This is my fanfic, I want to follow the story closely, but I am going to branch out and do my own thing. Oh, and that chick he gets to know I made up her name, because I couldn't remember the real one. Oh, and before I forget, this series will be slow, and when I say slow, I mean crawling with stubs slow, I want to get to the lemons and stuff but that'll have to wait till later because I have a plan going on. Karliah won't show up for a while, sorry people. Anyway hope you enjoy the second installment. I of course don't own Skyrim, or any character's besides Dread.
Chapter 2
Dread and Hadvar looked out of the cave at the spiralling dragon, hoping it would soon leave, until that time both men rested.
"You should go to Riverwood, tell my uncle about what happened here in Helgen. His name is Alvor." Hadvar said.
"Where are you going?" Dread asked.
"I need to meet up with the Legion to report on what happened." Hadvar replied.
Both men fell into their thoughts, each pondering what will come next with the return of the Dragons.
"Dread, I've been meaning to ask you, what exactly happened to your eyes?" Hadvar asked aloud after a few minutes of silence.
"What do you mean? They aren't their normal crimson color?" Dread asked, starting to worry something was wrong.
"No... you mean you didn't know your eyes are completely white?"
Dread, was starting to panic.
What happened to my eyes? Dread thought.
"I don't know," Dread began "I didn't even know my eyes were white until now, I see fine so there's nothing wrong there at least."
"Oh its not really that noticeable, I mean, I wouldn't have noticed if I weren't actually looking." Hadvar quickly stated.
"Ha oh well, I suppose they look rather eerie right?" Dread asked.
"Ehhhh..." Hadvar looked conflicted, he didn't want to answer honestly but he didn't want to lie either.
"Don't worry about hurting my feelings, just want an opinion." Dread encouraged.
"Yes, they are rather 'eerie', they look as if you are a dead man, who is walking about."
Dread thought about what Hadvar said. Hmmm, well if what he says is true then I could definitely use my eyes to scare some of my opponents. Hell, maybe it would give me a little advantage.
"So... what you said back there, was that true?" Hadvar asked, interrupting Dread's thoughts.
"What did I say?" Dread asked.
"The things you said about being the Champion of Cyrodiil, and the Hero of Kvatch?" Hadvar inquired.
"Yes" Dread answered.
"So you are 200 years old." Hadvar assumed.
"It would seem so, though I haven't been awake for that long."
"What do you mean?" Hadvar queried.
"I don't rightfully know. I just remember feeling some pain by my spine, and then blackness" Dread replied " Then I woke up in a crypt."
"Sounds like someone thought you were dead." Hadvar remarked.
Dread stopped to think about the event leading up to his incapacitation.
-
Dread had been on a mission for the Dark Brotherhood, he remembered it mostly because it had been the first mission he had taken after becoming the Listener. The Night Mother had given Dread a contract, exclusively for the him. Dread didn't know what made it necessary for the Listener to have to do the mission, but when the Night Mother gives you specific orders, you follow through with them, well, unless you were suicidal.
Dread had been tasked to silence a mole, Arctern Levintos, in the Imperial City. It wouldn't have been too hard had it not been designated for the kill to be out in the open, in the middle of the day, the contract even called for excessive collateral damage, mostly just killing Imperial understood why the Listener was needed after the boundaries for the contract were set, no one in the Brotherhood was as good, or at least not trained yet, to take on such a high-class contract.
Dread's thoughts had lingered to his time with Martin, and how he had thought he were a better man than that lowly one before.
It would seem that fate would have you end where you began, Dread had thought, Martin would be disappointed with me, if he could see me now.
So much had changed since Martin left the world of the living, but Dread had still tried to be needed by someone. Even if that someone had been a she-devil, who took money for lives. Dread couldn't complain though, he had a family, one that truly cared for him, or at the very least pretended too.
Leaving his haven, Dread had embarked on his journey to the Imperial City. It hadn't taken too long to get there while riding Shadowmere, the fastest horse to ever grace the land.
When he arrived at the city he left Shadowmere in the stables, and continued to walk into the city. The first thing he did was rent a room at one of the inns located throughout the city. After stowing his things he washed himself with the water in a basin located in his room.
I should probably rest, tomorrow is going to be a big day, but first I'm going to visit Martin's statue, Dread thought.
The night air was so calm, Dread thought as he stepped out of the inn.
The night had been a rather pleasant one, there were not many people out who could recognize him. The cool breeze cleared his head of the coming day, he just walked in peace, not a single bad thought in his head. He saw the gate that indicated a new district.
He stepped through the gate and was greeted by a yell, it was from a man who had just been stabbed right in the middle of the street, by another man who was dressed in black clothing.
Who is this man, Dread thought, he isn't part of the Brotherhood his gear is all wrong, but he does look highly trained even if he is killing a man in the middle of the street.
Said man looked over at Dread just as the bells of the guard towers started sounding.
Well, shit, I guess I should have brought my damn sword, Dread thought as the man in black sprinted at him.
The black clothed man made a sweeping strike with his dagger, which would have split Dread's throat, had he not ducked under the attack. Dread spun while crouched, sweeping the man's feet from under him, as the man fell Dread rolled over the man till he straddled him, effectively pinning the man. Dread slid a dagger out of his boot and began interrogating the man.
"What are you doing? Who do you work for?" Dread demanded.
The man didn't say anything instead he rammed his head into Dread's knife.
Well that was anti-climatic, Dread thought.
The man's body convulsed till it finally lay still, Dread had been about to stand up and dust himself off when he heard a sound of a bow letting loose an arrow. His instincts forced him to move his body to the left of his current location, he had dodged the arrow enough for it not to kill, but not enough for it to miss completely. The arrow grazed his neck, right beside the spine. The figure dashed away, before Dread could get a fix on him.
Dread looked over at the two bodies that littered the street and approached the man who was killed by the one in black. Laying there in the middle of the street lay the very man Dread had been contracted to kill.
Well, well, well, I guess my mission is already over, Dread had thought as he peered at the body of Arctern Levintos.
Some Imperial guards approached Dread, weapons raised and scanning the area. Dread raised his hand indicating that he was unarmed and meant no harm.
"We saw you take this man down," one guard indicated the fallen man by Dread's feet "Was there anyone else?"
"I saw someone with a bow over that way, almost sent me to my ancestors." Dread replied.
A burning pain erupted in Dread's body, sending him crashing to the ground. He was writhing and flailing, unable to keep himself from holding still. The guards stood around him in fear, they couldn't help Dread.
As darkness started to descend on Dread his last thoughts were, I'm sorry... Martin.
-
Dread came out of his reverie in enough time to see the dragon make one more passover and then fly away.
"It's time for us to go different ways," Hadvar announced "I hope we both live long enough to cross paths again."
It seemed weird to Dread how people could become so close in such a limited time when their lives were on the line and they relied on each other. Both men clasped hands and said their goodbyes, before leaving the cave and onto their destinations.
As soon as Dread emerged from the cave, he let out a pent-up breath into the crisp afternoon air and pulled out his map; one that Hadvar had given him before they went their own ways. Dread studied his location and where he needed to go. He debated in his head if he should take the trails or to just cut across country. Both had advantages and disadvantages.
If I take the trail I won't run into as many animals, or at least hopefully not, but I would run into people, and bandits. Not taking the trail would leave me to fight off any and all creatures, but I could potentially get to Riverwood in less time. Dread concluded that going cross country would be the best thing to do, and so started walking to Riverwood.
The land was beautiful, Too bad its so damn drastic in its change of weather, Dread thought while looking at a line of snow that abruptly ended into green grass.
Cyrodiil, when he had first arrived, had made him feel as if he were in a different world, especially considering he had just arrived from his homeland Morrowind. The trees and the grass all seemed so much brighter and lively. The people were more open, and inclusive, unlike his closed minded brethren. Skyrim reminded him of Cyrodiil, the beauty, the clean air. But of course the beauty could only last so long, as there was always something trying to kill you. Dread met one such encounter when he heard a roar of a dragon.
Great, nowhere to hide and nowhere to run, Dread thought as he scanned the clearing he was in. The dragon of course, saw Dread and sped up, readying itself for a flyby attack.
Dread pulled his bow from its spot hanging on his back and notched an arrow. He aimed, and let loose an arrow. The arrow streaked through the air and sunk into the dragon's neck, which only seemed to tick it off. Dread notched another arrow and let it fly hitting the dragon near the same spot.
This bow doesn't have enough driving force to be worth a damn to those scales of his, Dread thought.
The dragon roared and shot out flames burning trees and marring the land. It flew over Dread, and at the last moment Dread dove out of harms way, feeling the heat of the attack.
Think...Think, there has to be a way to bring that monster to ground level, Dread contemplated a way to at least close the distance, Ahhh this could work.
Dread notched an arrow, fired, and repeated several more times. Each arrow flew through the air, each flying minutely at different angles, all leading the dragon on as it flew. The first arrow pierced the dragon's webbed wings, ripping a hole in it. The next arrow hit in the other wing ripping through and leaving another ragged hole. The next two did much the same as the ones before, but the final arrow flew at such an angle that it ripped the webbing where it came from the dragon's wing to the other edge, leaving a pleasing gash in its wing. With the holes and the final gash the dragon lost its ability to fly, and crashed into the ground, in a magnificent manner. At least until it rammed into Dread sending him flying and landing on his back, his weapons thrown away and lost in the tall grass.
Damn, that hurt, he thought as he climbed up from the ground Oh Divines, you sure know how to make things difficult for the Champion of Cyrodiil. Well, let's see what I can do to kill this dragon.
Dread charged the enraged dragon. As he neared the dragon reared its head back and let loose another inferno, scorching everything in its wake. Dread skillfully sidestepped, getting out of the inferno's flame, but not getting away from the heat. He ignored the heat, and continued charging the dragon. When he was in striking distance from the dragon, it snapped at him. Dread easily rolled under its snapping jaws, then sprang up from the roll, grabbed one of its head spikes, and climbed up onto its head. The dragon reared, almost causing Dread to lose his handhold.
Haven't had to use this in a long time, Dread thought.
He began to use a technique he created. Dread let one of his hands fall away from its hold and brought it by his side, grabbing onto his magicka it flowed into his hand, locking the joints until it made an open palm. He flowed more magicka into it causing it to heat, and then start to flame.
Damn, I'm glad to be a Dark Elf, wouldn't want to see what would happen to the skin of any other race who used this, Dread thought.
As the hand heated into almost unbearable temperatures, even for a Dark Elf, Dread rammed his hand into the dragon's head, pushing with all his might. At first it looked as if the dragon's scales would hold up against this attack, but as Dread applied more force into the burning appendage, he felt the scales starting to give. The dragon seemed to sense that it may die, and so it started thrashing more forcefully trying, unsuccessfully, to dislodge the Elf on its head.
With a final burst of force Dread impaled the dragon with his arm, the heat from his spell cooking the insides of the dragon's head. In the dragon's death throes, it made one final thrash of its head, sending a weakened Dread tumbling to the ground.
As Dread tumbled and rolled on the ground he saw glimpses of the dragon letting loose a final burst of flame before sinking to the ground. Dread came to a halt, crashing violently into a tree, he could feel that a few ribs had snapped from the impact. Hoping to the Divines that the broken ribs didn't pierce his lungs, Dread started to lose consciousness, until he took one final look at the dragon.
The body of the dragon had started to turn black and burn from the inside out. It's spikes, the scales, its eyes, all of it started to be engulfed by the flames, and started to turn into flakes that detached and were swept away by the afternoon breeze.
Dread had started to close his eyes again, letting sweet darkness wrap its arms around his mind, until he felt something stir in him. He forced himself to open his eyes, and he beheld one of the most amazing things in his life.
I'm absorbing the dragon's powers, Dread thought.
There were swirls of white, gold, and red, it looked as if a fire from the dragon had met a violent wind that was whipping it towards the downed Dunmer's body, it focused into his chest, and he felt his ribs repositioning themselves and healing back together.
After the lights faded away Dread tried to stand, when he had to rely on the tree he thought, I don't think I will be able to make it to Riverwood today, but I better try anyway, I don't want to be left stranded in this forest.
Dread searched the surrounding area for his weapon. He was only able to find one sword, and a broken bow.
Damn I'm sore, Dread mused.
The Dunmer, stumbled his way towards a road, where he hoped he would find someone to help him to Riverwood. As he finally limped onto the road he was met with silence, not a soul could be seen, it was what he expected, but he still was saddened by it. Dread pulled out his map and tried to figure out where he was and how far he would need to go to reach Riverwood. When he was finally able to get a bearing on his location he frowned at how far he still needed to travel.
I won't make it today, very displeasing, but if I use the last of my magicka I can heal most of my injuries. In turn, only leaving a few to do tomorrow, Dread thought, But if I do that I could leave myself open to attack. Ah hell, I'm pretty sure I can take just about anything with my sword, I'll be fine.
With that Dread searched for a suitable shelter for the evening. After searching for half an hour, Dread finally found a large crevice in the side of a hill. Dread entered and scanned the place looking for any inhabitants that may give him a problem, he was glad to find the hole empty. The Dunmer left the crevice in search of wood and food, and a few moments later returned with a small stack of branches, and a few berries. He set about building the fire, and after he had a small steady flame he ate the berries he collected.
Not much, He thought, But hopefully I can find something tomorrow while I'm in Riverwood.
After Dread finished his snack he healed his bigger injuries with his last reserves of his magicka. When he finished he only had a few small scrapes and burns. Dread laid down wrapping his cloak around himself in an attempt to stay warm. He closed his eyes and within moments was asleep.
Dread found himself standing in the Imperial City the clouds black as pitch, and the sky red, the sure signs of the presence of portals to Oblivion.
Wait, I remember this,Dread thought, this was the final battle against Martin and Mehrunes.
As if on cue, the residents of Oblivion spilled out of the surrounding gates. Dread prepared himself for the oncoming onslaught only to find himself lacking a weapon. He was alone in a courtyard, Dremora surrounding him, he felt no fear staring at the wave upon wave of the spiked humanoids.
A giant crack appeared between the ranks of monsters, and a giant Oblivion portal ascended into the sky. It opened itself and out stepped the living persona of a nightmare. Mehrunes Dagon, the Deadric prince of destruction, stepped forth from the portal, each of his giant arms carrying a weapon of equal magnitude.
The Dragon should be coming soon, Dread thought.
"Dread Ilithen," the behemoth Mehrunes boomed " You have failed, now you will feel pain beyond your wildest dreams."
Some of the surrounding Dremora dragged a body towards Dread. As they drew closer Dread become more anxious, fearing the worst. The two Dremora final reached the edges of the surrounding force and threw the body to Dread. It fell at his feet and his breath caught in his chest, for there laying at his feet bloodied and staring up at him was his brother-in-arms and Emperor, Martin Septim. Dread felt like puking, but held back the bile by sheer force. He looked back up at Mehrunes and saw the giant wave his hand. The cue registering into the Dremora, they charged Dread.
Dread fought back with all his might, snapping necks and collapsing windpipes, but the pure numbers of the wave pulled him down, hacking and slashing into his body. After moments of pure pain he figured out he wasn't dying. The hacking of swords, the bludgeoning of maces, the kicks and punches, all the thing being done to his body wasn't killing him, even as he saw his blood splatter and fly everywhere, covering everything.
"So you figured out what was is happening to you," Mehrunes boomed, "Good, now you will know the cost of your failure."
Images flashed into Dread's head, scenes of burned towns, the screams of the enslaved, and his own body being ravaged by these terrible monsters.
With a final roar, Mehrunes slammed his foot down on Dread.
Dread didn't cry out and sit up as he came out of his nightmare, he had been trained not to do so, he simply opened his eyes and looked anxiously around.
Good, it was just a dream, Dread thought as he sat up slowly, his sore muscles screaming their displeasure.
He stretched and massaged his muscles; finally he resorted to using his magic to heal his muscles. He walked away from his makeshift shelter and pulled out his map.
Riverwood was located about four miles from his current location. At a walk it would take an hour or two. So Dread started on his last leg of his journey to Riverwood.
Two hours and an uneventful walk later, Dread finally arrived at Riverwood. It was a peaceful, but worn out village. Its stone walls and gate stood open to everyone. Dread walked into the village without any problem and proceeded to find Alvor.
"Sir, do you know where Alvor is?" Dread asked a random man.
"Yes, he is right there," the man pointed at a blacksmith shop, where a man who looked to be in his 40's stood at an anvil working out some armor.
"Thank you" Dread said as he walked away from the man.
Dread walked into the open area and greeted the man.
"Hello, are you Alvor?" Dread asked.
"Who's asking?" the man said.
The village may be peaceful, but it would seem the people are still paranoid when it comes to outsiders, Dread thought.
"A friend," Dread said cryptically.
"Of whose," the man countered.
"Hadvar," Dread replied.
"How do you know Hadva?" he asked.
"He helped me escape Helgen after a dragon attacked," Dread stated.
"A dragon? Divines, the Jarl of Whiterun needs to know!" Alvor exclaimed.
"I could go, but I need supplies and, if possible, somewhere to stay for tonight," Dread remarked.
"Here, lets see what we can get you, and you can stay in the add-on to the house, its not big but its warm and dry!" Alvor said.
Funny, how you mention a certain name, or an event, that someone will so willingly let you in, Dread thought.
Alvor led Dread away from the anvil and smithing station, and into his house. He opened the old wooden door and escorted Dread in. Dread was met with a cozy old home that smelled of fire smoke and cooking meat. Dread's mouth started watering after a giant whiff of the pig slowly turning on a spit.
"Its not much, but its home," Alvor announced.
Well at least you have a home, old man, Dread thought.
"Its very nice," Dread replied.
Alvor pulled up a chair next to the fire and directed Dread into sitting in it.
"So, we haven't been correctly addressed, my name is Alvor, I'm Hadvar's uncle," He said.
"I'm Dread Ilithen, and as of right now, I'm a wanderer," Dread stated.
The two men clasped hands. The two drifted into a peaceful silence, and were interrupted when a young looking Nord woman came up from the basement. She was a pretty thing, with shoulder length blond hair, her high cheekbones set up her pretty face, she had blue eyes that rivaled the sky.
"Who's this?" she asked not unkindly.
"Just a friend of Hadvar's, he will be staying the night, we will also need to get him some supplies for his trip to Whiterun." Alvor said.
The woman left without another word, and Dread couldn't help himself but look at her as she walked away.
Alvor didn't notice the looks Dread was giving to the woman as he started listing off supplies Dread would need to get to Whiterun and beyond.
"You will need a better cloak than the one you were wearing when you arrived," Alvor stated, "you will also need a bedroll, some food, and definitely water."
Alvor eyed Dread's meager supplies, and then asked, " Do you know how to use a bow? You will need to be able to, to hunt."
"I am fairly good at using a bow," Dread replied.
"Good." Alvor gruffly said.
Alvor stood from his seat and began rummaging around looking for supplies, that he would give to Dread. Alvor laid a traveler's bag down by the front door, the bag looked sturdy, if not a little old looking. The next item was a black cloak.
Well that cloak is a massive improvement to my current one, Dread thought as he studied the worn and torn cloak he arrived in.
Alvor continued to stack supplies in a small pile near the traveler's bag, as Dread watched from his chair. After a short time Dread decided to get up and start putting things in the bag.
Well he either wants me not to come back for a long time, or he actually believes me about Hadvar, Dread thought.
As the bag was almost full Alvor disappeared into a room, after a few moments he returned carrying a huntsman's bow and quiver in his hands.
"It's not the greatest bow, but I think it should be good enough to protect yourself and hunt with," Alvor handed Dread the bow and quiver, "there are some targets out back if you wish to familiarize yourself with the bow."
"I will do just that," Dread stated, he wouldn't give up a nice chance to practice.
Alvor led him towards a door that led to the back of the house, he pushed it open and continued out with Dread following close behind.
"It's not much but it will at least provide something akin to practice." Alvor gestured to a small man shaped target leaning against a tree.
"It's great," Dread replied.
Dread walked away from the house, and away from the target to allow himself room. He hooked the quiver to his back and grabbed an arrow. Dread notched the arrow and aimed at the target, he let go of the pull string and sent the arrow flying towards the target dummy. I drove into the dummy's head.
Dread could hear Alvor whisper from the doorway as he watched Dread move to different distances, shoot from different positions, and even shoot while running and diving. Each arrow found what would have been a vital spot on any race in Cyrodiil, landing in eyes, mouths, throats, hearts, and groin.
After Dread emptied his quiver he walked to the dummy and started removing arrows and reloading his quiver.
"Something tells me that you are a lot more than just familiar with a bow." Alvor said.
"I practice a lot?" Dread said turning the statement into a question.
"I see that. How about you come in and clean yourself off so we can eat." Alvor said.
Dread walked up to the door and entered directly behind Alvor. Both men continued into the main room Dread had been sitting in a while before. The pig that was on the spit before was now being laid, by the woman from before, on the table that lay situated near a far wall in the main room.
Dread's mouth started to water at the aromas coming from the food. He followed Alvor until he was standing in a small room that held a suspended bath, with a fireplace underneath it for heating the water. There was a small fire going already.
That woman must have started, and prepared the bath, Dread thought, I'll need to remember to thank her for it.
Alvor left a towel and then departed from the room, closing the door as he left. Dread started to strip his armor and clothing off, when he was down to his trousers, the woman from before walked in with a new set of plain clothing. She looked at his body with a look somewhat akin to hunger and lust. Dread stood still and looked at her in return.
"Thank you for preparing a bath for me Mistress." Dread spoke,
"Think nothing of it." She said in return.
This break in the silence seemed to knock her back into reality and she laid the clothing down next to the bath, and walked out. Dread let out a pent up breath and continued stripping himself.
When he finally stepped into the bath he let out a small groan, his muscles started to relax and he was finally at peace, if only for a little while. He rinsed the grime and sweat from his body, and then proceeded to think of the events leading to this point.
What happened in the 200 years I was gone, He thought, the Legion has changed so much, normal foot soldiers don't have the plate armor like they use to, they have that leather armor. It would seem that only the higher command has any metal on their personal armor.
His thoughts ranged from the armor of the people, to the culture of skyrim, and his mind finished on the changes that may have occurred to Cyrodiil.
Dread stood from his bath and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist. Dread grabbed the clothing and looked at them, the shirt was gray and had buttons up the middle, the pants were black and hugged his legs. He proceeded to dress pulling the pants up and then buttoning his shirt. He walked towards the door when he heard a small gasp. He pulled the door open and walked out of the room, Dread looked around the hall he was in and surmised that he had a spectator.
As Dread ascended the stairs he was met with an aroma that easily defeated the one before. When he finally made it off the stairs he walked over to the table, where Alvor and the woman seated. Alvor seemed to be in good spirits as he held a pint of mead in his hands.
"Hello!" Alvor exclaimed.
Someone is already drunk, Dread thought.
"Hello Alvor," Dread replied, and nodded to the woman " I don't believe we have been properly greeted,"
The woman blushed a little.
"Umm, my name is Agathe," she replied.
"And as you know I am Dread Ilithen," Dread responded.
Dread sat at the other end of the table next to Agathe, and facing Alvor. Alvor didn't seem to mind Dread being friendly with Agathe.
I wonder what relation Agathe has with Alvor, Dread thought.
Alvor began cutting the pig into pieces and handing out meat to Agathe and Dread. When dread was handed his piece he looked to Agathe and Alvor for permission to start. Alvor nodded his approval after he ate his first bite. Dread was in heaven as he ate the food on his plate, it's taste leaving him wanting more.
-
Agathe was watching Dread out of the corner of her eye, making sure that the meal was to his liking. When Dread seemed to be exceptionally pleased with the food Agathe silently celebrated. She didn't understand why she was drawn the the ash-skinned elf, but from the first time she saw him she was enraptured. His pointed ears, his angled face, and his eyes. Agathe had never seen a Dunmer with such expressive eyes, even if they were completely white, it was like looking into the sun. Dread's determination and spirit, and his seemingly openness with them was a surprising contrast to other Dark Elf's she had met.
She peaked another look at him, and blushed. When he had been in the bath she was watching from the keyhole at the door. She knew she shouldn't have been peaking, especially at their guest, but she couldn't help it, she was just too damn attracted to this man. Though when he stood from the bath, she gasped. He stood stark naked, everything showing. She had never seen a naked man before, but what she saw surpassed everything she daydreamed about. She watched as he dried himself and pulled on the clothing. The clothes she had left him were Alvor's old pair when he had been a young man. The shirt showed off his muscular chest and upper body, while the pants were snug and showed off equal muscle mass in his legs.
When Dread started walking to the door she gasped and ran away from the door, and quietly ran up the stairs to the table. She quietly down the table and tried to settle herself down. What had she been doing! That was so wrong, what would've happened if she had been caught! He would have told Alvor! And then she would have been yelled at and shamed! Or... her mind wandered to darker, more sensual, outcomes. She should have been ashamed to be thinking such things, but dammit she couldn't help it. When Dread walked up and greeted her in such a gentlemanly way she couldn't help but blush, for she had seen all of him, and without him knowing!
-
Alvor handed Dread another pint of mead. Dread lost count of how many he had drank, and Alvor was way more lost in the count than he. Both men drank and happily talked about past experiences. Dread couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun with another individual.
"... and then Agathe said, help me down please!" Alvor busted out laughing after he had just retold a story of Agathe and how she had been stranded in a tree.
Dread laughed, it had been a good story, and he was drunk so everything was funny. Agathe was as red as an Oblivion portal, as Alvor finished his story.
She is pretty attractive, Dread thought, Eh, too bad Dread you can't be with her, even if she returned your feelings.
Alvor had downed his last pint of mead and began shuffling to his room, when Dread started to feel the full effects of the drink. Dread was giddy, and was probably going to have a nasty hangover the next day. Agathe had drank a few pints herself throughout the night, and was touchy. Dread didn't mind her hands on him.
Hell it's been nigh on two centuries since I've been in the company of a pretty woman, He thought.
Agathe had been gaining courage throughout the night from lightly touching, to full on groping Dread, and Dread was liking it. But Dread also knew that he wouldn't bed Agathe, not even if they were both sober, he had sworn off such pleasures when he had joined the Dark Brotherhood, he would never sire a child so long as his heart and soul belonged to the Night Mother, and the Dread Father Sithis. Dread didn't know if that contract was still in effect, but he didn't want to risk upsetting the Night Mother further if there were a chance at salvaging his place in the Dark Brotherhood.
Agathe had become more courageous and had started moving her head towards Dread's, in the hopes of kissing the Dark Elf. Dread, had enough conscious thought to try and evade the incoming kiss. He started to laugh extremely hard, and ended up dipping his chair over backwards and falling over onto the floor. Agathe fell with him and he ended up on his back with her on top of him.
Well shit, that didn't end up like I thought it would, Dread thought.
Agathe was now most definitely goaded into kissing Dread, as she finally started to dip her head closer and closer to the Dunmer. Agathe closed her eyes in preparation of the kiss when Dread felt his last reserves start to dwindle and his urges start to take over. Agathe's head fell onto Dread's chest, which surprised Dread, at least until he found her sleeping on him.
That was too damn close, Dread thought.
The Dunmer sat up slowly and grabbed ahold of Agathe and as he stood he picked her up bridal style and carried her an empty room where she laid her on the bed and then draped the blankets on top of her. Dread, as quietly as he could, stumbled out of his room and into an adjacent room where he didn't even take the time to take off his clothing as he landed face down in the pillows and was out.
End of Chapter 2
