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Night Without Stars (PoisonousIvee/Mr.Aznable)

It was after their engagement presents were given to each other that Hulara was sent over seas. The Empire needed him and his skills, and he told her at length how if he had done a well enough job that he would be promoted to captain. She was happy for him, excited even. But she wasn't excited about him sailing through the Sea of Ghosts. Her Conjuration wasn't very good, but she would use bound ravens to send him letters and receive his in return. She was so lonely in Morthal without him so close, but she wanted what was best for him; for their future.
 
He told himself it was all for her. And in reality, it was. He loved her completely, and he would always return her letters.
 
They were as romantic as they were steamy, her telling him how he plagued her dreams and how she missed his body against hers. His were just as bad, and she read each word over and over.
 
He would use that frustration to carry him through the rough seas and the rougher combat, only to write her more desperately than before.
 
His letters and his words carried through her loneliness and helped her ignore the needy Nords who tried to impress her. She was already promised to a male after all, and an honorable soldier of the Empire. She didn't need or want anyone else.
 
The girls in the inns would call to him, wanting to take the coin of another handsome imperial man. But no, he did not partake, he kept himself sane with thoughts of her.
 
"If I could send you images of me, I would send you hundreds. I would show you every inch of me to give you peace to sleep at night. Three, how I miss you, my love. I miss your hands, and your tongue, your voice, and your body. Morthal is so much colder without you in my bed, without your breath on my neck."
 
"My love, how I need your warmth to keep me whole in these long nights. Nine know that if I were there, you would not pine for me a moment longer, as I would not leave you at all. Not for a moment, not for a breath would my hands leave your soft skin, your smooth, long legs.."
 
Sure, there were dunmer women in Cyrodiil just as beautiful as Satlyn, but they weren't her and never could be her.
 
Her smile, the way she would lace flowers into her hair, her laugh, her..hips. Her long legs, her ample bosom. Nine he was losing it.
 
When would he be allowed to go home? Surely he had proven himself by now? A familiar aetherial raven flew into his tent and landed at the foot of his cot, dropping a letter at his clawed feet. It smelled of her oils; the sickly sweet aroma of deathbell mixed with mountain flowers was a strange fragrance he had grown to love.
 
He smiled and moved to pick up the scroll and read it. A small comfort that had been keeping him together.
 
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