skyrimkinkmeme | 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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From: (Anonymous)

Brynjolf let him talk, feeling the relief flow through him. They'd got the Eyes cashed in. The Blades would have coin to spare, as would all three Nightingales, more than enough to start rebuilding the Guild while still leaving them in pocket. More to the point, Elisif was not in fact a Forsworn prisoner – in fact from the sounds of it, she'd managed to impress the Forsworn leader into lending support. Fucking Madanach had joined her cause! The notoriously dangerous warlord whose rebel fighters were still alive and kicking despite twenty five years since the Markarth Incident and their overthrow by the Stormcloaks, and whose organisation had effectively locked the Guild out of the Reach for decades – one Hold only had room for so much corruption and crime, and the Forsworn had monopolised it. They still did from the sounds of it, but possibly not at the Guild's expense, not for much longer.

“So Karliah,” Sapphire was asking. “Exactly how did you get in with the Forsworn anyway? They're not exactly open and trusting.”

“Twenty five years ago, they were the government here,” Karliah said softly. “Everyone in the Guild expected me to go east to Morrowind, where a Dunmer might blend in. So I went west instead, to Markarth. No one even considered I'd go there. Madanach was King in truth, and he hated thieves. He was quite the idealist, for a ruthless warlord anyway. There's a reason he held out for two years – he was well-organised, competent, and really really good at being king. By the end of year one, most of the Reach had got used to the Forsworn running the show. When I showed up, he was confident, even cheerful, and quite receptive to the deal I made him. Inside information on the Guild's operations in return for protection from Mercer. He had me doing spy work for him, we were quite the team. It was an inspired idea. Then the Markarth Incident happened. During the invasion, I saved the life of someone close to Madanach, got them out of the city and to one of Madanach's camps. He never forgot. One letter of introduction to his sister at Hag's End later, and I was safe for years. I gave them a cut of everything I heisted elsewhere, acquired several valuable artefacts for Matriarch Keirine, called the place home. Keirine runs a training coven with lots of women who aren't Reachwomen coming and going, no one raised too many eyebrows at a Dunmer being there. That's how Mercer never found me. Forsworn paranoia kept me safe and I'll never forget it.”

“You saved the life of one of Madanach's blood, we won't forget that either,” Nepos said, his voice kind and fatherly as he secured the Eyes. “Now why don't you take this letter of credit for Delphine and in the morning come back and I'll... oh what now?” Uaile was knocking at the door again, calling out to Nepos, sounding worried.

“Nepos? Sir? You've got more visitors. Sir, it's important, they won't wait.”

“Sithis' sake,” Nepos muttered, before raising his voice. “Uaile, it is gone eleven o'clock, I am hardly a young man any more. Tell them to come back at a civilised hour.”

“I did, but... Sir, it's the General and Legate!” Uaile cried.

“Phynaster's golden balls,” Nepos whispered, the colour draining from his face as he turned to three similarly ashen thieves. “Right, get your things and hide. Ladies, under my bed, now. Brynjolf... no, there's no hope for it, three of you and your things will not stay hidden. Brynjolf, my dear, get in my bedroom, take your clothes off and get in the bed.”

“You what?” Brynjolf sputtered. That was not in the plan, not now, not ever. “Look, I'm all for pretending one of us is your night's entertainment but can't one of the lasses...?”

“No,” Nepos snapped. “Nearly fifty years of bedding men, and now I decide to start keeping company with the fairer sex? Do you actually want everyone in Markarth gossiping? Whereas finding a Nord man between my sheets, no one will even care. Don't worry, your virtue is safe, I'm done training the untouched up at my time of life.”

From: (Anonymous)

“I am not...!” Brynjolf protested, before realising there was no dignified outcome to any of this and that he might as well give in to the inevitable. Karliah and Sapphire were already hiding under the bed and Brynjolf shut himself inside the room.

“I hope you two are enjoying the view,” he sighed as he stripped off, doing his best to ignore Karliah's muffled giggling. Sapphire just sounded vaguely revolted but they both piped down as General Tullius's voice echoed in Nepos' living room.

“General, Legate, what a lovely surprise,” Nepos was saying. “Do come in, the pair of you. What can I do for you? It's a little late for a social call. Did you want to look at more records?”

“No, no, I've seen all I need to to prove Thonar and his brother weren't just traitors, they weren't even competent,” Tullius growled. “In fact you're about the only one so far with any brains at all. No, we came to let you know we've concluded our investigations. You'll find the results of interest.”

“Personally I suspect I'm going to find the results a foregone conclusion, but do go on,” Nepos said, pouring drinks for all three of them.

“You may find some of it a surprise,” Rikke said, sounding like she was smiling. “While we've found no evidence Igmund was aware of Maia's true identity, that doesn't excuse the fact that he was letting a private citizen administer justice, if you can call it that, and allowed an innocent woman to go to jail without even a pretence of a trial. While I doubt we'd have ever found out this was going on if the victim hadn't been so high-profile, that it happened to Jarl Elisif rather than a commoner is besides the point. A Jarl should know better. A Nord should know better.”

“I'd expect any ruler with a shred of competence to know better,” Nepos said sharply. “Nord or not.”

“Quite,” Tullius said roughly, sounding a little rattled and given the state of Reach politics at the best of times, Brynjolf didn't blame him. “But the added problem remains that as a result of Igmund's staggering incompetence, our High Queen is missing, presumed abducted by Madanach of the Forsworn. Eight know what he's done to her or where he's taken her. We've not had any kind of ransom note, not yet anyway, so it's possible he doesn't know who she is. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.”

“That poor girl,” Rikke whispered, sounding devastated. “She's already suffered so much. What she must be going through. That's assuming she's not...”

“We'll find her,” Tullius said as Rikke choked on the words. “If we have to turn over every damn Forsworn encampment in the Reach, we'll find out what happened to her.”

“I understand your concerns, of course,” Nepos said, only sounding a little panicked at the prospect of the Legion turning over every Forsworn camp in the Reach. “But Madanach was never a fool, and he's got informants everywhere. I'm sure he knows who she is. I'm also sure he's not so foolish as to risk the wrath of the Empire by harming her. Look, I know you've got a war to fight, don't waste your troops on the Forsworn. I know an awful lot of people among the natives of the Reach, I can start making enquiries. I might be able to find out something for you. Believe me, Madanach will have a plan, he'll want to make contact eventually.”

“You seem awfully well-informed about the state of the Forsworn and the King in Rags' mindset, Nepos,” Tullius said suspiciously.

“I'm just an old Reachman who's been paying attention, General,” Nepos said calmly. “I make no claim to omniscience, I merely would like to offer any help I can in ensuring that poor woman's safe return.”

“Quite,” Tullius said, still a little dubious but not wishing to push the point. “Well, your offer's well-timed. We've been left with little choice. We're sending Igmund into retirement tomorrow along with his steward and housecarl and taking over direct administration of the Reach.”

From: (Anonymous)

“General...” Rikke said, a note of warning in her voice. “You know we can't declare the Reach an Imperial protectorate without the agreement of the High Queen. The country won't stand for it. The Reach is still remaining a Hold of Skyrim – we're just taking a more direct interest in its administration. There'll still be a Jarl running it, he'll just have the support of the Legion, seeing as we're still working out who among the guard was in the Silver-Bloods' pay.”

“A new Jarl?” Nepos asked, no doubt raising an eyebrow and sipping his tea at the same time. “Who's that then? Do they know what they're letting themselves in for?”

“He certainly seems to,” Tullius said gruffly. “Rikke and I decided that in order for this to stand any chance of working, we'd need a citizen of the Reach in charge. No point bringing an outsider in, they'd last five minutes. Sadly, since Markarth's leading family were all killed by the Forsworn, that's not left very many people in the city with any influence whatsoever. In fact, much as it pained us both to admit it, we really only have one option.”

Silence for a moment and when Nepos did speak, he sounded rather unsure of himself.

“General, where exactly is this going?”

“We'd like to offer you the Jarldom,” Tullius said, not a hint in his voice that he liked anything about this situation whatsoever, but clearly out of options. “You'll need to swear loyalty to the Empire of course, and uphold the White-Gold Concordat, or at least let the Thalmor do it.”

“I've never been a Talos-worshipper, sir,” Nepos said faintly. “And I have the greatest respect for the Empire, of course. It's just... are you sure? Me?”

“Frankly no, but you're a capable man who everyone speaks very highly of, from the Nord shopkeepers to the Reachman smelter workers,” Tullius sighed. “You've got the skills, I'm sure, it's just a matter of your... commitment. I'm hoping you'll be administering justice fairly and that you'll do your best to keep the Forsworn in line?”

“I shall keep the peace to the best of my ability,” Nepos promised, sounding a little shaken. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow,” Tullius said, getting to his feet. “We'll escort you to the Keep at noon, I imagine you have preparations to make.”

“I certainly do,” Nepos said. “Well, I'll not keep you both any further, I'm sure we can discuss all the details in the days to come.”

“Indeed,” Tullius said, still suspicious but clearly resigned. “Thank you for your time, Jarl Nepos. I'm hoping this will prove a successful partnership all round. We can see ourselves out.”

There were more pleasantries, then Uaile telling the Imperial commanders to come with her, and then the sound of the door closing, a few moments of silence... and then laughter. Cackling, hysterical laughter and at least one squeal before Nepos finally sat in a chair and poured himself a drink.

“You can come out now, lleidrai,” he called. “How much of that did you hear exactly?”

Brynjolf retrieved his clothes while Karliah slipped out, Sapphire close behind.

“Did I hear that right?” Karliah gasped. “General Tullius just made you Jarl??”

“Yes!” Nepos actually squealed. “I don't – my goodness, I don't even know what to say, I just... oh my stars, I have letters to write, Himself is going to either kill me or kiss me, oh sweet Anu, Karliah, this changes everything. Listen, I need to give you that credit note for Delphine – don't worry, Brynjolf will know how to reach her, and yes you'll still all get your coin. Also seeing as your next stop is Karthspire Forsworn camp, I'll need to give you the passwords and a letter for the camp commander, and now it looks like I need to give you a note for her father as well. Make yourselves at home, all three of you, this could be a while, now where is my inkpot...”

Brynjolf exchanged glances with his colleagues, silently wondering what the world was coming to. The Jarl of the Reach was fencing goods for the Thieves Guild – a Forsworn Jarl of the Reach who was clearly on close terms with Madanach himself. And the Empire had signed off on the whole thing. The world was clearly mad... but Brynjolf wasn't complaining.

From: (Anonymous)

Once back in the Keep, Tullius beckoned Rikke into his office.

“Legate,” he began. “Are we doing the right thing, do you think?”

“If by doing the right thing, you mean putting a Forsworn agent on the Mournful Throne, then honestly no,” Rikke said, radiating disapproval of the whole thing. “But it's your call, sir, and I do agree there weren't any other qualified candidates. We can hardly just sack a Jarl and replace him with one of our officials, the Nords would never stand for it. At least Nepos is respected by all of Markarth.”

“Even if he is working for the King in Rags,” Tullius sighed. “At least Elisif is alive and well from the sounds of it. I was worried about her, although you didn't hear that from me. The girl's trouble but she's not corrupt and she's someone all of Skyrim will rally around. The Empire needs her.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth? That he can locate her? I doubt Madanach would just hand her over, sir.” Rikke genuinely did like Elisif, and the thought of the Forsworn keeping her captive broke her heart. She'd heard stories of Madanach – he was not known for his compassion. He was however also not a fool. He'd treat an asset well.

“I don't think he would either, but perhaps he'd be willing to negotiate. Either way, Nepos is probably our best chance at getting in touch.” Tullius was sitting at his desk, hands on his temples as he stared down at the map of Skyrim spread out on it.

“You're really willing to negotiate with the Forsworn, sir? They're barbarians, General,” Rikke said, amazed he was even considering anything other than wiping them out – but she also knew they really didn't have the men, the Stormcloaks were more dangerous and a long drawn-out campaign in the Reach, against hostile natives with magic on their side in rough terrain, wouldn't help anyone.

“I know, but twenty-five years ago, Ulfric tried genocide and it didn't work. Now they all hate him. I can use that if I have to,” Tullius shrugged. “And I will do what it takes to get Elisif freed and returned to us, even if it does involve sitting down to talks with a sociopath like Madanach.”

“I don't like it, sir,” Rikke said softly. This certainly wasn't what she'd joined the Legion for – but then again, nor was biting her tongue and forcing a smile whenever that bitch Elenwen entered the room. If General Tullius thought it was for the best, she'd follow orders without question – but that didn't mean she didn't have an opinion.

“We have our mission, Legate,” was all Tullius said, glancing up at her and holding her gaze. “The Legion does not falter even when things are difficult. The Legion will find a way. Are you with me in this, Legate?”

Rikke hesitated before nodding.

“As always, sir,” she said quietly. Tullius held her gaze for a moment longer before looking away, seeming satisfied.

“Good. Dismissed, Legate, tomorrow's going to be a difficult day for us all.”

Deposing a Nord Jarl from a Hold of Skyrim and effectively placing the Forsworn in charge. Ulfric should have just left Madanach in charge in the first place. With a heavy heart, Legate Rikke headed for bed, wondering when life had got so complicated.