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The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 35: I’ll Carry as Much as I Can

Chapter 35: I’ll Carry as Much as I Can

25th of Sun’s Dawn 4E 202

“Do you mean — Teldryn Sero?” Nyenna whispered.

“Ah, yeah, that sounds about right. I’d have to rifle through my correspondence in the room below to be sure,” Delphine said, more nonchalant than the woman had any right to be.

Nyenna started looking pale, eyes going distant. Her demeanor was getting more meek by the second. Athis watched as she swayed on her feet, trying to hold it together. He was already pissed off, but his rage swelled like a tidal wave at the mention of that fucking sellsword. As Nyenna said, another ghost. Or he would be in no time at all if he’d anything to say about the situation.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Athis growled, marching back over to where Delphine, curse her, and Nyenna stood.

“And what, pray tell, do you think is our other option?” Delphine spat, squaring her shoulders as if to get into a fistfight with him. Wouldn’t that be a treat.

Athis exhaled loudly through his nose. “I will get her there myself. We’ve killed Thalmor before, and we’ll do it again.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Delphine parroted and let out a sarcastic bark of a laugh. “You’re a liability. You’ve always been a liability — I knew it during that battle with Sahloknir when you turned your back to a dragon.” She scowled and prodded him in the sternum. He could have ripped her arm from the socket in that moment, but bit back his temper. Delphine threw her hands up and stalked away from him. “Imagine, trusting you — and then what would we have? A dead Dragonborn, and a world set ablaze.” She huffed and let out a bitter laugh. “As if the world isn’t already on fire.”

“Delphine, Athis is right — I can’t trust Teldryn Sero.”

Nyenna’s voice was firm and as even as she could make it, but heavy with so much sorrow. Athis turned and laced his fingers through hers. She exhaled and let her shoulders drop, tension too much to keep holding on to.

“How do you know that?”

“I hired him when I was in Solstheim. He was the one that saved my life, true — but matters are much more complicated than I’ve been able to properly convey.” She paused and gave Delphine a moment to calm down and circle back to where they were standing, glancing sidelong at her the entire time. “He’s a sellsword and a thief. He had…no interest whatever in my actual safety. He wanted — he wanted more from me than that, and when I refused, he turned on me.” Nyenna hung her head and slid her fingers from Athis’s grasp. “Suffice to say… He can’t be trusted.”

Delphine cursed under her breath. “Brynjolf is part of the Thieves Guild, so yes, you’re right — Sero would be a thief. If he’s taken up additional work as a sellsword, that’s his prerogative.” She let out a long, irritated sigh. “You can go with him, and make use of the kind of work he’s really good at, according to my contacts, or you can find all the trouble we’ve been fearing between here and the Thalmor Embassy. I don’t see another option.” She scoffed. “Sorry to say.” -> Read the rest on AO3!

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mareenavee · 4 days

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That Is the Choice I Give You

Mind the Tags on the card, please.

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death Other Important Tags: Canon-Typical Racism Twin Lamps

Written for my dearest friend and greatest supporter, Jinumon. Thank you for indulging my TES brainwyrms here, in Skywind and, finally, in person. ✨❤️

This version of Tul was Jinumon's idea. Anali, mentioned briefly, is an easter egg for @changelingsandothernonsense's fic universe, and is her Khajiit OC.

Written in response to a prompt challenge, as well! The Prompt

First Seed

Without further ado,

That Is the Choice I Give You

A Historical Perspective Regarding the Twin Lamps and Its Activities in Vvardenfell, 3E427: Part One

A note from the publisher:

These letters and journals were recovered or removed from Dren Plantation and Ules Manor before being carried to Ebonheart by formerly shackled individuals. The original texts were written either in pictographic Jel, a coded version of Tamrielic known between the two correspondents, or a combination of the two. They were translated and edited for readability with no small effort by the members of the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart before submission.

Light the way.

16 First Seed 3E427

You must excuse the mud and dirt between these pages—my previous journal was lost to me in the fire that consumed a building on the eastern edge of the plantation. I would not change it, as that fire allowed for Anali’s escape when our plan had been all but compromised. I’ve decided to keep this one in an area that the Ienith brothers do not tread. After all, the one they’ve set to watch ought to check these perimeters. It is beneath them. But that one is lazy and sleeps on the job.

If there is luck to be had in situations like these, I suppose it is that I can write and have not lost my arm for it, and still have both eyes to observe these things and send word whenever possible back to Im-Kilaya.

As of late, I find Dren distracted, often leaving his manor in the dead of night, Ienith hounds in tow. Something is changing here on the island. I do not know what. All I can do is make use of the confusion and lapse in security and continue the work I’ve risked my life to do. I think, as of today, I’ve freed nearly twenty shackled in my current role and have so far avoided suspicion.

Yes. I realize I could die at any time. I am no stranger to the cruelty here, where a single glance can be considered an egregious misstep. I have the scars to prove it. But I gave my word—and thus my life—to the Cause. This is another thing I would not change. -> Read more on AO3

#MareenaWrites #That Is the Choice I Give You #Morrowind #Morrowind Fic #TES #tesblr #tes fic #fanfiction #fanficblr #tesfic #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fic #Tul #Tul's Escape #Twin Lamps

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mareenavee · 2 months

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The Love We Deserve

For my accomplice, Jinumon and my fandom bestie, @changelingsandothernonsense!!!

Thank you, both, for the amazing February prompts. 🥰

Ceth's Prompt:

The Temple of Mara in Riften in less than 5,000 words.

Jinumon's Prompt:

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower My prompt is to incorporate the quote verbatim into Ceth's prompt into a pivotal scene.

I did my best! Hope you guys enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing and editing it.

Without further ado:

The Love We Deserve

Not all that which fades into the shadows of ancient Nordic ruins are agents of darkness. I’ve learned as much, though the lesson has been a long time coming. Peace is not, and has not been, my main priority—not with the prophecy, or death by dragon hanging over me wherever I go. It is, perhaps, the reason I am called to do this thing—to put to rest two souls whose hearts have been apparently keening out across all of Skyrim for time out of mind. Not that I can hear them. Perhaps the quest came to me because I cannot—and had ought.

Dinya didn’t say as much, but I imagine the thought was in the back of her head.

Then again, Mara’s voice was not one I’d sought. Not after everything I’ve been through in this regard. But those are stories for another time. My pain, as far in the past as it lingers, can wait another day.

I had decided to make my way toward Rorikstead on my own. This is not a complex task, and my associate could do more good back in Riften than out here in the woods. She, of course, did not see it that way, but promised she’d look after Dinya while I ran this errand.

And so here I stand—alone and freezing—out in the wilderness.

It is rather fitting.

Ahead of me, I can only see those aforementioned shadows in the light of a single quarter moon above. Secunda is dark, of course. The stones, though crumbling, bear the familiar scrawl of Nordic knotwork I’ve recorded a thousand, thousand times since Bleak Falls Barrow. They feel like home in a way I can’t explain, regardless of the fact that I am a stranger to these lands. The grasses, hardy against the frost, grow untamed. Mosses crawl over the dark grey of the stones, filling in the cracks that have been weathered in over time. When I place my palm against them, they still seem…alive in a way that the presence of spirits doesn’t quite cover. There is deep history lost to time. Maybe it’s simply melancholy pressed into the stone that I feel. I can’t be sure. I would linger under ordinary circumstances and feed the ruins Magicka until their stories unfolded for me.

Instead, pulled by the spell—if it is a spell—placed on the amulet Dinya gave me, I move on, drifting not unlike the ghost I have been called to follow. The pale blue cast of the spirit’s movement illuminates the ruins as she passes, still in the form of an orb. But this is the one. I can feel it. I’ve been tracking her for two full nights now. In certain places, she can manifest as she might have looked in life.

I don’t think she realizes she has died. -> Read more on AO3.

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mareenavee · 2 months

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The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 34: Wake Up and See

24th of Sun’s Dawn 4E 202

Nyenna clutched at an ache in her chest. It’d been painful since Windhelm, sharp and stabbing, like her heart was trying to escape from behind her ribs. It felt like a rope was pulled taut, fraying and barely holding on by the last fibers before it might snap. When she closed her eyes, all she could see were the ashen landscapes of Solstheim, viewed from behind the faint warp of chitin lenses like some kind of static impression. The image never moved, except for the slow drifting of ash and the soft lap of waves on the beaches.

She’d visited the temple of Talos before departing the frozen city and saw the healer that had once attended her wounds while Athis was recovering from his injuries. The healer could not sense the echo itself, but noted something was afoot, though not in a way that would threaten her life. She’d been called hale and sent on her way, purse lighter for her trouble.

Something still felt wrong, like once again she’d made a horrible mistake and the further she walked on her own, the more unshakable the misgivings felt. The tug of the echo was sometimes so strong, it would prevent her from sleeping. If she did sleep, it was not restful. She did not find peace in her dreams. Instead, a deep guilt washed over her so heavily, it felt as if she would drown. Part of her mind tried to believe this was not hers — that it was another thing stolen through the echo. The other part knew what she had done, and how far she had drifted. While Teldryn’s behavior was not acceptable, nor were his words, she knew she had not made clear her stance. It did not give him leave to be as egregious as he had been, but it also did not absolve her of blame. She tried to quiet her thoughts on the subject and eased her back against the wooden railing of the cart she sat in, hoping to relieve some of the ache.

In the silence of her travels, all she had was time to think, and that did not help ease the pain. Not that she thought it would. The whole situation was a curse, and more than ever she wished she’d never set foot on that Godsforsaken island. It had been the biggest mistake she’d ever made. As the city walls of Whiterun loomed ahead, all remembering it did was cause her stomach to tie itself in knots.

She didn’t want to know what Athis would think of her. He’d been sweet in his letters, but to talk over exactly had happened in person would be another story — and what a story it was. All things considered, it was for the best to have left Teldryn behind. It didn’t matter what drunken, misguided nonsense fell from his mouth. How he’d acted did not match his words. In the end, they mattered little.

She could not love him back.

He would have found that out sooner or later, and he’d have left anyway as soon as he realized she would not be just — another vessel for his chaos, to put it bluntly. She rubbed her sternum again. Somehow just the thought of all that had gone wrong in the last few days made the ache worse.

She did not know why she dragged her feet after disembarking from the carriage at the stables. The trip from Solstheim had been a long one, and truth be told, she was exhausted. But something held her back. She’d so readily left in the middle of the night all those weeks ago, and now she would happily take an eternity waiting out here in the wind and flurries. Her cloak billowed around her as she looked up at the walls of her city.

Is it…is it still my city after everything? -> Read More on Ao3.

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mareenavee · 2 months

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Shit! Look! I did a Teldryn that isn't Joshi

A birthday gift for @mareenavee of her Teldryn Sero, she's putting this pic a few months after this fic so definitively in 3E. An excuse for me to draw more Nerevarine Teldryn Seros with mullets basically. You know how sold I am on the mullet. Enjoy the casual outfit he'd modelling. I may use it for Joshi later. :3

#O M G <3 #Teldryn Sero #you are killing us all here #Friend Art

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mareenavee · 2 months

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Amaranthine

For Indoril Jinumon, for January's Prompt:

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

The Nerevarine answers Vivec's musings in Metempsychosis.

Amaranthine

I have had the misfortune of knowing you – the god whose power was borrowed from the Heart of this world. Half-golden light, half-darkness – all blight, awash with empty words which so few will ever understand. I asked for peace. You gave me lies. No matter how hard I tried, I could not escape my fate. You say you have seen a tear in the tapestry, the blank space which became my place in lore and legacy. You’ve killed for less. I’ve killed for more. The blood on my hands will not wash clean – not after all I have done. Not after all I have been. Or will be.

My illusion of freedom was sundered the second I set foot in Seyda Neen. I could not know it then, not as time bent and warped around me. Sunset staining the far horizon red, all that was left was to move forward. Through dust and uncertainty, I persisted. And still do. And will. Because I must – or else, what then? Yet you, in your great wisdom, and with great force, insisted I turn back – as if destiny was so simple to twist out of shape, or cut away with blades unseen.

You’d tried that once – ages ago, while ash and magma flowed. The Heart. The argument. The spear that pierced, cracking spine and sternum. Things I should not remember. Yet, in dreams – if they are to be trusted – I do. Though my skin no longer bears its scars, the mark of betrayal remains – a stain on my soul, reborn into new vessel time and time again. I did not want to believe, until I saw the grief in your eyes. You seek forgiveness. I offer only that which you deserve. Sorrow, the haunting of a hollow promise – shattered, shapeless – and the memory of murder most foul. -> Read the rest on AO3

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mareenavee · 2 months

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The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 33: Now or Never

19th of Sun’s Dawn 4E 202

No, you don’t need to be on the next ship out of here.

Teldryn stood staring at the docks, back pressed to the ash-scoured stone of the Bulwark. Workers drifted back and forth across the small expanse of grey-brown nothingness, hefting crates stamped with various symbols in preparation for tomorrow’s supply shipment. As the wind had picked up this morning, most had the sense to be wearing goggles made with expensive shatterproof glass, or else helmets fitted with chitin lenses like what he wore now.

Teldryn adjusted the edge of his scarf and made sure it was tucked in enough to prevent himself from breathing in more of the ash than he had to. Pressing a hand to his throat, he swallowed hard against another wave of nausea. He’d been wrestling with his decisions — and the resulting sour stomach — for a week now. At the time, all he had done had felt like the right course of action — to let Nyenna go meant he’d be free to do whatever he wanted, and free to simply let her fade into the background of his awareness.

But no. There was the damned echo, for one, which was almost painful at points, especially when he tried to sleep sober. It was like hooks had been forced into the muscles of his chest and were being tugged by some invisible giant. Sometimes it felt like his sternum would snap clean in half. Times like that, it was as hard to breathe as if she were still here.

He hated that.

What a s’wit you are, Teldryn Sero. You know better.

He should have never accepted the job, even if she turned out to be the Empress of all Tamriel. It was stupid. He was stupid. That hadn’t changed in centuries. He was still the shell of a man stepping off the boat at Seyda Neen in rags with a chip on his shoulder.

Not that he needed forgiveness — Gods knew he didn’t deserve it — but he knew no matter what he did next, he’d likely never earn hers. That stung in ways he couldn’t quite articulate. More than the echo did, that was for sure, and that hurt damn bad.

What have you done?

His feet itched as he glanced out over the ocean. A week ago now, he’d stood on the top level of the Bulwark, much to Hlas’s chagrin, and watched Nyenna’s ship leave, sailing out into the night toward Windhelm. He knew where she was going, of course, but the chances of catching up with her after this long were few and far between. For him to simply show up in Whiterun uninvited would only cause more problems. Not that he couldn’t handle himself. He snorted at the thought of having to fight her husband. It wasn’t the first time he’d imagined the situation.

Regardless, he did want to go after her. He’d wanted to this entire time. He knew as soon as he’d spoken the words that he’d been wrong, but it was too late to take back everything. Perhaps it would always be. Regret was heaviest to carry after the matter, anyway. -> Read the rest on AO3.

#MareenaWrites #Chapter Update!!! YOOOO FINALLY #The World on Our Shoulders #dragonborn and far star marked #Nyenna #Teldryn Sero #nerevarine #nerevarine teldryn sero #LDB/Teldryn Sero #LDB/Athis #tes #tesblr #tes fic #skyrim #skyrim fic #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr #elder scrolls

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mareenavee · 2 months

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Trying to fill my dash with good vibes - what are your favourite tesblr blogs? Art, memes, writers, anything!

Good vibes for all! What a great ask, thank you. I might turn this into a tag game of sorts.

I'll divide this into categories to make things easy to navigate. This is in no way comprehensive, because otherwise I'd be here all day just listing literally everyone I follow. But here's where I'll start!

Favorite Aesthetic TES Blogs: Gifs, screenshots, edits, in-game gorgeousness~ - @darkelfguy

Favorite Art & Writing Blogs: These blogs don't only post their own art and writing, but also reblog a lot from the community! - @falmerbrook - @moriche - @dirty-bosmer Favorite Lore Blogs: Blogs that tend to have canon-friendly lore posts and civil discussions - @nientedenada - @kookaburra1701 - @greyborn2

Favorite Meme Blogs: Blogs that just makes me smile or have a chuckle - @incorrectskyrimquotes - @nerevar-quote-and-star

Well-Rounded Tesblr Blogs: This category goes out to the homies who post all the good shit from art to writing to memes to shitposts to lore dumps. The MVPs in my books. - @skyrim-forever - @trickstarbrave - @v1ctory-or-sovngarde - @captain-of-silvenar - @throughtrialbyfire - @elavoria

I seriously had to cut myself off otherwise I would have just kept listing blogs LMAO. If I tagged you in this, please feel free to add your own favorites and maybe we can get a nice chain going!

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mareenavee · 3 months

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So I came up with a new way to generate Skyrim fanwork prompts.

You wanna write 100 words of Kyne, Skjor, and Cicero Roommates AU where they accidentally acquire a baby? Or are you a coward?

(But fr if people send me asks, I'll draw up to three cards from the Skyrim Tarot Deck and the AO3 Tropes deck and there's your prompt. Tell me how many you want from each deck.)

#GO ASK KB!#DO IT #Worth it

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mareenavee · 3 months

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Better To Seek Forgiveness Than To Ask Permission

Hello friends <3 Wrote a birthday gift for @thequeenofthewinter!!! Featuring Young!Ulfric. It's a character study of the moment he decides to peace out from being a Greybeard. (:

I hope you like it, my friend 😭❤️🫂✨ I pulled some inspiration from this prompt from the Arc's archives:

The Prompt

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ― Mary Oliver

and also, of course, Winter's Ulfric in her fic "In the Midst of Winter." <3

Without further ado:

Better To Seek Forgiveness Than To Ask Permission

Ulfric Stormcloak stands at a crossroads. The two paths are ones he has contemplated abandoning all together—though he knows turning back has its own consequences. He is young—barely trudging through his nineteenth summer. Hearthfire looms. If he does not choose a path, his twentieth year will be spent in silence, too. Some would say he has wasted most of his life up until now atop this very mountain.

Monahven—or the Throat of the World—has been his home since he was a boy. He recalls the day he was made to leave and make a new home upon the mountain. One moment, he had been pelting Balgruuf with snowballs in the fields surrounding Whiterun while their fathers spoke in Dragonsreach—and the next, so it seemed at the time, he’d been relegated to a corner of High Hrothgar. Has it been a decade already? Ulfric is sure, with the disconcerting news the pilgrims bring with them daily, that his time will be better spent elsewhere.

But here is where his conflict lies. His father expects him to honor his calling—all believe it to be his becoming a Greybeard. Below, however, his home might fall to ruin before his eyes, all while he does nothing but shovel snow and contemplate ancient tradition. He did not choose this path, and given the chance to go back in time, he would not have. All this despite how beautiful the Way of the Voice is—but beauty does not win wars.

Ulfric stands in the courtyard of High Hrothgar, and seethes when he closes his eyes. He knows of the Thalmor, and what they have done. So many lives lost—good men and women, some of which he’d known growing up—all for what? He glances at the path that leads up to the peak of the mountain—a path he has heretofore been prevented from walking. He has not mastered the Shout needed to clear the way. Most of the Greybeards, despite their age, have not. Their leader lives alone upon the peak in the harshest of elements. He stares down at the world and lets the chaos continue, despite the power he must wield to have this position.

Part of Ulfric wants to force his way through and make his case. Would the leader, mysterious as he is, release him from his oaths? It would not clear the shame that would fall on his father’s house for abandoning such a sacred duty. His home, though? His people? Would they not be worth the risk? The sacrifice?

In his mind’s eye, Ulfric envisions great battalions of Imperial soldiers marching from the White-Gold tower in Cyrodiil. He has never been there before, but he has seen the bas-relief carvings and gold-framed paintings in other places here in Skyrim. Despite his feet being so firmly planted in the soil of this province, he cannot help but feel a call to action. He has a single Shout, and with it he can make himself as valuable as an outfit of soldiers all on his own. He can turn the tide of the War. He knows this, and yet some piece of him still feels conflicted. -> Read the rest on AO3.

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mareenavee · 3 months

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9 People to Get To know Better Tag

Thanks for the tag, @ladytanithia! I've been off tumblr and will remain off for a while while I'm novel-ing but I like these things <3 ◇3 ships

Nibani Maesa / Sul-Matuul. They're Aro/Ace. I wrote them for a gift for @changelingsandothernonsense and just love them so, so, so much.

Teldryn Sero / Athis -- I blame @thana-topsy and Ceth again for this one STILL for the hell ship prompt and the resulting fanart. 😭❤️

Ondolemar / Argis the Bulwark. Topsy!!! AGAIN for this one. LOL Now it's World Canon.

◇first ship

Hrm. In the TES fandom!? LDB/Teldryn Sero technically. Ever? Hm. Yeah it was probably also Zelda/Link, though I didn't participate in the fandom really, except the occasional non-ship novelization-type fic lol.

◇last song

Orange Juice - Noah Kahan. I'm listening to THE List(tm) my co-writer and I are putting together.

◇currently reading

This week?

Sleepers Awake by Ceth In the Midst of Winter by @thequeenofthewinter Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson

◇last film

Kid Detective -- watched it with my co-writer. It's that really dry fucked up humor that gets dark and sad in places.

◇currently craving

Peace and quiet. (:

Tagging: @archangelsunited @throughtrialbyfire @orfeoarte @kookaburra1701 @thana-topsy (of course. Hi lol) @rainpebble3 @thequeenofthewinter @changelingsandothernonsense @saltymaplesyrup -- and anyone else. I can't promise I'll see the tags but, have fun with it!

#askMareena

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mareenavee · 3 months

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Lean Into the Storm and Hope To Weather It

Happy birthday, @changelingsandothernonsense!! We're BELATED but it's so worth it. Thank you for letting me write fanfic of your fanfic 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

This one is directly inspired by Arkanis: Teldryn and the upcoming Arkanis: Erra and ... a secret third Arkanis entry. :>

So. Morrow-fic. Sorta. Pre-Morrowind Morrowfic.

It's a little off the rails, featuring Nibani Maesa, and her Aro/Ace QPR relationship (and eventual betrothal and bonding) with Sul-Matuul, her visions, and how Peakstar came to be recognized as one of the incarnates (though, unfortunately, failed.) Also features some easter eggs for Ceth's fic universe <3

Without further ado:

Lean Into the Storm and Hope To Weather It

When earth is sundered, and skies choked black, and sleepers serve the seven curses…

Nibani Maesa shook her head, trying and failing to clear the voice of her grandmother from her ears. It had been long enough since her passing that her family’s grieving was done—yet the pitch and timbre of the raspy, ashen, elderly voice never had faded from her. It was another Sign, one she had withheld from her mother now for months. The less that was spoken on that front, the more likely her sister, Diyanna, would be considered for the sacred position of Wise Woman. This was, of course, folly to wish for. But she would let the wisest of the Urshilaku talk, and pretend they might decide otherwise. Keeping their gaze from her face brought her a semblance of peace—though Nibani knew deep down all would be uncovered eventually. She would need to step into her power sooner rather than later.

She had, after all, foreseen her mother’s death. That, too, was another Sign. It was the heaviest of them, and she had trusted it to only one other—Sul-Matuul. He was her best friend—and perhaps the only true friend she had. When one was marked by the stars as she was, there were few who would look past the perception of power bestowed by her eventual title. But Sul had known the shape of her soul since they were children. Azura knew he’d likely known her across every lifetime. She felt their connection to be a foundational truth of the universe, and had told him as much. Despite her current worries, she smiled at the memory of his response. He’d woven his fingers through hers and sighed in exasperation, only to laugh his agreement at the sentiment. He’d insisted he’d never been one for poetry, or he’d have said it himself.

Nibani was positive that in every lifetime, she’d have to be the one to proclaim such truths—and would do so again, and again.

She set down the basket she had been carrying and smoothed the stray strands of her thick, auburn braids, pulling them back over her shoulders. Sul was there across the plains, sparring with Zabamund—though she wished he wouldn’t. There was a reason Grandmother’s voice would not empty from her mind this day. It was imperative to talk about it. He would try to understand, and would remind her of her strength all the while. For now, he was preoccupied. He had a role to fill, too—he would be named Ashkhan, though the Gods only knew when. It didn’t stop his father from insisting he act as if the title was already his.

To the hearth there comes a stranger, journeyed far 'neath moon and star…

Nibani sighed and looked toward where the sun would be setting, if they were lucky enough to see such things. That there was not an ash storm and she could breathe the air was blessing enough. Sometimes—though rarely—the winds blew favorably. It was a shame for such a day to be tinged by the beginnings of what would surely become a full vision. She needed her friend for this. -> Read the rest on AO3.

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mareenavee · 4 months

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Winter Friends Are Friends Forever

This was a prompt fill from my very, very dear friend Jinumon! (Chyeah that's the one I'm writin' the original book with lol.)

He didn't actually put the strangeness restriction on me, this time. I decide that on my own for a challenge LOL and I think it was fun, even if difficult. (:

The Prompt:

“My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Feast for Crows

Special shoutout to @archangelsunited for the amazing beta reading work. You are invaluable. I love that I learn new things and different perspectives when I get to read through your comments and dig into the editing. AH it's my favorite.

Without further ado,

Winter Friends Are Friends Forever

Cold.

Always cold now, because Man didn’t light the fire anymore. Or couldn’t. He was like the rabbit Meeko had just caught. Only bones—or would be soon enough.

Sad.

Meeko didn’t like that. He whimpered to himself. It was strange and quiet in this place. No more ear scratches, no more treats. No light. No fire. No blankets. None of it. House was empty and Man was in his long sleep and the storms just kept coming. The snow wasn’t so bad. Better than loud rain, but not better than mud. Snow didn’t make the sadness go away, though—at least, not for long.

He gnawed thoughtfully at the rabbit’s leg bone until it snapped. The marrow was fine, but he was still hungry—and that meant he’d have to go catch another. He whined, though nobody was around to hear him. The sound echoed out over the frozen field behind House. Meeko only ever made that noise because Man would ask him questions whenever he heard it. Meeko didn’t understand Man most of the time, except for a few words. ‘Food’ was his favorite one. ‘Outside’ normally was second best, but lately it was the same as ‘Inside,’ or maybe a little bit worse—almost like ‘No,’ or ‘Bad Dog.’

He missed Man’s voice—if he’d only wake up from the long sleep and talk again, Meeko wouldn’t mind. But he knew it couldn’t happen. He’d seen so many long sleeps happen in his time. Before Man had left the stone city behind and built House out here in the woods, Girl had a long sleep. When Girl was nothing but a squalling bundle of blankets, Lady had a long sleep. He remembered the new beds Man made for them under all that dirt.

Still sad.

Meeko let out another whine. Only an echo of the sound through the forest ever answered.

He wandered back to House and stepped inside, snowy paws leaving wet marks on the wooden floor. In a storm, the door had been damaged, and hung off its hinges at the top. It squeaked when he pushed past it into the dark. Man still slept on his bed. Meeko nudged his hand—almost all bone now—which hung off the side. It would not wake him. It never did, but it wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t do it.

Meeko would catch another rabbit, but he wouldn’t go unless House was okay. He nosed around each corner, pausing to bark at a spider crawling up the wall. Those things never listened. When he caught them, they crunched and tasted bitter—not like rabbit. He didn’t like them. He couldn’t help it, though. They moved with all those legs, and he had to catch them. Meeko didn’t make the rules. When the spider was out of reach, he remembered that he was still hungry. He grumbled as he walked back out into the snow. The ground was icy and stung the bottom of his feet if he stayed still too long.

Still cold. -> Read the rest on AO3!

#MareenaWrites #Winter Friends Are Friends Forever #Skyrim #Skyrim fic #tes #tesblr #tes fic #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficblr #ficblr #fic #writblr #writeblr #Meeko #Dunmer #Dunmer LDB

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mareenavee · 4 months

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Sure as a Storm

For @saltymaplesyrup as a prompt fill and for their birthday!!! Has: Chaos ✅ Weird Shit Happening ✅ Stronk Nord Lady✅ Dragons ✅ Hidden Characters ✅ Stalhrim ✅ Skaal ✅ A Character Who Does Not Have a Head for Lore Because That's Funny When a Story is For Maple ✅ Did We Mention Chaos? ✅

I hope you enjoy it, my friend! It was a ton of fun to think through the prompt, even if it did go off the rails >:]

Without further ado,

Sure as a Storm

Silje Ice-Shaper pushed back the hood of her thick fur coat and ran her arm across her forehead with an exhale. She risked taking off a glove to rake her fingers through sweaty, coppery hair and tucked it back, before pulling the hood up over her head again and replacing her glove. Regardless of the temporary warmth her hard work brought her, it was cold today, and getting colder. Clouds were roiling in the distance, darkening not unlike her mood. She didn’t much like the prospect of another day in these open barrows with the weather due to be as bad as the elders warned.

Sure as a storm, they’d said, you’ll get caught in the worst of it.

Not that she hadn’t listened—no, it was that she frequently took their words more as advice, rather than law. The village desperately needed the Stalhrim if they hoped to have enough to trade, considering how supplies in Raven Rock were dwindling by the day. The sooner the materials were collected, the sooner her father could forge the enchanted ice into blades and armor that would sell for plenty in town—or if she was lucky, Windhelm. She’d never been given the opportunity to leave Solstheim, even for trade.

Silje had heard musings from the odd Dunmer mercenary who frequented their settlement that there was some kind of conflict brewing—something awful on the horizon, worse than the blizzards. She could still hear the annoying rasp in his voice as he explained the circumstances of the situation, but none of it made sense. She didn’t understand enough about the Nords in Skyrim to know why some Imperial god would cause such a problem—only that they were fighting about it, so logic followed that weapons and armor would be needed. Maybe they would trade for more gold than expected. It would mean surviving said storms, if the ground was unsteady enough and the fighting found its way here. All-Maker preserve them should that be the case. -> Read the rest on AO3.

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mareenavee · 4 months

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The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 32: The Pain Always Comes Back

Additional CW/TW: Substance abuse

Present Day

Athis grit his teeth and pushed his plate away untouched, opting instead to reach for the third bottle of mead for the morning. Food felt impossible to stomach. In his other hand, he crumpled another of Nyenna’s letters, letting it fall to the table like refuse. The irony wasn’t lost on him that these had once brought him so much joy, back when he wasn’t reading between the lines — and if Farkas was able to see what he wasn’t able to, what did that say of him?

No. It’s not that he wasn’t able to. It’d been pure denial, plain and simple. He crumpled another letter, letting it join the rest of them spilling over the tabletop and onto the floor. He downed the rest of his mead, then got up on unsteady feet and stooped to pick up the mess he’d made. Arms full of paper, he wandered over to the hearth and dumped the lot of the letters in, watching each one blacken and curl, the ashes rising with the heat of the fire. It was better this way. If he stashed them away again, then they’d haunt. He had better things to do with his time than think over each word indefinitely.

He looked across the house, its empty, grey image shimmering in the heat. Once, this place had felt like home. These days it felt more like a prison. He heaved a heavy sigh and walked toward the pantry in the back. There was still some wine, which wasn’t his favorite, but it would do in a pinch. Nyenna had been saving it for cooking something or another, but it truly did not matter now. He wandered over to the cupboard, grabbed a tankard, filled it, and sat in his chair by the fire, feeling his mind begin to swim. Part of him knew his behavior was abhorrent, seeing as it wasn’t even noon. This was more like how Farkas might act on any given day. At least Athis was just waiting for the alcohol to take the rage away.

And that — he’d been letting it clatter around in his skull for so long now, he almost forgot what it meant to be carefree. It had been ceaseless worry and self-doubt — too many lonely nights spent crouched in a corner by the hearth, feigning some semblance of warmth. Nothing felt like a good idea anymore — nothing but the silence the mead could grant him. Just a few hours of not having to think straight. Just a few hours of peace. It was all he asked for.

He drained the tankard of wine, but paused before he poured more. His skin was hot — though from rage or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. Part of his brain still wondered what Nyenna would think. He’d had enough, though, of her judgment from the shadows. She was not here. That was the problem. She wasn’t, and he’d had to get on without her for so long now. He looked up from the bottle of wine on the floor into the shadowed alcove of her alchemy room, whose plants he did not water yet today. He could have sworn he saw her image — a phantom, arms crossed over her chest, elven armor scuffed and glinting in the low light. The scar. The frown. The disappointment. He would never be enough. He’d known it for so long now, and yet he still reached.

No more. -> Read the rest on AO3

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mareenavee · 5 months

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You're Never in the Dark

Happy birthmas, @snippetsrus!! 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨✨✨✨

You're Never in the Dark

“We’ll have to speak another time, lass,” Brynjolf had said. “I’ve important things to attend to.”

Why had he said that? He wasn’t actually busy. He never really was. But everything he’d done—and not done—of late weighed on him, creeping into the shadowed corners of his mind. All he’d purposefully ignored for the sake of peace overwhelmed him now. He’d forsaken responsibility in favor of convenience as always, and it ended up costing him far more than he’d been willing to part with.

He saw her face whenever he closed his eyes. Her hair, like soft strands of gold, falling in waves over her shoulders. Those eyes, green as the fields, overflowing with tears at the sting of his rejection. He’d have done anything to take that all away from her, had he not been the cause of her pain. Gods, but he wished one last time to reach out for her hand, hold it in his, warm against the weather. Strong, too, against the coming storms.

But it was not meant to be. She deserved so much more than him. He’d been bound to the darkness, and she’d always been this bright light. What could she possibly see in him? What could he ever give her that she didn’t already have? All he was capable of doing was shattering precious things. His destiny was not to build—all of that was left to her. And she would, if he did not tie her down. He would not. It was already decided. So he’d turned his shoulder to her and left her behind, not glancing back for fear of losing resolve. -> Read the rest on AO3.

#MareenaWrites #Lost Legends #Brynjolf #LDB/Brynjolf #Nocturnal #tes #tesblr #tes fic #skyrim #skyrim fic #gift fic #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fic #fanficblr #ficblr #thieves guild

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mareenavee · 5 months

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WIP Whenever~ <3

Hi friends!

So Original Novel Update! My cowriter and I have completely written out beginning, middle and end plans in our outline for our book and we've already got ideas starting for book 2! Last week I was very sick, so I didn't have much besides original to share, but this week I do. Oh I do >:}

Here's a small snip of Chapter 33 of World, below the cut! It's part of a dream sequence <3 Some of you may have seen it already.

Teldryn finished off the mug of sujamma he’d been drinking and set it down with an audible thunk on the sticky wooden table before him.

“Nyenna I — ” he started. She shook her head, and his voice silenced. All that was left was the echo, the one in her chest and the one composed of the sound of her name reverberating off the walls of the hollow tavern. Time seemed to freeze, and only the condensation of her breath as if she was still out in the cold remained behind.

“No, Teldryn,” she whispered. The echo only got stronger, pulling at the inside of her ribs, like her heart was trying to escape. Sharp pain lanced through her. She winced, doubled over and pressed her palm to her chest.

She looked up through ragged breaths. Teldryn had stood, but his form moved in slow motion, as if he fought time itself. His arm moved as if to reach for her, but he would never make it. She wouldn’t allow it.

“Wake up, Nyenna!” she grit out, pain flaring with each word. “Wake up!”

She gasped as pain flared again. Time and space shattered around her as she exhaled through gritted teeth. Teldryn unfroze, moving quickly to her side. He curled an arm around her shoulders, placing his other hand over hers. She tried and failed to shrug him off of her, but found she could not. Her muscles and bones ached with every movement, and somehow she was weaker under what should have felt like care.

She wanted him to go.

Why had he called her?

With a start, she realized he had called her, and blindly she had answered. She wondered if she would ever truly be able to make a different decision here in this place between waking and dreaming.

“It’s okay, Nyenna. I’m here,” Teldryn said. His voice was strained, and though his face was still hidden behind his chitin lenses, Nyenna could tell he could not believe his own words.

Neither of them needed this chaos.

“I don’t want you here,” she growled, once again enduring sharp stabs of pain in her chest with each word. “Let go, Teldryn! Just let go!”

“I can’t,” he said. There was a heaviness to the way he spoke, a strange sorrow that clung to every syllable. The echo was so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear the next words he uttered.

Gods, but would that she could be rid of this connection, she’d have severed it immediately. But no. It still pulled, barbs caught in her heart, impossible to remove without killing her. She let out a frustrated yell, and Teldryn only held her tighter. She tried and failed to thrash away from him, but sank to her knees instead. She had no energy. It was gone, all of it just gone.

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