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SPOILER INFO
This fanfic novel is largely based on the events that occurred in an actual game of Skyrim I played. Therefore, it's inevitably a spoiler.
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previous day
4-202-01-27 05:02
The Copper Cask Inn, Darkwater, Eastmarch, Skyrim
I dreamed of my father.
When I wake up, the places and faces are all blurry in my memory, but I know it was about my father. The story Jenassa told us recently was true, and my father took part in it. He got indeed a huge fortune as his share from the robbers' reserve stash, but he was in a very difficult situation because he couldn't admit having it. But then he found a way to make a deal with a corrupt local leader in one of the backward regions of Morrowind who gave him a legal status in exhange of a significant part of my father's fortune. With the help of that legend, my father was able to settle down in the capital Blacklight having as much anonymity as one could reasonably expect, and he started a new life with a lovely country girl (my mother). They got married and had a son, my elder brother. Eventually Father, still a rich man, took his family to High Rock where I was born.
Clearly, I have no way of knowing if that dream reflected what actually happened, but it felt exactly the same as all those past dreams of mine that turned out to be true. At any rate, I don't need to know my father's past too exactly. He is my dearest loveliest father and I don't care if he has massacred and pillaged an entire nation.
Is my mother an elf then, Lydia asks when I tell my followers about it at the breakfast table. I know what she means – I look nothing like an elf. I have a very strong feeling that my mother was a Breton or at least Nord or Imperial, but I don't know.
"People say a Dragonborn can only be one who has a Nord mother," says Jordis.
Lydia nods pensively. "Yes, they do."
I stand up decisively. Enough of dwelling on the past, now! "I'll get some fresh air. Follow me when you're finished. No hurry."
It's getting light outside. Much too early for shopping, but there's already a man chopping firewood, and I can see a guard somewhat farther away.
I walk slowly to the pier and back, past the inn and towards the bridge. Then I sit down on the riverbank and watch the water flow by. Soon the girls arrive.
Today, we'll take on that Secret Enclave where we may find the missing girl Bronwen. After that, we'll go to Windhelm... or maybe take that holiday in Hviterun? No, we'll go to Windhelm. I've business with Ulfric.
"And with Yrsarald, what, Laura?" says Lydia in a teasing tone of voice.
I sigh. "Of course."
"Looking forward to it, aren't you? Or backward?"
I show her my teeth and growl like a wolf. But she won't let go:
"Are you going to do that this time?"
"Yes, I am. What else can I do?" I know nine women out of ten would still try to talk their way out of it, but I just can't go back on my word like this. "I won't remind him, obviously."
Lydia gives me a gentle pat on my shoulder: "Don't worry, Laura. We've all been there. You'll survive. And if you don't, I'll kill him for you."
I smile. "Thanks, Lydia. There's no friend like you in the whole world."
I wonder if my next question would be too insensitive, but then I ask it anyway: "Jenassa, have you ever heard about men who do it with other men?"
"Oh yes, I have." She is silent for a second. "But one would be as good as dead if he'd do it in Skyrim. In the eyes of the Nords, that's the lowest a man can fall."
"No one would talk to him or have anything to do with him," says Jordis. "He'd be just about as close to dead as can be while still physically alive."
"The Bosmers are reputed to do it," says Jenassa. "At least everyone in Morrowind can tell you that." She grins. "I don't actually know how frequent it is down in Valenwood. We're just used to looking down on them." [Morrowind is the homeland of the Dark Elves or Dunmers to whom Jenassa belongs, and Valenwood is the homeland of the Wood Elves or Bosmers. Just to refresh your memory.]
"The Bosmers in Skyrim don't do it, I suppose?"
Jenassa laughs. "Oh, no."
"Wait, what about Fenris and Lodriel?" Lydia is referring to two Bosmer men who live in Hviterun's southwestern suburb.
"I haven't peeked into their windows at night," says Jenassa. "They could be just sharing a house to save money. What else they may be doing, I've no idea. I've never given it any thought."
"How about elsewhere?" I ask. "I mean, I don't know where you have been."
"In Morrowind, there are actually male couples who are openly homosexual, even among the Dunmers," she informs us. "The Redguard men often do it to their prisoners or slaves, in order to, I don't know, assert their superior status. I haven't heard about it happening among the Altmers, but they're not so panical about it like the Nords, so I wouldn't be too surprised if some of them did it. Cyrodiil... It varies greatly from region to region, but it's being told you can find absolutely any kind of perversion in the Imperial City. I haven't been there myself."
I laugh at the last statement while Lydia asks:
"But what are those men like? Are they remarkably feminine? Or, I don't know, is one like a man and the other one walks around dressed like a woman? Has it anything to do with being masculine and feminine at all?"
"Right," I cut in. "When a man allows himself to be penetrated, does it actually mean he feels female deep inside, or is there no connection?"
Jenassa shakes her head. "I wouldn't know. I was little and didn't pay attention to those things. You'll have to go Morrowind and find out yourself."
"Or Imperial City," says Lydia, grinning at me.
I grin back. "Rather Imperial City, I think. Might also find out about all those other perversions."
"Better do it before we get married," adds Jordis and we all burst out laughing. And watch out we don't end up enslaved, I think a few seconds later, but I don't say anything.
It begins to rain as we run towards Fort Amol, but it ceases on the northern bank of the river. Near Mixwater Mill, we meet a pair of virrs on patrol, and by the time we reach the Secret Enclave, the sun has come out. Won't do us much good in there, of course.
I know I shouldn't take a nightmare I had a couple of months ago too seriously, but I can't help it. I tell my followers to be more extremely careful than ever. And we shall kill everyone we see who is not an imprisoned young woman.
And that's what we do. Everything looks exactly like it did in my nightmare, but the essential difference is that this time I won't put us in danger by trying to talk to anyone. We succeed in sneaking up on many people before they notice us. Other times it gets a little messy, and I even shoot an arrow accidentally into Jordis once, but generally we're in control of the situation. That's on the bright side. The downside is that we don't find the girl. Only a small room that might have been used as a prison cell, and a note form someone calling herself Bronwen and saying she's held in captivity and hoping someone will find her. That's the only piece of writing around here, so we have no way of knowing where the girl is.
I shall talk to that boyish youngster and Bronwen's father one more time, and then I'll have a very serious word with that tight-lipped Khajiit slave trader in Dragonbridge. That's all I can do.
We're headed for Windhelm now, but then I catch a glimpse of Kynesgrove across the river and realize it's really close. So we descend to the river and swim over.
All is quiet in Kynesgrove. We do a little shopping and get some Alteration training from the local friendly witch Dravynea. Under the bright sun barely able to warm up the chilly air, we travel to nearby Windhelm which we reach just a few minutes before noon.
It's perfect. We'll have time to comfortably do everything we had planned. Tomorrow morning we'll go to Winterhold. (I guess I'll postpone that holiday in Hviterun.)
I feel very apprehensive as I walk towards the palace. I can't tell if it's because of the war of because of Yrsarald.
Ulfric is very haughty.
He's talking awfully big for a double-faced thalmor collaborator.
I've never realized before he has such a big nose. Like a small potato, really. It looks amusing when you look at it from as close as I am standing now.
After some dodging, Ulfric agrees to go to the peace talks in High Hrothgar if General Tullius will also attend. I inform him that I'm on my way to Solitud to bring Tullius the exalted summons.
Even though our conversation is not very long, it makes one thing very clear to me – there is no bending of the rules established by that man. I mean, I've never seen anyone so headstrong and dominant. Amusing as his nose may be, if he would look me in the eye and tell me to strip naked right here and now, I don't think I would dare disobey. Of course, if he would look somewhere else than my eyes, I might get my self-control back.
Sorry, I'm talking about utterly silly thoughts again. What I really meant to say was I know now it would be futile to ask Yrsarald to let me stay the night. It's just not going to happen. And now the logical part of my mind takes over again and I realize that if we're going to do that horrible thing, I'd better not stay the night even if it were possible, because there's no way of knowing what he'll want me to do in the morning, and I can hardly tell him to go and wash himself first, can I?
Enough of that now. I go and say hello to Yrsarald and promise I'll drop by in the evening. Then I walk out, still under the impression left by the overwhelming personality (not to mention voice) of Jarl Ulfric. I hurry towards the marketplace which is the most efficient remedy against all the frightening and confusing things in the world.
Indeed, I feel awesome after my rounds through the shopping areas and the harbors. That little girl Sofie is in her usual spot this time selling flowers.
I tell her she may sleep in my house when she has nowhere else to go, and as a return service, she can keep it in good order. I give her a key.
I visit some more shops and wander around in the elven quarter – alone, in order not to scare the people with too many foreign faces at the same time.
A little after 7 o'clock in the evening, I go to the palace to face my destiny. I'm no longer afraid. I can endure a little pain, and frankly I deserve a lot more than that as punishment for all those people I have killed when I actually had a chance to run away. Above all, I trust Yrsarald won't really hurt me the way (as I presume) Lorm might.
Yrsarald walks me upstairs, holding my hand when we're out of the guards' sight, and leads me to his room. He takes a seat in the armchair and makes me strip naked in front of the fireplace. Having eyed me unhurriedly, he asks:
"Laura, do you remember what you promised me the last time?"
I nod.
"Say it!"
"Yes, I do remember."
"No, I mean, tell me what it is you promised."
What the hell? Can't you just get on with it? Why do I have to say it?
"I promised that if you want to do it in the other hole, I will not resist or raise any objections."
"What do you mean by "the other hole"?"
"What do you mean what do I mean?"
Yrsarald gets up and stands himself in front of me: "What is the other hole called?"
"Anus," I say with downcast eyes.
"So, Laura, tell me one more time and clearly, what it is that you want me to do to you tonight."
I raise my head an look him in the eye. "I want you to fuck my pussy, but if you intend to fuck my butthole instead, I won't object or resist in any way."
Yrsarald nods. "Fair enough." I believe to detect a hint of a smile as if he was impressed by my boldness.
Slowly raising his hands, he grabs my breasts. I can't help closing my eyes and smiling in delight, touching my lower lip with my teeth.
"Get onto the bed," says Yrsarald while he lets go if me.
I walk to the bed while he gets undressed. I don't know which way he'll want me, so I just lie down on my belly, close my eyes and wait. I can hear his almost inaudible footsteps as he approaches the bed, naked as I presume. I feel my buttocks pulled apart.
And then he enters me. What? You're hard already, just from looking and talking and thinking? Wow.
With your permission (or without it), I'll leave the rest to your imagination. It is quite an ordeal, but luckily it doesn't last very long. The girls have told me men come rather soon in that hole, because it's very tight and it doesn't get wet, so the friction is very intense. But I don't think you want to know it so precisely. The important part is, Yrsarald is in a jubilant and generous mood, so I have no difficulties making him promise he'll instruct the city guards to keep an eye on the little girl Sofie and protect her, should anything happen. That's the best I can do for her. This is not Hviterun.
Now it's time for me to carefully climb out of the bed and put my clothes on. Yes, I'm not telling Yrsarald I killed Alduin. I'm kind of not in the mood. I mean, I feel the treatment I got first from Ulfric and then from him is not what the Dragonborn who has just killed the most horrible among all the dragons deserves. They can learn it from rumors, whenever any such may reach them.
You'll be glad to hear I can walk away on my own two feet. I hope the passersby won't notice anything unusual, at least not in this awful darkness in which I can barely find my house.
I chase everybody out of the bedroom while I take a health potion. (I didn't want to do it in the palace or on the street in case anyone would see me and guess what it was for.) Then we go to bed. My new stepdaughter Sofie gets a bedmat in the other room, because Lydia and I share the only bed in this house and it would be unseemly for a child to see what we might be doing. I mean, it would be unseemly for me to let a child see what I might be doing with Lydia in bed. I also let Jenassa and Jordis take their bedmats to the other room so that Sofie wouldn't be afraid alone.
Lydia realizes I only want some very gentle caresses tonight. No talking.
next awakening
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