Ralof jumped back as he heard the spell crackle to life as Meliandra jumped to her feet, her eyes snapping open with a fury behind them. “Hey!” He snapped. “It’s just me! What the fuck?” Amber eyes blinked at him in confusion before comprehension set in leaving her staring, a glint of impishness in her eyes. “Hey, now, what’s got you so jumpy?” He glanced at the conjured sword in her hand then back at her. “You know, I bet if you got rid of that magic sword of yours, things would be a tad bit less tense.”
She looked at the sword in her hand, tilted her head to the side, then waved off the spell, the sword disappearing in the blink of an eye. “I forgot about you and your infernal use of magic,” he said flatly.
“Oh, come on, now, Ralof. Magic’s not bad at all. And I’ve learned some new spells since you and I last saw each other.” She grinned at him. “I didn’t know you were back in Windhelm.”
“Maybe if you had come to Windhelm sooner you’d have known I had come home a long time ago.” He glanced around the cell, moving just his eyes. “Instead I discover that when you finally decide to come visit me, I’ve got to come to the city jail to see you. What kind of welcome am I supposed to give you if you’re locked up in jail?”
“If I had realized you were back I would have made it more of a point to come and see you first.”
He smiled at her as he said, “Tell me another pretty lie, beautiful. Maybe I’ll believe you.” He chuckled. “What do you think of getting out of here?”
She arched her eyebrow as she answered with a question of her own. “Have I been pardoned?”
He laughed again as he reached for her hand. “That completely depends on you, beautiful.”
She warily took his hand and let him lead her out of the cell to the chest that held her gear. Opening it, he pulled out her clothing and boots and handed them to her; he had been told those were the only things that she was permitted to have at this time. “Let’s go for a walk, beautiful.”
Ulfric sat on his throne, his chin resting on his hand as he listened to his steward as he gave the jarl the day’s reports concerning the city. Another girl had been murdered by a person the guards had taken to calling ‘The Butcher’. The jarl believed that it was one of the dark elves that had lived in the Gray Quarter where all the dark elves in Windhelm resided, a refuge of theirs from the days of when the Red Mountain had erupted. There were always reports coming from the guards who patrolled that area of Windhelm about assaults of every kind, of robberies and every sort of crime. He did not trust elves. He never had and he never would.
“Sir,” Jorleif was saying, “there continues to be unrest in the Gray Quarter.”
He glared at his steward. “Fucking dark elves. I don’t suppose you could tell them that I presently have much larger concerns? Such as all of Skyrim?”
The older man frowned, saying, “They don’t seem to be very sympathetic to our cause, sir.”
Ulfric grumbled. “Of course they’re not sympathetic to our cause. They’re elves; elves stick together.” He made a waving motion with his hand as he continued, “Talk to Free-Winter, have him talk to the elves. He treats the Gray Quarter like his little pet project; let him settle their problems.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Jorleif responded.
The jarl started to say something else when he saw Ralof and Meliandra enter the Great Hall from the passage leading to the jail. He watched as they walked to the entrance of the palace, his attention on the young Breton. She had an intriguing aura about her; it was one he had noticed in Helgen and one that held his attention even more so now. There was a confidence about her that shone brightly and he wanted it on his side.
He noticed Galmar standing to the side and turned to him; he saw the look in his second-in-command’s eyes, a look of uncertainty. “Yes, Galmar? Something on your mind?”
“Something about that girl I just don’t trust.”
Ulfric shrugged as he said, “It’s your job not to trust her. It’s my job to make her trust us.”
Ralof and Meliandra sat at a table in the darkened corner of Candlehearth Hall, a soft glow upon them. Because she was on prisoner rations, he had taken the Breton to the inn for a warm meal. They had dined on venison steaks with baked potatoes, drowning the meal in pitchers of ale while they talked about nonconsequential subjects passing the time. Meliandra caught sight of Vorstag and Lydia as they walked in trying to avoid eye contact with each other, but signaled that she was alright.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ralof said with a smile.
“And where do you plan on taking me? Back to my jail cell?”
“I’d rather not,” he replied, stroking her cheek. “I’d rather like to be able to give you the rest of your gear and tell you that you’re a free woman.”
“So do it,” she said in a whisper. “Let me go and I will never step foot in Windhelm again.”
He laughed softly. “Another pretty lie, beautiful?” He stood up, taking her hand as he did so. “Let’s go. I have some things to discuss with you in private.”
She sighed as she followed the soldier out the door of the inn. The night sky was clear, the brightness of the moon illuminating their path. There was a sharp, cold bite to the air here; it was very invigorating to her. He led her toward the Temple of Talos, turning at the graveyard. He held her hand in his as they walked slowly past the headstones. “Did you know that the last person who tried to steal from Ulfric was executed?”
She looked at him, her eyes slightly widened. “He had them killed?”
Ralof nodded. “Yes. He would have already had you under the headsman’s axe.” He stopped and turned her to face him, a smile hiding behind his lips but touching his eyes, “but you’ve piqued his curiosity, intrigued him.”
“I have, have I?” She arched her eyebrow, her voice taking a hard edge to it. “So, what, am I to be kept here in Windhelm to tickle his fancy, whatever that might be?”
“I don’t know what his plans are for you, beautiful,” he answered as he began to walk again, heading toward Valunstrad, the area of the city that held the most majestic of houses owned by some of the most prestigious of Windhelm citizens.
“Then what is all this, Ralof?” she asked. “What is the meaning behind tonight?”
“Ulfric asked me to talk to you,” he answered flatly. “He wants me to convince you to talk to him.”
She snorted. “Talk to him about what, Ralof? Why I was stealing his shit? Give me a break. I’m a thief; it’s what I do.”
“Honestly, Meliandra, I don’t know. He asked me to convince you to talk to him and that’s what I’ve set out to do.”
Ahead of them he saw a patrolling guard turning the corner past Viola Giordano’s place. The city was quiet this evening, most people were staying indoors because of the recent murders against the women of the city. Most of the windows in the houses were darkened save for the gentle flickering of hearth fires. “Tell me something, beautiful,” he said as they approached the Shatter-Shield estate. “Why didn’t you come to Windhelm when you said you would?”
“I was on my way and got held up by thing in Riften,” she said without hesitation.
“Riften?” he repeated. “Well, that explains the thievery part of your visit now, doesn’t it?” He saw her turn to him from the corner of his eye. “You fell in with the Thieves Guild, didn’t you?” At her silence, he stopped and turned her to him, continuing, “Now what is so appealing about the Thieves Guild that it would keep you away from me?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Gold.” She chuckled. “Gold is what kept me in Riften.” She shrugged. “I’ve made a good amount of it too, more than I would ever get fighting in this damn war.”
“Gold?” he asked, pulling her close to him. “Is that all? Are you sure someone didn’t steal the thought of me from your memory?” He leaned down, lightly kissing her lips.
“You have me at an impasse, soldier,” she answered in a seductive tone. “I cannot confirm nor deny what you accuse me of. Perhaps I can make amends with you somehow?” She tilted her head to the side, a suggestive look in her eyes.
His eyes smiled as he wrapped his arms around her tighter, pulling her closer to his body. “What kind of amends are you talking about? You have left me here waiting for a very long time.” He leaned in and kissed her again, this time a little more forceful. He felt her hands find their way beneath his tunic and run up his back; his own hands cupped her rear, squeezing the cheeks firmly as his tongue forced its way into her mouth.
His erection throbbed against the confines of his pants as the desire built up within him. His breath was coming fast and hard as he broke the kiss, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “What do you say we get out of view of everyone, beautiful?”
“Not feeling as adventurous as you did in Riverwood?” she breathed back at him, her hands fidgeting with the belt on his pants.
“I’ll show you adventurous,” he growled with lust as he picked her up and carried her around the fence and to the back of the property, hidden between the two houses in the darkness, the moons’ light not reaching this far back in the shadows. He set her down and began to kiss her again, his hands working their way beneath her clothing.
She gasped as his fingers penetrated her; he smiled watching her lick her lips with her eyes half-closed as he stroked her insides, his thumb rubbing the nub of her desire. Soon she was panting as she rubbed herself on his hand, soft moans escaping from her lips. “Doesn’t take much to turn you on, does it, beautiful?” She looked at him and smiled. “You want me to fuck you now, don’t you?” She nodded; he undid his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. He kissed her again before telling her, “Give me some attention first.”
She obediently got on her knees and took his thick member in her mouth, eliciting murmurs of pleasure from the blond Nord. He ran his hands through her hair as he watched her plump lips slide back and forth on his cock, sucking on him adeptly. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured as he rocked his hips back and forth. His moaning increased as the build up to his climax grew; he knew if she kept this up, he was going to cum too soon. He pulled her head away as he said, “Get up and turn around.”
Without hesitation, she obeyed him again. He moved her clothing out of the way, rubbing her ass hard as he did so. He stood behind her, wrapping his hand around her throat as his lips brushed against her ear. “You want to feel my cock inside you again, beautiful?”
“Yes,” she breathed huskily.
He kissed her neck before taking a step back; placing his hand on the middle of her back, he guided her into a position that had her leaning against the wall, her hands placed firmly on the ledge of the house before her. He slammed his hard on deep inside of her, causing a yelp to escape her lips before she began to moan in pleasure.
Back and forth he thrust himself in her; her vaginal lips caressing the thickness of his phallic member, the friction making her pussy drip heavy with her excitement. A frenzy set in upon him as his lust raced headlong to the climax of their sex. He felt her body begin to quake as her climax spasmed throughout her, knees going weak beneath her. While her orgasm left her in a weakened state, it triggered Ralof’s own release. He grabbed her hips as he slammed his dick in her with a powerful thrust, his seed exploding into her womb.
He stood there a moment as the last of his semen pumped out of his dick. He slapped her ass, leaving a red mark on the cheek, pulling out as he did so. As he pulled his pants up and began adjusting his belt he spoke to her. “I really hope you listen to Ulfric, beautiful. I really want to enjoy that pussy more often.”