Meme Announcements!
Oct. 29th, 2011 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyrimkinkmemeANNOUNCEMENTS: 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
Defiance 1/?
Date: 2013-06-24 04:07 am (UTC)Don't look! she shouted, just before they threw her down and forced the gag between her teeth - so like the one forced on him after the ambush at Darkwater Crossing, but a thousand times more justified. Whatever wild rumors men repeat about Torygg's death, Ulfric cannot kill with his hands bound behind his back. Not without a convenient cliff nearby. Ulfric, don't loo--
You will watch, said the hatchet-faced Legate, not deigning to look at him as he roared and thrashed and dug bloody furrows in his wrists, twisting against the rope binding him to the tree. Or I will give her to the others when I'm through. A part of him thinks he deserves to see what his carelessness has wrought, but he knows torture. He knows the slim hold of defiance, the grim satisfaction afforded by bloodying one's mental fingertips on that jagged stone ledge, and he will not take that from her.
So he finds the diplomatic solution. (Naturally; he's such a clever politician. The high howling voice penned at the back of his skull gives a chuckle that sounds like a sob.) Ulfric stares straight ahead, at a point just above the two struggling bodies. He does not look away and he does not close his eyes - he barely blinks - but he lets them glaze over and goes very far away.
He goes to Elenwen. It's the most vivid memory he can conjure. The most vivid memory that is not precious, at any rate, that will not be irreparably marred by association with -- no. Don't look. The smell of his own blood rotting where it has spilled on the dungeon floor, that she-daedra of an elf crooning in his ear. Helplessness. Choking down his cries until his resolve gives out and he keens and begs and blubbers, shame, helplessness, gods--
No. Go to Elenwen. It's a well-trodden path in his mind, a dark door he keeps carefully locked. Except on those occasions when it drifts open during the night. They are rare, now, near thirty years later, but he is practiced at finding that entrance in the dark, groping for the latch and slipping through to safety; it is not hard to perform the process in reverse. It should not be hard to stay. Even when he wishes to escape it often takes an effort to wrench himself free, unless some sound jars him away. Ralof was screaming himself hoarse (cowards, COWARDS, faithless Imperial dogs, is there nothing too low for you?) until Galmar snarled shut up you fool; now the boy has fallen mercifully silent. There is another sound, a rhythmic meaty slap, but that is only the whip his torturers sometimes use, it must be. He can feel it. It flays him to the bone on every stroke.
They were careless, emboldened like green youths by recent victories, by the presence of not one but two Tongues. The future king, the slayer of Alduin. Who could touch them? Their acquisition of Markarth at the peace conference afforded diplomatic opportunities not to be wasted - Hammerfell was always the most natural ally for their cause, and so Ulfric rode to meet the envoy at the border, though it meant crossing through Imperial-controlled Falkreath. The honor guard was handpicked, but small. Speed and secrecy would serve better than brute strength. They made it safely to the Reach, but they did not make it safely back.
When the rest of them were overwhelmed - most of the men slain, Ralof wounded, Galmar bodily restrained by four big legionnaires and cursing viciously, Ulfric disarmed and breathless and in the process of having his jaw pried open lest he recover his ability to Shout before they could gag him - his Dragonborn stood alone, savage and beautiful, eyes darting between her companions. Clearly trying to work out a method of freeing them all. She was vastly outnumbered, but none of the soldiers would approach her. For half a beat the stalemate wavered.
Defiance 2/?
Date: 2013-06-24 04:08 am (UTC)NO, the man barked. Turn around. Now Shout - but listen carefully. If I see you move from that spot, or if any one of my men is harmed, I will bleed your beloved killer of kings like a squealing pig. As Ulfric tried to swallow around the cloth in his mouth and the knife digging into his throat he saw her shoulders stiffen - and then she clenched her fists, raised her head, and bellowed OD-AH-VIING!
Nothing happened. Now, the Legate snarled, and his soldiers rushed forward to bind her, near-tripping over themselves in their hurry to render the Dragonborn less dangerous.
They're frightened boys, many of them. When the Legate pulled her to him by her hair more than a few turned rather green. But others looked excited, and when the man removed Ulfric's gag and tossed it to them (put that on her, I want to hear him beg) they complied, grinning. There will be no help from that quarter. Nor will his own Shouts do any good, not against so many, not when most of his own men are wounded and all of them are bound.
Elenwen, Ulfric reminds himself. Broken ribs grating, lungs screaming, shock magic crackling over his body until he smells burning hair. A thick grunt jerks him free from the memory.
Don't look.
Out of the corner of his eye he chances a desperate glance at the others. Their faces are bent towards their laps: Ralof's white-lipped and sick, Galmar's dark and terrible.
Don't look.
A laugh; a muffled cry.
Don't look.
He looks.
OP here
Date: 2013-06-24 11:12 am (UTC)