappropriate for children.
5E 20, 30 Midyear
Dolff sat on the throne, leaning on his elbows with his face his hands as Coranil stood before him, relaying the information he had obtained at the College of Winterhold. He cursed himself for thinking for even a moment that his job as Jarl of Windhelm was easy. He had known the hard decisions would come sooner or later, but he hadn’t realized it would be this soon or this hard. Things had gotten worse since Rowan and Ben had left and issues had started piling up. Without them there to set his mind at ease, he’d had a rough time juggling his responsibilities, remaining objective, and even keeping his thoughts organized. In a fortnight he would have his eighteenth birthday, but right now those eighteen years seemed like eighty.
And now Coranil was standing here, telling him he would have to send Rowan and Ben into Coldharbour.
Although he still mourned his father, Dolff found that being Jarl of Windhelm wasn’t as difficult as he had feared. His days were filled with business, but everyone knew his or her job and was generous with their guidance. For the most part, the prominent citizens of Windhelm, whom he had expected to approach him with demands and unsolicited advice, gave him the time and space he needed to ease into the job. A couple of them came to the Palace of the Kings with such tidings, but Dolff let them know right away and under no uncertain terms that he would not be bullied, and they left him alone.
A/N: Sexual situations. NSFW, and not appropriate for children.
5E 20, 17 Midyear
Ulfric’s body lay in state for three days, and dignitaries and citizens from all over Skyrim either attended the funeral or sent best wishes. After his father was buried, Dolff took the throne, assuming the role of Jarl of Windhelm; and although he kept the Jagged Crown nearby, he never put it on.
Coranil stayed in Windhelm for a couple of days to help out and ease the transition. The boy was taking his father’s death hard, and he needed all the support he could get. Dolff helped him in return; the two of them spent several long hours together, commiserating and talking about their memories of Ulfric.