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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21445 -:- 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
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- 37
- 38
Commander Caius was proud of this city. In a matter of days they had put together a set of defenses a few miles long, and thousands of men and women were out on the plains. Cookfires and watchfires burned heartily, exhausting the supply of wood they had on hand. But the vampires were out there. Scouts were reporting movement, and Baalgruf had asked him to quietly stop the mead from flowing to the camps tonight. He and his guards had confiscated every bottle from here to Honningbrew and shoved all of them inside the Hall of the Dead. It looked like a bar down there, but the soldiers couldn’t be drunk. Not tonight. Even the wedding party had some kind of limit to the drinking.
Lady Irileth; Queen now he supposed; She had brought in some kind of alcohol from her people. A single bottle of vintage comberry brandy from before the fourth era. She was sharing it with those at the palace, and apparently it was made in some place called Vivec. Not that he knew much about quality alcohol. A bit of brandy from Colovia was the most he ever wanted to pay out for. Alto wine was good enough for his tastes. Gods, he should have saved some of those bottles for his nerves instead of stashing in the halls of the dead.
The gates of Whiterun were pushed open, even at this time of night. A constant stream of people and goods were flowing behind the walls and fortifications. Men and women were lining up in front of the guards barracks with whatever armor or weapons they had taken from their parent’s graves, ready to fight. Some of these people looked to be just barely of age, with no facial hair to speak of. But who was he to deny them? His own son was out there, too. His wife would be, if she hadn’t passed on already.
The last militia was assembling at the gates. Or rather the ones he would send in very last. All of them were young boys, with a few men with knobby knees and hunched backs from age to lead them. They would be useful only in a dire situation. So he put them in charge of defending the gates. It was the safest place for them.
“Sir?” A man ran up to him, winded and heaving. “Scout patrols to the west report flying creatures. And a foul wind. Weather sorcery, we fear.”
He couldn’t see very far and the moon was in its phase where it was darkest. But a ring of Night Eye fixed that. He normally wore something to help him in the freezing winters up here, but he switched that for the night eye ring his father gave him. What he saw was not welcome. “Sindir!” He whispered. “Go tell the watch keepers to raise their eyes. There are daedra flying over our heads.” He pointed at the scout. “You go raise Tulius, and tell him that flying foes are passing the lines.”
“Aye,” Both men started running off, as Caius shivered. But it wasn’t just him. Everyone started shivering, and the temperature just kept dropping. He fumbled his fingers, reaching for the ring that could help him most against this, but they were losing feeling. Men around him dropped to the ground, shivering and whimpering as they went. Caius would have joined them, his heart slowing; but for one thing. A hand gripped his shoulder, holding him up. Two orange eyes stared him in the face, a face attached to them. Well groomed facial hair and powerful enchanted armor seemed to match the eyes staring down at him.
“You are in charge here.” Caius heard the vampire speak. His own heart tried to race, adrenaline pumping even as waves of frigid cold pushed out from where the hand was gripping him. “Tell me where you are hiding them!”
Caius felt a spell try to take over his mind. Try being the keyword. He focused his entire being on one thought. The sound of his wife’s voice, nagging him to mend his tunic. It was the last thing she ever told him. It burned in his heart more than anything else about her. There were things he wished he had said, time he wished he had spent with her. So with that in mind he spat on the vampire. His arms had frozen, but his lips still could move. “F-fuck you!” He growled.
The freezing continued, his entire body no longer responding. “Break the catapults! This one is of no use to me!”
“We captured their scout! He knows where they are!” Caius felt one last rush of adrenaline as his body failed him. Betrayal was never in the cards for a true warrior. He only hoped that Nord made it into Sovngard, so someone could throttle his neck for his stupidity. He would see his Liddi again. Gods protect the Dragonborn. She needed it, now. Harkon was coming.
“Then we hunt.” Lord Harkon spoke, as Caius only knew the peace of Arkay.

[Queue Oblivion Main Theme Song]

The first thing Elayne knew that something was wrong was when the crows started screeching. Flocks of them were around the Hagraven tents, and any tree near the watchtower was weighed down by the birds. The hordes of dark birds started screeching loudly before dawn. Elayne blinked her eyes open, wrapped in blankets and still wearing the Forsworn armor from the night before. Her mouth felt dry and her face itched. But the screeching of birds could wake the entire Forsworn camp.
It was followed by screams. Even through the closed door of the tower, Elayne could hear the screaming. She was up and standing even as the sounds grew closer. “Serana, if I can’t protect you, I’m sorry.” She whispered. The vampire looked terrified. So Elayne decided to do something risky. “Diivon! Diil!” She repeated the words twice, as the leotard and boots loosened. Serana moved her arms, shakily for the first time in weeks. The vampire pulled the gag from her mouth, gasping. Elayne didn’t unlock the collar, as that would just be inviting a betrayal. Perhaps. Or maybe it was because she couldn’t take off her own collar. She couldn’t afford to have more feelings of jealousy for the sexy immortal vampire.
“Here.” The vampire cast a spell, hands still shaky. “I’ve known this for a long time, but never had a need for it.” Elayne could feel warm. So very warm. As if the cold of the night was banished from her very soul. “Now you’ll survive his frost aura.”
“When did you learn this?”
“Mother taught me this spell so we could survive Coldharbour.”
Elayne chose not to flinch or wince. “She’d be proud we were facing him, huh?”
“If she still cared about Tamriel? Probably. But knowing her she is most likely an Ideal Master and taking over the entire organization.”
“Tell you what. We can use a black soul gem on your father and send his soul to the Soul Cairn to suffer.” Elayne gave a smirk. “Let them have the reunion he deserves?”
Serana’s features brightened. “That would be perfect. Molag Bal might celebrate someone like him returning in death. But the Soul Cairn? That’s perfect.”
“Assuming we kill him.” Elayne plucked at the Forsworn armor she was wearing, glaring at the chain between her thighs. “Should I start with the razor? Or maybe the crescent.”
“My father is one of the best swordsmen of his time. During a duel he always will go right for the throat. He will not hesitate to use every power he has to bring you down as soon as possible. So don’t attack him until you know you’ll hit. And expect him to try to go for you. Hard.”
“So we need someone to hold his attention.”
“I don’t know anyone that could.” Serana snarked, rubbing her wrists. “He’s a bit obsessive. And we have the bow.”
“Oh gods!” Elayne squirmed. “We should probably hide that.”
“Now you think that’s a good idea? When he’s already here?”
“I was busy!”
“You went and got drunk!”
“No one is perfect, Serana!” By this point, Elayne had arrived at the door, and frost was starting to form on the door. Most of the people outside only had fur tents at best. She didn’t even feel the chill of the door as she threw it open, and saw the chaos outside. The bonfires were still burning, but the shapes around them looked more bestial than humanoid. Hagravens fought vampiric creatures, flying daedra, and clouds of bats. Forsworn with candlelights were rallying in the darkness, Candlelit horrors were few, and surrounded by tribesmen already covered in the frost of spellcraft and fel magic.
“Where is she?!” A voice bellowed. “Where is the Dragonborn?!”
Standing in front of the bonfire was a colossal vampire lord. It was wearing armor, a brilliant set of glowing steel. The skulls of giants formed the shoulder pauldrons, and glowing steel claws covered ever finger and toe. There was a crown upon its head, with a ruby inset into the brow. Cruel red eyes bore down into his current victim, a Forsworn shamaness who was being crushed by just one of his large hands. “Namira guides our souls!” The shamaness shouted, spitting into his face. Ice was forming over her skin, her hair freezing being so close to the creature. “My soul is hers!”
The creature glared, nose flaring. With a single motion it shattered the shamaness, the deep freeze letting her fall in pieces. “Well?” Harkon spoke, his voice making the nearest Forsworn shudder in fear. “How many of you do I have to kill before I take what is mine?”
Elayne shuddered, thinking that could have been Gwynabeth or Eola. But before she could speak, someone stepped in front of her. It was Ulfrik, shivering and throwing off his cloak. “Don’t. Do not rise to him!”
“Have you been here all night?” Elayne whispered, shocked.
“You’re a hero, not a martyr. If someone needs to die, let it be me.” Ulfrik slammed his chest with a fist. “You’ve got a way to harm him, I know it!”
“Only something powerful could.” Elayne admitted. “How can I know you can fight him?”
“Your fight is with Alduin. My people have bled for many causes. They’re bleeding out there right now! Let me fight for something that Talos himself didn’t have the opportunity to kill! He’s older than Talos, by the gods!” Ulfrik clenched his fists. “Steel and bone aren’t hurting him. Magic is only stinging him.”
Elayne reached for her bag. There was a way to hurt him. But there was no way she was going to just hand him the Mace of Molag Bal. There was another, though. “How do you feel about Meridia?”
“It’s a Daedra I can tolerate.” Near about admittance of faith from someone who believed in Talos so wholeheartedly.
“This is her weapon. No undead can tolerate it.” Elayne drew out Dawnbreaker. “Please don’t fuck this up.”
“I’m not alone.” Ulfrik gently took the weapon. “Oh, it’s warm.”
“Dragonborn!” Harkon had seen them. The vampire was stalking towards them, two halves of a Briarheart in his hands.
“Stay behind me!” Ulfrik bellowed. Dawnbreaker looked natural in his hands. It’s glow was bright enough to ward away whatever Harkon was doing to freeze the area. “Fus! Ro! Dah!” Ulfrik shouted, but the wave of power barely shuffled the vampire lord.
“A Tongue? I never climbed the mountain, boy, but I learned of your ways.” Harkon laughed. “Show me your power, Dragonborn. Or I shall drag you to Coldharbour and impale you before Heart’s Grief itself, and force every scheme and utterance you have ever known from your lips.”
Fire breath would probably just make him laugh. What she needed was something ancient to counter him. “Fine!” She held up her arm. “Abyssal Cephaliarch! Ur-Daedra! Yield unto me your champion!” Miraak was a Dragonborn. But he was most certainly not a willing servant of his daedra. “Rel! Gaar!” She shouted, as the area in front of her glowed with conjuration.
“I am upon Nirn!” Miraak formed from the conjuration aura, stepping through a hole in Oblivion back onto the dirt of Nirn. “Elayne?”
“Miraak!” This time he remembered her. “I need your help!”
“I am no atronach!” Miraak stomped over to her, standing over her and glaring down at her. “To be beckoned or called for no reason!” He looked furious.
“I’m not asking!” Elayne growled. “I’m demanding you do it!” She stepped forward, until they were nearly nose to nose. Their masks nearly touched.
“I refuse!”
“Then you’ll never be allowed back upon Nirn ever again.” Elayne folded her arms, grinning. This felt more like her strength. “Miraak the coward? Miraak the broken? I wonder how Apocrypha will remember this moment?”
The Nord literally steamed. “I will not be mocked by you! Or anyone ” He turned to Harkon. “No creature has ever bested me! I am Miraak! Chief among all dragon priests! The first Dragonborn.” He drew his sword, and muttered three words that rattled Elayne to hear. “Mul. Qah. Diiv!” Her entire world shuddered, hearing meaning beyond the words, something about them tickling her mind and senses. Glowing aspects seem to come from Nirn to protect Miraak, his body glowing with them.
“A conjurer and trickster. That is all you will ever be, thief!” Harkon’s skin bubbled, breaking off into thousands of tiny bats.
“No!” Serana shrieked from behind her, dragging Elayne by her armor back out of the place she was standing. Harkon was there, in the next moment, hand outstretched right where her face would have been.
“Serana. I didn’t recognize you, dressed like a slave with a collar around your neck. Will you betray your father? In our last glorious conflict before we end the sun’s tyranny?” Harkon was conversational, even as Miraak and Ulfrik turned to face him.
“What did you do to Mother?!” Serana glared, hefting her own father’s sword against him. “You had her scroll!”
“She left it behind when she became an Ideal Master.” Harkon spat. “Now, giv-” Miraak interrupted the vampire’s rant by striking the ground with his sword, and summoning a daedra to fight with him. It was a Keeper, one of the guardians of Apocrypha. That keeper slapped the side of Harkon’s face with one of its tentacles, latching on and dragging him around to face Miraak and Ulfrik. Ice formed on the creature’s appendage, the tip snapping off and shattering.
“You waste your words.” Miraak spoke, shouting once more. But this one seemed to be spoken more quickly. Too fast to be understood. But the Nord became a blur, his sword moving so quickly that no one could quite see the motions. Harkon tried to swing to block him or challenge him, but all this accomplished was watching the Nord move faster. Ulfrik tried to engage, but got backhanded by Harkon after a couple of swings. But the glowing burns upon Harkon’s skin told wonders for how effective he was being. Miraak’s sword was cutting into Harkon’s skin, but not actually doing very much damage. Tentacles from Apocrypha followed every strike, hammering Harkon’s skin and knocking him backwards from every blow.
Elayne added her own warcry, leaping forward to land in a bunny hop next to the vampire lord. The chain between her thighs prevented her from sprinting close enough. But her weapon was more than effective. The twin bladed crescent carved large puncture wounds in Harkon’s skin, and it seemed to be slowing the creature down. But it was piercing it’s skin! Plenty of Forsworn arrows had been shattered upon him already.
“More artifacts? You surprise me.” Harkon growled, swinging his arm around. A massive ball of red energy was in hand. “You seem actually prepared. But not enough.” Elayne couldn’t dodge! This damn chain!
Someone threw her away from the battle, more than Harkon’s wingspan. Harkon’s massive spell going wide and striking the rock behind them uselessly. Miraak of all people had saved her. Ulfrik and Miraak began swinging their weapons like they were madmen, the air singing as Harkon went at it with them. The creature’s claws flashed, ripping through Ulfrik’s steel armor with ease. Yet the Nord kept going, screaming a warcry in the face of the vampire Lord. Miraak could block the claws, his glowing arms brushing off the blows as though they were not as powerful as Elayne knew they were. How could he just brush those off!
Elayne felt arms lifting her into the air, claws more than likely. She gave an eep as she finally got back onto her heels. “You should have learned archery with shoes like those!” She heard a hagraven squawk. “He can move through bats and shadows, though!” It was her grandmother, taking great care not to harm her arms as she lifted Elayne. Drascua looked unharmed, thankfully.
Sure enough, Harkon dove between Ulfrik and Miraak, like a dancer. Ulfrik was cut rather deeply by his claws, while Miraak was batted away by a burst of blue magic. From that burst arose three stone creatures, perhaps daedra. But they put the advantage firmly in Harkon’s hands. “Destroy the Stormcloak! Disarm him!” Dawnbreaker. It was doing something!
Around them, Harkon’s daedra and vampires were going toe to toe with angry hungover Forsworn. Dawnbreaker was preventing the freezing power of Harkon from killing everyone around it. “How do we kill him?”
“Got anything Aedric?” Drascua asked, her sneer less than confident.
“My shoes and the artifact he needs to complete his prophecy.” She confirmed. “You have anything that might help?”
“I was saving it for my husband, should he ever rise from his grave to spit upon me for abandoning the oaths I swore upon his deathbed.” Drascua screeched. “But this proves itself dangerous.”
“Why are you afraid of grandpa? You’re a Hagraven!”
“Because one does not attempt to conjure their husband’s spirit for comfort and find a gloam knight instead very appealing.” Drascua shuddered. “Such seething hatred, I prepared to exile him to Coldharbour if he came back!”
Harkon was fighting at least ten Forsworn briarhearts, casually tearing through them, yet never able to reach Ulfrik. Miraak was always between them, his sword crashing to intercept claws or fangs. But the battle began turning, as massive swarms of bats descended. The fires began to ebb, and Harkon glowed with pure power. “Molag Bal has empowered me! Not since the Gray Host have I taken the field, to deal with those usurpers. Do not think that anything in your mortal coil can do anything other than delay the inevitable.”
Ulfrik sliced most of Harkon’s foot off, Dawnbreaker’s glow seemingly bright. But Harkon just started floating in midair, as if the loss of a foot was hardly an inconvenience. His magic seemed impossibly powerful. “I don’t think we can win against him.”
Drascua seemed to stare. “Even if you kill him, his undead will not break. His army will not die. Only the sun could bring that now.”
“For Stendarr!” Someone yelled, as new people entered the conflict. In between the Forsworn the vigilants of stendarr charged, armor on top of their robes. Isran was at their head, swinging a mace that glowed with power. Every swing was sending a daedra back into Oblivion, and the vigilants crashed into the vampire lords with force. “Rally! Rally to the Dragonborn!” Isran yelled, his mace held high.
Crows appeared in mass, as Hagravens controlled their flocks. The bats were now being attacked in the air by the angry flocks, stripping away more of the defenses around the Vampire Lord. Forsworn archers and shamans were throwing spells and arrows with abandon, keeping the other vampires from interfering. Harkon roared, knocking back Ulfrik and sending him over the side of the stone pile of rubble they were fighting near. Miraak was still fighting the stone creatures, and Harkon rotated, turning to face her. “They fight for you, but you mean nothing.”
“If you block the sun, Alduin will notice and believe the world needs to end!” She yelled. “I won’t let you send us into Oblivion!”
“How do you understand the prophecy? Have you read the scrolls?!” Harkon leapt, exploding into a cloud of bats, and reforming over her and Drascua. “Tell me, and you may yet live!”
“Blinding the eye of Magnus isn’t living! You would be making Nirn like Coldharbour! It would be like the freezing change that made the Nords abandon Atmora!”
“How is it done! Tell me!” Harkon roared, right in her face. His ruined foot hung from where he floated, and Drascua hissed at the vampire. His return hiss was deeper and carried far more threat than her grandmother could conjure.
“The Planemeld was bad enough! You would kill your prey!” Drascua screeched. “Mortals would not survive!”
“That remains to be seen.” Harkon moved like lightning, knocked Drascua away and picking up Elayne. “Tell me, or I will snap your spine.”
Miraak leapt, his sword flashing as he yelled a warcry. Harkon reached his free claw out and intercepted him. Ulfrik was nowhere to be seen, and Drascua was clutching her chest, where a deep claw mark gouged her. “I’ve seen what it looks like, in Oblivion! The sun turned red, and gave off less heat! Skyrim froze, and Kynareth abandoned the world!”
The pressure upon her body increased, and she felt two ribs crack. “However you walk Oblivion, it will never be enough. How is the prophecy fulfilled! Speak, or I will kill you and animate your corpse in a manner that will show me!”
Her heels were leaving burning cuts in his arm, the Aedric materials scorching his skin. But her struggles were noticed. Harkon shrieked in pain, as Eola finally made her move. The Mace of Molag Bal was hammered in between Harkon’s legs, the spikes of the mace drawing blood in thick quantities. Elayne was dropped, as Harkon lost his focus and fell to the ground. Down on one knee, Eola drew back her weapon and struck him again, the dark Mace peeling off the vampire lord’s armor and leaving gaping wounds.
Ulfrik finally came back in, bleeding so heavily that his armor looked more red than blue. Yet the man would not stop. Even Drascua threw herself upon Harkon, her claws stabbing into the already open wounds. But the Vampire would not be denied. He spun, rising up on one knee as a tremendous force struck everyone. Miraak was sent back to whatever part of Oblivion he came from, and Ulfrik took the main strike. He fell in two pieces, Dawnbreaker falling to the ground. Eola was sent rolling and Drascua screeched as she was thrown off.
“As I said.” Harkon spoke clearly, all of the blood from every corpse around him flowed into his wounds. He wasn’t completely healed, but it put him back together. “You mean nothing. I will take Serana and the prophecy from you.”
Serana, shaking as she picked up Dawnbreaker, held it in one hand and her father’s blade in the left. “I know what you have to do to fulfill the prophecy.” She growled. “I won’t let you.”
“If you use that artifact, you will scar your own flesh, daughter. You will burn before it ever carves my flesh.”
“Better than watching you end Nirn with your ego! Did you ever wonder why mother left you? Why she left all of us?”
Both of Serana’s weapons acted, flames in each sword burning Harkon, but both of the vampires screaming as Dawnbreaker took effect. “I always assumed she was simply too weak of heart!”
“Maybe she didn’t want to get raped by Molag Bal! Maybe we didn’t want to see the only other family member we had killed upon the altar for the honor of being the brides of a daedric lord!”
“My son died for my dream! He died for you to gain power and glory!”
“He died because he didn’t want to sacrifice those elves! The Falmer never deserved it!”
“You cannot claim that! Did you not see what became of Saarthal? High Gate? The Sky Temple to Kyne? Your brother knew what they had done! Why our family was destined for greater things!”
“Then why did you chain him to the altar?!” Serana yelled, her voice breaking. “He loved you! Mother loved you!”
While the two were quarreling, Elayne made a conscious decision. She stepped far enough away to draw the bow of Auriel. The tarnished blackened elven metal promised death in its wings. Rather than waste any of the special arrows she was given, she drew from her stock of arrows. Or she would have, if Drascua hadn’t placed one in her hands. “Try that one, darling.”
The Hagraven was coughing blood, but there was fire in her eyes. One of her arms was broken, hanging limply. “Grandma!”
“Shoot, child, before my life is wasted further.” Her one good hand glowed with magic, and the arrow seemed tied to it.
Serana and Harkon were hacking at each other, both burning and both on fire with every strike of Dawnbreaker. Isran was driving away the bats that could possible support Harkon, as fewer and fewer daedra and vampires still fought. “Carcette!” The Redguard bellowed.
A pillar of light washed over the field, and for one single moment the light of day came upon them all. Harkon screamed, as his body was forced back to its human form. Serana fell over, not even making any noise. But the Vampire lord made eye contact with her. Harkon’s red eyes widened as he saw Elayne’s fingers release. But under the bright light there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t get away, and he tried to grab the arrow with his hand.
All that happened was the arrow piercing his palm, and the magic activating. Oblivion tore open, and dragged Harkon from Nirn. It looked painful, as his boots were left behind, the feet still in them. All around them, the light went dark, and the battlefield went silent. “Hahaha!” Drascua laughed, callously. “There!”
“What did you do? What was that arrow?”
“Alduin is your enemy. Not some foolish Nord. Let some other Hero be the one to kill him! He’s someone else’s problem now.”
“What did you do!”
“The Snake Mount has him now.” Drascua laughed, coughing gently. “It’s prince will not let go so dainty a morsel.”
“Boethia? Grandma, they aren’t a friend of our people!”
“There is nothing I can be more proud of, in this half-life,” Drascua gently took Elayne’s hands with her own claws. “Than giving it for your sake! Make me grandchildren or I shall haunt your every waking hour. You’re a hero, unlike that swine you call a mother could be. No one else was worth my attention!” She screeched, as her body began to seize. “And stop being self-conscious! Your mother was a whore, and her mother before that! Our family shall not be ashamed of it! Shake that behind and beget me grandchildren, or I shall emerge from Namira’s rest to shame you!” Drascua held her gaze upon her one last time, before the light within her died. The connection between Nirn and Boethia’s realm closed, and for a moment she could see Harkon looking back at her through the gaping hole. He wasn’t likely to forget her anytime soon.
“Secure the area!” Eola bellowed, leaning on the mace. “Check the bodies! Light the fires!” The queen of the reachfolk held out her hand to Elayne. “You need to stand, right the fuck now. Get up!”
“But.” Elayne looked around, seeing chaos everywhere as everyone was running around. Ulfrik was dead, Drascua was dead. Eola looked halfway there. She realized that she was bleeding and bruised too, as her body ached terribly. This Forsworn armor did nothing to defend against Harkon. Absolutely nothing. “We have to find Serana!”
“So long as you stand up and show that you won, I don’t care. You can’t be seen on your knees now of all times! Stand or be known as the hero that only won because you offered a blowjob instead of a victory!”
“I will slap you for that, Eola!”
“That’s queen Eola.” Elayne took her hand, nonetheless. As the bonfire was lit once more, shouting Forsworn and Nords came cheering forwards. Like a sea of people, they were grinning like loons.
“We could see the battle from the front lines!” One of the Nords was saying, a Vigilant of Stendarr. “You defeated them! You broke them!”
“Strong, the blood of Caddach remains!” One of the Hagravens declared as they passed, two gigantic mugs of mead in its hands. “To Eola One-Eye! Long may she reign!”
Before the crowd could swell with that should, Eola shouted louder. “Hail Lady Dragonborn! She defeated Harkon, where the rest of us could not!”
The crowd couldn’t decide what to chant. Dragonborn and Eola One-Eye were shouted with equal splendor. As Elayne felt herself hoisted upon shoulders of people, and coincidentally got groped by a pair of men that did the job, she saw Serana in the distance. The Vampire was retreating to the western watchtower, carrying her father’s boots. The only thing that remained of him. Of course, before she could say anything on that, one of the men carrying her let his fingers get underneath her armor.
“Hail Dragonborn!” He yelled, as his thumb slipped deep. Oh so deep. Elayne just moaned, feeling it. But in this crowd the only one who could have possibly heard her was Eola, who just smiled knowingly, raising her hands and convincing the crowd to shout louder and farther.
They had done it. Harkon was gone. Not dead, but gone. Someone else could deal with him later. Hopefully not her. Wiggling her hips, Elayne let that thumb penetrate her as far as it could go, riding this high of battle, and of a hard fought victory.
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Skyrim: Plaything