A Few Feet from Malik...
My Khajiit friend's room is a good example of why the peasants tend to rebel against those who rule them. Thick, Summer Isle carpet covers the entire floor in a layer deep enough to brush the tops of my feet whenever I stand still. The fine flooring is also dyed a deep, rich purple that only comes from boiling a certain type of marine snail found only on the southern coastal regions of Hammerfell. To make this much purple dye, thousands upon thousands of the tiny creatures must have been captured and boiled to extract the color. To match her carpet, her walls are painted a complimentary shade of purple. The idea of painting her walls is extravagant enough, but to dye it purple is even more so.
While red minerals used to make red chalk are easily accessible in mines all across the provinces, minerals naturally blue in color only come from mines in the northern regions of Cyrodiil and the southern regions of Skyrim. Then, combining the minerals and having an artisan combine them with water and oils to create the chalk paint is another waste of gold. Just her floor and walls already cost more than I'll ever see in my entire life, and that's ignoring the furniture she has filling the room to its maximum capacity. Each piece is made of matching wood: Morrowind Blackwood. While it's not imported, the wood only grows dangerously close to Red Mountain.
Finding adventurers willing to risk their life for wood is hard enough; and, they have to do it without the aid of wagon or cart. Morrowind Blackwood is the only wood able to withstand the heat put off by Red Mountain. Any cart or wagon brought to the active areas where Blackwood grows will catch alight before it can be loaded down with the cargo. Even horses and oxen tempted into the active areas by their masters refuse to let themselves be loaded with Blackwood. Scholars have spent years debating why the most subservient of beasts will suddenly go feral and rather die than have the wood saddled to their sides. The answer lies mostly in the fact Blackwood gives off a faint, comfortable heat even when dead.
It makes furniture from it comfortably warm and unique; however, a load full atop an animal's back would no doubt spark the primal fear of fire into action. Each and every piece of the Khajiit's furniture is made of it. The table she has made of it has a fine, black leather cover atop it with matching chairs likewise dressed in their leather best. Her bookshelf, desk, dresser, chest of drawers, bedside table, and the frame around her bed itself is all Blackwood to match. Her bed is blank, but the rest of the wood has fantasy scenes of unicorns and manticores and two headed beasts all dancing along the wood with the occasional dying adventurer speared on their horns or claws or beaks.
Finally, her bed is done up with the thickest, softest looking pillows ever to exist with a blanket made of what appears to be a lion's pelt. The cherries on top of her decadence are many: the books scattered atop her dresser, table, and bedside table because her shelves are filled to bursting with them; the dozens of games she has stashed under her table with dice and sticks and cards galore; her stuffed toys and imitations of animals both real and unreal piled high beside her bed and around where she lays in it; the pictures in rich watercolors hanging everywhere from her wall with thousands of strokes to show it was done by a skilled hand; and, to top it off, a cage of exotic, colorful birds in the corner with one softly cooing the Khajiit's name in an attempt to garner attention from its master.
If I had more dignity and was more committed to my principals, I'd be disgusted by how she's squandered her wealth while the workers I saw outside toiled in the fields with hardly anything to protect them from the sun. All my pride and principal die away as I see the naked woman awaiting me on her bed that cost a small fortune. Her right side is freshly cleaned and bandaged, and, it appears Robert went ahead and bathed the rest of her while he was at it. I reek and chafe from the ride here and the filth I accumulated.
That doesn't stop me from stripping as I walk towards the bed where my lover lays. I've freed myself on my armor by the time I've reached her; still, I saved my undershirt and pants for her to undo. In record time, she's stripped me of my clothes and taken me in her mouth. A sharp shudder rakes me as I twine my fingers in her mane and encourage her. It's not in her mouth she wants me to spill, though. We're still aiming for her to be pregnant by the time her lordly husband arrives for her and, sadly, babies don't come from spilling in a woman's mouth. I pull myself away to find the merchant ready to be taken.
Her heat is hot and slick when I enter her and, just as I'd feared, I don't last long and find myself finishing before I've gotten her there. I go to please her with my mouth or hands when I find her hand on my chest pushing me away. A twinge of guilt remains as my lover pulls me down into her arms and closes her legs tight. She nuzzles into my neck as she whispers why she refused me.
"I want it in me for as long as possible.". That doesn't help to ease my own guilt at having left her high and dry. Still, there is nothing to be done about it now that she's refused and I've gone soft. I try to be as best of a lover as I can by making up for my lackluster performance with some cuddling and kissing with a few sweet whispers here and there. I'm still soaking up the warmth from her when I feel her whispered words brush across my face.
"I have news from my father about my betrothed.". Instantly, all of my muscles tense and I feel my cock, which was stirring to life, go soft. I might show how much I care for her by making love to her and whispering in her ear how amazing she is, but I can't forget all of this fucking is serving another person: giving her fiancé a nice set of horns until my bastard is inside her belly. Only a child by someone who isn't her promised will convince her betrothed's father to end the wedding before it starts. If we're lucky, a bastard is already growing and she'll be nice and plump by the time she's at the altar. However, if she isn't pregnant the time is running out.
She can claim pregnancy all she wants, but that doesn't mean the end of a marriage. If she's not far enough along, then her husband can simply have me assassinated and claim the bastard as his own if it pops out as a Khajiit. If it comes out white as a Nord, then he can just have the babe tossed down a well and have a faux funeral with a closed casket. The Dunmer are a resourceful people and severing an engagement is messy work. Both sides have given so much to the other that canceling a wedding is bound to feel like a failure to both sides. For the future of my lover and my child, I do my best to swallow my own fear and rage.
"Winter is stirring around Red Mountain. Ash that falls around the charred remains of the lost villages no longer burns the flesh on contact. The deer who yet remain have fled and the birds are flying south. Fall comes and goes in a week in Morrowind and soon enough our fields will be empty. My father means to see my married before the first freeze reaches us. Even now, my husband and his father is rushing towards us with a tail of his extended family and men at arms following him. They refuse to leave their family, so their approach is slowed.". I can hear her voice change. It falls to a hush as she pulls me even closer until our noses are brushing.
"Should he not arrive here before the first freeze, then soon enough he'll be up to his arse in snow and ice. That won't stop them, but it'll make him slow enough he won't be here till I'm full to bursting with your son.". My dick twitches and I cross my legs to calm it down.
"However, he needs to be stalled long enough the first freeze can reach him. At the rate he's going, he'll be in my bed within two weeks.". I can tell this plan involves me. I've always disapproved of cloak and dagger issues in politics and mundane affairs, but I haven't a choice at this point.
My concern is my lover will want me to slay a family member to force the family to return home, or cause an uprising within the populace that her betrothed is forced to address before going any further. While I'm not against the idea of the poor and overworked getting better treatment from those who employee them, I'm opposed to the idea of putting myself in such a line of risk when I have a child (hopefully) on the way. I'd prefer rustling cattle or maybe setting a few fires to an unoccupied village. Stealing livestock and setting empty homes aflame might not be enough to cause her future husband to abandon the march towards her completely, but when a few of her scouts go missing he'd be forced to come. Though, making the scouts disappear is more than risky in and of itself.
Bribing a few to abandon their master might work considering how fickle Dunmer are to those they serve; and, I'm sure a few more would leave simply for the fact a Nord is intimidating enough they'd rather run than fight. The issue is for every two who turn tail there's one willing to return news of me to their master in hopes of a lavish reward. All things considered, I doubt any plan we could come up with would be without its own unique risk. After all, getting a nobleman to turn from his course would require either large threat or equally large promise.
"There are three houses sworn to him along the way. I need you to come to the first in disguise and demand of them a great feast in honor of their liege lord, then go to my husband and tell him of his sworn house begging for the honor of serving him. If the second and third houses fall for it, feel free to use the same ruse. If the second is smarter, then wear an ancient werewolf skin my father has and let some peasants see you killing some of their sheep. The second house will no doubt tell my betrothed of the beast and he'll feel obligated to hunt it. Let the cripple spend the night in the woods tied to his horse and chasing nothing.".
"Finally, should the third house need a different ruse than either, I've forged a letter from the last liege lord to my father offering his first son in exchange for me. All stamps and signatures I stole from other documents. My husband is a prickly man and will no doubt stop and demand satisfaction. I need you to be by his side all the while and whisper in his ear to stoke the flames of his rage. Don you disguise or not, it is up to you. Disclose yourself as my maid in waiting who's come to carry tales of my love for him if you truly feel the need. Then, once he's past the third house, break away from the group and ride to me. With any luck, he'll be trapped in the snow by the time you return to me. Can you do that for me?". I don't hesitate.
"I will.".
Reader,
I'm going to put this on both my profile and the first chapter of any work I update. A few months ago I almost took my own life. Ever since that day, I've been focusing on getting better. Writing is what I did for fun in my free time. Enjoying my life and having hobbies seemed so unimportant at first. Finally, I feel I've gotten to a place I can write and read and enjoy myself rather than going through the motions. I have no idea when I might update or the future. I don't know if I'll ever respond to messages.
Hell, I've stopped reading reviews, and that was my favorite part of writing. It might be years or more before I'm in a good enough place I feel like going back to my "normal" on this site. I might never get back to it. I just wanted anyone reading to know I do appreciate you, I'm just also struggling with depression and, while this is fun, I dread interacting with other living people. Still, thank you for reading, and thank all of you who I've come to think of as friends on this site. I truly appreciate all of you. Thank you.
Until I update again or we meet in another life,
TheKhajiitWarrior