#Skyrim Imagine
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Betrayal; Brynjolf
When Karliah appears back at the Thieves Guild after Mercer has informed them of Y/N's death, Brynjolf is quick to see red.
Spoilers for the Thieves Guild questline.
Brynjolf was a thief, there was no doubt about it. Thievery was in his blood, and always had been. Unattached, flirtatious, and talented at what he did, that was how most people would describe him, yet there was always someone who saw him differently.
Y/N, the latest addition to the thieves guild, was recruited by Brynjolf a few months ago now and the pair became fast friends. Having been the one to recruit and train her, Brynjolf knew a lot about the woman, including her distrust of those around her.
It took Y/N a while to open up to Brynjolf, for reasons unbeknownst to him. Naturally, he assumed there was something in her past, a lover, perhaps? Brynjolf didn’t like the way that thought made him feel, so he did what he did best and ignored it. He didn’t have feelings for her, he couldn’t…
So why did he feel so depressed when Mercer told him how Karliah had killed the woman in cold blood? Why did he lock himself away for days on end? Surely it was just a friend thing, right? He totally didn’t regret not telling her how he felt. Why would he?
“You better have a good reason for coming here, Karliah.” Brynjolf spat, being held back from attacking by Rune. “I should kill you where you stand.”
“It was not I who betrayed the guild,” she spoke softly, sensing Brynjolf’s anger.
“That is not what I am talking about,” he raged, freeing himself from Rune’s grasp and flying towards Karliah, only to be grabbed once again.
“She is telling the truth, Bryn,”
That voice…? It can’t be, surely.
“Y/N!?” Brynjolf immediately sprung backwards, holding the speaker at arm’s length. “You’re alive? Mercer said-“
“Mercer tried to kill me, Brynjolf. You’ve been lied to this whole time. Karliah saved my life.” She spoke quietly as she stared into Brynjolf’s erratic eyes.
He couldn’t believe that she was here in front of him. Mercer said that she had been killed, yet here she stood with Karliah, claiming that Mercer – the man who he trusted more than anything – had betrayed them.
There was no doubt that Y/N had been injured, the way she stood was enough proof of that, but by Mercer? That was not possible… So why did he trust her more than Mercer?
A sudden tug on his hand pulled Brynjolf from his thoughts. “Listen to her, Bryn. For me.”
He could never deny her anything.
And so he listened to Karliah. Every single word she spoke angered him and made him resent Mercer. His hand was still in Y/N’s, and he never wanted to let go, squeezing it gently to calm himself, as well as to remind himself that she was alive.
“I’ll kill him,” Brynjolf snarled. He wasn’t entirely sure what angered him more. That he had betrayed the entire guild, or that he had tried to kill Y/N whose hand was still in his own, earning more than a few confused looks from the other guild members, yet a knowing one from Karliah.
A soft squeeze on his hand pulled him from his anger, however, and his gaze fell on the woman beside him as she gave him a comforting smile. He nodded at her, taking a deep breath to completely calm himself.
She is alive and here. Everything is fine, Brynjolf.
Most people had left the Flagon by now - their anger at Mercer’s betrayal fuelling their plans for revenge – leaving only Brynjolf, Y/N, and Karliah, the latter being quick to excuse herself.
“Thank you for trusting me, Brynjolf,” Y/N whispered, as though she was ashamed of what she was saying. “I didn’t know if you would.” Her words had the red-heads eyes widening as he quickly spun to face her with a force that almost sent him flying.
“I’ll always trust you. I’m just… I’m glad you are alive.” He admitted, one hand resting on the table in front of them whilst the other nursed his drink.
Y/N smiled to herself, a blush running up her cheeks as she took his hand in hers again.
“I’m glad to be back here with you.”
Now it was his turn to blush as he cleared his throat, unsure at what to say.
As he glanced over at Y/N, he noticed that she was already staring at him, and for the first time for as long as she had known him, Brynjolf was rendered speechless.
“I think I should be getting some rest,” Y/N said before he could think of something to say. She lifted herself from the seat she occupied, releasing Brynjolf’s hand in the process. “You should too.”
Brynjolf stared at her for a moment as she turned to leave.
“Y/N,” he called out, abruptly standing up.
Y/N turned to face him, confusion on her features. “What is it, Bryn?”
He hesitated.
“Please never leave me again,”
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..under the stars
“Listen, if Vekel assures me that Fevyn Telleno has important information, then I believe him. I know you don't think much of him, but he's good at what he does.”
“Bryn, don't get me wrong, I know he's part of the guild and our keenest talker, but sometimes I'd like to personally punch him in the throat for that”, I state, staring at the stars.
“Aye, he'd deserve that”, he sighs and moves his arm under his head. “Do you still remember what he said when I first told them about you, lass? You were standing right behind me.”
“I remember him saying that you, Delvin and Vex were part of a dying breed”, I say.
Finally, he climbs on top of me, his guilds armour barely rubs on mine as he balances his weight on his arms.
“Dying breed, eh? Well, what do you call this then!”, he says, nodding towards me.
I smile, only seconds before feeling his lips on mine.
“Even old Delvin was fond of you the second he first saw you”, he adds.
“I still can't believe you didn't tell me Delvin had a brother.”
“You two are getting along a little too well, aren't you?”, he teases.
“What can I say, you know I've got a weakness for blacksmiths. Especially for such talented ones”, I admit.
“I may not be able to perform miracles with steel, lass, but I certainly could manage to make an emerald like you pop.”
“Oh, you do?”, I ask, arching upward to meet his lips.
He slightly pulls back, knowing I'd be yearning for his touch. A subtle smile is rising on his face, as I try to grab him a second time. Then, immediately after leading me on, he leans in and kisses me. Once I start feeling the weight of his body pressing against mine, a shiver is sent through my entire being.
Suddenly Rune stirs heavily in his sleep.
Bryn abruptly rolls over. When he catches me smiling, he himself has to restrain from laughter. Then, he draws closer, and pulls me in a tight but loving embrace.
I feel his body behind me and immediately catch myself wishing that Bryn and I were here alone. But we both know giving in to our appetite is an irresponsible thing to do right now, as it wouldn't be the most pleasant sight for Rune to wake up to.
Knowing Bryn, I'm certain Rune would have been pulled from his slumber.
#skyrim#brynjolf#thieves guild#brynjolf x reader#brynjolf x reader imagine#bryn#brynjolf imagine#tes v skyrim#tes#skyrim imagine#brynjolf smut#tes smut
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Stay with me tonight ~ Kaidan
WARNINGS: Smut, Probably Forgetting Something
A/N: I am trying something new with my blog and adding the option to request Skyrim fanfiction, idk how well this will do but it is an option now
Kaidan and Ovidia were sitting next to each other in front of the fire they had made for the night whilst Lucien and Inigo went to go look for some more wood. They were almost right outside of Windhelm, the rumors of a kid trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood had intrigued Ovidia, but Ovidia didn’t feel safe in the city, even with Kaidan, Inigo, and Lucien.
Windhelm is notorious for its racism and Ovidia, a Breton, does not want any part in that, nor does she want her friends to be the targets of racism, so they are camping a little off the roads that lead right into the city.
Ovidia clutched her cloak around her tighter as she felt a cold breeze from the wind, Kaidan rubbed his hands together and held them in front of the fire. Her eyes followed his movements, trailing off as she admired the rest of his features. Ovidia shook the thoughts that came along with it away, she thought she just need sleep, she looks over to her bedroll and immediately craves the warmth of it.
“Kaidan, I’m going to bed, I’m freezing,” Ovidia says breaking the silence, she stands up and starts to head into the tent when she hears Kaidan’s voice.
“The cold this far north has a way of creeping into your bones - I could think of a way or two to keep you warm.”
Her heart stopped, she slowly turn around and locked her eyes with his somewhat darker ones, “What do you mean?”
“Thought you must have known by now, seen me stealing glances of you; any moment I’m with you I can only think of being closer.” Kaidan stood up, slowly walking towards Ovidia and putting his hand on her cheek. Ovidia tried so hard to not immediately melt into his hand.
“Stay with me tonight… you know I’ll still be there in the morning,” he whispered, his face only inches from hers.
“Gods, I want you too…”
“I could tear that armor right off your body… c’mere, you won’t need a campfire tonight.”
Kaidan guided them both into the tent, closing it up immediately so no one could intrude on this moment. His lips practically smashed into hers, his hands immediately went to her cloak and he threw it to the ground, their armors soon joining it as well.
He laid Ovidia down on her bedroll, his hands softly caressing her, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on her legs and then onto her thighs. He discarded her undergarments, and she felt him softly rubbing her clit, she let out a small gasp and jumped a bit at the touch, his hands were still a little cold and she didn’t notice until now.
“Do you like this?”
Ovidia nodded furiously, he chuckled and kept his pace for a bit before stopping and slipping his fingers into her, his mouth on her clit now. Ovidia writhed in pleasure as Kaidan’s head was buried between her legs, one hand on her thigh to hold her close to him. Her hands roamed down her body and one found its way into his hair, the other barely touching his hand before both of their hands clasped together.
Ovidia felt a pit in her stomach, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, she almost felt embarrassed over how easy it was for Kaidan to get her like this.
“Kai, please don’t stop, I’m close,” she moaned out, squeezing his hand slightly. The pace of his fingers mixed with his curling tongue was perfect, his fingers had already found her g spot. “Come for me, darling,” he said against her, he didn’t have to do much more before Ovidia released all over his fingers; which he then sucked clean.
The sight of it was so arousing for Ovidia, she was still trying to come down from her high as she pulled him up toward her face. Kaidan kissed her slowly as he started to discard his own undergarments, “I need you now,” he whispered as he pulled away from her lips, “Is this okay?” Kaidan had lined himself up at her entrance, but he wanted to ensure she was okay with it before he went further.
Ovidia smiled and nodded, he leaned down and kissed her once more before he slowly pushed himself in. She threw her head back with a gasp of pleasure, exposing her neck which Kaidan took advantage of as he left little love bites all over. He held her close to his body as he thrusted into her, slowly at first because he wanted to savor this moment, but the more of Ovidia’s moans he heard, the faster he got.
Her nails lightly scratched down his back, and one of his hands held the back of her head as he rested his head against hers, looking each other in the eyes. Both of them were now feeling their stomachs tighten, Ovidia tried to gasp out that she was close again but couldn’t, “I know, I am too” Kaidan moaned.
His pace quickened as he saw her eyes roll back and felt her body shake. He kissed her one last time before letting his own pleasure take over and releasing inside of her. He pulled out and collapsed next to her, both of them panting, neither of them knew what to say. Ovidia turned over and grabbed her blanket, draping it over them to keep them from getting cold, “Kai?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you hold me tonight?”
“Of course, Ovidia.” He pulled her close, his arms wrapped around her and both of them thought that they fit perfectly together; but didn’t dare say it.
Ovidia could hear the fire crackle outside of the tent, and Lucien and Inigo returning with the wood they went to collect earlier. Kaidan was already snoring lightly, so she soon fell into a deep sleep as well.
#kaidan x dragonborn#kaidan skyrim#kaidan romance#kaidan x ldb#kaidan 2#kaidan x last dragonborn#kaidan x reader#skyrim#skyrim imagine#kaidan imagine#kaidan smut#skyrim fanfiction
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Most people, if not everyone, longed to meet their soulmate; the person that they had been bound to by the heavens, and Y/N was no different, but somehow meeting hers whilst covered in blood wasn’t exactly the plan.
Her eyes stared towards the man, who coincidentally was also covered in blood, as the dragon lay at their feet, painting both of them with its blood. The only part of them which wasn’t covered in blood was the tattoo on their wrists, linking them to each other.
“So, you’re my soulmate,”
“Seems that way,”
#Skyrim#Skyrim x reader#Skyrim imagine#Skyrim imagines#Skyrim fanfic#Skyrim fanfiction#brynjolf x reader#brynjolf fanfic#brynjolf fanfiction#ulfric stormcloak#ulfric stormcloak x reader#farkas#farkas x reader#Skyrim ff#Skyrim farkas#Skyrim ulfric#ulfric x reader#ralof#ralof x reader#miraak#Skyrim miraak#miraak x reader#soulmate#soulmate au#au#Skyrim au#soulmates#Skyrim soulmate au
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More Honest
Fandom: The Elder Scrolls Five: Skyrim
Pairing: Argis the Bulwark/F!Dragonborn
Rating: Holy shit M.
Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day, gang! I hope you all like this indulgent little shindig inspired by a glitch that I encountered. Enjoy!
Tag List: @stargazerofgoldenwords @toxiicpop @thirstworldproblemss
[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains canon-typical violence and unprotected sex between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]
Argis had always just assumed the leather thong around her neck bore a pendant of Talos. It would explain her hiding it beneath her clothes for the entirety of their partnership, and it would also explain her never taking it off. Many of his fellow Nords had a difficult time accepting the ruling on Talos.
So he was stunned when, one night at the tavern, the pendant that slipped out from beneath her undertunic was…
"An amulet of Mara?" He had asked before he could stop himself, his brow furrowed. "You're looking for marriage, then?"
Tor had gone red in the face, waving him off with an awkward cough. "I've been a follower of Mara since I was very little. I even made this pendant myself, see?" The Nord woman turned the bauble in her hands, showing Argis just how rough the traditionally-smooth edges were. "As you can tell, jewelry-crafting was not my strong suit. I was a stripling when I forged these beads and the pendant, and my patience was thin." She explained, chuckling quietly.
"It's better that way, isn't it?" Argis found himself saying. "More honest. Mara accepts us despite our faults, if I remember those long-winded sermons right."
Tor nodded. "Aye, she loves us and wishes us to love in turn. One of the things that drew me to her is that the world is far more cruel than it needs to be. I would…make it less so." She carefully tucked the amulet back beneath her clothing and, seeming to realize he had watched her do it, rushed to clarify. "I've kept it hidden since I came of age to marry," she elaborated with a sad smile. "There have always been far too many pressing concerns to trouble myself with finding a partner."
The discussion had been brief, begun and ended just as quickly. So why couldn't he get it out of his head?
…
"Why not worship Dibella? Her followers make many lofty claims in the name of love." Multitudes of beautiful men and women made their way to the shrine of Dibella every day, clad in a conglomeration of tastefully minimal garb. Surely the goddess of beauty and passion's worship would go hand in hand with the goddess of love!
"I am not nearly so vain as to believe I could become a worshipper of Dibella!" Tor had roared draconically with laughter at his suggestion, amber eyes alight. "Argis, I cannot parade like a peacock with the rest of Dibella's comely faithful. There is far too much work to be done."
"Aye, but-" Argis had paused, her words catching up to him. "My Thane, you are more than capable of being one of Dibella's faithful." He insisted boldly, unsure of where this bravery came from.
Tor's laugh was a bit softer this time. "This body has taken a beating, Argis. I am not some soft and unmarred offering."
"It is better that way, isn't it?" Argis found himself echoing what he had said months ago. "More honest. Love is not young and untouched, but neither is it old and weary. Love…it endures through hardships, after the passion has faded."
Tor had given him a curious look, nudging her mount with her heel to bring their horses closer together. "Oddly profound for you, my housecarl." Her tone was teasing, yet serious enough that Argis knew he was on thin ice.
"I meant no disrespect to you, my Thane. It was a simple observation, nothing more."
"Then I will take the compliment." Tor had winked at him, then clicked her tongue to urge her horse into a canter.
…
Those conversations resounded in his head now as he stared at the innkeeper, who stared back at him with a perplexed expression. Kleppr finally asked, "what ails you, Argis? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"
"N-Nothing, nothing is wrong." Argis fumbled to respond, his mind already miles away. Two days ago. She accepted that job two days ago. I only noticed her bow was gone yesterday. She's been gone two days and she didn't bring her axe--the stables, I'll ask at the stables. If her horse is still there, that means she's on foot.
The Forsworn had been harassing travelers more and more often; no doubt they had caught wind that the Dragonborn resided in Markarth. It only made sense that the Jarl would post a bounty for the clearing out of a camp nearby.
Argis stormed through the tiny market, heading for the gate. One step at a time, he told himself, trying to quell the rapidly rising panic that was gripping his throat. We gather information.
He didn't even have to question the stable attendant; the enormous head of Tor's horse (a dun beast by the name of Zace) was clearly visible over the half-closed stall door. The horse whinnied at the sight of Argis, no doubt expecting the Nord to come bearing the usual treats. Argis' own horse Tannin, the ungrateful bastard, didn't even look up from his manger.
Argis fretted for a moment, scratching Zace's pink muzzle. He quickly made his choice though, beginning to saddle both horses. He would find her faster riding than on foot.
Hopefully.
…
Well, Tor thought, in pain and more than a little concerned, this is a fine mess I've gotten myself into.
The plan, inasmuch as there was one, had been to scout the encampment and retrieve Argis once she was confident she had memorized the layout. The camp had been a bit further away than she had been led to believe, but Tor was confident they could easily reach it before the denizens of said camp decided to launch another raid.
However, she hadn't anticipated the Forsworn would be led by a hagraven. The unsettling amalgamation of avian and woman had sniffed her out almost immediately and, armed only with a rarely-used bow and limited magics, Tor had been captured. She had Shouted one of their warriors to his death, sending his body flying off the edge of a cliff, but that had just whipped the rest of them into a frenzy.
Their Briarheart had brought her down, striking what would have been a killing blow to a mere mortal when his saw-toothed blade tore through her side. Tor had been hard-pressed to stop the bleeding even with her healing spells, a task made all the more difficult by her captors frantically scrambling to bind and gag her.
Now she lay on a filthy pile of straw, attempting to glare daggers through the back of the Briarheart's head. He had been the one to rouse her from her uneasy doze in the weak, gloomy dawn, his antlered headpiece knocking the poorly-framed doorway of the hovel they kept her in. The entire structure shuddered with every gust of bitter Reach wind but still somehow managed to maintain its integrity. More’s the pity, the Dragonborn mused uncharitably, flexing her hands in their binds. They seemed to have gone numb while she slept, though whether from her position or the tightness of the ropes she could not say.
“...jarl will have no choice but to accede, once we can scrape together the paper,” came the wheezing, tremulous rasp of the hagraven. There, that shuffling drag of clawed feet over the paltry soil. So she was fast approaching. “Our demands will be many, as this is certainly a worthy prize.”
Tor grimaced. The Jarl of Markarth, Igmund, did not exactly relish her presence in Vlindrel Hall. She doubted whatever demands this hagraven had would be particularly well-received. Hell, it might be weeks before Igmund even found whatever missive they sent; he was often mired in tedious deliberations with the Thalmor for days on end.
The woman jerked upright as another thought struck her. Argis. She hadn't left a note, oh gods no. He hadn't been at Vlindrel when she departed either, which meant that any hope of rescue she may have harbored was quickly withering away. It could very well take a week for Argis to realize she was missing, and at that point Kleppr probably would have entirely forgotten that he had even given her that bounty…
Tor cursed herself inwardly, furious at her own ineptitude. Why did she always manage to land in these situations?! Alone, hogtied and headed to whatever axe-man the gods saw fit to place in her path this time. Except now she wasn't even able to use the Voice, and she doubted she could count on the dubious charity of Alduin to save her once more.
Normally, she prayed from force of habit, an evening routine forged in her early years by parents who were long gone. She had never received a direct answer to a prayer, but that hadn't dampened her faith. You must be realistic with your prayers, dear one, her mother had chided her one evening. This is not a wish. It is a prayer.
Mara, Tor begged silently, her eyes closed tight. Mara, please. I need help, I need something, anything. She could work with whatever she was given, but she knew she was running out of time. The hagraven may not wish to keep her alive, and little could turn the crow-wife from her path if she decided to snuff out the Dragonborn. No, Tor jolted, the realization making her stomach lurch. It would be much simpler to kill me and replace my heart, raise me under her control. The Forsworn with the Dragonborn on their side?
Gods, what a fool she had been. She had practically hobbled herself and fallen into their snare.
Talons curved beneath her chin, pricking the skin of her throat. "I know you are awake, little morsel." The hagraven growled, her breath hot and rank with the stench of old blood. Tor couldn't keep herself from flinching and the witch chuckled, a little jackdaw cackle. "Is it afraid of me? Poor sweetling." She cooed tenderly, clawed fingers raking through the mess of Tor's half-braided hair. The Nord woman bore this insult in silence, her teeth clenched into the gag while she continued to glare at the Briarheart. He had turned around to stare at her and his hagraven master, half-closed eyes uncannily glassy.
Briarhearts, as far as Tor knew, teetered on that gray edge of mortality, neither truly alive nor dead. Their existence was hellish at best and blatantly cruel at worst; freshly-deceased warriors wrested back from their eternal slumber by their blood-soaked matrons, the hagravens raising the body anew and enslaving the soul in the process. Tor had only witnessed one such raising and she had fell upon the feathered creatures and their corpse-spawn with such a violence that there had been nothing left but ash.
It seemed, however, that she would be joining their ranks soon. The hagraven, unnaturally strong even in that wizened frame, bent Tor over until her forehead was inches from the floor and slid a brown-stained bowl beneath her throat. "Cannot waste a drop of dragon blood." The hag explained needlessly, accepting a dark-bladed knife from the Briarheart. "It will not be swift. Try not to struggle, so you don't ruin your pretty, pretty flesh." Her tone was almost motherly, but it was thoroughly ruined by the horrible scrape of her voice.
Tor, of course, immediately began to struggle, thrashing as best as she could in the iron hold of the hagraven.
The Briarheart, who had returned to his post in the doorway, grunted suddenly, his hands half-raising. "What, can't you see I'm busy?" The hagraven spat in annoyance, squawking with alarm when the Briarheart fell to its knees. Argis, his sword still run through the briarheart fruit that had replaced the half-living warrior's heart, planted a foot in the Briarheart's back and tore his blade free.
"Where is-" he began in a fierce bellow, his volume stunning even Tor. The hagraven shrieked, talons bared, and she lunged at the large warrior. Her claws squealed against the metal of his sword, showering sparks on the floor before Argis managed to parry, the housecarl forcing his full weight down on the witch as a riposte to her attack.
Argis! Tor's eyes fell on the ceremonial dagger the hagraven had dropped and she flung herself on top of it, fingers clawing for the hilt in the straw and packed dirt of the floor.
…
Fire exploded around the edge of Argis' shield and he snarled, ignoring the flames licking over his hauberk sleeve while he slammed the sturdy metal into the hagraven's face. The witch reeled backwards from the blow, hurling curses at him in Bretic and some other foul tongue. Argis wasn't wildly sure, but he got the sense that a few future generations of his bloodline may have been involved in her wrathful incantations.
He for his part remained silent. Tor was alive, he had arrived in time. Relief had nearly brought him low, his defenses in shambles after the frantic dash on horseback over the mountainous, scrub bush-choked lands of the Reach. It had been all he could do to master himself before the hag reacted, only just managing to use his superior height and weight to break their stalemate. For all that their appearance was waifish and frail, hagravens had a terrible, wiry strength to their limbs.
The witch continued to scream and clamor at him like a wild beast, her raw-throated wailing threatening to wake the dead. Argis crashed the flat of his blade on his shield and shouted in retort, drowning her out with his own din until she seemed to snap under frustration. A whirling mass of feathers engulfed her and Argis braced himself for another attack. He didn't have to wait long, though the attack came from above and he was barely able to fling the hagraven away from him before she tore his remaining eye out. She howled in fury, her motions now a frenzied race to sink her claws into any exposed skin.
"Morsel, morsel!" she jibbered at him, which he rewarded with another stout slam of the shield against her beak-like nose. Her claws snagged in the sleeve of his hauberk and Argis was made abruptly aware of his own mortality, the warrior taking a hearty step back to pull the witch with him into the weak sunlight. A sharp, violent jerk later and he freed himself, but not without cost; his hauberk and the skin beneath it were rent deeply from those terrible talons.
The hag paused, seeming to notice the disarray of the filthy camp around her. There had only been six Forsworn Argis had found, but he knew if any of them escaped they would raise the alarm.
So none of them had escaped.
The witch gnashed her teeth, stamping those clawed feet on the ground and tearing at the dirt. "You'll pay for this, meat!" She raged, her eyes wild with madness. The feathers swirled once more, leaving Argis uncertain as to where her next attack would come from. Behind him, if he had to guess, and regrettably he was proven correct.
Claws hooked into his shoulders, shearing through his mail like it was simple leather and digging for purchase in the flesh beneath. He was dragged back a step before he could find his footing, then the Nord man gritted his teeth and lunged forwards, ripping free from her ferocious talons.
He whirled to face his foe with blade already raised to fend off the next attack, but the hag had suddenly gone still. A black point protruded from her throat and, as she collapsed in a heap, Tor was revealed behind her, the woman still in the process of thrusting the dagger home. The witch writhed on the ground for a moment, clawing futilely at her neck, then went limp.
"Tor," Argis breathed, simultaneously relieved and frantic. A deep wound marred Tor's side, the injury blotting her stained leathers black with blood. Argis stormed forward, seizing her arm. Tor looked up at him, her eyes wide, and he forced her to sit before she could manage to wriggle free. "Be still," the Nord man grated out through clenched teeth. "I'll fetch the horses."
"Argis, you're-"
"Be still." He barked, irritated when she jerked out of his hold. "Woman, I've been half out of my mind trying to find you. The least you can do is follow one simple order." The man seethed, panic sharpening his words to a razor edge.
"Argis." Tor snapped, her hand slamming down on the wound on his arm. The sudden pain had the large man breathless, and he dropped to one knee before he could steady himself. Golden light poured from beneath her hand, familiar healing magic knitting Argis' arm back together. "I'm fine." She insisted, her brow furrowed. "I'm fine, I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Were those…was she crying? Argis blinked rapidly, fumbling at her side. The skin beneath her thin traveling leathers was indeed fine; she must have healed her wound and all he had seen was the old blood still smeared on the area. "Thank the Nine." He sighed. "I thought…there was blood, I assumed the worst."
…
"I'm fine." Tor repeated tremulously, tears streaming unchecked down her face. She couldn't seem to stop them. She was fine, Argis was wounded but alive. Why was she crying?
"Aye, I suppose you are." Argis murmured, his touch uncharacteristically gentle when he cupped her cheek to wipe the tears away. Tor found herself crumpling, shoving her face into his chest and gripping his back like he would be torn from her if she didn't. After a moment, Argis' arms wrapped around her.
They were silent for a time, Tor with her ear pressed to his still-pounding heart and Argis with his chin resting on the top of her head.
"I'm glad I arrived in time." Argis said finally.
"As am I." Tor took a deep breath to steel her nerves, then pulled away. He was smiling, beaming at her and she was stunned silent by the sight. He smiled so rarely, to see him this pleased…
Argis shifted awkwardly under her stare, seeming a bit uncomfortable with her sudden muteness. "I should…er, get the horses."
Tor's ability to speak made an abrupt return as she asked, "did you bring any food?", her stomach rumbling the punctuation on her hopeful query. Her housecarl chuckled, assuring her that yes, he had indeed stocked the saddlebags.
Argis rose, offering her a hand up even as he swayed on his feet. Tor waved him off, worriedly examining the wounds on his shoulders. Tandem trios of raking claws had ribboned the hauberk, gambeson and flesh beneath them badly. Instead of complaining of the pain, Argis bemoaned the fact that he would need to have the chain mail repaired. Tor couldn't help her laugh at that.
Her housecarl, ever the pragmatist.
"Once I get some food into me, I'll make quick work of those scratches," Tor promised, draping Argis' arm over her shoulders to help him walk. He was a bit unsteady, which had her concerned.
"My Thane, I…" Argis paused, squinting. "My head feels odd," he admitted. "It's aching badly. The light hurts."
Hell. "Stay with me until you can show me where you left the horses, Argis." Tor instructed, tightening her hold on his arm. Argis nodded, his jaw set in a grim line.
After a short, stumbling eternity, the Nord man pointed toward a tangle of juniper across the next ridge. "There." It seemed to take most of his energy just to say that much; he sagged perceptibly after the word.
Tor knew she didn't have the strength left to drag him over the rise, so she settled him down on the ground. "Stay here, I'll bring the horses to us."
Argis blinked wearily up at her, his exhaustion evident in the way his head kept lolling forwards onto his chest. Tor puffed out a breath, and then turned to clamber up the steep incline.
Zace, bless his heart, was mouthing disinterestedly at the scrubby brush around him. Tannin noticed her first, if his huffing snort was any indicator. Zace whinnied loudly when she called his name, trotting to the end of his lead.
"Aye, I should have brought you." Tor allowed with a rueful smile, rubbing her mount's nose and then taking Tannin's reins.
…
Brain Rot, a common ailment when battling hagravens, had been what robbed the spirit from Argis' nigh-indomitable form. Oh certainly, the priestess of Dibella had assured that he would recover if he was allowed to rest, even offering her own body to lie beside him in an effort to break the fever that wracked his unconscious form.
Tor may have ushered the extremely-beautiful woman out of Vlindrel Hall a bit more hastily than was proper, but managing her jealousy had never been a strong suit. She had wondered more than once if it had something to do with her dragon blood and just how hot it ran. She tended towards fierce, almost single-minded protection of whatever she held dear, and Argis…
Argis was indeed dear to her. Not that he needed to know that, of course! It would be much simpler for him to find a normal partner, settle down with them and enjoy his life. Tor understood with a heavy sadness that should he turn his wandering eye to her, it would only lead him to grief…a life of violence, bloodshed and no-doubt eventual death at the hands of some ambitious soul. It was not a life she wished on any, and so she had stayed carefully distant. Whatever feelings bloomed in her heart were always hers alone to bear.
He had rescued her, though. That knowledge kept her awake fretting into the early hours, the foyer consistently frequented by restless pacing. She hadn't gotten the chance to ask him just why he had come after her so quickly, why he had thought that the Dragonborn wouldn't be able to manage a simple encampment of Forsworn. Admittedly, her Thu'um was not well-trained. A single full shout could leave her throat raw for hours, as it had during her bout with the Forsworn, and she was lax in her meditation. Inner peace hadn't seemed like a priority what with a world-ending beast breathing down her neck.
Perhaps she had been too confident. Truly, if Argis hadn't arrived when he did, she shuddered to think of what blind havoc her body could be wreaking. He had rescued her.
He had rescued the Dragonborn.
If nothing else, she could endure the blow to her pride to give him the satisfaction of her admission of that fact.
…
He became aware of the embers in the hearth, listening to them softly hum and crackle to one another as they died down. It must be late.
There was the clatter of a wooden object being placed on the table beside his bed. After a moment, a ladle was pressed to his lips and the man drank ravenously from the cool water.
Argis finally managed to open his eye for the first time in what felt like weeks, staring upwards at the stone ceiling. He heard a gasp beside him but he didn't even have the strength to turn his head.
"Argis!"
Her.
His body suddenly felt like it was full of sunlight, too enormous to fight, too airy to grasp. He strained to move and her hands carefully framed his jaw, easing his head to the side.
Tor was alive. He hadn't failed. The fever dreams had been so vivid at some points that Argis was still uncertain if this was reality. He had watched her die so many times…
"Thane." He rasped.
Tor hushed him, a damp rag smoothing back the hair that had gotten stuck to his forehead. "It's alright, you're safe." She soothed, her expression achingly concerned. Argis' breath hitched, eye widening.
Why is she looking at me like that?
He tried again to speak, swallowing hard beforehand. "My Thane, I-"
"Please Argis, save your strength. You've been ill for days." Tor murmured. "I'll fetch you some broth."
Moving his body felt like it was nigh-impossible, but Argis still managed to grab her wrist before she could flee. "Are you well?" He breathed, his sight already wavering with exhaustion.
The woman nodded, blinking rapidly before turning away. "A-Aye." She mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes. "Quite well, my housecarl."
He couldn't recall her ever saying his title so tenderly.
…
The dynamic seemed to have shifted between them and Tor didn't know how to adjust.
Argis had silently accepted her thanks and proceeded to act as though the mishap had not occurred, the man clearly ready to put the whole thing behind them. On the one hand, it was as if nothing had changed, but on the other, everything had changed. Tor floundered, simultaneously wishing he would say something and being grateful that he had so quickly moved past it.
Perhaps the dynamic had only changed for her, so bound to her dragon pride that she couldn't reconcile herself with these uncertain emotions. Uncertain!, she scoffed at herself, hardly uncertain. It is longing for what I cannot have, and lust for my shield-mate. It was plain as a fresh coat of whitewash but still she bandied with it, tamping down her thoughts night after night.
Mara, I don't know what to do.
…
The trek to Riften had been long and fraught with wretched weather. After dismounting Tannin, Argis had to brace himself against a beam in the stables so he could settle his hip back into place. Alongside him, Tor stretched with a long groan, shaking the rainwater off her oilcloth cloak.
"I can speak with the jarl tomorrow morning." She grunted as she raised her arms overhead. "Tonight, all I want is a hot meal and a soft bed."
"Aye." Argis agreed, beginning to remove Tannin's tack. "I assume you'll be going to the shrine?"
"Indeed, before my meal so I don't fall asleep mid-prayer." Tor grinned up at him from beneath her hood but Argis quickly averted his gaze, continuing to busy himself with his mount's needs. He heard her exhale after a moment, then, "I'll get us a room and arrange our meals. Could you-"
"I'll tend to Zace." The man cut her off, already knowing what she would say. This was their usual arrangement, after all. He must have said it a bit sharper than he intended however, because Tor fell silent and departed without another word.
What am I doing? Argis rested his forehead on Tannin's side, sighing heavily. What am I doing?
He stepped out into the weather once more an hour later, squinting against the downpour as he moved from lantern to lantern. Riften made Argis uneasy, but since becoming Tor's housecarl he had noted a significant decrease in harassment of his person. It was as if even the ne'er do wells of Riften could sense the power rolling off of Tor in silent waves, and they did their utmost to give the woman and her housecarl a wide berth.
Upon entering the Bee And Barb, Argis was assaulted by a wave of sound and light. The common room was packed to the gills with townsfolk, all of them drinking and discussing their day with one another. In spite of himself, Argis could feel his shoulders relax. Blessed normalcy, the fleeting taste of the mundane. The world continued on it would seem, civil war, dragons and all.
Talen-Jei waved him over, the Argonian obviously in good spirits. "Tor told us you would be coming! How do you fare?" He asked the housecarl, raising his voice to be heard over the din.
"Well enough. The trek was misery, so we are glad for your hospitality." Argis replied stiffly, always torn between being a proper housecarl or speaking in a more casual manner.
Talen-Jei didn't seem to mind, the provisioner clapping him warmly on the shoulder. "Tor secured your bed and a hot dinner, would you like the key to your room now or will you wait for your meal to be prepared?"
Argis shook his head. "I can wait. No need for you or Keerava to trouble yourselves serving us."
"You are too kind, as always!" Argis raised an eyebrow at how chipper Talen-Jei was. He seemed to be in remarkably good spirits, almost suspiciously good. Upon pointing that out though, Talen-Jei simply offered him a broad, toothy grin. "It is good that you and Tor are here, my friend. May Mara smile upon you both."
Argis blinked, feeling more and more like he was missing some vital piece of information as the innkeeper bustled away, humming a tune the whole while.
…
Tor pursed her lips, a bit confused. Normally the shrine of Mara was vacant aside from the clergy and perhaps a worshiper or two. Tonight for some reason the shrine entrance was draped in wet garlands of rain-battered flowers, and inside appeared to be teeming with people. She recognized a few vestments of Dibella amongst the crowd, and after several moments of thought (as well as some frantic mental counting) the Dragonborn realized that today was possibly the worst day they could have come to Riften.
Not that Markarth would have been any better, if anything it would have been far more chaotic, but Hearts Day was celebrated by any who had a vested interest in romance and all that came with it. Dibella's faithful often intermingled with Mara's, especially today when the songs were sung and the flowers braided into their boughs for the lintel.
So much for her evening of quiet prayer! She ought to have realized once she saw how crowded the stables were, but she had been preoccupied with…
Tor frowned, tugging her hood forward and carefully making her way through the festooned congregants to the altar. The statue of Mara gazed upwards with that vague, loving benevolence, her arms wide in welcome. Before her was the customary bowl for offerings, currently piled high with seasonal blooms, greenery and gold pieces.
The Dragonborn breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of spice and incense that hung heavy in the air as she rested her palms on the altar. Mara, is this a sign? Coming here on this day, with no true intent to do so, finding a room at the inn on this day? If this is mere coincidence, I fear my heart will break.
The deity, as expected, gave no direct reply, and Tor departed after placing a handful of Septims in the basin atop its plinth.
The rainy night seemed all the more dreary once she left the warm, bustling atmosphere of the shrine, so it was with quickened steps that the woman made her way to the Bee And Barb, where Argis was waiting.
Argis. She froze inches from pulling open the inn's door, her hand hovering in midair. There had only been one room available, and she hadn't questioned whether the room would have two beds.
Perhaps she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Tor felt a bit annoyed with herself, a bit frantic, and then more annoyed that she was frantic. What did she have to fear? She could have any partner she chose! They should count themselves lucky if she graced them with her presence. As the Dragonborn, she had to but speak and she would be flooded with proposals.
Aye, and there was the problem with the whole thing. It would be some grasping nobility, some starstruck yearling coming to her to ask you're looking for marriage?, greed or awe shining in their eyes. Not the one person she sought.
Tor straightened her shoulders, smoothed her expression, and opened the door to the inn.
…
"Ah." His conversational skills had always been lacking, but now Argis was at a loss. Tor, for her part, turned about the room again, seeming to be searching futilely for a second bed.
"It would appear," she began carefully, shooting him a look that was downright apologetic, "that this lodging has afforded us one bed."
Argis grunted in reply. He may only have the lone eye, but it still worked. He settled down into one of the chairs beside the bed, placing both their trenchers on the somewhat-rickety table. "Come eat. You must be hungry. I know I am." He tried to soften his words somewhat, gesturing towards her with an already-full spoon.
Tor lowered herself gingerly into the chair across from him, exhaling a sigh when the furniture held her weight.
Argis couldn't help his chuckle at that, shaking his head. "My Thane, if these matchsticks could support me, they'll assuredly support you."
"It's always so damp here though, I fear the moisture gets into the wood." Tor mused, tearing a piece of warm bread from the loaf and dunking it into the stew they were to share. Argis caught himself watching her hands and he quickly adjusted his posture, staring down at the baked potatoes in front of him.
He heard Tor's spoon clatter against her trencher, the woman exhaling harshly once more. "What is it?" She erupted crossly. "That's the fourth time you've done that today alone! Have I upset you, my housecarl?"
"I-" Argis stuttered, bewildered. She didn't usually snap at him, her temper always held in the burning, tense posture of her shoulders. "I apologize, my Thane. I meant no offense. I…I find myself at a loss, is all."
"Whatever for?" She still sounded annoyed, her voice sharp and carrying that burr of draconic rumble. "Look at me, Argis. What is the matter?" Tor continued after a moment of him studying his potatoes further.
"That is the matter." Argis was horrified to hear his own voice mutter, the warrior betraying himself at the bitter end. He heard her breath hitch. "I shouldn't look at you. If I so much as look at you, my mind…does things I cannot allow." He tried to explain, the words coming painfully slow. "I am your housecarl, and you are my Thane."
"Be honest with me, Argis." Why was her voice so soft? "What are these thoughts you struggle with?"
"Daydreams." Argis grated out, praying for mercy.
The gods were not with him this evening, however, as he heard and felt Tor lean her weight onto the table. "Daydreams, aye?" Her voice now held a note of teasing, almost smug, but too warm for it to endure. "Daydreams about your Thane? Oh, surely that would be unheard of."
"Do not mock me, woman." Argis growled, glaring intently down at his meal.
"I could never." Tor insisted, and Argis finally dared to look up at her. She was just sitting there, elbows propped up on the table with a serious expression on her face. "The question is, would you rather keep it to your daydreams?"
Argis opened his mouth, then paused. "You would have nothing to fear from me regardless, my Thane." He replied stiffly. "I am able to master myself and this…issue doesn't need to impede our current arrangement." Please don't send me away.
Tor sighed, rubbing her upper arms in a clear effort to banish some phantom chill. "I'm not concerned with impedement, Argis. What concerns me is that you may not understand the gravity of what could happen to you if you…if we become involved." Her face had gone pensive with contemplation. "I am the Dragonborn. You've witnessed time and again what lengths my enemies will go to in order to remove me from this mortal realm."
"I am sworn to carry your burdens," Argis rasped around the traitorous lump of hope in his throat. "Whatever they may be."
"But is this what you want?" Tor pressed. "I would not have you risk your life for me out of a misplaced sense of duty. We need not discuss this again, should you reconsider."
"I will not." Argis snarled. "I've thought and thought about this, I can't bear to think about it anymore. I…I want to." He was ashamed of how quiet his voice was when next he asked, "are you looking for marriage?"
"You've asked me that once before," was her light response, offering him no true resolution.
Slowly, carefully, Argis slipped a finger beneath the leather thong around her neck, tugging the amulet of Mara into view. "Answer me, Tor." He murmured, using the sturdy leather cord to ease her closer. "Answer me. This goes no further than what you'll allow." She avoided his gaze for several long seconds, the woman obviously turning something over in her mind. Argis merely waited patiently, the uncertain conclusion twisting his stomach into a tight knot.
"I am." The Dragonborn, the woman, answered his query softly, glancing up at him through the curtain of her lashes. "Are…Are you interested?"
Argis cleared his throat. "I am."
"You are." She breathed, her whole face lighting up. "Soon?"
"Aye." Argis agreed eagerly, rising from the table and extending her a hand. "Now."
"Now? But the food-!"
Argis groaned in exasperation, knowing he could never tear her from a hot meal. "Finish the blasted thing, then. But hurry."
…
Maramal, priest of Mara, raised his hands while smiling at the couple before him. "It was Mara who first gave birth to all creation, and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learn to love one another. It is from this love that we learn a life lived alone is no life at all."
A breathless hush had fallen over the crowded shrine. All that could be heard was the sound of crackling torches and the fierce downpour outside hammering on the courtyard.
It's perfect, Tor decided, giving Argis' hand a small squeeze. The priestess at the shrine and multiple enthusiastic faithful had seen fit to adorn her hair with flowers scavenged from the altar, carefully braiding the delicate blooms into her long brown locks. Argis had simply stood there and watched it happen, an odd little smile on his face the entire time while Tor protested half-heartedly.
"We gather here today under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and in the next, in prosperity and poverty, in joy and hardship." The priest then turned to Argis, asking the time-honored question, "Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"
"Now and forever." Argis echoed, his voice strong and certain.
Tor closed her eyes, a wave of relief washing over her. No matter how much she had tried to reassure herself, there had been that fear he would decide against this…incredibly impulsive course of action.
Now though it was her turn to respond, the priest giving her a proud, warm look as he queried, "do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"
"Now and forever." Tor said it softly, but the rafters still shuddered overhead from the power of the Thu'um. Argis chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.
"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed." The officiant intoned, smiling broadly. The packed shrine burst into cheers, pilgrims tossing flowers and offering well-wishes to one of the many newly-wedded couples they would see that evening alone. As Tor and Argis stepped aside to make room for the next pair, Tor was startled by her housecarl sweeping her up in his arms and bringing their mouths together in a searing kiss.
Not my housecarl, she corrected herself hazily after a moment, my husband.
"Sorry." Argis apologized, the man sounding as breathless as she felt. "Wanted to do that for a long time."
"Well don't stop now." Tor implored, dazed from the kiss and the sincere smile that he was aiming at her. "Surely you have more you would like to give?"
Argis opened his mouth, seeming to be about to retort, but he abruptly shook his head. Instead, he grasped her hand once more, urging her outside.
…
"My wife," Argis breathed against her mouth, trailing kisses down her jaw. Tor was still fumbling with the buttons on her tunic, soft, helpless little whimpers catching in her throat. "Should we wipe the paint off first?" The man asked after a moment, his thumb smearing her customary facial adornment.
Tor seemed to come back to herself, jerking fully upright. "Yes, I-I ought to-I mean, I should." Argis moved to fetch the ewer and basin, inciting her to frantically protest, "I can do it myself!"
"Shh, let me." He soothed, dampening the washrag. "Let me tend to you, my wife."
"But…" Tor's eyes half-lidded when the cloth met her cheek, and Argis felt her lean into his touch.
"You can clean mine off, how does that sound?" He bargained, chuckling when she nodded silently. "Our first compromise." The Dragonborn opened one eye to glare at him but remained silent, tilting her chin when he asked her to so he could clean the paint off her brow. "There, my…" Argis tripped over his words momentarily. He had considered so many options, had thought about this moment for much longer than was appropriate, yet he had never settled on what he would call her. "...my love." He finished softly, making one last sweep over the bridge of her nose.
Tor cradled his face in her hands, her eyes bright with emotion. She brought their foreheads together, whispering, "my love."
A tremor ran through Argis' body, so like when she was using the Voice near him in battle and power surged in his very bones. Yet it was also different, for the sensation sent a rush of heat to the core of his body. Argis mutely enfolded her in his arms, everything that he had longed to say still tangling up in his chest.
Tor's sigh was deep, but it did not seem to be borne out of discontent. She pulled away from him, picking up a fresh washrag to remove his own war paint. "What will we do after this, my love?" She clearly relished the title, lingering on it a bit longer.
Argis stayed silent, waiting until she had finished cleaning the marking from his cheek and jaw. Then, the Nord man surged forward, capturing her mouth with his own and pressing her back against the wall. "Whatever your heart desires, Tor." He rumbled, relishing the shiver his voice drew from her. "Whatever you ask of me, whatever you need. I am yours."
Tor plied her fingers greedily through his damp hair, her eyes focused on the collar of his shirt instead of his face. "I…would greatly enjoy it if my husband…"
Oh, she was everything he could have dreamed of and so much more, her face aflush and her fingers sliding down to cup the back of his neck. "Ask it of me and it shall be done." Argis promised. Then, unable to keep from teasing her a bit, "surely the Dragonborn can find their Voice?"
Tor huffed at him, obviously embarrassed. "Fine, if you will force me to say it!"
"Never." The man replied gently. "I will have it from you willingly or not at all."
"I am willing, it's just that…well, it's you." Tor explained awkwardly, tight fists resting on his shoulders. "You are…different. Special."
"High praise, but I've carried your spoils across the entirety of Skyrim. Flattery will get you nowhere." He had rarely witnessed her so rattled. If he hadn't been smitten before, her actions now would have certainly tipped him over that edge. "I would hear you say it if you can, my Thane."
"I…take me to bed." She mumbled out in a rush, burying her face in his neck. "P-Please, Argis, take me to bed and make love to me."
"Have you ever before?" Argis queried while easing them down on the counterpane, letting her continue to hide her face for the moment. He felt her nod into his shoulder and he smiled without meaning to.
"I was very young." The woman tried to justify her answer, seeming concerned about his judgment. "Old enough, of course, but foolish."
"Likewise. Good to know that this isn't a first attempt for either of us." Argis rolled his neck, grunting when it popped and released some of the tension he carried in his back. "I'm not sure I would be able to keep my hands off of you," he admitted ruefully, offering her a crooked smile. "I would try, of course."
"Suppose that's all I can ask of you." Tor chuckled.
…
It was always him.
That was how it felt, anyway. Since the day she had stumbled through the gates of Markarth, worn and haggard from the road, it was as if she had been drawn to him.
Argis had been gruff at first, not unpleasant but not overly friendly either. He had kept his distance from her until he had witnessed her fight for the first time, witnessed her using the Thu'um to scorch a path before her. Even then, he didn't cower in awe or fear. He merely hammered the flat of his blade on his shield and raised his voice with her own, unleashing the ages old fury of the shield-mate dirge.
They had stood back to back on that rise, her axe and his sword falling upon their enemies with fervor. "Forgive me, my Thane!" The man had apologized mid-strike through gritted teeth. "I did not believe the stories. I should have known better than to doubt."
"No harm done!" Tor rasped in reply, her throat raw. "Hard to believe without seeing."
"You are as gracious as you are fierce in battle!" The compliment had shot down her spine, providing strength to her weary limbs and reinvigorating her prideful spirit.
Once they had finally routed the enemy troops, Argis had clasped arms with her.
"Honor to you, my Thane." The man had said sincerely, the faintest shadow of a smile on his face. "I will protect you with my life."
After that skirmish they had fallen into an easy camaraderie, oftentimes riding out to scout the way ahead of the battalion's movements. For all that she wanted to keep her distance, Tor had cherished those times on the road together. It had been peaceful, normal even, like she was a regular woman.
Soon enough reality would crash back down on her however, leaving her tossing and turning in her bedroll while nightmares of Alduin plagued her sleep.
One night Argis had woken her from a particularly harrowing dream, and she had nearly used the Voice on him before she realized where she was, who he was. The Dragonborn hunched over in a rare moment of visible weakness, her shoulders shaking with the force of her barely-contained sobs as she cried, "it's too much, Argis, it's all too much, I can't do this-"
"You don't have to do it alone." Argis had cut her panicked rambling short. She could still recall the sharp shadows playing over his face from the low flames of their fire, the ferocity of his expression while he stared her down. "I am sworn to carry your burdens."
It was always him.
"Argis," Tor breathed in his ear, loving the way he shuddered against her. "Thank you." Her arms lazily slung around his neck while he thrust into her, the woman basking in the attention her new husband saw fit to lavish upon her. He was not gentle by any means but he was also not without care, seeming content to touch his forehead to her own and softly mutter praise under his breath.
That is, until he settled back and draped her legs over his thighs. One finger traced a line between her breasts, down her stomach, over her mound, and all the while Tor trembled with anticipation. "May I?" Argis asked, his hand resting above where their bodies were joined. The woman nodded rapidly and he graced her with that rare smile once more, thumb cautiously circling on her clit. His hips shifted, hilting his cock fully in her, and Tor saw stars. Her head rolled back, fingers clutching at the tangled blanket beneath her while her new husband tenderly worked her into a lather.
"Argis-" she managed to sob out, moaning when he halted his touches. Instead, they were replaced by an adjustment in position, the man easily tugging her upright to ride his cock. Tor ground herself against him and Argis busied his mouth with her breasts, all the while his hands grasping at her hips until she was certain she would be bruised.
"My love," Argis grunted suddenly, "I am close."
"T-Touch me again," Tor begged, attempting to widen her stance. The man took the hint, middle and index finger working in tandem to help her to her climax. The nails of her free hand dug into the scarring left by the hagraven on his shoulders, and Tor arched her back. "I'm never–" she gasped, struggling to speak. "Never letting anything harm you again." Her forehead met his with a renewed urgency, dragon blood running high when she snarled, "You are mine."
"As long as you're mine in return." The Nord man responded, rumbling in what could only be satisfaction when Tor nodded without a moment of thought. "Come for me, my love." His voice then dropped to a seething whisper, "come for your husband, be a good wife and come."
Something about the way he spoke made Tor's entire being quake and she found herself crumpling into his chest as she came, her shoulders heaving with some forgotten sensation. Pleasure, she realized dimly, it is a good feeling. She had denied herself so long it seemed as though a dam was breaking, the experience powerful enough to have tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
Argis muttered an oath, picked her up off his cock like she weighed nothing and slid her down to rest on his thighs. Tor grasped his cock, needing no prompting to stroke him to his own completion. The man exhaled a shuddering groan as he came, his hot seed ending up smeared across her stomach in spurts.
Tor dipped a finger in the mess, tucking it into her mouth for a taste. Argis groaned again, his hands carding through her disheveled hair. "Gods woman, mercy, mercy." He implored with a breathless laugh. "Have pity on me before you carry on doing something like that!"
"I love you." Tor blurted out, freezing immediately afterwards. Argis stilled as well, his lone eye wide. "I…I know we've only just married, and I'm--well, I'm not certain if you feel the same, but…" the Dragonborn trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting.
"Woman," Argis sighed finally, cupping her chin. "Do you really think I would have dealt with the frippery of that shrine if I didn't love you as well?" She could feel his hands shaking despite his stern tone. "This is not for duty or anything else you may tell yourself. This is…what I'm doing is for love."
"Ah." Tor said weakly. "I had hoped that was the case, but I didn't want to assume-"
Argis cut her off with a kiss, laughing a little. "You are permitted to assume. Assume away," he teased, "especially if you do it while naked in my arms." Tor could feel her flush spreading down to her shoulders, which only seemed to encourage Argis' mirth.
"Not certain how much longer I can endure you being in such good humor." She finally muttered, a bit sulky.
"Don't pout, my love." Argis murmured, giving her one last kiss before pulling away. "Let me clean you up, and then we will rest."
"I can do it mys-!"
"Hush, love. Let me take care of you."
It really wasn't fair how he could look at her a certain way and all the fight seemed to leave her body. Tor felt a bit domesticated and she scoffed at herself, laying back at her husband's insistence and allowing him to wipe her clean. Before he could pull away again, she drew him back in for another kiss. "Forgive me my petulance?" She asked softly.
"It's already forgotten." Argis replied just as quietly, his expression warm if a bit tired. "Are you well?"
Tor waited a moment to mull the question over, taking inventory of how she felt. "Aye," she mused, stretching luxuriously. "That I am, my love." She paused, then glanced up at her husband. "Though I am a bit cold. Perhaps we could share the bed for tonight."
"Oh, only tonight?" Argis jibed, a low rumble of laughter punctuating the query when Tor huffed at him. "Of course, whatever you need my love."
"I ask for time in this." Tor whispered once they had made themselves comfortable in the bed. "I am…set in my ways." She half-hoped her new spouse had dozed off without hearing her.
"We have our entire lives." Argis slurred, the man clearly already half-asleep. A kiss landed on the nape of her neck. "All I ask in return is that you remain honest with me."
"I…" Tor bit her lip, the worries rushing to the surface anew. As if sensing her mental discomfort, Argis wrapped his arms around her, the large man protectively tucking her against his body.
The Bulwark.
"I…I will, my love." Tor twined her fingers through his own, bringing his hand to her mouth and painstakingly kissing each knuckle. "I will do my best to give you the honesty you deserve."
"Good." Argis mumbled. "Now, be quiet and sleep."
Tor barely managed to stifle her giggle at the grumpy declaration, snuggling back into her new husband's embrace and humming in contentment. Oh certainly, the dawn would bring more work to be done! But here and now, in this moment, she could be at peace.
#argis the bulwark#female dragonborn#f!nord dragonborn#argis x f!Dragonborn#argis x female dragonborn#friends to lovers#mutual pining#skyrim#tes v skyrim#argis the bulwark imagine#skyrim imagine#skyrim fanfiction#skyrim fandom#canon typical violence#happy valentine's day!#tor the dragonborn
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I've already used this I know
For my Gore lovers out there *cough* including me *cough*
Gore: I hate touching people
Gore: the only feeling I know is the feeling of slapping a bitch
Remiel: Y/N's literally in your arms right now
Gore: *hugs Y/N closer* this is entirely different
Y/N: :)
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Farkas x reader - guild
Farkas's reaction to dragonborn who is part of the Thieves Guild while staying with the Companions which was kept a secret because she didn't want to make them look bad. - Anon💜
Packing some things into a bag, you looked around your room before giving a small nod, confirming that you had everything that you needed.
“Going somewhere?” Aela asked.
“Yeah, just some stuff with the greybeards.” You smiled.
“I see, I can come with you if you need.”
Giving the huntress a smile you shook your head at her as you stood up, tossing your bag onto yo it back as you grabbed your sword.
“No thank you, it’s alright I’ve made this trip many times now.”
“Well then, see you soon.”
Nodding, you made your way upstairs and waved everyone goodbye, but you were quickly stopped at the door by Vilkas.
“My brother is looking for you.”
“Can you tell him I’ll be back in a few weeks?”
“Of course, stay safe shield sister.”
“You too Vilkas, and please, take care of that idiot brother of yours.”
He gave you a smile and a nod and you left, making your way to the gates of whiterun.
It was getting late, so not many people were out now, but anyone that passed you made sure you smile and greet you, including the guards.
As you got to the gate, you pushed it open before leaving the comfort of the city.
Jogging down the the stables, you whistled for your horse, and waited for him to come padding over before climbing up.
“Wait!”
Before you could race off you were stopped by Farkas this time, stood in front of your horse.
“Where are you going?”
“I have some business to attend to, I’ll be back shortly, don’t worry.”
“Business with who?” He asked.
“Just business Farkas.”
You rode around him, making your way to the path that you had to travel to get to Riften.
But, you noticed that you weren’t alone, so with a heavy sigh you climbed down from your horse and walked alongside him while Farkas walked next to you.
“Farkas, I’ll be okay on my own.”
“Not with those damn thieves about you won’t, they’re everywhere.”
Giving a small laugh you nodded your head.
“They are, but not even the thieves will come for me.”
“Why?”
“Because they know I’ll kick their asses.” You grinned.
Farkas laughed and you smiled softly at him before you stopped walking.
Turning fully to face the man, you gave him a gentle smile.
“Farkas, go home. I’ll return shortly.”
“I don’t want you travelling alone…” he mumbled.
“I’m only off to another town.”
“That doesn’t change the fact it’s not safe…”
Reaching over, you took his hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I promise I’ll be back, okay? And when I’m back you can sleep in my room for as long as you need, okay?”
He didn’t seem convinced but he nodded his head and you hugged him.
Farkas didn’t want to let go, and you could tell, so you stayed like that for a few minutes before he finally pulled away.
“Be safe.”
“I shall.”
Before you could climb back on to your horse, the courier can running over to you and handed you a letter before running off.
Confused, you opened it and read the contents inside.
“Brynjolf!” You yelled.
The letter fell from your hands but before you could do anything Farkas stopped you.
“The thief in riften? Is that who you’re going to see?!”
He was furious and you knew it, but you couldn’t hang around any later.
“Farkas I have to go! He’s in danger!”
Farkas grabbed your hand.
“He’s a thief (Y/N)!”
“He’s my friend! And I own him my life! He took me in when I had nothing! He and the guild were my first ever family!”
Snatching your hand back you didn’t care you had just admitted to being part of the guild, you simply raced away.
You had to get there before anything could happy the the idiot thief.
You didn’t stop for rest, you traveled day and night until you finally came upon the place they were holding him and went straight into attack.
Many people cowered back, not wanting to mess with you, but those that were stupid enough to try were laid on the floor in pools of their own blood.
“Stupid mercenaries…” you sneered.
Looking around, you walked into a room to find your friend there, chained and blood dripping down his face.
“Bryn….” You sighed.
Grabbing the key, you unlocked him and caught him, slapping his face lightly.
“Wake up your stupid shit face.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I swear to the gods brynjolf I will feed you to the skeevers if you don’t wake up.”
“Now… that ain’t nice lass…”
You sighed, and laughed slightly as you stood up, helping him to your horse before you turned around to the small house.
“One second.”
Holding your hand out, a flaming ball appeared, and you tossed it at the wolf, letting it catch fire before you stormed over to one of the injured men.
“You tell whoever did this, I will find them, and I will make sure their death is the most painful death I can possibly give them…. Tell them to always look behind them…” you whispered.
Healing his wound, you sent him on his way before jumping on your horse.
“Come on them you oaf, let’s get you home.”
“Gladly lassy.”
He hauled himself up, and wrapped his arms around you as he told you about what had happened.
Shockingly you guys weren’t that far away from riften, so how the others couldn’t find him was beyond you.
Making your way down the the tavern, you tossed yourself in a chair.
“I’m staying here for a while.”
“Everything okay?” Delvin asked.
“Yeah… just missed it.”
“You missed the guild or you missed that idiot?” Vex snickered.
You looked at Brynjolf as he was getting his wounds treated and shook your head with a small laugh.
“He’s a good friend vex, but I love someone else.”
“Then why stay here?” Delvin asked.
You sighed, pulling your hood down before running a hand down your face.
“I told him I’m part of the guild… I don’t think he’s taken too kindly to it…”
“If he loves you he won’t care.” Vex shrugged.
You gave a small shrug and decided that for tonight you were going to drown your sorrows.
And that’s what you did every other night for the next few weeks, and as you went to grab another bottle you were stopped.
“No more lass, you’ve had enough. Hell, these past few weeks you’ve had enough.” Brynjolf sighed.
You weren’t drunk, you weren’t even tipsy, so you just simply nodded.
“Come on.”
He got you to follow him and you did back to his room.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I think I’ve messed up Bryn… I love Farkas… but he knows I’m part of the guild.. and he hates the guild..”
“Just give him some time, I’m sure he’ll come around. Okay?”
You just sighed and shrugged, and that’s when you heard a commotion coming from outside.
Sharing a look, you both ran back to the tavern.
“Farkas stop!”
The man immediately turned towards you and dropped Delvin.
He stormed over to you, and you stood still.
Closing your eyes, you waited for him to hit you, but when you felt his arms go around you instead you were shocked, but quickly hugged him back.
“You idiot…” he whispered, “you were supposed to come home…”
“I thought… you wouldn’t…”
He pulled away.
“I don’t understand why you like these rats, but you’re part of the companions too you know?”
“I know Farkas it’s just…” you sighed, “hard.
He stood there looking confused, like he didn’t understand and it made you smile softly before the smile fell.
“I didn’t want to make you guys look bad… but I didn’t want to leave my family…”
“Then don’t. Just come back with me?”
“The others won’t think that…”
“They don’t know.”
You snapped your eyes to him in shock.
“I haven’t… told them… because I don’t want them to kick you out…” he mumbled.
You felt a small judge and turned around to find Brynjolf smiling at you.
“Go…” he whispered.
Taking a few steps forward, you placed your hands on Farkas’ cheeks.
“I’m sorry…”
“Just… come home, okay?” He huffed.
Laughing softly, you leaving up and kissed the side of his face.
“Okay.”
You took his hand in yours and led him to the back to the guild where the easiest exit was.
The whole time Farkas had his eyes glued to you.
You didn’t look like a thief, not to him anyways. He’s watched you try sneak food and animals through the hall, and always get caught.
So he knew you weren’t a thief, he just didn’t want to loose you to them, or to anyone in that matter. It’s why he wasn’t going to tell a single soul about you and the guild
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Pinned Butterflies
Maven Black-Briar x Reader
Warnings: She's Evil, She's Maven Black-Briar. Not-so-graphic descriptions of a severed hand. Purplely Prose
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It started with gifts.
An extravagant dagger with crushed rubies in the blade. A fine, ornamental piece that came on the mounting rack. It was an impractical weapon, but a gorgeous show piece, so you placed it above your bed.
The finest silk tunic, adorned in goldwork flowers that danced in the firelight. It went on the mannequin in the basement. A, perhaps, unfitting place for such a fine garment.
Ivory-gold jewelery inlaid with flawless amethysts. They came in a velvet box, and that box sat on your nightstand.
Then, the hand of the thief that dared try and steal the jewlery off your finger, with your jewels tucked safe in their fist.
You closed the box, and stormed from your house, bareing down on Maven’s door with a heavy, angry hand.
You were greeted by Hemming, who ushered you into his mother’s room where she sat at her writing desk. She read by candlelight, her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. She grabbed a handful of papers, stood them upright and stabbed, before grabbing another handful.
“I was wondering if you’d come, I though surely you must have gotten at least one of my gifts”
“You call this a gift!” You branished your box, the thief’s hand heavy at the unsecured side.
Maven placed another perfected handful of papers on top of her growing stack. “Do you not appreciate having your jewelery returned to you?” She says, innocent as a poisoned apple.
“You did more than that, how am I supposed to rid myself of this. A hand, surely even you know how extreme that is?”
Maven laughs, short, sick, and sweet. “He’s not dead, and for your jewelery you could be more gracious.”
“You want me to thank you?”
Maven hummed, “Is that suprising?”
“I won’t fawn over your groteseque display, Maven”’
“Fawn, no, no,” Maven got up, laying waste to your personal space.
The box fell to your side, nearly out of your hand as the weight of it resettled.
Maven grabbed your cheeks with her hand, nearly piercing your skin with the length of her nails. “You mustn’t put words in my mouth, be grateful, I said, that I returned your jewelry, wear the tunic I bought you, adorn yourself with my amethyst.”
“Or?” You asked.
Maven frowned, though she looked away from you out the window, then back to you. Taking you in, consumption, she was swallowing you whole. Her fingers tight at your face, sure to leave bruises, if not incisions.
“I’ve only ever gotten what I wanted, or …” Maven hummed, “Taken it.”
She let go of your face, grabbed your hand delicatly, took the box that she could open it, uncurled the fist, and she took your pearls from their cold grasp, and closed the box. She held your hand soft as a bear trap, that she could put your ring on your finger.
You held your fist.
“I could break it,” She said,
“I’m not afraid of you Maven.”
“Because I don’t want you to be, but I could hurt you”
“As if I wouldn’t win that fight,” You said.
“Would you?” Maven asked. “Would Lydia, would Lucia? Or even that boy … Aventus?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” You tried to wrest your hand from her, but she held strong.
“Maybe I wouldn’t, maybe Sibbi would, or the Dark Brotherhood. Tamriel is full of swords-for-hire, many with no qualms about getting blood and tears on their hands.”
You gave Maven your finger, and she pressed the ring on.
“If I’d known you liked pearl more than amethyst,”
“I prefer whatever I earned myself.”
“As if my attention is something given freely, No, no, my time, my effort, are hard won. In time you will come to understand that, much better than you do now.”
You bent for the hand, but Maven waved off your attempt, “Leave it, I’ll make sure my next gift is less …” She said, a tiny smile graced her features, it brought a chill to the air, “extravagent.”
“Good-Night Maven,” You said, tight, it felt wrong to say.
But Maven smiled, and let up on your personal space, clearing a path to the doorway. You all but run home.
You slammed the door behind you, throw your back against it, as if you body could keep out the influence of Maven Black-briar.
The next day, a fine set of pearl earrings wait on your doorstep.
Cross-Posted on AO3
#Maven Black-Briar#maven black briar#Maven Black-Briar x Reader#Maven Black Briar x Reader#You may hate her#but I think she's neat#Reader Insert#Reader-Insert#Maven Blackbriar x Reader#Maven Blackbriar#TESV Imagine#Maven Blackbriar Imagine#Maven Black-Briar Imagine#Maven Black Briar Imagine#TESV#Skyrim Imagine#Skyrim#X Reader
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House of the Dragon and Skyrim crossover Headcanons
Approximately twenty years before The House of Dragon begins, The Last Dragonborn was born. It is believed that her mother died attempting to protect her from mercenaries sent by her father to abduct her.
As the events of The house of the dragon starts, she is primarily speaking the language of dragons. (Thu'um just to make it clear.)
There are at least one dragon near her most of the time. Most of the time it's usually Odahviing.
(Image above is what the dragon named Odahviing looks like.)
4. Odahviing is the last dragonborn's right hand, the younger and smaller dragon named Saphira. Unlike Odahviing she didn't have scales, she had sleek, glossy looking black feathers. She is only seen whenever there aren't either many people around or any people near the last dragonborn.
5. Saphira is often confused for Leviathan. The much younger dragon that only just hatched three years after she was born. Leviathan being much like Saphira as he doesn't have scales either. But instead of having black feathers, he has a darker grey.
6. The last dragonborn's name is Freyja. Her hair is a dark burgundy and her eyes are a light grey colour. Her skin so pale as if she could blend into the snow and no one would notice. She's quite tall, standing at six foot five. Often dressed in armor and rarely ever seen without wearing it.
7. Freyja doesn't have an opinion on the family of dragon riders, which to her dismay has caused more trouble than she would have hoped.
"You asked whether or not if I had an opinion and turn around saying that I must have one? How am I supposed to know what to think if I don't know enough about them to form an opinion?" Freyja to Otto, several times.
8. Her opinion of certain individuals are more biased over time. As she gets used to those certain individuals were persistent enough to stick around her. Despite the fact that she had put out the most intimidating aura around her.
"I don't think you'll be able to get rid of me that quickly." Aemond to Freyja.
9. Freyja works normally as a blacksmith, if you can't find her and you know she hadn't left town. She's most likely working as a blacksmith during that time. Mostly as a blacksmith's assistant or working inside the shop.
"This is where you work?" Rhaenyra asked her.
"Where else would I work?" Freyja replied rather confused.
10. She is recognized as dragonborn by the greybeards after she reached the age of 25.
11. Freyja is fine with her mundane job and her life being pretty boring even after being recognized as dragonborn. Unfortunately it also means she's last one too.
12. Freyja owns her own home, among the smallfolk just to make sure no one could find her.
13. Freyja had been trained by different swordsmen growing up, as she could never really afford more than one lesson from one trainer at one point or another. Therefore a lot of her scars on her body are from her trying to learn by herself between each paid lesson. Her stubborn behavior would not allow her to accept them not taking her money, saying it was her right to spend it how she wanted.
14. Freyja plays dumb among the ones who like to talk as if she was dumber because she's not male or had the same formal education.
"Due to my experience and your lack of experience. I can comfortably say that doesn't work the way that you think it does." Freyja talking to someone trying to belittle her in some form.
"I also don't think I need your help as much as you think I do."
15. Freyja's goal in life at the moment is to open up a store somewhere, a place where she can make it her own. Which has proven to be more difficult than she had hoped.
"They're acting as if I want to murder them, I have no plans to make a name for myself in the way they're imagining and yet they treat me as if I had murdered their entire family at the same time."
16. Her main weapon that she is seen wielding most of the time is a two-handed greatsword named Sossedov meaning Dragonblood/ Blood of the Dragon. But in reality it's Chrysamere a greatsword artifact she found after exiting a ruin.
(The image above is the sword that is referenced in the headcanon above.)
17. Freyja has made at least four greatsword. One is named Oath-breaker, another is named after one her own gods Akatosh the god of time and the third one named Unslaad Vulon meaning Eternal Night. These three were made for her friends she fought in battle with between the age of 20 and 25.
"We will meet again in the great halls of valor." Freyja to her deceased friends.
18. After the deaths of her friends and the blades telling her to kill her mentor, Paarthurnax, Freyja is on a war path to find the thing capable of killing her. Even that turns out to be failure after failure. So she frequents a tavern drinking cheap ale and hoping a slow death would be better than none at all.
"Have you come to mock, gloat or poke the nearest bear you could find?" Freyja said to either Alicent or Rhaenyra. Depending on when this takes place.
19. Freyja towers over most people growing up, it was something she hold over the other person instigating a fight or trying to start a fight with someone else. Which most of the time had gone her way most of the time.
"You'll regret this one day! I'll make sure of it Freyja."
"I certainly doubt that." A younger Freyja yelled back at the shorter child.
20. Freyja is the champion for Hermaeus Mora. She had decided that after she had taken the Oghma Infinium after Septimus Signus was disintegrated to ashes in front of her. While Freyja's thirst for knowledge is unquenchable, most of what drives it is her dragon-like need to dominate. Just like any other dragon around her, it's the main reason she has become a reliable aid to those who can't afford to pay for a healer or a place to replace or repair their equipment.
"Don't bother, I don't need the money I have more than enough and I'd rather see you alive." Freyja says to most of them. "If you want to repay me, you can help me by making sure you stay healthy and safe."
(Image Below is Hermaeus Mora and how he makes himself look like to Mortal men and mer.)
"I'll explain it to you once you're a bit older." Freya says to Aemond. "Besides I'd rather not face the executioner's axe for the second time." She added before leaving to return to her home.
"I certainly doubt she'd kill you over that." He says to her.
"I can't take the chance either way," Freyja yelled back. As the day came to a close and the two departed, one to her home. A small cottage among the smallfolk outside the castle walls. It might not have been much, but to her it was everything. Her hair had blood in it, her heart was beating hard against her ribcage. It felt like it was only beginning and most of the trouble was only just picking up.
Freyja had bathed a few hours later, she didn't know what to tell or hide as the fact that his mother had a terrifying death glare that sent the fear of the gods straight to her. Despite not being generally afraid of most things.
#House of the Dragon#house of the dragon#hotd#HOTD#House of the Dragon Headcanons#Skyrim#tes skyrim#the last dragonborn#The Last Dragonborn#House of the Dragon crossover#Skyrim crossover#Crossover Headcanons#House of Dragons Imagine#Skyrim Imagine#Tes V Skyrim#TES Skyrim#Skyrim Dovahkiin#Dragonborn
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Rules and Regulations + Who I Write For
I'm a new writing blog, but a long-time writer and this is only a side blog so don't expect the world of me. I want to make a contribution to the fandoms that bring me joy so this is what I plan to do.
Just call me V, unless I'm in trouble, then call me Vega.
I WILL WRITE
Fluff
Angst
smut (if requested and I can do it justice)
comfort
She/her reader
he/him reader
platonic relationships as well as romantic
Will be gender-neutral unless specified
I WILL NOT WRITE
Non-con
Real people (actors/youtubers/tiktokers/ect)
all those weird ass kinks (I promise you know what I'm talking about)
WHAT I WRITE FOR
Genshin Impact (I haven't played Sumeru so not the new characters yet)
Stranger Things
Harry Potter
Percy Jackson
FFXV
JJK
Demon Slayer
Marauders Era
Mystic Messenger
Arcane
LOTR
BNHA
Supernatural
Riverdale (I haven't watched it all)
Marvel
Skyrim (pls don't judge me I'm sensitive)
Honestly just ask and I'll tell you. There's no point in me listing everything.
#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic writer#fic writing#genshin impact imagine#marauders eria imagine#supernatural imagine#riverdale imagine#marvel imagine#skyrim imagine#BNHA imagine#arcane imagine#demon slayer imagine#mystic messenger imagine#ffxv imagine#jjk imagine#percy jackson imagine#harry potter imagine#stranger things imagine
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✨RULES✨
No fetishes
Here is a list of Fandoms that I write for
The Elder Scrolls
Oblivion
Skyrim
Transformers
Prime
IDW
Animated
Star trek
Deep space nine
Next generation
Outlast 1 + Whistleblower
Feel free to request!
#transformers#tfp#idw#transformers prime#transformers idw#mtmte#rules#headcannons#imagine#tfp imagine#star trek#ds9#tng#star trek imagine#elder scrolls#the elder scrolls#skyrim#oblivion#oblivion imagine#skyrim imagine#outlast#outlast whistleblower#outlast imagine
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Arrow- Lydia
Pairing: Lydia x Reader
Characters: Lydia
Warnings: N/A
Request: N/A
Word Count: 432
Author: Aaron
With a sharp whistle the poison-tipped arrow glanced across the flowing grass, the leader of the stray bandit’s cocked you a ravenous smile as it plunged into your thigh. Lydia charged with sword drawn proudly and separated the bandit’s arm from its shoulder, he fell to the ground into a pile of his own corrupted, vile blood. She plunged her hefty blade into the studded tunic of the bandit and began rifling through its stained pockets as you ripped the arrow from your hip and tossed it onto the grass.
“Lydia…” You called out, the flowered meadow around you began to swirl as your hand became covered in your thick blood. A painful tingle emitted from the wound and spread through your limbs like a wildfire until your entire body sat in astonishing agony.
She tossed her sword and shield to the ground and ran over, supporting your back in her arms and resting your head in her shoulder. She fumbled around in her pockets before pulling out a corked vial of pinkish red, she held open your numb mouth and slowly poured the contents inside. The potion tasted almost sweet, with a hint of fresh earth and herb. It tasted much better than it smelt.
“Do not worry y/n, you will be okay.” She pulled the small steel dagger that rested on your hip from its plain leather sheath and cut through the stitching that held your trousers together starting from the top until she could gain clearance to peer at the damage. “It however… does not look so good.” With the help of the potion the pain slowly subsided and you became more conscious. “You have lost a lot of blood.” She pulled a bandage from her satchel and wrapped it tightly around the wound.
“We need to carry on…” you protested, you tried to stand but Lydia held you to the ground. “We have been paid to do a job.”
“If we carry on with you like this we will barely make it to Riften, we have already made good ground, I am sure we can take half a day to get you to somebody who knows about this.” She wiped the poison on a loose rag. “I haven’t seen poison like this y/n, we need to find somebody who can identify before it is too late.” She hoisted you from the ground and wrapped your arm around her shoulder. “There is a small town around here if my memory serves me true. Hopefully they can arrange us transport to Riften. Don’t worry y/n, you are safe with me.”
#Arrow#Lydia#Lydia Imagine#Lydia One Shot#Skyrim#Skyrim Imagine#Skyrim One Shot#Elder Scrolls#Elder Scrolls Imagine#Elder Scrolls One Shot#Aaron
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Nasty business with Brynjolf - Part II
While I made a detour to the official entrance of the Ragged Flagon – so Vipir wouldn't be suspicious as to what I was doing in the Ratway Vaults – I finally got myself to stop smiling.
Every time Bryn comes near me, I feel a sudden urge to stop worrying about every single one of my questionable choices. It almost feels like his presence lifts the dark shadows surrounding me, because I know he does not judge me. He did and never will judge anything I do.
If anybody understands what it means to try and survive in the Rift, it's Brynjolf. Together we not only make ends meet, we find solace in each other.
As soon as I enter, I make my way straight to Delvin. After all, I still have some questions regarding that fishing job in Whiterun. I can't believe he makes me steal from Idolaf Battle-Born. Everyone knows Idolaf is my favourite Battle-Born.
In fact, Idolaf and I are friends, which makes finishing the job even harder. But I learned quite early that personal emotions better not get in my way.
So I will do it.
It's how that troubles me.
As I pass Dirge, he steadies himself and looks me directly in the eyes, his expression indifferent.
“Even if you're one of us, you better not cause trouble”, he scoffs.
As I'm about to comment on his bitterness, I catch sight of Bryn sitting next to Tonilia. Seeing me makes him smirk, and he doesn't take his eyes off of me while he takes a big gulp of his mead.
I begin to think of everything else he could gobble that way and start getting lost in my thoughts.
Suddenly I realise Dirge still standing in front of me. “Stay out of trouble, or there's gonna be trouble”, he says as he crosses his arms and walks away.
I shake my head.
Does Dirge really believe I give a fuck about what he thinks of me?
What did catch my attention, however, is that Bryn is seated next to Tonilia.
The way she smiles and touches his arm as soon as he says something remotely funny reminds of the fact they both once had an affair – long before I joined the guild.
I glance at him, slowly rolling my eyes. For a second I'm sure I caught him off guard, but he quickly peeks at Tonilia and then shrugs his shoulders, while he smiles.
He knows I'm not a jealous woman, but sometimes I believe that's what he'd like me to be. So I'll let him have it this time.
Certain that Bryn would take the bait, I refrain from flashing him a second glance and walk straight to the cistern. I don't even bother talking to Delvin, the questions I need answered surely could wait a few more moments.
Abruptly, I sense him following me.
As I reach the hidden corridor between the Ragged Flagon and the cistern, I turn to face him.
He doesn't say a word. Instead, he examines my face, before his gaze slowly trails down to my body, eventually returning to meet my eyes.
As his eyes trace the silhouette of my body again, I lean my shoulders back and enjoy watching him.
He steps closer to me and I take a step back, trying to figure out what his next move might be. As I feel the wooden door behind me pressing against my back, I raise my right eyebrow at him. “Again?”, I tease.
His fingers touch the door merely millimetres next to my shoulders, while he leans forward.
“Didn't we have unfinished business together?”, he whispers in my left ear.
I feel his cheek brush mine before he takes a step back.
“We do”, I agree breathlessly. “But rats are a rather hideous audience don't you think?”
“I arranged a room in the Bee and Barb”, he says.
Then he finally wraps his arms around my waist.
“Sounds dreamy”, I stutter, as I feel his lips delightfully igniting my neck.
Even though I know I shouldn't lose myself in his embrace right now, I rest my hands on his shoulders.
“I – I should concentrate on the job I need to get done”, I mumble, although I desperately don't want this moment to end.
“A'right, lass”, he whispers, his hands not yet leaving my waist. “But you take good care of yourself over there. Those Battle-Borns aren't messed with easily.”
His concern brings a soft smile on my face. “It will turn out just fine, don't worry about it.”
“You're probably right”, he utters with a low smile. “Oh and about that unfinished business - I'll await you at midnight”, he adds.
#brynjolf#thieves guild#skyrim#brynjolf x reader#tes v skyrim#bryn#brynjolf imagine#brynjolf x reader imagine#skyrim imagine#skyrim x reader
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the happy smiler
#tes#skyrim#oc#marelea#my art#:( my moesy#spoilers for my Mind but i'm gonna make it have beef with n*loth. i have been imagining the beauties of him -#- beefing with a “child”. that might be..if not stronger... as strong as he is... for a year now💓
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Jealous!Brynjolf
Fandom: Skyrim
Pairing: Jealous!Brynjolf x Thief!Reader
Words: >1k
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/possessiveness?
I found this in my files and felt like sharing.
Thievery was something that came easily to Y/N; it ran through her blood, much like theft had run through her family for centuries. It wasn’t like the thieves guild, however. No, this was a family business with the only leader being her uncle.
Perhaps Y/N was doing this out of boredom, or maybe even to get a thrill, but either way she had found herself trying to steal from a random, and unfortunate, person in the middle of the busy streets of Riften, her eyes scanning the many people in search of the easiest target.
“You know, Lass,” a deep voice sounded behind her, “you should be less obvious about what you’re searching for.”
This was the first time Y/N had potentially been caught, having been too good in the profession to have been caught by a normal citizen which meant one thing: Thieves Guild.
Spinning on her heels and forcing an innocent look on her face, Y/N looked at the man.
“What do you mean?” She asked, a small smile on her lips in hopes of throwing him off.
The red-haired man smirked, reading her perfectly.
“You know exactly what I mean, so don’t try that on me. Never made an honest coin in your life, have you, Lass?”
“I don’t know what you mean,”
The man chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. “Name’s Brynjolf, and you are?”
She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to give him an alias or not. “I’m Y/N,”
“Well then, it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Now, I need your help.”
*
That was the start of Y/N’s association with the Thieves Guild, one she had to keep secret from her family who would be quite betrayed if they ever found out, but something about working with them made her happy; one of them made her happy, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself just yet.
The man she was thinking of, although she didn’t know it, was seated the opposite end of the room, sipping some beverage he was particularly fond of after a successful heist. The group he had gone with were all sat together, and Y/N gave him a proud smile as she caught his eye, shaking her head as he raised the drink to her before sipping it.
“You look quite lonely over here,” an unfamiliar voice said, taking a seat in the empty chair beside her. “Mind if I keep you company?” It was a youngish boy, maybe around twenty, who had a flirtatious smile on his lips which had the girl almost rolling her eyes.
“Go ahead,” she agreed, albeit unwillingly, and gave him a small smile, unaware of the burning gaze on her and the new thief. “I was quite bored anyway.”
The two of them chatted for a while, the younger boy occasionally dropping the odd flirtatious comment which Y/N simply brushed off, hiding the blush on her cheeks which didn’t go unnoticed by the red-haired man of her admiration, despite how hard she tried to hide it.
At first his company was awkward, painful one may say, but they slowly warmed up to one another, eventually becoming fast friends, although there was something more from the boy, unlike his new friend who only had eyes for one man, something that she had only recently admitted to herself.
“Everything all right over here, Lass?” The familiar accent sent shivers done her body, his breath fanning across her ear as he hovered above her.
“Everything’s fine, Bryn! This is my new friend,”
Brynjolf muttered something beneath his breath, a few words that Y/N was unable to catch, no matter how close he was to her. His sudden hostile behaviour left her confused yet slightly aroused? His rough tone caused her body to react in a new way, one she had never experienced with a person before, as she began to imagine how he would mutter dirty phrases into her ear as he slid inside of her.
Shaking her head in annoyance as her thoughts, her head rested against the red-heads chest, unable to feel the way his heart rate picked up immensely at the contact, the muscle feeling as though it would beat out of his chest any moment. So maybe he liked her also.
The way the pair melted into each other’s touch went unnoticed by the other, simply relishing in their touch.
“Are you two like together?” The guy who had kept Y/N company the entire night asked, incredibly confused at their actions.
Before Y/N herself could answer, Brynjolf did so for her. “Yes, we are, so do us both a favour and piss off.” He simply smirked as the man raised his hands in surrender and moved on to another woman.
“Bryn, what the? I was talking to him!” Y/N almost yelled, lightly hitting the redhead in the chest to express her annoyance without hurting him.
Brynjolf chuckled, leaning into her ear to whisper to her.
“I didn’t like how he was looking at you, Lass,”
#Skyrim#Skyrim x reader#Skyrim imagine#Skyrim imagines#Skyrim fanfiction#Skyrim brynjolf#Skyrim brynjolf x reader#Skyrim brynjolf imagine#Skyrim brynjolf imagines#Skyrim brynjolf fanfiction#Skyrim brynjolf fanfic#Brynjolf#Brynjolf x reader#Brynjolf imagine#Brynjolf imagines#Brynjolf fanfic#Brynjolf fanfiction#the thieves guild
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"You were born a slave," said Konahrik. "Do you not wish for freedom?"
The sightless eyes of the Falmer gazed straight ahead. "My people learned long ago," said she, "that to wish for the impossible would be too much to bear."
Tried a bit of a fancier style for an upcoming scene from my fic Death and the Maiden.
#my art#my oc#konahrik#skyrim#tes v#tes#falmer#snow elf#skyrim oc#tes oc#my fic#elder scrolls#dragon priest#i imagine falmer looked like pale altmer back in the day#konahrik gets miraak's concept art clothes#bc they look better than the undead dragon priest gear#easier to draw too
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