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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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She swallowed and he gave her a look. She better not bloody well bring up a declaration of love and she seemed to sense it as he glared at her.

“Because… Everything about you makes me…” she hesitated in embarrassment and he had to again repress a rather wolfish smile.

“What, Kjersti?” he demanded and she flushed. When she wouldn’t speak, her entire face red he grabbed her hand making her stiff. “Show me then. What I do to you.”

He swore he could see her entire body tense in a single motion at his request and he growled at her reminding her she did as he asked. It took a moment but she reached down, her fingers shaking and he leaned up to watch in utter amusement. She spread herself making him smirk and she refused to meet his gaze as she did. He didn’t care as he watched her shake, her fingers sliding up herself, how shy she was and how small her hands were and he nearly fucking lost it.

He reached down to grip her wrist making her stop, her skin still cool to the touch now and he moved her hand back down. “Rub.”

“W-What?”

“Do it,” he hissed, guiding her a bit harsher than he wanted making her flinch a little. “Show me, Thane!”

She didn’t move for a second, biting her lip before she finally did only it wasn’t the way he expected. She reached up and took his hand making him look at her and she moved his fingers down to press him against her body. He didn’t move, furrowing his brows as he was ready to chew her out when she started to move them along with her own. She refused to look up, her ears a bright red as she moved his hand along with hers and he slowly relaxed his shoulders.

He allowed her to use his hand, her breaths soon coming out in pants as she made him rub her along with her own fingers and he gave way a bit to spread her, feeling how hot she was against him and she shivered.

Just as she started to thrust her hips a bit, her folds getting a bit slicker he pulled away and she whimpered making him glare at her. He had to admit it was cute what she was doing and he fucking knew she hated touching herself. He nearly asked once on why until he remembered he didn’t care and he took to grabbing her and forcing her onto his lap, slapping her legs apart as he reached and held her back to his chest. She went stiff, her chest rising and falling and he sighed.

“Relax, you fucking idiot,” he growled into her ear. He reached back down, spreading her making her whimper and he nipped at her ear. “Now continue. I believe you’re showing me just how I fucking affect you…”

She swallowed and he watched her eyes move down. “Y-Yes, my Jarl...” Her hands shook as she reached back down and she pushed his fingers against herself, shaking but he held her steady. “You… make me feel…”

“Show,” he said against her. “Don’t fucking talk.”

She arched her back a bit but was silenced, her fingers moving a bit more desperately after as she started to loosen up. He could feel it as her desire began to grow, how she dug her nails into his skin, how her legs spread more, her back arched, her whimpers sounded more heated and he drew circles around her clit to tease her to draw out more.

He loved seeing her in such a state for him, the power he had over her intoxicating and he moved his free hand up to force her to turn her head. He licked her lips, growling when she didn’t open them and she had to shift a bit to indulge him.

She ended up kissing him desperately, like a young teenage girl did with her illicit lover and he pushed her more against him, his fingers moving to give her long, rewarding strokes. The way she gasped between his kisses, her eyes locked on him in a mindless haze of lust, her body responding so well to even the smallest touch it made him lick his own lips in desire and he went down, pushing his fingers into her, thrusting as a second reward making her fall against him.

“Siddgeir,” she begged and he growled.

“What?”

“P-Please!”

He nipped at her ear, purposely dragging his teeth over her lobe, biting down just enough to make her whimper. “No.”

She arched, aching, he could nearly feel it and he continued his movements smirking as she started panting. He started licking her ear knowing full well it would drive her crazy and it took barely a minute before she was riding him, her fingers barely moving against herself as she just let him dominate.

He would have actually done something about it but he figured he bothered her enough. She was allowed to get off and he did want to see her come as it amused him and he thrust his fingers in harder causing her to start begging even more.

“S-Siddgeir! Siddgeir… I… I need it! Please!”

“No,” he hissed, his fingers curling up a bit and she nearly thrashed.

“S-Siddgeir!”

He bit her neck causing her to tense, the friction making his cock stir again as she cried out and she bucked against him and he tried to hold her steady. She was losing it, he could feel it and he pulled out to tease her clit making her even worse. He left her neck, licking her jaw right back to her ear making her shake and he smirked before he started hissing against her.

“Beg, Thane,” he purred, going back to tease her entrance, spreading her before diving his fingers in again making her moan and he paused. “Beg for it!”

“My Jarl!” she was cut off by a cry coming from her throat and he smirked as he looked at her, his eyes moving over her body and how she was struggling. He dragged his other hand over her, making sure he stroked her breast causing her to shout before he growled again at her.

“Beg!”

“Please!” she choked out. “P-Please, Siddgeir! P-Please, p-please let me come!”

He smiled, thrusting in harder. “Why?”

She flushed. “I-I… I need it!”

“Do better than that,” he scoffed and she whimpered, thrusting down hoping to draw more of him in but he nearly withdrew on purpose making her groan in frustration. “Kjersti!”

“Please!” she begged again. “P-Please, please, please, please-!”

“Say my name!” he said, but he did it more out of control than want. He had to focus on fucking her with his fingers, feeling her insides, moving towards that spot he knew would take her over the edge and she panted harder her skin hot against his.

“Siddgeir! S-Siddgeir, Siddgeir please!” she cried. “Please, Siddgeir! Siddgeir! Siddgeir, please! Please! I need it, my Jarl! P-Please!”

He didn’t say anything, his brows fixing as he moved further into her and he curled his fingers up, searching when she bucked hard and shouted. He had to hold her down, slapping her hard on her backside to calm her but she was losing it, her head falling back and he sighed.

Whatever.

He stopped holding back and forced her legs apart more, fucking her roughly with his fingers, her damn fluids coating his palm but he didn’t care. She was thrashing against him, begging him to stop and never stop and other ridiculous nonsense when she tightened around him.

“Come on, girl,” he said quietly as if to himself. “Come on, come for me.”

“S-Siddgeir!” she choked out. “Siddgeir, I’m-! A-Ahh!”

“Come for me…” he hissed, focused on rubbing that spot, right where he knew she couldn’t take it and her legs began to shake. “Kjersti-!”

She finally broke and she nearly let out a scream but she covered her mouth to stop it, her entire body twisting and falling back making him catch her as he milked her for what she was worth. She came more than he anticipated, his fingers and hand getting soaked and he pulled out to watch her buck, tears in her eyes from pleasure and her toes curling as she collapsed against him. He rubbed her wet folds, soothing her as he did while he grinned and she was soon limp against him as if she has just died and gone to aetherius.

He tossed her on the bed, wiping his hand off on her body before he kissed her. She barely responded back but he didn’t really care. He was rather more interested now in just taking in how useless she was after he did something as simple as teasing her insides and he smirked.

She did look rather well-fucked and it got his cock twitching again. Well, once she was up he’d cure that. He slapped her thigh lightly to draw her out of her exhaustion but she still didn’t move. “Kjersti. Get up.”

She groaned and he rolled his eyes. Whatever. He reached over to grab the blankets, pulling them up to make himself more comfortable when her hand moved over his cock making him stop and he looked down. She was biting her lip, her tired eyes open and on him and she rolled onto her side. “Siddgeir… please… let me…”

He furrowed his brows though he was amused she was responding already. “I thought you were done for the night?”

She shook her head before a blush ran over her cheeks. “I… want you… I can’t… help it.”

Slowly he began to smile at her words. This stupid fucking elf. He slapped her thigh hard, forcing her onto her back and he dragged her towards him making her yelp. He wasn’t tender as he grabbed her flesh, digging his nails into her hips leaving small marks before he leaned over her.

“Insatiable idiot.”

“Only for you,” she panted and he smirked. Well, whatever. That’s the way it should be. He should be the only man fucking her damned, tight body. He gave her ass a slap before he entered, making sure she felt it as he pushed her to his bed. He wasn’t going to be gentle – he hated doing this shit slow like some lovesick Breton or Imperial – and she let out a pant almost in happiness making him raise a brow. This fucking elf.

“You better scream my name, understand?” he growled, gripping her hair which felt silky and smooth against his fingers. “Thane?!”

“Y-Yes…” she moaned. “I-I will…”

“What was that?” he snapped pulling hard back her arch and she turned slightly, her mouth open as she let out a soft moan.

“Yes, my Jarl…”

He didn’t remember much after that other than he fucking lost it before she did. She had been squirming against him, shouting his name in a way he could still hear and he let out a soft sigh as he turned on the bed, the candles having burned out save for the one by the door. It made him stretch and rub his eyes. He had no idea what time it was.

She was curled slightly beside him, her small chest rising and falling slowly, her body deep in slumber and he reached over to touch her feeling her cool skin. The low candlelight didn’t illuminate a lot but he could slightly make out her features and he pulled the blanket up and looked down. He could make out the scars on her stomach and he sighed, tossing the woven linen back over her before he got up. He rubbed his face, feeling his exhaustion, how his hips ached a little before he pulled his bunched up tunic down and grabbed his loincloth from off the floor.

He tugged on his boots and went out to take a piss, the sky still dark and the town quiet making him sigh. One of the guards looked at him in shock and he glared in irritation until they went stiff and stared straight ahead. He didn’t need his fucking soldiers gawking at him as if he was a one-legged dog and he made a mental note to berate Helvard later for it. He was allowed to walk outside and take a fucking piss without looks from lowly idiots.

When he returned she was still in the same position and he took to lying beside her, kicking off his boots before he did. He tried to go back to sleep, his body still aching a bit but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable.

It was getting closer to dawn when he slapped her, waking her immediately from her slumber, her body tense and eyes wild. “M-My J-Jarl!?”

“Relax,” he muttered. “It’s nothing. But wake the fuck up. It’s practically dawn.” She stared at him before slowly settling down, her hands shaking a bit and he snorted. “Oh, come here.”

He grabbed her and hauled her against him making her squawk but she soon nestled against him and before he knew it she was tangling her legs with his, her cheek rubbing against his chest. He sighed.

“Kjersti.”

“Y-Yes?”

He stared at the ceiling. “Where did you learn some of those tricks?” When she didn’t answer and he turned to see her confused he scowled. “When you were blowing me.”

She turned red and hesitated making him wary. If she was fucking someone else…

“I… tried them on you.”

He frowned. “When?”

“…When you were sleeping.”

He stared and she began to fidget in embarrassment. He actually couldn’t believe he just heard that. “You dirty whore.”

She turned red. “Y-You liked it when y-you were sleeping! H-Honest! You came once… and I… It was thick and-”

He was on her, pinning her to the bed making her yelp and he stared down at her, his nails digging into her skin. What an insatiable slut! He would have been more pissed off if it weren’t for the fact he was sort of getting off on the thought of her sucking him off in his sleep. That actually would explain a few choice dreams he had and he leaned over her making her whimper.

“How dare you… You little brat! You fucking owe me for this!” he hissed, trying to be menacing despite how now he could feel his cock becoming hard. “Get out of this bed and on your knees.”

“W-Why?!” she whimpered and he snapped at her neck making her shake, her body becoming submissive under him getting him even harder.

“Because I’m going to show you how to really please me…”

She looked up, her worried eyes soon becoming curious and she licked her lips.

“H…How?”

He leaned down until his forehead was almost touching hers, his fingers digging into her skin and feeling how she tensed but her legs spread and her back arched a bit. She was playing right into him, he knew it and he nearly kissed her in response but he restrained himself.

“Get off the bed and on your knees.”

“Yes, my Jarl…” she whispered and he smirked before letting up.

He allowed her to slip out from his grip, her naked body brushing against his before she got off the bed and fell to her knees by the side. He merely watched her, smirking, studying her as she waited for him, her cheeks red and her hair hanging down, slowly growing to the length he wanted.

He supposed once he was done he should reward her with a good tongue bath. She did deserve it for once for last night and he was starting to crave her taste. He’d only go down for her a bit though. She wasn’t really in the deserving position to be absolutely spoiled by him.

He swung his legs over the edge, pulling his tunic up and she moved to between his knees but he stopped her. “What do you say first?”

She flushed. “P-Please, my Jarl. I need it.”

He smiled. “Of course you do.”

--

ohhh! Yes.! It definitely takes more! And I'm sure that Brynjolf also wants more!

Siddgeir had seemed so sincere. The quest seemed so easy. She hadn't wanted suffering for anyone and so she agreed. How was she to know? How was she to discover what happened when the hunt was finished? How could she face alone that which terrified her the most?

Nothing spooked the dragonborn more than ghosts. Normally a good companion and a lot of fire could help with the fear, but the dragonborn had sent her companion home. The ring made one change randomly and she couldn't bear to hurt a friend. Alone she saw the ghostly Hircine and the bow dropped from nerveless hands. Too quickly her mind went blank as her eyes went wide and her thoughts turned to one thing... And then she did something monumentally stupid.

She ran.

The Lord of the Hunt gave chase.

The prey was fast. People of nature always were and a werewolf was very in tune with nature. The less panicked she was, the harder it was for him to chase. The more excited he became as his form changed to that of a hunting beast. And she also became more tired. Her scent had teased him even when she had been the hunter. The change all females went through where their bodies changed to become more accepting of a male intrusion. He lifted his head up in an unearthly howl as he caught the flash of movement from his fleeing prey.

A lunge sent her tumbling as he grappled her struggling body. Soon he had her pinned beneath him, her lean sinuous body writhing against his own and her scent in his nose. A low growl didn't stop her frantic struggles even to the point he bit her shoulder so very close to her neck.

She went very still beneath him as he shifted so that her legs were parted by his lower body and pinned her arms above her head with one bestial hand. His other hand groped her clothes to find a leather strap to tie them tight and a quick glance around had him smirking as he finally released his teeth and lapped at the blood that welled. He forced her to kneel at one of the many rocky outcroppings in these mountainous areas of skyrim and manipulated her no matter how she struggled. Even a fish impaled on a spear will struggle to it's dying breath.

Soon enough her hands were wedged in a crevasse between two stones and another stone wedged on top, keeping her trapped at the ghostly Daedra's mercy. She felt him tear at her clothes, leaving her in tattered rags and kneeling in the cold snow. She whined fearfully as he began to touch her, feeling the rough stone scratching the tender skin around her wrists.

This wasn't what she had wanted when she offered to help that werewolf.

This is so stinking adorable! This portrayal of Farkas seems just perfect. There's nothing I don't love about this.

Thieves were fun to hunt. They often had interesting things hidden away on their person. Dragons were frustrating. They were hard as hell to hit for someone who hated using a bow, but the new shout that made them crash made battles much more fun.

She hadn't minded the cultists really. The voice of the man in the Stones was soothing and the minor period of menial labor wasn't that bad really. She was irritated to be paralysed, but that still wasn't so bad.

No.

What was annoying. Downright infuriating. He stole her damn souls! Those were her souls! Not his! He had no right to steal her souls! She never lost her temper, but when he ripped her hard-earned soul from her... She saw red.

Next time she went to Apocrypha, he was a dead man.

Fuck. Wong name. I meant Sinding.

To be fair, dear A!A, I think it's better with the Jarl's name... (But in all seriousness, it makes more sense now. Lovely little fill you've done! It's nice to read about Hircine being, well, Hircine...)

<3

Loved it~

He did have lovely skin. And Calmerion was very interested in taking a closer look at it, but he wasn’t sure how to approach the topic with him.

“But Beggar’s Row? It’s dirty down there,” he said. “And you’re not a beggar.”

“No, I’m not. But with the Jarl’s taxes, the Black-Briar family’s ‘discounts,’ and the Thieves’ Guild’s shakedowns, I may not be able to get a place of my own for a while.”

Calmerion leaned back a little and rolled his eyes. “Fuck this fucking city,” he muttered, and when he looked over, Madesi was chuckling.

“It’s not Blackrose, to be sure,” he said. “But business is good here, all things considered, and with people like you and Mjoll taking an interest, I think it’ll get much better.”

That comparison made him rather uncomfortable. Mjoll was a nice lady, that was true, but Calmerion wasn’t making it his life’s mission to clean up Riften, if that was even possible. People looked up to her and, well, he didn’t consider himself someone who should be looked up to. If people looked up to him it was only because they didn’t know any better. No, he was content to just quietly live and try to figure out what he was doing with himself, meeting interesting people and trying not to get killed. And there was this Dragonborn business to figure out as well. He had enough on his plate already without people turning him into some kind of hero.

Enough of this. He distracted himself with a swig of mead and some more cheese. Madesi was looking at his plate and picking at a fish, but he seemed to have finished eating.

Well. Now was the time. Calmerion wanted to get him into bed, and he wouldn’t get a better opportunity to initiate.

Perhaps a direct approach would be best. It usually worked well for him, and if not, at least there would be no confusion. He leaned close, touched the back of Madesi’s hand just briefly, and spoke in a low voice. “Well. If you ever get tired of Beggar’s Row, you’re welcome to stay with me whenever I’m in Riften. Any time you want.”

Madesi looked up sharply. His feathers, which had been relaxed, perked up slightly. He opened his mouth and closed it again without saying anything.

“I mean, I understand if you have something against elves,” Calmerion said, half-joking.

“No, no. Elves are very fine. In theory, that is, I’ve never actually, uh,” Madesi ran a hand over the top of his head, seeming self-conscious, like he was trying to make his feathers look a little less enthusiastic about the whole idea. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think my… interest was obvious to you.”

Calmerion raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t quite keep a grin from his face. “Interest? No, I didn’t notice. But I’m glad I decided to ask anyway.” Carefully, he twined their fingers together, making sure not to push him too quickly. But Madesi responded in kind, his thumb brushing over Calmerion’s knuckles as if savoring the unusual, smooth texture of his skin. The sensation sent prickles up his arm, his senses spiked, his heartbeat quickened and he felt his lips curl up at the corners. This was definitely going to be an encounter to remember.

Madesi’s eyes flicked up, and his grip on Calmerion’s hand tightened. “Well? What are we waiting for.” He stood up, still holding on.

“Right, one moment,” Calmerion laughed. He dug a handful of coins out of his pocket and left them on the table. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

Full of purpose, they crossed the floor and went up the stairs, probably drawing a few prejudiced glares as they did so, but what was the point in dwelling on others’ disapproval when there was interesting and highly experimental sex to be had? Calmerion had to chuckle at the thought. Apparently Madesi had the same philosophy. It was always nice to meet another person who shared it.

He’d paid for a room earlier. He shut and locked the door behind them, but now that they were alone, he realized he had no idea how to start. He was an unrepentant kisser, and… well, Madesi didn’t exactly have lips.

Calmerion’s first, somewhat embarrassing thought was The Sultry Argonian Bard isn’t exactly an instruction manual, which he diplomatically left unsaid.

Another passing anon. Just had to say I'm really liking this fill so far. Thanks. :)

Picture me doing the a!a happy dance :)

As expected, killing skeever in a farmhouse was no challenge at all to two burly nord warriors who had each followed the dragonborn into battle and survived. The job offered gold however, and neither Argis nor Farkas could afford to turn it down. Time on the road was time spent together, and they spent much of this time talking.

“Vilkas asked me about Dawnstar. He said you wouldn’t tell him anything.”

“It’s not my story to tell,” Argis said. “How much does he know?”

“All of it. It was weird,” he said, “I thought he’d be angry with me, but I’d swear he was trying not to cry.”

“That’s understandable. It makes me want to cry, and I’m not the person you were doing it all for. I don’t know how you keep your shit together to be honest. It’s humbling, knowing just what someone is prepared to do to save you.”

“Why do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Never did before I met you. Dunno. Maybe it’s because we’re so similar, and I feel like I can get inside your head.”

“So what am I thinking now?”

“Let me think.” Argis closed his eyes, then opened them wide with a shocked look. “You hussy! That’s just nasty!”

Farkas gave a filthy laugh. “It is, isn’t it.” He turned and walked off the road into a grove of trees, leaving Argis marvelling at the way he could accomplish a sexy bum wiggle in steel armour. Argis’ eyes rose heavenward, and he offered a prayer of gratitude as he followed Farkas off the road.

A shout and the sound of combat jolted him into a sprint. He entered the grove to see Farkas fully engaged with two assailants, one already badly wounded, and the other seeking to deliver a fatal blow from behind. Drawing his sword, Argis charged the second, bodily knocking her away from Farkas, and forcing her to concentrate on defending herself. He took four slashing strokes to kill her, receiving a deep wound to his left arm for his trouble.

Turning to aid Farkas, he found him wiping blood from his sword. Aside from a scratch on his cheek, he seemed uninjured.

“They’re wearing brotherhood armour. I recognise it from Dawnstar.” Farkas looked at Argis. “Shit, you’re wounded. Let me bandage that.”

Argis submitted to his lover’s first-aid efforts, before turning to the bodies, and starting to strip them. “Armour’s worth some money. May as well take it.” Farkas started on the second, only to stop when he found a note.

He read it in silence, visibly blanching.

“Farkas? What is it?”

Wordlessly, Farkas handed him the note. It bore the black hand, symbol of the Dark Brotherhood.

As instructed, you are to eliminate Farkas by any means necessary. He must pay for the death of the Listener. Failure is not an option. Babette

“Oh...Shit. Farkas, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. I’d thought this was finished.”

Argis took him in his arms. “They’re not going to get you. I’ll die before I let them, I swear.”

Farkas kissed him then. Urgent. Passionate. Adrenalin fueled and demanding. Argis’ body responded even before he had time to comprehend, the force of his arousal making him dizzy.

Farkas groaned, a feral growl starting deep in his chest. “Fuck me. Gods, Argis, fuck me.”

A brief pang of guilt struck her. If she hadn’t cleansed the All-Maker Stones, Miraak would still have some hope of returning to Nirn without either of them having to die. But then, all of those people would still be enslaved… She remembered why she was mad to begin with.

“You're manipulating me,” she said with a frown. The slight, devious grin she got in return confirmed her suspicions, so she moved to yank her hands away, but he held them tightly in place.

“You cannot blame me for trying, Dragonborn. But I promise you, this isn't all manipulation,” he purred, and brought her hands up to his lips to kiss each one in turn. “I do genuinely desire your happiness, or at least, your carnal bliss.” His voice was just a low growl, and full of need, and she sort of wanted to punch him for making her so wet despite her anger.

“You're insufferable.” She tried again to remove her hands from his grasp, and this time he allowed it.

“You wound me. Do you not want to take advantage of our limited time together?” He trailed his fingers up her side, then back down until they rested on her hips, and yanked her forward so that she barely teetered on the edge of the table, with his body serving as the only thing between her and a short drop to the floor. Yes, she did want to take advantage of this time, but she was done playing games. With a sly smirk up at him, she grabbed his arousal through his trousers and pumped her fist along its length.

She'd caught him by surprise for once, and he arched into her touch with a groan before regaining his composure enough to still her hand with his own.

“Don’t test me, dovahdin,” he growled, glaring down at her. She gave him her sweetest smile in return.

“You want to make me happy, don’t you?” His grip loosened, and she resumed her ministrations at a slow, rough pace. “You said you wanted to take advantage of our time together. So… Take advantage already.”

“You know why I can’t-” She cut him off with a hard squeeze, making his breath hitch before he could finish.

“I think we’re beyond the point where fucking would make our relationship more complicated.” Her other hand moved to his belt, making quick work of it so that she could slip her hand below the hem of his trousers. He shuddered when her fingers wrapped around him again, shaken enough that he needed to lean against her for support. Watching him come undone so easily encouraged her, and she grabbed his collar to pull him down into another kiss. This time, he did not stop her.

WHAT A PLACE FOR A CLIFFHANGER AGH

Somehow, amid the fumbling and groping, Farkas ended up with his back to a tree, both of them having removed their armour. Argis pinned him with his body, biting at his neck and shoulders, cupping his buttocks, and grinding their erections together.

“Gonna get rough. OK?” he asked.

“Do it. Need it. Fuck me.”

“Turn around.” Argis reached into his bag for the vial he now habitually carried, oiling himself, before turning his attention to Farkas. He was quick but careful, not wanting to cause pain, using his fingers to open him up. Farkas thrust back impatiently, needing Argis inside him.

He entered quickly, pausing until the pained look on Farkas’ face relaxed. “Do it,” Farkas urged. “Hard, I need it hard.”

Argis obliged, thrusting hard and fast, ecstasy coiling in his gut, exploding when Farkas convulsed around him, howling his release.

Collapsing to his knees, breathless and heaving, Argis smiled up at his lover. “You ok?”

“You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I have an idea. I like it too. Nothing like a life-affirming fuck after nearly dying.”

Farkas extended his hand, helping Argis to his feet, and taking him into his arms. “It was wonderful. Thank you.”

“Hate to interrupt our post-coital bliss,” said Argis, “but I’m starting to feel kind of exposed here. Half a day, and we’ll be home. You able to walk straight?”

“Nope, totally bent. Burns like a bitch, but it’s a good burn.”

“I miss the burn. My turn next time.”

“Deal,” said Farkas. “Let’s get home. Have to talk to Vilkas.”
__

After reporting the incident to Vilkas, Farkas found himself banned from leaving Whiterun without either Vilkas or Argis. Although he protested, once Argis pointed out that they spent all their time together anyway, his dissent lost much of its passion, and eventually they headed upstairs for dinner.

Torvar, who was as usual utterly tanked, wobbled up to them, taking the seat next to Farkas.

“I hear you killed two assassins by yourself,” he said.

Farkas choked on his drink, spluttering as he pointed at Argis.

“Oh don’t mind me.” Argis was grinning broadly. “I just bumble around behind him suffering from delusions of adequacy. I’m too busy watching his arse to watch his back. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he has a damned fine arse...”

Torvar looked at him blankly, and wandered off in search of more mead. Farkas, having recovered his breath, shook his head. “You really shouldn’t yank his chain like that. One day he’ll actually remember what you’ve said to him.”

“Sorry. I just can’t bring myself to like that guy. There is something about him I just don’t trust.”

MOOOOOOOREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Glad you like it. :) Always needs to be more Argonian love.

SORRY I'M UPDATING AS FAST AS MY STUBBY LITTLE FINGERS CAN TYPE

I think it was perfect! ^______^

As part of his induction into the companions, Argis was required to go on missions with other shield-siblings. Neither he nor Farkas looked forward to this, as it sometimes heralded the return of Farkas’ nightmares.

On nights when Argis was out of Whiterun, Farkas slept in the Harbinger’s quarters. No-one had forgotten how the Silver Hand had managed to breach Companion security to kill Kodlak, and Vilkas considered this safer than allowing Farkas to sleep alone. Argis and Vilkas were determined to be the ramparts behind which Farkas would be safe from the brotherhood.

As Argis left for each mission, Farkas would give him his estimation of each shield-sibling, and their strengths and weaknesses in combat. He had nothing bad to say about any of them, until the day he left with Torvar to catch an escaped prisoner.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen him sober. He falls behind a lot, and gets lost in caves,” Farkas said. “Sometimes he doesn’t help with combat until it’s almost over...I don’t think he’s a coward, just lazy.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me, and the feeling is mutual,”Argis said. “I should only be away for a night or two...I can put up with him for that long.”

“Take care,” said Farkas, offering a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart. Be nice to Vilkas while I’m away.”

“Why? What has he said?”

“Only that you get ‘cranky’ when I’m not here.” Argis smiled, amused at the image of an angry, straggle-haired toddler that ‘cranky Farkas’ had put in his head.

“Yeah, well, he makes me sleep in his room. Can’t even relieve myself when you’re gone.”

Argis laughed. “Two days. We’ll be back in two days.”
__

The mission had gone well, although as was typical with ‘escaped prisoner’ missions, she refused to allow them to take her alive. Torvar had been less surly than usual, had assisted competently in the battle, and had even offered to cook dinner once they set camp. Argis had been pleasantly surprised.

Dinner eaten, and the campfire well stoked, Torvar settled back on his bedroll.

“It occurs to me, that we may have got off on the wrong foot,” he ventured. “You’re not so bad when you’re not constantly attending to Farkas. Hard to get to know you back at Jorrvaskr.”

“And you’re not so bad when you’re sober.” Argis laughed, diffusing a potential barb. “Perhaps you should make a habit of it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Torvar. “In the meantime, in the interests of friendship, would you have a drink with me? Colovian Brandy. The best there is.”

“Probably shouldn’t. I’m taking first watch.”

“I only have a tiny bit left,” he said. “Not much more than a taste. It’s not going to knock you flat, or anything.”

On seeing the thimbleful of brandy that Torvar poured, he put aside his misgivings, and decided to try it. Most people went their entire lives and never even saw a bottle.

“Salut,” he said, sipping it, savouring it, letting it roll over the back of his tongue before swallowing. “Damn, you’re not wrong. This is good stuff. Where did you get it?”

“From Janshir. For services rendered...” Torvar allowed his answer to trail away, as he watched Argis for a reaction.

The warning prickle at the base of his skull came too late, as Argis found his limbs growing heavy and immobile. He heard crunching footsteps to his right, and a brotherhood assassin stepped into view, handing Torvar a large coinpurse.

“This is what we agreed. Count it if you must.”

Argis cursed himself for a fool. He knew the lengths Farkas would go to save someone he loved, and hoped against hope that Vilkas could stop him.

“Farkas was wrong. You are a coward.”

“And Farkas is a stupid faggot.”

It was the last thing that Argis heard before his consciousness ebbed away and darkness claimed him.

Torvar returned to Jorrvaskr alone, refusing to speak to anyone but Farkas or Vilkas. They arrived together, having been training out the back of the hall.

“Where is Argis?” the question sprang instantly to Farkas’ lips.

”I don’t know. He was on watch. When I woke up he was gone. This is all I found.” He held up a note, which Farkas took with a trembling hand. Once again, it bore the mark of the brotherhood.

Farkas, You will come to me. Await instructions. Babette

Farkas forgot how to breathe, as grief and shock drove him to his knees. He looked up at Vilkas, his face a mask of purest agony. He could not speak, but handed him the note.

“When was this?” Vilkas asked.

“Yesterday morning. I got here as fast as I could.”

“You heard nothing? Saw nothing? No indication as to where they might have gone?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry...”

Farkas got his voice back. “If I find...if you had anything to do with this...”

“Are you accusing me?” Torvar’s voice was icy.

“Of course he isn’t. He’s in shock,” Vilkas interjected. He looked at the other companions who had gathered. “I’m sorry, but Farkas and I must speak privately. No-one is to take any actions yet, but if any ‘instructions’ arrive, please tell me. We’ll be in my quarters.”

Farkas followed his brother down the stairs, and into his rooms. Shutting the door, he turned to Vilkas. “Please, don’t try to stop me. You know I have to go.”

“I’ve known you all my life, brother. I’d be insane to think I could talk you out of this.”

“Then what do we need to discuss?”

“You won’t be going alone. I’ve come to appreciate Argis, to love him as my brother. We will try to save him, and failing that, the three of us shall make the journey to Sovngarde together.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I owe you for my life, and I owe him for yours. I cannot let you do this alone. Not again.”

Farkas embraced his brother. “For understanding how important this is to me, for not trying to stop me, I thank you. May the gods grant us success, whatever that turns out to be.”

There was a rapid knock at the door, and Athis stepped inside. “A courier just arrived with this. They’ve given you a map.”

“An abandoned shack, north of Morthal,” said Vilkas. “We can leave immediately.”
__

Argis awoke in pain. While unconscious, he had been chained, kneeling, to a post, contorting his shoulders, and cramping his thighs. Some kind of blindfold had been placed over his head, so efficiently that he could not even tell if it was night or day. He moved around, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“The newcomer awakes.” A khajiit voice to his right. “Welcome to hell, friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“The brotherhood are recruiting. We are to be their first test. To see if they are capable of killing on command. You are here until someone chooses you as their victim.”

Even as he spoke, the door opened and footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. A female voice spoke. “These are your targets, recruit. Hear their stories, and decide which one should die.”

“You. Khajiit. Tell me your story.” The new male voice sounded young, arrogant.

“I am a trader from the caravans. My name is Ri’taba. I am of no importance.”

“That’s all?”

“That is all, friend.”

“And you, woman. Tell me how innocent you are.”

“Please,” a voice to Argis’ left, “I’ve done nothing. I have four children. You can’t kill me.”

“Enough.”

“But...”

“Defend yourself, Nord. Tell me why no-one would ever take a contract on you.” After a pause, Argis realised it was his turn.

“I’m not sure that I can. I am no innocent. I have enemies.”

“You are saying that you deserve to die?”

“Everyone dies. Whether they deserve to is irrelevant. The only questions that matter are ‘when?’ and ‘how?’. If you are the person with the answers to those questions, then I stand ready.”

Tense moments passed. With sickening swiftness, to his left, Argis heard a scream, cut off abruptly. The smell of blood filled the air, and Argis offered a prayer for the soul of his fellow prisoner.

A feminine whisper, hot in his ear. “Well played, Housecarl. It is rare that I gain respect for those in your position.”

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