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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Characters: Bosmer!DB, Erandur, Elisif, Ulfric
Kinks: Androgyny(?), fingering, handjob, romance
Relationships: Het, slash, femslash (really up to the reader to determine)
Summary: A gender-ambiguous Bosmer DB endures the distrust and suspicion of the general populace, yet is coveted by both Elisif and Ulfric in matters behind closed doors.

x-x-x-x-x

Even through the limited visual capabilities of my helmet, I detected the draw of eyes around me as I walked along the cobblestone road leading to the Blue Palace. I doubted the full Daedric set I wore served as the primary target of the squints and leers, the indiscreet whispers that drifted to my ears. Despite my status as a Thane of this Hold, most Solitude citizens continued to give me a wide berth. The blame fell partly on me, for I admit I never made the effort to reach out. I kept my business in each city quick, such as this instance where I hoped to answer Jarl Elisif’s summons and then depart within the hour.

Of course, such brusque dealings never won the people’s hearts. They conveyed their opinion of me through their distance and skeptical remarks. For the most part, their words no longer fazed me, but the weight of their distrust never lifted from my chest.

Is it truly the Dragonborn?

Why doesn’t it ever show its face?

Exactly what IS it?

The term “it” was all they could use to describe me. I understood. Choosing to conceal everything of myself also meant choosing to forfeit some of my humanity, the very aspect that made me a person to them. For all they knew, I could be a dremora. After all, I traversed the regions of Skyrim like this, garbed in Daedra armor and rarely speaking. Still, I would have liked a little more faith in my intentions. I sought to liberate these people from Alduin’s fury.

But until I succeeded in or died from this endeavor, they’d never believe it.

My Dunmer companion kept in step at my side as he, too, brushed off the relentless gawking. I suppose we did make an odd pair: a mysterious individual of indeterminate identity traveling with a priest of Mara. Not only that, said priest wore the robes that once belonged to the previous Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. Were it not for the Amulet of Mara swinging permanently from his neck, Erandur may have been mistaken for the late Savos Aren himself.

I still thought bestowing him with the robes had been a good move since I myself possessed little magical aptitude, even when the rank of Arch-Mage had passed to me. I studied Erandur now as we approached the palace doors, noting the fitting bearing he carried himself with. A connection of solidarity had forged between us the instant we’d met, one that carried us both through times too dark for the comfort of words. He noticed my attention and faced me fully, crimson eyes supportive and kind. My mouth quirked into an unseen smile, and I lifted a hand to clap him on the shoulder as we entered the abode of Jarl Elisif the Fair.

As soon as I strode two steps in, the steward, Falk Firebeard, called to me from the balcony of the court.

“Kressun. There you are. Elisif has been waiting,” he declared. “She has a matter to discuss with you and awaits your presence in her quarters.”

I nodded, gesturing to Erandur to wait for me near the entrance. He did so as I ascended the winding staircase on the left and moved past the watchful court members in silence. They, at least, trusted me enough to let me meet with the Jarl alone, even with a Daedric bow and quiver strapped to my back. Then again, I’d had to bend over backwards to prove myself, an effort I wasn’t keen on repeating for seven other Holds offering me the title of Thane.

The guards allowed my entry into the rear wing of the palace, where the High King’s widow resided by herself. Her crystal-pitched voice answered when I knocked on her door, and I let myself in, shutting it behind me as she turned from the sunlit window by the canopy bed. Once again, I found myself struck by her beauty. She represented the standard of elegance throughout the province, unmatched the perfect combination of her grace and allure. I bowed my head in the slightest, never missing the chance to show my respect.

“I’m glad you showed up after all,” she began cuttingly. “I’ve received disturbing news about your recent associations, Kressun.”

I read the look on her face and realized at once where this conversation was headed.

“Thane of Windhelm? Are you testing me?” Elisif demanded in a hard tone she never revealed to others.

I accepted her displeasure, but explained, “I told you from the start I wouldn’t choose sides in this Civil War, my Jarl.” My voice rang from behind my helm, naturally husky in its quality, and I saw how it incited a peculiar glint in her eyes.

Regardless, a frown marred her delicate features as she placed a hand on her hip. “But you know I can’t allow you free reign in my court when you’re sympathetic to my enemy. To the Empire’s enemy. And I don’t suppose you would be willing to work espionage on my behalf?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m completely neutral to this conflict.”

She peered at me for a long while and then sighed. “Very well. I recognize the truth in your words. You may keep your position here, and I’m holding you to your statement that you are politically aligned with neither Ulfric nor myself.”

It was the most I could hope for. “Thank you. I appreciate your good faith, my Jarl.”

“Please,” she said in a sharp timbre, “remember to call me Elisif when it is just the two of us.”

“Elisif.”

Her name rolled off my tongue in a way that altered her expression. Wistfulness and fire flitted across her visage as she ran her gaze over me. I felt it sear through my chest plate, cut into the core I kept hidden from the world.

“That ambiguous armor again. I’ve stopped inquiring, but my curiosity only grows,” Elisif told me. “As does my longing for you. Come here, Kressun.”

Fill Requester here, sorry I do not know the proper term.

Dear, I love it very much. The details, the exploration of Kressun's character and how the people of the Holds react to their ambiguity. Very fascinating.

I notice you chose two very different people to both covet Kressun. Not only different in their military affiliations and being natural enemies allegedly, but Elisif and Ulfric are both complete opposites on the gender spectrum. Her distinct voice, her fair and bonny looks; Elisif seems to be the epitome of femininity. While Ulfric is a symbol of pure masculinity with his rolling, brown voice, the angular and rough edges of his face, and the clearly virile physique of his. It seems to be that the personification of femininity and masculinity is fighting over Kressun, an androgyne. Someone who is completely neutral in the gender spectrum. It is simply brilliant!

I cannot fathom how this is could not be intentional, and I love it so much A!A.

You have done brilliantly so far, and I cannot wait for me.

*edit
I meant for more at the end.

I cannot wait for more.

Thank you, OP! I'm happy you're enjoying this fill so far! And yes, I chose Elisif and Ulfric on purpose for what they represent in regards to the androgynous Kressun, and I'm glad that came across so well :D

I approached at her beckoning, as I had countless times in the past. When I halted a few inches from her, she reached out and ran her palms over the sharp spikes of my epaulets before traveling to my neck and collar. I watched her, enamored, as always, by her elegant demeanor. And then my breath caught when the sight openings of my helm were no longer aligned with my eyes.

My hands shot up at once and clamped over her small wrists as she tried to lift my helm, shoving them away from my face. She whimpered at my roughness, and the sound stirred something within me, wrapped around my burgeoning anger. I pulled her forward, pressing her soft frame against the unyielding material of my armor. Using one hand to pin her wrists behind her back, I gripped her chin with the fingers of my other hand and forced her to look at me.

“Who is testing whom, Elisif?” I rumbled, witnessing her shudder from the low pitch of my timbre.

Wanton desire entered the blue irises that stared up at me, and breathlessly, she answered, “I only wish to learn the true nature of this enigma that sets my blood aflame.” A dainty leg rose and slid out from under the hem of her skirt, rubbing up along my outer thigh. “You, known only as the Dragonborn…” The leg wrapped around my waist as her manner shifted from proper lady to sultry minx. “…Possessing this strong, slender, equivocal body…” Her hips rolled against mine, challenging my willpower. “…Will you ever show me what you are?”

I released her, but she clung to me, seizing my collar to keep me close. This side of her reminded me why I always returned at her beck and call. Despite her constant hope to see the form beneath my armor, I never stayed cross for long. It was a pattern I’d engaged in ever since we’d come to this arrangement. Although she tried each time to catch a glimpse of my face, I knew what it was she actually wanted.

“My name is sufficient.”

I lifted her with ease and sat her atop a nearby dresser, prying her leg from my waist but spreading her knees further apart. I stood between them and hitched up her skirt while she seized the gauntlet of my dominant hand. Slowly, and ensuring my acquiescence, she removed the only piece of attire I was willing to take off. Tanned skin wrought with jagged scars came into view, and I stroked my callused fingers across the length of her thigh, eliciting a gasp from her throat as my fingertips brushed against the curls over her moistening sex.

“My services… are enough.”

She offered no argument, only threw her arms around my neck and moaned when I slid a finger into her. The warmth that enclosed over my digit sent heat straight to my loins, but I kept myself in check and focused on my task. Holding her against me, I pulled back my hand and then plunged into her with two fingers. She cried out next to my ear, and I grinned to myself as the young and lovely Jarl of Solitude surrendered her composure to become a trembling mess in my arms.

“My touch… is already yours.”

Oh my sweet lord. Please continue, I am loving this! *fans self*

And I do love the Elisif characterisation here. I always got the impression that despite outward appearances, in bed she's actually the type who has very definite desires and preferences and is quite prepared to ask for what she wants, and it was lovely to see that here. :)

You have my great blessing in this. Keep it up, A!A, please.

Thanks, anon and OP! I'm glad I'm delivering so far :)

And this was my first time writing Elisif, so I'm excited her characterization here is well-received :D

“Kressun.”

My name left her mouth in a sharp exhale, begging, wanting. I obliged, invading her again and again in a consistent rhythm, using every technique, every angle I knew to bring her closer to the edge. She was tight, having taken no lover except what I could offer. The intrigue surrounding me was enough to satisfy her, she’d once alleged, though I found that difficult to believe. And so I sought to draw out the truth from her sweetest region, for her most honest state manifested in her arousal.

“Tell me, Elisif… how this,” I flexed my arm muscles and thrust hard into her, “is enough to satiate that burning lust you have for me.”

“Secrets, Kressun,” she panted, tightening her hold around my neck. “I have them as well. But please… please don’t stop.”

As my fingers delved deeper inside her, I obeyed the request.

Minutes later, after she had arched into me and climaxed around my hand, she showed me her gratitude by raising her face and pressing an intimate kiss to the front of my helm, right where my lips yearned for her on the other side.

x-x-x-x-x

I sensed Erandur’s persistent gaze on me as we passed through the front gates of Solitude on our way to the stables.

“What is it?” I asked, adjusting my gauntlets.

“Ah, nothing.”

I sent him a brief look, but refrained from pursuing the question. The overcast sky hid the late afternoon sun and stretched out above us in a blanket of gloom. I quickened my pace toward our horses, not keen on getting caught by sleet and rain halfway to Whiterun.

“Well,” Erandur piped up halfway along the route to Katla’s farm, “I’ve just observed something. Mind you, I’m only a bystander and may be completely off the mark.”

That caught my attention, and I came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. “Share your thoughts with me.”

He stopped a few paces ahead and fixed me with a probing stare. “Your dealings with people in power. Namely, the two Jarls leading the opposing sides of the war.”

A muscle twitched in my temple as I stepped toward him. “And what about them have you observed, Erandur?”

“It just seems to be a dangerous game you’re playing. Involving yourself with both people, yet maintaining your neutrality on what they each stand for.”

I tensed at the assessment, glaring at him through my helm before attempting to shoulder past. “You are indeed off the mark, my friend.”

With surprising speed, his arm shot out to block my path. It thumped against my abdomen, keeping me in place. I was about to demand that he move when I noticed the intensity of his eyes. They flashed with an aggression I hadn’t seen since Nightcaller Temple, the gentle priest of Mara nowhere to be found in their depths.

“Let me finish. That was my first thought,” he stated gruffly. “My second was that it isn’t a game, but something driven more by… want of flesh.”

In the stifling confines of my armor, my body heat rose to an uncomfortable temperature. I hadn’t exactly been… discreet during these summons, but I hadn’t thought my well-mannered follower would actually bring it up and confront me. Still, the natural defensive reflex surged up, and I shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to endure a theistic lecture from one of Mara’s minions.

“Elisif and I were discussing general politics. Nothing more,” I declared in a harsher tone than I’d intended.

His fingers suddenly drifted toward my face, but before I could recoil, they dipped toward my collar to pluck something out. I saw the strand of blonde hair reflect the fading light, and for once I had no reply as he released it into the wind.

“As you say, Kressun. Politics, indeed.”

I love Erandur here, he is wonderful. How did you know I had a soft spot for the priest?

Erandur and Kressun's exchange does raise questions in my head and I wonder if they will be an ultimate resolution for Kressun "talking politics" and their other acts of neutrality.

I can't wait to see more.

Fingers silently crossed that Kressun won't be a total enigma.

The tension thickened between us, an occurrence so rare that I took a moment to consider his standpoint. However, the appearance of a courier interrupted my train of thought. In untimely fashion, the man came running over to make his delivery, and my sight remained trained on Erandur’s impassive features as I took the letter handed to me. Breaking eye contact to glance down and read it, I felt my jaw harden at the contents.

“We will have to delay Whiterun again,” I announced, stuffing the paper into my pack. Surely, some Daedric prince had to be toying with me.

“Where are we headed?” Erandur inquired.

My reply was full of reluctance. “Windhelm.”

To his credit, he said nothing.

Stark silence hung over our travel eastward, broken only by the occasional communication to decide on lodging and equipment transactions. I was perturbed by the atypical distance Erandur seemed to keep me at, but I left the matter alone, only wishing to move forward and hope his judgment eventually abated. The tension did ease into slight unrest by the time we crossed into Eastmarch, though we faced new outward apprehension and wariness from communities on the outskirts of Windhelm.

Unlike Solitude, where residents at least recognized me as Thane, citizens in Windhelm either had no idea or refused to believe that I held the title of Thane here as well. Instead, I was the mysterious Dragonborn of unknown origin. My stature, uncannily tall for a Bosmer, gave no hint to my race, and so people continued to guess at what I was. Some of the ideas amused me to no end: a tailless Khajiit, an albino Redguard, a vain Altmer grappling with the shame and trauma of some trivial facial imperfection. The guesses grew more and more absurd each time I visited a tavern.

However, out of all the aspects under speculation, the most heavily debated was my gender.

I listened now as we dismounted our horses at the Windhelm stables. “Man? Woman? What is it?” they whispered. I allowed their conjectures, never answering, never correcting. Their stares followed us all the way to the gates, and the guards issued an obligatory greeting to me as we slipped inside. The Nords passing by Candlehearth Hall didn’t bother masking their disdain, as they thought me to be a fraud since I hadn’t yet demonstrated any Shouts in this city. I ignored their slanderous comments and demands to reveal the Thu’um, for I felt no inclination to validate my dragon blood just to appease them.

I heard rather than felt someone spit on my shoulder blade, and in an automatic movement, Erandur sent a casual bolt of lightning to electrocute the offender. Stormcloak soldiers noticed the conflict, but refrained from intervening when they recognized my armored figure heading for the Palace of the Kings. Erandur wiped off my armor for me, to which I turned to give him my thanks. But when he stopped walking several meters from the entrance of the keep, I paused.

“What’s wrong?”

He stood there shivering under the falling snow, his arms wrapped around himself as he averted his gaze. “I’ll wait here for you,” he said quietly.

Now, did Erandur kill the spitter or just give him a little warning shot?

I do like that Erandur is being kind to Kressun, even when he isn't exactly supportive of Kressun's relationships and strategical choices.

I do hope to see a resolution with Kressun and Erandur, where they perhaps actually confront each other.

Amazing as always, and I did enjoy the quips and the reactions of the people of Windhelm.

Ahh, it was a warning shot. Sorry, I should have written that more clearly :)

I'm glad for your comments, as they help tug the plot and characterizations along in more specific directions. I'll have the next part up later today!

I blinked, puzzled. “No. Come wait inside.”

He stayed in place, expression indecipherable. I, too, refused to move, wondering what had brought this on. I could understand if he disapproved of my actions, but subjecting himself to the bitter cold simply to make a statement was so out of character. It became clearer that something had changed for us in the past day, a shift I failed to identify. Disquiet spread through my sternum, and the snow crunched under my boots as I stepped closer, my brow creasing.

“Will you at least wait in the Gray Quarter? Pass the time with Ambarys at the Cornerclub,” I suggested. Anything but waiting out here. The image of him shivering in the freezing air did not sit well with me.

Erandur seemed to deliberate with himself for a few seconds, but nodded. Wordlessly, he pivoted on his heel and headed in that direction. I watched him go, trying to compartmentalize my concerns to address at a later time. For now, I had to set them aside.

My entrance into the Palace of the Kings echoed throughout the vast interior as the doors slammed shut behind me. Stillness greeted me at first, followed by the rumbling tones of Galmar Stone-Fist’s voice up ahead. The gothic design of this palace contrasted with the ornate structures of Solitude’s; fitting for their respective Jarls. I made my way around the grand banquet table, passing by the steward, Jorleif. He bid me a genuine welcome, the first I received since arriving at Windhelm. I acknowledged him and continued toward the rear of the main hall, where Galmar stood guard next to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.

My eyes locked with Ulfric’s, and immediately I felt the draw of his power and fortitude, similar to the first time I met his gaze in Helgen. We had sat side by side on that wagon carrying us to our deaths, a gag across his mouth and a hood over my head. And somehow, here we were now.

I dropped to one knee before the throne, a sign of both reverence and fellowship for the man whose fate had been rewritten along with mine. I held that position until Ulfric rose to his feet.

“Come with me, Kressun,” he ordered, striding past me toward the war room. “We need to have a talk.”

I straightened and glimpsed the dubious look etched across Galmar’s features as I trailed after the Jarl. Our footsteps resonated in the torch-lit stone corridors leading to the upper levels, and I noted the decreasing number of guards stationed on either side as we neared his quarters. I appreciated the display of trust, though I knew many in his Hold considered me a threat despite the deeds I had performed for their benefit. Thane, Dragonborn, these titles mattered little when others harbored no respect for the person holding them.

Sometimes, I regarded my survival as an inconvenience and my birthright as a thankless chore, made more evident by the relentless antagonism bearing down on me everywhere I went. Other times, I welcomed the challenge, seeing it as a set of trials to overcome. And I wanted to succeed. I needed to succeed.

I had no other choice.

Erandur's actions are eating me up inside, I really hope to see resolution. I'm thinking Erandur was standing out in the cold in order to guilt Kressun into not spending too much time with Ulfric?

Was the hood over Kressun's face when hir was being brought to the execution block symbolic? Or simply a convenience that even from the start that Kressun's face was forever going to be hidden...

The lack of guards on Ulfric's side is rather sweet, or maybe he placed them far away so they wouldn't hear any sex sounds... Yes, that is exactly why I have decided.

Great again, and I cannot wait to see Ulfric and Kressun's exchange. How does the alleged true High King react to Kressun's neutrality?

Hey, OP! Sorry for the wait; I was finishing up some other projects, but now I'm dedicating all my writing time to this fill. I do have a background planned for Kressun, and all these questions will be answered down the road :)

I just discovered this and I am loving it!! The way you keep Kressun's gender so vague is brilliant! Keep going, author!anon!!

We ascended the last flight of stairs and emerged into Ulfric’s bedchamber. The goat horn sconces flickered as he walked by, and I closed the entrance behind us, locking it at his command. The roaring hearth past the pedestaled bed cast shadows of his burly physique across the floor toward me. I lingered in front of the doors as he ventured to the fireplace, his silhouette tall and imposing amidst the flames. He bade me to join him after several beats went by, and like a marionette on a string, I complied with his will.

The heat of the fire seeped through to my bones as I neared, chasing away the last of the chill from outside. I came to stand next to him, my vision directed at the blaze that he also watched.

“We are preparing to send a message to Balgruuf, telling him to choose a side.” Ulfric turned to me then, his stare full of ice. “Does the same need to be done for you?”

I looked away and readied myself to repeat a conversation we’d held numerous times before. “Forgive me, my Jarl, but message or no, I will take no part in the civil war.”

Displeasure emanated from his bearing as he edged closer. “I have tolerated you sitting on the fence like this, but my patience wears thin. And while Elisif may be content with your impartial stance, I am not so lenient.”

My hackles raised on instinct when the threat entered his posture, and I evaded the fingers that reached out to grasp at me. “You already have my membership in your court, my company in your quarters,” I pointed out, observing the dark glint that flickered in his eyes. “What more could you want of me?”

He appeared to double in size, provoked by a question I’d thought to be innocent. His hand shot out and seized one of the horns of my helm. At the last second, I slammed my palms into the sides of my head and held it in place when he tried to yank it upward.

“To start, I want to know what it is you’re hiding,” he snarled, granting no respite as he grabbed the second horn with his other hand. “From the start, you shrouded yourself and your motives in obscurity. Even now, you have yet to explain your involvement with both Solitude and Windhelm when you have no intention of supporting either side.”

My heart thundered in my chest as we continued to struggle, and my mind whirled with a plethora of responses that I dared not issue. Something simmered beneath my skin, burning and inciting me with a long-buried emotion. It felt like anger.

“Furthermore, why do you insist on this vague appearance?” Ulfric demanded. “Male or female, you have never given any indication to be one or the other.”

Tightness wound itself up my spine. What difference did that make to him at this point? His new determination to unmask me was perplexing. In the midst of my physical and mental strain, a single thought drifted to the forefront.

Did I need a reason for my androgyny?

Your characterization of Ulfric is very interesting, and not quite how I perceived or imagined him.

But despite the difference, I am fascinated to see more of him. Perhaps he can give his reasoning as to why he must know what side Kressun is on, with both the gender spectrum and the civil war.

And I can tell this is a predecessor and set-up for some major philosophizing and perhaps some gender dysphoria.

I am excited for this!

Keep at it, A!A.

i actually first read this on FF and it looks like the a!a is continuing the story over there under the same title (without the 'The')

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