Whitney Writes…

It had been three months since Ralof’s son had been crowned king. It had been three months since Ralof’s wife had suddenly fallen into madness and died. And somehow, his armor sat on it’s stand, beginning to rust. He stared at it in wonder. The things that had changed in a month. His wife gone. His little son eager to please – too eager to please – as king. His once tight-knit friendship with Ulfric deteriorating before his eyes.

The proud Nord had always accepted Fadiya as his queen. He had always been a staunch defender of the queen. Even when she misstepped. Which, Ralof knew had been often. The man had never indicated feeling inferior to being ruled by a woman. Did he now feel inferior to being ruled by a child?

Ralof rubbed his beard absent-mindedly. He could feel it in his bones: Ulfric Stormcloak was going to be a problem.

Inktober 2024, Prompt #23: RUST🧡🖤👻🎃