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HELPFUL TIPS
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>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.
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.4
Date: 2013-09-23 07:42 pm (UTC)Eola ruffled his hair, feeling rather more patient and benevolent now she had a job to do. “Cicero, sweetie, Nepos doesn't want us to help this poor fool. Nepos wants the whole mess to go away. We're not hunting Daedra, my love. We've just been given a contract.”
Cicero's eyes widened and the unholy grin she'd fallen in love with in the first place split his face. As Cicero's mad cackles echoed round Understone Keep, Eola hugged him tight, gleeful smile on her own. About time some work came up. She was getting hungry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So you don't know anything about this house?” Tyranus asked the Redguard jewellery vendor. Her stall was only down the street, she must see people going in and out surely?
“All I know is it's abandoned,” Kerah said stiffly. “It's always been abandoned. No one goes in, no one goes out. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't tell you any more. Look, did you want to buy anything or not?”
“Hmm? Oh. No, no, it's fine, that's all I needed to know. Thank you for your time.” Tyranus walked away, ignoring the grumbling as she muttered about fancy ass Altmer who wasted her time and didn't buy anything. He had more important things to think about. Such as that allegedly abandoned house that reeked of dark magic and had had strange lights and sounds coming from it, and he wasn't remotely reassured by the local authorities' reaction. He'd hardly even been able to see the King, and that steward of his was giving him the run-around, he just knew it. He had hoped that a city whose Breton rulers actually understood magic might be more helpful than Nord Jarls usually were, but it appeared that perhaps they understood the Daedra just a bit too well.
He returned to the door of the house, wondering if perhaps he should pluck up his courage and go in alone after all. It wasn't a good idea, he knew that, but he was getting nowhere and with the Hall's destruction, he didn't have the support he'd once have been able to get from his brothers and sisters in the Vigil. No, there was nothing for it, he'd have to investigate this one alone.
“Excuse me.”
Tyranus nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd not heard any footsteps, been too lost in thought to see anyone approach, and the woman's voice had taken him completely by surprise.
She was young from the look of it, roughly equivalent to a 150-year old Altmer if Tyranus was any judge, one eye lost to a sword-stroke but not bad-looking for a human despite that. She was wearing very finely crafted and expensive looking scaled armour, a pair of red and black gloves and matching boots, and a Forsworn woman's traditional headdress. Around her neck was a white-gold rope-like necklace open at the front with two wolves' heads adorning the ends, in a similar style to the red-gold eagle-headed one he'd glimpsed King Madanach wearing. Expensive from the look of it, so clearly someone high-ranked in the Forsworn. Had the King decided to help after all? He could but hope.
The man next to her in the jester's outfit with red hair, dark eyes that didn't blink nearly often enough for Tyranus' liking and the smile that never wavered once was another matter entirely, but the Forsworn woman was holding his weapon hand so Tyranus decided to leave him be.
“What can I do for you, young lady?” he asked. She patted the elven blade at her side, smiling sweetly.
“We heard you were looking into this house. We were wondering if you'd got anywhere?”
Assistance, Stendarr be praised. Someone in this wretched city that actually seemed to care about the possibility of Daedra in their midst. The King had clearly found someone capable to give him a hand after all.
“Nowhere,” Tyranus sighed. “I've found all sorts of tales of strange noises and lights from this house but everyone I speak to says it's abandoned and always has been. No one goes in. No one goes out. It's like there's some sort of enchantment on it making people look the other way.”
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.5
Date: 2013-09-23 07:47 pm (UTC)“I am,” Tyranus confirmed, warming to the young woman already. “Tyranus is the name. And you are?”
“Eola,” the young woman told him, and he was sure he'd heard that name somewhere, some story about a noted Forsworn warrior who'd distinguished herself in the uprising somehow. She did look like she could handle a few Daedra worshippers. “And this here is Cicero. He's my devoted companion.”
“Hello!” Cicero giggled, swaying in time to music only he could hear, still that demented grin on his face. “Cicero is very pleased to meet you, kind Vigilant. Cicero doesn't get to talk to members of the Vigil very often, you know.”
From the look of him, Tyranus suspected he wasn't allowed out on his own often enough to talk to strangers. Very nice of Eola to take her poor afflicted friend for a walk in the city but he'd probably be a liability when hunting Daedra.
“Well, there's not so many of us as there were,” Tyranus said gruffly. “Eola, I was thinking of taking a look inside to see what's actually going on in this house. Did you want to come with me? I could do with someone to watch my back while I'm here. Daedra are tricky creatures. You never know what you're going to find.”
“I'd be glad to!” Eola laughed, lips parting to reveal gleaming white teeth that looked ever so slightly pointed, but Tyranus was sure that was his imagination. “What do you think, Cicero, fancy chasing some Daedra?”
“Oh yes, sweetling!” Cicero giggled, nodding enthusiastically and bouncing up and down as if she'd just suggested a fun afternoon out. “Cicero would love to!”
Tyranus wasn't at all sure bringing a demented jester along would be any benefit at all, in fact the man would probably end up getting killed. Still, Eola clearly wasn't going in without him and Tyranus didn't want to go in alone. If she wanted to risk her friend's life, so be it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and went in.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Eola followed Tyranus in, smirking to herself. That had been easy, too easy. People could be so trusting. It did make things so very simple.
Cicero was skipping along behind her, humming quietly to himself, apparently carefree and happy. Good, people often dismissed him as harmless or stupid when he was like this. It was usually their last mistake.
Tyranus had gone on ahead, noting the presence of fresh food and a relative lack of dust. Someone had definitely been here recently. Eola glanced about her. She'd have to agree about that. She wondered who it was. Someone skilled in Illusion magic maybe. It definitely wasn't anyone in either the Brotherhood or her own coven, and the ReachGuard all avoided the place too. So a stranger then, hiding out in the city. Much as she had been after the Draugr rose from their tombs at Reachcliff. She wondered which Daedra they worshipped. Another Namira worshipper perhaps? No, no, she'd have noticed if there was anyone else feeding on the dead in this city.
Cicero was busy going through the chests and cupboards, helping himself to a few bits of loot and humming to himself. Up until he went very quiet and next thing Eola knew, dark magic was crackling in the air and Cicero was tugging at her arm.
“Sister...” he whispered nervously, and that wasn't good, Cicero wasn't usually scared of anything. Slowly, she turned to see where he was pointing.
One of the cauldrons in the corner was hovering in mid-air, unearthly glow around it, and the broom was doing likewise. Before her very eyes, one of the chairs rose up from the ground, slowly rising and settling on to the table.
“Oh now that is not good,” Eola whispered. Telekinesis could do that, but three large objects at once for more than a few seconds? Took skill, focus and magicka. Lots of magicka.
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.6
Date: 2013-09-23 07:58 pm (UTC)“Come on,” Eola said quietly, catching at Cicero's arm. “Let's stay with him – if it all goes Voidwards, we can throw him to the Daedra and buy time for us to run.”
“We could run now and get out,” Cicero muttered, but he followed her anyway. Eola was tempted to flee the house herself, but this was her father's capital now, not some Nord city for her to prey on. There was definitely something bad going on, and Madanach would want to know what it was. So she followed, Cicero behind her, both trying to ignore the various floating objects, the growing darkness in the room and the sound of something skittering in the walls.
Tyranus was downstairs, trying the cellar door.
“It won't open,” he cried. “Here, see if you can try.”
Eola pushed the door, even sent a bit of shock magic into it, but nothing happened and there didn't seem to be a lock to pick or even a handle. Cicero likewise tried, but nothing. Eola shrugged and turned to Tyranus.
“Sorry, nothing's happening. We should probably... Tyranus?” She saw where he was looking and realised he'd seen the floating domestic objects himself by this time.
“Stendarr's mercy, this is no ordinary Daedra! We need to get help!” he cried, running for the door. Oh gods, a hysterical Vigilant getting out into the city and shrieking at her father, that was all she needed.
“Wait!” she cried, chasing after him with Cicero. Then it happened.
“Weak... he's weak. You're strong! Crush him!”
Eola stopped dead, wondering if anyone else had heard that. Tyranus hadn't paused. Eola turned to Cicero, who had stopped in his tracks, looking around in awe.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered. Cicero nodded, grin curving across his face.
“It wants us to crush the Altmer Vigilant,” Cicero whispered, looking a bit like a Daedra himself with that evil grin and his face shadowed. Eola shivered at the sight. By the Daedra, Cicero was a sexy, sexy man when he got like this. She stepped out of his way.
“Go on,” she told him, feeling her mouth already start to water at the thought of Cicero's knives sinking into golden Altmer flesh. Cicero cackled and slipped past her, ebony dagger already clutched in his hand.
Tyranus had reached the entrance room already, shaking and hammering on the door.
“It won't open. Why won't it open?” he cried, hands at his head. “Dammit, Daedra, get out of my head!”
Clearly whatever entity had this house in its grip was speaking to him too. Maybe telling him to kill them? Eola didn't know, but if it was a kill or be killed situation... well, there was only ever going to be one outcome to that, and neither she nor Cicero were the type to waste time agonising over the decision.
Cicero had already crept up on Tyranus, dagger at the ready and delighted grin on his face. The Daedra's voice rang out again.
“Kill him! Crush him! Tear at his flesh! You will kill. You will kill or you will die!”
Eola bit back a whimper at the thought of tearing at the Altmer's flesh, and Cicero's mind was clearly working along similar lines. Eola watched, feeling arousal pooling in her loins as Cicero glided out of the shadows, dagger raised as his arm slid round Tyranus and the ebony knife sank into the Altmer's chest, blood spurting everywhere. A few more knife-thrusts and Tyranus was dead, sinking to the floor. Cicero stood there, gasping for breath and wiping the blood spatter from his face. He looked up, eyes meeting hers, faint smile quirking at his mouth and Eola heard a little keening noise escaping her lips. Cicero growled and then he'd covered the distance between them, pushing her back against the wall, dagger clattering forgotten to the floor as he claimed her lips, erection hard against her own loins as he writhed against her and Eola moaned into him, pulling him closer as she groped his backside.
“You're so sexy when you kill things,” she whispered in his ear as he paused for breath. Cicero grinned back at her, dark eyes sparkling with delight.
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.7
Date: 2013-09-23 08:05 pm (UTC)While carrying on was very tempting and Namira knew Eola had never been uptight about that sort of thing even by Forsworn standards, Eola decided she should probably know what sort of entity they were actually dealing with before having rampant and passionate sex in its house. Then the voice rang out again.
“Yes. Yesss. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down.”
“Reward!” Cicero gasped. “Sister, there's a reward!” He paused only to grab his dagger again before running back into the house's depths before Eola could stop him.
“Cicero, wait!” Eola cried. “You don't know what's down there!”
“Yes,” the voice crooned as Cicero ran through the now open cellar doors. “Further down. Into the bowels.”
Cicero was practically squealing as he ran on into the house, Eola chasing after him. Dear gods, did the man have no common sense at all? He was going to get himself killed!
Into the cellar, then a tunnel dug out behind some shelves, into Markarth's Dwemer ruins and then a cave containing an altar that looked familiar and then Eola realised which Daedra had claimed this house for their own.
“CICERO NO, GET OUT OF THERE!” she screamed as Cicero scampered up to the altar, reaching up for the spiked rusted mace sitting above it. As his fingers closed on the handle, spikes shot up from it, trapping him neatly in a cage.
“CICERO!” Eola cried, horrified. In the cage, Cicero had drawn his arm back and was now darting frantically about the interior, turning this way and that, scrabbling at the bars for a way out.
“Sister!” he wailed. “Sister, sister, heeeelp!”
“Cicero,” Eola gasped, racing up to the cage and trying to shift the bars, but nothing happened. Cicero was trapped.
“Let him go!” Eola cried. “Please, let him go!” Cicero was also starting to panic, trying in vain to rattle the bars.
“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” he howled. “LET POOR CICERO OUT!!!!”
“FOOL!” the Daedra laughed. “Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you?”
Cicero's eyes went very wide as he realised who'd trapped him. “That is not one of the nice ones, is it sister?” he whispered, looking even paler than usual.
“He's a Daedra, what were you expecting!” Eola snapped at him. Really, she knew Cicero was a bit simple but even so, he usually had a bit more sense than this! Cicero just whimpered, turning around and dropping to his knees.
“Please let poor Cicero out,” he whined. “Cicero is a harmless little fool just minding his own business, and quite prepared to leave and forget he saw anything in here.”
“We're good with the Daedra, we really are!” Eola added, looking hopefully at the altar. “Say, is there anything you need doing? Anyone needing sacrificing to you? We'll happily track them down and bring them here!”
Laughter and then Molag Bal was speaking again.
“Ah yes, I know you now. Namira's priestess and the Night Mother's Keeper. Yes, you'll do. You'll do perfectly. Tell me, foolish Cicero, what do you see from that little cage?”
Cicero glanced helplessly back at Eola, who just shrugged.
“Just answer him,” she told him. Namira had never really been an enemy of Molag Bal, she'd just made sure to stay out of his way and not look like a threat. All Namira worshippers were adept at staying in the shadows, out of sight, and acting harmless and submissive when stronger individuals were around. Eola had the feeling Molag Bal regarded Namira as beneath his notice, and that was the way Namira liked it. She had no idea how he felt about the Night Mother, however.
“It's a mace, sir,” Cicero whispered, curled up in a little ball on the floor of the cage. “All spiky and rusty.”
“A mace,” Molag Bal snarled. “Yes. My once mighty mace, once dripping with the blood of my enemies, now rusted and desecrated.”
Cicero tutted, shaking his head. “That is awful, sir, very very bad indeed. Who did this to it? Who has ruined dear swee- er, sadistic and ruthless Molag Bal's lovely mace? Tell Cicero and he and pretty Eola shall happily go and stab them and eat them for you.”
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.8
Date: 2013-09-23 08:11 pm (UTC)“Now that's what I like to hear. However, I don't want him dead. He's a priest of Boethiah, my rival in Oblivion. His name is Logrolf. He has been here, visiting my shrine, performing Boethiah's insulting rites here, desecrating my altar. He must be stopped, but as I said, I don't want him dead.” He paused, and Cicero was looking up, tilting his head and looking very confused.
“Why wouldn't you want him dead?” Cicero asked, puzzled as to why someone wouldn't respond to an altar desecration by stabbing the miscreant.
“I want him humiliated,” Molag Bal hissed, and Eola nodded in understanding, as did Cicero, who had started to grin. “I want him humbled, broken, forced into submission for me. When he next comes here, I want him punished.”
Now Cicero was actually giggling, rubbing his hands in delight. “Ohhh. Punishment. Lord Molag Bal wishes to carry out the stabbing personally. Cicero understands. What does mighty and domineering Molag Bal need humble Cicero and sweet Eola to do?”
“He's been taken prisoner, taken into custody by one of your Matriarchs,” Molag Bal growled, clearly annoyed by this. “Keirine at Hag's End has him. Go there. Rescue him. And when he comes back here to perform his rites again, we will be waiting.”
Molag Bal's voice faded and the spikes of the cage retracted into the floor. Cicero sat up, looking around, blinking in the half light.
“Cicero,” Eola gasped, shaking with relief that he was all right, neither of them had died or been hurt, thank Sithis and Namira. “Oh gods Cicero, are you all right?”
Cicero nodded, getting up and staggering over, clinging on to her, clearly a bit shaken by the whole experience. Eola led him away from the altar and held him tight, stroking his hair, just glad to have him in her arms again.
“And this,” she whispered, “is why we do not go poking around strange altars when we don't know who they're dedicated to, do you understand me? Sithis, Cicero, that could have been the end of you!”
Cicero nodded silently, snuggling into her, nuzzling at her neck and dear gods, was he still horny? Apparently so if the erection nudging at her groin was anything to go by.
“Don't tell me,” she murmured in his ear. “You've got a crush on Molag Bal.”
Cicero nodded enthusiastically, nipping at her jawline.
“He has a very sexy voice, sister,” Cicero breathed. “All deep and commanding. I bet he has a cock to match.”
“It probably has spikes on the end and would rip you apart from the inside,” Eola muttered and Cicero just moaned louder.
“Sister,” he growled. “Do you think – do you think Molag Bal would be very angry if we had sex on his altar?”
“He's the King of Rape, having consensual sex on his altar would probably count as desecration, and it's been desecrated enough, don't you think?” Eola hissed. Then her hand slid lower to Cicero's arse, giving it a squeeze. “But there's a bed upstairs.”
Cicero cackled, scooping her up in his arms and racing upstairs with her, not stopping until he'd reached the single bed and flung her down on it, one hand under her armour as he sliced her underwear off and rolled her legs back. Eola, still wet from having seen him stab that Vigilant earlier, just lay back, removing her torc and placing it to one side then smiling as he unfastened the laces at his groin and entered her in one stroke.
“Yessss,” Cicero hissed as he slid inside her. “Oh yes, yes Eola, yes!”
In the darkness, half-crazed, horny and laughing as he moved inside her, Cicero looked like the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and Eola remembered what she saw in him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, angling her hips so he could go deeper, moaning his name as he fucked her.
“You're a bad man,” Eola breathed in his ear. Cicero laughed and growled, pinning her shoulders down, hair falling down around his face.
Re: Of Daggers and Daedra 1.9
Date: 2013-09-23 08:16 pm (UTC)For a while neither of them spoke, just lying there on a bed that belonged to neither, with a Daedric altar in the cellar and a body in the next room. Then Cicero started giggling and rolled over, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“There are not many women who would watch Cicero stab someone and then enter into a pact with Molag Bal, and respond with arousal,” Cicero gasped, grinning at her. Eola stroked his face, feeling content – mostly.
“There's not many men who'd find out about Lady Namira and respond by finding meat for me,” she told him. “Speaking of which...” She nodded meaningfully in the direction of Tyranus' corpse and Cicero glanced over and giggled.
“Oh! Oh yes. Of course. Do not worry, my lovely. Cicero shall feed you.” Tucking himself back in to his trousers and lacing up, Cicero retrieved his knife and ran off to start butchering Tyranus, some to eat now and some for Eola to cast frost runes on and smuggle out to Hogni for the rest of the coven. No sense wasting a kill like this one.
Eola retrieved her torc and headdress, tidying herself up before heading out to join Cicero and mentally composing a report for her father, something to both cover Tyranus' absence and explain why she felt the urgent need to go visit Auntie Keirine in a hurry. Doable, very doable – her father was by this point quite used to not inquiring too deeply into her affairs and more than willing to take anything she said at face value as long as there was no actual evidence. But before that... time to feast.
~~~~~~
A/N: And that is chapter one. Likely to be about two more once I've written them, hope it's to your liking so far!