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female The Bee and Barb


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So for whatever reason I kept having this urge to write out an idea I've been having involving Skyrim, more specifically the city of Riften. As one could probably guess from the title, it's largely fo

Speaking of more Elder Scrolls content...                 Azhani woke up suddenly – there was a loud noise, but for some reason that wasn’t the concern at the moment. She sat up in bed and looked

Be careful when you wish for more Skyrim fanfiction, because you may just end up with... more Skyrim fanfiction. On second thought, don't be careful. Just keep wishing. Wish harder, even. --

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16 people following a series that updates this rarely is some serious dedication, I tell you what. Y'all're a great audience. I just wish more of you would comment.

 

                “I really don’t want to hear what Valen Dreth would have done.” The Dragonborn waved a piece of bacon across the counter. “I’m sure it’s something asinine like half of the other shit you say he did.”

                Romlyn Dreth held up a finger as he took a spoonful of oatmeal. “Ah, well,” he said when the spoon returned to the bowl. “How would you know if you won’t listen, eh?”

                “Sure, but, how about I tell you a story for once instead?” Bjorn tapped his free hand on the bar. “I’ve got all of Keerava’s records back here, I bet I can tell you the story of all the money you owe her.” He held another piece of bacon in his mouth momentarily and pulled out a small stack of books from his side of the bar. “Better yet, I could tell you the story of how all the money I owe her for food and board ended up on your tab instead.”

                “You wouldn’t.” Romlyn shot a dirty look across the bar and went back to eating.

                The Dragonborn just shrugged. “Nah, you’re right.” Flipping through one of the books, he continued. “Though, while I’ve got you here… Ah, here we are, ‘Motherfucking Romlyn Fucking Dreth’ – mm, she likes you, eh? Aaaaaand that’ll be two hund-“

                “YOU KNOW WHAT I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE A JOB.” Romlyn suddenly shot up and yelled extremely quickly. “I’m going to go do that now goodbye thank you such a shame you can’t tell me more about that debt right now…” He spoke as he backed away to the door, and kept talking even on his way out, but whatever he was saying trailed off into incomprehensible muttering by the time he was in the street.

                At the same time, Azhani came downstairs, just in time to see Romlyn run out the door. She made her way over to the counter, rubbing her eyes. “What was that about?”

                “Eh, just Romlyn Dreth things,” Bjorn said, dragging his plate to a more convenient location – which, of course, Azhani promptly sat directly in front of. “Looks like you slept well. Figure you’d be ready to try magic again today?”

                Azhani licked her hand and ran it through her hair, which she hadn’t yet bothered to braid like she normally would. “Maybe something that isn’t going to explode in my face every time I try it.”

                “Hey, that last one was almost not an explosion.” He took a sip of the drink he’d prepared himself, tried not to react to the bitterness, and went on speaking. “But, no, there’s plenty of other stuff for you to learn. Even other kinds of magic, but I’m pretty sure the only kind that can’t explode is the kind where you can accidentally summon a Daedroth that destroys the entire town instead.” He drank some more and stuffed some bacon into his mouth right after. “S’I’guess tha’s worse’n ‘splodin’.”

                “Uh yeah maybe let’s not do that.” Azhani grabbed herself a handful of bacon, then turned her attention to Bjorn’s drink. “What is that? Smells familiar.”

                Bjorn lifted his mug and shrugged. “What, this? I think it’s Argonian coffee or something. Way stronger than any of the stuff I’ve known to come out of southern Nibenay, anyways. I wonder how they can afford stuff like this.”

                Azhani simply put her elbow on the bar, held out her hand, and made a beckoning motion, and Bjorn slid the mug over to her. She picked it up, sniffed at it for a bit, then repeatedly dipped her tongue into it. “Okay, I don’t know what humans think coffee is but if you think this is strong, you clearly have never seen the real thing.” She handed the mug back to Bjorn, who set it aside. “It is a bit different than traditional Khajiiti stuff, though – I guess Argonians have different taste.”

                Bjorn leaned forward onto the bar, careful not to let his body touch the counter. “Weren’t you a kid when you left? I find it hard to believe a little girl would drink enough coffee to know quality, much less be able to tell the difference between stuff grown in Elsweyr and Black Marsh just by taste.”

                “Well, not when I lived in Anequina, no, but the Baandari would always have some, and they always brought it from home. And of course whenever I had any it would be theirs.” Azhani shrugged. “I never did get as attached to it as they did, though, because I never needed to stay awake like they do.”

                “And then drinking enough to stay awake would just cause more problems, eh?”

                Bjorn chuckled, and Azhani glared at him. “Don’t go there,” she said.

                “Heh. Sorry.”  The Dragonborn grimaced as he drank more of his coffee. “Gah. A-anyways, been meaning to ask… What’s up with the way you speak now? It’s, eh, more… human now, I guess.”

                “Hm? Oh, you mean the ‘this one’ thing? That’s… that’s a cultural thing. We don’t really… have the same kind of pronouns in Ta’agra as you do, so our «this one»-“ Azhani made quotes with her fingers, saying the phrase first in her native tongue then repeating it in Cyrodiilic. “- is… I guess you’d call it formal? For people you don’t know, or you need to impress. The rest is more personal, for friends.”

                “So, what, am I your friend now? I thought I you were still treating me like some crazy pervert.”

                “Hey, I never said you weren’t. But I mean, I did kind of watch you almost get yourself killed, so that builds trust a little bit, no?”

                “I guess so.” Bjorn leaned back as far as he could, reaching out behind him with his staff for more support. “And, uh, maybe not a good time to mention it but you… probably shouldn’t be leaning on the bar like that.”

                Azhani looked down without a word, then after a second straightened up, pulling her shirt collar up to her neck.

                “Though, I guess there’s not a whole lot to see there anyways…” The Dragonborn’s thoughts trailed off and turned into frantic stuttering as Azhani glared at him with a hand on her chest and a look on her face like he’d just killed her entire family. “Wait, no, I didn’t- that’s not- I meant- they- you don’t- but- the- ah, shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

                “Uh, yeah, you did.” Azhani sighed, then got up and started for the stairs. “Right, so, uh, I’m going to go… change into something better.”

                She wasn’t quite sure why she’d said that – she’d truly intended to wear what she’d come downstairs in, since she always wore an apron that would make it harder to tell she was wearing rags underneath. She couldn’t even remember if she had other clothes, since for most of her life even a second pair of pants would have been considered a luxury. Unfortunate, considering that same part of her life was when hauling around a second pair of pants would have made things significantly easier.

                Of course, if Azhani’s current living conditions were any indication of what would have happened had she had such a convenience, she wouldn’t have known what to do with extra pants. The first thing she saw on returning to her room, after all, was a variety of pieces of what few outfits she had strewn about the room essentially at random. The room had a dresser in it as a matter of course but considering she’d never had any reason to use one before, she’d just end up forgetting anything she left there and be right back at square one.

                Naturally, Azhani’s traditional rags joined the mess, ending up thrown in the general direction of the bed while the Khajiit seated herself on a stool facing a little mirror on the wall. While ostensibly there to get her hair in order, she couldn’t help but bring a hand to her chest, pushing up on her breasts one at a time and frowning at her reflection. Sure, Azhani had never needed to use support or anything, but they weren’t really that small. That’s what she’d keep telling herself anyways, even through the years where there were far more important things to worry about. Even so, for all her attempts to convince herself she didn’t care, it still kinda hurt to have someone joke about them.

                A joke in bad taste wasn’t about to kill her good mood, though. She had a job and a place to live, after all. And as she got up from the stool with her hair properly tied up, she found several pieces of a simple outfit she wouldn’t even have if not for Keerava’s generosity. With a very lenient definition of “generosity”, anyways, considering Keerava probably wouldn’t have even offered the arrangement if not for the fact that it was apparently very easy for her to get her kicks out of her Khajiiti tenant’s… misadventures, but it was better than nothing. Though, Azhani did feel a little strange knowing that her situation was, albeit indirectly, being used for someone else’s sexual pleasure again. At least she wasn’t expected to do anything in that regard anymore.

                And, really, she was barely expected to do anything to cover the actual business arrangement. Keerava and Talen normally covered all the necessary work well enough on their own, and even though they were away, Azhani would no doubt still be doing very little with the help of a legendary super-human like Bjorn, injured though he was. Assuming, of course, he didn’t decide to sit on the sidelines and let Azhani work constantly all day so that he could be entertained just the same as Keerava would be. With any luck he’d be smart enough to know better than to try that on someone with claws. A wet cat is a very dangerous thing indeed.

                He wouldn’t be getting that opportunity, unfortunately. Not today, anyways. After throwing on whatever it was she’d picked up off the floor, Azhani went back downstairs and up to the bar, where the Dragonborn was clearing dishes and wiping down counters. All with one arm, even, as the other was still occupied by the staff he was leaning into.

                “Hey,” she called out to him. “Would you be alright alone today?”

                Bjorn turned to look at her and shrugged. “Eh. Probably won’t be that hard, doesn’t seem like there’ll be much noise.” He put his staff in front of himself and leaned forward onto it, one foot slightly off the ground to make up for it. “Why, going somewhere?”

                “Just around town. Probably won’t get a chance when Keerava gets back.”

                “Yeah somehow I can’t imagine she’d want to let you out of her sight.” The Dragonborn coughed then went on. “Anyways, you’re not planning on going outside of town or anything, are you? Really shouldn’t do that without, like, a knife or something.”

                “No, wasn’t going to leave town. There some specific reason I shouldn’t or…?”   

                “What, other than the dragons? Just the usual bandits and wild animals. Normally I wouldn’t be too concerned about getting mugged but the Rift, eh… reminds me of Bravil. And you’re pretty much the ideal target for a bandit. A woman, unarmed, with a nice ass, in some shady backwater part of the country is a very easy mark.” Bjorn coughed again, moving his staff back to his side for proper support.

                “Wait, what was that after unarmed?”

                “Nothing.”

                “Uh huh.” Azhani raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue further. “Well, no, I’m not going to leave town, but I do have money-“ She tapped the pouch at her side, mostly to assure herself that she hadn’t forgotten her coinpurse again. “-so why not go out and see what people are selling?”

                Bjorn just nodded along and shrugged. “Yeah, alright, you have fun then. I should be fine here, nobody’s going to try anything when they see who’s in charge today. I might even be able to scare some of them into paying off what they owe.” He chuckled for just a moment, having stopped abruptly and put a hand across his chest. “Ah… They don’t need to know I still can’t Shout just yet.”

                “Don’t anger the dragon, right?” Azhani twitched her nose as if silently enjoying her own joke. “Eh, anyways, I should be back by sunset. If you scare all the customers away by then and Keerava blames me for it, I’m going to kill you.”

                “Sure, that sounds fair to me.” The Dragonborn gave a two-fingered salute with his free hand while Azhani just rolled her eyes and headed for the door. “I’ll be sure to only scare Romlyn away.”

                Azhani’s only response was a little wave as she left, and when the door closed behind her she took a moment to just stand there. She looked out at the little bit of town she could see from in front of the inn, admiring the sun’s early glow reflected in the canals and the lake, and feeling the crisp morning breeze run through her fur. It was going to be a good day. Or, Azhani hoped it would be. That other feeling that was just making itself known, though very faintly, wasn’t a concern. Must have just been the cold.

                Indeed it was, as the slight twinge had faded away entirely once Azhani stepped into a well-insulated store – a shoemaker’s shop, more specifically, as Skyrim’s ground was decidedly hostile to bare feet, especially sensitive Khajiiti pads. How did she ever get by before? At best she’d have her feet wrapped up in crude bandages for a modicum of protection. That may have worked in the sands and savannahs of Anequina but the rugged terrain of the far north meant she needed something better.

                There was the light tinkling of quaint little chimes overhead as Azhani entered, and she was immediately greeted by the man behind the counter before she’d even crossed the floor.

                “Mornin’, miss. What can I do for ya?” He wiped his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder, then crossed his arms.

                Azhani hesitantly approached the counter, looking back at her own feet and grabbing at the pouch on her belt to feel its weight. “Yeah, uh, this one needs… eh, unusual shoes. What would it take to have a pair made?”

                The shopkeeper leaned forward slightly and looked down at the floor, where one of Azhani’s feet was idly pawing at the ground. “Well, can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone like you before. Had a few Khajiit in, of course, but they were all… uh, normal. No offense.” He moved on when Azhani just shrugged at him. “Anyways, I’ve got no idea what it’d cost. How high up your leg you gonna need ‘em?”

                Azhani took a step back and turned slightly to give the shopkeeper a better view of her leg. “Half way to the knee, yes? So, right about here.” Then she bent over and indicated with her hand a space between her knee and her ankle, presumably because a human wouldn’t be able to tell one joint from the other.

                “Uh huh.” The cobbler stroked his chin for a while. “Hm, I suppose I could have it done in a few days, if you just stick around here for a little while so I can get proper measurements. Or, if it doesn’t get too busy – and it never does, people around here will hold onto their shoes ‘til they turn to dust – I could be done by closing tonight, but you’d have to stay here the whole time, and that’s a good… twelve hours. Probably would be cheaper for both of us that way since I could be more precise with how much stuff I’m using, but it’s up to you if sitting around here all day is worth it.”

                “Would it be alright if this one had measurements taken now, then she could come back later for all the rest?”

                “Sure,” was the response as the shopkeeper produced a tape measure and perhaps far more paper than necessary. “It’ll take an hour or two to figure out what in Oblivion I’m supposed to be doing anyways. Just, uh, sit down right over there-“ He gestured to a bench off to the side, and followed Azhani over to it as the Khajiit took a seat.

                Azhani shuffled around a bit while the shopkeeper did his work – he was being very professional, sure, but she was glad he wouldn’t be doing anything higher up all the same. Even given the limited area he was working with, though, she was still uncomfortable. She never let anyone touch her legs – only her sister, and only to wrap them for long journeys. Considering this man was most certainly not a Khajiiti lady, Azhani really would have preferred to not be in such a situation. It was a necessary evil.

                Thus she sat there in silence, and after far too many awkward minutes, she was able to get up and leave. She gave a curt nod to the shopkeeper, who said something in response that Azhani didn’t hear in her hurry to go do something else.

                It was still cold when Azhani stepped outside again, though the sun had risen to a more respectable height. The Khajiit looked around for a moment, bringing her arms and legs closer together for a little bit of warmth, and eventually decided on heading in the general direction of the important-looking buildings over by the city wall. There weren’t very many people out just yet, but Azhani still made sure to weave her way around the few that were in the streets, still using her old techniques for passing unnoticed through a crowd. Of course, given there was hardly a crowd at all to begin with, Azhani just ended up disorienting herself.

                She took a moment to figure out what she was looking at. Seemed like some sort of temple, or at the very least some incredibly rich person’s massive house. What a silly idea. Nobody in Riften could afford something like that. Except maybe the thieves, but Azhani knew from experience they wouldn’t flaunt their wealth like that. Plus there were banners outside that had what was probably a religious symbol on them, and these people didn’t exactly seem like they’d be that fanatical.

                Azhani shrugged to herself and headed towards the temple – no doubt she could learn something, and she’d never actually been inside a temple dedicated to the proper Imperial Divines before. Sure, there had been plenty of Khajiiti temples with shrines to similar gods in her youth, but they were always overshadowed by the Moons. Humans didn’t seem to be all that big on ritual either, she realized upon entering, as there didn’t seem to be much of note inside the temple other than a massive statue to some god and a lot of benches. She could remember the occasional sermon by the Moon Priests, but nothing was ever so formal as this – seemed like the entire purpose of these temples was to come in, sit down, and listen to someone talk for a few hours. Silly human traditions. Sad, too, because Azhani knew that humans would get utterly wasted on moon sugar, so they’d never get to experience its proper spiritual – and delicious – effects.

                She was shaken from her thoughts by a voice – a Redguard in simple robes was talking to her. “Help you with anything?”

                “Uh, yeah, actually. Two things. First, is there any kind of magic you could teach someone?”

                “You want to learn magic?” The priest gave her a weird look for a second. “Uh, well, I couldn’t tell you any better than the absolute basics. And aren’t you the Dragonborn’s friend? He’s probably your best bet for miles.”

                “Yeah, that’s what this one thought.” Azhani shook her head. “And, uh, you can explain the gods here, yes?”

                “Of course, that’s my job.” The priest turned to sit on one of the benches, no doubt preparing some immense speech. “Well, first off I don’t know much about Nordic tradition – I mostly know the Imperial pantheon. ‘Course, they’ve still got the Eight up here. Or, I guess pretty soon it’ll be the Nine again won’t it?” The priest was thinking with his hands, pointing in various directions at absolutely nothing. “Anyways, everyone’s got the same basic Eight, I’m sure you know them under slightly different names.” He threw up his hands for a bit. “Now, I’m not going to pretend I know anything about how religion in Elsweyr works so I won’t even try to tell you how your names for gods translate to the Imperial names, but they’re the same gods in the end. Discounting, of course, all the extra ones beyond the Eight that your people have.” The priest started stroking his chin, ignoring Azhani’s glare – he was right to assume she was raised on the old pantheon of course, but that was still mildly racist. Plenty of Khajiit were being brought up on Auri-El instead of Alkosh, after all. “Anyways, the Nords have the Eight, and Talos, then… well, there’s Alduin, as much as I’m sure we’d all prefer that he weren’t a god. Then there’s Shor. I’m not exactly sure what he is, but I think he’s supposed to be some heroic warrior-god who fought for humanity. Far as I know they say he’s dead now.” Azhani shuffled around a little bit. She recognized the concept of a dead god – a Missing God back home – but she was always taught that he was an evil trickster. “There are Tsun and Stuhn, but I think they’re just versions of some of the Eight. Then there’s also Herma-Mora and Orkey. Orkey’s a villain like Alduin, I think. You’d have to ask someone more knowledgeable about him. I know Herma-Mora is just the Daedra Lord, I’m sure you’ve at least heard of him.”

                “Is that it? What about Azurah, or Y’ffer?”

                The priest raised an eyebrow at Azhani. “I don’t know anything about Y’ffer. I would assume it’s the same thing as Y’ffre, like the wood elves have. Empire doesn’t have a version of him, I don’t think. And, well, Azura’s a Daedra.” He crossed his arms. “Elsewhere in th- er, in the Empire, Daedra worship is… eh, it’s around, but to say it’s frowned upon is a bit of an understatement.” Then he hastily added, “Not that anyone would judge you for it, of course, as long as you keep everything clean. Uh, Azura’s normally considered one of the more acceptable ones anyways.”

                Azhani crossed her arms. “Uh huh. Oh, and, uh, one more thing. Where could this one get something to help keep track of what month it is?”

                “I suppose any bookstore would sell you a calendar.” The priest shrugged. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised that wasn’t obvious. But then, plenty of people think star charts are obvious.”

                “Our ‘months’ go by what phase the moons are in.” This guy was either incredibly socially inept or a closeted racist – sure he’d tried to save face, but still. Azhani wouldn’t have been surprised if it were the latter, considering Skyrim’s general isolation from anything not human. “We don’t really have names for any of those time periods beyond just describing what the moons look like.”

                “Fair enough. If that’s all, I’m going to get back to work. You’re more than welcome to come back if you like, even if it’s just to be somewhere quiet for a while.” He stood up and waved, and Azhani gave an awkward little wave in return as she left.

                A while later, perhaps a couple of hours, Azhani found herself wandering back to the shoe store. She’d found a place selling calendars and picked one up, but almost immediately regretted making the purchase once she realized not knowing what month or day it even was to begin with meant the whole thing was useless. Perhaps she’d have to ask Bjorn about it, since it would be useful being able to keep track of time like a human. It’d also help if she could track the passage of hours in a way that didn’t rely on her fluid intake – she’d be fine for a while yet, since she’d only just dealt with her annoying internal clock by finding a quiet place behind the temple, but she’d feel a lot better if her body sending warning signals wasn’t the only way to know that six hours had passed.

                At least for right now it was a good enough system – she’d be in one place for who-knows-how-long, probably expected to either not leave or not go far, so it was good that she’d be going into it fresh. In any case, upon entering the store she went silently to the same bench she’d been seated at that morning. The shopkeeper took notice soon enough and approached with what was perhaps far too much leather and a good deal of peculiar tools – doubtless everyday objects to him, but aside from a few needles, knives, and shears, Azhani recognized nothing. Measuring tools, perhaps.

                The shopkeeper tried to engage in conversation while he worked, but Azhani either ignored him or gave the absolute minimum responses, so he eventually stopped talking. It was weird enough having someone working with her feet, she really didn’t need them to talk to her too.

                She was too tired for a conversation anyways. She couldn’t tell if that was because she’d been out since morning, or because she still hadn’t gotten used to getting proper amounts of sleep and her body was trying to force her to make up for ten restless years. Perhaps both.

                It didn’t really matter why anyways. As uncomfortable as the situation was, Azhani still found herself drifting off to the sounds of shears working leather, only to be suddenly awoken by something poking her shoulder. It felt like no time had passed at all, but her slurred response and the lack of other noise proved it had been a few hours.

                «UhrrrNari? What are you doing…?» She couldn’t even remember any dreams, but clearly she had been pulled out of one, and it took her a while to readjust to the real world. And then she almost jumped off the bench before remembering where she was and why. Then she was awake enough to register that she wasn’t alone, and she was pretty sure she’d just said something. Something this man would have heard.

                “You, uh, you heard that didn’t you?”

                The shopkeeper nodded, having returned behind his counter after presumably prodding Azhani to awaken her. “Yeah, you’ve been talking in your sleep for a few hours. It all just kinda sounded like cat noises to me though. No offense.” He looked over at Azhani only briefly, now intently focused on his work, trying and failing to get a sole properly nailed to the shoes he’d made. “Didn’t really want to wake you anyways, but I’m almost done here…” He managed to get one of the shoes at the perfect angle and everything fell into place, but he still had to figure out the puzzle of the other one. “And, y’know, I’d quite like to get paid.”

                Azhani rolled her eyes and stretched. “Mmm. Of course you would. How much?” She stood up and headed for the counter, a hand reaching for the pouch on her belt, though her weight having shifted meant something deep within her body was calling out to her. As if she needed any more evidence that she’d been there for several hours already.

                “Let’s say… sixty-five, for the pair?” The shopkeeper seemed to be bending in impossible directions to get the second shoe to assemble properly.

                “Sixty-five, you say?” Azhani looked through her coinpurse for a little while, subtly pressing her legs together, then just dropped the entire purse onto the counter. “This one has fifty.”

                “Eh, fifty works too.” There was a shrug from behind the counter as the last shoe come together, then the pair was dropped onto the counter next to Azhani’s coinpurse. “There. If those don’t fit, then someone came in and used magic on them, because I made them perfect. Or, as close to as I can get for a first time with that shape.”

                Azhani grabbed her new shoes from the counter and held them out in front of her. They looked almost like those weird high-heeled contraptions she’d seen on the rich elves and nobles in the Imperial City. “Pompous bitch” was the best way she was able to describe that sort of person in her youth and as far as she was concerned it was still the best way to describe what her shoes reminded her of. It was a reasonable comparison, of course. Seemed like the point of those monstrosities was to have a woman walk mainly on her toes and have the rest of her foot supported by a spike. Azhani always thought it was humorous that they’d want to emulate her walk, couldn’t even do that right, then would go on for hours about how the Khajiiti beggar in the corner had done everything in life wrong.

                Now here was Azhani with shoes made specifically for someone who already did walk on her toes. And these were simple and functional, not some ostentatious mess built purely for the sake of whatever the current year’s Imperial fashion was to be. No, these shoes merely had simple laces up the sides, steel caps over the toes, and were made of good thick leather. They’d do exactly what she needed them to.

                They fit well enough, too, which was to be expected of something that necessitated sitting around for who-knows-how-long. Of course, a high-quality product was not the only result of that time spent, and bending down to put them on made sure Azhani was well aware of that. She gave a little nod to the shopkeeper before leaving, taking a moment to look around right outside the shop’s door. It was quite a bit warmer than it had been earlier, and it seemed like it’d be sunset soon – still bright and warm, but people filled the streets and their shadows were getting longer. Very good for Azhani, as there were still some places she’d been meaning to see and she had every intention of returning to the inn by sunset as promised. That, and she had to deal with her own personal problems, and if she went back to the inn to do that she wouldn’t want to leave again.

                Azhani’s current plan, then, consisted of wandering around in the general direction of the places she’d been meaning to visit and keeping an eye out for quiet, isolated alleys or some other such place. That was a bit of a skill of hers, as much as she’d rather not call it one. Years living on the streets had taught her how to identify from miles away quiet places wherein she could do her business in peace.

                As it turned out, those skills weren’t very applicable in Riften. Now that people were actually out doing things, there was a considerable lack of quiet space in town. It seemed as if the back alleys in Riften were all designed for criminal undertakings – which, come to think of it, wouldn’t be very surprising for the home of the Thieves Guild.

                On that note, perhaps the original idea wasn’t exactly ideal either. The flaws in a plan that consisted of hiding out in a confined space with one exit while being very much exposed were quite obvious. No, perhaps the best option would be to leave town. Only a little bit, enough to find some bush or something. And so she found her feet carrying her to the nearest exit, the south gate. Every so often she’d look over her shoulder, the sound of her own footsteps on the cobbled roads so completely foreign that she was sure someone was following her.

                That wouldn’t have been all that much of a problem if not for the fact that the possibility of being followed – even if she’d repeatedly confirmed that was not actually the case – would very much throw off her plans. And, if she was honest with herself, it was making her condition worse, her need increasing by mere virtue of the possibility that she would be denied.

                It would be alright if she could just get out of town, though, she’d keep telling herself. That was all she needed to do. Didn’t need to go far. She could probably even find a nice spot against the city wall if she really wanted to.

                The closer she got to the city gate, though, the more Azhani thought the world had found yet another way to make one of her plans go completely wrong. The guards looked to be acting a little strange from a distance, but at first she’d just figured they’d been standing there all day. In their shaking she saw a bit of herself.

                Alas, it wouldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t be, because the world seemed to love messing with Azhani. It turned out the guards each had a hand on their swords, and were looking at each other and back out down the road. One of them jumped when Azhani came up from behind, but then immediately resumed looking at whatever had frightened them so.

                Azhani needed only look around the guard to see what the problem was. A little way down the road, there was what seemed to be a large snake stretched out, twitching slightly ever so often. Looking just to the right, towards the river, revealed that it was actually the tail of something much worse.

                Oh, sure, the dragon wasn’t doing anything – seemed to just be drinking – and it wasn’t all that large, for a dragon, but it was still there. Right next to a town. It had to have some reason to have been there specifically, and whatever that reason was it couldn’t be good.

                They were only a minimal concern, but it wasn’t good for Azhani’s pants either. The little warm patch that had just appeared didn’t bode well, especially since both of Azhani’s plans were now out the window, and there was little chance she’d be able to get back to the inn on time – not that she’d want to show up there in her present state anyways. No doubt the Dragonborn would have devised some way to complicate things for her.

                No, that wasn’t an option. But perhaps she still had a chance of sneaking out of town and into the woods, where hopefully the dragon wouldn’t see her? Well, the dragon itself defeated that plan fairly quickly. Still it wasn’t doing much, all it had done was stretch its wings and look over to the city gate, but even so, it knew Azhani was there, and it meant there was no way for her to leave town now.

                So she did the only thing she knew she could do and ran off, plowing through more than a few people who had gathered to see what was happening. Azhani wasn’t sure where she was going, but she now had the strangest feeling that whatever could happen to her inside the city walls was much better than what the dragon could do. She found herself rounding a corner into the one alley she’d seen that didn’t have anyone in it, and pressed her back against one of the walls. The warmth had replenished itself and spread, and it seemed to only be getting warmer.

                Naturally, that just sent Azhani into even more of a panic, and she started trying to claw her way out of the belt she’d been wearing while the wall she was leaning on grew darker. She eventually managed to get it undone, but by then it was too late for her and she slid down to the ground. The only effort on her part was to move her legs to make sure her new shoes would be spared from the flood she’d surrendered herself to. It was actually a bit of a disappointing flood, especially considering Azhani now just wanted it to be over as soon as possible – she was still in panic mode, heart racing and breathing fast and shallow, so the best she could do was a weak, slow stream that warmed her own rear more than it stained the ground.

                Azhani could only sit there for the several minutes it would take to finish, occasionally pawing at herself as if she still had some hope of stopping. Only a trickle made its way through the fabric of her pants and out onto the street, so the puddle was mediocre and nowhere near a threat to her shoes, so her legs came closer to the rest of her body until she could grab at her knees. Her head was tipped upwards, resting against the wall and watching the light fade from the sky. Only now did she realize what had been happening earlier and why the wall was warmer than anything outside in Skyrim had any right to be, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that anymore.

                When she finally finished and stood up, her pants nearly pulled themselves off with the weight of her waters, but she kept a hold on them and was subjected to another minute of waiting for them to stop dripping. That managed to create streams down her legs, finally allowing her to experience a sensation she never imagined she’d be able to experience nor did she ever want to. And these were brand-new shoes, too.

                Eventually Azhani decided she’d been dripping long enough to be able to get moving, so she headed immediately for the inn – sure, she’d had plans, but there was no way she was going to get to them now. She walked as quickly as she could while also being careful enough to not get too much of the sensation of urine against her feet. As it turned out, that wasn’t actually all that quick, so Azhani felt another wave of relief as she pressed up against the inn door, finally home and just working herself up to actually getting inside. The inn was about as empty as it was in the morning, except for a few regulars at the bar who didn’t acknowledge Azhani’s presence when she did get herself inside.

                Bjorn did give her a look, though, and he opened his mouth to make some comment, but was quickly silenced by a hiss as Azhani went upstairs.

 

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  • 2 months later...

Let me just ignore how late this is.

 

                “Anyways , it’s not terribly complicated. Just gotta remember what day it is, is all. Might help to mark off days that already passed, so you don’t think it’s last week, y’know?”

                “Right, but I still do not understand why it has nothing to do with the moons.” Azhani had brought her new calendar to the Dragonborn so he could explain it to her – she learned quickly enough, and was now working on a cup of tea and waiting for people to show up. It was her turn to do all the work after her little adventure the day before, so she really needed to wake up as much as possible.

                “Yeah, beats me.” Bjorn shrugged and took a bite out of whatever monstrous sandwich he’d prepared himself. “Must be some Alessian or Ayleid thing. I ‘unno. Kinda weird, ‘specially since Sun’s Dawn has like two fewer days than normal for no reason at all.” He paused for a moment and briefly looked off into the distance. “Though, now that I think about it, that sort of nonsense does seem like some shit elves would pull… Must be Ayleid.”

                Azhani’s nose twitched in amusement. “Yes, that’s flawless reasoning there.” She looked down into her cup, now half-empty. Seemed like just two seconds ago it was full. However that all disappeared, it was delicious, and Azhani needed more, so she held out her hand and shook the cup. “Hm?”

                Bjorn grabbed the pitcher they’d been drinking from, but stopped and raised an eyebrow just before bringing it over. “You sure ‘bout that? I mean, with all the…” He gestured in the Khajiit’s direction and made a vague sound.

                Her response was to flatten her ears and growl at him. “Do not mention that.”

                The Dragonborn threw up his free hand and said, “Alright, alright. But, uh… what specific incident is it that we’re not talking ab-“ He cut himself off when he noticed Azhani extending her claws. “Uh, okay, yeah, all of them, alright, sure. Here you go.”

                Azhani perked up instantly when her tea was refilled, and she gave an exaggerated purr. “Thank you, Dragonborn.”

                “Uh-huh.” Bjorn leaned forward on the counter just enough to be at Azhani’s eye level. “Man, this is all wrong. I’m a dragon, I shouldn’t be afraid of some cat, eh?” He let his last few words trail off into a chuckle.

                “Cats have claws, Bjorn.” Azhani tipped her head a little to the side, tripping up on the unfamiliar pronunciation of his name. “Can’t be a dragon with no throat to Shout with.”

                “Oh, hey, you know, funny thing about that is that, uh…“ His attention was drawn away from the conversation when the inn’s doors opened. “Uh, hey, take over, will you?” He didn’t wait for a response before running off to greet his returning housecarl.

                Azhani shrugged and looked over to the door, giving a little wave to Lydia and watching as the Dragonborn directed her to a table. Then she hopped over the counter and planted herself in the stool that would have usually been occupied by Keerava. She watched in silence, sipping at her tea while the two Nords had what looked to be a fairly energetic conversation. They were audible enough with how close they were to the bar, but Azhani wasn’t terribly interested, instead focusing on her tea and some of the things she’d brought down with her – her calendar and another book by Quill-Weave, once again borrowed from the Dragonborn.

                After a few minutes of absentminded calendar-flipping and half-hearted reading, Bjorn got her attention again, speaking right to her. When Azhani looked over at him, he and Lydia had both stood up, Lydia headed for the stairs. “Hey, we’ve got, uh, some stuff to do today,” the Dragonborn said. “So you’re gonna be on your own all day. That gonna be alright?”

                Azhani nodded and turned back to her book with a weak thumbs-up from the hand carrying her tea. She could hear the sound of his heavy feet taking the stairs, then several minutes later two sets of feet came down and over to the door. The Khajiit looked over and waved at them, the Dragonborn giving his typical half-assed salute in response– though now it looked out-of-place, as he was dressed in the same robes he’d worn at the summit at High Hrothgar, and Lydia was wearing formals of her own.

                “You know you are going to be robbed wearing clothes like that, yes?” She couldn’t help it – she knew more than enough about that sort of lifestyle to tell that wearing fancy clothes in Riften meant you were either Maven Black-Briar or a mark. Considering Bjorn and his housecarl were definitely not Maven Black-Briar…

                “Eh, if I were anyone else, yeah, I probably would. But nobody’s gonna fuck with the Dragonborn. See you later.” He gave another one of those salutes and followed Lydia outside. When the door closed, Azhani shrugged and turned back to her book, taking another sip of her tea as she did.

                It must have been an hour or two before anyone started coming in, and for the most part Azhani didn’t have to pay much attention to them. Reach under the counter, grab a bottle, hand it over, get back to reading. Nobody had ordered any food, so aside from brewing more tea for herself there wasn’t anything all that complicated to do – for some reason people didn’t seem to be very interested in having someone covered in fur cook for them.

                Nothing complicated until some very oddly-dressed men came in, anyways. A group of four had found their way into the inn and grabbed seats together at the bar, attracting Azhani’s attention just with how they looked. Their apparent leader – or at least, the first among them to take his seat – was mostly wearing the chitinous armor the Dunmer had made a tradition of, and the other three had bits of leather and steel. What was peculiar about him and his friends, though, was that they were all wearing various bits and pieces of Dwarven make, clearly worked on and polished up after they’d been collected. The leader wore the most of this old brass gear; his whole right arm was covered in Dwarven armor, he had a brass plate serving as a collar that attached to a piece for his left shoulder, and if his armor continued under his little kilt, his legs were covered in brass as well.

                Three of the men had taken off their helmets; only their leader kept his, and it would have matched with the traditional style of what the Dunmer called “bonemold”, if not for the fact that the bottom of the helmet had been cut off so that the leader’s mouth was exposed. That blue chin of his was the only indication of the leader’s race while he remained silent – his companions included a Redguard, another Dunmer, and some lighter human that Azhani wasn’t sure of.

                The lead Dunmer only spoke when his friends had settled down, and when he did speak his voice was deep, rough even for a Dunmer, and tinted with age. “Muthsera,” he started with a bow of his head, “you wouldn’t happen to have flin, would you?”

                Azhani took a moment to process the appearance of these adventurers, speaking quickly once she realized she had to answer a question. “Oh, uh, sorry, yes, somewhere around here, yes.” Then she got up, turned around, and went to looking through shelves while the faceless Dunmer called out to her again.

                “Two of those then, and two of whatever beer you have, please, sera.”

                “Anything?” Azhani paused for a moment and looked over at the adventurer, who nodded silently. “Yes, just a minute.”

                It took a little bit of rummaging to find Talen’s stash of foreign liquors – Azhani didn’t recognize half of them, and only even managed to find flin because she happened to recognize the Daedric F on the label. She grabbed a bottle of that and a pair of tall glasses, handing both off to the lead explorer, then reached under the counter for a bottle of whatever – smelled like beer, so good enough – and some mugs. The leader distributed the drinks and the adventurers gave a toast, then started talking amongst themselves.

                Except the leader. The leader, drink in hand, was ignoring his friends in favor of the Khajiiti barmaid.

                “So,” he said. “Been hearing a lot about the Dragonborn since I got to Skyrim. Know anything about that, sera?”

                “Hmmn?” Azhani looked over at him and nearly choked on her tea – she wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her about something other than drinks, and she’d just settled down again to relax in relative quiet. “Aahn, sorry. Um, the Dragonborn, you said? Yes, he actually lives here.”

                The adventurer’s helmet hid his expression, but his voice indicated his shock just as well. “Wha-? Th- the- what? The Dragonborn? Lives here?”

                The Khajiit gave a little nod. “Yes, for the last maybe, two, three months, perhaps? He is busy today, though. This one thinks he will be very busy for a while after today, too.”

                “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

                “For the past couple of weeks he was recovering from a fight with… what, Alduin? He is just waiting until he is healthy enough to fight Alduin again, and that is probably soon.”

                “I see.” The Dunmer put his free arm up on the counter and rested his head in his hand. “I was hoping to meet him, actually, but that’ll have to wait, it seems. Wouldn’t want to delay a Hero any longer than necessary, after all.”

                Azhani’s head found its way to a slight angle. “You could stay here until he has time, if you can afford it. Plenty of rooms open.”

                “Oh, no, it’s fine, I was- well, we were just passing through, never planned on staying. My friend here-“ The adventurer grabbed the shoulder of the Redguard next to him. “-suggested we stop in for a drink, but we’re heading right back out afterwards.”

                “Mhm.” Azhani made some vaguely-affirmative noise through a mouthful of tea from the cup she’d just refilled. “So, you are adventurers, yes? Going anywhere good?”

                “Adventurer is… yeah, sure, you could say that. The Breton over there is more of a tomb raider than anything, but yeah. I’m actually on my way out to the shrine to Azura over in Haafingar, for right now. No idea how far these guys are going to follow, but that’s where I’m headed.”

                The Khajiit shrugged while the adventurer topped off his own drink. “Azurah is as good a reason as any to go that far.”

                “Yeah, she’s… she’s pretty important to the Khajiit religion, isn’t she?” Azhani nodded, and the adventurer continued. “Quite important to me, too, though I admit I haven’t been acting like it. Hopefully, if I go to her shrine, she’ll see I’m still here, still dedicated to her. And hopefully she’ll share just a little bit of her wisdom.”

                Azhani shuffled around a bit in her seat and looked into the pitcher of tea. Empty. “Then good luck with that. This one has not known Azurah to talk to people very often.”

                The other, younger dark elf chimed in at this point. “Some of the Daedra are more than happy to speak to the Dunmer, especially once we nixed the Tribunal.” He finished off his own drink and looked over to the more heavily-armored one. “Anyways, about time we head out again, isn’t it?”

                The leader looked back at him. “Yes, we should be going. You guys set?” The two humans with him broke away from their own conversation and nodded at him, then the group stood and replaced their helmets while the leader slid a handful of coins across the counter. It was far too much for the little they’d bought, and Azhani was about to mention it when the lead adventurer addressed it himself. “I trust that’ll cover everything, and a little something for yourself, right?” He stood up himself and bowed his head, then turned to lead the other three out. “Thank you, sera.”

                “Uh, no problem…” Azhani pawed through the money she’d been given while the adventurers made their way outside. Most of the coins seemed to be fairly old, and the images on them were different from what Azhani had seen throughout the Empire. The head-side had a picture of some elf instead of the Emperor, and the tail-side had replaced the Imperial Dragon with a depiction of Azurah’s Star. “Money is still money,” she muttered, sliding the coins into a little box under the counter.

                With nobody else at the bar, Azhani got up with a sigh and went to grab a broom. With it, she headed into the dining area and went about cleaning up after the few people who had come in and taken seats at proper tables, still not ordering anything that needed to be cooked. Fortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot to get at – on top of the fact that everyone seemed to have a craving for bread and cheese today, either the regular clientele knew not to screw around with the Argonians, or they’d come to fear the Dragonborn and what he’d do if they didn’t leave the place in good shape. Whatever the reason, those still present started to hurry up once they noticed Azhani’s approach, and the few other tables that showed any signs of sentient activity were largely only marked by plates and bowls and a handful of gold.

                Azhani first went around and collected all the payment that had been left behind, dropping it all into the large pocket of her apron. Then all the dishes were piled up onto an unoccupied table, and she got to work on the floors – which really amounted to absentmindedly pushing the broom around and waiting for something to happen, as there wasn’t a whole lot to clean up other than dust from overnight, and when the last few patrons who’d decided to take tables cleared out, they hardly even left crumbs behind.

                That left Azhani alone in the bar with only her thoughts for company, at least until lunchtime proper came around. Of course, her thoughts right now weren’t the best friends – with no distractions, she found herself ever so slightly pressing her legs together and mentally berating herself: ‘That was a lot of tea, dumbass, of course this was going to happen’, and other such lovely mental notes.

                Rude though her mind may have been, it was right. She should have known better. Things were going to get very bad very quickly, and it was her damn fault. Azhani groaned, speaking a drawn-out swear in Ta’agra. It wasn’t too bad yet, at least, but just knowing she couldn’t do anything about it was already making it worse.

                Theoretically she could run upstairs, take care of herself, and be back down in five minutes or less, but both Keerava and the Dragonborn had put their trust in her to run the inn like a professional. And a professional wouldn’t run off and leave the bar unattended just because she had to take a leak. On the other hand, the place was totally empty, and there was very little chance of anyone save for the handful of regulars showing up, so odds were good she’d have plenty of time to sneak off. But what if someone did come in? She didn’t want to be responsible for turning away customers that thought the place was closed; or worse, her absence from behind the counter could very well mean anyone who came in would steal drinks or money and be out before Azhani knew they were even there.

                So, realistically, she had no options. She could only hope Bjorn would return in time – and for all she knew he and Lydia had already finished whatever they’d gone out to do, and the Dragonborn was just stalling for time because he wanted a nice show when he got back. The more she thought about that, the more it made sense, but he wouldn’t really do that, would he?

                Sure, he’s an insufferable pervert,’ she thought, ‘but he’s not really a bad guy. He’ll be back and everything will be fine, I’m sure … I hope.

                For now, she needed a distraction, and she’d quite fortunately brought one with her. Taking her seat behind the bar, she picked up her book and flipped through it to find where she’d left off, pausing just for a moment on the very first page. This book, like the one she’d read on the way to and from the war meeting, was also apparently from the nascent Fourth Era – dedicated again to “K M”, with no other indication, as the Dragonborn said to expect.

                It still made just as much sense as it did last time – none – so Azhani quickly moved on to where she was, shuffling around a bit to forget why she needed the distraction, eventually getting comfortable enough to lose track of time…

                … until people started to come in and order drinks, meaning she had to pay attention to liquids again. For the most part it was a fairly easy task of simply handing out bottles and mugs, and glaring at Romlyn Dreth to silence him for once, but even so, the sounds of people pouring their own drinks from the bottles she’d given them weren’t doing her any favors. Azhani crossed her legs and draped her tail over her lap, hoping nobody would think anything of it while she tried to focus at least a little bit on her book. She was still well aware of the peculiar looks she was getting from people who came up to the bar, but it was more likely that they weren’t expecting a Khajiit to be serving them drinks – and not at all related to the fact that Azhani could just barely keep still, subconsciously and constantly jiggling one leg or twitching her tail.

                Couldn’t be that much longer. By now her book was essentially just a request not to talk to her – she’d been on the same page for who-knows-how-long, and it was obvious that she wasn’t even looking at it, focusing instead on the door and the people coming in and out.

                More accurately, on the occasional person. This was the Bee and Barb, after all. It was one of the better establishments in town, but that wasn’t saying much, and it still wasn’t terribly popular. But that didn’t much matter. Azhani wasn’t looking for customers; they’d just walk up to her anyways, and she’d tune in just enough to hear what they wanted, then try to tune back out again to save herself from the sounds. If she did everything right, she wouldn’t have to pay attention to them at that point, and she really didn’t want them to pay attention to her either. She’d managed to get her leg under control and stop it from bouncing, but her tail and ears were still twitching, ideally in a way that looked normal.

                Azhani had no idea how much time had passed by the time she finally tore her eyes away from the door. Staring at it wouldn’t do her any favors – though she’d definitely keep her ears focused on it. Instead, she lowered her eyes to her seat, pretending like she’d gone back to reading. The Khajiit’s lower belly was visibly rounded and she didn’t dare touch it, for if she was full enough to get her tiny frame to bulge then she was also full enough to lose it if that delicate system were to be disturbed. In theory, anyways, considering in reality her body wouldn’t allow her to release her waters somewhere she might be seen. For a moment she glanced over her shoulder at the little patch of floor that opened up to lead far below the ground to the dungeon under the basement, looking away again almost immediately. It was tempting, sure, but disappearing like that would be incredibly conspicuous, and that would be just as bad as being in public.

                So she just looked at her legs. They were locked together, constantly rubbing against each other, but if Azhani wanted to do more to help the pressure, that had to stop for a moment. She promised herself it would only be for a second, summoning with a quiet growl the strength to hold her legs still and spread them ever so slightly apart. Then she gingerly raised herself up off the barstool just far enough to fold her tail beneath her and pull it up between her legs, immediately dropping back to her seat and snapping her legs together again as soon as that was done. At any other time, Azhani would certainly have been bothered by the pain of her whole body weight resting on such a delicate instrument, but given her situation it was the more tolerable alternative.

                Azhani then slowly brought a hand down to grab her tail once she was sure nobody was paying attention, carefully pulling on it so that it could apply a little more pressure for just a little while – she’d have to let go eventually and dedicate both hands to her job, but what little her tail was doing for her made her feel a lot better. And of course it didn’t seem like even remotely long enough when she had to release her grip as someone she vaguely recognized as a regular ordered a new drink.

                Just her luck that it was something that wasn’t kept under the counter, so she’d need to go stand up to get. There was no way she’d be able to stand straight in her current condition – in fact, if not for the fact that she was in public, she was certain that she’d explode as soon as she got up – and she wouldn’t be able to move as slowly as she’d need to, but she had to try anyways. Once again she pried her legs apart and forced herself to her feet, leaning forward with her hands on the counter as the change of position caused a great surge of need to assault her, though only for a moment.

                When it passed, Azhani’s tail flew back to its normal position and she turned around as casually as possible, taking weak strides that would have looked like a human trying to emulate the way she walked normally – a comparison she’d only even been made aware of when her sister had teased her for her posture on their way through town after a long day out together, as if she hadn’t been waddling along herself. But why was she thinking about that? She really hoped the Dragonborn would get back soon; it was no good if she was desperate enough for it to mess with her head. At least she was still clear enough to know what she was looking for and where to find it.

                More excellent fortune for her that this particular drink was found in one of the lower cabinets. As sure as she was that her body wouldn’t let her break just yet, she really would have preferred not to tempt fate, but alas. It was the only way, so she forced herself into a squat as she pawed through the various bottles and tools in the cabinet to find what she needed. And though she tried to stay composed, her legs shook constantly again and her tail was absolutely furious. What Azhani really needed wasn’t in this cabinet, but right now she had to take things one step at a time. Get the booze and stand up again. She had to rid herself of that horrible feeling that her ocean of what once was tea was right on the border between in her body and in her pants, and for as long as she was in a squatting position her body would be trying to tell her that it was time to let loose.

                Perhaps the only real bit of good luck for Azhani was that it didn’t take long to locate the requested drink, and as soon as it was in hand she worked her way back up to a standing position, knocking the cabinet doors closed with a foot once she’d composed herself. Then she walked back to the bar with that same silly stride as before, setting the bottle down on the counter and leaning against it with one hand. The other pulled out a glass from one of the shelves below, and when that joined the bottle she was tempted to let that hand help out between her legs.

                But, no, this was one of those drinks where it was for whatever reason universally considered good form to never under any circumstances allow the guest to pour for themselves. Azhani didn’t really have much of a choice but to tear open the bottle in what was absolutely the incorrect manner, then subject herself to the deepest and foulest realm of Oblivion: pouring something into something else. Realm of the Daedric Prince of full bladders, of course. Sangiin, perhaps?

                Azhani tried very hard to not listen to what she was doing, but had to force herself to look directly at it to ensure it was done right. It was really only a few seconds she was standing there with her legs knotted and ears conspicuously flattened, and Azhani knew that, but refused to accept that it was anything short of an eternity before she got to slide the glass over. Her tail went right back between her legs as she prepared to sit down again, but she was distracted by the door opening.

                In came a very large, very loud man with his arms around a rather mundane-looking Nord lady. The man released his partner and waved her off in the direction of the stairs before quickly approaching the bar.

                The Dragonborn spoke quickly, starting to back away almost as soon as he came close enough for Azhani to hear. “Hey, do you think you’d be alright for another hour or two?”

                “Uh…” Technically, she’d be able to last until she broke something. She wasn’t near that point yet, so, sure, she could take another two hours. “Ah, well, I think s-”

                “Great, I’ll try not to take too long.” He didn’t let her finish his statement and was already headed to the stairs when she tried to respond.

                “W-wait, but I-“ But he was already gone, so Azhani just trailed off and muttered the rest to herself. “But I have to… nnn…” She straightened up and had her hands in tight fists at her sides. Her legs were inseparable and shaking as always while her tail was forced to keep down. People were looking at her, that much was certain, but perhaps they were merely brief looks of concern before they went back to their business. No doubt these people had seen Keerava in similar situations millions of times, no reason to act like this was any different. Staring wouldn’t accomplish anything anyways, and there was nothing any of them could do to help. Well, aside from all of them instantly leaving the bar so Azhani could run upstairs – or more likely to one of those washtubs in the kitchen area, at the rate things were going. And they just looked more and more appealing as time went on…

                When the present wave of desperation passed, Azhani threw herself into her seat again, back in that same position as before, legs locked together with her tail firmly between them. Nothing she could do now, and now she’d definitely attracted the attention of at least everyone at the bar proper. Preferring very much to not deal with whatever they’d say or think of her, she grabbed her book again to at least pretend to be distracted. At this point it wasn’t likely that distractions would even work anyways. The only thing she could think of was how badly she needed to pee and how she’d just missed her opportunity to deal with it. All she had to do was say “No”, just say she wouldn’t be able to wait, and she’d be upstairs by now. But then that wasn’t true, and even with the state she was in she couldn’t bring herself to lie to someone she tentatively considered something resembling a friend. It was likely only late afternoon, so Azhani was sure she’d waited much longer in the past – like that one instance in that one province with the big white tower that she didn’t want to think about – so there was no doubt that she could wait this time too.

                But of course, just because she could didn’t mean she should. Not like she had a choice, though, not with people around, but she really should have known better than to keep getting herself into these situations. She was twenty-two, for gods’ sakes, there was no excuse for the fact that it was easier for her to count the number of times it wasn’t her fault she either outright pissed herself or came close to it in the past three months. She could do it on one hand, even, which really only made it worse. And as much as she would have loved to blame the tea for being delicious and not herself for drinking way too much of it, this was definitely not going to increase that count.

                All that was left was to hope that the Dragonborn would be done with whatever he was doing before Azhani ended up in real pain. But if he was doing what she thought he was doing – and he was, surely; no way would he be that excited for anything else – there was no way to predict when that would be. Azhani shoved a hand to her mouth to suppress a groan while she leaned a little bit backwards. It was bad enough knowing she’d gotten herself into this situation. What made it worse was that this wasn’t something she could get herself out of. She had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and she couldn’t even rely on her body giving out on its own without doing real damage. Even as a kid she never felt so out of control, and that was when she lived under the Thalmor dictators. She didn’t have a choice, and she hated it. Nothing she could do but wait.

                Wait and give this guy a drink. Why did this guy ask her for a drink? Couldn’t he see she was not in the mood to deal with people right now? At least it was something simple, but even the little bit of leaning forward she’d have to do to reach under the counter felt like it added too much pressure. Pressure that wasn’t going to go anywhere – at least if she could wet herself just a little bit it’d be more tolerable, but that wasn’t about to happen, and her only hint of relief was when she sat back up again with a bottle in her hand and the extra pressure was gone, leaving behind the pressure of the entire Abecean Sea inside her. A marked improvement, truly. She slid the bottle over to whoever it was that had asked for it, and got money tossed onto the counter in return. At least she wouldn’t have to write anything down to keep a tab on this guy, but she’d still have to tolerate the sounds that came with being given a bottle of booze. This time she didn’t have to look at it, which helped quite a bit.

                Her gaze ended up directed downwards again – her legs were doing what they had been the whole time, except they’d gotten faster, and her little balloon seemed to have gotten just slightly bigger. Azhani lifted herself off the seat for just a moment, quickly swapping her tail for one of her hands, digging in as well as she could without actually shoving her hand down her pants. Come to think of it, there was a part of her now that wasn’t there before that was tempted by such an idea. She was very familiar with this part of herself – it was a regular visitor, and now that she thought about it, it had been about six months since the last time it made itself known. And if it was here again now… Just more trouble on the way for her. Great.

                That could be ignored for now, though. Her other hand hesitantly came to rest on her belly, just lightly enough to feel what was going on without disturbing anything. She couldn’t tell for sure without pressing on it – and there was no way that was going to happen – but it still seemed quite soft. Azhani let out a quiet mix of a whine and a growl. That meant there was still a good deal of room, so she could very well be kept waiting for a long time yet. More optimistically, it meant she wasn’t at her worst and would probably still be able to walk upstairs and look at least halfway normal if the Dragonborn came down soon.

                But he still wasn’t coming – at least, not… yeah, Azhani was in for some very familiar trouble soon if that was how her thoughts were going. That line of thinking wouldn’t do her any good anyways. She had to focus on waiting. The thing that she’d be doing whether she wanted to or not. She had to focus on it and find a way to make time seem to go faster. As it was she couldn’t tell if it had been an hour or five minutes since the Dragonborn and Lydia had returned – hopefully it wasn’t the latter. Azhani threw one leg over the other, crushing her hand between her thighs. Between that and her tail, she’d be quite sore in the morning…

                When she looked up again, she saw that there was nobody left at the counter. Money and some empty mugs or bottles, but no people. Leaning forward as far as she could without hurting herself, she looked over into the dining room. Quite a few people with drinks, and a handful had little plates of whatever food there was in the place that Azhani didn’t need to prepare herself. Looking off in the other direction, there wasn’t anyone hanging around by the door. Still in public, sure, but this was the best she was going to get if she had no idea how much longer she’d be expected to wait.

                Another look in all directions to confirm that at least the general area was clear, and Azhani got up carefully, now bent forwards a little to allow her hand to do what it had to. Then she turned around and quickly scanned the kitchen for anything appropriate. Or, more accurately, the closest container that nobody would have to drink out of later. There was a little wooden tub on the floor by one of the counters back there, probably what would have normally been used for dishwashing, but now it was empty. The Khajiit made her way over to it with that same silly walk as before, bending over with a groan once she reached it so that she could grab one end of it with her free hand. Dragging it back over to the bar took a bit longer than getting to it in the first place, but she eventually dropped it by the barstool she’d been abusing with her bouncing for however long.

                Then she sat down again, pulling the hand out from between her legs and instead grabbing her waistband with it. One last scan of the area to confirm that, yes, this counted as private, and her other hand joined in. In one slow motion she lifted herself off the stool and dragged her pants and underwear down to her knees, then sat down again and moved forward enough that she was pretty sure she’d get at least most of it into the tub on the floor.

                And then she shut her eyes, shoved a hand into her mouth to bite down on, and relaxed. There was a muffled moan into her hand as she felt the flood just about to break free, and then…

                “Hey.”

                Of course. Azhani very nearly jumped, sliding back to sit entirely on the stool, which now was also host to a tiny puddle made by the spurt that was supposed to go into the bucket. She forced herself to stand up and hastily get redressed as the Dragonborn approached.

                “You’re good to go,” he said. “I’ll take over from here for tonight.” There was a pause where neither of them said anything nor moved, so he spoke again. “You alright?”

                Azhani had no idea what to feel right now. For one, she wanted to claw his eyes out for interrupting her. But then she’d also been given the opportunity she’d been waiting for the whole time. The obvious response was to stutter for a little bit before saying anything. “Uhm,” she finally said. “no, yeah, fine, thanks. I’ll just… Mhm.” Then she shuffled her way out from behind the counter and rushed to the stairs as quickly as she could in her state. Her regular walking speed, though it felt like sprinting. The actual climb up the stairs hurt even more than the walk over to them, but then it was a clear shot to her room.

                Throwing herself at the door to open it with her shoulder, Azhani stumbled into her room and immediately stripped down again. All that was left was to squat down by her bed, reach underneath for… yes, there it was, right where it was supposed to be. With everything in position, there was no hesitation. Her stream started full-force immediately, and Azhani had to grab her muzzle with both hands to keep from crying out in ecstasy. And then she almost fell backwards, so one of those hands ended up supporting her from behind.

                Azhani closed her eyes and let out a suppressed moan that trailed off into a purr that didn’t end when the flood finally tapered off. Shaking herself to throw off any excess drops, Azhani stood up and stretched, looking down to see what would have to be dealt with. It was good that she stopped when she did – any more and that little pot would have spilled over.

                That definitely wasn’t normal for her, and as much as she hated to admit it, perhaps getting herself into terrible situations was actually working out well, in a really weird way that would probably turn on the Dragonborn and Keerava if they ever figured it out. She was still going to try to avoid getting into more trouble like that if she could, of course, but now she couldn’t deny that each time would help for future problems.

Edited by Sake (see edit history)
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  • 1 month later...

I gotta get better at not taking two months to update.

 

“Uh, hey, take over, will you?”

Lydia stood by the door and watched as the Dragonborn and that little Khajiit switched places at the bar – Azhani hopped on top of it and shuffled over to the far side while Bjorn simply walked around to get out, then headed over to Lydia.

“Hey.” He was avoiding eye contact for some reason and motioned in the general direction of a nearby table. “Here, uh, why don’t you sit down?”

Once they were seated, Lydia had to break the silence while Bjorn looked around aimlessly. “What, no drinks or anything?” She was joking, of course – a drink right now wouldn’t be the best of ideas considering she’d just finished a decent bit of travelling. Still, someone had to say something.

“Uh, well, I could get you something…” The Dragonborn was now looking at Lydia, still not quite making eye contact, and cleared his throat. “Ah, but, no, I actually wanted to, uh… Eh, you know what, it’d be a lot easier if I just got right to the point, so…” He dug around in his pockets for a little while, and when his hand came back up he dropped a round wooden amulet with a familiar holy symbol carved into it onto the table. Lydia glanced at it and shot a suspicious look at the Dragonborn.

“What is this?”

“Oh, that’s an-“

“I know what it is,” Lydia said, leaning forward. “I meant what are you doing?”

Bjorn waved a hand towards the amulet. “It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“Sure, but…” Lydia sighed and put a hand to her head. “What made you think I would go along with this? It’s gonna take you more than a piece of wood to get what you’re asking for here.”

“I know, and I know I’ve been a complete ass the whole time I’ve known you-“

“Bit of an understatement there.”

“-but at the same time you’re pretty much the only person who actually tolerates my bullshit for some reason other than not wanting to be Shouted to pieces. We’re in this together and you know it.”

Lydia moved to say something, but paused, then shut up and nodded. “Alright, fine. But so far all you’ve used me for is carrying all the crap you don’t want to be bothered with. I don’t see any reason to believe that would change.”

“Okay, first off, that’s exactly what you signed up for. Maybe not specifically with me, but with the Jarl, you knew what you were getting into. Second, you know by now that you have the option to not do things. Don’t go blaming me for your choices and the line of work you went into.”

“Fair enough, but why should it be any different after… this…?”

“Ah, well, because,” Bjorn said, holding up a finger as if stating irrefutable truth. “This situation we’re in now, it’s because someone else told you that you had to be here and do all this stuff. But this… this would be entirely up to you. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would get you to change your mind and decide, actually, no, you don’t want this.” He took a deep breath and continued slowly. “Look, ultimately, you’ve been the one consistent thing in my life since I got here. I am not gonna let that get away. I wouldn’t do anything that would make me lose you.” Then he looked down while Lydia sat in silence.

She finally answered, speaking with a tone one would expect more from the Dragonborn than from her. “Okay, fine.” With a cheeky grin she added, “You’re not half bad anyways. I guess I could do a lot worse.” Then she held up her hands. “And I guess I did sort of willingly follow you to certain death a couple hundred times, so you must be doing something right. So, when are we going to…?”

Bjorn perked up almost immediately. “Oh, well, we might be able to do a little something today, actually. Might have to wait a while but there’s some other stuff I’d like to take care of too, so we can get all that done. You just go put on something nice, I’ll come get you in a bit. Hey-“

He’d stopped talking to Lydia, so she gave a vaguely-affirmative shrug and headed upstairs, and when she got to her room she dumped her bag onto the floor, tossing whatever bits of armor she could easily remove down to join it. Then she turned to the little wardrobe in her room – more like a glorified box, but still – and looked through what little she had. “Something nice”? She didn’t exactly have formalwear, never having been expected to actually do anything requiring it before now, but quickly pawed through the handful of clothes arranged in the… whatever it qualified as. There weren’t terribly many options, so she just picked the one and only dress there, a simple little black thing, easy to move in, comfortable, but still looked good.

This was laid out on the bed, and Lydia sat down next to it, fiddling around with the strings on her sides to remove her armor. When both pieces of it fell clattering to the floor, she kicked off her boots and worked her way out of all the requisite padding and everything under it, ending up more or less naked when everything was dealt with. Oh, sure some things still needed to be covered, at least for practical reasons, but it was close enough. And as she stood there in her underwear, she was reminded of the consequences of her travelling – something she should have dealt with outside of town, but had decided against doing due to her proximity. Well, here was the perfect opportunity, and yet…

Perhaps she shouldn’t. It was, after all, well under control, if slightly annoying. But more than that, this was a special day… apparently. Sure, it was weird and a bit of a surprise to receive a marriage proposal practically immediately upon returning to town, but it was still special.

So why not give him a pleasant surprise for afterwards?

It took a couple of hours to actually get to the temple. The Dragonborn’s business included walking up to the blacksmith, handing over a little sheet of paper with his measurements on it, and demanding head-to-toe ebony armor – for the both of them. He’d dropped a large pouch of coins onto the counter when the smith tried to confirm that the Dragonborn knew what he was asking for and pointed out the difficulty of just acquiring the materials. The smith didn’t really have much of a choice at that point, but as he didn’t know Lydia’s dimensions, she spent at least a good hour there just being measured.

Then it was just a matter of wandering around town doing small trades and the like – Bjorn had sold his knife to someone and hired a courier to go fetch a different one from all the way in Whiterun, paying the kid extra to ensure that this particular dagger be brought over with the greatest of care, in the special box it already would have been kept in anyways. Lydia had seen it in its case once or twice – strange-looking thing, it was. Hardly looked like a real blade, considering the business end of it seemed to be made of some sort of rock. But if the Dragonborn said it was a knife, then it was a knife.

In any event, by the time they finally reached the temple after everything else was done, Lydia’s minor annoyance had become quite a bit more annoying. Tolerable, yes, but now it would be the center of attention if Lydia weren’t actively doing something else, and even then it’d still be an ever-present reminder of her situation. All for a good cause, though.

Still, nobody ever said she had to pay attention to anything in spite of it, so she was only vaguely aware of what was going on at the temple. It was apparently empty, and she could hear the Dragonborn speaking with Maramal, who eventually hesitantly agreed to do a brief ceremony for them while nothing else was happening.

That did take a few minutes to get everything set up, though, and in the meantime Lydia was shuffling around ever so slightly, just to have something to do. She did have to stop once everything was ready, now needing to stand as still as possible right next to Bjorn in front of the altar while Maramal droned on. If she were to be honest with herself, she wouldn’t have listened to a word he said anyways, but now at least she had some justification for it – it wasn’t quite bad yet, but she still did have to focus to avoid moving around subconsciously.

She heard the Dragonborn say something, then Maramal said something else and waited. After a moment, Lydia felt something prodding her in the side – Bjorn had elbowed her to draw her attention back to the real world, where Maramal, among others, were looking at her expecting a response. Blushing, she said something to the effect of “yes”, then Maramal said something else, and before she could fully process what was going on Bjorn had pulled her in for a kiss. She put her arms around him and returned the gesture, then the two broke off after a minute. Bjorn handed over some money to Maramal as a “donation” to the temple, then grabbed Lydia by the arm and excitedly led her back to the inn.

She was left waiting in Bjorn’s – no, their room for a moment while he said… something or other to Azhani. It wasn’t important. What was important was that Lydia was sitting on a bed with her dress and everything under it tossed off to the side of the room. It was cold, and she had her hand between her legs for… several reasons, actually, not the least of which was because if she moved that hand a little higher she’d feel the ever-so-slight distension of her lower abdomen that made visible her predicament.

She could wait, though. Would be better for both of them if the Dragonborn had his fun with this. Lydia moved over to lie on her back, wiping her hand on the sheets. It was hard to ignore the pressure now, but at least this made it more bearable. Bjorn entered soon after, locking the door behind him, and Lydia shuffled around a bit, looking up at him silently. He looked her over as he worked his way out of his coat and the shirt beneath it, chuckling once he got to her midsection.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Lydia responded with an innocent grin betrayed by her eyes. “I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor…” She paused for a moment to consider how to replace the original line, but when she looked at Bjorn he was clearly trying to suppress laughter. “Ah, fuck it,” she said. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where this is going to go.”

“Well, it’s not going to go anywhere if I have anything to say about it.” He stood over the bed, looking down, with his crossed arms just barely concealing the great scar across his chest that still seemed fresh. “Now then, let’s see here…” Bjorn leaned forward a little and laid one hand on Lydia’s bulge, applying just a little bit of pressure.

“Ah…” Lydia’s legs came together as a response, then parted shortly after the pressure was removed. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? This?”

“A-aah!” Her legs twisted and she tried to sit up, but the Dragonborn’s other arm blocked her.

“Hm…” He slowly removed his hands, allowing Lydia to grab at herself. “That’s not all that solid just yet, and if you’ve still got everything under control after that…” Bjorn looked at her with a wicked grin. “Then I don’t think it’s as bad yet as you’re pretending it is.”

“Hmph.” Lydia only spoke once she’d recovered. “Are you going to just tease all night or what?”

“Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.” Bjorn watched as Lydia rolled her eyes at his choice of quote. “Ah, but I suppose we could find a way to speed this up, hm?” Then he walked across the room to his bag of adventuring junk, digging through it until he pulled out a flask. He shook it and, apparently satisfied, brought it back over to Lydia and handed it to her. “Here, drink this.”

Lydia sat up slowly and grabbed the flask, opening it and looking inside. It was still mostly full. “All of it?”

“Well, not all at once, but a good bit of it right now, yeah.” He waited while Lydia looked between him and the drink, then spoke again when he felt he’d waited enough. “Unless, of course, you wanna quit.”

Looking between the flask and her new husband one last time, Lydia raised the flask as if in a toast, then chugged a significant portion of it with her other hand raised in a world-famous one-fingered gesture. And of course she immediately regretted her decision – not the latter part, which seemed to amuse Bjorn more than anything else. Oh, no, the problem here was that she’d decided to drink what she’d been given, and not only was it alcoholic but it also seemed to be going directly where it was least welcome. Fantastic combination, really… for the other person in the room.

Even so, she probably would have downed it all just to prove a point, if not for the sudden surge that caused her to stiffen, throwing her free hand between her legs and forcing the flask away from her mouth. The lower hand felt warm and wet almost instantly, and Lydia’s leg twitched as she felt another leak about to break free. So she pressed harder, though evidently not enough to keep a new burst of warmth away from her hand.

“What, already?” The Dragonborn had clearly meant it as a joke, but the touch of disappointment in his voice was real. “Sure hope you didn’t mess up these really nice sheets I’ve got here…”

Lydia blushed as she looked back at the flask, handing it off to Bjorn again. “So this is how we’re spending the night, huh?”

“Feh, maybe an hour if you’re lucky, am I right?” Bjorn gave a crooked smirk as Lydia worked her way into lying down again. “And in any case I probably should deal with that… situation downstairs, so I wouldn’t be able to spend too long messing around up here anyways…”

“You’re seriously still – aah-“ Lydia knotted her legs and took a moment to recover from a sudden urge. “S-still chasing after the cat? Really?”

The Dragonborn leaned in close enough for Lydia to feel the heat of his breath as he spoke. “Oh, now why would I do something like that when I’ve got you right here, hm? And, anyways,” he added, straightening up again, “it’s not like it was ever going to get serious. Doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun with the shit she gets herself into. For now, though… I’m not sure that’s where your hands are supposed to be.”

“Yeah, well, that’s where they’re staying.”

“Mm, is that so? Didn’t think a such a strong lady would ever need to use her hands.” He ran a hand down one of her arms, stopping at and lightly grabbing her wrist. “And, besides, you’ve still got to finish that drink you started, so I know it can’t be that bad yet.”

Lydia shook her head fervently. “Nope, nope, that’s- that’s not happening.”

“What a shame.” Bjorn’s grip on Lydia’s arm tightened and with his other arm he grabbed her free hand the same way. “Still, you know I’m gonna need these out of the way.” He encountered no resistance moving her arms to her chest – though when her hands left the precious area they were guarding, she pressed her legs together even tighter. His own hands wandered ever so slightly as he sat down next to her. “Y’know, that armor doesn’t really do these justice…” Lydia’s only response was a slight moan as the Dragonborn did his work, slowly shifting his hands lower until they found something else interesting. “Hm, this seems to have progressed nicely… But just to be sure…” He pressed on what he’d found, only to be greeted with a gasp from Lydia and a quiet pattering sound behind him for a second. Fortunately for her, the pressure was gone in an instant, but only because the Dragonborn had brought that same hand back up to block her own.

“Aah… I don’t think I can-“

“Shh. Not much longer for you, but…” The Dragonborn slipped out of his dress pants and positioned himself near Lydia’s legs almost in one motion. “You’re gonna have to move these.”

Lydia sat up just enough to look down at him. “B-but if I do that, I’ll-“

“I thought that was the point, hm? Or are you just too stubborn to give up now? Ah, but don’t worry-“ Bjorn grabbed her legs and gently set about trying to untie them. “I’ll help you if you need it, but you gotta get your legs out of the way first.”

“Nnn… Fine,” Lydia said, dropping back down to lie flat and surrendering her legs to the Dragonborn’s guidance. As soon as what little pressure they were applying disappeared, it was replaced with his hand – though it was hardly any help considering where his fingers were going. “Aah… Careful…”

“What, still not going to give up?” He shifted his hand to reduce the pressure on the outside, keeping up his work on the inside. The response was a brief jet soaking his hand and a groan from Lydia. “Guess not. I’ll just have to try harder.” He brought his free hand up and used it to press long and hard on her bulge – but even so the resulting stream only lasted three seconds at best before Lydia’s willpower took over again.

“Gods…” Lydia groaned as she fought to take back some control beyond just the few muscles below, though the Dragonborn blocked any attempt at external intervention. “Y-you’ll have to do better than that to get what you want.”

Bjorn removed his other hand, eliciting a slight gasp from Lydia, and leaned forward. “We’ll see about that.” Then he worked both arms under Lydia and picked her up, rolling the both of them over so that she was on top.

“What are you do- aaah!” The Dragonborn had pressed her close, holding her tight and letting her own body weight do the work for him. And it seemed his plan had worked, for there was a brief spurt that was followed by a steady, if weak, trickle. “Nn-haah…” Lydia’s head found its way to Bjorn’s shoulder, and her hands were firmly attached to his arms.

“Isn’t that better,” he whispered. “I’m sure you can imagine how good it would be if you just gave in completely.”

Lydia gave a weak struggle in the Dragonborn’s vice grip, still slowly and unwillingly relieving herself onto him. She sighed when she realized she’d already lost her little fight, and surrendered herself to what was already happening anyways. Pressing her face close to the Dragonborn’s neck, Lydia let out a muffled groan as she gave up her last scraps of control. The little trickle soon turned into a stream and then a torrent.

And then there was a Dragon inside her.

 

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  • 3 months later...

This definitely still exists. And for the record, this story now also exists in blog form, which is pretty much the superior format since a lot of stupid errors earlier on have been corrected there and it's a nice consistent read with no interruptions by author's notes or anything like that. From now on, whenever I post an update to the thread, the prior update will be posted to the blog - this gives me time to make corrections that I need to make but can't because the 24 hour editing window has passed. So this chapter will appear there once the next one is posted here. The link in my signature also now goes to the blog instead of this thread.

 

Lydia and the Dragonborn had gone down to the dining room early the next morning to prepare for the day ahead of them, the Dragonborn still rubbing his eyes; clearly he hadn’t slept very well, but he had a job to do – one more important than saving the world, of course, because he couldn’t be expected to do that if a barmaid were to murder him for letting her business fall apart in her absence. So he just trudged along to take up a position behind the bar and prepare for what was definitely not going to be an enjoyable day. Lydia followed along quietly, looking just as tired as her husband of just twelve hours.

Though one of them was obviously more awake than the other. Where Bjorn seemed to ignore everything around him except the bare minimum to walk properly, Lydia had noticed that the two weren’t alone. Nobody was supposed to be in the inn so early, and yet there was a figure seated at a table near the bar, hunched over what looked like a teapot with a cup in hand. Lydia halted for a moment and just stared at the figure, surprised more than anything else, though she quickly recognized the figure as the little Khajiiti lady who’d been living in the inn and working for Keerava. What was her name again? Azhani? That seemed right.

Lydia remained stationary as Azhani seemed to notice someone was looking at her; the Khajiit raised her head to look vaguely at the spectator and give something of a wave with the hand her cup was in. Her mouth was slightly open, and Lydia could tell by her movements that she was breathing heavier than normal. Azhani’s tail twitched with what Lydia recognized as annoyance – assuming Khajiit worked the same way as cats, at least, which could very well just be racist – though she didn’t seem to be mad at anything in particular, just sitting there occasionally halting her breathing long enough to drink some of her tea.

“Uh, hi,” was what Lydia came up with after a couple of minutes wherein the only sounds were the Khajiit’s breathing and the Dragonborn rearranging bottles in the kitchen. ”You alright?” She stepped a little closer to Azhani’s table, being sure to keep a safe distance in case the answer was a rather violent “no”.

The actual response was a shrug, a particularly-deep breath, and a quiet “Could be worse.” Then Azhani’s nose twitched and she sat up a little straighter, looking off in the direction of the kitchen and the promise of imminent breakfast. “All that food isn’t just for him, is it?”

Lydia gave a quick snort of laughter as she pulled up a chair at the opposite end of Azhani’s table. “You sure you’re fine?” She folded both arms in front of herself. “You don’t look very… uh… Oh, gods.” Lydia brought her hands to her face with a sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re…”

 “Yeah.” Azhani shrugged again and spoke slowly. “Pretty bad season this time, but… at least it isn’t every month.”

“Sounds fun,” Lydia said with just a grain of sarcasm. “So you’re out of commission, and I guess I could do your job for you. How long do you figure this is going to last? A week? Couple weeks?”

Azhani swirled her teacup around as if it were a wine glass. “Eh, worst part is over in two… three days maybe. After that, two weeks? But that part… will be fine.” Redirecting her gaze to the table, she added, quieter, “Would be over sooner if, eh… If I had help, yes?”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Can’t do that yourself?”

“With what? All I have is hands.” The Khajiit raised her free hand and flexed her claws. “And I don’t know about you but… I have been with enough Khajiit to know I’d rather just… deal with it than stick sharp things in there.”

“P-point taken.” Lydia’s response was followed by a nervous laugh as that mental image made her press her legs together. “But, uh… w-what was that about Khajiit? I mean, I’ve read the uncensored version of that one book about Barenziah, but I never thought they really had… uh, those.”

“Oh yeah, they have them, they’re only sharp going out, and you never get used to it. Glad I do not have to deal… with the Ba… ah?” Azhani jumped a bit in her seat as she looked up and a little to her left, guided by the smell of nearby food. “How… uh… how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to learn some things I really didn’t need to know… Even so, I think everyone can appreciate some breakfast.” The Dragonborn set down a tray of various meats and toast, along with a bottle of mead and a few mugs. He gave Lydia a little kiss on the cheek as he pulled up his own seat near her, leaving the ravenous carnivore at the other end of the table to her own devices. “Long day ahead of you, eh?”

“Oh, please, like taking care of a bar for a few days is going to be any worse than walking halfway across the province. Country. Whatever.” Lydia made herself a little sandwich while she spoke. “I’ve killed dragons with you, this is nothing.”

Bjorn yawned, then carefully grabbed whatever food he could without getting his arm clawed off, settling on a piece of toast. “Oh, you’ll wish we had a dragon to kill once you’ve had a couple hours of this. It’s either going to bore you into Oblivion or you’ll work your ass off for twelve hours only to find out that apparently that’s all for a half-Septim profit at the end of the day.” He looked over at Azhani, who stared back at him, her head tilted as she tried to breathe around a piece of bacon hanging from her mouth. “Though profit margins would probably look a lot better if one of us wasn’t getting everything she wants here for free.”

Azhani swallowed her bacon, and her tail’s thrashing grew faster as her ears flattened against her head. She spoke between deep breaths. “At least… when I take something… there’s still… something left.”

“Hah, true, and we both know what’d happen if you decided to take too much, right?” Bjorn continued quickly, ignoring Azhani digging her claws into the table. “Speaking of which, all that tea can’t be good for you, can it?”

The little Khajiit looked surprised to hear the genuine concern in the Dragonborn’s voice. “Perhaps not… But it helps me when I’m… like this. Keeps me, ah… calm, and awake. Doesn’t help the pain, and I’m still… hot, but… it is the reason I am… still wearing pants and not currently, ah, jumping at the, eh… nearest male.” When Azhani noticed the strange looks she was getting from across the table, she added, “Um, not that… that means, uh… anyone in… in particular…” Then she turned her attention back to the plate in front of her, trying not to look at anything else.

“Uh, alright, sure, if you say so. Just… don’t make it my problem.” Turning back to Lydia, the Dragonborn said, “As for you, you may be confident now, but we’ll see what sort of trouble you end up in later, won’t we?”

“Wow, never would have guessed that that’s what this is about.” Lydia rolled her eyes and folded her arms with a smirk on her face. “You ought to know me better than to underestimate me like that. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to put on a bit of a show for you if you really want one.”

“Well, I’ll never turn down some good theater… but I have a feeling it’ll be more than just theatrics by the end of the day.”

“We’ll see.” Lydia stood up and finished off what was left of her mead. “Should probably get started then, hm?”

As the two Nords left the table, Azhani stood up as well. “I suppose I should just… head back to bed then, yes? Not a very good idea, I think, to… sit around in a bar right now. So, um… don’t, uh, don’t tell anyone I’m here if… if anyone comes looking, hm?”

“Sure.” Bjorn nodded on his way over to the bar. “You want food or something brought up to you or…?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She gave a weak wave, then stopped on her way to the stairs and turned back around. “Or, no, uh… just bring up some tea every few hours, yes? But… leave it at the door, though.”

“You got it.”

To nobody’s surprise, the inn was fairly quiet for the first few hours after sunrise – the occasional regular had come in for breakfast, but that was about it. Lydia had gone up in the late morning to deliver Azhani’s tea, just to have something to do, and at her husband’s request had dropped off some of his old spellbooks as well. The Khajiit didn’t seem too enthusiastic about that during their brief conversation through the door, but expressed her sincere gratitude for the additional gift nonetheless.

When Lydia returned downstairs, she again found something to do just to keep herself busy – she’d grabbed a broom and was wandering around aimlessly, pushing around some dirt from overnight while the Dragonborn wiped down the bar and the kitchen counters.

“So,” Lydia called out after a few minutes of near-silence. “This is it, huh?”

“What, already sick of it?”

“Not as such, but I can definitely see what you were talking about earlier.” She shrugged and moved over to lean on the bar. “And I would definitely prefer to be back in action, you know?”

Bjorn sighed but didn’t stop working. “Yeah, me too. You’ve seen for yourself I’m just about well enough for it by now, so in a week or two when the Argonians get back, we’ve got our armor, and I’ve got that package from Whiterun, we’ll be on our way. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Oh, hey, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about that package. It’s not the real thing, is it?”

There was a brief pause while Bjorn stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Lydia with an intense gaze. “Absolutely authentic. Obviously, I took a pretty serious beating last time I fought Alduin. So I started thinking, if I’m going to do it again, I need every advantage I can get. Then it occurred to me… he’s not a dragon, he’s a god. And against a god, what advantage could be greater than one of Kagrenac’s Tools?”

Lydia had taken a seat while the Dragonborn was talking. “Well, with scars like that I sure hope your plan works out. But-“ She leaned forward in her seat. “We’re going to Whiterun anyways, why not just stop and pick it up while we’re there?”

“Experimentation, dear.” Bjorn walked out of the kitchen and laid a hand on the bar. “We both know the potential of that thing, and I’ve seen a bit of what it can do. But it’s weaker than the legends say it should be; it’s lost a lot of the magic it  used to have. I want to know… is what’s left of it going to do anything to a dragon?” He sighed and shook is head. “I barely hurt Alduin at all last time, so it had better fucking be enough, but it was never meant to be used alone. Without Sunder and Wraithguard, I don’t know if it’ll live up to its reputation. I’d kill for something like Dawnbreaker, or Chrysamere, or Volendrung, anything. At least those I know work perfectly fine on their own.”

“So basically you’re going to find yourself a dragon and poke it with a really, really, really old magical crystal-knife, and hope it does something?” Sure, there was a more professional way to phrase the question, but someone had to do something to lighten the mood.

The little joke had worked, apparently, because the Dragonborn chuckled a bit before responding. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Still going on ahead even if it’s just as good as a regular dagger, of course, but I’d like to try it, at least.”

“Well,” Lydia said, standing up again. “Never thought I’d say this, but let’s hope we get attacked by a dragon, then.”

“Hah, yeah. Let’s pray for it.” Bjorn stepped back towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Hey, you want anything to drink? I could put on some coffee or more tea or something.”

Lydia put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow, a little smirk on her face. “Well, you sure would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, I’m only suggesting it ‘cause it’ll help you stay awake.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sure there aren’t any side effects that you’d be interested in.” The sarcasm in her voice was excruciatingly obvious. “But, actually, yeah, I could do with some coffee. And since you wanted a show anyway…”

Come lunchtime, the inn had become as busy as could be expected, and as usual populated almost exclusively by the handful of loyal customers that kept the place afloat. The coffee had started to catch up with Lydia, resulting in a tolerable feeling of fullness as she worked on finishing a generous helping of beer the Dragonborn had given her to go along with a meal. It was more than she’d normally drink at once, and she knew damn well why he’d seen fit to give her that much. Even so, she was content to finish it and was in no rush to do so – and Bjorn certainly wouldn’t be keen on moving things along too quickly either if it was a show he was after. Even now, he was looking over at her every so often while he told some other patron his war stories, though at the moment she was refusing to give him what he wanted.

Instead, she was just sitting there, spun around in her seat so that she was leaning back against the bar while she listened to the Dragonborn’s stories and waited for something to do. The current tale was something about the College of Winterhold and something related to Magnus. Lydia hadn’t been there for it so she found it interesting, if a bit predictable considering what she’d seen of her husband.

Her beer had run out by the time the dragon priest had entered Bjorn’s story, which meant that was a good enough time to get back to work. So she stood up, slid her mug across the counter to Bjorn so he could deal with it, and stretched. She couldn’t help but notice that he was watching, especially when she froze for a moment during her stretch as she disturbed something she shouldn’t have – but to his visible dismay she regained full control in an instant.

He was keeping an eye on her as she walked around to his side of the bar, speaking quietly to him as she passed: “Putting on some more tea.” Then, sure enough, she went straight for the kitchen and the set of tea-making equipment that had been set aside that morning – normally an extra cheaper set, but considering Azhani’s request, they’d decided it would be better to have the second one available at all times.

The Dragonborn did have to turn his attention back to the patrons to whom he was describing in excruciating detail the appearance of the Staff of Magnus once Lydia had passed him, so unfortunately could not see that she was standing a little stiffer than usual while she worked. And for her part, she was already starting to question why she’d figured a large beer was good idea when she still had hours to go. Filling the kettle and having to watch as it boiled wasn’t doing her much good, either. But still she remained strong, showing no signs of her state other than the subtle change in her posture of which only Bjorn would have been able to correctly identify the cause.

Lydia was able to relax somewhat once everything had been properly prepared and loaded onto a tray, so she now stood more naturally, the only hint of her state being the slightest of distensions in her abdomen, concealed by her apron such that even Bjorn didn’t notice it when she walked by. Or, if he did, he made no indication of it – he just looked her in the eyes for a moment and subtly laid a hand on her rear, letting her walk off afterwards with no comment.

Not like he needed to say anything anyways, considering her current problem was that she needed to climb stairs, a feat which he surely would have been more than content to watch in silence. Despite her outward confidence, Lydia did feel the need to stop just before the stairs and take a deep breath, shortly thereafter moving as quickly as the ever-growing weight between her legs would allow. Each step momentarily added more pressure, not enough to be critical, but enough to be quite uncomfortable and a rather ominous reminder that she’d have to make that trip several more times before the day was out.

This time, she reached the top of the stairs without spilling a drop of either of the liquids she was carrying, though that certainly wouldn’t be true the next time. Best not to dwell on that for now though – Lydia moved directly for Azhani’s room once she’d finished her climb, just to be done with this errand as fast as possible.

Knocking on the door, she said simply, “Tea’s here,” and was met with what sounded like a surprised response.

“Wha- oh. Lydia? D-don’t, uh, don’t leave yet…” This was followed by the barely-audible sound of light feet on wood, and after a moment the door opened just wide enough that Azhani could see what was on the other side, and Lydia could only see a pair of eyes. “I need a favor. You can, uh… come in for… for a minute, if you want, or…”

Lydia shrugged after a moment of thought. “Sure, why not?” Then the door swung open enough to walk through, and was closed again once Lydia had entered. She left the new tray of tea on the bedside table, and picked up the old one, turning around with it in hand. “So, what is it y- oh… uh, okay then.” Azhani was standing by the door wearing only her fur, with her twitching tail maneuvered to cover her most-sensitive parts, though she made no effort to cover the signs on her chest of her involuntary arousal. Her hair was loose and disheveled and the room itself was no better off, with the bed looking like it’d been ripped to shreds and clothes strewn about at random. Lydia carried on as if this were normal. “Uh, yeah, what do you need?”

“Well, two things,” Azhani started, crouching down near the bed to drag a metal pot from beneath it and put a cover over it. She stood up with it in hand and extended her arms towards Lydia as if offering for her to take it. “Uh, I need this cleaned. Would, uh… prefer it back sooner than… than later, yes?”

Lydia gave a quiet nod, holding out the tray so Azhani could leave her pot on it. Her bladder protested at the thought of what was in the pot, but remained firmly under control.

“And I’d like these washed… if you don’t mind,” the Khajiit said as she picked a set of ragged clothes out of the debris around the room. “Not… terribly important, but… I usually wash them every day… when I’m like this, so that, uh… so they smell… normal.” Then they were handed over to Lydia, who just let them be draped over one of her arms, save for a more delicate article that went into the pocket on Lydia’s apron.

“They don’t smell that bad,” she said. “Could just air them out and they’d be fine.”

“No, trust me.” Azhani’s deep breathing seemed to quicken a bit and she was using both hands to emphatically gesture in Lydia’s direction. “If you were a Khajiit, you’d know. Eh… th-they need to be washed. Every day, until… uh, until this is over.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sure, I can do that.” Lydia subtly pressed her legs together as she stood. “I guess that’s why you’re holed up in here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I would like to be… able to go out for some air, but…” There was the sound of tea being poured in the background while Azhani spoke, causing Lydia to stand a little stiffer. “I would also like… to not have everyone… think I’m a slut. So I stay here.”

“Fair enough. Is that it?”

Azhani, who had moved to sit on the bed with her tail draped over her legs, just nodded and took a sip of her tea, then watched and Lydia left the room without another word and fumbled with the tray to close the door behind herself.

 The trek down the hall and back downstairs was far more tolerable this time than going up, but Lydia couldn’t help worrying about the prospect of having to repeat that journey even once. For now, it was just a matter of walking like a normal person long enough to ditch the now-spent tea set and get outside to deal with everything else Azhani wanted. She turned some heads during her walk, but most of them seemed to be more interested in the clattering of everything on the tray than Lydia herself; they’d look in her direction momentarily then get right back to what they were doing.

Except the Dragonborn, of course, who had his eyes glued to her from the moment she entered his sight, no doubt trying to find in her something of special interest. He didn’t otherwise acknowledge her until she tried to get behind the counter, only to be met with a hand blocking her way.

“How’re you holding up so far?” Bjorn spoke in a whisper, barely audible over the sounds of patrons enjoying their lunch break.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your show, but it’s not going to be that easy,” was the equally-silent response. “And hands off while I’m working, huh?” The rebuke was loud enough that those seated at the bar could have heard it if they cared, and it prompted the Dragonborn to withdraw a hand that had found its way to Lydia’s thigh.

With no further obstruction, Lydia headed into the kitchen, setting down her tray and grabbing a brush and something that she was pretty sure was at least somewhat related to soap. Then she shuffled everything around to carry it more comfortably and picked up the pot whose contents she didn’t want to think about right now. Especially not with a constant pressure reminding her that her day wasn’t even half over yet. He’d be getting a show, alright.

For now, though, Lydia went outside, forcing herself to walk straight and keep upright, headed for the nearest canal. But that was the easy part. Now she had to negotiate herself into sitting down in such a way that she could still do what she needed and not add any undue pressure. She worked slowly, eventually ending up on her knees with one foot strategically positioned to provide assistance if necessary.

Lydia took a deep breath and looked around to make sure she didn’t have too much of an audience, then quickly got to work. First she took Azhani’s panties out and quickly looked them over – there was a still-damp patch caused by what was certainly not urine, but no other damage – then carefully leaned forwards to get them into the water and use her soap-like substance on them. She worked quickly but efficiently, retrieving them after a short while in a state that was probably the cleanest they had been in a decade. Then they were wrung out and set aside and Lydia took a moment to breathe deeply, glad that her body was no longer compressing itself where it shouldn’t have been and preparing herself to do it again.

But then it was right back to business, giving the ragged shirt and pants the same treatment – though what they really needed was a needle and thread – before all the clothes ended up in a neat pile just slightly off to Lydia’s side. Then her gaze turned to the little iron pot. Then back to the canal, then the pot again, and back and forth like that for a while before settling on the canal again. Lydia dipped a hand in to confirm that the current would be satisfactory, then resigned herself to the necessity of the task at hand.

She refused to look at and tried not to listen to what she was doing as the picked up the pot, put the lid aside, and dumped the contents into the canal – everyone threw their trash into these things anyways – and waited for a couple of minutes once it was emptied. She’d ground herself into the foot she was sitting on in the meantime.

Another sigh was followed by Lydia reluctantly picking up the pot, brush, and probably-soap, giving the inside of the pot a decent lining of fatty cleaning-substance, then submerging the pot and vigorously assaulting it with the brush.

She’d noticed about halfway through that a spot of unwanted warmth had appeared, coincidentally right around the part of her that her foot was pressing into, but forced herself to ignore it for the time being. Just clean the damn thing.

 Once she had finished, Lydia hastily organized everything she’d brought and stood up quickly – perhaps a little too much so, as she felt a little more warmth where she really didn’t want it, but still she pressed on, forcing herself to continue looking normal for just a bit longer.

She hurried back into the bar, glancing at Bjorn just long enough to notice the dumb little smirk on his face, still keeping things together, if just barely so. This time she didn’t stop to consider the stairs, heading directly to the top at the expense of what little dry space was left in her underwear. Lydia moved quickly to Azhani’s room, gave a simple knock, and when the door opened she simply thrust everything in her hands over to the still-bare Khajiit and left before either could say anything.

The trip back downstairs had surely left a mark on Lydia’s pants, though she didn’t dare check and didn’t much care anyways since the apron she’d been wearing would cover it for now. And against all logic and reason, she headed for the bar, leaning against it near an empty seat with her legs firmly crossed.

Sure enough, the Dragonborn came over, taking a moment to silently observe her with his arms crossed and that grin still plastered on his face. Eventually, he spoke: “Well, now we’re at the fun part,” he said. “Isn’t that great?”

“Perfect,” was the growled response that only elicited a laugh from across the bar.

“Hey, if I wanted to hear a Khajiit get mad at me, I’d go talk to Azhani.” He chuckled again and Lydia’s face turned red. “Anyways,” Bjorn continued, “how about some of this, huh? Gotta stay hydrated.” He’d procured a bottle of beer from under the counter and was giving it a little shake.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, knowing perfectly well what he was really trying to get at. But she hardly had a choice, since she actually was rather thirsty and couldn’t exactly ignore that. So one hand disappeared beneath her apron and the other was held up above the bar with her thumb and forefinger positioned to indicate she wouldn’t be drinking much.

So Bjorn pulled out two mugs, filled one a quarter of the way, and poured the rest of the beer into the other one. Lydia grabbed the less-filled one and Bjorn raised the other in a sort of toast before immediately downing half of it.

“I’m liking the show so far,” he said. “Not much longer until it gets really good, huh?”

“For you, perhaps.” Lydia drank slowly, taking unusually-small sips. The hand under her apron strengthened its grip.

“Well, you’re playing along just fine. You’ve had lots of opportunities to sort yourself out so far, and you ignored ‘em. Very nice.”

“How do you know that? Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I’m just pretending.”

“You’re sweating.”

“I’ve been running up and down stairs all day.”

“You’ve won plenty of fights without breaking a sweat, what’s a few stairs?”

“Well, then it’s warm in here and these aren’t thin clothes.”

“It’s about the same temperature in here it was this morning, and you were fine then.”

“Alright. What if it’s a bad time for me and I’m just acting to get you off my back?”

“Unless something changed in the last few hours, you’re doing just fine. And, uh, you’d have to be about two weeks early for that to be true anyways.”

Lydia stared at the Dragonborn with a concerned look. “Okay, I’m a bit worried that you already know that, to be completely honest.”

“I’ll pretend I don’t, then.” The response was followed by him finishing the rest of his beer. “But I definitely know how to tell when someone’s acting, and you’re not.”

“Can you really be sure I haven’t just learned what you’re looking for?” She bent ever so slightly at the knees.

“Yes, because there’s quite a bit you’d never be able to do intentionally. Not convincingly, anyways.” Bjorn put a hand to his chin for a moment, then brought it away to point at various parts of Lydia. “That look in your eyes, the way you’re breathing, what that arm’s doing, that thing your feet are doing. And you can’t fake a bulge like that. In fact,” he said, his eyes scanning her whole body, “you’re hiding it well, but you’re already wet.”

Lydia looked at him with an eyebrow raised while her legs tied themselves together even tighter. “Is that so,” she said, leaning forward and directing her gaze a bit downwards. “Or is that just what he wants you to think?”

“Oh come now,” the Dragonborn responded, adjusting his position. “You know it’s true, what do you really have to gain from pretending otherwise?”

“Fine, fine, you’re right.” Lydia wiggled around a bit. “But it’s not over yet.”

“Of course it isn’t. But tell you what, I’ll be merciful. I’ll deal with Azhani, and you can take care of whoever’s got a table. That sound good to you?”

The response was a quiet groan. “You don’t think I actually believe that’d be easier, do you? But fine, sure, whatever. Enjoy the view.” Then she wrenched her hand out from between her legs and walked off awkwardly towards the dining room proper.

Lydia managed to survive an hour of clearing tables and taking orders without any major complications – aside from most definitely not having proper posture and moving far more slowly and carefully than could be considered normal. Bjorn had decided to deal with the cooking himself, so Lydia spent a good deal of time leaning forward against the bar with her legs crossed, relaying crudely-scrawled orders and giving a clear view down her shirt. Then it was just a matter of tossing stuff onto a tray and brining it where it was meant to go – being careful, of course, to not drop or spill anything.

The ever-constant, ever-growing pressure wasn’t helping. Lydia had to either subject herself to bending forward somewhat or doing a bit of an awkward curtsy to be able to put the trays down, which almost certainly would have announced to everyone that something was wrong. So she took the momentary increase in pressure, still trying to look normal.

Fortunately, the lunch rush – or whatever could be called a rush by the Bee and Barb’s standards – was starting to die down, but it was alone in this. Lydia’s legs were sealed together whenever she was standing still, one of them constantly shaking or a foot incessantly tapping while she devoted all her energy to not using her hands while people were still around.

By some miracle, that wet patch of hers had been cold for quite some time, despite her body’s best attempts to change that. She could only hope that it was just Bjorn and nobody else that knew about her internal war, though she’d been attracting strange looks for a while now. These customers had to know something was wrong, even if they’d not said anything.

And if she thought people were looking at her before, they’d certainly be staring now. There she was, with a tray in her hands, shuffling across the floor to bring it to whoever’d asked for it, when she stopped suddenly and bent slightly at the knees. The warmth had returned in force, and this time Lydia could feel it trailing down the inside of one leg. So, having failed to come up with any better ideas in the quarter of a second it took for that event to register in her mind, she dropped into a sort of kneeling position, the dishes she was carrying clattering as she did so.

Lydia set the tray down on the floor in front of her, quickly deciding to push some silverware off of it as well, then – hopefully subtly – shoved one hand beneath her apron and into her pants, squeezing herself hard enough to stop the stream. After a moment, she lightened her grip, only to be met with a quick burst of warmth, though nothing more. So she withdrew her hand and wiped it off on her apron, using the other to collect what she’d dropped in an effort to look like that had been what happened there.

It seemed to work well enough, as when everything was organized again and she stood back up, most people who she was certain had turned to look at her were either no longer doing so, or were some of the handful of people looking at her with concern. These people turned away once Lydia made eye contact with them, though, and she moved as quickly as she could to deliver the damn food.

The tray was practically dropped on the table, and Lydia hurriedly wiped down all the silverware with a clean cloth she’d pulled out of one of her pockets to reassure the customers that it was fine to use – which they were apparently satisfied with, so she immediately went back to the bar. She laid two hands on it and simply stood there doing a little march until Bjorn came over to her.

“Just about done, huh?” His question was met with no verbal response, only a glare that would have looked more threatening if Lydia weren’t clearly on the verge of tears. “I mean, look at you, you can hardly walk anymore. There’s no way you’re getting upstairs or anything at this point, so I’d be more than happy to help you here.”

“Not… yet…” Lydia spoke through her teeth.

“Suit yourself. I’m not about to pretend I don’t like this, but just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Neither of us are going to like it if you get hurt."

“I know what I’m doing.” With that, Lydia forced herself to stand as upright as possible and walk back to the dining room to clean up. Her legs got themselves twisted in some convoluted knot and she’d bounce every time she stood still to get something off a table, but still she kept fighting until one table had a mass of dishes piled on top of it. The warmth had expanded in the time it took to do that, but only slightly. Lydia was still in control, for now.

Perhaps in retrospect it hadn’t been such a great idea to make one stack of everything she had to carry back to the kitchen. She didn’t intend to use her hands anyways, but once she picked that up to bring it back, she wouldn’t even have the option. The occasional leaks had stopped though, so if she was fast enough…

Lydia took a deep breath and grabbed the dish-tower, stumbling a bit as it tried to demolish itself, but soon enough that too was under control. So she turned around and, with her legs as close together as physically possible, she slowly worked her way back to the kitchen. The handful of people that were still around were definitely giving her weird looks, but Lydia didn’t much care. She was already trying to focus on walking and not becoming even more wet, so her attention was divided enough.

She managed to get behind the bar without much of an issue, and though the Dragonborn gave her a concerned look he quickly turned back to the group sitting across from him without saying anything. But with her next step, Lydia froze. A massive jet of warmth had added itself to the wetness down her legs, and she could swear she heard some hit the floor. She knew the rest of the flood wasn’t far behind, and rushed to the nearest kitchen counter.

The dishes were slammed onto the countertop and Lydia moved just as quickly to the Dragonborn, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around to face her with far more force than either of them expected.

“Do something,” she hissed. Bjorn just nodded in response, subtly indicating with one hand for her to get down. So she sat on the floor, back against the bar, hoping nobody would notice or pay her much mind. And while she waited for something to happen, she wiggled her way out of her pants, pulling them down just far enough that her apron would cover what was exposed, and then shoved both hands between her legs.

Bjorn, meanwhile, was in the middle of distracting everyone. “Hey, who wants a free round of beer, huh?” He held his arms out at his sides and yelled loud enough for the whole place to hear. And, of course, everyone came running over to him.

The Dragonborn cautiously looked over at Lydia, who was glaring up at him with a look that demanded to know what he thought he was doing. But then she broke eye contact suddenly when she felt her hands get wet.

When a decent crowd gathered at the bar, Bjorn turned around, heading quickly to the kitchen to collect an armful of mugs, including a few particularly-tall ones. He seemed to trip on his way back, causing one of the taller mugs to fall to the floor while he juggled and ultimately lost a second normal one. The shorter mug had coincidentally been tossed to land near where Lydia was sitting, and with the Dragonborn’s next step the taller one was kicked over in that direction as well. Lydia grabbed the tall one with one hand, adjusting herself so it was underneath her, though her other hand hadn’t been removed just yet.

Bjorn had haphazardly dropped the rest of the mugs on the counter, letting everyone there grab one for themselves while he pulled a few bottles out from below. They were each opened in quick succession and he wasted no time in giving everyone a generous helping.

Lydia, of course, both understood this to be her opportunity and was out of time anyways. One last jet of her waters had been released into her hand, and continued to trickle through her fingers. As soon as the hand was removed, she gave in entirely, biting down on a dry part of her free arm so as to not make more noise than she already was.

So for a little while Lydia took long, slow breaths with her eyes closed, only opening them in a panic once she realized she could feel liquid running down the sides of her mug. Trying to force herself to stop, she only found that she couldn’t, so picked up the other mug she had with her free hand, quickly swapping the two – though this of course didn’t last very long either, and once it overflowed too Lydia resigned herself to moving into a bit of a low squat. There would be a pretty sizable puddle on the floor either way, and this way no further dishes would be ruined.

The only problem was that her auditory cover had gone by the time the first mug filled, as the Dragonborn had run out of drinks to fill. Lydia could vaguely hear him hastily composing some story or another, likely in an attempt to talk over her stream and still-expanding lake on the floor once he’d noticed that he could hear it. She looked up at him in time to see him shoot her another glance and sneak his hand under the counter, procuring a rag and tossing it in her general direction.

She looked at it for a moment, then picked it up and set it on her lap to keep it from getting wet earlier than intended. By then, her stream had slowed considerably and she failed to suppress a sigh as it turned to a trickle and eventually stopped. Another few deep breaths to collect herself, and she looked up at Bjorn again – the crowd seemed to be under control, so she let herself rise just enough to properly move over and remove the pants she’d destroyed, still trying to remain below the bar so as to not be seen.

Lydia had to admit, it was a fairly impressive puddle. Some of it was being lost between the poorly-constructed floorboards, but even so it was expansive enough that the Dragonborn had moved over a little from his original position to keep his shoes clean. She looked at the rag in her hand and decided it was definitely not going to be enough, so she shoved it through the string of her apron, letting it hang from the back and hopefully hide the fact that she was half-naked.

Then she stood up entirely and grabbed a bottle of cheap something-or-other from under the bar, casually dropping it to the ground and watching it break. And when everyone looked over at her, she simply started to back into the kitchen, saying, “I’ll take care of that.”

She came back with a mop and a broom, first sweeping all the glass shards into a neat pile, then getting to work on the puddle that was clearly too big to have been made by only what was in that bottle – though nobody had questioned her on it. The Dragonborn had walked off just before she started cleaning, then came back a few minutes later and quietly laid a clean pair of pants on a counter in the kitchen.

He then moved much less discreetly over to Lydia, wrapping his arms tightly around her from behind and leaning in to whisper to her: “Still plenty of time left ‘til nightfall, you know.”

 

Edited by Sake (see edit history)
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  • 4 months later...

I sure hope this was worth the wait, because this chapter is incredibly important: This is the very last non-story chapter in the series. Every update after this is part of the Dragonslayer story chapter, of which I have not determined the length - however, once Dragonslayer ends, so too does the story. Dragonslayer will include breaks from the story content to get some final scenes at the inn, but otherwise, the Dragonborn and company will be leaving for Whiterun, then onwards to Skuldafn and Sovngarde to conclude the main quest and this adventure. If you're not interested in the story content and all you want is the porn, read Dragonslayer's intro chapter anyways because it'll have one last major omo scene and will be written to essentially serve as an alternate ending for those that don't want to read any further.

 “Dancing through savannah grass, on light feet we glide… Hey, hey, Baandari boy, tap your heels in stride… Hey, hey, Baandari girl, swing your tail beside…”

The cold, early-morning air was filled with the sound of singing, not quite in tune or time, coming from a little black Khajiit whose tail swung around contentedly while she wiped down tables in advance of the regulars appearing for breakfast. She tried to be quiet, as the sun had barely risen yet, but being alone meant she didn’t have quite as much control over her voice as she thought.

“Val vijah va rhook, Baandari… Carrying our world in packs… Val vij- Ah?”

She looked up in surprise as a large man cleared his throat, standing at the opposite end of the table she was working on.

“So you sing, do you? That’s a new one.” The Dragonborn spun the nearest chair around and sat on it, leaning forward onto its back. “What’s got you all happy all of a sudden?”

Azhani shrugged. “Well, being bedridden for four days because my body wants me dead for… well, you know why. Anyways, gave me time to think. And, you know, I realized,” she said, moving on to a nearby table. The Dragonborn just turned his head to look at her. “My life now is the best it’s ever been. I have a home, and money that I earned, and my own things, and good friends, and I can do what I want. Only way it could be better is if I had family, but, eh…” She shook her head. “But nothing’s ever perfect, right?” Azhani forced a bit of a smile and focused on her work.

Then there was silence for a time, broken eventually by the Dragonborn, who had a hand on the back of his head.

“Well, uh… I’m not gonna go there if you don’t want me to, but… Eh, you know, there’s always someone here if you… y’know, if you need it. And, man, I really hope I didn’t kill your good mood or anything. Eheh.”

Azhani glanced over at him for a moment but just kept working. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. Just…” She sighed. “You know, I haven’t seen my sister in ten years. I don’t know where she is, if she’s even alive. I love her and I miss her but… I have had a lot of time to accept that I probably won’t see her again. I think about her a lot and it would be great if she were here, but I know she is not and I just hope that wherever she is, she is where she wants to be.” She looked over at Bjorn again, and saw him looking back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! Really, I am fine. My sister and I have different lives now. That’s how it is. Nothing can change that. And you know, I don’t think I would want to change it anyway. I really do mean it when I say my life has never been better. It can always be better, yes, but it is best, I think, to appreciate what I have now.”

Bjorn nodded. “Y’know, I’m actually kinda impressed. Takes some people fifty years to figure that out. But, really, it’s good that things seem to be working out for you.” He stood up long enough to spin the chair around and sit down properly, leaning forward with an elbow on the table and his head in his hand. “On that note, that song you were singing… what’s that about, then? Something about the Baandari?”

“Mhrr?” Azhani turned her head and made a trilled, inquisitive sound. Then her ears perked up and her eyes lit up suddenly. “Oh! Right, that. Yes, it’s an old traditional song, for festivals and things like that. And, yes, it’s about the Baandari. I think it might even come from them, but I don’t know for sure. It’s been around more than a thousand years, so…”

                “Lucky you with your ancient cultural heritage. The oldest songs people still sing back home are about the Hero of Kvatch. Granted, he’s kind of a big deal in Bruma, considering he single-handedly saved the city and all, but, still, that’s only two hundred years old.” The Dragonborn leaned back and folded his arms. “And don’t expect me to give you any examples. I can’t sing worth shit.”

                “Yes, you know, it’s strange but I can’t seem to picture a dragon singing. Wonder why that could be, hm?”

                “It’s a fuckin’ mystery.” Bjorn glanced past Azhani, looking down the hall out a window. “But, y’know what, I’m gonna go wake up Lydia and get started on breakfast. That sound good?” He looked over at Azhani, who was simply nodding fervently with wide eyes. “Alright then.”

                Only a few minutes later, Lydia was sat watching Azhani tear into raw meat across the table, and the Dragonborn was in the kitchen cooking some up properly for himself and his wife. Somewhere along the way a pot of tea had been put on as well, and Azhani had taken it all for herself to fight off the lingering effects of her present situation.

                “So,” Lydia started, clearly unsure of how to start a conversation with a human-sized carnivorous feline in the middle of meal. “Seems like you’re… doing better.”

                The little Khajiit just made a vaguely affirmative noise through a mouthful of meat, only responding properly when she’d swallowed and taken a swig of tea. “Like I told you,” she said. “No more pain, but it’s not completely over yet. It is easier to deal with now, though. All I have to do now is keep my legs closed, which is… well, not exactly what I would call a challenge.” Her tail twitched playfully while she had some more tea and picked her food back up.

                Lydia, meanwhile, just raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like it’s real easy to just… ignore your body trying to force you to do something.”

                Azhani shrugged and refrained from taking another bite. “Well, just… doing it, would be the easy way out, I suppose. That’s how I managed it when I was younger. But I have found ways to deal with it, and it is not easy and not fun at all but it’s a better life than being a whore.” Then she moved to continue eating, but pulled back at the last minute. “Though, I suppose I made some good money… They pay a lot for that in the Imperial City, you know. Made more than I do here, that’s for sure…”

                "You sound like you’re quite proud of that.”

                “Eh, were you… expecting me to be ashamed?” Azhani spoke slowly. “Am I supposed to regret what I did? Sorry, but I am not, and I do not. I did what I had to do. Sure, some things I am not… particularly proud of, but at least I am alive because of it.” She took a quick bite and spoke again. “That is more than can be said of some people who have met you, yes?”

                Lydia nodded and looked away. “That… that’s fair. Didn’t mean to… come off as condescending, or anything, but-“

                “Don’t lie to me,” Azhani interrupted. “You meant it. You probably even meant to say something much worse. But you know what, I don’t care. Think what you want about who I used to be. What I used to do. After so many years, I can finally say that is not me anymore. Criticize my old life all you like! I didn’t like it either, but you know what? It was the only life I could have, so don’t act like I’m meant to feel bad about it, or that I’m any less than you now because of it.”

                “Gods, since when have you been a fucking Greybeard, huh?” This time the voice belonged to the Dragonborn, who dropped a plate of cooked meat and toast on the table before taking a seat next to Lydia. “Seriously, you’ve been talking like a sage all fucking morning. Never thought you had that sort of wisdom in you.”

                “Heh. I told you, I had a lot of time to think about things.” After another sip of tea and a refill of her cup, Azhani continued. “And, anyways, it’s not wrong, yes? Get tossed into the world like I did, you have to learn quick how things really work. Learn to work with what you have and deal with problems.” She shrugged. “But, uh, now I would like to change the subject please, before I remember things I have been trying to forget.”

                Bjorn gave her a concerned look but didn’t press the issue, instead speaking quickly. “Right, right, of course. Well, then, how about you finish off that song, hm?”

                Azhani put down the piece of meat she’d just picked up, and looked off to the side. “Eh…” Were she not covered in fur, her face would surely be red. “Well, I would, probably, but, ehm… It’s more something that just happens, you know? I couldn’t do it now that you’re here and I’m thinking about it."

                “What a shame,” the Dragonborn said. “Work on that voice of yours and you could get a decent job as a bard someday.” Then he stood up and started towards the bar, Azhani waving her teapot at him and getting a nod in response. He set the kettle to boil and spoke across the room while he waited. “Y’know there’s a bards’ college up in Solitude. Couldn’t hurt to check it out, if you ever end up there.”

                “I-I don’t know, maybe, b-but, like I said-“ Azhani started to speak but was cut off by the door opening, everyone turning to look.

                Two Argonians entered, visibly weary from some sort of long journey. One of them had a wrapped package in her hand. She looked around for a bit before taking a seat at the bar and dropping the package on the counter.

                “Gods, I missed this dump,” Keerava said. “And, hey, we met some kid at the gate who said he brought this for you. Don’t know what it is, but it’s wrapped up tight.” She wiggled around a bit while Talen walked over to Azhani and Lydia to grab a piece of toast.

                “Aha, perfect,” the Dragonborn said, taking the package and sliding it under the counter. “I’ll get to it later. For now though, how was that trip of yours?”

                “Eh, the trip itself was nothing special, but once we got where we were going, mmm…” Keerava had put on a little grin, watching Bjorn as he went back into the kitchen. “I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say Talen knows his way around a rope and leave it at that.” She sighed and leaned into the counter, her butt wiggling a bit to accommodate the new position. “Fuck, though, it’s a long trip. It was worth it, but I am just so tired right now. I think the only reason I’m even awake at all is because I have to piss.”

                The Dragonborn looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, walked over to grab a small cup from under the counter, then walked back to fill it with the tea that had just finished. “Well, in that case,” he said, “This should help, right?”

                Keerava sat back up to laugh as the cup ended up on the bar in front of her. “Oh, definitely,” she said, grabbing the cup and plotting how to approach it while it was still so hot. In the meantime, she spun around and watched Bjorn bring the rest of the tea to everyone else. “Anyways, I see you haven’t burned down my business while I was away.”

                “As tempting as it was, yes, I kept it just how you left it.”

                “Pfft, so you’re telling me the place is still shit.” Keerava took a swig of tea and leaned back against the counter. “Don’t know what I expected. Is it any better around here without the war on, at least?”

                Bjorn shrugged, now seated next to Lydia. “Didn’t seem much different. Still… functional, I suppose, but nothing much beyond the regulars.”

                “And by functional,” Talen added, “You mean we just barely broke even, right? It’s a magical week when we can actually turn a profit.”

                “The real magic, beeko,” Keerava said, “is making more than a septim in profit.” She laid a hand on her abdomen and took another sip of tea. “Ah, but that’s just how it always is, isn’t it? I’ll have plenty of time to bitch about it later. For now, let’s hear about what went on here while we were gone.”

                “Well, unless you want to hear some special stories, you really didn’t miss much. You know how it goes around here.” The Dragonborn took a bite of meat and spoke around it. “Jus’ normal bus’ness.”

                Lydia grabbed the meat from him and shot him a playful but dirty look. “Yeah, all normal. He spent almost all our money on some fancy black armor – as one does, of course – gave a kid a lot of gold to go fetch the Nerevarine’s butter knife – as one does – and, uh, oh yeah, we got married. Remember that? You know, not a big deal or anything, but now I’m stuck with your Cyrodiilic ass until I die.”

                “Bold of you to assume you’d need to wait that long,” Bjorn said with a silly grin. “Just until Alduin eats me. So, you know, just give it a month or so and you’ll be on your own again, sweets.”

                “Assuming I even allow him to do that, of course. I may be stuck with you but that just means you’re stuck with me, too, and I’d never let you get away that easily.”

                Keerava smiled as she downed the rest of her tea, which any normal person would have taken twice as long to finish. “So you two got together, did you? Good for you. That just leaves Azhani all on her own then, doesn’t it?”

                Azhani perked up at the mention of her name and quickly looked around at everyone, obviously not expecting to be involved in a conversation. “Eheh, yeah,” she muttered, “Ah, well, that’s life, yes? I’m sure I could find someone if I tried, but for now I am fine as I am.”

                “Of course you could,” Bjorn added with a light chuckle. “Lots of people out there who would be more than happy to get a bit o-“

                “Oh, no, no, stop! Stop right there! I know where you’re going with this!” Azhani suddenly stood up and pointed at him while her tail jerked around behind her. “You think you’re clever making that joke, do you?” She leaned forward with her hands planted on the table. “You think you’re the first one to come up with that? A thousand times I have had to listen to men who think they’re being smart make jokes about pussy. Yeah I get it, I am a woman and I look like a cat. But just because I get it doesn’t make it funny.” Then she sat back down and sighed. “Ahh, but you know what is funny? The only people who think that joke is clever are Imperials. You, Dragonborn, oh Bright Moons, you are not a Nord. Yes, you might think you are, you even look like one. But truth is, rhook, you are an Imperial. There is no denying that.” With that, Azhani took a sip of tea and started purring, leaving her tail to sway contentedly.

                Bjorn threw his hands up in response. “Well,” he said, “Shit, that’s some impressive fervor, whiskers. You’re always so quiet.”

                “Don’t call me that. But, eh, yeah, I just… really hate that joke, you know?” Azhani leaned back as far as her chair would allow. “And, I mean, I can enjoy some crude humor from time to time, but at least be creative about it, yeah?”

                “Fair enough.”

                Keerava let out a little snort of laughter, her hands now resting innocently on her thighs. “Well, good to see everyone’s getting along.” Her hands moved to the counter, and she pushed herself up to her feet, taking a moment to get herself standing upright. “Anyways, I just got back from a very long trip, so if you don’t mind watching the place for a bit longer, I’m going to go lie down for a few hours. You’re coming too, Talen, before you fall asleep trying to make soup or something.”

                “Yeah, no problem,” the Dragonborn said. “I just have to check in with the armorer first, but I’ll keep things running.”

                “Thanks. I’m really gonna have to… figure out some way to repay you for all this…”

                Keerava woke up – fully clothed, as she hadn’t expected to actually get any sleep – perhaps an hour or two past noon, groaning as sunlight filled the room and she rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t feel much better, but at least her exhaustion was a less-immediate issue now. She rolled out of bed and stretched, giving of a quiet moan as a comfortably heavy weight in her abdomen become apparent. She looked down and lifted her shirt to get a proper look at the cause of the sensation, admiring the view of her scaled belly pressing against the waistband of her pants.

The Argonian tried to recall the last time she’d relieved herself – must have been the previous night, about twelve hours ago, when she and Talen had settled in to get some rest before the last and longest leg of their journey back to Riften. She remembered it as a very pleasant experience, slipping a hand into her pants as she forced herself to remember when her bladder had been emptied before then. It had been in the morning, definitely, but it couldn’t have been that same morning, for she had been genuinely concerned that she might not be dry when they stopped to make camp – which she of course hadn’t been, and while that had been due to her full bladder, it would have been a lie to say it was solely because that organ’s contents leaking out.

“Mmmn…” In any case, she knew from years of experience that she couldn’t have been that worried about wetting herself if she’d only been waiting from morning to night – so before last night, she must have been waiting a full day and a half to release her waters. Keerava knew that to be her limit, barring extraordinary circumstances, which certainly explained why she could remember being proud of the torrent she’d unleashed and worried she’d unleash it onto herself. She could have picked a better place to do it, but it was still impressive – they’d rented the cheapest horses they could find, and last night Keerava remembered dismounting, undressing, and squatting right next to the horse she’d been riding. Even at the time she was somewhat disappointed she couldn’t wait even a few seconds to get somewhere else, but faced with the orgasmic sensation of relief and now remembering that same feeling, she could only be impressed with her accomplishment.

Of course, not all of her was impressed with that memory – her bladder was desperate to replicate the events of the previous night, and with the feeling of relief fresh in Keerava’s mind again it very angrily reminded her of its existence. The hand in her pants pressed hard against herself while her thighs came together and her knees bent slightly, but a moment later she straightened up and pulled her hand out again like nothing had happened. She used her bedsheets to wipe her hand clean, and noticed just then that the bed was empty. Normally, that wouldn’t be unusual, but Talen-jei had come with her, and now he was gone. He must have woken up earlier and gone downstairs already.

So Keerava stretched again, made sure her clothes were in order, and without a second thought left to join her new mate. Her bladder pleaded with her to relieve herself while she had the chance, but she didn’t listen, and it stopped protesting when it became clear she wouldn’t be giving it what it wanted. Not for a very long time yet.

Instead, she got downstairs and headed over to take her usual position at the bar, looking around to see what was going on. Azhani was off in some far corner waiting on a table, and the handful of regulars – plus Lydia – were at the bar which was currently being worked by the Dragonborn. Talen was in the kitchen behind him, and glanced over at Keerava only momentarily as she walked over. Bjorn paid her more attention, looking her over and letting his trained gaze linger on her small bulge.

“So,” he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye, “You taking over here?”

“Yes I am.” Keerava bent down to get an apron from under the counter, pressing her legs together slightly as she did but bringing them apart again when she stood up straight.

”Great. It’s about time I got some lunch anyways.” Bjorn gave his typical two-fingered salute and started to walk off, adding a quiet “Good luck” as he passed by Keerava on his way to a table. Keerava noticed Lydia jumped a bit in her seat as the Dragonborn passed her, spinning around and grabbing his arm with a furious look on her face. He looked down at her with a half-smile. “Surprised?”

Lydia sighed and released her vice grip on Bjorn’s arm, instead bringing that hand up to her face. “You’re really lucky I don’t have a knife on hand right now, you know that? A lady gets her ass grabbed without warning in a town like this… Doesn’t normally end well.”

“With you, I’ll take that chance.” He reached out towards her, but Lydia blocked his arm with her own.

“Save it for tonight,” she said, turning back to her drink.

“If you say so.” Bjorn then walked off to a table in the dining room and sat down, waiting for Azhani to come to him.

Keerava watched him at the edge of her view, topping off Lydia’s drink. “You two seem to have hit it off pretty quickly,” she said. “Didn’t really seem like you had anything going on between you before now.”

Lydia shrugged and drank deep before responding. “Eh, well, he seems to have been fairly attached to me since we met. I didn’t think much of him at first, to tell you the truth.” She drank again before continuing. “It was pretty much just a business relationship, since I was just… assigned to him by Jarl Balgruuf, but, you know, we ended up going everywhere together.” Another sip. “I suppose I warmed up to him – I must have, considering it got to a point where I’d willingly go along with his, eh, games – but being his servant kinda complicated things. You’re right, we were never very close before we got married, but I suppose I must have felt something for him since I kept doing a whole bunch of shit that wasn’t in my job description.” She took another drink. “Heh, I mean, I agreed to marry him. I didn’t have to do that. And now that we’re married, might as well make the most of it, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. And just, don’t take any of this the wrong way or anything, it’s nice that you two are happy together, but… It’s not quite what I was expecting.”

Lydia stared across the bar with a puzzled look on her face. “What were you expecting?”

“Honestly?” Keerava leaned in and spoke quietly. “He seemed quite interested in Azhani. I though he’d end up fucking her.”

Lydia laughed as Keerava pulled away. “Oh, no, he’s – well, according to him anyways – he’s only interested in her because of the situations she keeps getting into. Otherwise, too much fur and too many tits, he says.”

“Too many…? What does that mean? She’s just barely got the two. I mean, these don’t even do anything and they’re bigger than hers.”

“Eh, I think he was just trying to make a cat joke. You know how they’ve got teats going all the way down? He probably just assumed she’d work the same way.” She took another sip. “That, or he’s seen her with her shirt off, but all that fur would cover them up anyways, so… Probably just a guess.”

Keerava looked back towards Talen, then back to Lydia, absentmindedly doling out refills and taking money while she talked. “You know, if you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have cared about it, but now I’m wondering if he was right.”

“Why not just ask her, then?”

As if on cue, the little Khajiit walked into the kitchen to relay the Dragonborn’s order directly to Talen. Keerava glanced back and noticed that she was standing with her legs pressed together, her weight awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. “Eh, it’s not that big of a deal.”

She watched as Azhani came out from behind the counter and glanced into the dining room, ensuring nothing else needed to be done, before disappearing from view up the stairs. Keerava could feel her bladder protest, knowing that she remained behind the bar pouring drinks while Azhani had gone to do what Keerava refused to.

                “You alright?”

                “Hm?” Keerava noticed Lydia was looking at her with a hint of concern in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, just fine. Zoned out for a bit there, I guess.” It was the truth, mostly. Of course she wouldn’t mention why she’d been lost in her mind, but she could at least admit that she was.

“Sure, okay.” Lydia didn’t sound convinced at all, but gave her mug a little shake anyways. “How about you top me off, then?” She reached into one of her pockets and tossed a coin onto the counter.

Keerava nodded and pulled a bottle from under the counter, ripping its cork out with her teeth while she took Lydia’s mug in her other hand and slowly refilled it, savoring every torturous second of liquid pouring from the bottle. Eventually, the cup ended up back in Lydia’s hands and, after quickly checking on everyone else at the bar, Keerava turned around and headed into the kitchen, returning to the counter with a piece of fish in her mouth and more in hand.

She took a seat and said very little, focusing instead on her lunch and refilling drinks. Whenever anyone did talk to her and expect a response, she kept it to a single line or two. Not because she needed to focus, of course – because she wanted to. Obviously, whatever she wanted was always more important than such silly things as basic biological needs, especially since in her experience it’d be a few hours before anything became a real need. Oh, sure, her bladder was full – deliciously so – but since when did that count as a need?

So she sat quietly, wiggling around a little bit but otherwise acting as if nothing were any different than normal. Probably because this was normal. Keerava had such a long history of doing this sort of thing that by now her regulars paid her no attention – they knew she hardly ever moved from behind the counter, and therefore hardly ever had any time to herself. They knew what to expect from her, and none of them cared.

No, they just let her shuffle around while they talked to each other and only paid her any mind when they needed more drinks. And she didn’t pay much attention to them, either, for now that Azhani had returned to her line of sight – visibly relieved, of course – her attention was on the Khajiit. A very busy little lady, that one was, especially considering the fact that the place was just about always mostly empty, and she’d often stop at the bar for a quick drink.

The next time Azhani came near, this time headed to the kitchen instead of the bar, Keerava stopped her on her way out. “Hey, come here a minute,” she said, prompting the Khajiit to set down the tray she’d picked up and walk up to her employer looking a little nervous.

 “Y-yes? Did… did I do something wrong?"

Keerava chuckled in response. “No, no, you’re doing great. I was just thinking, though, you could do with some more time downstairs. I’ll have to bring you down there again soon.”

“Ehrr… okay, I guess.” Azhani scratched her head. “I-if you say so. Just… I don’t know, let me know whenever you want, yes?”

 “Of course. I’ll wake you up. Probably not tomorrow, but soon. Just so you can be ready for it. Now get back to work, hm?”

Azhani nodded quickly, picked her tray back up, and hurried off. Keerava watched her leave, then turned her attention back to herself. Her own enjoyment had reminded her that Azhani wasn’t quite as trained as she was – she’d brought the Khajiit down for a training session once but the little lady still seemed to have everything fairly in proportion with her small frame, including her bladder. Another round of intense training couldn’t hurt. And, if Keerava was being honest with herself, she’d not properly seen Azhani get herself into trouble for quite a while, so she was definitely looking forward to the chance to get a close-up show.

For now, she was content to enjoy her own personal show. Her bladder, full as it was, bulged out slightly and was just getting to the point where pressing on it would yield fantastic sensations. Sensations Keerava couldn’t get watching other people, though knowing they’d be experiencing them was more than enough for her to sympathize and enjoy it anyways. But why settle for that when she could get the real thing?

Keerava pressed her legs together as she pulled a few bottles from under the counter – it was time to refill some drinks, and more importantly she was feeling quite thirsty herself. All the better for her, really. One bottle was set aside, and the others ended up empty as their contents found their way into patrons’ mugs, then it was time for the fun to begin.

That last bottle was bigger than the others by a significant margin, which also meant it cost more as well and was too expensive to waste. So it was that bottles like this would be saved for special occasions, and this occasion seemed special enough, so Keerava again ripped it open with her teeth, and spat the cork out to the ground. Then she drank up.

The bottle was drained over the next three hours, first in large swigs then slowing down to occasional sips. If Argonians could get drunk on human liquor, Keerava could have used that as her excuse, but even she had to admit that as the bottle emptied, her bladder filled even more. By the time she’d finished her drink, she was struggling to sit still. And that was before enough time had passed for the alcohol’s effects on her bladder to fully kick in.

The Dragonborn had moved back to the bar in that time, too, following Azhani while she carried a tray laden with his empty dishes. Now he was seated next to Lydia, neither of them buying anything, instead discussing their coming adventures. Normally she’d kick them out to make room for paying customers, but lunchtime was over by now so there weren’t really any paying customers to make room for. Well, that, and she knew Bjorn would be looking over at her every so often, enjoying the show she was putting on. Even Talen would look her way every so often, though she knew that was only because she’d started getting cheeky, leaning forward onto the bar with her pants pulled down just enough that she could lift her tail and flash him a nice view of the scales down there. Keerava had a plan for how this would end, and she needed Talen to be in the right mood for it. Hopefully he’d get the hint.

Her bladder was definitely mad at her now, for refusing so many times to empty it when she had the chance. She was bouncing in her seat and her breathing was getting heavier, her legs pressed tight together while she waited for just the right moment to end her game. She could go on for quite some time yet, she knew, but given the events of the night before it was probably best to call it off earlier and rest instead of getting to her limit again.

At the same time, though, Keerava wasn’t a fan of intentionally relieving herself before her bladder had a chance to get nice and hard – firm now, but still soft enough that it couldn’t be totally full yet – and certainly wasn’t terribly willing to sacrifice the pleasant heat down there that came from holding back so much urine either. The pressure was too good to give up. She was certain she could feel her bladder stretching out, its contents pressing down on the sealed exit, giving her the feeling that all that restrained liquid could break free at any moment while she wiggled around to keep that from happening. Of course, if she really wanted to stop that from happening, there was always more she could do to make sure she stayed locked up, and normally she would be doing those things by now, but it was nice to enjoy the sensations caused by the ever-present risk of leaking.

One hand had found its way down to the bulge in Keerava’s abdomen, rubbing it lightly enough to enjoy the shape of it without pressing down, as tempting as that was. Her breath was deep and slow, everything well under control for now. Azhani walked past looking a little uncomfortable, and Keerava smiled at the sight, her breath accelerating a bit as she pressed on her bladder ever so slightly once Azhani was out of sight, gradually increasing the pressure for a minute. She only let up when it felt as though she was on the absolute edge of losing control, standing up and crossing her legs while she planted both hands on the bar.

“Hey,” she said to the Dragonborn, “Do me a favor and take over, will you?”

Bjorn put on a smile that said he knew far too much. “Heh, sure, no problem.” He walked casually around to take Keerava’s place, and she nodded and headed back into the kitchen.

Talen gave her a curious look, which turned into surprise and then joy as she grabbed his arm and spoke quietly: “Bed. Now.” Then she dragged him off in the direction of the stairs, and he followed along without objection.

The walk upstairs was pleasantly torturous, and Keerava’s breathing was becoming labored as she walked quickly towards the room they’d be using. She barged in and nearly threw Talen at the bed, stopping to collect herself for a moment. Keerava forced herself to relax, taking deep breaths and standing as normally as she could, until she decided she was calm enough to go ahead with her plan. She stripped down to her scales, some of which glistened from moisture that she was certain hadn’t come from her bladder. Her clothes were tossed haphazardly aside and soon enough she found herself looking at her mate, who was wearing just as much as she was now.

He started to speak. “So, what exactly-“ But she cut him off, holding up one finger and walking quietly to the bed, sitting down on it facing towards him. Keerava got as close to the edge as she could, then leaned back and spread her legs, running a hand invitingly over her lower body.

Talen didn’t need to be told twice – or once, even – and instantly got to his knees and buried his face between her legs, working his magic with his tongue. Slowly at first, almost just teasing, going exactly where he needed to be to get Keerava heated up and wanting more. She leaned back further and closed her eyes as he got more aggressive, her breathing turning into panting as the internal stimulation from her bladder’s fullness only got more pleasurable while Talen worked to stimulate her from the outside. It was nearly overwhelming. Nearly, but she was still in control, if only barely so.

Both feelings only got more intense as time went on, and Keerava found herself letting out shaky moans as every second brought her closer to the edge. More than one edge, really. Talen didn’t seem to be letting up – not that she wanted him to anyways, but if he kept doing what he was doing, he’d surely end up with a face covered in Argonian piss.

He seemed to know the risks, and didn’t seem to care. Neither of them did. Keerava was enjoying herself too much, and Talen enjoyed too much that he was part of that. She’d started grabbing at the sheets, holding as tightly as she could, all the while giving off long, quivering moans of pleasure and pain and pleasure from pain. Her bladder demanded release, and it wasn’t playing nice, but she still had her own priorities and was dead set on delaying its satisfaction until she could get her own.

Her breathing got quicker, each breath now a short, high-pitched ecstatic cry that she hoped nobody else would be able to hear. She was sure she’d ripped a hole in her sheets just by grabbing at them as she was. Keerava felt muscles all over her body tense, and by now there was no doubt that one way or another, the end was inevitable. Her pleasure would overwhelm her and her bladder would burst, and that would be it.

She bolted upright and moved herself away from Talen at the last second. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t let it end like that. Some final sensible part of herself told her that, if nothing else, she really didn’t want to be left cleaning all that up later. “Move,” she said quickly, sliding off the bed and pushing Talen out of the way at the same time. She fell into a squatting position almost immediately, and heard the first few drops hit the floor as she reached under the bed, pulling out her oversized pot and sliding it under herself just in time to lose all control.

Keerava felt herself melt as the pleasure overwhelmed her and her urine ran free into the metal container below. She didn’t know what was going on around her, or what exactly she was doing, but it didn’t matter. It felt too good for anything else to be important.

Her senses came back to her slowly. First she felt herself trembling, then heard every moaned breath she took, then at last she could look down and see the torrent she was unleashing – however long it had been, it hadn’t let up one bit since she’d started. There was a reason this pot was bigger than all the others, and this was it. She reached out weakly to Talen, vaguely feeling her hand on his shoulder, and tried to say something, but the only sounds she could make were a garbled mess of moans and grunts, with possibly some incomprehensible Jel syllables thrown in for good measure. What was she even trying to say, anyways? Did it even matter? Talen seemed to get the point, whatever the point was, and he moved in close and wrapped himself around Keerava, keeping her vaguely upright while she continued relieving herself.

It took some time for her stream to weaken even a bit – how much time, nobody knew, for nobody was keeping track – and at this point Keerava let out a deep sigh and pulled herself together again. Her breathing returned to normal, and the waterfall between her legs had become what a normal person would consider a heavy stream, dying down eventually to a trickle that Keerava cut off on her own – she knew that if she let it continue it’d take even longer for it to stop completely, and holding in the tiniest bit of leftover pee wouldn’t be the end of the world. She lifted an arm, indicating for Talen to help her stand, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. One foot casually slid the pot back under the bed then, still in his arms, Keerava looked Talen right in the eye and shoved him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him to return the favor.

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  • 1 month later...

Here we go, lads. The end is upon us!

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                Keerava awoke, but refused to open her eyes. Her bed was too warm and soft for her to get up right now, so instead she snuggled in closer to Talen, pressing her back against his chest and weaving her tail around his legs. This was absolutely perfect. Everything she could ever want was right there in bed with her, so she could forget about everything else – her business, her debts, her dreams, her name, what year it was, what country she was in, everything. So Keerava gave a contented sigh and tried to let Talen’s warmth lull her back to sleep.

                Of course, that’s right about when she finally figured out why she was awake in the first place and noticed the midnight light of the moons filling the room. She groaned quietly as her mind woke up enough to work out that she couldn’t stay in bed for much longer. She had to pee, and it had to be soon. On any other night, she’d just force herself to go back to sleep, or get up and get down to the kitchen to start working. Not this time, though. This time, if she could relax enough to fall asleep, she’d also relax enough to wet herself – and in the absence of any clothes, the contents of her bladder would end up on her scales and sheets. And, sure, the sheets would need a good wash anyways after last night, but still. Those stains would be enough of a problem to deal with on their own, so Keerava really didn’t want to add any yellow ones to the mix.

                So, reluctantly, she moved to get out of bed, but much to her annoyance Talen simply pulled her in closer when she tried to get out from under his arm. She tried again, and again she was dragged back. Under better circumstances, Keerava might have found that cute, but right now it was just getting in her way.

                Keerava nudged Talen with her elbow and spoke softly to him. “Hey, let me up.” Despite the low volume, the urgency was clear in her voice. Unfortunately the response was just some incoherent mumbling while Talen’s hand moved south, guaranteeing that if Keerava tried to get up again Talen would press against the one part of her that really did not need pressing at the moment. She wiggled around a bit and started to make another attempt at escaping his grasp, but when he started pulling her back she resigned immediately to keep the pressure on her bladder from getting any worse.

                Well, this is fucked, she thought, before following up verbally. “Talen, let go of me, I gotta pee.” She nudged him again but again nothing useful happened, and she was left wiggling while she tried to come up with a plan.

                First plan. Just lift his damn arm. With her left hand, Keerava grabbed Talen’s wrist and tried to pull the arm up, but even in his sleep Talen was determined to keep that limb where it was, and with the both of them lying on their sides Keerava couldn’t exactly use her other hand to help.

                “Ugh, come on,” she muttered. “I really need to get up now.”

                No response. Next plan, then. Turn around. It was a bit awkward to move with Talen’s arm pressing down on her, but she managed to wiggle herself into a position where they were now facing each other.

                Now what?

                Keerava did the first thing she could think of – with her right hand, which was now on top, she pressed against Talen’s chest and tried to push herself away. But again he simply pushed her back towards him, this time crushing Keerava’s bladder against his body. She felt but refused to think about the warm little droplets she could feel moistening the scales along her inner thighs.

                “Wake the fuck up before I piss on us,” she said as soon as she was sure she was in full control of herself. Her hand found its way to his shoulder, and gave him a light shake. When that only elicited a mumble, she shook harder, and this time got a groan out of him.

                “Hrhuuh? ‘sit moring?” Talen yawned and looked at Keerava with half-open eyes, the hand he had draped over her moving down to stroke her tail and perhaps even sneak a feel of what was under it.

                “No, it’s the middle of the night. I really have to take a leak and you weren’t letting me get up.” She didn’t wait for a response before pushing off against his chest again, this time getting far enough away to gracelessly roll out of bed and nearly crash onto the floor. She hastily dragged her oversized pot out from under the bed and got herself into a squatting position, absolutely ready to relieve herself.

                “Ah, fuck.” There was one problem, though.

                Talen sat up just enough to see the back of Keerava’s head. “Wha’sup?”

                ”Fucking…” Keerava had looked down just before she let herself loose, to make sure she was positioned properly, only to find that the pot was still full to the brim from her explosion just a few hours earlier. “Nobody emptied the damn thing. Fuck.” A few drops fell into the pot while Keerava reluctantly moved to an almost-standing position, sliding a hand between her legs and keeping her legs bent at the knees while she desperately tried to come up with an alternative solution.

                Talen watched quietly as she took a few steps forward, away from him. He truly didn’t care for her games, but he had to admit that the way she moved when she got like this, the way her hips swayed and her tail twitched and what her body did when she bounced, made her look incredibly beautiful, especially from behind. He was considering offering another round of fun, knowing how much she loved doing that with a full bladder and perhaps even a length of rope, but she turned around and spoke to him before he could make the suggestion.

                “Well what in Oblivion do I do now?” Keerava groaned and bent forwards, trying to keep her bladder, exhausted as it was from being pushed to its limit far too often recently, in check for long enough to find a solution. Her eyes were wide open and frantically searching the room for anything that might be commandeered to help her situation.

                “You could dump the thing out the window,” Talen said as he stared at his mate’s shifting, perfect legs.

                She responded with a groan. “Ugh, yeah, if I bend over to do that I’m fucking done.” The next sound out of her was something of a growl as she tensed up, crossed her legs, and gripped firmly between them with both hands. A second later she groaned again to cover up a short-lived splattering sound by her feet. “Gah, you may be onto something there though. As if I have time to come up with anything else...”

                Keerava glanced over at the window just barely out of reach to her right. Thankfully it had been left open all night, and for as shoddy as the inn’s construction was it seemed like the windowsill would be able to support a significant amount of weight if it needed to.

                She took a deep breath before hobbling over to the window, bringing one hand out from between her legs as she stumbled forwards and ended up leaning on the windowsill. She pushed herself off to stand up as straight as she could, carefully turning around and then using her free hand to grab the window behind her. One last firm squeeze of her crotch and that hand moved to do the same. She lifted her tail to get it out of the way, one foot went up to press against the wall, and she started to pull herself up. Her face was contorted, eyes closed and teeth showing, as a consequence of the strain of both dragging herself up a wall and trying to hold her urine, even as her stream started just as her feet left the ground. It built up to a proper torrent too quickly for Keerava to get in position, so it was already raining in the room well while she worked at getting herself onto the window. She sighed as she finally made it the rest of the way and dropped herself to sit on the windowsill, wiggling around a bit to get whatever she had left out the window instead of making a puddle below her. Her grip tightened but the rest of her body relaxed, her stream picking up intensity thanks to her no longer making any effort to stop it, and her tail dropping down so it could hang freely and get splashed from offshoots of the waterfall.

                Keerava started panting, her breath slowing as her stream did, until she was taking deep breaths with her mouth hanging open while the last of her bladder’s contents were expelled as little more than a mere trickle. When that stopped and was replaced with the occasional single drop, she opened her eyes and leaned back a little to look beneath her. In the moonlight she could make out a little shimmer outlining her puddle on the ground and perhaps a few streams where it fell into cracks in the street, but even from merely the second story of the building it was hard to see anything else. She knew she wouldn’t be able to assess any damage to her wall without falling out the window herself, so she hopped down into a similarly-sized puddle.

                “I don’t imagine you’re coming back to bed, then?” Talen spoke with a hint of humor in his voice.

                “Eh…” Keerava gave herself a quick visual inspection, though she already knew what had happened to her own body from the feel of wetness all over her lower half. Her tail was dripping and there were little trails of her waters running down her legs, especially on the back side where the moisture outlined where she’d sat in her own puddle. “Doesn’t look like it. Just get me a rag for my feet and something to soak up this with. I’m going to go see about taking a bath.”

                Hours later, well after sunrise, Keerava was perfectly clean and dry, wearing one of her usual simple dresses. She had her head resting on the bar with her arms serving as pillows while she tried to get a little more sleep while she had the chance. Talen was idling around in the kitchen behind her and across from her Azhani sat gnawing on a piece of raw bacon. Otherwise there was no indication of life anywhere in the building. Everything was quiet.

                Rather odd, considering the fact that the inn happened to be the current residence of a very large man known specifically for his ability to yell at things to make them go away. Somehow, he was nowhere to be seen. It had been decided when he failed to show up for his usual breakfast just after dawn that he must have left especially early on some important errands, so nobody paid his absence much mind. The much more real concern was the absence of people who weren’t him. Even if it was usually quiet, especially in the mornings, there was always someone there for a little breakfast so a little bit of coin could always be expected to come in before lunchtime, but not this time.

                So, despite wanting to get some more rest, Keerava was being especially attentive while her head was down. Any hint of that door opening most likely meant she’d be getting paid, and she had to stay awake for that. So she waited and listened.

                Eventually, she heard something that caught her attention, nearly jumping into an upright seated position at the muffled sound of jingling mail and heavy metal footsteps just outside. She watched the door, the optimistic look on her face being replaced by confusion and curiosity as two figures in menacing black armor entered. Sure, Keerava recognized their faces, but that armor…

                Her confused gaze ended up on a pouch that the Dragonborn dropped onto the bar without a word as soon as he was close enough. “What’s this supposed to be?” She picked up the pouch and gave it a gentle shake. It sounded like money, and a good deal of it.

                “It’s everything I owe you,” Bjorn said, his face and voice much more serious than usual. He had his right hand on the counter and his left loosely gripping the pommel of the sword on his belt. “And a little more, as thanks for everything over the past few months. I’m going to be heading off to Whiterun today. I’m going to go finish this. And I don’t know if I’ll be coming back, so I don’t want any loose ends like debts hanging around if I don’t.”

                “Oh, wow,” Keerava said with a bit of a gasp as she looked into the pouch. “That explains the armor, I suppose. What is that, ebony?” Not expecting an answer, she looked off to the side for a moment, right at Talen who had decided to come over and look over her shoulder at the money. When she looked back, she gave a little chuckle. “Shit, I never thought I’d have this much gold in my hand at once. This is… Talen, do you know what we could do with this? We can actually get out from under Black-briar’s boot here.” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt genuinely excited like this.

                And while the two Argonians talked with each other about all the great things they could do with the coin, Azhani looked over at the Dragonborn and gave his arm a little tug to get his attention. When he looked over at her, she said, “You said you’re going to Whiterun?”

                “Yeah, why? You don’t want to come along, do you?”

                “Ehh…” Azhani looked around for a moment, searching for nothing but her own thoughts. “Maybe? I, uh… Well, I’d like to at least head in that direction. Um, now that I actually have somewhere to live, I’ve been thinking, and there are some things I need that I can only get from the Baandari. The most reliable Baandari caravan I know of around here is the one that goes to Whiterun, so I just want to go catch up with them and come right back.” Then she shrugged. “I would just ask for you to buy what I need, but honestly I don’t trust you to be able to negotiate with them like I can. Or even understand exactly what I need.”

                Bjorn raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you need?”

                Azhani waved a hand almost dismissively. “Ah, nothing much. Mostly I’m concerned about sugar. It would be great if I could get a few other things from them too, but I can get those anywhere if I need to. Sugar, though, that I can’t trust if it doesn’t come from a Khajiit, and I don’t think you could recognize good sugar anyways.”

                “Meaning… moon sugar?” The hand Bjorn had on the counter went to his chin.

                “Well, yeah, what else would it mean?”

                Lydia suddenly interjected from just behind her husband. “Moon sugar? Really? You don’t seem like the type that would be into drugs.”

                “Okay, see, that’s why I don’t trust you guys to buy it for me.” Azhani gestured intensely with both hands in their direction. “To you it is a drug, yes, but to me… In my religion it is the most sacred thing in the world. I need it, and I need to make sure I’m getting the right sort of sugar, because for as long as I haven’t had a home I haven’t been able to properly observe holidays, and now that this is my home, I would like to get back to that.” She glanced off to the side for a moment. “And, yeah, it tastes really good but that’s beside the point. I cannot cook to save my life anyways so I’d just ruin it if I tried to use it in food. It’s purely religious.”

                “Sorry, what’s all this about moon sugar?” Keerava leaned in, finally able to pull herself away from the shiny things in the bag she’d been given. “We’re not talking skooma, are we? I can’t have you stinking up the place with that garbage. Not my business what you’re into, but, you know, not in here.”

                Azhani looked as if she had been personally insulted. “Skooma? No, never! That would be blasphemy!” She shook her head lightly. “No, just sugar. I might have to burn a little bit of it sometimes, maybe even smoke some, but that’s completely different from that mutilated horseshit those zombies in the sewers are on. That shit is like tar, but good sugar is… well, it’s sugar. It burns hot, there’s not a lot of smoke, and it makes the place smell sweet.”

                “Eh… Yeah, okay. I’m a bit too used to people around here being on the hardcore stuff, just kinda assumed that’s what we were talking about, sorry. Moon sugar, though, I wouldn’t get in trouble for letting you have that here, so it’s all good. Just keep it to your room for me.”

                “Oh, of course. Yeah, no problem. And, uh, you’re okay with me going off for a while, yes?”

                Keerava threw her hands up. “Pfft, yeah, you go do whatever you want. Talen and I can always handle things here on our own. We’ve been doing it for years before you got here, after all.”

                Azhani nodded and looked up at the Dragonborn again. “So, what do you say? You’d just have to get me there, or in the general direction of there, and I’ll find my own way back. Just figure, you know, why go separately when you’re already heading that way?”

                “Eh, why not,” came the response. “If you’re sure it’s a good idea, then I’ve got no objections.”

                “Yeahhh…” Azhani drew that word out as long as she could before needing to breathe again, then inhaled almost with a hiss. “Probably not the best idea to go to Whiterun, all things considered, but... I don’t really need to go into town unless the caravan’s not got there yet. And then I’d probably just lay low at an inn or something if I can find one that won’t kick me out for having a tail.” Then she shrugged and started picking at scraps of meat on the plate in front of her.

                “Uh-huh… I’m going to just assume that’s not a conversation I want to get myself wrapped up in, so… How about some breakfast, then? Don’t want to head out without something to eat, after all.” Bjorn took a seat and leaned onto the counter while Lydia sat down at his side. “And, uh, I’m gonna need that thing I left here.”

                Keerava nodded. “You got it.” She turned around and called for Talen to start cooking something, then turned back and reached under the counter to procure the wrapped-up package the Dragonborn was keeping there. “And there’s that, too.”

                “Excellent.” The Dragonborn first took off his gauntlets and set them onto the counter next to the package, did the same with the gloves beneath, and with his bare hands he started fiddling with the strings holding the package together as delicately as he could. In time he had removed several layers of cloth and exposed a small but thick wooden box with a hefty latch on it. Azhani watched with a sort of bored curiosity as the box was opened even more carefully. She recoiled upon seeing what was inside, her eyes going as wide as possible while she audibly gasped.

                “That cannot be…” She reached out for a moment to touch the thing, before grabbing that hand with her other, suddenly remembering why that wasn’t a good idea. The books she’d read about the Nerevarine couldn’t seem to agree on what his face looked like, but damned if they didn’t all go into excruciating detail regarding his two most famous weapons. One of which was right there in front of her.

                Keerava seemed surprised, too. “That is what’s been sitting under my bar since yesterday?”

                “Yup. Genuine Keening,” the Dragonborn said, sounding almost disinterested as he carefully picked the thing up – getting a few surprised noises from Azhani as she looked on in awe at his hands not melting as she’d read they were supposed to – and slid it into a small scabbard just under his sword. “I didn’t say anything about it ‘cause it’s easier to keep it safe if nobody knows what it is.”

                Azhani shook herself from her little trance and tipped her head to the side. “Wait, are you sure that’s real? I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to hold the real thing like that.”

                “Oh yeah, it’s real. I guess it’s just lost a lot of its power, so it won’t do too much to me if I carry it around. I wouldn’t advise touching it, though, just to be safe. It doesn’t hurt me but I don’t know what’d happen to someone else.”

                “And where’s the rest of the set, then?” Keerava asked while Talen walked up with a tray of food, stopping for a moment to register that he wasn’t imagining the legendary artifact on the belt of the guy sitting across the bar. “Supposed to be a hammer and a glove.”

                Bjorn shrugged. “Beats me. I’m still not even entirely sure where this was dug up, so fuck if I know what’s going on with the other two.” Then he shoved a piece of meat into his mouth, and only spoke again once it was no longer in the way. “So,” he said, looking over at Azhani. “If you’re coming along, you should probably go get everything you need together. I’d like to leave sooner rather than later, and, you know, if I don’t have to wait for you…”

                “Yeah, I get it. I don’t have a whole lot…” Azhani trailed off into a bit of a laugh at her own expense. “Ah, but, yes, I’ll get some clothes together, I suppose.” She stood up and stumbled, trying to remember how her legs worked after being seated essentially since she woke up. She sorted herself out by leaning onto the bar for a moment, before pushing off and slowly heading upstairs.

                Azhani left the door cracked open when she got to her room, ignoring the little stash of different clothes she had lying in a corner and instead heading for the window. She threw it open and leaned forward against the windowsill, her head sticking out with eyes closed and mouth slightly open. A cool morning breeze ruffled her fur while her ears flicked reflexively in response to the little bit of wind. Her eyes opened when the air settled down, and she casually looked out over what she could see of the town. A few people were roaming about on whatever business they had, and in the distance she could hear the chatter of the marketplace while the locals surrendered what little coin they could spare to the merchants selling those baubles of theirs.

                It almost reminded her of her time with the caravans – whenever those pedlars weren’t moving, they were camped out trying to talk some poor sap into spending his last two septims on an “exotic luxury item” that was really just some household trash brought up from Anequina or Pellitine. No wonder people in Skyrim didn’t like Khajiit, if that was all they’d ever seen of them. And no wonder the pedlars stayed out of the homeland – the Baandari were supposed to be an honorable organization, and going back home with a reputation for scamming honest people out of hard-earned money would… Well, nobody ever filled Azhani in on what would happen then, but she assumed it wouldn’t be particularly fun.

                At least there were still a few honest people around, and Azhani knew the pedlars running the caravan to Whiterun were among them. They couldn’t afford not to be, after all. Trying to run a scam on Skyrim’s center of trade wouldn’t just be a stain on their honor – they’d go completely broke too! She was confident they’d have what she needed, and that her experience with them would let her whittle them down to a good price for it without them trying to pull tricks on her.

                A sparkle in the corner of her view dragged Azhani’s attention from her thoughts. She looked towards the source, leaning forward just a bit to get a better view. She scanned the area quickly, and her gaze settled on a part of the road adjacent to the inn, just a few rooms down. A puddle there seemed to have caught the morning light in just the right way to shine a bit. But… why was there a puddle there to begin with? It hadn’t rained in ages.

                Then again, this place did serve alcohol. It was probably just some drunk heading home last night, stopping for a piss on the way. It was a bit disgusting, but who was Azhani to judge when she’d done the same herself on countless occasions? And while sober, no less!

                Come to think of it, if she was going to be heading out of town, she’d probably want to make sure to drain herself before doing so became inconvenient. So she pulled herself back into the room, leaving the window open so she could still get hints of the nice breeze, then strolled across to the other side of the room to shut and lock the door to make sure nobody would interrupt.

                 From there it was trivial. As she’d done so many times before, Azhani walked over to the bed, pulled her pot out from under it, stripped, squatted over the pot, and relaxed. The result was a pitiful little trickle that barely lasted a few seconds, but that was a pleasant change of pace from nearly wetting herself just about every other day.

                She gave herself a little shake to dry off once she was done, then just redressed and put together what little stuff she would need for the journey: her coin purse, and a few sets of clothes. That still felt weird just to think about – that she had money and a variety of clothing. For so long she’d have been lucky to have one septim and a shirt. Usually it ended up being a choice between one or the other, and she’d almost always pick the septim.

                But that was a different time, and as far as Azhani was concerned a different person. That just wasn’t her anymore – it might have been once, but now she was making a good, honest living, and it was hard to adjust to a safe, stationary life after all that time. Perhaps going on this trip would do her a bit of good in that regard. It’d get her out and about like she used to be, except this time the people she’d be travelling with weren’t expecting her to give them any favors in exchange for the protection.

                Azhani shook her head and grabbed all the stuff she’d packed for her trip. No use thinking about the past, though. Nothing she could do to change any of that. So she headed for the door, unlocked it and swung it open, and was just about to step out of the room when she remembered something else she usually wouldn’t have had – her shoes, and even then she only remembered them because she noticed that her feet were bare and needed to be wrapped if she wanted to go on a long trip. Then she remembered she had a pair of shoes stowed away somewhere, which would be much better than a little cloth.

                She set down the bag she was bringing with her and set about trying to figure out where she’d left them. She hadn’t worn them since the day she got them, partly because they were never necessary, and partly because of what had happened to them that day that caused her to go out and wash them the next. But other than that, they were damn fine shoes.

                Fortunately, they were in the first place she checked – tucked away into a corner of the room near the bed. Out of the way, but easily accessible. Azhani retrieved them and spent a minute sitting on the bed getting them on and lacing them up. Now she was ready.

                Azhani actually turned out to be the first to get herself ready. Somehow, she’d had time to stare out a window, relieve herself, and lazily collect her clothing and money all before the two experienced adventurers got their things together. She was waiting for them just outside the inn’s front door, and when they came out they were as surprised as she was that she’d been so quick.

                The Dragonborn, however, didn’t seem to care much beyond the initial confusion, and simply headed off in the direction of the south gate, a little wave of his hand indicating that his wife and Azhani should follow.

                “Wouldn’t the north gate be faster?” Azhani was just barely keeping pace with Bjorn, and he slowed down a bit to answer her question.

                “It would be, but if we leave town from the south, the entire route to Whiterun is along a river, which is convenient for us because it means we don’t have to carry lots of supplies. Just some food and enough drink to get us to our first camp.”

                “Oh, that makes sense. No cart this time, then?”

                “Nope. Just horses. I actually only have the two so you’re gonna have to share Lydia’s if you don’t mind.”

                “And if you do mind, you can walk the whole way,” Lydia added with a pinch of sarcasm.

                The tip of Azhani’s tail twitched. “Well, I could do with some exercise…”

                “Shit, you really think so?” The Dragonborn looked at Azhani with a raised eyebrow. “Man, if anything, you need to sit around doing nothing more. Get some meat on those bones, lady.”

                “Smaller frame is better for sneaking,” Azhani muttered.

                “Yeah and it means a light breeze will knock you on your ass.” Bjorn chuckled. “You think anything’s gonna knock someone built like me down?” He made a fist and knocked on his chestplate to prove his point.

                Azhani rolled her eyes. “I saw you almost get knocked off a mountain by a dragon.”

                “Hey, Alduin doesn’t count. And I stayed on the mountain, right? Totally doesn’t count.”

                Lydia slapped him on the back near his shoulder. “And I suppose that scar across your chest doesn’t count either? I hear you were coughing up blood. Quit acting so tough, your dumb ass nearly died.”

                “Love you too, hon.” Bjorn laughed and was promptly rewarded with a little shove that caused him to stumble.

                Azhani slowed down to her usual walking speed, letting the other two carry on their play-fight in peace as they kept on ahead of her. Her tail calmly swished around behind her as she watched them. The sight reminded her of how her and her sister used to tease each other when they were kids, and she actually pulled off as much of a smile as her anatomy would allow. Sure, the memories of her sister whom she’d accepted she’d never see again hurt, but for some reason seeing the Dragonborn and his wife enjoying themselves – and each other – made her feel good.

                Things were really looking up for her. When was the last time anyone else’s happiness made her feel happy too, and not jealous of their good fortune? When was the last time she’d even been in the company of anyone who wasn’t just looking out for themselves? Azhani couldn’t remember, but she was glad that these things were happening now. She had a good life, a good home, a good job, and she knew good people. And perhaps with a little bit of luck she’d even get to go on a good adventure or two. Just like old times.

 

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  • 1 month later...

Nothing could ever be as bad as that time in Cyrodiil. She had gotten into trouble with the Imperial Legion for things that were absolutely not her fault, and with all the fines to pay and counts to stand before and jail to go to, all in one day, she never really had any good opportunities. Add on top of that getting carted around everywhere, with guards that would certainly have been displeased if their transports needed cleaning, and being under constant watch whenever she wasn’t being moved from one place to the next…

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Update soon (TM). In the meantime, here's some art of our favorite little suthay girl by the great @Jailor Eckman. If you've been following the story you know where that little blurb of narration came from.

Khajiit may be innocent of these crimes, but knowing that doesn't seem to be making her situation any better.

For legal purposes the image is technically of a catgirl of indeterminate species who just happens to also be named Azhani.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Fun fact: my word document for this, which is slightly different than the released story because of revisions that couldn't be made to the blog or thread and also notes to myself about what day everything is, is at 108,674 total words. This chapter alone makes up 7751 of them.

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                Some hours later, the three were making their way west along the southern coast of Lake Honrich, moving at a modest pace – for, according to the Dragonborn, there would be no immediate danger were they to simply take their time. They were quiet, the only sounds for a good deal of time being those of the two horses’ footfalls on the cobbled road, muffled by the jingling of armaments, and the occasional bird call or rustling in the nearby bushes.

                Azhani’s small stature allowed her to sit in front of Lydia, the larger woman simply reaching around the little Khajiit to work the reins. Feeling Lydia shift her position behind her slightly, Azhani’s tail twitched at the tip, its owner satisfied with the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with sitting in such a position for so long – not being used to riding horses, Azhani was hoping they’d stop soon so she’d get a chance to walk around and stretch to relieve the soreness just below her tail.

                Evidently they’d be stopping a lot sooner than she thought. Lydia pulled her horse to a sudden halt and looked over at her husband. “Uh… You know you’re glowing, right?”

                “What?” Bjorn stopped his own horse, more gradually, and looked down at himself. “Oh. Um… That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense…” He dismounted and crept forward, following the beam of light that seemed to be connecting him to something else. “A dragon died must have died here, but I wasn’t around for it.”

                Lydia helped Azhani to get off the horse, then her own boots hit the ground shortly thereafter. “You figure the town guard went and killed it?” She followed the Dragonborn from a bit of a distance, just in case anything should happen, and Azhani simply looked over in their direction with her head cocked to the side. “Or another dragon?”

                “Wouldn’t have a soul left over for me if it were another dragon,” Bjorn said, peeking around a boulder and watching the dragon’s corpse disintegrate. “This was people. Could be town guard, I suppose…” When the light finally faded, he knelt before the dragon’s remains. “But I don’t think so…” He waved at Lydia to come closer, and Azhani wandered over behind the two of them as well. Standing with straight legs to look over Lydia’s armored shoulder, Azhani noticed that the dragon’s skull seemed to have caved in, and her ears twitched at the unpleasant thoughts of how that might have happened. “I don’t know anyone who can do this,” the Dragonborn said, pointing to the bone fragments. “I didn’t even think you could break dragon bones like that.” Then he stood up and walked around slowly to investigate the rest of the skeleton. “And a bunch of these ribs are cracked, and… that’s taken a pretty nasty hit too. And over here-”

                “Well, either way, it’s dead,” Lydia interjected, casually shifting her weight between feet. “Does it really matter how beat up it is? Someone somewhere helped us out by killing the bastard, and you got a free soul out of it. So it broke some bones in the fight. Big deal. Let’s move on.”

                “Yeah, yeah, but… I don’t know what the fuck could have done this. It’s nice that it killed a dragon but…” Bjorn looked around at the ground for a moment. “… But it looks like it killed it alone. Something killed this fucker on its own, and I want to know what it is because if it can kill a dragon without any help, I’d like to know if it’s on our fucking side!”

                Lydia stepped forward with an arm held out. “Calm down. We can worry about that later. Right now, we need to keep moving.” Her husband reluctantly accepted her hand, and she added with a lightly mocking tone, “Maybe we’ll even run into whatever killed the thing later.”

                The two continued a quiet conversation between themselves as they passed by Azhani, whose ears fell at the prospect of more riding when she’d hardly had any time to recover from the first few hours. But she walked over to the horses anyways, and looked over at Bjorn who had already mounted up again, and at Lydia who seemed to be waiting impatiently for her next to her own horse. Her gaze shifted between the two for a little while before she spoke up.

                “Could we not stay here a little bit longer?” She was wringing her hands, already sure she knew the answer. “The, uh… horse is kind of uncomfortable and I want to rest a bit first.”

                “Rather not,” Bjorn said. “Lydia’s right, we’ve got to cover a lot of ground every day, and there’s only a couple of hours of daylight left.”

                Lydia, meanwhile, folded her arms. “You need a piss, don’t you?” She glanced over at the Dragonborn for a moment. “Should have known that’d be a problem,” she said, looking back at Azhani. “But hey, I guess we’re already stopped so…”

                “N-no, that’s not it. I mean, I could, but I think I’ll be fine.” Azhani looked between the two again and shrugged. “I’ve never rid a horse before, so my butt’s kind of starting to hurt. That’s all.”

                The Dragonborn could be heard trying to stop himself from laughing. “Really? Ah, well, I think you’re just gonna have to deal with it. We’ll be stopped by sunset, you can rest all you like then.” Then he looked over at the Khajiit and raised an eyebrow. “But seriously, we’re stopped now, so you can go take another minute if…”

                “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Azhani insisted, stepping closer to Lydia who helped her get into her place on the horse before climbing up herself. “If we need to keep moving, that is okay. I don’t want to disrupt your plan.”

                Bjorn shrugged and got his horse walking again. “A’ight.”

                Lydia followed along on her own horse, and Azhani could feel her shifting around a bit, before finally settling down with a barely audible groan.

                Azhani was really starting to regret not taking the opportunity for a quick break when it had been offered to her. She knew she wasn’t in danger of wetting herself – metaphorically, of course, since she physically wouldn’t be able to do that around other people anyways – but her current situation really wasn’t helping matters. Being seated on a horse as she was meant her legs were forced apart, and if she didn’t want to fall off she needed to keep a grip on something with both of her hands. She’d picked the horse’s mane, which probably wasn’t all that comfortable for the animal either, but then again the heavily-armored woman just behind her was almost certainly a far greater burden.

                On that note, Azhani was glad that at the very least she was in front of Lydia and not behind her. Had she been behind, she wouldn’t be able to stay mounted without leaning forward and pressing her belly into the huskarl’s unyielding ebony plate. She wasn’t in the mood to consider what effects that might have on her.

                But of course things not being as bad as they could have been didn’t in itself do anything to alleviate what pressure was already there. It didn’t mean that Azhani wanted any less to emulate the river they’d constantly have at their side, and do so soon. Very soon, ideally.

                “We gonna stop any time soon?”

                That wasn’t her voice. That came from behind her. From Lydia, who, if Azhani could get over her own squirming for a minute, seemed to be unable to find any comfortable position in her saddle.

                “Yeah, in about an hour or two. There’s some really good camping land about that far out, and we can get there before sunset.”

                Lydia grumbled quietly, but not so quietly that Azhani couldn’t hear, then composed herself and said, “Alright.”

                Azhani could tell it wasn’t actually alright. Lydia was trying her best to hide her need but it was obvious to the little Khajiit that she wasn’t the only one with a full bladder on that horse. Not that knowing so helped matters – if anything the confirmation that they’d both have to wait longer just made it worse.

                Still, it was inspiration to create a bit of a distraction, so the Khajiit spoke hesitantly: “So, eh, what are you going to do after you finish this quest… thing?”

                The response was a light groan and snappy speech. “We don’t have a plan. It’s a bad habit to make plans for after something you’re probably gonna get killed doing.”

                “That’s rather pessimistic, no?”

                “You think so? We’re going off to kill a god, Azhani. It doesn’t matter how strong I am or how many souls he’s eaten, that’s not exactly weighted in our favor.”

                “It’s been done before,” Azhani spoke, almost a mumble. She understood why Lydia was annoyed right now but it didn’t make her feel any less like she was being chastised.

                “By the Nerevarine.”

                “Yeah.”

                “The Nerevarine, who had divine tools and used them to kill mortal gods.”

                Azhani tipped her head to the side. “Can it really be that different?”

                “I assume so.” Lydia paused for a moment to groan and compose herself. “Haah, look, I can either focus on having this theological debate, or I can focus on not pissing my pants. And I really need to pay attention to that second thing right now.”

                The little Khajiit nodded and gave a disappointed sigh. She was hoping a conversation would keep her distracted, but now there was nobody to talk to – the Dragonborn was far enough away that a conversation with him would necessarily be a shouting match, and with his being Dragonborn, that wasn’t exactly ideal. It’d work out fine as long as it didn’t escalate to the other kind of Shouting, and of course it wouldn’t, but… why even take the risk at all?

                On that note, how long had it been since he said they’d need to wait another hour? Ten minutes? Five? Less than a minute? If only there were some way to tell. The Altmer, Azhani knew, had been making clocks for thousands of years, so why hadn’t anyone else figured it out and made a portable version yet?

                Not that it really mattered. Whether she had to wait another five hours or five minutes, Azhani couldn’t do anything to speed things up. She’d just have to wait however long it would take to reach somewhere to settle in for the evening. Could she do that without breaking something? A moment to squirm around a little and evaluate her condition revealed… Yeah, she could. Oh, sure, she had to go, and quite urgently at that, but it’s not like she was frantic or anything. The liquid weight she could feel in her abdomen was getting uncomfortable and stretching her out a little, and she wished she could do anything about it beyond just awkward wiggling, but otherwise she had everything under control for now. Yet another testament to the effectiveness of Keerava’s unusual training.

                Lydia, though? She seemed to be worse off, and since Azhani had always seen her as being so much stronger, that was just a little bit concerning. Then again that could easily be explained by her husband sharing Keerava’s eccentricities, perhaps meaning she’d not relieved herself immediately before setting out as Azhani had.

                But that wasn’t something Azhani wanted to think about. It wouldn’t do her any good. What would help, though, would be to just focus on the nature all around, and try to ignore the more inconvenient parts of it like the river. Just keep her mind on the trees and rocks and grass and whatever else, anything but her own body or running water.

                Or perhaps sand? Sand, after all, is what deserts are made of, and Azhani had plenty of memories of Anequine deserts to sift through and focus on. She’d done her fair share of exploring there as a cub, after all, and as such could easily recall countless pleasant images, reminders of her old home. Specifically, the great canyons of the Scar, too dangerous for her and her sister to explore up close, but attractive enough that they’d always toe the line as much as Azhani would allow before getting scared off. But when she wasn’t getting scared of the creatures she’d been told lived down in the Scar’s ravines, she loved the feeling of the nice hot sand under her toes and the beautiful, imposing sandstone cliffs.

                But then the savannahs were nice too, weren’t they? Rimmen itself was on a nice little open plain, where Azhani and her sister spent most of their time if they weren’t specifically exploring elsewhere. She could almost feel the warm, dry breeze over the fields if she really committed to the memory. And what else was there? Hakoshae was nice enough, according to Azhani’s memories, though she’d only been there once or twice because her sister wanted to see if there were still any Tsaesci living there – which, come to think of it, was also why they’d spend a lot of time outside the Tonenaka, waiting and hoping that one of the snake-men would come out.

                They’d even made a whole day of that one summer. The weather had been too nice to head inside and the elves had the good sense to leave the Tonenaka alone, so they’d got a little basket of food from their mother and spent all day in Rimmen’s palace district trying to find a way to see the ten thousand Akaviri statues inside the shrine.

                Azhani brought up one hand to rub at her eyes for a moment before returning it to where it was. What ever happened to innocent little ja’Khajiit Azhani?

                Oh, right.

                Well, that wasn’t a good line of thought to go down. Acting quickly to pull her mind to something else, Azhani dragged herself back to reality, deciding she’d rather focus on her powerful desire to urinate than break down over memories better left buried.

                So she focused on her bladder, and its demands to be emptied as soon as possible. Still well enough under control, but definitely a good bit worse than the last time she’d checked up on it. She didn’t want to look down to confirm, but she was pretty sure her bladder was making her a fair bit rounder than normal right now. It felt heavy and full, the pressure constant and, now that she was managing to drown out the river sounds, dull enough to remain tolerable for a little while yet. She’d been through far worse before. She could handle this.

                But what of-

                “Uggh…” A strained groan from behind answered Azhani’s question before she could come up with an answer herself. “Hey,” Lydia called out to the Dragonborn up ahead. “I need to pee yesterday. Where are we stopping?”

                “Oh, it’s not far, don’t worry.” He didn’t look back or anything, and his voice was calm and strangely apathetic – Azhani expected him to sound excited. Perhaps he liked pretending not to care? He was weird, so perhaps that was it.

                “Not far, my ass,” Lydia muttered. She groaned again and squirmed to the best of her ability, ultimately settling down with an annoyed sigh. Then she seemed to address Azhani. “You know his definition of ‘not far’ is ‘less than ten miles’? Pfft. Ten miles is pretty damn far when you’ve got a lake in a balloon being squeezed by plate armor.”

                “How much time is that, ten miles?”

                Lydia shrugged, but Azhani wasn’t looking at her to see it. “Hour, hour and a half, maybe. So pretty much it’s the same as last time I asked.” She sighed again. “I know what he’s doing, what he’s waiting for. Just need to see how long I can wait for it.” Then she shut up and went back to shifting around as much as she could while maintaining correct riding posture.

                Azhani, for her part, twitched her ears and settled down to find something else to keep her mind off of her body. After forcing herself to ignore the mounting pressure within, she was eventually able to drift over to thoughts about her current situation and her future, mainly questioning if any of it were actually real. The discomfort around her belly was a decent indication that this was not, in fact, a dream – not definitive, since she used to wake up more frequently than she would have liked because the full bladder she’d fallen asleep with had infiltrated her dreams, so she had to rely on the fact that she was currently wearing shoes, of all things, to guarantee that she was not asleep nor hallucinating. After all, just half a year ago, owning shoes made specifically for her own feet wasn’t even something she could have dreamt of dreaming about.

                All this good fortune… why? What had caused her life to be so good? Could it be as simple as coincidence, all of this happening to her only because she happened to be on the verge of wetting herself a few months ago and just happened to use the last of her money to get a room at an inn that just happened to be run by an Argonian with a pee fetish who was willing to let her stay there in exchange for work? Had she stopped to relieve herself on the way, would she have ever even gone into that inn? Probably not – the Ragged Flagon had serviceable sleeping quarters for guild members who needed them, and at the time she was a guild member, in Riften on guild business.

                So would she have even been there if she hadn’t joined the guild? Maybe, but why? Riften wasn’t exactly a rich city – it had its share of decent marks, but not as many as Solitude or Whiterun in her experience. The only other way she knew how to make a living, she’d given up on after leaving Cyrodiil – a province which she shouldn’t be thinking about at the moment – so it’s not like she could have gone to Riften to do that.

                But then, if she hadn’t taken up that profession in the first place, maybe she never would have had a reason to go to Skyrim. If not for choosing that specific means to pay for her travel with Baandari caravans through the unmentionable province, she never would have…

                Azhani vigorously shook her head and tried to take a deep breath. “Not going there again,” she muttered quietly. Then she looked around and tried to breathe a little slower once she noticed that she was nearly panting. Apparently distracting herself by finding other things to think about would just keep leading her to places she didn’t want to be.

                With one hand, she gave the bulge in her abdomen a quick investigative rub, finding it to be obnoxiously firm – not hard, but just tough enough that pressing down on it would be a terrible idea. She sighed and returned the hand to what it was doing. There was no escaping it. She had to pee.

                The little Khajiit briefly considered asking for a stop – at least two-thirds of the small travelling party were full of fluid that wanted very much to get out, so perhaps her request would be honored if she were to simply voice it. But then, Lydia was surely worse off than she was, and if the big strong Nord hadn’t demanded they stop, or outright stopped on her own, there didn’t seem to be much chance of them listening to a scrawny cat.

                So she decided that she would wait. It wasn’t her favorite option, but she’d been through worse and still come out dry, so this wouldn’t be a problem at all. All she had to do was bear the pressure for another hour, then she’d be free to relieve herself in peace. Afterwards, perhaps she could take a nice bath – it’d help keep her calm and focused, and she needed to wash up anyways. Not being Khajiit themselves, her human comrades couldn’t pick up on the odor of Azhani’s pheromones, and even she was blind to most of what she was giving off, but she knew her own scent. She knew too, since she was just short of a week into her current seasonal affliction, that her scent was powerful and sending the wrong message. Hopefully they’d brought soap.

                That was a problem for later, though. For now, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait for an indeterminate amount of time. Great. It would be easier to ignore her bladder if Azhani could get down and walk, but then if she could do that she could also just go run off to take care of it and then try to catch up with the others again. ‘Bright moons, that would be nice,’ she mentally told herself. ‘Would also be nice to have something to eat… Hm, maybe there will be some birds or rats to catch on the way to camp.’

                She amused herself for a moment with her little private joke, but the joke didn’t do anything to ease any of the sensations she was feeling at the moment – a peculiar mix of emptiness and fullness from the same area, both indicating problems that could be solved around the same time and were better dealt with sooner than later.

                Turning her head as much as she could to look back (and up) at Lydia, she said, “So, do you have anything to eat with you?”

                 Lydia looked distracted. “Huh?” She gave her head a quick shake and looked down. “Oh, there might be a bit of food in the saddlebags. Maybe some bread or something. Are you even supposed to eat bread?”

                “Khajiit can eat things made of plants. Sugarcane is a plant, and we put sugar in everything, yes? The only thing is that we need meat.” Azhani turned to look through whatever bags she could reach without needing to lean too far or use both hands, not paying attention to Lydia’s shrug and trying to have the same level of apathy for her bladder’s protests. “Actually, Khajiiti bakers make the best cakes. If I knew how to cook I’d make them all the time.”

                A brief session of pawing through the bags yielded a few scrolls, an old book or two, and a handful of little bottles with either red, green, or blue liquid in them. And, most importantly, a little wrapped-up chunk of bread that smelled vaguely of meat – no doubt part of a larger piece that had been eaten alongside a stew of some sort. It seemed slightly stale, like it had been forgotten in that bag for a little while longer than it should have stayed there, but it wasn’t inedible.

                Azhani inspected the bread, sniffing it and checking for any visible evidence of things growing on it. She determined that the only thing wrong with it was it was a little hard and had a bit of dirt on it, and decided that she’d definitely had worse, so she settled down for a little snack, making sure to give the bread a good brushing with her fingers to clean it off.

                She felt the liquid inside her shift around uncomfortably as her position changed, but forced herself not to think about it too much. Instead, she did her best to work through her food, and was surprised to find that the taste of stale bread disturbed her as much as it did. Mere months had apparently been more than enough for her to become accustomed to a more wholesome diet than scavenged scraps.

                It was strange, and Azhani tried not to worry about it too much – it was food, after all, and she was hungry, which meant it was better than no food. So she sat squirming and eating her bread, only to discover another problem by the time she was half finished: she was thirsty. She needed to drink something, and she needed to pee quite badly. Not a good combination.

                She gave a little hiss then opened and closed her mouth repeatedly to try to do something about the dry feeling in her throat, but there was nothing for it but to drink. And even if she wanted to do that, the only things she’d found had been potions, and she had a feeling they wouldn’t be particularly hydrating and would do little more than exacerbate her bladder troubles. As if on cue, the pressure there suddenly mounted to a sharp sensation that forced Azhani to press herself down against the horse a bit more than was appropriate, slowly returning to her original position when her bladder settled down again. Still dry, of course.

                Azhani glanced over in the Dragonborn’s direction once she was sure nothing more would happen to disturb her delicate internal balance. He didn’t show any sign of slowing down any time soon. So with a sigh, she leaned over to look through the bags on the side she hadn’t checked last time. All she needed was a little water, or booze, or anything else she could drink that wasn’t magical and had effects that she already knew about. Her tail flicked in annoyance when again her bladder voiced its disapproval of her change in position.

                Rifling through this other bag turned up more scrolls and a small glass bottle, this one with clear liquid in it. Azhani tore the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and leaned in to smell its contents. Seemed enough like water for her, and though she was sure she would regret it she pulled the cork from her mouth with the same hand that held the bottle, then tipped her head back and downed the entire bottle at once.

                She returned to her original posture with a sigh, slipping the empty bottle back into the bag it came from while continuing to ignore the additional complaints from within as she added more liquid to her system. Her ears and tail flicked again while she groaned and tried to settle down. Azhani tried to focus more on the wind messing up the braid she’d so painstakingly tied her hair into that morning than on what was happening inside her body. But now the pressure between her legs was enough that even when she tried to ignore it it was still there, still begging her to just give in already.

                Soon,’ she told herself, convinced that they had to have been travelling long enough now that they would be stopping any minute. She tried to press her legs together, and just growled quietly when she remembered that her position meant there was no way for her to do that. Then she tried instead to sit as upright as possible, figuring that if she didn’t lean forwards too much she wouldn’t put any undue stress on the distension in her abdomen, but it seemed there was only one way she could relieve that pressure by now. Nothing else she could think of would help anymore.

                So focused was Azhani on her own need that she didn’t notice Lydia’s situation growing more dire, meaning she was unprepared for the horse to suddenly stop and rear up, nearly throwing her off. The sudden movement caused her to make a noise resembling some mixture of a meow and a squeak, and once she was sure she wouldn’t fall down her first thought was to check to ensure that she was still dry – all was well on that front, aside from the intense desire to change that.

                “Okay, no, we’re stopping here,” Lydia called out from behind her, clearly directed at the Dragonborn. “Now hurry up and help me out of this armor before I piss in it!” She jumped off the horse and stumbled, frantically grabbing at the ties holding her leg armor together.

                Azhani stopped paying attention at that point, dismounting as calmly as she could in her condition and quickly rummaging through Lydia’s bags with her legs crossed. Her ears fell flat against her head and her tail twitched when she initially didn’t find what she was looking for, and as the search continued she started bouncing and waving her tail more erratically.

                Just when she was ready to give up, she found a little rag and a bar of something vaguely resembling butter which she recognized as an expensive piece of soap. Her ears returned to their normal positions and her tail slowed down now that she was satisfied with her discovery, and she immediately headed off as quickly as she could in the direction of the river. Now that she was intentionally listening for it, there was no problem locating it, though that also made her feel like she was about to explode. At least now she didn’t need to suppress that feeling, since she actually would get a chance to deal with it very soon.

                She cast a glance over at Lydia as she passed – there were several black metal pieces scattered around by her feet, which the Dragonborn was hastily picking up – but immediately looked away when the woman started tugging her thick pants down and lowering herself into a squat. Azhani also started moving a little quicker so she wouldn’t have to listen to what she knew would happen next.

                When Azhani got to the river, she dropped her washcloth and soap near its shore and looked around, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She shoved one hand between her legs while she quickly came up with a way to do something she’d wanted to try for some time. Hurrying over to a nearby tree, she first pulled off her shoes and set them aside where she was fairly sure they would be safe. Then, since she was planning on bathing anyways, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto a low-hanging branch.

                Then she looked down. Her heartbeat and breathing were faster than normal, but more importantly she felt like she was going to wet herself very soon, and it felt like that was equally possible if she stood there doing nothing or if she bent down to get her pants out of the way. She slipped her thumbs down her waistband, making sure to get both the pants and what was under them, then carefully slid them down as far as she could without bending over.

                Now the hard part. Azhani leaned forward slightly, putting one hand against the tree in front of her and lifting the opposite leg. She groaned and dropped it again, slipping a hand into her now-exposed crotch for a minute. Her fingers came back wet once she’d composed herself. With a deep breath, she lifted that leg again and immediately brought it into a position where she could slide her lower clothing off of it entirely, forcing herself to fight through any complaints from her body before bringing that foot down to the ground in a bit of a stomp. Azhani heard the slightest splash of a few drops hitting the ground between her legs at the same time.

                She switched which hand was pushing against the tree and brought up her other leg, giving it a quick shake and sliding her pants off the rest of the way, letting them fall to the ground unceremoniously and get kicked off to the side.

                With both feet now on the ground and wearing only her fur, Azhani adopted a wide stance and had one hand pressing up between her legs. She shifted around slightly so that her hips were a bit more forward, and spread the fingers on the hand she was holding herself with, watching to ensure she could tell what she was doing down there. She experimented briefly with hand positions before giving up and allowing herself to use both hands to spread her lips in a way that she hoped meant she’d have decent aim. Then she let go.

                A weak trickle quickly accelerated into a respectable stream that hit the trunk of the tree in front of Azhani, splashing back against her feet in a way that caused her to stumble for a moment before adjusting herself enough to be mostly out of the way.

                Satisfied with what she’d accomplished, Azhani closed her eyes and sighed. As always, it felt good to empty herself after a good few hours of waiting, and there was something amusingly foreign about doing it while stood upright. For a minute she relaxed and took in the sounds of running water – behind her that of the Treva, and in front of her the trickling of her own river and the pattering sound from where it connected with wood.

                Azhani’s tail swayed gently behind her while she enjoyed her relief, until her stream started to slow down and land more directly beneath her. Then her tail bushed up and her eyes opened to watch her feet get splashed with her own urine, though as her bladder was now just about empty there wasn’t anything she could do about it but let it run its course. She’d be washing up anyways, so getting a little wet wasn’t a big deal.

                Once there was little more than a few drops coming from her, Azhani wiped herself off with a finger, which she then rubbed against her thigh, and headed over to the river, sitting down on the ground next to her cleaning supplies. She grabbed her hair and brought it around to the front, letting the braided mass rest on one shoulder while she gently worked at untying it.

                A cool breeze made her shiver despite her having by now grown out her full winter coat, and she looked over at where she’d left her clothes. They seemed fine for now, but she’d need to make sure they wouldn’t be blown away and leave her to walk back to camp naked and cold.

                As soon as her hair was loose and thrown back behind her, Azhani got up and retrieved her clothes and shoes, bringing them all over to where she’d been sitting and making a neat little pile. She took the time to make sure everything was folded nicely – or as close to as possible, given she didn’t have much experience with folding clothes – and sighed when she got to her underwear. She knew she’d have to wash her clothes anyways, but the little wet patch told her that it was even more important that she do so now. Azhani mentally kicked herself for not bringing a set to change into, and turned around to look in the direction she’d come from. She noticed the light of a fire not too far away, noting the location of camp and considering how she might go about heading back for her other clothes.

                Obviously she could just get dressed again and head back, but she’d have to take everything with her to make sure she wouldn’t forget where it was. She looked down at the panties in her hand, then back at the fire, then to her hand again. With a quiet growl she balled up her underwear and stuffed them into one of her shoes. She just wanted to take a nice bath right now, her clothes could be washed later. So everything found its way into a pile, with her shoes on top to weigh them down – and a rock dropped into one for good measure – and Azhani herself stretched and looked over at the river.

                This close to Lake Honrich, the river looked calm enough to fit Azhani’s needs, but since she knew better than to trust her eyes with things like this, she grabbed her soap and washcloth and cautiously padded forward, wading far enough into the river to submerge her feet just above her toes. From there she took little steps to make sure she wasn’t going to end up somewhere too deep or with too swift a current, pausing first when the water reached her ankles and again when it reached her knees.

Here, satisfied with the river’s behavior, she bent down to get herself as wet as possible, then stood back up and set about getting soap wherever she could. No matter what, she couldn’t go back to camp smelling like a tramp. A respectable Khajiit in her position, after all, would be sure to keep clean and suppress the natural odors of their condition as much as possible. The thought briefly occurred to her that this ironically only meant that people back home would use the smell of perfume to determine when certain forms of Khajiit were in season – Suthay and Tojay would practically bathe in the stuff whenever their time came around, while Alfiq and Senche seemed to be more reasonable, but still ended up smelling like gardens.

If only Azhani could have been born a Cathay-raht like her sister. Sure, the problem would be more frequent, but surely it couldn’t be as bad if it happens every month as opposed to every six. ‘At the very least,’ she thought, ‘I wouldn’t have to go around with a scent that screams “FUCK ME NOW” at every male in a hundred miles. I think that would be worth it.’ She started scrubbing harder, intent on getting the sexual stench out of her fur.

For a few minutes she carried on quietly, mumbling as if to hold a conversation with herself about whatever was on her mind. That is, until a sound from the near shore made her spin around and crouch in the hopes of being as inconspicuous as possible while still identifying the source of the disturbance. In the dying sunlight she could make out a large, familiar human form that didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. Azhani sighed and straightened up.

“Dragonborn,” she called out, prompting him to curiously turn his head in her direction then quickly turn away again with a hand raised to block his view of her.

“Woah, okay, that’s… Alright then.” Bjorn took a few cautious steps towards the river, still not looking at the Khajiit standing in it. “Uh, hi. I was actually just wondering where you’d got to, y’know, to… make sure you haven’t got into trouble or anything.”

“No, I’m fine.” Azhani put a hand on her hip and used the other to wave in the Dragonborn’s general direction. “And what is this you’re doing? Where I come from it’s considered rude to talk sideways like this.”

“Well, I mean, you’re kinda…”

Azhani shrugged. “So, what? You think I’ve got anything you haven’t seen before?”

“Yeah, no, I’d just rather not…” The Dragonborn paused briefly, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I just needed to make sure you were safe, you are, so I’m gonna head back to camp. There’s gonna be food for you when you… When you’re done here.”

He turned and started to walk away, but then Azhani spoke up and he stopped. “Ah, actually…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you bring me a change of clothes so I can wash these and not have to head back to camp naked?” It still felt weird to have enough different clothes that she could make that request.

“Sure, I’ll go find something for you.”

“Thanks.”

Then he headed off back to camp and she went back to cleaning herself, bending over to dip her head underwater and get her hair wet. She ran soap-covered hands through her hair with her claws out to catch all the aggravating knots and hopefully smooth everything out. More than a few clumps of unruly black hair ended up floating away downstream.

Several minutes later, by which point Azhani was sure she’d just about tamed her hair (for now), a voice behind her got her attention, though she didn’t turn to look at its source.

“Hey, I’ve got clothes here for you.”

Azhani gave her hair one last quick comb through with her claws. “Great, leave it with the rest, yes?” Then she bent over to submerge her head again, giving her head a thorough shake when she straightened up again. She lifted up her arms to confirm that she smelled more of soap than of pheromones, and evidently satisfied turned around and headed back to shore.

The Dragonborn was on his knees, rearranging her little clothing pile so that everything was neatly folded and the new clothes he’d brought were on top of the old. He instinctively looked up at the sound of Azhani’s approach and immediately turned his gaze back to the clothes, which he continued to stare at, pretending to adjust them. “Well, here you go.”

“Yes. Are you done pawing at them?” She gave each of her legs and arms a quick shake to hopefully get rid of some of the excess water that was falling to the ground, then her whole body involuntarily shivered. “It’s cold and I’m wet.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to stand next to the pile, opposite Bjorn, and dropped into a squat. She said nothing while she snatched her old clothes from the bottom of the pile, watching the Dragonborn look up at her and quickly look away again.

“You think you could let me know before you do that?”

Azhani stood and shrugged while giving the tip of her tail a little flick. “What? I’m just picking up my clothes,” she said, fishing for the underwear she’d stuffed into her shoe.

“You didn’t need to… y’know, do it that way.”

“Maybe I just think it’s funny to see you so uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, very funny.” Bjorn had stood and turned to face towards camp while Azhani found herself a little place to sit and get her clothes wet. “And it’s not about me being uncomfortable. I’m just trying to show you a little respect, since you’re all, y’know, exposed.”

The little wet Khajiit looked over her shoulder while she gave her clothes a good scrub. “Respect? It be more respectful to look me in the eye when you’re talking to me, no? Yeah, I’m not wearing anything right now, but my body isn’t anything special, nothing to keep secret. It’s just a body. We all had mothers, we’ve all seen breasts, yes?” She turned her head back to look down at her work. “And since you’re officially married you already can guess how everything I have works. I’ve been told that I am very much like mer in that way, so I can’t exactly hide anything you haven’t seen before.”

“That’s… fair enough, I suppose. But I just do not want to get into… I am married, so I don’t need to look at anyone else, and I’m just not going to.”

“You sure it’s not just because you don’t think you can resist getting off on the sight of naked women that aren’t Lydia?”

“Uh, no offense, but even if that were the case, it’s not a problem here. I just, y’know, I’m sure you’re very attractive by Khajiiti standards and all, but for me I’m just not into anything you’ve got. Like, I don’t want to be rude or anything but it’s really hard to be attracted to someone who looks so much like a cat, it’s just weird.”

“Yeah, no problem. I understand. I do think you’re wrong though,” Azhani responded, turning around again and pointing at the Dragonborn’s back with one hand. “You might not be interested in my body but both of us know very much that there is something of mine that you like.”

Bjorn gave a nervous chuckle in response. “Yeah, I suppose so. But, uh, unless there’s something else you need, I’m gonna go leave now.”

“Mhm.”

By the time Azhani got back to camp, the sky was lit only by the rising moons and the first few stars of the night. She’d done her best to dry off both herself and the clothes she’d washed, but even so her walk back was with damp fur and a dripping ball of laundry in one hand. Her hair especially didn’t seem keen on drying off just yet, so she left it loose and just sat down and huddled close to the fire.

There was meat hanging over the fire, so Azhani grabbed a piece and immediately tore into it, not saying anything or paying any attention to the conversation the two humans were having. Despite the salt and charred exterior, it was fairly good food. Not anywhere near as good as if it had been seasoned properly, with moon sugar, of course, but it’s not like Azhani was going to complain after eating essentially nothing since morning. Pretty soon she’d have all the sugar she needed, anyways, if she ever wanted her food to taste like real home cooking.

Of course, if she ever tried to cook something herself she’d probably just burn it, so she figured it was probably better to just leave that to people who knew what they were doing – and while foreign cooking wasn’t exactly to her taste, she had to admit that objectively the Dragonborn knew what he was doing.

She’d ripped all the meat off the bone quickly enough, and then sat around chewing on the bone itself. And when she located the skin of wine that had been left out, she filled a little cup with it and spent her time by the fire alternating between having the bone in her mouth and drinking in tiny sips. She noticed that the humans would occasionally give her weird looks for not just throwing the bone away as they would have, but she wasn’t paying them too much attention. Not like it was her fault that marrow tasted good, anyways.

No, she was just enjoying herself, curled up by the fire as much as she could possibly be, sitting as close to it as she could without being burned. Every so often she’d bite a little too hard and have to spit out a piece of bone, but otherwise she didn’t have to pay attention to anything and could just relax for once. After a little while she finally set what was left of her bone down and repositioned herself so she was lying on the ground, and she was purring softly while her eyes grew heavy and eventually closed.

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