The Nightingale Ch. 01

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This is a story about a fictional character in the fictional world of Skyrim. There is NO sexuality in the first chapter. It serves to build the scenario leading into the sexual pieces. Feedback and comments would be greatly appreciated.

The moons Secunda and Masser shone bright and constant on the towering city of Solitude. In the soft shadow of a modest bush in the Blue Palace garden, Serinee (Se-Rin-Ay) Deltone (Dell-Tone) crept along the moss-covered walls of the ancient castle, her footsteps muffled on the cobblestone beneath her feet. The slender Nord woman’s elegant features were illuminated by the moonlight in the brisk Rain’s Hand night sky. A gentle breeze which swayed the brush next to her provided the only interruption to the otherwise still night. She was close.

Her venture into the wilderness of northwestern Skyrim had not been an easy one. Only the strenuous training under the tutelage of Brynjolf had kept her undetected by the vast wildlife that easily claimed the life of the unwary traveler. In fact, Brynjolf was a primary reason for her journey to the capitol city. She remembered his words plainly: “It’s all about sizing up your mark, lass. It’s the way they walk, what they’re wearing. It’s a dead giveaway.” Serinee easily recalled the affront she received by the master thief upon her first visit to the city of Riften.

The way they walk, what they’re wearing. If only they knew how detrimental they are to their own interests, she thought to herself as she twirled a blade of grass in her fingers. She brushed a lock of dark brown hair out of her eyes and recalled the job she was given by the vivacious Vex of the Thieves Guild. A prominent celebrity, in his own right, a fellow Nord who’s actions have not gone unnoticed by the Province. Dragonborn, the Dovahkiin, Stormblade, among other titles, were the names bestowed upon her target. She could not help but smile to herself. SHe would finally have her prowess put to the test against a worth adversary.

Serinee put her wandering mind to rest as a patrolman made his way through the doorway to the castle courtyard. He made his usual rounds, unaware of the young woman in the cover the night mere feet away from him. He was completely unaware of the Daedric Bow that was silently being drawn in the darkness nearby. Nor was he aware of the Ebony arrow that pierced fikirtepe escort his upper left chest.

Sovngarde took the guard without a moments hesitation.

Serinee crept over to her prey. She frowned to herself. She knew that the Guild distinguished itself from the Dark Brotherhood in its nonviolent methods. On any normal assignment, she would have opted to merely injure the guard to avoid detection as much as possible. But she knew that the Dragonborn changed the mindset of her mission entirely. She gritted her teeth and dragged the lifeless body around the corner of the courtyard garden. She decorated the the soldiers makeshift grave with barrels and wooden crates, taking caution to silence her movements. Her focus returned to gaining access to the palace.

To the theif’s surprise, the rugged iron door leading into the voyeur was left unlocked into the late hours of the night. Their laziness could cost them dearly, she thought to herself as she gently pushed open the door. She took a small glance into the voyeur in front of her. Small coffee tables with ornate chairs were set up on either side of the entryway. An old Mage lay sleeping on a bench that spanned the wall opposite of the main hall. She had frequently heard the wizard note how exceptional the Jarl’s Court Wizard was, her skills profound even for a Breton.

“Damn Wizards. Always quick to open their mouths.” She muttered as the Mage let out a long snore.

She kept herself low as she made her way into the main hall. The castles beauty was undeniable. She somehow felt shame at her numerous visits to the castles interior, and her “borrowing” of its treasures. But tonight, the only valuable Serinne sought was information. The Dragonborn had been to Solitude, in the company of Jarl Elisif the Fair. She alone would possess information regarding the Dragonborn’s whereabouts, as well as the prize Serinee sought with all her determination.

The guard that normally would have been stationed in the hall is now defending an assortment of barrels and crates. In front of her stood the empty stairwell, with both spiraling to connect to the second floor. Halls adorned with paintings and plants lined the walls to both sides of her. The aromatic fragrance of the evenings meal still lingered from the castle kitchen. The smell of vegetable stew and fresh rabbit gebze escort haunch played with Serinee’s senses as she crept up the staircase to the upper level.

She stopped to listen for any sign of activity. Two guards discussing the weapons of the Hammerfell warriors walked down a nearby hallway and eventually she could no longer make out their words. With only the sound of a dimly lit brazier, Serinee trotted down a long hallway to the left of the staircase. Her footsteps were kept muffled by the enchantments of the coveted Nightingale armor.

Serinee stopped at the end of the hallway, facing a large set of wooden doors. She knew by instinct that this was Elisif’s bedchamber. She gently tried the handle.

The lock on Elisif’s door was sealed tightly. The thief was not surprised. The Jarl’s quarters were not to be underguarded. Serinee, however, was not deterred. She reached into her pocket and drew a small key. She and Brynjolf had recovered the artifact before their initiation as Nightingales, in their service to Nocturnal. The slender key had a boney texture, and boasted an enchantment to unlock even the most skillfully crafted lock.

A girl’s best friend, she thought to herself as the key morphed its shape perfectly to fit the lock. Cautiously she into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She then reached into her pack and dug out a small book. She opened the tome, reading carefully with a look of fierce concentration. Then, without warning, her right hand illuminated to a dark red hue, followed by a small ball of energy. The muffle spell, specifically designed by a Guild sympathizing wizard to effect target objects, as opposed to being used upon the user.

Serinee carefully touched the door with the palm of her hand, the spell taking effect immediately after it was cast. The door shimmered in a red light, effectively blocking all noise from entering or leaving the Jarl’s quarters. She then turned her attention to the Jarl herself. Her bedroom was fitting for her status. Her framed, linen-covered bed dominated the center of the room, with multiple bookshelves lining one side of the rooms walls, stocked with volumes of Skyrim’s lore and history. Dressers topped with fine silver and jewelry filled each corner of the room. Leftover food and drink left by the cook created a nostalgic and lighter atmosphere içerenköy escort to her quarters. Serinee knew then that she would thoroughly enjoy her new prey.

She kept herself low, being sure to assure herself of the cover of darkness and stealth as she mad her way to the sleeping woman. She stopped at the side of the bed, her eyes fixed upon the noble beauty. Her sleep had masked the deep, piercing blue eyes she possessed, and her long strands of orange hair dangled lazily in front of her face.

Serinee had always been smitten with the young Jarl. In her occasional visits to Solitude and the Blue Palace, she could not help but feel a sense of jealousy when she thought of the Jarl. Even if Ulfric Stormcloak had taken High King Torygg from Elisif’s life, Serinee could not help but feel a sense of longing and desire when her thoughts dwelt upon the queen.

The young thief had not made it a known fact that her true affections were with fellow women. Traditional Nord culture dictated that women were to marry a man and bear a new generation of children, a tradition left largely unchallenged over the centuries. In her native city of Whiterun, Serinee had become the outsider and considered unwelcome in daily life. She had expected as much from the city that so closely adhered to the hardiest of Nordic traditions. As a result, Serinee kept her true feelings sealed underneath a mask she was forced to wear.

This part of Serinee is what fueled her desire to be alone with the young Jarl. Elisif barely shifted in her bad as Serinee ran a hand along her slender frame, her hand transfixed on her voluptuous hips and warm thighs. Serinee shuddered as she forced herself to wake the angelic form in front of her. She promised herself to be gentle with the fair woman in front of her. She gently nudged Elisif’s shoulder with both hands.

The Jarl, at first not responding to Serinees touch, rolled onto her back and rubbed the nights sleep out of her eyes. She stretched her long arms and legs as she took in her surroundings, her eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. She stared upward, as is still engulfed in a dream, and then her focus shifted to the figure to her left. Elisif panicked slightly, and Serinee placed a loving hand over her mouth.

“Do not fret, Elisif. I do not wish to harm you.” She purred, her voice barely a whisper. Elisif struggled for a short moment, and allowed herself to nod to her captor. Serinee was energized by the Jarl’s quick embrace of submission.

“All I need from you is information, my Jarl,” she said. “And much, much more…”

Part two coming soon.

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