Hello guys, sorry I took such a long time getting this up- things got in the way in real-life, not to mention that I might have...maybe...started a new story.
I know, I know, that's not what you want to hear when I should focus on writing for "Books", but it's already been done, I'm afraid.
I've had this idea for a story since I did the Brotherhood questline the second time months and months ago! (So, well, if you liked Vittoria Vici's wedding in Skyrim, you are welcome to check out "The Bride Wore Red")
Right, that's not what you came here for- on to the story!
There was a thought floating in the back of his head a few days later, as Malvina climbed off of him and collapsed on her side into the bed to catch her breath before leaving.
She looked lovely wearing nothing but a self-satisfied smile on her lips, the treacherous thought said, and Miraak wanted to stab himself for having conceived it.
There was nothing 'lovely' about Malvina, after all, though he wouldn't complain about the sex.
"Remember…" The woman in question started, pushing herself first onto her elbows on the bed and then out of it completely. If there was something she never failed in doing, it was getting out of his way as soon as she was physically able after their romps. 'All the better.' He told himself, refusing to look into the mild displeasure her actions evoked.
"…and I won't hear any protests about it." She finished with what she probably meant to be a no-nonsense expression, but managed to look the farthest thing from intimidating as she stared him down, hands on her soft hips and as naked as the day she was born.
Miraak blinked slowly, lifting his dark gaze from her heaving chest, and stared instead at her still-red lips.
Malvina just shook her head as if she could tell he hadn't heard a word she was saying, but smiled a strangely endearing half-smile.
"We'll leave in the morning for Lost Echo Cave. No excuses." She summarised. "I don't have time to hire someone else to accompany me and the fresh air might benefit you." With one less warning look, she turned on her heels—her backside not a horrible sight to look at as she went.
He scoffed.
Malvina hardly merited such scrutiny—he had seen her naked plenty of times in the week following their first indiscretion. Just because he was newly-human after countless years of serving Hermaeus Mora didn't mean he had to act like a dog in heat.
"My mental capacities are failing much earlier than planned…" he muttered, using his magika to dim the lights and slam the door to his room shut.
Of course, he thought with irritation, that she wouldn't close the damned door behind her after using him as her personal sex toy.
…
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…
Climbing down the stairs at a frightening pace, there was a mad glint in Malvina's eyes that morning, and Miraak braced himself for pain.
"All packed?" She asked, grinning just as wildly as she did before she fought that last dragon, and Miraak could well remember how that turned out. Him, on his back, and the impossible woman glaring daggers at him for having dared save her pitiful life. To that day, neither of them knew what possessed him to do it.
Miraak answered with a grunt, and, after a while, with a question. "Why are we going cave-trotting, again?" He said in a cool tone, though she could still plainly read his displeasure at the idea.
In a way, she supposed she understood his reluctance. She wouldn't want to go into a dark, secluded location with herself either, had she the choice.
With a bright, merciless smile, she motioned for him to follow her, explaining as she went. "My sources say there's a rare book to be collected in a cave not that far away to the west." She told him, as if it explained everything, and to anyone who knew the Last Dragonborn, it did.
Miraak, most certainly, understood better than most. The very reason he was still alive was that the woman just couldn't help herself when books were involved. Why couldn't she be a normal woman and obsess over fancy dresses or sex?
Memories of their latest late-night 'reading session' came to mind, and his eyes unconsciously took in the sway of her hips as she led the way.
Ah, right.
Sending a dark look at the back of her head for making him want her when he was cross with her, he followed her out the door.
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…
Damp, dark, and bloody outrun by things wanting to kill them, that was the only way to describe Lost Echo Cave, but really, she'd expected nothing less.
Few of Malvina's pursuits didn't end in blood—or other bodily fluids—and she'd came to terms with it a long while ago. She was, after all, the woman whose first reaction at finding out cultists were trying to kill her was recklessly taking control of a ship and going after their boss. She smiled as she remembered the day—she hadn't even bothered to restock her provisions or grab money from one of her many houses. She swore, it was the only time Malvina's actually seen Serana pray to any deity. Who would have thought she'd go for Akatosh.
She neatly avoided a rusted bear-trap as she used the light of the glowing mushrooms to scan her surroundings, even if the thing had probably been in the cave long enough to render it harmless. She pressed herself against the wall as she waited for a passing Falmer to turn his back on her for her to attack, Miraak unusually quiet and cooperative a few paces behind her. They had cleared quite a bit of space behind them already, the tunnels were filled with Falmer and the occasional Chaurus, and it would have been impossible to pass without cutting them down. The blind elves had a small society deep in the caves system, and though she had found an old, very interesting book in the very first chamber of Lost Echo Cave, her senses told her much more could still be discovered with a bit of effort and a lot of blood.
She was right, of course. The Falmer collected plenty of loot and gold that she was more than happy to take for herself.
By the time they explored most of the tunnels, Miraak's cursing became a present companion. For some reason or another, the man truly did not like the Falmer, and though it might have been simply because they had been trying to kill them since they entered their territory, she thought it might be something else.
"Watch it, Nord, we wouldn't want you to strain yourself, now, would we?" She called laughingly as she saw him cut off the head of a Falmer Skulker like it was nothing. Truth be told, Miraak was quite impressive to look at when he fought. There was a grace to his movements that few warriors possessed, even when he fought with an unfamiliar sword and in borrowed armour.
Finishing her last kill with a feral grin, she allowed herself a moment to watch him from the corners of her eyes.
He was built like a Nord, long limbs and solid muscle, but it occurred to her that he was not exactly a Nord, that he was too old to actually be one- probably an Atmoran by origin. She vaguely wondered why he allowed her to call him something he was not, but figured perhaps it was the closest thing to the truth anyway.
Malvina heard him hiss and curse, louder than before, as the last of the Falmer standing grazed his thigh by swinging his axe in a wide swipe. For a second, she worried, remembering the many poisons the blind menaces used in combat, and wiping the blood off her dagger on her shirt—her new favourite dagger, though she told herself it was because of the two enchantments placed on it, and not because it used to be Miraak's— and moved to intervene. The thrill of battle hadn't quite passed, darkening her cheeks and making her feel wild and powerful. She felt herself capable of ripping out the throat of the creature that dared damage something of hers, and more than willing. Miraak was hers—she found herself thinking, a snarl making its way onto her face—and she would grind the bones of anyone and anything who bloody tried to touch him.
It wasn't necessary, to her great disappointment, as Miraak himself finished off his opponent by Shouting him into the wall, and for some reason it just made her blood boil hotter.
The urge to climb him like a tree wasn't unexpected, but her own fierceness made her pause, frozen a short distance in front of him.
He stared at her, his black, bottomless eyes like a beacon, and she wondered if he could read the feral need to claim him – like an animal, on the bloodied cave floor— or if he was aware of what he was doing to her.
As if someone had suddenly pulled a lever, the sound of blood rushing to her ears and loud screams of her own thoughts stopped. She could hear, see and smell nothing of the cave around them, but her heightened senses tuned in on his heartbeat and on his ragged breath. She felt as if something was clawing its way under her skin, wanting to escape—wanting him in the most primal way— and she wondered if her Wolf was to blame, though gods knew she'd never had problems controlling it before.
She tore her eyes away, surprised to discover only a few seconds have passed, when she felt it like ages.
"Dovahkiin…" He called, his voice deep and steady and wonderful. Her heart honest-to-Mara jumped in her chest in response, and lifting her eyes for the second time to look at him, she realised he felt it too. Whatever it was.
She grinned at the realisation, taking wide steps to reach him, appreciation on her face at the dangerous glint in his gaze. Yes, the violence of her emotions frightened her to an extent, but she excelled at ignoring fear.
They crashed together, the metal pieces of their armours clinging loudly, their bodies tightly pressed into each other from lips, to hips, to thighs.
Miraak hissed, and somehow it reminded her that he had been cut— before, with the Falmer.
She pulled back and she felt somehow giddy at the growl he made in disapproval, though it was silenced when she placed her hands on the nick in his armour where she saw blood.
It was on his upper thigh, and the sharp intake of breath he took was both because of pain and something else.
Malvina smiled, though she had no reason to, and felt the warm flesh of his upper leg tense as she covered the wound. Just feeling the strength there made her oddly happy.
Her hands warmed and glowed, and she took care of the cut with no real trouble. The only thing at all difficult was trying to understand why Miraak had made so little effort to protest, not that she complained.
Letting go of his leg, she took a step back to look at her handy-work, and it was then that from the corner of her eye she noticed the very thing she'd been hoping to find in the cave.
The tension they felt earlier—the urgency and hunger—was mostly diffused as Malvina's eyes fell on a book tucked away in a corner of one of the Falmer's huts.
The Breton moved to it quickly, eyes lit as she scanned the content of her prize, and then turned to Miraak with one of her normal, obnoxious smiled.
"Let's go home." She said, her fingers caressing the cover of her latest treasure. "I believe we have what we came for."
With a guarded look, he nodded, and they made their way through the corpses towards the exit.