skyrimkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2012-02-17 04:29 pm
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2012-02-17 04:29 pm
Entry tags:
Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."
CLOSED FOR PROMPTS,
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
>Please post your prompts with the paired characters and any notable kinks/trigger warnings in the title.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
F!Orc!Chief/F!Orc!Wives “A Stronger Hold” (1a/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-12-25 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)A/N: I have no idea if the OP is still around, but I’ve been working on this fic for a while now in secret, since I wanted it to be pretty much done before I posted. Brought to you as a little femslash for Christmas. I’ll be posting a few parts, but will wait a little bit before posting more to avoid spamming the meme.
Summary: A young orc woman refuses to become wife to some half-wit chief. She decided to become a chief instead, and they’d make a better hold. A stronger hold.
“It will bring much glory for clan for you to marry Chief Yagarz.”
The very idea made Durash scoff, “And how will simply ceding and agreeing to be the wife of some slow-witted chief bring honor to Malacath? He values strength, not weak will and subservience. I would think, good mother, that you would want more for your daughter than that. I see I am wrong.”
The older orc woman was fairly vibrating with fury, “How dare you question the will of Malacath!”
“This is not his will! Malacath blessed me with skill and speed beyond any chief I have ever seen. I have killed giants, trolls, and even brought a dragon to its knees and you think that I should be prize for some male simply upon virtue of my sex!? Any man who had shown half as much strength would have been made chief, not tribute!”
Her mother’s sneer was an ugly baring of teeth, “You bite your tongue, girl, or so help me you will be banished from this tribe!”
The threat hit Durash like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened as she looked at her noble mother snarling like a beast, no semblance to woman who had once raised and cared for her. Was she so stuck in tradition that she would forsake her own daughter for virtue of tradition?
She supposed she had her answer. If she was willing to so relegate herself due to the bounds of tradition, there was little hope she’d want differently for her daughter.
Durash had watched how her forgewife mother was treated as the third wife to a lazy chief. Her mother was a handsome woman, but no delicate creature fine of features and dark of attitude as the chief’s first. She had seen how she had always been less, forced to wait behind the pampered first woman, stunted in her accolade and neglected in her pleasure. This was no life for her. This tribe, any tribe, was not with forsaking her gifts and relegating herself to a life wasted in weakness. She was stronger than that, and she would prove it.
“Then I will gather my things. I leave in the morning. And Lagat is coming with me.”
Lagat had long been her companion in the hold, near her own age, the Orsimer girl had been taken in by the hold after she had been dropped off as a babe outside its gates. They had been inseparable since then, if she left, she knew Lagat would follow.
Her mother snarled, tossing the hammer she’d been using far away into the dirt. “If you leave you’ll take nothing from this tribe, and you most certainly won’t lead Lagat off with you on this cursed path!”
Durash had enough of her mother, and of the arrogance of the whole tribe. She was strong, and no one, not even her mother was going to stop her. “Then stop me! I will take my things, and my friend, and anyone who wants to stop me are free to challenge as they will.”
Snarls and swears followed the young orc woman as she pushed open the longhouse door, moving to her bed to throw open her chest and begin to furiously pack her things into a knapsack. Snarling she pulled on her armor, carefully kept beneath her bed, only to startle as a gentle hand brushed against her tense arm.
Durash reared up at first, ready to unleash her wrath at the intruder, when she spotted the gentle eyes of Lagat, her closest companion. “Durash, what happened? Why are you packing your things… did the chief say something to you again?”
“No, no, Lagat, it wasn’t him. Not this time. It was mother. She wants me married to some second rate chief off in the Rift.”