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Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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

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

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

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“So you don't know anything about goats then,” said Madanach. “Or domestic livestock in general, I take it.”

“Well no, that's what we've got farmers for,” said Liriel, belatedly beginning to realise that perhaps Forsworn society wasn't anything like as stratified as Altmer society.

“Well, Queen of Dragons, allow me to enlighten you,” Madanach told her. “Out in the Reach, we Forsworn have not had a servant class to do all the hard jobs for us, and trade's not really an option either. We grow our own food or we hunt it. We don't have a lot of space for livestock – cows are expensive, they're slow and they're noticeable. Nords see cows wandering around the countryside, they're going to get suspicious. Or they're going to get greedy and start taking them for themselves. But there's wild goats all over these mountains, and no one notices those.”

“They're your prime herd animals,” Liriel guessed. “Clever. But that still doesn't explain why the heads...”

“Herd animal is a bit of a disservice to them,” Madanach said. “They're extremely bright. We don't keep huge flocks of them, but it's rare a Forsworn hideout doesn't have a few wandering about the place. They're intelligent, they're loyal, they eat virtually anything, they give us milk, they make fantastic watch animals, and when they die, we can use the pelt and the meat. Except by the time a goat dies, it's usually become quite beloved by the camp. It kept watch in life, so we honour it in death by ensuring its head can keep watching over us. That's why, Liriel.”

“That... makes an awful lot of sense,” said Liriel thoughtfully. “You've got some here?”

“One,” said Madanach. “Lives inside, keeps watch for intruders, gives good milk. We called her Betsi.”

Liriel couldn't help but giggle. “Betsi the goat! That's so cute!”

“She's not cute, she's a fearless watchgoat of the Forsworn!” Madanach protested, but his heart clearly wasn't in it because a second later they were both laughing.

“All right,” he admitted. “Maybe we're a little fond of her.”

Liriel dried her eyes, smiling. Maybe he wasn't all bad after all. She couldn't call him a decent human being because he blatantly wasn't, but he did at least have feelings.

At that point, Odvan, a Forsworn Liriel remembered from Cidhna Mine, arrived with a tray containing two plates of stuffed roast pheasant and assorted vegetables, and two different bottles, along with glasses.

“Dinner, jenever and Reach tonic, as requested,” Odvan announced, lowering the tray, slipped a bear pelt off his arm and spreading it out on the ground for them both.

“Is it the good jenever?” Madanach asked hopefully. Odvan, far from being obsequious, just looked at his king rather patronisingly.

“It's the only jenever, boss,” Odvan replied. “Unless you wanted some Skooma adding.”

Madanach visibly shuddered at the mere idea. “No. Sithis, no. I had enough of the stuff in Cidhna to last me a lifetime. Just leave me a bottle of this stuff, I'll be quite happy.”

“Thought you'd say that, boss,” Odvan said cheerfully. “You have a good evening now. You too, Liriel.”

Liriel wished him likewise, before turning to her dinner. She'd just reached for a fork when Madanach stopped her.

“Not yet. There's formalities.”

Oh good. Formalities. Liriel hated formalities. Especially the tedious and lengthy kind that went on while food was in front of her, getting cold and she was hungry, dammit! Fortunately, Madanach had never been much of one for that sort of thing either. He just opened one of the bottles and poured its contents into the glasses, measuring out a finger's worth each, then sealing the bottle and topping the glasses up with what was in this one. Both were colourless liquids that might be water but Liriel suspected otherwise. Madanach indicated for her to take a glass.

“What is it?” she asked, sniffing the contents. Definitely alcoholic.

“Jenever. Made from fermented juniper berries and potatoes then distilled,” Madanach told her. “Traditional beverage of the Reachmen since time immemorial so of course the first thing the Nords banned after they overthrew us. Apparently drinking it is bad for our moral fibre and makes us lazy workers.”

“No, and I've been stuck in Cidhna Mine for the last two decades without any, so I think that proves the Nords wrong on this one, doesn't it? Now, if you're my daughter, the correct way of drinking it is to get a small tumbler, fill it up with the stuff and knock it back in one, but that's the degenerate youth of today for you. When you get to my age, you're rather more civilised about these things, and you strike me as someone who is nothing if not civilised.”

“How old are you anyway?” Liriel asked. She knew humans rarely lived more than eighty years at most, but Bretons tended to live longer than the other human races and it wasn't uncommon for them to make it to a hundred. As far as guessing any given age and relating it to a life-cycle stage though, well, that wasn't Liriel's strong point.

“Fifty-nine,” Madanach said, and Liriel felt the glass shaking in her hands. Fifty-nine?? That was no age at all, Altmer only came of age at fifty. But Bretons could see out a century, Altmer could see out a millennium, so if she multiplied it by ten, that made him 590 years old in Altmer years, approximately. Middle-aged, over half his life gone, but by no means dead yet. Still capable, still strong. Still a force to be reckoned with.

Madanach was now indicating the other bottle.

“Now, in here we have the second vital ingredient for a good jenever drink. This is Reach-tonic, and it's made of fresh juniper berry juice, purified river water, all mixed together and brought to boil with the bark of a juniper tree and some blue mountain flowers steeped in it, then the whole thing's filtered. Said to cure all sorts of ailments, which is partly why I drink it, but partly because I just like the taste. To really set it off, we'd need a slice of citron fruit from Cyrodiil, but we don't have any. But we can still make one final finishing touch. I'd do yours for you, but I'm presuming the Archmage of Winterhold can cast her own frost magic.” He held up his glass, raised fingers above it and delicately drew a ring of ice around the sides of the glass, just above the surface of the liquid. Liriel could have squealed in delight. She used to do this all the time in Alinor, she'd never found anywhere outside the Summerset Isles where this was ever common practice. Most humans weren't magically skilled enough to ever think of chilling their drinks.

Raising her glass, Liriel carefully cast her own frost magic, first the ice rim, and then a personal touch, a jolt of ice magic into the drink itself, causing ice crystals to form in it. Madanach nodded, impressed, and raised his glass.

“I knew you'd fit in around here,” he purred, pleased. “And now we toast. To my good health and yours, my lady Dragon-Queen. Slanta!”

Liriel didn't recognise the word but she knew a toast when she heard one. “Slanta!” she called back, tapping her glass against his and taking a sip.

Sithis, but it hit the spot nicely. Strong, but not too strong, and sweet like juniper.

“I could stand to drink more of these,” Liriel gasped. Madanach was leaning back, eyes closed and clearly in a state of bliss.

“Come back any time and I will happily mix you one,” said Madanach. He waved vaguely in the direction of the food tray. “You can start eating now. Let me know if you need it warming up any.”

The food, as it turned out, was still warm, mainly due to a small fire rune on the tray and that was another thing Liriel hadn't seen since leaving home, runes used for anything outside battle magic. She could have cried. Who would have thought that she'd come all the way to Skyrim and the first real reminders of home would have come from dinner with the king of a tribe of savages by Altmer standards?

She revised her opinions of the Forsworn. Clearly they weren't as uncivilised as everyone thought. And the food turned out to be delicious. Seemed Reachman cooking wasn't dissimilar to that of their High Rock cousins.

“If you keeping making me meals like this, you know I'm going to have to keep coming back,” she told him.

“What a tragedy that would be,” Madanach murmured, grinning up at her from where he was half-sitting, half-lying to eat his own meal. Liriel sipped her jenever and ate, watching as the sun set and the stars came out, the aurora lighting up the sky as Masser edged above the eastern horizon. It was a beautiful evening in the Reach, and unless a dragon showed up to ruin it, she needn't worry about a thing with the Forsworn on guard. It was nice to just be able to relax for once. She would indeed have to visit again if she could expect this sort of hospitality every time.

Finally she was done and lay back on the grass, pushing the plate away from her, sipping her jenever again. Madanach had also finished and was watching her, curious.

“You said you had questions,” he said. “And all you've asked me so far is why there's goat's heads on pikes around our camps. Surely that wasn't it?”

By this point, Liriel was full of pheasant and feeling quite at ease with the world on account of all the jenever, but she did just about recall what spurred her to come north in the first place.

“Why is it,” she began, “that I can turn up here and get plied with roast pheasant and fine liqueurs and a private audience with the King in Rags, but I go to any other Forsworn camp and they try to kill me? I even wore the armour and everything! Can't you send them a memo or something, tell them I'm a friend of yours? I mean, I am a friend of yours, right?”

Madanach sipped his jenever, expression unreadable, eyes hooded in the firelight, clearly contemplating how to respond to that.

“Of course you're a friend of mine, you'd never have been allowed to get this close to me if I didn't trust you,” he finally said. “But you're asking a very dangerous question there, my Liriel. I could answer it, but it involves giving an awful lot of our secrets away. Information for information, Liriel.”

Well, wasn't that just typical. Still, nothing came for free, she supposed. All the same, unless he was after some arcane magical knowledge from the College of Winterhold, she couldn't think what sort of knowledge she'd have that would be of any use to him. She didn't think a Forsworn would want to learn the Thu'um, unless of course he wanted a psychological weapon against the Nords.

“What did you want to know?” she asked. Madanach pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, clearly thinking how to frame his question, before leaning forward, edging closer so his eyes were inches from her own.

“I want to know why the Sacrament stopped working,” he growled.

Of all the questions she'd thought he'd ask, she didn't think it would have been that one.

“I'm sorry?” she managed to breathe.

“You heard me,” Madanach said, glaring. “Why did the Sacrament stop working? When my daughter died, when my wife decided to spend her time ascending to Matriarchy rather than rescuing me, when I wanted out of that daedra's bargain I made with Thonar and called on the Night Mother to help me, why did she not answer me? I'd get nightshade smuggled in, I had a shiv for that very purpose, I had candles stockpiled, every time a prisoner died, I'd have the body brought in to do the Sacrament. It never worked. Not once. I had silver ore to hand over to pay an assassin with, but no one ever arrived. They say no one escapes Cidhna Mine, but we had ways of getting information and supplies in and out, Kaie was visiting me every week once she was old enough, I had an agent in the guards. No one from your damn Dark Brotherhood, your priesthood of Sithis, no child of your Unholy Matriarch ever turned up. No one until you waltzed in demanding to be let out and blaming me, and not knowing a damn thing about any Sacrament with me. You want to know why I put up with you, why I helped you? Because I'd heard rumours the Altmer Dragonborn was a child of the Night Mother and wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, you were the answer to my prayers. Then Kaie brings your gear and what do we find but Shrouded Robes and Armour which you were getting dressed in straight away. Don't deny you're Dark Brotherhood, Liriel. I just want to know why the Dread Father turned his back on me when I needed him most.”

Liriel didn't know what to tell him. Truth was, she wasn't even sure herself why the Night Mother had stopped talking for so long. All she had to go on was what Cicero had told her, dear, sweet, more than half-crazy Cicero. Exactly how much of this she could safely reveal to Madanach was something else, even though the grief-stricken desperation in his eyes made her badly want to.

“I can't – I can't tell you, Madanach. I wish I could!” she sighed. “But I can't just go spilling Dark Brotherhood secrets like this. Not to an outsider! You understand that, right?”

Madanach laughed bitterly, turning away and lying on his back, staring at the stars.

“Old gods preserve us,” he said quietly. “You truly know nothing, do you?”

“Because you won't tell me!” Liriel cried, getting a little sick of this. “What is this big secret you keep expecting me to know? I'm just a raw recruit, Madanach. I've been one of them for months, if that. And you're not one at all, although I'm willing to believe you're more than capable of cold-blooded murder.”

“I am that,” Madanach murmured. “All right, Liriel. I will tell you what you should already know, and if that's to your liking, then I'm hoping you'll answer my question.”

Liriel sipped her jenever and agreed. Finally, a few answers. She watched as Madanach lay back, watching the aurora blaze.

“The first thing you have to know to truly understand us, how we think, how we see the world, in fact, probably the only thing, is to know who we worship. Know our gods. Few ever even think to ask.”

“You worship the old gods,” said Liriel, wondering what this had to do with anything. “The ones that came before the Eight Divines. And Talos, if you count him. Which I don't.”

“Should hope not,” Madanach growled. “He's the reason we lost our kingdom, him and that Empire of his. I don't even respect Tiber Septim as a man, worshipping him as a god is madness. You know we worship the old gods but do you know who the old gods are?”

No, was the short answer to that one. She'd read a lot, but never seen anything on the Forsworn gods. Even Madmen of the Reach was silent on who they were.

“The Daedra?” she hazarded a guess. Faint smile on Madanach's face, which probably meant the answer was no.

“Before even the Daedra,” said Madanach quietly. “Life and death themselves, existence and non-existence. The power from which all things come, and the power by which all things end, shaping the world into being, deciding what comes to pass and what does not. Everything came from them and they're still working today, still dancing and that dance is what makes the world turn. That dance gave us the Aedra, and it gave us the Daedra too, although they're only lesser aspects of the two greater powers. I'll tell you their names, but you already know them, or you should at least. Anu, Lord of All That Is. And the other, the Lord of All That Is Not? You serve him, Liriel.”

Liriel lifted her head, her yellow eyes staring into Madanach's grey ones. She'd heard him swear by Sithis earlier, but had assumed he'd just been reading up on the Brotherhood and was trying to make her feel at home. It had never even occurred to her his interest in the Brotherhood was more than professional, that his rage and fury at Sithis never answering his call wasn't just despair at not getting Thonar killed but an actual religious crisis.

“The Forsworn worship Sithis??” she whispered, wondering how, why she never knew this, why no one, not even Cicero who should know these things, had never told her this before. Madanach just inclined his head.

“Both of them, Anu and Sithis together. You cannot have one without the other. Everything about us comes from that. We do not fear death because we would not be alive without it, and one day we too will die so that the world can keep turning. We don't need a dream of Sovngarde to make us brave enough to fight. We fight and risk our lives because we know the Dread Father will claim us when he's ready and we can't change that. No one knows the mind of the Dread Father. No one but you.”

He'd rolled over, staring into her eyes again as if she was the answer to the mysteries of life, the universe and everything.

“Me?” she whispered nervously. Madanach grinned, laughed and the moment was lost.

“Not you personally, girl, I'm prepared to believe you're not exactly a high-ranked member of the Brotherhood. But while the Hags invoked Sithis, sacrificed themselves to him for their power, they could never clearly know his mind, never be one with him. But they told of one who one day would ascend beyond even what they'd achieved, a Matriarch who would make the ultimate sacrifice of not just her soul but her very life and know the will of Sithis first hand.”

Liriel could barely breathe. Everything Astrid and Cicero had told her came rushing back, that there'd been an assassin once who'd become the lover of Sithis, mother of his five children and killed them to win his favour, becoming the Night Mother.

“The Night Mother,” she whispered. “She – she killed her children for him and he made her his wife.”

“I know,” Madanach whispered back. “Life and death in an eternal cycle – she brought them into being then she took them out of existence. The ultimate move in the dance, and it gave her power beyond anyone's wildest dreams. I'm a father, Liriel, and I've seen my children die, the Nords killed my daughter Eithne right in front of me. I could never... I could never have killed them myself.”

“Nor me,” Liriel said softly, Sissel and Lucia's faces before her eyes and even though she'd not birthed them, she could never bring herself to hurt them. Even taking splinters out of fingers and bathing scraped knees was an ordeal. To do what the Night Mother had? She could never do it. “So are you telling me that to the Forsworn, the Night Mother's like a goddess?”

“A Matriarch,” Madanach confirmed. “The Matriarch of Matriarchs, one who even the Hags must bend the knee to. When she became the Night Mother, back in the Second Era, the Hags knew and they trembled. All things must die and they foresaw the Night Mother and her children could bring them down. Then that book, A Kiss, Sweet Mother, began circulating and people tried the ritual. And the Brotherhood answered. Some of them even came to us for training, hailing us in Sithis' name, and we welcomed them in. It's a sacred calling to be one of them, Liriel. They were strong and they were deadly and they were even more so once they'd trained with us. To serve Sithis, enacting his will in the world, removing those who have outlived their usefulness... damn, Liriel, if the Forsworn hadn't needed me here, I would have joined them. As it is I made the pilgrimage to Bravil once as a young man. I wanted to pray to Sithis to give me the strength to bring down the Nords. There was a time when I even thought he'd answered. When I took Markarth and they first called me Reach-King.”

The fire had burned low, the guards on duty had changed shifts, the sun was long gone and Secunda was now rising while Masser loomed overhead, but Liriel didn't even care. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down.

“Then what?” she whispered. “What happened?”

Madanach raised his eyes to hers, almost pleading with her. “I was hoping you could tell me. For centuries, decades, the Forsworn and Brotherhood worked together, their Skyrim Sanctuaries sending assistance while we trained their assassins. We were the Hands of Sithis and we struck where we wanted. But after the Oblivion Crisis, it started to fall apart. Something happened in the Brotherhood in Cyrodiil, there was some internal crisis, a betrayal, I don't know what. One of the Skyrim Sanctuaries was closed and its occupants summoned to Cyrodiil to bolster failing numbers there after a Sanctuary was wiped out. The other Sanctuary couldn't send people any more and the agreement started to fade. No big argument, no falling out, but a fading. By the time I was Reach-King, the alliance was a distant memory, but we still remembered. The Hags still knew it and they said you would return, that the Dread Father had not abandoned us. We kept hoping it was true. But then it all went wrong, I ended up dethroned and on the run, not even able to see my wife and daughters more than a few times a year in case the Nords followed me to them. Then my eldest, Eithne, turned fourteen and came to join me here – and weeks later, the Nords found us. She died defending me. Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted her to the floor and stabbed her through the heart. He'd have killed me too and after seeing my baby girl murdered, I wouldn't even have cared, but Thonar was there and he decided I could be useful. You know the rest.”

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered. “Sithis help me, I'm so sorry.” She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him and holding him. She heard him exhale sharply, then felt his hands on her skin, sliding around her back as he pulled her closer, clinging on to her like a drowning man clings to the one that rescues him. Liriel just held him, silently screaming to Sithis why, why the Brotherhood had fallen apart, why it was just one Sanctuary and that never likely to care about a group of rebels with no coin to pay them. Astrid didn't care about the Night Mother and would never bother with the Forsworn. Of all of them, Cicero was the only one who might actually understand – but he'd never leave the Night Mother. It was just her, the Listener of the Night Mother, with a Sanctuary that would never listen to her in turn.

“Don't give me your apologies,” he growled, voice muffled where he was leaning against her shoulder. “Just tell me why.”

She owed him that, at least. From the sounds of it, he was a more devoted son of Sithis than anyone in Falkreath.

“I don't know why,” Liriel said quietly. “But I can tell you what happened, as far as I know it.” So she told him what Cicero and Astrid had told her, that there'd been trouble in Cyrodiil after the war and the other Sanctuaries had been closed or fallen apart, and then the Night Mother's Crypt had been attacked. Madanach listened, growing pale to hear how the Night Mother's body had been rescued and brought back to Cheydinhal, the last Cyrodiil Sanctuary standing, but that the Listener, the only one who could hear the Night Mother's words and pass on the contracts, was dead and the Night Mother never chose a new one.

“Wait a second,” Madanach interrupted. “Are you saying that the Night Mother's physical remains are her conduit to you all, and she only talks to one of you? This Listener?”

Liriel nodded. “Yes. That's how the Sacrament works, the Night Mother hears it and tells the Listener and they send someone out to meet the client. But there wasn't a Listener any more and the Night Mother never talked to anyone. So the Sacrament never worked and Cheydinhal Sanctuary fell apart. The Sanctuary in Falkreath is the last one, and it still works but it doesn't rely on the Night Mother. Astrid, that's our leader, has got contacts and regular customers all over the place and she takes work off them. But if you performed the Sacrament in secret in Cidhna Mine, Astrid would never have known to come find you.”

Slowly, she felt Madanach let her go, sitting upright and grimacing as he did so, staring into the dying fire.

“The Night Mother no longer speaks,” he whispered. “The Crone of Crones, Matriarch of Matriarchs, she is silent. Gone into the Void. And all that is left is one Sanctuary. Anu preserve us, and I thought we had it bad.”

Liriel wondered if she ought to tell him. She didn't know if it would do any good. It wasn't like she had any real power. Listener of the Night Mother, but she had one Sanctuary at her disposal and they didn't recognise her as leader.

“No one else must ever know this, Liriel,” Madanach was saying, sounding utterly despairing. “They can never know that the Black Hand of Sithis will never open for us again. You have no idea, Liriel, no idea what the Ascension of the Night Mother meant for us. It was the promise that we could commune with Sithis himself, channel his power, influence him and use his gifts to bring down all in our way. That's why we trained Brotherhood assassins, that's why we sent many of our own to join their ranks. They were Sithis Incarnate, true-born killers. To know that's not true any more, that Sithis has abandoned them... Liriel, if this got out, it would be the end of us. If Sithis abandoned the Brotherhood, what's to stop him doing the same to us? Maybe he already has. All things must die. Maybe we're not meant to win.”

Madanach was staring into the fire, shoulders hunched, and for the first time since she'd known him, Liriel could sense something dying inside, the spark that had lit a rebellion and taken the Reach the first time, the spark that had kept him alive in Cidhna Mine all this time, finally going out. It was breaking Liriel's heart. She'd take the insults and the taunting and the calling her Queen of Dragons like it meant something, if it just meant he kept his spark. If he lost that... she knew without doubt he'd likely not see his sixtieth birthday.

“He hasn't abandoned us,” Liriel heard herself saying. “It's not hopeless. Madanach, the Night Mother's Keeper survived somehow – he was the one tasked with taking care of the remains. He kept them safe, kept them pristine and he brought them to Skyrim this year. He got to the Sanctuary just after I joined, we've got the Night Mother there now. The conduit's still open, Madanach. She spoke to me. She said I was her Listener now. Except... except Astrid won't hear of it and insists I should obey her instead, and the rest of the Sanctuary, everyone except the Keeper, all back her. So I don't think I'm going to be much good to you or anyone, but-” She didn't have the chance to finish the sentence. Madanach had turned to face her as she'd talked, eyes getting wider by the second.

“You. Are Listener.”

Liriel nodded, biting her lip and wondering if she should have kept quiet.

“The Voice of the Night Mother. The Chosen of Sithis. You. Liriel, the great and powerful Queen of Dragons.”

She should definitely have kept quiet. She nodded, tensing up and preparing for the inevitable mockery. She was right in one respect. He did laugh. He threw back his head, howling with joyous laughter, the spark more than back. It had turned into an unholy conflagration, and Liriel began to fear it had sent him mad. It seemed the guards on duty were thinking something similar.

“Er, boss?” and that was Duach who had given her Skooma after she'd pretended to be an addict. “Are you alright over there?”

“Yes!” Madanach laughed. “Yes, I'm fine, I'm more than fine! Sithis answered our prayers, boys!”

A pause. “That's lovely, boss, but we didn't pray for you to go mad.”

Madanach shot a glare in his direction. “Were I not in such a good mood, you'd be on the receiving end of a lightning bolt up your backside, Duach.”

Duach laughed good-naturedly and called to his fellow guard. “Yeah, he's alright, Mhairi. Back to normal.” Mhairi laughed in turn and the two of them resumed looking out over the valley. Madanach rolled his eyes and winced as he pulled himself to his feet, extending a hand to Liriel. She took it, allowing herself to be hauled upright.

“Madanach, don't expect miracles, the Sanctuary all follow Astrid, not me!” she said weakly. “It's just me and Cicero the Keeper who still follow the Night Mother, and Cicero's insane.”

Madanach didn't even seem to care. “So, you're the rightful leader of a once great force of murdering bastards, but you can't do your job properly because of some controlling bitch who won't release her grip on power, is that right?”

That pretty much summed it up, yes. Madanach nodded, looking sympathetic.

“Yes, believe it or not, I know exactly how that feels. Come on, let's get inside. We've got a lot to talk about. You may not realise it, but this changes everything.”

Liriel really couldn't see how anything had changed at all, but Madanach seemed fairly determined. She might as well see where this was going.

“What do we need to talk about?” she asked, and then it occurred to her he'd never answered her question.

“You told me what I wanted to know,” said Madanach, grinning back at her as he led her into Druadach Redoubt. “Time I told you what you were after and then how to go about rectifying matters. Listen well, Listener. Time you learnt how the Forsworn actually function.”

Liriel followed inside eagerly. It looked like she was finally going to get some answers, and if she was really lucky, the pommel stone of Mehrunes' Razor might just fall into her hands. Not to mention that she might just have acquired a more powerful supporter against Astrid than a half-mad jester...

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you all liked it - this one was mostly setup but it's setup for some great possibilities.

M'inyeen is from the Irish for my daughter and Slanta is based on traditional Irish toast slainte. Jenever is gin by any other name.

Next chapter is Forsworn internal politics and the beginning of a reborn Brotherhood/Forsworn Auld Alliance...

I hope OP is still interested in this prompt.

is there a race you'd prefer for the Listener?

Miraaaak. Im throwin' my vote in with Miraak!

:D

I love getting feedback, too, so I figure it's only fair to give it, too. I do enjoy your writing style.

I can see that. Would love to read other Madanach stories of yours, if you care to point me in that direction...

(And I hear you on the Civil War. I genuinely like Rikke and I can at least respect Tullius, but my conscience nags me horribly if I go Imperial. I love that it's such a grey vs. gray scenario.)

Same Driveby!Anon here, still really enjoying this. I like your characterisation of Balgruuf very much - he is so reserved, but wants to be loved for his own merits, not his position. I can pretty much hear his VA narrating his chapter :D

And love Lydia the sly, slightly nosy Housecarl, too. Keep up the good work.

Thank you, so much for the kind words. You made me a little braver to answer another request on this site. So more to go up soon, working on it right now. hoping to have the next few chapters done by tomorrow.

It took Galmar ten minutes to catch his breath once he stopped laughing, but when he realised Rozenn didn't share his amusement, and was on the verge of tears he sobered up instantly.

"My love, you've seen pregnant women, have you not?" Galmar asked.

Rozenn shook her head. "I had nothing to do with them, nor they with me," she replied. "And I don't really know what to - to do, what to expect, I feel so ignorant!"

Galmar drew her back onto his lap, which she had vacated when he burst out laughing, and tucked her as close to his body as was possible without undressing. She let her head lean against his shoulder again. Gently, soothingly he rubbed circles on her back.

"I know what I saw when our mother had Rolff - I was ten when he came along, and I know for a fact that women's bellies swell to accommodate babies. You have nothing to fear about him fitting within you, my love," Galmar said, chuckling lightly.

"I should make you pay for laughing at me, but this is too comfortable for words," Rozenn purred, rubbing her cheek against the furry paw of Galmar's armour.

"We could go upstairs," Galmar offered. "Plenty of ways to take vengeance on me up there. Maybe get the wrist irons and riding crop out, hmm?"

Rozenn chuckled and tucked herself even more comfortably against his body. "Maybe we should just stay here, let your punishment be knowing there are precisely three layers of clothing and armour separating us, and I am not going to do a thing about it. I lost sleep I was so worried, you know. I was down in that stupid Dwemer place when Marcurio pointed out the obvious - I couldn't even rush back to you. I had to finish the damnable quest. And now in my condition I doubt I'll ever even fit into Dwarven armour, and so I feel like it was a wasted journey."

"You'll wear Dwemer armour after the baby comes - if you want to. Did that Imperial scut tell you when we might expect our son?" Galmar had refused to ever use Marcurio's name after a particularly galling argument, which the mage had the temerity to actually be right about.

Galmar felt Rozenn shake her head slowly. "I'll need to see a Healer. Maybe I should go to Winterhold and talk to Collette Marence. Would you come with me?"

"To see a mage?" Galmar asked darkly.

"I'm a mage," Rozenn pointed out, reaching up to kiss her husband's cheek.

"You're different."

"How so?" Rozenn asked, amused.

"You're my mage. That's how."

"I love you, too, Galmar Stone-Fist."

*-*

They were still sitting, half asleep and dozing together when Calder returned.

"How thoroughly do I need to clean that table?" he asked.

"Don't bother, Housecarl," Galmar replied. "We did nothing more than this. But we have a request of you. We mey may change the interior of Hjerim a bit, in the coming weeks."

"Oh? You'll be taking my quarters for the ... happy event?" Calder asked, looking from his Thane to her husband. They nodded confirmation.

"We'll gladly give you more room if you'll take quarters down on this floor, my friend," Rozenn said with a cheerful smile.

"I'd appreciate that very much. Thank you, my Thane. Um, my Thane," Calder asked hesitantly.

"Spit it out, man," Galmar muttered, "I was never so shy with Ulfric, and he was the Jarl's son, not just some Thane."

The Thane in question swatted Galmar lazily, grinning at the affection he never managed to hide behind his teasing. "Go on, Calder, I'll listen, even if he won't."

"Well, if you are changing the interior of the house, might I ask one favour, Thane?"

"Name it."

"Install some doors, please. Nobody except the two of you needs to see ... well, the two of you."

Galmar started to laugh even as Calder and Rozenn both blushed bright red.

"We'll do that. Maybe you should spend a few days in Candlehearth, though, Housecarl," Galmar suggested, grinning wickedly. "After all, we two, well, we only have a limited amount of time left just the two of us."

*-*

I am a prig, so this is always my imagined scenario with my hetero male DB's.

That being that, I think I'd like to write this. Do you have a preference for an ending? E.g. they start an open relationship between the three of them, Lydia drowns her unrequited love in mead, etc.

This nonny adores this story and will wait with baited breath for the next update OuO

When two dragons fight, they are actually having a debate right? Can I just get a fic were two fight and:

-one gets hurt badly
-they decide to settle the probelm with SEX
-the dragonborn has to step in and stop it

Go wild!

If sex does happen, please try for slash or femslash. I'm okay with get but I prefer the other two.

Ahaha, I love Madanach shooting hawks out of the sky with shock magic. Comical but also - as you point out - dangerously competent. I love all of it, really. Can't wait for more!

Thank you everyone who has been leaving reviews. You guys made my day, so here is a bonus chapter for the night. I'll be posting more tomorrow for you. I hope I got all the mistakes, but please try and ignore them if I didn't.

Melina walked into her house sore and tired. Grabbing the Elder scroll alone hadn’t been the brightest ideas. She was regretting it now, every muscle screamed at her, the cut on her leg burned. The stab wound in her arm, she really didn’t want to think about. So her plan now was to stay home for a bit and then head to the throat of the world.

“My Thane, you’re home earlier than expected,” Lydia said with a huge grin. Her grin faded as she notice her Thane’s limp and the crusted blood on her arm. “My Thane?” Lydia murmured worriedly ushering her to a chair. “I’ll get a healer.”

“And find some sweetrolls while you are out,” Melina called after her. She couldn't get enough of them lately. It was something new for her, usually she could go months without them, but now, she was lucky to last a day.

“Jarl Balgruuf left you some, you’ll find them in your room with all the other stuff,” Lydia called back with a sly grin. She was so tempted to run back in the house and look over her Thane’s shoulder to see what the Jarl had kept dropping off. She chuckled as she rushed to the temple, praying her Thane didn’t move from her spot before she got back there. She wanted to see her Thane’s expression when she saw the mound of packages waiting for her on her bed.

For two weeks the Jarl never missed a day to drop something off for her. Usually it was packages, but the last one had been sweetrolls. She had been tempted to take one of them, but didn’t.
Her grin slipped when she saw the Jarl walking down the path. She knew there was no way to avoid him, he had already spotted her. “Is she back yet?” Balgruuf asked impatiently.

“She just returned,” she answered, and debated whether to inform him that Melina was injured. With a sigh she opened her mouth to inform the Jarl, but snapped closed as she watched his retreating back rushing towards Breezehome. She shook her head and wasn’t as enthused to head back to the house so quickly as she had planned.

Balgruuf knocked on the door and worried when there was no answer. Without hesitation and walked in. he found her almost passed out on the chair, her armor was stained with old blood. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, covered in blood and dirt, reminding him of the first time he met her. He smiled softly, moving closer to her. Lightly he ran his hand down her cheek enjoying the feel of her soft skin, even under the dirt that covered her.

He thought about carrying her upstairs, and putting her in the tub. Instead he watched as her eyes fluttered open
slowly, “Balgruuf? What are you doing here?” Melina slurred tiredly, but he could hear pain laced in that voice. It worried him, now he wondered how much blood she wore was her own.

“Melina, where are you injured?” Balgruuf asked urgently.

“Better question is 'where am I not sore',” she answered with a watered down grin. “Don’t worry, Lydia is fetching a healer.”

“The healer would have an easier time healing you if you were in bed,” Balgruuf muttered with a scowl. He glared down at her and without a word scooped her up into his arms. He nearly groaned when he had her in his arms. Their night together came rushing back to him... him pinning her to the wall, his hands gripping her hips as he drove himself into her warm depths. He shivered as he remembered how her inner walls clenched around him, her pleas filling his ears, and then his name on her lips as she found her release.

He groaned, there was no way to stop it. He buried his nose in her hair as he walked up the stairs. Beneath the sweat and blood he could still smell her, the vanilla scent he longed for each night.

“Balgruuf, put me down, I can walk on my own,” Melina grumbled as she glared at him. She had noticed his eyes darkening, with the same look he had that night. That was one thing she wasn’t up to now. She hoped he didn’t start anything.

“Tough,” Balgruuf stated as he walked in her room and saw the pile of packages he had dropped off. He cringed and blushed slightly, ‘might have over done it a bit,’ he silently chastised himself.

He placed her on her feet and moved to the bed quickly clearing it off. He placed the packages on her chest and blushed further at her curious look. “I would suggest you lay down before you pass out,” he muttered as he saw her pale.

Melina scowled at him and laid on the bed. She watched Balgruuf wondering why he was here. Her eyelids were heavy and it was becoming harder to focus on him. Doing Blackreach had been a stupid idea on her part and at the moment she regretted not taking anyone with her. She wondered what Balgruuf will say when he found out she soloed such a dangerous ruin. She could just imagine the shouting match that would happen.

~ooooooooooooooo~

Lydia walked into the house, with Danica following closely behind. She hesitated when she didn’t see Melina in the chair where she left her. She listened intently praying she didn’t just walk into the house while her Thane was occupied. That was the last thing she needed to hear.

She walked up the stair and moved off to the side so Danica could walk by her. She smirked with amusement when the healer hesitated as she saw Balgruuf here of all places.

Lydia walked into the room, taking a seat on one of the chairs. Her eyes widened as Balgruuf took a seat on the bed, opposite of where Danica was working. Her eyes almost bulged when Balgruuf took Melina’s hand without her protesting. Her grin widened when Danica’s magic stuttered in her shock. She knew by morning all of Whiterun will know of this.

Her first thought was to protect her thane and her reputation, but to do that she would have to wipe out of all Whiterun. She couldn’t do it. Instead she watched the cuts and bruise heal, and color returned to her Thane’s face.

“Lydia, run a bath for Melina,” Balgruuf ordered.

Lydia left the room quickly and lugged the bathtub up the stairs. She rushed back downstairs and got the water. She wondered if she should have heated it first or left it for Melina to heat like she usually did.

She poured the last bucket into the tub and really looked at her Thane. She was looking much better, but worn out. She glanced at the Jarl and smirked, the man didn’t know how much of a stir he had just caused. Her Jarl wore a look that she never thought he could. It was well known in the castle that he was never faithful to his late wife. His eldest son was from a different mother, a maid if she believed the rumors. But now here was Melina carrying his child. From the look on Balgruuf face, he was happy about it. She hoped he didn’t shun her after the child was born.

~oooooooooooo~

“You are not going to sit there while I have my bath,” Melina bit out.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Balgruuf murmured with a smirk.

“And you can’t join me in the bath either,” Melina muttered with a shake of her head.

“Pity. Then perhaps another time I will get to enjoy you close to me,” Balgruuf murmured as he leaned down and brushed a light kiss on her forehead.

Melina watched him leave with butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Her inner muscles clenched as she watched his broad back disappear. She let out a shaky sigh as her body throbbed with desire for the man walking away. She had been so close to giving into their needs, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do a relationship now because her body wants it, now she had another to think of. Balgruuf was the Jarl, plus he already had three kids.

She already figured out why he asked her to marrying him. His own reputation could be ruined. With a desolate sigh she sank down into the steaming water. She hated the thought that Balgruuf reputation could be ruined; he was a good man and didn’t deserve that.

“Lydia bring parchment and a quill up here,” Melina ordered as she made up her mind. It wasn’t like she didn’t care for the man, and there was passion there so it wasn’t a bad decision, but it wasn’t love. In her mind, it didn’t matter, she was going to do it and be damned of the consequences.

She smirked as Lydia rushed into the room. “Here’s the parchment and quill,” Lydia murmured looking at her curiously.

Quickly she wrote out a note containing four simple words that he would understand. ‘I will do it.’ “Give this to Balgruuf and only him. He’ll understand what it means,” Melina told her passing her back the parchment.

So during the quest "The Book of Love" the DB goes around and unites couples together in undying love. But of course they were all hetero couples. So I wanna see a DB go help along some slashy (and even femslashy if you want) couples! Anyone is fair game (even interracial) and OCs are fine! Sexy times are optional!

My lordly this is funny.. I love it <3

I want this I want this so bad.

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