An Evening with the Jarl

The cool evening air hit her as she stepped out on the balcony feeling good on her flushed cheeks as she followed the walkway of the balcony around, looking over Whiterun from high above the city.  “No wonder it’s called the Cloud District,” she said breathlessly.

She felt his hand on the small of her back as he said, “I told you it’s a beautiful view.”  He looked down at the young woman, his eyes soft in the glow of the light of the twin moons.  He searched her face for a moment then looked over the city.  He pointed to the left of them and said, “There’s Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions.  And there’s the Temple of Kynareth.”  Then he pointed further out.  “You can see as far as the eye can see.”

“It’s breathtakingly beautiful,” she replied, gazing across the sky like an eagle upon it’s aerie perch.

“Like you.”

She turned to look at the jarl, finding him gazing at her intently, his eyes showing a hunger she had seen before, desire to taste her, wholly, savoring every nibble of her skin with his lips.  He reached up, cupping her face with his hands and silenced her unspoken question by placing his lips softly upon hers; she responded instinctively, parting her lips to welcome the probing of his tongue, wrapping her hands behind his neck as he drew her into a tight embrace, pressing her body against his.

After a moment, the jarl huskily breathed against her cheek.  “I will not treat you like a bar wench.”  He then lifted her off the ground, carrying her in his arms as he leaned down to place a kiss softly on her lips.  “Let me make love to you the way a man should.”

He brought her into his room, gently setting her on his bed.  His fingers trailed down the length of her neck to the top of the tunic she wore, then slowly, nimbly, he unlaced the strings that held the bodice together.  Once he had loosened her clothing and removed it, he stood back looking at her.  “You are very beautiful, Meliandra; probably one of the most beautiful women to ever grace Dragonsreach with her presence.”  He began to undress; he watched her watching him, his arousal growing.

He kneeled on the bed, kissing her as he laid her back up on the bed.  He positioned her legs on either side of him, then laid his hands on her chest, feeling the firmness of her still youthful breasts; it had been too long since he had felt a woman’s breasts.  He massaged them before giving them each a playful pinch.  He leaned over and traced the areola and flicked the nipple of one with his tongue before moving onto the other to do the same, but this time he took her breast in his mouth and suckled on it as hungrily as a babe nursing.

Meliandra moaned in pleasure as she felt his hand stroke her side, his touch as light as a feather, so light a slight chill swept across her body.  His hand found its way to the heart of her femininity; her heart accelerated.  His thumb rubbed the nub between her legs; he had stopped giving attention to her breasts and was watching her as he teased her body, building up the anticipation.  Her tongue peeked out, moistening her lips.

He slipped his middle finger into her causing her breath to catch; he began to stroke the insides of her sex.  Soon she began to grind her hips against his hand, her eyes closed, sounds of pleasure coming from her plump lips.  He began to suck on her breast again only this time he tenderly bit her nipple, eliciting a gasp from her.  He slipped his index finger in alongside his other digit and continued stroking her insides.

She gyrated against his hand harder, moaning.  It wasn’t long before she to murmur, “I want you inside me.  Please, I need you in me.”

He stroked her faster and harder, watching her eyes roll back as she bit her lip, her fingers clenching the quilt beneath her as she began to writhe atop it.  He felt her muscles clench around his fingers suddenly, her body arched in the air, completely still for just a moment, then her orgasm exploded, her juices flowing over his fingers and down his hand.  He watched as her body calmed itself, then smiled at her.  He licked his fingers clean then he proceeded to move down to the source of her wetness and began to lick the drenched folds between her legs, causing her to squirm as he made her arousal hungry again.

He sat on his knees before her, her legs spread open, the smell of her climax hanging in the air; his erection was at full attention, throbbing and twitching.  He leaned down, kissing her fully on the mouth, his tongue possessing hers.  He felt the hairs of her womanhood brushing against the tip of his penis; he broke the kiss for a moment, looked in her green eyes and thrust himself into her.

She cried out in pleasure as he filled her with his hardness; she grabbed a hold of his back, clutching it as he sailed her core with his length; first with slow, rhythmic strokes building up to the slamming of his dick like battering ram into her slit.  Her fingernails dug into his back as he drove her to her second orgasm; she left bloody scratch marks down his back as his own climax sent her into spasm again a moment later.

Breathing heavily, he looked down at her, his eyes searching her face before leaning down and kissing her once more.  Her fingers followed an instinctive path up his neck and found their way entwined in his golden hair and stayed there even after the kiss had ended.  “I think I might need some salve on my back,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she smiled shyly.

He slowly pulled out of her then sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her laying beside him.  “First of all, I think we’re past the point of needing to address me by any kind of title.”  He glanced over her nakedness then at his own then back at her.  “Secondly, don’t be sorry.  It’s not like I haven’t had this happen before.”  He smiled.  “I’ll just have to remember that you have claws.”  He stood up and walked to his wardrobe closet, pulling out a very elegant robe; putting it on, he returned to Meliandra’s side on the bed.  Sitting back down, he kissed her before saying that he’d return shortly, then he left his quarters.


The door shut as Vorstag examined his surroundings.  As far as castles and palaces went, it wasn’t as drafty as he had expected it would be.  Perhaps it was because this time he wasn’t in the dungeon or jail.  He opened the shutters to the window and gazed out, seeing that his room overlooked Skyrim past the city walls; he could make out Valtheim Tower in the distance.

He looked at the bed in the center of the room and frowned.  He knew that somewhere in the castle Meliandra lay on a bed similar, if not more elegant, her body entwined with that of the widowed jarl; he shook his head.  While he had no notions of any kind of sexual relationship with her, he felt a kind of brotherly concern for her and couldn’t help but feel protective of her at this time.  She carried herself with a certain confidence about herself but he heard her in her sleep.  He heard her calling out one name over and over, pain filling her voice even in the depths of her sleep.



She woke to the sound of movement in the next room.  Her head felt heavy and she remembered Balgruuf saying that the ale was an imported special brew.  She then remembered what happened after dinner.  Slowly she opened her eyes, glancing around briefly before sitting up, drawing the warmth of the fur blanket up to her chest; she noticed that her clothing had somehow ended up tossed across the room, landing on a dresser.  A slight smile appeared on her face as she thought about the gratification she had felt before falling asleep; the jarl had not disappointed.

“Good, you’re awake,” came Balgruuf’s voice as he walked into the bedroom, wearing a loosely tied robe.  He set a stack of papers on the end table, then went to her and leaning upon the bed, kissed her lips softly.  “It won’t be long until Farengar starts hounding me on when I’m going to bring you to him.”

She raised her eyebrow.  “I’m sorry, who?  And why?”

“My court wizard, Farengar.  He’s in need of something that a person with your particular set of skills can retrieve.”

“My particular set of skills?”  she repeated as she climbed out of bed and gathered her clothes.  “And what skills are we talking about, might I ask?”

“You survived Helgen.”  He paused.  “It’d be easiest for him to explain than for me to even attempt to.  He’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons and rumors of dragons.”

She saw it again in her mind’s eye as she repeated, “Helgen.” The smell of burning flesh, the screams of the people trying to save themselves, the sight of the enormous winged beast, black as pitch with eyes full of fire.  She swore she could still feel the heat from the flames that surrounded her as she landed in the inn after jumping from the keep.  It had been a sea of flames on the ground, everywhere she turned she had seen burnt carcasses, women and children screaming as they searched desperately for an escape route, any escape route, but how does one escape a flying monstrosity?

She nodded as she dressed.  “I’m not sure what help I can offer him, but I’ll see what I can do.”


He scratched at his beard lost in thought as he read through a tome on the ancient dragon language.  His interest in these creatures grew immensely when he had heard the news about Helgen, then he had received a message from an old associate and from that point on he became obsessed with the subject, just as he had been as a child when he had first heard the old stories.  How he longed to see one for himself.

He became aware of the jarl’s voice then he heard a woman’s voice responding; they were talking about the destruction of Helgen.  He looked up in time to see the jarl enter with the girl that had survived the dragon attack along with a young Nord male.

“Farengar,” Balgruuf said addressing him, “I’ve found someone who can help you with your dragon project.  Go ahead and fill her in on the details.”

Farengar noticed how the jarl placed his hand on the small of her back and held her close to him.  “So, the jarl thinks you can be of use to me?”  He looked her up and down then glanced at her companion and looked him over.  He addressed the young girl.  “I do need someone to fetch something for me.”  At her look, he said, explaining, “Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.”

She shrugged.  “All right.  So where am I going and what exactly am I ‘fetching’?”

“Straight to the point, eh?  No need for tedious how’s and whys?”  he asked, his voice patronizingly.  “I like that.  Leave those details to your betters, am I right?”  Balgruuf glared at him and he hurriedly continued, “I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow – a ‘Dragonstone’, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites.  So, I need you to go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet – no doubt interred in the main chamber – and bring it to me.  Simplicity itself.”

She nodded.  “Fine.  Bleak Falls Barrow.”  She turned and started to walk away, Balgruuf following, his hand still on her back.  Farengar watched the trio leave then picked up the book on his desk again, found the spot he had been at when he had stopped and resumed his reading.


Meliandra walked out of the wizard’s quarters, plotting the route that she and Vorstag were going to take.  At the doors of the palace stood a pair of guards holding a steel plated suit of armor.  She looked at Balgruuf.

The jarl was smiling at her.  “I had the armory find you some proper armor; my gift to you.”  He looked her in the eye and continued.  “This is a priority now.  Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons, we need it.  Quickly, before it’s too late.”  He drew her into an embrace as he said, “Be careful, love, those old Nord ruins hold many surprises within.”  He kissed her, long and deep before biding her goodbye.

She took the armor the guard still held and began to place it over the tunic she wore. She looked at Vorstag who was staring at her, an eyebrow cocked high.  She shook her head and said shortly, “I don’t want to hear it.”


“Vorstag – “

“I’m not saying anything.”

She glared at him for a moment then sighed.  “Fine.  Then let’s get a move on it.  Daylight’s not gonna last forever.”  With that she threw the leather boots she had been wearing into her backpack and walked out of the palace.






Author: AisleenHaus

Leaving the real world for one of my own making.

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