College Aftermath
“...We are truly honored by the sacrifices of Arch-mage Savos Aren and Master Wizard Mirabelle Ervine in order to bring about a stop to the disgraceful misuse of magic committed by the Thalmor agent Ancano,” Sonin was only half listening to the words being said to everyone in Winterhold that was still alive. Tolfdir’s speech was beautiful, she was sure, but the taste of her near defeat was too palatable to overcome. She wondered how she was to defeat Alduin, who is currently feasting on the souls in Sovngarde, if she barely managed a thalmor mage on her own. A particularly powerful one overflowing with ancient magic, but a mage nonetheless. Not a world eating dragon older than Nirn itself.
“My, my,” Sanguine’s voice spoke from beside Sonin, who was too lost in her own thoughts to have noticed his presence next to her. “It is unlike you to be so distracted when all your clothes are still on.”
Sonin didn’t have the will to muster the smile she would normally crack after one of his crude jokes, “Is it truly a distraction, if what I am thinking of is the purpose of my existence? Alduin is the only quest that matters.”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” Sanguine tsked, “Ignoring that the power of the eye of magnus may have ended this world before Alduin is even recovered-” he leaned himself slightly to let his Breton face appear in her peripheral view, “There are a great number of things you have accomplished already, and many you have to do yet.”
She turned her face slightly toward him, not quite meeting his eye, “Is this the part where you tell me I have many paths to forge and havoc to rain upon my enemies?”
“Ha, you get the idea. I expect no less from my champion,” He gave her a wide smile.
Sonin sighed, “Why are you here Sam?”
“You wound me!” He whispered in feigned offense with a hand on his chest, “Can I not wish to check on you after such a battle?”
“Considering you were fine with letting me die in that battle…I would say no,” Sonin turned her attention back to the speaker, who was now Mirabelle doing her best to explain how the college would treat the wounded free of charge. “It’s suspicious at the least. What is it you want me to do?”
“Need I want anything other-“
“I am your Champion, oh great Prince of Debauchery,” Sonin made her face a stone facade, “You have done me favors in exchange for my services. Am I to expect anything beyond that?”
“I-“ he paused, deflated, “I suppose not.”
“So what is it you request of me?” She asked.
“An act of debauchery,” he replied off the cuff.
Sonin cast her eyes to the side, annoyed, “Anything in particular in mind? Or am I to take creative initiative?”
“As my Champion, you are allowed to do as you see fit to fulfill this request,” Sanguine answered.
“As expected,” she sighed again as her name was called to come up and say a few words to the crowd, “I was always meant as entertainment,” she then mumbled, “Dragonborn is just a fancy title for a mortal to a Prince like you.”
Sonin stood beside the people that had mentored her since childhood. Tolfdir put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze as he announced her role as the new Archmage. The Dragonborn rolled her shoulders back to make herself stand taller, a bit more proud. Savos had her groomed to be his replacement, afterall. It would do her best to at least look like she was taking to the role.
“It is with great personal difficulty that I assume the role of Archmage before you all today. I know many of those in this crowd have seen me grow from the orphan brought to the tower, to where I am now. I look out to you all, happy to see so many familiar faces made it through this difficult time.” Sonin paused to collect her emotions, “There are many things to be said of Savos Aren, but I believe my words would pale in comparison to what has already been spoken. He was a great mentor to me and so many others that have come to the College,” Sonins paused, finally feeling the tears swell behind her eyes. Her body didn’t let her cry until now, but she refused to let it happen in front of the crowd, “I can only hope to be as great of a person as he was.” A pause to clear her throat, “I wish to speak on another matter while we are gathered here. First, I want to acknowledge the courage and tenacity of the people of Winterhold. The moment danger spread beyond the tower, everyone from the smallest children to the oldest men took up arms to protect each other. I have come to know much of the people of Skyrim, and I can think of no better example of their resolve than what I witnessed here.”
“AYE!” A man shouted from the crowd.
“Aye,” Sonin gave a soft smile, “Which brings me to my first act as Archmage. As reparations for the danger the college, no matter how indirect and unintentional, has caused to the people of this hold, we will be repairing all that was damaged in addition to treating all the wounded. I will also be forming a main council of mages to advise and make policies for the college, with a seat reserved for an elected official in the town. They will not need to have any magical abilities, and will be granted a voice just as strong as the master mages to be placed there.”
The crowd became audibly apprehensive, with murmurs of what that could mean. Sonin could pick up a few sentences among the crowd. One man wanted to know why she thought the town would even want a seat. Another wondered if they should just try to burn the college to the ground, a funny thought since it was made of stone and drenched in flame resistant magic.
“Please, good people,” Sonin lifted her voice over the sea of doubts and contention, “Magic will exist inside and out of Skyrim whether the College exists or not. Removing it and disbanding our teaching will just leave young mages a danger to themselves and lead to ruin-“
“We don’t care about spell casters!” A man yelled from the crowd.
“Whether you care or not is irrelevant. You are missing the biggest of pictures. Skyrim has enemies that wield magic as easily as you wield a sword. Without the study and practice of our own magical talent, it will not be long before the Thalmor takes over the whole of Skyrim!” The crowd quieted down significantly to listen. “The College, in one form or another, is a necessity to us all. So I propose the creation of a council to keep a balance. A check of what is going on inside and out. Only in this manner can the College and the Hold prosper.” Sonin watched as the faces became less hostile. “This brings me to my second act as Archmage, to give my powers as Archmage to the council temporarily.”
“WHAT?!” It was the first time Sonin ever heard Tolfdir yell in anger. “You can’t do that to us!”
Sonin put a hand on her teacher’s shoulder, “It is temporary and for just cause. We can discuss it more inside.”
…
“So…off again?” Enthir asked, peering from around her new quarter’s door.
“‘’Fraid so,” Sonin placed the last of the fire salts in her rucksack before closing it and turning to face the wood elf.
“You’re really about to go off and face that dragon of legend… again,” he almost looked like he was pouting.
“That’s the plan, surely you won’t be missing me bad enough to pout like that,” Sonin teased, lightly punching his slim shoulder.
He gave a dramatic frown, “Now that you mention it, no. I guess not.”
“Well then, if that’s all, I need to be on my way,” Sonin slung her rucksack on her shoulder and headed for the door.
Enthir spoke right as she entered the doorway, “Sonin…” She paused and turned to see his face, “Don’t…die. Alright?”
“No promises,” she winked and closed the door behind her.
….
The hammering of metal on the anvil in the distance told Sonin where to go. Though she knew Riften’s layout well and needed no assistance. She thought briefly of the man wielding that hammer. The thought of those arms thicker than a bear’s and that bristly hair all over his body that peeked through his work shirt already had her dripping. Sanguine did want some debauchery afterall.
“Quite the weapon there,” Sonin announced herself as she approached the smith’s back.
Balimund didn’t startle, but paused his work to greet her, “Aye. A fine steel blade.”
“Not what I was talking about,” Sonin smirked as she replied, stepping closer into his space and putting a gentle hand on his sooty arm, “I have something to give you, but you’ll have to show me how to hammer out your sword for it.”
“I-,” the Nord stuttered over himself, “I’m not sure what you-“
She pulled her other hand from her cloak, a large bag of fire salts neatly bundled in her palm, “The fire salts you wanted.”
He eyed the bag, recognition crossing his face, “Oh! Aye.” He gave a boisterous chuckle, “I thought you meant- uh. Never mind.”
“Oh? Please, do tell,” she gave him the bag, intentionally letting their fingers brush and taking another step forward.
“It’s rather inappropriate for me to say after you were kind enough to bring the salts all the way here,” Balimund let himself back up too close to the anvil, warm enough still to make him jump on contact.
Sonin gave a soft laugh at the motion, “Better mind your back, I would hate to think the smith can’t handle a little…heat.”
“I can handle any heat,” he winked at her tone, “Since you kept up your end of the deal, I’ll keep up mine. Come over my shoulder and watch how I handle this sword before the blade cools too much.”
“Already demanding I come aye?” Balimund choked on his own saliva at her innuendo. “Careful,” she feigned concern, “Wouldn’t want you choking before I get to.”
“Talos preserve me,” Balimund swore and tossed the blade he was working on to the water barrel, grasping Sonin’s coated waist. “Say to stop now, otherwise I might not be able to later.”
Sonin drew her bottom lip to her teeth before looking up at the Nord through her lashes, “Now why would I have done all this work to get you fire salts, if I wanted you to stop?”
“Fu-“ Balimund swiftly pulled her into his arms and walked her to his work table. The door to his home was too far to make it without getting some attention from her plump lips first. She was practically begging for it from him and he was too experienced in life to not take advantage of what she so willingly offered him.
“Ah~” Sonin grasped at his golden locks, “out here, in front of the market?” She giggled softly, “So naughty you are Mr. Blacksmith. Guess it’s not just the soot that makes you dirty, aye?”
He groaned at that, putty in her small hands as she massaged his scalp. His onslaught on her neck was earning him the most delicious sounds from the back of her throat. Oh how he wished to put a part of himself back there.
Sonin wrapped her ample legs around his stocky hips, crossing her ankles to pull him even closer. His lips found hers in a blind fury, teeth nearly clashing at his insistence. Every slightly salty taste of her flesh just ignited all his nerves before they were even naked. Whether or not anyone in Riften was watching them was irrelevant right now. If anything, it was making it more exciting to Sonin.
Balimund decided he needed to be inside her as soon as he noticed his hips rubbing the table on their own accord like he was some young buck new to women. Not wanting to have the guards on his back, he picked up Sonin once again and nearly kicked the door off its hinges to get them inside.
“The table,” she directed. It looked to be of a sturdy build that could handle what she had in mind.
“Not the bed?” He questioned while moving toward his dining area.
“You think I want anything soft right now?” Sonin questioned with a daedric smirk, grasping at his engorged member.
“You will be the death of me,” he moaned as he set her down.
“Not until we’re done at least,” she winked as she flipped her head off the side of the table and pulled her cloak fastenings off.
Balimund knew what she was wanting rather quickly, freeing himself from his pants before leaning over to free her lower half. Sonin grabbed his cock by the base, wrapping her tongue around his head before pulling him into her mouth. It was not something his wife would have done when she was still alive, but instead a move directly from Dibella’s teachings. The sensation nearly made the smith’s knees buckle.
Sonin snuck a hand to her chest, freeing a breast and pinching at her pebbled nipple while he slipped a digit into her welcoming folds. By the time he worked a second finger into her, his table was already slick with her. Sonin relaxed her throat, pulling him further in and welcoming the twitches already threatening to spill in her.
Balimund was already a mess above her, four fingers in with no resistance. His balls tight like they were going to burst at her tongue rolling under his shaft. “I’m not going to last like this lass.”
Sonin attempted to mumble to him to let loose, but the vibrations sent him over long before he could attempt to decipher what she said. She choked as she swallowed it down, the effort making her impossibly wetter. Balimund pulled himself out, readying an apology but she gave him no time to offer one.
In a quick motion Sonin sprung herself off the table, grabbing his wrist and leading him to his bed. A bit of his seed dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she grabbed a decorative hilt from atop his night stand and placed it in his hand.
“While we wait for you to be ready for round two,” she answered his unspoken question.
Balimund watched as she laid herself out on his pelt covered bed, spreading her legs and beckoning him with a bent finger and a smile. He crawled over her, slowly lining the hilt with her entrance while she started removing his shirt.
“Fuck~” she moaned as her body shivered once the hilt was settled in her. The smoothly polished gold cool yet pleasant in her. The Nord gave it a few test strokes in and out, making contact with each desperate muscle in her. “Come here,” she demanded, pulling his lips to hers once again.
Balimund worked the hilt like it was an extension of himself as she desperately chased her own end on it. Sonin rolled her hips like a bitch in heat, mouth going slack as he hit the right spot with each stroke. He wasn’t expecting to recover so quickly, but his body was ready for the second round before he knew it.
“Right-right there,” she encouraged him, angling her hips slightly higher and arching her back to get the extra inch she craved.
“That’s a good girl,” Balimund whispered hoarsely into her ear, “I want you to cum all over this hilt before I make you do it all over again on my cock.”
She felt her toes curl uncontrollably before her thighs went tight and the ball wound in her stomach snapped. Sonin buried her face into his neck so he couldn’t hear her call out Sanguine’s name. Sanguine on the other hand, heard it loud and clear from his viewing place in oblivion. He had been simply watching up until this point, but now even the prince of debauchery had to succumb to his own bodily desires.
Balimund slipped himself into her at the same time that Sanguine wrapped his own fist around himself. Sonin let her head lull back onto the pillow, his size more compatible with a great sword hilt than the dagger hilt they had just used. The Nord wrapped one palm under the small of her back to pull her closer and the other was on her breast. Sanguine timed his pumps with the mortal’s thrusts, imagining himself there instead.
The daedric prince’s mind wandered to what he would do to add to the mortals' actions. More kneading of her free breasts and less pinching to start, knowing the Dragonborn’s preference. A slip of tongue to her neck with a graze of his canines, just enough to scrap the skin but not enough to draw blood.
Balimund sucked at Sonin’s jawline, just shy of hard enough to bruise. The half Breton was quick to respond, her nails digging into his impressive back. His recent release kept him able to continue longer as her walls gripped like vice.
Sanguine fed off her moans and small struggles to catch her breath. He could see the slight glaze of her eyes that meant her lungs were burning in the best way possible, doing their best from the radiating spasms from her loins. She was so close he could taste it. So distracted in his own pleasure at watching hers, he didn’t notice the familiar presence enter his realm.
“I’m-I’m going to-“ Sonin warned.
“Do it,” Balimund demanded, breathless from his excursions.
Her face was pure bliss, Sanguine spilling all over his fists from it. He panted, as though he had done the amount of work the mortal did. The emotions he felt from seeing Sonin in the throes of passion seemed different now then they used to. Seeing it caused by some lowly mortal of no importance, someone unworthy of his champion, left a bitter taste in his throat. No she needed to be pleasured by only those worthy, those of significance and power in all realms. Someone more like-
“And here I thought I was the mad one,” Sheogorath spoke from behind Sanguine’s chair.
The caught-white-handed prince leapt up in surprise, “When did you-?”
“Oh don’t mind me,” the mad prince took a long look at the viewing window Sanguine had cast up. Sonin was sound asleep and cleaned up now by now, the smith putting his clothes back on to go out and finish the blade he was working on before his adopted son returned looking for it. “I was riding a narwhal and fell on the pointy end, next thing I knew I was here watching you going mad for a mortal.”
“I’m not mad,” Sanguine argued, “I was watching my champion give her debauched offering to me.”
“To you?” He looked back at the window before Sanguine quickly closed it, “Or for you?” Sheogorath laughed maniacally, “Or maybe it was for me all along! Why, she was doing so while I watched!”
“What do you want?” Sanguine cut off the madman’s rambling before a headache sat in.
“Me? Why I want what every prince of madness wants,” his false cheerful smile suddenly relaxed to a cutthroat serious line, “To take advantage of invaluable information and gather more power for myself.”
“I don’t know what you mean, get out of my realm Sheogorath. I’ll let you know next time the Dragonborn wishes to have us both again,” he waved the other daedra off.
“Oh, I’m sure you will!”