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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Not only do I really like this, and think you have the characterisations perfect, but I also hope you'll be posting it on another site where I can bookmark it more easily. I'll definitely be wanting to read this again :)

Wow I need the next chapter like soon. I hope they can work it out after all they're one my fav couples.

As long as we still read more from her, I'm good. xD

Yes, I second this so hard! Erandur is one of my very favorite characters, and I love fics where stubborn men need to be taken care of. Really hoping someone picks this up!

If he dies before the 300th fill of this couple I will kill whatever NPC killed him. D8 i luffle him Dx

Solsthiem doesn't have too many but I want to write what happens when he meets Teldryn Sero. I'll get on it soon.

oh yes, especially the Ancano! and spanking! Oh, an Anon after my own heart<3

Not op but fuck dude i loved it

that's a pretty freakin' hot prompt!

Thank you so much! I'm so sorry I didn't get an update posted last week... my internet went out! D: Couldn't even review what I was going to post because I made the mistake of storing it online, so I'm a bit behind. I'll post the next part as soon as I have enough time to do the formatting!

Thanks so much! I'm so sorry for the posting delay - I lost internet access last week. This week for sure!

(I hope young!Balgruuf is okay?)

Summary: Balgruuf and Irileth stand watch after the fall of Imperial City.
Tags: char:jarl_balgruuf char:irileth

Defeat hung in the air, as heavy and cold as morning fog.

The frantic flight from Imperial City had left their unit ragged and exhausted. Not a man or women among them wasn’t sporting wounds from the last, frantic defense of the city, and after a week of flight most were barely fit to fight a skeever. The meager provisions were running low, and every healer in the unit had been drained down to their last drop of magicka. Every soldier was perpetually on guard, waiting for the sword of the Thalmor to come crashing back down on them.

Balgruuf leaned back against the tree he was standing underneath, scanning the darkness for any movement, his senses straining to detect anything hostile. The darkness remained impenetrable beside the circle of light the guttering torch provided him, and the only sounds that met his ears were the wind through the trees and the murmur and clank of activity in the camp behind him. Two years ago, the noise would have been more than a murmur. Their unit was largely comprised of Nords like himself, and as a whole they were a loud and boisterous people. But the defeat and flight had drained the life of the camp, drained all their bravado and high spirits. Now most conversations were bitter assessments of their chances.

Two years before, he had wanted nothing more than to leave Skyrim, to put all of his training to good use and prove himself on the battlefield. He had never been a stranger to the sword, but fending off bandits from the towns of his father’s hold was different than facing down another army. He had longed for the day he would leave the monotonous plains of Whiterun, to fight for the Empire in some far away land.

Then the Aldmeri Dominion had made their move, and it was Cyrodiil itself his unit was called to. As shocking as the Dominion’s ultimatum had been, part of him had been thrilled. To be called to defend the heart of the Empire itself had seemed an unbelievable honor.

Honor. He sighed quietly at his own naivety, his hand going to his side as a wound under his cuirass twinged in protest.

“Queastor?” a voice called, snapping him out of his thoughts.

A Dunmer woman emerged from the darkness behind him, wreathed in the light of a fresh torch. She wore the same battered uniform as he did, with the same insignia of rank. Her features were drawn and severe, the characteristic gauntness of the Mer exaggerated by the last harsh months, but her eyes glowed with warmth when she looked him over, and her lips twitched into an approximation of a smile.

“Queastor,” he said, beckoning her closer to the guttering fire by his feat. The night air carried a chill nip. “Irileth.”

“Queastor,” she said, stepping closer and holding out her hands to the fire with a grateful sigh. “Your watch is done. I’ve been sent to relieve you.”

He nodded, but made no move to return to the tents. His eyes drifted back out to the darkness. After two years, the sounds of the nights in Cyrodiil had gained a certain familiarity, but he found himself longing for a night in Whiterun, for the sound of the wind through the grass and the night sky alight with all the colors of Aetherius.

“Balgruuf,” the name called him back to the present faster than his rank had. It still sounded odd in her voice, but it made him smile.

“Balgruuf,” the name called him back to the present faster than his rank had. It still sounded odd in her voice, but it made him smile.

Irileth had been an addition to their unit shortly after they arrived in Cyrodiil, when their unit was merged with a decimated unit native to Cyrodiil. The other added soldiers had been a smattering of Imperials and Bretons mostly, and had melded seamlessly into the ranks. Though Morrowind wasn’t allied with the Dominion, with tensions running high some Nords were all too quick to forget the nuances of Mer races and spit on anyone with elongated ears. Irileth had several decades over the untested Nords, and was perfectly capable of holding her own against them, but at the time Balgruuf hadn’t known that. All he had seen was his countrymen ganging up to harass a fellow comrade, and he’d tried to put a stop to it in the manner any young Nord soldier would.

The resulting fight had earned him a sound beating, a reputation for his temper, and Irileth’s amusement. That amusement had been melded into friendship by the countless battles since, and he counted few as closer friends than her.

“Balgruuf,” Irileth said again, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go get some rest. You’ll need it tomorrow.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

He sighed and shook his head. He was weary down to his bones, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come. His hand drifted to his right side again.

Irileth’s sharp eyes missed nothing. “Is that mace wound still bothering you?” she asked.

Balgruuf shrugged, his hand dropping back to his side. “No more than any of my collection,” he said with a grin. “We’re all a ragged lot.”

Irileth’s cool gaze searched his face for a moment, but then she looked back out to the darkness. “All the more reason to get what sleep you can.”

“Hard to sleep, when those damn Thalmor could have their blades at our throats any moment,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree again.

She glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. “You doubt my skills as a sentry?” she said. “My eyes are easily worth twice those of some half-drunk Nord.” Her tone was sharp, but the gleam of mirth in her eyes gave away her away.

He laughed, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I take offense; if there were anything to drink aside from your Cyrodiilic swill, I wouldn’t stop at half-drunk.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but a strangled cry from the forest beyond them caught their attention. Both their swords were out in an instant.

They crept forward towards the noise, Irileth still carrying the torch.

“Who’s there?” Balgruuf called into the darkness.

Something growled and snapped, and a few seconds later a wolf emerged from the bushes, carrying the corpse of a large bird in its mouth. The wolf caught their scent and paused, eyeing them uncertainly before growling and retreating back into the bushes.

Balgruuf laughed, limping back to his post. “A fine pair of sentries we make,” he said. “Jumping at our own shadows.”

Irileth didn’t respond, still staring out to where the wolf had disappeared. After a moment, she sighed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. Fatigue had etched deep lines under her eyes. “Do you think this is the end of the Empire?” she said suddenly.

He blinked. “I… no. We’ve been routed, but there are still the forces in Hammerfell and Skyrim. The generals will call for them, and we’ll march back on Imperial City.” His bravado fell flat. The idea of fighting once more in that city, trying to breach its walls nonetheless, seemed unimaginable.

“If the city is not retaken, Cyrodiil will fall to the Dominion. What little of it that hasn’t already. The Empire will be finished.”

“There’s still Skyrim,” he reminded her. “And Hammerfell and Highrock.”

She nodded, and they lapsed back into silence. There seemed little else to say. The moons crept across the sky, bringing dawn closer with each minute. The prospect did little to improve Balgruuf’s mood.

“I’ve never been outside toe borders of Cyrodiil,” Irileth said suddenly, once more breaking the heavy silence.

“Truly?” Balgruuf said. Before marching out with the legion he had never left Skyrim, but he was only one and twenty. The Dunmer had much longer lifespans, and Irileth could easily be fifty or more years, and still be counted as in her youth. There was no doubt her experience surpassed his own.

She nodded. “My parents were refugees. By the time I was born, they remembered more of the horrors of their last days in Morrowind than any of the good of their lives there. They discouraged me from travelling far, and as soon as I was old enough I joined the Legion.” She ran a hand through her tangle of scarlet hair. “I wish I had defied them, now. I would have liked to see Morrowind. It’s not as if staying in Imperial City… did them any good.”

Balgruuf stared at her, and then tore his eyes away quickly. She’d never said she had had family in Imperial City. It reminded him all too keenly of how dutiful she was, staying with the Legion as the city burned… “We’ll cross the border into Skyrim any day now,” he said, mustering all his remaining confidence. “My homeland isn’t so strange as the tales I’ve heard of Morrowind, but it has its wonders.”

Irileth scowled. “Drunken nords and meaderies are hardly what I would call wonders…”

“More than that,” Balgruuf said, reaching over to give her a playful shove. “Even my hold has wonders. Giants wander the planes, herding great herds of mammoths. Whn they pass by, the ground shakes with their footsteps.” Irileth’s disbelieving look didn’t stop him. “Dragonsreach, the keep in Whiterun, was built by one of my ancestors to serve as a prison for the dragon he vanquished. That dragon’s skull hangs above the throne now…” He trailed off. He could picture it perfectly- the arched ceiling of the great hall of Dragonreach, the steps leading up to the dais where the throne sat. The long tables laden with delicacies during feasts, and the leering skull hanging over his father’s throne. When he was a child he had dreamed of taming a dragon of his own, and ruling over Whiterun from the back of his fiery steed.

“The skull of a dragon?” Irileth said, her brows quirking upwards. “Perhaps Nords aren’t all talk after all. That sounds like a sight to see.”

“I’ll bring you along to Whiterun, after the war’s done,” Balgruuf said.

Irileth’s expression closed in an instant, all the mirth draining from her features. “Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “It only invites ill luck. Don’t talk of plans until we’ve won.”

Balgruuf was silent for a moment. “We may die,” he said at last. “But if we do survive… well.. you won’t have any place to return to, not until Imperial City is rebuilt. And… and your family is gone. It’s… If we survive… you could come back to Whiterun to me. We always need more Thanes.”

She stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I would like to see that dragon skull of yours,” she said after a moment.

“Then the matter is settled,” he said, grinning.

Irileth gave him a small smile in return. “Go steal a few hours’ sleep. It’ll be a long march today.”

He nodded, weariness suddenly seeming to redouble its pull on his muscles. “Good night,” he said, turning to go, before pausing. “Irileth?”

“Yes?”

“Even if I don’t survive, you’d be welcome in Whiterun.”

Op here…
So I know you said that Alla get's the worst ending but this can't really be the end?
Please tell me this isn't the end, it's so sad… I love it, but it makes me really sad…

Either way, an absolutely amazing story.

I will have this (or part of it) done in a few days. Ancarion is such a wierdo, this will be funny.

Jzargo crushed his poorly graded test between his paws as they left the classroom. "I'd have done better if you'd let me in on those books you stole from the library."

Enthir looked smug and with a toss of his head flipped his shock of hair back from his eyes. "You would've given into your own greedy impulses and sold them to the first trader who waved a little shiny coin under your nose. And speaking of shiny, keep your paws off my things when you come into my room.You think I don't see you coveting my wares? Just because we're study partners doesn't mean you get any break on the prices."

"You are greedy, a thief, and a cheater then."

"Did y'know your whiskers quiver when you get mad?"

"What?"

"Ha! Shakywhiskers, is what I'll call you from now on. Heeere, Shakywhiskers." Enthir laughed and stepped out of clawing range before hissing between his teeth, catcalling.

"Jzargo thinks you are a fool."

"Enthir thinks Jzargo is just jealous he didn't think of stealing the books first. Did you get distracted chasing your tail? Don't think I don't know about the tail chasing."

"So Jzargo chases his tail--what does the elf care?"

"I don't. I'm saying you look like an idiot. You also look like a pile of dust."

"Hsss--I think you're unskilled at your craft, and short!"

"Ha! Is that what they say when you finish up in bed, fleabag?"

"You are not near as clever as you think," Jzargo said, his tail flicking with annoyance. "You are just a stupid and greedy elf who can't pass a simple test without cheating, is what you are."

"Oh get off your high horse. You're no one to talk. You would've read those books in a minute if you'd only been able to focus long enough to find where I've got them hid. But mice can be so engaging."

"You still have the books then."

"Of course. I can't go back until Urag Gro-Shub forgets about it. I'll sneak them back, say, in a couple of months."

"Hah, coward. Khajit are bold. Jzargo would not be frightened to bring them back; Jzargo has the skill to sneak anywhere he wishes."

"I think you're mixing up bold and stupid. Besides, what if they prove useful later?"

Jzargo grew quiet, flattening his ears. "Could the elf be convinced to share? Coin? Artifacts? Perhaps moonsugar or the like."

"You can't buy me that easy. Moonsugar? Gods, I do have some sense. I don't want to be in your pocket for the rest of my life. You can't trade for them and you won't find them either."

They were back at Enthir's room, and Jzargo glanced around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Something flashed across the floor to the left and before he could think, he leapt for it, catching at it's tail as it bounded across the floor. Enthir's husky laugh broke his concentration. Jzargo blinked his big yellow eyes and realized he was chasing a ball of twine. The same ball of twine that usually sat on the elf's desk, near the alchemy supplies.

That was too much. He dove and caught the Bosmer in a flying tackle. They crashed down on the bed as the Khajit's claws tore through the cloth of the elf's coat. Enthir snarled and punched Jzargo squarely on the nose.

In between squeaky sneezes, Jzargo noticed two slim magic volumes had fallen from the coat's torn pocket.

"So--atchee! You had them--atchee! On you the whole time!"

Enthir snatched the one he could reach and threw it across the room before Jzargo could grab it, and it tumbled out into the hall. Jzargo, the sneezing fit having passed, leaned down over the elf like a beast over prey.

"I told you I'd win this, elf."

"You've not done anything yet."

"I'll show you what I can do. You wait and see."

"You two could at least close the door before you start going at eachother." It was a deep voice they both had reason to dread. Urag Gro-Shub standing in the hall outside the open door with a crate of books, looking disgusted.

They were frozen in fear for a moment before they realized that he had not noticed either of the stolen books.

"Oh--ah, many apologies, Master Gro-Shub," said Jzargo, releasing Enthir.

The Orc grunted and shook his head and continued on down toward the library.

"Great," Enthir hissed. "Now people will think we're an item."

"It's better than being caught with the books and fined, no?" Jzargo picked up the book from the hall and tucked it into his belt pouch for safe keeping.

"Barely."

"If you want to read from the other book, you know where to find me," Jzargo said, smug, and went back to his own room in high spirits. He had one book, Enthir had been taken down a notch, he hadn't been caught by the librarian, and he finally had a bargaining chip over the smug, self assured Bosmer. All things considered, things were looking up.

Okay then I'll get writin' lol

Passing Anon also waiting eagerly :3

It suddenly occurred to me just how much the Dragonborn does. It's not just Alduin he or she has to go after, there's the war, being thane of every hold, leader of every guild and let's not forget all the random requests for help. He or she iss bound to end up overworked sometime right?

So what I would like to see is a severly overworked F!DB of a human race to return to one of her many homes and being fussed over by one or more males (maybe even females, I'll leave that up to anon, as long as there is at least one male involved). A nice hot bath where she's being washed so she doesn't have to do anything, a full body massage and of course sexy times to really unwind.

I like the idea that the DB is so exhausted that she doesn't even try to fight it. Maybe she doesn't really want it or doesn't feel comfortable with it but she's just too tired to resist so lets them do what they wish and ends up just enjoying it. Are there any consequences to this indulgence? Unexpected pregnancy? A partner finding out about this resulting in a nasty fight or break up?

My favourite choices for a home the DB could return to are the Cistern (Thieves Guild) and Jorrvaskr (Companions). But any of her homes, guild bases or perhaps a Jarl's home will do.

It's okay! Still excited! :D

I think I'll give this a try.

This is something i've been mulling over for a while. I always, always play as a Stormcloak, because i really hold a grudge against the Empire for trying to kill me! Plus they're Thalmor puppets and they're basically an empire of 3 provinces, so Skyrim would be better off on it's own.

But, Ulfric really pisses me off. He's racist,the Argonians who supply his city with all their fish and do the dockwork that the Nords are too proud to do can't even live in the city proper. He's just as bad when it comes to the Khajiit but that's a Skyrim thing in general. He lets his Nord citizens harass the Dunmer, who are refugees who were gifted their homes in Windhelm by a prior High King.

He's a lousy administrator, when you have a serial killer hunting your citizens you don't just shrug and ignore it because investigating it properly would hamper your progress in the war effort.

Then there's the fact that he didn't just break his Oath of Fealty to Torygg, he killed him. And it wasn't even a fair fight, Fus Ro Dah-ing someone and then attacking them when they're recovering is not a fair fight.

And he has no concept of diplomacy, all through the peace treaty at High Hrothgar he snarls and complains. Yes, we know you have history with Elenwen but if you want to be High King of Skyrim then you have to learn how to be diplomatic.

So having said that, i always think that Ulfric's sexing up my Dragonborn or has promised him his weight in flawless diamonds/spell tomes or whatever.

Finally i get to the point. What does Ulfric offer your reluctant Dragonborn to get them to fight on his side. And since it's a kink meme what kinky shit do you dare get the future High King of Skyrim to submit to? Does ne sink to his knees and blow you when you're on his throne in Windhelm on Morndas morning at 3 am for the next year or something really filthy dirty wrong but hot?

lactation is usually not my thing, but for some reason this has me really excited just thinking about it.

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