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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21453 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Breezehome felt cold when she and Eola first arrived. The fire wasn’t stoked, and the door wasn’t locked. That was completely unlike Lydia. More importantly, her house looked thrashed. Eola whistled as they came in. “Looks like someone had a good time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Smells like sex and blood.” Eola pronounced, smiling. Elayne scoffed. Lydia was too professional for that. “And I see plenty of blood.”
Her table was a write-off. All four legs were slightly bent, as if too great a weight had pressed upon them. The table had bloodstains on it, as well as other stains she didn’t want to think about. “Oh, Lydia! Not on the table! We eat on this table!”
Eola laughed hard, her one good eye tearing. “You’re going to complain about your table when your place is this thrashed?”
“Shush.” She tutted. “You’re stuck with me until you learn enough manners that you make a good princess.” And see the sun enough that her skin didn’t look halfway desiccated. The Reachmen would never tolerate someone that didn’t look like they belonged outside. “Now, sit down while I find Lydia.”
Breezehome was small. It was explored quickly, and what she found troubled her. Lydia’s traveling bag was gone, as were her weapons and potions. Her laundry was still here, but all of the spare gold they kept for food was gone. It felt like she had been robbed, but it was clear that Lydia had been here. Something seemed wrong about all of this. The secure floorboards were intact in the alchemy room, but it looked like someone had ransacked the alchemy chest. Only a few moldy flowers were left at the bottom. “I’m going to have to go ask the guards if they’ve seen her.” She would look under the floorboards later.
Eola nodded. “My feet are killing me. How are you wearing these all the time?” Her feet had developed blisters, as she had kept heels on the entire trip back. Elayne had too, when she first started wearing heels. But now, it just felt nice on her feet. Well, comfortable was a good word.
“Practice. And restoration magic when you have blisters.” Elayne pointed to the house. “Wait here for me to return. I’ve got to go talk to the guards, and do a lot of other things.” Elayne grinned, looking at her. “No hanky panky. Stay in my house, I’ll be back soon. Aam.” The dragon language for ‘serve’ kicked in, her collar glowing as the commands were accepted by Eola. The woman’s one eye followed Elayne as she trotted out of Breezehome, heading first to the gates. They hadn’t seen Lydia. In fact, they had seen her enter the city four days past, but that was the last she had been seen. One of them mentioned her going to the Bannered Mare, but the tavern only said that Lydia had been seen leaving with a few visitors to the city. Two people, the guards confirmed when they had been described. A man who had come and gone over the years named Stalf. One unnamed female companion, but he claimed to be from Solstheim. This of course took hours.
The merchants didn’t know him very well, except for Belethor. Sneaky Breton, that one. “Stalf? Solstheim Stalf?” He grinned, staring right at her masked eyes. “Liar, that one.”
“What’ve you got? My housecarl was last seen with them and my house was broken into.”
“Explains what he sells me. In the past, I’ve gotten some unusual things from him. Children’s clothes once. A couple silver buckles that belong to the Silver Hand. But you know what he’s sold that really takes the cake?” Belethor seemed to bring out a logbook. “On three separate occasions he sold me an amulet of Stendarr.”
“Those are expensive.” Elayne said pointedly.
“Oh, I know. But they had blood on them. They were all taken from their owners, hard. I think the man you’re chasing is a killer, Elayne.”
“A killer who isn’t known to other holds?”
“I think you’re looking for someone who has killed children.” Belethor said, serious. “Not just people on the road or bandits. Along with people who wear amulets of Stendarr. He sold me one when he came in a couple days ago.” Belethor passed over a seemingly clean and crisp amulet. But upon close inspection there was blood in a couple of small spots. Whoever had it before Stalf had died recently. “I’ve also heard a rumor that some Vigilants of Stendarr were found dead near Rorikstead a few days past.”
Elayne’s eyes widened. “You think..?”
“Nope.” Belethor barked. “I don’t get paid to think.” He laughed at his own joke. “But the clues add up to something really wrong with this Stalf fellow. Not that I have any Vigilants of Stendarr to ask questions of, mind you.”
“I think that something terrible has happened to Lydia.”
“I think you have a problem.” Belethor added. “And I bet you know the solution, my fine-minded friend.”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “I think I do. Bye, Belethor. I’ll sell you some sleeping tree sap next time, if you are nicer.”
“You say that every time!” He bellowed, laughing. The smile on his face was a delighted one. “Oh yeah! Someone sold me some of those dragon bones that came from the one you killed outside of town. Want me to hold those for you?” The shrewd Breton dragged another fifteen minutes of bickering debate before Elayne convinced him to part with them. But her heels took her to the one place in town she knew she could get help in finding Lydia.
Her heels echoed on the stones of Jorrvaskr, getting the attention of the Companions as she walked past them. Or it might have been the short elven armor she had. Either way, she had the attention of the hall when she came to sit near Kodlak Whitemane, the leader of the Companions.
“Dragonborn and thane.” He greeted her. “What brings you to our humble hall?” There was nothing humble about it, but the old man seemed sincere. Grandfatherly. It always set her at ease around him.
“I believe my Housecarl was kidnapped from my home. My place has been robbed, her things taken, and there are signs of blood in my front room.” Elayne faltered a bit. “And other things.”
“The Companions have never shied away from a rescue mission.” Kodlak had already given her his full attention, but the rest of the Companions gave up any kind of semblance of ignoring her. Vilkas and Farkas she had met before, and both of them towered over other Nords. “Do you know who took her?”
“A man named Stalf was in town days ago. But I’ve talked to the merchants. Based on the things he has sold, I believe him to be a serial killer. Children and adults. There are some dead vigilants of Stendarr in Rorikstead that he took from last.”
Kodlak frowned, but it was Farkas who gave away their bias. “Sweet Lydia’s gone?” He whispered.
“Gods. Someone took Lydia.” Another member murmured, the whispers going around.
Kodlak held up one hand, the entire hall coming to silence. “Your housecarl is a dear friend of many of us. She has trained with us, and we would have accepted her membership in the Companions. But she chose to become a housecarl in the Jarl’s household, in case he married Irileth. Which he has not, now that you’ve come along.” That thought filled Elayne with an entirely different kind of dread. “We shall go as Ysgramor had of old, when Gormlaith was taken by the Snow Elves. We shall, of course, expect payment when we bring Lydia back.” When. Not if. Elayne smiled, relieved. She was just one woman, and she was chasing shadows.
“I trust the Companions to find my friend. Though there is one thing. Lydia was protecting something for me, and it wasn’t in my house. It is a golden scroll, five feet long. An Elder Scroll.” She pointed out. “I need it to defeat Alduin. I cannot save the world without it.”
“One dear friend and her own charge.”
“Lydia is more important to me. A scroll I can track down again. But I don’t want Lydia to die.” The Elder Scroll had survived this long. But she only remembered the plaque in the other Breezehome, commemorating her death. “Thank you for accepting, Kodlak.”
“The Companions shall set out immediately.” Kodlak stood up to his full height. “Vilkas. Farkas. You have the lead on this. Athis, Ria?” Two younger members of the Companions stepped forward. “To Rorikstead. Take horses. Investigate the death of these Vigilants. We will find Lydia and bring her home.” The old man offered his hand to shake. Elayne’s small hand was swallowed up by the heavy callused arm, and they shook on it. The deal was struck, and Jorrvaskr came alive. Weapons were sharpened, orders were barked, and armor was pulled on with great speed. Ria and Athis bolted, pre-prepared bags of supplies on their backs as they ran for the gates and the stables. Vilkas and Farkas took slightly more time, wanting to go and investigate what Belethor had bought from Stalf. But it filled Elayne with a lot of hope. She was not the best at finding her friend. But damned if she would just let Lydia be taken. Seven hundred gold was a small price to pay for bringing her friend home.
“Thank you, Kodlak.” She offered, standing.
“Don’t thank me yet. We are but mortals. I will only accept your thanks for a job well done.” The old man said, looking confident. “Only two days lead? There will still be tracks. Even with the rain, you’ve given us plenty to work with. Most of the time we investigate people gone for more than a fortnight. Much more difficult to track down.”
“Still.” Elayne just felt like thanking him. She held her tongue, choosing to not push him. “I appreciate it. I will be at Breezehome if you find anything.”
“You will hear from us, Lady Dragonborn.” Kodlak said, as she left the building. Elayne felt better, but still fragile. Lydia was gone, that much was certain. She just hoped she was still alive. And that she would still be alive and unmolested after what she was about to do. Her feet then carried her towards Dragonsreach. The large palace had a stone foundation, Elayne’s shoes echoing loudly against the stone. She was timing her visit very carefully. It was the early hours of the afternoon, when the line of people going to Dragonsreach was at its height. The guards recognized her, letting her pass the group of merchants pressing at the doors. As well as Nazim, who seemed to just be enjoying watching other people suffer.
She wasn’t the only one wearing high heels in here. The familiar sound carried through the hall, and she saw Irileth with a pair of black heeled boots, walking near the throne. The Dunmer gave her a nod, before turning her eyes upon Amren and the other visitors. Elayne walked past all of them, into the back stairs. It was just as Molag Bal said, the worlds were blending together. Things from the other world were starting to appear in this one. First Astrid, and now Irileth. If she was seeing it right, it looked almost as if Irileth’s leather armor was shorter on her thighs.
Then again, she had gotten used to her legs being displayed. No one seemed to complain about it, so far. She acted like she was visiting Farengar, a common occurrence. But past his door was a stairwell leading to the great porch. One solitary guard was on duty out here, the large dinner table and windy entranceway hardly worth guarding. A muffle spell muted her shoes, and Elayne was within range of him in just a few steps. The sleep spell hit the nord, who slumped onto the walls of the porch.
“Alright Elayne, you can do this.” She whispered to herself. From her bag, she grabbed the rope that Astrid had given her. Lashing it to a chair, she threw the coiled mass over the edge, and felt it hit the bottom. Just as well, the person on the other end did not wait to climb up. Gabriella came over the edge, breathing hard. She did just climb almost a hundred feet of rope.
“Nice work, initiate.” Gabriella told her. She was covered head to toe in brotherhood shrouded armor. “How is it looking?”
“He’s on his throne. There are people all over the room, with guards in the front and back. This is the only one here.” She motioned to the sleeping one. “But I have some spells to help you.” She motioned to some of the bales of hay that provided cover up here.
“How many guards will be looking at the upper gallery?” Gabriella asked, serious. “What kind of spell?”
“I have a special book. It makes any actions you do be forgotten by the guards just in case you get caught.” She lied smoothly.
Gabriella and Elayne crouched in cover, as Elayne brought out Captured Dreams. “That looks Daedric.”
“You don’t want my help?” Elayne challenged.
“You’ve been true to your family. Of course I’ll accept the help. Just so long as we keep this book between us, you see. Astrid would kill you for this if she knew you had it. She likes to collect things like that.”
“She’s got more daedric artifacts?”
“That dagger of hers. Probably more in her office somewhere.” Gabriella confirmed. “Let’s do this, sister.”
Elayne went along with Astrid’s plan. They would be killing Balgruuf. Just not her Balgruuf that she swore oaths to. Gabrielle would remember killing the Jarl. She would confirm that he was killed. And Elayne would return them back to their world, where the damage would be undone but the job complete. Or that was her plan. “Betrayed by servants, your return must be servile in turn.” She read, as the world around them darkened. The darkness receded, leaving her in the other world. A single guard was on duty in the same location, and another sleep spell took them out of the action.
Gabriella stumbled, shaking her head. “What kind of spell was that!” She hissed.
“Go, take your shot. Get back here as soon as you can. It doesn’t last forever.” Gabriella nodded. The assassin was off, and Elayne chewed her lip waiting for her to return. She did not have to wait long. Screams echoed through the palace, and shouting rose. Captured Dreams lay open on her lap, but she saw one serious issue. There was no glowing rune. Nothing to press to return to her world. Had she used it too much? What was wrong? Closing and opening it again did nothing, nor did flipping through the pages help. As it currently stood, there was no way back. Time was up, though. Gabriella came around the corner, running. But that was the furthest her sister assassin got. A blade, thrown by someone, impacted her through the body. Blood sprayed and the enchanted weapon seemed to punch through her lungs.
“I was raised by the Morag Tong! You think I would let you get away?!” Irileth roared from around the corner. Elayne gulped. She needed to be gone. Gabriella was dead. No one would come back from that. But the rope was in the other world! Shaking, she started climbing the wall down, no ropes. No safety at all. Her hands burned, as she made her way down the side of the palace. Up above her, she could hear the heels of Irileth moving along the edges, and she cast an invisibility spell before the woman could look over the edge and see her. The red eyes slid into view over the parapet, promising death to anything they saw. She searched methodically, angry. “Seal the gates. Signal the north tower and get the horses patrolling. Alert the legion.” Irileth pulled back, heels clicking as she began moving. “The Dark Brotherhood tried to kill the Jarl! Lock down the city! I want any conspirators found!”
“The Dragonborn killed the Dark Brotherhood, I thought.” One of the guards spoke up.
“This evidence speaks for itself.” Irileth pointed out. “She’s still bleeding out. Take her down to the dungeon. I want her hung on chains and prepared for me. I’m going to find out what I want to know.”
Elayne shuddered. Gabriella was going to die in this world, for the second time. She was still alive. But if she had tried to fight, she would have been cut down right alongside her. Shaking, she waited for the guards to be gone before climbing down towards the roof of the dungeons. With her heels, that was a lot harder to do than if she was wearing regular shoes. But with a lot of effort, she was sitting on the outside wall of whiterun, just around the corner from where the guards would go to carry Gabriella to the dungeons. She saw them carrying her in, five guards carrying her on a stretcher. Elayne could see her unconscious on the stretcher, but still breathing.
“I need to think. I need something.” The dungeon of Dragonsreach had a secret exit. Lydia had told her once, of a tunnel that went from the guard’s barracks to the dungeon. It was there from the time of King Olaf one-eye, or so she claimed. The barracks would be empty right now with all of the guards out hunting. “I’ll need a weapon.”
With invisibility and muffle she was using a lot of her magicka. No one would forget a woman with blue hair showing up on the day the jarl got hurt or killed. She couldn’t get caught. Or seen. Ducking between buildings and past guard patrols, she managed to get from the cloud district to the back of the marketplace without trouble. Belethor’s shop looked to be full of people. Warmaiden’s was surrounded by soldiers who were setting out on patrols. Grimacing, she reached up and pulled her dragon priest mask from her face. Those would be risky to wear here. Back against a building, she drew all of her long hair behind her, clasping it tight. The blue wave of hair was now pulled all along her back.
Heels clicking, she entered the Drunken Huntsman with her face visible for the first time in days. As the Dragonborn, she liked the notoriety she caused. People knew her by her dragon priest mask, and she knew there were rumors about it. Her actual face was rather plain, besides whatever the headband was doing to her. She knew she looked like a whore. Kohl around her eyes, and the headband going from her brow to wrap around both ears. At least her elven armor made her appear professional. The moonstone bands on her thighs touched once as she opened the door, and she saw the interior for the first time in this world. It was far more decorative, with antlers and trophies all across the walls. This included the skull of a giant, and a mammoth’s skull that hung over the main tavern area, candles lit in its horns.
Only one person was in here, cleaning up what had to be at least thirty tankards of mead and ale from every surface of the room. Elrindr, the owner was just stepping around the area with two buckets. It seemed that they were overflowing with even more tankards. At the sound of her heels, he looked up to her. “Well miss, if you were looking for your clients they just left.”
“Excuse me?”
“The legion just got called up. My taproom went from standing room only to empty. Sorry, but the men that are willing to pay for you are no longer here.” He seemed mad about that. As he should be, her merchant mind decided. Losing that many paying customers all at once meant what could have been an amazing day of revenue just turned into much less exciting of a day.
“I’m not here about the legion.” She said, looking around. “I was here to buy a bow.”
He nodded. “Well, a paying customer that wants more than drink! I unfortunately have very low stock at the moment.” he was grinning. Behind him, the wall was full of bows on display. Arrows were in different slots along the wall, and it looked like business was booming.
Elayne gave him a glare, which did nothing. The damn kohl around her eyes probably made her look harmless. She had a weapon at her belt, but the simple steel dagger was just the best way to keep her elven armor from riding up or flashing anyone. Her heavier weapons were in her pack, and she always had her spells. “You’ve got an elven bow on the wall there.”
“Ah, that one? You don’t look like quite the one to afford it. Just as well, I’m not supposed to sell my weapons to anyone when the city is locked down. During attacks, the shopkeepers are not to distribute weapons to anyone.” He folded his arms. “Sorry, pretty thing.”
No lie Elayne could come up with would be easily proven in this world. But he did call her pretty. She needed a bow, and to her merit she did think about just stealing it from him. She didn’t like stealing from anyone. Or killing people that didn’t deserve it. “I have enough gold to pay for it!” She said, bringing out her sack of coins.
“The Imperial legion is drinking me out of booze for the season with each passing day. Any one of them could report me for selling during a siege or risky situation.” Elrindr seemed to have a perpetual smirk across his face. He could be lying, but it wasn’t implausible.
“What did you do during the siege?” She dared to ask.
“When the Stormcloaks set up camp, concerned citizens bought out of all my stock. Afterwards I was able to afford plenty of stock from the fallen. But that doesn’t change the law.” Again, that smirk stayed on his face. Like he knew something she did not. “Couldn’t break the law that time. This time, I have been warned.”
“What do you actually want?” She demanded, annoyed.
“Is there something you have that I want?” He challenged, the Bosmer grinning wider.
Elayne realized that she very much looked like one of the painted whores of Wayrest. He might not be after money in this. She let one of her hands run down her body, to rest at her hip. Elrindr’s eyes followed the motion, the grin still on his face. She wanted to call him a pig, but then again this was the other world. They were much more fast and loose about this kind of thing. It was probably good that she wasn’t wearing a collar like the last time she was in Whiterun. Her grandmother had broken the power of it.
He could at least see the moonstone bands around her thighs. The only thing she had from Captured Dreams that was visible. Anything she could say about how she planned on using a bow would be incriminating. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.” Elayne said, heated. Already she could feel her nipples perking up. Just the thought alone of being called pretty had awoken them, but Elrindr seemed to conjure other ideas.
“The only arrangement I might work out is with a whore.” Elrindr said, carrying his buckets of tankards to the back room, smirking.
“Well..” Elayne wasn’t sure where to go from here. “I have no guarantee that you would actually sell me anything even if I was a whore.” Elayne swallowed nervously. “For you.”
Elrinder returned, with two new buckets and a bundle of leather straps. “No whore I have ever met would wear smallclothes.” He winked. Then he just continued to clean up the room, as if she had already written off the deal. Perhaps both of them were surprised by her own eagerness, her hands flipping up the back of her elven armor and her smallclothes hitting the floor. First her left foot shakily raised, the heel sliding out of the material. With a significant click that shoe came down, and her right foot raised itself, leaving her smalls on the floor of the Huntsman. Elrindr watched with rapt attention, the moment of silence only broken by their breathing. “Or a breastband.” Elrindr said quietly, not even paying attention to his task anymore.
Elayne folded her arms. “I barely have any breasts to begin with.” It was true, she hadn’t worn a breastband today. They didn’t seem to do much for her anymore. Or maybe she just preferred her skin being in contact with more than just the thin bands of fabric. “Your turn to prove your intentions.”
“If I sell you this bow,” Elrinder licked his lips. “You’ll not mention it to anyone, alright?” He threw the leather straps over one of the wooden frames holding up his ceiling. “And I get to fuck you in that.” It looked like five sections of leather hung down to around waist height.
“Agreed.” Elayne said, not knowing what it was. But she somehow wanted this. Losing her virginity to save Gabriella was worth it. Or at least that is what her brain was telling her. A deep heat had been building inside of her, and she shook his hand. Elrindr just pointed at the leather objects.
“The ones closest to the floor are for your feet. Hands are here.” He pointed to the seat at the center of the contraption. “Lift up your skirts and sit there.” She put her hands in the grips first, testing the contraption. It would keep her from touching the floor, suspending her at a matching height to Elrindr’s waist. He had done this before. Perhaps not often, judging by his eagerness.
Elayne kept one hand on the contraption, and brought the other low. Pulling her armor over her ass, it jiggled pleasantly as it was freed from the dual layers of armored skirts. The leather felt warm on her skin, as she settled her ass onto the seat. First one shaking foot was brought off the floor, the spiked heel naturally holding the strap tight. Both hands were now holding onto the grips above her head, as she brought her other foot off of the floor. The entire contraption started swinging back and forth as she lost her connection to the floor, and luck alone slammed her heeled foot into the remaining strap.
“Just get used to it for a moment.” Elrindr murmured. “Let me check on your feet.” Elayne swung back and forth carefully. This was like a gigantic child’s swing, but with more controls to guide it with. By pushing or pulling with her hands she could control the angle of her body. Her feet were naturally spreading wide apart, more to keep herself from flailing than to control her swing. Soon enough she felt Elrindr playing with her wrists, letting her test more movements with her feet. Bringing them closer together risked coming out of her seat. So they had to remain apart if she didn’t want to slide out.
Glancing up, she noticed that new straps of leather were now wrapped around her wrists. Only secured by a leather tie, but it seemed to hold her in the contraption. Lifting up one foot, she saw another leather tie over her ankle. “Keeping me from leaving?”
“You could undo those by hand. Not like those thalmor slave bands on your thighs. That’s to help you from falling off if you lose focus.”
How thoughtful. A final addition was a leather wrap around her rolled up armor, to keep it from sliding back down as well as from falling out of the seat. Now she was completely suspended over the floor, at least six inches from that surface for her feet. Bringing her feet further apart stabilized her, keeping her from swinging too far back and forth. Elayne bit her lip, looking around at the empty tavern. Here she was, with her legs in the air and skirt hiked up in public. Meanwhile Elrindr was wasting no time. His pants were undone, the elf not having dropped them yet. He reached out, pushing her hips.
The motion sent her backwards, forcing her legs out wider to try to stop her body from tumbling. Her backwards motion stopped, and she swung back towards Elrindr. Her hips met his, a gentle mashing of her flesh and his fabrics that felt like electricity were running through every part of her. “Oh!” She murmured, the jolt pressing her even more fully against him. There was a thrum as he cleared his throat, one she could feel at the juncture of her thighs.
“Perfect.” Elrindr enunciated. “Perfect.” He said it again, his hands were running all over her backside, measuring it in his smaller hands. Bosmer were short people, and she was convinced that he was just marvelling at it. Her one good feature, as her breasts were small and her face rather plain. His fingers pressed, the flesh giving way to his callused hands. She was pushed away for a moment, her hips losing contact. When she came back, all that she felt was skin. His pants had hit the ground in the time she had been separated. “You’re ready.” He whispered.
She was? Elayne wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t been with a man before! The Stick didn’t count. It shouldn’t at least! But with her hands and feet tied to this swing, she couldn’t back out of this so easily. With him between her legs, if she tried to bring them together or get out of the swing it would just look like she was trying to get on top of him already. She couldn’t see a way out of this if she tried, short of Charming him Elayne wanted to slap her own cheek. Why hadn’t she thought of that first when he didn’t want to sell to her! Blinking, she focused back on the now. There was something touching her most intimate of places.
Looking down, she could see that the apex of her thighs was lined up with his own. There was a penis there, large and full. Her entire body locked onto that fact, the bosmer’s skin looking tight and hot. Her entire body felt flush, like all of the water in it was flooding down to meet it. “Oh yes.” It wasn’t the Stick. It felt hot against her skin, and the way that Elrindr carried himself after she said that seemed to be eager. Perhaps, Elayne mused, she could be a whore in this moment. With a gentle push of her legs, she swung forwards.
Elrindr could see her coming, and lined himself up. She felt more than saw when he made contact. Like her body was designed to do this, the flesh parted. It felt like a hot object was pushing deeply inside of her, touching places that she had never touched on herself. Elayne started gasping, biting her lip as she let out squeals as Elrindr worked his way inside of her. She thought this was the height of feeling, her legs and arms unable to stop him from taking his pleasure from her. Every time he pulled back, it drew her breath and the entire focus of her being before it came back, slamming deeply into her psyche.
Elrindr was holding the swing by the straps, controlling her movement back and forth. The cock between her legs was getting warmer, or perhaps she was the one heating up. He was moving faster and faster, and Elayne pulled at the slots on her wrists. She was letting the restraints hold her more than hold herself up, and threw her head back. The motion angled her body differently, letting Elrindr hit even deeper! It wasn’t as deep as she had been pushed with the Stick, but it was deep enough.
Underneath her, Elrindr started gasping. The glorious feeling was coming to an end, as she saw him pull out. She ached for him to go back inside of her, but instead he grabbed a loose tankard and sighed, releasing into it. But not her! Inwardly fuming, Elayne wondered why in Oblivion she wanted that. Why would she want him to release inside of her? Shaking her head, she felt the high she was in receding. Elrindr leaned against his counter and looked relieved. Meanwhile she felt like she was going to leave a trail on the floor like a damned snail, she was so ready. “Hang on, miss.” He rasped. “I’ll have you down in a moment.”
Elayne was ready to contest that point, but he pulled his pants back up. The tankard he used he carried past her, and against her will her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Her mind felt disgusted, but another part of her squirmed. Almost as though she wanted it. Shuddering, she tried to keep her mind off of it as the Bosmer came back, bending over to grab her smallclothes. Those he shoved into his pocket, smirking. “Hey!” She complained, finally finding her voice.
“I already released your arms and legs.” He murmured, ignoring the real reason for the complaint. “You can get down at any time.” Glancing at her free hands and feet, she noticed the difference. She must have been mentally debating with herself and not noticed. Shakily, she set both heels on the floor. It helped contain the heat she must be giving off between her legs, and the armored skirts fell back over her ass.
“You..” She started to say, and then faltered. What did she even want at this point? For him to actually finish screwing her? Bring back that dirty tankard? Gods, what was she even thinking! Shaking her head, she felt the blue hair ripple. “I need that bow.” She was here for a bow. So she could rescue Gabriella. Not lose her virginity and get lost in this world.
He gave her a damn good price for it. So low, she didn’t even bother haggling. But instead of the haughty smirk she saw when she first came in, Elrindr seemed more open and comfortable with her. “Here you are. Some elven arrows, too. Match that nice armor you have.”
“What about my smalls?” She asked.
“Whores don’t need those.” He joked. “Plus, those slave bands on your thighs probably would make wearing them near impossible.”
Taking the moonstone and quicksilver weapon, she realized she should really be running to go help Gabriella. But she couldn’t help asking him. “Can you explain them to me? Someone locked them on me as a mean prank.”
“You can’t get them off unless you are wearing a collar made of the same material.” He said, apologetically. “Which are notoriously difficult to remove. The college of Winterhold know how to get around it, but it’s thousands of gold to hire them to do it.” He admits. “Might be better to be known as a whore.”
Elayne rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” She said, deadpan. “I haven’t seen it do anything magical yet.”
“Consider yourself lucky.” Elrindr murmured. “Now, why don’t you pull your skirt all the way down and go out the back door? My brother is coming and I don’t want to explain this to him.” It was clear that he planned on keeping her smallclothes. Like a trophy on the wall. Glancing at all the other things in this room, she considered it probably apt. Groaning, she shoved her skirt as far down as it would go, and slipped the arrows into her bag. As well as the bow, for that matter. Heels clicking, she got to the back door and whined imperceptible to all but herself. She was angry that she was walking out of here. Shaking her head once more, she tried to move on. She got what she needed, and now she could leave.
So why in Oblivion did she want to go back into his kitchen after that tankard? Gods, she was a mess. Stewing, she threw open the back door and slipped out. She had her bow, now she could go rescue her friend. The guard barracks she was going to was right next to Jorrvaskr. It didn’t look like much, just a door buried into a hill. Lydia said that it was its own building at one point, but someone wanted to build on top of it and dirt covered it. The door was slightly ajar, and she bit her lip as she approached. A quick muffle and she was in, heels silenced. The barracks was almost empty. She said almost because she could see two of the beds full, their occupants snoring loudly.
Without windows this place was easy to sleep in. Elayne moved into one of the side rooms, exactly where Lydia told her about. There was a tunnel set into the stone, only revealed by a candlelight spell. She would have to crawl through it. Her knees were scuffed after perhaps the first fifty feet. The second fifty felt like she was going to bleed, but finally she saw light ahead. At least her arms and torso were covered. The dirt scraped at them, but Elayne came out the other side to see the inside of the Dragonsreach dungeon.
Six large cells filled it. The one she emerged from had a skeleton in it. She felt disgusted at that. The cell must not have been used in a very long time. The lock looked rusty. The one across the way was filled with some kind of giant wooden rack, and upon it hung Gabriella. Her clothes were taken from her, and she hung there in the nude. She had been questioned, and looked injured. Looking around, Elayne could see only one guard in this section of the dungeon. There was a desk up front, she knew. This wasn’t her world, she reminded herself. These men weren’t here to help her.
She took out her bow first. The elven weapon wasn’t what she was used to. If she missed, it would be horrid. The metal was powerful, and she might only get one shot. Looking up, she contemplated if she would actually be able to save Gabriella. Of course, that thought had her immediately angry. Of course she could rescue her! She was the Dragonborn! Nodding to herself, she resolved that no one had to die here today. The bow was put away, and she drew her steel dagger of paralysis. The other hand was free, and it was what she focused on.
Concentrating, she drew out her hand and threw a Sleep spell. The guard on patrol fell over, loudly crumpling to the floor. “Lod! Lod! You oaf, get up!” A voice thundered. Boots thundered, and a second guard came stomping over. “I know ye ain’t feeling good, but that-” A second sleep spell took him down, Elayne breathing a sigh of relief. Rushing forwards, she picked the rusty lock and kicked the door open when it didn’t want to budge. The guard had the key to Gabriella’s cell, and her restraints. She wasted no time in getting in there.
The Dunmer had bigger breasts! The utter bitch. Elayne shook her head, instead pulling her from the rack and setting her on a pile of straw. She was not responding, but still breathing. Running over to the chest near the doors, she opened it. Gabriella’s things weren’t even there. The chest was empty. “Oh dear.”
Her magicka was already low, but she used what little she had to heal Gabriella. Still, the Dunmer didn’t awaken. One of the guards groaned at the sound of the spellwork, and Elayne bit her lip. She wasn’t strong, but without any gear the Dunmer could be dragged. Across the floor and through the rusty gate, she got Gabriella into the cell. Then she went and relocked all of the doors before throwing the keys onto the sleeping guard. Elayne squeezed both of them through the tunnel. She would press her heels against the walls, and use her thighs to pull Gabriella’s body forward. It was more than a hundred feet back to the Guard barracks.
“Ngg.” Gabriella thankfully stirred. “No more.”
“Shh.” Elayne whispered. “I came to rescue you!”
“Elayne?” Gabriella whispered, only one eye opening. “You should leave me.” She coughed, a wet sound. “Kill me.”
“No, no no.” Elayne whispered. “I’m going to get you out of here. Just down this tunnel? There is an empty barracks. We will get you a cloak, and then we are getting out of here.”
“The others..” She coughed. “Dead?”
“What others?” Elayne asked.
“You only knew about one of the contracts.” Gabriella explained, her voice growing stronger. “There were two others in this city.”
“Two more?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Who?”
“I wasn’t told who. Only that there were two others. Nazir and Babbette went after one, while the last one was being handled by Astrid herself.” Gabriella’s hands glowed, as she tried to heal herself. But the giant wound in her stomach would take more than restoration magic to heal. “That housecarl. Morag Tong.” She coughed.
“Her name is Irileth.” Elayne supplied. “Did she hurt you?”
“She’s good.” Gabriella said, groaning. “We need to move. Before they find us.”
“We just need clothes for you first.” Elayne said. “Can you crawl?”
Even injured, Gabriella was a tough woman. She dragged herself quietly into the storage room of the barracks, leaning Gabriella against a barrel. “I have a home in this city. We can hide you there and let you heal up.” Elayne slipped out, going into the barracks. A set of moth-eaten robes and an old dress were in the wardrobes, which she offered to Gabriella.
The woman was barely responsive when she returned. Elayne forced the robes over her head, drawing them over her ruined body. The Dunmer barely responded. She needed to be brought to Breezehome. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out Captured Dreams. The rune had returned! The glowing rune was back!
She could send them back inside the guard barracks. That would be disastrous if what she said was true, and there had been two other contracts. Elayne resolved to use it somewhere else. The guard barracks may have already been emptied, but leading a heavily injured Dunmer around would spark questions in both worlds. It couldn’t be helped. Carefully, she led Gabriella towards the door, the Dunmer leaning over her and only running on adrenaline. A stamina potion and a healing potion did little, just keeping her conscious.
They got outside the door, and the city looked to have a hundred torches burning along the walls, people running along their length. “Hang on Gabriella.” She whispered, pressing the glowing symbol. “I’ve got you.”
The world transitioned back to light, the sun higher in the sky. Time flowed differently between the worlds. The light seemed to surround them, and the Dunmer sighed in some relief. The walls were not manned, and there were very few guards running around. No legion, no damaged Whiterun, and no pursuers. Just walking along the walls brought them past Olava the Feeble, who gave them a gentle wave. She didn’t seem to react to Gabriella’s state, as she came up behind Breezehome. Slipping around the building, Elayne took a moment to equip her dragon priest mask, Hevnoraak.
No one challenged her on her way back to her home. As soon as her door shut, she slammed the lock home and sighed in relief. “Eola!” She barked.
There was a frantic movement upstairs, as Eola came down with two swords drawn. “What?” She seemed to have been resting, as her shoes were off.
“Help me get her to my bed!” Eola didn’t question the presence of the Dunmer. She helped get Gabriella to the bed, where Elayne pulled off her moth-eaten robes. “Hot water.”
“She doesn’t look like she is going to make it.” Eola murmured. “She’s been poisoned.”
Gabriella groaned, the wound on her chest looking gruesome. Elayne and Eola brought out every ounce of Restoration magic they knew, and for at least a day that was all they did. Finally, with every potion she had they got the wound to close. Eola slumped onto Lydia’s bed, passing out as soon as the scab held together. Elayne went downstairs, hungry beyond hungry. She was eating what might have been leeks in between bread, when there was a knock at the door.
Groaning, she came to the door. Kodlak was there, his white beard shining in the afternoon sun. “I have news.” He said cryptically. “May I come in?”
Elayne let in the old man, who just stood in the main foyer. “Ria and Athis brought back Farkas and Vilkas today. They were heavily injured, and delirious. Diseases aplenty. But they had one disease in particular that stood out. Vampirism.” He brought out a yellowing page from an old book. It had to be more than a century old. “This is the last time the Companions attempted to hunt this creature. Her name is Fura Bloodmouth. A vampire of the Volkihar clan. We lost many of our number to hunting her down. She likes to collect proud warriors and take them away somewhere. She is a mighty warrior, someone that we have lost people to. Skjor and Aela are hunting them now, but they were last seen heading north. Lydia is most certainly in her possession.”
Elayne looked horrified. Her housecarl had been taken by vampires. “Who are these Volkihar?”
“Powerful. Never fight them near ice or water. The cold favors their powers. Farkas and Vilkas caught up to them somewhere near Swindler’s Den, in the hills northwest of here. Those taken by them are lucky to die a quick death. Fura Bloodmouth is fond of making powerful warriors into more vampires like her.” The old man looked disturbed, handing over the yellowed paper for her to read. “The last time we fought a Nightlord, as they call their leaders we only sent the most senior members of the Companions. Old friends are still amongst them. There is a woman that I was sweet on, once.” He didn’t laugh at the joke. “Her face is permanently frozen in perpetual youth now. Turned by Fura Bloodmouth.”
“Are you saying that you are giving up?”
“I am informing you of the fate of your Housecarl. You paid for a task for the Companions. I am honor bound to inform you of this.” He said, at first serious and his voice loud. Then he softened his tongue. “I don’t want you to run off alone to an ignoble death.”
“But they have what I need to save the world.”
“According to whom?” He challenged.
“The founder of the Way of the Voice. They spoke to me, and told me that the elder scroll I needed was the same one used in ancient times to seal away Alduin.”
Kodlak seemed to value that carefully. “Then you will be going after her. Nothing I say will stop you.”
“No.” She admitted firmly.
The old man grinned. “Then I shall be in no hurry to fill the Halls of the Dead further. I know where the Volkihar live. The Companions will not share this information with you, in the interests of preventing your wrongful death!” His smirk changed once again, as he put his hand on her door handle. “The Companions were hired. This is our task, and we shall go out again and better prepared. Your housecarl is far beyond your reach.”
Elayne slammed her own hand to keep the door shut. “You will tell me! I could still catch her!”
“Don’t push an old warrior.” He cautioned. “It may end poorly for you.”
“You aren’t leaving unti-” It happened in an instant. He swept her leg, the high heel scraping. With his elbow he brought it down into her stomach, all of her breath leaving her in an instant. It was the kind of takedown you dreamt of seeing. Of course, she appreciated it far less from her own floor. Her skirt had ridden up, and her heels scraped against the stone as she failed to muster the strength to get up.
Kodlak opened the door, chuckling. “You and Aela are much the same. If you are going to wear a skirt, Thane of Whiterun, please wear smallclothes. It gives people the wrong idea about you. The Companions will do as you bid us. If we feel we need your help, we shall call. Until then,” He waved, shutting the door slowly. “Don’t be foolish.”
Groaning, Elayne let her head slide to the floor. She had to admit, that was some move.
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Skyrim: Plaything