skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

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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“You've not heard from the Ap Sithisai then,” Kaie asked. In the absence of any real jailbreaking experience amongst the Forsworn, Mireen had had the idea of turning to the few outsiders the Forsworn trusted and tried invoking the Black Sacrament. Nothing. No Speaker come to treat with them, no contract to slaughter Thonar Silver-Blood and get the King in Rags out of Cidhna Mine. Their one real leader was as far away as he'd ever been... and yet information still got to him and orders still got out, which meant no one was brave enough to declare themselves king in his place for fear of his loyal agents. The violent ends of those who'd tried made that point very clear, and as his one remaining child, Kaie had personally dealt with more than a few upstarts herself. The only way anyone was taking over from Madanach was by getting into Cidhna Mine and challenging him personally... and that had never gone well. The Reach's most feared battlemage still had all his skills and all his ruthlessness.

“Nothing,” Mireen sighed. “We're one camp among many and our only real advantages are that we control the sacred Karthspire mountain, and I was his wife once. Sharreela would love a camp in the centre, Drascua has people surrounding us and would like that hole in the middle of her territories plugged, and Keirine hides in the North, being no help whatsoever. She never did like me.”

You married her twin, treated him and his daughters horribly, made his life a misery throughout, so much so that he actually prefers prison to having to deal with you, and you're surprised she doesn't like you? But Kaie was loyal and not a fool, and Kaie said nothing. It wasn't like her mother wasn't at least trying to hold the camp together, and maintaining the place independently both as a human woman for twelve years and then as a Hag herself for the last eight was no mean feat. Both her parents individually were formidable mages and talented leaders. It was just a pity that together they were as likely to tear each other apart as work as allies.

“Much as I hate to say it, we need your father,” Mireen sighed. “Keirine knows what's happening, I am near certain, but she hoards her knowledge. Drascua hoards her power, Sharreela hoards her Briar Hearts, and here we are caught in the middle. I was queen once and now look at me. We need our king, Kaie. He was the one they swore loyalty to, and Keirine will tell him what she will not tell me. The dragons go beyond infighting among us, even beyond the Nords. We need to be organised, unified, and we are not. We need Madanach, and I would go into that mine and haul him out by the hair personally if I could. As it is, I was hoping the Mor Gwadoreen might do it for me, but they have clearly got bigger concerns.”

“What about the Thieves' Guild in Riften?” Kaie asked. “They must have done jailbreaks before now?”

Mireen just laughed, mad Hag's cackle as she actually grinned at Kaie. “To do that, they will first have to survive Cidhna Mine and win your father's trust. That will take some doing. He despises thieves, and Nord thieves worst of all. I think not. No, inyeen, we have no choice. You'll have to go.”

Kaie's world ground to a halt as for one horrible moment she wondered if Mireen knew about Madanach's own secret jailbreak plan. The top secret scheme hatched between him, Kaie, Keirine of Hag's End and Nepos the Nose, in the works for the last six months and that had involved Kaie sneaking in and out of Markarth, running messages, setting up Druadach Redoubt as a secret base of operations for the entire Forsworn for when Cidhna stopped being theirs, leading the recent raid that had taken Kolskeggr gold mine over so they'd have a source of funds to replace the silver they'd been stealing from the Nords, sneaking in sufficient armour, weapons and supplies for six Forsworn prisoners at least, and spares for two extra in case anyone else ended up inside, and storing it all at Nepos's house, all ready for when her father finally decided the time was right to break free. All of it ready, all these carefully laid plans almost good to go, ready to spirit her father out from under the Nords' noses and off to Druadach Redoubt, and making sure her mother knew nothing, encouraging Mireen to focus on hiring the Dark Brotherhood when she already knew from her father's experiences that the Sacrament didn't work... and Mireen knew?

But Mireen was barely looking at her, and Kaie realised her mother knew nothing. Good, good, Kaie loved her mother, but she was never bringing her father back to her. If the two ever met in person again, it would be with Madanach returning with an army at his back, King to Matriarch, not husband to wife.

“What, to Markarth? You think he'll listen to me?” Kaie asked. Mireen nodded, actually patting her hand.

“Of course he will, he was always sentimental about you girls. Tell him everything about the dragons, tell him we need a united front against them. Tell him... oh, I don't know!” Mireen sighed. “Just tell him his people need help, and that if he could persuade Keirine to share her auguries, I'd appreciate it. She's supposed to be First Matriarch, she can fetching well act like it.”

Now that Kaie could do. Her father would certainly appreciate the warning that Mireen was after him, and Mireen did have a point – the dragons were ravaging their camps and Kaie wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to hold out. They'd already had to send the mothers and children to refuge at Red Eagle Redoubt, and wasn't Drascua already holding that debt over them. They needed Madanach to sort the politics out before this descended into an even bigger mess.

Cold breeze and a shadow overhead – an even bigger shadow, the black dragon that heralded doom, hovering over its deceased comrade.

“Not again,” Mireen whispered, weariness finally showing. “Are they not even waiting until nightfall now?”

“Ma, do you want me to...?” Kaie said, reaching for her axe. Mireen shook her head, motioning for Kaie to go.

“No. Get to Markarth. Find your father, I know he's got agents in the guards sneaking you in. Tell him, get him to send help. And m'inyeen, if when you get back...”

“You'll hold out,” Kaie said fiercely. “You're Mireen ap Cordach, rightful leader of Karthspire, descendant of Faolan himself, you'll still be here when I get back.”

“I know,” Mireen said, half-smile on her face, and even a Hagraven could still love her last remaining child as claws nudged Kaie's arm and those black eyes turned a gentle look at Kaie. “But if we are not... go safely, my child. Old gods keep you.”

“And you. Don't stop dancing,” Kaie whispered, one last hug for a mother she didn't share affection with often, and then she was running, Forsworn shouts and screams echoing in her ears as a great Shout of “SLEN TIID VO!” echoed across the Karth river canyon and the dragon they'd just killed rose to life again. Kaie blinked back tears and kept running. She hoped her father would have answers, might answer the call and break out of jail at last, join up with Keirine who might just have invented some vast super-strong black soul gem that could trap even a dragon's soul, and then they might just stand a chance.

It was a very slim hope, but it was all Kaie had.

After dealing with the dragon, things actually had gone rather smoothly. Despite the singing and the babbling, Cicero had behaved himself, mostly either chatting away to Elisif or cooing to himself as he skipped along, or occasionally chatting to Esbern about dragons.

“Cicero used to have a dragon, you know, a little toy one his mama made for him called Binkie. Cicero loved that dragon! He was lost in the war, when the elves came and invaded the city... Cicero still misses him. Oh, but that was then and this is now, and dragons are real! Except bigger than Cicero imagined. And not nearly as friendly.”

“No, Cicero, they are not,” Esbern replied, actually smiling as he humoured the little madman. “In fact, they're more dangerous even than the Thalmor, and I know you don't like the Thalmor.”

Cicero disliked the Thalmor intensely, having seen the Aldmeri Dominion's soldiers invade his city, destroy his childhood home and kill his adored mother, and when they'd run into a patrol on the road, Cicero had wasted little time launching an attack. Everyone else had been left with no choice but to join in, although in all honesty no one had exactly raised too many complaints. Cicero was now wearing a set of Thalmor armour and gloves, although it didn't fit him that well. It was better than the jester outfit though, although he'd refused to part with the hat.

Of the Forsworn, they'd seen nothing, which was something to be thankful for. They'd stopped for a rest at the Old Hroldan Inn, before deciding to push on, making the most of the light. Karthspire wasn't far now.

Elisif braced herself. This was likely to be a tough fight, even with a werewolf and a jester-assassin in the party. She was a little worried about it. And then the familiar roar of a dragon echoed across the valley, and as they approached the Karthspire itself, it was on them.

There followed pitched battle, with arrows and magic flying after it, and Elisif, with Cicero using her bow, was left with very little to do other than sprint over the river to dry land and hope it'd come into land nearby. Quite what her life had come to that she was actively hoping for a dragon to land nearby, she wasn't sure, but there it was.

The dragon finally crashlanded on the other bank, and Elisif tore after it, not looking to see if the rest of the Blades were following, just knowing she had to get to it while it was down, and it was probably best if Brynjolf, Aela and Esbern stayed back anyway. So she called down Elemental Fury and carved into it, not stopping, not daring to stop, not until it howled its last and died. Then, as always, the soul-taking, and Elisif felt another one sink inside, locking itself away until she found another Word Wall.

She looked around to see how her Blades were reacting. Nothing. Not a single one of them was there, and then she heard the unmistakeable sound of Cicero shrieking, “CICERO WILL SEND YOU TO THE VOID!!! HAIL SITHIS! LET'S KILL SOMEOOOONNNNE!” This was followed by a werewolf's howl, and then the combination of Destruction magic and screaming.

Ah. They'd clearly found the Forsworn camp then. Pausing only to swallow a healing potion, Elisif ran to join them.

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

The Forsworn had fought bravely, their magic cutting the very air, but it wasn't enough against a werewolf, and Delphine's magic resistance didn't hurt either. Esbern fired magic into them from a safe distance, Brynjolf assisting with archery support, but it was Cicero and Aela carrying the day, the wolf shredding all in its way to pieces, while Cicero howled threats and abuse, hardly needing to fight anyone personally. Hardened Forsworn fighters took one look at the bloodthirsty maniac threatening to bring death in the name of Sithis, and promptly ran. Very odd. Elisif had heard of Nord warriors being able to scream battle cries so terrifying their opponents fled in terror, but she'd never heard of an Imperial having that gift. Maybe Cicero had some Nord blood somewhere.

Finally Elisif had caught up, having picked off a few stragglers but mostly been able to avoid the fighting, and it seemed Cicero and Aela had the Hagraven of the camp cornered.

“Cicero shall end you, filthy Hag!” Cicero hissed, weapons out as he advanced, his ebony dagger in one hand and an Elven war axe taken off a dead Thalmor in the other.

“It was not supposed to be this way, Sithision,” the Hag hissed, not having failed to hear the shrieking. “Who hired you?? Was it the Silver-Bloods?”

“No,” Cicero growled, advancing. “Your people attacked first, so Cicero murders you all. That is all the soon to be dead Hag need concern herself with.”

“Give the call signs next time, Dark Brother, and we would have stayed our hands,” the Hag hissed. “As it is, you are not the equal of a Matriarch!”

She sent a fireball his way and Cicero shrieked and dodged. Aela however didn't even seem to care, shrugging off the ice spells that followed it as she pounced on the luckless Hag. The screams as she died echoed around the valley, and then silence. Aela staggered back, sitting on the grass, and then her beast form wore off and she was huddling up, naked.

Cicero looked up, shrieked again and looked away, blushing. Elisif wondered if there were clothes anywhere Aela could borrow, if any of the Forsworn had any armour that wasn't in pieces or bloodstained.

“You're a werewolf,” and that was Delphine, glaring down at her. “You could have said!”

“Never came up in conversation,” said Aela through gritted teeth. “Most people tend to object. But it's pretty much the only way to survive taking on these bastards, so I made use of it. Don't tell me you can't stand the sight of glory before you either.”

“Glory is not what I'd call it,” said Delphine, still scowling. “But it did the job, I suppose. Suppose I'd better find your clothes too, hmm?”

“No need, got 'em right here,” Brynjolf announced cheerfully, Aela's gear in his arms. “Gave me a bit of a shock, seeing you transform like that, but no matter. Better mind yourself in future though, changing back without your gear's a bit of a drawback, eh lass?”

Aela's eyes narrowed but fortunately Delphine wasn't too pleased either, taking the gear off him and leaving it with Aela before dragging him away.

“Just let her get changed in peace, you old letch,” she muttered. Brynjolf laughed, but let himself be led off. Elisif also left Aela to get dressed, instead seeking out Cicero.

“What did the Hag mean, give the right call-signs?” Elisif asked, frowning. “Do the Dark Brotherhood and the Forsworn have an agreement?”

Cicero shook his head, confused himself. “Cicero doesn't think so, pretty Elisif. No one in Cyrodiil ever mentioned the Forsworn, and Astrid certainly didn't. Cicero doesn't know any call-signs.”

“But they ran when you shouted at them,” Elisif said softly. “When you screamed Hail Sithis, and she called you Sithision. Who is Sithis?”

Cicero did look up then, eyes cold and dark. “Who is Sithis, the pretty dragon asks. A question best not answered, pretty one. The cold of the Void, the terror of midnight, a heart that once beated stopping its pulsing – Sithis is all those things.” He tilted his head, smiling strangely. “Sithis came first, before anything. Before All That Is came into being, it was All That Is Not. That the Hags worship it too does not surprise Cicero – many others do. But as for the Hags and the Brotherhood reaching an agreement – no, Cicero knows nothing of that. It never happened, or was a long time ago.”

The Dark Brotherhood had been around since the Second Era, and Elisif remembered that there'd been tales of the Reachmen being here since at least the First Era. Long histories for both, it could have happened. But the Hagraven was dead, and Elisif didn't think anyone in the Forsworn would want to talk about it. Probably best left alone then. The last thing Elisif needed was Astrid teaming up with the Forsworn to hunt her down. Best no one knew any of this. If the Forsworn worshipped the same dark deity the Brotherhood followed, that was something best forgotten by everyone.

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

Sunset over Karthspire, and Kaie could only stare in horror at the ruined camp, caved in tents, smoke rising from what could have been dragon fire or Destruction magic, Kaie didn't know. Bodies everywhere, blood everywhere, and up by the altar, Mireen's dead body, looking as if a beast had torn it to pieces.

Kaie put a hand to her mouth, choking back tears. Maybe Mireen hadn't been the nicest woman on the planet, but she'd still been Kaie's mother. Now she was gone.

“Who did this?” Kaie whispered, heedless of the tears on her cheeks. “Who?”

“Princess?” she heard a voice cry. “Princess, is that you?”

“It's me,” Kaie said listlessly. No point turning to see who it was, no enemy would call her Princess.

A small group of Forsworn warriors emerged, the survivors who'd fled the destruction returning to see what could be salvaged. One of them approached, a dark-haired man with facepaint who Kaie remembered was called Cuilann, dropping to his knees before her.

“Princess,” he whispered. “We're so sorry. They just came out of nowhere, they had power like you wouldn't believe!”

“They had a werewolf,” said another, a woman this time with ash-coloured hair and vivid green eyes, called Fionnuala if Kaie recalled correctly. “And a mage, and oh Princess, there was one with red hair and eyes like the Void, who wore a jester hat and fought like nothing we'd ever seen! He – he was a Mor Gwador, princess, he was invoking Sithis, said he'd send us to the Void.”

Kaie felt her knees shake and she sat down before she could fall down. The Dark Brotherhood, taking contracts against the Forsworn? That was bad. That was beyond bad. If the old gods had abandoned them, if Sithis had turned against them...

“Where are they?” Kaie asked. “Where did they go, do you know?”

Wordlessly, the surviving Forsworn pointed at the Karthspire itself.

“They went inside,” Cuilann said. “Killed everyone in there too. Then they went into the old Akaviri ruins. They're still there.”

“Are they,” said Kaie softly, drawing her axe. “Well then, it's about time we went and showed them who the true children of Sithis are, don't you?”

She cast her armour and would have turned, but Fionnuala grabbed her arm.

“There's more!” she cried. “They got inside the ruins, don't ask me how! They got the bridges down, unsealed the place, and we followed... but it's a dead end. Just a courtyard with a man's face on the wall and a blood seal on the floor. None of our blood would open it. And they're not there. It's like they just vanished.”

Kaie lowered her hands. They'd unsealed the Akaviri ruins. Got inside, made a base in there and sealed them up afterwards. Kaie and her sisters as children had tried to explore many times, but got no further than the fire trap, at which point Eithne had sustained a nasty burn to the arm and their parents had, united for once, unanimously banned any further trips into the old ruins. Now these alleged Dark Brotherhood assassins had got in there first go? Kaie had never heard of the Dark Brotherhood having any Akaviri links so how had they got inside?

“What else?” Kaie asked, mentally drafting the report she'd have to make. “Names, descriptions, anything you can give me.”

“The red-haired daedra in the jester hat was called Cicero,” Fionnuala whispered. “I don't know who the werewolf was but there was an old Nord wizard, short hair, grubby white tunic, and a red-haired Nord archer in black leather armour with lots of straps and pockets and a hood. Also an older blonde Breton, but not a Reachwoman, I don't think. Had leather armour and a curved sword, not seen its like before.”

“Then there was this young Nord girl with red hair, really pretty, younger than us even, we think,” Cuilann added. “And that's the oddest thing of all. She had this fiery sword and it was her who killed the dragon, just ran after it without even flinching after they shot it down. Carved it to bits all by herself. And then...” Wordless, he pointed at the dragon's body, just visible on the crest of the hill to the south. Kaie squinted and realised she wasn't looking at the corpse she'd seen this morning. She was looking at a skeleton.

“It burned as it died, and then the fire all went inside her,” Cuilann gasped. “Princess, we think she took its very soul!”

“I don't think that one's coming back,” Fionnuala added, seeming to perk up a bit at something at least going right. Kaie just stared at it, dazed. A super-strong soul gem that could capture a dragon's soul – and it existed, just not in gem form. A human woman, a Nord. Her father was going to absolutely love that.

“Princess, what do we do?” Cuilann was asking, sounding a little desperate. “Did you want us to go to Red Eagle Redoubt, get warriors to help us retake the camp?”

“No,” said Kaie, realising Karthspire camp was a lost cause, especially if these mysterious Mor Gwadoreen Akaviri had occupied the ruins and one could kill dragons permanently. “Get yourselves there and get help, salvage everything in this camp and get the bodies seen to. But don't try and re-occupy the place, just leave it be. If they come out, do not try and fight them, just run.”

“But Princess, they killed our Matriarch!” Fionnuala protested. “We have to do something!”

“Yes, and we will,” Kaie said, steeling herself. “But this is beyond us, bigger than us, and one camp can't deal with this. We need our King.”

“What's he going to do from in prison?” Cuilann asked, rolling his eyes. Kaie didn't even blink before she'd dealt him a sharp backhander.

“Then maybe we'll get him out of prison,” Kaie said coldly, ignoring Cuilann as he rubbed his face and whimpered. “Maybe we'll get our leader back and he'll lead the reclamation force personally. Then we can either treat with them or put them to fire and the sword. But that is the King's call to make, not yours. Get back to Red Eagle Redoubt and tell them Karthspire camp is no more and that it is off-limits until I get word from the King.”

“We will, Princess,” Fionnuala promised, helping Cuilann up. “And you? Are you going to Markarth now?”

“Yes,” said Kaie, getting unsteadily to her feet. “I'll be at Nepos's. The King will need a full report and I'm the only one who can get in to see him. Old gods keep you, when I have orders, I'll be back.”

Waved goodbyes, and Kaie was running back across the Reach's fields, to where she kept her secret stash of leather armour used for passing unremarked in the Nords' city. Time to brief her father. Madanach the King in Rags was needed like he'd never been.

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

Sky Haven Temple proved to be everything Elisif had hoped for and then some. The place was huge! Carved right into the centre of the Karthspire, a great hall in the middle with a banqueting table and Alduin's Wall itself on the right-hand side, then all the rooms and corridors leading off it, including a library, an armoury, a communal kitchen, bedrooms, then the courtyard at the back, overgrown but with some impressive views of the Reach. It was a little run-down but Delphine seemed to think it was salvageable and was already having conversations with Brynjolf over how to get the place outfitted.

Esbern hadn't stopped enthusing over the architecture since he'd got there, and had had an avid listener in Cicero who'd skipped after him, cooing over it all, and whether Cicero actually understood all Esbern's commentary on the mix of ancient Nord and Akaviri building styles was debatable, but his enthusiasm was undeniable. Elisif sat at the table, watching and listening and smiling as Esbern pointed key features on the wall out to Cicero.

“You see, Cicero, it's all here, all the elements of the prophecy of the Dragonborn. Look, here is the Numidium, the Brass Tower of legend, and here is an Oblivion Gate, representing the Oblivion Crisis, and here, this is the last part, the Last Dragonborn contending with Alduin at the end of time with Blades in support – look, you can see their distinctive Akaviri longswords.”

Cicero had tilted his head, almost bent in two as he contorted himself to peer at the Dragonborn on the wall more closely.

“It doesn't look like Elisif,” he said, scratching his head. “It looks like a man if Cicero is honest.”

“Well, they didn't know who the last Dragonborn would be,” Esbern explained patiently. “So they carved a generic figure to represent the Dragonborn.”

“Prejudice and discrimination!” Aela announced as she arrived from the armoury. “Men aren't generic either.”

Esbern opened his mouth to argue the point, then noticed Delphine come in to see how far he'd got with the Wall, and decided that three armed warrior women were not the audience to argue this with.

“Yes, very true, Aela, but this was back in the First Era and standards were different back then, in fact it could be anyone under all that armour.”

“So it could,” Delphine replied, taking a seat and putting her feet up on the table. “Got anywhere with finding out how they defeated Alduin yet?”

“Ah yes, well, the first defeat of Alduin is the centrepiece of the whole panel,” Esbern explained, indicating the huge dragon in the middle. “Look, this is Alduin falling from the sky, and here are the Tongues arrayed against him.”

“I know that, Esbern,” Delphine sighed, closing her eyes and leaning wearily back in her chair. “What we need to know is how.”

“Well, I've been thinking about that,” Esbern said, indicating the three Tongues and the swirls emanating from their mouths. “This looks like the Akaviri symbol for a Shout, yes, see how it's coming from their mouths in unison. It seems there was a Shout used to defeat Alduin. Unfortunately there's no way to determine what Shout was used.”

Delphine took her feet off the table, folding her arms and resting her head on them, slowly shaking her head and cursing.

“Well, a Shout makes sense,” said Aela thoughtfully. “You're a Dragonborn, stands to reason if you're meant to fight Alduin it'd be the Thu'um you'd use to defeat him. So where do you learn your Shouts from?”

“Word Walls,” said Elisif, staring at Alduin's Wall as if the Thu'um would leap out of it at her. Alas, no such luck. “But that isn't one. Otherwise, the only other place I've learnt Shouts from is the Greybeards.”

“Knew it!” Delphine sighed, finally sitting up. “Damn it all. I suppose that means we'll have to ask them for help. Good thing they've already let you into their little cult.”

“It is not a – look, just what have you got against the Greybeards anyway?” Elisif snapped, having had just about enough of Delphine's attitude. “They're the sacred holders of our traditions! Dedicated to peace and learning! They've done nothing wrong!”

“No, because they've done nothing!” Delphine shot back. “All they do is sit up on that mountain, hoarding the sacred knowledge of your people for themselves. Think about it, have they tried to stop Alduin, or do anything about the war? No. They've left all that up to you.”

“I am Dragonborn and Queen, I know my duty when I see it,” Elisif said firmly. “And it's probably a good thing not all Nords know the Thu'um. Power in the wrong hands is dangerous!”

“Power's no good to anyone if no one ever uses it!” Delphine cried. “The Greybeards are afraid of it, and they're afraid of you, of your power. So they drip-feed you with knowledge, make you work for it, just a few Shouts here and there, simple ones, weak ones, throwing people to the ground, running fast, limiting your knowledge because they're afraid of what you might do with it.”

“So they should be!” Elisif shouted, getting to her feet. “Unrelenting Force might be weak but it still felled a king! Are you surprised they keep the knowledge secret? If you're not afraid of this power, you've not understood it.”

The room had gone quiet in the wake of her outburst, Esbern and Aela both looking away uncomfortably, Cicero hopping over and wringing his hands nervously,

“You don't need to be afraid, Elisif,” Delphine said softly, and she met Elisif's eyes without flinching. “It's not a curse. It's a gift.”

From a god with a sense of humour, clearly. Why not give a grieving widow the same power that killed her husband? Clearly nothing could go wrong there, oh no, not at all.

“Some gift,” Elisif whispered. Delphine at least had the grace to look a bit sympathetic.

“If not you, somebody else would have it. Someone has to stop Alduin, why not you? At least you won't misuse it. Just don't go too far the other way either, that's all I ask. We need you, Dragonborn and we need you strong.”

Elisif nodded, too tired to argue the point. And Delphine was right, the dragons had to be stopped, she knew that... she just wished the ones meant to help her would stop arguing.

“Hey, Delphine, take a look at this armoury!” Brynjolf emerged from it, two swords like Delphine's in his hands and wearing a set of steel armour that Elisif had never seen anything like before. “This stuff is worth a fortune!” He struck a few poses, dual-wielding the swords with the skill of a born warrior, although he wasn't moving as gracefully as he usually did, clearly not used to the heavy steel.

“You are not selling our stock of Blades armour!” Delphine shouted, getting out of her chair.

“Why not, we could make a bit of gold off this,” Brynjolf said, sheathing his katanas. “Come on, Del, you want this place outfitted? That's not going to come cheap.”

“You're a thief, steal something!” Delphine cried, exasperated. “NOT off me!”

“Ah yes, the way to a woman's heart, stealing and fencing her things,” Aela said calmly, smirking at Brynjolf. “Good one, Brynjolf.”

Brynjolf, faced with that logic, did relent on that point, and Delphine decided to go investigate this armoury. Elisif followed after, more than curious herself. That armour did look shiny.

“Loads of it, look at it, and it's good as new!” Delphine breathed. Aela was peering over her shoulder, impressed, and Cicero had crept in too, cooing at it.

“Not bad,” Aela noted. “Although a little heavy for my tastes. I'll have a sword and shield though.”

Cicero likewise tried a set of it, attempting to sword-fight in it but definitely lacking his usual finesse.

“Cicero cannot move in this,” Cicero scowled. “How is Cicero supposed to sneak up on people dressed like this, they will hear him coming a mile off!”

“You can't sneak up on a dragon,” Delphine sighed. “But if you insist, get it off and take a sword instead. What about you, Elisif, want a set?”

Elisif stroked the cuirass of a Blades armour set, thinking it over. On the one hand, she wasn't really used to heavy armour herself... but on the other she wasn't the sneaky type either and it would keep her safe from dragons.

“If there's some that would fit me,” she said hopefully. Delphine smiled and led her further in, and eventually they found a set that was a perfect fit. Delphine and Aela helped her into it, and there was a mirror nearby. Elisif stared at herself, the Akaviri steel plating fitting her like a glove. It was heavier than she was used to, but not nearly as hard to move in as Cicero had made out. She could get to like it, and it looked fabulous.

“I really like it,” Elisif whispered.

“Then consider it yours,” Delphine told her. “Oh, that reminds me. Something else I meant to give you!”

She disappeared into the shadows and returned with an Akaviri katana. Different to the others, brighter, shinier... and when Delphine unsheathed it, the lightning dancing on the blade proved why.

“Dragonbane,” Delphine said quietly. “Legendary lost Akaviri dragonslaying blade, allegedly forged for Reman Cyrodiil. You should have it. Wield it with that Dawnbreaker one, you'll be unstoppable.”

Elisif took the blade, gasping as the lightning danced in the half-light. She gave it an experimental swing and couldn't help but squeal at the light.

“I can keep this?” she gasped, amazed. Delphine nodded, grinning.

“Of course you can. You're the gifted dragonslayer after all. Only fair you should have the dragon blade. Give Alduin a few hits from me when you finally corner the bastard, won't you?”

Elisif sheathed it, promising she would do that very thing. All right, perhaps Delphine wasn't so bad after all. Not that Elisif would admit she was starting to like the woman, of course not. But new armour and a new sword went a long way towards it.

~~~~

A/N: Setup for the next segment, this one, but the next segment's good. Next chapter has Elisif visiting Markarth and being appalled by the corruption and violence in a city that should be supporting her, and Cicero makes a new friend...

Quick note - translation of the Forsworn language for those not familiar with Nightshade and Juniper:

Ap - child of
Ap Sithisai - children of Sithis
Sithision - son of Sithis
Inyeen - daughter
M'inyeen - my daughter
Mor Gwadoreen - Dark Brotherhood

Multi fills are always awesome.
Also considering how open this prompt is I'm sure multi fills are expected.

Blades Armor is a good example of game mechanics taking over sense. But it's understandable. With the way it's built, with an articulated torso, sectioned shoulders, and use of brigandine rather than chain, it'd be more of a "medium weight" armor, though even that's a gross oversimplification. It's still an extremely flexible set of light plate though.

It's easily my favorite armor in the game. It's both slim and simple, but just seems to radiate power. It looks absolutely awesome without deliberately trying to do so (I'm looking at you, Nordic Carved).

Dragonbane and Dawnbreaker. Now, now Elisif truly looks the part of the Dragonborn. Bonus: Njada Stonebrain's information is now wildly off, save for the "unholy" (lol!) sword.

And for the record, I agree with Delphine, but only to a certain point. Killing the one she demands just doesn't make sense. Maybe Brynjolf will be able to point that out to her.

This story is not abandoned, I promise. New job is kicking my butt, but I am steadily chipping away.

Vilkas neared the final pages of his book. It had been interesting and while there were parts that were boring the last half of the book had certainly made up for it. The last half of the book was after the member had been accepted into the circle.

There his writing became obscure, less direct much more vague; disjointed even. There was definitely a sense that it was a new person writing this portion. Vilkas supposed it basically was, considering he would have had the wolf in his head as well at that time.

The book was short but the last few pages were invaluable. Despite the obscurity Vilkas had generally worked out that this man was searching for a cure, secretly with only the help of one other shield brother. Their research was limited, they didn’t discover an actual cure but they seemed certain about one thing; Ysramor would guide the Companions back to the right path.

Vilkas didn’t know what to make of the ideas but he made a note to mention it to Kodlak tomorrow. Perhaps they were finally getting closer to a cure.

As Vilkas closed the book he still wasn’t tired, and it would be a while before Ariella would tire as well. He was about to go get another book when he let his gaze wonder to her.

She sat quietly, not noticing his gaze as she concentrated on her book. Her lips moved silently as she read the foreign words; her skin seemed to glow in the candlelight. She was captivating.

“What does Akaviri sound like?” He asked her, placing his own book aside.

“I can read it aloud if you’d like.” She sat up a bit more and balanced the book on her legs.

“Please do.”

She started to read and the words flowed through the air like poetry. He didn’t understand a word but the way it sounded was enough. He knew the words probably had dull meanings but it sounded much more fantastic in Akaviri.

Vilkas just sat and watched her as she read. At the start she kept glancing to him every so often, disrupting the flow. Yet she was speaking much more fluently, as if this dead language was her mother tongue.

Vilkas looked her over; she wasn’t paying attention to him any more. Just reading, speaking in that voice, those foreign words that stirred something in him.

He repositioned himself and captured her lips with his. Just as Vilkas felt Ariella about to drop her book he broke the kiss.

“Keep reading.” He whispered,

“For how long?” Ariella’s eyes followed him as he moved away from her.

“Just don’t stop until I say so.” Ariella turned her eyes from him and she began reading again. Vilkas waited until she was at that natural state again where reading seemed effortless.

The words flowed from her mouth, meanings lost to him but that didn’t matter. He liked to hear her speak, especially like that; exotic, confident.

He guided her to lie down. Her eyes only glanced to him once, but her words didn’t stop. Vilkas positioned himself between her legs.

He allowed his hands to trail up. He could hear her breath hitch, feel her heart rate quicken and smell the desire growing in her as his hands wondered further up.

His hands travelled under her sleeping tunic and up to her hips. His fingers hooked on the band of her small clothes but stopped as he realised she’d stopped speaking.

She soon carried on speaking in the language that made Vilkas’ skin stand on edge. Once she was in the flow again he removed the small clothes and allowed his hands to wonder.

They wondered over her legs, stomach, hips, inner thighs… Ariella’s breath would hitch delightfully as he neared his final destination.

But he wouldn’t be touching that with his hands, at least not first.

---
Bit of a tease, but I'll post the rest tomorrow. I need sleep....

ahhhhhhhhhh! I'll wait with anxiety the rest! good sleep!

Again, I'm really not great at smut, but here it is...
---
He lowered his head and began kissing her legs. Trailing kisses until he reached the tops of her inner thighs. He could smell her and he could hear that she hadn’t stopped reading.

He put her legs over his shoulders and lowered himself. Pushing her tunic up, he trailed kisses from her navel until they found their target. Ariella’s breath hitched as he made contact but she continued reading.

He went slowly at first, allowed her to get used to the feeling. He sucked, stroked and kissed her all over hearing moans beneath the words she was saying.

He applied more force, allowing his tongue access to her deepest regions. He felt her squirm beneath him as his tongue licked along her.

He introduced a finger after a while; slowly pushing it in and out, curling it slightly. She dropped the book beside her but didn’t stop speaking. Akaviri poured from her mouth between gasps and moans.

Ariella squirmed more and Vilkas used his free hand to hold her still. He glanced up at her; her head thrown back, cheeks crimson, lips moving as she allowed Akaviri to be heard.

Vilkas had grown hard long ago, it was easy to ignore but seeing her like that…

He worked faster, wanting to bring her over the edge with his mouth before he would do it all over again.

It didn’t take much; a curling finger and a lapping tongue and the dragonborn was writhing beneath him as she came.

She was whispering in Akaviri now, soft moans escaping her as she came. She seemed to be whispering the same phrase over again and when he heard his name, Vilkas gave pause. His name sounded unnatural to the flow, a disruption to the words.

Yet she repeated the same phrase as before after it, to her there hasn’t been a break in the flow. Vilkas wondered seriously for the first time what she was saying yet another ache took his attention quickly.

His pants were straining and Ariella was already ridding herself of her clothing. Her orgasm over she wanted Vilkas to be as close as possible to her, to make her feel like that all over again.

He complied quickly, stripping himself and wasting almost no time. He sheathed himself in her and felt relieved. She kissed him, tasting what could only be herself on his lips.

They moved slowly, hands feathering over each other as their hips rolled in perfect time. There was no need to rush anything.

Vilkas began to speed up, not by much but enough for Ariella to know he was nearing the end. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly as the trusting became more animalistic the closer they came to the edge.

Ariella was there before Vilkas but the tightening of her walls seemed to push him over the edge allowing him release.

They staying connected for a while before they got into the bed proper.

Ariella tucked herself against Vilkas’ chest and he stroked her hair feeling sleep washing over him.

“Vilkas…” Ariella’s whisper was almost lost despite the complete silence.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” She then repeated the phrase she had been saying in Akaviri, so before she had been saying she loved him. He felt his heart leap into his throat.

“I love you, too.” And he was certain that he did.

I really liked this chapter, even if you say it's only setup! And I can't wait to see Elisif's reaction to the corrupt hellhole that is Markarth. Got to agree with Elisif that the Blades Armor is awesome (although personally I've always loved the Nordic Carved, too).

Also, gotta love Brynjolf planning to fence all the ancient artefacts and badass armor and weapons. :)

you say you're not good? It seems to me an intimate scene, beautiful! I love the relationship between Vilkas and Ariella! but you know that I need to know what happened between Farkas and Aela! It would be nice if they they tried to clear things up thanks to Vilkas and Ariella! I love your story!

well done! and they finally admitted their true feelings! I love this!

ohhawwwwwww! lovely!

A Dragonborn High Queen Elisif (Dragonqueen?) Will be awesome, terrifying, and terrifyingly awesome, all at once. The will to dominate, to /power/, is a part of every Dovah...and Dovahkiin. When Elisif takes her rightful throne, after beating her main competitor, even, she'll be hard pressed to control that will, I think. She's still a bit afraid of her power at the moment, but after that fades and she really accepts just what she is, Ulfric, and Skyrim in general, are in for one hell of a shock.

Then, of course, comes all the awesome of the Author brings in any of the DLC's. Somehow I don't see Dragon Queen Elisif taking all that kindly to the stunts Miraak pulls.

She's a Queen of her own nation that she fought, bled and battled for, and the killer of Alduin. Whats Miraak got? Well, he is Hermy's tentacle bitch boy. Thats something. I guess.

In the morning Ariella felt the cold hit her as the blankets were tugged from her. Despite the mass of pelts covering the bed Vilkas had somehow managed to claim them all. The man in question had his back turned to her and even when she pressed against his back the pelts still let the cool air hit her.

She breathed a curse and sat up. Vilkas was sleeping almost soundly. He was whimpering in his sleep but Ariella was used to it. She never told him because she knew he would get all withdrawn and not want her sleeping near him; and Ariella didn’t want that. The man was like a furnace and sleeping on her own would leave her cold; in more than one way.

She didn’t want to wake him though. He hardly slept as is and he needed all the sleep he could get. Ariella could see the way a certain fire in his eyes seemed to die when he got tired; it was always replaced by something else just not him.

She leaned over and gently pushed a piece of hair from his face. He seemed at war even in sleep. She wondered how long he had been like this and she wanted to ask but she couldn’t. That would open up a whole topic of conversation he wasn’t ready to have yet. He would tell her when he was ready and she would wait.

Vilkas tightened his face and Ariella could tell he was awake. She poked him in the side and then said, “Care the share the hundreds of pelts?”

He rolled over, one arm bringing the blankets across Ariella before pulling her close to him. He didn’t open his eyes just held her close.

“Can we just stay here all day?” He mumbled into her hair.

“I wish we could, but Aela says she wants to take me hunting later.” Vilkas stilled around her, so she quickly added, “It’ll be good to practice my archery, that’s what Aela said.”

She felt him relax around her and she cuddled up to him more, relishing in his warmth. “You should probably speak to Kodlak today as well.”

“Hm? What makes you say that?” Vilkas mumbled to her.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see him yesterday?” Ariella commented, “besides I think the old man’s jealous I have so much of your attention these days.” Vilkas chuckled and tightened his grip around her.

“Well I don’t see why we can’t stay for a few hours longer. Aela’s not even awake yet.” Vilkas seemed positive about that but Ariella wouldn’t have a clue what was happening beyond these four walls so she trusted him. While she basically knew everyone’s routines the scholar still had trouble telling the time down here without the sun to aid her.

“A few hours sounds nice, especially if I get some blanket.” She looked up at him. “I’m beginning to see why you bought those extra pelts now.”

“Because your Breton blood keeps you shivering at the slightest cold?”

“No. You’re a blanket hog.”

“I’ll try to share in the future.” Vilkas said with a chuckle hugging the woman closer.

Pairing(s): past Elisif/Torygg, growing Delphine/Brynjolf, Cicero/Eola
Kinks/warnings: murder, blood, cannibalism, Cicero and Eola being themselves
Summary: A simple day trip to Markarth turns into the stuff of nightmares as Elisif witnesses its corruption firsthand, the Dark Brotherhood are in the city and Cicero finds a friend who... understands him.

A/N: I am so sorry about this one. Basically, the entire second half of this chapter is probably going to squick half the readership. To sum up, Cicero ends up doing the Taste of Death, because he's a disturbed and depraved individual willing to do virtually anything an attractive woman tells him to. So, if this is likely to offend you, and frankly I quite understand, skip the second half, starting from when Cicero sneaks into the Hall of the Dead. All you need to know is Cicero does the Namira quest and being the good, obedient boy he is, gets the Ring of Namira and Eola as his new lady friend and Blades recruit.

Three days later, and Elisif was starting to go stir-crazy. Yes, there'd been the excitement on the first morning when the second dragon had attacked the courtyard, but the six of them had made short work of it. But that was two days ago now, and Elisif was bored.

Brynjolf had left for Riften on day two to see about running a few jobs, get some coin pulled together to fit the place out properly. Delphine and Aela had gone to see if the remains of Karthspire camp had anything worth having, but it appeared the Forsworn had returned in the night to clear the place up, because the entire place had been uprooted and cleared. Even the bodies had been claimed. Aela had sworn she'd seen a few in the undergrowth, but they'd fled at the sight of them.

“We've got them on the run, Delphine,” Aela had said, sounding rather proud of herself. Delphine hadn't been so sure.

“Those are just scouting parties, I think,” Delphine said, brooding. “They know we're here, they know what we did to that camp. They're a lot more unified than people think, I think they're just biding their time until they know more. We'll have to be careful.”

Elisif wished there was some way of negotiating with them. She didn't want to hurt them, she might even be able to agree to them having their land back, or at least having a Reachman Jarl. But Igmund's family had been in charge of the Reach for years. She had to be fair to him as well.

Well, all this was academic anyway. Not like she'd ever end up having to negotiate with whoever led the Forsworn. Did they even have a leader? Delphine seemed to think so, but who knew.

Aela had left on day three to go back to Jorrvaskr, see how Kodlak was doing and see how the city in general was managing. And if rumours of Dark Brotherhood activity could be gleaned too, Elisif was fine with that. Brynjolf had already promised to talk to his own sources in the Guild, but Elisif wasn't sure how far she could trust the thief. Sure, he was friendly and charming and seemed genuinely fond of her, but the fact remained he was still Thieves Guild and who knew how intertwined they really were with the Dark Brotherhood.

So it was just the four of them, Esbern exploring the library, Delphine exploring the rest of the Temple and clearing out various rooms, unearthing bits and pieces that could be useful. She'd already got one of the bathrooms – an indoor bathroom! That pumped running water from the Karth! - up and running, and the kitchen was good to go too. Cicero had been surprisingly helpful, scampering after Delphine and helping with the heavy lifting and fetching and carrying and chopping firewood and going hunting, returning with lots of fresh meat, pelts and some almost certainly stolen potatoes. She just hoped he'd not stabbed anyone in the process. Easy to forget the man murdered for money and indeed his own enjoyment sometimes. But most of the time, he was perfectly sweet and friendly, cooing and fussing over his pretty Dragonborn and lovely Grand Mistress.

“It's Grand Master,” Delphine sighed. “Acting Grand Master. The Akaviri language used the same word for both male and female leaders, so we do the same.”

Cicero just giggled, biting his thumb and looking coyly at her.

“Cicero thinks Grand Mistress suits pretty Delphine,” he purred. Delphine just put her head in her hands, exasperated.

“Still not interested, Cicero,” Delphine sighed. “Go and bother someone else. Does Esbern need anything?”

“Esbern is more interested in books than people,” Cicero muttered. Then he shrugged and got up. “But he is still nicer than any of Astrid's people were.” Whistling to himself, he skipped off, presumably to bother Esbern.

Elisif took advantage of the quiet and went to sit next to Delphine.

“Delphine,” she said quietly. “Delphine, what are we doing next? I mean, we got this far, and believe me, I'm very thankful for the help... but I can't stay here forever and there's only six of us, four of us with Aela and Brynjolf gone. What next?”

“You're meant to be off to see the Greybeards, but I don't really want you going alone, and while I like Cicero, I don't entirely trust him,” Delphine sighed. “Damn it, if we just had more people... but as it is, you'll have to wait for Bryn or Aela to get back and take you up there.”

Frustrating indeed, especially with dragons out there ravaging Skyrim. But if all that was needed were more people...

“Delphine,” Elisif began. “What if I recruited some more people?”

Delphine lowered her quill and notebook and looked Elisif over, surprised.

“You'd do that?” she said, surprised. “Well, I suppose you did sort of get us Cicero, and I know Aela's involved mostly to keep an eye on you. All right, if you find anyone suitable and trustworthy and not a Thalmor agent, I guess I can take a look at them. Did you have anyone in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Elisif, grinning. “His name's Erandur and he's a Dunmer and priest of Mara. He lives a solitary life in Dawnstar but he's still quite capable. I helped him save Dawnstar from the Daedra Vaermina, and he helped me save Haafingar from no less than two necromancer covens. He's not got much of a life to leave behind in Dawnstar, I think he'd love to come here and help.”

“You think so, do you?” Delphine said, thinking this over. At length, she nodded. “All right. If you vouch for him, he can join us. Get to Markarth today, hire a courier and write to him, tell him to come to the Old Hroldan Inn. Take Cicero with you – I'm not sure I'd want to inflict him on the Greybeards, but you should be all right just taking him into the city. Frankly, getting him out from under my feet for a few hours is doing me a huge service.”

Entirely understandable – too much Cicero would give anyone a headache after a while. Elisif had never met anyone quite so desperate for company. Then there'd been the time she'd got up in the middle of the night to find him wandering the corridors, looking scared and pitiful and wanting to know if she knew where his mother was. She'd not really known what to do other than take him outside to sit under the stars for a bit and cuddle him, whispering she was sure his mother was out there somewhere and thinking of him too. He snuggled her back, and then whispered that if Astrid had hurt Mother, he would carve her to pieces. Elisif really hadn't known what to say to that, other than pat him on the back and tell him maybe he'd be able to go home one day. He'd just smiled that sad little smile of his and thanked her for her kindness. They'd stayed out there for some time before he'd finally got cold and walked her back to her bedroom. She still wasn't sure if he'd actually slept at all that night, but he'd seemed perky enough the next day.

Even so, she was sure being cooped up in Sky Haven Temple wasn't good for him. Getting him some fresh air and some new scenery would be just the thing, she was sure. Prophetic really, because a few moments later, in he walked, brandishing her ebony bow.

“This will not do!” he snapped. “This will not do at all.”

Delphine rubbed her forehead, clearly having a headache coming on.

“What won't do?” she sighed.

“This!” Cicero snapped, thrusting the bow at Elisif. “Sweet Elisif, pretty Elisif, Cicero knows you meant well and he thanks you for the loan, but it simply won't do. This bow is ALL WRONG!”

Elisif took it back off him, inspecting it. It didn't look any different to when she'd given it to him, and he'd used it well enough before.

“What's wrong with it?” Elisif asked. Cicero sank down into the chair next to her, arms folded as he glared sternly at her.

“It is the wrong size!” he hissed. Elisif scratched her head. She'd always thought bows were fairly interchangeable, but she supposed Cicero knew more than she did about archery. Delphine had just gone back to her work, smiling to herself.

“I didn't know bows came in sizes...” she began, but Cicero was nodding vigorously.

“Oh yes, yes indeed!” he breathed. “They must be precisely calibrated to the wielder's height and arm length. Otherwise it works... but not well. Cicero's poor arm is very sore from all the shooting at dragons and Forsworn.” He looked up at her, those dark eyes staring pitifully at her as he pouted.

“I... you poor thing,” Elisif said, glancing at Delphine, who was biting her lip and looking like she was trying not to laugh, which really wasn't that nice of her. “I was going to Markarth today anyway, did you want to come? I can get you a new bow while we're there.”

Cicero looked, inhaled and then squealed, clutching his hands together and beaming at her.

“Cicero would love to!” he gasped. “Cicero thought you would never ask! Let humble Cicero get his things and we shall be on our way. Cicero and the Dragonborn, on the hunt!” Cicero skipped off, singing happily to himself, presumably to find his weapons and armour. Delphine lowered her quill and grinned at Elisif.

“There you go, you were wondering what to do next. Now you've got a plan.”

She had indeed, although Delphine could look a little less cheerful.

“The poor man, I had no idea the bow was hurting him!” Elisif whispered. “And you! Laughing at him! He was in pain!”

Delphine chuckled, shaking her head. “I – yes, I'm awful, laughing at poor Cicero like that. Poor man. Well, he's yours for the day, so you look after him, you hear? Don't let him wander off or get into trouble. I wouldn't want him arrested, especially not here. Markarth's prison's a dangerous one.”

What was so dangerous about it, Elisif didn't like to ask, although Torygg had mentioned it once or twice too, always refusing to tell her the details on the grounds no decent woman should have to hear about the cutthroats and murderers that inhabited the place. Cicero might be an assassin, but he was also needy and vulnerable and definitely didn't need locking up in what was essentially a high security hole in the ground.

No, this would be a flying visit, just to find a courier, write to Erandur, find Cicero a new bow then back home. Nothing could be easier.

~~~~~~~~~~

Markarth loomed up in the noonday sun, Dwemer stonework gleaming in the sunlight and making Elisif's eyes hurt. Cicero trotted behind, staring at it in awe. It turned out he'd not seen anything like it since leaving Cyrodiil.

“Look at it, Maia, look!” he gasped. “Stone, stone, solid stone, like in the Imperial City! And yet... not.”

Elisif had never been to the Imperial City, in fact she'd not even been to Cyrodiil. Suppressing a pang of envy, she patted his arm.

“It was built by the Dwarves, long ago,” she told him. “Then it got settled by the Reachmen, and then it became a Nord city when the Reach became part of Skyrim.”

“When Tiber Septim won the Battle of Old Hroldan and defeated the Forsworn,” Cicero grinned, having read a few books on the Reach that Esbern had found for him in the library. “Yes, yes, Cicero has read of it. So much blood!” He cackled to himself, rubbing his hands. Elisif shivered a little, wishing he didn't have to be quite so gleeful over the idea.

“Well, Markarth is quite safe these days,” she told him. “The Forsworn only attack in the hills and wilderness. You don't have to worry.”

“Oh, Cicero wasn't worried,” Cicero purred, fingering the hilt of his ebony dagger, and Elisif could only sigh as she recalled yet again that death and violence didn't put Cicero off. Quite the reverse. She just hoped he'd behave himself in Markarth.

“Welcome to Markarth, traveller,” the guard on the gate said as they passed by, Elisif back in her scaled armour with Dragonbane and Dawnbreaker at her side, and Cicero in his elven gear, the hat hidden away but she was sure he had it on him. “Safest city in the Reach.”

Only city in the Reach, unless the definition of city had changed recently. Elisif was sure she'd have remembered the paperwork if it had. Still, she nodded at the guard and entered.

The gates opened onto the market, Dweller buildings looming over them, the inn on the left, houses built into the cliff on the right and the Markarth Brook flowing down the central street. It looked beautiful, although Elisif could hear smelters and forges from the other side of the central crag and was sure the industrial centre of Markarth was less appealing. Still, this side of the city looked nice.

Elisif was looking around to see if there was a forge anywhere when it happened.

“Glory to the Forsworn! The Reach will be ours again!”

Forsworn?? Here? Elisif drew Dawnbreaker, staring around wildly and then she saw him, near the jewellery stall, a Reachman with a knife. Before she could do anything, he'd grabbed the Nord woman who'd been browsing and slit her throat.

Elisif stared as the woman slumped lifelessly to the floor and the guards struck, butchering the killer in seconds.

“I die... for my country...” he gasped as he died, and then he lay still, blood pooling out everywhere. Kynareth save her. What sort of city was this??

Behind her, Cicero cackled and capered, delighted.

“Hee! HEEEEE!!!! Cicero likes this place already! Cicero should have come here years ago!”

Elisif sheathed her sword, feeling her knees go weak and her stomach turn as she remembered Ulfric sinking a sword into her husband, blood everywhere and now another innocent had just died in front of her. Shaking, Elisif sat down by the wall, trying not to cry. She should never have come here, never.

“Maia? Maia? Pretty Maia?” Cicero was kneeling by her side, looking worried. “Are you all right?”

“No!” Elisif gasped. “I just saw a woman murdered, of course I'm not all right!”

Cicero paused and then began stroking her hair.

“Of course, of course you are not, Maia is not used to death and blood. Maia is sweet! Innocent! Maia is a dragonslaying hero, Maia does not trouble herself with such things as removal of her enemies, no. That is what loyal Cicero is for, is it not? Do not worry, sweet Maia, Cicero will look after you.”

Elisif really didn't know how he could change from murderous to sweet in seconds, but she was rather glad of it. Then a shadow fell over them both and Elisif looked up, hand going to her sword.

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