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The Tenth Hold	By : Singalmo Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 23706 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls : Skyrim, or anything related to it. This fiction is purely for entertainment and I do not profit from it in any way.

Chapter List
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Three days had passed since the destruction of Helgen. He had cleared out four bandit camps, made his way through an ancient Nord tomb, slain a dragon, learned that he was Dragonborn, been named Thane of Whiterun, bought and furnished a home, and been summoned to High Hrothgar. All in three days. He grunted as Lydia helped him out of his armor and into a pair of soft, linen pants. She helped him into a seat close to the hearth and alternately worked on fixing a pot of rabbit stew and placing healing salve on his wounds, both the arrow wound in his side, and the burns that covered portions of his upper body from the dragon’s fire. He was glad Balgruuf had appointed this woman as his housecarl. She was a strong, sturdy Nord woman, and clearly well proportioned. She was also kind and caring, both qualities that were rare in the people that had been in Seved’s life. The pain he was in and the fact that they had just met kept him from flirting with her. At least not overly much. She was his Housecarl, and bedding the woman that soon seemed, to him, improper somehow. A chance meeting in a tavern was one thing. Living with someone was something else entirely.

The stew was quite delicious and he ate heartily. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he really was until he’d started eating. He had to make himself stop so he didn’t throw up from eating too much. He was keenly aware of how exhausted he was. He hadn’t slept in three days, after all. Lydia coated bandages with healing ointment and wrapped his wounds so they could sit while he slept and work their simple magic. She got out extra furs and blankets to spread on his bed, making it as comfortable and warm as she could manage at the time. She helped him up the stairs and into the bed. He smiled softly at her.

“Thank you, Lydia.” He meant the words. She had done more than simply her duty, she had been truly kind and caring. He liked that.

“You’re welcome, my thane.” She smiled from the doorway.

“Please, you can call me Seved. I’m not sure the title quite suits me yet.” He smirked lightly.

“Give it time.” She smiled softly. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, just some much needed sleep.”

“Rest well, my thane.”

“Good night, Lydia.” He smiled and watched as she shut the door quietly. He settled back in the bed. It was not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was functional enough, and he had slept in far worse places in his lifetime. He needed the sleep. He needed a woman, too, but again it felt improper to ask anything of the sort from Lydia at that point. The worst she could do was say no, and he would respect that. She was his Housecarl after all. Still, the things he could do to a woman right then...

His exhausted mind drifted, unbidden, back to Anvil, to the Altmer girl he had shared with his fellow sailors. Til, whom they had kept in their house, safe, hidden, happy, and dripping with their seed as often as she liked. Which was quite frequently, really. Tilmare was her full name, but they all called her Til. She was just at the cusp of womanhood for an Altmer and yet she was shaped more like a human woman than a Mer. Mer women could be quite curvy, but not like Til was. Soft, supple, rolling curves, large breasts that begged to be kissed and suckled, shapely hips that you couldn’t keep your hands away from, and a soft little ass that fit perfectly in his hands. He remembered that night they smuggled her onto the ship and it pulled away from the port. They had kept her hidden in a crate, slipping her food and water until they were out of sight of the Summerset Isles. Then they finally let her out. Seved had been the one she approached first, so they figured he should do the honors of letting her out.

He shifted a bit and slid his hand into his pants, closing his eyes, remembering.

She was so happy to see him opening the crate that she leapt into his arms and kissed him deeply. It had taken him by surprise and made the others chuckle and cheer. She couldn’t stop, though, and he didn’t want her to. She had started kissing his neck, opening the front of his tunic a little wider to get at his chest. He remembered how she purred like a kitten in his arms, breathing in his scent. Neither had cared that the others were watching. She had a need that he couldn’t help but fulfill. He’d taken his time in stripping her, running his fingers over every inch of her golden body. Her nipples were so sensitive that he was able to bring her to orgasm just by teasing them. Her breasts had fit so nicely in his hands, too. He’d been reluctant to let them go, but there was more of her to see, to touch, to taste. She’d trimmed her pubic hair to a nice little heart-shaped patch of softness. He’d loved that, that a girl that young would do such a thing. He liked the whimsy of it. He dove onto her nethers with wild abandon, kissing, licking, suckling her most private place. She tasted absolutely divine.

He licked his lips, his mouth was getting a little dry. He swore he could smell her again. Taste her, even.

She’d cried out so happily when he finally gotten all of his manhood into her. She was so incredibly tight. A virgin she had been until he’d pierced her. He had always had a soft spot for virgin girls. The faces they made when experiencing that pleasure for the first time. Til had been no different, though she didn’t react to the pain of her hymen breaking the same way. Most girls were surprised by it. Til, however, embraced it as another pleasure and invoked Dibella’s name. He’d started slow but it didn’t take long to pick up the pace, watching her squirm and moan beneath him. Not much longer and he was pounding into the girl, full force, and loving every minute of it. She squeezed him so perfectly when she came that he couldn’t hold back and exploded into her, thrusting savagely. She whimpered when he pulled out of her and sat back. She wanted more. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, letting her dripping cunt grind against his flaccid member. She’d started to cry and he comforted her. It was alright. There were others there, just as eager to fill that needy little hole. He’d held her in his lap for the others as they took turns with her breasts, her pussy, even her mouth. By the time Seved had been ready to stuff her again they were using all three holes.

And they had spent five years like that. Various combinations of lovemaking and animalistic fucking, and sometimes just the two of them, sometimes more, sometimes all of them together. How much she had loved all of them. How much they had loved her in return. In every sense of the word. She was their Tilmare, their sweet little Altmer girl, their gift from Dibella. She had fallen asleep in his arms so many times, naked and dripping and happy, whispering to him how much she loved him. She was so very beautiful, so bright, so alive.

He grunted softly as he finished himself. That had helped, it took the edge off. Would make it easier to find himself a proper lay. He didn’t want to remember more of Til, then. At least no more than those happy times she had spent with him and the others. Five long, happy years.

The memories came unbidden. He should have returned sooner from the market, but the jeweler had driven a hard bargain. He shouldn’t have left her alone, should have waited for one of the others to come home first. The door was open, he found her in his bed, that damned Thalmor on top of her, choking her. One swift movement, one stroke of the sword had killed the man but it was too late. Til had reached for him and he rushed to her. He held her and tried to breathe life back into her, but something else was wrong. He begged her to stay, not to leave, but he could see it. Something had broken inside her. One last kiss... and then her eyes went cloudy, the life and light leaving them forever. He wept as he laid her back down. He shut her eyes gently. Sleeping. Just sleeping. That was better... Maybe she’d wake up then... Run. His instincts told him to flee. he grabbed what he could and left a note for the others. He quietly left Anvil. Once he was well out of sight of the gates he broke into a run and he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop...

Seved rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball, like he had the night the guards in Balmora had found his mother’s body, naked and abused, in the canal... Eyes shut tight, unbidden memories flooding his mind, he wept. For all the good that had happened in three days, it could not heal the stinging wounds that had opened again on his heart. Til, sweet little Til... She was gone. She was not asleep, she was dead. At least the bastard Thalmor had paid for it. He’d make them all pay for snuffing out that light. That beacon of goodness and love and life. Was that too much? No, not for the Thalmor who had taken his father and his god -- and his sweet Til.

When the tears would no longer come, sleep took him. He would later thank the Divines that he did not dream that night.
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The Tenth Hold