In The Dead of Night

The Nord thrust himself into the Breton once more, filling her with his length; he was insatiable with this raven-haired beauty beneath him, but his release was imminent.  His strokes became hurried and demanding; he needed to claim this woman as his and only his.  Her breasts, so creamy white, jiggled vigorously as his climax approached rapidly.  The sounds of her pleasure growing louder pushed him over the edge and with a final thrust, his seed erupted inside of her, the force of his orgasm spasmed through him as he collapsed onto the bed next to her.

“You know how to steal a man’s heart, darling,” he breathed heavily.

Meliandra smiled as she sat atop him, straddling him between her legs, her long, black hair draping across her breasts.  “It was never my intention to steal your heart.”

“But you did,” the blond responded.  “From the moment I laid eyes on you, you had me.”

She leaned down and kissed his lips.  “I find that I seem to have that affect on people.  Which is good, really,” she said sweetly as her hand found its way to the dagger she had secreted away when the Nord had not been paying attention.  As his eyes questioned her, she drew the edge of the blade across his neck, spraying the legate’s blood across her.

“Death to the Empire.”

Advertisements

Searching for Clues

He looked at her, his height imposing to her frame, short even for a Breton.  He could not deny to himself that every day he saw her, he found himself liking her more and more, his physical attraction causing him to take leave of his sense more often than not.  He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up, looking into her eyes, a smile on his lips.  “Meliandra Valeria, you’re going to prove to be more valuable than I thought.”  With that, he released her chin and continued walking out of the arena.  

She went through the drawers in the room Susanna the Wicked had occupied during her time in Windhelm, looking for clues as to who this woman was, see if there was any connection between her and her killer.  She found bottles of elixirs in the box on her dresser; sniffing them cautiously, determining the contents to be somewhat harmless.  Noting the markings on the bottles, and knowing the lifestyle the woman had had, she came to the conclusion that the elixirs were to either prevent or terminate a pregnancy.  She rummaged through the drawers of the dresser and found only clothing.  Upon opening the door to an end table, she saw a stack of journals; something told her these were important as she took them out and sat at the table in the room.  Bringing the candle closer to her, she opened the first journal and began to read.  As she read in silence, her eyebrow rose and fell with both surprise and suspicion.

For a few hours, she sat reading, turning the pages in silence, stopping only occasionally to stretch.  By the time she had read the last page of the last leather-bound journal, she knew she had to bring them to Ulfric, what they contained would not calm his paranoia of conspirators, but it would prove to Ulfric that allowing her to look into this Butcher matter had been for his benefit in the long run.  She gathered them together, putting them in a small backpack and nudged the dozing Nord on the bed.  “Come on, you can get your beauty sleep later.  I need to get these to the jarl.”

“Ulfric?  Why him?” he asked, yawning as he got off the bed Susanna had once called hers.  She looked at him and he shook his head saying, “Yeah, never mind about that.  Stupid question.”

They made their way through the inn and out the doors into the cold winds.  She looked at the clouds gathering overhead, a shiver making its way through her Breton skin and she pulled her cloak closer to her body as she made her way across the stone boulders that made up the streets of Windhelm to the Palace of the Kings.  The guards at the palace were getting used to seeing her and held the door open for her and Vorstag; she barely inclined her head toward the tall Nord as they passed through, instead seeking out the jarl.

“What do you need, girl?” came Galmar’s gruff voice from beside her.

“Jarl Ulfric; I have information he needs to see.”

He glanced at the pack on her shoulder.  “Show him what?”

She met his eyes.  “It’s about Susanna the Wicked.”

“And…?”

She tilted her head and smiled.  “I think its best I show it directly to Ulfric; he is the one who gave me authority in this matter.”

He smirked.  “Have it your way, thief.  But know that I’ve got my eye on you.”

She watched as the older man walked to the barracks, a slight limp to his gait.  She spotted the steward and approached him as he reviewed a list handed to him by a servant.  He afforded her a glance as he addressed the maid, handing her the list back before turning his attention to Meliandra, a tired smile on his lips.  Asking where the jarl was, he directed her to the training arena in the east wing then proceeded to attend to his duties.

“Want me to go with you, Mel?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “Wait for me here,” she said as she headed toward the passageway Jorleif had indicated would lead her to the training arena.  Venturing in to the semi-darkened halls, she realized that she had traversed these halls the night she had been caught, but instead of going the same route, she was diverted in another direction.  Unlike last time, she walked in the light, taking a moment to look at the paintings and suits of armor along the walls.  Soon she came to a set of doors, slightly ajar; she hesitated before opening the door.

He wore only pants, no armor at all, his back to her as he held onto a bar secured into poles and pulled himself up, then lowered himself back down, then he repeated the action again and again.  His hair dripped sweat onto his glistening back as the muscles rippled with his exertion; she had not realized how broad his shoulder or how large his biceps were.  Her eyes lowered as she continued studying the jarl’s muscular body, paying attention to the fluidity of his movements.  She watched as he let go of the bar above his head, landing with a soft thud upon the ground.  Startled, she cleared her throat to announce her presence as she walked toward him.

#

He turned to see the Breton approaching him; he had been wondering how long she was going to be standing behind him, watching.  He glanced up at the greatsword hanging on the wall that had given him the view of her entrance, a slight grin tugging on his lips.  “Something I can help you with, Meliandra?”

She held a backpack out to him in her slender hand.  “In here you’ll find a set of journals I retrieved from Susanna the Wicked’s room at the inn,” she said, meeting his gaze.  “It appears that Susanna and Mila were acquainted, extremely well to be accurate.”

He took the offered pack, opened it and looked inside.  He counted the few volumes then looked at the Breton.  “You read all of these?” he asked flatly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do I need to read these then?” he asked.

She sighed.  “I’d say yes, but the decision is ultimately up to you.”

He nodded, closed the pack, and handed it back to her.  “Was Susanna part of Mila’s conspiracy?” he asked as he picked up a jug of water and poured it over his head, cooling himself off from the heat of his workout.

“Yes and no.  Yes, in that she made the connections for Mila.  No in that’s the extent of her dealings as far as I can tell.”

He nodded then said, “It appears that allowing you to look into this Butcher was a good thing.”

She smiled.  “Yes.  And because we’ve given Mila a day with no questioning, she should be well enough to question again starting tomorrow.”

“Good,” he replied, turning to retrieve his tunic and, pulling it over his head, continued speaking to the Breton.  “Does she know that Susanna is dead?”

“No,” she answered.

“Then use it to your advantage,” he said as he stood next to her.

She smiled broadly.  “Of course.”

He looked at her, his height imposing to her frame, short even for a Breton.  He could not deny to himself that every day he saw her, he found himself liking her more and more, his physical attraction causing him to take leave of his sense more often than not.  He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up, looking into her eyes, a smile on his lips.  “Meliandra Valeria, you’re going to prove to be more valuable than I thought.”  With that, he released her chin and continued walking out of the arena.

#

She stared after the Nord jarl, her blood simmering, but didn’t know if it was because she felt he was demeaning her or if because she thought he was going to kiss her, a thought she hated to admit excited her.  She caught up with him, falling two steps behind him.  “Do you want an update on the Butcher?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“No, but I- “

“Talk to me when you find out who it is.”

“But, sir- “

He stopped and looked her in the eye.  “If you need assistance about anything, go to my steward.  Is there something you don’t understand about that?”

Her eyes blazed back at him as she met his gaze and answered, “No, sir.  I’ll take my leave of you.”  And with that she stalked off to find Jorleif again.

#

He watched her stalk off with a smirk on his face, he had to admit to himself that he thought she was cute when she was mad, and his thoughts went to the many ways he would use to calm the fire behind her eyes.  He watched until she was out of his sight, slightly disappointed in seeing her leave, then headed to his chambers.  Perhaps Rory would be there waiting for him.

#

Jorleif had directed Meliandra to Viola, the elderly spinster of Windhelm about the flyer about the Butcher.  Meliandra got the impression that the woman was somewhat of a busybody, that she knew more about the people in this city than people realized; she made sure to make a mental note of this as she found the woman walking to the marketplace.  Upon showing the woman the necklace she had found, she was directed to Calixto, the proprietor of an oddity museum.

She recognized the Imperial as she walked into the shop as the man from the graveyard; he seemed to be agitated and distracted at her entrance, something she noted in the back of her mind.  She took the necklace from the pouch on her hip and showed it to him.  “I was wondering if you could tell me about this?”

The man took the amulet in his hand and examined it.  “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of this.”  He cleared his throat then continued, taking on a lecturing tone.  “This, my dear, is the Wheelstone.  It’s really nothing, just a piece of ceremonial jewelry traditionally given to the court wizard of Windhelm.”

“You mean this belongs to Wuunferth the Unliving?”

He shrugged.  “One would suspect but I have never seen him wear it or even display it.  You know,” he said scratching his beard, “I’d be willing to buy it off you for a fair price if you’d like to sell it?”

“Shouldn’t I bring it to it’s rightful owner?”

The man’s eyes widened for a moment then calmly replied, “Like I said, I’ve never seen him with it, I don’t think he cares much for it.  Plus, one must be wary when they deal with that man; he is known to be a necromancer.”  He reached over and picked up a coin purse, and opening it, continued, “I’ll pay you five hundred gold for it.”

Meliandra gave thought to it then nodded her agreement.  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Minutes later she was heading back to the Palace, going over what she had uncovered in her mind, Vorstag silently following her.  Things seemingly added up, but she still felt like something wasn’t right with the entire situation at all.  She glanced behind her at Vorstag and asked for his thoughts.

He shrugged.  “Well, the old lady thinks it’s the wizard and then that guy at that curiosity museum reaffirmed her suspicions.  Sounds pretty cut and dry to me.  That wizard’s killing people.”

She nodded but remained silent, her thoughts churning as her gut told her that something was not right.

#

He stood upon the bridge looking down upon the city, watching the movements of the Breton thief below intently.  He knew she had a sexual relationship with Ralof, though it appeared that it was a mutual consent between the two that neither sought to further that relationship to anything more than fuck buddies.  His dick throbbed at the thought of her bent over on all fours, panting like a bitch in heat as she took his dick in that pussy of hers, pounding her hard as she gasped his name.  He imagined grabbing that raven hair of hers and pulling her had back with one hand as he fucked her, his other hand slapping her ass.

He lost sight of the woman and grunted, turning to head back to the Palace.  The image of the young thief letting Ralof have his way with her thrilled him, though he’d never admit to such a thing.  He smiled to himself; he did not trust this Breton, but he was beginning to enjoy having her around.

Hunting for a Killer

With a creaking, the paneling began to slip into the wall.  She crinkled her nose as the pungent scent of blood filled her nostrils as she stepped into the hidden room.  It was everywhere, the walls, the floor.  A bloodied effigy lay upon a pile of blood-soaked hay; it was obvious to her that some sort of magic had been done here.  Seeing a journal on the altar that had been constructed, she picked it up and looked through it.  A chill went through her when she realized what the clues were saying. 

“Fucking necromancers.”

Galmar stood at the door of the war room as he listened to Ulfric’s steward going over a list of the day’s events.  When he heard Jorleif mention Meliandra taking authority in the Butcher murders, he began to fume.  Waiting for the steward to leave, he went to the table and poured himself a tankard of mead and took a couple large swallows, staring at the table in angry disgust.  He listened as Jorleif left the room, the man’s smaller gait echoing through the passageway to the throne room.  Once the footsteps died away he turned to see the jarl watching him with an amused look on his face.  “You find something funny?”

“You disagree with me allowing the Breton to investigate these murders?”

“You gave that woman full authority?  She reports to you?  What the hell are you thinking, Ulfric?”

“I am thinking that my general is forgetting his place.”  He walked over, joining his friend, and, picking up a tankard, proceeded to pour himself some mead as well, while saying, “Is it not wise that whenever you are confronted with an opponent, you conquer him with love?”

Galmar snorted.  “There you go sounding like one of those monks on High Hrothgar again.”

“Watch your tongue; I was supposed to be one of ‘those monks’.”

Ignoring him, Galmar continued, “So, what do you intend on doing?  Wooing her until she pledges her loyalty to you?”

The jarl smiled.  “There was no need to woo her at all.”

“Wait… what?  You didn’t have to?  She’s already- “

“In exchange for the Butcher investigation,” Ulfric answered before Galmar could ask.  He took a swallow of his drink then continued saying, “Learn your enemy’s strengths, weaknesses, what you can use to your advantage, and how you can manipulate their next moves so that they play right into your hands.”

“What exactly do you want from this thief?”

An image of the Breton naked upon his bed flashed before him as he answered, “I’m not sure, Galmar, but something tells me that we want her on our side when the Empire comes knocking on our door again.”

#

She exited the Hall of the Dead and looked at Vorstag, her eyebrows raised in an amused look on her face.  “Was it just me or is that woman… off?”

Vorstag laughed then replied, “Come on, Mel, give the old gal a break.  She probably doesn’t get a whole lot of interaction with people.  I mean… living people.”

Meliandra stifled a laugh.  “You’re terrible, Vorstag.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one laughing.”

She balked at him.  “I am not.”  She pointed to the bloodstains on the stones heading toward the more affluent part of the city.  “You know, I’ve got a feeling that that’s from our victim…”

“Really?” he retorted sarcastically.  “So, what’s keeping us here, Mel?  I mean, besides looking for this murderer?”

She shook her head, her black locks swaying side to side slightly.  “Ulfric.”

“What do you mean, Ulfric?” he asked warily as they followed the trail of blood upon the stone path.

“The man is paranoid.  He trusts no one.  Well, he trusts Stone-Fist, but I don’t know anyone else.”  She shook her head exasperatedly.  “Because he’s been betrayed by people he did trust, he’s hesitant to trust me.  I think he still believes that I’m working for someone against him.”

“Well, let’s just find this guy and get out of this city.  Let’s get back to Riften.  Or better yet, let’s go back to Whiterun and spend some time at your house there.”

She laughed.  “Can’t wait to see Lydia again?”

He smiled at her, that lop-sided grin of his that made her laugh.  “I bought her a present.”

The Breton nodded as she pointed at the blood trail that led to the door of the house in the corner of the block.  “Seems to go to this house.  Look around, see if you can find anything amiss.”  She checked the door and found it locked, then she began checking the windows, only to discover they were dusty and unclear to see through.  She tried seeing if any windows were loose, and, finding none, swore under her breath.  She could try and pick the lock, but she was sure she’d be able to get permission to get into the house if she only knew who had the key.  Vorstag came back over to her and reported the same on his findings.

She shook her head as she glanced around.  Seeing an older guard making his rounds, she called him over.  She showed him the writ from the jarl and asked him who had the key to the house.

“Hjerim?  Tova Shatter-Shield has the key.  She lives next door, but I just saw her in the market, looking at the produce.”

Nodding, she dismissed the guard while signaling Vorstag to follow as she made her way back through the neighborhood and toward the marketplace just beyond the walls of the graveyard.  “I have a strange feeling about this whole situation.”

“What do you mean, Mel?”

Frowning, she shook her head.  “Just a feeling, nothing I can really put into words, just… something doesn’t feel right.”

#

He was disappointed and upset.  Susanna had seemed like the perfect choice, but still the magic had failed.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would need a pure source, and the harlot that now lay on a slab in the Hall of the Dead was nowhere near being pure.  The bodies were beginning to pile up; if he didn’t find a new donor next time, he was going to have to pack and leave for a while.  He paced his bedroom, his thoughts racing as he hurriedly came up with a plan.  He had possibly one more chance, but he would have to wait just a little bit longer.

#

The door made an audible click; turning the knob, she walked into the large house and looked around.  She coughed as she breathed in the stale, dusty air, the lack of a fire inside the home for so long made it cold enough to keep the chill in Meliandra’s Breton bones.  She saw a chest to the side against the wall; something was odd about it in this mostly empty house and walked up to it.  She squat on her launches and lifted the lid and looked inside.  Seeing multiple papers, she pulled one out, opening it and began to read; it was a flyer about the Butcher.  She tucked the notice into her pocket and stood up.  “Let’s look upstairs,” she said solemnly as she began to ascent the staircase.

Flecks of dust hung in the air, tiny beams of sunlight making their way through the long untouched windows.  She coughed softly, and an aggravated obscenity followed.  The landing was spacious and large; she could see there were rooms in the back and went to investigate further.  The first room held no clues; the second room, the main bedroom, it reaped the same result as the first room except the two of them were drawn to the bed that sat in the middle of the room with chairs stacked upon it.

They returned to the first level of the home, Vorstag looking in the kitchen while Meliandra searched the rest of the house.  In the back she found an end table with more of the pamphlets about the Butcher, obviously torn down from being posted by the looks of the rips in the papers.  She began to turn away when something caught her attention, making her look again.

The jade skull seemingly stared at her from its bone white setting; though it was obviously connected to the darker arts in magic, she could not deny the beauty of what lay in her hand.  She turned it over and over absent-mindedly as she looked around the room once more.  Checking the cabinets, she found only a few clothes as well as some odds and ends.  Opening the last cabinet, she immediately knew something was amiss; there were no shelves in this cabinet and the paneling on the back rattled when she opened the door.  Placing her hand on the back, she discovered as she had suspected, that the paneling hid something beyond.  Running her fingers along the sides, she sought the mechanism that would trigger the paneling to open.

With a creaking, the paneling began to slip into the wall.  She crinkled her nose as the pungent scent of blood filled her nostrils as she stepped into the hidden room.  It was everywhere, the walls, the floor.  A bloodied effigy lay upon a pile of blood-soaked hay; it was obvious to her that some sort of magic had been done here.  Seeing a journal on the altar that had been constructed, she picked it up and looked through it.  A chill went through her when she realized what the clues were saying.

“Fucking necromancers.”

#

He sat at his desk staring at the bed in the next room, his thoughts on the war raging throughout the land.  Reports of dragon attacks were becoming more frequent but there were no reports of any Dragonborn saving towns or people.  Despite all the stress, though, his mind kept returning to the dark-haired Breton thief with amber eyes who slept within the walls of his palace, just down the corridor from his own chambers.

What was it about her, this young Breton who captivated his thoughts, whose very presence both pleased him as well as irritated him?  Images of her played before him in his mind’s eye; he felt a yearning for her growing within him eliciting a deep sigh from the jarl.  The woman was a thief, an assassin, and she used methods of torture familiar to him from back when he had been held captive by the Thalmor during the Great War.  These were valid reasons for him to not trust her.  Yet for reasons he had yet to realize himself, he knew he could place his trust in her.

He saw Rory enter his room, dressed scantily as she usually did; he felt his cock twitch.  When she stood before him, he signaled to her that she should undress then he watched as her clothing came off.  He instructed her to touch herself, to pleasure herself then watched as she caressed herself.  She slipped her finger inside of herself and began to fuck her pussy slowly; his cock throbbed within his clothing.  He removed is pants, releasing his sex from its cloth prison, and began to rub himself.  The ginger watched him watch her as they each fucked themselves, her finger sliding in and out of her slit, noisily.  He watched as the wench worked herself into a frenzy, her orgasm flooding beneath her.

His cock was hard and completely erect as he ordered, “Suck me.”  She immediately obeyed him, kneeling before him and taking the length of him in her mouth.  He held her head as she bobbed up and down on him; his climax was fast approaching as he started to thrust against her face.  Crude vulgarities found their way out his mouth as she sucked his seed from him, a pleased look on the wench’s face for a job well done while he closed his eyes to see a raven-haired thief in her place.

An Unexpected Visitor

The Legate stared at the general in frustration.  It was bad enough that the Legion had sent an Imperial to Skyrim to deal with Ulfric’s uprising, but to send a man so callous, so apathetic as this aging general was adding insult to injury to those who had called Skyrim home.  He knew nothing of the Nords ways and walked all over their beliefs.  She saw quickly that he had underestimated the situation here, with him thinking that those loyal to Ulfric were slow in mind and acted without thought.  He had quickly realized his mistake at Darkwater Crossing when his carefully planned ambush did not go as smoothly as he had anticipated.  Both sides had suffered heavy casualties and despite the Legion had outnumbered the rebels three to one, the insurgents fought as if they had held the advantage.  Tullius had seen the power of Ulfric’s Thu’um firsthand that day as the jarl Shouted a group of Legion soldiers across the field.  It was only Ulfric’s surprising surrender that had prevented a massacre.  The blasted war would be over now if that damn dragon had not shown up at that very moment.

“And what about that traitor of yours?” the general grumbled.  “He’s hardly given us any meaningful information in nearly a year’s time!  Why am I wasting the Empire’s time and gold housing and feeding this man if he’s got nothing to give in return?”

Rikke forced herself to remain calm.  “Sir, Appius has promised me that he will have more pertinent information come the morning.”

“That skeever hasn’t given us any information of any value since Darkwater Crossing!  He better have something tomorrow or he’ll be moved from his sanctuary here in Castle Dour down to the cells!”

Rikke nodded as she watched the man storm out of the room.  Alone in the room, she shook her head.  She stared at the map before her, the multitude of flags marking territory held becoming a blur in her vision as memories of a time long past floated to the consciousness of her mind.  War does funny things to a person; it changes people, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.  Some people could go back to their lives with seemingly no effect at all, while for others they were never the same again.

War had molded her into the officer she was how, but the war they fought today was not the same as the war that had made her.  The war of yesteryear bore the seeds of the war they found themselves in now, the seeds flourishing by the constant deluge of xenophobia from those resentful of the Aldmeri Dominion.

Sighing she made her way out of the war room and toward her own quarters.  Long gone were the days of her youth when she fought alongside the men she now called her enemies, back when she trusted them with her life rather than knowing they’d strike her down dead as quickly as she would them.  She recalled the camaraderie she had felt with the future jarl and his best friend, the bonds that they had formed, and she remembered with clarity and pain the dissolution of those ties.

She had seen Ulfric slowly changing as the war had progressed, his soul hardening as each battle was fought and as more of his brothers and sisters fell to the magic of the elves.  His transformation into the iron-fisted ruler was complete when he escaped his imprisonment at the hands of the Thalmor.  Gone was any semblance to the playboy son of the jarl of Windhelm, gone was any hope of a peace between the Nords and the elves.  He was as cold as the frozen stone bricks that his city was built with, the blood that ran through his veins, ice cold as the waters that edged the city.

But Galmar, she had not seen his transformation into who he was now.  She had been too close to him to see it.  She had believed, foolishly, that her bedding him nightly was endearing him to her, that the words of love he had uttered to her all those lust filled nights were from his heart instead of his loins.  Her realization that his loyalty was to his friend and not the Empire was only one of many into who the man she had given her virtue to really was.  She had been able to salvage her career before Galmar and Ulfric’s actions had destroyed it and she swore from that point on that she would never let anyone close like that again.

Now, after all these years, she had to face her former friend and her former lover.  She dared not tell the general of her past with them; she wanted nothing more than to see the men in irons and made to pay for their crimes against the Empire but she wanted to leave that page of her past exactly where it was, in the past.

She entered her quarters; she began to unclasp her armor and remove it.  The fire in her quarters had been built up, making it warm on this particularly cold night.  An evening meal sat upon her table in the next room, a full jug of wine within reach; her stomach rumbled at the sight as she remembered that she had barely eaten this day.  She set her armor on a chair, removed her boots and left them by the chair then walked toward the table, intent on feeding her exhausted body.

She crossed the threshold of the room.  From the corner of her eye she saw the closed fist coming at her right before she felt the impact against her jaw.  She stumbled back a step, touched her lips with her fingertips and gazed at her bloody fingers.  She lifted her eyes at her assailant and smiled.

#

The Orc leered at the woman before him, the sight of her bloodied lip exciting him.  “Bitch,” he snarled as he backhanded her.  “You sent me to a fucking shithole!”

Rikke smiled at him even broader, licking the blood from her lip.  “So what if I did?”

“You just wanted to anger me, didn’t you, bitch?”

“Why send my best men when I can send in a barbarian like you?” she sneered.  “What does it matter to you?  You’re paid well for what you do, Orc.”

He grabbed ahold of her hair, twisting it hard in his grip as he pulled her to him.  “Is that what you call it?  I do your dirty work and you throw me some gold and tease me with that ass of yours?”  At her licking her lips, he smiled.  “You just want my Orc cock in you, don’t you, slut?” She licked her lips again, a smile on her face.  He let go of her hair and began to undo his pants.  “Yeah, you better believe you’re going to pay me good for that last job.  I’ve been looking forward to tapping that pretty little ass of yours again.”  He stood before her, his monstrous prick beginning to grow hard.  “Show me how much you love my Orc cock.”

She dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth.  Even at a semi-flaccid state she struggled to fit him all beyond her moist lips.  She cupped his balls with one hand, massaging them as she sucked on his throbbing muscle, causing him to close his eyes, a guttural moan coming from his lips.  His hips slowly rocked back and forth as her oral ministrations hardened his dick.

After a few moments, he pulled her off him.  His dick stood fully erect and throbbed.  “Show me what a bitch you are,” he demanded.  She immediately bent down on all fours, her ass to him.  “Good girl,” he said as he stood behind her, his hands rubbing her ass cheeks roughly.  He grinned as he slammed his long, thick finger in her asshole ang began to finger fuck her sphincter.  She rocked back and forth, moaning as his finger kept plunging into her dark hole.  “You want me in your ass, don’t you, slut?”

Her head bobbed up and down.

“Prove it,” he ordered.

She slammed her ass against his hand harder, begging him, “Fill my hole with your cock.”

He pulled his finger out and spread her cheeks.  He spit on the hole and without hesitation slammed himself into her ass.  She cried out as his imposing size crammed its way up her ass.  She begged for more.  She begged for him to pound her harder.  She begged for him to fuck her faster.  Soon she was panting like a dog in heat as her climax neared and overcame her.  The floor beneath her suddenly became wet as her juices burst forth as the Orc buried his dick deeper in her with each stroke.

A low rumble came from his chest as he suddenly pulled out of her, flipped her violently onto her back and pumped his dick with his fist twice before he came over her naked breasts and down her stomach.  His cum was thick as it pooled on her body and he watched as she began to rub it into her skin, bringing her fingers to her lips every so often, sucking the sticky juices off her fingers.

Neither one of them saw the shadow moving along the ledge outside of her window as Meliandra crept quietly by as she sought the traitor Appius.

#

The room was dark, candlelight flickering against the walls as the wood in the hearth snapped as the flames licked it.  Appius sat at his table listening to his contact as she paced his room.  “this is the time to act, Appius,” she stated firmly.  “He hasn’t been the same since he was ambushed at Darkwater Crossing.  He has not left Windhelm since his return and he rarely ventures outside of the Palace.  His capture did something; he’s been so preoccupied with what happened he doesn’t even have any desire to fuck his favorite wenches.”

He snorted.  “What a shame.”

She glared at him, her green eyes narrowed to slits.  “I don’t see you debasing yourself for the cause.”

“What?  Staying locked in this castle day in and day out isn’t enough for you?”

“You’re taken care of, aren’t you?  Stop complaining, Appius.”

“When I agreed to this foolish plan of yours, it was with the understanding that I would be a free man and not locked up like some skeever in a cage.”

She smiled at him.  “Well, you’re not locked up in a cell, now are you?”  She flipped up the hood on her cloak, shielding her face.  “I have to return to Windhelm before I am missed.  You get that information to the general as soon as possible.  The Legion will end this war once we dispose of Ulfric and then we will have everything we ever dreamed of.”

He watched as the woman stalked out of his room and after a moment he threw a tankard against the door.  “Bitch,” he swore under his breath.

He stood up, intent on going to bed.  Rikke would come see him in the morning and he’d tell her the new information then.  Maybe he could plead with her for some freedoms, anything that would put an end to his monotonous days.

That’s when he saw the tankard rising off the ground.  He watched as it levitated through the air until it was in front of one of the windows and it crashed onto the floor.  He saw the woman on the windowsill but before he could raise the alarm, a ball of light hit him, causing him to fall back, his words frozen in his throat as the paralyze spell took effect.

A moment later he saw the young Breton smiling down at him as she said, “Your presence has been requested by the Jarl of Windhelm.”

When Tempers Flare

Upon finding out about Meliandra’s arrest, Brynjolf plans to rescue her. Despite his joy at finding out she was released, both of their tempers flare and fireworks ensue.

Brynjolf reviewed the weeks reports of how much gold they had added to the coffers as well as how many job requests they had gotten in.  Slowly their presence was being felt again, but not enough.  The war was taking a toll on everyone, jobs were scarce and the need for their services weren’t as in much demand as the demand for mercenaries were.  He picked up the stack of messages from his operatives and began reading through them.  He was pleased to see that some of them who had stepped away from the Guild were now willing to work with them again; it seems that many of the operatives had been taken advantage of by Mercer and tried to distance themselves from him.

After some time, he sat back in the chair, his gaze resting on the bed that at one time Meliandra would sleep in.  His thoughts went to the last time she was here and how what had started out as steps forward in fixing their relationship ended up blowing up before his eyes.  He had obviously misread her jovial mood that day that had made him believe that she was ready to talk and when he went to apologize again in the morning he had discovered that she had left sometime during the night.

He was beginning to understand now more than ever what it meant to not know what you’ve got until its gone. The feelings he felt for her were so intense and her absence from his life created such a void the likes of which he had never experienced in his life before.  He thought of the conversation he had had with Vekel the other day and how the bartender smiled at him, a look of knowing touching his eyes as he shook his head telling the second in charge that he had fallen in love with the Breton.  He knew the man was right.  But had he lost his one opportunity to be truly happy?

He noticed the courier making his way from the Flagon entrance toward him.  He recognized the boy as one employed by Niranye in Windhelm to ferret sensitive messages to the Guild and immediately became concerned.  He sat up as the boy approached him; an icy finger of fear traced down his spine for a reason unknown to him.  “Gaelock,” he said as the young Altmer came closer.  “Everything alright?  We usually don’t see you around here.”

The boy shook his head as he reached into his satchel and pulled out the sealed message from his employer.  “Niranye says this is urgent and for your eyes only.”

Brynjolf’s eyebrow rose as he accepted the letter.  He opened it and began to read, sitting straighter in his chair as he did so.  He let the paper fall to the desk once he finished and ran his hand through his hair.  “Shor’s Balls,” he swore.  He reached into the jar to the side, took out some gold and handed it to the young man.  “Tell Niranye thank you.  And make sure some of that gets to her, too.”

Gaelock nodded and smiled, “Of course.”  Then he turned and headed back into the Flagon.

“Shit,” Brynjolf swore under his breath, his thoughts returning to the message from the Altmer thief.  Meliandra had been seen getting arrested by Windhelm guards led by the jarl’s right-hand man.  He had remembered Delvin saying that a job had come in for Windhelm to be hit.  He immediately knew that it was Meli who took the job.

The Guild’s policy was to leave a captured thief be when and if one got caught.  But he would be damned if he was going to leave the Guild Master locked up and he began to form a rescue plan using Cynric’s jailbreaking skills.

#

She took a deep breath as she stepped into the Bee & Barb, the familiar aroma of fish cooking in the kitchen with a hint of saltiness in the air wafting through her nostrils, eliciting a slight rumble of hunger from her stomach.  She approached the bar where the Argonian innkeeper was busy serving the Snow-Shod son.  She noticed that Sapphire wasn’t in her usual spot near the door, scouting for possible marks so she could lighten their pockets.  She stood at the bar and cleared her throat, bringing the woman’s attention to her.

“Oh,” the Argonian said sourly, “it’s you.  Here to extort more gold from me?”

Meliandra narrowed her eyes as she responded, “Don’t tempt me, Keevara.  The Guild’s under new rules, new management.  I’m sure the new Guild Master would be more than willing to add some new fees to your monthly contribution to the betterment of our fair city.”

The Argonian snorted.  “New management?  Who would be psychotic enough to want to be the boss of your motley crew of thieves?”

The Breton leaned onto the counter and smiled at her.  “Me.  Now, shall we continue?”

The inn-keeper swallowed nervously before shaking her head.  “I was just joking, Meliandra.  What can I do for you?”

The Guild Master set a stack of gold on the counter.  “A room with privacy and absolutely no disturbances.”

The Argonian slid the coins off the counter quickly, her claws slightly scratching the wood.  She nodded, saying, “Of course.  If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

The trio followed her upstairs and into a room far off to the back.  Once they were alone amongst themselves, they began to settle in for the day.  Vorstag and Lydia were going to be going to the market and sell what junk they had while replenishing their supplies and have Balimund make any repairs needed to their armor and weapons.  In the meantime, Meliandra would be going down to handle business with the Thieves Guild.

The sun was beginning its descent past the horizon by the time Meliandra emerged from the inn.  She saw Modesi at his stall, just starting to close up shop for the night.  She walked over to him, delivering the chunk of gold ore he was looking for for an authentic Saxhleel piece of jewelry he was making.  After paying her generously for her help, she made her way to the Riften graveyard.  She absently noted the Shrine of Talos and thought about the stories of Tiber Septim she had read as a teen.  Once again, she remembered the feeling of the dragon soul coming over her, laying claim to her.  She could not fathom that she of all people could possibly be Dragonborn.  She shook her head as she opened the entrance to the Guild.

#

She entered the Cistern to see Delvin, Sapphire, Cynric, Vex and Brynjolf huddled around the desk, talking quietly amongst themselves.  She couldn’t make out what they were talking about but it seemed urgent.  The closer she got, the more visible Brynjolf’s face was and she could see concern written all over it.

Vex looked up and upon seeing her, smiled.  She nudged Brynjolf and pointed out the Guild Master to him.  His eyes went from irritated to surprise to happy as he got up from his chair and walked toward her.  He caught himself before drawing her into a hug.  “Meli,” he said, relief riding on his voice.  “We heard you’d been arrested.”

“I was,” she answered back.  She placed the stolen signet ring in front of Delvin.  “But I had a job to do.”

Delvin picked up the ring, letting out a whistle.  “Well, look at this little beauty,” he said in admiration.  “This is Ulfric’s?”

The Breton smirked.  “It is indeed.”  She shrugged nonchalantly.  “You said something that would make them know it was us.  I think that fits the bill.”

Delvin smiled broadly, chuckling.  “Good work, boss.  I’ll get you your coin by the end of the night.”

“No rush, Delvin.”  She took her seat and began to inquire as to the state of the Guild.  For the next couple hours, she listened to what her people reported to her and how the Guild was slowly regaining their foothold.  She listened intently and watched carefully at everyone’s interactions, how smoothly they all worked together.  Slowly, one by one, they left to retire for the night leaving only her and Brynjolf.

She stood, yawning.  “I need to get some sleep; it’s been a long couple of days.”

Brynjolf stood, nodding.  “I’ll walk with you to your room.”

She sighed but nodded back at him.  “Things seem to be looking up,” she said casually as they made their way out of the Cistern.

He nodded.  “Everyone saw the sacrifice that you made to expose Mercer.  They have a new outlook on their jobs.  You’ve made them strive to be better, lass.”

A sad laugh came from her.  “I hate to break it to you, Bryn, but I had ulterior motives for wanting to kill Mercer, let alone bring him down.”

He looked over at her; the whisper of sorrow in her voice shouted at him.  She walked into the room that the Guild had decided to make quarters strictly for the Guild Master and turned to face him.  “What I shared with Mercer was strictly a satisfaction of our mutual carnal desires, nothing more.” She sighed.  “I had no illusions about any kind of meaningful relationship with him.”  She shifted her eyes slightly away from him.  “The last time I thought I had one of those I ended up being hurt.”

Brynjolf felt the verbal slap and closed his eyes, knowing she meant him.  He opened his eyes again and looked at her, his eyes soft as he gazed at her.  “Lass, I’m sorry.  I really am.  I don’t know how I can make it up to you.”

She shook her head.  “You know, Bryn, right now I don’t even want to think about any of that, alright? I’ve got a lot more on my plate than dealing with you and I.”  She ran her hand through her ebony hair, sighing.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?  Or the Guild?”

She shook her head.  Her voice was flat as she answered, “No, I need to handle this myself, Bryn.”

“Meli, we can help you- “

“Damn it, Bryn!” she snapped.  “I don’t want nor need your damn help!  Why must you patronize me, acting like you care about me?”

“Acting like I care?” he snapped back.  “Are you fucking serious, Meliandra?”  He shook his head.  “Here I’ve been worried about you ever since I received word that you had been arrested, but no, I don’t fucking care about you!”

“Worried?”  she repeated sarcastically.  “That’s not what it looked like to me when I walked in.  In fact, you and Vex looked rather cozy sitting next to each other.  Hell, she even smiled at me, like she was gloating that she drove us apart.”

“Oh for fucks sake!” he cried out in exasperation.  “What in Oblivion do you fucking think we were doing when you walked in?  Having a tea party?” He stared at her, his anger quickly rising.  “Shor’s Balls, Meli.  We were planning on how to break you out of jail!”  He turned to walk out, stopped, turned and walked back to her.  His eyes burned hot with anger, the words, acid upon his tongue.  “Just how did you manage to get out of there with the jarl’s signet ring?  Wait, don’t tell me.”  His eyes narrowed as he spat his next words out.  “You fucked Ulfric for your freedom.”

Her eyes went wide, mirroring the anger that raged in his.  She brought her hand across his face, hard.  “How dare you!”  She raised her hand, posed to strike him again.

He caught her hand mere inches from his face. “How dare I?”  He snarled at her.  “You’re no better than a whore, Meliandra.  You’ll spread your legs for anyone if it benefits you.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that when you were fucking me,” she snapped as she pulled her hand out of his grip.  “What’s wrong, Bryn?  Vex not giving it up anymore?”

Suddenly, with no warning, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, crushing his lips with hers, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and demanded ownership of it.  His grip around her was strong, holding her in his arms firmly as he gave into the overwhelming need to feel her in his arms, to kiss her with abandon like he had once done.  Breaking the kiss, he breathed heavily, “I don’t want Vex.  I want you.”

“You lost that chance, Brynjolf.”  She noticed that her voice was not as strong and forceful as she had intended it to be, but rather it was weak as she tried to reclaim the breath that he had just taken from her.

“I don’t think I did, lass,” he said as he kissed her again.

She tried to pull back, her hands finding their way to his chest, pushing at him as his kiss consumed her.  She tried to fight, not him, but her own desire to give in to his very touch.  Despite herself she found that she was returning his kiss with as much fervor and determination that he was giving.  Her hands went from pushing on him to frantically loosening his tunic and running her fingers down his bare skin, leaving red marks where her nails pressed into him.  “You’re a lying cheat,” she breathed at one point, kissing him again as his fingers worked the ties free on her clothing and quickly removed them from her body.

“And you’re a slut,” be breathed against her skin, his lips tracing their way down her neck and onto her shoulder.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  She tilted her head back, her hands finding their way through his hair, guiding him to her now naked breasts.  She gasped in pleasure as he took her breast in his mouth, his tongue flicking across her nipple before he did the same to the other.

“You are a bad girl that does bad things, Meliandra.”  His voice grew heavy with lust as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bed.  He laid her upon it, then, keeping to his knees, he climbed upon the bed, staying at the foot of it.  He stared at her before him as he removed his pants, his erection hard and throbbing.  “Did you enjoy fucking the Battle-Born son?” he asked as he slipped two fingers into her and began playing with her.  “What about that barmaid?  Did you enjoy having a woman do this to you?”  His fingers thrust faster and harder in her; his excitement was building.

“Yes,” she panted, “I liked her fucking me.”

“What about the Battle-Born kid?”  he fingered her faster still; she was dripping wet now.  “Did you like fucking him?”

She looked at him.  “No,” she admitted.  “I didn’t.  I hated it.”  She moaned and writhed against his hand then looked back at him.  “Please fuck me, Brynjolf, just fuck me.”

He smiled as he withdrew his fingers and positioned himself above her.  He stared at her as he asked, “Fuck you?  You really want me to fuck you?”  She nodded emphatically.  He stared at her for a moment longer then leaned forward, resting the tip of his shaft against her slit.  “This is what you want?”

“Yes!” she cried out.  “Please!”

He gave a hard thrust, slamming his entire length into her, causing her to cry out.  His thrusts were frantic; she clawed at his chest, drawing blood.  He was losing his control; she was crying out her quickly impending orgasm.  He thrust again, harder; her juices flowed as if a dam had burst forth, sending her body into spasms as she climaxed.  Brynjolf felt the flooding from her pooling around him and soon his own body went rigid as his cum exploded into her womb, filing her with his seed.  He collapsed next to her; his breathing accelerated but starting to return to normal.

She laid beside him, his arm wrapped around her and she remembered how secure that had always made her.  She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment.

Brynjolf held her, tracing her skin with his fingers.  He had not realized how much he missed the feel of her body against his, how they seemed to fit together perfectly.  He did not want this moment to end for in the here and now his world was perfect.  He had his Breton in his arms again.  That’s the only thing that mattered to him.

As he kissed the top of her head he whispered, “I love you, Meli.”

Persuasion

“Whoa!”

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.”

The Other Side of the Coin

“Holy shit,” Vorstag breathed as they entered the hidden cavern. Through the darkness, he could see a glowing ahead; a cloud of startled bats flew around their heads as they walked ahead. “What the hell is that?” he said, pointing to the giant wall with strange markings on it.

“I’ve seen one like that before,” she said, remembering the strange wall in Snow Veil Sanctum. “I don’t know what it is. Weird though. I swear it hums.”

“It hums?” he repeated light-heartedly.

She glanced at him to see the quizzical, but joking, look on his face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.”

“Okay,” he shook his head. “So, do we know where to find this thing?”

“No. We get to be adventurers.”

“Great,” he sighed. He pointed towards something. “Is that a sarcophagus?”

She nodded. “Are you afraid?”

“Hell no. Just…” he paused then continued, “unprepared.”

She chuckled as they crossed a stone bridge. “That wall is imposing,” she muttered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“You? Weirded out?” It was his turn to chuckle. “Mel, I do believe that that is a first.” He looked at the wall and then back at her a couple of times before finally saying, “I have to see for myself.” He walked ahead of Meliandra toward the wall. As he neared it he could tell what she had meant about the humming. There was a sense of something pulsating and he turned to mention it to her.

Meliandra was bracing herself against the wall, a blank look to her eyes. A moment passed before her eyes cleared, a bead of sweat appearing on her brow. She dropped to her knees and clutched at her head, a silent cry upon her lips. She looked up at Vorstag, visibly shaking. She moved her lips as if to speak, but nothing came forth.

Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound as a cloud of dust and crumbled stoned filled the air. There was a rumbling as the two looked toward the stone sarcophagi to see a draugr climbing out of it. It turned its head toward them, an eerie light emitting from its long empty eye sockets.

“Fuck me!” Vorstag cried out, grabbing his sword. “Mel, whatever the fuck that has gotten a hold of you, you better shake it off and quick-like! I’m not gonna be able to fight this thing by myself!”

The draugr shouted at them, knocking them back. Meliandra climbed to her feet, shaking her head. She drew her sword, snarling. “Well that got me up and moving. Let’s play.”
She charged forward, slashing at the undead once she was within reach. Suddenly Vorstag was in the middle of the fray, attacking the creature with a fierceness. They were relentless in their assault until the draugr crumpled at their feet.

Vorstag looked at her. “What the fuck happened before?”

“I don’t know but it happened last time too. I just thought I was sick.” She shook her head. “Let’s find that tablet and get out of here.”

They began searching through the sarcophagus then the chest. “Hey, Mel,” Vorstag said after a moment of digging around, “this what we’re after?”

She looked over to see him holding a stone tablet with chiseled characters on it. She nodded. “Looks like it.” Taking it from him, she tucked it safely away in her sack and slung that on her shoulder. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We can stay the night in Riverwood; Gerdur will give us lodging.”

#

They approached the stables outside, weary from the trek north to Whiterun. Her thoughts were on a thick cut of steak and a never-ending supply of mead so when she saw Kematu leaning against the stable wall she was taken by surprise. She stopped, looked at Vorstag and said, “Meet me at Dragonsreach.” He nodded, then continued, leaving Meliandra to speak to the Redguard. She walked over to him, an exhausted look on her face.

“My sweet girl, I was beginning to wonder if I was going to see you or not,” he said as he stroked her cheek. “Don’t forget your promise.”

“I would never forget the oath I made to you, Kematu,” she replied, turning her face into his hand. “I had to fulfill my obligations to Balgruuf. I am still going to bring her to you.”

He leaned forward, lightly placing a kiss on her lips. “Good. See you soon then?”

“I can’t promise how soon; I still have to go give this thing to the court wizard and I’m sure the jarl is going to take his time in forking out the gold for this little venture I made for him. But I promise, you’ll have her.”

He smiled at her, his hand resting along her neck. “I know I will, my sweet girl. Just don’t make me wait much longer.”

She smiled. “Of course not.” She excused herself and headed up the path, her temper beginning to flare. She thought back to the morning after their tryst and how he had managed to get her to do his bidding. She resented being manipulated the way she had been but she saw this as an opportunity to alleviate a problem of her own.

As she made her way to the gates of the city she thought about returning to Riften; she knew that she had to get back to the Guild, there was plenty more that needed to be done to get the Guild on its feet again. She just wanted to avoid having to deal with Vex or Brynjolf. After having to deal with this promise to Kematu, having to deal with that betrayal was not something she was ready to deal with.

She sighed heavily as she approached the gate; her uneasiness seemed to grow with every step she took. Once again, she thought of a little farm that she could call her won, a place to work on her alchemy and be left alone in peace, but that dream was beginning to look just like that, and one that would elude her for the rest of her life. It was beginning to upset her greatly but she boxed it up inside to deal with another day, just like so many other thing she’d already experienced in her short life.

She decided that once Balgruuf paid her and Vorstag for retrieving this tablet and once she lured Saadia out to Kematu, she would hire the carriage and go back to Riften. Once she got the Guild back on their feet, she was going to get on with her life and get as far away from Riften as she could.

#

A dragon had been sighted outside Windhelm. His troops had been delivered a devastating blow when Imperial troops ambushed another detail on their way to strengthen their border. He was considering hiring an assassin to eliminate Appius inside of Castle Dour but knew he needed to find out if anyone else was in on his betrayal and if so, who? What had started as a cause turned into a rebellion and that was having the very lie choked out of it.

Ulfric picked up his tankard and downed its contents, a frown on his face. He looked at his bed at Mila who was sprawled up on it, her naked body entwined with Rory’s once more. He had watched them play again, the two of them indulging every desire they had shamelessly. Rory took a dominant role in their sex-play, often putting the brunette in binds to restrain her as she playfully punished her for some invented slight against her. He would find that his dick got the hardest when one of them was punishing the other, bringing him to the bed to join in the fun. He had attempted to be a part of that fun this past night, but his cock had remained flaccid even when Rory was giving it attention orally. Disgruntled, he had sat back down and began drinking.

His thoughts started to turn dark as they dwelt on the misfortunes he and his men had been experiencing. This darkness was familiar to him, he had known it since he was sent to live among the Greybeards. It was a darkness that had visited him when he received word that his father had died during his imprisonment. It was a darkness that never truly left him, for it lived on the edges of his heart and mind, engulfing him on a whim.

He stood up and walked out of his quarters, leaving the two girls asleep in his bed. He made his way down the passageway and into the main hall of the palace. The flames cast eerie shadows that danced along the walls as he walked to the doors that led outside, the footfalls of his boots echoing throughout the quiet hall. The guards by the doors stood at attention as he exited the palace, and sensing his mood, stood back.

He found his way to Candlehearth, intent on getting his mind off current events. He could hear the drunken voice of Rolff Stone-Fist, Galmar’s good for nothing kid brother harassing one of the elves. As little as he cared about any of the Mer peoples, he did not wish to deal with a ruckus this night. He clapped the younger man on the back, saying, “Rolff! So good to see you! Come, let’s get a tankard at the inn and catch up.” He eyed the elf as Rolff laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in return. Laughing, the jarl continued, “No need to ruin the night with any of this ugliness.”

#

She hadn’t even had the chance to bring the tablet to Farengar before Balgruuf was out of his throne and quickly by her side, sweeping her out of the throne room and into his personal quarters. His hands were quickly removing the clothing that she wore, his lips caressing her neck as his hands found their way around her waist, bringing her body to his. She could feel his erection hard against her body, his kissing igniting a fire of desire within her. The man was proficient in ways that she had not even dreamed possible.

His lips laid feathery kisses down her neck and down her chest, slowly making his way to her stomach; she was leaning back against the wall now as he began to kneel before her, kissing every part of her he could, enjoying the feel of her skin beneath his hands. He wanted to taste the nectar of her and brought his face to the nest of her womanhood.

He stopped and sat back, staring at her hips; the bruises were the perfect imprint of large hands, masculine by the size of them. His eyes burned hotly as he looked up at her. “Who touched you? Who dares touch what is mine?!” he roared.

“Yours?!” she repeated, equally as loud. “You think that because you bedded me that that makes me yours? I belong to no man.” She went to grab her clothes, anger written on her face. She glared at him when he grabbed her wrist; his grip was strong, causing her pain.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped. “I’m not down with you yet.” He spun her around so she was facing him.

“I’m done here,” she snapped back at him, trying to pull her arm away but finding his grip firmer than she had expected.

“You’re done when I say you’re done.” He pulled her to him and glared into her eyes. “While in my city, you belong to me. You will not deny me what you so freely give to others.”

“I give freely to those of my choosing, not those who demand it from me.”

He reached up and grabbed a handful of hair and leaned into her face. “I am the jarl of Whiterun. I don’t have to demand it. I expect it from you.” He paused a moment then continued, “Especially if you don’t want Commander Caius to find out that you were at Helgen not as a passing traveler like you told us but as a prisoner of the Legion.”

Her face paled as she stared back at him. “You know that?”

He frowned at her. “So Irileth was right; you have been lying the entire time.” At her confused look he said, “I didn’t know. But Irileth knew something wasn’t as it appeared with you. Well now I know what it is.”

“So you’re going to blackmail me?”

He stroked her cheek again. “I’d hate to see you taken from my city in chains.”

She looked away for a moment, then returned a resigned look at him. “Fine.”

He smiled, but all warmth from his eyes was gone as he pressed his lips on hers, kissing her roughly. “Good,” he breathed harshly against her face. “Now since you want to be a little slut and fuck whoever, I’m going to treat you just like I would a barwench.” He forced her to her knees then pulled her head back to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck your mouth first for lying to me. Then I’m going to fuck that pussy of yours so hard that it knows who it belongs to even if you refuse to.”