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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
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.8
Date: 2014-04-27 10:38 am (UTC)“Good enough for me. All right, Shield-Siblings, you heard her. Two on each one, Aela with me, Farkas, you're with Avulstein, Vilkas, you're with Ria. Athis and Shevawna, watch each other's backs, Shevawna, be ready with any magic you've got handy.”
“Kill one quick, I might be able to raise them,” Shevawna said, recalling Anise's lessons. There was a definite shiver round the group, only Athis seeming unbothered.
“Where in the name of Talos did you find her?” Avulstein muttered.
“Never you mind,” Skjor told him. “Tactically, not a bad thing to do at all.”
“Just morally repugnant,” Vilkas growled, glaring at her and probably hoping she'd fall first. As if.
“Just don't raise me if I die,” Skjor said, reaching for his weapons. “Are we all ready? Good. To arms, Companions! FOR JORRVASKR AND CLAN GREY-MANE!”
They broke cover, four screaming Nords charging the Thalmor down, Aela moving off to the side to start shooting, while Ria ran after Vilkas, howling as loud as any Nord.
“Ready, n'wah?” Athis asked, producing his bow and taking aim at the nearest Thalmor.
“Always,” Shevawna answered, casting her armour, summoning a flame Atronach, then breaking cover, firing off Ice Spikes at any Altmer within range.
The guards were soon overwhelmed, and then it was inside the Keep, encountering Thalmor in twos and threes, no one really bothering with stealth, but with four big Nord warriors to take the flack, Shevawna found it didn't bother her. So she hung back, casting ranged Destruction spells instead and shouting abuse in Rhanic at them, feeling perversely pleased at the confused look on the faces of various Justiciars as they saw her and tried to work out why a Forsworn warrior was helping a bunch of Nords. That usually proved fatal as Vilkas or Farkas invariably took advantage of the distraction and carved them in two. Damnit but those twins were good, Vilkas in particular darting in and out before they even knew he was there, faster in his heavy armour than the elves were in light.
Damn it. But just because he was skilled didn't mean Shevawna had to like him and she certainly was in no way impressed.
So it was they bloodied their way through the entire Keep until they finally got to the prisons. Off to the right were the cells, various prisoners moaning and groaning.
“Is he in there, do you think?” Ria whispered.
“Don't know but there's only one guard,” Athis murmured.
“Leave him to me,” Aela said quietly, nocking an arrow to her bow and shooting the Thalmor through the throat before anyone else could react. “Right, that's him done, Ria and Athis with me, let's see who's in there. Rest of you watch our backs.”
The three of them had just crept off when a scream of pain echoed from the left hand passage.
“THORALD!” Avulstein roared, recognising his brother anywhere. Skjor cursed but with cover broken, he had no choice but to order Shevawna and the twins to follow him.
The robed Justiciar facing them was rather tougher than previous opponents, flame cloak going and fireballs sending Avulstein and Vilkas staggering back, and even Farkas finding it hard going. Shevawna whispered a prayer to Sithis and dived past the elf's magic with a ward up, going unnoticed until she got close and then she unleashed her own shock magic, and a little surprise of her own. Croen Y Davrha – Skin of the Dragon, the secret weapon that would absorb hostile magic and fuel her own magicka, and while her shock spells weren't the strongest, they'd keep his magicka low while hers just kept on recharging from his spells. The Thalmor fell to his knees, clearly wondering why his fireballs weren't harming her – and then Vilkas had sprung forward and carved the bastard into two, blood and innards flying everywhere as the Thalmor's magic died with him.
Shevawna lowered her hands, stepping away from the pooling blood.
“I had that under control,” she snapped. Vilkas just shrugged.
“Maybe. But it's always best to kill them quickly, hmm? Especially when you have an innocent man to rescue.”
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.9
Date: 2014-04-27 10:39 am (UTC)“Thorald!” Avulstein cried. “Thorald, my brother, are you all right?”
Judging from the blood and lightning burns on his skin, the answer to that one was clearly no. Shevawna searched the Justiciar's pocket and found a set of keys, rushing up to unlock Thorald's manacles. Avulstein caught him as he fell.
“Avul?” Thorald gasped. “Is that you?”
“It's me,” Avulstein said gently. “Thorald, Thorald, we're getting you out of here.”
“Good luck with that, he can barely walk,” Shevawna said, rolling her eyes. “Here.” She began casting healing magic on his wounds – not terribly powerful, not like a Matriarch could do, but it would help. At least, it would if Thorald hadn't started screaming again.
“Stop it, stop it, please, just let me die!” Thorald howled, shaking all over and Shevawna stopped as she realised the Thalmor had probably hurt then healed him. Over and over again.
“I've got potions,” she said guiltily, emptying out the remaining healing potions – more than she'd expected, most of those present had insisted they weren't that badly hurt although she'd used healing spells on them regardless. They'd probably known what they were going to find.
Avulstein took one and held it to Thorald's lips while his brother drank. It took a while but finally Thorald rallied, finally feeling strong enough to sit up. First thing he saw was one young Forsworn looking hopefully at him.
“Talos help me!” Thorald cried. “Not the Forsworn as well, I can't... Av, is it really you?”
“It's really me,” Avulstein said quietly, holding his brother. “We've come to get you home. She – she's with us. She's... friendly. On our side anyway. At the moment.”
“It's true, I don't heal people I'm planning to kill,” Shevawna told him, before realising he wasn't looking terribly reassured. “Er, here, have the potions, I'll go and help Aela...”
“Wait,” Thorald gasped. “Girl. Forsworn. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Shevawna whispered, before she realised he was a Talos-worshipping Stormcloak and he was being grateful to her despite knowing what she was, and then she realised her brain couldn't cope with it at all and she ran off to see how the other prisoners were faring.
“Why's there a Forsworn with you?” Thorald asked as Farkas passed him a fur blanket and some armour Eorlund had provided before they left. “They hate Nords!”
“It's complicated-” Skjor began, but it was Vilkas who cut in.
“She's the reason we even knew you were here. She's a sneaky little cat but she got results, her and Ria. Who's an Imperial, in case you were wondering. But they're both Companions and we look after our own.”
“I got rescued by a Forsworn and an Imperial, who persuaded the Companions to come and get me?” Thorald asked, confused.
Nods all round, and then Thorald began to laugh.
“What?” Avulstein asked. “What's so funny? You nearly died!”
“Yes,” Thorald laughed, sounding a little hysterical. “Yes, I nearly did and then it turns out I owe my life to a witch of the Reach and some Imperial. Ah, brother, they're not going to believe this back in Windhelm.”
“I barely believe it now,” Avulstein admitted. “Come on, Thorald. Let's get out of here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the Thalmor all dead and the prisoners freed and supplied and left to make their own way, the Companions gathered outside, the sun just coming up. Thorald was dressed and armed now, well enough to stand at least, although who knew how he was really feeling.
“Are you coming with us?” Skjor asked. Thorald shook his head.
“No. Whiterun's the first place they'll look for me. I won't be the one to bring the Thalmor down on my family. But we can travel cross-country and rejoin the Stormcloaks, blend in with them. No Thalmor out east and what's two more Nords in a fort full of Stormcloaks?”
Shevawna shifted uncomfortably, not liking the reminder that however nice the Grey-Manes were, they still backed the monster who'd destroyed her homeland and enslaved her people. But nevertheless, she didn't think Thorald had deserved what the Thalmor had put him through.
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.10
Date: 2014-04-27 10:42 am (UTC)Thorald took the axe, marvelling at the craftsmanship and as he sheathed it, he wiped a tear from his eye. Avulstein had an arm around his shoulders, giving him an awkward one-armed hug.
“I could practise smithing for a hundred years and I'd still not be the smith my father is,” Thorald said quietly. “Tell him thank you. And... and when you see my mother, tell her I'm sorry. And that I will miss her and Pa and Fina and Uncle Vignar and everyone. And if she wants to know where I am, just tell her to suffer the winter's cold wind. She'll know what it means.”
“I will,” Shevawna promised. She hadn't a clue what it meant, but as long as Fralia did, that was the main thing.
Helping out one of Ulfric's men. How it had come to this, she'd never know. But she didn't feel like a traitor because of it. She felt like she'd done the right thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whiterun was quiet, and as beautiful as ever in the setting sun. The others all headed straight back to Jorrvaskr, having seen the Grey-Mane brothers off and now eager to get back home and recover.
Shevawna was as exhausted as they were, but she didn't head home. Instead she knocked on the Grey-Manes' door.
All three of them were in, Eorlund having abandoned the Skyforge for once and Olfina apparently not working tonight. Fralia had clearly closed her store for the day too. They all fell silent as they saw her walk in.
“By the Nine,” Eorlund gasped. “Look at you, what happened?”
“I haven't slept for over a day,” Shevawna said, realising how tired she was. “And Northwatch Keep is a long way. But we found him.”
“You found him!” Fralia cried, looking like she was about to cry. “Was he all right? Where is he? Can I see him?”
“No,” Shevawna said, staving off a yawn. “No, he's not here. But he's all right. He and Avulstein went east to join the Stormcloaks, hide in their ranks.”
“You mean after all this, I can't even see him!” Fralia cried. “How do I know this is even true and you're not just telling me what I want to hear?”
“Then I'll ask Skjor in the morning, woman, they're not all going to lie to my face, are they? Better yet, I'll ask Farkas, the man's incapable of falsehood,” Eorlund growled. Then he glanced at the Forsworn axe on her hip. “I might ask what happened to my axe too.”
“Gave it to Thorald when we left,” Shevawna said, closing her eyes. “He said thank you and he wishes he could smith like you. And that he misses you all. And that you should suffer the winter's cold wind, except he didn't mean it like a Hag's curse or anything, he said you'd know...” Shevawna's eyes closed and her legs gave way, and it was only Eorlund's arms around her that stopped her crashing to the floor. As he picked her up and carried her off, Shevawna let sleep claim her.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Warm, comfy bed. Fresh straw and clean sheets. Someone stroking her hair. Had she been ill? No one had doted on her while she was ill for a long time.
“Mama?” she whispered, before she remembered her Mama was in the Void, lost to a skirmish while out hunting six years ago now, and her da dead for longer than that – he'd had the bad luck to be running courier duty to Druadach Redoubt when the Nords breached it and slaughtered the entire camp... apart from Madanach, who they'd taken prisoner. Shevawna didn't even remember him.
“I'm sorry, dear, I'm not your mother. But you gave me back my son.”
Shevawna opened her eyes to see Fralia smiling down at her.
“What happened?” Shevawna whispered, trying to work out where she was and how she'd got here. It wasn't Jorrvaskr.
“You fainted, dear,” Fralia said gently. “You'd been up all day and night, running all that way – no wonder you were exhausted. But don't you worry. You're safe now. This is the boys' old room. You can stay here as long as you like.”
Shevawna nodded, closing her eyes again. That sounded nice, very nice indeed. With Fralia stroking her hair, she drifted off back to sleep.
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 4.10
Date: 2014-04-28 09:38 am (UTC)