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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“Keep watching them,” Tomas advised his king as his horse slowed to a slow walk. Ahead of the three hunters, a group of deer was on the move, and Galmar had insisted on bringing them down. Ulfric hated to admit it, but he was out of practice, and preferred to let his two companions take the lead.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to hunt when my horse is moving,” he admitted, grinning despite the embarrassment. “It’s been a while.” The Bosmer chuckled, drawing his bow and urging his horse forward.

“You’ll get used to it again,” he assured him, pulling an arrow from its bushel. “Here. Watch me.” He moved forward swiftly, closed an eye as he aimed his arrow, and fired in one graceful motion. One of the deer fell, sending the others scattering, and Galmar shouted, galloping forward with his bow drawn as well. Ulfric headed forwards as well, laughing as they pursued their dinner for the evening. There was something invigorating and exciting about the hunt, and it had been far too long since he had felt this kind of thrill.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He glanced over at Tomas, who was bouncing in his saddle at his side. His hair was swept behind his face by the wind, and his cheeks were flushed with the same excitement. The unadulterated happiness in his face gave Ulfric the same rush that ran through him when he saw the elf nude, or when he made him laugh, or when their eyes met in a moment of unspoken intimacy.

Yes, the thrill was in fact returning to his life. It finally occurred to him why he had been missing that feeling since the end of the war.

“Ulfric!” Galmar called from where he was crouching next to his freshest kill. “Are you planning on helping us get the meat off these bones, or would you rather just take in the view?”

“It is a nice day,” the king remarked, slinging himself out of the saddle and going over to join them. “Lots of things to look at, I’d say.”

Tomas said nothing, but his affectionate smile said it all.

“Thanks for coming out with us,” the elf said once they were back in Hjerim, packing the venison into barrels for salting. Galmar had gone on to the palace with his share of the meat, giving Ulfric a moment alone with his lover.

“I had a good time,” he said, leaning against the wall and watching Tomas work. “We should make it a regular thing.” The Bosmer grinned, tightening the lid on the barrel before glancing back at him.

“You think you can make time for hunting with us, with all your kingly duties?” he teased. Ulfric wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer and smirking down at him.

“I can make time for you,” he replied, planting a kiss on his lips. “Kingly duties can wait. You’re the one who says the king of Skyrim can do what he wants, aren’t you?” Tomas leaned in for another kiss, smiling confidently into the Nord’s lips.

“He can,” he agreed when he pulled away. “I’m lucky that my King wants to spend so much time with me.” Despite his best efforts, Ulfric couldn’t help but reply with the words that had been on his mind all day.

“I love you, Tomas.” The elf looked up, surprised, but his smile only broadened.

“The last time I heard that from you, I was drunk,” he replied lightly, wrapping his arms around him. “I thought I had imagined it.” Ulfric moved to kiss his neck, earning an affectionate laugh.

“You’re not imagining this one. I love you,” he repeated. Tomas grinned, pulling him back to kiss his lips.

“I love you, too. I wish you could stay here tonight,” he sighed. Ulfric nodded in agreement, resting his chin on his lover’s head.

“There’s no reason I can’t stay for a little while longer…”

A!A is back, I hope this is somewhat OK. English isn't my native tongue and if there's anything you'd like to add - please tell me :D

Oh, and this is my second fill, so if I mess up the tags, just inform me ;)

Tags: char:Ondolemar, race:Altmer, char:F!DB, race:Nord, rel:het, kink:angst, kink:romance, world:Skyrim

“You meant her? Is that the one they call Dragonborn?”
Ondolemar heard Loviron from behind his back, could almost see how he pointed vaguely in the direction of – in this case, apparently – a woman. He knew that mer all too well by know, better than he actually liked to, and could even picture the face he made. Ondolemar didn’t turn around to view whatever it now was his guards were talking about, just kept on walking. Walking was an exaggeration. He was pacing, like a caged animal. For the time being there wasn’t much more to do, and he had his orders. Waiting for reports to come in, delivering new decrees and keep an eye on this untrustworthy man who titled himself jarl.
And to keep him company during these long days: The Two Mongrels - Loviron and Saurtha - because he apparently needed guards.
“Yes, that’s her”, Saurtha answered.
No, Ondolemar didn’t enjoy their company. For simple reasons, really. Loviron talked entirely too much in his opinion. If there had been laws against slander, Loviron would have been imprisoned or fined a long time ago.
When it came to Saurtha, she lacked ideas to put it kindly. She repeated phrases that she’d read or heard as if they were her own. This far he doubted she even understood the meaning of anything she said. Why these two had been sent to him here in Markarth was a question he had asked himself several times, and in the end he could only come to two solutions. EIther it was because they - infact - were good soldiers, and nothing more than that. Or it was to annoy him. Elenwen could have such a strange sense of humour. She had sent him here, hadn’t she?
“Dressed in furs? Barbaric”, Loviron scoffed. “She really is the personification of man.”
“I’ve heard she smells worse than the dogs”, Saurtha murmured, “And I have seen fur growing out of her ears.”
Loviron laughed out loud.
Ondolemar sighed and turned around, facing the two soldiers. “By all means, speak louder. She might not hear you.”
“It’s just a woman”, Saurtha stated. “Hardly dangerous.”
“On a contrary, my friend; men might be beasts and nothing more, but they are treacherous.” Ondolemar was just about to get back to his pacing, as Loviron spoke.
“Look at her”, he pointed, just as vaguely as Ondolemar had pictured him earlier, at a tall woman who were walking up the steps towards the Jarl’s throne. “Does she look like she could pose any threat? And they call her Dragonborn.”
She disappeared behind a pillar, all he managed to see of her was long blond hair trying to get out of a loose bun. She was probably engaged in some petty issue like everybody else who approached the throne. Being jarl must be an utter horror.

“Don’t underestimate her. They probably call her that for a reason.” Ondolemar looked away and walked towards the kitchen, the scent of grilled venison and garlic stronger the closer he got. He was about to tumble over the two dogs that for some reason had it as their main purpose in life to pester him. If they weren’t in the way, they were barking or begging for scraps.
“Stupid dogs”, he muttered and smirked, scratched one of the big hairy animals behind its ear as he passed. At least they were clever enough to not utter their idiocy in words.

Ondolemar stopped in the door to the kitchen, leaned towards the doorframe with his arms crossed. The sizzling sound of meat being cooked over an open fire was far more pleasant than the hammering and grinding of the machinery that this city was built upon, and Understone Keep was never quiet. The chef; a small Breton with huge white mutton chops stood with his back turned against the door, stirring a stew.
“You have to chop the onion tinner, Voada, this does not do”, he said with a loud voice.
“Yes, of course”, a woman replied, without looking up from her work. She sat on a bench pulling off the skin of a rabbit.
“Anton, you don’t suppose you could dispense with an apple?” Ondolemar asked from the door.
The chef looked up from the pot he was stirring in, dropped the wooden spoon with a clank and dried his hands on his apron as he turned around. “Oh, I didn’t hear you coming. Of course, help yourself”, he answered, “They’re in that bowl over there.”
Ondolemar nodded a thank you and grabbed a big green one, shiny as if it had been polished. He took a big bite and returned to his pacing. A courier should show up, either today or tomorrow, hopefully with new orders. This had become stagnant and they needed to move forward, especially since the Stormcloaks seemed to have a good hand in this little thing the humans called civil war. It would be easier to just let them kill each other off, but that was just Ondolemar’s opinion.

Just as he passed the throne someone bumped into him with so much force that he almost lost his balance; dropped his half eaten apple to the floor.
”Look out!” he roared as he took a step back and regained composure, but the person who had run into him didn’t succeed in her attempt to do the same. It was a woman, the very same Loviron and Saurtha had been talking about earlier.
Ondolemar didn’t think, reacted on pure instinct when he grabbed the woman around her waist before she hit the floor. She was heavier than expected, not as thin framed as Altmer women and he had to hold on to her tight to not drop her. The woman yelped in surprise and placed her arm around his shoulder and didn’t look up until she was back on her feet.
And by then Ondolemar could have left her there - she was probably independent enough to take care of herself, even if it included to walk the rest of the stairs down without causing a disaster - but for some reason he didn’t. Her face. It wasn’t beautiful in a traditional manner; her mouth was too wide and the nose was crooked; but there was something about those blue eyes that had him mesmerized. If it was the hint of silver that reflected in the dim light or her thick black eyelashes he didn’t know, maybe the combination of both. It was a startling contrast. That glint of silver could only mean one thing, though.
“I am so sorry”, she said when she met his gaze, a slightly hoarse voice and an accent that made him think of honey. “Clumsy me! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” And then she blew a strand of blond hair out of her face and smiled.
“No, of course not”, Ondolemar answered and softened his grip around her waist, “are you alright to stand on your own?”
“I think so. Thank you though.” Another smile.
“Well then.” Ondolemar furrowed his eyebrows and let her go.
“I guess I’ll… see you around”, she said, pulled her arm back from around his neck and walked slowly down the rest of the stairs with somewhat of a limp. At the bottom of the stairs she turned around and waved, a gesture Ondolemar replied awkwardly.
And that was it, really.
“I told you she wouldn’t pose a threat”, Loviron sneered, “To think their all powerful Dragonborn was almost killed by some stairs.”
“She’s a Lycanthrope, Loviron”, Ondolemar muttered. “The one they call Dragonborn is much more dangerous than you think.”
“Well, that does explain the smell of wet dog and all that fur”, Saurtha stated, upon which Loviron laughed out loudly again.

That had been it, and still he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Ondolemar decided it to be curiosity, and why not. She was after all their hero, even though she hardly looked the part. And here he was, sitting by his desk with this tower of paperwork that he should attend to, and he just couldn’t concentrate. It could wait until tomorrow, he decided and rose from his chair.

The dark wings of night had fallen over Markarth, Secunda the only light source in the sky. There was a chill in the air; rising from the waters in clouds, but the city of stone was still warm from the day’s sun. It could be beautiful, but was coloured with greed. Why this place was inhabited by such cold people was hardly a mystery. Ondolemar walked down the stairs towards the heart of the city alone, enjoying this moment of solitude. Maybe he should visit Silverblood Inn and try out their selection of mead? He didn’t like the drink particularly, but for now Skyrim was his home and mead felt like the heart and soul of this province. That, and their stories. It was primitive, but what was there to expect?
Two men were engaged in a drunken brawl by the marketplace, another one was standing at the stairs to the inn, cheering them on. A smell of piss and spilt beer, a pile of broken glass in the corner outside Arnleif and Sons. The label with the crest of Black-Briar Reserve the only thing keeping a few pieces of the bottle together still.
The door to Silver-Blood Inn opened, the sound of laughter and singing, the loud chatter of people trying to talk through the noise - it all came dancing out in the street together with the warm light from the fires. Someone came out, the doors closed and Markarth was yet again a fight, broken bottles and the stench of piss. If it hadn’t been for her. The Dragonborn. He was sure it was her, even though the lights were dim; the cascade of blond hair falling down around her face, over her shoulders. And those eyes. No, it wasn’t her eyes, it was too dark to see them; it was the reflections of Secunda’s light he saw. Her eyes were glowing with the cold steel of the Hunter’s curse - or gift. She leaned her back against the doorframe, crossed her arms and showed the brawl a mild interest. And Ondolemar was surprised of the fact that she wasn’t wearing furs. Stupid really. He had only seen her once; of course she could be dressed in other things than furs. It just had a barbaric kind of appeal that he realized that he’d found a bit intriguing. This simple dress made her look almost… well not uninteresting, but harmless.
Ondolemar crossed the street, stopped just below the stairs to the inn, looked up at her - uncertain if he should greet her or not.

Yeah, I missed to write the 4 up there...

“You have a wonderful scent”, the woman slurred, her voice even huskier in this intoxicated state. She wasn’t looking at him, which gave him the impression that she was talking to someone else - the drunk man just feet away cheering on one of the fighters.
“Lavender”, she said, still focused on the brawl, muscles twitching in her arms as if she was as involved in the fight as the two drunks, even though she looked relaxed and her arms were crossed just under her generous bosoms. When she wasn’t dressed in fur, they were really calling for attention, especially with this plunging neckline revealing a lot of cleavage - and to Ondolemar’s frustration; a curiosity that didn’t have anything to do with her simply being a hero.
She turned her face towards him, met his gaze, corners of her mouth tilting upwards. “Lavender really makes my head spin.”
Ondolemar tried to not look confused, straightened his back to at least try to fool himself that everything was as it should be. “How’s your ancle?” he asked.
The woman laughed. A warm sound from the depth of her throat. “Why, aren’t you a sweetheart, going all the way down here to look after little old me?” Her accent, and maybe the fact that she must be a little tipsy, making some of the syllables disappear at the tip of her tongue in a soft mumble. “I’m alright, thank you.” Then she smiled again. “I told you I would see you around, didn’t I?” She moved forward, leaving the door behind her and walked down the stairs towards him. Stopped just in front of him, a bit too close to make Ondolemar feel comfortable. She was almost as tall as himself, and he could smell the sweetness of mead in her breath.
And then her arm slid up his back in a manner that was much more familiar than he appreciated, but at the same time he didn't want to back away. “Come, let’s have a drink”, she murmured and guided him towards the door. “I’ll buy the first round.”
“That would not be a good idea”, Ondolemar replied, now regretting that he’d left his desk. This was getting out of hand and he was concerned about his reactions around this human. It didn’t feel right.
“But I insist.” She opened the doors and pushed him in front of her into the warm embrace of drunken laughter, singing and loud but friendly discussions. “You’re with me; it’ll be alright, sweetheart.”
That comment almost made him laugh. He looked down at her with a smirk. “You have no idea of who I am, do you?”
She shook her head, blond waves falling over her eyebrows before she blew them away. “Does it matter? You don’t know me either.”
“That certainly is a bold approach”, Ondolemar stated, “what if I was here to murder you?”
The woman turned her face to him and sniffed the air between them with an absent stare. Then she shook her head again and smiled, pulled a stray tendril behind her ear. “Lavender, what if it is the other way around?” Then she winked and pulled him with her towards the bar in the middle of the room. “Kleppr, dear. Two bottles of Black-Briar Reserve, please.”

The innkeeper smiled at her but gave Ondolemar a suspicious glare. “Coming right up, Hryssa.”
Oh, so the woman did have a name. Of course she had. She was a perfectly normal human, they all had names. His thoughts an irritating babble that he couldn’t get rid of.
She still had her hand at the small of his back as she firmly but at the same time softly pushed him in front of her towards a table in a corner. They sat down, facing each other across the table and she reached him one of the bottles. She was leaning forward, her elbows on the table-top, sipping nonchalantly from her bottle while studying his face. Ondolemar tried to ignore her piercing eyes, looked away in a pretended interest of what was going on around him in the room. Not that the cared, but this really was something different than Markarth during the day. He put the bottle to his lips and tasted the content. Horribly sweet, but not as bad as he’d thought.
“So. Your name is Hryssa”, he started, just to get rid of this pressing silence between them, “you are a Nord, a lycanthrope and, from what I’ve heard, the Dragonborn.”
“And you are Ondolemar, an Altmer, a Thalmor justiciar and from what I’ve heard a pretty sharp mage. Lavender, dear, let’s keep the mystery and talk about other things”, she purred.
This was slightly confusing and in a highly disturbing way quite arousing. Ondolemar tried to relax in his chair, swallowed down a couple of big gulps of mead and looked back at her. “Other things. Like what? The ongoing civil war, the hostilities between Nords and Forsworn, the greed that forces this hold into bloody wars over silver?” He couldn’t help but sounding a bit snarky.
“I hardly think those things interest you”, Hryssa said with a crooked smile. “And to be honest, it doesn’t amuse me either.” She sighed, leaned her chin in her hand and looked up towards the ceiling. There was another moment of silence and then she returned her gaze to him. “If you could only pick one, what would you prefer: your prolonged life or your pool of magica?”
“What?” Ondolemar chuckled, his eyebrows raised. What a strange question!
“Think before you answer, Lavender. And please, tell me the reason for your answer.”
“Why?” This just got more and more curious, and to be honest he enjoyed it. He hadn’t been this surprised from a conversation in a very long time.
“Because it will tell me more about you than names and titles”, she said, looking at him under heavy eyelids.

And he did give it an exhaustive ponder, didn’t notice that he had emptied his bottle of mead during that, not until Hryssa had ordered them another two bottles and placed one in front of him on the table.
“I would rather have my magica pool than my prolonged life”, he murmured slowly. “I can’t think of my life without the sensation of magica humming through my veins, the tingle in my fingers when I use it. A prolonged life, on the other hand…” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “to be honest, it does become rather predictable after a while.”
Hryssa nodded slowly. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, Lavender, but my, you really put some thought into this. That was a good and honest answer.” She was looking at him with a strange glow, as if there was something she’d like to say but kept to herself; and when she opened her mouth it sure was a statement, but not the one that she’d had on her tongue. “I would love to ask you more about what magica feels like, but it wouldn’t be fair. It’s your turn to ask me something.”
And it was profoundly difficult to come up with a good question. He’d emptied his second bottle of mead, even come to like the taste, before he knew what to say.
“What would you rather be: average, but with the love of your life or powerful but alone? In both scenarios you are facing life-threatening danger.”
His question made her flinch and the silvery glint in her eyes turned brighter for a moment. She regained her composure, but her smile was now nothing more than a beautiful picture on a wall of stone.
“To save the lives of my loved ones I’d rather be alone”, she whispered, and looked away. “It’s getting late. I’ll see you around, Lavender.” Hryssa rose from her chair and walked towards the door. Ondolemar realized quickly why she had reacted the way she did and hurried after her, a guilt that he really shouldn’t feel making him want to embrace her. He shouldn’t want that either and it was with hesitation he grabbed her arm. “Stop.”
She did, but her stare was focused on the floor. “Ondolemar, I need to go home.”
It was the first time she said his name, and even though he liked the way she pronounced it, he had started to prefer Lavender.
“I’ll walk with you.”
She looked up, their eyes locked. She must have read his thoughts in his face, maybe she could smell them, he didn’t know, but she looked at him differently.
“You are a sweetheart, Lavender, but I wish to be alone”, she said, broke free from his grip and opened the door. Before she walked outside she turned to him again. “I’ll see you around.” She repeated and then she was gone. Ondolemar followed in her footsteps outside, saw her disappear in the shadows on the other side of the marketplace before he turned around and walked the stairs back up to Understone Keep.

Days passed, slow, full of aridity and boredom. Paperwork was a way to be alone, but he was also left alone with his thoughts. It didn’t take long for him to fear them. They were consuming him in a way that made him feel covered in filth. This human, he wasn’t supposed to think of her in this way. It was disturbing and perverted and she was entering his mind in the most repulsive manner, and he didn’t manage to stay alone for long. Pacing back and forth, glaring at the jarl’s steward as he passed was not much of an option, but his new orders at least gave him something to do. There were rumors of Talos worship in the higher ranks, and Ondolemar dove into his work with a frenzy that made his two dimwitted guards ask if he was searching his own death, being a bit too forward in his accusations.
In his frustration he even started to taking care of business that others were supposed to do. Infiltration was usually something he ordered to somebody else, but in the lack of anything else to occupy his mind with, he decided to find evidence himself. He had the names, could easily find the addresses and then it was all about breaking in, confiscating the illegal artifacts of worship and put its owner behind bars until Elenwen sent guards to escort them to a hearing. He was effective and got rewarded for it. Richly rewarded.
And yet, his nights became the realms of his most seductive nightmares. As much as he forgot that human during the day, her presence was more explicit in the loneliness of his chambers. Her golden hair, her blue eyes with flecks of silver, her lips, her voice. Ondolemar woke up from his dreams panting, sweating and with an erection that almost made him cry from trepidation and impotence. Lack of sleep made him ill-tempered and the mutts outside the kitchens were avoiding him. Skulking away as they saw him, whimpering if he got too close.

Then, one night he decided to not go to sleep at all. His guards did, but he kept on pacing. Telling them he was restless, just needed to walk it out of his system. They shrugged and left.
And Ondolemar walked. Stopped by the kitchen to grab an apple, kept on walking.
“You’re restless, Lavender.” The voice came from the wall beside him. Ondolemar spun around on his heels, and there she was, sitting on a bench by the wall.

“How long have you been here?” He asked, not in a particularly friendly manner.
“Oh, a while.” She rose from the seat and stretched her back. “I can leave, if you like.”
“No, wait.” Ondolemar’s mind was a web of knotted threads, but one thing was certain - he didn’t want her to leave. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, really”, she answered, a glint of silver in her eyes reflecting the dim lights. “And yes, your next question will most certainly be ‘at this time of night’, and my answer will be…” her voice faded away and her gaze became distant. “Well, I’m a little tipsy, Lavender, and I wanted your company.” She walked up to him and placed her arms around his neck. “To put it frankly, I want your honey nut treat in my sweet roll, but I could just as easily settle for a nice chat over a bottle of mead.” He understood her metaphor quite clearly and his body reacted to it faster than his mind was able to hinder it. She was talking about it as if it was the most common thing in the world, her voice a hoarse murmur and those lips just inches away.
He pulled her closer with a low grunt and lowered his face towards hers, but stopped. Her bent nose close to his, her breath already heavy of expectations. “This will only happen once”, he said with a grumble in his voice that he wasn’t prepared for, then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

I love this X3 It's very clever and well written! I'm hoping there's more... *is a greedy, little anon*

A!A here, thanks, glad to hear that :) I was a bit worried Ondolemar turned out a bit too... Not Ondolemar...

I'm working on more stuff, but it might take some time - there are plot bunnies but I can't catch them ;)

Her lips were surprisingly warm and as she opened her mouth to him he could taste the mead on her tongue. The kiss started out as a curious exploration, his lips softly touching hers, and as he got familiar with their shapes and curves, it was only the warmth and softness that still was more than he could comprehend. Then he became demanding, hungry; his hands chasing over the contours of her body like trackers in the wild following a deer through valleys and over hills; his lips and tongue harsher against hers.
And she was so different. Her hips were wider, waist thinner and chest most certainly more glaring in comparison to what he was used to, as if the gods made woman as an exaggeration of the foundations of womanhood and this was their final and ultimate creation. It would be heresy to call her an incarnation of Dibella - for so many reasons - and he didn’t want the wrath of his Aedra, so he didn’t.
And how her mouth answered; her lips possessive but still soft, her tongue a welcome intrusion. It was breathtaking and every part of him was aching for more - Ondolemar was losing control and it was as much a thrilling experience as it was terrifying. Yet, through it all he felt a bit disgusted with himself for responding like this. He didn’t want to give in to these urges, but maybe, just maybe, they would disappear if he appeased this twisted curiosity. Ondolemar lifted his head and looked down on her face, her lips swollen and parted, the glow in her eyes almost making her irises white.
Maybe.
“Once, you say?” Rhyssa whispered with an unsettling grin. “I think I’ll have that bottle of mead instead, Lavender.”
Her words didn’t sink in until he noticed her hands leaving his shoulders, and it made him both frustrated and to be honest a bit relieved, while confusion must be the most prominent emotion of them all.
“You prefer a bottle of mead”, he scoffed maybe a bit amused by her choice of words, since it hardly was the truth. “Before a superiorly bred Mer such as myself?” No, she wasn’t being honest, he could read it in her face. She was just as eager as him to proceed. “You are either joking or insane.”
“Or a bit of both”, the woman answered and broke free from his embrace. “See you around, Lavender.” She turned her back against him and waved with her hand over her head as she walked down the stairs, the sway of her hips making him stare.
“I’ll join you”, Ondolemar said with a loud voice, the words echoing through the room before being swallowed by the noise of the machinery.
“No, please don’t. My insignificance might be contagious to such a superiorly bred Mer as yourself”, he heard her reply from the shadows below the stairs.

And that night Ondolemar returned to his chambers after all, with a bigger itch than ever.

I don't know if the op is still around after 2 years but I think I'm going to try to fill this but this is my first time writing on this website so forgive me if it's not good

Ulfric was half-asleep on the throne when the courier entered the palace. Sitting up quickly, he cleared his throat, nodding at the wind-swept Nord as he hurried to his seat.

“Good morning, King Ulfric,” he said, holding out an expensive envelope. “I have a letter for you.” The king in question immediately recognized the royal seal of Solitude’s court on the back, and his brow furrowed.

“Thank you,” he replied, reaching for the letter with one hand and sticking his other in his pocket. “Here, have a drink before you get back on the road.” The courier took the coins gratefully and smiled.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Once he had turned his back, Ulfric opened the letter carefully, leaning back on the throne as he read.

Ulfric,

I request your presence in Solitude. There are things we must discuss. I await your prompt arrival.

-Elisif

Ulfric frowned, folding the letter back in half. Her letters were rarely so blunt, or her sentences so short. He knew that there could be any reason for the summons, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he had done something very wrong.

“Galmar,” he called, glancing over at the kitchens. The older Nord poked his head into the doorway, half of a pheasant roast hanging out of his mouth.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to Solitude. Urgent business, apparently.” Ulfric rose to his feet, gesturing at the now-vacated throne. “I need you to stand in for me until I get back. Don’t start any wars while I’m gone.” Galmar smirked.

“No promises. Tell Elisif I said hello,” he said, heading for the throne as Ulfric strode for his quarters. When his old friend said nothing, he frowned and took a seat. He had an oddly pessimistic feeling about this unexpected journey.

Sure enough, Ulfric had barely made it to the Blue Palace when Elisif appeared at the balcony. Even at his distance, he could see her bright white knuckles on the railing.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as he ascended the stairs. The queen said nothing, and instead motioned for him to follow her to the bedroom.

She had barely closed the door when she turned to him, eyes blazing.

“Since our wedding, I have only told you to avoid doing one thing. Didn’t I?” She moved closer, her fists clenched. “Do you want to explain why Rolff Stone-Fist arrived yesterday and informed me that you are having sex with Tomas?” Ulfric’s eyes widened, and he gaped at his wife, feeling immediately numb.

“…What?”

“You heard me!” Elisif stormed across the room, her face reddening with rage. “I told you that you sharing a bed with him would threaten our stability, and you did it anyway. How dare you disrespect me like that, after everything you’ve done?!”

“Elisif! Rolff is a drunk, you know this!” Ulfric argued, following her as she stormed about. “He’ll always say things on his mind if it makes him feel better. Please—” Elisif turned to face him, her eyes dangerously narrow.

“He came all the way to Solitude based on drunk paranoia?” she asked, her voice suddenly a frightening hiss. “Don’t lie to me, Ulfric. Do you sleep with him or not?” Her entire aura compelled Ulfric, and he lowered his head, barely able to look at her.

“…I sleep with him,” he confirmed, sighing. Elisif closed her eyes, trying to keep calm in the wake of this news.

“And Rolff will make sure that much is known.” She looked up, the rage in her eyes melting into desperate sadness. “What do we do?” Ulfric sighed, taking a seat on the bed and shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” he replied, unusually demure. “I don’t know.” Elisif went to sit beside him, biting her lip as she thought.

“…We’re out of options,” she sighed, placing a hand on his. “Ulfric, we need to share this bed. And it needs to be loud enough that people will understand what we’re doing in here.” The king grew tense. He had just told Tomas he loved him the night before…but she was right.

“…Okay.”

AHHHH A!A. NU COCKBLOCKS PLZ D8

>:D
Just this one ;) He deserved it for being an ass.

This was disturbing. Ondolemar was balancing on the edge of a metaphoric sword, cold sweat over his back making him shiver. New orders. On one side of this decree, which he now had read four times, his physical body protesting against it; on the other side his mind telling him that justice was justice, whoever it might decapitate in the process.
Hryssa Red-Spear, thane of Markarth, Vlindrel Hall, Talos worshipper. It was just one name among others, jotted down with just as little care and interest as the names before and those who followed, and still it was there as if written in red, embossed and underlined.
To be realistic, how many women were there in Markarth who answered to the name Hryssa? And if there by any chance were more than one woman named Rhyssa in Markarth, how many of them had business with the jarl from time to time? All the proof was there and he really didn’t want to see it.

Yet, still he hoped that he was wrong, but if he had been fully convinced by his own hopes, he wouldn’t have left his guards at Understone Keep that evening as he walked all the stairs up to Vlindrel Hall. An interesting address; both secluded and central, the sounds of the city not as deafening, the foul smells not as overwhelming and the view actually quite spectacular. From up here Markarth could be an unpolished gemstone. And as with every other home in Markarth, there was yet another heavy brass door at the top of the stairs; unwelcoming, as if even the door itself was eager to keep whatever was hidden inside to itself. Blood and silver was running deep; deeper than the bloodlines of men and deeper than the ores in Cidhna Mine.
Ondolemar took a deep breath, straightened his back and collected his expressions before knocking on the door. It didn’t take long before a huge man opened it, filling the whole entrance with his presence. An intimidating face, tattooed and scarred, bulging muscles - as much a Nord as a man could be.

“Yes?” It was still just a man, but his voice was an echo of his physical appearance.
“I wish to speak to your mistress”, Ondolemar said, deciding that this must be the house carl.
“State your business.” The house carl crossed his arms over his wide chest and gave Ondolemar a taunting look.
“My business is none of yours and right now you are in my way”, Ondolemar answered calmly. “Please move, and for your sake, don’t make me ask again.”
“Argis, dear, he’s here on adequate basis.” Her voice. So. It really was her. Hryssa Red-Spear. Thane of Markarth. Talos worshiper. He really had thought more of her. His heart sank, as some of his former respect for the woman disappeared. She was just a brute, like all the rest. Well, of course. A lycanthrope would be even more of a beast than an ordinary man.
“Have the night off and we’ll talk in the morning, alright?” he heard her say, rushed for some reason, as if she was doing something in a hurry.
“You sure?” Argis yelled back inside without letting Ondolemar out of sight, “He seems like an ass to me.”
“Argis, dear.” A scolding tone in her voice. “Don’t talk about my friends like that.” She was closer now, and he could hear bare feet tapping against stone floor. Then she appeared, just behind the huge house carl. Her blond hair a wet mess and a simple white linen dress just hastily put on, buttons on the shoulders unbuttoned, the fabric sticking against her still wet body in the most provocative ways, revealing those curves that he never could stop think about. She’d been taking a bath, and again Ondolemar’s webs of thoughts were a mess of entangled threads.
“Here, take this and make a night of it, alright?” She sneaked up by the house carl’s side, and even though she was tall and wide shouldered for a woman, this man was physically bigger. What he gained in body weight, she gained in authority though, her persona made the air tremble.
Ondolemar noticed other little things too. Hryssa had placed a big purse full of coin in the man’s hand; a smaller fortune, really; spoils given to her employee for a night on the town. She was wealthy. Why then was she either dressed in primitive armour or dresses fit for a farmer?
“Argis, please. You’ve known me long enough to know I wouldn’t put myself in unnecessary danger”, she pleaded when her guard still didn’t back away from the doorway. Her comment only made Argis look at her instead of Ondolemar for a moment, making a face of amusement. “Excuse me for being disrespectful, my Thane, but you attack dragons.”
Hryssa giggled, a warm, raspy sound from the bottom of her throat and looked down to the floor. “You’ve got me there, Argis, but you know, dragons are hardly regarded as my friends, are they?”
By that she gave Ondolemar a smug grin and one of those looks under heavy eyelids, the silver in her eyes just a glimmer of recognition.

Argis sighed, pointed another one of his dangerous glares towards Ondolemar, then took a step to the side. Ondolemar met his glance as he passed through the door. A ramp led upwards to the rooms of her home and Ondolemar followed it, but stopped when he reached the top, surprised by what he saw. It wasn’t really what he’d expected, and that made him somewhat disappointed. Not that he disliked her home, not at all; it would just have been easier for him to come here and do his job if it had been more of a cave covered with bear pelts. This was far from it - maybe not a palace, but still bigger than most private homes in Markarth. The biggest difference though was that this hose in reality was quite cozy, not as cold and unwelcoming. The entranceway from the door opened up in a great hall, which clearly was the center of the home. It was alive in a way that only a room in use could be: a dining table to the left, already made for a meal, a fireplace to the right where someone had been sitting reading recently. A book was left opened on top of a small table and a half empty mead bottle was placed beside it. The scents of food boiling in the pot over the fire made him realize that he’d forgotten to eat since early morning. He walked up to the table and took off his gloves, left them on the table-top as he grabbed a handful of dried snowberries.
Behind his back he heard Argis and Hryssa continue their discussion.
“I’ll be at the Silver-Blood, if you need me”, the man growled, apparently hoping for Ondolemar to hear his hidden threat, as if this would make Ondolemar behave nicely towards his matron.
Not that it had anything to do with that big lump of flesh, but he would. Coming here on his own meant quite clearly that he was not planning to arrest her - he actually doubted that he would be able to. He really just wanted to hear for himself if this suspicion was true or not. It probably was though, despite this beautiful home that made him just want to sit down by the table and enjoy a sturdy meal in good company. Well, that last part might be his hunger talking. He put some of the berries in his mouth and chewed; the both sour and sweet taste filling his mouth before he swallowed.
“That sounds like a great idea, Argis”, he heard Hryssa say behind him, her hoarse voice calm as usual, “why don’t you bring that cute girl you’ve been talking about. What’s her name?”
“Muiri”, the big man said, and Ondolemar turned around and returned to the top of the ramp just in time to see him blush just lightly.

“Oh.” Hryssa sighed and stroke with her hands over his bulky arms as if she was his mother rather than he being her personal guard. “Argis, sweetheart, don’t you dare to do wrong by her.”
“I won’t. You sure you’ll be alright then?”
He gave Ondolemar another mean glance, and wouldn’t leave until Hryssa had reassured him at least five more times that she could handle herself. Ondolemar did not doubt the truth in that statement, but still sighed from relief when she closed the door behind her protective house carl.
“Lavender”, she said and walked up to him, stopped one step below him and smiled. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“This looks like a nice home”, Ondolemar said, a bit stiffly as he really had no idea where to start. It had been easier in his head before he left his office, but now, when she was standing in front of him, her eyes fixed at him in that way only she could, those lips that he just wanted to kiss again and… oh by all things holy, her wet hair was dripping all over the front of her white dress. Ondolemar found it difficult to not stare at her firm breasts in this semi-transparent state of her clothes; she was properly dressed but at the same time almost naked and he was already having a hard time concentrating in her presence. He cleared his throat and made sure to focus on her face. This would certainly not be easier if he let his head spin.
“Thank you, I like it here”, Her voice deep and musky and a small hint of fruit from her breath. One of her hands sneaked into his - not a small hand, but still smaller than his; warm as her lips but calloused and strong. “Come, let me show you around.” She walked past him up the rest of the ramp, a quick smile towards him over her shoulder which urged him to follow. And without words he followed, like a dog on a leech. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t here for leisure, he was here for reasons he in reality didn’t want to discuss, even though he had to. In the middle of the hall he stopped quite abruptly, making her tumble backwards against his chest. Without thinking about it, he placed his hands around her waist and rested his chin against her shoulder before speaking.
“No.” He sighed. “This nonsense will have to stop. As much as I’d love to have a guided tour of your home, I’m here in official Thalmor business.” And those simple words made him feel guilty, made him want to explain why he even was doing the work he did. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilt, and furthermore, he wasn’t supposed to embrace her like this, he wasn’t supposed to want her, yet still he did. He couldn’t be all that wrong.
Hryssa turned around in his embrace and put her arms around his neck, facing him. She was still collected, only a flash of white over her irises as a minor sign of concern.
“I know why you’re here, Lavender.” Hryssa said, “You reek of it.”
She knew? And still she let him in. Bold, to say the least. “Reek? Of what?”
“Regret.” She stated it as simply as if it had been spices, and in her nose it just might be quite similar. She took this extremely easy, maybe a bit too easy. She was supposed to crawl on the floor, begging him to look the other way, begging for mercy. And here she was, doing the completely opposite. Ondolemar was so confused that he just nodded. Regret. That would be quite accurate.

“You are going to accuse me of Talos worship”, Hryssa murmured, her face closer to his than it had been moments ago, and he just looked at her lips wishing her to just stop talking, giving him a pause long enough to kiss her, taste her, feel that warmth; a memory that still had him mesmerized. She was however not yet planning to stay silent.
“I am going to tell you that yes, I do worship Talos”, she said, and to his horror he found her honesty utterly arousing. She was bold, he would have to give her that. “What you need to know before you make any rash decisions are my reasons.”
“So you admit to being guilty of this crime?” Ondolemar’s voice not controlled by his mind any longer, a throaty mumble, and his nose brushed against hers. In the back of his head he was reminded about how bad this was, how his work just turned out extremely difficult. Could he convince her to leave this path she’d chosen, in some way convince her? He doubted that. She was strong, independent and most certainly stubborn under that beautiful cover.
“Lavender”, she whispered, her bottom lip touching his as she spoke, “I have pragmatic reasons.”
“Explain”, Ondolemar whispered, his hands slowly ghosting over her back against the cloth of her dress.
“I am the Dragonborn”, Hryssa answered, one of her hands leaving the back of his neck, slowly trailing over his chest, “it grants me a great power, but using it is physically draining. You know what that would mean in a picky situation, don’t you dear?”
Ondolemar swallowed as her hand moved further down, closer to his painfully evident erection and sighed both of relief and discontent when it disappeared around his waist just over his hipbone. “Emptied magica pool” was all he managed to say, so he nodded just slightly.
“You are wearing enchanted robes”, Hryssas other hand stroke lightly over his chin, cheekbone, up to his ear, making his hood fall down, and in his twisted mind he thought this a question and not a continuance of what she had been talking about before, so he nodded again.
“Your robes gives you more power, Lavender”, she whispered, her lips now almost, just almost close enough for her words to be kisses, her fingers stroking over his short kept hair, “in the same way a Talos amulet and the occasional worship by a shrine does to my physical regeneration.”
“Hryssa.” Ondolemar sighed and nipped at her upper lip. “Why are you making my work so difficult for me?” In this case he found no honor in following orders and as it were he could hardly convince her to stop wearing that amulet.
“As will you do for me, if you decide to proceed, Lavender”, she murmured, and even though there wasn’t a slightest hint of threat in her voice, he knew what she meant.
“Now that would be a rash decision from your part”, Ondolemar whispered; just as calmly, but on the inside excitement was raging towards full storm, a suspense he hadn’t felt since the great war. How would she be in a fight? And that thought had a strange effect on him, a provoking lust he found very hard to understand. “I thought you were clever enough to understand...”, he paused just to taste her, just a small taste, her soft warm lips, the taste of jazbay grapes. Ondolemar had to pull himself back to his senses to continue, but now he was panting slightly. “...understand that I wouldn’t come alone if I was to pose a threat...” He pulled her closer, pressed his lips against hers with hunger, and still between his tongue plunging into her mouth and his teeth biting lightly at her lips, he managed to come up with a solution and force the words to be told, muffled against her mouth. “I came here with a proposal.”

“Hmmm?” a throaty murmur, her fingers now working with the clasps on his robe.
“Empty this place of everything related to Talos and leave”, the sentence cut to pieces by his heavy breath and interrupted by her kisses. “If you own any other property…” Ondolemar continued, but came to a quick silence as one of his hands found her breast, nipple erect against the roughspun cloth. He let out a groan when he gave the breast a firm squeeze, feeling the soft and fleshy tissue fill his cupped hand and the space between his fingers.
“And then?”, she gasped, her words swallowed by his mouth. Her hands pulled his robe back over his shoulders, leaving his chest bare.
“Just long enough for my infiltrators to search your home and make a report”, he whispered when he remembered what he was talking about and let the garment fall to the floor behind him. “If proved innocent, you are cleared from our books.”
“And… In return?” she hummed, biting the corner of his bottom lip, her calloused hands stroking hard over his bare skin, a sensation that was completely new to him.
“A similar favour in my time of need”, he replied, his hands now slowly working with her dress, stroking it upwards against her thighs and his lips trailed downwards to her neck.
“My life is short, Lavender”, she gasped as he bit her just behind her ear,“it’s a debt I might not be able to repay.”
“You are a Nord. You put honor in trust”, he muttered against her throat, bit her again just where her shoulder stopped and her neck started, “I trust that you will honor this promise as you see fit.” “I’ll inform Argis and leave in the morning.” Hryssa said with a groan. Her fingers were trailing along the waistline of his pants.
Ondolemar’s hands had found their way under the long skirt of her dress, stroking over the bare skin of her thighs, slowly pushing the garment up towards her hips, when he noticed she wasn’t wearing any small clothes. At the same time her fingers had opened the buckles on his trousers and pulled them down over his buttocks. Ondolemar groaned as his erection was freed from the uncomfortably tight clothes. He pulled the dress over her head and threw it away, wanting to embrace her, feel her bare skin against his, explore every corner of her naked body, but she was in another state of mind. Her hands moved softly over his skin, the calloused skin rough like the tongue of a cat; her lips followed, warm, wet, hungry from his collarbone to his nipple, her mouth enfolding it and her tongue working in circles around it. Ondolemar sighed, his hands playing in her drying hair and his eyes pinned at her face. Her eyes closed as she moved further down, hands slowly removing his pants. Then, when she was kneeled on the floor she looked up at him, irises full white orbs in the faint light from the fireplace and a rather unsettling grin. It made his member twitch of arousal. Hryssa grabbed his erection in one hand, slowly stroking it. Ondolemar groaned. With their eyes locked - Hryssa still looking like she was thinking of devouring him - she slipped her tongue out and licked along the base of his shaft, leaving a wet trail from his root to his tip.

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