Marking
I confess the idea that the dragon would shake off a hundred arrows and numerous sword slashes, and just walk away, never even occurred to me. After dressing in a daze, I was on automatic pilot all the way up to Dragonsreach. Barely acknowledged that it was the dead of night. Or that the guard, like all guards everywhere in Skyrim at night, was carrying a torch.
The place was lit like Christmas, even at this hour, and the guard brought us up to the war room with the map and all. Jarl Balgruuf was pacing in agitation, Irileth was standing stoic and alert nearby, and that Avenicci fella looked a couple seconds away from sinking into a chair. Obviously not as quick off the mark when the boss wanted to pull an all-nighter.
"What say you of this, Thane Danni?" the Jarl asked me pointedly. "The dragon's corpse has gone. There are no signs that the giants came and dragged it off. Even they are not so formidable that they could have lifted it."
"There are no footprints to indicate they tried," Irileth pointed out.
"Um... when did, uh... when did this happen?" I asked, trying to channel my inner Officer Friday. Damn shame that TV series was on so late at night. I probably wouldn't get the facts.
"Not an hour ago," Irileth replied. "A guard heard what sounded like great wings and came from the tower to see what it might be. He feared another attack. By the time his search brought him to where the corpse should have been, it was gone."
"So it just... got up and flew away?" I ventured. I think I had a 'who farted' look of incredulity on my face. Sure felt like it.
"That is what I suspect." There was a rather pregnant pause.
"And... what has this got to do with me?" I prompted.
"Where is it?" Balgruuf barked, rounding on me. I swear, he looked like he expected me to pull the dragon out of my pants.
"The fuck if I know!" I snapped. Really! Did I look like the expert here?
"You alone were present when it first appeared!" the Jarl roared, and I took a step back. He was pissed! "You brought the Dragonstone. You know more of these creatures than any..."
"I don't know diddly squat about the damn dragons!" I retorted. "I ran around screaming when that one showed up in Helgen. Ask Mauronk; he'll tell you."
"Yet you prevailed in battle against it...," he began, and I flared up.
"With the help of your men! And women," I added, nodding to Irileth. She looked a little startled, as if acknowledgements of her gender were rare. "Trust me, if it hadn't been so god damned big my arrows wouldn't even hit it. There's no evidence that any of them did. I'm not exactly the world's best marksman." I glanced at Mauronk apologetically; his was usually the ass in the most danger when I started shooting.
Mauronk, now, looked a little... okay, a lot confused, and I had to give him a short head shake. Don't tell them I know everything, I wanted to say without words. Because in this one case, I really didn't.
As if carried on a savior's wings, Ferengar blew up the stairs holding a sheaf of parchments with what looked like charcoal rubbings on them. He must have been having a lengthy bonding evening with that Dragonstone.
"My Jarl!" he cried, skidding to a puffing halt. "I believe I have deciphered this stone's markings. On this side," he began, laying the papers on the map table, "there is clearly a map of Skyrim carved. These stars, I believe, indicate ancient burial mounds."
"Burial mounds?" Balgruuf asked, leaning over the map and frowning.
"Yes, of dragons," Ferengar said excitedly. "You see? There is one here, not far from Helgen." Shuffling papers, he continued, "On the reverse is an inscription in the tongue of dragons. It reads, 'Here lie our fallen lords; the roaring power of Alduin revives.'"
"I am not certain I understand...," Balgruuf said slowly.
"Do you not see?" Ferengar cried. He was just about dancing. "The prophecy, my Jarl! 'The World-Eater wakes.' That is Alduin, the great dragon, as you must know. And the other part: 'the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.'"
The room went quiet as that bit of news was absorbed. I had no idea about a prophecy thing. Was this in the game? Did I click through too many conversations? Fail to read the right book? Have my head up my ass? All distinct possibilities.
"What you are saying," Balgruuf said cautiously, "is that, if Alduin returns, so must a Dragonborn appear also."
Ferengar nodded vigorously. "That is what the signs say, my Jarl."
Jarl Balgruuf took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The Dragonborn is blessed with the power to utterly destroy a dragon, not just slay it temporarily." He sort of glanced at me like I did something inadequate there. Hey, dammit, I unloaded a mess of arrows without once hitting one of your men in the ass! I think I should get points for that.
"We have but to find the Dragonborn," Ferengar said eagerly, "and Tamriel shall be saved from this menace."
Nodding thoughtfully, Balgruuf turned to me. "I believe I have a task for you, Thane Danni."
Oh, fuck no...
So much for getting to kick back at the Bannered Mare for the rest of the night. Ten septims out the damn window. We spent the rest of the night following a guard around town, rousting shopkeepers out of their beds and 'urging' them to open their shops up just for us so we could get our asses out on the hunt that much quicker.
I was at a loss. This was not like the game, where you are the god damned Dragonborn. None of this knees bent running about advancing type behavior trying to find one. I'd already figured out Skyrim was at least twice if not three times the size of the game version, and now I had to go peeking under rocks and around bushes from end to end in search of somebody who looked like they were born to Shout? What the fuck is that?
I didn't even have a racial clue, like it's going to be an Orsimer, or some kind of Elf, maybe a human... Not a single bone thrown in my direction on that score.
Expecting a long slog and harsh conditions, we loaded up on arrows and provisions. Then another thing occurred to me as we were selecting potions at Arcadia's Cauldron. I still had no magical abilities whatsoever.
"Mauronk," I hissed, and pulled him over to a corner away from the guard helping with our shopping and the bleary-eyed Arcadia. "We still need to go to Winterhold. The college up there. I need to get some handle on casting healing spells."
He nodded. "That should be our priority, then. Our search will be hindered if you are unable to help me as I help you." Then he blushed. I grinned and punched his shoulder.
"It's okay," I reassured him. "We can find out why your spells are so... interesting. That last one was a doozy."
Bowing his head, he nodded. "It does not matter that you... care for me, Danni. The effect my spell had was shameful."
"Yeah, well, we'll talk about it another time, okay?" I said awkwardly, glancing at the guard. He was giving us a weird look.
Suited up, armed, and ready to go, we headed for the main gates. I was actually feeling a bit relieved to get out into the world again. Not that kicking back in a hotel room shagging the daylights out of my Housecarl weren't fun, but it would be a whole ton more fun without folks looking at me like only general courtesy kept them from openly barfing on my shoes.
Hey, Mauronk's not that bad looking. He'll be considerably better looking when his beard grows back in.
The sun was just starting to take a peek over the horizon when we finally trudged out of Whiterun proper. Since we'd decided to go to Winterhold first, it looked like a huge-ass northward trek. And naturally, since this was a real economy and not a game economy, we barely had a few septims to rub together after the stocking up exercise. No hiring a coach to take us there. I asked, just to test the waters, and the damn guy wasn't even interested. His coach didn't even go there. I was like, sure it does. The game says it does. He 'patiently' (i.e. patronizingly) explained to me that there were no stables in the little town there, so no stop on the route. Duh.
Fuming, I stomped to the road and stomped as it curved northward and stomped some more as we passed one farm after another.
As we followed the curve of the road, a watchtower loomed ahead in the weak morning light. From a distance, we could see some activity there. Probably because Mauronk was from this place, he immediately unsheathed his sword and assumed an offensive stance as we approached. I glanced at him questioningly.
"Archers," he said simply, and after a really tight squint, I was able to see that two Whiterun guards at the tower were firing down on whatever unidentifiable melee was happening in front of the walls. Rolling my eyes heavenward because all of a sudden he and I seemed to have become the most understaffed peacekeeping force in history, I readied my shiny new bow that the dude from the Drunken Huntsman assured me would set bad guys on fire.
We trotted up to the tower, but by the time we got there, everything was calm again. A couple of guards were dragging some dead guys into an orderly pile next to a wagon I supposed would be used to transport them to... uh... some other place. Nice to know they didn't just leave the dead lying around to rot. They nodded acknowledgements to us and went about their business.
As we turned back to the road, one of the guards called us back. "Mind yourself on the road," he warned. "There are many cutthroats and thieves about. Keep your sword loose and your bow ready."
"Uh... thanks," I said awkwardly.
I had to shake off the feeling of foreboding that little bit of news gave me. It took me about a mile to do it, too.
"You are quiet, Danni," Mauronk finally commented.
"Just coming to grips with being an inviting target again," I grumbled. My eyes darted from one side of the road to the other. There were scrubby trees dotting around and dried up grass swishing in the light breeze. The road we were on was incredibly old. Maybe once it was a well-kept affair with polished stones, but now there were patches of dirt showing where stones were removed, lichens grew on most of the remaining ones, and you really had to watch your step or trip over the ones no longer seated flush with their neighbors. It was like looking at a Roman road centuries after the Romans lost the territory and stopped keeping things up.
"You are difficult to resist," he replied, his voice a low growl. And oh... so... fucking... sexy.
I slowly turned my head and half smiled at him. "Got a, uh... sword too loose in your scabbard there, sweet cheeks?"
He grinned a bit. "Very... loose. Is your bow ready?"
"Be careful there," I warned playfully. "This thing'll set you on fire."
His breath quickened. "I am already aflame."
"Well, then," I said with a pleasant shiver, "I suppose we should..."
"Yes," he nodded. "We should."
His steps immediately diverted from the road and he headed off toward a copse of trees about twenty yards away. Once we were concealed from any wandering merchants or random Thalmor asstards, we both started furiously stripping off our armor. I had it easier, since I was only wearing the leather dress-like contraption, but he had several pieces to unbuckle and fling carelessly aside. By the time he was done, he was almost gasping and most certainly quivering all over. I promptly seated myself on a large rock, and none too soon, because he came at me immediately.
No preamble here; he about knocked my knees apart and plunged his sword home. He was in me to the hilt so quickly he almost knocked the wind out of me. Then he seriously, mercilessly, deliciously fucked me so hard I couldn't even say his name. His arms encircled by body to keep from throwing me off the back of the rock with his wild thrusting, then he clamped his mouth down on my shoulder near the back of my neck. I had a moment of panic – just a moment – before a roaring orgasm made me forget he had tusks the size of my middle finger pressing against my flesh. Then they sank in.
I swear, I convulsed from the shock as much as the pain. There flitted into my mind the thought of telling him off for biting me. Tusks like his had no business being used in the middle of sex, god dammit! Then I could feel his lips moving where he had his teeth buried in my shoulder, and a warm glow began to spread around the wound.
Son of a bitch, the bastard was healing me! Oh, you suck, you suck, you... oh god. It was one of Mauronk's 'special' heal-fucks, coupled with a real fuck, and oh... my... god... I couldn't stop coming. I grabbed his ass hard and dug my nails into his hide, rocketing my hips against his. I was incoherent; no real words were coming out of me, just animal-like grunts and snarls that I hoped he understood meant give it to me give it to me give it to me.
I felt his teeth retract as his spell closed the wounds, but only dimly. I felt like jelly. Really runny jelly. When he stepped back and released me, I collapsed on the rock sort of splayed out. There wasn't an ounce of energy left in me, not even enough to quiver in satisfied delight.
"Danni," he gasped. Hell, I couldn't look at him; that required lifting my head. "Danni!" he called more urgently. When I still didn't respond, he stumbled over and gathered me in his arms. "Danni," he said again, nearly sobbing. He sank to the ground, holding me against his body and rocking me as though I were dead. Shit, it sure felt like it. Not in a bad way, though.
"I am sorry, Danni," he murmured next to my ear. "So sorry."
I raised a weak hand and patted his arm. "S'okay," I muttered. "I'll live."
He seemed to sigh with relief, but still held me close. "I am sorry. I should not have done that. I just couldn't stop. I am sorry."
Pushing his arms apart enough for me to look up at his face, I frowned at him. "Why did you bite me? What was that shit about, Mauronk?"
He bowed his head, unable to look me in the eyes. "It is.. our way. Orsimer do this. No... no others do. Just us."
"Well... what's it mean?" I pressed. "What's it for? Because I swear, if you were just seeing how I taste in case we run out of food..."
Shaking his head quickly, he said, "No. It is not... about food. It is about... mating."
"Mating," I said flatly. "So... that... on the rock just now, with the... That wasn't just fucking. That was mating?"
He swallowed hard, still not looking me in the eyes. "I have never fucked you, Danni. I have always mated with you. It is just... perhaps... rougher than you are used to. When Orsimer mate."
"To... Orsimer," I ventured carefully, "is mating sort of like... making love?"
Now he finally looked at me. "It is entirely like making love. And more. Danni, I can hide nothing from you. I am finding out that even my healing spell betrays me. When... Orsimer wish to... claim a mate, we mark. I have... desired you... in that way for some days now. This time with you... I could not stop myself from claiming you. I am sorry."
It was a lot to digest, and difficult to do while lying buck-naked in his buck-naked arms in the middle of a god damned tundra. "Let's, uh, get dressed. I'm starting to get cold."
"As you wish," he replied miserably, and let me go.
Of course, he had to help me stand. My knees were still weak from the unprecedented endless orgasm... or maybe multiples were involved. Honestly, I wasn't keeping track. It was just a sort of general fuck fog clouding my brain.
Feelings of love aside, assuming that's what he was driving at and my heart was aiming toward, that was some pretty god-damned awesome sex. Sure, I liked me a little tenderness and whatnot once in awhile, but there was a time and a place for everything. In a comfortable bed, I could indulge some of that touchy-feely stuff and take my time. He'd shown he was more than capable of that. But out here in the wilds... well, they don't call'em 'wilds' for nothin', sister.
Frowning a little, I reached up and touched my shoulder. There was a little blood there, but he'd probably (good god) sucked a good deal of it away before closing the punctures. "Is it a big scar?" I asked feebly. I was looking at his mouth, seeing those enormous tusks, and doing some very uncomfortable math.
He forced himself to look, then bowed his head again. "Yes. It is... big. You may... hide it. With your armor. Or any clothing you wear." An uncomfortable little smile teased his lips. "Do not wear your slut dress, though. All will see it then."
Taking a deep breath, I finished buckling my armor. I have a permanent hickey, I thought to myself. He's just tattooed a great big 'Mauronk wuz here' on my shoulder. I honestly didn't know quite how to take it. If he was posturing and boastful, sort of the B.M.O.C. bragging to his buds about nailing me, thumping his chest like an ape and strutting around, then I'd have every excuse available to thoroughly kick his ass over it.
But he wasn't. He couldn't even look at me, or the scar, as if what he did was a shameful thing. Apparently not among his own people, but as I'd learned from him so far, he had a lot of preconceived notions about what humans were into.
The annoying and embarrassing truth of it was that the way he did it, the timing and the use of the fuck-me spell, did not encourage... uh... discouragement of a repeat. It didn't hurt all that badly with all the other stimuli involved. I was a little bit disturbed that getting a giant-sized vampire bite wasn't as repellent as it should be. Likely ought to be. Probably was to a lot of people. Non-Orsimer people.
Shaking my head, I turned to Mauronk. "I'm... not mad at you." He looked up skeptically. "Really. Let's, uh... keep going. Loads of miles ahead."
Mauronk nodded and led the way back to the road. I wasn't sure what else to say to him, so I didn't say a thing.