Dragonborn Rising Ch. 03

Lakeview Manor, Near Falkreath

"By the gods! That was amazing," exclaimed Vilkas. He rolled off her, fully-spent and covered with sweat. He lay on his back in their bed next to his wife, panting for air. This was the first time they had ever made love in the morning. "I have to admit," he said as his wife straddled his broad chest and began massaging him, "It felt very nice to make love the way we did. Like you said - as true Nords."

As she ran her fingers through his chest hair, he reached up and cupped her ample breasts in his hands and toyed with her dark nipples. She smiled and leaned down to kiss him. Stopping just before she did, she said, "Thank you for not pressing me with questions, last night. I was completely exhausted." She then punctuated the point by kissing him deeply. As they embraced, his hands slid from her breasts, to her butt. He took one cheek in each hand and playfully began to knead them with his calloused hands. She moaned in pleasure and then rolled off him and snuggled, enjoying the warmth of his body.

"Now that you've rested, and we've reacquainted ourselves," Vilkas began as he caressed her satin smooth, dark-brown skin, "Tell me what has happened. I thought Elisif was High Queen."

"Elisif and Ulfric have been murdered," Naadia said bluntly and to the point. All the while choking back tears that began welling-up at the memory of seeing their bodies.

"By the gods, you're serious! Aren't you, "Vilkas explained.

Naadia silently nodded affirmation and couldn't speak. After several moments of quiet to compose herself, she shared with her husband the details of what had occurred the previous day. Travelling to High Hrothgar, the passing of Paarthurnax and in doing so, learning the ancient dragon's message. She then relayed the tale of flying to Solitude. She shared the tizzy she had thrown the city into, when she had told Kinzongraagviing to land in the courtyard of Castle Dour. Then running to the Blue Palace, where she met Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, the official representative of Haafingar Hold. Ulfric had recommended his old friend as Jarl of the region, at the end of the Dragon War.

He led Naadia to the Queen's bed chamber, which had been sealed and was now under guard. The bodies had been removed, but the horrific evidence of the crime was still evident.

"If it wasn't so messy, I would say this had all the marking of the Dark Brotherhood," the Jarl had said.

Vilkas interrupted and said, "I thought you had turned things around with the Brotherhood and they were walking the straight and narrow."

Naadia sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest and replied, "I thought I had as well. I will need to speak with Nazim about that."

She then described how the Brotherhood had always insisted on everything being as neat and clean. The less evidence the better. The royal bed chamber was simply littered with it. Bloody boot prints were everywhere. It was as if the assassin had purposefully trod through the blood and had tracked it around the room.

She continued by saying, "I didn't tell Balgruuf this, but I recognized the tracks."

"You did," exclaimed Vilkas.

She looked at her husband and said coolly, "They were special boots. A jester's boots."

"Like that maniac, Cicero, you told me about," asked Vilkas.

Hot tears spilled from Naadia's eyes. She balled a fist and punched the bed and hissed, "When I find that little son of a bitch, I will make him pay! If there's anything left of him after the questioning, it'll get fed to a dragon!"

"I can understand," said Vilkas, "They were friends."

"No! It's not just that," exclaimed Naadia.

She then described seeing the bodies. Both has been stabbed numerous times, besides having their throats slashed. They had been removed to another room, where the priests of Arkay had cleaned them and covered them with a linen sheet, before the final preparations were made for their interment. Styrr, the aged priest of Arkay in Solitude had escorted her into the room. He had uncovered their faces, so she could verify their identities.

Naadia's voice began to quiver again, as she was becoming overcome by her emotions, "I ...," was all she could manage and them she buried her face in Vilkas' chest and wept for several minutes. He patted her back and comforted her.

When she was done crying, she used the edge of a blanket to wipe her eyes and composed herself. "I saw he had been stabbed countless times, but he had also tried to put up a fight, as there were wounds on his arms and hands. Like he was trying to defend himself," said Naadia.

In describing Elisif, she said she appeared in much the same way, except there were no defensive wounds. Likely she was caught by complete surprise. She was overcome by another bout of crying as she said, "It was then I saw ...," and again couldn't continue for several minutes.

After this wave of emotion had subsided, Vilkas inquired, "What did you see that upset you so?"

"When I was examining Elisif's wounds I saw something strange," Naadia began and paused. She then said, "Elisif had always been very conscious of her appearance and would never over indulge. Her stomach appeared bigger and then I realized, the bulge I saw on her abdomen was lower than her stomach."

"By the gods," said Vilkas catching the meaning of his wife's observation and exclaimed, "The queen was pregnant!"

Naadia silently nodded her head and then laid it down on her husband's chest. "Not only that. Someone, probably the assassin, had cut-off a handful of her hair."

"Vilkas grimly said, "Proof that she was dead. The bastard!"

They laid there in silence for several minutes and then Naadia described what happened afterwards. Balgruuf had led her to the throne room of the palace. Sitting in the receiving area off to one side was Falk Firebeard, the Royal Steward. On the table in front of his was a locked strong box.

As they approached, he rose to greeted them a sad smile on his face. Being who he was, he cut through any possible pleasantries and went right to the business at hand.

He rotated the strongbox so that Naadia could see that it was not only locked, but it was also sealed with the royal seal of Skyrim. "Dragonborn," Falk said, addressing her in her official title. "Have you ever seen this chest before?" To which she replied she hadn't.

He then instructed, "Please examine the seal to ensure that it is intact, unmolested and not broken in any way." She complied.

He turned to the Jarl and said, "Jarl Balgruuf, please witness as I break this seal on behalf of Queen Elisif Stormcloak."

The Jarl nodded his head as Firebeard knelt and drew a dagger from his belt. He placed the point of the blade under the seal and popped it from its location. He sheathed the weapon and picked the seal up from the floor and examined it.

He handed it to the Jarl and said, "Jarl Balgruuf, please serve as witness as I unlock this chest, on behalf of Queen Elisif Stormcloak." Firebeard then removed a gold chain from under his cloak. Attached to the chain was a key. He placed the key in the lock and turned it producing an audible click, as the mechanism opened. He then stood and faced Naadia once more.

Addressing her he said, "Dragonborn, I was given instructions by the queen if dire circumstances ever befell her or her Regent. Jarl Balgruuf, please open the strong box and then step aside."

The Jarl gravely stepped forward, mumbling that they should forego the pomp and circumstance and just open the damned chest. He unlatched the clasps and lifted the lid, to expose the green satin interior and the single scroll the chest contained.

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," said the steward and stepped forward. He took the scroll and intoned, "I will now open and read the final order given by Elisif Stormcloak, High Queen of Skyrim."

He cleared his voice and began reading, in monotone saying, "I Elisif Stormcloak, High Queen of Skyrim being of sound mind and body, as well as of my own free will do decree that if I become incapacitated or perish, my successor will be my child ..."

"What," said Balgruuf in shocked surprise, "I didn't know Elisif was pregnant!"

Naadia slowly shook her head in the affirmative.

Falk continued, saying, "If my successor is not of age, Ulfric Stormcloak, my husband and Regent of Skyrim, will dutifully rule in his or her stead, until their 12^th birthday. If I have no successor, the Regent will assume the throne. Additionally, if the Regent has died or is incapacitated to the degree of being unfit ...," he paused as his eyes widen and he looked at Naadia.

"By the Nine, you pompous peacock," Balgruuf commanded, "Out with it. Read the rest of the damned decree."

Firebeard whose feathers were becoming quite ruffled at the interruptions began again, "If the Regent has died or is incapacitated to the degree of being unfit to rule, the Dragonborn, Naadia Heart-Striker or whoever the said Dovahkiin may be, will rule Skyrim."

She sat up and said to her husband, "I felt all the air leave my lungs and lost all the strength in my legs. I nearly fainted at that"

"By the Nine," said Vilkas and then blurted-out, "What are you going to do?"

Naadia said flatly, "I guess I'm going to be High Queen."

She went onto explain that her official title was now Intendant and that the state funeral would be held in five-days, after the official time of laying in state for public viewing. There would be a thirty-day period of mourning, as preparations for the coronation were made. Then she would be crowned High Queen of Skyrim.

After another moment of silence, she again straddled him and laid on his chest. Vilkas asked, "What are your plans?"

"Well," she began as she sat up, "I have some things to think over. I'll need to do some travelling, like going to Winterhold to check on the girls. For today though, we'll need to take a ride to Whiterun, but the day is still quite young."

She sat up and reached behind her to begin fondling his penis, "Right now, we have time to play some more. We can wrestle, and I might even let you win.," she said and smiled seductively.

With a forefinger, he traced a line from the space between her breasts, down across her stomach, to between her legs. His finger brushed her pubic hair and then found her clitoris. He began playfully rubbing it.

He smiled and said, "I don't know. I could get used to this whole passion thing. I enjoyed you doing all the work. Why, I think I could get used to being royally fucked, from time-to-time!"

Northern Falkreath Hold

He loved the darkness. He loved the quiet and the ability to hide within its embrace. He loved being able to move through it to claim his victims. He loved the sense of power he drew from it and the insecurity it instilled in his prey.

Cicero moved quietly through the dark passages of his abode, toward the large central meeting room. It was a large cavern and still bore some of the marks of the previous occupants. There were a few things that had escaped the fire that had swept through the complex. The only other occupants were the skeletons that rattled as they patrolled the halls. He breathed in deeply and smiled. The smell of death hung in the air.

He had parted company with the Dark Brotherhood a year-ago. The Night Mother had been sorely displeased with how the Listener was behaving. She was trying to steal the family away from Sithis and the Nigh Mother's love and give it to that haughty bitch, who sat on Skyrim's throne. He left the frigid Dawnstar Sanctuary and returned to the dark, quiet forest north of Falkreath. To the Brotherhood's old sanctuary, which was now a system of caves after the Imperial forces had raided it and started the fire.

He had found his true love living here. Elabythe was quite a beauty, he thought. She loved everything that he did, including dead things. She had been thrown out of the College of Winterhold for practicing necromancy and had fled to warm climes and found the old abandoned Sanctuary. She sensed the dark energy that still resided here and made it her home. When Cicero had returned and found her here, he had considered it providential gift from the Night Mother herself.

He also discovered that he had brothers and sisters in the Night!

The Night Mother introduced him to his dark family and he had introduced Elabythe to them. They had quickly become a close family. It had only been recently that the Night Mother had informed him the Sacrament had been made against the High Queen and her Regent. It seemed quite fitting that he should have the honor of fulfilling it.

On his return trip from Solitude, he had met with his some of his night siblings and was told to send a message of the sacrament's completion, to the one who initiated the ritual.

As he walked the dark passages he giggled, as he came up with an inspirational idea. He cleared his throat and said out loud, "Elabythe, I'm home," dragging out the last words and cackled with glee, as he heard the words echo off into the distance.

He gave an evil smile and then said in theatrical fiendishness, "I'm going to come and get you. And eat you all up!"

In the distance he heard a blood-chilling scream, which sent shivers of excitement running through him. This was followed by the seductive call of, "I'm waiting, my dead pet."

He rubbed his hands together with glee and looking down, noticed they were still covered with the dried blood of his victims. As he began walking down the passageway, he smiled and knew she wouldn't mind.

He entered the large central chamber which was lit by only a few candles. In the darkness he saw several skeletons standing guard. He noticed several bodies lying sprawled on the floor. Obviously, some bandits had come snooping in the wrong cave. Well tisk-tisk on that, he thought.

Laying naked on some blankets nearby was Elabythe. She was an Imperial, like him and just a little taller than he was. She was slim, morbidly pale and her skin was covered with dirt and splashes of mud, blood and gore. Her black hair was matted and filthy. She spread her legs to show Cicero the disgusting treat that was waiting for him and asked seductively, "Hello my love. Are you ready to devour me?"

The Thalmor Embassy - Haafingar Hold

"You may begin," said Elenwen as she took her first sip of Sunhold tea. She held the platter in one hand and elegantly quaffed the hot drink from a fine porcelain cup held in the other. The southwestern region of Alinor was known for its tea plants and she slowly sipped it, to enjoy every drop.

Aenthil Graylock cleared his throat and began his presentation. The Ambassador occupied the only seat of the front row of chairs, while the remaining senior staff of Justicars crammed themselves into the three remaining. He thought to himself, Elenwen is as popular as ever.

When he had received the Ambassador's invitation to dinner last night he had been on his guard. His wariness had prevented him from fully enjoying the evening and performing his best in bed. During dinner he was expecting everything that was brought to their table to be poisoned and during their lovemaking, he had fully expected Elenwen to shove a dagger into his ribs. She had the reputation of being a sadist and drew grew intense pleasure in inflicting pain of all kinds

He began with the official news that Skyrim's queen was dead. This caused quite a stir among most of the attendees. There was an audible gasp at the news and then debate commenced as to probable causes of death. Although all of them were shocked at the news, hardly no one was saddened by it.

Elenwen ended this banter with a stiff and loud, "Ahem." She then followed by saying, "This is most unfortunate news. Graylock, do we know anything else?"

Aenthil reported evenly, "Yes Ambassador. Our sources indicate that the queen and her Regent, Ulfric Stormcloak, were murdered by the Dark Brotherhood."

There was mumbling behind her as Elenwen glanced to the side to overhear. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she eavesdropped on one unidentified Justicar loudly whispering to someone sitting next to him, "Good riddance to both of them."

Ending the sidebar conversations, she said without the slightest tint of remorse, "How unfortunate. Whatever will they do without Elisif?"

"My Lady," Graylock said, "We have heard that the official funeral will be in one-weeks' time. After that preparations will be made to crown a successor."

Elenwen scoffed, "A successor. She had no heir and her husband is dead as well. What are they going to do? Dig Torygg up and prop his moldering corpse on the throne."

Graylock was shocked at the ambassador's lack of compassion. Yes, they were adversaries, but they were heads of state - royalty - shouldn't they be afforded a small degree of respect. The Chief-of-Staff cleared his throat and responded, "My Lady, we have heard that Elisif's successor will be the one the Nords call, the Dragonborn."

Elenwen's eyes narrowed at that remark and the silence in the tension could have been cut with a knife. "Isn't that interesting," was her response and then she ordered, "Graylock, have your people dig up everything they have on this person. I want to know what he or she had for breakfast this morning. The last time they shit, and which hand they wiped with. Everything!"

"Yes, Ambassador," he replied, aghast at her coarseness.

Elenwen then asked, "What are some weakness in Skyrim someone could take advantage of, presently?"

"Well," began Graylock turning to a map mounted on the wall behind him, motioning as he spoke, "Although most of Skyrim's holds have been very quiet of late, there are still pockets of Foresworn operating in The Reach, near Markarth."

He continued by saying that although Elisif had preached a message of inclusion for all of Skyrim's inhabitants, Nord supremacy still had a foothold in Eastmarch, Ulfric's old Jarlship. Lastly, he shared that from what he knew the Dragonborn was not a 'true' Nord. She was a half-breed - part Nord and part Redguard. He explained that this could possibly be used to their advantage, among their friendships with pro-Dominion Nords.

"Very good," said the Ambassador. She smiled and then said, "See what you can do to stir the pot. I want to be updated on your plans before travelling to Solitude. I will appear there, but won't be staying for the funeral. I will have to travel back to Cloudrest and inform the Council of what's transpired. You will be taking my place."

A slight bustle of conversation quietly began behind her, but she ended it by loudly inquiring, "Speaking of Markarth. What is the status of the ongoing operation there?"

Falkreath Hold - Near the Border to Whiterun Hold

They had been riding in silence for quite some time. Vilkas had been giving his wife time to reflect on things and he didn't what to disturb her. He breathed in deeply and looked around. It was one of those rare, beautiful Skyrim days. With a cloudless, blue sky and a cool, not cold breeze blowing. Something very rare for this time of year.

That morning after their breakfast, Rayya, the Housecarl Naadia merited as Thane of Falkreath had visited Lakeview Manor. Naadia had asked the Redguard attendant to ride to Rorikstead to retrieve the mount she had left there. They had then gotten dressed for the ride into Whiterun. Vilkas donned his wolf armor and his trusty two-handed sword was slung to his back. Naadia had dressed in customary light leather armor, but he had protested.

"You're the High Queen now, not some childish adventurer. You need to be protected," he had said, and this had precipitated an argument. Naadia's hackles were raised at being called childish. She then made it loudly known that she would ride naked if she wanted to and that she was fully capable of protecting herself.