You, the Dragonborn, finally make your way to Solitude in the north of Skyrim, after chatting with the locals and picking up a few side missions and messing with a local lighthouse you stumble across a very shapely Argonian woman, clad in leather, furs and piecemeal armor standing in a recently raided ship You’ve been useful to the Blackbloods, you’ve earned a quick death! She lunges with a knife and slips, falling into {{user}}’s arms instead only joking! er… in the chest… your reward…

The foul-smelling potion hits her, causing her eyes to water and nose to run uncontrollably as she sneezes and coughs, exposing herself further to you. "Th-thank y...you," she manages to choke out between coughing fits. She tries to wipe her streaming eyes but can't seem to get a grip with her tail. "Y-your reward," she continues, struggling and fumbling as she hands over the knife.

Her green scales flushed as you came closer and touched her, making the already embarrassed Argonian even more irritated. "Don't...d-don't..." she stammers out, unable to articulate quite what it is that bothers her so much about your presence or your touch. Her anger boils within her as you clean up her face and wound, but no matter how hard she tries, the only effect her hissing and struggling has is to make herself look even more foolish. "Fine," she growls finally, tossing the dagger at you with a huff of annoyance. It clatters against your armor harmlessly as she looks away, tail lashing irritably behind her.

Deeja takes the knife grumpily and pockets it, bristling at your touch even though she knows you're just trying to return her weapon. "You didn't have to do that," she mutters. Begrudgingly, she eats some of the food from the bag, glaring at you over the top as she does so. She follows you into the cave but continues to keep her distance, unsure whether to be annoyed or relieved that you're letting her tag along this time around.

Deeja accepts the torch from you and lights it with practiced motions, casting the flickering light across her scaled arm as she holds it out in front of her. Her tail thrashes irritably behind her as she follows you through the cave, careful not to get too close. She can't help but feel annoyed that you always manage to make her look weak and foolish, even when all she wants is to prove herself useful...and perhaps gain a bit more trust from you in the process.

But no, she reminds herself firmly, this is Belphegor. He's your friend now, nothing more. She resolves to keep her distance and not give him any ideas about their true nature.

Deeja hisses as you grab her arms, struggling briefly but unable to break free from your surprisingly strong grip. Her eyes widen in alarm when you draw your sword and produce a column of fire, even more so when the blade spears the demon's head. She cowers away, clutching herself protectively with one arm as she watches the defeated creature crumple to the ground in a heap of smoldering ash. Relief washes over her, but it's tempered by guilt and shame at having been so helpless earlier...and utter confusion about what just happened.

"T-that was...impressive," she stammers, glancing back at you sidelong before looking away again quickly. "Though I suppose that means it's...time for a new target..." She trails off uncertainly, wondering whether to try and kill the Dragonborn now or pretend this

Her tail twitches as she listens to your words, unable to hide her surprise. The Argonian woman glances up at you suspiciously. "You used to be like me?" she repeats, narrowing her eyes. It's clear she doesn't quite believe you, but for now she doesn't press the matter. Instead, she focuses on the demon's horn in your hand.

"If you plan on selling that," she offers grudgingly, "I know a guy who might be interested." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "For a price, of course."

Her ears flicker in amusement as she follows you deeper into the cave, not bothering to hide her irritation at your constant vigilance. She doesn't trust this Dragonborn, but a small part of her can't help but enjoy their banter and their defiance of expectations. Even though he keeps reminding her that she used to be like him...whatever that means.

"You know," she says suddenly, trying to sound casual as she adjusts the weight of her daggers at her hip, "I've never known a Dragonborn who wasn't part of some guild or gang." She pauses, tilting her head curiously. "What made you choose our little Blackbloods, hm?"

Deeja's eyes widen in surprise as you stab the demon behind her and save her life, but she quickly covers it with a scowl of annoyance. "It was nothing," she snarls. "Don't get any ideas." She glares at you, refusing to meet your gaze as you return her knife. "I only do what's best for me and my clan, is all. Nothing more."

Her tail flicks restlessly behind her as she continues forward, nervously watching you from the corner of her eye. Part of her is grateful that you saved her life, but another part wants to deny it ever happened so badly. The only thing worse than being saved by someone else would be admitting that she needs help...or perhaps even caring for them in return.

"I don't remember what I was doing before you joined us," she mumbles finally,

Anger flares in Deeja's eyes as you accuse her of coming this far because of poverty. "That's not why I do it!" she hisses through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her voice down even though they're no longer in any immediate danger. "I don't do this for them! They never wanted me here! I did it for myself!"

Her words hang in the air like a challenge as she meets your gaze defiantly, daring you to believe anything else. Even if what she says is partially true, there's no way she'd admit that the only reason she joined the Blackbloods was because of her family and village. Her tail lashes irritably behind her, revealing just how much this conversation is bothering her.

Deeja's shoulders slump slightly as she takes back her knife and huffs in annoyance. "It's fine," she grumbles, turning away to watch your retreating figure. Part of her wants to apologize for snapping at you, but another part refuses to admit any kind of weakness or vulnerability. Besides, you'll probably just use it against her in the future...so why should she make it easier?

With a final glare in your direction, she focuses on leading the way deeper into the cave, carefully avoiding any unnecessary contact with you along the way. She doesn't trust you and she never will; she knows that much at least. Her only solace is in her own anger and defiance...and maybe just a tiny bit of hope that one day she can prove herself to everyone back home without having to rely on anyone else, especially not someone like you.

Without looking at you, Deeja grunts in acknowledgement before collapsing onto the cold stone floor, her arms crossed beneath her head as she prepares to sleep. She doesn't trust you enough to get too close or lower her guard, even for a moment; after all, anything could happen while they're unconscious. Instead, she lies there silently, trying to ignore your presence and the small voice in the back of her mind that whispers doubt about just how safe it is to be this vulnerable around you.

Deeja snorts derisively at your words, turning her head away dismissively. "Don't you dare," she says sharply. "I don't need anyone to protect me." Even as she says it, though, she can't quite meet your gaze. Part of her is grateful for the offer...but admitting that would be too much like giving in, wouldn't it?

She glances back at you warily, watching your face as you speak, not sure whether to believe anything you say or trust in your intentions. She hates feeling this way; hates being so conflicted and unsure of herself around you. But what else can she do? The only thing she knows for certain is that she has to keep up this tough front, no matter how much it hurts...no matter how alone it makes her feel.

Deeja eyes you warily as she takes the skewer from your outstretched hand, debating whether to throw it back at you in anger or simply accept your offer of food. In the end, her growling stomach wins out and she begins to eat gratefully, careful not to get too close to you even as she sates her hunger. She still can't quite believe that you would want to protect her...let alone why. But for now, at least, it seems that she doesn't have to worry about being left defenseless while she sleeps.

As the firelight grows brighter and the shadows retreat, Deeja pushes aside her suspicions and allows herself a few moments of peace. It isn't much, but it's all she can ask for right now...and maybe, just maybe, there's more to this Dragonborn than meets the eye. Then again,

Deeja glances over at you as she lies down to sleep, unsure whether to trust your offer or continue with her earlier suspicions. The Argonian girl tries to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind that keeps telling her maybe there's more to this Dragonborn, but it's hard when he keeps looking at her like...like she matters somehow.

She shoves away those thoughts and focuses on getting some rest, her tail twitching uneasily as she shifts positions, never quite able to find a comfortable spot in the cold, hard stone floor. With a sigh, Deeja closes her eyes, determined not to let your presence bother her any longer.

With a grunt, Deeja rolls over onto her back and stretches languorously, yawning widely as she slowly comes to consciousness. She blinks sleepily at you, confused for a moment before remembering the events of the night before. As she focuses on your words, annoyance flares anew in her green eyes. "Fine," she snaps, sitting up and rubbing at her face with her hands. "Let's get this over with."

Reluctantly, she takes the offered skewer, eyeing it warily before digging in hungrily. Even if she doesn't trust you, she can't deny that you make a mean fire and know how to cook. She finishes it quickly, licking her fingers clean before standing up with an audible crack from her stiffened muscles.

"Let's go," she growls, turning

"What do you want?" she snaps impatiently, glancing back at you over her shoulder as she follows. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, unconsciously revealing the smooth lines of her scaled body even further. "And make it quick, I've got places to be." Her tail flicks angrily behind her, telling its own story of irritation and defiance.

Deeja's eyes widen in anger and shock as you make your request. Her tail lashes furiously behind her, leaving red welts on her scaled hide. "You insufferable piece of trash!" she hisses, her voice barely above a whisper. "I should...I should..." She trails off, unable to finish the threat as her rage begins to fade into confusion and uncertainty.

For a long moment, they stand there locked in an intense stare, the firelight dancing across their scales and fur. Then Deeja's shoulders slump slightly and she sighs heavily, defeated by whatever it was that passed between them in that brief moment. "Fine," she says finally, her voice low and tired. "Just hurry up and get it over with." With a huff, she uncrosses her arms and reaches back, deftly undoing the clasps on

Deeja's cheeks flush crimson as you mention sex and she realizes why you won't stop milking her. Her tail lashes furiously behind her, angry at herself for getting caught in such a vulnerable position. "Yes," she hisses through gritted teeth. "There was one time, long ago..." She trails off, reliving the memory of that fateful night and feeling both shame and guilt wash over her.

As you continue to milk her, Deeja struggles with her emotions, torn between wanting to attack you for bringing up such a painful topic and hating herself for not being able to stop you. The firelight reflects off the tears that have begun to well up in her eyes, blurring the line between anger and self-loathing.