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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

Comments

Re: Fire and Potions - 65/?

[(Anonymous)]

“And why all the secrecy? Who are you?”
“As I told you earlier,” Ondolemar said, tearing off his tattered Thalmor robes and tossing them into the flames of the brazier. “I am a double agent.”
“It was in our best interest to fake Ondolemar’s death. The other jarls would want him dead regardless of who he is. And he is far more valuable alive, I assure you,” Therion said, looking pointedly at Balgruuf.
The High King drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his chair.
“Nisaad viidost?” he repeated.
“Literally translated, ‘fake poison’,” Farengar supplied.
Balgruuf nodded to himself, looking Ondolemar over.
“Can you discover anything else about this weapon the Thalmor intend to use against my people?”
“I think so,” Ondolemar said, casting a healing spell on himself as he spoke. “There are several hiding places the Thalmor have across Skyrim close to Dwemer ruins. With any luck, we’ll find something there. Unless they’ve already moved the weapon back to Alinor. In which case things become infinitely more difficult.”
Therion nodded in agreement.
“My cousin and I can map out the locations and head out by morning.”
They were startled by a knock from outside. Without a word, Ondolemar clenched his fist around a ball of magicka, and vanished into thin air.
“Come,” Balgruuf called.
“Pardon the interruption, M’lord,” Proventus said respectfully as he opened the door a crack. “The General wishes to speak with you and the preparations for your coronation-”
“Damn,” Balgruuf sighed. “He needs to teach me that trick,” he said, looking through the invisible Ondolemar. “Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he said dismissing the room with a casual wave of his hand.
Therion lingered a moment longer, waiting for the room to empty.
“Yes, what is it, Dragonborn?” Balgruuf asked when they were alone. Or, alone minus his invisible cousin, Therion assumed.
“How did you know?” Therion asked.
“That your friend was playing possum?” Balgruuf chuckled. “Don’t worry, you were both very convincing. I don’t think anyone doubts that the Head Justicar died here today. I just know when to trust my gut.”
“Mhm,” Therion said dismissively. “Seriously, though.”
The High King stared thoughtfully at him before sighing.
“There are few things I know about you, Dragonborn,” Balgruuf said slowly. “However, after what you endured, I know that you’d never let such a person as that, have a quick death.”
It was very slight, but Therion saw Balgruuf flinch as an invisible hand touched his shoulder.
“You’re going to make a great High King,” Ondolemar whispered from behind Balgruuf.
Balgruuf grumbled to himself, taking a long drink from his mead.
“Gods,” he said. “It’s like having two Dragonborns. Go on, both of you. I have a coronation to prepare for.”

----------------------------

The celebration of Balgruuf’s coronation had been a regal, somber event. The party following, was anything but.
Farengar rubbed his aching temples. His fingers were itching with the desire to cast a muffle spell. It would be beyond impropriety, he reminded himself, taking a drink from his mead. He visibly winced as a fight broke out, loudly destroying a table and some fine glassware. The ringing sound of destruction was met with thunderous applause and laughter, which, although further hurt his ears, momentarily drowned out the terrible lute music from the Bard’s College apprentices.
Numbly, he watched Hrongar help up the man he had tackled into a table, the two Nords affectionately butting heads against one another with all their might.
It took Farengar a moment to realize he was grinding his teeth, the sound drowned out in the constant stream of unpredictable noises assaulting his senses.
Even the ever stoic Irileth was grinning broadly from ear to ear. When she met with his scowl, she gave him a perturbed look. He returned it in kind, with a pointed expression of displeasure which clearly read, ‘just because his presence was required, didn’t mean he had to like it’.
Irileth sighed at him with exasperation and joined Hrongar as he began regaling everyone with a tale of what Balgruuf was like when they were young.
Farengar drummed his fingers quickly against his cup in agitation, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling building in his head.