Miraak stood tall in the centre of the platform, his back ramrod straight. His three dragons were perched high on pillars of ruin overlooking the barren land that was Apocrypha. The first Dragonborn had been found out. His escape plan had failed. His fists clenched at his side (the only movement he permitted) as the Prince gurgled in laughter.
"I see all," the amorphous blob that was Hermaeus Mora bubbled, the inky black tentacles spread wide across the sky. It was meant to be imposing, but to Miraak, it was nothing but posturing (and if it wasn't, all the better, Mora could not torture him more than he already had). Thousands of years spent alone with nothing but Seekers, Lurkers and the sounds of fluttering pages had been seared into his very being.
He'd gone mad a few times. He was able to admit this to himself.
An eyebrow twitched from behind his mask as Mora's mass of tentacles writhed above his head. He would not give Mora the satisfaction of seeing him angry, knowing that he'd failed again, let the Prince gloat. He'd ground his teeth into dust before he'd react.
"Your pathetic attempts.... amuse me.... greatly," he continued, in his warbled voice that grated on Miraak's nerves like iron nails on glass. "I should let you....nnmmmmm... believe you have succeeded next time."
Despite not showing a reaction, Miraak's heart leapt painfully in his chest, filled with fear. Mora was quite capable of doing this, and he didn't know if he could take that.
Not that it mattered, there was no escape from Apocrypha (not that he believed this...he had to trust he would).
He could not starve himself. The Seekers and Lurkers never attacked him, even if he struck them, or killed them. They just, came back. He'd thrown himself in the black tar below on a few occasions and apart from the searing pain before he'd lost consciousness, he'd wake up right back on this very platform every gods be damned time.
He'd been granted one boon. A watery sphere that allowed him to see the ongoings of Nirn. It was more torture than pleasure and he'd stopped looking into it many years ago. He'd realized fairly quickly that Hermaeus Mora, despite being neutral (whoever had said this obviously had never spent five thousand years with the Prince), harboured quite the cruel streak.
A Black Book was dropped suddenly right in front of Miraak. The Dragonborn didn't move, despite being surprised. He did tilt his head to the side curiously though. Now why would Mora do that?
As he stared at the Black Book, it opened as though invisible hands were doing it. The pages fluttered as they went from one end of the book to the other, as though the wind were doing it (though there was no wind here). He remained still as a statue, staring at the book through the slits of his mask, contemplating what to do.
The book finally stopped, right in the middle by the looks of it, and a burst of light flashed from it. Miraak had to avert his head a tad to protect his sensitive eyes.
"Why don’t I give you...... mnnnnnnnn ... something to ... stave your boredom?" the Prince continued, a twitch of amusement in the voice that made the hairs on the back of Miraak's neck rise. "Your flight....mmnmm... will be but a memory."
Miraak's eyes narrowed, and as the light died down, he caught sight of a crouched, slight female...? Breton by the looks of her. He didn't even have time to react before one of Mora's inky limbs slapped the tiny female hard in his direction. He was surprise to note she flew almost to his feet.
There was a bow that had been attached to her back that was sent flying into the tar pits. Arrows were spilled out of her quiver as she landed on her stomach, he heard the air rush out of her painfully. Miraak was looking down at her when she raised her head and emerald green eyes widened as they rose very slowly to meet the tentacled-mask he wore.
She gasped, the sound of her voice tensing his body (he actually growled). There was no mistaking the fear in her wide eyes, but he didn't get to ponder it for long before she was seized by tentacles. She squeaked and screamed as she was suspended in the air by her wrists.
His thought never fully formulated in his mind for it was cut off abruptly as tentacles snatched him from his position with lightning speed. His arms were pulled back behind his back taut, and secured in a way that he could not break free from. He tried to remain calm as Mora spread his legs apart, all his muscles had tensed. They had to be about ten feet off the ground...
Miraak was forced to arch back, his legs folded at the knees but spread as far as they would go without causing him much harm (discomfort, yes). The cold tentacles were wrapped around his legs, holding him steady that he had almost no room to move. All of his robes were pulled tight against his skin, the leather gloves he wore creaked as his hands fisted behind his back.
"Company?" Miraak scoffed, raising his face to look up at the blob overhead, keeping his voice as level as possible.
"What's going on?" her voice trembled with suppressed fear. Miraak's teeth ground harder together as Mora's limbs approached the both of them.
Two black limbs wrapped around his throat simultaneously, one going up and the other downwards. Mora invaded his mask and the arm sunk itself into his mouth without any warning, choking Miraak effectively. This, he had not expected, nor ever wanted...
He gagged and coughed around the limb that forced itself into his mouth. It tasted exactly as one would expect, if one were to taste a Daedra Prince. Mold, mothballs, tar and dust, all blended into one flavour of Oblivion goodness. This effectively silenced him, except for his gurgling. His pets would not be coming to his rescue this day.
The second limb slid into the top of his robes. His skin prickled in gooseflesh at the cold touch of the Prince. He swallowed (this was difficult with the appendage in his gullet) and fought the revulsion, he couldn't stand the ethereal feel of those arms. Mora wanted to unbal—
"Nnngh," he actually gargled uncontrollably.
Had he not been wearing a mask, he knew for a fact that his face would have betrayed his shock and horror (he was glad he was wearing the mask, he didn't want her to see him sucking on a tentacle). Hermaeus Mora's tentacles had ripped the front half of his robes, exposing his chest and stomach, the influence of the Daedric Prince was clearly evident for all to see. He'd been in Apocrypha for so long that not only had his eyes blackened completely, but the very blood pumping through his veins had turned black. His own veins had stained his skin, marring his white flesh with spiderweb patterns of black lines.
He clenched his eyes closed tightly as the tentacle continued down his body to his pants. He shook his head furiously, trying to dislodge the limb, but it only sunk deeper into his throat. He choked and coughed and stilled immediately, his back was painfully arched.
He regained control of himself and forced his body to ease. He would not show anything.
The tentacle slid beneath the waist of his pants and he shuddered as he felt the limb crawl down his leg. He wanted to pull away or close his legs in the worst way but he was helpless to do anything, enraging him further. He kept calm, he had too.
His eyes snapped open as his ears picked up more tearing noises and a shrill female scream that turned to uncontrollable sobbing and begging. "P-Please! S-stop!"
He heard the sound of armour falling to the ground and he raised his head to look at the female. He stifled the gasp that almost escaped his lips, or would have had he not been gagged.
Mora had stripped her completely bare (how long had it been since he'd seen the female form?). There she was. Utterly naked, her arms above her head. Black, slithering tentacles grabbing and squeezing her breasts in a vulgar imitation of a man's hands. Her skin was glimmering with cold sweat, small beads of it covered her flesh. He couldn't escape the sharp tang of her fear. It permeated the air around him.
She was squirming and struggling within Hermaeus Mora's grasp so much, that the Prince chuckled heartilly, like a jolly fat man. He waited until she was spent before switching her position. He'd re-arranged her so that her arms were behind her back as well, her breasts pushing forwards, the tentacles tweaking her nipples drawing his eyes involuntarily.
The act made Miraak bite down on the limb in his mouth. It thickened and he almost fainted from lack of oxygen. That had been a warning.
Her legs were spread wide, black arms were wrapped around her thighs and ankles, making and M out of her legs. Another limb was rubbing against her sex, forcing her to be aroused. Miraak's nostrils flared and he made another attempt to free himself; the Dragonborn knew that Mora was going to wrap those small, muscular legs right around his waist. As if to confirm:
His scream was muffled when the tentacle in his pants ripped them away from him, rendering him as nude as the day he was born, well not exactly, just the pertinent parts as his arms and legs were still fully clothed. Heat flooded his face as his trousers hung from his folded knees in tatters. Leaving him completely exposed to the naked female in the same predicament as him. His humiliation, however, was not complete.
The Prince brought the female closer to Miraak and the first Dragonborn could not mistake the stench of fear that invaded his senses, mixed in with the sweet smell of her sex. He'd smelled nothing but books, pages, mold and mothballs for so long that her particular scent caught him completely off guard. He was rocked to his very core when he felt his dick twitch beneath her terrified eyes.
She was afraid.
And then Mora completed his torment. The tentacle crawled back up his muscular thigh deliberately (Mora knew how much he hated his touch...) and Miraak couldn't prevent the noise that escaped his mouth, the muffled scream of protest. Hermaeus had wrapped his limb around the base of Miraak's penis, and tightened painfully, forcing the blood to remain in his dick and causing an involuntary erection.
It was like he'd been wrapped with ice. The first Dragonborn struggled for all he was worth, growling angrily around the tentacle down his throat as all his efforts were for naught. Mora merely chuckled hollowly.
More heat flooded his face when he finally stopped moving, he was covered in a film of sweat, his heart pounding in his head like a war drum. He tried to fight the embarrassment slowly creeping into his body; he closed his eyes tightly, but shame flooded him anyways, his blush, however, darkened his skin almost to black rather than the red of Ages past.
When she shrieked, Miraak winced. She doubled her efforts, panic in her voice, he deigned to look at her from behind his mask. She was staring at his groin in absolute horror and Miraak couldn't help but feel self conscious all of the sudden. He knew what he looked like...and he also knew that the black veins around his cock (the glan was fully black as were his testes) and over the rest of his body looked about as attractive as a masked Seeker.
She, on the other hand, he was forced to acknowledge, was beautiful (he had nothing to compare her with as he'd forgotten how striking women were in general). She had long, chestnut (he wasn't sure if the colour was right, but then, he hadn't seen a lot of colour lately) hair, tied back in a braid the was down almost to her toned waist. She was small, and compared to his Atmoran size, almost looked fey. She was no more than eight stones to his seventeen. She was also so much smaller. (At six foot ten, he dwarfed her diminutive size)
His cock twitched involuntarily again as her bouncing breasts caught his eye. The veins in his forehead were protruding now, with how hard he was trying to not clench his teeth, a headache was pounding in his brain. He cursed the spike of lust that entered his blood stream, and he tried so hard to fight it.
He might have been successful if Mora hadn't brought her within an inch of his bowed body. She was screaming and begging. Her emerald eyes wide with sheer terror and shock. The smell of her salty tears mixed with the smell of her sex and his musk.
Miraak turned his head away, trying to avert his gaze as Hermaeus moved the woman closer, pressing her against his own body. He'd been denied human touch for so long that his dick started weeping (this was even more humiliating...) the moment that her wet and warm sex made contact. He was so surprised by it, having forgotten how that felt, that he gasped/moaned low in his throat.
The top of her head, in the position that Mora had them in, reached just below his chin. He actually whimpered around the tentacle when the Prince pulled on his penis painfully to try and penetrate her warmth. Mora's warble almost sounded frustrated, until the Dragonborn felt himself being tilted 'til he was almost on his back, his body bowed like a bridge.
The cold appendage around his cock tightened painfully and he grunted pain as his penis was pulled roughly from his body to point straight up. Miraak's heart pounded hard in his chest when Hermaeus arranged the petite female so that the black head of his dick was at her entrance.
Miraak's breathing was ragged as her unwilling juices dripped onto him, searing his very flesh in unfamiliar heat. He shook his head and his eyes made contact with hers through the slits of his mask. She could not see him, and he would never forget her tear-stained face when Mora slammed her none to gently and without warning, onto him until he was buried to the hilt in her tight warmth.
The wet heat, the muscles milking him, the length of time since he'd last lain with a woman and the very fact that he'd taken her maidenhead doomed him.
His entire body shuddered violently as his ejaculation exploded from his humiliated body instantly. He came to the sounds of her screaming in pain as her hymen was violently ripped apart by his dick.
***READ TAGS*** TRIGGERS
Rape, tentacle Rape, forced partners
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The first time she'd heard anything to do with Miraak, it had come from a couple of cultist that had intercepted her in Ivarstead. Something about her not being the true Dragonborn. Well, poo on them, she absorbed dragon souls and could Shout without the stuffy Greybeards teaching her (they had taught her a couple of words though so they weren't that bad).
She'd killed them all, the guards had even helped. It had been too easy and taken almost no effort.
After she'd disposed of them, the big bastard had then started to appear when she'd killed a dragon and he robbed her (and no one steals from the Dragonborn...) of her hard-earned dragon souls. He was officially marked for death after he took the tenth (yes, she'd killed ten dragons almost single-handed) dragon soul.
Shamir hadn't wasted time learning all she could about her newest enemy. There weren't many books on him (considering he was from the Merethic Era), and she had to travel to Solstheim to continue her research. Her foe was powerful, and imposing, but that mattered little to her.
She was a Breton, she could wield powerful magics that most (except the Altmer) could only dream of. She was a master of almost all the schools (damnable restoration was not being nice), she was proficient with bow and dagger (kinda on that one), and her stealth was beyond reproach. Except Brynolf, she could never sneak up on him.
As far as being Dragonborn though, she wasn't exactly what the Nords had expected. She was barely five feet tall, and weighed half as much as almost everyone on Skyrim (women included...damn Nords and their bulk). Her hair was long (unbraided it went far beyond her ass), brown and straight; she had to braid it so that it didn't impede her during fights (she wasn't cutting it either, it was her only vain).
Shamir's eyes were a bright emerald green, that would almost change colours with her mood (they would darken or brighten with her emotions). They'd rescued her butt from jail on more than one occasion, another boon as far as she was concerned. Big, Nord males (as in guards) were suckers for the meek and weak (and she could portray it like a pro).
Not that she was innocent looking or even childlike. On the contrary, she was a buxom Breton with a lean and curvy body. She was soft in all the right places too. Not that it mattered though...she may look the sultry vixen, and could act like it, but that was it. She really didn't know anything else as far as men were concerned (she'd been mimicking what Sapphire and Vex had told her when it came to saving one's skin).
To be honest, she was a bit intimidated by the size of the men of Skyrim (which explained why she was still a virgin, having been in Skyrim most of her adult life). They were huge (honestly the smallest Nord she'd seen still looked like a giant next to her). Her body was slight and she doubted she could take a Nord lover or Orc for that matter, and the Altmer were out of the question (if Nords were big, the High elves were horrifyingly bigger).
On Solstheim, her quest to find the big bastard had taken an unexpected twist. Hermaeus Mora (a fucking Daedric Prince!!) had offered to help her defeat Miraak (who, as it turns out, was also a Dragonborn), and make her as powerful as he was in his prime.
The idea of meeting another Dragonborn like herself was highly appealing (she would admit this to no one). He would understand all the pressure, the ups and downs of being a Dragonborn (this was a girlish fantasy, not the thoughts of a battle-hardened Breton war mage).
She intended to kill him.
Hermaeus Mora had been incredibly helpful throughout her mission, she wasn't overly fond of the heavy, giant black books she was forced to tote around (they were half her size she'd swear it). She'd gained so many bonuses (a private Daedric Servant...now who didn't want that? Insert girlish giggle here.) and had to admit, she was sorely tempted to become a full blown follower.
She'd heard of people giving their all to a Prince and were beyond rewarded handsomely (in her euphoria she wasn't even thinking of all the ones betrayed/killed/tortured by same said Princes). Shamir had done her research too, Mora was neither evil or good, merely a keeper of memories and knowledge.
Although she had to admit, she was starting to have her doubts. Shamir had not expected Hermaeus to kill the Skall shaman, Storn (she'd actually liked him, he'd been so helpful...). Mora had explained that it was the only way he took knowledge for the mind could not lie, death was merely an unfortunate side effect. She'd believed him, and he taught her the final word of Bend Will afterwards. Her assured her that she was now ready to face Miraak and kill the Champion.
She would become his new Champion.
Hermaous Mora had been kind enough to drop the pertinent black book she needed to face Miraak and she had wasted no time in jumping in. She'd checked her supplies first (obviously) she hadn't survived in the Thief's Guild all these years without being careful (despite her somewhat impulsive nature).
She'd been blinded at first, a bright light, and then she'd felt cold tentacles (and they felt really odd, in a very bad way) grab her and pull her into the book. She'd been surprised at first and then she'd appeared in the realm of Apocrypha, with its musty old book smell and, let's be honest, very dreary atmosphere.
Shamir hadn't even gotten to her feet before she was thrown by a powerful blow to her side (holy shit OUCH!). She'd flown halfway across the platform, dazed and confused and in a lot pain (what in Oblivion was happening?!).
She landed on her stomach, her hands scraping along the ground. She felt her bow fly off and her Orcish arrows were sent flying (just great, she'd spent long days, toiling with an axe almost as heavy as she was, to collect the wood for those), and then as she was able to focus, she'd seen large leather boots with the corner of her eye.
Shamir had slowly raised her eyes from those boots to travel up (and up and up and up) their owner. Dibella... how tall was he?
She felt her eyes widen slowly as his sheer size became apparent (he was a monster...), and then her eyes had landed on his grotesque tentacled mask and she'd gasped in unexpected fear.
She'd tensed her body for a fight when something that hadn't even crossed her mind happened. She was grabbed by tentacles, Mora's tentacles, they'd wrapped around her wrists and she'd released a small shriek of fear. Had Mora lied to her?! Had he actually sent her here to die?! He was presenting her to Miraak as thou—
When tentacles grabbed Miraak and positioned him in a most awkward and uncomfortable bowed position, that idea went flying out of her head. His legs were forced apart, folded while his arms were pulled back tightly, bunching his muscles all together. The mask remained.
"Company?" Miraak's voice echoed from his mask, a deep, rasping monotone timbre that gave nothing of his thoughts.
"What's going on?" she licked her lips and tried to remain calm. This was fast escalating out of her control, and it was getting more and more apparent that it was also out of Miraak's.
And then she felt the cold hand of reality slap her face hard. A black tentacle had invaded his mask, she heard him gurgle (oh Akatosh...it couldn't have gone in his mouth?!?). The second limb had quite literally ripped the front of Miraak's robes open. Her eyes had widened in absolute terror while the big male struggled and gagged.
He was huge! Her eyes immediately locked on his torso. His muscles were bunched up and looked hard as rock. Her eyes barely noticed the black rivers of lines that quite literally followed the network of veins in his body (it was weird on first sight, since his skin was seriously alabaster white, but in a land where there was mer-folk and dragons, it wasn't really such a shock).
Her eyes popped out of her head when the black tendril that was Mora slipped beneath the waistband of Miraak's trousers. What...in...Oblivion...
Shamir swallowed, a wave of fear making her breath short. This was her overactive imagination...this wasn't re—
She screamed for all she was worth when those same cold tentacles started stripping her of her mismatched armour. She didn't notice Miraak stilling as she doubled her efforts. There was no questioning what was happening, what was going to happen.
No no no no no no no—
She felt tears well in her eyes and she was ashamed to note that she was begging. "P-please!" she swallowed back the whimper, "S-stop!" she couldn't prevent the stutter of fear in her voice. She wiggled and burned with embarrassment, her entire body broke out in cold sweat. If she thought things could not go worst...she was severely mistaken.
Black tentacles wrapped around her heavy breasts and she tried to fold in on herself. She'd never been touched by anyone let alone this- oh Talos!! Mora was squeezing her breasts and making her nipples hard, and she knew, without having to see, that Miraak was seeing everything.
Shamir closed her eyes tightly and fought hard to free herself. Anyone who knew her would have been impressed, until Hermaeus rearranged her so that her breasts pushed forward even more (don't look...) and spread her legs wide open (...please don't look...). She was sure she was going to die from the shame of it all.
She couldn't control her voice nor her tears as that same disgusting appendage slithered about her inner thigh and touched her core. She jolted so hard and renewed her efforts but for a brief moment. The warmth seeping into her traitorous body as the limb rubbed sensually against her pearl made her want to throw up. It was forcing her body to react, because she sure as Akatosh wasn't of her own volition.
And then shit got worse, fast.
The Prince ripped away Miraak's pants.
She shrieked again as Mora brought her fairly close to Miraak, where she could see him in full detail. Her eyes, the size of shields she was sure, were drawn to his impressive (at least to her) and terrifying penis (it was black and white like the rest of him). She sobbed as it twitched beneath her gaze.
As if to mock her, a tentacle wrapped around the base and she watched in horror as it suddenly sprang to life. If she'd thought it big before, now she couldn't stop her own scream, it was massive, swollen and engorged to an unreal proportion. The big body shuddered and struggled, his skin flushing to an almost black colour as Miraak struggled in vain.
Oh no...please no...
He was too big. He'd kill her...there was no way her body would accommodate his size. "Please!!!" she shrilled, struggling in vain. All she succeeded in doing was making her breasts bounce embarrassingly.
She clenched her eyes closed tightly when Mora pushed her fully against the hard black and white body in front of her. She didn't see Miraak looking away, all she felt was the hard ridge that was his spear against her pussy, and it was leaking. She shuddered uncontrollably as a dark despair clutched her heart.
He was going to kill her, she knew this. He'd rip right into her gut with that thing.
She heard him grunt in pain and she was shaking like a leaf as she heard the black blob make noises that sounded frustrated. It didn't last long though. She was pulled away from Miraak's body and felt the tears escaping her eyes as the Prince positioned them. If she hadn't known before, it was obvious now.
Hermaeus was going to impale her on Miraak's shaft.
As odd as it was, her main feeling wasn't fear (though she was drenched with it) it was disappointment. She was going to have her first experience, her virginity, stolen from her. She'd had always shied away from those who had made a pass at her. She'd wanted to save herself for her eventual husband...
As her hymen was pierced violently, she felt the tears of shame/pain/loss all mingle together as she screamed her heart out. She felt him shudder (maybe he was screaming as well, hard to tell over her own), his dick vibrating and swelling even more as it began pulsing with his very heartbeat deep inside her. She didn't know what was happening, but she felt disgusting, the feeling worsened when hot liquid started spurting into her.
She felt so dirty.
She closed her eyes and let sweet Oblivion take her away.
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Miraak gritted his teeth from behind his mask, his hands fisting behind his back, the leather creaking. He stood with his feet parted no wider than his shoulders, his arms hanging loosely at his side. He stood in his private chambers (they'd only just become private because of the woman), and replayed the events of the day before in his head.
Miraak had been through much with the Prince, none of it pleasant. He'd been a fool all those years ago to trust the tentacled-mass, but alas, the Prince had known just what to say and do for Miraak to fall under his spell. The sound of his gloves heightened and he made a conscious effort to relax his hands.
His mind returned to the woman that he had left on the platform. He hadn't even looked at her when Mora had freed them from his clutches. He'd made a dignified exit (as dignified as a masked man in boots and gloves only could) and never looked back. He'd made it a point to ignore the mixture of semen and blood on his upper thighs and penis.
This was the first time that the Prince had deign to bring another into his torment. More leather creaking noise. What exactly had that been about? Why had the Prince brought the woman here? Who was she?
He stood staring into the void when cold tentacles snatched him suddenly.
Miraak struggled hard and was surprised to note he was released almost immediately. Mora had merely grazed his throat and had let him go. The first Dragonborn immediately brought a hand to his throat and could feel an appendage there. He grunted and then felt a chill go down his spine at Mora's words.
"A gift," Mora gurgled, "For youuuuu.... and her. You will not beeee..... able to uuuuuse your magic or Shouts against...each other."
Miraak froze. He couldn't even kill her?
"Who is she?" Miraak asked, his voice neutral, not wanting to give anything away.
If he thought Mora would answer his simple question, it was in vain, for the Prince merely vanished into the green sky. Miraak was left with more questions than answers and this collar had just made it infinitely more difficult. He had been thinking of killing her, or letting her kill him so he could be released from this torment.
She was powerful if Mora collared them both (or had he just collared him, seeing as he was much stronger?). A powerful mage probably. He remembered the bow then, so a mage and an archer.
Miraak didn't want to go and find her and see if she wore a collar as well. He didn't even want to be in the same room as her. Mora, he did not doubt, would torture them again soon enough. He never went long without tormenting Miraak...and the Prince enjoyed it too. He suppressed the violent shudder of disgust that threatened to go through his body, and swallowed back the bile.
Once he'd gotten his reaction under reign, Miraak glanced to the side, towards his floating sphere. He swallowed, feeling his adam's apple bob. He wouldn't have to be in the same room to look at her. His curiousity eventually got the better of him and he deliberately made his way to it.
The sphere was an easy contraption to use. It worked insomuch as you just had to be within a certain distance of it and it would brighten and show you exactly what you wanted to see outside of Apocrypha. He'd seen the destruction of his temple on Solstheim by Alduin.
He took a deep breath and peered into the watery sphere.
Shamir had no idea how long she laid on the platform, on her back, looking at the swirling green sky above. Her armour and clothes (they were torn beyond recognition) were all around her. She could feel a dull pain in her thighs and groin and there was liquid still seeping from her. She could feel it...
She swallowed and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going—
Her lips pressed together and she proceeded to cry her fucking heart out. Why? Why had Hermaeus Mora done what he'd done? The Prince... he'd lied to her. She'd been raped... they'd taken her virginity...
She felt her stomach contract and turned herself to her side as she started dry heaving (her stomach was empty already...) painfully. She brought her legs up to go into a fetal position and almost howled in pain at the fire that exploded in her vagina.
With that searing pain flooding her chilled body with a flush of warmth, she screamed. She screamed out her agony and frustrations for long minutes until she simply went limp once more, her voice raw. Shoulders trembling as she panted, her breathing harsh and ragged as more tears burned her cheeks.
The feel of a slimy black tentacle against her cheek had Shamir ignoring her bodily pains. With what strength she had left Shamir pushed herself backwards, hoping to roll away form the floating mass of eyes and inky black limbs that were the daedric prince. But the slim arm that had lightly grazed her cheek struck with the speed of a snake, wrapping about her neck several times. The thickness of it snug about her windpipe and even lifting her to to her knees as her nails clawed at the tentacle.
“Youuuuu wished.... to be my new champion... mnnnnnmmmm but I have other plans....” the limb tossed her back to the ground, and Shamir thought it had pinned her. The snug feeling never left her throat but the limb had retracted...
Her hands flew to her neck and she froze, panicking as a portion of the tentacle was still attached to her. Like a makeshift collar that was alive, subtle movements of it moving over her flesh had her wanting to gag, but her stomach (you guessed it) was still empty.
“What is this?!” she'd finally found her voice, but it sounded exactly as she felt: weak. Her fingers were still clawing at the tentacle collar, her efforts utterly fruitless as she only scratched at her own throat. She got no answer for her question as Mora vanished (without saying another word) once more and she was left alone on the platform.
Struggling to not panic any more than she already was (she was failing terribly), she pulled and tugged on the thing about her neck. It was snug, pressing just tight enough to make her conscious of her heavy breathing, and constant cold pressure.
Shamir was growing dizzy as her mind struggled to accept what was going on. She needed to calm herself, she couldn’t afford to pass out in this place. Not with what had happened to her already.
Her knees shook as she went to stand, and she screamed in agony (mercy Mara...). Pain so severe it took her breath away came through her very core. Her right knee smacked against the stone, the rest of her falling to her hip and side as her hands barely caught her fall. Her biceps trembled to hold up her own weight.
Gritting her teeth, she gathered her courage and she did what she could to leave from the place where she could see the droplets of her virgin blood mixed with thick semen. She fucking crawled. Of course she only made it a few feet before the sound of claws on stone.
A familiar sound.
Through the stray wisps of her chestnut hair, Shamir glanced to her left, then in front and to her right. Dragons. Holy Talos, three dragons were before her. Each of them resting on tall half broken walls. Three sets of dark black eyes watching her. They clearly saw her, though they made no threat to attack nor did they rear their heads back to shout fire or ice at her. They just stared at her, in complete silence.
She struggled to her knees once more, feeling more liquid seep out of her as she did so (so gross...). She twitched her chin from side to side at the feeling of the collar around her neck.
She could manage this. She was a fighter, a war mage, a dragon slayer and a dungeons crawler of the finest caliber. She ignored her weakened body, and depleted stamina and focused on her magic. Shamir hadn't been afforded the time to cast when she'd been attacked. She hadn't been ready.
Her eyes narrowed as she took a deep breath.. No better time to try out that new Shout Bend Will, she needed to gain control of one of those dragons. She'd find her way out of this Oblivion Plane one way or another. She was nothing if not resourceful, the Guild accepted no less.
“Gol, Hah, Dov!”
She frowned, and tried again. Her raised voice did nothing on the second try either. There was no power behind it, no dragons were going to bow to her will.
Miraak stepped away from his sphere and swallowed thickly, the tentacle at his throat moving uncomfortably. He ignored it. His mind was focused on what he'd seen.
She'd Shouted Bend Will.
She wasn't a Nord, and the Septim (the last of the Dragonborns) line had died out over two centuries ago (he'd seen that happen as well). A Breton, of all things, had Shouted. His frown deepened, and he remained still as he moved his arms behind his back to grasp his wrist.
It was perhaps time to get information from his guest.
He took a deep breath and turned on his heels as he left his quarters. He'd just stepped out when a soft gasp emitted from off to his right. His head turned immediately and he was surprised to note that she was sitting on the ground not even ten feet away from his rooms.
He turned his full body towards her (he was dressed again in his same dark green robes that he had endless copies of). She, on the other hand, was still nude (her arms had raised to hide her breasts from him).
"How did you get here?" he spoke Dovahzhul deliberately, testing his conclusion (he was genuinely surprised to find her here). If she was Dragonborn, she'd understand him.
Miraak was watching her carefully, his mask tilted to better see her through the slits. She frowned as she stared at him, both of her arms had folded over her chest, and her legs had closed tightly. He avoided looking at her body and the bruises/blood covering her as he waited with baited breath for her response.
When it finally came, her voice was nothing but a squeak and she was staring hard at the ground as her skin turned a pale shade of red. "I don't know what you said."
How had she learned to Shout then if she wasn't Dragonborn?
"Why did you lure me here?" he frowned from behind his mask as she voiced her question. She thought he had brought her here? He'd barely recovered from that accusation before she labelled another, "Were you in on it with him?" her eyes filled with unshed tears and he sneered in anger, thankful for the mask.
He'd been just as much a victim as her.
"I did no such thing," he answered curtly, unable to keep the disgust from his voice.
"Don't lie to me!" Her eyes flashed as she raised those emeralds to glare at him.
Lie? Him? She was calling him a liar? His eyes narrowed from behind his mask as he stood stock still, staring down at her in silence. His fists clenched at his side and the leather creaked ominously. "I do not lie, woman." He prevented himself from snarling, just barely.
"Liar! You appeared and stole my dragon souls! Ten of them!" her voice raised a decibel as she exclaimed that part, "You sent your thugs after me!" Two big tears rolled down her cheeks, "Twice!" she hissed.
Miraak was listening to her rant with rapt attention. Thugs? Souls?
"So you are Dragonborn," he mused slowly, forgetting for a moment that she did not unde—
"I am the Last Dragonborn, Miraak!" she snarled, her eyes flashing fire again as she spit out his name.
An eyebrow arched (she could not see this), she knew his name... his frown deepened even more, she'd understood the Dovahzhul he'd used that time. So she was not a complete lack wit.
"How did you get here?" he changed tact and subject, and it took her off guard, the uncertainty evident in her eyes.
She licked her lips and Miraak's eyes were drawn to the action involuntarily. The sound of creaking leather was almost deafening (to him anyways).
"I-I don't know," she finally said, averting her eyes from his. "I was with your dragons and then," she shrugged her slim shoulders, "I was here..." she licked her lips again.
He remained silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "And so the last meets the first."
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He didn't know how long he stood staring at her before the gargle that was Mora's interrupted it. Miraak was startled enough that his fists clenched tighter, his body showed no other reaction. He did note though, that she started shivering uncontrollably and folded in on herself, making herself as small as possible.
Not that she had anything to worry about for it was Miraak that Mora had come to torment. Hermaeus ignored her completely and his inky, cold tentacles wrapped around Miraak to suspend him a good ten feet in the air by his arms. The first Dragonborn remained motionless, except for his gloves creaking.
"Youuuu will remain as she is," Hermaeus spoke slowly. Miraak felt a shiver of absolute dread run down his spine. To prevent himself from shaking in terror (for he was terrified) he ground his teeth. He would not whimper no matter what Mora did. No satisfaction given.
He would not bend.
More arms surrounded Miraak and the Dragonborn almost screamed as all of the slimy, cold tentacles slid beneath his robes, boots, gloves. His black eyes widened as he felt his mask shift. His teeth were beginning to hurt and he clenched his eyes closed tightly as everything he wore was removed/destroyed/torn right off his body, mask included.
Shamir had frozen in fear the moment she heard the distinct voice of the Prince. She'd dug her nails in her own sides and had attempted to fold herself as small as possible.
She'd broken out into cold sweat when she heard Miraak's clothing rip and then she'd heard the sound of his mask hitting the ground. She was curious, she could admit this, but not curious enough to look up at the amorphous blob that was the Prince. Her body was already shaking out of her control as it was.
Miraak was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She heard the sound of his skin hitting stone and the first Dragonborn grunting in pain. Shamir kept her eyes clenched tightly closed as Mora chuckled hollowly. "That will facilitate....mmmmn... my work."
The whimper that escaped her throat made her feel weak, but she'd been unable to stop it. She'd never tasted fear before, adrenaline yes, fear? Not since she'd seen Alduin destroy Helgen and save her life (indirectly though...) all those years ago. She hadn't like the taste then, and she sure as Oblivion didn't like it now.
She remained as she was long after Mora had vanished. She only raised her body so that she was sitting on the ground, still in pain, still hurt. Miraak was sitting on the ground about 15 feet in front of her. He was naked, his head was lowered so that she didn't even see his hair (he really was too tall...). He had one leg folded at the knee and his arm was resting on it, hiding his face completely had she been face to face with him.
She swallowed in fear as her eyes traveled his big body (he really was a monster...). He had the same black veins so she assumed it was everywhere. His muscles were tense and tight, and she immediately noticed the multitudes of scars along his back, shoulders and sides.
The last time she had seen him, she'd been too horrified by his dick to see anything else, so she'd noticed nothing. His breathing was calm, and he barely moved. She did note the hand dangling from his knee was fisted tightly, and shook a little. He took a deep breath through his nose and released it slowly. Shamir was watching his big body expand with every breath he took.
And then he raised his head and she could see that he had shorter black hair that didn't quite touch his shoulders (she couldn't see that he also had a beaded braid hanging from his right temple that was usually hidden beneath his mask), and then her eyes dropped to the black thing around his neck.
Her eyes widened and she was already touching her own noose. He had one too! She opened her mouth to ask him what it was when he answered her unasked question. His voice sounding very different.
"So that we do not kill one another," he murmured, without even turning around. She frowned, how had he known that she had been about to ask about that. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, "I can feel you looking at me."
She blushed and lowered her eyes. She didn't know how long the remained the way they were before Mora returned, appearing in the sky as though he'd been there all along. "Youuuuu seem...hmm... to be uneducated," the blob said slowly as the multitudes of eyes stared at Shamir, blinking out of sync, "Time to learn."
Before she had time to react, more tentacles grabbed Miraak and he was forced to face her and dropped to his knees. The black arms wrapped around his legs, spreading them wide. More limbs grabbed his arms and pulled them back. All his limbs looked as though they were buried in black tar. The collar around Miraak's mouth came alive to gag him, inserting itself into his throat.
Her eyes looked at his unmasked face and she caught herself before she made a sound. His eyes were fully black and the same black lines were on his face, following the veins. His lips she noticed, were almost black, but were actually a light black (more dark grey) She noticed the beaded braid at his temple and the high cheekbones. His face was Nord-like though not quite, square jaw, complete with cleft chin, slightly crooked nose, wide forehead.
He would have been extremely handsome if his eyes and blood had retained their original colour. Their eyes met for the first time. This was all contemplated before Mora began speaking, and the words that echoed in her head made her want to die.
He hadn't wanted her to see his face. He'd had wanted to remain faceless so that she could not put a face to her rapist in her nightmares to come. He knew he wasn't pretty to look at and his looks would scare children (he was sure of it).
Not that he cared at this particular moment. Hermaeus had him spread out on his knees, his arms pulled back, his back forcibly arched, presenting his flaccid penis and testicles to the woman (he realized he didn't know her name...). Miraak closed his eyes as his skin flushed almost to black, and then Mora spoke, and Miraak almost whimpered at the words.
" Youuuuuu will learn his shape," Mora gurgled. His voice like a dozen different voices in perfect harmony, "Come...Dragonborn.....learn his body, learn.....hmmmn.... to arouse him. Your body....nmmm..... needs to become accustomed to his hmm ...length."
He felt the blood drain from his face, and opened his eyes just in time to see another tentacle hover close to the woman. The tentacle's tip suddenly engorged (double his own girth and he was well endowed) and was covered in spikes (like a penis-shaped cactus). She was shaking so hard by the time Mora showed her that, that it was a wonder she hadn't fainted.
"Go, or I will penetrate you with this," the blob warbled, his voice sounding (to Miraak anyways) amused.
She whimpered and her eyes enlarged further as she stared at him. He stared back, though he was the first to avert his eyes and look downward with his head turned to the side. Miraak could hear her sobbing as she begged with the Prince.
"P-please!" she pleaded, "I'm in so much pain!"
"And you will be in more mnnnnn pain if you do not do ....as I ....say."
Her voice raised just for a second as she gasped/gulped. She was slowly dragging herself towards him. He kept his head averted, not wanting to look at her, not wanting her to look at him.
"Touch." She jumped and her hand shook as it slowly approached his dick.
He grunted and struggled (though he barely moved) and when her warm palm touched his flesh, he made a high-pitched sound that mortified him, and she pulled her hand away as though she had burnt him. Her eyes flew to his and he clenched his closed as she licked her lips.
He tensed when her hand returned to his shaft. It had been so long that anything other than Mora or himself had touched this part of him that he couldn't control his reaction. His dick twitched, and slowly started thickening in her hands. Her felt her tremble slightly.
Her hand lifted his black testicles and she rolled them in her hands, squeezing a little as she learned their shape. He grunted and gurgled behind the gag when Mora ordered her to taste him. Her eyes flew to his face (he was sure by now that his face was fully black), tears welled up in her eyes and Miraak forced himself to relax.
"I'm sorry," she murmured almost too quiet for him to hear.
His cock was standing at the ready when she gave a quick lick to the underside of his penis. He felt his skin prickle and he jumped out of his skin. When her tongue came again, he couldn't stop the moan that was heard from behind his gag. He cursed himself as he felt her tremble through his dick.
"Both hands, girl," Mora told her, and Miraak finally broke and whimpered as his dick started pulsing and weeping. He felt his semen rushing through his cock and would have came all over her face had Mora not quickly wrapped an arm tightly around his cock. It was so tight that his ejaculation stopped in its tracks when it got to the blockage (that hurt).
Miraak screamed. It was muffled, yet still loud enough to echo.
"No, Miraak," Mora chastised Miraak as if he were a youth, "You may release nmmmm only in her ... vagina."
At those words she pulled back as though she'd been slapped, "No!" she almost yelled, her eyes wide with fear.
"No?" Mora repeated, and then chuckled, a sinister sound. She was bodily shaking.
"W-why are you doing this?!" she yelled, her green eyes flashing fire as she glared at the mass in the sky.
Mora's laughter almost caused Miraak to start shaking. "Disobeying me, girl?"
She'd covered her breasts with her arms again. "I need to heal!"
"Miraak," Mora spoke slowly, making the first Dragonborn jump in his bonds.
The cactus-penis tentacled hovered in front of his face. Sweat beaded across his forehead as his black eyes focused on the limb. "A choice, my Champion. Penetrate her willingly or I will use this on you instead."
His entire body froze and she shrieked, her fear now palpable. He forgot for a moment that he was in pain, embarrassed and horrified as he stared at the cactus that Mora was holding in front of him. It had to be ten inches around. He swallowed, and his head lowered in shame, his gaze averted from hers.
"N-no!" her voice shook violently as Mora laughed deeply.
Miraak found himself free and the collar removed itself from his mouth, a deep peace settled over him. There he was, on his knees, his dick at the ready. He'd be as gentle as he could. He stared at her in silence as she tried to back away still in the sitting position she was in. She'd fallen forward in her haste and she was literally using her nails to drag herself away.
He licked his dry lips and slowly got to his feet. He felt his stomach roll in disgust as she screamed and panted with her efforts. A film of sweat now covered her small toned body.
Miraak swallowed back the bile in his throat and took the three steps required to reach her (he had long legs...). She was screeching when his big hands grabbed her up and hefted her into his arms.
She transformed into a wildcat. Biting, scratching, shrieking, punching, slapping...
She even tried to kick him in the testicles, but it was easily avoided. Miraak gritted his teeth as he grabbed both her hands in one hand and stilled her completely. His black eyes focused on her emeralds, trying to convey to her that he would not hurt her.
"I will be gentle," he whispered, trying to soothe her, and failing miserably.
She was sobbing and crying, big tears rolling down her cheeks as she begged with him to not hurt her... it almost gutted him.
He turned his head so that he was nuzzling her temple and growled low in his throat, the sound not really human. "Relax," he spoke quietly directly in her ear. She was shaking so much that Miraak tucked her closer to his chest (hoping the sound of his heartbeat would lull her) and turned on his heels as he took her to his chambers. He completely ignored the amorphous blob overhead.
The tentacle around his dick released from Mora (but it stayed attached to him, preventing him from cumming). He took her to his bed (which consisted of a wooden bookshelf that he'd modified. He'd filled it with pages upon pages of books. The top layer of parchment was so worn, that it had soften over the years. To him it was comfortable.
She was sobbing so much more when he laid her on his modified bed. He ignored that they were being watched by the blob up over head and climbed into bed with her. He put his arm under her neck and brought her head to his shoulder, where she buried her face and bawled as though someone had died.
And something had.
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Miraak held her for a few more minutes, letting her cry until she hiccuped and made a soft noise as she released her breath. His large hand had come up to run his fingers through her hair soothingly, calming the tremors going through her body. He knew that he couldn't dally for much longer, Mora was watching him carefully.
The first Dragonborn lowered his head so that his mouth was at her ear. "Trust me, Vahdin," he spoke slowly, enunciating his words. She froze in his arms, her entire body tensing like a rope. He nuzzled her temple and very deliberately turned on his side so that he was facing her.
She started whimpering and kept her face hidden against his chest. Both of her arms raised so that they were on either side of her head, and she was clutching her head tightly. He couldn't see her face, but his hand traveled to her leg very gently. Cautiously. Miraak could feel the trembling, the goosebumps appearing beneath his touch. He murmured down to her, keeping his voice level and soft, "I will not hurt you, Vahdin."
When his hand reached the back of her knee, he grabbed it and hooked it over his hip, bringing their groins closely together. She'd cried out in pain when he'd moved her leg, so he immediately began rubbing small circles in her hair, against her scalp while growling low in his throat rhythmically, following a pattern so that she could relax.
And she did.
He felt her body ease as he held her nigh to his body. With her leg over his hip, both of his hands ran down her back gently and he pressed her even closer to his chest, trying to convey a sense of protection in his arms. He'd promise not to hurt her, and he wouldn't.
Miraak leaned forward and flexed his hips forward gently. His penis barely grazed against her pussy, and the moment they touched she tensed again. He made calm shushing noises against her head as his hands began massaging her back. "Trust me," he whispered as he tilted his hips forward again, this time it was against her lower belly he'd moved.
He felt her shift in his arms as (he hoped) she seem to realize what he was doing. Her leg relaxed (it almost felt like she was pulling him in) and allowed him to move even nearer (which he did). His large hand moved to her ass and he clutched one of the globes in his hand as he moved against her again, ignoring the tentacle that tightened its grip on his dick.
She gasped as this time his shaft glided perfectly between her nether lips and over her clitoris. Miraak gritted his teeth and began a slow rhythm against her, trying to get both of them to forget for a moment the Oblivion they were in.
"Look at me, Vahdin," he growled gently, pulling his head back to watch her. She must have understood for her eyes raised to his and widened with surprise. He stared down at her as he moved deliberately against her, trying to keep her focused on him, so that she could only see him.
He lowered his head and feathered her brow with a kiss. A simple action, and yet he felt as though he'd been struck and all the breath was knocked out of his lungs. She, in turn, hissed a breath in, her lips barely parting. It was enough for him to capture her mouth with his. She gasped into his mouth, and he groaned into hers.
If he had to pick one word to describe what was going through his body when they connected. That was it.
Miraak took his time tasting her, inhaling her scent into him. His tongue touched hers gently, tempting it to dance with his, as he rocked gently against her. Her mouth tasted of snowberries, as though she'd just enjoyed the sweet and tart berries prior to coming to Apocrypha.
Her hands opened against his chest and he felt her nails dig into his pectoral muscles like a cat. He growled against her mouth and the hand not clutching her ass, returned to her hair. He palmed the back of her nape and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Fully imprinting himself on her.
The long-missed scent of the crisp mountain air, mixed with nightshade invaded his senses and he felt his body tense almost uncontrollably. His nose was practically buried in her dark hair and it enchanted him. He was almost as fixated on her hair as he was on her lips.
He felt a tear drop fall to his arm (the one beneath her, holding her head) and his muscles tightened against her. He pulled away from her, just enough that they could both catch their breaths. Her watery eyes were wider still than before and she was staring at him in either shock or awe (he wasn't sure which, so long as it wasn't fear).
He leaned forward and licked her lips delicately, she whimpered but did not pull away. He felt her leg muscles tighten at his waist, almost as if she was pulling him forward. He growled against her mouth and started to move into small thrusts (where the head of his dick was pushing against her pearl more frequently).
"Release for me, Vahdin," he said into her mouth, his voice low. He had to stifle his own groans of pleasure as he focused on hers. She didn't make much sound apart from her breathing that was irregular. Her entire body started shaking and he heard her grit her teeth as pain (he didn't doubt it) and pleasure mingled through her body.
She was sobbing against him, her nails had pierced skin and he held still has he pushed his dick into the bundle of nerves one last time. He felt liquid trickle against his testicles and he had to clench his eyes closed to prevent himself from releasing against her. It was easier than he expected (the tentacle helped ironically).
Her entire body shuddered and he clutched her closer, burying his face in the crease of her neck and shoulder. He was basically bowed around her (she was so small, and he was so much bigger), as she shook in his arms. When the spasms left her body, he swallowed and raised his head to look down at her.
She'd reburied her face against his chest, and he got a good look at the pleasure patches of red across her back. The bits of her ear he could see were blood red. This brought him a sense of achievement that even after thousands of years, he could still bring a woman to orgasm.
Miraak's heart was pounding in his head, and his dick was starting to hurt from the tentacle gripping it. It had tightened even more (or he'd gotten thicker from the blood trapped there). The flared glans of his penis pulsated painfully and he knew his blood burned hot against her skin. Instincts demanded that he sink his length into her sheath, take what was his, claim her.
Extreme agony for the little vahdin in his arms, if he were to do as his very being was screaming to do, was in that direction. Dragons were fierce lovers, and he was no different. He would be brutal without meaning to be and he'd have little control over it.
He would have to let her get use to him, to his size and girth if he were to penetrate her fully as he was meant to do (without Mora's interference), and she was already scared enough of him as it was. He was patient. He'd been sleeping for thousands of years, he could do so again if she needed him to.
A soft, sad growl escaped his throat, it didn't turn into a whine but it came damn close to it, damn close. The little vahdin would have to contend with much when he lost control. He couldn't protect her from himself.
He swallowed and nuzzled her hair comfortingly. "Allow me release, Vahdin?" The words were purred into her ear, he didn't want to take any more from her then he'd already had.
She shivered against him as his chest rumbled beneath her ear. She raised her head, and summer grass-green eyes stared at him. She didn't say a word, but she blushed a bright red and averted her gaze from his heated one. He took that as consent and reached down to grab his shaft.
He used his hand to get himself as close to the end as he could (it didn't take long at all, not with her scent permeating the air around him). He would have never guessed that the smell of nightshade would be so intoxicating.
The fact that she'd covered him with her sweet nectar made it that much better, allowing him ease in his actions. As if on cue, the tentacle released, and Miraak was quick to very gently (that he was gentle at all was borderline unbelievable) place the head of his cock against her entrance (she tensed again and whimpered in pain, but did not stop him). He murmured calming words as he barely penetrated her, and still managed to release his seed in her without causing her more harm. She remained tense as he stifled his voice, his muscles locking all around her.
His body was now covered in a film of sweat and Miraak raised his head to glare up at the amorphous blob that was Mora. The Daedric Prince chuckled deliberately at the look of defiance that the Dragonborn knew was leaking from his eyes. (He already missed his mask...)
He'd penetrated her willingly.
"The results ..mnm... are the same," Hermaeus warbled slowly, as though he'd read his mind.
Miraak's black eyes narrowed, "Results?" The Dragonborn paused a moment before continuing, "You will get no such satisfaction from my body, Mora."
"That you are here now, tells me enough." The main eye, with its loop iris, stared at him unblinking.
A small shiver of dread tried to spread down Miraak's back but he squashed it down; he had nothing to fear. Death would be a release from this prison. Although he doubted he'd actually be released, he had given his soul to Mora many a millennia ago.
"This was hrm-not foreseen," Mora continued, "This will be a mmmmm....most interesting experiment."
Miraak felt his top lip slowly start raising as though he were about to bare his teeth at the Prince. He kept his face relaxed and motionless. He would not give Hermaeus any reaction, he'd just stare at the blob. He was beginning to have his own suspicions about what Mora had planned for them, and it terrified him.
The Prince remained maybe a few moments more, blinking his multitudes of eyes and returned Miraak's gaze. Finally he dissolved and disappeared, his laughter echoing ominously. Miraak swallowed and felt his body stiffen suddenly.
The fear and desperation that had brought him forth were slowly dissipating and he felt himself drift off into sleep (this would not be good). He tucked her against himself and fought with himself for as long as he could.
He finally succumbed shortly after she'd fallen asleep in his arms.
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She felt warm and secure, and a little sore she'd admit, but safe. Shamir slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring at the muscular chest of Miraak. There was a light dusting of hair (more of a line really, from the center to his navel then to...) her eyes widened and she blushed scarlet as she averted her gaze.
Her throat constricted and she nuzzled him gently. He'd been so gentle with her... he hadn't hurt her at all. He'd been so... careful. His eyes had taken her aback when she'd first seen them, pitch as night, and yet, when he'd held her...they had...glowed. Black, glowing eyes... she'd never seen the like before.
Shamir had forgotten for a moment that they were on Apocrypha, and that Mora had just threatened Miraak with a disgusting horrifying tentacle if he didn't rape her of his own free will...
She'd been so scared, well, she still was... but not of him any more.
Shamir licked her lips and moved to be closer to the big body holding her. She rubbed her forehead against him and very carefully leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his warm skin. This might not be so ba—
She didn't even have time to scream when she was violently thrown from the bed, and away from Miraak. Her first assumption was that Hermaeus Mora had returned and was torturing them again. Shamir had time to flip onto her back, ready to scream for Miraak when the words died in her throat.
It wasn't Mora that had flung her so roughly.
There he was, in all his naked glory, his chest heaving. His hands, at his sides, were clenched so hard the fingers were white. His teeth were bared at her, and he literally snarled viciously at her. Her eyes widened and her body froze in absolute terror. His black eyes weren't glowing now, but they sent her scrambling.
Well...she thought she had scrambled... she didn't really move; too much pain in her legs and thighs. She had turned her back to him and was trying to crawl away, but she maybe moved three feet before he was over her. She screamed when his hand fisted in her hair and yanked her up to her knees.
She screeched in pain and both of her hands came up to try and claw him so that he would free her (it didn't work...). Her scalp was on fire and she scratched at his wrist with her nails. Shamir may have thought he would let her go but that's not what happened.
Of course not.
Nothing simple ever happened.
What the first Dragonborn did do though, surprised the shit out of her.
He slapped her. Slapped her hard, and did not let go of her hair. He'd stunned her and both her hands had dropped from his wrist like limp leeks. Her ears were ringing and moving her jaw turned her vision white. Her scalp was also screaming since the slap had sent her almost flying from him if he hadn't kept such a tight hold on her hair.
She'd barely opened her mouth when he slapped her again (a backhand this time....that one hurt more....). She tasted blood as her lip split on her own teeth (with the help of his knuckles), and this time she hit the floor (he'd let her go...owie...). Her cheek slapped the ground and more stars appeared in her scope of vision.
Just as she struggled to raise herself on her arms, he was back over her. Both of his hands dug into her shoulders as he raised her to her feet as though she weighed no more than a feather (which she certainly did not). He moved so quickly that she hadn't budged when he grabbed her throat in one big fist and lifted her right off the ground.
She gurgled and spat out blood when he slammed her against a wall that brought Shamir to eye level with him. She tried to lash out a him with her feet, but that lasted only until he tightened his grip. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands and couldn't prevent the tears of fear that were leaking from her eyes.
He roared in her face (he did not Shout, but she'd forgotten in the heat of the moment that he couldn't Shout at her) and she reached forward to scratch at his face, well.... she tried. The length of his arms were much longer than hers, and she just couldn't quite reach him.
Her face was turning a dark purple, and yet Miraak was not focused on her like she probably assumed he was (he was looking at her, but not seeing her). His heart was pounding out of his chest, deafening him completely to everything and anything around him. His skin was crawling where she had touched him, sending pins and needles throughout his body that made him want to vomit. He was bodily shaking, that it was in fear and not anger, mattered little.
What did matter was that she had been in his chambers.
She had been touching him.
She had kissed him.
It had all been real.
He'd assumed that he had been dreaming (and it hadn't surprised him that his dream had been of the erotic variety at the time) when he'd first become aware that he and the woman were... engaging (in real) sexual play. He had missed contact, and had enjoyed (more than he would admit to himself or to her) having her wrapped around him like she had been. She'd felt almost right.
It had been a dream.
It was suppose to have been a dream.
It had felt unreal. He hadn't been in total control of himself and had watched with rapt attention every little movement she'd done or noise she'd made. He'd wanted it to be real then, but it couldn't have been. He didn't even remember the words he'd spoken, though he knew he'd spoken to her.
The last coherent thought he remembered clearly was Mora threatening him with the spiked phallus-like tentacle. He'd remembered feeling shame and horror and dread.
She wasn't making much noise now, and her hands had dropped from his wrist. His eyes widened and he dropped her to the ground and stepped away from her. He schooled his features into a blank mask (damn Mora for taking away his face) and glared down at her.
She was rubbing at her throat (over her collar) and coughing and hacking as though she had been forced under water. "Don't ever touch me," he snarled, his body tensing as he stared down at her.
The woman was holding her neck and coughing still (she'd fallen to her side), she wasn't even looking at him. He felt his hands clench (silence... how he missed his gloves).
Her wet, emerald eyes raised to stare at him as though she'd never seen him before, betrayal evident in those green spheres. Visions from his dream (he was still not understanding how it wasn't a dream...) muscled their way to the forefront of his thoughts and he pushed them savagely away.
He glared down at her, ignoring the purple/black bruise slowly beginning to appear on either side of her mouth (he had hit her hard...), and it wouldn't have happened had she not been touching him. He suppressed the shudder threatening to invade his body. He couldn't stand being touched...
One of her hands came up (it was shaking) and she touched her jaw, he heard her wince and her breath hissed between her teeth. He narrowed his eyes and just as he was about to back away from her, black tentacles snatched him from where he stood and raised him high into the green sky.
"What ...hrm...have youuuu done?" Mora gargled. To the untrained ear, he sounded much as he always did, but to Miraak. Heh.
Whatever Miraak could have said on the matter, went up in smoke when Hermaeus Mora decided to deal with Miraak in his own particular way. The first Dragonborn barely managed to cut off his screams as the black tentacles pierced his hands and feet, and then spread him as though he was crucified on some malformed black tree.
He arched his back and his teeth sunk in his lower lip (blood exploded from his mouth) trying to stifle his screams of pain as Mora spread him wide. The muscles of his legs were cramping, his arms were spread akimbo. There was no room to move, and he was bleeding heavily, he could feel the limbs moving through his wounds.
He would not react.
No screams. No words. Nothing. Mora would get nothing from him. There would be no satisfaction for the Prince, not this day. He would swear his teeth cracked when he felt the thin limbs, that had invaded the inside of his body, ripping layers of flesh open the more they explored; poking and prodding at the muscle and sinew branch.
Gods, it hurt. Oh so much...
“You will not.... mnnn injure her any... further.” Mora's gurgled voice sounded so close, as if the entity that was the Prince was enveloping Miraak, just inches from him. The first Dragonborn would have clenched his fists, if the agony in his hands and wrists hadn’t been do great. "You however.... mnnnnn.... my Champion.... “ Mora didn’t finish his sentence, instead his main eye blinked slowly and Miraak tensed, his back taut to prevent his body from trembling.
Hermaeus' great eye and dozens of others flicked downwards to the base of the thick tree of tentacles. A flicker of brunette hair flashed as Shamir hit Mora's limbs, over and over again. Wait... he frowned as he looked downwards, ignoring his woes momentarily.
Was that a book? He blinked. She was hitting Mora with one of his very own Black Books. She'd apparently grabbed it from the nearest shelf (it must have been within reach). Her legs were barely holding her up, he could see from his vantage point, how her very knees were threatening to give out on her.
Again she hit Mora's thick limbs with the book and Miraak's eyes widened a fraction at her stupidity. Twap. Twap. Twap.
A thin limb slid from behind her and captured her left hand like a whip, forcing her to drop the heavy tome. Her lips opened to scream and (he'd give her credit) she did try, unfortunately it was cut off from the obvious pain in her jaw. The places where he'd had slapped her were already shadowed heavily on her soft skin. Thin lines of drying blood dropped down her chin from the corner of her split lip.
“What a brave ..... hmmmm little thing you are....” another tentacle slid out and grabbed her other wrist, effectively pulling both her arms back and securing them to her from behind. The woman’s knees gave out finally and she blinked away the pain, her head rolling to the side for a moment as a glazed look came over her gaze for a few moments.
“I should have hrm... expected this from you," Mora's voice turned into mockery as he continued, "Youuuuu were so easily fooled by mmmmmy illusions of my Champion that you came running."
She gasped audibly and Miraak saw her eyes widened as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. So that was how she knew of him. Mora had tricked her, much as he had duped him.
He'd lured her here. Mora had used his likeness to get her to follow his trail. She'd walked right into the Prince's trap with her eyes wide open.
A blunt ended tentacle reached out and poked at her injured jaw. The woman tensed, her back arching, and she screamed, and screamed, pulling away from the limb that had touched her. Miraak looked away, up into the green never-changing sky that was Apocrypha.
If she was stupid enough to attack the Prince, in his realm, she deserved her fate.
Though, Miraak wouldn’t deny his curiosity on her actions. She should have attempted to flee, instead she'd grabbed a book (he smiled inwardly at the fact that it had been a Black Book she'd grabbed) and had attacked a Daedric Prince.
With a book.
If he wasn’t in so much pain, he’d have maybe chuckled. Maybe. He honestly didn't remember the last time he'd smiled.
Dragonspeech Bolded as usual! Enjoy!!
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Gods, it hurt so much.
His eyes were clenched closed as the tentacles continuously flexed and twitched as they writhed. Mora, sure as Oblivion, wasn't about to do him any favours either. The Prince was enjoying his suffering in his typical Mora way: deliberately.
Miraak gritted his teeth until he thought they'd break under the pressure he was excising. He would not make a sound if it killed him (which it would eventually, that was a certainty).
Not a sound. Not a single scr—
Hermaeus' limbs thickened in his palms, and the first Dragonborn was barely able to suppress the agony of his skin giving way to the daedric Prince. The woman had dissolved into a whimpering mess on the ground, Mora still had her arms bent backwards in a most awkward position.
"Seeking to free him, mortal?" Mora warbled, his tone borderline obscene, "I will help you." Mora's tentacles moved faster than Miraak's eyes could follow. Though he wasn't surprise to see the woman raised up so that she was eye level with Miraak. Her arms were still behind her back, pushing her bouncing breasts forward.
The black arms circled her thighs and spread them apart wide. Miraak's nostrils flared as the scent of her sex wafted towards him. His cock twitched uncontrollably, and his hands hurt too much to fist.
"Damn you, Hermaeus," Miraak gritted out as he turned his head to the side and clenched his eyes closed. He didn't want to look at the woman and he sure didn't want to smell her either. Not again.
"It has been centuries since your genitals have spasmed this mmmmmuch without my help," Mora practically oozed spite. Miraak swallowed and kept his eyes closed, refusing to be embarrassed despite Mora's taunts.
"Let us go!" the woman screamed, twisting and fighting.
"I thought you wanted him," Mora chuckled, "You almost over exerted yourself for him."
Miraak's eyes shot open when he felt the woman's body pushed against him. She screamed at the top of her lungs and the first Dragonborn got to see her green eyes widen with both fear and disgust.
"N-no!" she begged.
Mora ignored her pleas and instead arranged her so that her back was to Miraak and she was bent over. The Dragonborn averted his head, and gritted his teeth as Mora moved the tentacles impaling him.
"Nngh!" he jolted, his muscles locking.
"Let me hear your screams, Miraak," Mora gargled slowly, "It has been soooo long since I heard them...mnnmm."
Miraak's jaw was hurting with the effort he was exerting. He couldn't control his hands (and it felt like he was being chewed by a dragon), he'd clenched his fingers closed, digging his nails into Mora's black, inky limbs.
He heard the woman choking (her collar had come up to her mouth, though he could not see this), and she began to struggle. Her muscular ass alternatively jiggled and tensed with her efforts. Miraak whimpered and threw his head back to stare at the green sky, anywhere but towards the woman.
There was no stopping his cry as he felt a tentacle wrapping around the base of his dick again. His head snapped forward and he felt his entire body shudder. The tentacle tip was slowly encircling his penis, continuously moving upward as it wrapped itself around his shaft.
The tip then rubbed at his piss slit sensually and Miraak's eyes shot open.
No. Not tha—
His entire body jerked as the tapered end of the limb suddenly slid into his penis, and went down his urethra. Mora got his wish. He screamed. He screamed long and hard as the tentacle went deeper into his groin. His hands were on fire and his feet felt the same, and still he screamed.
“Yes, Miraak. Scream for me, my Champion," Hermaeus practically purred as the Dragonborn fought like a dragon possessed, as the tentacle continued into him, "Hmmmmmm so sweet, it has been such,” Deeper. "A." Deeper. "Long." Deeper. "Time." Deeper still. "Shhh..." Mora's giant eye blinked once as another tentacle wrapped around Miraak's waist and the tip skirted along the top of his ass. "Let's show her how much youuuu like this, how much your body ...hmr... begs and weeps for this. Let's show the last Dragonborn how to make youuuu squeal."
Miraak bowed and fought. His dick was on fire, felt as though he were being ripped apart from the inside out. He could feel Mora's tentacle moving in his sac, caressing his testes within the confines of his scrotum. Miraak whimpered and felt his eyes water uncontrollably as the black limb slid down the crack of his ass, spreading the tightened cheeks as though he were willing.
The tampered end poked at his anus gently and Miraak roared (it was not a Shout, but it was feral), unable to control himself. Mora was going to rape him in front of the woman... he was going to pull his seed from his body while she watched. He felt his entire body heat and fluctuate from white to black as the tentacle prodded again.
He bit his tongue to stop himself from begging. He knew all too well, much to his shame,that Mora was waiting precisely for that. He clenched his eyes closed and tried to struggle as the limb moved back and forth across his sphincter with carnal intent. Miraak tasted blood in his mouth and would have probably bit his own tongue off if his collar hadn't suddenly come to life and jammed most of itself down his throat, prying his teeth apart without any effort.
"That would not do," Mora chastised, "Come now Miraak... you should be hmnnnn elated that someone else will.... share your pain."
Miraak whimpered as the woman's sex was pushed against his stuffed dick, she was almost folded in half in front of him, her legs spread wide. Her head was down and her screams were well muffled by her collar. Miraak knew if he looked, he would find her nether lips spread by inky black arms, her pearl being flicked to encourage penetration.
His cock was already standing at the ready, practically panting as it moved up and down as though it had a mind of its own, and it did if you counted Mora as its mind. He felt her pulled away a little and then he grunted in pain as his penis was slapped against her entrance rather roughly. The sound of skin slapping skin echoing ominously in Apocrypha as Hermaeus spanked her pussy with his dick over and over again (the tentacle that had been inside his penis was slowly pulling out, and that hurt more than he could describe).
"Look how she weeps for you Miraaaaaaak."
He'd rather have his soul swallowed by the World Eater.
Had he known, that he, Miraak, First Dragonborn, First Dragon Priest, and the Master Atmoran Mage (he was a rare novelty... his race was not magically inclined like others), would be a Prince's pleasure toy, used, abused and humiliated as though he were a slave.
A sex slave, no less. (He doubted Sanguine treated his worshipers like this, and if he did, they probably wanted it.)
He would have never broken faith with Alduin.
In fact, he would have been the first one to kiss the World Eater's claws. He would have remained exactly where he had been, never sought more, never learned more, and he would have kept his dignity. He would have had an enriching life, he had been powerful... why had he wanted more?
A question he'd asked himself countless times. Regret did not even begin to explain his feeling on the matter.
He felt all his muscles tighten as her wet warmth enveloped him suddenly (Akatosh!). His cries were muffled by the collar in his mouth, for again, Miraak found himself painfully ejaculating almost immediately inside her womb.
His fell limply within his bonds, all his muscles going lax, including his hands. If he hadn't been nailed to Mora, by Mora, he would have fallen to the ground, dead to the world, as it were.
As he hung there, Miraak was able to see her back-end quite clearly. A few things happened at the same time and it took him a moment to actually realized it.
The woman's legs were spread, as was her pussy. She was actually covered in his semen (apparently he'd cummed even sooner than he'd realized... how quaint), which took him off guard at first, and then he felt his teeth sink in the tentacle in his mouth. A inky limb was gathering up all his seed from her body, and without warning penetrated the woman.
He winced and closed his eyes as she fought like a sabrecat. Her legs were flailing (or trying too) and she was shrieking for all she was worth, trying to close her legs, and force the Prince out.
“Look how she mnnnnnnnnn squirms, Miraak," Mora's voice was slow and deliberate, as if speaking to a lover, his eyes snapped open in dread as Mora continued, "She hmmmmmmmmn reminds me of your first .....century here.”
Black tears fell from his eyes as he closed them again (they landed on her ass) and did his best to block out Mora's words. Goose flesh exploded across his back as Mora's warble seem to come right beside his ear. He could even feel the hot breath against his neck. "Tell me, Miraak... hmmmmmm do you recall the way you mnnnnnn screamed?" Mora whispered loudly, the tip of his black tentacle slowly pushing into his anus.
He started shuddering and made an effort to fight, but he didn't have it in him. Instead, he hung there, whining like a cowed dog, as Mora went in search of that place inside that controlled his very orgasms. Miraak keened and jerked forward, trying to get away from the limb pushing its agonizing way into him.
"Yes, my Champion," Hermaeus drawled in his ear as his dick jerked to life again (he had gone soft...), and straightened, the inky, black limbs touching and wrapping around his cock. He screamed into the collar as Mora started jerking on his dick and then brought the woman's pussy back into his line of sight.
Miraak winced, closed his eyes and tried to turn his head away as Mora's tentacle slowly removed itself from her depths. Miraak could see clear into her cunt, her cervix was open and his semen had been pushed into her rather roughly. He couldn't stop his reaction as Mora forced his penis into an erection that was on the verge of exploding already.
"Tell me, Miraak.... how much will it hmmmmm take to fill her very.... womb?" Mora voiced the question so casually that one could almost pretend he was speaking of something else, "I must.... have this knowledge, and you my Champion.... will give it. Hmmmmmn willingly or not."
Miraak felt the cold hand of dread wrap itself around his heart as Mora rammed his dick into her pussy, and started using the momentum from his tentacle to bed the woman through Miraak. The constant rubbing of the tentacle against that place, and the squeezing/milking of his dick by both the tentacle and her vagina made it impossible for him to control himself.
The first Dragonborn felt his testicles tense and while the woman screamed beneath him, his cock emptied itself deep inside. He was not naive enough to believe this would end now. He knew, and it became very apparent that the woman knew as well. The Prince did not even bother separating them as he made Miraak cum over and over again.
By the fifth time, no more than a drop squeezed from his abused penis. He was in so much pain, it was a wonder his dick was not cumming blood instead. The woman had stopped fighting by now and just hung there limply as Mora continued with his torture.
"Empty? We will continue this later," Mora chuckled and the tentacles all around them that had been flexible and alive, solidified and turned into actual cages almost. "Until then, stay put." Binding him and the woman together like a couple of mating snails. He screamed into his gag as Mora suddenly disappeared, leaving them alone, trapped together.
He was inside her...
Dragonspeech in bold as usual. Enjoy! First chapter half on phone lol Wasn't as bad or hard as I thought it would be :)
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It was hours before Mora returned. Miraak refused to show any expression, despite the fact his muscles were cramped, his ass hurt beyond imagining (he was still impaled), and for maybe the first time in over a century, he wanted to cut his dick off.
His semen had dried and stuck them together. His foreskin was rubbed raw and burned as though on hot coals, his glans was pulsing so painfully that he would have volunteered to become a eunuch in a heartbeat. Each breath he took inched his agony ever upward, barely shirking the edge of madness.
His face, however, bellied none of this.
Miraak's expression remained stoic, impassive.
That is, until one of Mora's tentacles wrapped around his testicles and pulled. Hard .
" Let's see if these have refilled yet ," Mora gargled, tightening his grip.
Miraak screamed as all the tentacles surrounding them came alive again, and resumed doing what they had been doing before. Those in his limbs paled in comparison to the one inside him, Mora had enlarged it and was rubbing that place harder. Faster.
His penis jerked to life inside her as the tendril around the base of his cock tightened again. He felt his skin pull and rip as Mora began his tortures anew.
Keeping track of time in Apocrypha was an art that Miraak had mastered thousands of years before, unfortunately, as it were, the knowledge left his brain. He had no idea how long Mora forced them together, he'd lost track of the amount of times he'd ejaculated. Mercifully, he couldn't feel his dick any more or his bollocks. A string of saliva escaped his mouth and Miraak felt his eyes roll to the back of his head.
He felt a calming peace settle over his mind and his eyes snapped open instantly. He was not going to lose control of his body again. He shook his head hard, trying to push this peace away. Peace meant he had no control. And he needed control, he needed it.
The bleeding wounds and tentacles in his limbs were ignored as he clenched his teeth, and shook his head like a rabid dog, but it was in vain as he chanced a glance at the woman’s weeping body wrapped against his own. When his eyes met her own, just a glance, he felt whatever power in him surge forward and the tranquility felt stronger. The fright and anguish in her teary orbs had his spine grow taut and all his agonies seem to vanish as though he were hale and hearty. He relaxed his entire body and closed his eyes. The less he struggled, the easier it would be on both he and the woman (he still didn't know her name...).
It took 27 ejaculations in total to fill her womb...
Mora had laughed like a buffoon as he practically crushed Miraak’s testicles to get the last few drops, and then dropped them to the ground unceremoniously. The woman whimpered and Miraak closed his eyes as he lay on his back. He didn’t want to move, not yet anyways (maybe never).
His penis was beyond raw, beyond burning. It was swollen and patches of skin were missing (parts of it had been ripped off, as if a layer had been forcibly removed) and oozing a clear liquid that felt like acid. He used a minor healing spell, just enough to take the pain away, to repair the skin, stave off infection and reduce some of the swelling.
As if to mock them, Miraak’s mask and robes (she didn’t have clothes now) fell to the ground around them.
Mora’s laughter echoed as he dematerialized and vanished from sight. Miraak waited a long while before rolling over and slowly sitting up. He gathered up robes, left the mask where it had fallen, and limped his way towards the woman.
She lay partially on her side and stomach, unmoving, her arms were up close to her head. He could see his seed seeping out of her mockingly. He was quick to pull his robes on. He used a small fire spell to cut the tops of his robes off. He tied the pants up with the material and then very carefully laid the torn clothing over the woman.
She remained motionless until the palm of his hand grabbed her shoulders and tried to hold her against his bare chest. She came to life instantly as if he had burned her with the flames, and she fought against him as best as she could. Her nails trying to find purchase like she had claws instead. He grabbed both of her wrists in one big hand and continued to try to soothe her.
“Vahdin ,” he murmured, his voice calm, “ stop this.”
He grit his teeth when he felt her teeth sink into his chest, close to his nipple. She drew blood and he pulled away until she let go, his blood on her lips. Miraak felt all his muscles tense and he tipped his head forward to better look at her, his braid hanging down. He barely managed to restrain himself as she glared at him with all the righteous fires of Oblivion, returning the intensity in his stare two fold.
His heartbeat increased and he swallowed back the urge to mark her as well. Instead he growled low in his throat, “Stop.”
She spat in his face. “Fuck you!” she snarled, baring her teeth.
He sighed. “Vahdin…”
“Don’t you ‘Vahdin’ me, asshole!” she hissed, mimicking his voice as she pronounced the name he’d given her. She was still struggling in his grip.
He licked his lips, and realized that mayhaps he should explain himself. He cleared his throat. “I am not the man, Miraak, but the dragon.”
She continued to fight, trying to kick him, the robe he had placed around her no longer covered her and his eyes lighted on her bruised flesh, he winced and gave her a quick shake.
“Dragon,” he touched his chest with his free hand, trying a different tact.
She seem to realize (he hoped) that he was trying to communicate with her and not hurt her for she stilled and frowned at him. He kept his eyes focused on her as he held his hand over his heart. “Dragon,” he repeated, more relaxed.
Her clear green eyes were watching him intently almost as though trying to see into his thoughts. He tried to be as open as he could with her, and she visibly swallowed, “You’re a dragon?” she frowned, her words tentative.
He nodded deliberately.
“Was it with you…?” she trailed off, averted her gaze and blushed. He reached down and grabbed her chin to turn her head back towards him.
He nodded, and wanted to make sure she was looking at him when he answered, “Yes . It was me.”
She swallowed again, her face a bright red.
“Let go,” she whispered the words, her voice shaking just a little. She was still afraid of him.
He shook his head, and before she responded, he gathered her up again and placed her on his lap. He was able to reach for the robes that had fallen off her shoulders and wrapped it around her again as he held her against his chest. She didn’t struggle this time and let him do as he pleased.
He guided her head to his shoulder and wrapped both of his arms about her body. She was so small that he almost swallowed her up. He felt her shivering and rubbed at her back with his big hands. “I will not hurt you, Vahdin.”
“Shamir…” she murmured, her voice muffled by his skin, “My name is Shamir.”
He paused in his ministration and smiled as he looked down at the top of her head. She’d given him her name…
“Shamir,” he said her name slowly, tasting it, committing it to memory.
He felt her drop in exhaustion onto his chest and he called on his Restoration magic. Mora had said they could not cast on each other to kill each other, was healing magic included in this?
Miraak ran both his hands down her back, using Healing Hands. The moment his hands touched her body, the spell quit as though he had no mana, despite being almost full (his magicka was ridiculously potent, he didn’t remember ever being depleted completely).
He frowned and tried again, as he suspected, it happened once more. They could not cast on each other. Period. She would have to heal her own wounds.
“What does he want with us?” she asked slowly. Miraak took a deep breath and slowly released it.
“We are being bred ,” he growled, trying to remain impassive. She tensed in his arms and raised her head to look at him in the eye. He saw the confusion there and took another breath, “ We ,” he motioned to the both of them with a hand, signifying them, “ Bred.” He deliberately reached down and placed a hand to her stomach.
She flinched as though he’d burned her and pulled away from his palm. Miraak knew the moment it dawned on her too for her eyes widened to the size of septims and she turned a bright red, before the blood drained from her face leaving her deathly pale.
He felt her start shaking and shivering. Her heartbeat increased in speed and she broke out in cold sweat, the beads pebbling her skin. Miraak didn’t move a muscle when her body started contracting and straight up bile covered his torso.
He put a hand to the back of her head and massaged gently as he rubbed her back at the same time. She started sobbing in mid spew and great wails came from her very core. The sound was low at first, a faint vibration. The Breton's vocals hitched as the wail turned animalistic - a roar.
Her dragon, and he knew her at once, was showing her grief.
Dragonspeech bolded as usual.
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Shamir wrenched her body from his, her palms slapping down on the stone beneath her as her back shuddered and she continued to wretch. Nothing but more bile and strings of saliva leaving her lips as her chest wavered for breath. He knelt by her side, ignoring the slime against his chest as his large hand touched her back to soothe her.
The moment he touched her, she flung herself from his reach, on hands knees and she bared her teeth as a warbled snarl left her throat. Her chestnut colored hair obscuring half of her face as she continued the snarl into a low keening growl.
“No!” Her answering growl did make him pause but only for a split moment as he tried once more to get to her, calm her. Her teeth bared once more and she backed up, his robes about her shoulders hanging loosely. Seeing her back away from him, he growled low and narrowed his eyes. “Do not touch me...”
She was just out of reach, her hands and arms shook to hold up her battered body. His nostrils flared as the metallic scent of her blood caught his attention. A thin drop made its way from between her thighs, it dropped to the ground and sounded like a boom of thunder (to him), she must have re-opened her wounds on the inside.
“You need to heal.” His hand formed the soft glow of a healing spell and motioned it to himself and then at her. “I am not able to use my magic on you.”
Shamir hunched her shoulders a fraction, lifting her own palm and closing her eyes as she summoned what little restoration magic she knew (which was precious little).
It wasn’t much but a faint glow did wrap around her palm and she pressed it between her legs. While she knew mastery in many of the Schools, her Restoration was appallingly bad. The constant searing pain inside of her ebbed to a medium ache but then her magic was depleted and she panted with the exertion it caused her.
Shamir's body was trembling and the hand she pulled back from her crotch was smeared in blood and clotting semen. Her breathing ragged and uneven as she stared at her slim fingers. Every ache and wound on her body seemed more prominent the longer stared at the mixture between her digits.
There were no thoughts in her mind, not solid ones. Only a deafening roar that never ended, her hand moved to her abdomen and a growl reverberated from deep within her chest. Hands touched her once more and she snarled viciously back at them.
“Stop this,” he growled at her, her head whipped up and she bared her blunt teeth at him.
“No!” She slapped his face, hard. He felt the force of her dragon's fury behind it, the blood and seed on her fingers causing the hit to sting worse than it should have. Shamir scrambled away, standing on unsteady legs as she crouched, ready to attack or defend.
“I will not.... I will not allow this to happen...” her voice was steadier now, low and hoarse as her hand gripped at her own flesh just above her womb. Nails digging into her skin as if she would rip out her own innards.
He straightened, eyes narrowed as she stood across from him. Little thing that she was, she had bite behind her hit. Her palm must sting but she clenched it into a fist as the other nearly clawed at her belly. The fisted hand lit aflame and his eyes widened as she went to touch herself. She was going to burn his seed...
Moving on instinct, he lunged and they both rolled to the ground. The flames vanishing away in a blink as she snarled up at him, her feet and hands kicking, clawing and scratching at every inch of him she could touch. He’d had enough, and grabbing both her wrists in his one hand he pinned them above her head (the robes opened exposing her completely), dropped open his jaw, and roared.
Directly in her face.
Heaving chest, his mouth partially opened as he breathes above her. The roar he’d let loose echoed for another moment before dissipating altogether. Leaving them with their mingled breathing, and the soft whispering of pages. His grip strong and like iron manacles on her wrists, his hips and legs pinning her lower body to the ground.
“You will stop.” Shamir narrowed her eyes but she did not fight him, for the moment, she didn't relax either.
“You would allow him to do this?" she snarled savagely, her eyes shooting fire at him as they glowed a bright green, "This is a travesty, a mockery of our ways. Burn your seed from my womb lest it bear fruit and he takes our young!" He'd swear her teeth elongated (her voice sounded panicked almost) ready to sink in his throat and snap his neck with a great shake of her head. “Burn it, by Akatosh, burn it out of my body!”
He remained silent for a long time, staring at her, trying to find the words to tell her that he couldn't. He couldn't burn anything from her body. The collar around his neck prevented him from casting anything on her. He waited for it to dawn on her, and then he realized that this was not the Breton fighting him, but the dragon aspect of the Breton.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he hung his head. His free hand engulfed itself in flames burning brighter and hotter then her own. Locking eyes with him, she nodded as he moved back some off of her and hovered his fire above her crotch.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the burn and preparing for the pain. She'd tensed her body and almost jumped out of her skin when his cool palm settled over her mound. She balked, eyes now wide as she caught the flames diminish to nothing as he touched her skin. There was no heat from his touch.
In his moment of loosely holding her, she shoved him up and off of her, her own hand now engulfed back with her own flames. Only to have the burning sensation stop after a single moment of touching her skin. The soft curls above her cunt were scorched and burned but that was all that was accomplished as a sudden pressure came from about her throat.
Eyes wide, her hands went to her neck to touch the living collar that sat there flush on her skin. It was squeezing tightly but the moment she let her magic go it relaxed and became dormant once more. Gasping for breath, she sat back on her haunches, her hands gently reaching to touch her bruised throat. She felt a small whimper bubble out from her chest
“No... this cannot be...” her voice went lower, raspy, thick with grief. Her eyes lifted to his own, and the sadness in his gaze was amplified a hundred times over in hers.
They could not cast on each other. They could not hurt the other harshly. They could not reverse what was being done to them. This mockery (her word) of their very souls and instincts. His stomach knotted in disgust.
When she lowered her gaze, her body slumped forward as if she'd lost consciousness. He reached forward and pulled her to him (Ripping more from his pants he wiped his chest clean as much he could.) she didn't fight him, she just whimpered, and he couldn't prevent the rumbling whine that escaped his chest as he clutched her to him.
“We cannot allow it...” her hands grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his own bruised flesh.
He dipped his nose into her hair, wrapped his arms about her back and pulled her fully into his lap. Engulfing her in his body as much he could. He never would wish this on his worst enemy. Even Alduin, with his heavy claw and massive jaws, would never be subjected to this, or more apt, subject them to this.
This terrible thing being forced open them.
Them. Powerful, prideful and strong creatures. Kings of kings. Elite among both men/mer and dragon.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, gentle at first, until her claws sunk into his flesh and drew blood. He felt his muscles bunching around her and he barely managed to stop himself from grappling with her.
"Swear it." Her words surprised him and he pulled away to better look down at her. She raised her head and her bright emerald eyes bore into his. He felt naked behind the intensity of her stare. She jostled him once roughly, as if waking him up and her upper lip quivered momentarily before she repeated herself, the pitch of her tone had increased minutely. "Swear it!"
He stared back at her for a heartbeat before he brought his face close to hers, "I swear it."
She didn't give him a chance to move before their teeth clicked together as their mouths connected without preamble, their tongues barely touched before he growled. She'd sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, the taste of his blood sent a shudder through her body and he barely suppressed his response. He felt his hands tighten on her arms when the warmth of her blood coated his tongue. This was an oath kiss, a blood oath. She was ensuring he kept his word.
It took all of his considerable willpower to not fling her to the ground and mount her then and there. As the idea of mounting her rose to the forefront, his body's immediate reaction was rejection. They were still in Apocrypha... to mount her where Mora could watch and interfere pretty much killed his ardor and he was able to pull his head away. He was panting, so he gave his head a shake before glancing down at her.
She was magnificent.
For a half a breath, he wondered what she would have been like outside of this Oblivion. On her own ground... or even his... Would she have fought him had they met outside? Forced him to prove that he was worthy of her, or her of him? Make him fight other males for her affections (he would have killed them all)...? His mouth went dry at the idea of locking sword, magic and teeth with her. His blood pumped and he had to look away... or try too.
The glowing, emerald jewels in her face mesmerized him. They reflected what he felt ten-fold, tear filled as they were. His eyes traveled down her body and settled on her stomach. His own clenched at the realization that his young (he'd waited, wanted and given up for thousands of years...) would never fully form in her womb, he'd never see them or bond with them. One of his big hands (they were trembling now) dropped to her belly and he clenched his eyes closed.
One of hers covered his.
He/she would kill them... to save them...
His own private Oblivion...
There was no comfort to be had between them. He swallowed and gathered her close to his body. He ignored that her nails dug into his flesh as she clung to him. With unsteady legs, he gritted his teeth and curled her against his chest as he stood.
His feet disturbed the scattered pages upon the ground, carefully he sat into the only bed he’d known for centuries. They were still injured and bloody, filthy and desperately wanting to scrub every inch of skin to thwart away the feeling of Mora's limbs from their bodies.
Too tired to do more than fix the burnt robes to cover her more and then curl her into his big body, he started a low rhythmic rumble deep in his throat. He knew it wouldn’t help either of them, the action was instinctual more than anything, and right now they needed their instincts, more than ever before.
He needed to find a way for them to escape.
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Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump.
She frowned in sync with each thump. They sounded like blast of lightning strikes, echoing in her head like a herd of galloping mammoths (or dragons, both were apt).
Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump.
Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump.
That wasn't lightning—
Wait just a Divines be damned moment!
Her eyes snapped open and she found herself in a most inopportune position. She was sprawled across Miraak's naked shoulder/chest. His arm was tight around her body, his big palm was flush on her hip, gripping her tightly even in sleep. A whimper escaped her throat as Shamir realized exactly where she was.
She didn't even try to be stealthy, or keep him asleep. She scrambled away and off him at the speed of Whirlwind Sprint. She was long gone by the time he stirred. Having had her strength returned to her, Shamir immediately cast her invisibility spell on herself as she bolted. She was healed enough that she had full mobility and full speed.
There was no way in Oblivion she was going to let herself be caught unawares. She ignored the fact that she was wearing nothing but the opened top part of Miraak's robes and that she as weaponless.
Of a physical weapon, she corrected herself. She technically had access to a whole arsenal of Bound Weapons, and armour was not really necessary when her magic worked in a way that the less armour she wore, the more protection her magic afforded her.
Her surroundings pretty much remained the same no matter which way she went. Dank, dark hallways, scattered and fluttering pages, and Seekers (and lets not forget the hundreds of black, pungent tentacle-filled pools that were almost everywhere). Though the Seekers pretty much ignored her (they were too busy reading books). Shamir was not fool enough to think they couldn't sense... she assumed (correctly as it were) that they couldn't care less about her presence (it wasn't as though she was going to be able to escape anyways...).
The pounding of her heart and the burning of her lungs as she gasped for air finally brought her to a stop. She'd drained her stamina getting as far away from Miraak as possible. She almost folded in half as she put her hands on her thighs to gather herself. She re-cast invisibility for good measure and found herself staring at the ground between her bare feet as she regained control of herself.
It took a couple of moments for her heartbeat to stabilize and she was able to think clearly beyond escape and survival. She'd need all her wits about her. This place was having an adverse affect on her. She had vague memories of what had happened the day before, but it was almost as though she'd been drinking.
They were foggy, she didn't remember what was said, though she'd understood what was said (it was weird and hard for her to explain as she didn't understand it very well). She clenched her eyes closed and put a hand to her stomach. She remembered enough.
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she dropped to her knees where she stood. She was still invisible (it would be a long while before she dropped the spell). Her entire body started trembling and she had to close her eyes for a moment to make everything stop spinning.
Mora was trying to breed them.
A frost dragon sized lump was trying to claw its way out of her throat but she swallowed it back. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She had to stay calm and analyze what she knew. A dragon lived within Miraak, which meant one lived within her as well, which would explain the dream like memories that she was dealing with now.
Her tongue came out to lick at her parched lips and she tasted the saltiness of her tears as they silently rolled down her cheeks.
Fuck... how in Nirn was she going to get herself out of this hole?
Miraak found himself stock still on the bed, staring at the vomit-inducing coalescing green skies over head. He'd had another of those vivid waking dreams, or so he had thought for a whole second.
She'd been in his arms. Again.
Her hasty escape into the depths of Apocrypha had reminded him then that it had most certainly not been a dream, that in fact what he thought was reveries, had actually happened.
His dragon. A trembling bare hand covered his eyes as he was filled with shame momentarily.
The dovah. It had been so long since he'd felt his dovah rise that he had forgotten.
Both of his hands fisted and he bared his teeth as his eyes stung and pulsed. He jumped to his feet, standing on his bed and roared so loud and so long that his very voice left him. The muscles in his chest and arms bulged with the strength he used to sound his pain.
His eyes alighted on his mask, on the ground just outside the room and he frowned as he made for it. He licked his lips and pulled the gilded, tentacled mask over his head. He turned on his heels and made for where he kept his robes. He incinerated the pants he wore and fully dressed himself in another set of robes, complete with his leather gloves. His hands clenched, and the familiar creaking noises comforted him somewhat.
Fully dressed and masked, Miraak took a deep breath and turned his head to glance in the sphere's direction. It had been centuries since he'd actually used the damn thing more than once, and here he was getting ready to use it again. He felt his lips twist at the irony that it wasn't to see outside of the Plane of Oblivion that he used it for, but to watch the woman...he froze.
Miraak felt his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.
He licked his lips again and cracked his mouth open, "Shamir..." he whispered the name, unable to stop himself from saying it.
Miraak's bottomless black eyes narrowed as the sphere seem to come to life and lit up. He was in front of it within three steps, peering down into its watery depths. His eyes alighted on her immediately. He could tell she'd cast Invisibility, but the sphere allowed for full unobstructed view, and he was granted such.
His robe as hanging on her shoulders loosely, hiding absolutely nothing of her physique. His eyes did not roam and remained on her face. He felt goosebumps explode across his skin and he shivered uncontrollably as he broke eye contact. The leather from his gloves squeaked and it was almost deafening as his fingers went numb from how tightly he clenched them closed.
Had he been that quick to walk into Hermaeus' trap all those years ago? The thought intruded itself quietly, the barest of a whisper across the back of his mind.
He frowned from behind his mask and moved his arms behind his back as he returned his gaze to the orb. He needed to have words with her. Words didn't mean he had to touch her either, and with his mask she wouldn't be able to look at his face or his expression.
Why had she tried to help him when Mora had crucified him? He'd been quick to brutalize her.
When he'd roared, Shamir had heard him as clear as if she'd been standing in the same room. She'd stopped breathing and like a deer caught in a hunter's sight, had frozen in place. It took a split second before she shook herself and refreshed her Invisibility spell. She'd jumped to her feet and had bolted like a hare.
She had no idea that no matter how far she ran, or how well she hid, Miraak would always know exactly where she was at all times if he wished it. She also did not know that his Aura Whisper Shout alone was powerful enough to light up the entirety that was Apocrypha or that he could just as easily cast Detect Magic to see her magical auras from miles away.
Shamir assumed (and he let her think this) that she was capable of evading him and using her magic to mask her ways. And so when she figured herself far enough (and safe enough), she squeezed her tiny body in behind an awkward-looking desk and had rested her head into the crook of her knees. She needed to recharge her mana and did not want to be caught out in the open when her Invisibility wore off.
He found her that way not even a half hour later. She'd fallen asleep without realizing it. He hadn't touched her (nor was he), and so when she came too, she found him standing a couple of feet away from where she was hiding. He was facing her, his arms behind his back. She noticed his mask immediately and it suddenly occurred to her that Miraak the man needed the mask while the dragon did not.
She worried at her bottom lip and felt her fingers clench on the sleeves of the robe the dragon had given her.
"I will not harm you," he spoke deliberately, cautiously, his metallic voice making her jump.
Shamir wrapped the robe about her body tighter and slowly stood to her feet. When she stepped out from behind the desk, she did not fail to notice that he took a step back, away from her (thank the Divines). Her arms were folded in front of her breasts and she had to raise her eyes to look up at him.
They didn't really make eye contact, she was staring at his right shoulder. The fact that she was able to stand there and not be shaking like a leaf was a miracle all in itself. The man terrified her.
He tilted his head forward, as though to better see her. She licked her lips anxiously and tried to ignore that her nails were starting to dig into her arms through the robes rather painfully. She forced her hands to relax, but realized how futile that was the moment he cleared his throat (she'd almost broke skin with how hard she was startled).
"Why did you really come?" his voice was impassive, his body stock still. His very lack of movement unnerving her more, "You are so young..."
She visibly flinched as though he'd slapped her and her skin turned ashen at his words. She did not need to be reminded of her idiocy (naive more like), or that she hadn't exactly thought this through properly. So she had believed herself capable of killing him, there was no harm in that, was there?
"You couldn't have seriously believed yourself capable of defeating me," he continued (flaying her ego pretty good as he did so), ignoring the fact that she was trembling now, "Which beckons, why did you really come here?" When she remained silent, he resumed talking, "Sought you to ally yourself to me then?" he questioned, thinking of her attacking Mora with his own book.
Oh how wrong he was... she wanted to laugh miserably. He hadn't (still wasn't) even seen her as a potential threat. Her pride was being torn to shreds... and he probably didn't even know he was doing it.
She licked her lips and fought the tears of humiliation and fear that threatened to come with everything she possessed (she would not show him weakness). Ally herself to him indeed. She snorted internally (really laugh at this horseshit).
She had come to kill him. (For real.) Shamir had really truly believed herself able to overpower him (this being a Dragonborn business wasn't good for the ego honestly, it made one much too overconfident), beat him senseless (for all those souls he'd stolen from her) and then kill him and absorb his power into her own. That had been the plan. The Skaal
"Well?" he queried calmly. She squeaked uncontrollably as he made her fists clench in reaction (she broke skin with her nails this time through the robes). She heard his breath hiss in irritation from within his mask, "Answer me, woman."
"My name is Shamir," her green eyes snapped towards him for a brief moment and immediately dropped away as the man straightened to his full height, his hands still behind his back. The silence of the room being the only reason her ears picked up the faint sound of creaking leather. For what felt like an eternity (but really was no more than a heartbeat), she maintained the defiant posture, if one could call it that. The fight really wasn't in her at the moment though and she found her eyes beginning to fill with tears. It wasn't long after that her shaking knees suddenly gave out and she found herself leaning on her arms, half on her knees and half on her ass. "I-I just wanted t-t-to s-save them..." and she closed her eyes, her voice barely a breathy whisper.
Fluttering pages had never sounded so loud.
Miraak swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at her bent head as heavy tears slid down her cheeks to land on the stone ground. Her shoulders weren't shaking and she made no sound, merely sat there, her head bowed.
Who did she mean by them?
"Who is them?" He spoke slowly, enunciating the words clearly.
Her head whipped up and she glared at him, her eyes flashing emerald for the briefest of moments and Miraak was reminded that a dov was at his feet. His dick jerked once at the visual and he almost bit his tongue when it did so. He was quick to recover and instead he tilted his head in her direction in a manner he knew she found unnerving to keep her from looking at him. It had the desired affect and she kept her eyes down as she answered his question, "The Skaal..."
Now why would the Solstheim ancient Nords need saving from him?
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She kept her face averted and her eyes staring at the ground. Miraak felt the muscles in his jaw clench and it took all his will power to remain standing still as he waited for her to go into further details. When it became obvious that she wasn't going to elaborate, the creaking of his leather gloves almost became deafening as he clenched his hands.
" Why?" He kept his voice steady. He heard her swallow and pressed his lips tightly together as she made a couple attempts to look up at him but failed. Her pink tongue (and his eyes zeroed in on the gesture) came out of her mouth and licked at her lips.
He cocked his head to one side and watched as her brow furrowed and her green eyes flashed briefly. She did manage to glance at his mask quickly before she returning her stare to the ground.
"You were controlling them to rebuild the Pillars..." she trailed off and her eyes raised towards him before she closed them and sighed heavily. "I guess it was Mora and not you doing that..." she spoke quietly, raising a hand to facepalm herself.
"Correct," his tone brooked no room for an argument. She released a heartfelt sigh and shook her head slowly, keeping her palm to her face.
"Gods I was so stupid," she muttered, more to herself than to him. He responded anyways.
"Yes," he agreed slowly, drawing out the word and nodding his head regally, while hers snapped up to stare at him, he stared back levelly.
She was the first to look away, both of her eyes closed again and she took a deep steadying breath. "No need to rub my face in it," her voice shook despite the chastisement her lips carried.
"Common sense and humility would have saved you this," he responded coldly, uncaring that he was doing just that.
"B-but," she cleared her dry throat. Her arms wrapping tighter about her own ribs and she hunched over slightly, "I'm the Dragonborn... I'm suppose to help people..." she trailed off when he tilted his head to the side deliberately. Her bottom lip visibly trying to tremble.
He snorted and the sound of his leather gloves squeaking filled his hearing. "Since when has the power of the Dragonborn sunk so low?" he felt his chest rumble with the beginnings of a growl before he swallowed it back, and regained his stoic composure, "You turned yourself into a slave for the people," he said impassively (his tone was borderline accusatory). Her back stiffened and her lips opened to retort, but he continued,"Only fitting then that you are now the broodmare of a Daedric Prince." Her eyes widened and she visibly blanched while he resumed unmercifully, "Your intelligence does not befit a dov, woman."
Her entire body was shaking now, and her eyes gave off a green glow momentarily before she raised her head to glare murderously at him, the sharp tang of her fear evaporating on the air almost instantly. "And you its prized stallion?" she snarled, the green eyes glowing brightly before dulling, "There are two Dragonborns here, Miraak. I sought to aid, to free my comrades, what are your reasons for being here?" her eyes narrowed for the briefest of seconds and then she looked away from him. "Oh, that's right," she made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat, "You ran away to save your ass from being swallowed by Alduin."
He stopped breathing. His entire body froze as he stared down at the diminutive woman at his feet. She'd plunged her vitriolic-laced words directly into his abdomen and was now slowly eviscerating him, without even looking at him (which he was glad for, really).
The way she'd said his name though... it had sent goosebumps across his body and his entire groin area clenched uncontrollably. His eyes widened from behind his mask ( he was grateful for it at this very moment ), even his mouth dropped opened a little, in surprise. Two things happened simultaneously that almost brought him to his knees in horror .
His heartbeat accelerated like a deer sprinting from standstill while the blood rush went straight to his penis. He hardened instantly and it was utterly against his very will .
And so the very stoic, very impassive Miraak did the first thing that came to mind as he almost panicked. He'd roared at her like a wild dov, his hands coming to the front and clenching. All his muscles bunching and tensing as he was flooded with adrenaline.
She reacted exactly as he'd hoped she would. She screamed, put her arms over her head and had ducked her head down, avoiding all eye contact completely. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders and arms, drawing his wide eyes involuntarily (adding more coal to his fire). Akatosh show him mercy, he didn't want her to see his reaction to her or her words.
He wanted her.
May Alduin swallow his soul whole...
He wanted to consume her .
Miraak's roar was no longer echoing and the silence was so heavy that Shamir found herself breaking it. He'd reduced her to a whimpering mess, her entire body shivering. She'd broken out in cold sweat and her teeth were clenched so hard she was sure they would break in her mouth.
She sniffled and squeaked when one of her nails broke skin in the palm of her hand. An eternity passed before she dared raise her head. He had his back to her, his legs parted at shoulder width. He was holding his wrist, and both hands were fisted. His posture was rigid.
With his back to her, she took this time to stand and right the robes she was wearing. She licked her lips and glanced about as though looking for an exit (old habits die hard...), she was proud of herself that when he cleared his throat, she had barely jumped.
"I came here to kill you," she finally answered, her voice low. She shook her head and laughed miserably as he remained silent, "I believed Mora," she chuckled bitterly and rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her hands, "I believed his lies and encouragements..."
There was a heavy silence that was broken by a short bark of laughter that rumbled out of him, he didn't even turn around to look at her... deliberately giving her his back.
"Surely you jest, girl," he murmured gently, his voice soft. She notice that she'd been downgraded from woman to girl immediately, but she refused to flinch.
She remained stubbornly silent as he slowly turned around and glanced down at her. He tilted his mask down to better see her (even with her standing he was a monster beside her).
"Even if I didn't possess five thousand years of spell Mastery, and we were on Nirn in the same Age," his voice rolled off her in waves as he spoke deliberately, "You would be but a nuisance, a gnat on the shoulder of a dov."
There was a pregnant silence that Shamir finally broke, "I am dov, the same as you—" he made a slashing movement with his hand the was so fast she stopped speaking.
"The same ?" The word was drawn out as both of his hands went back behind him, "You dare entertain the notion , the idea that we are equals ?" She could hear his fangs behind bared from behind his mask (his breathing changed completely), and it caused goosebumps to explode along her lower back. She blushed and looked away from him as he circled her slowly.
Shamir felt her stomach drop to her feet as he walked out of her line of vision. She was quick to turn her entire body almost a hundred and eighty degrees, her eyes finding him still behind her (not even within touching distance). "I brought the dovs to their very knees," she could hear the snarl, "I achieved freedom from the dovah rule. If not for Alduin," he spat the name, "Tell me , Vahdin," she heard his teeth snap shut, "what is it that makes you my equal, equal?"
Her tongue came out to lick at her dry lips. "I am Dragonborn."
"That your mother had relations with a Drake has no place in this conversation, much like you have no place being here, matching your amateurish skills to mine."
“My.... what?” Confusion marred her features. “How.... do not throw lies at me. My mother..." she trailed off when he started chuckling, as though he were just realizing something (and he was).
Shamir stood there awkwardly staring at him as he shook his head, his laughter slowly dissipating on the air. "You don't know."
She frowned at him. "What?"
For the briefest of moments her shoulder straightened, but then he cocked his head in a way that could be construed as a parent indulging a naive question spoken by a child. A question with an obvious answer at that. Nothing like making her feel like she was the dumbest thing on two legs (and considering their Oblivion, that could also be true).
“Tell me, Dragonborn,” He spoke her title with what could be confused as mirth and/or childish taunt (this was out right condescension ). “Do you know anything of what you are? Of how we are bred ?” There was no mistaking his tone: utter disgust; and it continued in that vein, "How pitiful. For all your pride of what you think you are, you know nothing.”
He took a single long step forward and sneered beneath his mask as she squealed and scrambled back against the desk she so terribly tried to hide herself under earlier.
“Do you truly believe you would simply be gifted with the undying soul of a dov at your birth?” the contempt oozed from his voice.
“I...” she made an attempt at answering but he cut her off.
“So along with your naivety, lack of humility and seeming want to help those who would much rather cage your very being as their attack dog, you know nothing of how you even came to be in existence.” He looked through the slits of his mask (his head tilted in that way she found unnerving) and Shamir took a step to the side, trying (in vain as it turned out) to make more distance between them.
Each word he uttered was lashing her and she felt her embarrassment rise. Her cheeks flushing pink and her eyes widened more as he stepped forward again to keep them the same distance. She already felt small with his words, he didn’t need to crowd her with his towering and bulky frame (but he was anyways).
Ire, despite being as scared as she was, rose up from the humiliation. “My apparent lineage was not mine to control. It’s not as if there was another Dragonborn to teach me.” Her green orbs glowed once more for a fraction of a second before that anger faded and she went back to avoiding eye contact completely.
Her words, again , cut through him though not as sharply as before. He'd been taught everything he knew by the very dragons he'd almost eradicated. His father, Paarthurnax, had been his main teacher...
He felt his lips raise as he sneered from behind his mask and turned on his heels. There was one way all this could be clarified.
He swallowed and turned on his heels. He took about three steps away from her before he straightened to his full height. He clenched his fists at his side and grit his teeth. "Come ," he spoke slowly, and then sighed heavily as he translated, "Come, let me show you the wonders of Apocrypha." There was no denying the bitter irony his tone carried, he wasn't even able to hide the evident disgust underlining the whole.
He didn't even bother looking over his shoulder to see if she was following him. He simply left and made his way towards his private rooms where he knew the sphere hovered, forever ready. He licked his dry lips and stopped within a few feet of the orb. He just needed to wait for her to follow and everything would be explained.
Or at least, Miraak hoped.
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The first time he'd seen her, it was her shoulders he saw first. They were slumped and drooped, she was a Breton with the weight of Nirn strapped to her. He kept his head ducked and eyes averted as she rode past his hiding spot with her maids.
The second time he'd seen her, it was her eyes he noticed. They reflected a deep sadness and hopelessness that peaked his interest like nothing ever had before, and he yearned for the first time.
On the third encounter, he made himself visible to her, despite his every instinct to not do so.
She'd seen him the first time, heavily cloaked and covered in bandages as though he were a leper. He'd remained out of sight, and utterly still, he would have blended with his surroundings almost perfectly had his glowing green eyes not followed her as she headed for her sanctuary, a shrine to Kynareth, deep in the woods.
On the second, those same glowing orbs had looked into her very soul, and he'd seen there, all the secrets she thought she kept to herself. His eyes knew her.
She almost screamed the third time when he dropped all the sorcery surrounding him and stepped out of the shadows where he'd kept himself hidden.
She'd thought him a guardian of Kynareth (he'd felt pride for the first time in his long, long life), and he told her the unvarnished truth. Guardian he was not, a fallen child of Akatosh he very much was. He was nameless for he was not meant to be alive, born with a malformed wing (which became a withered arm in his smaller Atmoran form), he was a grounded dragon that had fled Skyrim over many millennia ago, fled his kin, fled with his tail between his legs.
Told her that he hadn't taken the form of a drake in so long that he feared he did not remember how. He lived as a hermit amidst the forest.
It took one more encounter, and he was in love with her.
She'd believed him a spirit warrior of Kynareth, sent by the Goddess to watch over her for she was Queen of High Rock. He wasn't a child of the goddess; on the contrary, a true son of Akatosh. A dragon. For her, this equated with power for that is what dragons are, powerful and majestic.
Yet he spoke, with his face hidden in his cloak and bandages (except his bright green eyes) of fear and confusion. He hunched his shoulders in on himself and she'd broken protocol (Royals do not lay a hand on –anyone-) and touched him. She’d placed, pale slender hands on his covered cheeks and had held his head steady while she looked him deeply in the eyes, her own pain and insecurities reflected.
She knew she loved him when he stared at her as though she were life giving when in fact he was her oasis amidst the arid desert that was her life.
He took her away once, without anyone noticing, from her temple to his. His own shrine that was nature built a waterfall deep within the many caverns of High Rock. Hidden for almost as long as he, he brought her home. It was in the waterfall, beneath the misting water that she'd removed every scrap of clothing and had stood beneath the falls like a goddess, her arms raised over her head, emphasizing her breasts, making his mouth water as her dusty pink nipples hardened.
His mouth had opened and his eyes had widened. She had become embolden as he'd froze on the spot. She'd stepped from the pool and had pulled him to her. Unlike his brethren, he was much smaller at a mere six feet and so the diminutive Breton was able to reach his lips much easier. There was no pulling away once they made contact.
She was love incarnate. Her hands touched him everywhere and she pulled at the bandages he covered his entire body with to hide his skin colour. He allowed her to see into his very soul, allowed her to see what he truly was.
She knew when he took her away that she was going to cheat on her husband. Her dragon was coming for her, to take her away from the monster she was married too. She hadn't even hesitated when he told her that this waterfall clearing was his home. She acted on instinct and had dropped her clothing like a shameless hussy.
She'd gone on the hunt, and he'd been easy prey. He offered no resistance to her.
He didn't even fight her off when she began stripping him, giving her free reign over his snow white body. She touched every last inch she could get her fingers on. Including his withered arm, she caressed everything, ensuring he had no secrets from her. She gasped when she fully uncovered his face for he was beautiful.
He loved her as often as she allowed, and even when she didn't, he would come to her anyways (his camouflage spells were powerful enough for mortals to not see him properly). He was her pet and he was not ashamed of it. All she needed to do was call and he would come (the barest of whispers was all it took for dragons have the acutest of hearing in all of Nirn). Compared to other dragons he was weak (he’d never deny that), but he was formidable against men, even with a withered arm. He could Shout anyone to pieces and his strength was tripled that of any man or mer. He was confident in his ability to protect her.
"What's your name?" a whisper in the night, barely heard. He'd just given her the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. He'd stared into her gorgeous brown eyes and had leaned forward to do that tongue touching move she'd showed him. He was still inside her and felt himself hardened again as he gave her the only answer he could.
"You may call me Mir." He licked her lips as he gave her his purpose.
She knew when she was sick the first time; immediately. Her dragon had impregnated her. She was going to have his baby. The joy was quickly squashed by the fact that her husband had not physically touched her in months. She felt her stomach roll at the idea of letting that madman touch her, but to save her child and her secret...
Mir had never spoken of her husband's stench on her, but he knew.
He'd washed it away under the waterfall, making love to her as though she were made of glass, he'd never been that gentle with her before. He’d buried his face into her belly, and inhaled deeply of her scent and their child. She’d felt the wetness of his tears against her skin and clutched at him tightly as her own eyes filled with tears. "Love me?" she’d begged just before he captured her mouth with his, "Take me far, far away from here..."
His daughter was born without him by her side. Her husband got the glory of seeing his drakeling's first breath of air, and her bright, emerald eyes open wide. The Queen was above suspicion and his daughter was safe. The first time he'd seen her he'd cloaked himself so that her old faithful servant Ebba would not see him in the halls of the castle. He'd peered into the small bundle of furs and had been hit with a sense of responsibility so fierce, he almost buckled at the knees.
"Shamir," he whispered her name, reaching down to touch the babe with a bandaged finger. He'd shorten the word Shaan (Dovahzhul for Inspiration and added Mir). The Queen had agreed to the combination and their daughter was given a name of Power. A luxury, that he, as her father, had never been given and would never get. Alduin would see him dead first... he was the weak link.
Green eyes so like his own saw through his magic and focused on him directly. He smiled down at the baby and felt his eyes fill with tears as his dragon senses tingled in an unmistakable way. A cold chill went down his spine as he stared down at his drakeling. He knew then, with a certainty that would only be granted to a dragon, that this would be the last time he saw his child.
It was Annika, sweet, young and innocent Annika that betrayed them. He’d known just what to say and just what to do for the maidservant to crack and give up her Mistress.
The Queen must have had a premonition though for that fateful morning she’d given Ebba all her precious jewels and had told the old servant that if she wasn’t back from her duties at the Shrine of Kynareth to leave with Shamir and disappear. She had to disappear.
The Queen had held on to her babe longer than usual, whispering words of love and need as she nuzzled the soft down of her chestnut hair. She’d kissed the tiny hands and hugged old Ebba before leaving for the forest. She would have thrown herself from the highest tower of the castle had she known what was going to happen.
His dragon senses screamed for him to take his mate and drakeling and leave. His entire body was covered in gooseflesh (equivalent of his scales shuddering) and his teeth kept elongating in his mouth. His sense of dread was nigh overwhelming and when she finally came to him (alone) he found his resolve weakening for her; she wanted him beneath the waterfall one last time.
And one last time he indulged her.
That is how the king found them. Beneath the majestic waterfall that was his home. She had her legs wrapped around the dragon’s waist, her nails digging into his back as he flexed his hips forward. Her eyes were closed and their lips were locked. The very thing he prized his sanctuary for, was the very thing that doomed them. The king’s archers were able to surround them from above while the soldiers did so from below. There was no escape for them.
A sharp pain exploded in his side as he was stabbed. The king had moved so fast that he’d managed to press himself against the dragon’s naked back, plunge his sword in and move away.
The creature roared and fell away from his naked wife. Some of his soldiers immediately grabbed the Queen by the arms and held her up preventing her from hiding her shame, exposing her to his army.
Dead brown eyes met bright glowing green ones and the king sneered in disgust. His wife had bedded an animal. Annika hadn’t lied (if he had a heart he would have regretted killing the maid when she’d spoken truth, but he didn’t).
It took Mir less than a moment to understand that he had one option left. He had no hope to protect her wounded and naked, and so the dragon did the one thing he was unsure of and transformed, and when it happened (and it was beyond fast) he felt empowered.
To say that he surprised the king’s soldiers was an understatement. Even as a grounded one winged dragon, he was able to accomplish enough that Hope reared its ugly head. He was going to save her.
Hope was a powerful weapon when all else was lost. Mir was able to gain the upper hand. He spun in place using his tail to send the warriors over his mate flying, the sound of breaking bones unmistakable. He then stood over her, the Queen between his hind legs as all the Oblivions let loose with his Shouts.
The king’s men panicked and she believed they would survive. He was massive (she had no way of knowing that in actuality he was a lot smaller than his brethren) and even without flight he managed to keep her safe. He’d curled his tail near his feet, around her and nothing was getting close.
His teeth had snapped on three soldiers and he crushed the lot of them. For the first time in his long, long life, he was Alduin; powerful dragon impervious to damage as he burned everything around him to ash.
Except... he was no Alduin... and the king had come prepared to kill a dragon, whatever the size. His taste of victory reminded him that hope really was evil as poisoned arrows were peppered down on him from above. A heavy net was tossed from the waterfall and his feet were tripped from under him by heavy ropes as he struggled to free himself. The very earth shook as he fell to his side, clouds of dirt and dust exploding all around him.
An armoured foot stepped on the dragon’s jaw as those dull, dark brown eyes stared down at him.
“I wondered why you spread your legs for me,” the king spoke stoically, keeping his gaze locked on the creature beneath his boot, “Seeing as you’re a bitch in heat, I can use your royal womb to breed the next generation of my prized war dogs,” the king’s disgust was evident as he continued, his cold eyes on the visibly trembling queen, “My men could have used a new camp whore, but I can’t allow a disease-riddled, beast-bedding harlot infect my troops. It would have an adverse affect on morale.”
She paled and tasted bile as the king removed his foot from the dragon’s jaw (3 spears immediately replaced it, keeping the dragon pinned to the ground) and walked down the length of the beast. “Would the lizard still want you after being locked in the kennel for years?” he spoke impassively as though discussing the weather. Once he got near the tail and back legs of the scaled monster, the Breton king unsheathed his sword and proceeded to stab the dragon through the scales where his penis and testes were hiding.
She screamed as she watched her husband reach in past the broken, bloody scales and pull on Mir’s bleeding dick and testicles. The dragon whined and then shrieked when the king used his dagger and turned the drake into a gelding with three quick slices.
She screamed again when her husband tossed the mangled testes at her feet. His brown eyes flashed with deadly intent. “Eat them.”
She gasped and felt her stomach turn and she shook her head vigorously. The king smirked and approached his wife deliberately before backhanding the queen with an armoured hand, sending her flying to her side. “I gave you a command, whore.”
He felt his life blood draining from his wound (the sword was still embedded in him). His eyes rolled towards his mate and his heart sunk as the king grabbed her by the hair and was forcing one of his destroyed testes into her mouth.
He knew then that he could do nothing (he could save her...) to save them. Not himself and not her (he had one option).
And so a dragon with no name and no power, bleeding to death as he was did the only thing the small voice at the back of mind was saying (Shamir is safe, trust instinct). He ignored the spears at his throat and raised his head (he was going to die soon). The blades had dug into his scales and cut through (ignore it). He didn’t have much time left before the soldiers would alert the king.
She gagged and tried to avert her head as her husband forced the bloody appendage down her throat, she was choking on her own vomit. “There’s another after that one,” the king hissed in her ear, and then continued calmly as he forced her bloody mouth closed painfully, “I will feed your bastard to my dogs after they are finished mounting you, harlot,” the king smiled coldly and continued as he glanced back towards the dragon, “He can watch while…”
He never finished his sentence for that is when he noticed the dragon’s head was no longer pinned down. He didn’t have time to do anything as he and his naked wife were engulfed in heavy, powerful flames. His armour protected him but she went up like a candle.
The Breton screamed his ire and sent a blast of frost at the bloodied dragon, killing him. He made an attempt to save the queen by throwing her into the water but it didn’t matter, she’d turn to ash and had blown away on the wind before she even hit the pool.
The dragon had killed her.
Dragonspeech bolded as usual. Enjoy!
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The sound of dry retching caused Miraak's eyes to pull from the sphere towards Shamir who was on her hand and knees, vomiting. He rolled his eyes in disgust, grateful that she could not see his face (the chit must have surely seen more grotesque things as a Dragonborn; he sure had).
“That...” she gasped and reached up to wipe a spot from her chin with the back of her hand, her trembling hand. “Fuck..." the word was breathed barely audible, but he caught it, "That was my mother and...” her voice trailed off as though she can't quite grasp what she’d seen. Her hips fall to the side as she slumps. “My father was a dragon (this is unreal)... and my mother... Divines... she was... a queen...”
" Yes," he drawls the word slowly.
"A dragon....” she looks up to him, even though she cannot see but the barest hint of his eyes behind the gilded mask.
“Dragonborns are only bred one of two ways," his tone is matter-of-fact, "Dragon sires his young with a mortal woman, or male and female Dragonborn breed.” He turned away from the sphere to look down at her, his head tilted just so.
She was near shaking, her eyes wide with disbelief and the robes on her frame loose once more about one shoulder from the much too big material. She was dwarfed in his clothing (which was expected considering his size to hers).
Now that she knew the truth of her lineage, she should answer his own questions.
"How came you to learn you were the Last Dragonborn?" The words are spoken deliberately, as tone-less as possible.
"The Greybeards told me." Her answer was quick and clear, no hesitation. Truth.
"And they knew because...?" He invited her to finish with a regal nod of his head in her direction.
"Alduin escaped the Time Rift and destroyed Helgen." She chose that moment to lick her lower lip and despite his best efforts to fight it, his eyes zero in on the action (had he already mention how appreciative of his mask he really was?).
As he watched her tongue glide over her full lower lip it finally sunk in. Alduin was free… and on Nirn.
His blood ran cold for a brief moment and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. The monster was back…
His gaze had refocused on the Breton. She was no Felldir, Hakon or Gormlaith to be sure. Could she prevent Alduin from swallowing the world? (Alone?)
He ignored his inner musings and swallowed. He needed to worry about escaping Apocrypha first (before she bears your young…). He felt his fists clench, the leather creaking ominously.
Miraak inhaled deeply and gave his head a shake, sending the inner voice scattering. Focus.
“What does it mean for a dragon to not have a name?” her voice slices through the silence like a flaming sword through Draugr.
His head tilted to the side as he stared down at her with quiet consideration. “Below notice.” His lips twisted in disgust, as he continued, "He was malformed, and should have been killed at birth.” A frown marred his brow as he continued, “I am mildly surprised he wasn’t."
He’d recognized her father, Mir (Dovahzhul for Loyalty… like you, Miraak), and not because he’d known him personally; his teeth gritted and he gave his head another quick shake to dispel his dragon’s constant intrusion; but because he’d seen and killed so many of his ilk. Though he’d give Mir his due, for a smaller dragon considered useless, he’d sure outsmarted Alduin. The irony that it wasn’t the World Eater that had finally done Mir in was not lost on Miraak.
Miraak froze in place suddenly as an errant thought struck him.
Was she the inspired ally for his loyal guidance?
Whatever he’d been about to say at that point never left his mouth as he was silenced by his own mind. His black eyes dropped to the woman and he felt his mouth go dry. He shuddered inwardly and suppressed the motion as best as he could. He opened his mouth, to continue with his questioning, when his dragon finally pushed the very words he was avoiding into his brain and out of his mouth. "We are mated, you and I."
He straightened suddenly (it was instantaneous) and without explaining, or translating (definitely no translating), he left the half-naked Breton sitting on the ground. He walked out of his rooms (for that is where the sphere was kept) and Shouted for one of his dragons. He didn't even wait for the beast the fully land before he vaulted onto the great neck.
Shamir's long hair floated about her shoulders as she watched with wide eyes, the serpentine dragon flying languidly through the murky skies. Her shock holding her still half crumpled on her knees as she blinked at the now empty green shadowed air around her. He’d just.... what had happened? Had she said something…? She’d asked about her father’s lack of name...
Shamir rocked back to sit on the smooth, hard stone of the floor beneath her. Fighting back shock, and anxiety and fear, she worried at her lip.
Her mind was so full of information so suddenly (gifted to her, not in words, but visions) on her true parents, on her heritage. Thinking of her real parents has her stomach doing flip flops as the very clear and graphic image of her mother being forced to ingest her father’s...testicle…
And she vomited again. Nope, nope, nope. She wasn’t going there again... Stomach bile and acid frothed from her throat and she gasped for breath as her eyes watered (some Dragonborn she was…).
Tiny pathetic whimpers came from her mouth as her arms trembled beneath her weight. She can feel her nails digging in the ground. She grimaced. This wasn’t her. She was strong. Gods be damned, she was the Last Dragonborn. Prophesied to beat back Alduin.
Gathering herself to stand, Shamir made to the bed and sat on its edge. Her hands fixing the robes much more securely then they had been as she glances around.
She was alone now, not running for her life or being... she swallowed hard and suppressed the shudder that wanted to dance down her spine. Instead she takes the time to investigate her surroundings.
Originally, she’d merely followed behind Miraak's strong and long-legged walk back to this place. It was obvious it was part of his chambers. There were journals stacked neatly in rows on shelves, some magic books (she’d recognized those immediately) so old they looked ready to turn into dust if she so much as touched them were peppered with the journals.
The ‘bed’ (she was pretty sure it was a bookshelf laying down) was softened pages, ripped from hundreds of tomes and in languages she didn’t understand (nor did she care honestly). She dropped into it and reflected.
What she’d seen in the sphere was too much. Her mother was a queen (Did that make her royalty?). A gods be damn Breton queen (still unreal…). Her father was a dragon. A real dragon...
Shamir hugged herself and turned onto her side to curl into a small ball in the middle of the bed.
She cried herself to sleep that night… and a couple of other nights...
Days pass strangely in this realm of molding books and seekers and lurkers and tentacles sprouting out of black pools (it was not a pleasant Oblivion to say the least). She feels no hunger through she knows it’s been at least a fortnight since Miraak ran off on his dragon.
No thirst or hunger to speak of (which was odd), though she does feel tired (even stranger). So she spent most of her time sleeping, and when she wasn’t, she roamed a bit (and by roaming, she meant she snooped through Miraak’s stuff).
With no weapons, her magic too unreliable (her healing was atrocious) without potions. She really wasn’t in the mood to battle any of the creatures that literally lurked around every corner. She read books, lots of books (that was all this place offered really).
When the pain started, her first thought was that her hunger had finally caught up with her. That her stomach realized it was utterly empty and was screaming for food. She thought this, until she was able to determine that the pain was not placed correctly for hunger pains. It felt more like… moon cycle pains. She gripped her stomach and winced as she tensed and almost folded in half.
The slickness and warmth started to drip from between her legs finally scared her enough to try and heal herself, she managed to stop the pain (somewhat, she’d dulled the pain but the pressure was still there and she was still bleeding…). Another pain came, sharper than all the others, and it pushed Shamir to her knees, a cry of agony ripped past her lips.
Her hand reached between her legs, just as she felt a gush of something (oh gods… please don’t be blood, please let me have urinated on myself. Please.) escaped her vagina. Her fingers came back smeared with blood. Fresh blood (not urine...f u c k).
Her other hand lit up with Healing and though she felt no distress now, the blood did not stop, in fact… it got heavier, thicker. Her body had tensed and immense pressure had come from deep within. It turned into a rhythmic pulsing that if she wasn’t numbing right now, would probably feel like she was being gutted.
This could only be one thing… her lips began trembling as her eyes were drawn to the small puddle of blood forming on the ground between her knees. She didn’t want to do this alone…
His head whipped back in the direction of his chambers as his name echoed clear across Apocrypha. He felt his body tense and his eyes narrowed from behind his mask. There was no mistaking the tone, even if she was hundreds of feet away.
“Sahrotaar,” he spoke the serpentine dragon's name almost without realizing it, and again he vaulted the creature's great neck while the dov was still in motion. He was halfway back by the time he'd reined in his instinct and pulled the dragon back to a crawl.
He didn't wait for the drake to land, instead he jumped off and waved the dragon away while he jog— “Miraak!” —ran towards his rooms.
He smelled the blood before he actually saw it and her. The coppery metallic scent caught him off guard and his heart rate accelerated as he finally came upon her. She was on her knees at the foot of his bed, her right hand was in between her legs and glowing weakly. There was sweat beaded across her brow and her eyes were wide and panic- stricken. There was a small pool of fresh blood around her knees that was apparent came from between her legs.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” her words were matter-of-fact despite what her eyes reflected. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek, as she continued, “Also,” she licked her dry lips, “I'm running out of mana…”
He’d already determined everything she was saying. It was very evident her magicka was about to be fully depleted, her skin had gone grey and he figured cold and clammy (he wasn’t going to touch her to find out either).
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as her magic died. His hands clenched at his side as she exhaled very slowly and then hissed in her next breath. She doubled over and clutched her stomach.
“You were with child,” his voice was barely a whisper and it felt as though it echoed in the emptiness that was his room.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled, her forehead on the ground. She dropped to her side and curled into a fetal position.
He took a step in her direction and raised his hands as though he were about to grab her but stopped. Both of his palms were shaking violently and sweating heavily beneath his gloves. The world tilted on its axis, and he felt as though he were standing at the end of a wind tunnel with the air rushing towards him.
An intense peace settled over him without warning, he never stood a chance as his dragon came surging forward.
“Vahdin,” he whispered the words and tore the mask from his face as he crouched beside her (his mask dropped to the ground unheeded).
At his words, her face crumpled and she started sobbing. He wrapped his arms about her body a picked her up off the ground. He turned on his heels and immediately made for his bed of parchment.
He deposited her as gently as he could and then settled in beside her. He moved her so that she had her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her protectively.
Even though he knew he couldn’t use his magic on her, he still made the attempt to use it (because he was touching her already his hands didn’t even light up).
Her tears dripped onto him and he held her while she cried. He didn’t know if she was still in pain or if she was still bleeding—
He jumped to his feet so unexpectedly that she yelped, giving him a watery frown as she did so. She watched in confusion as he removed the top part of his robes again. This time he folded the robe up and placed it on her thigh.
“For the blood,” he motioned to her crotch with his hands and then pointed on a blood stain on her leg.
It dawned on her and she placed his folded robe in between her legs as he climbed back into bed with her.
It was against his bare, muscle-bound chest that she next laid her head. His heart was beating steadily (despite its breaking) and he began his rhythmic rumblings, trying to soothe them both as her body ejected their unborn child.
Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Enjoy!
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Miraak came to with the realization that he wasn't wearing his mask (but he was wearing his gloves), his robes were destroyed again and— He froze.
She was touching him .
His heartbeat increased dramatically and he felt his stomach roll. If he didn't get away from her soon he'd vomit, he could feel it burning the back of his throat. He moved as quickly and a gently as he could (he didn't want to toss her like last time...), extricating himself from the death grip she'd had on his arm.
Once away from her touch he shuddered, raising his hands to rub at his face and try to deal with the emotions warring inside of him. He had to fight the panic threatening to overwhelm him, his body was already starting to sweat profusely. It took a few moments before the shaking finally subsided and Miraak was able to focus on the problem at hand. His dragon.
Before Apocrypha, his dragon and him had been one and the same. He didn't understand how it wasn't so any more... or when it had started. Since she'd appeared is the only time he could remember it happening. Not even through the worse of Mora's tortures (he shuddered as he repressed the visions in his mind) had he ever lost control.
Pulling his gloved hands back from his face, Miraak wanted to cringe. Blood, lots of it. Red smears were scattered over his leathered palms and fingertips. Her blood. The blood of... a deep fissure of something ran down his spine. No. The word was snarled in his mind, and he echoed it unwillingly, breaking the silence that surrounded him. The sound was foreign and strange (yet oh so familiar) coming from between his clenched teeth.
He swallowed. He needed water and rags. He would not lay in filth. He would not.
It took him a few minutes before he found a ceramic bowl and filled it with icy snow from a weak frost spell he'd learned as a child. It took less then a second to fill the bowl and he immediately cast a weak flame on the side of the dish and watched with emotionless black eyes as the snow and ice melted into water. It was crude, but effective.
He didn't hesitate to dip his hands in the water, scoop it up and wash his face, scrubbing at any bloodstains he would have inadvertently left on his person. When he was done, he dumped the dirty water on the ground and repeated the the cold and hot process until he had a fresh bowl of water in front of him.
He glanced over his shoulder and noted that she was still sleeping, though it was barely restful as she was continuously tossing and turning. Her breathing was also erratic (which it hadn't been when he'd been beside her). He swallowed and took a deep breath. He had to wake her so she could wash the filth from her own body.
Another shudder wracked him as he approached the bed. When he was within touching distance his muscles seized and he found himself unable to go further. He cursed inwardly and then noticed his mask on the floor, not far from where he stood. He snatched it up and pulled it onto his face immediately. Almost immediately he felt himself start relaxing from within the confines and he was able to regain his focus. Turning back, his hand curled into a fist and he gathered his resolve.
“Shamir.” There, he’s spoken her name. He’d done it. She didn't wake, didn't react. His fist tightened, the sound of his leather glove creaking comforting his mind. For a split second he thought he was about to reach out and shake her awake, but the feeling was gone as though it never was. A shadow in the back of his mind growled, scales flashed, and before he could push it back, “Vahdin.”
He froze again and gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and swallowed as he controlled himself. He didn't notice her eyes fluttering open until he'd cleared his throat and was about to say her name again when he saw her emerald eyes (Very much like her father's eyes...) looking over his mask with an expression he couldn't readily identify.
"You should bathe," he spoke the words impassively, trying to ignore what he'd called her. Her eyes closed for a long moment, and when she opened them it wasn't to address what he'd said.
"He's going to breed us again, isn't he?" Her words were soft, and he had to strain his ears to hear her. Disgust and sadness so deep hit his ears from her lips. There was only one answer.
"Yes." He was honest, he had to be.
Her next breath wasn't exactly a sob yet not fully a breath, and yet she held the tears back. Her jaw was clenched as her arms moved, attempting to sit up. Miraak watched as she struggled to hold her own weight, blood loss effecting her coordination. He waited, watching as she whimpered in pain and tugged his ruined robes from between her thighs, heavy with dark blood. She tossed them to the floor and swallowed.
He took a step back and away from her and the table where he'd placed the bowl as she struggled to her feet. He didn't bother to offer any help, merely glanced at her as she made multiple attempts to stand. After the fourth one, she was able to keep on her feet. She ignored him as her eyes focused on the bowl and she stumbled her way towards it unceremoniously. He felt the stirrings of something in his chest but he squashed it down unapologetically.
He moved further away from her as she finally reached the bowl. He did note that she was covered in a film of sweat and though she was shaking, she didn't hesitate to reach for the dish, only to send it and the water flying.
Her eyes widened and she glanced his way with what he determined was panic. He didn't react, instead he walked around her and picked up the ceramic bowl from the floor. He repeated the process and placed the dish near her and immediately backed away.
She made to reach for it again when their murky green sky darkened ominously and Hermaeus Mora appeared overhead in all his tentacled glory. His eyes widened and he felt a whole myriad of emotions ranging from fear to disgust crawl all over his skin.
When she sent the water flying a second time, Miraak couldn't have cared less as tentacles hovered dangerously close. She was grabbed immediately and she screamed for all she was worth as Mora stripped her naked, exposing the blood of her miscarriage on her thighs.
" Pathetic weakling !" Mora gargled, his voice unnaturally high-pitched as he shook her roughly, " I...mmm... give you the chance of mnnnnnnnnnn a lifetime, to mate with the hmmmmmnn prime of your species and you dare.... reject his seed! "
Something happened in Miraak as he watched the tiny naked Breton scream in both agony and fear that fundamentally changed him. The fear that he had of Mora transformed and he felt his dragon rushing forward. He allowed it and with the acceptance came the merger he hadn't expected. It was time for him to tap into his massive mana reserves.
Even at the height of the Dragon War had he come close to draining himself. How much would it take to kill a Daedric Lord?
He roared, a sound of such violence that Mora stopped moving and Shamir went silent. He followed through with a bubble of lightning that radiated from his center and vaporized the very collar he was wearing that protected her and controlled his magic. The destruction of the collar had Mora gasping, but before he could react, Miraak shot a powerful ball of flames at the tentacle holding Shamir.
She dropped to the ground with a thud and found herself almost immediately between Miraak legs. The First Dragonborn had moved swiftly to stand over her as he created a massive shield of flaming lightning that surrounded them. He was still wearing his mask when he glanced down at her.
"Don't move, Vahdin," he whispered, and then he Shouted Dragon Aspect, enveloping himself in armour.
Miraak cast Bound Sword and unsheathed his tentacled sword as he Shouted a ball of Fire Breath directly at Mora's center where the main eye was. The Prince howled and the tentacles were whipping in all directions in a blind frenzy. The First Dragonborn did not move from where he stood as he simultaneously slashed at the limbs and cast both lightning and fire spells. With Dragon Aspect he was able to withstand the odd blow Mora was able to land, and the retaliation he dished out hurt the Prince.
"Lurkers!" Shamir's voice echoed in his head and he whirled just in time to block a vicious downstrike from one of Mora's lackeys. He made quick work of the monster, slashing the legs out from under it and decapitating it before it could fully sit up. He returned to stand over Shamir and he tilted his head forward as he glared the Prince down.
"You shame me, Mora," he snarled at the Prince as he sent a giant ball of flames towards another Lurker that exploded on impact sending black gore flying everywhere. One cast of Chain Lightning had three Seekers exploding into clouds of dust before they multiplied.
He Shouted Fire Breath at Mora’s center a second time, and actually chuckled at the Prince’s agonized howls. One of the many limbs circled Miraak’s waist and before it could snatch him, the Dragonborn Shouted Become Ethereal. (The rate at which his Shouts regenerated surprised Shamir.)
The tentacle passed right through him and he in turn, charged up the Fire Storm spell (she recognized his hand movements and was quick to act, throwing up a powerful ward spell). The moment he became whole again he released his spell, causing that entire limb to explode provoking a chain effect that had several of Mora’s limbs vaporize.
The smoldering Daedric Prince vanished from sight and Miraak took a moment to refresh his spells (Bound Sword, and Ebony Flesh). He Shouted Dragon Aspect again and kept his eye to the murky green sky. There was no way Hermaeus was finished or even out of the battle. It couldn’t have been that easy...
Shamir slowly sat up from the ground and without realizing it, her hand reached for his calf, whether to comfort herself with his presence or to ground herself did not matter to him. His muscles were taut and turned even more so beneath her fingers but he remained silent. She glanced about cautiously, her fingers digging into the fabric of his leggings.
The sky was abnormally quiet, there was nothing on the air, not even the black tar bubbled or popped, no fluttering pages. Nothing except for their breathing.
It was an eternity before the very platform they were on began shaking violently and tentacles the thickness of trees (some were much bigger) destroyed the walls of his domain. He lost his footing and almost toppled over Shamir who screamed as Mora suddenly re-appeared over head ten times bigger than Miraak had ever seen him.
“Miraaaaaaak.....Did you think you hmmm could have seriously defeated me mnnn with your parlour tricks?” There was a booming laughter that sent chills down his spine, “Mnnnnnnnnn Let’s have some real hehhemmmmmm fun then, shall we?”
He hissed a breath in and without thinking grabbed Shamir by an arm and practically dragged her behind him as he bolted from his rooms. He thought about calling his dragons momentarily but immediately changed his mind when Mora hefted the entire platform they were on and it wobbled dangerously.
The giant tentacles surrounded the platform on all sides and Miraak pulled up short. Dead end. He turned and grabbed Shamir with both arms, at the same time as he cast the strongest shield spell he knew, the platform was tipped over and both he and Shamir tumbled into the black blob that was Hermaeus Mora, into his black hole of a mouth more specifically.
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He hit a floor of some kind hard and had the air knocked completely out of him. Shamir landed on top of him, winding him even more and probably saving her additional pain (he was a better cushion than the ground). His body hurt, but he was grateful for the shield spell, it would have been a lot worse without it.
Miraak struggled to his knees and realized that they were surrounded in darkness. He couldn’t see anything anywhere and so he cast Candlelight and regretted it immediately.
They were surrounded on all sides by writhing tentacles. The floor they were on was pitch black and looked like smooth ebony, there was maybe twenty feet of space before black, moving tentacles. He spotted Shamir, naked and on her front, her hair sprawled around her head like a halo of chestnuts.
He was about to make his way towards her when the tentacles parted in front and a tall, black shadow emerged. The shadow was a lot bigger than Miraak (it had to be eight feet tall). What looked like long tentacles came down from its head like hair. It was wide, and somewhat see-through, except for the pure, glowing, red eyes. It had its arms behind its back as it approached Miraak deliberately, the red eyes fixed on him.
“ Welcoooome, Miraaaaak ,” there was no mistaking Mora’s voice from the creature. Miraak felt his stomach bottom out and his heartbeat accelerated dangerously. As panic threatened to take over Miraak, he raised his hand and made to cast a Firebolt at the shape when tentacles about a foot long from everywhere jumped on him from everywhere.
He screamed, much to his shame and horror, as the remaining robes, mask, gloves and boots were ripped from his body and he was positioned on the ground in a most humiliating position. On his knees (tentacles were wrapped around his knees and calves), his legs spread as far as they would go (his genitals were hanging there for everyone to see), his arms were twisted behind his back, a tentacle had forced itself down his throat, while another had wrapped around his throat and kept his head touching the ground, with his ass up, prostrating himself.
He was somewhat thankful that she was unconscious and could not see him this exposed. He clenched his eyes closed.
“ Nooow, that will not .....do ,” Mora voice boomed from behind him, “ Open .... your eyes Miraaaak, open them ....less I cut the... lids from ....your eyes .”
Miraak whimpered while his dragon roared, and he opened his eyes. A large palm reached down and grabbed his hair and lifted his head. Another large hand came into view holding a black vial and ensuring Miraak got a good look at it.
“ Sanguine was kind enough... to provide some of his ....blood ,” Mora explained matter-of-factly, “ An aphrodisiac ...hmmmm.. of the highest quality. I am going hmmm to give this to you, Miraaaak ,” the Prince continued, the red eyes staring down at the First Dragonborn without expression, “ And you’re going to be ....begginnnnng to suck on my dick ....while she watches , before we are .... done. ”
Miraak felt the blood drain from his face and he tries to pull away from the Prince as he continued. “ Your little ..... rebellion will not be ... tolerated, I want to make sure you ...hmm understand what will happen to you... should you decide ....to do this again. ”
The vial was removed from his sight as was Mora the Shadow. Miraak snarled around the tentacle as he felt long fingers part the walls of his ass and probe at his anus. “ For the best results ,” Mora explained as small tentacles forced they way inside to open him up. Miraak struggled and growled, but it was in vain as he felt a large finger enter and touch his prostate.
His growl turned into a whimper when the finger left and then returned, wet. He keened and started sobbing as the finger rubbed Sanguine’s blood into his prostate, burning him. He was still sobbing when Mora grabbed his penis and forced another tentacle into his piss slit. “ You will not...ejaculate until... I say you can .”
He struggled against the limbs gripping him as a small tentacle gripped the base of his dick and forced him into having an erection. Although, to his horror, should the tentacle remove itself, there was no forcing needed. The aphrodisiac was quite effective and was already boiling through his blood.
“ Now, Pet ,” Mora cajoled, returning to Miraak’s face, “ Are you ready ...to show your ...hmmmm devotion? ”
The tentacle withdrew from Miraak’s mouth bringing with it a trail of saliva. Miraak took a deep breath and when Mora raised his head he laughed like a man facing the gallows. “Suck my dick, Mora,” the Dragonborn hissed, making an attempt to spit at the Prince, but failing miserably as it lacked momentum and was just a blob of spit dangling from his lip.
Hermaeus Mora laughed, a sound that sent chills and tingles down Miraak’s spine, making his cock twitch uncontrollably. The Daedra snapped his fingers and magically, Shamir was hefted up to be on her knees, her collar had entered her mouth and she was staring wide-eyed towards them, her arms held behind her back and her knees spread apart.
“ Now that she is watching ,” Mora’s voice dripped venom, “ Hmmmmmm I will .”
Miraak’s black eyes widened to the size of shields and he released a humiliating screech as he was hefted up and hung upside down in front of Mora. His eyes widened further when he felt Mora’s cold hand grab his dick and testicles and massage them in a way Miraak found both arousing and terrifying. No!
“S-st-” Miraak couldn’t even get the words out. A cold, wet tongue circled the head of his penis, effectively silencing him completely. He jerked against the bonds holding him as Mora started pumping his dick rhythmically. NO!
And then Mora took him in his mouth completely and Miraak felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. It was like there was thousands of tentacles rubbing simultaneously against his penis, milking him for all they were worth, touching him in all the right places, in all the right times. He felt his testicles tighten and knew he was going to ejaculate right then and there. NO! Except…
The tentacle inside his dick prevented the release of his seed. Miraak’s eyes shot open and he screamed in pain as his semen remained stuck in the shaft. His testicles cramped as Mora continued sucking on him with a force Miraak had never encountered. His over sensitive glans burned and tickled with the over stimulation. He wiggled his hips trying to evade the mouth and clenched his eyes closed as a humiliating cry escaped his mouth.
Miraak forgot that Shamir was watching as he jerked and struggled. He whimpered and felt his hips pumping as he tried to get away and get closer at the same time. He moaned and sobbed when Mora reached around him and started fingering his ass, touching that place inside him that was inflamed.
The more Mora sucked, the more Miraak screamed. Eventually, the First Dragonborn wasn’t even vocal any more, his howls having turned into pitiful whimpers. Hermaeus released the engorged, veiny, black shaft with a wet pop and chuckled against Miraak’s thighs as he licked along the shaft.
“ Beg, Miiiraak .” No!
“Curse you!” Miraak snarled, grabbing his sanity for a split moment before losing it completely when Mora latched back onto him like a leech. His dick felt like it was going to explode, while his testicles cramped in such a painfully way, Miraak guessed he was turning himself sterile.
Two fingers pushed inside him and Miraak arched painfully. The man had long ago ceded to the dragon, for this was beyond what he could endure, and the dragon was barely holding on by a thread. The only reason he’d done so was because Shamir was watching in horror.
And then tentacles entered his mouth and held it open. Miraak’s eyes widened as the shadow that was Mora guided his head towards a see-through black appendage that Miraak guess was suppose to be his dick. He struggled and keened for a moment before moaning in unwanted pleasure as Mora deep-throated him.
It was then that Mora’s dick was shoved into his mouth and Miraak was forced to accept the fact that he was being watched sucking off a Prince while said Prince was doing the same to him. It disgusted him to know that he was turned on by it.
The fingers inside him kept pushing against that place that drove Miraak crazy. He wanted to cum, he wanted to cum so badly that he groaned around the shaft in his mouth. All he needed to do was say the words and Mora would let him cum. He closed his eyes and moaned.
Miraak’s black eyes shot open.
No...satisfaction... from... this... body...
Miraak tensed and tried to struggle again but Mora pulled away from him and sunk sharp teeth into the side of Miraak’s shaft. All pleasure fled his brain as he arched and screamed (it was muffled around the black appendage in his throat) as Mora sucked his blood from the side of his penis.
“ Stubborn, ...aren’t you ?” Mora bubbled, forcing more dick down Miraak’s throat. “ Perhaps...letting the Seekers mnnnnn play with you is what you need hmmmm to refocus your devotion, my Champion .”
The walls of tentacles parted again and four Seekers appeared out of nowhere. Miraak was shuddering when Mora pulled away from him completely and moved to go and kneel behind Shamir.
“ We’ll watch you play with the Seekers from here ,” Mora warbled, reaching forward to grab Shamir’s breasts. She shrieked a silent scream and tried to struggle in her own bonds but failed miserably, “ And maybe ..... when I give her your mnnn seed again, she’ll accept it better next time .” Mora pinched her nipple harshly, wrenching it and twisting it till her breast was pulled painfully from her chest and then released it. A reprimand heavy in his tone and her eyes wide as plates.
Shamir’s eyes started glowing when Mora positioned himself behind her to take her like the animal he was, her screams were muffled by her own gag but they gutted Miraak just the same. The First Dragonborn snarled but was quickly silenced as the four Seekers fell onto him from all directions. His penis was both pulled and stroked. Tentacles touched him everywhere. His mouth and ass were both invaded and he tried to get away from it all but it was in vain.
Pain and pleasure of the likes he’d never felt exploded inside him and still he was denied. His cock pulsated and was leaking like a sieve despite the tentacle plugging it up. It was humiliating to be forced to watch his mate be violated by a monster while he was defiled in front of her very eyes.
He mercifully lost consciousness not long after.
Shamir watched in horror as Miraak’s black glowing eyes closed and he went limp despite everything that was being done to him. She was left alone with the monster behind her.
Mora was palming both her breasts, pulling at her nipples. She could feel his penis (she thought that’s what it was) rubbing against her core, and then it moved like a tentacle and she shrieked (it was muffled, but her terror was not stifled).
“ Now that .....you can compare ...us ,” Mora whispered disgustingly in her ear, as he slowly pushed inside her with his tentacle-penis, “ You will find ...hmmmm he is more palatable than I .”
She tried to get away as more tentacles wrapped themselves around her hips, pulling her back forcibly onto the Daedric Prince, and then he surged forward and she felt all the air escape her lungs as he hilted himself inside her painfully. She felt the tentacle wiggle inside her and she wanted to vomit as she felt pleasure despite the vileness of what was happening to her. The appendage hit that spot just perfectly that Shamir found herself moaning uncontrollably.
And when the Prince began a brutal pace against her, she wanted to die. This continued until Shamir thought she was going to lose her mind, and technically she did for the woman soon retreated behind the dragon.
It was finally a mercy when Mora warbled a grunt in her ear and finally pulled out of her after he ejaculated. She felt the black liquid pour out of her in buckets and shuddered violently as bile threatened. Glowing green eyes flashed once in Mora’s direction as the Daedric Prince walked away from her towards the unconscious Miraak.
“ Have no fear, ....Dragon ,” Mora spoke, his back to her, a definite smile to his voice, “ He will cleanse your mnnnnn womb of me when he wakes ....soon ....enough. ”
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She’d watched horrified and helpless as Mora had done things to Miraak’s body that made her shudder in disgust. What Mora had done with Sanguine’s blood, had just been cruel. The Seekers… she shuddered again and clenched her eyes closed.
She was in a happy place right now.
Breezehome and the College. No, the Cistern. Where the water was a constant flow and the open space filled with friends. Where Brynolf’s laughter echoed and drinks were always full, pockets and chests filled with gold. That’s where she was right now. Not in Apocrypha, not in this Oblivion where she was being bred like a prized horse. She’d release Frost the moment she got home (she promised)… she now understood how that fucking horse felt.
And then Mora had squeezed her breasts, and had forced her to watch Miraak being forcibly raped and molested by tentacled monsters. Holy fucking shit!
The woman had snapped, and the dragon had surged to the forefront.
Though she’d been gagged by that cursed collar, she’d not been quiet while the Prince tortured her. Her magic not powerful enough to break through it as Miraak’s had, though she’d tried to pull it forth. She’d released gargled growls and would have fought hard had she not been strung up like a puppet. Instead she’d been forced to take what the Daedra gave.
And when Mora had finished, and he’d said those words to her; she’d wanted to Shout him to pieces. Her eyes glowed with all the rage of a wronged dovah, her lips wanting to peel back and bare her teeth as if she’d had rows of sharp fangs.
Instead she’d clenched all her muscles to push as much of the black seed out of her as possible. Push every drop she could from her body, that the Daedra had dared . She’d felt so filthy that she would have gladly jumped into the black, bubbling water that surrounded the platforms in Apocrypha.
No dov was meant to be treated this way, Akatosh wouldn’t allow it... would he? Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought… because Miraak was here, had been kept here , and Akatosh had not been the Dragonborn’s salvation...
Her thoughts of Miraak and Akatosh were shattered as the limbs holding her and gagging her released. Her body fell forward on the ground as she coughed, shuddering as she spat out the taste of mold and parchment.
“ Good, the blood is...hmm workinnng ,” Mora’s deep voice was mirthful, prideful and low at her back.
She was quick to glance back through her wet, tangled, black mass of hair, over her shoulder and bared her teeth at the shadowed Prince. A deep, savage snarl erupting from her throat that was quickly silenced by another much deeper and louder one.
She froze but a heartbeat, before her gaze whipped forward again. Emerald eyes grew wide as she found Miraak (a very naked Miraak) standing over her form, there was a line of saliva dripping from his semi-open mouth. His Void black eyes boring down on her with an intensity she did not recognize (dragon or man) and really didn't like it. Oh no no no...
Her scales (if she'd had them) shuddered and she made to bolt, oh so fast. He roared (and terror was felt down to her very soul), all his muscles bulging and tensing, and gave chase. Course, she didn’t get far. She never would be able to outrun or escape him. His legs were almost twice as long as hers… she’d have to constantly Shout Whirlwind Sprint (and he’d already showed her how fast his Shouts regenerated.)
Seconds, mere seconds before he overtook her. What hurt the most wasn’t her knees smacking onto the ground (which they did) or the way her eyes stung from her scalp feeling as if it was being ripped out in his fist (which it was). It was the soul shattering roar of a dov that had caught its prize that was being shouted into her ears, echoing all around them.
That hurt. A lot .
“No!” Her scream of denial was overrun by the earthquake-like rumble coming from Miraak’s chest, as if his body was a hundred times larger than what it was. Her own was trembling like a leaf in the wind as his hand lifted and he easily pulled her to her feet by her aching head.
He pulled her close, lifting her up into the air like a ragdoll making her toes curl as she tried to find purchase anywhere . She was screaming in pain as she reached up to claw at his hand gripping her hair. It was in vain as he wasn’t relinquishing his prize any time soon (if ever). His other hand came up and gripped her other arm, literally steadying her in midair as he leaned in close. She squirmed as his face brushed her neck roughly and then he breathed her in. Goosebumps exploded across her skin as he growled in satisfaction and repeated the action, his massive chest expanding with every lungful he inhaled.
He didn’t say anything (she doubted he was capable) when he finally pulled away from her. His black eyes smoked (not glowed , but smoked ) briefly and then he tossed her on the ground without any preamble. She bounced once (ouch…), the air getting knocked out of her before she found herself pulled back by her ankles.
He’d dropped to his knees behind her, in between her legs and as he pulled her back (we’re not talking a gentle tug but an outright yank that made her not touch the ground) he slammed his hips into her core. She screamed as pain like never before ripped into her. He’d just penetrated her ( to the fucking hilt …) without preparation and it burned, gods it burned so much…
She scratched at the ground (she broke more than one nail in the process) and somehow managed to get away from him but he just grabbed at her legs and yanked back again (mindful to keep her belly to the ground). Another ear shattering scream escaped her mouth, his deafening roar reverberated almost immediately after hers.
Miraak was drooling like an animal, it was dripping from his opened mouth unheeded all over her back and ass as he slammed into her again and again. There was no finesse in his movements (he missed her hole completely on a few blessed occasions) and there was no escape. It hurt too much to try and get away (she felt as though he was gutting her every time he slammed her back against him) and so Shamir let herself go limp.
Her entire body was quaking (her skin jiggling roughly everywhere) as the sounds of skin against skin echoed ominously throughout Apocrypha. The dragon behind her roared again at the exact same time Mora’s booming laughter made itself known. Shamir flinched, her neck and shoulder muscles clenching tight.
The tentacle that had been lodged down Miraak’s penis, preventing him from cumming (though that didn’t stop him from pounding into her continuously), removed itself as the First Dragonborn suddenly sunk his teeth into the back of her neck. That brought the fight back to her and she howled in pain. She reached back with her bleeding hands to claw at his stomach as he slammed himself as deep as he could go inside her (he penetrated her cervix).
She was loathe to admit that he brought her to orgasm (a very, very painful one, and very unwilling) but that is exactly what he did. He snarled against her skin (it was muffled) as his seed exploded from his dick, over and over again, filling her bleeding womb slowly. She wasn’t able to twist away from him since his hands were literally digging into her waist as he held onto her.
Under different circumstances, Shamir (the dragon aspect of her, the woman did not understand ) would have been proud that such a powerful Dov was breeding her, for he was the First Dragonborn and she the Last. It was true, what Mora said about him being the finest of their species.
Alas… this was not the time, nor the place for them. This was Oblivion.
“Stop ! Miraak!” she screamed, her body on fire from his assault.
“ Hush.... He can ... not hmmmmm understand you ,” Mora warbled, his black feet just within sight. He dropped to a crouching position near their heads. She snarled at the Daedra but it broke into a multitudes of moans and groans as Miraak continued raping her (he didn’t even acknowledge the Prince).
“Stop this …” she was even more loathe to admit that she on the verge of begging. Actually begging the Daedra for help despite the fact that he was the cause of this (only reason she hadn’t…).
“ No ,” Mora actually reached down and patted Miraak’s head as if he were rewarding a dog, “ You will breed ....better without my ....interference, hmmmmmmnnn already you ....pant for him.. ”
“No!” she denied, making another attempt to get away from the First Dragonborn behind her.
“ Why .....do you ...fight it? Fight ...himmm? ” Mora asked, genuinely curious. When she did not answer (cause you know, being raped…) he actually repeated himself, like she hadn’t heard him the first time. “ Why ?”
When she didn’t answer the second time, the Prince grabbed her hair and lifted her head from the blackened floor. Her body was moving in tandem with Miraak’s thrust so even though Mora was holding her head, she was anything but still. Mora red eyes glowed and she could have sworn he smiled (she couldn’t really focus…) as he dropped her quite unceremoniously.
“ Most hnnn.....interesting ,” the Prince straightened and actually walked around them until he crouched near Miraak as to better see where their bodies were joined. “ Your body ...reacts to his much better, there is so much.... arousal pouring from you... ” the Prince remarked casually.
She wanted to die, pinned as she was beneath Miraak, with Mora watching as though it were nothing (and it probably was to him…). She snarled weakly but it was transformed into a moan of pleasure as Miraak slowed his hips to a more… tender pace.
It was short lived (though long enough to cause another mind blowing orgasm) for Miraak snarled suddenly and slammed hard into her. She screamed as his cock pulsated once and again he ejaculated with a cry of triumph. Her arms were barely flailing at her side (and even that hurt) when the Dragonborn finally pulled out of her. Mora was ignored as though he wasn’t even there (except that he was and got a clear view at both of their genitals).
She sobbed uncontrollably when the Prince touched her swollen nether lips, though he was quick to retreat his hand when Miraak growled savagely in his direction, spittle exploding from his mouth in the Daedra’s direction. He was near foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.
Mora chuckled deliberately as Miraak put his semi-hard dick exactly where Mora had touched and rubbed himself hard against her. She shrieked when his flaccid penis pushed inside her and he made another attempt at rutting with her despite not having the erection to do so. It still hurt.
She was crying when Miraak pulled out again and flipped her onto her back roughly. She had the air knocked out of her again and her head bounced on the ground with a solid crack. She saw stars for a whole heartbeat before the First Dragonborn forced himself between her legs, his big body suffocating her.
Her mouth opened to scream, to growl, to roar, anything , but instead his mouth covered hers. She twisted her head, doing everything in her power to avoid his slobbery kiss. He was too big and strong for her to move him, and when he couldn’t lick her mouth, his tongue and teeth went for her throat.
She screamed, a weak cry, when he sunk said fangs into her neck at the same time that his now hard dick plunged into her pussy. She tried to clench her legs closed, dig her knees in his side, but he showed no reaction to it, he merely continued his onslaught.
Her hands went up to push against him, but she didn’t have the strength to move them beyond resting them on his pectorals. There was a rumble in his chest as he gathered her closer, hiking her one leg over his hip. She moaned, and twisted in his arms momentarily before he trapped her against him, his arms locking about her like shackles. His one hand palmed at her ass, clutching it tightly as he rocked into her over and over again.
She lost count of her orgasms and his. She even lost sight of Mora and did not care, and when she eventually passed out, Miraak was still gyrating against her for all he was worth. Drunk on lust, lost to the debauchery, and with no memory of what transpired once it would wear off.
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His body hurt. He felt like he was on fire from the inside and at the same time, he was surrounded in a warmth that was not uncomfortable (actually it was quite soothing). He could almost believe that he wasn’t in Apocrypha for a half a heartbeat. Alas, just thinking about Apocrypha brought home that he was indeed in Oblivion.
And so, he opened his eyes and readied himself for whatever Mora was planning. Instead he found himself in his parchment bed and Shamir (how had he forgotten about her?) was trapped against his body. He blinked. Why was his skin not reacting to her touch?
Before he could answer that question, he noticed that she was sobbing/shaking quietly against him, and as she moved, he realized that not only was she plastered to him, but he was inside her ( how had he not noticed this before ?!). He shuddered.
His muscles were locked around her, both of his hands were clutching her tightly to him (one of his palms was on her ass and the other was locked in her hair). Her one leg was over his hip, and tensed like steel. She was trying really hard to not move as she cried silently. His mouth went dry, bone dry. Both of her small hands were fisted against his chest, her arms were squashed between them as though she was using them as a shield against him. He swallowed the mammoth in his throat and forced his muscles to relax.
She immediately noticed for her silence ceased. A great cry of fear/pain/shock was torn from her lip and her body started to practically convulse with how hard she was now shaking (he cursed inwardly). His skin was slowly starting to crawl.
He hissed in pain as he separated them. The foreskin from his penis burned as it pulled and he was sure it hurt her just as much. Miraak clenched his eyes closed and called forth his Healing Hands spell. He wasn’t wearing the collar any more (she still was though). He unleashed as much magic into her as he could, realizing for the first time the extent of her wounds (both internal and external). She was still shivering (though her sobs had come to an end) when he finally moved his hands away from her body. He was deliberate as he extracted himself from her and almost threw himself on the ground. He landed with a thud and raised his head to stare at her.
Her eyes were wide and as his black ones searched hers, she clenched them closed. Her small shoulders visibly shook and she made fists. Big tears rolled down darkened trails on her cheeks, she’d obviously been crying a long time.
Miraak opened his mouth as though he was about to say something but then snapped it shut. He got to his feet instead and walked out of his room, without looking back (he didn't want to know). There was no evidence anywhere that Mora had actually ripped this platform off its pedestal. His eyes narrowed at the apparent cleanliness of the area. There wasn’t so much as a book out of place. How was that possible?
He snarled and dressed himself. His fingers clenched as he pulled his leather gloves on and his eyes narrowed even more as he placed his mask back on his face. He straightened and took a deep breath as all his muscles locked into place and tensed.
He squared his shoulders as he thought of Shamir. It was time for Miraak to accept his fate. He’d sold his soul years ago to Mora. There really was no escape for him, no matter what he thought on the matter or what he truly believed. Mora would never release his soul, he would never be free. She on the other hand… her soul didn’t belong to Mora. She would roam Sovngarde (she was Dragonborn before she was Breton) while he’d float (a repulsive Seeker) amongst the bookshelves that filled Apocrypha, forever bound to this place.
His thoughts returned unsurprisingly to Mir.
More specifically to what the drake had done to save his mate. He was a danger to her now (and not because she was touching him). Something had happened between them, her and him, that he didn’t remember. He also knew that Mora had somehow been in control of him, and he’d done something terrible to her. His mate. His dov snarled inside (it slowly turned into a pathetic whimper) as he imagined all the terrible things he could have done to her. She was so much smaller than he… a knife entered his gut.
He’d raped her. Twist .
And if Mora had that power… to completely wipe away his own memories of what he’d done to her... his dov rumbled low, disgust at himself... for being so powerful and yet so weak ... he paused and a weight seemed to lift off his soul. There was really only one thing to do.
He felt the sense of peace intensify as he turned on his heels and entered his bedroom again. The leather of his gloves creaked as his body tensed but he forced himself to take a step in her direction. He wouldn’t have much time to do what he needed to do, and he wouldn’t let his disgust at her touch rob him of this. Not this, the last time he touched his mate. He wanted the last time he touched her, to be of his own will . He would need this in the times to come.
He dropped to his knees beside his bed and his hand shook as he reached out of his own volition and grabbed her hand. She squeak-screamed and tensed even more while he fought the revulsion/panic that pulsed through his limb. They weren’t even touching skin to skin (he wouldn't have been able to handle that at all), this was the best he could do and keep his dignity intact in her eyes.
“Listen to me ,” he whispered, his teeth clenched as he tightened his grip on her, “I am going to set you free.” The words were coming out at a rapid pace, as if he was under a time constraint (and technically, he was ).
She’d begun shaking even more while his arm went numb. Her emerald eyes opened briefly, overflowing with tears as they were, Miraak felt the knife in his gut twist some more in both impotent rage and helplessness. He was a dov unable to protect his mate ( stab ), unable to protect his children ( stab deeper then twist ). What difference was there between him and Mir exactly? There was that thought again...
He’d had enough of this.
He lowered his head to the bed, putting his masked forehead against his own forearm as he clenched his eyes closed. His other hand rested on top of her head (it was also shaking). The tips of his fingers just touching her chestnut locks. He knew from Mora's enforced mating that it was impossibly soft...
He didn't cry as he thought his goodbyes. He'd make it quick… she would not suffer. He could grant her this mercy.
He was deliberate as he climbed into bed with her. She was sobbing quietly and her body tensed even more as he forced himself to bring her to his chest, his heart was hammering out of control (he was getting dizzy). He wrapped both of his arms around her and clutched her as though she were a lifeline and in an odd way, she was.
He lowered his head and Shouted the first Word of Kyne's Peace. She stilled immediately and he was able to gather her closer to his big body. He fought his panic with all his might. His discomfort would be worth this later.
It shouldn’t matter to him in this moment. What he was about to do would haunt him for eternity, though he would never regret it. He would take whatever Mora gave with a smile on his face after he freed her.
“Promise me,” he whispered, his voice sounding hollow in his mask, “Promise me that you will never return.” She was silent, and still. His breath hitched and his muscles bunched around her, “Vahdin… you… I...” He closed his eyes and pushed forward, “We were Fated. My mate.” She tensed again and he had to force himself to continue, “I am bound here for Eternity, you are bound to Sovngarde.” He took a deep breath, his voice sounding more urgent, “It won't be long now before he returns…”
He rubbed her naked back with his gloves, his entire body was now shivering uncontrollably. “Live well, Vahdin .” He glanced down at the top of her head, “ In another place, another time, I would have been honoured, and pleased to have you at my side.” And he would have, he’d known if for a bit now. That if she’d had been there in his own time, or if he’d been in another life and near her... He would have done whatever she’d wanted or needed to prove his worth. They were fated, marked by Akatosh to be marked as each other’s. He would have been so proud to claim her, to Shout to the skies that he’d found his other half. Dreams of hatchlings and a long life lived together even, come and gone with the sickening sound of fluttering pages. This was not their time, this was not how it was meant to be. His eyes finally clenching close as he started the incantation for his Flaming Cloak spell.
She must have recognized and understood what he meant to do. Her fists loosened and she grabbed at his shoulders. Her nails digging into the fabric of his robes as she pressed herself closer to him. Her body started shaking again for a whole new reason, Kyne's Peace starting to wear off. This would hurt in so many more ways than physical, they both knew it.
Her throat made a tiny sound during his chanting, and Miraak held her all the more tight. It was a soft rumbling whine, a pitiful sounding thing that spoke is so many volumes. Thank you .
He released the spell.
She screamed once as she went up in flames with him. It only lasted a moment, for he pushed as much power as he could into the spell, making it as hot as dragon flames. It had to be quick, her suffering had been long and she deserved a fate that would release her from his hell. It lasted nothing more than half a moment really, a blink, (long enough for his dov to sear it to memory) before his arms flexed, crushed her to ash and she vaporized against him, surrounding him in burning embers and ash that floated all around him, like the gentlest of snowfalls back on Skyrim.
It wasn't until the dust settled that Miraak finally allowed a heart wrenching roar (it transformed into a cry about half way through, and ended in a whimpering mess) to burst from his lips. It echoed deafeningly across the whole of Apocrypha, and its pain had the three dragons glance at each other in a lucid moment of understanding.
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She came too with a start, a gasp on her lips, tears in her eyes and her body sore everywhere. There was lingering pain in her limbs as though she was burning still and she couldn’t help herself from glancing down her own body. Her heartbeat accelerated to a dizzying degree and she jumped to her feet as she realized her surroundings.
She was in the Temple of Miraak! Holding the fucking Black Book (fully armed and dressed). Still!
A moment passed and then she screamed in fury once, and tossed the damn thing as far as she could across the room (it hit the wall and dropped, open, upside down, pages askew and folding). Both of her arms came around to wrap around her core and she dropped to her knees as she puked up bile. She screamed again, except this one was more out of fear and horror and dropped to all fours. More tears dropped from her eyes and landed on the ground in front of her, close to her hands.
A good fifteen minutes later, all was silent and Shamir was sitting on her knees, both of her hands resting on her knees, her eyes closed as she breathed slow and steady. She finally opened her green eyes and they locked on the Black Book across the room.
Anger, fear, sorrow, panic, revulsion and relief all made themselves known at the same time in her body and mind as she stared at the book. She was concentrating on remaining as calm as possible, and barely succeeding. It was another good half-hour before she finally got to her feet and deliberately made her way towards the Black Book.
She unsheathed her bow (she had sorely missed the security clothes and armor provided) and nudged the fucking thing right side up (thankfully it closed and she didn’t have to risk getting trapped in it a second time). She sheathed her bow and very cautiously picked up the book. Her skin crawled immediately and she dropped it as though it were made of acid. More tears rolled down her cheeks as she made a second attempt at grabbing the book but failed.
One word, whispered in her mind in a tone that brooked no argument and overflowing with what felt like grief, forced her hand and she grabbed the book again. She felt her face soften as actual tears of sorrow now fell from her eyes and landed on the book. A shaking hand touched the cover, tracing the design gently. Miraak....
Her heart clenched as pain like she’d never felt (and that’s saying a lot considering what she just lived through) made itself known. Miraak had killed her, not out of hatred, but out of necessity so that she could live. So that she could escape from the Oblivion placed on them.
Mora did not own her soul…
And just like that, the lights in the temple dimmed and the ceiling darkened. Her eyes widened as it turned that familiar sickly green colour and black, inky tentacles formed all over the ceiling. One big looping eye appeared over head and stared at her.
“Noooooo! Return.... return to Apocrypha…. now!” Mora’s warbled shook the walls and she found herself clutching her hands to her ears.
“Fuck you!” she screamed, making to dash for it. The book had dropped and she ignored it as she bolted from the chamber.
The green colour followed over head as she ran from the Miraak’s Temple for all she was worth. Mora following behind, shaking the walls with his shouts, his tentacles cracking stone but never actually touching her.
She was out of breath and stamina about half way out, but that didn’t stop her. She pushed herself to the very limits of her body until she could see outside.
“Come baaaaack yoooou bitch!”
Shamir screamed in jubilitation as she flew out the front doors of the temple. She shoulder rolled on the ground and scrambled to her back to look back at the doors, the ash surrounding her in a cloud of dust. Wisps of her hair covering the sides of her face. Black tentacles were hugging the doors and walls of the temple, but not coming any closer. The doorway was pitch black, the looping eye the size of the entrance.
She expected Hermaeus to say something, scream and rant but he didn’t. Instead the eye vanished and what she saw almost made her vomit all over herself. There in the entryway of the doors, Mora gave her a glimpse of Apocrypha… and Miraak.
He was naked except for his mask and gloves. He was hung by his wrists, from the sky, there was no platform anywhere near him, nothing but the never-ending black sea. His skin was flayed… practically everywhere. Blood poured from his body as though he were a waterfall. Tentacles were everywhere on him and inside him. Penetrating him where they could, and hooking into his body repeatedly. He made no sound has he hung there. His chin was resting on his chest. He looked… dead.
Her mouth opened and without realizing what she was doing, she roared. The sound torn from her very soul echoed like a Shout and was worthy of any true dov, full of wrath. And as she stared at Miraak, it was like he could hear her. His head raised, just a fraction, and he returned her call, his fingers clenching.
Tears filled her eyes. He was alive!
The vision vanished and with it, Mora and all the tentacles. Leaving the ingress of the Temple bereft and empty, the stone still cracked. She didn’t really feel the tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the entrance. She’d left the book inside…
A couple of warring emotions came to the forefront of her mind. Fear (for herself) and anger (for Miraak). She sat there in the ash for a moment before the dov came to her rescue and she made a run for it. Not away from the temple, but into.
Her focus was kept on the book that she knew was at the end. She didn’t glance at the ceiling or behind her. She had to keep her eye on the prize. The Black Book. Shamir needed it like she needed to draw breath. Her hands glowed with Firebolt (she’d send one directly into that looping eye if Mora appeared again).
As one could expect, there was nothing to stop her from reaching the core of the Temple. And there— right where she’d left it— was the Black Book. She approached it carefully, as though it would explode if she rushed.
She growled low in her throat as she picked it up and put it in her pack. She made a promise, right then and there. To Miraak. She’d free his soul if it was the last thing she did; she’d get him out of Apocrypha and away from Mora. There were other Daedras and Divines that would no doubt help her if she proved herself. She just had to find the right one...
Shamir swallowed and left the temple in a hurry. Ignoring how her body felt tired (she downed a couple of stamina potion). She didn’t want to waste any time figuring out how to free Miraak. She had to figure out the best way to defeat a Daedra and win the freedom of her mate. And for that, she needed wisdom, which meant she needed Paarthurnax.
Since Mora had taught her Bend Will, going to Skyrim would be as easy as finding a dragon. She wasn’t going to spend weeks on a boat ride crossing the Sea of Ghosts. There was no way she’d let Miraak suffer that long, at least not intentionally. Her eyes narrowed suddenly as she heard a familiar distant roar. Dragon. Her heart pounded with the familiar adrenaline, and she was quick to find the creature.
She wasted no time in beating the dragon to a bloody pulp, her anger alone had the scaled beast trying to flee more than once, before Shouting Bend Will in its face. Her body and mind remembering that here, on Nirn, she was the Last Dragonborn and as such almost nothing was her equal. The dragon was still bleeding when she vaulted on its neck and forced it to take her to Skyrim. Once in Skyrim, she ordered it to take her to the Throat of the World.
The dragon was docile enough (blood dragons aren’t exactly the most vicious) and kept its head down and lowered when Shamir jumped off to run towards the doors of High Hrothgar. Barely giving herself the moment to order it to stay there. She didn’t even greet the Greybeards as she bolted up the path towards Paarthurnax’s plateau. Her eyes zeroed in on the old dragon immediately. He was sleeping. And snoring.
She Shouted Unrelenting Force right into his face as soon as she was close enough to do so. His eyes snapped opened and he yawned as his entire body was jostled. His large sharp (and chipped) teeth looking larger as he did so. He then turned his head to the side and peered at her with one of his big grey eyes.
“Dragonborn,” he spoke slowly.
“How can I free Miraak’s soul from Hermaeus Mora?” she wasn’t messing around and went straight to the point. She didn’t have time to waste.
Paarthurnax looked taken aback, for a dragon, and remained silent for a long time before he finally took a deep breath, “He is where he deserves, needs to be. Why do you seek to free him?”
She unsheathed her bow and knocked an Orcish arrow. Practiced fingers pulled the string taut and aimed carefully. “My mate does not deserves that,” she hissed, “How do I release his soul from Mora?” her voice rose a notch, her anger and panic starting to show.
There was a long silence, so long that the arm holding the arrow started shaking. It wasn’t long before she raised her bow and released her arrow just over Paarthurnax’s shoulder, not touching him but coming damn close to it. She didn’t have time for this one-phrase-an-hour horseshit that dragons (especially old dragons) were famous for.
“Tell me!” she literally screeched at the top of her lungs, all bets off now. If he fucked around, she was killing him. Her eyes nearly shone with her emotions and the dragon must have heard the desperation in her tone.
The old drake released a gust of air that sent her hair flying, though she didn’t even flinch, and finally answered her, in that deliberate way of his. “Another more powerful, stronger being must take it from the Prince and claim it as their own.”
She stared at the old dragon for a long time before she licked her lips and asked the one question burning at the back of her throat. “Who is stronger than Mora?”
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Of course the old dragon was going to say Alduin. Who else did she expect him to name? Akatosh? She’s almost rolled her eyes in irritation at herself. Paarthurnax had not been a lot of help, though he had gotten the ball rolling so to speak (Dagon was definitely stronger than Mora…). There was no way in all the Oblivion Planes she as going to approach Alduin (Boethiah was too possibly)… he was her nemesis. He was the World Eater.
She swallowed and turned her back to Paarthurnax but then paused before she left his mountain. “Where would I find Alduin?”
Paarthurnax eyed her for what felt like eternity before he took a deep breath. “On his Plane of Oblivion, Helvete.”
Shamir licked her suddenly dry lips, “How do I get there?”
“You do not.” Was the reply she got and she just prevented her shoulders from slumping, and then a thought struck her.
“How do you get there?” she asked, changing the wording in the phrase.
“I request an audience with Alduin and a portal, a door opens there,” the dragon spoke deliberately.
“Can all dragons do this?” she asked.
Her thoughts went to the blood dragon outside of High Hrothgar, waiting for her. Paarthurnax would no doubt get killed if he opened a portal to the World Ea—
“Alduin will not save Miraak.” His words cut off her train of thought and she turned around to face him again.
“Alduin will not save Miraak,” Paarthurnax said slowly, “Miraak began the Dragon War.”
She stared at the old dragon for a good minute before she pressed her lips together and felt tears well in her eyes. “I’ll make the World Eater a proposal he can’t refuse,” she said, her lashes fluttering to prevent the tears from spilling over.
She was worth something to the World Eater… Alduin’s Wall said so.
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It was over for him. He'd not made any attempt to evade the Prince. He not made a sound except for grinning madly, not through the beatings, not through the raping, and not even now as he hung there limply over the tepid black wasteland. His breathing was laboured, his own weight was slowly suffocating him, but that didn't matter. Mora could kill him now for all he cared. He was worthless without Shamir.
Miraak had done right by her. He'd done the right thing for his mate, and he'd fucking smile. There was nothing Mora could do to bring her back either. She had to come back of her own volition, and Miraak knew she wouldn't.
His certainty was shaken but for a moment, when he thought he heard her. Heard her roar of anger and pain. He'd answered. Poured his all into that final shout and he'd died a little on the inside. He didn't want her to see him like this.
It hadn't been her though. He’d remained alone with the tentacles, his body invaded in ways that weren't even original any more. He let Mora arouse him, he let Mora bring him release, and he even let Mora fuck him as if he were the woman. He'd given no fight, no resistance, and there was no shame. He'd done right.
Even now as he hung by the arms, his dick on fire from the tentacle shoved down his urethra, his ass probably destroyed from however many were in there, wiggling away; he was glad. He'd take it. He could take it.
There was nothing Mora could do to him now. He would get no satisfaction, there was none to be had. It would only be a matter of time before he became a Seeker, his use to the Prince was over. He'd breed no army from him, not without her.
His fingers weren't even flexing any more. Nor was he resisting Mora with any real effort.
“ She wiiiiiilllll returnnn..... ” Mora warbled, “ She will not... abandon her ...mmmmate. ”
Miraak gritted his teeth as a tentacle pulled on his testicles painfully. He wanted Mora to rip them off, let him bleed to death. He merely barked a chuckle, and remained silent. The Prince thought he knew what mates were, he lacked a clear understanding. She would not return.
There was nothing but torture at his side, and he could barely stand to touch her...
Their children could not live, they could not live. No matter what, he was bound here. He didn't bother correcting Mora, he just hung limply by the wrists, waiting to suffocate. Being immortal in Mora's realm was never made so real.
“ Watch…. Mmmmmiraak ,” Hermaeus would open a window to the outside world and forced the First Dragonborn to watch terrifying visions of Shamir being raped by Lurkers and Seekers. “ See….. what she faces .”
Miraak kept silent. The Prince was feeding him nothing but lies, she was the Last Dragonborn. It would take more than the simple creatures of Mora's. She faced dragons.
An eyebrow twitched behind the mask. She faced dragons.
“ See ….how she screams ?”Mora insisted, which made Miraak chuckle. He didn't say anything, just made the usual noises when Mora sent the tentacles to whip at his body. He didn't beg, didn't plead. He laughed.
She faced dragons.
Time didn't really belong in Apocrypha. Nothing changed, not the sky, not the atmosphere, and most certainly not the mood. There had been no breaks for Miraak, not since he'd killed Shamir and sent her back to Nirn. The amorphous blob that was Mora had ensured that Miraak endured every second of her departure.
And he would continue to do so. Silently.
Another tentacle pushed into him, stretching him painfully. He hung limply, not having the strength to do anything else. His penis, though partially black already to begin with, was now fully black (he could barely feel it, it would fall off soon if he was lucky) from how tightly some of the tentacles had woven around him.
He was mildly surprised he still had blood to give.
He'd forgotten his name.
A couple times.
She was safe though. Still he grinned, cause she faced dragons.
He smiled, she faced fucking dragons. Closed his eyes.
She faced dragons.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Twitch.
His hands clenched. He faced dragons too. Once. Maybe?
Drip. Drip. Drip .
What was that noise?
Drip. Drip. Drip .
Oh… it was him. He was leaking…
Black blood. From his fingertips. Dripping onto his mask.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Five thousands years.
It had taken five thousand years for Miraak.
Paarthurnax let out a gust of air from his flared nostrils and lowered his head so that his chin rested on the ground. His thoughts were in turmoil over what the Breton Dragonborn had claimed. Mated to Miraak, she'd said.
To his only son.
Even now she sought a way to free the First Dragonborn.
It was no secret among the dov who and what Miraak was. That she searched for a means, and panicked as she was. He suffered, and she suffered because of it. It had been extremely apparent to him that she had been beyond desperate.
She wouldn't find it with the Daedra, the help she needed. They wouldn’t want the First Dragonborn. There was only one who would take Miraak.
The old dragon unfurled his wings and took another deep, rumbling breath. Not without his help.
Paarthurnax raised his head high enough to sink his teeth into his wing, making himself bleed. His lungs then expanded and the old drake Shouted a word he hadn't thought he'd ever use again. A tiny little black sphere appeared and started dancing along rivulets of blood.
Would he allow it? Would his brother allow his return? Would he accept his terms? Save Miraak, for him?
The dragon stared at the sphere for what was probably hours before he finally tossed it to the side. It flattened against nothing and what looked like a tiny Oblivion gate opened with swirling yellows and reds and oranges.
Paarthurnax did not need to see through the gate. He knew what was on the other side.
The portal had silently opened directly in the center of a giant cave. An ordinary cave by any standards, until one peered into the blackness that engulfed it. That is, if one could get passed the all-encompassing black aura that drenched the very walls of the cavern, enveloping all who would enter in its suffocating embrace.
Glowing, red eyes slitted open and a massive black horned head lifted from the golden neck that lay beneath. Thick, black billowing smoke escaped from a half-opened maw that drooled quite liberally as the narrowed eyes focused on exactly what was on the other side of the portal.
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He knew, when he crossed the threshold into Helvete, what was going to happen. He had not walked into a trap, and this was not an ambush. It had been seared into his memory the day he’d betrayed his older brother. Death . On black wings. And he had been waiting for him, just on the other side.
He’d forgotten his size, his very presence, and he’d forgotten just how long Alduin’s shadow actually was . The very same shadow that seeped from his Void black scales and enveloped the whole of his realm. It made Paarthurnax’s scales bristle every time he was near. And he’d felt it. The moment he’d entered the portal.
The darkness had not blinded the old drake to the looming presence of Alduin; arched back, wings spread, neck raised, waiting patiently, as he always had, for Paarthurnax to manifest. And he’d come, knowing that Alduin was waiting on the other side with ready claws and jaws.
He wasn’t given the chance to fight, not that he could, not in Helvete. This was a Plane of Oblivion that empowered the dragon god and depowered everyone else, although Paarthurnax wouldn’t have stood a chance on Skyrim either. Alduin had always been the stronger of the two.
The long teeth had crushed through the thicker plates at the back of his neck and sunk nearly halfway into his throat. For a brief moment, barely a heartbeat, the smaller dragon had realized he was not going to be given a moment to talk, and opened his mouth to try and speak, Shout, even plead.
“ Stop, Aar !” Paarthurnax stopped breathing, his faded grey eyes widened. He would have known that tone anywhere. Age had not dimmed his memory... Yuvonshuljud… Alduin’s mate. Alive... She’d not been swallowed by Miraak…
The fangs stopped, mere inches from his spine. It was an age before they finally retracted at an excruciating pace and a back leg was placed atop his head and neck instead, Alduin’s claws burying into the rocks below. That he barely applied his weight, and still Paarthurnax struggled to breathe, brought home exactly how different they were in size. Alduin being easily twice his size, and double his weight. Strength unmatched.
“ Yuvon— ” whatever else had been coming out of his mouth turned into a gargle of unintelligible watery noises as Alduin flexed his claw effectively silencing him.
“ Silence .” It was done. He closed his eyes, his entire body prostrate. His brother didn’t need to tell him twice.
“ Why? ” It was Yuvon who broke the silence. And her voice, like soft pebbles beneath smooth river water, strong yet curious.
“ Miraak .” That got Alduin’s attention, the claws became lax, though he did not step off.
There was no other reason for Paarthurnax to be here. Shamir needed the help, this was something he could give her.
“ Get off him, Aar! ” Alduin did not budge. Did not heed his mate’s small plea.
“ Shamir ,” he spoke deliberately, in the same slow way he’d always spoken to the tiny Breton, “ The Last Dragonborn .” He had to take a deep breath with each word it seemed, “ Claims mate .” He made an attempt to get to his feet beneath Alduin’s hold, and failed. “ Needs help— ”.
Paarthurnax collapsed as his soul was suddenly pulled from his body and into Alduin’s. The skin and scales were slowly dissolving, exposing the skeleton beneath. The swirl of gold and gem colored light illuminating Alduin’s den for but a moment before the darkness swept up once more.
“ Aar !” Chastising did no good, it never had. Yet she did it anyways and for a brief moment she gave the old drake respect for coming to his fate. Paarthurnax’s death had been a waiting game, his soul forfeit long ago.
Alduin crushed the skull beneath his weight and returned to the comfort of the bed where Kulal (Alduin's first born) lay sleeping next to his very pregnant mother of golden scales and rounded belly. He rolled himself around them both and closed his eyes, all was silent, except for a low growl.
“ You did not hear him out .”
“ I did ,” he replied impassively.
“ He spoke of mates .”
“ He did ,” he agreed slowly.
“ Aar ,” her voice dropped to a menacing growl, rolling the R.
“ The worm killed you .” He didn’t even open his eyes to look at her
“ I am here now ,” she countered, stretching out a wing to touch his snout as if touching him would make him think on it, “ What of her ?”
There was a deafening silence, the eventually lengthened into a different low growl, higher-pitched, a worried one. Because Yuvon recalled her time as Nord, her brief life as a two-legged with fear running rampant with such a destiny placed upon small slender shoulders. “ Please hear her out? That could have been me .” Her glowing blue eyes looked at him until he finally (it probably took hours) took a very deep and very long breath.
“ For me, Aar ?” He rumbled and raised his head. His eyes narrowed to mere slits as he turned his head to peer at her with one big red eye. “ She did not choose him. You can not damn her for his sins, she is a dov too .” One of the last, and the very last female Dragonborn.
“ Yes ,” he eventually growled, agreeing with her and staring at her with glowing red eyes. She stared back, watching him as he lumbered to his feet. Kulal rolled to his side (directly beneath her head), a small, sleepy yawn on his mouth, that was followed with a small nostril bubble that popped almost immediately. His small wings twitched and his tail curled tighter around his little body. Her wing moved to curl about the hatchling without thought.
She watched as he left the bed (he actually ignored Paarthurnax’s bones this time) and opened another portal. It wasn’t until he vanished that she realized that she didn’t know what he was going to do. He couldn’t go to Apocrypha, else Miraak would have died a long time ago.
Shamir... she thought of the name given to this new Dragonborn. And thought about what could have driven the old drake to die for it. She thought of the war... of the panic of birthing her eggs amidst a battle and of an Atmoran priest, Paarthurnax’s own offspring, attacking her at her most vulnerable again . And she thought of mates, of the way it twists a soul about until their so intertwined you cannot take one without the other.
It was a heartbeat of a second, but she wished her belly was not carrying something so precious, else she would have followed him. (Or roared until she somehow got her way… it happened … sometimes). She knew better than to leave though, she would have to satiate her curiousity when he returned, if he deign tell her anything.
This was it.
The final one to ask, that she could physically reach. She'd killed the dragon that had given her a ride all over Skyrim, he'd refused to take her to Alduin's realm.
Meridia... Azura... Boethiah... Mehrunes Dagon ( And a whole slew of others, you would be surprised at how many Daedric Princes there actually was...) all of them, laughing, chortling, outright denying her answers as to how. How could she free her mate. The fucking bastards (she cared not that she could potentially incur wraths), not a one giving her a break or hints, just saying one thing. No.
And her heart burned in her chest (the kind of pain that was bone deep), a special kind of madness was living in her eyes (visible to any) making them glow in the shadows of dusk, almost animalistic. Dragon.
Every day the amount of Lurkers and Seekers and whatever other abomination of Mora’s, grew it seemed by the dozens (with an S). Tracking her, following her, tormenting her with visions of her mate, strung up, tortured and violated over and over and fucking over again. This only pushed her more, pushed her heart to beat a pattern like that of wings thundering over a raging storm.
This was it. Her last stop. The last one she could get to, call upon, to plead, to beg. And she was begging, offering everything she could, her soul included. She’d participated in the drinking game, she’d found the items and she brought them. All of them. She went through the portal and she stood in Misty Grove.
Amidst the revellers and the interspecies massive orgy that was going on around her, her eyes met that of Sanguine. He was sitting, with a rather large, half-full brandy glass in one hand, looking back at her steadily.
“I can not offer help.“ His red eyes bore down on her with a seriousness she hadn’t expected from the Prince of Debauchery. His words gave her pause, and she focused completely on him, oblivious to her surroundings.
A growl, deep from her chest rumbled. Loud enough a few of the revellers glanced from their piles of sex to her small frame standing across from their Prince’s throne. Her hand slashed in front of her and she snarled, lips bared.
“You can't, or you won’t?” she yelled, glaring with all the furies of Oblivion, uncaring he was daedra, uncaring he was near immortal and a Prince with powers she couldn't begin to comprehend. What mattered was one thing and one thing only, and he couldn’t help her. And that made his blessing worthless, his Rose nothing but a staff. His usefulness non existent.
He gave no response over the soft murmur of pleasure rolling around in the Misty Grove, merely a tilt of his head as he sipped from his glass. He leaned back in his throne, his muscular legs spread and a look of interest passed his eyes.
“Send me back to Tamriel.” Her voice was harsh, she'd wasted another countless days on this wild goose chase that she could have ill afforded. She didn't want to think about how long she'd been on this mission. Every minute mattered… Miraak.
Sanguines lips move and his tongue darted out to lick at a drop of brandy lingering there. His red eyes staring, boring into her form, unblinking. “Miraak is a favourite of Hermaeus Mora, his prized First Dragonborn.” He stopped talking to sip his drink, not enjoying how her hands fisted at her side helplessly. “If you wish to free his soul from a daedra, something more powerful must take the soul as their own bounty,” his words were slow, letting them flow over her like wine. Her heart skipped a beat and then suddenly filled with dread, fear and trepidation simultaneously as he gently swirled the liquid in his glass about the sides, “And what’s more powerful than a Daedric Prince?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft, as if he was soothing her rather than alarming.
She knew the answer to his question, had been told once before by the old dragon on the mountaintop. Sanguine’s lips turned into a small smile, the shadows across his face somehow making him more handsome, despite his daedric appearance. He oozed animal magnetism as he slowly got to his feet and prowled towards her.
“It would take a force greater than my own or my siblings combined to tear from us a favoured follower,” he purred, “Could you imagine giving yourself to me? You would get this kind of protection, for no other could take you from me,” he was speaking deliberately, his voice almost hypnotic. “Live in pleasure, with me. There is no greater lover than a Daedra,” he stepped right up to her, without touching her, letting his heat envelop her, “You would be safe from Mora,” a clawed finger touched her cheek delicately, and drew down, her eyes widened.
She felt the pull of his magic, the lull in the air and the way the voices around them dimmed in volume and pitch, it was only her and Sanguine. How his eyes seemed to bore into her own and attempt to pull her toward his body, she just had to lean forward a little…
Her dragon snarled and bared her fangs. And the action was followed by the human body the soul was inside baring her white teeth and growling low in her human throat. The action rooted the Prince and his eyes narrowed momentarily. The dragon had dispelled his spell.
“Send me back to Tamriel,” she repeated calmly, not moving, her emerald eyes narrowing on him.
The red eyes glanced down into his brandy glass, his eyes focusing on images flickering across its surface.
" My price isn’t so bad Dragonborn.” He sees images, glances of her in the coming days. He glances back down to her, so small yet compact and full of power. Her aura brimming with it, the imagery of scales rolling over her flesh to his eyes.
“Send. Me. Back.” she enunciates every word, her eyes promising pain and torture.
The red eyes glanced down into his glass again and a small smile pulls at his dark lips. He doesn't hesitate to wave his free hand in a semicircle. “As you wish,” he grinned and then waved his fingers at her in goodbye, “Think on my offer!”
She ignored him as she jumped into the portal he opened without saying another word. She wasn't going to last for much longer…
And when Shamir appeared in the midst of the Plains of Whiterun, not even close to where she'd entered the ruins in Eastmarch. She dropped to her knees, right there in the dirt and screamed. She fell forward and grabbed handfuls of dirt and screamed some more. She didn’t even try to silence herself. It was a moment before the last of her shouts echoed and she finally let her shoulders droop in defeat.
She was staring off into the distance, at Dragonsreach, high above the clouds. The wind was blowing over her face, sending cold chills down her spine. Night would be upon her soon… she needed to find shelter.
And then what?
She slowly got to her feet. She dusted her hands and her knees.
She'd find Alduin. If she had to beat Paarthurnax to a pulp to force him to take her, she totally would. She swallowed back her tears and straightened. If she had to storm Apocrypha solo in the end, she took a deep breath, she would.
Shamir started walking towards the city of Whiterun, it would take her a few hours to get there, she was pretty far away, when she felt a gust of hot wind hit her from behind, sending her hair flying. She caught herself before she face planted and whirled around.
Aaaaaand almost pissed herself.
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She was staring at a giant black nostril. Her eyes widened (that was a dragon nostril!) and she scrambled backwards, drawing her bow at the same time. She had an arrow knocked, and aimed.
And all Oblivion broke loose.
She released her arrow, while the dragon opened its maw wide and roared ( deafening much). Her arrow was blasted out of midair (now that didn’t happen often) and the very ground shook beneath her feet. She’d raised a hand to shield her face from the gust of air and saliva.
The tail smashed into the ground just as she took off running. Shamir stumbled but managed to shoulder roll rather than face plant. She was on her feet in seconds and was casting beneath her breath. She was a Master Conjurer (not much use in Apocrypha she’d found…) and was quick to bring a Dremora warrior forward. She needed the beast distracted if she was going to be able the bring it down, and bring it down she totally would.
The dragon chuckled, a slow, deep laugh that sent chills down her spine (or maybe not…) and it dawned on her that this was no ordinary dragon. Her bow lowered, just a smidgen.
“Do not stop now, Dragonborn!” the dragon snarled and Shouted Fire Breath, disintegrating everything in front, including her Dremora (it hadn’t stood a chance).
She gasped and dove out of the way, rolling in the dirt and grass. The black dragon followed, and before she could get to her feet, his head was over her ( shit !). His jaws opened and she screamed as he dove down ( Shit! Shit! Shiiiiit!!!! ), the teeth snapping shut but mere inches from where she had been. Holy fuck!! Too close!!
Shamir managed to get to her feet (run). She charged up Ice bolt with both hands and released the spell when the drake turned towards her (please hit the eyes!). The ice spikes hit the creature in the face, she guessed/hoped it got hurt. She made a dash beneath the monster, and while she ran, unsheathed a dagger.
The plan was a simple one. She'd disembowel the creature as she bolted beneath it. Crude, but very effective. Dragons had soft underbellies, and for some reason, despite it being common knowledge, it wasn't exploited much by the Nords. Although… all it would take to kill her would be for the monster to drop on her, so speed was an essential (and Nords weren't exactly fast, strong with endless stamina, oh gods yes, but fast ?).
Shamir raised her arm to plant the dagger into the soft scales and almost lost her hand as the dagger went flying off the side. This caused her to stumble and almost trip over her own two feet. The dragon roared and his hind leg (which was practically in front of her at this point) moved forward. She couldn't dodge it and barreled into the limb (thankfully she'd stumbled and lost speed).
She screamed in surprised pain as spikes stabbed through her armour and penetrated skin (Ow!!!). She wrenched herself away and dived from beneath the lizard. Plan A had failed. And Shamir now understood why it wasn't exploited much. It wasn't a fucking guarantee !
The drake roared and his great wings opened, the sheer size of him suddenly striking her. Her earlier thought about this not being an ordinary dragon, returned to the forefront. His giant head pointed downward and his Fire Breath spewed from his lips.
Shamir grit her teeth and dove out of the flames way (Dibella's fits! Too fucking close !). She sent some Ice Spikes to its head, aiming for red, glowing eyes (she missed). Blinding a dragon was as good as killing it, almost. It was but a matter of time before she would land the crippling blow.
She just had to stay alive.
Easier said than done! She dropped to her stomach as his powerful tail sailed over her. She summoned a second Dremora the second she was up and ran down the length of its body. She unsheathed her bow and let fly three arrows, more bouncing (she could hear them clattering away). Her bow was utterly useless, magic it was then.
She lost sight of her Dremora, and sent a bunch of Ice Spikes its way. Always aiming for the head, those fucking glowing, red eyes. They narrowed to mere slits.
Her heart stuttered as it dawned on her. Right there in the midst of battle.
This was Alduin.
The drake’s eyes narrowed further, her hands started to tremble and before she could stop herself, she whispered her fear aloud.
Silence. Not even a growl, or a breath of air.
Her hands stilled, her frost magic swirling between her fingers unheeded, she lowered her hands. The World Eater, and it was glaringly obvious now, was looking down at her, in consideration. Not moving, still as a portrait.
“A boon I seek,” she lowered her eyes, “for my-”
“Silence.” The word echoed. She closed her mouth, kept her eyes down. She felt the earth tremble as the dragon approached. His snout came within an inch of her body at the very least, she did not flinch. Her hair was sucked forward and then blown back by a gust of hot air.
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she stood her ground, yet bowed in submission. Precious minutes… Miraak . “P-p-please….” She put her hands together in front of her (just below his snout) as though in prayer, keeping her eyes averted, she'd whimpered, pushed by something more potent than fear. She was officially begging.
She didn't hold the position for long, and soon found herself pressing her forehead and nose to the ground, completely bowed down. Huge tears were falling from her eyes and her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. “P-please…” she was practically kissing the ground, “ Anything , everything… I w-will p-pay… ” she hiccupped and dug her nails in the dirt as she grabbed at the grass with her hands.
“Miraak killed my mate.” She'd understood enough...
“Then take my own as payment!” she didn't hesitate to throw herself at him (not literally), “Free him! Please!” her voice raised, “ Please !”
The silence turned deafening as more time passed, the tremble in her limbs refused to abate. The dark, shadowed presence of Alduin seemed to seep in around her, darkening their surroundings until it felt as if dusk had fallen. It weighed heavy on her (like a fucking mammoth), so much so that even if she was ordered to sit back or stand, she wouldn’t be able to twitch a finger.
It was suffocating, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. It was hard to breathe, her breath was ragged and sharp as she tried to hold back sobs.
“Anything, Alduin...” she whispered into the ground and grass beneath her lips. Hands palm down on the ground beside her head she posed before the World Eater like a servant would a master. She would give anything to save Miraak.
The red eyes narrowed as they stared down at her. The mouth opened and a few lines of black smoke escape from between his teeth. “Your loyalty .” A blast of air almost knocked her sideways, “Your loyalty, Dragonborn.”
“Yours,” she was quick to agree, she didn't even raise her head to look at him. “Please…” she closed her watery eyes, “Mora…He...”
“Skyrim is mine, Dragonborn,” the World Eater spoke impassively.
“Yours,” she agreed again, her heart pounding, “Miraak and I will conquer it in your name,” she took a deep breath, “Immediately.” She licked her lips as she gave up everything. It wasn't even hard.
“Show me the gates of Apocrypha.” She was on her feet in a second, despite his aura, and rummaging through her pack. She pulled out the Black Book that led to Miraak and showed it to the World Eater.
“It must be used on Solstheim,” she swallowed as she opened the book and nothing happened.
She didn't have time to scream as Alduin's jaws snapped shut on her body and he took to the skies. His sharp teeth dug into her legs painfully, but yet did not pierce skin (it helped that she did no struggle). His long tongue wrapped around her waist, and secured her in his mouth (she was maybe going into shock?). She was surprised by how unfazed she was by what was happening to her (it had to be shock… Right?).
Or maybe the urgency of freeing her mate. If it meant hitching a ride in Alduin's mouth, then so be it. Hitching a ride in Alduin's mouth it fucking was. She was small enough she could ball herself up and out of in between his teeth. She'd have to count on his tongue being able to support and hold her weight.
She didn't know how long it was before he landed and dropped her to the ground unceremoniously. She was liberally covered in his saliva and wiped the mucus off the Black Book as she struggled to open it. She froze when Alduin was surrounded by black smoke, and a light flashed suddenly, forcing her to close her eyes briefly. When she opened them, a giant of a naked man was standing beside her, his glowing red eyes fixed on her.
He was a good six inches taller than Miraak, his skin the same colour, minus the black veins. His hair was darker somehow than Miraak's black hair, and longer. He was covered in scars (more than the First Dragonborn), and a down of black body hair. His suffocating aura was not abated in this new form, and Shamir found herself just as terrified of him as if he were dragon.
Her eyes widened as she looked him. She wasn't surprised per se (she’d seen her father shape shift in Miraak's sphere) she just hadn't expected Alduin to do it. She licked at her lips and swallowed nervously as she finally opened the Black Book. She was unable to stop her scream of fright as the tentacles grabbed her and pulled her within.
She wasn't even fully materialized before more black tentacles snatched her from the platform.
“ You caaaame back !” Mora’s warbled was triumphant, and smug. It set her teeth on edge instantly, and she felt her skin crawl where he touched her. It felt like slimy worms along her flesh.
“Miraak!” she screamed, craning her neck and looking all around for her mate, ignoring Mora's limbs. She had to find Miraak. “Miraak!” her voice rose a decibel and she struggled in Mora's hold.
She heard Mora's tentacles whip out and grab someone else from behind her (it had to have been Alduin). There was a heavy silence and she was dropped suddenly without warning. She fell to her feet and stumbled, Alduin reached out and grabbed her arm in a crushing grip. The red eyes were staring at the murky green sky.
“ Alduin .” The large palm released her.
The World Eater remained silent as he continue to stare at the amorphous blob sky. The tentacles swayed almost fretfully as Shamir pressed herself closer to the large Atmoran as though he would protect her.
“Miraak ,” Alduin spoke his name with no emotion, standing completely still, “ The First Dragonborn.”
“ The first is not… your concern .” Mora’s voice lacked it usual mockery.
“But your Plane is of yours,” Alduin said calmly, the red eyes narrowing.
There was a heavy silence that was eventually broken by Mora. “ You... threaten ?”
“I do not, ” Alduin answered deliberately, “ I state fact.”
“ Miraak's soul…. belongs to mmme, Alduin !”
“No longer ,” he growled, his muscles bunching. Mora remained silent, while Shamir held onto Alduin's thigh (She'd dropped to a crouching position). “ You try my patience,” Alduin continued calmly, his neck craning back.
“ His soooooooul is bound to me .”
Alduin's answer was to roar, the sound animalistic despite his Atmoran form (Shamir froze). It echoed throughout Apocrypha, and shook the very ground Shamir was standing on. Her fingers dug into his muscles.
A flaming meteor appeared out of nowhere and smashed into one of the higher platforms (there were more…). Shamir gasped as the murky green sky changed colours, from the nauseating to the bright yellows and oranges, the sky transformed.
Alduin roared again, the muscles in his neck tensing and bulging out. His cry brought on more meteors, more flaming rocks as they dropped from the sky, destroying everything that stood around (pedestals and hallways from all around were destroyed and set aflames). It was raining rocks.
“ He is bound ...to me !” Hermaeus repeated, his voice shrill, his tentacles whipping at nothing wildly, truly frantic. “ It is mmmy soul !”
“Unbind It!” Alduin snarled savagely, standing tall amidst the destruction wrought (Shamir was still at thigh height). The black tar that was below caught fire and the entirety of the ground flared like the inside of a volcano.
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There was something wrong with the sky. Miraak's numb mind was having a hard time processing what he thought he was seeing. The sky… it wasn't green… isn't suppose to be green in Apocrypha?
It was a familiar orange with flares of gold. Where had he seen that before? His eyes rolled in his head briefly and a line of saliva left his mouth as he almost lost consciousness (he wanted the Void…craved it).
He watched in a daze as boulders (all sizes… now that was… different ) started raining down on Apocrypha as though it were a common occurrence. Most of the rocks were flaming and destroying everything they touched (he could actually hear some of platforms getting pelted). He'd seen that before … heard that before ...
Was this a waking dream? Or was Mora tormenting him with hope? Miraak felt the tears of shame fill his eyes as his heart accelerated at the mere thought (he whimpered). Physical pain he could endure ( had endured )... and would continue to endure... but the other kind… the emotional and mental anguish… he didn't do so well against it, and he feared it.
His eyes widened from behind his mask as the bubbling tar beneath his feet suddenly flamed, the whole thing… as far as he could see... His fingers tightened around the tentacle holding his wrists as the heat wafted up towards him slowly, inducing a different type of fear, a familiar fear. He could feel that ...
And then he heard it, the pure animalistic sound that was unmistakable . Mind you, he hadn't heard it in thousands of years (he could even pinpoint the last time he’d had heard it: the day he'd destroyed Miraak's temple.) It was that distinct. In all the years he'd been Mora's prisoner, the Prince had never made the sound.
A dragon's roar. Alduin's roar more specifically.
A mad smile spread across his dry lips, cracking the scabs (he still bled). He’d degenerated mentally more than he’d realized if he was going to believe Alduin was in Apocrypha. There was no possible way for the World Eater to enter Apocrypha without knowing about the books.
But the tar was on fire.
And the meteors… he knew those rocks...
Another roar sounded, not Alduin’s… Sahrotaar !
Miraak's entire body froze (despite all the tentacles crawling all over him and inside) as he heard the flapping of leather wings. He didn't make a sound as his serpentine dragon barreled into him, mouth wide. Miraak's agonized body felt every nuance as the tentacles holding his wrists were ripped off by Sahrotaar's sheer speed.
The long tongue wrapped around Miraak's bloody waist (to hold him steady) while his teeth didn't pierce skin, yet held him firmly. The tentacles crawling all over his skin, attacked the tongue and gums of the dragon in midair, seeking to dislodge the First Dragonborn. It had no affect, Sahrotaar merely glided through the glowing sky as though Miraak were riding him instead of hanging out of his mouth.
The dragon dodged flying boulders effortlessly, as if Sahrotaar knew exactly where the next flaming rock was going to drop, barely jostling Miraak as he soared. The great wings slashing through the sky with finite grace.
It was an eternity before the dragon finally dove and landed. Miraak was silent as he was deposited on the floor surprisingly gentle. The serpentine dragon nudged him carefully with his snout and then backed away, head lowered. His other two dragons were on either side, their heads down as well.
He rolled his head so that he could see to what his dragons bowed to. His eyes alighted only on Shamir and a great cry of anguish left his lips as he focused completely on her. She was here ! His heart broke and he died on the inside as he continued to stare at her through the slits of his mask. Realizing that everything he'd endured had been for nothing… she’d come back… Mora… he…!
“ You weren't to come back !!” he shrieked (he actually did… Rub palm against face), his heart exploding and breaking amidst the panic, “ Not for me, Vahdin…” he sobbed, his big body shuddering on the floor uncontrollably, his black blood pooling around him (how was he still bleeding?), “Not for me!” he wailed.
She just stood there, staring at him, her eyes filled with tears, mouth hanging slightly agape.
“Miraak.” He’d moved just so that Miraak finally saw him from the slits of his mask. Whatever blood was still in his body drained and he turned ashen.
The World Eater stood straight and tall (giant of a man next to his diminutive Breton), and Shamir was touching him willingly . His face was shadowed (he was looking down at him), making those petrifying red eyes glow ominously. There was no expression on his face, except for a barely discerned smirk, a brief lift of lips that exposed pointed teeth. Miraak saw it (his stomach bottomed out), and then it was gone.
“Shamir…” he whispered, his eyes wide, frozen beneath the red predatory gaze. He started shaking, his bodily woes no longer on his mind.
“ He’s mine !” Mora screamed, the tentacles flailing.
Alduin stood stock still right up until Mora’s tentacles reached for the barely recognizable First Dragonborn. His large hand shot out, almost too fast to see, and he grabbed one tentacle in midair. Mora screamed again and like an octopus, the limb wound itself around Alduin’s wrist.
There was another hollow scream before Alduin tugged on the arm. It wasn’t gentle by any means and Shamir made a gurgling noise in the back of her throat as Mora’s shadowed self was torn from nowhere , his hair in Alduin hand. The amorphous blob in the sky vanished as a whole as Alduin grabbed the Daedra by the throat (it was odd to see as Mora was actually taller than Alduin).
There was another gurgle, this time from Mora, as the World Eater brought his face close (he'd released the hair). “Hermaeus , “ Alduin drawled, his voice monotonous, “ I tire of this game.” There was not sound as the daedric Prince started smoking.
Several long seconds passed, Alduin holding a now smoldering daedra by the throat (there were what looked like glowing embers all over Mora's semi transparent skin, though clustered near Alduin's hand).
Behind him, Shamir bolted away from them both and dropped to her knees at Miraak's side. His mutilated body. She could barely repress her cry of anguish upon seeing him clearly. He'd been flayed in some areas, she could see the white of his bones. Strips of flesh were missing everywhere on his body, exposing his musculature beneath.
There was no controlling her hands has they shakily hovered over Miraak's broken body. She sobbed in desperation and she couldn't concentrate on casting Healing Hands.
“What have you done…?” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp. Shamir heard him clear as day though.
“What I had t-to,” she stuttered out, trying to ignore the smell of burning daedric flesh, and closing her eyes to better focus.
“Shamir…” he closed his eyes too, he was tired. So, so very tired. He shuddered once, his body about to lose the fight with the mortal coil.
She felt tears rolling down her cheeks just as her hands started glowing brightly. She wasn't looking, but she could hear his body cracking and breaking. He started moaning and groaning as he was starting to slowly reform himself, the bones mending, the wounds healing. She'd practiced her Restoration for this reason alone.
He felt every nuance, every minute detail.
And then she collapsed on him, her breathing laboured. And he didn't shudder, didn't react. There was no bile to be tasted (he was unsure if he could still taste though, his tongue had been swollen for a long time…), no panic trying to make itself known. He wasn't feeling pain.
He grunted as she hefted herself up with her elbows digging in his abdomen. Nope. He felt pain… he winced behind his mask and carefully rolled to his side, away from her. She crawled after him, and wrapped her arms around his midriff, pressing herself to his back, he could feel the tears from his face against his skin. (It still wasn't crawling…?)
“ No !” Mora shrieked, his tone extremely high pitched, his face practically burnt off from the glowing embers.
Miraak raised his head, his eyes widening again as he took in the scene before him (he was lucid). Alduin (he felt his body break out in cold sweat) had Mora's shadowed form by the throat, and he was slowly burning the Daedra with his touch (Miraak had seen him do this before, and it was just as terrifying now).
“Yes .” The glowing red eyes narrowed, and this time the World Eater smiled at the Prince, Mora froze, “ If I am made to return ,” the red eyes became mere slits, “ you will not survive it.”
Alduin dropped Hermaeus and turned towards Miraak and Shamir (they were both still on the ground). The Prince crumbled to his side, wheezing and coughing, he did not move from where Alduin dropped him.
The World Eater stepped forward until he stood over the pair of them. His eyes were first on Shamir, and then they turned to Miraak and the First Dragonborn felt himself wither beneath that stare (and that infernal aura).
He stared down at Miraak for an eternity, before his eyes narrowed and the World Eater finally roared . Hermaeus screamed that high pitched warble as more meteors came crashing down from all around. The sky whirled into a kaleidoscope of colours and everything changed .
They had, without moving, reappeared in the very center of Miraak's temple. Alduin still stood over them. His red eyes raised briefly to scan the room, when they returned to Shamir. “Outside, my gift waits. Wear it, it will show your loyalty, Dragonborn.”
Miraak swallowed when he felt the red eyes return to him. “You live because she does ,” Alduin spoke deliberately, his eyes boring down on Miraak, there was no mistaking his meaning, “ As long as Yuvon favours her, you live.”
Time stopped. Miraak's eyes widened. He hadn't misheard, Alduin had distinctly said Yuvon. As in Yuvonshuljud …? no … Black smoke escaped from Alduin's Atmoran form, cracking that impassive mask he permanently wore a little. Akatosh … Yuvon lived… He could feel his blood freezing as those glowing red eyes looked at him directly, despite the mask, they'd made eye contact.
“Give me a reason, boy !” Alduin finally snarled, his face darkening and Miraak shuddered violently, understanding immediately that it would take very little for Alduin to claim his life. Very little .
The World Eater turned on his heels then. Miraak watched him until he Shouted, and disappeared through his portal. Long after Alduin had vanished, Miraak was still staring at where he'd stood. Shamir was still wrapped around his back, clutching him in silence as she cried, her nails digging into his flesh.
He felt his arm come up, and he placed it over hers, pressing his skin into hers. Confused by his lack of a reaction to her nearness, her touch.
“What have you done, Shamir?” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, even has he held her arm against his midriff tightly.
“Saved you,” she murmured against his back.
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It was both dark and bright in his temple. His eyes, he'd found, were having a hard time adjusting to the light and the contrast. It was odd that this was the first thing he thought of as he lay there, naked (except for his mask), on his side, Shamir hugging him as though he would disappear if she allowed him breath. And maybe he would...
His arm was against her tensed arm, clutching her tightly. Still not understanding how he wasn't disgusted by her touch, but didn't want to lose the feeling. He was both confused and terrified of what was happening, of what had happened, he was starting to believe he was mad. Hadn't he already lost it though? He was lucid right now, wasn't he?
Was this a ploy of Mora's? Was Mora making him see and feel these things? To make him have hope only to crush it again and again? His eyes filled with tears, unbeknownst to him, he wouldn't be able to handle this. Not losing this. This was freedom ...
“ I should let you....nnmmmmm... believe you have succeeded next time ."
His eyes clenched closed behind the mask (it was like Mora was in the Temple with him instead of in his mind), spilling the tears that had been hovering there. His breathing was starting to get laboured, and he felt his body break out in cold sweat, turning his skin clammy. His eyes snapped open again.
Mora wasn’t in the temple. He’d hallucinated.
Alduin. His breathing stopped, and he found himself holding it.
He'd been there. Mora couldn't fake him, no one could. Which meant Alduin had entered Apocrypha. Shamir had led Alduin straight to him . His breathing tittered, and he hissed out a long breath, no matter how much air he took in, his lungs weren't expanding. He was starting to hyperventilate.
Miraak reached up and ripped the mask from his face as he sat up suddenly. Shamir had lost her grip as he'd moved so rapidly, he'd slipped through her arms. He was getting dizzy, and the Breton was immediate to act.
“Miraak!” Her voice was like milk and honey. Soothing over his ravaged mind.
She cast Calm on him with both hands and went to kneel in front of him, facing him. She grabbed his face with both hands and rubbed her nose against his, breathing him in, forcing him to breathe her in. She flooded his senses, and his grey eyes widened (not black! The black veins in his face all gone! She was shamed to note she hadn't noticed them gone on his back before now).
He focused on her, those clear grey eyes (she’d seen these very same eyes recently…) and his body stopped shaking as he stared at her. His eyelids blinking rapidly. His breathing slowed as his irises moved from focusing on her eyes. Finally a long, deep exhale, before his head lowered and his hands came up to grip her wrists.
“Vahdin,” his voice was unsteady, his heart pounding. He was still steadying his frayed nerves when his stomach bottomed out suddenly as he thought the words he spoke next. “What did you give the World Eater?”
“I gave what I had to give.” Came her whispered reply and his eyes slammed shut, his fingers tightened on her wrists.
He released her, and touched her cheekbone, her skin was soft, tear streaked and pale. He was detached to note that he still felt no disgust and willingly touched her. Her cheeks were a bit gaunt as if she hadn’t eaten a solid meal in weeks (which she hadn’t…). She was small in his hands, long fingers touching the back of her scalp and tangling in her hair.
He knew what she gave. Knew it in his very soul. A soul that was still not his own
“We belong to Alduin now,” she murmured, tilting her head in his hand, her own coming up to cover his. She was still looking at him, her eyes glittering jewels. He felt his blood freeze in his veins.
He smiled sadly. “Alduin…” he closed his eyes, “He’s going to kill you, you know.”
“We all die eventually,” she murmured, surprisingly calm, “I live now, as do you.”
“For how long?” he asked, his eyes dropping to her lips involuntarily, his voice lowering.
“Long enough to conquer Skyrim, I reckon,” she leaned forward and made an attempt to rub her nose against his, he pulled away from her.
“You’ve thrown Skyrim to the dragons.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “For you, I would have given more.” He closed his eyes while she moved to be closer to him, wrapping both arms about him. “We are Dragonborn,” she continued, “It was only a matter of time before my natural instincts to dominate my surroundings would have kicked in anyways, and someone was losing a crown.”
He swallowed and glanced down at the top of her head. She tilted her head back so that their eyes met, he swallowed again, his adam's apple bobbing.
“You make light of this,” he spoke slowly.
“Yes,” she smiled, “You’re free, so am I.”
He stared down at her intently, his grey eyes steadily getting brighter. He eventually lowered his head and his lips met hers (this was their first kiss). It was a tentative kiss, could even go so far as to say it was a skittish kiss, his mouth shook and he held it against her own for barely two seconds before he pulled away completely. His stomach had clenched uncomfortably at the contact.
It wasn’t like before though where just the simple contact had sent him into a panic. He could touch her with his hands and body (no panic), but the intimate contact threw him (it felt... odd ). He was uneasy about it.
Shamir must have understood his body language for she kept her distance. She let her eyes wander down the expanse of his wide, scarred back. He had wide shoulders, his physique typical of Atmorans and Nords alike. He was muscular as well, despite the years of captivity. Her eyes lowered further and she blushed suddenly as she was reminded he was completely naked.
She cleared her throat awkwardly.
“I’m going to go and see what gift Alduin was talking about,” she jumped to her feet and left the room. Not giving him a chance to respond, but giving him the solitude to gather his thoughts.
His eyes alighted on his mask, on the floor where he’d left it. Not wearing meant exposing his face and expressions to her scrutiny. He didn’t think he could change overnight and he walked back towards it and bent to grab it, he paused as he did so.
Miraak’s eyes had landed on his arm and he realized for the first time that his skin was unmarred (apart from the litany of scars). His veins weren’t black any more, his eyes immediately dropped to his chest and then because he was looking down, his dick.
Couple things happened in that moment. He realized he was naked, had been for a while now, and he was back to normal. His stomach bottomed out again, and he found himself wondering some of the most stupid things that could have popped into his head at that very moment. What did Shamir think of his looks?
He was contemplating his mask when she returned with an armful of stuff and he found himself blushing. He positioned his mask over his genitals in a way he thought was not very obvious, as if that just happened to be the way the mask ended up. That he was embarrassed for her to see him naked now even after everything sounded foolish even in his mind, but he was.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she exclaimed, dropping whatever she was holding down, “Look at this!” she held up a set of black robes, very similar to the green ones he’d worn in Apocrypha, and then she handed him a mask.
His dropped from his fingers forgotten (that he was nude as well) and he approached her. He crouched beside her and took the mask from her hands. It was black, it covered the entirety of his face, but there was an intricate and very detailed dragon skull in the front, the same size as his head, almost as if it had been made specifically for him.
He couldn’t help himself as he pulled the black mask over his face. His eyes didn’t have to look out from slits, as it fully covered his face, yet did not impede his sight. The bones gave him a set of horns, almost identical to Alduin’s in shape and colour.
Shamir started handing him the pieces of armour that she assumed were meant for him (they’d been much too big for her) and watched as he put each and every piece on, one after the other. When he was finished, she was impressed and slightly intimidated.
His armour was completely black, the robes flowing around him. There were dragon bones along his shoulders and arms. Gauntlets and boots made of Void black scales. His mask no longer Mora’s tentacles, but instead Alduin’s skull and horns. He straightened beneath her gaze and her breath caught at how proud he looked just standing there.
He tilted his head in her direction and she blushed as she noticed he noticed she was openly staring at him with admiration. She immediately looked away and clenched her thighs together. She’d been aroused at the sight of him, armoured as he was. Shamir went back to going through the remaining armour obviously meant for her.
Hers was the more form fitting Light Armour, with black scales following her smaller stature. Her helmet was also a bit different, her face was not hidden, Alduin wanted everyone to know she was the Last Dragonborn. She had the same horns on her helmet as Miraak.
Every piece of leather felt supple soft but strong as the scales that adored the plates and greaves (she changed right there in front of him). The armor hugged her small frame, over her hips and torso in a way that made the Nightingale armor she once wore almost uncomfortable in comparison. Even the gloves matched Miraak’s in a way that the knuckles and fingers were Void black tiny scales. She flexed her hand in them and paused.
“This is made of his scales, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” He nodded very faintly.
Her eyes raised to his dragon mask and she swallowed as she lowered her arms and straightened as well. Alduin’s gift was something grand indeed. There really would be no excuse for them to fail, not with this.
“I promised him Skyrim,” Shamir murmured, “Let’s deliver it on a silver platter.” Miraak remained silent while she continued, “We’re due a conversation, you and I,” she whispered, “But it can wait—”
She never got to finish what it was she was going to say because he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, knocking the air from her lungs. He pressed her against his armoured body with enough force that there was no mistaking his meaning.
“Yes, we need to talk,” he agreed, then his voice dropped as he whispered, “You are my mate, Vahdin, you saved me.”
Her eyes widened and she looked up into the black dragon holes. He growled low in his throat and she felt her entire body vibrate with his rumble, and then he reached up and removed the mask and she immediately understood what was going on. His eyes were glowing.
This was Miraak the dragon.
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“ Vahdin ,” his eyes glowed as his head lowered and his pressed his mouth against hers. His tongue slid along her lower lip, demanding entry. She opened her mouth and moaned as he slipped inside. Their tongues swirling in an imitation of what he wanted to do with her.
Her hands reached up to grab his head, “Miraak,” she breathed into his mouth.
He froze and blinked, his eyes returning to normal. He was staring down at her with confusion now. He swallowed and made to move away from her when she tightened her hold on his head and brought him back down to her forcibly.
He grunted but did not fight her as she forced a Dibellan kiss on him.
Both of his gloved hands came up and grabbed her wrists. Their lips parted and he made to speak, but she silenced him, as if she knew what he was going to say.
“Please,” she finally sobbed, “Let me hold you if nothing else!”
He released her wrists and wrapped his arms about her smaller frame, hugging her awkwardly. It still felt off, he didn’t know what to make of it. Her arms came around his big body and she clung to him, like she had been when they’d first appeared in his Temple. He didn’t know what to say to her as she burst into tears.
“Shamir,” he closed his eyes, wishing he was wearing his mask, hating that his dragon kept taking it off. Need lips to kiss . His eyes snapped open and he frowned at nothing in particular.
“I know this is going to be hard,” she whispered against his chest, “It’s hard for me too…” she swallowed, “But don’t shut me out… Please…”
He sighed heavily while she grabbed his robes at his back with both hands. He still didn’t know what to say. How could he explain that he kept expecting Mora to appear over head when Alduin owned their souls (hers for sure, Alduin had already made it clear he was worth nothing). How could he explain that every time he touched her, his body reacted with both fear and desire?
“Months I’ve tried to free you…” she spoke softly against his robes drawing his attention though he still felt weird holding her as he was. She looked up, those emerald eyes shining, glowing. “None of the Divines would answer my call for help, the other Daedra all but laughed in my face.” Her hands clenched tightly in his clothes, “I sought them all out.”
He felt his lungs expand. “Shamir…” he trailed off as she rubbed her face against his chest.
“I was going to return alone if Alduin hadn’t found me when he did.”
Miraak’s arms tightened about her small body involuntarily. “Alduin… found… you ?” he spoke deliberately, his tone disbelieving.
“I was going to open that book…” he heard her voice crack as she continued on as if he hadn’t spoken his disbelieving question. “Months away from you tore my heart…” he felt her shudder. “I wasn’t myself…. I need to be here, at your side, Miraak,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “I wasn’t going to leave you there alone for long.”
Miraak tugged her back from his chest and stared down wide eyed at her shining green eyes. “Alduin… found you first?” he repeated, his tone still disbelieving. She nodded.
“After Sanguine returned me to Skyrim,” she swallowed, focusing on him, “He was waiting for me.” He continued to stare at her, his eyes steady and clear. Her hand reached up as if it had a mind of its own and Shamir touched her fingertips to just below his eyes. “The taint is gone,” she whispered, her voice turning husky, changing the subject.
He swallowed (he knew what she was up to but he allowed it, speaking of Alduin unnerved him at the moment), and his gaze turned intense. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she parted her own.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked.
He swallowed again, his mouth completely dry. “ Yes .”
Miraak lowered his head so that he was easier to access and held his breath as she tentatively touched her mouth to his. He tensed (he had expected to) and then relaxed when she pulled away. She made a second attempt at kissing him, but he pulled away before their lips could touch.
He blushed uncontrollably, and raised a hand to hide his eyes as he straightened. This was a lot more awkward then it needed to be. He fought the urge to turn his back to her and pull the mask back on. Gods be damned, why was he floundering so much?
Her hand reached out and gently touched his chest, above his heart and she let her fingers flare to palm the thumping organ beneath. He glanced down through the gaps of his fingers and found her eyes alight like glimmering gems. His heart beat faster.
Looking at her, adorned in Alduin’s gifted armor. Helm horned and savage about her dark crown of hair. The way her skin seemed to gleam and beckon at him with its paler color against the void scales.
Miraak’s heart skipped a single beat. He felt it, and he knew she felt it too (her eyes blinked and then brightened significantly). The sight of her, the glory that she was standing there, admitting to him that she had gone to every Divine and Prince so that she could to beg for his life. That she had thrown her own soul to the World Eater to see him free.
He felt the rumble in her chest, low and soft coming from deep in her throat. And saw the moment she heard her own voice that it startled her, she who didn’t have a history with communing with her dragon. Who didn’t know her full instincts laying dormant inside of her yet.
He felt the rigid way he held his body as she reached with the other hand, armored wrist gliding up his bicep to trail over the shoulder guards there until they met the skin on his neck. The very tips of her gloves fingerless, for her bow and sneak skills, he wondered idly, and then she growled again.
Less tentative, he saw how she liked the sound and then her eyes blinked once more. Glowing emerald orbs stared up at him.
“ Vahdin .” It slipped from his lips in a low timber. She growled louder, and her fingers pressed against the side of his neck and his chest simultaneously.
“ Mine .” One word. It dropped from her lips like a proclamation. She pounced.
Shamir yanked him down with a force he didn’t know she possessed but should have, seeing as she was Dragonborn. Her smaller frame standing on tiptoes to reach his mouth as the hand on his neck sank into his hair to hold him. He wanted to yank away, to pull from her because all he could see in his mind’s eye was the way Mora had ripped them apart, forced every coupling they had in some form or another.
She mewled against his lips, clearly more aroused than threatened. He tensed and then Miraak’s nostrils flared in that second and he breathed in the musk that could only be her. Snowberries, nightshade and crisp nettle trees. It should have repulsed him, it should have, but his fists wrapped up in the armor at her hips, holding her tight against him.
The stirring in his soul started when he kissed her back, that rumbling deep in his chest that wanted to answer her own. And he gave in. The peace settled over him without him fighting it.
His hands gripped her hips and he hauled her smaller body against his own, wrapping his long arms around her hips as he snarled.
“ Vahdin .” His dragon had surged forward again.
She pulled back with a gasp. A gleam in her emerald eyes, her lips swollen from his kisses, the musk of her arousal slowly seeping from beneath her armors. Miraak’s head bent down to nuzzle the edge of her cheek where skin met helmet. She lifted her hand and the helm went flying, strands of her hair swaying as the piece of scales and bones dropped almost soundlessly to the stone floors of his temple.
Her face moved and she nuzzled his neck, the shelf of his ear, her hips rocked and his throat constricted as he snarled again, the sound feral, barely human.
Twisting them, his eyes danced for only a moment before he spotted a ruined offering table. A corner was squared off and a crack went down the middle but it looked sturdy enough. That’s where Shamir found herself, back slammed into the stone surface covered in soft vines and moss as Miraak’s big body hovered over hers. His hands ripping off the armor he’d just adorned while trying to kiss and bite every inch of flesh of her throat.
Her hands worked fast, and piece by piece the armor she was gifted went flying to the ground. Until she was her underclothes and he was on top of her, teeth gently latched onto her shoulder as he rocked between her legs. He was growling incessantly because he found her body weeping between her legs for him, her underwear soaked.
He didn’t pause as he ripped her smalls from her lower body. Shamir’s breath caught as he rubbed his cock between her legs, his greys eyes glowing. Her arms lifted to wrap about his neck and shoulders and she hissed when he doesn’t immediately penetrate her sex.
“ Now dragon .” Her command doesn’t fall on deaf ears, but instead of complying, Miraak has the gall to chuckle, to grin against her skin.
“ Tell me again ,” he whispered, rubbing his dick against her nether lips, enjoying how her wetness coats him generously. He can tell by how her body tenses in his arms that she’s about to fight him. To scratch and claw at him, to demand he mount her, and he wants to hear it.
“ Mount me !” she snarled, at the same time as he sunk his teeth in the juncture of where neck and shoulder met. He wasn’t gentle as he shoved his dick passed her nether lips and deep into her cunt.
His eyes clenched closed as Shamir gasped, back arching and body pulsing around him. It’s tight, her body is vice-like around his every inch and she’s thriving on it. He can already feel her orgasm mounting and it makes his head spin. There’s no force here, in his temple, above them or around them. There’s no limbs forcing their movements or arousals. This is
Miraak's hips start slow, he really does try to pace himself (try being the operative word), but Shamir reacts in just the right ways to drive him mad with hunger for her every sound. Her heels dig into his lower back, her spine arched off the offering table, her fingers tugging on his hair and his teeth sunk into her neck refusing to release their prize.
They were mates.
His hips snap harder, faster, he knows he won’t last but a few moments longer if he continues.
There was a cry of disappointment from her as Miraak pulls from her body suddenly. He’s not gentle as he flips her around on the table, pressing her stomach into the stone. He let one of his hands glide down the length of her back before gripping her ass with both hands.
Her hair is wild and covering half of her face as she glanced over her shoulder, glowing green eyes meeting his. He steadies his feet and makes sure the angles right before baring his teeth down at her from over her back.
“ Mine .” One word. Animalistic and primal, his tone brooked no arguments.
He impaled her once more and didn’t hesitate to resume his demanding pace. Pulling cries and sharp high pitched whines from his little dark-haired mate.
Miraak bent forwards and wrapped an arm about her torso as he pulled her up and off the table. He pressed her back against his chest, his hand coming up to gently cup around the base of her throat to hold her to him. Angling her cunt just right to hit that spongey place deep inside of her that he knows will drive her wild. How she growls for him.
Miraak can’t hold back, so he reached forward with the other hand and is quick to find the pearl above her pussy. Fingers rolling and pinching until she’s squeezing him tighter and tighter, milking him for all she was worth. He can feel himself right at that edge.
“ Come with me, Vahdin !” he hisses in her ear, his voice unsteady.
She came with a squeaking roar, he’s not long to follow (barely a heartbeat). and with a roar of his own that shakes the walls of his temple, he releases his seed inside of her.
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The world could have ended for the pair of them and neither would have noticed, much less awakened for it. Wrapped around each other, naked, surrounded by their armours (his robes were being used as a crude blanket). He was on his back, and she was draped across his chest, almost three quarters on his body, her limbs entangled with his.
To this, Miraak opened his eyes.
There had been no dreams and no nightmares. He had not been haunted by Mora or tentacles, and he was staring at the ceiling of his temple. An actual ceiling that was not a vomit coloured green.
His breath caught, and his heartbeat increased. He was out .
There were going to go outsi—
His stomach growled something fierce to the point that it actually pained him and startled him. His eyes widened, unsure what had happened for a brief second (his hands started glowing with Healing) and confused as to why he was in pain. He was mentally going through the many reasons why he was hurting when his stomach gurgled once more and it dawned on him.
Hunger pains. That’s right… he was hungry...
He blinked once, twice, thrice. A wide, boyish grin split across his face for a heartbeat and his eyes could have moistened for a second. He wasn’t in Apocrypha. He was no longer immortal. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep calming breath.
Another loud bubbling scream had him wincing, not in pain, but hoping she wouldn’t wake. He rather liked where she was, despite that he was uncomfortable with everything else (it was hard to explain). It hadn’t been him per se that Shamir had spent the night with, but his dragon half. He just had dream-like memories of the whole event.
Except that now they were both naked, she on top of him, all her curves pressed into him, her scent all around and on him. Her thigh was in intimate contact with him, an ever-hardening him . He cursed mentally, and yet remained unmoving and loathe to wake her. The floor was hard and cold, he was a better mattress. She’d barely slept in months, he’d let her sleep her fill.
He closed his eyes. He was fully erect against her leg now, he swallowed, and felt himself blush. He had to think of things that would distract him.
Alduin. Man or dragon, didn’t matter which guise (it was working). He avoided thinking of the obvious choice of Mora for obvious reasons. Hagravens (that did it…).
And then she moaned, rubbed her face against his pectoral and let a little sigh escape from her lips as she took a deep breath. Her leg moved just enough that her pussy was against his thigh (HAGRAVENS!). It wasn’t working (inner panic).
There was another deafening rumble from his midriff at exactly this moment.
And to this, Shamir opened her eyes. He froze.
“Are you hungry?” she asked sleepily, her voice husky (that wasn’t helping!).
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes.”
She made a half-assed attempt at reaching behind her without moving anything except her arm. She groaned in annoyance at the fact that she actually had to move off him to grab her pack.
It was noted that despite everything that had happened between them, she still wanted contact with him. And he—
His inner musings were interrupted with her slapping some goat cheese and shredded meat on his chest. He was quick to transfer the food to his hands and sat up to eat. She sat behind him, her back to his, maintaining skin contact. She’d grab food for her as well.
“It wasn’t me last night,” she eventually squeaked out, able to confess now that see wasn’t looking at him. He was silent for a moment.
“I know,” he nodded, and then added as an afterthought, “It wasn’t me either.”
“Will it ever stop?” she asked quietly as she ate, “Them taking over our bodies like that?”
He swallowed the bit of food before he answered. “I don’t know, it never happened before you.”
“Well, that sounds…” she trailed off and then sighed heavily, “We’re fucked.”
He remained silent, finishing his meal, lost in thought.
Miraak wouldn’t tell her this, but he was relieved that it had been her dragon rather than her that his dragon had bedded. He actually wanted to erase the memory of that first forced coupling Mora had done with a better one, a willing one (something that wouldn’t have happened on Apocrypha). He wanted to show her how gentle he actually could be, and his dragon would not be able to do that.
“I’m glad it was your dragon, and not you,” she suddenly said, her voice soft. He stiffened, actually surprised by how that mirrored his exact thoughts although he didn’t say anything. Rather he finished eating and was quick to gather all his armours and robes.
As soon as he was fully dressed and masked, he scanned the room (making a point to avoid the offering table in the corner). There was nothing of value anywhere, and he turned to glance back towards Shamir.
“I am going outside,” he said calmly, making his way out of the main chamber. She nodded as she was still chewing and waved him off. He thought she’d dismissed him, but missed how her eyes followed him as he walked across the room. He also didn’t realize that the moment he left the room she was scrambling into her armours that had been tossed about the night before.
He kept his pace deliberate despite the fact that his heart was drumming excitedly in his head. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he made his way towards the entrance of his Temple. This was it. This would prove if he was dreaming or hallucinating. He was going outside.
Miraak paused in front of the doors and swallowed nervously. He wondered briefly if he should wait for Shamir to accompany him outside, and then frowned from behind his mask. What did it matter if he waited for her or not? He licked his dry lips and pushed the doors open.
There wasn’t much natural light that he could see, seeing as he was standing in the winding tunnel that was the entrance of the basement of his temple. He stayed still as he breathed the crisp clean mountain air. It shook him as he stood there silently, just breathing. His heart was echoing in his head, pounding to a beat fueled by the adrenaline.
He stopped just short of leaving the tunnel. He’d already broken out in cold sweat as he stood there debating, unsure how to proceed, and nervous to. He blushed beneath his mask at how ridiculous he was being.
He tensed when he heard footsteps behind him but relaxed as he remembered that it had to be her. No one else was in his Temple. He didn’t react when he felt her come up beside him and stand there with him. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she was smiling at him.
“Wait until you see it,” she spoke softly, there was an excited edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before. He took a staying breath and walked out into the sunlight that filtered through the broken stained glass windows of his temple. He groaned as the sun blinded him and he had to actually raised his hand to shield his vulnerable eyes. It was still too bright so he closed them and stayed still.
He made a second attempt at looking at the scenery by slowly opening his eyes. Despite the mask, it was still bright enough to hurt but he forced himself to look anyways. He tensed again when he felt her small hand grab his. Her fingers tightened about his and he clenched back as his sensitive eyes finally took in the area for the first time in millenia.
Things had changed drastically in the last five thousand years since he’d actually laid physical eyes on anything that wasn’t a part of Apocrypha. The snow was blinding, there were a lot more trees now than before, and a lot more snow than he remembered. He knew Alduin had destroyed the vast majority of his Temple all those years ago (he’d seen it so he was expecting the state of the building).
Had the sky been that blue before? The Tree stone (one of the All-maker stones that dotted Solstheim) glowed brightly, surrounded by sunshine. He licked his lips and cautiously approached the stone (Shamir following behind him silently as he still held her hand) . He could hear the tell-tale humming as he placed a gloved hand against its smooth surface.
He’d always had an affinity for the Tree stone (it was why he had his Temple built around it). The power he had always took from it, vital to his efforts in the Dragon War. It made all his spells drain his mana less. It was one of the reasons he’d been so powerful and feared, he’d always taken full advantage of the stone’s power. He was no fool, and almost as though he’d been doing this his entire life (which he’d had before Apocrypha), he let the Tree stone blessing come over him.
The familiar tendrils weaving its way along his body fusing with his mana pool. He just restrained himself from groaning in surprised pleasure. Shamir (who had come to stand beside him) placed a hand beside his. He heard her gasp as the blessing entered her body and he grinned behind his mask.
“Oh that was…” she blinked and then frowned as she pulled her hand away, she flexed her fingers and glanced down at them, “That was different,” she continued, her words sounding prudent.
“It is a blessing from the All-maker stones,” he explained, his voice level. He’d released her hand and raised it to the symbol carved into the stone. “The Tree stone.”
She nodded and glanced about the rock platform on which they stood, surrounded on all sides by stairs. There used to be an even bigger part that those stairs had led to (his private quarters amongst them). Alduin had seen to the almost total destruction of his Temple, there was almost nothing left but the basement.
“So you lived here?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Alone?” she continued softly.
He was looking at her steadily, debating on what to tell her and then deciding almost immediately afterwards that it didn’t matter. This was beyond ancient history.
“No,” he said slowly, and then glanced around the area (not noticing how she stiffened), “I was the leader of the Dragon Priests,” he lowered his hand from the Tree stone, “When I walked amongst men, Solstheim was not an island, but part of Skyrim,” he explained, his words weaving a spell around her, “I ruled beneath Alduin, as the strongest of the Priests,” he sighed heavily, “A favoured son, for my blood is linked to Alduin,” he tilted his head in her direction, “He is my uncle.”
That made her blink and then she frowned suddenly. “Your uncle ?”
He smiled from behind his mask, “Yes.” The word was drawn out, “Paarthurnax is my father.”
Her eyes widened suddenly and she reached up to pull the mask from his face. Miraak allowed it. Her emerald eyes were immediately on his grey ones and he saw the instant she recognized them. Her eyes filled with tears and he suddenly understood why Alduin had found her.
Paarthurnax was dead.
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He remained silent while she cried. His arms were behind his back, he was clasping his one wrist. “I’m sorry, Miraak,” she wiped her eyes. Since she’d removed his mask, she got to see his eyebrow arch.
“I think I understand why Alduin found me now,” she murmured, her eyes filling again. He raised a hand to silence her.
“He’s dead,” she said anyways, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. He shrugged, indifferent.
“He chose his fate,” Miraak drawled. He was mildly irritated that he wouldn’t get to see the old dragon again, but it passed.
“Your very…” she trailed off and frowned at him through her tears, “...distant.”
He shrugged again. “It’s been five thousand years. I mourned his lost, long ago.”
He grabbed his mask from her fingers and pulled it back on his face as he slowly mounted the steps westward. She was silent as she followed behind him, their new armour muffling their footsteps. He paused once he was on the scaffold and when she came beside him she understood why.
His three dragons from Apocrypha were standing at the base of the temple in a semicircle, waiting. All three were looking up, soaking in the weak sunlight Solstheim offered through the ash and clouds. Sahrotaar was closer to the stairs then the other two, his glowing eyes were fixated on the First Dragonborn.
“Sahrotaar,” Miraak breathed, staring down at the Serpentine dragon.
The man took the stairs at a hurried pace, stopping when he was practically face to snout with the dragon. There was a silence that stretched for a few minutes until the dragon opened his wings and a blue-ish green smoke surrounded him. The Serpentine dragon vanished and in his place stood a muscular, seven foot tall, bald, white-skinned, naked Atmoran with glowing, amber eyes.
The Atmoran grabbed Miraak roughly and hugged him hard. It surprised Shamir and she gasped, unsure what to do or say. When Sahrotaar finally released Miraak, he grabbed him by the shoulders and held him at arm's length.
“Thank you, brother.” There was a small smile on his lips as he looked Miraak in the eye, despite his mask.
Miraak eyed him back levelly, and his nod was barely discernible. “You are welcome.”
Sahrotaar continued to stare at Miraak for an incredibly long time (still with the smile on his mouth) before he finally stepped away and transformed back into his dragon form. He roared directly in Miraak’s face, the sound jubilant. The First Dragonborn returned the favour and roared back at the Serpentine dragon. It was almost… playful.
Miraak approached Sahrotaar and put both his hands on his neck, where he usually sat. He let his gloved palm run down the scales of the dragon, petting him. Shamir came up beside him and looked at him questioningly.
“What was that for?” she murmured, curious.
“Suppressing his will,” Miraak answered, his attention on his hand, “Dovah lose their sanity, mind, if they can not commune with the sky of Kynareth,” he explained, “Surely you’ve heard the tale of Numinex.”
She nodded slowly. Everyone had read that book, even him it seemed (though that wasn’t surprising considering where he’d been). And just like that, her respect for Miraak increased. He’d deliberately kept his dragons under Bend Will to preserve their sanity, all those millenia. Leaving himself bereft of their company, completely alone, with nothing but Mora for conversation (she tasted bile in her mouth).
Miraak jumped up and sat on Sahrotaar neck, his muscles tensing immediately when Shamir placed a hand on his thigh and climbed up as well. His breath caught and he grunted (there was a couple of low snicker-like growls coming from his other two dragons) as she seated herself in front of him, her legs on his, her back to his chest. She was so small next to him, that even the horns of her helmet just reached his chin.
His heartbeat increased and he licked his dry lips, unsure what to do and yet not wanting to move her either. In the end, her wrapped an arm about her midriff to secure her to him and grabbed ahold of Sahrotaar.
Great wings opened. Three different dragon roars echoed, and they all took to the skies with Sahrotaar in the lead. She gasped and went rigid, her fingers digging in Miraak’s arm and thigh. Her eyes widened as she took in the falling ash and clouded scenery. It was beautiful.
“We will rebuild your temple someday,” Shamir finally spoke after they’d left Solstheim behind.
“No.” There was no debating this, his temple would remain in ruins. A hard lesson learned.
She was taken aback, “Why not?”
“Alduin destroyed it, he does not want it rebuilt,” Miraak said calmly, his tone unbending.
“Then let’s build another one,” she injected with a shrug. He chuckled and shook his head.
“For you,” he murmured quietly.
“What did you say?” she asked, turning her head to the side to look up at him. She hadn’t heard him over the wind, but she’d felt his chest vibrate against her back so she’d known he’d spoken.
“We are almost in Windhelm,” he raised his voice deliberately.
She was about to say something when she noticed from the corner of her eye, more dragons joining them in mid flight. Her eyes widened to the size of gold coins as their small procession went from three dragons (Miraak’s three) to four, then five, six, seven… they kept coming.
“Look!” Miraak lowered his head to whisper in her ear, “They come now,” he nodded to their left and right. Revered, Frost, Blood, Ancient, there was even a Legendary or two (hard to miss those purple scales and turned horns), dragons, all types, gliding on massive wings, cutting the clouds silently.
By the time they entered Skyrim, there was a total of twenty-five dragons (including Miraak’s) and more were coming, she could hear their distant roars. She’d tensed as she realized that these creatures were no longer her enemies, quite the contrary. She was Alduin’s Last Dragonborn. This was her army. His army.
The wheel had indeed turned on her. She swallowed the lump in her throat at the sheer size of the army. Even she, had never taken on more than two dragons at the same time and that particular battle had been crazy hard. She was surrounded on all sides now.
They reached Windhelm with enough wing power to block out the sun (they numbered in the higher than fifty now...). The guards around the city lowered their weapons at the sheer number of dragons landing and flying in circles in and around the ancient stone city.
Sahrotaar landed closest. Miraak waited until she slid off to dismount. She straightened and squared off her shoulders. Of the two factions, she knew the chance of finding an ally with Ulfric was higher than the Empire. She didn’t give two shits if he wanted to worship Talos, so long as the dragons ruled.
“This one is a stubborn Nord,” Shamir licked her lips as her and Miraak made their way towards the gates. They walked by guards who stood motionless, their weapons hanging from limp fingers, necks craned to stare at the sky.
There was not a sound to be heard from the city (everything was drowned out by the dragons). She didn’t get to kick open the massive bronze doors of the Palace of Kings. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself, was standing outside surrounded by most of the Palace residents. And just like the guards they kept passing, he too had his neck craned to the skies.
“Ulfric!” She yelled his name when she stood a good twenty feet away. She stopped short, Miraak standing silently behind her.
Ulfric tore his gaze from the horrors he was seeing. He’d recognized the voice, and when he clapped eyes on her, he wished he was hallucinating. There was no mistaken the Last Dragonborn, the Nordic Hero of lore (a mockery for she was a traitorous Breton). She looked like a human version of Alduin… and he recalled the monstrosity that was Alduin.
His eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth until the muscles in his jaw bulged. She wasn’t supposed to look like that. Wear that kind of armour. Nor was she to be leading a literal army of dragons, she was supposed to slay them all! “You!” he snarled it and turned his full body in her direction. “What have you done?!” his arm flew to gesture at the sky.
“Nothing, yet,” she started walking in his direction. “But I am giving you a choice.”
He glared at her. “You’ve whored yourself to Alduin, and thrown Skyrim to the wolves.”
She straightened. “I am Alduin’s Last Dragonborn now,” her eyes burned green fire, “Choose your words wisely or Windhelm’s destruction is on you.”
Miraak chose this moment to step around Shamir and draw Ulfric’s attention to him. “Appreciate that you are offered a choice,” he tilted his head down to better look down the smaller Nord (he was a good five inches shorter than Miraak). “Consider this a favour from the gods.”
“Who are you?” Ulfric’s wrath was not diminished despite the fact that he was obviously overwhelmed and overpowered.
“The voice of Reason,” Miraak answered smoothly, his voice soothing almost, “You seek freedom from the oppression of the elves, aye?”
There would have been a heavy silence were it not for the roars.
“Visualize this if you will,” the First Dragonborn continued, as though Ulfric had answered positively, “You advancing on Solitude,” Miraak took a deliberate closer step towards the Jarl, “With an veritable army of dragons.” He waved an arm across the sky, “The very one at your door right now.” His voice was almost a whisper, “Imagine what the Empire would do...”
“What do you want?” Ulfric’s voice was steady, almost resigned.
“One thing,” Miraak raised a finger, “Bend a knee,” he walked around Ulfric, until he stood beside him, they were both facing towards Shamir. “Kneel and acknowledge the Last Dragonborn.”
“And if I refuse?” There was a lengthy silence between the three of them that was clouded with ill will.
“Do you really want us to demonstrate our power?” Miraak asked genuinely curious as he walked around to stand in front of the Jarl, he’d cocked his head to the side. There was another heavy silence. Miraak would give the Nord credit, he could see the battle between common sense and pride.
His shoulders did not sag, rather the Nord straightened and his tone turned solemn. “There is no need for that.” His accent was thick.
“Wise man,” Miraak murmured.
“I bend for my people,” Ulfric snapped, dropping to a knee, “To cast out the Dominion.” Those piercing ice blue eyes focused sharply on Miraak and then moved to Shamir.
Ice met emerald. Almost at eye-level to each other since the big Nord was on his knees. For the briefest of moments, Jarl Ulfric sees just a glint of madness, reflected back at him. Her feral gaze stares him down with barely a hint of recognition.
He held her gaze.
“You will be a general,” Miraak purred, backing away to stand beside Shamir.
“And you its High King?” Ulfric sneered, his piercing gaze unwavering.
Miraak chuckled genuinely amused, “Nothing so trivial.” He bowed his head as though introducing himself, “We are Dragon Priests.” Miraak straightened, “Skyrim has but one sovereign, and it is Alduin.”
Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Enjoy!
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He could feel them crawling all over his skin. Despite the fact that he’d gone to bed almost fully clothed, he’d taken off his boots, gloves and mask, he was naked right now. His entire body tensed like steel.
Both his arms were up over his head, tied to the wooden headboard of the big bed he occupied. His legs were spread wide, also tied to the bed. It wasn’t rope binding him, but black, inky tentacles. His heart accelerated.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He broke out in cold sweat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He opened his mouth to scream bloody murder but he found his voice gone. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. There was a tentacle around his throat silencing his voice.
He whimpered pathetically. His entire body frozen in absolute fear. His fists were clenched (his nails cut skin) and Miraak fought hard in the restrains.
“ Yeeeeesssss ,” Mora’s terrifyingly familiar warble boomed in the room, “ Struggle, mmmy Champion .”
His eyes widened until they practically bulged out of his head, veins were visible along his forehead, the shadows giving him horns. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump . The stone ceiling of the Palace of the Kings had disappeared and was replaced by by the nauseating, swirling green of Apocrypha. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. His mouth opened on a soundless scream.
“ You can never escape mmme .” Mora purred as the giant, looped eye appeared over Miraak, blinking out of synch from the dozen other eyes the Prince had. “ You are mmmine .” This was whispered against Miraak’s ear, causing him to shiver and break out in gooseflesh. He’d been out !! He knew he’d been out!!
He arched on the bed and then stopped moving when he felt a tentacle wrap around the base of his dick, forcing an unwanted erection. He raised his head to look down. He wished he hadn’t. His stomach twisted and his heart broke to see her there.
Shamir stood at the end of the bed. She was in between his spread legs, naked as the day she was born. There was not a single tentacle touching her beautiful skin. Her long chestnut hair fell down her back like a cloak, a lock draped over her shoulder, snaking around her breast.
Mora hadn’t needed the tentacle at his cock to get him hard. Just seeing her there, looking down at him with a small smile on her lips was enough. He tried to talk to her, to tell her to run. She had to get away… Her smile widened creepily and his stomach bottomed out as she placed a knee on the bed between his bound legs. No ...
“We belong to Mora,” she crawled towards his erection. He shook his head violently on the bed until she touched him.
Her cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him in a way that had him throwing his head back, silently screaming for her to stop. To snap out of whatever spell Mora had cast on her.
And then her mouth wrapped around the tip of his shaft. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she took more of him down her throat. He clenched his eyes closed as her tongue circled his glans, licking at the slit, trying to tunnel into it gently. He was soaked in sweat.
He felt his testicles clench and almost as if Shamir knew he was about to cum, she grabbed his testes in one hand and squeezed hard. If Miraak could have howled he would have, instead he bucked, trying to dislodge her. It only infuriated her and she clenched harder, her nails digging painfully into his scrotum.
“ I told you before ,” Mora’s voice was coming from her mouth, she was clutching his shaft with one hand, her face right beside his dick as she stared up at him, “ You may only release in her vagina .”
He bucked again, his eyes filling with tears as she released him and straddled him. No ! His mouth opened and closed and he shook his head as she grabbed his shaft again and sat down on him without preamble.
He would have screamed as tentacles started caressing them both, but he had no voice. He felt one push against his anus and penetrate him as Shamir rode him. He arched, sinking deeper in her depths accidently as Mora pushed against that place inside him. Gods !!
“ Give me your seed ,” Shamir purred in Mora’s voice, leaning forward on him so that their lips were just inches apart.
Shamir waited until she figured everyone of import was in bed and snuck out of her room. She couldn’t believe Miraak had insisted they sleep separated (As if she cared for her reputation). She couldn’t sleep without him.
She tiptoed down the stone halls, keeping her steps muffled. It was a good thing that she’d been with Miraak when Ulfric had shown him his room else she’d be lost. It didn’t take long before she found it in the maze that was the upper floors of the Palace of Kings. She very carefully turned the door when she hit her first hiccup. He’d locked the door.
She smirked to herself and pulled out a lockpick. It would take more than a locked door to keep her out. She crouched in front of the lock and went to work. As she focused on the delicate procedure, her tongue came out the side of her mouth.
She kept quiet when she heard the distinct click noise of success and quickly snuck into his darkened room silently. There was a lantern lit on the night table beside the bed, casting an eerie glow about the room. She noticed his mask and gloves beside the light, his boots were on the floor.
He moaned suddenly from the bed, startling her. She froze. Miraak’s head was going from left to right and back again in anxious movements. His legs were shifting continuously, fighting with the fur blankets that covered him and the bed.
And then he whimpered.
The sound was so full of fear that Shamir knew immediately he was dreaming of Mora. She didn’t hesitate and pulled the covers aside so she could slide into bed with him. She cuddled into his side and placed her head against his shoulder. He stilled immediately.
He took a deep breath and she felt his body shudder before his arms wrapped about her body, clutching her tightly. She rubbed her head against his arm, and was about to close her eyes to go to sleep when he suddenly sat up in bed. It was rather abrupt and he took no care of the fact she’d been on him.
“Miraak?” she whispered, sitting up as well and moving to his back.
He took another deep, steadying breath, and hung his head in his hands. “It was Mora…” he whispered quietly, his voice very low.
She didn’t say anything, instead she laid her head against his back soothingly. She understood him completely. She dreamt of Mora too… which is why she didn’t want to sleep alone. The Prince didn’t haunt her dreams when Miraak was near her.
“You were in on it with him,” Miraak remarked slowly, both hands still in his hair, his braid was squashed against the side of his head.
“You rape me in my dreams,” Shamir spoke quietly. He stilled and turned his head to look back at her, his grey eyes penetrating in their intensity, “I know it’s not you…” she murmured, “Mora’s voice…” she trailed off.
“You had Mora’s voice too,” he finished for her, lowering his palms from his hair, and then he added almost as an afterthought, “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his grey eyes locking on her.
She felt her eyes fill with unshed tears and she swallowed. “Please don’t send me away…” she barely recognized her voice and she felt her lower lip wobble but she pressed her mouth closed, wrapping her arms about his midriff, “I’m scared if you’re not with me…”
There was a heavy silence that encompass them both. She pressed her face against his robed back, her tears soaking the material. She could hear his heartbeat and its erratic drumming made her realize he was just as scared as she was.
He took a deep breath and raised his arm so that he could bring Shamir to his side as he laid back down on the mattress. She snuggled into him and sighed deeply, content he was allowing her to stay.
“I love you,” she breathed, nuzzling him. He didn’t have any reaction to her declaration (that she could feel).
His bare hand was at her shoulder, fingering the scales of her armour absentmindedly. There really only was one option open to him now. “Marry me?” he whispered the words barely lending them a voice. He didn’t want to say it, but he was scared without her too.
She heard them regardless and this had Shamir scrambling to a sitting position on the bed. Her green eyes widening and filling with more tears as she looked down at him. “What did you say?” she murmured, her own heartbeat increasing.
“You heard me , Vahdin,” he rumbled, his eyes half-lidded. She did not fail to notice there was a shimmer to them.
“You need to repeat it anyways,” she stated, her voice shaking.
He very deliberately sat up, crowding her with his size. Now that he was closer, there was no mistaken the unshed tears in his eyes. “Marry me?” her face fell as two big tears rolled down his cheeks as he blinked, “Please?” he actually grabbed her face with his big palms and with his thumbs wiped the water from her eyes (she was already crying).
She cautiously reached up and placed a hand against his cheek. “Yes,” she slowly leaned forward and pushed her lips against his. He tensed but did not move away from her. His hands dropped from her.
“I’m scared too,” Miraak admitted, his grey eyes looking into hers steadily when she pulled away from kissing him. She smiled a watery smile at his admission (He was blushing).
“We’ll protect each other,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
He actually chuckled and leaned back in the bed, bringing her with him (she was on his chest now). “You still shouldn’t be in here,” he mused, wrapping both his arms about her.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she smiled.
He remained silent for such a long time that Shamir thought he had fallen asleep. She closed her eyes and would have followed suit had he not spoken.
“Good night, Vahdin,” he said calmly.
“Good night, Miraak,” she returned.
This time when he closed his eyes, Mora wasn’t waiting for him. There were no tentacles to haunt him, no bondage.
Just Shamir, in his arms, and dare he say it? In his heart?
Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Enjoy!
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Shamir had shifted in the night to laying fully on him. She had one arm up and folded underneath her head, across his chest, the other was along his side, palm up. Her lower body was in between his legs.
Miraak didn’t so much as move a muscle when he woke up (he wasn’t going to be the one to wake her). The feel of his Breton on top of him giving him more than just comfort. His hand was at the dip in her waist, pushing her against his body (that they were fully clothed made no difference to him).
He swallowed thickly, enjoying the feel of her against him. She fit nicely on top of him, causing him no discomfort at all (except when her elbows dug into him). All her curves and softness pressing down him, he could feel himself hardening.
A lock of her hair tickled at his nose. He raised a hand to pet it down and found his fingers lingering on her head. Her hair was so soft. She stirred as he rubbed her scalp with little circular movements.
She moved and a soft groan left her mouth as she slowly stirred into wakefulness. He watched her intently, his eyes half-lidded. Finding the allure of her fluttering and the shimmering look to her sleepy emeralds eyes very pleasing to him. His eyes focused on her lips as they first pursed and then parted for her pink tongue to lick the dryness covering them.
Shamir blushed beautifully beneath his gaze once she realized he was watching her. She’d turned red and he noticed the pulse at her throat increasing in tempo. He rumbled, deep in his chest when he felt her tremble against him slightly.
“ Good morning , Vahdin ,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her face, lingering deliberately on her lips.
“What does that mean?” she croaked, her voice hoarse like a frog's. Her eyes widened immediately and she turned a deeper shade of red. His blood shot directly to his groin as his little Breton cleared her throat awkwardly, and repeated the question, croak-less, “What does that mean?”
“I was wishing you a good morning,” he translated, his one hand moving very slowly towards her hand. She gasped when he wrapped his fingers around her palm and brought her hand up to his mouth. He didn’t say a word as he pressed his lips delicately to her scarred knuckles, leaving a trail as he went, kissing each individual hump.
She blushed even more and averted her eyes completely (he was still watching her), his grey eyes practically smoldering. He moved her hand so that his lips was against her palm. He closed his eyes, breaking contact as he inhaled her scent. Committing her to memory freely and openly.
“Miraak…?” she said his name like a question, a question her understood immediately (he’d hardened completely now). He knew what she meant, that she knew that she did not need to voice her question for him to understand made him want to growl in satisfaction.
“ Yes, Vadhin ,” he answered, he’d lowered her hand so that her palm was against his beating heart, “Allow me to erase what Mora did to us.”
Her lips parted and he sat up on the bed, bringing her up with him. He kept his eyes focused on hers as he lowered his mouth to press against hers. He felt her shiver and he groaned in response. Their tongues touched tentatively, almost uncertain. He was cautiously slow, not wanting to press yet not wanting to stop, caught in a deliciously limbo of need .
“Would you undress for me, Vahdin?” he asked gently, his lips against her ear, making his voice breathy so that he could blow against her ear, causing her to break out in gooseflesh. He laid back down on his back, his head propped up against the bed while she remained half sitting up, leaning on her arms.
He got the pleasure of seeing her turn even redder than before as his words sunk into her consciousness. She looked at him quickly, like a deer would seeing a dovah, frozen solid beneath the hunter’s gaze. She was hesitant at first, her fingers quaking as they went to the ties and drawstrings of her armour. She fumbled pretty badly, his heated stare distracting her completely.
“ Breathe , Vahdin ,” he purred, his voice low, his eyes locked on hers, “Breathe.”
She swallowed and did exactly that, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she removed her armour. She hesitated but a moment before pulling it off completely until all that remained were her small clothes.
“Remove it all?” he rumbled the question, enjoying how her entire body fluctuated between bronze and red. She was shy, despite everything that had happened between them, she was shy with him. This pleased him more than he could explain. “Everything that happened before now,” he whispered, his eyes not exactly glowing but very close, “This is our first encounter Vahdin as Dragonborn , as man and woman, as mates.”
“Yes…” she mouthed the words and without looking at him reached up to lower the straps of the top portion of her smalls. She pulled it off her body and over her head, exposing her breasts. He growled in satisfaction and arched his hips beneath her once, pushing his erection into her body causing her breasts to jiggle.
He slowly sat up as she folded her arms across her front shyly, her face beet red. He wrapped his arms about her shoulders and brought her against his robed chest. His mouth had watered at the idea of sucking on those dark, hardened nipples that he’d seen for just a moment.
Miraak took a deep inhale, taking as much of her scent into his lungs as he could. He’d hated his own body for so long, hated what Mora had done to him and them. That for him, to be aroused by her of his own free will, made all the past atrocities less than they were. Mora had twisted his natural desire for his mate into something that had made his skin crawl. This affliction no longer tormented him for he loved the feel of her. He pulled away from her so that he could look at her fully.
“Lift your breasts for me,” Miraak said deliberately, watching the colour dance across her skin. Her small hands shook as they moved to obey, presenting her breasts like an offering to a pagan god. She turned her head away, her eyes clenched closed while he lowered his head and clamped his lips around her left nipple. His teeth biting into her flesh gently (she’d gasped and squeaked) and then laving with his tongue as he suckled.
His big palms moved to her small hands and replaced her hold on her bosom. He moved to the right breast, the nipple already puckered and waiting for his mouth. His tongue circled it twice before he latched on and sucked deep, his teeth just nipping the sensitive bud.
She practically fell on him when he finally pulled away and went back to laying down on the bed with his head propped up against the headboard. He was still fully robed, while all she was wearing were her bottoms.
“Bare yourself, Vahdin ,” he murmured, his heated eyes staring at her.
She swallowed, turned fifty shades of red and very awkwardly rolled down her panties. Turning a darker shade as his eyes zeroed in on the still hairless state of her mound. This caused him to sit back up. She gasped as his mouth connected with hers and his arms went about her body. She groaned and then made a noise of surprise as he lifted her and placed her on her back beside him on the bed.
He crowded her with his size, spreading her legs wide (her bottoms were hanging off one leg, she hadn’t taken them off completely). She shrieked and then moaned in shocked pleasure as his mouth found her core.
Her hands first hid her blushing face as she squeaked but within moments was grabbing at his head between her thighs. He’d wrapped his big arms under and then over her legs, holding her legs apart for his mouth. His tongue was pressing circles around her clitoris before he latched on, sucking at her pearl as though it were sweets.
She keened as he growled against her, sending delicious vibrations against her core. She ground against his mouth, his scruff prickling against her delicate skin. He was devouring her, and her fluttering hands didn’t know whether to push him away or hold him to her.
“Miraak!” she called his name as his licked at her clitoris. He pulled away as she keened, her legs trying to close around his head, instead he let them go and they closed around his waist. He was looking down at her, with a small smile on his mouth while she lay exhausted and panting, her legs open without shame or embarrassment.
He deliberately moved his hands to his robes and slowly removed them. Shamir was looking at him undress and smiled warmly. His robes were hanging off at his waist (he was still sitting on the bed) while he looked down at her intently.
He licked his lips (he could still taste her) and moved to stand beside the bed. The rest of his robes fell off him and his eyes smoldered as he watched her watch him. Her mouth parted, a breathy sigh escaped and he knelt in between her legs on the bed, his erection bobbing with his movements.
His big palms touched her thighs and pressed into her skin as her grabbed her by the knees to bring her closer to him. She gasped as he covered her, supporting his weight on one forearm. His other hand had grabbed his dick and was rubbing it deliberately up and down her wet slit.
Miraak’s stared at her lips for an eternity before he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to hers. He was working her mouth as he slowly pushed into her depths, his tongue lapping at her, twirling softly. She whimpered as he pushed tortuously slow into her, and then his tongue invaded her mouth and he swallowed her cries as he hilted himself.
He growled against her mouth and pulled away just enough to whisper against her lips. “I don’t regret the choices I made—” he grunted as her pussy clenched around him, “It brought you in my life,” his grey eyes drilled into her as he tilted her hips and brought her legs up so that her ankles were on his shoulders, “I’d do it again for you, Shamir…” he trailed off and pushed deeper into her warmth, folding her almost in half.
She moaned and her hands went to his chest, where his heart was pounding hard. He leaned down and gave her a Dibellan kiss that robbed her completely of air, and then he started moving. She was keening against his mouth as he moved against her, almost pulling out and then pushing in as deep as he could go with every stroke. His pace slow and steady.
Both of his arms were straight and on either side of her head. Her nails dug into his pectorals and she whimpered, urging him to go faster… harder. He did not. Rather he slowed the pace, moving nothing but his hips, pulling almost completely out before surging back in over and over again. The glans of his cock kissing the entrance of her womb with every re-entry.
His pace faltered but once, when she’d cried his name and started dancing beneath him. He’d felt her orgasm building and wanted to throw her into the awaiting ecstacy. He’d reigned himself in just in time (he’d felt his testes clench) to give her pleasure and still continue.
He didn’t stop while she rode out her orgasm. His hips continued their steady pounding, and it wasn’t long before they were both covered in sweat. His heart was echoing in his head, and he gathered her as close as he could to himself without pulling out of her. Her legs had dropped to wrap around his waist, and her arms were around his neck.
“ Tell me ,” he growled against her ear, grinding into her now, “Tell me you love me again.”
She was panting heavily, her eyes almost fully glazed over. She didn’t obey him fast enough so his hips stopped (wait... what?! No! ) and he pulled away just enough to look down at her with narrowed grey eyes. “N-No…” she stammered, “Don’t stop!”
“Tell me, and I will continue,” he promised, his entire body vibrating with his words.
“I love you,” she screamed it, he groaned and tightened his arms about her, and just like he promised her, he resumed his steady pace against her. Her arousal had covered them both completely, and he could hear the sounds their bodies were making as his hips smacked into hers.
“Again!” he snarled against her head, “ Tell me again, Vahdin !” This could be construed as begging.
“I love you, Miraak!” she repeated, her voice raising.
It was his turn to whimper as he felt his ejaculation spring deep inside of her. His muscles locked and he continued to pump into her, his noises transforming into a roar of completion. This was the first time, since he’d entered Apocrypha all those millennia ago, that he came of of his own volition.
It took his voice and he clenched his eyes closed as she followed him over the edge but mere seconds later. Her legs tightening around him, her cunt milking his still hard cock like her life depended on it. His name on her lips like prayer. He felt his eyes water uncontrollably as she went lax in his arms, and whispered how much she loved him over and over again until she fell asleep.
He rolled her so that she was on his chest and he was on his back (he’d managed to pull this off without them separating). He wanted to stay inside her while she slept. And just like that, Miraak decided that they could afford to spend an extra day in Windhelm.
Dragonspeech bolded as usual! Enjoy!
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She’s not sure what she expected when she awoke the next morning. Possibly pillow talk? (That’s a big possibly...) Maybe cuddling? Hopefully cuddling, Miraak was warm. It was not however, being suddenly moved from her place on top of Miraak’s chest. Her sleepy vision blinking at his perfect backside as he strode forward, yanking on his robes, to open the door enough to see who was banging on it.
Shamir blinked again, it was morning? The high windows, barely big enough to be called windows, were pale. Signaling the dreary day in Windhelm had started. And then she stilled completely as another sound echoed.
She’d forgotten. For several blissful hours (maybe a full day…?), what she was and who she belonged to. What she was creating, destroying.
“I need to speak with the Dragonborn.” Ulfric’s voice came loud and clear through the half open door and Miraak moved to close it even more, making sure the shorter Nord couldn’t see past him to Shamir's bared flesh on the big bed.
She sighed softly and pulled the furs to her chest as she sat up, her breath catching at the tender feel of the inside of her thighs and in between her legs. It was warm, comforting in a way that made her relish it because it wasn’t searing pain. It was rather gentle.
“She is indisposed. Can this not wait until after the morning meal?” Miraak's voice was honey and milk.
“It cannot, the beasts have been wreaking havoc!” Ulfric boomed angrily, “Nearly half of the fisherman’s boats are ash and more than half the stablemaster’s horses are missing!”
Shamir watched Miraak's back, as he held back a sigh, then quickly closed the door in Ulfric’s face. Her hand lifted and she giggled softly into the still room, the hearth fire nothing but embers and a chill in the air. Miraak turned, grey eyes finding her own and she still had it in her to blush under his heavy gaze.
Somehow she found her voice, squeak though it was, “Good morning.”
Miraak strode forward, his robes loose and revealing his chest and waist, his long limbs folding and moving to kneel on the bed and reach out to cup her cheek.
“ Good morning Vahdin .” His thumb gently stroked her cheek and Shamir sighed contently. She made a noise in her chest that surprised her and her eyes widened suddenly. Miraak merely smiled faintly. She’d purred and hadn’t realized it.
There was more banging on the door, followed by Ulfric’s muffled urgent voice. “ Now if you will !”
Miraak grumbled something in Dovahzhul that she didn’t understand as he turned his head to glare back at the thick wooden door. She understood his tone though, he was cursing. He glanced down at her briefly before he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers.
“I will deal with the dovs.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She didn’t have time to say anything before he’d grabbed his mask, fixed his robes and grabbed his boots. He was fully dressed and out the door before she realized that she actually wanted to go with him.
“I’m coming too!” she yelled after him, jumping out of bed to scramble into her armours. She was not a graceful as he’d been and was quite literally rolling on the ground, struggling with her boots in her haste.
She bolted for the door while tying the laces of her armour, her shoulder hit the thick wood and she grunted as she fumbled with the handle. She didn’t even think when she opened the door about which way he’d gone, she’d assumed outside which meant downstairs from this fucking maze from Oblivion.
Thankfully, she asked a guard and was pointed in the right direction silently. She booked it. Where was he? She should have found him by now considering she as running. Unless... Had he ran too?
She’d just made it down the stairs and out the door when the roaring (it had been going pretty steady) stopped completely. You could have heard a pin drop (she was so not joking…).
Her breath caught as the cold wind of the Eastmarch slapped her in the face, and then she stilled. There was not a dragon flying in the sky, all had landed and they were everywhere , on every roof (some had two or three even). All were looking in the same direction, towards Miraak (he’d removed his mask, it was dangling from his fingers). Sahrotaar, she noticed as she approached was behind the First Dragonborn, grinning that dragon smile (he seriously looked like he was smiling!).
She came up beside him and stopped as she noticed his face expression. He was scowling, his eyes practically glowing as they shifted from dragon to the next, none maintained his gaze. After what seemed an eternity, he deliberately turned his head to look down at her, his face expression softening briefly, before he pulled his mask over his head.
“Sahrotaar awaits,” he motioned to the Serpentine dragon behind them.
“Ulfric?” she asked as she put a hand on Sahrotaar’s head.
“He left already,” Miraak smiled a little to himself behind his mask as he remembered Ulfric’s facial look. The Nord had screamed when Relonikiv had grabbed him in his jaws and taken flight.
Miraak lifted her deftly onto Sahrotaar and climbed up behind her.
“ Yes, brother! ” The Serpentine dragon opened his great wings and jumped into the sky. There was a great cry from the city as all the other dragons followed, roaring as they took off.
Miraak wrapped an arm about Shamir’s waist, securing her to him. She on the other hand, was leaning forward and scratching Sahrotaar beside his spikes, just before his head. The dragon had no visible reaction, though he vibrated with a silent growl that felt suspiciously like satisfaction.
It took even less time to get to Solitude than it had to get to Skyrim from Solstheim. It had barely taken a couple hours by dragon flight and by the time they could see the walls of Solitude, Shamir had stopped scratching at Sahrotaar’s scales (at Miraak’s constant insistence).
Sahrotaar opened his wings and slowly started descending.
It was written in the many text that followed what happened in Solitude, that the siege of the seat of High Kings lasted but a single day. One day.
Elisif the fair, at the urging of both the Thalmor and the Empire had stood firm, and had refused to bow to the Last Dragonborn. It had been her last mistake.
The Jarl of Windhelm had witness in silence as the Last Dragonborn and her follower (he still didn’t know the bigger man’s name and he hadn’t recognized him when he’d seen him maskless) had calmly walked up to Solitude’s gate (he’d been following as well). The gates had opened (it had everything to do with all the dragons landing amidst the rooftops) and they’d marched right up to the doors of the Blue Palace. They’d encountered no resistance.
The traitorous Breton had remained cool and compose as she faced down Elisif and her court. Had remained stoic and emotionless despite the outright rejection she was given.
Ulfric was ready to unsheathe his sword in the event all Oblivion broke loose. He need not have worried though. When the Thalmor Advisor had stepped forward to blast their group with a spell of some sort, the masked man behind Shamir had stepped forward, almost as though he’d anticipated the High Elf’s move.
There was but one spell cast, and it wasn’t what the Thalmor had intended to cast. Rather, the follower had moved (faster than Ulfric had expected) and had grabbed the Elf by the robes. The Altmer had screamed once before turning to ash in his hands (it had happened so fast Ulfric couldn’t tell if fire or lightning had been used), the smell of burnt flesh heavy on the air.
Shamir had remained silent, her green eyes had not once left Elisif’s.
“And so falls Solitude,” Shamir had whispered, only he and her follower had heard her.
That had been the end of the beginning. The follower had roared , it wasn’t a warcry but the sound had terrified Ulfric and the rest of the court. There had been a collective gasp and a couple courtiers had taken a step back.
And the the ramifications of his roar were made crystal clear. The dragons outside answered his call, this was followed by a great bellow of human cries.
Ulfric would later remember that it was the near destruction of Solitude that had the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire abandoning their foothold on Skyrim. Ending the civil war.
Shamir and her follower, he never did learn the man’s name, had taken the Blue Palace.
The Jarl of Windhelm was declared High King of Skyrim, but he also shouldered the reason the Dragon Cult had re-emerged despite the fact he had nothing to do with it.
Ulfric had borne witness to what happened when instinct escapes the confines of the mind. The Last Dragonborn had given in to the lure of her dragon half and in the end had sided with Skyrim’s ancient tyrannical dragon ruler, Alduin.
A new age had begun.