Author's note:

Happy new year, everyone!

I hope you all celebrated (or still will celebrate, depending on the time zone :D ) the ending of 2020 in your own way and I sincerely hope that 2021 will be a much better year for everyone.

I want to thank you all yet again for your continued support and readership. Each one of you has made this year a little brighter for me and I hope my story did the same for you.

So, without further ado, with new year comes a new plotline.

Enjoy :)


Chapter LXXXI – Order

"Why was he laughing like that?"

Aeyrin looked back nervously towards the city gates. The strangely malicious laughter, which the guard on the other side of it let out at the sight of her, was still echoing in her head.

Windhelm was as drab as ever as then monochrome streets spread before them. The Nords, clad in warm furs, were scurrying around as Stormcloak soldiers stood at attention at almost every corner. The atmosphere seemed a bit more… tense than the last time they visited. People seemed in a rush to get where they were going, no one was strolling around or standing about idly. It was as if they all wanted to escape the dismal streets. Was it because of the soldiers? They seemed to be everywhere.

"Don't know… but I don't like it. This place feels weirder..." Bishop scowled, looking around the grey streets with narrowed eyes. Not even the sounds of laughter and drunken revelry could be heard from the Candlehearth Hall.

His eyes rested on a wooden notice board by the inn with numerous parchments nailed to it. Strange… that wasn't there before, was it? And if it was, it's always been empty. He would have noticed it otherwise.

They approached the new sight, looking over the myriad of papers plastered all over it. Many of them seemed made by the same person, all written in bold capital letters, drawing their attention immediately.

.

BEWARE THE BUTCHER!

.

Aeyrin's eyes roamed over the number of parchments with the same content, not even registering the more elaborate and official looking notes on the board.

"What did the butcher do?" she pondered, looking at a crude drawing on a small paper in the corner. It was depicting a small stick figure with what appeared a knife, held above another figure with crosses in place of its eyes.

"I'd be more concerned about this one…" Bishop grumbled, looking over one of the official notices.

.

By the order of the True High King Ulfric Stormcloak,

due to the findings regarding the pending investigation of the recent incidents in our city, all the potential suspects of the heinous crimes committed on the people of Windhelm are strictly forbidden from roaming the streets after sundown. This order pertains to all parts of the city, including the docks and the Grey Quarter.

Any suspect caught breaking this order will be arrested and questioned until the True High King Ulfric Stormcloak is personally convinced of their innocence. Visitors to the city are not exempt.

The current list of suspects includes:

Any person of Dark Elven heritage

Any person of High Elven heritage

Any person of Wood Elven heritage

Any person of Argonian heritage

We thank the people of Windhelm for understanding the precautions and urge every citizen to stay safe.

Jorlief, Steward to the True High King Ulfric Stormcloak

.

"WHAT?!" Aeyrin's eyes went wide after reading the notice. She could have sworn she heard a snigger echo from the city gate where two soldiers were keeping guard. Was Ulfric really trying to curb the elves and Argonians in his city like that? And what incidents was the note referring to? Did it have something to do with all this 'butcher' stuff?

She didn't even want to imagine what happened to those that were actually caught breaking the order.

"Let's get to the inn, Susanna probably knows what's going on," Bishop suggested after looking over the board for some more information, but finding none.

"Finally! I'm sorry… there's so many people here during daytime now," Susanna huffed in exhaustion, joining them at their table for her lunch break and fanning herself with her hand dramatically.

She greeted them cheerfully, at first, when they appeared at the door of the inn, but she brushed them off in a minute. She was too busy serving the patrons, so she promised to catch them up when she had a moment to spare.

The inn was surprisingly packed, and oddly warm and stuffy for Windhelm. It was likely because of the amount of people there. They even had to wait for someone to leave to actually have a place to sit.

"It's been crazy lately. Sometimes the Stormcloaks make announcements here during midday and everyone comes here to see if there's anything happening. No one even stays here late anymore, only the people who sleep in the rooms are here in the evening," she sighed, swirling a spoon in her broth lazily.

"What's happened? And what's with the… curfew?" Aeyrin cringed, looking at her curiously. Windhelm's atmosphere was certainly even more tense than before. Every second spent in the city now seemed strangely unsettling.

"So much has happened… things have been really bad lately…" Susanna sighed, taking a deep drink of her mead. "First… there was a murder. Friga Shatter-Shield's body has been found one morning at the cemetery. She was… mutilated… had no arms and had all these… cuts…" she shook her head with a subdued gag. "It was actually her sister who found her there… poor thing. And a week later, there was another victim. Another young Nord girl, the daughter of one of the richest farmers from the outskirts. She was similarly… disfigured. That's when the orders started…" her mouth twisted in disgust at the last part, even more so than during her description of the gruesome killings.

"Ulfric himself made a proclamation. Spouting some… shit about how the enemies of the rebellion are trying to undermine powerful families, shatter the Windhelm society. It was pathetic. Another excuse to rile the masses against the elves. The Stormcloaks started handing out a notice about the new order the next day – every resident of the Grey Quarter was supposed to provide an alibi for the night of the Brandy-Mug girl's murder to the guards. It's just rumors, but… some say they dragged several Dunmer into the dungeons," there was a regretful tone in her voice. It was still somewhat surprising to meet someone who saw Ulfric's games for what they were.

"Then the curfew order followed, along with increased patrols in the Grey Quarter. But the next day there was a third murder. Another young girl… a Dunmer girl. She was a bardess. At times, Elda even let her play here at the inn… after I convinced her to. The girl never wanted to talk to me though… she must have thought… never mind, that's not important…" Susanna shook her head again, an odd hint of regret was palpable in her eyes as she brushed her long blond hair behind her ear.

"When they found her, I thought that the orders would have to be lifted, that Ulfric would have to admit that the elves weren't to blame. But all he did was send his steward here to announce that the court's position is that the Dunmer girl's death was meant to steer suspicion away from the mer and that everything was still in effect. The tensions have been so high this entire time. A group of people even comes to the Grey Quarter during the day to harass the elves. The Argonians are all but isolated at the docks… their employers even stopped dealing with them for the most parts. A lot of people stay at home at night, even the Nords. Everyone is afraid of something… the Butcher, the elves… the Nords… it's just…" the desperation in her voice was palpable. She seemed so weary and worn out, it must have been so trying, to be in the middle of this small war, not wanting to take part of the oppression and at the same time worrying about that Butcher. All the victims seemed to be young women and she must have been walking the streets at night – they knew she wasn't living at the inn…

"Ugh… please just tell me about your travels or something… I can't think about this anymore," she gave them a wry smile, returning to her already cold broth.

"W-wait… so… is Ulfric actually investigating these murders? Aside from harassing elves and Argonians?" Aeyrin asked. She earned an exasperated look from Susanna when she wouldn't let her change the topic.

"I don't know… he's not exactly sharing everything with his citizens. He just has his steward proclaim that things are under control, but a blind Moth Priest would see that they're not. He merely has his soldiers standing around the streets and bothering passers-by. There's nothing being done to find the killer, as far as I know…" Susanna sighed again, giving her a miserable look.

Aeyrin's brows creased in deep thought at that. Bishop could already see the plot she was spinning in her head, wondering how to investigate and evade Ulfric's interference at the same time.

Fuck, she would get herself killed. Either by the killer or by Ulfric…

"So what exactly happens if we're outside after sundown?" he grumbled, turning back to Susanna. Hopefully the answer would make Aeyrin realize just how stupid the notion of investigating was. It wasn't as if they could just go around questioning everyone – patrolling the night streets was likely the only way to get information and that option was hopefully out of the question.

"Nothing to you," Susanna scoffed, looking at Bishop, then pointedly turning her gaze at Aeyrin. "But any elf or Argonian caught outside is brought in for questioning. I think that speaks for itself. Although I'm not sure if anyone's been caught yet. The Dunmer don't really… talk to me…"

"How does the killer get past all the soldiers to kidnap people? And leave the bodies?" Aeyrin pondered further. It looked like she ignored the comment about Stormcloak 'questioning' altogether.

"If anyone knew that…" Susanna chuckled exasperatedly. "There's really not much to do but hope that the Butcher makes a mistake one day and gets caught…"

"Hmm… maybe we could spend tomorrow night at the cornerclub… see what the elves have to say about all this," Aeyrin turned her attention to Bishop who only nodded at her with a slight smile. He did hope the mood in the city didn't bring down the merriment in New Gnisis, as well as the supplies of sujamma. And this option was definitely safer than roaming the streets at night.

"Would you still like to join us? You said that the inn is mostly empty in the evenings anyways…" she asked Susanna. The barmaid had a strangely somber expression when she suggested spending the night at the Grey Quarter.

"I… it's not that I wouldn't like to… but… I don't think the elves would welcome me there…" she sighed, staring into her tankard morosely.

"It's fine! I'm sure they won't be so guarded when you're with us," Aeyrin smiled at her encouragingly. They looked suspiciously at Bishop too, but they warmed up to him soon enough.

"It's not just… it's not just the race thing. Something happened… years ago… one of them got killed… and I think they blame me…" Susanna bit her lower lip nervously, her eyes still on her drink. "When you offered the last time you were here… I thought it'd be an opportunity to explain what happened… but now… with how things are…"

They stayed silent for a while, encouraging her wordlessly to elaborate. She didn't seem very keep to explain further however, stubbornly staring into her tankard.

"Well… what's lost if you try? It might actually be the perfect time to mend bridges…" Aeyrin tried to convince her again. Maybe if the elves knew that not every Nord out there hated them, it would help ease the tensions. No matter what happened between them.

"I… I guess I might as well try… it's not like they can hate me any more…"

"It's unbelievable, isn't it?"

Aeyrin sighed, dropping her pack heavily on the floor of their room. It was still so early, but the sun was already setting.

"How can that man run this city like that? I'm surprised the elves haven't revolted yet. Tsss… curfew…" she shook her head in annoyance, looking out the frost-covered window into the grey streets covered in the golden glow of the evening sun.

Bishop stepped behind her, his hands resting on her hips, pressing her against him.

"It's probably for the best…" he smirked, earning a confused frown from her as she turned her head to him. "Without the curfew, you'd be running around the streets already, trying to make yourself into Butcher bait."

She gave him an incredulous look, but his scoff assured her that they both already knew the truth.

"Well… someone has to help. And Ulfric makes everything worse! I hate that he gets away with it… I… have to do something," she sighed dejectedly. If only she knew what that 'something' was. She wasn't exactly eager to find out what Ulfric's 'questioning' entailed and there was no way she could move around the streets without the soldiers noticing her. She could question some of the citizens, but with the tensions between the races high and the generally empty streets, she doubted that anyone would have seen anything or even felt inclined to share.

"There's nothing you can do, sweetness. You'd just be giving that ass a reason to try and get rid of you. It's not like he's gonna let all his citizens get killed…" Bishop smirked meanly, ushering her from the window towards the bed.

"It's not funny… who knows how far he'll let this get so that he has a reason to harass the elves? What if he actually orchestrated the murders just to do this?" she pondered, her brows still creased. She sat herself down on the bed limply, her eyes fastened on the floorboards.

"Now you sound like Delphine…" he smirked at her, shaking his head. "You wanted to go to the temple tomorrow anyway. Just ask the priests. They may have seen the corpses and noticed something. And we'll see what the elves have to say in the evening. Not much else to do…" It would have been much better to just pack up and leave altogether, but by now, he was under no illusions. He could never convince her to do that.

She shrugged lightly. Asking the priests about the happenings wasn't a bad idea. She just hoped they weren't too influenced by Ulfric's zealotry.

"Now come on, we should turn to something more pleasant. This city is even more depressing than the last time we were here. No reason to wallow in it," he sat himself beside her, nuzzling into her hair and sliding his hand under her tunic to stroke over her bare back.

She sighed slightly, closing her eyes and concentrating on his touch, rather than on whatever dangers lurked outside the tavern walls. He was right, there was not much more they could do, and certainly nothing they could do that night. They might as well focus on something less dismal.

The inn was so blessedly quiet now. Most of the people left already, the only ones remaining were the two of them, some drunkard staying at the inn and the morose innkeeper back at the downstairs bar. There was no bard's song echoing through the walls, no laughter and sounds of clattering dishes, just the crackling of the fires. The place was still so uncharacteristically warm from the previous crowd… she almost forgot what actual heat in the air felt like.

After a while of sitting beside each other in silence, her head turned to the side of his neck, kissing the stubbly skin gently. She had no idea why she loved the scratchy feeling of his rough jaw on her lips. And Gods, how she loved the feel of the same stubble all over her body… just thinking about it made her heat up. She draped her hands behind his neck, straddling his lap eagerly, planting her mouth over his in a deep kiss. Her tongue twined with his and her fingers brushed and clenched in the soft hair on the back of his neck.

Bishop didn't lose any time, draping her shirt over her head quickly as his kissing moved down her jaw, neck and cleavage. Her back arched under the treatment, giving him easier access to her while she let out a low moan. His right hand started to massage her breast and his mouth concentrated on the other one, his left hand sliding down her back into her clothes, gripping at her backside and pressing her closer to him.

She ground herself against him, his eagerness already palpable through their clothing. Her hands moved down to his tunic, yanking it off him almost violently. The heat was rising between them quickly, their breathing turning more ragged, their movements far more frantic.

She leaned into him, her hands folding against his chest and pushing him down onto the bed as she shifted on his lap, allowing her access to the fastenings of his trousers. She tangled with the strings for a while before she managed to free him from the confines, her hand stroking over his length, teasing him immediately.

He let out a brief chuckle at her eagerness in between the excited groans. His hands started pulling teasingly on the loose locks of gold-blonde hair falling along her shoulders occasionally, or stroking over her breasts, pressed together by her arms, outstretched to play with him below her.

His grunts of pleasure became more and more pronounced and she withdrew from him, standing up to finally get rid of the rest of her clothes. He watched her intently with hungry eyes as she undressed in front of him, his breathing heavy, his hand gripping his own cock, eager to find release.

She straddled him again when she got rid of the last piece of clothing, leaning down towards him in a close embrace and kissing him wildly. It was so nice to get consumed by their ministrations. The somber mood and the grievous thoughts about the situation in Windhelm was blessedly forgotten for now. There wasn't even a sound coming from the tavern to make her too conscious about being heard. She did realize at the back of her mind that it probably only meant that anyone could hear them all the more, but Bishop's distracting touch always erased this particular concern.

Her chest flattened on his, her hips rubbing against him excruciatingly teasingly. One of his hands tangled in her hair, making a firm fist and keeping her steadily with her mouth on his as his teeth nipped eagerly into her lower lip. His other hand roamed from her lower back to her backside, at times pressing down on her encouragingly. The teasing getting too much to handle for him, especially since one of her hands was still trapped between their bodies, stroking over his manhood periodically with her fingers occasionally strumming gently over his balls.

She was taking a surprising amount of initiative. He could almost feel the need to ease her mind from her. The desperate attempts to concentrate on their antics, rather than anything else, was so palpable in her touch.

At last she positioned him to her entrance, letting out a deep long moan against his mouth when she slowly lowered herself on him, impaling herself on him nearly all the way down in one languid move.

Unable to wait for her to set the pace anymore, he raised himself and her with him into a half-sit with one of his arms supporting their weight. His hips started to move against her roughly, his hand still entangled in her hair. Their heavy breaths were mixing together and echoing off each other with their heads and mouths still so close. They eagerly exchanged the occasional kiss or a hungry bite, encouraging their movements.

Her hips met his wild pace eagerly, deep gasps escaping her with every thrust. He bit into her skin roughly where her neck met her shoulder, making her moan out in ecstasy, her walls clenching firmly against him and nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

The loud grunt and a couple of choice swear words out of his lips signaled his own release. The heat spread deep inside her as she panted against him, her hands clutching him desperately, nails still digging into his skin.

After a while of mutual panting and meager attempts at steadying their heaving bodies, he shifted, rolling her over and on her back while her legs entangled over his waist instinctively. His large body lay on top of her, his arms folded along her sides, supporting him weakly and barely preventing him from flattening her against the mattress.

He gave her a surprisingly gentle smile, given his still heavy breathing and hungry eyes, while one of his hands brushed the sticky hair from her sweaty face.

He stared into her black eyes. She seemed so at peace, as opposed to before they started. At the very least, that idiotic curfew did not only make sure she couldn't do anything stupidly risky to catch the killer, it also ensured them plenty of time spent just like this.

He wouldn't change the sight of her like this for anything in the world. The flushed cheeks, the sparkly eyes, the slight satisfied smile and the heaving body…

Fuck, he couldn't remember ever getting this mesmerized by a girl.

Maybe it was because he never really cared this much about any of them.

Maybe it was because he was never really… in love.

Shit… was he really?

Well… what did that even mean? And what did it even matter? Who cared what it was called?!

All that was important was that he would never let anything ruin this.

Whatever he had to do, he'd never let anyone take this away from him.

He buried his face back into her shoulder, biting gently again into the rather prominent mark he left there in the heat of passion. That earned another groan from her, her eyes closing, her back arching under him, breasts pressing firmly into his chest.

Fuck, he loved that sound.