Kodlak Whitemane
“Bryn~” Sonin moaned his name as his clever tongue delved deep into her sex, “Oh Gods!”
Her fingers intertwined in his hair, tugging him further between her wide open legs. Brynjolf caressed her shapely thighs and squeezed them at alternating forces. He was rock hard and aching, but he wanted to reward Sonin for a job well done. The whole guild learned of Gulum’s naked escapade long before Sonin and Lydia made it back in one piece. Now her housecarl was at the inn with her hound, giving them plenty of alone time.
“Bryn- I- oh Gods! Oh fuck -” she came around his tongue, Brynjolf licking her juices like a starving man.
“That’s my lass,” he leaned up and licked his lips while he looked at the results of his hard work.
“Hurry up and fuck me,” Sonin demanded huskily.
“Of course lass,” he cooed and lined himself up to her slit.
He was in with one motion, sinking to the hilt and groaning the whole way. Sonin was always so tight no matter how wet she got. She credited that to an active lifestyle and extra pounds. Brynjolf rolled his hips to stroke every inch of her walls, earning the wanton moans Sonin so freely gave him.
“Lass,” he groaned as she clamped her sex around him with expert muscle control.
“Bryn, say it again,” she pleaded, loving his accent.
He leaned over to whisper in her ear the way she liked it, “Lass.”
“Fuck,” she whined, “Bryn, how does it feel?”
“Like I’m entering Sovngarde,” Brynjolf praised, “So tight lass, my lass.” He thrusted hard to emphasize his possessive point.
It made Sonin’s body feel too hot, between his accent and his claiming of her body. His hands ran up and down her sides and breasts, squeezing and demanding. His mouth was on her neck, leaving love bites. His chest pressed down on her, taking away some of her breath. It was too much and not enough all at once. Their combined musks filled the air of his private room, the sloshing sounds of their coupling sure to carry through the door.
“Bryn I’m-” Sonin squealed as he quickly grasped her ass cheeks and lifted her to angle downward.
Brynjolf pounded into her with everything he had, wanting to finish with her this time. His fingers indented the skin, nails breaking it slightly. Sonin gasped and fought for breath as he was relentless. Finally, they both came with a shout.
…
“Are you sure you can’t stay a bit longer lass?” Brynjolf asked, eyes wide like a begging hound.
“I’m sure. It’s been fun-” Sonin was cut off by a snort from Lydia, “ Real fun. I thank you for all those...lessons, but I need to go back to Whiterun. I am a companion after all. I am free to be myself, but I need to visit Jorrvaskr every now and again. I have shield-siblings that worry for me.”
“Of course,” Brynjolf gave her a heated kiss, sliding his hand up her neck before letting her go, “Just come back sometime, yeah?”
“Of course Bryn. I’ll write you when I return safely, do let me know how that information I gathered helps,” Sonin kissed him back on the cheek.
“Aye Lass,” he waved her off, watching as she headed out the gates of Riften with her housecarl and hound.
…
“My Thane,” Lydia spoke once their wagon was on the road, “I am not one to judge…”
“And yet?” Sonin sighed and patted Vigilance’s head.
“Isn’t that thief adding to your problems? Vilkas, Farkas, Argis, Ulfric, now this Brynjolf?” Her voice was one of worry.
Sonin swatted a hand in dismissal, “Vilkas is the only one who made this complicated. Everyone else knows there is no commitment. I will remind Vilkas of this once we get back to the hall.”
“Would you like me to stay with you?” Lydia asked.
“No. Just lead me there and return to Breezehome with Vig here,” She replied.
“As you command,” Lydia sighed.
…
“Lydia,” Sonin began as they grew closer to Whiterun, “What do you think of Ulfric?”
“I have no horse in this civil war,” Lydia replied, “I’m a Nord, true as can be. But I stand with my Jarl. There are no sides to be had.”
“And if I stood against the city?” Sonin questioned.
“Don’t joke my Thane,” Lydia’s face grew sour.
“Fair enough. My question was on the man though, not the war,” Sonin replied.
“Anything that has to do with that man is on the war. If I were you, I would not accept any proposal from him,” Lydia answered.
“Fair enough. Hey- is that smoke?” Sonin looked to the city, grey smoke billowing from the sky district.
“That can’t be good,” Lydia drew her sword and shield, readying herself to jump from the wagon.
…
Sonin rushed through the gates, no guards there as they were all in the city. Her heartbeat quickened as she saw bodies lining the streets. Guards rushed all toward the Hall. Sonin felt her heart fall into her stomach as she saw Vilkas, bloodied, rushing toward her.
“Where have you been?!” He shouted and shook her by the shoulders.
“Riften! What happened?” Sonin hollered over the orders being called to the guards rushing around. She could hear the Jarl also.
“The old man...he...the Silverhand got him!” Vilkas started tearing up.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry Vil,” Sonin moved to hug him but he pulled away.
“You should have been here! To protect him!” Vilkas yelled further.
“Hey!” Lydia stepped between them, “Do not speak to my Thane like that!”
Sonin took the moment to rush into the hall, unbelieving. Farkas held their dead Harbinger in his arms, Aela nearby with wet cheeks.
“Shield-sister!” Sonin embraced her, “What happened? How did they get in the city?”
“Sonin,” Aela nudged her cheek with her forehead, “I have missed you sister. I continued the hunt while you were gone. This was their vengeance for the hundreds I killed.”
“Don’t blame yourself sister,” Sonin squeezed her hand, “We will find the ones responsible for this.”
“They took Wuuthrad’s fragments,” Farkas spoke from his seated position.
“I’ll get them back for us,” Sonin swore, “I promise. I wasn’t here for this, but I can at least bring it back.”
Farkas nodded in acknowledgement, as did Aela. An angry Vilkas entered the hall with an angerier looking Lydia who just scolded the man on how he speaks to Sonin, like the mother hen she is.
“Gather yourself siblings,” Sonin ordered those around her, “We will hunt them tonight, while the trail is fresh. Aela, can you smell them?”
“Aye,” she nodded.
“Good. Athis?” Sonin called to him.
“Aye Sonin?” the Dunmer was still a little sweet on her.
“Please gather Njada, Ria, and Torvar. Everyone needs to come with us for this,” Sonin directed.
“Aye,” he ran out the hall to collect them.
“Lydia,” Sonin turned, command coming easy to her, “Go to the Jarl. Plead on my behalf to put some guards here while the hall is empty, then return here. Help Vignar with the funeral, please.”
“As you command,” Lydia bowed her head and left to find her Jarl.
Sonin took a moment to look around her, all the companions there and ready for a fight. Aela led them out. Farkas stuck close to Sonin, Vilkas tracking behind them. Athis wanted to move closer to Sonin, but figured the timing was wrong. She didn’t even know he joined the circle yet. He wondered how she would react to finding out he was a werewolf, since he could sense she was not one. Unsure, he kept behind.
“If you weren’t galavanting with some rotten thief…” Vilkas muttered under his breath, “...here where you belong…”
“Ignore him,” Farkas spoke low to Sonin, “He misplaces his anger with you.”
“It stings,” Sonin replied with cracked voice, “I love Kodlak and my life here, I just needed time. I was coming back.”
“We know sister,” Aela chipped in, “Vilkas does too.”
Sonin snorted, “I don’t know about that one.”
…
It was a bloodbath. Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas all turned once they found the Silverhand. Sonin burned most of them alive as the wolves tore them limb to limb. Everyone was covered head to toe in blood and dirt. The snow was stained crimson red, along with the stone floors.
Vilkas stayed behind to ensure they killed every last one of them. Farkas carried Sonin part of the way as she was exhausted from her efforts. Athis moved beside them this time, keeping an eye on the sleepy Breton. Theirs was a one time encounter, but he hoped to make more out of it. In her absence he had bedded other women, but could never get her out of his mind.
“Farkas,” Sonin curled up closer to his chest, feeling the chill in the air.
“Yes love?” He answered, an arrow through Athis’ chest.
“Can I stay with you after the funeral?” She asked.
“Of course,” he smiled as she closed her heavy lids again.
Athis got bold enough to ask his shield-sibling once they got closer to the city, “Farkas?”
“Yes brother?” He answered.
“Are you and Sonin...involved? Romantically?” The Dark Elf asked, his voice a little jealous.
“Aye, but it’s not what you think,” Farkas looked down at the little woman in his arms, “She never marked me back.”
“So she knew about the blood?” He asked.
“Aye. She rejected the offer to take it, but she doesn’t mind it. Are you wishing to mark her also?” The larger man’s chest swole as he asked the question, “Vilkas told me about you two.”
“Divines no,” Athis chuckled a bit, “I just...wanted to know if she was off the table.”
“She likes it on the table,” Farkas smirked at the mer, “and off. Beside it. Halfway bent over it too.”
“I get the idea,” Athis laughed too. He knew what marking meant and wasn’t sure he wanted that with anyone.
…
The funeral was larger than Skjor’s. Nearly the whole city attended, along with Jarl Balgruuf. Not an eye was dry as the final words were said and his body was light aflame. That night Sonin stayed with Farkas, curled under his arm with her head resting on his chest. Vilkas returned without a word to her or his brother.