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In the House of Roses	By : Loakiwolf Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 16913 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Skyrim and the Elder Scroll Series are the property of Bethesda Softworks, I am not making money from this

Chapter List
- 1-In the House of Roses
- 1
The job was fairly simple, as simple as a normal job could get. Every now and then, she would come across these tasks bestowed upon her. She didn’t mind being told what to do, and sometimes these jobs were easy and paid well enough. She made her living, as small as it was, doing these small tasks across the holds of Skyrim. Being in Markarth was always her favored place. There was something so spiritual about the city of stone.
The odd jobs she got there were mainly the same in every hold; easy enough tasks that required her assistance in keeping a place clean, or the more tougher ones that more or less required her to descend into a very dangerous cave possibly filled with wild beasts or murderous bandits. She didn’t care much of those jobs, even if they did pay well enough.
This one, however, was a different one, and one of the kinds of jobs she liked the most. She liked being a thief, always had since she was just a little girl living on the streets with her father in High Rock. Her father, though considered a beggar, was a good thief and pickpocket, keeping the guise of a drunken lout to lure people in a lull, then while they weren't looking he’d discreetly made off with some pitched coins.
He was caught a few times, able to serve the given days in a cell, but once out he was back into it. His thieving was more frequent when she was born. She was told that her mother was a kindly woman in Northpoint that took care of her father in a time of need. However it was by some misfortune that when they got too close together, resulting in her birth, her mother didn't want her. The details, even to this day, are sketchy. All her father told her was that her mother had stated that she didn’t want a child ‘tarnishing her reputation’, whatever by the eight that meant.
She was told, rather frequently in the day, that her mother, despite her seemingly carelessness of her own child, was actually a very nice woman, and well renowned if she understood. But, that was in the past. Being an infant on the streets, her father did everything he could to care for her. His thieving became more of a career than a hobby, leaving her in the care of a friend whenever he went out to steal. There were very little points when he was caught, his already considerable skills becoming more honed. When she was old enough, her father decided it was time she was taught his way..
She may not be as good as her father was, but then being a small child it was easier to get away with things. Hardly anyone got angry at a wisp of a little girl cold and hungry, caught taking from their pockets. Mostly an act, on her part. When she got older, however, the innocent child routine quickly lost it’s effectiveness, and it was now time for her to properly be a thief. Unlike her father, she had an advantage when it came to sneaking and stealing. Even now, under the night sky and among the shadowed stones of Markarth, her diminutive frame made it easy for her to blend into the dark, able to sneak around unnoticed. Though as much as she liked Markarth, Bretons were not the most welcomed of sort, mostly due to the Forsworn among the Reach. But she made it her goal to bring as little attention to herself as possible, lest she winds up in the mine, again.
She didn’t want to go back in there; in the mine there were no cells, and there weren't many guards watching over the prisoners, and worst still, there were men down in those tunnels that are starved for women. Once too often she had to fight for her life, as well as other things, while in those tunnels. Thankfully, there were still some good men in the world, some that were willing to protect her until she served her time. Of course, such protection were not without its price, but it was nothing too extreme for her.
She learned since then that while stealing from Markarth may be troublesome, it could also be worthwhile. And lately she has been practicing her running, so there’s the chance she can run away from the guards and escape. Hopefully.
The job given to her was one of these thieving jobs, and one that may be an easy one, but it was also one that made her question her morals. A rude Breton by the name of Degaine wanted her to steal a statue. However, this particular statue resided in the Temple of Dibella. Her father had this particular rule when stealing from temples of the eight or priests for said temples, is that afterward make sure to pray at the shrine for forgiveness.
Climbing the stone steps up to the temple, she hugged the wall and shrunk away from the light. She could see guards patrol doing below, making sure to keep out of their line of sight. Dibella wasn't one of the Divines she knew well enough. From what she could gather, Dibella was some kind of goddess of beauty. She remembered a woman that was in High Rock that wore an amulet of Dibella, and for some reason the men of the same village was nervous around her. Oh, they talked to her, smiled and blushed in the process, some even gave her flowers.
She really didn’t understand it much. She didn’t know if her father believed in any of the Divines, but he had a saying to friends, one that she held dear, even if she didn’t know the meaning of it. “Shadow hide you”.
Stealing from a temple devoted to a goddess of beauty was something she wasn’t too sure on doing, but with the money she has, and whatever that old beggar was going to pay her for the statue, she may be able to barter passage to Windhelm and to a place called Solstheim. From what she heard, the place was dangerous, but there was plenty to do in the small settlement of Raven Rock there, and there was a well run mine there that was rich with ore.
Pushing the doors open, she snuck her way into the quiet temple, making sure there was no one there. She couldn’t help but look upon the grandiose statues around her, of the Lady Dibella holding her flower. She always thought the statues were a bit risque, being that of a nude woman, her ample breast bare for all the world to see. She didn’t think to much of it now, staying close to the wall as she made her way to the far door. The statue that the beggar wanted was in the back room, usually kept behind a locked door. Since there was hardly anyone around, she took her time with the lock, breaking only just a few of her picks before she found the sweet spot, a grin forming on her face at the ‘clunk’ of the door becoming unlocked.
The back chamber was said to be where the priestess of the temple communed with the Divine of Beauty herself. She could see an altar in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs. The chamber was empty of anyone, making it easy for her to make her away across the room. She had to stop a few times when she noticed a rather beautiful necklace left out on a table, and a few rings as well here and there. She could take those to Riften to a friend she knew in the Ratway, for a decent enough price, and promptly pocketed them as she passed. at the very end of the chamber was another altar, and upon that was a much smaller statuette of Dibella, only this one is made of gold. This was what Degaine wanted.
She licked her lips in anticipation, her hand gingerly reaching out for her prize. And she would have taken it and gotten out of there just as easily, if it wasn’t for the fact that right behind her the door was suddenly forced open with a crash, and the chamber was filled with the sound of boisterous and drunken laughter. She spun around, statue in hand, when she could see that two men had broken into the temple. One was a Nord, she thinks, but they had their head in a helmet of iron. The other man was a Breton in dark robes. Both of them were laughing with bottles of mead in their hands. She had to hide, quickly. She didn’t understand what they were talking about, being too drunk, but she saw that the Nord was starting to dance with one of the standing braziers as if it was a woman, laughing all the way.
None of the men noticed her as she snuck by, and she figured she can make it out before the guards or anyone else came by. What were the chances that the one time she broke into a place to rob, was the same night these two drunken louts decided to break in as well? She absentmindedly looked at the statue in her hands, upon the very face of Dibella herself.
It was at this very moment, that the merry Nord released his dancing partner, and let the metal pole fall to the ground, into the very path of the hidden and discreet thief. All there was, was the sound of a ‘gong’, and everything went dark and quiet.
~*~
When the world around her started to become more clear, she noticed she wasn't lying on the cold stone ground in the temple. the bed was soft, inviting almost, but the pain in her head throbbed and she was unable to appreciate the comfy furniture. She went to rub the pain away, and found that her wrists were bound together and tied to the frame of the bed. And when she moved, her ankles were the same way. She started to panic now, thrashing to get up but unable to, and looking around the room. It was a stone room, small and under finished save for the bed she was tied to and an altar to her left, another statuette of Dibella upon it, garnished with flowers. To her right was a door.
She tried all she could to move, but was tied securely to the bed. She was about to call out for help, when the door clicked open. A woman in a golden robe and hood walked in, and she recognised her as one of the priestesses of the temple.
The priestess, seeming to be an older woman, a Redguard, looked down at her with a frown.
“You are in a lot of trouble.” The priestess grumbled, folding her arms across her chest with disdain.
She would have pleaded, but a voice in the next room spoke up. “Well, that troublesome man is gone. What of the thief?”
The Redguard turned, just as another priestess, a Nord, came in. “I was about to take care of her.”
“It may have to wait,” the Nord mumbled. “We have another problem. The Champion is gone.”
“What! But, how?!” The Redguard asked.
“We don’t know, but his door was left opened. He must have wondered off.” The Nord stated, then looked down at the little thief. “And you; how dare you steal from the House of Dibella!”
“I-I’m sorry!” The thief whimpered, straining against her binds. “I-I was just hungry, a-and I needed some gold, and t-t-there’s this beggar-”
“Enough,” The Nord woman grumbled. “It is one thing to have some drunks trash the temple, but to have a thief steal from it on the same night? And the Champion, loose! I gotten that drunk to finally leave, after making him clean up the mess he made. But, what of you? What are we going to do to you?”
“I’d say just hand her over to the guards, make her work the mine.” The Redguard said.
The thief seized up. The mine? Again? No!
“But our Champion is still out there. And who knows what trouble he may be in.” The Nord stated. “Mother Hamal is besides herself, the temple still smells of mead, and our beloved Champion is lost. And we have this thief to deal with.” The priestess then turned her attention to the bound thief. “And what are we to do with you, hmm?”
“I-I’ll do anything, just, please, not the mine!” She whimpered.
“What is your name?” The Redguard asked.
“A-Anita.” The tiny Breton stated
“Anita, you are going to be punished for your crimes.” The Nord said. “You are not going to be taken to the guards, but rather you are going to do something for us.”
Anita panicked slightly at the sight of a knife being drawn, as the Redguard woman cut her binds from the bed, and rather easily picked the smaller Breton up to her feet and dragged her out of the room. It was then she noticed that she wasn’t even in the temple anymore; it looked like an inn or someone’s house. She was carted into a more open area where she was forced down on her knees before another Nord priestess, this one lacking her hood.
“So, you’re the thief?” The older Nord asked.
Anita nodded. “Y-yes.”
The woman held up a statuette of Dibella, and in her other hand was a series of rings and a necklace, all of which were very familiar to the Breton. “You attempted to steals these from the House of Dibella, but you were stopped by a rather disruptive and drunken man. I should thank him, whenever and if he ever returns to Markarth. But, alas, he left before we could realize he may have caused an even greater problem than catching a thief or making a mess of the temple. someone of great value was taken from us. Either he was kidnapped, or he simply wandered off, it does not matter, the point is he is gone. And you, are going to find him for us.”
“F-find him?” Anita questioned.
“Of course, unless you wish to be hauled away by the guards to Cidhna Mine,” The woman gestured to someplace to Anita's right, and when the small thief turned to look, she could see a duo of Markarth guards standing and waiting. “Or we could contact the Mage’s College and inform them that one of their initiates are causing trouble here.”
Anita was confused for a moment, before looking down at her clothes. “O-oh, I’m not a student of the collage.”
“Are you now?” The Nord arched a brow. “Then, where did you get the robes?”
Anita groused, looking down at the brown robes she wore, with the matching hood. The story behind them, she didn’t want to relive. She didn’t steal them, though the way she required them was not very honorable. Among the roads here in Skyrim, she came across a curious sight. A woman, wearing these robes with armored boots and gloves. This woman, armed with a mace a heavy shield, was fighting against a strange creature. It was the shape of a woman, but surrounded and emitted a fiery aura, throwing magical flames at the robed woman. The robed woman was victorious in her fight, the strange fiery monster falling to the ground slain. But, then, all of a sudden, the body of the creature exploded within a great burning blast, sending the robed woman flying.
Once everything seemed clear, Anita arose from her hiding spot and approached the area of the melee. She found the robed woman, dead on the ground. Looking around, Anita didn’t know what to do. She felt terrible about searching the fallen woman’s pockets for a few coins, and even went as far as contemplated taking her weapon and shield to sell. In the end she burned the woman’s body in a small pyre, and ended up taking all she had, her robes included. The robes were larger on the smaller Breton, but she found them to be not only incredibly comfortable, but they seemed to possess a warmth of magic that made her skin tingle. Among the woman’s belongings was also an odd amulet, that Anita later learned was a Horn of Stendarr. The weapon and amulet and armor gave her some good coin, but she couldn’t bring herself the sell the robes.
“I...found them…” The thief muttered.
“Maybe stolen, too.” One of the guards said.
“It doesn’t matter,” The priestess said, setting the times in her hand off to the side. “The point is this; you help us, or we’ll let these guards carry you away.” She looked down at the smaller girl, frowning like a disapproving mother. “And I have enough pull in the city, that I can make sure you stay in those mines for a long, long time. Stealing, you’ll be out in a manner of weeks. Stealing from the temple? Well, you’ll never see the light again.”
“N-no! Please, not the mine! I-I’ll do it!” Anita begged.
“Good,” The Nord woman knelt down with a knife, cutting the smaller girl’s binds. “He is the Champion of Dibella, and he is invaluable to the House of Dibella and our Lady.”
“F-fine, okay.” Nervously, Anita stood up, already feeling sheepish in the staggering size different between her and the other women. Bretons are not known for their size, but Anita was no the tallest of them. She was rather small for her age. “W-Where do I find him?”
“Good question,” The Nord woman turned to the other in the hood. “Orla?”
“It is possible that the Champion was taken by one of the men from last night, so I will say what Senna told that man from this morning.” The priestess named Orla looked to Anita. “His friend, that one he was with last night, mentioned something about Rorikstead.”
“There you go; go to Rorikstead and find the men from last night.” The other priestess said. It was then, she held up a chain with a ring on it. “And I will give this back when you return.”
Upon seeing the ring, Anita quickly reached to her neck, feeling the once familiar weight of a chain and ring was now gone. “W-Wait! You can’t! That’s my father’s ring!”
“You will get the ring back, once our Champion has returned to us.” The priestess handed the ring to the Redguard woman.
The smaller woman whimpered. “F-fine… Where’s Rorikstead?”
“It’s to the east. Maybe if you hurry, you can catch that Nord that left.” The Redguard priestess said.
“R-right,” Anita turned to leave, but looked back. “P-please, don’t lose my father’s ring.”
“It will be here waiting,” The priestess said.
The Breton nodded her head and once more turned to leave, but once again stopped. “W-what does the, Champion, look like?”
“Oh, trust me,” Another priestess made a giggle. “You’ll know him when you see him.”
Nervously, Anita once again turned to leave, and had made it to the door, when she was stopped. “Oh, and one more thing!”
She turned.
The hoodless Nord priestess's hand started to pulse with a magic spell, an orb of a swirling red and violet aura building in her hand, before letting it launch. Anita shrieked in surprise and raised her arms in an attempt to block the spell. When it struck her, an intense warmth swam through her, making her gasp as her body felt flushed, her legs quivering. When the warmth faded, She dropped to her knees with a sigh, looking to the three women in confusion.
“The Curse of Dibella; a little parting gift for being such a naughty girl.” The Nord smiled.
“W-what did you do?” Anita asked, standing on unsteady legs.
“Just a little ailment. The effects will be known to you soon enough, and they will get worse and worse until you come in contact with the Champion. Only he, and he alone, and cure the Curse.” The priestess made a chuckle, her eyes twinkling darkly. “Better hurry, naughty girl, time is wasting.” She said in a singsong voice.
The thief felt her cheeks redden at the words, and finally eased out of the door and unto the streets of Markarth, the sun now hanging up above. She didn’t think too much, her mind set on the task at hand as she hurriedly went to the front gates. She made sure to stop and ask the guards there if they can point her to where Rorikstead was on her map, and she was on her way.
~*~
Rorikstead lied within the planes of the Whiterun Hold, passed the mountainous terrain of the Reach. She managed to hitch a ride with a merchant heading in the same direction, and luckily was able to making it through without any trouble from the Forsworn. Once they were out of the Reach, they had to stop and rest, finding a place to set up a temporary camp.
“Steal, from the temple of Dibella? Why?” The merchant's name was Merric, a seemingly nice Breton. Being with him for a time, Anita did talk with him a little, the two having a nice chat as they traveled.
Anita blushed, sitting by the made campfire with a warm bowl of stew in her hands. “Well, I wanted to make a few coins, and I was promised a good pay to take the statue from the temple.” She then frowned, looking into her bowl. “Would have gotten away, if it wasn't for this drunken Nord that came barreling in.”
Merric chuckled, sitting down across the fire from her. “Yes, I heard of that. I heard he was very naked when they found him, passed out in the shrine. The man made a terrible mess of the temple, and the guards wouldn't let him leave until he cleaned it up.”
“The guards? I would figure they would arrest him.” Anita pondered aloud.
“Apparently Mother Hamal, the High Priestess of the Temple of Dibella, has it good with the guards and the Jarl. The woman has a lot of pull, I’ve been told.” Merric ate his soup in silence for a few moments, before speaking again. “But what was it like, the inner sanctum? Only women and followers of Dibella are allowed back there.”
“It was, rather strange. It smelled really flowery and there wasn’t much back there. I saw an altar, and even these stone chairs.” Anita shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing fantastic.”
“And what of you? They let you go.” Merric raised a brow, smiling. “Escaped?”
“N-no… They wanted me to do something for them. Apparently someone in the temple got lost, and the men who trashed the place are involved. Now I got to find them.” Anita said.
“I see. I hope you find whoever it is.” The man said.
“Oh, I hope so too.” Anita smiled. She enjoyed Merric’s company. The man was very polite, and he wasn’t that bad looking. Older than her, his hair a cropped black, but his face strong and youthful. She couldn't help but watch the way his neck and jaw would move as he ate, getting lost in his dark eyes, feeling her heart pitter-pat harder at the sights and feeling-...
Anita shook her head, clearing the thoughts. They were unprovoked, and confusing. She could feel her face flushed hotly, and not from the steam of her stew. She focused on her cabbage stew, but her eyes kept looking up to the Breton.
“I heard a lot of strange stories about the devotees of Dibella,” Merric said, unaware of the younger girl’s adoration. “You ever heard of the ‘Dibellan Arts’?”
“N-no…” Anita mumbled in a teeny voice.
“Well, not only is Dibella the goddess of beauty and love, but they say there are charters of her cult devoted to some,” He cleared his throat. “Erotic, instructions.”
Anita nearly coughed up her stew, wiping her mouth. “W-what?”
“It’s true. When I was in Cyrodiil, I came across a place in a city called Anvil, a chapel of Dibella.” Marric grinned as he ate. “The women of the chapel were very nice, and very friendly, during the day. But at night, they frequent a local inn, and offer men and women a chance to be involved in these ‘practices’. The stories I heard from men there, would make even the most pious of men blush. These women would tie these people to beds, and ‘cleanse their body of evil and heighten their spirits’. I even tempted to try one of these ‘Dibellan Arts’, but I was too nervous.”
“T-this really happens?” Anita asked, now engrossed in the story.
“Indeed it does. They say most devotees of Dibella perform these arts, both men and women. Dibella believed in a art in lovemaking, and even her commandment was ‘Open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love. Treasure the gifts of friendship. Seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love’. That has more meaning than you think. I even hear there is a woman in Riften who performs the Dibellan Arts.”
“Y-yeah…” Anita couldn’t stop staring at the man, and upon hearing the commandment, she felt her heart and stomach flutter. The man was unaware of the girl’s staring, enjoying his meal and talking. But, soon, Anita could not think straight any more, forcing herself to look away and setting her cooling food down. “E-excuse me.”
“Don’t wander too far; there could be wolves out there.” Merric warned, watching the robed Breton leave the campfire and out of sight behind some boulders.
Once hidden, Anita, unable to stop herself, released a shuddering moan, as she fell to her knees. It was like something was held tight inside her suddenly being let go, like a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. Her body quivered as a warmth washed over her, feeling her cheek heat up in a blush, her legs feeling weak. Something was wrong with her, she knew it. but, what? She felt fine most of the day. Actually, thinking on it now, she realized that ever since she met Merric, she felt like a giggly child, hanging on to every word he said. She took deep breaths to calm herself, and tried to think on what the problem was.
Was it Merric? It could be possible that he was using some kind a spell without her knowing. Maybe he’s a vampire, using some kind of seduction on her? But, what if it wasn’t Merric? What if…
The Curse! The Curse of Dibella! The one the priestess put on her! Was that what it does? It makes her more attracted to men? Honestly, she didn't have a problem like that before. She does what every other woman does in such situation when they have too much time on their hands; look at men. Men do the same with women. Sometime when she is in a hold and has nothing to do, she would sit back and admire some of the men that walked by. Some were handsome, some were decent enough. She even remembered this time when she was in Whiterun, and was watching a guard, and watched him remove his helmet. Long, red hair greeted her eyes, his face chiseled and strong with a scruff of a beard, beads of sweat running down his face and forehead, his thick neck bulging as he took a drink of water and-
No! Naughty Anita, bad! She grumbled in disdain and tried to stand, shaking her head of these thoughts. She didn't’ need this, especially with the task at hand. She took a few deep breaths and returned to the camp, trying not to focus on Merric. The dinner was finished quickly, and Anita excused herself early to bed, her back to the campfire and the man. It took her a while to finally go to sleep, trying to keep her mind off Merric and whatever other man came to mind. She needs to find this ‘Champion’ soon, if he is the only one to get rid of this Curse.
~*~
Her night was disturbed by images in her mind. Strange visions her her stripped bare and shackled to a bed. She could see the faces of the priestesses from Markarth over her, though they no longer wore their robes either, they too nude. She felt frightened at first, but it was ebbed as she felt a pleasant tingle of excitement course through her, her legs rubbing against one another as she bit her lower lip in anticipation.
The three older and larger women were making a series of low chants, though Anita didn’t know what it was they were saying. The Redguard stroked her fingers along Anita’s exposed stomach, tickling her as they danced up and down. One of the Nords, Orla she remembered her name, was stroking her thighs, along her knees and ankles and up to her waist. The other Nord, she believed was called Hamal, was near her head, rubbing along her sides and shoulders and her chest, coming close to touching her exposed breast but keeping her distance, moving around and between them.
Pleasant sparks shot through her body at the sensation, writhing under their touches as if they were using some kind of sensual magic. A warmth built up in her chest, spreading throughout her being and making her feel like she was melting into the comforting sheets of the bed. She could feel the Redguard’s fingers traveling downward, just as Orla stroked her inner thighs, pushing them apart. Anita gasped, but unable to fight back, allowing the women to explore her. Hamal was now stroking around her neck, tickling her more but sending more powerful sparks down her spine, making her quiver. Thier chanting went quiet, and the only sound in the dark room was the small Breton’s gasping breaths. Her legs were parted, and Anita could feel silky and knowing fingers gently touch around her most private of areas, very softly and tingly.
With a low chuckle, the Redguard woman pulled her hand away, just as the other priestesses moved back, making the petit girl whine. She didn’t know what happened next, but it seemed the three women disappeared into the darkness, and a fourth person was there now, another woman, naked as much as Anita was, hovering over the Breton, planting soft kisses on the girl’s neck.
This new woman, she didn’t know who she was, or what she was. Her skin shone like gold, her hair like spun silver, her whole body was warm and welcoming. Her kisses were like electricity, every tiny one send a spark through the Breton, making her moan unabashed at the intense sensations. The golden woman kissed right over Anita throat, making her voice waver and shudder as if the golden woman was stealing away her voice and breath. Her hands stroked up from her thigh to her chest, leaving behind a burning trail of warmth and electricity.
The golden woman breathed hotly into Anita’s ear, her voice like the most beautiful music to ever be heard by mortal men. “Give yourself to me.”
At the very words, Anita let loose a shuddering and silent gasp, her back arching high as her whole body quivered and shook in pleasurable release. The sensations were too overwhelming, and the world once more returned to the blackness.
~*~
Anita shot up in her bedroll with a gasp, her body damp in sweat and shaking. She was no longer in the strange place and on a bed. Rather looking around she saw the plains of Whiterun, a dying campfire, and across the dying campfire fire she could see the sleeping Merric. It was a dream, all a dream. She sighed in relief and looked to the rising sun, be grouse and gently pulling on her robes. She was sweating quite a bit in her sleep, that she was practically sodden.
And what of that dream? She never had a dream like that before. And who was that golden woman? She shook her head and tried to clear those thoughts away, and started to get ready for the day. From what Merric told her yesterday, Rorikstead was not that far from where she was. Looking over to a short distance from where the camp was, Anita could see the road, as well as the fork leading in three different directions. One direction came from Markarth and the Reach, while one went east towards Whiterun, and another heading northward towards Rorikstead.
Anita rolled up the bedroll and went to Merric’s carriage, tossing the spare mat into the back and returned to the sleeping Breton. It would have been so easy at that moment to simply take some of his items and runaway into the dim morning, but, a stronger part of her was telling her not to. With a sigh, she reached into her pocket and collected a few coin, setting them down next the the sleeping Merric’s head. She already paid him, but felt like he needed a little more.
He gave the man a silent goodbye, and started to head her way up the north road towards Rorikstead.
Rorikstead, from what she heard, was a small settlement. She also heard that there were other small towns along the back roads, but in her travels she always stuck to the main roads. She never even been to the colder cities yet, even if she has been in Skyrim for a few years now. She always wondered what Dawnstar or Winterhold or Windhelm was like. Very cold, she could imagine. There was another small town just north of Rorikstead called Dragon Bridge that she considered visiting after all this was taken care of.
As the day got older, the sun nearing the top of the sky, she could see some buildings in the distance. Rorikstead was indeed a small settlement, composing of only a few homes but a large plot of farmland. It didn’t seem like the busiest of places. As she gotten closer, she looked around for anyone familiar, especially if it was a large Nord in an iron horned helmet or a Breton in dark robes. They didn’t seem to be here, but then she looked over to the farm and saw an Altmer woman tending to a crop, and made her way towards them.
“Excuse me.” Anita got the attention of the farmer. “I was wondering if you can help me with something.”
The Altmer made a sigh and put her hoe to the side and turned to the Breton. “What is it?”
“I’m looking for someone, a Nord man with a helmet. I was told he was coming through here.” Anita said.
The elf woman seemed to glower at this, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let me take a guess; he was drunk?” Anita nervously nodded her head, and the Altmer pointed towards a Redguard man in the field. “Talk to Ennis. He’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Thank you.” Antia approached the Redguard, watching him kneel down to pet a goat that was with him. “Excuse me?”
“Yes?” The man stood up, turning to her.
“I’m looking for someone, a…” She sighed when she realized how silly her next words were. “A drunk Nord that came by here?”
“Oh, him,” Ennis frowned, and seemed to put a protective hand on the goat’s head. “Yes, he was here, yesterday, and the night before that. That man and his friend caused me some trouble, thinking it was a good idea to sell my goat Gleda to a giant.”
“I’m sorry about that, but do you know where he went?” Anita asked.
“After he got my Gleda back, I told him that he was talking about a marriage and a staff or some nonsense. That blighter was retracing his steps since that night, apparently. Mentioned getting a ring from someone name Ysolda in Whiterun.” Ennis told her.
“So...he went to Whiterun?” Anita sighed. “I guess that’s where I need to go, then.”
“I’m afraid so. Did he do something to you when he was drunk?” The Redguard asked.
“Yes, and now because of him I’m in deep trouble if I don’t find him.” She gave the man a kind smile and a wave. “Thank you, though. I’ll be on my way.”
“Kick him in the shin for me.” Ennis smiled and chuckled.
“Oh, I will.” Anita left the field, and with another sigh went down the road she came. It will be some time for her to get to Whiterun. She suspected the ‘Drunken Nord’ to have a horse to have come to Rorikstead and left so quickly. She feared she may lose him, and she would never find the ‘Champion’.
At the thought of the ‘Champion’, it got her wondering. She heard tales of the Aedra and the Daedra taking on mortals to be their champions, who would spread the word of their gods or even fight in their names. The Aedra, from what she understood, didn’t really need any champions. And that raises the question of exactly how does one become a champion for one of the Eight Divines? Or for Dibella, the goddess of beauty and love, for that matter? She’d imagine that whoever the champion was, must either be some kind of gallant knight, or an exceptional romancer. Or, something different.
She felt her cheeks flush at the thoughts, and even in remembrance of the dream she had. But then she started to ponder on what the priestesses of the temple had said. Was the man locked away? To protect him or as a prisoner? Why does somone require such secrecy? She can imagine that they must be pretty important.
She looked up to the sun, and groused when she learned that she may have to camp once again before reaching Whiterun. If only she had a horse, or she didn’t leave Merric so soon. She was hopeful that maybe she can run into Merric before the night came. She didn’t really want to go to sleep, thinking she was going to have another strange dream. But alas, as night came, and she could barely see the lights of the city, the tiredness began to set it. Thankfully, she could see a tower in the distance, and figured it could be a safe place to rest. She was right, as she gotten closer and saw the familiar yellow tabards of the Whiterun Guards. It was a watch tower, one that seemed to have seen better days.
The guards were rather lax, when seeing a petit Breton women heading up to them, and they were polite enough to tell her that while she can stay at the tower for the night, they did not trust her enough to be inside, and allowed her to borrow a spare bedroll and some wood and kindling to have her own little camp right next to the tower, and in view of the guards. They did however, allow her to stay in the tower for a time and have supper with them.
“He’s the Thane?!” Anita was rather surprised when she was talking to them about her blight, that the men knew exactly who it was she was talking about. The man in question, the infamous Drunken Nord, just so happens to be the Thane of Whiterun.
“Aye, he was called upon by the Jarl to slay a dragon that was attacking this very tower.” One of the guards stated. “He is the Dragonborn, took the dragon’s very soul.”
“Dragonborn?” Anita heard of this; it was mention plenty of times in the cities she’s been in for a month now. It was some kind of old Nord legend, of someone with the blood of a dragon able to steal the soul of a dragon and able to speak in their tongue. It was mostly nonsense to her. “And, he’s the Thane?”
“Got a home in Whiterun, and a housecarl.” Another guard said. “He went by here last night, if I remembered.” Even if the man wore a helmet, Anita could feel him giving her a hard look. “And why are you looking for him, anyway?”
She felt it wouldn’t be smart to besmirch the name of someone the people of Whiterun holds in high regards, so she made sure not to mention the Thane’s drunken escapades. “He may know the location of someone I’m looking for. I was hoping to catch him in time.”
The guards simply shrugged and refilled her bowl with some hot venison stew. She thanked them and ate, letting the men slip into their own conversations. Only a few of them kept their helmets on, either already eaten or was awaiting to eat later, but the rest had theirs off. Around her were strong and stoic faces, some older than others, a few just a few years older than her. Masculine men with powerful chins and musculars arms, all talking and laughing, some of them looking over at here every now and then. She imagined them undressing her with their eyes, looking at her with dark and hungry eyes, and it made her heart flutter at the very thought, already feeling herself nip on her lower lip as her mind was pervaded with naughty ideas and lewd-
No! Not again! Anita shook her head, earning a few confused looks from the guards. She calmed her pounding heart and tried to fight back the swarm of butterflies in her stomach, forcing herself to finish off her bowl and announced she was going to sleep, leaving the tower to her small camp in the small field next to it. She was sure none of the men could see her, seeing none of them outside when she left, so when she was alone, she once more felt like she released a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in, making a shuddering moan as she flopped down on her bedroll.
This Curse was unbearable! She was like a dog in heat, practically drooling over every man she comes across! Why would Dibella conceive such a Curse?! This time, she couldn’t see to calm down enough, her heart still heavy and her legs feeling weak, her mind still flashing promiscuous images of the guards. She needed relief! She shook as she looked up to where the open to the tower was, seeing no one there, and she nervously started to set up a cover. The guards not only gave her a spare bedroll, but they also gave her a large covering of pelts to use as either another blanket, or if the need arises a tent to protect her from the weather. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this, but it was the only thing she could think of. Once her tent was put up, and making sure the opening was covered well enough, she disappeared into her personal darkness and heaved a heavy sigh.
She hardly done this, and often felt very nervous if she tried, or even thought of it. But if this could be the only thing to help her ailment, even for a little bit, she would try. She took a few deep breathes, before shakily kicking off her shoes, and untied the belt of her robes. In a manner of moments, Anita sat nude within her tent, pushing her clothing to the side. The cool air brushed along her bare skin, making her shiver but it tingled her pleasantly. There was an exciting thrill in being nude; it seemed almost right to be this bare.
She looked down upon her exposed body. Even if she was as small as she was, the robes did well to hide her true self, her dainty fingers dainty fingers gently stroking her taut stomach, stroking her fair skin. Her breasts heaved with each breath, and though she may not be as big as other women were, her bust was a delectable and ample and perky size. She lacked any muscles, leaving her whole being so soft and silky to the touch. She was not too thin, the perfect size one may say, slender and delicate.
She stopped her mind there, a little confused. She never really explored herself that much; she would rather not bring so much attention to herself, being a thief and all. She always thought herself so immature built, even if she was a woman. But, looking upon herself now, she couldn’t help but find herself to be, beautiful. A youthful body, on a older woman, was built to make men want her. She felt herself flushed, as her fingers continued their slow and sensual travel, going along her stomach and her legs and her arms. Every little touch sent a fluttery tickle through her, her voice coming out in low and silent moans, as she slowly sank back into her bedroll. Her other hand came into play, coming up to gently touch her chest. Already the peaks of her breast were hard and sensitive, and the merest of touches sent a spark of pleasure to shoot through her.
Anita arched her back, stifling the moan building within her. And when her other hand went down farther, past her stomach and to the crux of her thighs, she had to bite down on her knuckle to keep herself quiet. Her arousal was incredible! Her flower already damp to the touch, flaring hotly and sensitive. Her fingers gently stroked herself, her back arching more as she struggled to keep quiet. A part of her wondered if it was okay to let her moans out, letting herself voice her pleasure at her own leisure. But what if the guards heard her? Another part of her, her mind slowly becoming addled and fog with arousal, wondered what would happen if they did hear her moans, and came to investigate.
Her fingers seemed to move faster at the very thought. What if she did allow her voice to speak freely, and the guards did come to visit, she wondered what they would do. For them to look into her tent and see the petit Breton stripped naked, touching herself and locked in throes of pleasure; what would they do? Watch her? Join in? So many fantasied ran through her mind against her control, as her fingers found purchase among the damp and flushed skin, digging deeply into her, rubbing along her sensitive womanhood. She imagined opening her eyes and seeing eyes watching her through a gap in the tent entrance, the lonely guards watching in rapt attention of they lewd show they’re given. Would they be brave enough to enter her tent and help her with her problem, would they pleasure themselves at the sight of the naughty woman?
Anita gasped loudly, her belt now in her mouth to keep herself silent, her back arching high off the ground as her whole body shook violently at her release, her juices streaming down her legs in torrent as whiteness flashed before her eyes. Her orgasmic euphoria lasted for an untold amount of time, like she was suspended in slow motion, her pleasurable agony prolonging more and more until she feared she may pass out.
But soon she came down from her high, lowering to the ground as she seemed to melt into the bedroll, the belt falling out of her mouth as she panted, sweat dripping from her body. She never had anything that powerful before, and prayed that it was enough to stem this Curse for a while longer. But, lying there, she could still feel the persistent heat in her core, her heart still heavy, her mind, even as it cleared, still had a few errant dirty thoughts. If anything, it all seemed to have gotten worse, and she only managed to stoke the fire that seemed to ever slowly build within her.
With a groan of defeat, and feeling considerably tired, she crawled into the bedroll and turned over, and had no trouble slipping into a deep and restful slumber.
~*~
A light hung overhead, as the world around her became more clear. She was once more in the comforting bed, only this time she was not bound. She was still naked, and there was no one else around. But then, she felt a presence, right behind her, and she quickly realized she was curled up next to someone in a loving embrace. A hand of golden skin laced around her midriff, hugging her close to a warm and silky body.
Anita shivered, but couldn’t pull away. If anything, she sank deeper into the embrace, the one behind her making a soft and approving coo into her ear.
That voice, that musical and angelic voice, was right behind her. “You are very beautiful.”
The very words sent a shiver down her spine, her legs rubbing together unconsciously. “I...I...Y-you, did this to me… Y-you’re…”
“Shh, little one,” The strange golden skinned woman shushed her, feeling her kiss the top of her head gently, sending another shiver through her. “You must not think of that, not now. Right now, let me praise you.”
“W-wait,” Another powerful shock went through Anita, when she felt a pair of warm lips kiss her on her shoulder. Those same lips kissed down along her arm, and slowly she found herself being rolled onto her back, the silver haired and golden skinned goddess once more over her.
“You deserve to be praised, to be loved.”
Anita stifled a moan, the golden skinned woman’s very voice cutting her deeply. This goddess has complete control over her body, and she did not mind in any way.
“So beautiful, so alluring. Men want you, women want you.”
The Breton moaned aloud, her back arching as lips kissed down her body, over her heart and across her slim stomach and around her navel, leaving a burning arousal in their wake.
“So, fertile,” The golden goddess purred the words, kissing low on her stomach. Something deep inside her, in the very pit of her stomach, flared hotly, her whole body quivering as the heat built into an inferno, begging to be released. Finally, those lips went down farther, and softly kissed her flower.
Her whole world exploded into a series of colors and electricity, making her scream out in pleasure into the surrounding darkness.
~*~
Anita once again shot up in her bedroll, panting and sweating. She quickly looked around, and saw she was still in the tent, though now her covers were thrown off of her. Was she like that all night? She nearly paled at the thought. What if a guard came by. He could have seen her like that! Her fearful fight, against her volition, because a thrilling sensation. It excited her at the thought.
She quickly shook it off. Now? She just woke up! The priestess was right; this curse will get worse the longer she takes to find the Champion! She can’t live like this! She was quick to gather her clothes and get dressed, practically tearing down the tent in the process as she hurried out into the crisp morning. Some of the guards were nearby, watching her fumble to stand and make herself look presentable. She thanked them for the tent and the bedroll, and didn’t even give them the time to say hello or goodbye as she left and hurried down the road.
She could see Whiterun in the distance, and the faster she got there, the faster she can find the Thane, and beat him into submission. She normally wasn’t a violent person, but after what she’s been through, she didn’t care how big or how powerful the Dragonborn was; he was getting it. The most distance she put between her and the tower, the better she felt, but she knew that once she was in the city, she would be surrounded by more men. She focused her mind, tried not to think of anything except for anything that wasn’t particularly arousing.
She thanked the Seven (seven, because she wasn’t going to involve a certain golden skinned goddess), that it didn’t take her long to make it to the city, almost midday. She noticed that there was a Khajiit caravan outside the gates, and as she passed it, she happened to look over towards them. She have met a few the feline race, and found them to be fascinating people. But, now, looking at them near a fire, she couldn't help but ponder on how soft their fur could be.
She forcefully looked away from the Khajiit and pushed those thoughts out of her head, stomping her way up the hill to the front gates of Whiterun. She entered the place, looking around and trying not to focus on anyone attractive. She looked at a guard with a helmet, and figured he was the best one to start with, asking him where this ‘Ysolda’ was.
The man told her that Ysolda was one of the market owners just at the end of the street, and she was quick to head in that direction. She found the woman in question, a Nord, among the stalls.
“Ma’am?” Anita approached the woman. “Can you help me with...something…”
Almost instantly, Anita couldn’t help but notice how, beautiful, the woman was.
Ysolda looked to the small Breton woman and smiled. “Yes? What do you need?”
Anita tried her best not to stare. “U-umm, I-I was hoping you can help me, f-find the Thane. I-I was told he c-came to you?”
“Oh, him,” Ysolda made a low chuckle. “Yes, he was here. He bought a ring on credit from me, planning to marry this woman. The ceremony, unfortunately, was called off, and he returned the ring. He was here just yesterday.”
“Where did he go?” Anita asked.
“Well, I told him that he said that the wedding was supposed to take place in Morvunskar. I guess that’s where he went.” Ysolda told her.
Anita nodded her head and turned to leave, but then stopped. “W-wait...W-where’s Morvunskar?” Ysolda only shrugged her shoulders. “B-but I need to find him!” She quickly looked around, and hurried up to a guard. “Where’s Morvunskar!?”
“Easy! Stop your shouting!” The guard warned.
Anita shrank, her voice teeny. “S-sorry.”
The man grumbled under his helmet, his hands on his waist. “It’s an old fort, just southwest of Windhelm.”
“W-Windhelm? B-but that’s so far!” Anita made a pathetic moan, holding her head in dismay. “I can’t last that long…”
“There’s a carriage, just outside the gate, that can take you to Windhelm.” The guard pointed out.
Anita thought of it, for a moment, and sighed. “Thank you.”
She only hopped it won’t cost her much. She turned and left the city behind her, making sure not to look at the caravan as she passed it. True to what the guard said, there was a man and a carriage at the bottom of the hill, just passed the stables. It only cost a few coins for the man to take her to Windhelm, and once she was in the back, they were on their way. She tried not to speak to the driver, tried not to even think about him or even look at him. The entire trip was spent mostly in silence, and with her trying to meditate her ailment and keep it at bay.
Every now and then an errant thought would pass her, a warmth would wash over her, a wind would send a shiver through her body. Her body seemed more sensitive, more flushed, than before. She was easily aroused, she noticed. This was a terrible Curse! Once she finds this Champion and gets cured, she’ll make it her duty to never go to Markarth again, and to NEVER steal from a temple ever again! Who knows what kind of curse will be put on her if she stole from the other temples.
The day passed, and rather the carriage to stop for the night, the driver only put on warmer clothing and drank some kind of potion, continuing their journey on through the night. She managed to curl up on the carriage floor, but fought going to sleep. She wanted to stay awake, not wanting to slip into another dream. She even found herself staring up into the sky, to the stars, her voice low as she mumbled to herself. She never got a chance to yet, and right now, she figured it was the best time.
“Dibella, I am sorry for what I have done. I have desecrated your house and sought to steal from it, and for that I am forever sorry. I feel that you not forgive me, and this curse of yours says that, but I swear that if I can, I will repay my sins in full. Forgive me, Lady Dibella.”
She didn’t expect an answer, but she supposed her answer was being able to slip into a short and dreamless rest, when she was startled awake when the carriage was suddenly jerked to a halt. Snow gently fell around her, the cold hitting her as she sat up, the world around her dark and the sky covered in clouds.
“Windhelm, capital of the hold.” The carriage driver stated, looking over his shoulder to her. “End of the line.”
Groggily, Anita dragged herself out of the carriage, thanking the driver. She couldn't’ exactly get her bearings, never have been this far north before. The cold, she was very thankful for, seemed to have cooled the fire inside her, making it much more easily to approach one of the guards and asking for directions to the old fort known as Morvunskar. She didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to wait till the morn; she was so close to the end of her journey that she could feel it. She had to brave the dark wilderness, if she wanted to get to the fort.
Weaponless made it worse for her, but she was determined. She had to focus all her thoughts on her stealth, praying she could sneak by anything without any trouble. The snow made it hard to traverse, but she pushed on in the direction the guard pointed her to. It seemed the path to the fort was cleared, and she didn’t run into anything that could attack her. Finally, she could see it.
The fort was a ruin, but she could see fires among them, campfires of bandits, no doubt. She kept low to the ground, hoping she blended well with the snow as she snuck closer. The fort didn’t seem to have an entrance, but moving along the stone wall she found a broken way through and climbed up. What she found gave her pause. A robed body lied dead in the snow, before her. And looking around, she saw that there were more bodies. Warlocks lied slain around her, all of them having grievous wounds, their bodies cold and covered in a thin blanket of snow.
Anita took a moment to calm her heart, making her way shaikly to a door. All of them were dead! Did, the Dragonborn do this? Was this where the Champion was? Nervously, she opened the door, and snuck in. The fort was old and decrepit, but it was also warm, and the torches on the wall lit. These magic users may have used this fort as their base. She wondered if there were some still alive in here, when she saw another dead warlock on the ground nearby. She was thankful that the Dragonborn was able to clear them out, making it easy for her to sneak in deeper. She contemplated on stealing some things, if this place was empty, but she pushed that thought to the side and made her way along the stone walls. She kept her ears open, listening for any sounds.
She briefly wondered what the Dragonborn was like. He must be very powerful if he was able to fight off all these warlocks by himself. She wondered what he looked like without the helmet. She could imagine him with blonde hair, like hers. With deep blue eyes. He must be built rather well if he fight so well. She remembered he wore one of those studded armor that some of the bandits wore. She then remembered that Merric said he heard that the Dragonborn was naked when he was found. It was a shame she missed that, she wondered just how well he was built.
She bit her lip at the thought, feel her cheeks redden. But then, she realized what she was doing and shook her head clear. No! It’s happening again! She could feel the heat returning, her mind going addled and lusty. The Curse was returning, and it was coming back stronger! Her footing became unsteady as her legs felt weaker, pressing herself into the wall. Her robes suddenly felt stifling, and she so wanted to take them off and allow herself to be bare, longing to feel the cool air against her nude body.
She pressed forward, abandoning her sneaking to hurry. She came to a large opened area, there there were more slain wizards on the ground. She saw a staircase that lead up to a grandiose stone throne. But, that’s not what earned her attention. Right next to the throne, a great bright aura of light was there. It looked like some kind of doorway. She didn;t know why, but she felt that was where she needed to go. She pulled herself up the stairs, straight to the shimmering portal, and with a deep breath, plunged right in.
~*~
Anita stumbled and fell forward, feeling displaced, the feeling of magic washing over her. she expected to feel the hard and cold stone ground, but what she got was warm and damp and ticklish and soft. She groaned and got up to her hands and knees, and looked down at whatever it was she fell on. Grass? In a fort? Then, she looked around.
She was no longer in the fort, nor did she think she was in the Eastmarch, or even Skyrim for that matter. It was like she was outside, the world around her dark and misty, some kind of grove. She stood, and looked before her. A lantern lit stone path lead deeper into the strange forest, and though she wasn’t sure of what awaited for her, she nonetheless followed. There was something about this place, something unnatural but welcoming.
She staggered as she walked, feeling drunk. It was pleasant. Even the warmth that tortured her was making her feel nice. The path turned around and went up and down, but she followed it, falling deeper and deeper into a lull. This was such a beautiful place. But why was it deep in a dingy cold fort? She tugged at her robes, wondering if this was a better place to strip down, like she wanted before. The thought was very tempting. Then, she heard laughter, coming from somewhere down the path. She went up a slight incline, and there before her in a clearing…
It was a feast!
There were people sitting at a long wooden table, the table covered in succulent food, the people drinking from large flagons and laughing and chatting, all having a festive time! Feeling only a little nervous, Anita approached the merrymakers.
An Argonian among them noticed her first, raising his mug high. “A new comer! Come, join us!” Other turned and saw her as well, all of them insisting that she join them.
Oh, to join them was so very tempting! But, her mind faltered, her steps becoming timid. “I-I-I...I-I’m looking f-for someone.”
“Hmm? Is that so?” A voice was suddenly right next to her. “Whoever could that be?” The voice was calm, soothing almost.
When she turned to it, she gasped and staggered back, her eyes wide. “Y-y-y-you!”
It wasn’t the Dragonborn, and she was sure it wasn’t the Champion she was looking for, but she instantly recognized the Breton man in the black robes.
The man had a kind smile on his face. “Yes, it’s me.” But then his face became confused, almost humorously so. “But, then, who am I, and who are you?”
Antia tried to stand tall, but it was hard for her, feeling immensely aroused and weak. “Y-You’re t-that man! F-from the Temple!”
He tapped his chin in thought, before he smiled again. “Oh, yes! I remember who you are! You were that little thief!” He circled her slowly, his hands folded behind his back. “And, here you are. Have you come all this way for little ol’ me?” He then stopped, his brows raising. “No, wait, not me! You came for the Dragonborn!”
“N-no, not him…” Anita staggered slightly, trying to keep the strange man in her view. “I...I-I was l-looking for…”
“Well, you missed him.” The Breton man shrugged his shoulders. “He left here just a few hours ago.”
“W-where?!” Anita cried.
“Not sure,” The man made a smirk and turned away. “Once I gave him my staff, he went on his merry way. He was such fun! Not too pleased with me, however, but to each thier own I suppose.” A whine reached his ears, and he turned to see the smaller woman down on her hands and knees, panting heavily as she made low pathetic moans. “Oh, whatever is the problem, deary?”
“I-I-I came, s-so close…” The poor Breton girl groaned. “A-and n-now he’s gone… I’ll never find him again…”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Unaware to the girl, the robbed man conjured a tankard of strong mead out of nothingness, kneeling down to offer it to the disdained woman. “Here, relax, have a drink. Join us, and let your worries pass you.”
“I-I-I don't need a drink!” Anita cried out, pushing the tankard away. “I-I want to find the Dragonborn! Because of him, I have this stupid curse, and only he knows where the stupid Champion is, and I had to come all this way chasing him and-”
“Wait, the Champion of Dibella?”
Anita suddenly looked up at the man, hopefulness in her eyes.
“Well, why didn’t you say so! He’s here!”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “H-here?” She looked around the table.
“Well, not here-here.” The man smiled. Then he pointed to where another path was, leading deeper into the misty grove. “But he is that way.” He then hummed, looking down at the girl. “So, that’s what that is, huh? I knew there was something ‘fuzzy’ about you, and now it makes perfect sense. The Curse of Dibella!” He then laughed, rubbing his chin. “I haven’t seen that in ages!”
Anita didn’t listen, trying her best to head to the path, the man right behind her.
“That was days ago, though. You have had this Curse since then?” The man asked, but didn’t get an answer from the staggering Breton woman. “Did you get the dreams yet? I hear those were the best part of the Curse! Every night, blessed with the visage of the Lady herself, so ready to please you in any way she can-”
“S-shuddup!” Anita yelled, leaning against the rocky walls of the path. “I-I can’t take this anymore… I c-came all this way to find t-the Champion, s-so he could get rid of it…”
“Oh, but fighting it only makes it worse.” The robed man shrugged. “And being a Breton, your blood is naturally imbued with arcane resistance; a part of the spell must have been absorbed, accelerating it.” He hummed once more, looking down at her. “I’d say, the symptoms you are feeling, would have been felt by someone differently until at least a couple more days. You are quite unlucky to be this affected this early.”
“G-Gods damn you…” Anita cursed and pressed forward, the man still following her.
“It was a shame that you had to get involved in all this; I only wanted to let the boy have some fun, since those stuck up priestesses kept him all to themselves.” The Breton man stated. “Dibella thought so too, and I was already having fun with the Dragonborn at the time, so I figured, why not; to birds with one stone and all that.”
Anita’s steps faltered for a moment, looking up at the man in disbelief. “W-what? What about D-Dibella?”
“Ah, yes;” The man stopped and smiled down at her. “Dibella knew that her Champion needed some fun, but with him being with the priestesses in her temple, and no Sybil to tell them otherwise, she needed someone to intervene and help out.” He then made a flourish to himself. “So, she called on me!”
“I-I don’t...understand.” The petit woman made a low moan, nearly falling to the ground. “W-who...are you?”
“Call me Sam,” Sam put a gentle hand on Anita’s back, helping her stand straight. “Now, come; you have something to do, don’t you?”
She shaikly nodded her head. “Y-yeah…”
The path she walked went farther into the woods then she thought, twisting and turning around alcoves and other groves and even a strange looking weathered statue of some portly looking demon with a mug in its hand. The mist even seemed to thicken, and a smell started to rise up from the mist, something sharp and burnt, but she didn’t know what.
The path started to spiral, and she found out it was around a large hill, where all the mist seems to be originating. She looked around and saw that the trees started to clear away, and these odd looking plants seemed to be growing everywhere. Finally, she made it to the top of the hill.
All around her were these large and fancy looking pillows all over the ground, and on these pillows were more people. She felt her face turn red when she noticed that none of them had any clothes on at all! Men and women of all races, all lounging in these pillows, completely nude. Men with their prides hanging free, some even erect in readiness, and the woman were just as naked and…
Anita gasped, and saw that some of these people were caught in a very passionate and intimate embrace, rutting like wild animals while some drank and smoked from oddly shaped pipes, some even shaped like male genitalia.
The sights, the sounds and the smells shot through her like an archer’s arrow, her legs nearly giving out under her as she moan unabashed. Luckily, Sam was right there next to her, keeping her straight.
“Easy there, don’t get too excited.” He chuckled, leading her deeper into the misty grove of debauchery. “He’s right up here.”
She couldn’t hear him, too focused on the actions around her. She could see a rather fit looking Nord woman with a much smaller Redguard man pinned under her, the woman going crazy on his lap while the man just lied there with a drunken smile on his face. An Altmer woman was in a giggly fit as she was surrounded by Khajiit, all of them licking her body and stroking her. A Bosmer man was lounging back and exhaling a great cloud of smoke from his pipe, while between his legs an Imperial woman was bobbing her head upon his lap. So much sexual energy surrounding her, it was way too much for her to bear, moaning more and sinking to the ground.
Sam only chuckled and easily picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way. In the very center of these smoke and sex filled glade, was an altar of sorts, upon it the largest of pillows in the grove.
“Here you go,” Sam gently set the girl down on the pillow. “He’s right here.” And like the smoke around him, faded away.
Anita could barely register what was happening, her mind addled with dark, her whole body feeling like it was melting. She could think of nothing but the perverse images that went through her head, imagery of hold guards pleasing her, a golden skinned goddess making her feel like a goddess herself.
She was vaguely aware that someone was over her, a hand gently shaking her.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Foggy eyes looked up to this person. Clear, beautiful green eyes looked back down at her. It was a man, but their face was so youthful, almost childish. He took her in his arm, large strong arms, and held her close to his chest, like she was an infant. But, then, being this close to him, against his broad chest, she quickly realized…
This man, was a giant!
It wasn’t like he was a normal person and her being so small. No, this man was rather large in size. And seeing him this big, she felt energy went through her, suddenly sitting up in surprise upon his lap. She didn’t know it was possible, but this man was bigger than any Nord she had seen, or and Altmer! The man could have easily towered over her, if he was standing. And sitting on his lap, and looking up at him, she felt that she knew exactly who this was.
“Y-y-y-you…” She mumbled, unable to look away from him. He was, so handsome. But not in a rugged way, like the men she’s been fawning over. He was handsome in a delicate way. His chest was bare and broad, but not too muscular, lean and fit enough. He did have muscles, but they weren't bulging. This man, even as large as he was, was built, perfectly. “Y-you… You’re...him…”
The man smiled kindly down at her. “Am I? Who am I, then?”
“T-the, C-Champion of D-D…” She shuddered, unable to finish the word.
“I’ve been called that. But, please, call me Kobin.” He stated.
“K-Kobin…” She liked the name. It wasn’t something grandiose or fancy, but a very simple name. She licked her lips, trying force herself to speak. “I-I’ve been...looking for you. H-Hamal, w-wants you back…”
Kobin made a sigh, shaking his head. “I would figure she would send someone to come looking for me sooner or later. I didn’t expect you to find me so soon.”
“I-I…” Anita gulped, unable to look away from the man. “I-I’ve been c-cursed. Y-you are the only…”
“Huh, I can feel it,” Kobin gently stroked her cheek, sending a shiver through her body and made her gasp at the sensation. “You’ve been hot-blooded. Why would Hamal put this on you? What did you do to deserve it?”
“P-please…”The small Breton girl whined. “Y-you got to get rid of it… I-I can’t take it…” She bit on her lip to stop the building moan, trying to drown out the surrounding sounds of passion. She looked up at the man, and she couldn’t help but look downward. He was so fit, so lean. And when she looked down farther, her face suddenly turned red, when she learned that the entire time she was sitting on this man’s lap, that he was just as naked as everyone else around her. “O-oh...Gods…”
If it wasn’t the man’s beauty that made him the Champion of Dibella, she was sure it was THIS. She nearly recoiled at the sheer girth of the man’s pride, but upon seeing it, nearly lost her mind. He would put an Orc to shame! She could not look away. There was God Blood in this man, she was sure of that.
“You came all this way to get the Curse off you?” Kobin, even though aware of the girl’s staring, tried not to focus on that. Though, to be admired by her was nice. He gently took her chin, making her look up to him. “Well, who am I to disappoint a lady?” His other hand began to glow with a dim golden light, growing in intensity as he focused the spell. He placed the hand upon her back, and Anita let loose a shivering moan at the sensation of magic coursing through her, adding to the warmth that threaten to suffocate her. When he pulled his great hand away, she didn’t feel any different. If anything, it made it worse, feeling her legs shake and her breathing labored, sweat forming on her brow. “There, better?”
She groaned, shaking her head. No it was not better! The damage has been done; the heat within was too strong to fight off now, and the sounds of lovemaking around her, combined with the strange smoke that made her head dizzy and light, was all too much to bear any longer. “P-please… I-I can’t… I can’t…”
“Hey, take it easy.” The voice of the man before caught her attention, looking up to his smiling face shakily. It took her by surprise when the man scooped her up, and held her close to his chest in a close embrace. “You have it bad. If you want, I can help you out of here. I’ll go back to Markarth, alright?”
Anita whimpered, not focusing on what he was saying. Instead, she felt her body melt against the man, taking in the warmth, the strange earthy smell that came off of him. Where would such a man come from? Was he some kind of Nord, or something different? Maybe he was part giant? She really didn’t know. Unconsciously, her hand reached out to caress the muscles of the chest before her, feeling them tighten and loosen under her touch, biting on her lower lip. He looked down and watched her, his expression softening, before one of his hands came up and gently stroked her back.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“A-A-Anita.” She stuttered, looking into his eyes, her face becoming red.
“Anita.” Kobin smiled. “It’s a beautiful name.” He leaned down to her, his large head being pressed into her neck, where he took a deep breath of her and planted a soft kiss, making the small Breton cry out and quiver against him. “Anita, if you wish, I can help you.”
Lewd thoughts flashed through her mind, the very idea of this man pleasing her sent a powerful shock down her back, releasing a breathy moan. “Y-Yeessss~.”
Strong hands took her back, and she felt her already loose robes become undone with his fingers. The cool misty air caressed her chest, once it was exposed, sending another shiver through her, her back arching with a sigh. The hood was pulled away from her, feeling her whole body tingle as more of her skin was exposed, soon her robes being set to the side. Though as large and as strong as his hands were, they held onto her gently, like they were holding a priceless vase. The warmth of Kobin’s body and the cool air struck her as she leaned forward into him, sighing as those strong hands fluttered up her spine in airy touches, leaving a wake of shivering skin and electricity.
Though a bit part of her was sinking deeper and deeper into her desires, screaming out for this god of a man to quell the fire within her, to finally snuff the flame that has been burning her these few days, another part of her was still clinging to reality, and became very aware of the eyes surrounding her. Some of the occupants of the glade of sexual energy had stopped their smoking or fornicating long enough to watch the petit Breton girl being stripped and stroked lovingly by the giant of a man, all of them enjoying the show that will soon be put before them.
A shiver went up her spine in equal parts fear and desire. She felt like she was put on display before these people, and she couldn’t help but feel a pleasant tingle from that thought. It was like with the guards again; she wanted them to watch, wanted them to gaze upon her and this man. An unabashed moan escaped her when Kobin’s seeking fingers laced around the hem of her britches, the last layer of clothing on her being pulled off her body, taking her shoes with it, and soon she was as naked as the rest of them, sitting upon the giant’s lap.
Her legs quivered as the giant looked down at her, a hunger in his eyes, appraising her diminutive form, before kissing upon her neck. And when she felt a hand rubbing up her thigh, another moan came out of her. By the Divines, she was soaked. It wasn’t until she felt those fingers drawing closer and closer to her, did she realize how wet she was. Was she like that this entire time? It wouldn’t surprise her if she was this aroused since she woke up that morning.
Then, he finally touched her, a powerful shock shooting up her back. She was so sensitive! The mereset of caresses, the feeling of a broad fingers gently flicking across her sodden nethers, was just enough for her body to twitch and convulse at her sudden release, singing out her pleasure with a high pitched cry. A pleasing rumble went through the man’s chest, smiling kindly down to her as he held her, allowing her to come down from her highs.
Her face fell forward into his chest, breathing heavily, taking in the musky scent that permeated off this man, her head swimming.
“Better?” Kobin asked her.
Anita moaned, her hands trailing up across his chest to lace around his neck, the smaller woman pulling herself up. “M-more~.” Against her own control and in the heat of the moment, she claimed the giant’s lips with her own, the man making another pleased growl.
“Such, a naughty girl.” The giant chuckled lowly, his voice deep and husky. “You need to be cleansed.”
A series of racy and provocative thoughts went through Anita’s mind, remembering Marco and his mention of the Dibellan Arts. Her legs quivered at the very ideas, nipping on her lower lip to suppress the growing moan. “Y-yes, please. I-I want to give myself to the Lady Dibella, and beg for her forgiveness.”
A heated kiss was pressed to her neck, making her gasp. “Then, I will show you the path.” Kobin took her by the waist and leaned forward, putting the small Breton down upon the sleek softness of the pillowy bed. It sent a powerful and thrilling volt up her spine when this giant man hovered over her, smiling down at her kindly, his long dark hair falling around her like a wiry curtain. The smell that came off his hair was sharp, reeking of whatever was in the pipes they smoke, only making her already light head go more fuzzy and foggy, almost making her giggle airly as the strands tickled her. He leaned down to her, planting a soft kiss up the collar of her neck, strong hands resting upon her waist.
It took her a moment to realize his hands were considerably warmer now, pulsing and tingling with magic as they stroked her, causing the same sensations to swim into her body. Every part he kissed and touched her released more and more of this warmth into her, her whole body going slack with a shuddering moan. She could hear Kobin muttering under his breath in between his kisses, trailing down between the valley of her breasts and over her stomach and back up. His hands stroked up her sides and over her arms and hands, pushing them up over her head and back down again, over her hips and thighs. She could feel that strong warmth of magic following his touches, swelling in her chest or down in the pit of her stomach, her legs quivering and locking up, her breathing coming out in shuddering gasps. It was as if the man had full control over her arousal, making it course through her body and making her flush.
His final kiss, she realized, was very low in her body, very soft upon the blonde curls of her mons, before his hands stopped right over her stomach. And when he leaned back, his hands dragging away, all the warmth that he had collected in her body was pulled forth as well. Her back shot up, her breathing caught in her throat as her head was tossed back in a wide eyed silent scream, her body trembling at her sudden and unexpected release. the white flashes before her eyes lasted for quite a while, before they started to fade, leaving her panting and her mind blank as she lied on the pillow and gazed distantly into the starless night above her.
She felt, oddly refreshed after that. That constant pain of arousal that had been tormenting her, wasn’t as strong as before. Her whole body, even as limp as she was, felt relaxed and loose. It was very comforting, making her sigh as she closed her eyes and relished the feeling. So, this was what the Dibellan Arts were like?
It wasn’t until she had that thought, when she opened her eyes again, and saw the smiling face of the giant man once more hovering over her. Though she did still feel a little hot, she was finally happy to have some coherent thought, and suddenly felt rather embarrassed and weak at the thought that she was bare before this man.
“Feeling better now?” He asked her, still smiling.
Anita meekly nodded her head. “Y-yes. T-thank you, Kobin. I…” She nipped on her lower lip, feeling her face heat up as she shyly looked away from the man. “I-I, feel so much better.”
“I am glad I am able to help you, Anita.” Kobin chuckled, offering a hand. “If you wish to leave, we can.”
Anita was about to nod her head, sitting up to take the hand, until her eyes fell down the man’s body, to his waist, and her face went bright red at the sight before her. “O-oh...my…” Tall and pulsing, the giant’s pride was rigid and turgid, throbbing with blood and red with want. The sight sent a shock through her, both rather awestruck by his size, but also very fearful of the intimidating muscle.
Kobin followed her eyes, looking down upon himself, chuckling softly. “Sorry; the Dibellan Arts have some side effects. It will calm down soon.”
Anita could only stare. Around her, she could see the eyes of some of the glade’s partons looking upon the giant man with hunger, all of them immensely aroused at the man’s impressive build. Some even look as if they were ready to climb upon the pillow and help themselves to him. She looked up at the man, her heart pounding in her chest, gulping the lump in her throat. Though the heat was mostly gone, she still felt some of the desire there. And to have, HIM, so close, and so ready… She silently praised Dibella.
“K-Kobin,” She whimpered, the man looking down at her with curious eyes. “I-If you want, I-I...I can, help you, with t-that.”
Kobin was a bit surprised, but smiled nonetheless. “It will go away on its own.”
“I want to.” Anita whimpered at the way she said that, so sudden and direct, but kept looking to the man. The man didn’t say another word, and the petit Breton once more gulped and looked down. Those around her were watching her anxiously, silent but their eyes wide and lusty and curious, as if they were cheering her on, wanting this lewd show to continue. Though even with the eyes of the people on her, making her feel small and embarrassed and defenceless, she also felt obligated to give them what they wanted. Some perverse thought in the back of her head that gave her an aroused chill. Shaikly, her hand reached out to the giant godlike man, her fingers coming very close to the red and hot skin of his erection. She wasn’t going to let the size deter her; even if it was imposing and intimidating. Willing herself, she finally gripped it by the middle, sending a shiver through her, gulping once more when her fingers hardly met when they encircled him.
She was no stranger to men; she sometimes had to do some very specific things if she wanted to be let go when she got in trouble. There were some guards in High Rock who were willing to let her go, after she performed a service. She wasn’t particularly proud in herself. And there were only a few instances where she had done similar things for pleasure rather than business. Being so small always made her wary of size difference, and being introduced to an aroused Orc whilst in the Cidhna Mines was something she didn’t want to relive. This, in her hand now, was certainly not of this world.
Hot to the touch, she could feel it throb and pulse in anticipation, the very tip red and glistening. And Kobin simply leaned back and allowed her to explore him, smiling down at her. She licked her drying lips, slowly moving her hand up and down the impressive length. It looked to be as long as her forearm, but then she really couldn't tell by just looks and touch. One her hand as down to the root of the shaft, her fingers brushing into the soft black patch of hair there, her eyes fell a little lower. To compliment his build, was an equally as imposing set hung low and heavy from him, twitching and churning for release, ready to empty the virile seed within. She gulped, her hand going lower, before holding the flesh covered orbs in her palm.
They did indeed feel heavy and full, watching them flex and tighten in her gentle grasp, barely fitting in her small hand, practically hearing the fluids slosh and froth in preparation. She looked up to Kobin, seeing his face soft as he watched her, but his eyes dark, his smile small but holding plenty of meaning. It made her tingle to see that look of desire, the giant wanting her so badly, yet letting her walk her own pace. It was if she figuratively, and at the moment quite literally, have the man in the palm of her hand. That only made the tingle grow stronger, her face heating up. Her hand once more moved, once more holding onto the impressive length and began to caress it up and down.
Kobin made a soft groan, his eyes closing as he hovered over her, and she couldn't keep her eyes off the tool in her hand, her other hand reached out to join in, both stroking it in its entirety from tip to base. She could feel it throb in her hands, feeling the powerful muscle jerk as the man released another groan. Beads of his seed began to ooze from him, coating her hands as she rubbed it, curiously bringing one sticky hand to her face. It gave off a powerful musky smell, sending a chill up her spine as she suppressed a moan.
All around her audience watched in rapt attention and fascination, hands stroking themselves or others close by. Anita became more aware of them, seeing some of them wanting to join her and the giant, yet holding themselves back, as if not wanting to disrupt the dance before them. A grunt from the man caught her attention, watching him lean back. The moment she felt those large hands upon her thighs, it was if her whole body melted, the petit Breton moaning as her legs parted for the man. To have him against her now, she could see the sudden size different between them. She knew he was large, and she knew he was the biggest she has ever saw on a man. But the moment he leaned forward, his mighty pride brushing across her mons, sending a powerful shock of arousal through her, she suddenly felt very, very small.
“W-w-wait,” She shuddered. Kobin stopped his movement, his dark eyes suddenly clearing as his face quickly became an expression of concern. She nipped on her lower lip, feeling flushed. He was, so gentle. “I-I-I…I, m-may be a bit… undersized…”
A soft smiled spread across the giant’s face. “I understand. Here,” His large hand was pressed into her abdomen, and once more she could feel the pleasant warmth and vibrations of magic being poured into her. The pit of her stomach felt tight, but it lessened, the girl shuddered as he drew away. “Anita, can you trust me?”
The small Breton mumbled and whimpered, looking up into the kind face of her giant lover. “I-I...I c-can. I d-do.”
He smiled warmly and leaned farther forward, once more his dark hair falling down and around her head like her own personal privacy curtain. He didn't stop until he was hunched over her, kissing the top of her head. Then she felt it. Thick and hard, the giant’s godly pride was pressed against her, making her gasp and shudder and cry out. There was no way something as large as him as ever going to fit into something as small as her! But feeling the hot flesh against her, knowing just how close and how far it was to delving into her small frame, it nonetheless sent flares of arousal through her. She silently begged the Divines for her to have this, to claim this without any troubles.
As if the will of Dibella herself was in this giant, Anita’s eyes widened and her voice was caught in her throat, when she suddenly felt her body split. Her whole being quivered and convulsed as it was spread and stretched, feeling quite full as the giant’s move his hips forward, gritting his teeth and his brow furrowing. White hot fire shot through her, her whole world going bright and numb as she let loose a powerful scream. But, not in pain. Whatever magic the man put on her, was just what she needed, her body gracefully accepting the force of the man’s spirit as her very depths were touched by him. All around her were wide eyes, the surrounding spectators taken by shock and surprise that such a tiny human was able to take such a large beast of a man, hands suddenly becoming blurs, erections suddenly finding purchase in willing bodies as moans escalated.
How long Anita was trapped in her world of shocks and white she didn’t know, but it soon ebbed as she panted heavily, her vision nearly going dark while she looked up to her giant. Kobin panted as well, his large hands gripping the pillow in tight fists, his brow knitted. Braving herself, she looked down. There was an indention in her body, signaling the penetration at her most deepest. And she was taken aback by not only being able to withstand the impressive girth, but to learn that he wasn’t even fully inside her, so much still left. Kobin let loose a heavy sigh, looking down at the small Breton.
He didn’t say another word, the sheer lust in the girl’s eyes was enough instruction for him, and he eased back slowly. Anita cried out, her back arching high as she felt every ridge and vein of the giant slide back out of her, leaving a yawning emptiness in their wake, only to have it filled to capacity and beyond when he moved his hips forward, the very pit of her stomach flaring into an inferno when he touched the deepest it can go. He moved once more, her whole body shaking as she moan and sang her pleasure, and when he was once more within her, her eyes went white as her powerful and nerve shattering release. And Kobin kept to his slow pace, watching the small Breton wriggle and writhe under him, watching as the glade around him was slowly escalating into a full romp, him and his small lover obivously the center of it all.
Anita’s body was a victim of one shuddering release after another, Kobin keeping to his slow and steady pace. Her mind screamed out for more of the pleasure, all the frustration she had up till this moment coming to a head, wanting nothing more than to feel this sensation, to give herself to Dibella and her Champion. Strong hands took her body, holding her close to the man’s chest and she was lifted. Her weight fell onto his lap, her head being thrown back with a loud and pleasurable cry. She wrapped her arms around the giant’s neck, Kobin keeping a tight grip on her waist as he lifted and lowered her upon him. His pace slowed, and soon he was leaning back, the girl on his lap, and he now lied on the pillow.
No longer being covered by the man’s large body, everyone in the glade could see Anita now, and from her position upon the giant, she could see all that was happening around her. The glade, once smoky and quiet, had erupted into a mass of moans and groans and other lewd noises, bodies moving in erotic and sensual dances as men and women of different races and sizes rutted like wild animals. It did not deter her, if anything the sights and sounds spurred her on, her body moving on it’s own as she bounced upon the giant under her.
Her mind was numb from the intense sexual feelings, her eyes having disappeared into her head as she gazed skyward, her voice loud but muffled from the surrounding symphony. Kobin held onto the Breton’s waist for dear life, the tiny and tight body torturing him as it twisted and turned and humped into him, the woman sitting on him like he was a throne of flesh, and she the queen of this perverse kingdom around them. As strong as his spirit was, him use of magic had weakened him, and the unrelenting assault of Anita was too much to hold back any longer. With a great roar from the man, and a shrill shriek from the woman, Anita could feel the heat of the man suddenly empty into her, bountiful and copious as it swam to invade her willing womb, filling her up to the brim and beyond. Her body shook at the intensity, the man sitting up and embracing her as he pumped more and more of his burning seed into her. And Anita held onto him and rode through the waves, seeking his lips to claim it with hers.
At the very edge of the glade, watching all this happen, Sam was impressed. He would have figured the Champion and the little Breton would leave once they found each other. Though, a part of him was very curious to see what the hot-blooded thief would do when put before the imposing man. that curiosity was stated now, watching the two make love, and also as their sexual show effected the rest of him party goers. It has been decades since he last had such a large orgy. Though, as tempted as he was to join the party, one rather cute Orc woman right at his feet lost in her own pleasure catching his eyes, he thought it would be best to let them have their fun.
And a soft voice in the back of his head confirmed that. “Sanguine.”
He chuckled, looking over his shoulder and into the mists. “Dibella, my dear. As charming as always.”
Like him, the Divine didn’t choose a very grandiose form. Rather, the Goddess of Beauty took rather plain shape, a youthful Bosmer girl in a peasant gown and cloak. Though as plain as she may have looked, her staggering beauty was still evident, her innate power coming off her in waves, giving off a very pure and even exotic aura. She looked over the glade before her calmly, before looking back to the disguised Breton.
“How is Kobin doing?” She asked, her voice soft but musical.
“He is doing fine. As you have suggested, I have been keeping him, mostly, pure.” Sanguine grinned.
Dibella looked back to the glade, and she could see her Champion in the throes of passion. Though, she has seen him as such before, it was a welcoming sight to see it was a lovely little Breton girl he was with, rather then one of her priestesses from the temple.
“I see. Is, this your doing?” She asked, just as calmly.
“Well, I did give her a little push, but that boy of yours was the one who really reeled her in.” Sanguine chuckled, turning to leave. Dibella wasn't too far behind. “Besides, she came here looking for him anyway. Apparently Hamal sent her, even put your little curse on her as well.”
The Divine made a sigh, like a disapproving mother. “Hamal, as devoted as she is, can be hardheaded.” She walked past the Daedra, heading down the path. “See to it that he doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“Wait, you’re going to leave him here?” Sanguine asked, a brow raising.
“I trust you, Sanguine.” Dibella looked over to the Breton, a soft smile on her face. “You know I do.”
The demon couldn't help but feel flushed. Dibella always seemed to have that power over him. It both annoyed, and aroused him. Before he could say a word, and like many times before, the beautiful woman vanished without a trace, leaving him, like many times before, standing there and staring where she once was, before sighing and walking away. He’ll watch over the Champion, he promised he would.
~*~*~
“He will be here soon.” Fjotra’s voice was soft but just, causing the other women of the temple to turn to her.
“He will be? Are you sure?” Anwen asked, standing from her chair.
It has been a long time since they had heard of anything of their Champion. Since they sent the thief on her way to find him those months ago, they never heard from her again, and plenty has happened since then. One was that the Drunken Nord of that same night had returned, and how surprising was it when he came with little Fjotra, the new Sybil, in tow. This same Nord was also responsible for slaying the dragon Alduin, and even leading the Stormcloaks to victory against the Empire and ending the civil war.
For a time, the Priestesses of the Temple of Dibella almost accepted their Champion was gone forever, but it was with Fjotra’s reassurance that they remained hopeful. And this, suddenly, was great news.
The little Nord girl stood and headed for the door, the rest of the women following close behind. Without question they followed the child straight to the city’s gates, exiting Markarth and out into the Reach. As they descended down the stairs, Hamal noticed a large figure heading in their direction. The sight of the giant man in the loose pelts around his waist was very welcoming sight, and the woman were soon heading to him. But as they got closer, they notice he was not alone. With him was a horse, one that he lead by the reins, and upon the horse was another familiar sight, a petit built Breton thief in novice robes.
“Kobin, you have returned to us.” Hamal spoke, approaching them. She then narrowed her eyes to the woman on the horse. “And you decided to return as well.” The Breton just chuckled and flushed nervously.
“Hamal, it is good to see you again. And, I’m sorry for being gone for so long.” The Champion bowed his head in respect to the woman. “But, I’m afraid I won’t be staying here.”
“What? Why?” Orla suddenly asked.
“Is this what you want, Kobin?” Fjotra asked, approaching the man.
Though have never met the new Sybil, the Champion knew exactly who she was, bowing in respect to the child. “Yes, it is.”
“I don’t understand,” Hamal rubbed her brow wearily. “We have been waiting so long for you to return to us. Why do you want to leave us?”
“I believe it is time for me to move on. I have lived my whole life in temples and chapels, that I hardly know of anything beyond the walls.” The giant man smiled warmly to the women. “But, know that I thank you all for your care.”
Though the other priestesses were confused, Hamal nonetheless nodded her head. “I, understand. And what of you, hmm?” She looked to the Breton.
Anita mumbled, looking over to the giant. “I-I...I’m, going with him. He needs someone to help him out here.” Though the answer was confusing, Hamal accepted it. “O-oh! Mother Hamal? May I have my father’s ring back?”
With a nod and a sigh, the Nord woman reached into a pouch on her belt, and pulled out the ring and chain. Kobin took the ring, removing it from the chain and turned to Anita. And, with the women watching with wide eyes, slipped the ring on her finger.
“Thank you,” Anita smiled.
Hamal just nodded her head once more, suddenly noticing the happy gleam the two seemed to have in their eyes when looking at one another, and soon she also realized that the Breton’s robes were not a loose on her as they were the last she saw of her. It seemed in the months she was gone, she developed a round belly.
They said their goodbyes, the women watching the giant and the thief walk away.
“So, we’re just going to let them leave?” Senna asked.
Fjotra looked up to Hamal, who sighed. “Yes, we are. Kobin had made his decision, and we can’t stop it. He will be missed.”
Sadly, the other woman nodded their heads in understanding.
Anita watched as the city of stone disappear behind her, looking to her giant lover. “Kobin? Where are we going to go now?”
The giant man shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I never been to Elsweyr.”
Anita thought on it for a moment, her hand absentmindedly rubbing her stomach, feeling the life stir from within.
A sudden thought occurred to her, smiling to her lover. “You ever been to Northpoint?”
- 1
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In the House of Roses