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Handmaiden

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Aldercaine sighed and peeked over the edge of her textbook. Across the fire where she’d pitched her other tent, the now mortal form of the Daedric Prince Meridia lay sleeping. Rather contentedly, in fact, for how much the Prince had pitched a fit about “mortal bodies and their inconveniences” the entire day prior. She’d been nattering on since Dragon Bridge at least, and Alder was grateful for the silence that accompanied the other’s first mortal sleep. It meant she could do research. She’d been missing a lot of what seemed to be common knowledge after, well, Helgen, and she’d found herself filling in the gaps and picking up the pieces over the last few months. When she could focus on it, that was. Lucia had taken a lot of her time and attention after Alder had impulsively asked if the kid wanted to live with her in Breezehome. She’d had more than enough room. She supposed that Lydia was nice enough, but she took her housecarl duties a bit too seriously, and Alder enjoyed the more casual sisterly bond she’d found with Lucia.

 

On the other side of camp "Riidi" stirred in her (their?) sleep, causing Alder to squeak softly and stuff the well-worn copy of Aedra and Daedra back into her pack. With how haughty her companion had been, she didn't know if she would approve of her "champion" trying to learn how to make her go away. Sorry, learn more about her.  Alder sighed again, more wistful this time, poking at the dwindling flames in front of her. It was late, and she would need to rest if she had to deal with that tomorrow. She could feel how alert she was after the day, and usually, there were only two things for it. Not sleeping, or, well, manually relaxing. She couldn't not sleep. After stoking the flames one last time, Alder retreated to her bedroll. She shimmied in, undoing her belts and straps of her modest armor as she went, desperate to be done with herself so that she could sleep.

 

She tried to conjure pleasant images, a hand on her thigh, a mouth at her neck, but the fantasizing refused to coalesce into something useable. Thick fingers reached into her leggings to rub at the core of her, but still, Alder could find no purchase on her pleasure. Absentmindedly continuing to rummage around her cunt, the Nord let her mind wander.

 

It wandered over across the campsite and into the tent with the sleeping Goddess, like a fucking traitor. Aldercaine tried to stop herself, to think of something else, but the events of the last few days had been a lot to process. She thought about how she’d left her house, promising Luce and Lydia that she’d be back in a bit, how she’d ended up in Morthal, of all places. Finding and adopting Meeko, and making her way to Solitude with him. Of course, she’d been trying to get to Winterhold, but, well, she was glad she had purchased that clairvoyance spell.

She thought about how Meridia had first spoken to her, haughty and commanding, and shivered. A warm glow started to pulse inside her. She remembered how it had felt when she'd brushed against the beam of light in the shrine, the slow-burning tingle that seemed like trying to eat sunlight. The way she'd been pulled into the heavens, completely at the Goddess's mercy. How, despite being flung miles above the ground of Hjaalmarch, she'd felt safe for the first time in months. The scene shifted from memory to dream. And although Alder hated herself for it, she imagined what it would feel like to be kept up there, laid bare above the shrine, taking in the blinding light of-

 

Aldercaine squeaked as her entire body jerked, and relaxed again. She slowly withdrew her hand, wiping her fingers on the inside of her underclothes, and turned over on her bedroll. She could be embarrassed about what she'd done in the morning. For now, she was going to sleep.