Ulfar's head hurt. Or, to be perfectly accurate, most of him hurt. It was the mark of a night well spent, he reasoned, but his reasoning didn't cure the ailment of an awful hangover. The Lord of Penkarth fondly remembered a time when he could drink himself into oblivion and still get up for the hunt in the morning but alas, he was no longer a young man and alcohol caught up to him much to quickly for his liking.
A bump in the road brought a fierce grumble deep from his chest to which the horse under him responded with a sarcastic whinny. It was bad when even the horses were mocking him. Frowning, he stared at his clothing for a moment in dumbfounded confusion. It was considerably hotter than any other time he had been in the Windkeep before so his wife insisted that he chose a regalia that was a tad bit lighter than what he was used to. It was a horrible feeling - he was used to layers upon layers of furs so to have something that was relatively easy to carry around was an unwelcome sentiment. He berated himself for letting her convince him that such a thing was a fond idea but nevertheless, he did feel a lot cooler in the afternoon sun. Speaking of which, she had remained relatively quiet for the majority of the trip. Ulfar wasn't particularly in the mood for talking but he disliked when his wife was silent; it usually meant she was planning something. Scratching his beard subconsciously, he quietly remembered to speak to her later.
Mumbled annoyance from Joane brought him back to the world around him and he realised that they had reached the end of their journey. Dismounting, he stretched with a hearty yawn. Ulfar wasn't a very big fan of those who didn't see eye-to-eye with the Northmen but he made a special exception for Soren Rathmore. The King commanded respect without having to usher a word and his fondness of the North made their relationship somewhat relaxed. Once again scratching his beard, he peeked at his more rebellious daughter.
"The King summoned us here, Joane; all of us. We're a proud people but we're loyal. Plus they brew some fine mead in the West. Just don't tell your Mother I said that!" His voice was a collective grumble and much to his dismay, he turned to find his Lady Wife.
"Agh! I was just fondly remarking that they should be on their best behaviour and listen to their lovely mother!" He confessed, a sly grin creeping onto his features.
Emmaline had always enjoyed traveling. It showed within the features of her face with every smile she had smiled and every laughter that escaped through her parted lips. She was oddly happy to be riding to the West with her husband and children but they were loyal people of the North, so it wasn't all that bad. The previous night, she knew that Ulfar had enjoyed much more than he could handle and his body was hurting. A slight smirk spread among her feminine facial features as she stared over at him.
'Hmph.' She thought to herself while staring out the window of the carriage now.
Once they had arrived and made their way out the carriage, Emmaline gleamed as it felt good to be back in the Windkeep once again. She had broke off from the group slightly, going over and getting a sneak peek of the Knights that were participating in the tournament today. Emmaline needed to know who she could bet on and who she couldn't. After catching a small glimpse, she made maneuvered herself back by her husband's side, smiling.
"Oh, sure you were, dear. I can see behind that grin of yours." She said while her hand caress over his face and beard softly.
Ulfar was an admittedly simple man with simple desires which made him very easy to manipulate and no one exploited that more than his Lady wife. His grin faded to a soft smile as he watched her, dazed almost. The years had been much kinder on her than they were on him.
"Someone has to tell them!" He grumbled, somewhat equivalent to a young child before he looked off.
"Too many princes round ere! Joane wouldn't grace one even if her life depended on it but Isla will be in her element. I swear, I'll tell Soren himself if I have to - no princes round my Isla!" His eyes followed the collection of his children as they wandered. His daughters were at a good age to marry and Sigurd was healing well and shaping up to be a good Lord. They were growing much too fast.
"Aye, I suppose I have to let them go sometime..." He mumbled sadly, his hand finding Emmaline's hand as he watched them disappear into the crowds. Barely a moment passed before he rounded on her, his characteristically facile frown taking over.
"No princes though!"Emmaline looked at Ulfar with a fair smile as she knew that she had a certain affect on him. It was a nice thing to know and she exploited it every single time she had the moment to. Emmaline shook her head at her husband then chuckled at his words.
"Oh, Ulfar, if they marry a Prince from the Windkeep, that wouldn't be so bad. I mean, look at this place." She waved her hand around, pointing her slender fingers at various parts of their surroundings.
"Yes, we'll have to let them go sometime. After all, my family eventually let me go so that I can marry you, didn't they?" She knew she had him right there with that comment and with that question.
Even though their marriage did cause a slight rebellion in the North, she thought it was bad omen but they made it this far so that thought wasn't in the slightest of her mind anymore. Emmaline eyed Ulfar again, shaking her head.
"Ulfar, stop it. Our daughters have grown into responsible young women and if a prince decides they want to court, let them court. You can't watch over them forever." Emmaline bluntly told her husband as she breathed calmly now then looked back at him.
"Sorry, dear. But I guess I am afraid of losing them, too. But Sigurd on the other hand, he can marry any female he so chooses. Well, a princess anyway." Emmaline said softly while looking out ahead, waiting for the events to begin.
Nightwing95
