Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150618162258/@comment-5583506-20150619033734

"I call dibs on the biggest room", shrugged Elda. "It better have a soft bed as well."

Arngrim had grown tired of Mystara's subtle attempts to enter his chambers at night. In a way he pitied her. The woman was unmistakably infatuated with him and loyal to the death. But he couldn't say the same for her. At one time in his life maybe, when he hadn't become hardened with all the terrors and hardships he had endured during the Civil War. Then perhaps he could return those feelings to her and allow her to enter his bedroom door unhindered.

''What she sees in me, I haven't got a single clue? I am nothing but a shadow of my former self. I have nothing to give her. No love, no compassion, nothing... I am no longer a lord, though I strive to become one again. Right now, I am Arngrim Bearsbane, son of Thorgrim Bearsbane, and the only candidate capable of saving Skyrim from the Orcs... and thus redeem myself...''

"My lord", said Mystara as she entered the door, wearing only a blue nightgown and a lit candle.

He sat by his desk and filled out the papers necessary to relieve the disgruntled guards of Falkreath from their duties and instead assign them to his growing troop. He didn't even acknowledge her presence until the Altmer wrapped her arms around him from behind and gently kissed him on the cheek.

He closed his eyes. "Stop it", he murmured.

"Make me", she replied in a whisper and kissed him again.

He sighed and rose up from his chair, towering above her with a head or two. He turned around and examined her for a while. It was dark in the room, but the light of the candle gracefully revealed her perfect features. Mystara was slender-limmed and lush. She had long golden hair with eyes like two dots of dark, molten gold. She was buxom and elegant and had a heart-shaped face.

The perfect picture of a woman, he thought to himself. Any other man would have bedded her in an instant, but I am not any other man...

"I... I have felt really lonely these past few weeks, my lord", lamented Mystara and touched his chest. "It would mean alot to me, if you would... accompany me for the evening?"

"Accompany you?" he repeated and tasted on the words as if he was considering her proposition.

I would gladly have you than any other queen or empress on Nirn, but I can't give you the love you seek...

She nodded and her very face seemed to shone up as he spoke. He grinded his teeth once again, a trait wich usually disturbed her, but not this night. This time she overlooked it, just waiting in anticipation to hear his answer.

"I... I can't, Mystara", he said in all honesty. "I wish I could, but there is nothing for you here", he replied and slightly tapped to his chest where his heart would be. "All the wars bereft me of what could have been."

She let out a disappointed sigh and touched his hand right where he had put it on his chest. "But... if you were to regain your status? Your lordship? Would you... would you consider me?"

She panted as his hands flew up to her face and cupped her chin. His movement was rushed, but his touch was ever so gentle. "If a foolish young man named Arngrim hadn't gone to war all those years ago", he began, "he would have asked for your hand without hesitation. But the wars took their toll on him and bereft the man of his soul, leaving only an empty husk behind. I can't give you the love you want, Mystara. You wouldn't be happy. I couldn't make you happy. Not even if I wished it to be so."

She swallowed hard and held back a sob. "But I... I..."

"I know", he said and nodded. "I know that you do. And I knew that if I had never gone off to war, then I would have loved you as well."

Mystara exhaled loudly as she let her nightgown fall to the ground, letting him see her in her fullness. It was hard for him to resist the image of her. Her naked body had an hourglass figure with ample breasts. His eyes traced her appearence from her face, ready to cry with anticipation, to the golden light bush between her legs. Despite her youngish exterior, he knew well enough that Mystara was at least over two hundred years old...

He drew for breath and looked away. "Please, dress yourself, Mystara." When she reached up to touch his cheek, he flinched and closed his eyes. "Please", he repeated, making it clear that he was not going to ask again as kindly.

The Altmer let out a sob as she reached the floor for her nightgown and brought it up to her shoulders. Her gaze returned to Arngrim, still expecting him to change his mind. But when he didn't, she silently wandered off and out from his room. He could still hear her light footsteps lumbering down the hallway to her own chambers.

He then opened his eyes. ''I am sorry... But I am not rejecting you for my sake, but for your own... I would only bring you misery...''

He returned to his desk and sat down. Due to her misguided affection, he found it hard to be concentrating on writing the contracts. He eventually caught his hand, having somehow slipped off from the goose quill in his hand and was now slowly stroking the area on his cheek where she had kissed him. He grew angry with himself, a trait which was unlike him. In his sudden rage he tipped out the jar of ink on the desk and spilled the black liquid all over the newly written contracts. He would have to start all over again...

He sighed, clenched his teeth hard together and stroke his forehead with his hand. Talos give me strength...