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Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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Alright, so Miraak already has a sexy voice and a sort of super-villain hotness going for him. But peel off his mask- and hes a pretty adorable (balding) dude!

http://skyrimforums.org/useralbums/5466/standalone

Basically, Dragonborn knocks that mask off him and laughs at how literally unmenacing he looks. Miraak is torn between being insulted and feeling super fucking vulnerable. Sex ensues!

This has always been awesome, but now you're weaving it into the larger story and it's AWESOME. Seriously, the fact that I felt personally violated by a dragon attack on their lovely peaceful oasis of a home is a measure of how good this is. IT'S ON NOW, ALDUIN.

Incidentally, of all the descriptions of dragon-soul-absorption out there, the world skewing hot with colors he had no names for may be my favorite. Especially when juxtaposed with the utterly mundane thought of what a pain it's going to be to haul a dragon corpse off the woodpile. :)

This should have been an ingame option -_-

OP, yes please!

And in regards to there being a pre-Skyrim kinkmeme, I feel like an idiot, I haven't been able to find it? It keeps directing me here -.-

Make your prompt, dearest anon, and I'll see what I can do. :D

A/N: Many apologies for the hiatus on this one - partly I had another fic to deal with, but also part of me just didn't want to write the first scene of this one. You'll see why...

Pairing: F!DB Altmer/Madanach
Summary: The Reach is in Stormcloak hands without a sword being drawn, and Madanach doesn't take the news well, leaving Liriel to face Alduin alone, and Cicero and Argis caught in the middle.
Kinks/warnings: None unless you count heartbreak.

The camp was quiet when Liriel reached it, a beautiful morning in the Reach. It had taken all night to get here, but Liriel had a feeling she'd not have slept anyway. The Stormcloaks were going to take over the Reach. How was anyone supposed to sleep knowing that?

A few looks as she came in, but nothing to worry about. Cicero sitting by the campfire, having breakfast with Kaie. Madanach himself emerging from his tent, brushing his Forsworn gear down, clearly not having been up long. He took one look at her and raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Liriel! Is everything all right? Not that I'm not pleased to see you but you look exhausted. Have you been up all night?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, no it's not all right!” Liriel cried. “Madanach, there was a peace deal at High Hrothgar between the Empire and Stormcloaks. They gave Ulfric the Reach as part of it!”

“What?!” That had Madanach's full attention, and Kaie was getting to her feet, face ashen. Even Cicero looked worried. “A peace conference? Didn't he murder the High King? I thought he wanted nothing less than the throne of Skyrim, independence from the Empire and the right to worship Talos again? Don't tell me the Empire gave him all that.”

“Just the Rift in exchange for the Reach and Ulfric to pay compensation for the Karthwasten massacre. I know it won't hold, Madanach, but I didn't have a choice, I had to stop the civil war to get the Jarl of Whiterun to let me trap a dragon in his palace!”

Madanach had gone very still, eyes colder than Liriel had ever seen them.

“You did this.”

“Madanach, I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice,” Liriel pleaded. It was to no avail. Madanach was advancing, fire at his fingertips, magic barely under control.

“You gave my country over to the Stormcloaks,” he snarled at her. Half the camp was getting to its feet, Kaie reaching for a weapon, Cicero's hand slipping to his dagger.

“It's not your country now!” Liriel pointed out. “The Nords ran it anyway.”

“There are Nords and then there is Ulfric Stormcloak!!” Madanach roared. “He ravaged this country, his cronies enslaved all of us in their mine, he killed my daughter, and you just handed this country back to him?!”

“I'm sorry,” Liriel whispered. “Please don't... I love you, Madanach.”

He closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face and that hurt more than the anger had.

“Get out,” he said quietly.

“Madanach?” Liriel whispered, reaching out for him. Madanach stepped away, hands still raised and magic flaring at his fingers.

“I said, get out!” he shouted at her. “Get out of here, get out of the Reach, don't bother coming back! You are no friend to the Forsworn! And I'll have that back too.” Fire changed to a green spell and the torc flew from her neck and into his hands, bruising her in the process. Liriel cried out, fingering her neck in pain.

“You can't... Madanach!” Liriel whispered, tears in her eyes. He couldn't do this to her, he couldn't!

“Get her out of my camp,” Madanach growled at Kaie. “I don't care how.” Ignoring her, he strode back into his tent, entrance flaps falling shut behind him, and on the lower tiers, Liriel was aware of Forsworn she'd once called friends drawing their weapons and casting mage armour. If she didn't leave, they'd fight her, and she didn't fancy her chances against twenty magic resistant Forsworn.

Welllllll... I do have a thing for Brynjolf (or really any of the Thieves) but I leave it entirely up to you, good WriteAnon!

Captcha wants this fic as much as I do! irideyc COME??? This thing's been kinkmeming, too!

“Fine,” she heard herself say, voice shaking but she was determined not to cry, dammit! “I'll go. But when dragons are burning down the Reach, do not come calling for me!” Without another word, she turned and strode out, doing her best to ignore the stares that followed her. She might have lost Madanach, she still had her pride. Maybe it was better this way. Time to find Shadowmere and then get back to Markarth for some rest. Then home. Not like she didn't have business to attend to.

She managed to keep it together just long enough to get out of the Redoubt and locate Shadowmere before it finally sank in. She'd been kicked out of the Forsworn. Madanach had just rejected her, and she knew he was not a man who ever forgave easily. She'd lost him for good. Clinging on to Shadowmere for support, she burst into tears, sobbing into Shadowmere's black mane. The horse whinnied softly, nuzzling at her, and that was nice but it changed nothing.

In the distance, she heard someone calling her.

“Listener! Listener!”

“What -?” Liriel whispered, looking up. Cicero was running across the grass towards her, jester hat flying in the breeze as he shouldered a pack behind him and sprinted to her side. “Cicero??”

“Listener!” Cicero gasped, crashing into her and clinging on to her. “Listener, are you all right?”

“Cicero, what are you doing, it's not safe!” Liriel gasped, but she didn't want to let him go either. She'd just had her heart ripped out, it was nice to know she still had at least one friend left. “What are you – oh gods. Cicero, what did you do? You haven't killed him...”

“Does my Listener see hordes of angry Forsworn chasing after poor Cicero?” Cicero said scornfully. “No, no, Cicero killed no one. Cicero merely said goodbye to sweet Kaie and came after poor heartbroken Liriel. Cicero serves the Night Mother and her Listener, Cicero is not staying in a place the Listener can never go to again.”

Liriel felt the tears well up again as he said that, and then she was clinging on to him, sobbing her heart out into his shoulder while he patted her on the back, making little soothing noises.

“There, there, do not cry, my Listener,” Cicero soothed. “Liriel can do better than him anyway. Cicero doesn't think he's a real king at all. Where is his palace, hmm?”

“I just gave it to Thongvor Silver-Blood,” Liriel whispered. “He'll never forgive me.”

“Then it is his loss,” Cicero murmured. “Come on, Listener, let us go and find some things to stab, Cicero promises you will feel so much better after that.”

“Not everything can be solved by stabbing people, Cicero,” Liriel sighed. Cicero just raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting this. Before he could start listing all the things that could be solved by stabbing, Liriel bundled him on to Shadowmere and mounted behind him. Time to get out of here and hope Madanach's son didn't take his father's attitude.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to Markarth had been easy, in fact the main difficulty had been in trying to find something suitable for Cicero to wear that didn't attract attention. His jester motley was too noticeable, Shrouds not a good idea either and Forsworn gear was right out. Fortunately, some vampires made the mistake of trying to ambush them, which went well up until Cicero launched himself at one of them and blood went flying. Liriel sighed, dismounted and joined him.

As the last of the creatures died in fire, Cicero began stripping one of them, prancing about in the black and red armour the Master Vampire had been wearing.

“Look, Listener, Cicero is a mighty vampire lord, sneaking in the night and drinking blood!” he giggled. “Doesn't he look dashing?”

“Yes, you look lovely, now come on,” Liriel sighed, chivvying him back on to Shadowmere. Still, he'd been right about one thing, the fight had helped. Then she found herself wondering how the Forsworn felt about vampires and then realised she'd never be able to ask now. That just tore at her heart all over again.

Finally they made it back to Vlindrel Hall. Argis was reading quietly in the main living room. As soon as he saw her, he put it down and got to his feet, striding over.

“Liriel! Are you al-” He saw Cicero and his face fell. “Oh Sithis, you brought him here. Why in the name of – Liriel? What happened?”

Liriel couldn't cope any more, tears rolling down her cheeks as her legs gave way from sheer exhaustion. Eyes closing, she gave in to blessed unconsciousness, only vaguely aware of Cicero catching her and then someone who smelt like Madanach scooping her up and carrying her away.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she opened her eyes, it was to red hair and a vampire's armour, with a jester hat's points framing Cicero's face. He promptly stopped staring, grinned and shouted to Argis.

“Argis! Argis! Sweet Liriel is awake!”

Vlindrel Hall. Cicero. The Silver-Bloods running the Reach and Madanach gone forever. Liriel rolled over and began crying again. Footsteps and then Argis was perching gently on the bed, rubbing her back in the same way Madanach used to.

“Liriel. Liriel, it's all right, don't cry,” Argis murmured, and he even sounded a bit like his father. “Cicero told me what happened. It's all right.”

“It's not all right!” Liriel cried. “I sold the Reach to the Stormcloaks, traded it away so I could fight dragons, and Madanach hates me for it! I've lost him! I've lost him forever, oh gods, I miss him so much...” She dissolved into tears, curled up on her bed, Cicero on one side and Argis on the other, both stroking her, Argis squeezing her hand and Cicero snuggling up to her, and it felt nice, it did... but their magicka together wasn't even close to Madanach's and she wanted her Reachman.

“Madanach,” she sobbed. “Madanach, I'm sorry, please...”

“He doesn't hate you, I'm sure of it,” Argis murmured. “He loves you. He'll always love you. Could tell that when I saw you with him. Not seen him that happy in a long time.”

“He didn't look happy when I told him what I'd done,” Liriel wept. “He looked like he was going to cast at me. He just told me to get out and not come back and he... he took the torc back.” Despite her ambivalence at wearing it, Liriel had come to like looking at it while Madanach wasn't there. It had been a reminder someone cared – that she was loved. Now it was gone.

“I think he'll regret doing that,” said Argis quietly. “Probably soon. Don't worry, Liriel, I'm not leaving. When the letters and apology gifts start arriving, I'll find you.”

“Thank you,” Liriel whispered, gratified if a little confused. “You're taking this rather well, you know. Don't you want the Forsworn to have the Reach too?”

“Yeah, of course,” Argis sighed. “But we never had it before either. One Nord who hates us steps down in favour of another who hates us, so what? You had your reasons, I'm sure, and I've got my orders. Da said to protect you, so that's what I'm doing. We had a long talk at Druadach while I was there waiting for you to show up. He told me things. Lots of things he didn't want the others knowing. But he said you were important and key to getting the Reach back, and that whatever happened, you needed to be kept safe. That you needed to kill Alduin and once you had, things would become clear. I don't know exactly what that means, but I know about Alduin. Ma used to tell me stories about the World-Eater. If he's back, it's the end for us all. You've got to stop him, no matter what. Da doesn't really think much beyond the Reach, although he's a very smart man, smarter than I am. But I don't think he gets the big picture. I don't think he really understands what the Dragonborn is for. But I do.” He leaned closer, breathing into her ear. “You've got to kill Alduin, Liriel. Or there's not going to be a Reach left to free.”

Liriel nodded, knowing the world still needed her even if Madanach no longer did. “Suppose I better had, eh? That's the whole reason I arranged this truce, so the Jarl of Whiterun would let me trap a dragon in his palace. I need to find out where Alduin is so I can kill him.”

“Ooh!” Cicero squealed, sitting up and clapping his hands. “Liriel is going to kill an evil dragon! Can Cicero help?”

“Of course you can,” Liriel said, finally finding it in her to smile. Cicero had a way of cheering her up. He promptly cackled, looking quite cheerful again. She turned back to Argis, taking his hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You've been amazing. Why can't your father be more like you?”

Argis blushed, looking away and not answering that one. Liriel recalled he'd spent most of his life wishing he was more like his father. Must be a new one to have someone wish his father was more like him.

“I'm just doing my job, Liriel,” said Argis finally. “I'm your housecarl, I'm meant to look after you.”

“Not like this, you're not,” said Liriel, fairly certain tending to their mistress's broken heart was not in the job description.

“You'd be surprised what housecarls end up doing,” Argis laughed. “But even if I wasn't your housecarl any more... Liriel, you've got my loyalty forever after what you did.”

“What did I do?” Liriel asked, racking her brains to think what he meant.

“Kaie was here,” said Argis, and that got Liriel's attention. Cicero had also perked up at the mention of her name. “She – she knew, Liriel. Da had told her. She was furious at first but when she'd finished shouting as to why no one had ever said, she hugged me and told me I was an idiot, but still her brother, and to stop mindlessly doing what Da told me all the time. Day after that, Nepos came to see me. Da's acknowledged me, Liriel. He's admitted I'm his son to Druadach Redoubt and he's told Keirine at Hag's End and a few other people at the various camps who he's close to. Kaie's still the heir of course, that hasn't changed, but I can call him Da again. I'm Argis ap Madanach. And I've got you to thank for it, Liriel. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, but you have my loyalty for life.”

Liriel didn't even know what to say, but he was smiling and that made Liriel smile.

“I'm so pleased for you,” she said, smiling back. “You deserve it after everything that's happened.” Sitting up, she reached out and gave him a hug. Not Madanach, no... but solid and reassuring and her friend whatever happened. It was good to know he had her back. Behind her, Cicero was bouncing on the bed and enthusing that it was true, it was, Kaie had ranted to Cicero about her father for three hours straight before deciding to go and talk to her new brother, and it had been the talk of the whole camp and Cicero had had much fun teasing Madanach about it before Madanach had lost his temper and locked Cicero in the cage with a collar and chain shackling him to the bars, and that had been even more fun.

Liriel really didn't understand Cicero sometimes. All the same, at least he seemed cheerful, which was the main thing.

“So,” she said, recalling the job ahead of her. “Alduin. I need to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach. Need to find out where he went after I fought him.”

“You fought him already?” Argis asked, impressed. Cicero just rolled his eyes.

“Listener fought him and yet he lives? Sloppy, Listener, very sloppy indeed.”

“He flew away!” Liriel protested. “I had him and he escaped! Well, not twice. I'm going to find out where that portal is and then I'm going to go to Sovngarde and hunt him down and murder him!”

Cicero howled in delight at the idea. Argis however had gone very still and deathly pale, lifting his eyes to her and looking as if he'd seen his own grave.

“Sovngarde,” Argis breathed. “Alduin's in Sovngarde. Feeding on the souls of the dead.”

“Yes, it's where he went to regain his strength,” Liriel said, and then she realised the obvious. Argis might be Madanach's son, but he was also a Nord, and no Nord was indifferent to Sovngarde.

“You have to leave. Now,” Argis growled, getting to his feet, and in the candlelight he looked exactly like a Nord version of Madanach. “Get your things, get going, get to Whiterun. Now.”

“Argis?” Liriel whispered, for the first time feeling a little afraid of him. Argis was fairly calm and phlegmatic for most of the time, but Madanach was a very passionate man and at least a little of that must be hidden below the surface in Argis. “What is it? What's wrong?”

It's not dead, it's... hibernating. My Muses wanted to skip ahead for other prompts on the meme, and refuse to cooperate when I tell them I want to continue ABAAE. :/

“My mother is in Sovngarde,” Argis growled, and Liriel closed her eyes in realisation that this wasn't some abstract threat any more. It was real and needed dealing with. Next to her, Cicero had gasped in horror, tugging at her arm.

“Listener, Listener, sweet Liriel, Cicero has your things right here, let us get you ready and leave, we cannot stay, not while dear Argis' sweet mother is in danger, no!” Leaving her to equip her weapons, Cicero let her go and ran to Argis, giving him a big hug, surprising Liriel and Argis both.

“Do not fret, dear Argis, sweet Argis, Cicero and Liriel will go and save your mama,” Cicero crooned. “We will not fail you!”

Argis hesitated, then hugged Cicero back, ruffling his hair. “Get going then,” he said gruffly. “Bring him down, Liriel Dragonborn. Reach-Queen that was and will be again.”

Liriel nodded, tears in her eyes. She had a World-Eater to kill and after that... if she lived, who knew. But first, the fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whiterun. Where it had all begun really, when Liriel had staggered into Riverwood after a harrowing escape from Helgen, and been begged to take word to the Jarl. Said Jarl had finally been persuaded to lend his palace to the fight against Alduin, and after getting that agreement, Liriel had gone home, spent one last night in Breezehome with her family (Cicero had been surprisingly well-behaved and only mentioned stabbing once, and while Lucia had been a bit shy around him, Sissel adored him), convinced Lydia that Cicero was not in fact her mysterious human lover, written a will leaving Lydia Breezehome and everything in it if she took care of the girls if Liriel never came back, and spent the night quietly praying to Anu, Sithis, Mara and Akatosh to keep her safe through this. Cicero crawled into bed alongside her, trousers staying on but snuggling alongside her regardless and dozing off in her arms. Not the same as having Madanach there, not even close, but the physical contact was nice.

Morning came, and Liriel kissed her children goodbye, hugged Lydia and went out to fight.

There was fire. There was death – a couple of unlucky guards but still, death. Nords both, of course, and Liriel couldn't stop the thought that the dragon menace wouldn't stop when they got to Sovngarde either.

Finally the trap fell, Odahviing was caught, interrogation revealed he'd have to fly her to the portal to Sovngarde, and a deal was struck. While Odahviing was sitting on the Great Porch, waiting for her, Liriel turned to Cicero, standing patiently behind her, grin plastered all over his face at the prospect of some stabbing. He was about to be very disappointed.

“Ready when you are, Listener!” Cicero chirped. “Cicero is fully prepared to accompany sweet Liriel to Sovngarde and help her stab Alduin.”

Liriel placed a hand on his shoulder, hating to burst his bubble... but she couldn't take him into this.

“You're not coming, Cicero,” said Liriel quietly. “I'm sorry.”

Cicero's grin didn't waver, but something shifted in his eyes. “But of course Cicero is coming! Cicero can hardly let the sweet Listener go and fight World-Eating dragons on her own, can he?”

“No!” Liriel snapped, hands on her hips. “I'm doing this alone, Cicero. You aren't coming.”

“But Listener!” Cicero cried. “You can't go alone! What if you die out there? What if you never come home? Who will hear Mother's voice then?”

“She'll choose someone else,” Liriel sighed. “Look, Cicero, you can't come and that's an order! Besides, I need you to do something for me.”

Cicero whined piteously, flinging his hands into the air, but eventually he gave in once Liriel had stared him down for a full minute.

“What do you need, Listener?” he sighed.

“Go back to Markarth,” said Liriel, reaching for her coin purse. She'd left most of her coin back in Breezehome, but she'd kept about five thousand septims back for this very reason. “Tell Argis it worked and I've gone to face Alduin. Tell him to send word to Madanach for me. He – he deserves to know. Tell him I love him and will do until the day I die, and that I'm sorry.”

Cicero nodded, memorising all this, and then flung his arms around Liriel, holding her tight. “Liriel mustn't die,” he gasped, tears in his eyes. “Listener needs to remember those of us who love her and need her and care about her, and come back!”

“I love you too, sweetie,” Liriel whispered to him. “Here, this is yours, all of it. When you've delivered that message, get yourself out of Skyrim, go wherever you like. You're a free man, Cicero.”

Cicero took the coin purse, staring at it in amazement. He'd likely never seen so much cash in one place before. He stashed it away before hugging her again.

“Listener... is too generous... Liriel is too kind to poor undeserving Cicero, and – and he will never forget her, never!” He let her go, jester hat in his hands and tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched Liriel mount Odahviing. As the dragon took off, heading east towards the Velothi Mountains, Liriel gave Cicero one backward glance, waving goodbye before setting her sights on the horizon. Alduin awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cicero didn't linger in Whiterun. He had a job to do, after all. Taking Shadowmere, he rode non-stop to Markarth, finally arriving in the early hours of the morning and letting himself into Vlindrel Hall with the key Liriel had given him. Argis was asleep, so Cicero collapsed into Liriel's bed for a few hours of well-deserved rest.

He didn't get anything like as many as he'd have liked. About four of them, to be precise, before he found himself being woken up by a furious Nord housecarl.

“Argis!” Cicero gasped, lapsing into inanity as a distraction tactic. “Hello! Cicero would never object to you crawling into his bed, no, not at all, but as Cicero has lain with dear Argis' lovely sister, do you not think it a little unwise?”

“Shut up,” Argis snarled, grabbing Cicero by the front of the jester shirt he'd decided to sleep in. “What are you doing here? Where's Liriel? Why aren't you with her?”

“She – she's on her way to Sovngarde,” Cicero gasped. “She told me to stay behind. She has a message! A very important message for the King in Rags that she wanted me to give to you, yes!”

“Yeah?” Argis asked, only slightly mollified. “Give it to him yourself. You're coming with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cicero hadn't been given a lot of time to argue. Argis had changed into his ebony gear, given Cicero precisely ten minutes to get dressed and gather his own things, grabbed weapons and food for the road and hauled him out to the stables, taking Shadowmere and riding hard for Druadach Redoubt.

Which is how Cicero found himself standing nervously in front of the King in Rags, who was glaring down at him. The guards on duty had raised eyebrows at seeing Cicero, but one look at Argis and they'd waved him on through. All through the camp they'd had this reaction, surprised looks for Cicero and quite a few for Argis as well. He'd not been back since Madanach had finally admitted who he was. Which was why Madanach looked up from sharpening his axe at the camp's grindstone and got to his feet, actually looking a little nervous to see Argis sweeping towards him in gleaming black armour. Nerves changed abruptly to annoyance on seeing who he'd brought with him.

“Why's he here?” Madanach asked wearily as Argis flung Cicero at Madanach's feet. “He made his choice when he ran off after the Dragonborn and broke my daughter's heart.”

“I was not heartbroken!” Kaie shouted from the upper level. “We were just having a little fun together, it was nothing more than that!”

Cicero winced on hearing that. Maybe she was hiding her feelings, maybe not. All the same, he'd grown fond of her and being rejected hurt.

“Sir-” Argis stopped, remembering everyone knew now, no point hiding it. “Father,” he said, catching his breath as he faced Madanach. Madanach actually shivered as he said it.

“Son,” said Madanach quietly, only smiling a little but the affection very clear if you knew what to look for. “What brings you here, and with the Keeper?”

“He said he had a message,” Argis said, nudging Cicero with his foot. Cicero had slowly climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. “From – from Liriel. And it had better not involve attempted murder or he won't be leaving here alive.”

“Cicero isn't here to stab anyone!” Cicero cried, hastily adopting the Forsworn peace gesture. “Cicero's knife is sheathed! Cicero wasn't going to come at all, but Argis made him!”

Madanach had narrowed his eyes, Liriel's name still very much a sore point, and if anyone other than his son had said it, he'd have raged at them and possibly sent lightning magic at them. As it was, Argis wouldn't bother him unless it was important.

“Out with it then,” Madanach finally said. “It had better be good.”

“It is short, it is short!” Cicero cried, hoping Madanach didn't actually incinerate him for this. “Only that Liriel's dragon trap plan worked and now Liriel has flown off to Alduin's stronghold at Skuldafn on the back of a very handsome red dragon, to go to Sovngarde from there and confront him at last. And – and she was worried she might not come back, and wrote a will and gave Cicero money and told him to tell you all this then leave the country. She said – she said to say she loves you and always will until the day she dies and she's sorry!”

Madanach hadn't even moved throughout all this, just staring at Cicero. For a few seconds after Cicero had finished, he didn't react at all.

“She's gone,” he finally said. “To – to Sovngarde? On a dragon's back? Argis, is this true?”

Argis nodded. “It was what she was planning, yeah. I'm amazed it worked, but you know her.”

“Too well,” Madanach whispered, looking haunted. He turned away, running fingers through his hair. “Why has a dragon who can supposedly eat the world gone to Sovngarde anyway? It's the afterlife for Nord war dead.”

“Liriel fought him here in Tamriel and weakened him,” Argis told him, amazed how calm he sounded. He certainly didn't feel it. “The only way he can recover is by going to Sovngarde and feeding on the souls of the dead there.” He just about managed not to sob. One of the few things that had helped him deal with his mother's death was knowing Shor had her safe in Sovngarde, but if that wasn't so, if Alduin got her...

Madanach nodded, glancing up at him. Madanach's eyes met his own, and then Argis saw understanding appear there.

“You're worried about your mother, aren't you.”

Argis didn't trust himself to answer so he just nodded, staring at the floor. No response and then Madanach was there, pulling him into an embrace.

“It's all right, son,” Madanach murmured. “There must be countless newly arrived war dead there, and we've sent a few there ourselves. Plenty of others for Alduin to go after. She's not going to risk herself unnecessarily, the Inga I knew was always cautious.”

“Not the night she died, she wasn't,” Argis whispered, remembering his mother arming up and racing out to fight when the battle reached their home.

“Mabion,” Madanach whispered. “She was protecting you. You're not in Sovngarde... not yet and by the grace of Anu won't be for a long time to come.” He stepped back, letting Argis go. “Argis, there's two little girls in Whiterun also worrying about their mother. With the Dragonborn gone, their only protection is one housecarl and she can't be everywhere. They're easy targets. You swore to protect Liriel and everything she owns with your life, yes?”

Argis nodded, not sure where this was going. Madanach smiled a little at that.

“Good. Then do this for me. Get to Whiterun, pose as a Nord sellsword or a pilgrim to that tree they've got there, anything you like, and keep an eye on the place. Specifically, watch Breezehome and Liriel's two daughters, Sissel and Lucia their names are. Make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Sure,” said Argis, confused. “But why? I thought you and she...” Were over. But Madanach forgot nothing, and it took a long time for his feelings towards anyone to die, be it hate or love.

“Because it'd break her heart if anything happened to them,” said Madanach softly. “Maybe she sold the Reach out, but her girls don't deserve to die. Go on, go. You'll blend in far better than anyone else I've got at my disposal.”

Meh, I haven't been able to find it either unless they're referring to http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2095.html, which seems to be covering the rest of the bases. But I might have something for-
No, scratch that, I definitely got something.
If the mods don't move this over there, I'm going to post the fill over on the Elder Scrolls pt. 1 and link it here.
Any squicks just in case?

“Sir- I mean, Da,” Argis said, allowing himself a smile. Assuming Liriel got back unharmed, there was hope for her and Madanach yet. He turned to leave, and Cicero got up to follow him out. Cicero hadn't actually been dismissed but message delivered, he'd got no intention of hanging around for Madanach to lash out at.

“Keeper, wait.” Cicero stopped. Too late, it seemed. Slowly he turned to face the King in Rags.

“Sir?” he asked, licking his lips nervously. “Did you need anything else?”

“Where are you going next?” Madanach asked. “You know the Brotherhood will kill you if they find you, you're going to be on the run for the rest of your life. Liriel isn't here, and you can't go with Argis.”

“Cicero hadn't really thought about it,” said Cicero, scratching his head. “High Rock maybe. Or Hammerfell. Maybe back to Cyrodiil when things are safer there. Why does Madanach ask?”

“Stay here,” said Madanach quietly. “You're a good warrior, and we're a match for the Brotherhood. Of course you went after Liriel. She's your Listener and you're a Dark Brother, you had no choice, I know. But she's not here, and you might as well stay somewhere you'll get news of her return. When she returns, she'll go straight to Whiterun to check on her children. Argis will find her and he'll send word. Well? Want to join the Forsworn again?”

Cicero had given no thought whatsoever to what he'd do after delivering the message, but now the offer was made, there was not a doubt in his mind.

“Cicero would love to!” he squealed. “King Madanach is very kind to offer.”

“Don't make me regret it,” Madanach growled, retreating to the upper level. As he left, Kaie made her way down, glaring at Cicero, arms folded.

“Don't think you can come crawling back into my bed like you never left it,” she snapped at him. Cicero hung his head. She'd looked really upset when he'd left. He'd grabbed his things, kissed her, told her he was sorry and just ran. She'd been too stunned to react. Now came the reckoning.

“No, Kaie,” he said quietly. “Cicero doesn't presume. It is up to you.”

Kaie's glare softened as he spoke, and when she replied, it was in tones far warmer than he'd expected.

“Come on. Let's get you a tent set up, if you're staying. Can't have the Night Mother's Keeper sleeping on the cold ground, can we?”

Cicero finally met her eyes and saw a smile there, his heart skipping at the sight. It seemed he was forgiven, at least a little. He wasn't sure if he was in love with Kaie or not, but he was fond of her. It was nice to be back among friends.

He just hoped Liriel would be forgiven as easily.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Mabion = Reach dialect for 'my son', based on a mix of Welsh and Sindarin Elvish (given the Aldmeri influences on the Reach natives, bringing in Elvish elements to their dialect would make sense).

The plot is definitely thickening from here on in. Next chapter involves Astrid finally deciding to make her move and things coming to a head as Liriel returns to find killing Alduin was just the start.

If there was one thing that General Tullius, Commanding Officer the Imperial Army of Skyrim, found rather soothing to do, it was paperwork.

He'd never admit it to anyone, but he actually found endless quartermaster reports to be refreshing, not boring. Their dry style and requests, he could deal with, and easily enough. And, of course, he rather enjoyed sitting in his office, dealing with papers, whilst watching Legate Rikke at the opposite table, fuming about having to do paperwork.

Still, he didn't scorn the knock on the doorframe that heralded Legionary Titus Pullo peering in.

"General, Legate, First Emissary Elenwen here to see you."

This once, a grimace wasn't evident. Because he knew precisely why Elenwen was here.

If there was one thing that General Tullius, Commanding Officer the Imperial Army of Skyrim, found rather soothing to do, it was tweaking the noses of Thalmor bastards - or in this case, Thalmor bitches - who came to complain at him. At him, not to him. The distinction was important.

"Send her in," Tullius said, going around his desk.

Rikke stood as well, standing at his right side. The two thus presented a universally unamused face of Legion armour and crossed arms, as Elenwen, all Thalmor robes and Elvish arrogance, walked in.

"Before we begin, General, I wish to register a complaint," Elenwen said. "Regarding your Legate Thaddeus. From his precise time joining the Army of Skyrim, he has reported nineteen Justiciars lost to natural causes in his presence."

"Eighteen, actually." Rikke shrugged. "One was a suicide."

Tullius tactfully refrained from clarifying that that suicide had involved thirty-two stab wounds in the back.

"I refuse to be further hoodwinked by such deceptions, General. The Aldmeri Dominion demands that you hand over Legate Thaddeus Milano to the Thalmor, where we shall try and execute him for the willful murder of nineteen Thalmor Justiciars. This has gone on for far too long, and it is an insult to the Dominion that a General of the Empire should permit such flagrant violations of the White-Gold Concordat to take place under his command."

Tullius concealed a great amount of surprise in one blink. It was fascinating to see the normally unflappable Elenwen in...hysterics. Which these were. He could tell. He held up a hand and spoke. "As it happens, First Emissary, we have a complaint of our own to register. Our records clearly show that Thaddeus joined the Legion as an auxiliary on the 27th of Last Seed, this year."

Precisely on cue, Rikke took a sheet of paper from her desk and showed it to Elenwen. "This execution order is dated to the 29th of Last Seed and was, by Thaddeus' report, carried out the next day. Attempted, rather. A typical execution squad is four; by his testimony, Thaddeus killed them all. The first Justiciar reported to die of 'natural causes' died on the 3rd of Heartfire. Would the First Emissary care to explain why she thought it necessary to circumvent the Legion's chain of command and initiate direct action against one of my own men?"

"This is clearly a forgery."

Tullius didn't smile. She was reaching, all right. "It's in your own handwriting."

She threw the letter to the floor and departed in a huff. Actually in a huff. Had they actually gotten to her?

"Remind me, sir, where did you send Thaddeus?" Rikke asked.

"Northwatch. I told him to take care of that place without looking like he's Legion. Doubtless he has a solution we're better off not knowing about." Tullius smiled. "We'll see how he turns out."

"And when he gets back, sir?"

"We send him back to Whiterun. Much as I would like to maintain good relations with the Aldmeri Dominion, the fact remains that Whiterun is in need of a Legion garrison and an officer of at least Tribune rank in residence. We cannot in good conscience recall him to Solitude and leave his centurion picking up the slack. Unfortunately, we do not have any Tribunes or Legates who are free to replace Thaddeus, and so he must stay in Whiterun for now."

Both officers actually knew that there were several perfectly good officers of the correct rank who could be assigned without trouble. Both officers tactfully refrained from mentioning that.

THERE'S MORE! *Dances for joy* If there's anything more cathartic than killing Thalmor in Skyrim, it might be reading about Thaddeus and Lydia doing it. I am a little worried about how hard I laughed at the thirty-two stab wounds in the back.

(And OMG, Tullius, you would find paperwork soothing.)

Galmar was glad he'd accepted Rozenn's offer of the horse Frost. Although he was amused when she told him it was conditional on his going NOWHERE near The Rift. As if he didn't know where the champion had come from! The horse's quick stride ate the miles between Windhelm and Falkreath Hold, and the tireless horse kept going long into the night, with both moons out to light their way.

It took three days nonstop riding for Galmar to find Ulfric's carriage, struggling on the poorly kept roads of Dengeir's Hold. He slowed the horse to a walk as he approached the Stormcloaks and saw the impudent Ralof wave to him from in the back of the vehicle. He hopped down and jogged forward to meet Galmar and the sweating Frost.

"General," Ralof saluted.

"Impudent pup," Galmar muttered.

Used to Galmar's ways after the long campaigns, Ralof ignored the jibe, and, walking alongside the General, back towards the carriage and outriders, made his report.

"The High King's horse threw him, a week ago - you got here much more quickly than we had hoped - and he suffered an unpleasant concussion and a nasty break in his leg. The Shield-Maiden was not permitted to use healing magic on him, but she managed to set and splint the leg, so hopefully Ulfric won't suffer from any lameness-"

"Idiot! I told him that horse was not to be trusted," Galmar interrupted.

"To be fair, General Galmar," Ralof argued, "it was not the horse's fault that the dragon flying overhead spooked it. Poor thing ran straight into the beast's hungry maw."

Galmar glared at his insubordinate subordinate. "Thank Talos it did not drag Ulfric along with it. I suppose you want to hold a feast in the silly thing's honour?"

Ralof tried to bite back a surprised laugh at the general's comment. He wasn't entirely successful. "The Jarl wished to have you join him in the back of the carriage."

Galmar nodded and dismounted, tossing Frost's reins to Ralof. "If you don't take proper care of this horse, General Stormblade will be displeased," he said gruffly.

He jogged up behind the carriage, ignoring the driver asking if he would like it to stop, gripped the edge of one of the seats and hauled himself up. Ulfric gazed up at him from his reclining position atop a pile of fur-lined bedrolls in the well of the carriage. The High King of Skyrim smiled faintly at his oldest friend and Housecarl. His oldest friend and Housecarl glared at him and sat.

"Idiot."

"Galmar. How good of you to join us."

"I warned you about the damned horse being skittish, but would you listen? Damn fool. Now look where it got you," Galmar said, not bothering to lower his voice to pretend at privacy.

"Excuse me, ah, General Galmar, but I don't think you ought to speak to the exalted High King that way," the carriage driver interrupted nervously.

"Hmmph," Galmar snorted. "It'll do the man good. Just because he's High King does not stop him from being an idiot. Now shut up and drive! Where are we going?"

"I thought we might get to Riverwood from here, General," Ralof commented from atop Frost. "It's only a little over the border. Another day on the road at most."

"And Talos knows the roads will be better. Vignar Grey-Mane at least knows to maintain decent carriageways. I must have a word with Dengeir when this is all finished," Ulfric said, wincing and grunting in pain as the carriage hit yet another rutted, potholed section of roadway.

Galmar nodded. "I disagree. Take the next turn Northwards."

The driver opened his mouth to argue, but Galmar glared at him so fiercely that he said nothing.

At Ulfric's questioning look, Galmar elaborated. "Rozenn has a sizeable property not too far from here, Lakeview Manor, and she told me we might make free with it, if needed. The steward there knows me, and she has a good head on her shoulders - unlike some Jarls I might mention."

Ulfric chuckled weakly and nodded his approval. "As long as we get off these damnable roads soon, I don't care where we go."

"Ah! Finally, the Exalted High King shows some sense!" Galmar teased.

*-*-*

In a phrase, breast-play. Given a male with an eye for them, and a female with a particularly notable pair, what does the guy do?

Squicks are bathroom stuff, bloodplay, death.

Bonus points for roughness, spanking, or other stuff, but beyond above-listed squicks, I'm really not too picky.

Ahahaha, oh Galmar. Ulfric needs more than one of you, so he can be informed that he's an idiot more often.

OP here.

Squicks: Blood-play and toliet kinks.

And thank you ;3; ah I am very excited, thank you!

I'm looking forward to it, as well :-)

OP here - I am loving the way you write Galmar, especially in the second section. He's such a grumpy old bear. I suppose you want to hold a feast in the silly thing's honor? That's perfect, as is the fact that Ulfric and Ralof are utterly untimidated by him. Looking forward to seeing where this goes. :)

I want to see the dragonborn using the thu'um while doing the dirty with Brynjolf/Farkas/Vilkas. The first thing that comes to my mind is fus ro dah (or maybe just fus) to assert dominance or something, but be creative with the shouts in the game and see what you can come up with. In my headcanon you can whisper the shouts and they will be gentle, so I'd like to see that happen (maybe with frost breath, etc).

I'd prefer the DB to be a human or elf. I love khajiit and argonians (especially argonians) to death, but I have trouble seeing them as the DB. Orcs are ok.

My only squicks are bathroom stuff. Otherwise, go crazy.

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