Chapter 3: Moratorium

In the days to follow, as Daemon and Ralof were attempting to maintain a low profile in Riverwood, with Ralof being given some normal garments by his sister, they were able to ascertain some information in regard to the aftermath of the dragon's hellishly brutal attack on Helgen. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had in fact escaped the chaos of the ordeal, however he and General Tulius were among the few known survivors. But that was not the most concerning or pressing of Daemon's concerns, for they also learned that his family had been made aware of his arrest.

Reportedly his family had by that moment long since disowned him, castigating him as a traitor and taking every opportunity to distance themselves from him and his arrest. Or at the very least his father had. Safe to assume his marriage to Cerys was also not long for this Tamriel and bound to be annulled, and that any friends or coevals with positive feelings toward him which he may have possessed before his advent to the nord province were not to be trusted or relied upon for aid.

Even though he had anticipated such a possibility, the reality of it all still felt as though weights were continuously being pressed down upon Daemon again and again. He only hoped that after his bride was returned to the Dimuns in High Rock the seed in Cerys' womb would be spared of cruelty once reared.

He tried to see the positive side of his circumstance, or to force himself to forget about his losses, but he still could not purge the memory of Cerys from his mind. It was not as though he and the talented daughter of house Dimun were some great love which a bard would sing romantic songs of for the amusement of young fools obsessed with such thoughts. But he did come to love her in his own way, even though Daemon wondered—and even believed it possible—she still harbored some resentment toward himself. Unaware that Cerys loved him in kind, just as he would be oblivious to the existence of the twins she would birth for a time, and desired for he and her to be together for as long as they drew breath as strongly as her new husband. Now, such a fancy was beyond the grasp of both the Imperial and Breton as Daemon was surely to be killed eventually—either by the honed blade of Legionnaires or a agent of his own family once they learned he still drew breath that was not infected by smoke—if this did not happen then the Actorius and Dimun families would require to keep them apart perennially as to avoid further besmirchment to their respective houses' image in the eyes of the Empire.

Irksomely, she was liable to be married to the son of another royal family such as Eddard's son, Robb or Rickard, or perhaps from the Hightower or Dayne households, and that would be the end of the matter. Fueling more of his ire and exasperation. Not able to bear the thought of those clot-humping dolts being permitted to even touch Cerys let alone marry her.

The only piece of this new existence which could be perceived as favorable was that he had little left to lose by that point.

Suffice to say he was mentally anguishing over the state of his life. Feeling worse than any bastard he had ever met or low born on their worst day.

Once that revelation hit, it struck the Imperial similar to the blow of an arrow to the heart, and Daemon did not even concern himself with matters around him beyond its relevance to his situation. Making occasional trips to the Sleeping Giant Inn for a flagon of ale or five to distract himself from the loss of his future with Cerys before Ralof would come collect him when the two were not helping Gerdur, Hod, Sven, and the wood elf Faendal out around the Lumber Mill. On a few occasions he had brief conversations with the people in town—mostly Sigrid, the wife of the blacksmith, Alvor, who used their talks as a distraction from her own troubles as much as he did. Her husband and herself were not the bastion of marital bliss, unfortunately. Alvor preferred dallying at the forge (more so recently, as his nephew had vanished—around the same time Daemon and Raelof arrived to Riverwood), crafting weapons and armor to peddle off to the sell swords and adventurers who passed through when not selling his more finely crafted works to the Legion (before for the sake of just supporting his house, but after his nephew's disappearance it became a matter of burying himself in his work), instead of attending more of his time with Sigrid and their daughter, Dorthe (though the daughter was less bothered by this, as she adored her father and enjoyed spending time watching him sweat at the forge). Arguing whenever Sigrid mentioned a desire for more children. Between the problems with his family and the strife in Sigrid's own marriage, Actorius could not discern which of them was more in a miserable state (though he would guess perhaps himself, but only ever so slightly). So much so that the Imperial man and Nord woman came to find comfort in one another; in time coming to share a kiss. Just as he would with Gerdur, albeit under different circumstances.

That was more or less the result of a spur of the moment occurrence.

Hod had already left the mill behind to return home, as had Sven and Faendal, respectively, for the night so Daemon and Gerdur were the only ones across the bridge still laboring. Before long he found himself having a moment of reprieve behind the mill where their visibility was obstructed and none could see them.

"Drink?" she asked him as he was relaxing against the mill's wall, holding a drink in hand.

Daemon gladly accepted it. "Yes, thank you." before finding himself standing intimately close to the lovely Gerdur. Her features which inspired appreciation from the Imperial enhanced at this proximity.

He could never understand how Hod could have a wife of such this and not still be stealing every opportunity to have her to himself. Despite their amicable standing, Daemon resented Ralf's brother-in-law as much as he felt jealousy.

Unable to resist further, he kissed Gerdur. Gerdur returned the kiss with one of her own. As they embraced, Daemon rested her against the wall of the mill. Pulling at her waist with his hands whilst her's ran through his black hair.

It was not too surprising of an outcome. Unlike Sigrid, Gerdur and he lived a more…close day-to-day life. They ate breakfast and dinner in the same house, and there had been more than a few occasions where they had glimpses of the other's body while they were bathing. The sight of Daemon's often caused her to look at him differently than Hod, as though (like Sigrid) she had not been brought to a bed for carnal bliss in a while.

When their lips parted, Daemon kissed her neck.

"Daemon…" she whispered. "Take good care of me."

She pulled at his belt and he began taking the measures to remove her dress. Daemon had every intention (knowing the consequences) of fulfilling her request. Once properly undressed, they quickly became one and brought a smile to Gerdur's face.

It was as his father said: he was an ill-made creature of lust and envy.

Lifting her into his arms at the legs, he proceeded to show her more than Hod likely would have, or has for sometime. From there an affair formed between Daemon and the lumber mill owner.

Trying with all his might, as their tongues wrestled for control of the kiss, to bury his despair—of the knowledge he would perhaps never see Cerys again—in pleasure just as he was burying a part of himself into Gerdur.

Hod remained unaware of this carnal occurrence, as did her son. There was a possibility that Ralof was catching onto their misdeeds and was keeping silent, but Daemon and Gerdur could never be certain.

The assumption was that he was still more in the dark than an adventurer in a cave after the torch went out. Daemon never had to experience the "You fucked with my wife" conversation/fight with Hod.

Whether Gerdur and Sigrid were aware of their mutual lover was unclear. Given it was a close knit community he would have expected the two women to discover the truth but it was never brought up. Either because the community was not as close as Daemon was imagining or the two women were choosing to ignore the truth.

Regardless of which, the affairs continued.

There were a few instances of weirdness. One of these was when Daemon and Ralof were drinking, the Stormcloak grew melancholic; and he began mumbling to himself unaware his Imperial was capable of hearing him. Apparently he had a run-in with Alvor earlier that day whilst on break from their labors at the mill, and it devolved into a moment of friction. And Hadvar's name came up—the same Hadvar from Helgen.

It caused memories to arise from Ralof who began reliving a few memories. Mentioning how they were friends.

Daemon did not inquire, feeling it wasn't his place.

The following day, Ralof departed to rejoin his Stormcloak allies in Windhelm, thus leaving Daemon without much in the way of people to call upon for social occasions. Beyond the drinks, wood mill labors, and time spent bonding with Sigrid and Gerdur, Daemon kept to himself.

Til another dragon would be spotted in the sky near the village, giving a new found sense of urgency to the Imperial, thus he was readying himself to depart soon. Gerdur would procure some new pieces of armor for her guest, mostly a pair of gauntlets with brown gloves to as iron gauntlets, as well as a pack.

He would have to disembark soon. His first priority being to travel toward Whiterun so that he may deliver Gerdur's message to the Jarl of the region as he had promised. But for the time being he was still preparing..

A day arose whilst he was relaxing on the bridge connecting the small piece of land holding the lumber mill to the rest of the town, watching the steam of the river's water flow through when Sigrid approached him.

"Daemon." she addressed him pleasantly, even more than she would normally with her neighbors. "Could I converse with you for a moment?"

"Of course," Daemon told her. "Always."

She led him away from prying eyes, finding themselves a spot not far enough away for a beast or fiend to try its luck at attacking them.

"Tell me something, Daemon, how long do you plan to stay in Riverwood?" she finally asked.

Guess someone has loose lips.

Daemon shrugged. "Not much longer, I imagine. I don't want to leech off the mill owners for the rest of my life." Brushing a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, once again giving him a clear gander at her lovely face.

"Do you think you'll ever return?"

"I can't say for sure." Daemon hated admitting that fact. He would not mind returning to visit the region, and Sigrid. "Perhaps, but first I need to find a means to support myself." Much to Sigrid's sad expression.

Daemon attempted to cheer her up. His face and company did that well enough for her. In that moment, isolated from the burden of life in the village, Daemon and Sigrid found themselves enjoying themselves as the physical distance between them vanished as they shared a second kiss. The first since that moment they shared behind the Inn, only this time different. It was hungrier, more passionate, and prolonged.

"If this is the last I'm to see of you, once you do depart, I wish to have a good memory of you." she told him before grabbing his wrists to rest his hands on her waist. "One which leaves me with less regret."

Daemon took the hint and kissed her once again. Leading her close to the river to offer them more isolation, more so the chance of a traveler catching them and risking Alvor hearing about their tryst.

As they embraced, his hands reached around her waist to grab her clothed rump. Pulling at her garments and pieces of attire, as she did to his own. Bringing themselves to a nude state before they became one.

Daemon buried himself deep into his lover; and just as with Gerdur behind the mill, he was hoping to bury his anguish.

Sigrid broke away from their kiss with a smiling "AAHH!" before her enamored expression was seen by Daemon.

"Sigrid…" Daemon moaned. Her face, her body, it was more he could bare and found himself unable to hold back any further. Thrusting deep into her body, suckling at one of her breasts.

Sigrid watched Daemon with blushing cheeks as he bonked with her. Relishing the pleasure which he sent throughout her body. Moaning "Daemon…Daemon…Daemon…" as the process was carried out. "Yes, my love, yes."

Her body wanted this desperately, her body had been craving this for some time. Denied this for months once Alvor began treating her as a wife less and less. Sigrid was not delusional, or even self-deceiving. She recognized what they were doing, this moment of boundless and carnal love between herself and the imperial was wrong; a violation of her vow of marriage officiated by the priest of Mara. However, Sigrid could not bring herself to care. May the gods strike her down, but she found her will to honor her vows at long last slain by her husband's indifference. She was a mortal woman and therefore she had her own needs, Alvor chose to ignore those needs. But this man of house Actorius, he was willing to show her what she had been denied for some time. Gladly, she had given her body to him and would permit him to do all he wished with her. Accepting if he wished to become one with her again and again. Even at the risk of his seeds planting themselves deep enough to sow themselves and sire a child.

"By the gods…" she smiled. "Yes. Ravage me, take everything I offer today."

It was a possibility. As his lips parted from her breast, Daemon plunged deep into her, making their union of immense passion and pleasure. Providing both he and his lover with a sensation of being alive to savor thoroughly.

Kissing her impassionedly, thrusting again and again. Parting only as their respective bodies were brought to their limit before at long last the culmination of their union brought them undone and with only final, hard and defiant thrust the imperial's seeds erupted out within Sigrid like a volcano.

"Ah!' Sigrid gasped. Clinging to Daemon as it sprung out into her. "Oh! Oh, Daemon…" Smiling at the warmth of his love and the seeds which had invaded her body. Invading into her womb like a military raid. Once she felt herself more relaxed, Sigrid released her grip on the imperial and eased back onto the earth. "Oh, my love..." Caressing his broad, chiseled chest with her hand as she smiled.

Daemon kissed her tentatively.

This was certainly a part of her life which Sigrid would look back on fondly. Though it would be some time before they returned to Riverwood, choosing to steal a few other moments to share between themselves.

After these shared moments of carnal bliss the pair returned to Riverwood with Alvor never the wiser.

Sigrid returned to her home from the infidelity to find Alvor and their daughter, having the assumption nothing had happened, asking her "I trust you had a fun walk?" To which Sigrid replied with a fake smile "Quite." She proceeded to prepare a meal.

In the following day Daemon would find himself with Gerdur's legs clinging tightly to his waist whilst her hands caressed his cheeks as their union was underway upon the was exposed to long forgotten pleasures and he felt the blade between Daemon's legs invade her rigorously as her hips beat back against his while they embraced like the passionate lovers they were.

Both treating themselves to the pleasures of the flesh, for what they would assume could be the last time. Daemon had decided it was time for him to depart from Riverwood. Choosing to begin his journey on the road in the morrow. Just as Ralof had done some days prior. Spending one last night in the village before he would disembark. So this night was one they dedicated to a final romp together.

The man of the house, Hod, was away delivering wood to a client as their usual delivery method (thankfully) not available at the time; and the offspring of Gerdur's marriage to Hod, Frodnar, was spending the night over at his friend's house. Thus the night was Daemon and Gerdur to do as they pleased together.

Daemon ravaged her, as he would on every opportunity the night presented for them when their bodies recovered enough to go again. Treating Gerdur to a more passionate embrace than Hod was capable of proving her for some time.

When Daemon's lips retracted from Gerdur's, they found their way to her throat. Sensually touching her, causing her lips to form in an aroused smile, as he continued to bury himself into her.

"Yes, yes. Like that, my darling." Gerdur moaned. "That former betrothed of yours was behoofed, Daemon, to have been matched with you for a time."

"Thank you."

"Though," she switched their positions in the bed, smiling down at him. "I think it's time I treated you." Then took her turn to be the dominant one grinding their hips together. Placing a hand on his chest to balance herself as she did so.

Daemon seized her hips in his grasp as he watched her move. Swaying back and forth over him.

"OH! HAH! YEEES! HAH! AH! AANG! HAAH!"

Gerdur moaned profusely. The sight of the chiseled pleasing her greatly, though not as much as her lover's fifth limb impaling her between the legs was.

Daemon would miss them, Sigrid and Gerdur. Though he imagined that Gerdur was the one he would long for a smidge more in all honesty. She was rougher with the passion she gave off when they made love.

Their bodies at last reached the climax of the union, both came undone, and as with Sigrid, the imperial seeds sprang out from Daemon and into the nord woman. "Oh! Oh…yes…by the gods…" Gerdur panted for breath, with the combination of her repeated and abrupt hip movements and the pleasure of Daemon's release taking a substantial out of her while also planting much within her. "By the gods, my love." Gently leaning forward to rest herself upon her lover's chest as they both smiled in their inhaling. Feeling his hand caressing the flesh of her back. "I will miss having this."

"As will I." Daemon replied. Earning himself another kiss.

They would wait a moment, and then go again. Using this opportune night they had to themselves as much as they could.

As soon as he awoke, finding Gerdur resting upon his chest—exhausted from the activities of their final night together—Daemon forced himself onto his feet to depart. First to the Riverwood Trader, and then he would hit the road.

He would hit the road and leave Riverwood behind, unaware for some time of the result of his two unions—of the children he had sired with Sigrid and Gerdur (Badar with Sigrid and Valea with Gerdur); thankfully the children bore more resemblance with the mothers to conceal their true parentage from the husbands of these women (some coming to believe this being a favor bequeathed by the gods, though this belief would often be taken into serious, doubtful questioning).

Thus his tale truly began.