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 really are half-Reachman, aren't you?” Elisif said quietly, watching curiously. He didn't look like a Breton – certainly wasn't built like one. All the same, some of his speech patterns were definitely similar to Madanach's. Brenhina she'd learnt was the Forsworn word for queen.

“That I am,” Argis said sleepily. “Not something it was ever really safe to talk about... but things are changing out there. They got a Reachman Jarl now, you know.”

“They... what?” Elisif sat up on hearing that. “Since when???”

“Since someone let the High Queen of Skyrim get arrested without a trial and got deposed by the Legion,” Argis said, grinning. “Only person of any seniority left in the city was old Nepos the Nose so they put him in charge. Pretty good, huh?”

“Goodness,” Elisif whispered, her head in a whirl. Nepos the Nose... who'd been next on her list after visiting Thonar, suspected of giving out kill orders to Forsworn agents in the city. And he was Jarl. “Isn't he one of...?”

“Us? Yeah, he trained me in the arts of spying and that. It's hysterical, it really is.” Argis seemed highly amused by the whole thing. “Good on him.”

“But do the Legion know?” she whispered. “I mean General Tullius wouldn't... and Rikke never would, surely?”

“Dunno, but they did,” Argis grinned. “Boss went nuts when he heard, apparently. Luckily for us all he saw sense and calmed down and ordered an armistice. Said he was going to do that anyway, but honestly it's a lot easier to persuade the rest of them to calm down when one of our own's in charge.”

Elisif could imagine and it did make it a lot easier to possibly get the Forsworn their land back. She'd have to see what happened. Goodness, the Legion really had been worried, it seemed. She'd not thought General Tullius worried about anything, but she guessed the legitimate ruler disappearing and last being seen fleeing with the King of the Forsworn would worry anyone. She really should have checked in sooner. Never mind. She'd write in the morning, maybe send Ria or someone off to Solitude with a note.

Settling into the bed next to Aranea's, Elisif pulled her armour off and dived under the covers. The Throat of the World tomorrow, and after learning Dragonrend, it was time the High Queen returned to her people.

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

It was about half an hour later Farkas heard the knock on his door. He'd stripped down to his loincloth and was about to go to bed when he heard the sound. Grinning to himself, he pulled on a tunic and went to open it.

Sure enough Argis was standing there, armour off and just wearing a simple wool tunic himself, glaring at Farkas.

“Just so you know, this isn't a marriage proposal or anything,” Argis growled. “I don't normally go for men.”

Farkas grinned. He'd heard that line before. There were an awful lot of men out there who didn't normally go for men but couldn't quite resist, or they got curious or horny or bored or... Farkas didn't greatly care. If he got a shag out of it, great. If it led to anything more, even better, but if not, well, he'd live.

“Sure you don't,” Farkas said, opening the door and beckoning him in. “You were just bored, right? Couldn't sleep?”

Argis came in, firmly shutting the door behind him.

“Listen up, Nord, and listen good. I've been assigned as bodyguard, housecarl, whatever, to a very pretty lady, but not only do I not think she's interested, someone else is interested in her and that someone else is someone I don't want to upset. So seeing as you're here and apparently think I'm easy on the eye and you're really not shy about speaking up, could you possibly get your hands on my cock and get me off and we can all get on with our lives?”

“You say that like you're not one of us,” Farkas said, confused. Argis looked pretty Nordic to him.

“Long story,” Argis growled. “Ma had a fling with a Reachman, she died in the Markarth Incident, Da's people got me to a Forsworn camp, I grew up there until I moved back to Markarth in my teens. You done or can we get to it now?”

“Not quite,” said Farkas, by now intrigued. He motioned for Argis to sit down while he rummaged behind the bar for some bottles of ale. “All right, if you're gonna stick around, I don't mind. But you're not getting your hands on me just like that. Here. Drink with me first.”

“Nords,” Argis said, shaking his head as he hauled himself on to a bar stool. “Knew this was a bad idea, but all right. I will drink some ale with you and then can we rut like sabre cats in heat?”

“Yes,” said Farkas, feeling his cock twitch at the mere thought of pinning Argis to the bed and frotting against him. “But first, can I ask you something?”

Argis looked vaguely pained but nodded. “What is it?”

“How'd you get the scars?” Farkas motioned at Argis' blind eye and scarred cheek.

“The... scars?” Argis said, looking confused. “Why'd you want to know?”

“All the best scars have stories. Been thinking about yours all evening, Half-Nord.” Farkas poured himself a drink and leaned forward, grinning at Argis. Now that was true enough, it wasn't often a broody, battle-scarred warrior showed up in Jorrvaskr exuding strength and fierceness like Argis did and Farkas wanted to know more. “I wanted to know what got the better of you.”

“Who said it got the better of me?” Argis smirked and Farkas knew right there he'd won him over.

“So tell me,” Farkas murmured, grinning as he leaned closer, and Argis obliged.

“All right. Among the Reachmen, you get your adulthood by doing two things. You have sex with someone and you kill something. Start a life and end a life, or well, potentially anyway. It's symbolic, see. Saying you're willing to start doing grown-up things.”

“Right,” said Farkas, although he didn't entirely understand it, but he'd killed an awful lot of things and shagged an awful lot of things in his forty years, so who was he to judge. “So you went out to kill something.”

“Yeah. Normally kids just sacrifice an animal the hunters have caught for them, and then it's open season on getting them laid. But the Nords had wiped the camp out before I was ready. I was living in Markarth by then with a friend of Da's looking after me, but I still wanted to do the rites the old way. Wanted to impress him.”

“What, the friend?” Farkas asked. Argis shook his head.

“No, Da. He's, well, tough, even by Forsworn standards. Most kids just do a sacrifice and that's it, but he was a runaway city boy when he was a kid and he was sick of the others in the tribe thinking he was soft and pushing him around. So he went out and hunted an elk down, killed it with just a hunting knife and brought the carcass back, throwing the head at the camp chief's feet and announcing he'd done the rite of death, he'd be in his tent if anyone fancied helping with the other one. I'm not sure he was even sixteen at the time.”

Farkas made a mental note to find out exactly which camp this man lived on, if he was still alive, and avoid any jobs involving it. Not only was killing Argis's father not likely to impress Argis, said father sounded dangerous.

“And did anyone help?” Farkas asked, already guessing the answer to this one.

“About three different women turned up apparently. He wouldn't tell me any more than that, saying it was personal. But it did the job, and he was a man from that day onwards. I wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

“You went out and hunted an elk?” Farkas asked, but deer did not leave scars like that. Argis nodded.

“Tried to. Found one too, only I wasn't the only one tracking it. A sabre cat had the same idea. We both cornered it at the same time, stopped, looked at each other, and then it decided I'd make an easier target. Bastard clawed my face but I had the last laugh. I bashed it with a shield and caved its skull in with my axe. Not sure how I got to Markarth, but I did and I'd killed something. Worked though, no one ever saw me as a boy again.”

“Did you have women lining up as well?” Farkas had to ask. Argis grinned, nodding.

“Oh yeah. Half the city wanted to fuss over me and tell me what a brave young man I was. Ladies love scars.”

“So do I,” Farkas whispered, leaning forward and crushing Argis's lips with his own. Argis gasped, reaching out for Farkas's shoulders and for a moment Farkas wasn't sure if Argis wanted him to continue or was going to push him away. Then he felt Argis's lips open and the other man's arms around his shoulders and Argis was kissing him back. Farkas broke off, staring back at him and feeling rather pleased with himself to see Argis's face flushed and mouth hanging open.

“That was... um... where's your bed?” Argis gasped.

“Behind you,” Farkas growled, emerging from behind the bar and pulling Argis to him for another kiss, feeling Argis hard up against him, and while he might not normally have gone for men, Argis the Bulwark was clearly going for Farkas and that pleased him greatly.

Farkas pushed Argis back on to the bed and crawled on top of him, slowing down the pace as he helped strip Argis off before removing his own clothes, one battle-scarred warrior admiring another. He stretched out on top of him, kissing him rather more gently this time.

“Anyone ever tell you you're really fucking hot?” Farkas growled, nibbling at Argis's ear. Argis held on to him, mumbling incoherently. Farkas grinned and reached down to get his hands on Argis properly. This was going to be a good night.

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

Argis wasn't in his bed when Elisif woke up. He wasn't upstairs either, and a quick chat with Aranea revealed he'd slipped out about half an hour after lights out. Farkas wasn't anywhere to be seen either.

So it was when both men finally made their separate appearances, Elisif finally sealed the letters for General Tullius and Falk Firebeard, passed them to Ria for delivery to Dragonsreach that afternoon to go in the Legion's next dispatch, and grinned up at her new housecarl.

“Took him up on it, did you?” she asked. Argis's impassive expression didn't shift but there was the faintest hint of a smile there.

“Yeah. And before you ask... it was all right.”

Farkas, on the other side of Jorrvaskr, glanced up from breakfast and grinned at Argis, raising a tankard. A faint shade of red crossed Argis's cheeks but he nodded quietly back. Well, at least someone knew a thing or two about how to handle their love life. More than the two Dunmer mages seemed to. Erandur was still glaring every time Aranea went anywhere near Athis. A good thing they were leaving today really.

“So where to,” Argis asked once they were on the open road. Elisif pointed up at High Hrothgar's silhouette, high up on the Throat's western shoulder.

“We're going up to the very top of that mountain. Argis, Aranea, when we get there, you're going to see wonders, and you have to promise not to tell another living soul. It would be very bad if you told anyone about what's up there.”

Aranea stared up at the clouds, tilted her head and smiled. “You know, I think I saw a vision of it once. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

“Sworn to serve, High Queen,” Argis promised, although he was frowning up at High Hrothgar. “So we're going up the Throat. Spiritual heart of Nord-dom. Huh. Never thought I'd be going there. My Da's going to have a fit when he hears this. Not that I'll tell him secret stuff, but meeting Greybeards – he'll never get over this.”

“Your father's not fond of Nords?” Aranea said, pondering this. “But he must have got a bit friendly with one to have you.”

“He's Forsworn to the core,” Argis agreed. “But Ma saved his life and he made an exception for her. She died years ago, but I've still got him. Sort of.”

Elisif guessed a Forsworn father probably wouldn't be able to have a Nord son visit him very often, even if Argis had proved his loyalty to their cause. Maybe she could talk to Madanach, make inquiries, see if she could build bridges somehow. Although if she could get Madanach the Reach, the problem might solve itself.

But before that, she had a Shout to learn and she wasn't going to learn it down here. Sighing, she set off for Ivarstead. She had a long way to go.

This was a mistake. Huge mistake. Colossal mistake. She'd sensed it since arriving and being told by Paarthurnax that Alduin would sense the Scroll and come himself. So she'd read it quickly, seen the Tongues of old fight him and she'd shivered deep in her bones as she saw Alduin in his prime, tearing Gormlaith apart like she was a training dummy. Gormlaith was more than three times the warrior Elisif was.

Alduin was going to kill her. Alduin was going to kill her, destroy the world, and Torygg would never be avenged, Skyrim never healed, the Reach never free, Erandur and Aranea never happy together, Cicero and Eola, Delphine and Brynjolf, both couples ended before they really got off the ground. Argis never getting to see if Farkas could make him happy.

Elisif never even thought to regret no happy ending for herself. It was the disappointing her friends that hurt the most. She'd already come to terms with her own future looking bleak.

Then the vision was over but she'd known Dragonrend, hearing the words and needing no dragon soul to teach her the meaning of mortality. She'd seen the evidence of life's fleeting finality for herself when Ulfric had killed her husband.

And then Alduin had turned up and now she was staring certain death in the face as the World-Eater arrived, vicious red eyes glaring down at her as she reached for her swords.

“Dovahkiin,” Alduin growled. “So you have learnt it. It did not save the Tongues. It will not save you.”

Elisif clutched Dragonbane, weapons at the ready. Maybe it hadn't helped poor Gormlaith. Maybe she'd still die regardless. But she would die fighting. When she got to Sovngarde, at least she wanted to be able to say to Torygg that she tried.

“That's not what will save me,” Elisif said through gritted teeth. “JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

Dragonrend hit Dragon-God and the battle was on.

The sky broke, rocks fell, Aranea's magic flashed into the sky, Erandur sent fire flying at Alduin, Paarthurnax whirled above them, and Argis's arrows did not miss often. But Alduin was a tough fight and Elisif could only Shout every minute or so, and Dragonrend didn't always hit him. But it hit often enough. Alduin would have to land and then she'd be able to strike, Argis at her side while the Dunmer sent spells flying in, and Dragonbane bit deep into Alduin's scaly hide.

It felt like hours but at long last, Elisif realised that Alduin was bleeding, wings torn and scales dented, breathing heavily and slouching away from her.

“Dovahkiin,” he growled. “You have grown strong.”

“I will not grow weaker,” Elisif gasped, dragon blood fired up by combat and fuelling her bravado.

“No,” Alduin agreed. “But I can regain my strength. Sovngarde awaits, little dovah. I shall feed on your kinsmen and return the stronger for it. And then... then we shall see who is stronger.”

With the last of his strength, Alduin took to the air before Elisif could strike again, flying off into the distance. Elisif sheathed her weapons, feeling her blood chill as she processed his parting words.

Paarthurnax came in to land on the Word Wall and Elisif turned to him, hoping Alduin hadn't said what she thought he had.

“Tell me it isn't true,” Elisif gasped. “He's not gone to Sovngarde, has he? He's not going to feed on the souls of the dead there.”

“He's going to feed on the sillesejoor there, yes,” Paarthurnax confirmed, tilting his head at the distress on Elisif's face. “Yolaazov, I know this troubles you, but...”

“Of course it troubles me!” Elisif cried. “My husband is in Sovngarde! Alduin can't eat him, he can't!”

Tears in her eyes, and then Erandur was on one side of her and Argis's solid arms on the other, both holding her up, and she looked up to see Argis looking as terrified as she felt. Half-Nord maybe... but even a half-Nord could never be indifferent to Sovngarde.

“My mother's in Sovngarde,” Argis said quietly. “Dragonborn... High Queen... you have to stop him, you have to.”

“I will,” Elisif said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I will stop Alduin, I don't care what it takes.” She looked up to Paarthurnax, hoping beyond hope he'd have answers.

“Then listen well, Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax said, leaning closer. “This is how to find your way to Sovngarde... without having to die.”

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

A/N: And now let the fun begin... Next time, we see how Season Unending plays out in a world where the last thing the Dragonborn's going to want to do is negotiate with Ulfric.

Welcome back! Thanks for the wonderful updates to this wonderful fill. Im glad she didnt take the blood. It doesnt seem in keeping with her character.

Ariella sighed before forcing herself out of bed. Her eyes fell to the papers that had been moved out of the way last night. She supposed she should go find Aela and Farkas, maybe so something productive with her time.

She dressed for the day, reapplying her war paint, and picking up a piece of paper she left the room. Most of the Companions were outside spending the sunny day training. Ariella supposed a day in bed would have been a day wasted on a day like today. Yet when she thought of Vilkas looking at her like he had that morning wasting the day would have been worth it.

Aela caught sight of Ariella and walked over to her. The Breton handed the Nord the piece of paper.

“Is this all of them?” Aela asked, Ariella nodded and Farkas began to make his way over. “They will never challenge the Companions again after this, sister.”

“Aela, be careful.” Ariella warned. “Don’t let your grief blind you, this is a dangerous path.”

Aela remained silent as Ariella spoke, unsure what to say. The Breton was obviously a few years younger than the huntress herself yet she was being talked down to as if she was a child. Aela realised just how right Kodlak had been about her.

“If you’re hell bent on doing this you work through the list from the top to the bottom. They might not be closest to each other but you must swear to me you’ll do them in that order and that order alone.” Aela felt herself nod at Ariella’s instructions. Farkas heard her and nodded as well, unable to really do anything else. The command in her tone was hard to ignore.

“The first one is up past Solitude so you won’t be able to leave until tomorrow.” Aela and Farkas both nodded again. Aela opened up the paper and Farkas peeked at it over her shoulder. The ten or so camps written down were spread all across Skyrim and there seemed to be a randomness to Ariella’s order yet the two Nords were certain the scholar had it ordered in a particular way.

“Thankyou for this Shield-Sister.” Farkas said, as Aela folded up the paper once more. “But for now we’ll enjoy this beautiful day.”

Skyrim’s most beautiful weather still reminded Ariella was a winter’s day in High Rock but even she was going to appreciate it. “You may be a Circle Member now, but you’ve still got to work on that arm.” Farkas said, tugging Ariella towards the training yard.

Ariella was still training after lunch. Vilkas had come out as well for a few hours before going back to talk with Kodlak. Ariella, in a strange way felt more comfortable training when Vilkas wasn’t watching. He was a master of his craft and she was a novice, she’d hate to disappoint him with her lack of skill.

It didn’t matter though; she knew she had to get better with practice.

She was working up quite a sweat sparring with Athis. The dunmer was skilled after many, many years of practice and was happy to help Ariella. Ariella had managed to disarm Athis for the first time all afternoon and was enjoying a brief moment of victory before a courier ran up to her.

Not just a normal courier either, one from Dragon’s Reach. He stopped in front of Ariella, looking bored as if the task was beneath him. Maybe not a courier but someone forced to deliver a letter. “For the famed Scholar from the Library of Daggerfall.” The sarcasm was rich in his voice and he practically threw the letter in her face.

The redguard walked away in a huff, and Athis chuckled while Ariella was just confused. The note was on a small scroll and had obviously been delivered by bird.

Ariella sat down on the steps as she opened the scroll.

Library Officials have been dispatched to pick up the texts borrowed. Please organise and pack texts appropriately for their pickup.

It was dated three days ago. Ariella gave it a week, maybe two for the guards to arrive. She couldn’t believe all those months had passed, to the point where she forgot the books would have to be returned soon.

It meant she had been here for over six months, at the very least.

She indicated to Athis that she had to go deal with some things and went inside. She went down the Vilkas’ room and looked at all the books around the room. She hadn’t really noticed the mess that had built up over the months, she’d have to go get the books that were in Kodlak’s room as well.

Sighing the Ariella began to sort out boxes. The books would be going back, but it should be okay. She mostly knew how to defeat Alduin but there was just the cure left to find…

---

“Kodlak, these are our burdens to bear. Ariella may be in the circle but she’s no beast, she should be spared from dealings with daedra.” Vilkas argued. They’d hit a dead end in their research on the cure and the books Ariella provided were helpful, more that that, so because of that Kodlak wanted to scholar to be actively looking for a cure herself.

“Vilkas, you said yourself she offered to help our search.” Kodlak reminded him.

“I know, but-”

“She’s possibly the one person in the Companions free from Hircine’s influence!” Kodlak argued, Vilkas was a bit taken back by his slightly raised voice. It had been a long time since the Old Harbinger could make his voice rise.

“What do you mean?”

“We hit dead end after dead end, and had been doing that for years. Then Ariella comes along and we’ve made more progression than ever in those months.” Vilkas went to argue but Kodlak continued, “She’s been helping us from the beginning, Vilkas. All those books, all those clues, she played dumb and directed us towards the cure so we could find it on our own. If we let her openly help us we’d had the cure by week’s end.”

“Kodlak, Daedric Lords are dangerous. Mortal lives are easily influenced by them, she may be Dragonborn but she is no different from any other mortal to a Prince.” Kodlak sighed and Vilkas supposed that the old Harbinger finally understood his point.

“Vilkas, we’ll have it your way for now, but I fear our time may be running short.” Vilkas crossed his brow and shifted in his seat, he didn’t like the way Kodlak said that.

“What do you mean by that?” Kodlak didn’t respond, instead just rising from his seat, joints cracking and popping. Vilkas didn’t move as the Harbinger walked away, leaving him sitting there alone.

It was quiet in the underforge. Jorrvaskar’s wolf pack sat huddled together, each lost in their own thoughts. They had been through many crisis before. But, this one seemed overwhelming even for the circle. Skjor noticed how Aela accepted physical comfort from the twins. She sat between them, her head resting on Vilkas shoulder, while she held hands with Farkas.

He admitted to himself, she probably felt safer with them. Vilkas was mated and Farkas loved Lydia; neither of them would try to mount her. He didn’t have time to indulge petty jealousies, even his own. He needed some air, so he admonished the others not to stay up to late and slipped into the night.

Aela was unsure if her irresistible attraction to Reljir was real, or the influence of her wolf spirit, who was adamant Reljir was the mate for them! She faced a dilemma. She could ask Skjor to offer Rejir the blood. But then her wolf spirit would fail to recognize him as mate. She didn’t think her wolf would appreciate having him snatched from her. Or she could carry on and explore what was between them.

But how safe was it? Would her wolf spirit try to shift every time she experienced strong emotions with him? For the first time that night she paused to wonder at Reljirs reaction to all of this. What had he been thinking when she broke the kiss and ran away? Was he angry, sad, confused? She would find out sooner than later. It would be hard to avoid him living under the same roof.

Reljir had retreated to the Kutta house. He had been raised among his fathers people, the Shadiing and was well versed in their lore and traditions. However, he also practiced the more formal customs of his mothers people the Ansei. Among the bear tribes mating rituals were pretty straight forward. Those who inherited the bear spirits were perceived to be favored by Hircine. They were revered among the tribes making up most of the shamans, chieftains and keepers of the visions.

During the yearly month long clan gathering, the bear tribes mingled and formed alliances. For the non Shadiing members it was the same as most people. Couples fell in love, married, had families, and generally went on with their lives. However, for young male werebears born to the tribes, the expectations were quite different. By early adolescence they were given independence to roam among the tribes. By early adulthood they were solitary creatures until mated.

The gatherings were the one occasion, where they were expected to participate in tribal rituals. If two bears noticed any signs of pair bonding, they were encouraged to spend most of their time together. The gatherings ended with four days of celebrations. There was a day of lamenting which the tribes spent mourning and making offerings for the dead. The day of the oracle was ceremonial. The keepers of visions divulged any known prophecies concerning the tribes as a whole. Individuals readings were also offered on this day.

The final two days of the gathering focused on renewal and fertility. First there were the coming of age rituals, where the young adults earned adulthood status. Finally, there was a fertility festival were couples could seek blessings upon future unions. The actual weddings could be private affairs or the couples could choose to participate in a mass wedding and tribal fertility ceremonies.

The day was filled with food, song and dance. As the evening progressed, it was normal to stumble across couples in various stages of intimacy. And thus the bear tribes lived and thrived protecting the Shadiing and serving Hircine.

Then there were his mothers people, the Ansei once considered the greatest swordsmen to walk Tamriel. It was a myth that they died out after the purge from Yokuda by Emperor Hiro in the first era. When the Ra’Gada immigrated to Tamriel, a tiny faction remained on the small island of Herne. Dedicated to the preservation of the old Yokudan culture, lore and unique magic’s they survived in isolation for years. Eventually they branched out and followed their predecessors immigrating to Tamriel, where they established small communities and Kutta houses.

Coming of age rituals among the Ansei involved the walkabout, a Sword-singer tradition dating back to Yokuda. During the wilderness trek the warrior was expected to emulate the times of Frandar Hunding. They would wonder the wilderness seeking to right wrongs and champion the helpless. It was more about development as a warrior and a student of the Book of Circles than physical age.

Reljir felt the companions were a good fit, because they embraced similar values to the Ansei. He planned to honor the traditional mating rituals specific to the Yokudan subculture. The Ansei had to prove he was a strong and skilled warrior. If mated during a walkabout it was acceptable to complete any honorable task requested by a potential mate.

The warrior had to prove he could provide by preparing a spicy stew for his mate. He had to prepare the dish himself using meat he personally hunted. Finally, the warrior must produce a set of matching Kensaw arm bands which cemented the union. Similar to wedding rings once donned they were rarely removed.

Reljir was seeking Armens advice on the traditional design of the arm bands. There were ritual chants and etchings which must be included, and he wanted to make sure he had the design right. A few hours remained before dawn. He wanted embrace the old magic and craft his arm bands at the Sky Forge. Armen was delighted with the news that Reljir planned to formally court Aela. He felt the fiery redhead was perfect for him.

Skjor left his pack in the underforge, and retreated to the Bannard Mare to lick his wounds . He was enough of a realist to know Aela could easily be lost to him. If her wolf spirit attempted another pair bound, she might not be able to prevent the shift. The only solution was to tame the beast by offering Reljir the blood. Aela’s wolf spirit would not recognize Reljir’s as its mate and the danger would end.

He felt a tinge of guilt for planning to lie to Aela. He would convince her there was hope of a true pair bound if Reljir accepted lycanthropy. Once her wolf spirit stopped influencing her, Aela would lose interest in the whelp. It all hinged on one question, would Reljir accept the gift?

Something about the younger man just didn’t add up. If he didn’t know better, he would place bets that Reljir was an undetected werewolf. But it was just not possible. As the alpha, Skjor was aware when any wolf entered Whiterun or the surrounding areas. It was his territory. But still, for Aela’s wolf spirit to favor him, the whelp had to have some traces of the gift. But, how had it happened?

A possibility occurred to Skjor, and he felt he was on to something. Was it plausible one of Reljir’s parents was a lycanthrope, who passed on enough of the blood to fool Aela’s wolf spirit? Suddenly Skjor was very interested in the younger mans background. A few hours passed while he formed a plan. He stood and tossed coins on the table. It was time to confront the whelp.

Reljir stood near the sky forge stretching cramped muscles. The Kensaw bands were exquisite easily his finest work. At first glance they appeared to be shinny gold arm bands. But when the light hit them at an angle, the etched symbols of House Mirel shimmered. He would have to Thank Armen for his expertise. He was pulled out of his mushing when a distinctive scent hit him.

Why would this particular nord be seeking him? He quickly wrapped the arm bands in buttery soft leather and secured them in his stachel. It was bad luck for anyone else to see them before the presentation to Aela. The Alpha cleared his throat coming to a stop behind him. Rejir took a deep breath before turning to face the nord. Honestly, it slightly rankled that this man had stolen his first hunt with Aela.

Portraying a patience he did not feel he raised one eyebrow? “Skjor?” . The older man was not listening. His eyes were focused on something over Reljirs shoulder. He opened and shut his mouth, “Wait is that a…..?”. Feeling the man’s sudden apprehension, Reljir cautiously looked over his shoulder.

At first nothing seemed out of place. Whiterun looked the same. He could see bleak falls barrow on the majestic mountains framing the scene. But, then he noticed the dark shape in the sky north of the city. It flew in a large circle before swooping down towards something outside of view. Reljir felt his mouth go dry. He said one word “dragon”.

Hi folks: I don't want to get distracted into following the main quest where Reljir becomes thane ect. However, I need it known he is dragonborn for this story to progress. So the next part will be slightly non-cannon so I can avoid the main quest for now.

Next time, we see how Season Unending plays out in a world where the last thing the Dragonborn's going to want to do is negotiate with Ulfric.

OH DIVINES I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE

I am too happy that you're updating often ... and I'm very curious to know what he has in mind Kodlak!!

A!A: I saw two other A!As but no fills since 2012:< this made me sad. So, I figured I'd fill it a bit:D Enjoy!
--
Nine-year-old Sahara peeked from behind her mother’s skirts as they greeted the young, recently turned Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak. He was at the very front, on a large white horse, looking straight ahead as he and his men made their way through the Gray Quarter to the Palace of Kings. It was odd that he was passing through here but Sahara couldn’t understand that Ulfric wanted to survey what he had. He wasn’t very fond of the Dark Elves, she knew that on some level but looking up at him on his large horse, looking like the looming statues of Talos himself, little Sahara fell in love.
Throughout her childhood, she defended him, getting into fights with other Dunmer kids for saying bad things about him and eventually getting herself ostracized. She believed, deep in her heart, that she just had to prove to Ulfric and to everyone that the Dunmer aren’t so bad, that they’re just waiting for a chance to prove themselves worthy. She had intended to join the Stormcloaks the moment she turned sixteen but her mother grew ill so she had to push it all aside and travel back and forth throughout Skyrim in search for potions and ingredients for her mother’s medication. She did it for four years until one day, through a misunderstanding, she was captured by the Imperials and brought to Helgen in a cart, directly diagonal to Ulfric Stormcloak himself.
He had a piece of dirty cloth tied tightly over his mouth and hot, boiling anger rose up inside her for the Imperials who dared touch and gag Ulfric Stormcloak. She swore right then and there that if she survives Helgen, she would join the Stormcloaks and help Ulfric attain the seat of the High King of Skyrim.

That was a year ago. A year ago, Sahara discovered right after Helgen that she was the legendary Dragonborn. It came as a surprise since she was a Dunmer and the Dragonborn was a Nord legend but she thought it just showed that she was destined to prove to the Nords that the Dunmers were just as good as them. She became Thane of all holds, the last being Windhelm since Ulfric was a little wary of letting a Dunmer join his Stormcloaks but she had managed. She grew close to him, as close as a Dunmer could get and once or twice she caught a glimpse of lust in his ocean-blue eyes but he quickly hid it.
She thought it was all wishful thinking of course. She knew Ulfric wouldn’t want a gray-skin like her. It was a fact she had accepted long ago. She tried to impress him and he was, grudgingly, but still, he was distant, treating her differently from other Stormcloaks. It didn’t really help that she was the only Dunmer Stormcloak. She knew it was only out of fear of her status as Dragonborn that made the other soldiers held their tongue and respected her grudgingly. She sighed. The war seemed endless. It was nearing midnight and only Ulfric was awake at this hour. She wasn’t sure why he called her to the war room but he was her Jarl, the man she adored and respected, so, she dragged her ass out of bed and ran to the Palace of the Kings in subzero temperature in only her Dark Brotherhood armor.
“My Jarl?” She slipped into the war room and stood near to the fireplace, thawing herself out.
“Ice-Veins,” He said and looked at her. He quirked his lips upward when he saw her shiver slightly, “Maybe I should rethink that term.” He straightened from the table he was leaning on and crossed his arms, “You grew up here, in Windhelm, did you not?”
Sahara cocked her head and frowned, “Yes, my Jarl.” She said, “I was nine when you arrived to take over Windhelm.”
“Hm.” Ulfric was frowning, looking as though he was deep in thought. “Why did you join the Stormcloaks?” He finally asked.
Sahara’s frown deepened, “I have answered this before, my Jarl. I hate the Legion.”
“Is that all?” He stalked to where she was and she sucked in a breath, “Really?” He leaned down slightly, to look into her blood-red eyes.
Sahara’s mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “Of course.” She lied.

OH CRAP I FORGOT TO PUT A TITLE

^SOoo title is Adoration:P

Ulfric/F!DB (Dunmer)
Kinks: Angst, rough sex, fingering, blowjob, *and more I cannot think of at the moment*

Ulfric’s large hand was suddenly at her throat. She gasped and clawed at his hand, “Don’t lie to me, Dunmer.” He hissed and tightened his hold on her neck, “Why? How do I know you’re not a spy for the Empire?”

Sahara’s eyes widened, “I’m not—I swear I’m not a spy.” She gripped his wrist, “I…” She flushed, her gray skin turning dark and it was…quite lovely.

"Well?" It was only then that she smelled the stench of mead on his breath.

"I joined because," She closed her eyes and turned even redder, "Because I wanted to be close to you."

Ulfric was silent and Sahara started trembling. His fingers loosened, "Hm."

She opened her eyes slightly. He had a thoughtful look on his face again.

"I've never had an elf before." He said thoughtfully before dragging her by the neck to the large table. He pressed her down and she gasped. Tiny blue and red flags scattered across the table and onto the floor, "Don't move." He said as he unbuckled her pants and shoved them down. She gasped as the cold air hit her ass and bare pussy.

"Do all elves not have hair down here?" He asked as he shoved a thick finger inside her. She yelped. This was not what she had imagined her first time to be. She imagined candlelight and kissing and a nice, soft bed. Then again, she shouldn't have expected much from Ulfric. In the few months that she's been a Stormcloak, she saw how he treated the Nord women he sleeps with; not that he had a lot of time to sleep around with the war going on, but he definitely didn't treat them like this, like they're nothing but a common whore he picked up off of the alleys. It made her feel sick and dirty until he started pumping his finger inside her. She sucked in a breath at the new sensations that assailed her. He added another finger and started pumping his fingers in and out faster and harder.

Sahara whimpered and clutched at the sides of the table. Then, he stopped and she moaned her frustration. She heard shuffling behind her and the next thing she knew, something hard and definitely larger than his fingers were prodding her entrance. She sucked in a breath and whimpered, forcing herself to relax.

Ulfric held her hips and plunged into her, tearing through her maidenhead. He froze. "You're..."

Sahara sobbed and nodded weakly. Ulfric cursed softly and began moving more gently, careful not to cause her any more pain than necessary. Slowly, the pain was replaced by a pleasure so intense that she was sure she had died and gone to an alternate reality in the Misty Grove seeing as Sanguine would be the only one who would enjoy this little act of debauchery.

His thrusts grew stronger and she panted. She could feel his desperation, the growing frenzy that signified his nearing climax. He grabbed her hair and pulled her back, effectively disabling her from moving. Her pussy tightened around him and groaned loudly, his hips thrusting wildly. Sahara tightened even further before shattering into a million pieces as she reached her climax. Still, Ulfric rode her, his hips thrusting and grinding against her until finally, he tensed and growled low in his throat. She felt his hot seed spurt inside her. His cock jerked and her pussy clenched around him uncontrollably, milking him, making him moan and grunt.

Once he was done he pulled out, tucked himself back in his pants and pulled hers up. She could feel the pooling wetness on the leather of her pants. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air and for some reason, she felt...empty, dissatisfied. It wasn't the romantic, seductive lovemaking she had expected but instead it was like an animalistic rut.

Shame burned low in her gut and she couldn't meet his eyes. It wasn't that the sex wasn't good, in fact, it was fantastic. She doubted she would be able to resist him should he have the sudden urge to do that again. Her cheeks flamed. What would her mother say if she was alive?

So, A!A here! I'm not sure if I'm doing it right or if the angsty bits are lacking? please comment! Thank you!:P

I'm so glad there are so many updates. I can't wait for Reljir and Aela's next meeting. great updates

!! Thank you nonny! But yes it was hard for me to write. But I spent a lot of time on Kitten War, cat videos, and horses being silly.

That follow up is so inbound! I've got a few other prompts with them I was going to fill if I can find them again.

Wow! I'm not OP but I think you're on to something here. Nice start! I look forward to the next segment with interest.

GULP!! passing visitor has found this, very hot, sexy and distressing ... I'd like to know how it goes! Check back soon!

I need the next like hotcakes!

That actually sounds like something Farkas would write. I just lay laughing myself silly for about five minutes after reading this.

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