Falkreath
“Are you sure you’ll be leaving so soon?” Vilkas questioned.
“Yes. There are a few more places to travel before I can face Alduin again. I...need to practice a few more spells I learned in Oblivion,” Sonin kept the details of such magic out.
“Surely you could practice here?” Vilkas suggested, not wanting to sound too pushy.
“You could practice on me,” Farkas offered.
“No. These will all be deadly on impact,” Sonin replied.
“Then who do you plan to test these spells out on?” Vilkas questioned as he took a bite of his breakfast stew.
“I’ve decided to target a group of assassins here in Skyrim. Bandits also. Any lowlife the world would be better off without,” Sonin answered.
“Well,” Farkas sighed, “I’m glad you are breaking your fast with us first.”
Sonin touched his arm, “Of course.”
…
“What the-?” The bandit exploded in a ball of gore, pieces of the man landing on his fellow low lifes.
“What kind of foul magic is that?!” A woman shrieks at Sonin.
“The kind that still needs practice,” Sonin sighed at the sight and pooled her magic again.
With both hands raised she cast a red aura around the screaming woman, lifting her in the air and entering her body through her nose and mouth. A few bandit onlookers watched in absolute horror as the woman went limp and then hit the ground lifeless. Her soul feeding Sonin’s mana.
“Please!” A man dropped to the ground and begged, “I’m sorry! I will never do this work again! Please let me live!”
“Is that what you let happen to that old woman on the road?” Sonin frowned as she asked the question she knew the answer to, “I don’t think I should offer you any more mercy that you offered her.”
The man’s wet eyes grew wide as he looked up at her. Sonin snapped her fingers, a portal of swirling purple appeared and two daedra walked out from Oblivion. Without needing a verbal command, one ran the man through with his sword and the other drew a bow. He notched two arrows and took out the remaining bandits.Silently they walked right back into the portal.
Sonin sighed and left the carnage, finishing her trek to Falkreath where there were rumors of the Dark Brotherhood’s presence. Needing a few supplies, she headed to the general goods store. She withdrew her hood as she walked in.
“Can I get you,” he pauses as he takes in her appearance, “-something?”
Sonin had taken to regularly painting her face now that half of it was scarred, “I am Sonin,” she offered with a soft smile, “I am in need of a few supplies for my travels.”
“Well met-”
“I can't believe we let provincials like you wander Skyrim,” another Nord that looked strikingly like the shopkeep interrupted.
“Excuse me?” Sonin looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“Don't mind Bolund. He's young and gets riled easily,” the shopkeeper spoke quickly as Sonin and Bolund shot each other daggers. “Like I was saying,” he cleared his throat and Sonin turned her attention back to him, “Well met. I am Solaf. Unlike my brother, I've no dislike of strangers. Met lots of 'em while I was a Stormcloak."
Sonin rolled her eyes, “I swear Ulfric can’t leave me at any corner it seems.”
“Jarl Ulfric?” Solaf questioned her knowledge.
“Ah yes. We are well acquainted. Fear not, I am no enemy,” Sonin replied. Bolund snorted. “Something amusing?”
“Funny a tiny provincial like you thinks we would worry about you being a threat,” Bolund flexed his muscles as he moved his arms.
“Alright asshole,” Sonin snapped at him, “I’ll have you know my father was one of the proudest Nords to have existed.”
Bolund scoffed, “I doubt that if he laid with your mother, who clearly wasn’t.”
Sonin’s hands glowed in her sudden anger. A fire spell rising easily. Solaf, a vetern, could sense the magic right away and ran from behind the counter between his brother and the mage. He raised both hands out to him.
“No need for any violence,” he offered Sonin a worried smile, “I would be happy to help you get those supplies Sonin.”
“What?” Bolund questioned, “A true Nord isn’t scared of a little magic.”
“This isn’t a simple frost spell,” Sonin threatened but let it fade, “You’re lucky I’m travel weary and your brother has a good head on his shoulders.”
“Why? Think you can take me?” Bolund moved closer to Sonin and pushed against his brother’s hand, “Think I’m scared of some mutt?”
That snapped something deep in Sonin. As a child she was bullied for being darker than her pale Nord neighbors. Once she was with the College she was bullied for not being mer enough. Bolund hit a nerve deep in her that hadn’t been struck in a long time now.
“Bolund!” Solaf gave a scolding shout, turning his head away from Sonin. A mistake.
With lightning fast reflexes she darted under Solaf’s extended arm and swept out a powerful leg, catching the back of the larger Nord’s knees. He crumbled down to the ground like a felled tree. Solaf drew the iron dagger on his hip, not beyond saving his idiot brother. Sonin whispered her disarm shout and the dagger flew out of his hands. She shoved him back and brought a closed fist to his brother’s face. Despite her might she knew her fist was weak, but damn if it didn’t make her feel better.
“You punch like an old woman,” Bolund wiped his mouth of blood as he stood back up.
“You shouted!” Solaf was stunned, “Like Jarl Ulfric himself!”
“I don’t need my damned fists,” Sonin said calmly and straightened her traveling robes to calm herself before she killed the man.
Sonin made an attempt to turn and speak to Solaf but Bolund tackled her instead, “I’ll show you what a true son of Skyrim does to bitches like you.”
This time Solaf was on Sonin’s side, hauling his brother off of her body and kicking him out of the store, “I am so sorry Dragonborn.”
“You know?” Sonin tilted her head at him and took the hand he offered to bring her to her feet.
“Before I was hurt and had to leave his forces,” Solaf explained, “I heard that Ulfric had met with the Dragonborn. A woman who captivated him. When you shouted, as quiet as it was, I knew.”
“Well,” Sonin brushed the dust from the floor off her robes, “I’ll ask you to keep that to yourself. I’m here on business and don’t need anyone following me around.”
“Of course,” he nodded, “Please. Let me get you some supplies. On the house.”
…
Sonin couldn’t get the asshole of a Nord out of her head. He had gotten under her skin in a few words and the anger was lasting. Even after she rested in the inn and had a meal she was still fuming. No one had talked down to her like that since she was an adolescence.
“Fuck him,” she could imagine Sanguine saying to her.
Sonin chuckled at the idea. She knew it was her own imagination, but she felt she knew the Prince well enough that he would suggest such a thing. When she had anger growing in her chest in Oblivion, he would pound into her until it subsided. His answer was always sex though. Sonin sighed and left her room, ready to try his methods with the first man she saw.
Delacourt, she had heard the bard’s name called by the innkeeper. He was a Breton, not bad looking, and an easy target for her. Sonin decided this man would be her release. She would take her pleasure from him roughly than leave. Shrugging off her robes and slipping into a plain dress with a deep neckline, Sonin made her way over to the man.
“Good afternoon,” she fluttered her eyes at him and stuck her hip out slightly, “What is a handsome man like you doing out here in Falkreath?”
“A good question,” he smiled at her, “Just trying to make a living I suppose. What is such a lovely lady doing out here in this grave town?”
“Looking for a handsome Breton to show her a good time of course,” she tapped her painted lips with a finger, “How much for a private performance in my room?”
“For you?” He looked her up and down, “Negotiable. Let us discuss it in private.”
…
His lips were sweet like honey, soft as flower petals. Delacourt kept his practiced fingers working her body as though it was the strings of his lute. Sonin moaned for him, appreciating how he seemed to care for her pleasure.
“You are sweeter than juniper berries,” he spoke from between her thighs before standing up and lining his head to her, “I should be singing songs about you, not Ragnar the Red.”
“Oh the tales you could tell,” Sonin smirked and pushed against his tip, eager and dripping.
“Gods,” he gasped as he bottomed out easily.
Sonin wasn’t in the mood for his soft loving, as nice as it was. She had aggression to work out. Slamming her hips down against him, she drew gasps and groans from the bard. Unfortunately for her, his soft love was for a reason. Within moments he was finished and trying to catch his breath on her bed.
…
Sonin carried a deep frown with her as she left the inn and paid the bard for his time. She walked with purpose, each foot hitting the ground hard. Bolund was sure to be around somewhere, working with logs.
“Hey asshole!” She shouted at him, seeing him by the log splitter.
“What do you want now?” Bolund questioned with an even deeper frown than she had.
“Come here,” she commanded, strutting out of the line of sight of the town.
Bolund followed out of curiosity, “Don’t know why I’m listening-”
Sonin quickly grabbed him once they were out of sight and pushed him with all her strength against the stone. Bolund tensed and was prepared to defend himself until her lips found his neck as she pulled him to lean over her. Confused, yet aroused, he gripped at her ass.
“I fucking hate you,” she muttered.
“So?” He grabbed her by the neck and flipped positions, “You think I care? What do you want?”
“Fuck me,” she demanded and raised her head to give him a better grip of her neck.
“You serious?” He scoffed, his erection making his pants uncomfortably tight.
“Just do it,” Sonin pulled him closer to her by the waistband.
Bolund smiled wickedly, “Need to be shown your place?”
“Shut up and hurry up,” she tossed her head back into the stone in frustration.
Bolund didn’t disappoint. Quickly he pushed back her robes and unlaced her trousers, pushing them down to her knees. Sonin undid the buttons of his cotton spun pants and spread her legs for him. Bolund brought her knees up against his chest and forced himself to hilt. She was already wet from her previous encounter, but Bolund thought it was all for him.
“Dirty bitch, huh?” He sneered and thrust into her hard.
“I said shut up,” Sonin tightened her grip on his forearms.
Irritated that a provincial would dare to command him, Bolund pounded into her harder. Sonin could feel her back scratching up from the coarseness of the stone behind her. The pain made the pleasure better. It had been some time since she had been fucked so hatefully. Bolund returned a hand to her neck and squeezed it too hard to be for her pleasure. Sonin could see her vision become hazy, blackening around the edges. Just before she lost her consciousness he would let up, readjust his hold, then squeeze again.
Sonin kept her moans to herself, not giving Bolund the satisfaction of her sounds. No, he was being used. Nothing more. Sonin angled her hips so he hit the special spot deep inside her, biting her lips to keep her voice muffled. Bolund leaned forward and bit at her neck, leaving nasty bruises she would be sure to heal right after they finished.
Bolund was close, his hips movements’ becoming more erratic. Sonin was at the edge, reaching a hand down to stroke her clit with icy fingers. It was all she needed, cumming around his massive cock. Bolund was about to follow when she used her feet to push him out of her.
“Hey!” He cursed as she ruined his finish.
“This wasn’t for you,” Sonin quickly redid her pants and began to walk away.
“I’m not done with you!” He shouted and tried to grab her shoulders.
Sonin cast a summon, an impressive looking daedra stepping out and successfully intimidating Bolund. She cast a smirk over her shoulder before continuing to walk into the woods in search of the brotherhood.