skyrimkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
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
Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)~~~
The doors of the Bee and Barb swung open, and the Khajiit girl serving drinks nearly dropped them when she saw who had walked in. The newcomer wore a magnificent gown and a cloak trimmed with fur, jewels at her chest and brow. She was flanked by two guards wearing fine armour and the Stormcloak colours, and they drew the eyes of everyone in the room.
“Princess Ysolda,” the Khajiit breathed. “Hey Boss, you want to field this one?” she called over her shoulder.
The innkeeper, a wiry, weathered Breton with bright blue eyes and red hair streaked with grey, left the conversation he’d been having at the bar and approached their glittering guest with a polite bow and a friendly grin.
“Dyce,” the princess said. “We need to speak in private.”
“Certainly.”
Ysolda left her guards in the bar, knowing there were few safer places in Skyrim for her than this inn. Dyce led her to his quarters after she refused food or drink. She took a seat at a table piled with correspondence while Dyce leaned against the wall.
“How are the children?” Dyce asked.
“Fuulgar’s doing well in Solitude. He’ll make an able administrator in a few years. Rikke keeps sending me letters about how dull it is in High Hrothgar, but she can stand another season. The girl needs discipline.”
“And your husband?”
“Kjar is fine. You know about Ulfric, do you not?” She got to the point.
“He sends me a lot of letters. Even more so since he fell.”
“Yes, well, he’s not getting better. He refuses to see a healer- I’ve tried everything, threats, cajoling, bribery. But he only listens to me on matters of statecraft. For more personal things, well, with Galmar gone you’re the only one he might listen to.”
Dyce sighed and shook his head. “He’s not going to change his mind.”
“He’s in pain, I can see it. And it’s only going to to get worse when the weather gets colder. He’s nearly seventy and I know he won’t live forever, but I had twenty-five years without him, is it too much to ask for a bit longer? At least until his grandchildren are home again. He’s not sick. He’s not frail. He’s just too damn stubborn to let someone look at his knee!”
Dyce hadn’t realised it was so bad. Ulfric had only been wryly self-deprecating about his own clumsiness in his letters.
“Did he ever tell you why he’s so determined about this?”
“No. He won’t even talk about it. That just makes it worse.”
“It’s probably not my story to tell, but since he’s causing so much trouble for everyone I will. You remember Elenwen?”
“He’s still got her skull in the study.” Ysolda did not look like she entirely approved.
“Well, he told me once she was the finest healer he’d ever met.”
Ysolda met his eyes for a long moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “I see. So there’s nothing we can do.”
Dyce gave her a thoughtful look. “Hmm. Maybe there is. Can’t just stand by and let the old fool suffer, can I? Just don’t tell him I’m coming. And make sure the guards are hard of hearing.”
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing you should know about in advance.” Dyce grinned, “Don’t worry, he’ll forgive me afterwards. He always does, after all.”
Dyce collected his pack and a few scrolls, although he doubted he’d need more than one.
You didn’t win two wars without taking wounds. And you didn’t go to war without someone at your side whom you could trust to treat them, no matter how much you snarled and wept for them not to.
Tags: char:M!DB char:Ysolda char:Ulfric relationship:slash kink:angst series:Dyce
A/N: I just realised 'letting them heal naturally' is not quite the same as 'having someone who will sneak up on you or hold you down and heal you' so I apologise for skewing the prompt slightly.
Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:21 pm (UTC)(link)(No pressure, Dyce-Anon)
Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:33 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:38 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 12:40 pm (UTC)(link)The pre-quel story is here: http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2438.html?thread=4322694&
But I suggest you do a search in the Delicious archives under series:Dyce for the other Dyce stories. There's 20+ of them, and they're all related one way or another.
Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-08 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)Also - Sweet Talos, Ulfric, you still have her skull?! That's a bit twisted. Entirely justified (and very Viking-warlord of you), mind, but twisted. And apparently I'm twisted too, because that gave me a vindictive little twinge of satisfaction to read. :)
Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 12:22 am (UTC)(link)Re: Inevitability 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 08:05 am (UTC)(link)Inevitability Part 2 1/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 08:40 am (UTC)(link)Dyce, to his mild surprise, would be fifty in a few short years, but while innkeeping was his main profession, thievery and adventuring were still very lucrative sidelines for him, and while he didn’t climb the walls with the sheer speed he had in his younger days, he had no difficulty working his way up.
Sometimes he arrived via the front door, but since the coronation he’d preferred to avoid the attention he always got in Skyrim’s royal court.
He reached a darkened window that he knew well, and he jimmied it open one-handed and slithered inside. Sometimes Ulfric would be working, and he’d look up from his desk with exasperation and ill-concealed pleasure at seeing Dyce again. Sometimes he’d be absent, and Dyce would either help himself to food and mead and settle down to wait, or he’d move something out of place and leave again.
Sometimes the first Ulfric would know of his arrival would be his breath in his ear and Dyce’s leg sliding over his hip. And Ulfric would growl to wakefulness, rolling them over and pinning Dyce to the bed. He’d lecture him on how it was dangerous to sneak up on a king, and he was lucky to be alive and they both knew Dyce would do it again regardless.
This time Ulfric was asleep. The only light was the reddish glow of a few coals in the fireplace, but it was enough for Dyce to put his pack down on the rug and close the window again. He could hear Ulfric breathing, and he drifted over to the bed, and crouched beside it, looking at his aged lover.
His hair and beard were silver now, and the lines on his face had deepened and multiplied over the years. He looked no less the king he’d always knew he’d been. Dyce knelt beside him and his brow creased and Dyce smiled a cryptic, sad, knowing smile he saved for someone who was never in the room.
This brought back memories.
Dawnstar was freezing, as always. Dyce was starting to feel less overwhelmed by his impulsive purchase of the Bee and Barb and was looking forward to getting away from it all for a few weeks. He hadn’t been to Nightcaller Temple in months, and he made a point of visiting at least four or five times a year.
Maybe he could persuade Erandur to come and visit the inn. As usual he’d insist he was just making a pilgrimmage to the Riften temple but he never objected when Dyce took him back the long way.
Dyce pushed the heavy doors open, already anticipating the warmth inside. Over the years he’d foisted on Erandur various bits of furniture and other things he’d just happened to carry up the hill and couldn’t be bothered carrying back down again. One overenthusiastic visit he’d constructed him some bookshelves, that were, now he looked at them properly, slightly crooked.
“Erandur! Are you home?” Surely he wasn’t out preaching in this weather.
A cough alerted him to the Dunmer’s presence and he made his way back to the bedroom. The old priest was sitting by the fire, swathed in furs and he smiled to see his visitor. Dyce shed his pack and hurried over. Erandur opened his arms and Dyce hugged him.
“Remember the inn I told you about?” Dyce asked.
“Indeed,” Erandur replied.
“I opened it. Well, reopened it. And you have to visit. I insist.”
Erandur chuckled, “When I’m feeling better perhaps?”
Dyce frowned and pulled his glove off his hand and placed it over Erandur’s forehead. “Are you sick?” He felt clammy and cold.
Erandur coughed. “I’m fine, really. The cold gets to me more than it used to.”
Dyce got to his feet and frowned, “Well then why in the world are you here? It’s freezing. Riften will do you good.”
Erandur shook his head, “I’ve lived most of my life in the Pale. Not many Dunmer could say the same.”
“What? Erandur, you can come back if you want when you’re better. Can’t you?”
Inevitability Part 2 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 08:42 am (UTC)(link)“Not that old!” Dyce objected. He sighed. “Well, you still can’t stay here. I’m taking you down to Dawnstar, is that all right?”
Erandur nodded, and Dyce collected the few things he thought he’d need, and he wrapped Erandur up as best he could and they braved the cold outside. Halfway down the hill Erandur stumbled and for the rest of the way Dyce helped him stay on his feet; it frightened him how little he weighed.
He installed him at the inn, which was warmer and the news quickly spread. It seemed all of Dawnstar wanted to pay their respects. Dyce was annoyed. He didn’t want Erandur to tire himself out talking to these people, but Erandur insisted on seeing everyone who came to visit, as the breath rattled in his tired lungs.
Dyce hated it. He didn’t want to be here. He couldn’t bear to leave. And as always, Erandur seemed to understand, and never judged. When the last visitor left, Erandur asked for some tea, and refused food.
Dyce sat on the floor next to the bed, his forearms and head resting on the blankets next to Erandur and he had no intention of moving despite the awkwardness of his position. Erandur finished his prayers and then he lifted his hand and stroked Dyce’s head.
“I love you,” Erandur said. “I don’t think you hear that enough from people.” It wasn’t the first time Erandur had told Dyce that. It was the last. He slept peacefully, and didn’t wake up.
Dyce suspected Erandur had been waiting for him to return, holding himself together long enough to see him again. It made him want to cry so hard he almost threw up.
Erandur had left clear instructions; goods to the people of Dawnstar, what money he had to the Riften temple, and his amulet of Mara and some badly carved bits of wood to Dyce. Dyce made sure they were carried out. He even helped the townsfolk carry things down from Nightcaller Temple.
When it was empty, Dyce stood in the silence. This place had never been a home to him, but it had been a sanctuary. Erandur was there when he needed him, wise and understanding. He didn’t judge. He’d spent a lot of time here after the Thalmor War, but even when he didn’t, knowing this place was open to him and that someone was waiting for him there was enough.
He cried then. And he cried later, back in Riften, the edges of the amulet digging into his fist as he held it tightly, his eyes blurring as he realised Erandur would not meet him in Sovngarde. Not like Galmar, and Yrsarald, and Kodlak, and Rikke, and others.
The door had opened then and Whist had stepped inside, slipping through like a cat. She was Guild, of course, but new, and he’d caught her trying to rob his inn and she’d got away by the skin of her teeth and came back the next day, shamefaced, to apologise, and he’d laughed and later he’d broken the Redguard out of jail and she had plans that sounded like gold coins and they’d loped across the rooftops and worn jewels for each other and had forgotten to sleep.
She’d noticed he was back, and she’d watched him, like she’d watch a guarded safe, and she’d decided to unlock him a little. She took the bottle out of his hand, and he told her she could stay, but only of her own free will, whatever that meant, and she’d wrapped boney arms around him and agreed, and decided to trust her to let him cry.
And things got better. Or rather, life went on, good and bad.
Whist still made him smile. She was a sign that the Guild would continue to be in good hands.
He returned to the present. Ulfric had started snoring. Dyce smiled. He wasn’t at death’s door then. Dyce touched his cheek and Ulfric frowned and rolled over and quietened some. Maybe Ysolda had been exaggerating or maybe his knee didn’t hurt when he was at rest. Either way, Dyce was here now, and he may as well do what he came for.
A/N: I don’t actually know how many of these I’ll write. I’ll add them as they come to me. I wasn’t intending to continue at all, but I started wondering what had become of people.
Re: Inevitability Part 2 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-09 02:06 pm (UTC)(link)