Skyrim X OC One shots and lemons

I'm not What you Want (Cicero X Dragonborn)

The Dark Brotherhood sanctum was disgusting to say the least; there was a mat of fur-like dust covering nearly everything, dishes were strewn about without care, and, Sithis, the vines! One must duck lest they rail themselves in the forehead at every doorway. The settlement wasn't matching my expectations at all; especially when compared to the great, glamorous rumors I had heard while passing through the various inns of skyrim's nine holds, and the members of the organization themselves resembled nothing of the tales the bards would sing in mastered grandiose.

And Astrid, Gods, the woman possessed Gall. To think, the sniveling shrew had the audacity to DEFY the five tenants; Night Mother preserve us all, if things continued on this way for much longer, Astrid would run this place into the ground, and be proud of herself while doing it.  After spending a long sleepless night in the sanctuary, listening to the coarse whispers of a stray draft hissing across the stone stairs; I decided that this place was simply sickening,  good for coin, yet bad for any kind of morale/happiness I had left. So just as the chilling night breeze- I slipped away quietly, out into the frigid midnight air; the wide star-filled skies greeted me with open arms, as crisp air replaced the stale feeling that had been burning in my lungs, ever since stepping foot into that Gods-forsaken shell of a sanctuary.

The feeling of the brisk night air was all the comfort I needed to begin heading to my next quest; The Thieves Guild, perhaps there the setting is better. Currently, Anywhere is better than here. Silently, with expert precision, I ducked into the bush line to climb the slight incline of the land; the road to falkreath was shortly beyond, and stretched ever eastward. Luckily, I had accepted, and successfully completed three assassinations; I collected a handsome pay for each, therefore I could purchase a horse in Falkreath and be at Whiterun within a day.

After a quick check of my weighty coin purse, I tightened its drawstrings and slowly tied a neat bow with them; my eyes moved to the sky, the moons were beginning to dip behind the mountainous horizon, signaling the impending dawn. Taking a deep breath, I began to jog down the rocky makeshift road; occasionally stopping to gather a few alchemical ingredients.

*Time skip~Don't get excited it's only to Falkreath~ *

Upon my arrival in the small imperial village, the sun had risen for an hour or so, its utterly radiant light had just begun to pour seamlessly over the mountains to the east; and as I passed through the barely populated streets, the village was just waking, stirring from a restful night of daedra infested sleep. Perhaps not daedra, but Something was definitely wrong with the small settlement,  seeing how it was beset with death and sadness; a hollow pit of repressed pain showed its ugly head, I was no saint, some of the things I had done weren't exactly moral. While some of my actions may have been slightly questionable, I had never (intentionally) crossed the "Undeniably evil" line: what was going on here was just some sick, twisted embodiment of a higher power toying with it's lesser, mortals.

The horse master had barely crossed the threshold of his home when I was upon him like a frigid mountainous gust; my hand outstretched, palm offering a thousand septims as an unspoken request. "Take the one wit the saddle, she's all ready to go. Might wanna feed er sumtin thoh." the mans' Nordic accent was thick and unbridled, his eyes settling on the horizon before giving me a swift nod, " Off wit'cha tden." And just a swiftly as I had arrived, I left; mounting my new horse with great ease before galloping off down the eastward path. 

A few bandit hits and pit stops later, I arrived at Riverwood, weary from travel; my horse certainly felt the same, signaling it's great disdain with a harsh stamp of it's hoof. Leaning down, wrought over the horses' neck, I whispered softly to the timid creature in cooing tones, "Just a little bit farther, you can rest soon. Just hang in there." At the inn, I patted the her side as I threw my leg over the saddle and slumped down the muscle of my steeds' flank; who I then proceeded to tie up to the horse post, making sure the horse could reach some hay. Sheepishly, I glanced around to search for passerby's, before pulling a small bushel of carrots; the steed had, indeed, been worth the haughty fee I paid for her, and though I'd never admit it out loud, I had a soft spot for animals. After feeding the carrots to her, I decided she deserved a name; the title Halla seemed appropriate, most suiting of her.