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aladaylessecondblog · 1 year ago

Text

The smut is done

I have to be up in 5 hours oh lord I hope you guys like it

Holy SHIT this chapter is almost 5,000 words! Fairly vanilla, but oceans of LONGING.

Still mature rated, though

Dagoth Ur/female Dunmer Nerevarine

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Voryn had stood there with her for quite a long time, holding her in silence. He murmured something about having things to do after one point, however, and let go. He turned her around, brought her right hand up, bowed slightly, and pressed the lips of his mask against it.

(This was not the Sharmat she had heard so much evil of.)

He woos as a lover, but he reeks with fear and disgust, the words of Nibani Maesa repeated in her mind, a counter to the pleasant thought.

If he was all evil, if he was all just a being of death and darkness, why did her heart flutter so? Was this Nerevar's influence, or was it some girlish part of her, taken with the tall dark villain everyone had warned her against?

Perhaps it was both.

Do not listen. Do not go to him.

A bit late for that, Sadara thought, as he rose again. Much too late.

"There are a great many things that we have yet to discuss," Voryn said as he stood back to full height, "Make yourself at home, and we can start on it again in the evening."

She didn't look at him, but nodded.

The warmth of his hand, the chill of his mask. Once more she was torn between two feelings. Once more she wondered if there was a middle ground.

Once more she found no answer.

-----------------------

Down a corridor she had not before noticed, Voryn directed her, before turning back to the Heart Chamber himself.

Several rooms were back here, several she would never have thought WOULD be. At its end was what she had chosen first. The somewhat cramped (surely it must be so for him, she thought) space of the corridor opened up and into a cavernous room. Only the initial area appeared to be lit with torches, while nearer to the water there were more of the red candles she had come to associate with him and his followers.

Steam rose from its surface, and where the warmth of the Heart Chamber had been oppressive, this was more soothing. There was a strange feeling of familiarity here, but she had been having to deal with such things for some time now. Everything carried that sense of deja vu with it. It was almost tiring to feel it so often.

She set aside her bags, and took out a few strips of nix-hound jerky and a somewhat overripe ash yam to make a small breakfast. She washed it down with a bit of mazte.

On a whim, and needing something mindless to do that would allow her to think over things, she took out the small washboard and soap from the clothes bag, then headed to the water with the garments she'd worn in the last few days.

After stripping off the last layer, she set about washing her clothes. What she hung them on to dry was the tent frame she'd brought with her--there was hardly enough room, but she wanted clean clothes when she got out of the water. It wasn't as if damp robes would cause her to catch cold here anyway, not with how warm it was.

I've crossed a line, I know I have. SEVERAL lines. No, forget that, I've crossed a couple of provinces and possibly a realm of Oblivion doing what I did.

Sadara wanted to stay, to see if it was possible to pull Voryn back from the brink. And--if such a thing WAS possible, it would take time. Getting here had been a hard enough journey, but he had been plotting this vengeance of his for an entire era.

As she ran her armor over the washboard she grumbled to herself under her breath.

"What makes you think you can change anything?"

Indeed, what DID make her think she could?

One drunken night where she had indulged in...admittedly something very cathartic. In the haze of memory from last night, that was one of the few clear things. That what had happened was the way that it should be, that with him was where she belonged. She had never felt like that before, not at any point in her journey.

Home was not in the Empire.

How was not in Morrowind.

Home was with Voryn.

Maybe, she thought, it was because she knew what it was to be alone. Leyawiin wasn't a bad place, but the Count did not much care for those who were not themselves Imperial. And no one here in Morrowind cared much for her beyond what she could do for them, no matter how much like them she was. That she was Dunmer didn't matter, she was not from Morrowind so she was an outsider.

Voryn's dreams had been the first time she had ever felt welcomed here, and though she knew things were not ideal the hope that some part of (Nerevar's) her past could be preserved still persisted.

"Gods above, Nerevar, this is all your fault," Sadara groaned, "If you hadn't longed for the touch of your closest friend, I probably wouldn't be thinking this right now. Oh yes, you wanted to see what was under the loincloth, so I had to as well."

(But really, there was an element of her own desire in it. She'd had a bite of the forbidden fruit, and that taste made her want more.)

But really, was it all Nerevar, if SHE was Nerevar?

Was I ever me?

It made her head hurt, and she had just gotten over a headache! So shoving the thoughts aside she went back to scrubbing at her clothes, until she'd gotten through the lot of them. The armor and clothes were hung up on the tent poles and string she'd brought with her. She could finally get into the water herself.

It would have been too hot for most, and had her for the first time thanking the Divines she was a Dunmer. It felt hot, certainly, but not too much so. Sinking into that water was like enveloping herself a steaming hug. Every muscle in her body was relaxed by the dip.

The seat she initially chose was too far down--maybe the one Voryn used when he came here. IF he came here, she thought then. Certainly if she had a home with such a place she'd be in it every damn day.

She sank lower into the water, until it covered her shoulders.

I could fall asleep like this, she thought.

Still, her mind insisted on ruining things.

What if Azura is right? What if last night was just to lull me into a false sense of security, the more easily to be rid of me when he decides it's time? Really, what reason does he have to assume I've joined him and the Sixth House?

But surely if Voryn had meant to kill her, he would have done it during their...interlude...the previous night. It would have been easy, she was addled by drink and indulgence in what Nerevar seemed to hope for...or what he had once hoped for...

She'd been sure, though, that he had enjoyed it as much as she had. If he had some plan, he might have been persuaded by...what had happened...to put it off for a little while. But then, she thought a moment later, he could ALSO have done it when she had stood on the edge of the rock not half an hour ago. He had had the easiest possible opportunity to kill her, and yet he hadn't done it.

What if he still meant to? What if he thought she had Wraithguard, and...

Just stop. Please. Just stop. Let me enjoy this.

Her mind went silent then, and after a quick sort of bath she luxuriated once again in the feeling of the hot water.

Sadara was so relaxed she failed to notice someone entering the room...though she DID notice the sound of footsteps as they neared. She jolted up, covering her chest as she looked to see who had come. And despite the heat of the water, she felt a chill when seeing the source of the noise.

Beside the makeshift drying rack she'd made for her damp clothes stood an ash ghoul. She remembered this one--she'd passed it on the way into the chamber where she had first encountered--Voryn.

Oh, by the Nine--

Her sword was five feet away, and she couldn't reach for it, not without giving the thing a show. Then again, it didn't seem to have any eyes...still, modesty battled with fear as she stared at it, and it (apparently) stared back.

It lifted its hands, and for a moment Sadara braced for whatever attack it would throw at her.

Rustling fabric.

The ash ghoul was holding some sort of red and black robe in its hand, and was shaking it out. It made a growling noise and bobbed its head.

"You're only trying to talk to me," she said, indicating she was paying attention. "Right?"

Again, a bob of its head. It lifted the fabric.

"You want me to take that?"

Its head bobbed several times, as clear a yes as she could possibly expect.

"I can't--I--don't have anything on. You can leave it there."

It made a strange growling noise, but did as she asked and left the room. Once Sadara was sure it had properly left (but keeping an eye on the door as she got out of the water) she went to see what exactly it was that the thing had left. A moment before reaching down she realized her hair was still sopping wet, and turned to wring it out a few steps away. It hung over the left side of her head and fell onto her left shoulder, at least not dripping wet now.

She picked up the fabric the ash ghoul had brought.

It felt like fine silk, and was all in red and black. As she turned it over she saw in the collar a continuous line of the beetle-like sigil of House Dagoth in gold thread. She had only ever seen such garments at a distance, on nobles and wealthy merchants. Garments like these belonged to people of importance, people to whom she would play her lute and hope they were generous enough to toss her a few gold.

Sadara ran her hands over the fabric, and brought it up to her cheek. It felt even better against her face.

But he is the Father of Lies, and thinks to trick you with his gifts, the words of Nibani Maesa suddenly intruded in her mind. Do not listen.

Surely it could not hurt to at least try it on...

She slipped into the robe after drying herself off a little more, and while it was a little too long--sweeping the floor, its sleeves a few inches past her hands, one shoulder or the other slipping no matter how much she shifted it about--it was still a thing of beauty, lovely even just to touch. There was a faint smell of incense about it, too, like cinnamon and cloves and smoky wood. She inhaled the scent, and suddenly a memory rose in her mind.

Really, Voryn, for me? You shouldn't have. It's so delicate, I'm almost afraid I'll tear it.

Oh.

It was Nerevar's, it must have been, or something Voryn had once given to him. Perhaps he thought it only right to give to her, considering.

(If he meant to kill you, would he really give any gifts?)

Maybe what she hoped was possible. At the very least, what she had been told would happen by nearly everyone certainly had NOT happened.

Sadara pulled her lute from one of her bags and idly began to pluck at it. She wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling at the moment, and any difficult situation she'd encountered usually ended in such a manner. Little tunes being played out in calm order, while her mind moved about seeking answers for one thing or another. Practice AND thinking, an ideal situation for one who made a living with their instrument.

She realized halfway through a third set that she had fallen into playing "Spirit of the Volcano."

Voryn was on her mind, even when she wasn't thinking about him. Once more she sarcastically thanked Nerevar. Had he never had that lingering thought...

In such a way, breaking twice for lunch and dinner, did the time pass away. She mostly thought on the situation at hand and plucked at the lute, but she looked over the notes and prophecies that had brought her here as well. Dragonborn and far star marked...well that was obvious. She was born in the Empire, and had been born under the sign of the Thief. Outlander incarnate...that part was also obvious. Nearly everyone here called her outlander, and it had by now been well proved that she was indeed Nerevar come again.

But what did I come again for, if I'm still dallying about being indecisive like this?

Heroes made up their minds. Heroes knew what they were about. They were the ones who made the hard decisions. THEY were the ones who set to rights old ills. They didn't dither about wringing their hands about what to do from one point to another.

"You can't even decide whether or not he means to kill you," she murmured under her breath to herself, "Let alone whether or not you will slay him."

A pit seemed to form in her stomach at the idea, though, and another thought rose soon after. While there is a chance to help him, could you really say you would do it?

No.

The answer was no.

And suppose there was no chance? Suppose you knew for absolute certain he would not kill you, and yet there was no hope of change?

There wasn't a definite answer there...but she found herself leaning in the direction of no. Whatever had taken hold of him--Voryn was still there, and it would be wonderful to see more of him.

You already saw all of him, she thought wryly, a moment later. Quite literally.

With the help of a couple spells her clothes and armor finished drying soon after this line of thought. She tucked away her clothes, picked up her bags, and headed back into the corridor.

For a moment she considered simply leaving. But the tight feeling in her chest that resulted from the thought instantly persuaded her against that course of action.

There were two rooms linked in the corridor itself, and she looked into the one on her right. Or left from the other side, she thought momentarily.

It was relatively empty, though it looked as if it had been recently cleaned. The door could only barely be called such, and seemed clumsily made. There were gaps around all its sides...

In one corner nearest to the door was something she swore was a wardrobe. On opening it she saw a few--towels, maybe?

The farther corner had something like a bed, only there were no sheets or straw or furs. A frame only, really. She put out her bedroll on it, and then sat down on the edge.

What am I doing? What am I DOING?

She was sitting in some back room that--admittedly felt vaguely familiar--was uncomfortably close to the one whom everyone had talked up as the enemy of all Morrowind. She couldn't say the reputation was unjustified, not after all the corprus monsters she'd seen just in Divath Fyr's tower, to say nothing of those behind the Ghostfence. And the blight diseases, too...and the Sleepers she had encountered, who had been pulled under his influence and had spoken to her about joining him.

Sadara realized she was fiddling with the moon-and-star, and promptly stopped, setting her hands down on the wooden frame of the bed beside her that was uncovered by her bedroll.

Yet here I am, wearing his colors and sitting in a room in HIS volcano. The morning after--

Deep breath.

Moments from last night appeared in her mind--his face before her, after that first kiss, utterly confused that she'd done it. The way his look had changed by the time she turned around to face him. The look into his eyes as he opened her robe, especially, and she felt a brief shiver at the idea of how full of intent they were. The almost feral way he'd growled as he'd pushed into her--

Stop thinking about it. You need to STOP.

Sadara took another deep breath, stood up--and winced as a splinter of wood from the bed frame dug into her hand and dragged from her thumb's joint across to that of her middle finger. She brought her hand up to look at it; the wound wasn't exactly deep. But it was bleeding. She cast a healing spell, hoping to seal it up quickly--

--but nothing happened. Another try with the same spell, and nothing happened.

She reached into one of her bags for a healing potion, thinking maybe she'd done something wrong, maybe focused improperly. But guzzling a healing potion didn't close up the wound either. Sighing, she reached into another bag for a length of bandage fabric, with which she dabbed at the trickle of blood.

It was then that he entered the room, and she had no courage to look up at him.

"Something wrong?"

"It's nothing. I cut my hand on a splinter and--it won't heal."

Voryn moved closer, and extended a hand to her. "Let me see it."

After a moment's hesitation and a third attempt at the healing spell, she stood and gave him her hand.

"Strange," he mused as he looked at the cut. "That you should fail to close so small a wound."

"It happened this morning with my...hangover headache, too. I just assumed I just couldn't concentrate because of the hangover."

"Clearly, someone is upset with you." Voryn placed his other hand over hers and after a moment's focus pulled it away again. The cut was now closed, and all that remained of it was the dried blood in her palm. "But I can assure you that it isn't me."

"I--" Sadara stumbled over the word, but recovered and moved on, "--I suppose you want to go on with that talk you...that you mentioned earlier."

"I do, Nerevar."

She had been looking up, but on hearing the name immediately looked back down.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's just--" Sadara took another deep breath. "--I know I'm Nerevar reborn. I KNOW I am. But...it seems that that's all I am in Morrowind."

Stop talking, for the love of the Nine!

"What do you mean?" Voryn's voice was soft, almost...gentle.

"No one cared who I was until I put on the ring. Then...the temple I'd cooperated with up until that point..."

"They branded you an enemy," Voryn finished for her. "The false gods are ever watchful for Nerevarines, and not for the first time have they acted thus with one. Simply by existing, you are a danger to them. A threat to their power."

"I never asked for this. I didn't want it," Sadara went on, "They kidnapped me in the middle of the night from Leyawiin, dragged me here, and then I'm told I'm some reincarnated hero, and--and the fresh start I'd hoped I might get was right out the window. I mattered, in all the ways I used to daydream about--who doesn't want to be a hero, after all? At least with the dreams, I felt..."

His head tilted a bit and despite being unable to see his face, she could feel his interest in how she would finish the sentence. She stared at the empty eyes of the mask for a few moments, still stumbling over her words.

"I felt like..."

"Like what?" he prompted.

"I felt welcomed." Sadara took a deep breath.

For all the suffering the blight diseases caused, for all the evil of which he was the source, it was the first time she had ever felt wanted anywhere.

"I know you want Wraithguard. I know...I know of your plans, but...at least you softened the blow of what you wanted, acted nicely, treated me like I was someone, instead of only some tool to be used for your purposes."

Why are you pouring your heart out to him? You need to stop!

Her mind was screaming at her, and yet her mouth wouldn't obey.

"I know that's the only value I have to anyone in Morrowind. The Nerevarine. Everyone I meet has something they want of me as a result, some errand they want done. I'm not Sadara, I'm Nerevar, or a thing to be lead about, to..."

She walked past him, in the direction of the door.

"Sadara..." He spoke as if he were testing the word out. Gods, how sweet it was to hear her name from his lips, not merely 'Nerevar.'

"Azura certainly makes it clear. Every day that you still live she is in my ear, scolding me for not 'having mercy' on you. Go to Vivec, she says, get Wraithguard, return, and...and..."

Her voice cracked and she choked up.

"And what?"

"And kill you." She gulped, and stared at the door. Feeble wood. She could easily put her fist through it, she was sure. "I don't want to kill you, Voryn. I don't want things to get to that point. After--after everything that's--"

She forced herself to turn back in his direction.

"Are you afraid I will act against you?" his tone stayed soft as he walked forward. "Perhaps she whispers that I mean you harm? That at any second, your life will end at my hand?"

"Something like that."

"Well." He gave half a chuckle at that. "So long as you do not raise a weapon against me, I can assure you that that will not be the case."

"You don't know what a relief it is to hear that." Sadara gulped slightly. She felt--raw, exposed almost, as if she were baring herself more to him than she had even the previous night. "Because the idea of losing everyone...again...I don't know that I could bare it. The prophecy called for a nobody with nothing going for them, and that I certainly was. I was alone until Morrowind."

Another pause.

"Until you."

The words wouldn't stop pouring from her mouth, and when she finally stopped she felt the fear of losing him.

You barely know him, how can this be so painful? Nerevar. This is you...you, and me, both. You're as afraid of losing everything as I am, if you even exist separate from me.

Her thoughts began to race, and she sucked in a sharp and shaky breath in an effort to avoid shedding tears.

She shut her eyes.

A moment later his hands were on her face, his thumbs wiping away an errant tear or two that happened to fall.

His nails pricked at her eyebrows and temples, and Sadara gave a weak laugh as her eyes opened again.

"You...you have to trim those. You could've poked my eye out with those things."

"Yes," Voryn gave a strange little laugh of his own, "I suppose I should be more careful from now on, shouldn't I?"

He moved back at that, and let his hands fall from her face. She reached up to take one of them between her own, then looked up at the mask.

And despite being unable to see his eyes, to meet them directly, she felt the fluttering in her chest again.

She let herself be lead into the hall, her heart feeling lighter with every step despite the lingering feeling that she needed to stop.

He went straight into the only other room in the corridor, a room he had to duck to get into. She realized instantly it must be his own room--it was far better stocked than the other room. A bookcase with several books in (Dwemer?), a dwemer contraption of some kind, a model of his mask, and eight miniatures she realized were the previous Nerevarines were sitting on its shelves. A tapestry or two that looked ancient yet in good condition, adorned with the crest of House Dagoth were on the same wall.

(And, she noticed on a table next to the bookshelf, a scattered piles of notes she assumed were his plans. The word 'corprus' stuck out on one of the pages in large letters)

"You...you never were good at keeping such things well organized," she joked softly.

stop while you still can

On the opposite side of the room was the thing she'd been thinking of since the night before, the thing she realized she'd been hoping for.

A bed.

Red and black, exactly as she would have expected.

Exactly as he had last night--there was a moment of hesitation. It was Voryn who stopped, who was momentarily unsure, whether he thought she would say no or for other reason.

But with a capricious sort of grin she would later joke must have been Nerevar's influence, Sadara acted. She untied the robe, let it fall to the floor, and moved onto the bed.

Come, she looked back at him once she'd taken a comfortable spot, giving him a look she hoped was inviting, Come to me, I will not deny you..

The mask came down, and Sadara gave him a soft smile as she was able to meet the three red eyes beneath it. He set the mask aside, and returned to her, having also shed the loincloth.

He kissed her--and though this time it was as much wanted as last night, that was where the similarity ended. The last night had been--heated, frenzied, as if they had feared someone would rush in and stop them. It was making up for centuries spent alone, never knowing what could have been.

But this...

This, was now.

As their lips met again his dark hair fell down against that of her white, a void to her light.

"Voryn," she whispered against his lips.

His hands were wandering almost immediately. Her face, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, lower--

"Not until you get those claws trimmed," she teased against his jaw, reaching down to pull his hand back up. "Besides. You've got something else I want there."

"Well," he whispered darkly in her ear, "Who am I to deny my lord's request?"

In gentle kisses and growing heat were the next several minutes spent, bodies pressed close but moving no further. Both luxuriated in the other's touch, reveled in the gentle strokes of very much wanted skin contact.

She was drunk on him, and all she could think, as she felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, was that she would drown herself in him if she could.

Voryn moved up, braced himself with one arm and lifted one of her legs with the other--thrust forward--

"Oh," she moaned, "Yes..."

If last night had been good, this was even better. His hips moved steadily against hers, the pleasure rising only slowly--but it was almost secondary to the bliss she felt seeing the contentment in his eyes. It wasn't just loneliness, it wasn't just the need to touch and be touched, it was that he desired her.

(She had never felt desired, not in the ways she could count in his eyes)

Sadara raised her hands to his sides, and held tightly to him.

Yes. Yes, I want it, I want this, I want YOU.

The hold on her leg didn't last long. Soon enough he let it go so the hand that had been holding her could go to her face, could thread its fingers through her hair. Again their lips met, and as he moved deeper, she rewarded him with increasingly needy moans.

"Please," she begged, when she parted with him for air, "Please. Please, don't stop."

Her hands clenched at his back, digging in, even as her legs were crossing behind him.

I don't plan to.

He didn't have to speak the words; his eyes held all the meaning of them that she needed to hear.

She could have lain there for much longer than she actually did, with Voryn's cock pushing her to greater and greater heights of pleasure, with his lips on her own or on her neck, his teeth grazing her skin only just enough to sting.

On an inward thrust from him she felt the ecstasy leap, and leap hard.

"Oh--god--"

Every successive thrust was just as hard and just as deep, and faster too. For one confusing moment she wondered what she'd said, but his suddenly quick pace banished any thoughts that were not more or yes.

And then--

"Voryn--!"

The end came by surprise, and seized her in a grip of iron as pleasure cascaded through her body for the most blissful seven seconds of her life so far. She heard a groan from him, and with one ankle over the other, tightened the grip her legs had on him.

She expected him to say Nerevar, and she would have accepted it just fine.

But that wasn't the name Voryn called when his own climax came.

It was her own.

"Sadara..."

The jerk of his body, the hot triple pulse, and then, finally, the sinking and drowning in the warm ocean of the afterglow.

He withdrew from her and rolled onto his side, keeping her close, holding her still, until fatigue and satisfaction were finally successful in their conspiracy to make her sleep.

Nothing had ever been so blissful as it was at that moment.

#dagoth ur x female nerevarine #dagoth ur smut #oh lord the catharsis #the NEED #dagoth ur #nerevarine #fanfiction #tes #morrowind #tesblr #elder scrolls

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