Skyrim FanFiction, Skyrim Erotica, and More
WARNING: This post contains graphic sexual content.
Elisif the Fair leaned back in her chair and sighed. Another day at court was done.
Another day of being interrupted by Falk Firebeard. Another day of being politely ordered around by General Tullius.
And another day alone.
Torygg was dead and gone. Scattered to dust by Ulfric’s wicked voice. And with him, all the warmth and comfort of Solitude had been scattered, too.
Finally, the city’s name made sense to her.
The nobles filed out of the Blue Palace’s throne room—back to their homes and their families.
Elisif had nobody to go back to. She removed the crown from her head and pressed a thumb and forefinger into the bridge of her nose.
“Are you troubled, Your Grace?” Sybille Stendor asked. Her haunting eyes looked at her with concern. A strange thing to behold—compassion from a vampire.
Elisif had long known of Sybille’s…condition. And while she’d spent the entirety of her marriage to Torygg terrified of being in a room alone with her, things had changed since he died. The Breton vampire seemed to be the only one in the castle who could still spare a moment’s thought for her well-being.
“Just a headache is all. The crown is…” she fiddled with the circular ring of steel in her hand, struggling for the right word. “Quite heavy,” she finished.
“So I’ve heard.” Sybille smiled warmly at Elisif. Her face was smooth and pale. Not a single sign of aging. Not one imperfection.
In a word: beautiful.
“I could bring you a tincture, perhaps?” she continued. “If you’d like to return to your chambers, I’ll brew it for you right away. A headache is easy to fix.”
“I’d like that.”
Elisif took the long, stony stairs back to her quarters. Two Solitude Guards just behind her. She left them at the door.
Inside, she changed into a thin, silk nightgown and sat down to brushing her hair. The crown kept creating a knot in the back that she had to tug out each night. It was getting tiresome, along with everything else that went along with ruling Solitude.
Or, pretending to rule, at least. Even a puppet gets tired of the tugging of its strings.
There was a soft knock.
“Enter,” Elisif called.
The door opened and Sybille came inside. Her hood off for once, revealing her long black hair. Dark as a raven’s wing, and just as shiny. She had a glass bottle in her left hand.
“The tincture,” she said, and then crossed the room—her cloth shoes whisking quietly along the stone floor. “It will help with your headache, and with sleep.”
Elisif nodded once and took the bottle. Sybille looked at her for a moment—searching for something in her eyes—and then turned to leave.
“Will it help with my loneliness?” Elisif asked without thinking.
“Or with my sadness? My misery? Can your tincture take those away, too?” Elisif choked out the words. “Because all in all, a little headache is really the least of my problems these days.”
She collapsed onto her bed, covered her face with her hands, and started to sob. Tears ran down her cheeks and her shoulders shook gently.
Sybille sat down next to her. Elisif felt her weight on the bed.
“No, Your Grace. No tincture for that. But, if I may?”
She wrapped one arm around Elisif’s neck. Her fingers rubbing gently at her stiff muscles. Then running up into her hair. Massaging her scalp and temples.
“Mmm,” Elisif said. “That’s nice.”
Sybille’s other hand moved to her thigh. Just an inch or two above her knee. And slowly, ever so slowly, it began to rise.
Elisif felt the tingle of a small spell weaving itself into her skin. Felt the warmth spreading higher and the wetness starting between her thighs. Or maybe it wasn’t a spell at all. Just nature.
“If I have your permission, Your Grace?”
Elisif turned to her court wizard—a Breton, a vampire, and her only friend. She put a hand on her perfect face and ran her fingers through her dark, silky hair.
All she could do was nod.
Sybille leaned forward and kissed her cheek. First on one side, then the other. Kissing away her tears.
Then she kissed her lips. Elisif was startled at first—her lips were soft and strange. But as Sybille’s tongue slipped into her mouth and her hand rose high between her legs—one finger starting to rub in a slow circle against the silk—she relaxed.
Sybille kissed her deeper. Harder.
As they kissed, Sybille’s hands found the simple straps to Elisif’s dress and pulled them down. Then she was massaging her breasts and tugging lightly at her nipples. Just enough to send shimmers of pleasure through her body.
Elisif moaned and sighed, then started groping at Sybille’s body. Fumbling with the folds of her robes until she found her warm skin underneath.