Dragonborn Rising Ch 06 1

The Misty Grove

Naadia was walking through a misty copse of trees. Strings of lanterns hung from their branches, further illuminating the eternal evening of this place. She knew exactly where she was - The Misty Grove. The realm of Sanguine, the Daedric Price of hedonism, debauchery and dark pleasures, but she didn't know how she got here. She had been speaking with Balgruuf the Greater about the upcoming funeral, when she had closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. Not having slept for nearly three-days and traveling all over Skyrim had taken a lot out of her.

She looked down at herself and saw that she was naked except for a gossamer thin toga that left nothing to the imagination. Typical of that sick son of bitch, she thought, with a scowl.

She crossed one of many little stone bridges over a babbling brook that crisscrossed these woods and entered a small glade. Scattered about the clearing were revelers, in various stages of undress and participating a variety of lewd acts. In one area an orgy was occurring. In others same sex couplings were occurring. In still others, fetishes of every variety were being explored.

Just a few feet from where she stood a green-skinned Orc male as two buxom, Bosmer females knelt at his feet and took turns giving him oral sex. Only the head of his huge erection managed to fit into their mouths. He saw Naadia and said in a gravelly voice, "Why hello, beautiful. There's room for a third."

Naadia tried to be cordial and thanked him for the invitation, as she walked away. "Not right now. I'm looking for someone."

"Too bad," said the Orismer growling lewdly, "I'd love to sample your wares."

She was far from a prude, but this was all quite disgusting. She felt like an unwilling voyeur walking among the couples, trios and groups. Moans of climax and pleasure filled the air. At one point she had to quickly sidestep as a jet of semen issued from an Argonian's scaly penis to splash across the face and breasts of a young Nord female, he was masturbating in front of. Finally, she spotted who she was looking for. The likely culprit who brought her here - Sanguine.

The Daedric Prince was tall and muscular, with a portly abdomen from a little too much merriment. He was seated on an ornate gold throne. Like most Daedra, it had fiery red skin, had pointed ears and small horns protruding from its hairless head. It was dressed in a loose-fitting, black silk robe, with a tent beginning to form in its lap. His attention was on a voluptuous silky, black-furred Khajit female, who was dancing naked before him. Her dance was provocative, sensual and filled with the catlike grace of this feline anthropomorphic race.

As she approached, the Khajiit was preparing to begin a lap dance for a smiling Prince, when Naadia angrily said, "Why'd you bring me here you demented son of bitch!"

Caught off guard the Khajiit jumped in fright and turned wide-eyed to see who the interloper was. Sanguine looked past her and said jovially, "Naadia! It's so good to see you, again. Your looking as ravishing as ever. Being Dragonborn suits you."

Turning to the Khajiit he said, "Ji'irra, my pet. Go play with someone else for a little while. I have some business to attend to."

Ji'irra sized-up Naadia with her golden yellow eyes and growled, barring her teeth.

"Now, now," said Sanguine. Standing up as she stepped from his lap, he patted her shapely butt and said, "We'll have our fun. I promise."

She nuzzled close to him and licked his cheek with her tongue and then moved off to find others to have fun with.

Sanguine vanished in a puff of smoke and reappeared behind Naadia. With a red hand he moved her mane of black hair aside and began kissing the back of her neck. Twisting away and spinning around, she pointed an accusatory finger in his face and said, "Okay, you've got to understand something, you pervert," and narrowing her eyes in anger said, "I'm married and I'm not one of your sex toys that can be wrapped around your pinky."

The Daedra held his hands up in surrender, "Peace, peace," he said. With a con man's smile, he added, "I just thought it would fun to check in with you. We had such a wonderful time when we were together the last time."

"That's horker shit and you know it," chided Naadia. "You got me drunk and took advantage of me. I wound up going on a cockamamie, wild skeever chase around Skyrim, looking for that useless staff of yours."

Smiling broadly at the memory he exclaimed, "Gods, wasn't that fun!"

"No, it wasn't," said Naadia angrily.

"Okay. Calm down," soothed the Daedra. Reaching to put his hand around her slim waist, it said, "Let's take a walk. I just wanted to share some valuable information with a friend is all."

"Hand on the waist is fine," Naadia firmly instructed and pointed a finger in his face, finishing with, "It drops any lower or goes any higher, I'll rip it off and shove it down your throat. Got it!"

Sanguine looked hurt, "Would I do that," he blurted feigning innocence miserably.

"In a heartbeat," said Naadia through gritted teeth.

He gingerly reached out a hand and stepped up beside her. He then let the hand rest on her hip and they walked away. They threaded their way among the revelers and found a quiet spot away from the debauchery.

"Okay," demanded Naadia, "Now that we have some privacy, what do you want," as she defiantly crossed her arms.

"You know you look even more ravishing when you're angry," said the smiling Daedric Prince, trying to lighten the mood. He sat on the ground and patted the grass and said, "Come on Naadia. Take a load off. You look tired"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Fine," and plopped down on the ground and said curtly, "Get on with it."

As the Daedra talked her attitude shifted from annoyance to interest. Sanguine told her that she had made several of the princes quite upset and they were looking to take their revenge and the murders of the High Queen and her Regent were just the beginning of the bloodletting. Others would follow.

"Who's involved," inquired the Dragonborn.

"Clavicus Vile, Mephala and Vearmina right now, but I've heard that they plan to include others," Sanguine replied.

The Daedra pointed a finger and said, "They want you out of the way or so distracted that when they invade, nothing will stop them."

"Didn't they try that once before," Naadia asked.

"The Oblivion Crisis was the work of one Daedric Prince," pausing for effect Sanguine continued, "What do think would happen if five or more joined forces."

Realizing the gravity of the situation, it clicked in her mind and she exclaimed, "Oh, shit!"

"Oh, shit is right," agreed Sanguine and continued, "First Skyrim would fall and then all of Tamriel."

He continued by adding that the Daedric Princes were using mortal foils to do their bidding, like Cicero.

Naadia grew suspicious, "Why are you telling me this," she said with narrowed eyes.

"Hey, you know me," the Daedra said, "I'm here for the party. If Tamriel falls, I must look elsewhere for the party," he exclaimed with a smile.

"Besides Cicero, who else is involved," Naadia inquired.

'The Aldmeri Dominion, the last vestiges of the crumbling Empire and even a Jarl in Skyrim," he responded.

"Which Jarl," said Nadia in amazement.

"I'm not going to give you everything ... especially for free," said the Prince. He untied the sash of his robe and said lewdly, "But maybe we can barter."

He held up a finger as an idea came to him, "I've heard you've added a new song to your repertoire. 'The Lusty Argonian Maid!' I'd gladly give you all the information you want, so see that number."

Standing and dusting off her bum, Naadia said, "Maybe next time, big boy." Smiling sweetly and putting her hand to her head, said, "I'm too tired and I have a headache."

"Why do women always use that excuse," Sanguine exclaimed dejectedly and said, "Fine. I've given you enough to start, but you owe me," shaking a finger at her.

Clapping his hands, he beaconed, "Ji'irra, my sweet. Play time," and Naadia disappeared.

Solitude - Proudspire Manor

"Dammit Naadia, did you hear what I said," shouted Balgruuf as he slammed his mug down on the table.

Her eyes shot open and she sat up. Disoriented for a moment, she said, "Yes, I'm awake. Sorry, old friend. It's been a rough couple of days."

The older Jarl chuckled and said, "I'm pretty forgiving but many of those other skeevers we're going to be dealing with aren't."

"You're right," she admitted, "I have to learn to pace myself. I'm High Queen, now. Right." The last added with a tinge of annoyance.

"No," he said evenly, adding, "Your soon to be High Queen."

He went on to say that he liked the idea and replacing several of the Jarls, many of them were political appointees from the waning days of Imperial rule of the region.

"How about selecting non-Nords for one or two of the positions," she asked.

Softly whistling, Balgruuf said, "That'll cause some heartburn!"

"Dammit all," she exclaimed, "If I say Skyrim is for man, mer and beast and I all I do is stack the deck with more Nords, I'm talking out of my ass!"

"I get you point," admitted the old Jarl. Taking a deep drink from his mug. Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "Who are we talking about?"

"Since you asked," she thought it would be an appropriate time to get an opinion of an idea she had been considering, "Windhelm has the largest population of Dunmer. I think it would be a breath of fresh air to have a Dark Elf as the Jarl."

"You really are a dreamer aren't you," he scoffed, adding, "That'll go over like a fart in the middle of temple service!"

"You asked," she admonished, pointing a finger at him.

"Hypothetically speaking," he inquired, "Who would you put in that position?"

She looked him in the eye and said, "Irileth," and cutting him off began numbering her qualifications on her fingers, "She was your Housecarl. She kept Dragonsreach in perfectly running order. She doesn't take shit from anyone. She's Dunmer."

Raising an eyebrow Naadia asked, "Shall I go on?"

Balgruuf softly whistled again, "Galmar won't go quietly."

Finishing her mug off, Naadia stood and said, "Leave Galmar to me. I'm going to offer him a post here in Solitude."

Setting his mug down, Balgruuf stood as well. Naadia walked him to the door. They embraced on the front steps and Balgruuf descend the steps and headed back in the direction of the Blue Palace. Naadia watched him go around the corner and began to turn, to head inside. Proudspire was a solid stone structure. Although it wasn't Lakeview Manor, she enjoyed its warmth, especially on cold nights such as this.

As she turned, she saw a young girl step out of the shadows. She wore a cloak with the cowl pulled over her head. "Excuse me miss," said the girl. Holding out a hand that was pale in the moonlight, she asked, "Can you help the poor with a septim or two?"

Recognizing the code phrase, Naadia said, "Certainly come in out of the cold and I will give you three."

She opened the door and allowed the little figure entry and closed the door. In the foyer Naadia extinguished many of the candles that were burning, lowering the light level in the room. She knew that vampires preferred the darkness.

Turning to the little girl, Naadia almost shouted "Babette, where the hell have you been?"

"Naadia, you'll need to sit down for this I have some sad news," she said in response.

The streets of Solitude were almost empty at this hour, except for the roving city guard. As a pair were passing by Proudspire Manor, they heard the lamenting scream of, "No! Not Vilkas too," followed by agonizing tears coming from inside. They shook their heads in sympathy for the occupant of the grand home and continued their patrol.

Haemar's Shame

The cave was roughly hallway between Helgen and Iverstead, along one of the many trade routes in Skyrim that were popular with bandits. Cicero and Elabythe stood outside in the cold moonlight, Cicero and Elabythe smiling at their new home.

Elabythe waved a dirty hand in front of her and grinned. "There are toys to be inside, my love," she hissed.

Cicero giggled with delight. He drew the dagger from his belt and checking the sharpness of the blade with his thumb. "I'll go in and get them ready to introduce themselves to you, my dead pet," he said with an evil grin.

Elabythe acted as if she had been shown a new toy she was getting to play with. "Oh, would you," she exclaimed.

As he was walking away he stopped. He looked over his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry I forgot to ask how you would like them. Clean or messy?"

Childlike Elabythe hopped up and down and clapped her hands together. She giggled and said with delight, "The messier the better."

Cicero sauntered into the cave as if he owned the place. Near the opening a bandit was standing guard. He drew his sword and said, "You picked the wrong place to take a piss, my friend." Before he could react, the man dressed like a court jester had pounced on him and was stabbing him repeatedly.

"I'm not your friend you fucking buffoon," he screamed. "I'm death and you picked the wrong day to cross my path!"

Cicero was splattered with blood from head to toe. Bandits were the lowest scum, he thought, like skeevers they needed to be exterminated. His father had been a bandit and he hated him.

Creeping down the corridor that had been created by glacial ice, he left bloody footprints in the snow. He moved silently, barely breathing. He remembered his childhood in Cyrodiil. His father had been the chief of a band of highwaymen in the hills outside of Bruma. His mother had been a whore that they had stolen from a traveling brothel. After being passed around the gang for their twisted pleasure, his father had taken her in, to service him. After he was born and raised, he was forced to work. When he didn't work hard enough, he was beaten. Cicero forced the painful memory back into a dark corner of his mind.

As he crept around a corner, he saw a bandit sitting in a chair asleep. He crept up behind him. Wrapping a powerful hand over his mouth, he pulled the Nord's head back and in one quick movement cut the man's throat from ear to ear. Hot blood jetted from the wound. Thinking to himself he remembered, that was the way he had killed his father.

The old bastard had gotten drunk. His mother had burned the stew or not fetched enough mead for him or some other excuse. He had beaten her to death. He had tried to save his mother, but he wasn't strong enough then. When had tied to interceded, his father had beaten him and then continued to drink himself into a stupor and had passed out in a chair, he had taken his father's dagger from where it had been stuck into the table and slit his throat.

"Cicero's first kill," he whispered. Remembering the thrill of the event sent shivers of exhilaration through him.

He fled to Cheydinhal in eastern Cyrodiil, where he eventually joined the Dark Brotherhood. It was providential he thought. The Night Mother arrived soon after and he became her Keeper. He was quite good at murder, he thought as he crept up on another bandit and dispatched him with a series of ruthless stabs. He giggled softly in delight at how easy death was.

It was then he heard it, a voice calling him forward. "Cicero, this way," it said. It quietly guided him through the caves. Warning him of targets ahead. Congratulating him on his bloody workmanship.

As he rounded the last bend, he came to a dimly light chamber with hewn stairs. When he entered the massive room, he saw the statute of a man holding aloft a mask with curling horns and beside it a large dog. The voice in his head seemed to issue from the statue.

"Well done, my boy," said the voice, "Clavicus, the Night Father, appreciates your devotion. You are my new high priest and Elabythe my high priestess. Together, we will make Skyrim run red with blood!"

Cicero fell to his knees crying tears of joy. "Night Father, I am finally home," he shouted and spread his arms and then lay prostrate at the foot of the shrine.

Solitude - Proudspire Manor

Babette let her cry. She wasn't complete alien to emotion, after all she had been mortal once, a long time ago. She had been bitten by a vampire at an early age. Being initiated into the ranks of the undead, before experiencing her first kiss or first love; she didn't know what Naadia was going through.

She had lost partners in the Brotherhood before, but they weren't friends. Vampires didn't experience true emotion, so she had no understanding of grief. So not understanding it, she let the Listener cry and mourn her loss in silence.

Naadia felt broken. Her world turned completely upside down. First Elisif and Ulfric. Then Paarthurnax. Now her husband and closest friend. She wiped her red rimmed eyes with the back of her hand and looked at the tiny figure sitting across from her. Babette's eyes seemed to glow red in the darkness. "Is there any news from the Falkreath Sanctuary," she asked.

Babette shook her head and said, "No. If you sent anyone there. It's likely they're dead too." She then added, "When Cicero fled Dawnstar, I had assumed he and his sick little bitch he slithered to the old sanctuary there."

Naadia's head dropped as she thought, add Njada and Athis to the list of the dead.

They sat in silence for several minutes and then asked the little vampire to tell her what had happened in Dawnstar.

Babette shared that after they had settled in the Dawnstar Sanctuary everything seemed to go very well. Nazim was keeping things organized, but Cicero kept questioning the decisions that were made. He kept saying that, the Night Mother wouldn't approve. He left for a while and then when he returned, he brought Elabythe with him. "She didn't live there, but she visited often enough, she became a regular fixture in the place," Babette said with a shiver.

"Who was she," asked Naadia.

"A necromancer. A sick, twisted, filthy little bitch," she said with disgust. "Necromancer are a sick and twist lot and she make them look like paragons of virtue," she deadpanned.

"Where did she come from," was Naadia's next question.

"I don't know," was the little vampire's response and continued by sharing, "Cicero pressed Nazir to make her part of the Brotherhood, but he was adamantly opposed."

"What was the problem," Naadia inquired.

"She acts like a little child, but deep down inside, she is sick, sick, sick," Babette responded. She went onto share that when Elabythe learned that she was the resident vampire, she wanted to be the best of friends. At one point she had begged her to make her undead, saying it would make her a more powerful necromancer. "I told her I would rather suck a hagraven's blood that hers," and shared about her absolute lack of personal hygiene.

"The smell alone coming from her," she said, "Would knock a buzzard off a shit wagon."

"Nazir was okay with her being there," asked Naadia.

"Not really," said the little Breton and added, "He didn't push things with Cicero, because he didn't know when he would fly off the handle."

She went on to describe how the jester-assassin began to become increasingly reclusive. Spending most of his time in the room with the Night Mother's iron coffin.

"Nazir, sent me on a job to gather some information about some staffs," she began and Naadia jumped as if she had been shocked.

"What staffs," she demanded.

Babette shared that Nazir had learned the Altmeri Dominion had mad a breakthrough in their conjuration. He wanted to learn more and sent me out to find out more. "I beat the bushes high and low and couldn't find out anything," she said.