Balgruuf the Great, Chapter 16 (Patreon)

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Irileth

They arrived at Markarth late in the afternoon. She was riding ahead on the column when they marched up the fork road that connected Markarth with the rest of Skyrim. She first saw the bronze domed roofs, then as the army drew closer, she saw the towers, the walls, and the massive bronze gates of Markarth.

The city was massive, the Dwemer having built it after cutting through the mountain's face and using the stone to form the outer layer of Markarth. At its left was another wall, from whom a crevice flowed water.

At that point, the sun was setting and in the orange glow of the setting sun, Markarth loomed ominously like it was a fortress of evil.

From her reading of its history, it was once a city of the Dwemer, her people's ancient enemy. When the Dwemer mysteriously vanished, the city was abandoned until the Reachmen moved in. They occupied it until Balgruuf's ancestor, Olaf One-Eye, became High King and expelled the Reachmen. Now, the Reachmen had pushed the Nords out and it was up to the combined armies of Whiterun and Jarl Hrofldir's survivors to restore Nord rule. 

As they settled into the siege, the Nordic armies were focused in setting up a siege camp and establishing a perimeter that would isolate the city from potential reinforcements and supplies. No messenger was sent to the city, nor did the Reachmen inside send someone to talk to them. 

Perhaps they were considering how to respond or some such thing, Irileth did not know. What she knew however was that the next days and nights were going to be difficult and she would have to rest up and await for orders.

Night came and the army rested for what was to come in the following morning. Not so for her however as she stood outside the command tent where the leaders of the army were having one last meeting. She wasn't alone though, there were other guards there and a young female Redguard was impatiently tapping her gauntlets as she sat on a crate.

She briefly considered starting a conversation with the woman, if only to pass the time, but then the tent flaps opened and out came the men who were their lords. Jarl Hrolfdir went out first, his face glum. Afterwards was his son, Igmund, determination in his eyes. The redguard immediately went up to the man and excitedly started chatting. 

Irileth tore her attention away from them as Balgruuf came out, looking worse for wear. Briefly, worry filled her but seeing that numerous eyes were on them, being a bit affectionate would raise questions. 

The last thing Balgruuf needed was for busybodies asking him questions. 

"My lord," Irileth greeted him. 

"Walk with me," Balgruuf groaned. Irileth nodded as they made their way from the Command Tent to Balgruuf's very own. As soon as they came in, Balgruuf made his way to a nearby chair and planted himself firmly on it. 

She followed after him and made her way to her own cot. As Balgruuf's Housecarl (Unofficially), she had a right to sleep with him. 

To better protect him of course. 

It was all part of a housecarl's duty. 

Oh gods, why did she phrase it that way. Now she was blushing and oh by the love of-

"Someone's having a good time," Balgruuf remarked, amusement laced in his voice. The dunmer frowned and forced her thoughts of her mind. It wasn't the time for it after all. 

"What was discussed in the tent, Balgruuf?" she started. In their private moments, there was no formalities. It was just Irileth and Balgruuf. Now that she thought about it, it was almost as if they were husband and wife. 

Now she was blushing again. 

Stupid brain and stupid feelings. 

"We just agreed on how the war was going to go," Balgruuf began as he stood up once more to unclasp his armor. Irileth stood as well, walking over to help him. 

"And?" Irileth continued, her blush dying down as she reached for the straps on Balgruuf. 

"It was agreed that talks of reperations would have to wait after we were victorious. We mostly discussed on how the siege was going to be conducted." Balgruuf added, "Definitely no looting, nor was there going to be burnings or such. It would be counter-productive for the Jarl of Markarth to burn down his own keep." 

Irileth nodded, her fingers wrapping around Balgruuf's chest plate. "And?"

"Jarl Hrolfdir was adamant though in extracting revenge on the rebellious Reachmen. The leaders of the rebellion would all be executed, no exceptions." Balgruuf momentarily sucked in a breath as she briefly brushed her hand against his groin. 

They locked eyes. 

"Continue, my lord," Irileth whispered, as she wrapped her arms around him to reach for the straps on his back. She made sure to press herself fully against him. She smirked as his eyes went down to her chest.

"F-for now, we are to focus on establishing a p-perimeter. W-when that is established, w-we are going to attack," As he talked, Irileth slowly slid her hand around and down to him, and stroked him through his undergarment. 

She smirked as she felt him harden. 

"Sounds exciting," she said airily. "But for now, we must rest, Balgruuf." She pulled back from him and turned around. "Would you mind helping me get my armor off, my lord?" 

Baglruuf said nothing as he marched forward, pressing himself against her. She bit her lip as she felt his length rest against her back. She let out a breath as she felt his rough hands land on her straps. The Dunmer heaved in a breath as the man fondled and molested her, erstwhile taking her armor off one by one. 

When he was taking off her chestplate, he brushed against her chest. When he was reaching for her chest straps, he started rubbing his length against her back. She pushed against him, maneuvering herself to pleasure him better. 

Eventually, their armor was all gone, and only their small-clothes remained. Irileth broke free from their foreplay and marched to a nearby table. She bent over, presenting her rear to him. She pulled aside her wet smallclothes, and used her fingers to open up her wet sex to her lover. 

"Please," Irileth whispered. 

Without a word, Balgruuf slid down his smallclothes and marched to her, his length fully hard and erect. Excitement bristled in Irileth as Balgruuf took position behind her and-

"Ooh!" She yelped in surprise as Balgruuf slapped her rear. 

"You have a cute little ass, Iri," he remarked. 

Blushing furiously, the Dunmer dug her nails into the table. "Shut up and fuck me, you Nordi-"

Her eyes widened as something thick and hard entered her folds. "Ooooooh.....yes......" the Dunmer growled huskily. 

Ever since they left Whiterun, they never had a chance to have moment privately to themselves. That made her a tad bit...wanting. And now that they were finally alone, Irileth was going to have her due, and if anyone dared take that from her, she was going to skin them slowly and leave them out to dry in the sun. 

Irileth moaned wantonly as Balgruuf picked up the pace and slammed in and out of her, massaging her inner walls with his thickness. She liked it rough, and Balgruuf was more than capable of roughing her up. 

Her mouth watered as Balgruuf grabbed a fistful of her crimson red hair and pulled her back. A rough hand went and squeezed her breast, making her want to be debased even more. She whimpered as rough lips kissed her and a tongue was forced into her mouth. 

"Mhmp! Mrmm! MHUM!" she moaned wildly as she was pulled even closer against his wet and swating chest, his thrusts even harder than before.  

She was a whore. At this moment, she was a toy for her lover's pleasure. She was a nasty dirty little slut that loved being played and roughed up. 

He fucked her, he pounded her, he made her his whore. 

He was her master. 

They both groaned into each other's mouths as they both climaxed. Irileth felt her heart leap as thick and warm seed sputtered deep into her belly. They two of them melted as they felt the last of their climax leave them, and they collapsed on the table. 

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The next morning came, Irileth found herself in a wind-swept field, shadowing the man that had just used her holes like a beast in heat. 

Earlier, the Reachmen had finally made a move and sent a party of men calling themselves ambassadors wanting to talk. They had set a table and sat there, waiting for the Nords to send someone to talk to them. 

The Jarls and their Jarlings, accompanied by their housecarls and a small force went out to meet them. Instead of seating themselves however, they remained on their mounts and looked down at the Reachmen. 

The Reachmen refused to react however, and stared at them coolly. 

Diplomacy wasn't exactly part of her skills, yet even she could tell that the talks would all be for nothing. 

"I am Nepos, Chief Advisor to my master and King, Madanach. He has authorized me to treat with you, my lords. What are your demands to the King of the Reach?" he began. 

From his seat, Jarl Hrolfdir bristled but held his tongue as Jarl Heorot spoke. It was his right, as he had the most men. "Our demands are simple. The leaders of this insurrection, including your so-called King must surrender immediately. Do so and the lives and property of those that followed them will be spared." 

"Or do not, and we shall take both," Jarl Hrolfdir added. 

"We reject those terms," Nepos said flatly. 

"Then what are we doing here with this farce?" said Jarl Hrolfdir. 

"Because we have a counter-offer. My King offers his allegiance to High King Torygg, to serve as his vassal. He also offers his grand-daughter as a ward to the court in Solitude, to be raised as a Nord as well as an offer of payment to Jarl Heorot for the expenses incurred from bringing his army to Markarth." Nepos closed with finality. 

Irileth blinked. 

Well, damn. 

Even if she wasn't attuned with politics, even Irileth saw that was a pretty good deal. Thinking about it, the reason why they were here was to deal with the Reachmen rebelling. If they accepted it, then the Reachmen would integrate themselves into Skyrim, become a vassal of the High King, and a member of their royal family would be sent to Solitude to basically be a hostage. 

She glanced at Balgruuf to see his reaction and saw the surprise in his face. 

"Absolutely not!" Jarl Hrolfdir protested. "You have no right nor authority to offer anything to anyone!" 

Jarl Heorot glanced at Jarl Hrolfdir, and was silent for a minute. Perhaps he was thinking about the offered deal? For a moment, Irileth thought that Jarl Heorot would accept the deal but then he shook his head and frowned. 

"The High King has demanded your surrender, not your fealty. We have been charged to remove you and restore Jarl Hrolfdir to his seat. There shall be no alterations," Jarl Heorot closed. 

Nepos leaned forward, clasping his hands as he did. "I shall remind you, my lords, that the advantage here is with us. Our stores are greater, our patience wider. All we need to do is outlast you, my lords. How many men can you throw at us before you are exhausted of soldiers?"

"It will not come that far. Your rebellion shall die in a whimper!" growled Jarl Hrolfdir.

Nepos's guards bristled but the old man remained impassive. Old grey eyes locked themselves onto the Jarl of Whiterun. "Think on our offer, my Jarl," advised Nepos as he stood up and with his detachment of guards, retreated into the gates of Markarth. Irileth caught glimpse of empty streets inside before the great bronze gates of the city was shut with an audible echo.

"We need to attack soon. The more we wait, the more the Reachmen infest my city," Jarl Hrolfdir spat into the ground.

"I concur," Jarl Heorot said, urging his horse to turn. The rest of the Nords followed after them. Before she joined them, Irileth took one last look at the city. With their available forces, how were they going to breach the city?

The answer became apparent when the sun had set once more. Irileth spent most of the day bored out of her mind as the Nords seemingly spent it building siege engines and openly drilling in the face of the Reachmen who watched them from the walls. As usual, she silently followed Balgruuf, keeping an eye on him as he busied himself with mundane duties and such.

Then, Balgruuf turned around to her and bid her to follow him to a far side of the camp. Her mind treacherously bombarded her with certain scenarios that might happen between the two of them as they walked. A certain disappointment filled her however when they came to a nondescript tent filled with Nords gearing for battle. 

"Ah, welcome, my lord Balgruuf." A Nord stepped forward. Irileth quickly recognized him as Igmund, the son of Jarl Hrolfdir. He was clad head to toe in the armor of Markarth, a Dwemer metal cuirass over a green tunic and chainmail. Around his back was a great shield, and on his hip was a war axe that emitted magicka.

"Are we all ready?" Balgruuf asked.

Igmund nodded as he accepted a conical helmet from his housecarl, the Redguard woman Irileth saw the other night.

"Then let's get to work," Balgruuf said with finality as the Igmund reached for the far end of the tent and opened it, revealing a stream.

"What is going on, my lord?" Irileth whispered as she joined Balgruuf's side.

"Lord Igmund is going to be leading us to a hidden entrance in the sewer drain, at the Deep Wall," Balgruuf explained as they joined the other Nords. The tent they were in was at the far side of the siege camp, meaning that they were hidden from view of the defenders.

"It is a secret that only few know," Igmund added as they trudged on the wet banks of the stream. "And it will be what will win us the city again." 

Irileth glanced at their party, and counted. "So we are going to sneaking into the city with twenty good men?"

For some reason, Balgruuf snickered. "It is all we need."

Silently, they made their way from their tent and around the camp. Irileth thought how they were going to get close without getting seen when she realized that all the racket the camp was making was probably enough to mask their movements. And with how calm Balgruuf and Igmund were, they probably had a plan.

Then without prompting, the world turned as drums, cymbals, and horns blasted and the night sky was alit with flame. Looking up, Irileth saw streams of fire come from the camp. It looked like their siege engines and their mages were lobbing anything and everything into Markarth. It was rather dazzling, Irileth found, as explosive fireballs and stones sailed in the air and struck the walls, illuminating the night with bright orange light.

So that was their cover, Irileth reasoned.

Noiselessly, they crept their way closer and closer to the far wall. Irileth heard the Reachmen scream and shout, and letting out curses as they rushed to their positions. They were far from the line of fire and so had little reason to fear getting caught in the blasts.

Eventually, they made their way to the wall and onto the drain where water poured out. Before they arrived, they had to cross waist-deep water first. It was admittedly an anxious experience but thankfully, they weren't seen.

"Irileth, Faleen, check out the drain," Balgruuf ordered. The Dunmer and Redguard nodded as they unsheathed their weapons and gingerly made their way into the drain. Faleen went first, her roundshield and sword at the ready. The tunnel was a wide one and at the far end was a metal grate. Were they going to breach that?

Faleen answered her question when she stopped midway and Irileth saw a staircase with a stone door.

"Tell the men to come forward. I have to open this door," Faleen said to her as she momentarily sheathed her sword and reached for a key that hung on her belt. Irileth nodded and made her way back to the entrance. 

"So?" Balgruuf asked.

"It is clear," Irileth revealed.

"As I said, a way into the city," Igmund repeated as he went in first, his men trailing behind him. Balgruuf shrugged his shoulders and followed afterwards. Silently, they made their way to the staircase and found Faleen with her shield and sword out, staring up into the staircase. The door was also opened, and Irileth felt wind come from the passageway. 

"Let us go," Igmund said as he made his way up the stairs. She and the rest of the party followed and found themselves staring at another door. This time, Igmund opened it with his key and the door slide upwards into a hidden crevice.

"Irileth, go," Balgruuf urged her. She nodded and went in first, her bow in her hand.

She found herself standing in what seemed to be an old storage room. The air was thick with bitumen and tar, and old rotting wood. At the far side of the room was a workbench that had seen better days. There was also another staircase as well, and from there Irileth could hear Reachmen.

Behind her, Balgruuf followed afterwards and so did the others, their weapons and shields at the ready. She blinked when the men suddenly relaxed and sheathed their weapons.

"Are we not to join the battle??" Irileth asked. Igmund shook his head.

"Not yet, we cannot fight all the Reachmen in the walls at once. We are to stay and wait until the bombardment outside has run its course and the Reachmen tire. That is when we will make our way up, slaughter any sleepy Reachmen we see, and make our way to open the gate," Igmund explained as he leaned back against a wall.

"That doesn't mean we won't be cautious though. Irileth, stand by the stairway and if you see someone come in from above, put one between their eyes," Baglruuf ordered. Irileth nodded and did so, her bow at the ready.

And so, they waited, and waited, and waited some more. All the while, they heard the din and shouting on the walls outside. The men sucked in a breath as the walls shook and dust fell on them. No one else made a word however. The last thing they needed was for a sharp eared Reachman finding out they were in the walls.

Eventually, and after enduring what felt like an eternity sitting in the dark, the yelling and shaking stopped. Irileth glanced back at Balgruuf, to see if it was the time to move but the man shook his head. Frowning, Irileth returned her attention to the wooden door upstairs where she could hear Reachmen mulling and muttering amongst themselves.

"The Nords ain't so tough after all," a young man said. "They die like flies,"

"They'll be back for more, don't act so casually," an older and rougher voice chided him. "Keep your guard up, and if you see someone that isn't us, give them a proper Reach welcome."

"Yes, yes, I'll do that. I'm a vigilant hunter," the younger man boasted. The older man grunted and walked off while the younger man spat on the floor and suddenly went silent.

And so, they sat and waited some more until finally, Irileth felt a tap on her back. She turned to see Faleen point to Balgruuf and Irileth saw him mouth 'It's time'. The Dunmer nodded and Igmund's housecarl slowly and gingerly made her way up the stairs. Irileth followed after her, ready to fill the first Reachman she saw with arrows.

Faleen's sucked in a breath as she stood before the door and pushed it open, slowly. She and the men cringed as the door made an awful creaking sound as it was pushed open, revealing orange light from toches hung on the walls. Irileth came in first and found herself in a long winding hallway. 

Suddenly, the hairs on her body stood as she heard the sound of snoring. Turning swiftly, she found a young-faced Reachman sitting on a chair, sleeping. Irileth loosed an arrow in his eye, and the man fell limp instantly.

"Follow me," Igmund whispered as he unslung his shield and marched down the hallway. 

They did so silently, slaughtering any unsuspecting Reachmen in their path. They probably thought that they were another patrol coming before seeing the blood on their armor and weapons. As they did so, Irileth peered out through the arrow slits and saw that in the distance, torches slowly being lit from their camp.

"For the love of-" she heard Igmund curse. Turning from the arrow slits, she saw in front of them a group of Reachmen who stood, wide-eyed and frozen, as they stared at one another.

"N-Nords! Sound the al-"

Irileth loosed an arrow into his mouth, and behind him, a Reachman cringed as blood and fluid splattered onto his face.

"FOR THE REACH!" an older Reachman cried as he charged forward with a knife.

And at that, all Oblivion broke loose.

"SKYRIM BELONGS TO THE NORDS!" Igmund cried as he charged back, his men and housecarl yelling their own cries as they met the Reachmen. They clashed, the sounds of battle echoing in the walls. Balgruuf and his men joined in the fray as well, meeting the Reachmen head on. The Reachmen, while lightly armed, still fought with the ferocity and tenacity of men defending their home.

Balgruuf squared against a bronze-armored Reachmen, armed with a shield and axe. Gripping his weapon, the Reachman lunged and delivered a downward slice with his axe. Balgruuf raised his shield and met it, growling. He tried to thrust his sword forward but the Reachman defended himself with his own shield. In response, Balgruuf looked down and promptly stepped onto the man's boots. The Reachman yelped in pain, and Balgruuf took the moment  to drive his weapon into the man's skull.

"We cannot stay here and fight the entire garrison ourselves!" He yelled over the din of combat, spotting other Reachmen running at them in the distance.

"My men and I shall stay and fight!" Igmund roared. "Keep on going and you shall find a staircase leading into the gatehouse!"

Balgruuf attempted to open his mouth, seemingly trying to say something before he shook his head. "Whiterun! With me!" he yelled again, pushing through the lines. They did so, hacking and slashing any Reachman they met along the way. Eventually, they found the staircase that Igmund spoke of that had two guards standing before the doors.

They had to be the most incompetent guards Irileth had the pleasure of meeting, as they at first greeted Balgruuf before realizing that he wasn't a Reachman and was covered head to toe in the blood of their kin.

For their incompetence, Irileth hastily raised her bow and fired two rapid shots that pierced the guard through their helmet slits. They slumped back against the wall, dead.

"Nice work, Iri," Balgruuf praised before rushing forward and kicking open the door to the gatehouse, where three startled Reachmen stood guard.

And one massive orc.

"To arms, fools!' The orc barked as he unslung his shield and his weapon, an orcish mace.

"For the Reach!" the three men roared as they rushed them. Their accompanying Whiterun foot met the Reachmen, and they descended into a melee, leaving the orc for Balgruuf and her.

"Never should have come here," The orc glowered as he raised his shield and mace, ready to attack.

"Fuck you and eat shit," Balgruuf grit as he and the orc glared at one another. They first stared, then they charged at each other. The orc swung, his mace aimed for Balgruuf's head. The Nord ducked, the mace narrowly missing him by a hair's breath. He then took the moment to hack at the Orc's back, who roared in pain. Irileth saw her chance and loosed an arrow at the orc but he raised his shield in time and the arrow uselessly bounced off the shield.

"Ha! All you got?" he mocked. Growling, Irileth slung her bow back, sheathed her saber and raised her palm. The Orc's eyes widened as he raised his shield once more as a stream of hot flames poured out of Irileth. She could see his shield rapidly heating up and it was only a few more seconds until he would have to throw it away. Just as expected, the orc did so.

Only he tossed the shield at her. It was only thanks to her reflexes that she was able to dodge the steaming projectile. Her eyes narrowed as the orc shakily raised his hand and saw the burnt flesh there. His pain turned to rage however, as the orc's breathing became heavy.

"Berseker Rage," Irileth recognized as the orc roared savagely. In this state, she knew that the orc would be launched into a frenzy and would kill anything and everything in their sight until their enemies or they themselves were dead. With the orc distracted, Balgruuf took the thrust his sword through the orc's back. But that did not stop the orc however, as he elbowed Balgruuf and delivered a punch straight into Balgruuf's chestplate, shattering it.

"MALACATH SMILES UPON ME!" the orc cried as he grabbed a hold of Balgruuf and lifted him up. And with another great roar, threw him against the wall. The orc pounded his chest in triumph.

His victory was short-lived however as Irileth sprang forward and separated his head from his shoulders with one clean slice. The orc's head flew and his body at first knelt, before collapsing on the floor. With orc dealt with, she rushed over to Balgruuf's who heaved and coughed where he lay.

"Damn orcs, and their damn strength," hacked Balgruuf. "I should bloody learn magic," 

"There will be a time for that, my lord," Irileth shushed him as she went over his wounds. "Can you walk?" 

"I can," Balgruuf said, pushing her away. "Worry about the gate first! Go!" 

For a moment, Irileth felt hurt that Balgruuf had pushed her away, but remembering they were still in battle, pushed that hurt away. "Yes my lord!" she affirmed as she stood up and searched the room. 

She didn't have to search far, seeing a great wheel in the middle that had a line of rope connecting it to somewhere. That had to be the mechanism to open the gate and let their forces in. And so, she ran to it and reached for the wooden handle.

With all her might, she pushed.

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A/N: And here's the complete chapter, finally.

So, what do ya'll think?