WIP on the Correct Day.

Tagging: @kookaburra1701@orfeoarte@gilgamish@thana-topsy@changelingsandothernonsense@tallmatcha@snippetsrus@rainpebble3@rhiannon1199@inquisition-dragonborn@the-storytellers-seer@thequeenofthewinter@elfinismsarts@paraparadigm@friend-of-giants@saltymaplesyrup@weirdponytail@ms-katonic-of-tamriel@mareenavee

Little something I cooked up so I would cook something else.

               “Look, I’m just saying that crossing the border in the year of your divines 201, might not be the best idea.” You stooped down to pull at the laces of your boots. Your husband, six and a half feet of dark green orc, is staring at your backside again. It is fascinating how the love of a big ass will travel across time, space, and culture.

               “And I’m just saying, its none of your business how I earn my money.” You turned to look at his face, which was a bit blank. He had been upset since you had taken the job as a courier. Something something, stronghold, something something, stay in the kitchen. You stopped paying attention after he brought up the word “female”. You didn’t have a dick in this life, which was a bit disappointing, but the chest was an improvement. Sex was fantastic, multiple orgasms for the win.

               “Look, I don’t care if you’re selling Falmer Blood Elixir, or if you’re robbing priests at knife point.”

               “Neither of those.” He rolled his eyes at you.

               “I CARE about you being near the border of Skyrim and Cyrodill this year.” You pulled on the stupid looking cap that completed the look.

               He held up his hand. “I swear on the name of my father, I won’t go near the border.”

               You were pretty sure he was lying, since the last time he swore on the name of his father he had cut the man’s head off with an ax. Still, if he was determined to get himself killed, there wasn’t much you could do to stop him.

               “Alright, then. I’m going to Dawnstar, I’ll meet you in Whiterun in a few months, yeah?” You tried to drink in the details of his face. The broken tusk, the scar over his nose- it was unbearably precious to you.

               He reached forward, putting a big hand behind your head. He pressed his forehead against yours. His breath was heavy in your face and it made all the blood in your body rush to your face. You placed your hands on the sides of his neck. Your fingers brushed the muscles along his spine.

               “Ozor, I am serious.”

               His hands wrapped around your waist, squeezing slightly.

               “I’ll see you in Whiterun, then you can ride my face.”

               You sighed. That was going to be the best you were going to get.

               <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

               Ozor woke with a crick in his back and the taste of blood on his tongue. Someone had taken the Amulet of Mara from around his neck. His hands were bound.

               “Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

               Ozar groaned. He had a fleeting thought to listen to his wife more.

               <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

               You were on your third day wandering around Whiterun when someone spots a dragon. You took that as your cue to get the hell out of dodge, but the guards have already locked down the city.

               “Look,” you said to the guard at the gate. “I’m a lollygagger. I have nothing to do, and no coin with which to do nothing with. The best thing you could do- no, your DUTY to your Hold is to let me get eaten by a dragon.”

               “Aye, most likely.” The guard nodded in agreement. “But if the Jarl says the gate stays shut, then the gate stays shut. But I’ll take your offer to stand as dragon bait under advisement.”

               You were about to argue some more, and the guard was about to let you. He was as bored as you were, when the gate creaks open, just a smidge, and an orc stumbles through. He’s charred, missing a bit of one tusk, and a bit of his hair is burnt off.

               He looked suspiciously like your husband.

               He was wearing some blue armor that is barely strapped on to his chest, and some pants that look about twelve inches too short.

               “You, hey you.” Your voice wass almost cracking with excitement, or would be cracking. “You ran right into that-”

               “You had to turn up at the gate?” Your husband asked. “You had to turn up at the gate, so you could personally deliver the I-told-you-so? And how the fuck did you know-”

               Ozar gave a rasping cough, then bent double.

               “It doesn’t matter how I knew.” You said, with the air of someone who was going to be thoroughly fucked (hopefully, it had been a dry bit of time. You’d been saving the coin for a private room when he got there). “What matters is you didn’t listen to me.”

               Ozar let his weight fall on you completely.

TES V OC Thingie

[Got tagged by @jessaryss​ ! ]

Pause your game! Wherever your OC is in their game currently, tell me about their story so far.

✧✧✧ General

Current Level: 56

Name: Jeer-Tei Perdes

Name Meaning: Literally got it from a name generator lol. But lore wise it was a name gifted to them in honor of an Argonian who served beside Tei’s mother during the Great War

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: Early 30s where they are story wise???

Race(s): Argonian

Place of Origin: Hammerfell

Pick A Theme Song For Them: oof that's tough... From a Crowded Wound or maybe even Firstwake? If you really played around w personal interpretation/the lyrics that is haha

✧✧✧ Locations

Where Did You Begin Their Game?: Argonian Assemblage, Windhelm (Alternative Start)

Where Are They Currently In Your Game?: Whiterun

What Are They Doing There?: Just finished attending a party held in their honor (Post Blood of Kings)

Homes?: Breezehome, Proudspire, Lakeview & Autmnwatch

# of Locations Discovered?: 274

Dungeons Cleared: 104

Misc. Quests Completed: 87

Favorite Areas and/or Locations: Falkreath / Lakewview Manor. Both areas are where Tei heads off to in order to collect their thoughts/feel some sense of calm.

✧✧✧ Main Quest

Are They Dragonborn / Do They Know It At This Point?: Yes & yes

How Do They Feel About Being Dragonborn: It's...complicated, being thrust into the role of savior by gods of the Cult, which in turn are followed by the folk who see you lesser than them. Tei already has a dislike towards the Divines, this doesn't really help lol

Main Quests Completed: 21

Where Are They In The Main Story Line: Alduin's dead, currently trying to ignore the Civil War as long as they can before the Empire forces its hand into forcing them to join their ranks

Dragon Souls Absorbed: In total overall? 147. The amount currently stored in Tei? 45

Words of Power Learned: 64

Shouts Mastered: 21

Favorite Shout: Firebreath / Dragonrend

✧✧✧ Combat

Most Used Weapon(s): Daedric war axe OR Dragonbone battle axe. Tei technically has both on them at all times during adventuring, alongside a shield, so which they used depends on the situation/which they grab fastest.

Combat Style: Two/One-handed tank. Main tactic is to rush in, cause as much damage/chaos as possible to shake up the opponent, & clean up what the ranged attackers of the party (usually Rumarin, Inigo and/or Lucien) weren't able to deal with.

Armor Type / Level In It: HEAVY ARMOR BABYYYYY (Level 100 + 35 extra points via enchantments)

# of Training Sessions: 99 in-game, lore wise its a lot of self-teaching/keeping their skills learned from Hammerfell sharp. Some of these are magic but lore-wise this doesn't happen cus Tei is not a magic user, save for shouts. I just did those in-game for exp OR so I can help Lucien raise his magic skills :'D

Who Taught Them?: In-game?? Fuuuck so many npcs. Lore-wise? They learned this from their schooling in Hammerfell, going off the canon-lore that it's p much expected for everyone to have a grasp on combat & weaponry! Though they did learn a few things from Kaidan & Anum-La.

Favorite Enemy Type: Dragons! Despite the fact Tei does not have the best magic resistance, it's one hell of a challenge they love to meet.

Least Favorite Enemy Type: Automatons, because of a bad experience with them as a child. Also Undead, because they were raised not to disturb them & it just feels so wrong having to fight them/go into tombs.

People Killed: 945

Animals Killed: 749 (Hunterborn makes hunting fun lol)

Undead Killed: 766

Automatons Killed: 105

Daedra Killed: 136

✧✧✧ Magic

Favorite School(s): None, actually. Destruction is okay though....they guess

Most Used Spell(s): Firebreath or Dragon Aspect. Tei doesn't consider shouts spells though. It's totally different guys shut up they ain't no smelly mage gods

Spells Learned: 9 in-game, mainly due to the spells you're kinda forced to learn for some quests/the ones you automatically know

Items Enchanted: 19 (Tei technically doesn't enchant, and wont next playthrough for sure I wont give in this time >:[ )

College of Winterhold Quests Completed: 8

Where Are They At In The Questline?: Main quest is done bcus i dont like seeing unfinished quests in my journal lmao. Tei's involvement is completely different from canon though in my take. Moreso was hired as a guard for the expedition & was, unwillingly, dragged into the rest of the mess. Is not offered the Archmage position, that went straight to Tolfdir.

Opinions on Magical Guilds (Arcane University, Winterhold, Psijics, Synod, Radiant Dark, etc.): As they get older, they tolerate the guild & magic users more n more, BUT, Tei grew up in an environment that frowns upon the practice of magic, & it shows. They mainly mistrust necromancers/illusionists & still hold onto that belief that reliance on magic, especially for combat, is a weakness.

Bold words for someone with shit magic resistance.

✧✧✧ Crime

Current Gold: 10,640

How Did They Acquire Their Gold?: Odd jobs, selling a lot of the items they made/harvested from smithing & hunting (jewelers are their go-to hirers bcus Tei is great at getting things like ivory), Dwemer ruin diving (they refuse to loot the tombs), also yknow....being part of the Dark Brotherhood helps

Largest Bounty On Their Head: 11,240

For...?: Unfortunately they did not stand down when they were being falsely accused of murder in Markarth. First time Tei called down dragons (Sahrotaar, specifically, Tei managed to get command of Miraak's dragons post-Dragonborn) to absolutely smite some fools.

Current Bounty: None! They're good at not getting caught/threatening and/or bribing guards. :)

Locks Picked: 15 i think?

Jail Time: 1, Cidhna Mine

Jail Escapes: 1, teamed up w the Forsworn lol

Murders: 28

Assaults: 307....In their defense people keep getting in their way during dragon attacks

Items Stolen: 37, most of them from the nobles of Windhelm

Thieves Guild Quests Completed: N/A (wont be doing this storyline unless i cant find a mod that'll let me get the shouts locked behind it)

Dark Brotherhood Quests Completed: 20

Where Are They At In Those Questlines?: DB is completed main arc wise!

✧✧✧ Relationships

Relationship Status: Married to two lovely fellas

Current Companions: atm? none

Housecarls: Lydia & Rayya

Friends (outside of party): Zora Fair-Child, Inigo, Lucien, Anum-La, Morndas, Aela the Huntress, Nazir, Babette, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Isobel, Madesi

Children: Khash, Chases-Starlight, Ram-Ku. (going of where Tei is now - Otero & Mei come around later on in Tei's story!)

Romantic Interest(s): Kaidan & Rumarin.

Sexual Orientation:

GAY

✧✧✧ Religion

Pantheon: Yokudan, with a hint of Hircine worship in there

Patron Deity(ies): From the Yokudan pantheon: Tei mainly views HoonDing as their main patron, but also prays to/pays respect to Satakal.

They are also Hircine's champion.

Daedric Quests Completed: 3 (Hircine, Vile, Dagon - the last Tei didn't really help, moreso pissed off)

Aedric Quests Completed: 1 if you count the whole Alduin thing I guess?

How Devout Are They?: Tei is rather devout, esp to their Yokudan patrons, praying or making offerings daily. They aren't the type to really push it in your face though, but have no issues answering questions one might have.

How Do They Feel About Talos Worship?: Deep down they acknowledge & admit trying to ban worship is terrible, but....Tei also lets their bias/experience with Windhelm, the Stormcloaks & especially Ulfric kinda cloud over this. If the Nords want their old ways so damn much, why fight for a divine from the Imperial Cult? Why not go back to the actual old ways? No, this isn't about worship, not to the men leading this so-called rebellion, they just needed something other than their racist bullshit to fool the common man into throwing their lives away for the nobles sitting comfortable in their thrones.

Also during their whole thing of getting into their role of dragonborn, they get a bonus 'fuck this dude actually' towards Talos, Ysmir, whatever the fuck he calls himself. (tldr; it sucks but good luck hearing Tei say that fully)

✧✧✧ Politics

Gray-Mane or Battle-Born?: Neither, ask them again they will punch you for the love of Ruptga they get asked that every time they enter Whiterun.

Stormcloaks or Imperials?: Also neither, Tei hates em both n think they can all choke. Unfortunately they were forced to join the latter due to, yknow, calling dragons & causing massive damage in Imperial territories during isolated fits of rage and the group being more aggressive in wanting something in return for "letting it slide"....oops

Opinion on the Thalmor?: Oh absolutely despises them, they loudly complained having to work with them during the CW & would go out their way to disrupt their plans/piss them off. Sneaking was an option they did not take during the Embassy quest, if it helps paint the picture.

Opinion Of Ulfric Stormcloak?: Tei doens't say they hate people often...but they sure as hell hate Ulfric. Again, their experience in Windhelm added to this heavily, how both the Dunmer & Argonians were treated like shit, with no help whatsoever from the Jarl or guards when the local Nords targeted them. It's still up in the air if I keep this for Tei's story, but I have it where they knew Chases-Starlight's parents, who were killed. When Tei went up & demanded justice/an investigation, only to be brushed off because it "wasn't a priority," it completely destroyed what little empathy or hope they had left for Windhelm as a whole.

Opinion of The Empire?: Cowards too weak to continue fighting back against the Thalmor, in their opinion, & holds these views they grew up with even when being strong-armed into aiding them. If anything they're at least attempting to use their influence to hint towards a rebellion against the Thalmor, but the Empire could also full-on dissolve & they could give less of a shit.

Civil War Quests Completed: 0

✧✧✧ Personal

How Are They Doing? Need Some Juice? A Nap? A Hug?: The whole event of Blood of Kings has fucked with their head, to say the least. It's the starting point of Tei's eventual spiral. So uh...yeah they're not sure how they're doing everything they knew about reality was kinda challenged & they don't rlly have anyone to talk to about it so its cool, its fine, its all good.

A nap is probably needed, not sure about a hug theough they're super flinchy rn

Days Past In Game: 196

Hours of Sleep: 846

Food Items Consumed: 1833

How Many Playthroughs Have You Done With This Character: Tei actually is an older character from the 360 days so uh...maybe 5 at most? This playthrough & their S:EC one coming up when the mod releases being the main ones focusing on their story

Overall How's Your Level Of Fun: Alright I would say! I just been stepping away from Skyrim more often lately to avoid burning out from it

Must Have Mods To Play This Character (for story or other reasons): Ordinator, Wintersun Faiths, Immersive Armors, Sarcastic Player Dialogue, 3DNPC, Inigo, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan 2, Khash the Argonian, Alternative Start, Leviathan Animations, Beast Race Body Paints, Beast HHBB, Apocalypse Magic, Deadly Dragons, Growl: Werewolf Overhaul, Pronouns, uhhh....idk what else without actually listing my current modlist lmao

----

And that's it for Tei! Anyone who wants to do this go on ahead!

Whiterun

Kisara gasps as Ren and Lucien lead her through the gates into the bustling city of Whiterun. She stops at the little bridge and pulls the hood closer to her face, watching all the people go about their day in the walls of the city. The guards patrol the city as the children run past them playing and laughing.

She smiles softly at the sight before her. "Never been in a city before?" Ren asks softly, breaking her trance. "No. I live in the woods." She sighs, feeling a little overwhelmed and homesick. "Come on let's head toward Jorvaskr. I'm sure we can get some answers from my friends there." Ren says, walking ahead of her and Lucien.

Kisara stops at the giant tree in the middle of the Wind Distract. She stares at the tree. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Lucien asks, quietly, standing beside her. "Yes. She is." Kisara says, walking over to the tree. She lays a gentle hand on the tree.

She feels a rush of wind around her as she hears the whispering of the wind through the branches of the trees. She smiles softly as she hears Kyne's peaceful song. Ren turns around at the bottom of the stairs at Jorvaskr when he realizes there is no one behind him.

He stares in amazement as the wind picks up around Kisara. He hears footsteps and looks at the top of the stairs to see a familiar small female much like Kisara appear from Jorvaskr. "Ah, Ren. Good to see you again." She smiles. "You as well, Luna." He smiles, then frowns when he sees Bear behind her. "See you still got that big ogre following you." He teases.

She joins him at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah. He's the best companion a woman like me could ask for. When he's not being over protective." Luna smiles. Bear just growls in response. Lucien and Kisara make their to Ren's side.

"I see you still got Lucien with you. Who's this?" Luna asks, intrigued. Kisara hides behind Ren. Lucien places a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. They are friends of ours." He assures her. "This is Kisara. We are on our way to see Euroland about getting her some armor. Then later placing an order with Ysolda to get her some clothes that better fit her." Ren explains rather emotionless.

Luna looks him over. "You look exhausted, Ren. When's the last time you've rested?" She asks, worried. "A couple of days ago. Joys of being a hero. You never get to rest." He smiles. "Well, I have some armor and clothes she can have. So if you wanna go put her an order for weapons, I can take care of the rest. Bear, go get my satchel from my horse and meet me at The Bannered Mare." Luna demands in an authoritative tone. He nods and walks off toward the gate.

She walks around Ren and takes a closer look at the woman. Removing the hood, she gasps. "Your eyes looks like Ren's but your hair is beautiful. I love the fiery red." She gushes. She grabs Kisara's hand pulls her away from Ren and smiles happily. She moves her hair.

"You're a halfling too." She says. Kisara just nods, unsure what to think of the woman in front of her. "Are you two brother and sister?" She spews out. "I don't think so?" Kisara says, sounding confused. "That's part of the reason why I'm back in Whiterun. I need to speak Rayne." Ren explains.

"She's not here. She left earlier to investigate the an abandon prison. Something about a man being held captive by the Thalmor." Luna explains. Ren groans and rubs his face under the hood. "Great. We'll are going to need a place to stay." He grumbles. Luna smiles. "Come on. I have a place outside the city, near Loreius farm. You can rest there." Luna smiles, pulling Kisara down the stairs. "I'll meet you at the stables." Ren says. Luna just waves.

He walks up the stairs. He sees Farkas and Vilkas training outside. "Vilkas, can you give Rayne a message for me?" Ren asks, looking at the twins. "I suppose." He says. Lucien pulls a quill and parchment from his bag, handing it to Ren. Ren writes a quick letter briefly explaining the last two days.

He hands it to Vilkas. "Tell her to meet us at the manor near Loreius farm." He says, handing Vilkas the letter. "I will. Anything else?" He asks, in his usual hateful tone. Ren pulls a sack of gold and hands it to him. "Have someone deliver the some weapons there too." He says, walking toward the stairs leading to Euroland's forge.

After placing an order for a bow, two daggers and three big orders of arrows. He paid Euroland well for all of it. Meeting Luna and Kisara at the stables, he got on his horse as Lucien summoned Clive. Luna gets on a solid white horse as Bear gets on a dark brown on. Kisara smiles softly.

Kisara whistles loudly and a black deer runs through the grass and stops her side. She smiles softly as the deer lays his head on her shoulder. "Oh, Auri. I've missed you too." She smiles as she pets him. He licks the side of her face. "We've got to go." She whispers. Auri kneels down and Kisara gets on his back.

"A fucking deer?" Bear says for the first time. "Ren, what is she? The only people that ride deer and elk are Forsworn. Please tell me she's not a a Forsworn." Luna says, worried. "Can we talk about this when we get to the manor?" Ren asks. "I suppose. Let's go." Luna says, taking off. Everyone follows her.

Arriving at the manor, everyone dismounted their steeds and Luna led them around the side of the home to an area where they could sit and talk. Luna leads Kisara in the house as everyone else takes seats around a fire pit.

Luna returns moments later. She sits down on the cushions below Bear. "So explain, Ren." She demands in a serious tone. He sighs as he removes the hood and lets his hair fall loosely around his shoulders. He begins explaining the last two days, leaving out the part where Kisara might be a Dragonborn too.

Luna just nods taking everything in. She remains silent for a moment, processing every little detail. She knew that Ren was Dragonborn. She knew the moment she helped with the Nordic ruin outside Morthal. "So she is Forsworn? Why isn't she wearing the armor?" Bear asks, curiously.

Ren goes to open his mouth to respond but falls silent when she steps out of the house. "Because I was forced to leave my tribe." Kisara says sadly, looking at the ground as she plays with the fabric of the dress.

Lucien blushes taking in her beauty, as she takes a seat between him and Ren. He places a gentle hand on hers. "Why were you kicked from the tribe?" Luna asks. "Because a dragon attacked. When we killed it, I absorbed its power." She explained. Luna's eyes widened. "Wait. What? I thought there was only one Dragonborn. How can she absorb it's power too?" Bear asked confused.

"What's a Dragonborn?" Kisara asked, confused as Bear. She looks between Lucien and Ren for answers. "I am a Dragonborn. By slaying dragons. I can absorb their soul and use it to learn shouts or words of power." Ren explains. "So that means I'm a Dragonborn too? So I'm not cursed." Kisara sighs.

"No. Just means that you will fight dragons and protect people. Also means that we will have to visit the Greybeards too." Lucien says, thoughtfully. Ren nods in agreement. "But that will have to wait a few days." A familiar voice says from the side of the house. Everyone looks that way as a tall, curvy woman appears.

The silver haired woman stood before them with a man with a tattoo over his right eye. "Good to see you, Ren, Luna and Lucien." She smiles. "You as well, Rayne." Ren stands and goes and hugs the woman. She was a couple inches shorter than him.

The man behind her growled. "Easy there, big guy. This is my nephew. Ren, this is Kaidan. Kaidan, this is Ren, Lucien, Luna, and Bear. I don't know the small elven woman. But she looks like Zevran and Kira, so I'm assuming that's their daughter." She smile, as she walks over and looks closely at the woman.

"What?" Ren says, shocked. "So my mother actually was Kira?" Kisara asked confused. "Yes, your father was the famous thief/assassin, Zevran. Ren, your parents were never killed by the Thalmor. Your father and your mother separated after you were born. Realizing that their children were twin halflings meant for something great. They decided to keep you two apart so the Thalmor wouldn't try to kill you. Zevran meet another woman in the Imperial City, who was related to your best friend there. They fell in love.

"Kisara, your mother returned to her tribe where she raised you. They did this to you all safe. Ren, does she know your real name?" Rayne asks. He shakes his head no. "Well, you should tell her. Also, your father is alive. He is currently in Riften. Kisara, dear, I'm gonna call you Kia for short. Your mother is safe. She left the tribe and joined Cael's tribe. I know you remember him." Rayne explains.

"How do you know all this?" Lucien asks. "As the head of my family and being the Harbinger. I have to know this stuff." She says, in confident tone. "What happened to Kodlak?" Luna asks. That was her uncle after all. "He was killed by the Silverhand." Rayne admits sadly. She hugs Luna. "I'm sorry, dear." She says. "It's alright. I'll have to write mother and inform her." Luna says, softly. "I already wrote her and told her everything." Rayne states.

Luna just looks at the older Nord woman. "Thank you." She smiles weakly. "You are welcome. Kodlak would not want you to be bad. He would want you to celebrate." Rayne smiles softly at the small Imperial woman. "Kaidan, how would you like to celebrate a death and the reunion of lost siblings?" She asks the man, that stood at her side in silence.

"I could go for a drink or two." He says. The group traveled back to Whiterun in the company of Rayne and her new companion, Kaidan, who didn't really talk much. Upon returning to Whiterun that night, Rayne informed the Companions that would have the next couple of days off in celebration of a reunion siblings.

Intertwined | 2

*** Cross-posted on AO3 ***

Pairing: Farkas x F!OC

Summary: A child of Mara was a soul blessed and bound to its mate for all eternity. Elizabeth Williams is summoned to Mara as a lost soul, only she’s from modern America and her mate is somewhere in the wilds of Skyrim.

A/N: Quick note - Don't worry! I don't plan on rehashing the script the entire time. This part was just essential so that Elizabeth recognizes where she is and what's going on.

***

She’d gone to college so she’s woken up to some horrible things before - puke in the bed, strange houses, dates that were definitely a product of beer goggles. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this horrible, however, not even during the worst hangover in her memory.

Elizabeth’s entire body ached, from the pounding in her head to the sharp stabs of pain in her ankles. The pain was amplified every time whatever she was in would hit something and bump her. If she was in a car they were the slowest drivers of all time, and they had the top down. The sun was piercing through even her closed eyelids. She tried to bring her hand up to shade her eyes from the painful light, only to realize she couldn’t.

She tried to crack open her eyes instead, but she was still groggy and her vision slightly blurred. She took a sniff instead, immediately recoiling. Overwhelming amounts of body odor, spoiled food, and what certainly smelled like shit of both human and animal variety.

Where the hell was she?

Someone groaned next to her and she finally managed to focus enough to see clearly. She looks up into the grim face of a strange man. His blonde hair was scraggly and clearly hadn’t been washed in ages as it hung around his face. He wasn’t ugly, just kinda dirty. Like, Kurt Cobain after a roll around in some dirt.  

“Hey, you’re both finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there.”

She looks around, finally noticing that she’s in the back of an old rickety wooden wagon, the kind that they usually put in old westerns or other period movies. There are several men stuffed in the back with her, all of them with their hands tied in thick rope. The one nearest the back of the wagon is even gagged. She looks down at herself and notices that she is indeed tied up too, but she also has an extra rope tying to her the man next to her. The one blinking up at her groggily with red eyes set in a face of grey.

Okay...so she guesses she’s still dreaming? Her head really fucking hurt and she could barely think straight, but she felt like she knew what was going on. If only her head would stop pounding enough for her to concentrate.

“Damn you Stormcloaks... Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you I’d have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there, “ he nods towards the grey man next to her, who stops glaring at his ropes long enough to lift a questioning eyebrow at the angry brunette man. “You and me, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now,” says dirty Kurt.

“Shut up back there!”

Elizabeth startles at the sudden shout, turning to look at the drivers themselves. They were wearing what looked like medieval armor. She even spotted a glint of metal on their hips, like they were carrying real swords. She gulped and spared a look at the grey guy still tied to her, noting that he looked just as freaked out as her even if the proud tilt of his head remained.

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” The angry brunette man snorts and nods his head towards the large gagged man in the back.

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

Apparently, dirty Kurt had said something truly terrifying, because angry brunette looked ready to piss his pants. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion... if they’ve captured you... oh gods, where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“No, This can’t be happening! This isn’t happening!”

Angry brunette looked on the verge of a panic attack and she was afraid his terror was infectious because she was starting to freak out herself. Her mind was finally clearing of the painful fog and she realized she knew this scene. She’d seen it play out a million times. She could quote it word for word if asked.

“Hey, what village are you from horse-thief?”

“Why do you care?”

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

“Rorikstead. I’m from Rorikstead.”

“General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting.”

Everyone in the wagon turns to watch as two official-looking men meet to talk. Elizabeth swallows thickly when she recognizes Hadvar. Fucking Hadvar.

“Good, let's get this over with.”

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!” Angry brunette mutters loudly, rocking back and forth in his seat. What was his name again? Something with an ‘L’ she thinks.

Dirty Kurt - who she now realizes is Ralof - scoffs at the men. “Look at him! General Tullius, the Military. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this.” He pauses and looks around the filthy little village. “This is Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Velod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in... Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Elizabeth feels her breath hitch as they turn the corner, the little scene where the father is ushering his child into the house so he wouldn’t witness the deaths scarily familiar.

The wagon is slowing even more, and she looks around, amazed that she could recognize everything. There’s Hadvar, waiting with his list. There’s his bitch of a Captain. There’s the chopping block. There’s the tower where Alduin...oh fuck.

“Get these prisoners out of the cart!”

The wagon stops with a jolt and she struggles to keep her balance. The grey guy (Dunmer, she recalls. Dark Elves) is someone that she doesn’t recognize but seems nice enough since he pushes his shoulder against her to keep her from falling over. She smiles timidly in thanks, and he nods briskly. She realizes he’s been silent the entire time. Could he be the Dragonborn? It would be a giant fucking joke on the entire world if she was.

“Why are we stopping?”

Ralof looks at the angry brunette with pity shining in his eyes.“ Why do you think? End of the line. Let’s go, we shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

Ralof stands bravely and leads the way out of the wagon, despite angry brunette’s panicked whining.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

To be fair to the guy, Elizabeth was starting to feel like breathing was becoming difficult. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her entire body shaking. To be honest, she was probably in the middle of both a panic attack and whatever shock did to the body. She felt almost detached and yet this still all felt almost too real.

“You’ve got to tell them we weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” angry brunette continues ranting.

“Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!” the female Captain shouted. Elizabeth glanced around nervously. Any moment now she was going to wake up. Hopefully, before she had to put her neck anywhere near the wooden block still stained with past kills.

Hadvar clears his throat and adjusts his papers before turning towards the gagged prisoner.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

They all turn to watch as the large man walks defiantly towards his place in line.

“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric,” Ralof nods his head towards the man.

“Ralof of Riverwood,” he moves to his spot in line proudly.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!”

Elizabeth flinches as angry brunette tries to make a run for it. She’d always thought this part was fucked up.

“Halt!” the Captain yells at him.

“You’re not going to kill me!”

Horrible choice for your last words, she thinks.

“Archers!”

Elizabeth observes in horror as the arrow flies through the air. Surprisingly enough it landed in his knee instead of his head or gut. He rolled around on the ground, groaning. Elizabeth thought she might be going a little crazy if all she wanted to do was giggle and make jokes about guards and arrows to the knee. Maybe the guard in Whiterun was angry brunette the whole time.

The Captain glares at the rest of the prisoners. “Anyone else feel like running?”

Hadvar crinkles his nose and looks at the Dark Elf man next to her.

“Wait... You there. Step forward.”

The man did his best to walk up to Hadvar without pulling her too much. He subtly eases her behind him and quirks an eyebrow at the soldier.

“Who are you?” Hadvar questions, glancing between him and the list in his hand.

“Sundrose Droleno,” the Dark Elf answers, his voice refined and currently sounding very bored and unimpressed with the entire affair. If Elizabeth hadn’t noticed the fear flashing briefly in his eyes while they were on the wagon, she would think him unaffected entirely.

“Another refugee?” Hadvar sighs. “The Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf. Captain, what should we do? He’s not on the list.”

The woman sneers at him and shrugs. “Forget the list. He goes straight to the block.”

Hadvar frowns, obviously trying to hold back saying something. Finally, his shoulders droop and he looks at the dark elf, apology shining in his eyes but meaningless as everyone now knew how unfair this entire thing was.

“By your orders, Captain. I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains get returned to Morrowind. Follow the captain, prisoner.”

Hadvar finally notices Elizabeth behind the Dark Elf, frown deepening as he notes the combined rope.

“What’s going on here?”

“He tried to stop us from taking her,” one of the soldiers that drove the wagon answered. “Figured he’d come along easier if he had his...lady friend,” the soldier snorted, showing exactly what sort of friend he thought she was.

“Enough!” the Captain shouts. “Take care of her next. Whether she’s accomplice or camp whore makes no difference. She was with the rebels. Collect her name and stand her in line.”

“Captain, I don’t think…”

“Exactly. You’re not to think. You’re to follow orders. Or do you want to join them? Don’t think I’m not aware of where you’re from. A childhood friend of yours, perhaps?”

“No, Captain,” he swallows, shutting his eyes briefly before calling her forward.

“I’m sorry. What is your name?”

She swallows to wet her dry throat, answering softly, “Elizabeth Williams.”

Hadvar raises his eyebrow but scratches down the name. “And where do you hail from? High Rock?”

Elizabeth merely nodded her head, knowing that any other answer like, “Planet Earth,” or “Arizona,” would probably get her a trip to an interrogation chamber rather than waiting out here for the inevitable outcome.

He then waves for her to join the dark elf, no one thinking to bother untying them from each other before sending them to the block, apparently. As she steps up to her place, she searches the skies frantically for signs of Alduin. Unless her being here has changed things he should start heading over here soon. Hopefully, before they made her walk up for her turn.

She hadn’t realized how much she was shaking until the dark elf - Sundrose? - placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He leaned over slightly and whispered in her ear, “Don’t let them see your fear. Head up, little one.”

She exhaled harshly and nodded, squaring her shoulders as she resumed her search. That’s right, she’d be okay. This man next to her was the Dragonborn. She was going to live.

General Tullius walked towards Ulfric, his eyes burning with hatred and fanaticism.

“Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp the throne.”

Ulfric growls warningly from beneath his gag, but the General ignores him.

“You started this war, flung Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.”

Finally, the sound that Elizabeth had been waiting for rang through the skies. The far-off roar of a dragon.

Hadvar looked around nervously. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing. Carry on.” General Tullius snapped, eyes never moving from Ulfric.

Captain Bitch salutes him. “Yes, General Tullius!” She turns to the priestess they’ve so thoughtfully provided. “Give them their last rites.”

The drably clothed woman nods and turns towards the line of prisoners.

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the 8 divines upon you-”

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with,” one of the Stormcloak soldiers snaps and marches towards the chopping block. Elizabeth swallows nervously, because holy shit, was she really about to see someone decapitated?

The priestess stops and stammers, looking at the soldier with a mixture of confusion and pity. “As you wish.”

“Come on! I haven’t got all morning!” The soldier bellows. Some of his fellow soldiers snicker, not seeming surprised by this turn of events at all. He takes one last look at Ulfric and they share a nod before he drops to his knees and presses his face to that horribly stained wood.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

Elizabeth holds her breath as they step on the man to hold him down, and she watches in horror as the axe falls and -

A hand quickly grabs her head and turns it towards the side, and she finds shelter in the dark elf’s shoulder. Unfortunately, she could still hear the moment metal met flesh and the horrifying thud as they simply kicked the body to the side like trash.

“You Imperial bastards!” One of the Stormcloak’s yelled at the executioners, spitting into the dirt.

The gathered crowd of villagers were screaming a different tune - “Justice!” and “Death to the Stormcloaks!” were the most common. The first taste the game gave you of differing views and sides.

Ralof sighed and she peeked out of Sundrose’s arm to watch him stare proudly at the corpse. “As fearless in death as he was in life.”

Captain Bitch stood at attention, smirking gleefully at Sundrose. “Next, the dark elf!

The distant roar of a dragon grew closer.

You’re an asshole, Alduin, but right now I’d really like you to hurry and get here, she thought.

Hadvar dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, searching the skies himself.

“There it is again... did you hear that?”

Captain Bitch ignored him, too power-mad to pay attention to anything else.

“I said... Next. Prisoner.”

One of the Imperial soldiers grabs Sundrose’s arm, yanking him forward.

“To the block prisoner. Nice and easy.”

To her horror, they still hadn’t untied her, so she was pulled right along with him and expected to stand at his side as they executed him. She definitely wasn’t picking Imperials this playthrough.

Sundrose knelt gracefully, turning his head to face her.

“Close your eyes, little one,” he said softly, watching her as the headsman raised his axe.

“No need. He’s here,” she grinned, even as terror filled her at the very real Alduin flying close and landing on the stone building behind them. He roared, sending everyone around them into a panic.

“What in Oblivion is that?!” Hadvar yelled.

Elizabeth waited for Captain Bitch and the General to be caught up in the panic before reaching down to help Sundrose to his feet. They both stood there watching as Alduin set the little town ablaze, killing most of their would-be executioners instantly.

Suddenly Ralof appears and grabs Sundrose’s arm, tugging him towards one of the buildings.

“Come on! The guards won’t give us another chance! This way!”

They both run along after Ralof, with the still gagged Ulfric not far behind them. They rush into one of the still mostly intact buildings, slamming the door behind them. Ralof pulls a dagger off of one of the bodies inside, using it to slash all of their ropes. Elizabeth sighs and rubs her burning wrists in relief.

Ralof turns to Ulfric, his eyes wide in wonder - and though he would probably never admit it - a touch of fear.

“Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

Ulfric finishes untying his binds and spits out his gag. “Legends don’t burn down villages.”

Alduin’s roars outside rattle the building as he nears their location, all of them looking worriedly at the walls.

“We need to move, now!” Ralof bellows, gesturing for them to follow him upstairs.

They all run until they can’t anymore, finally facing a dead end. The rest of the stairs had been smashed off by Alduin, leaving nothing but a giant hole in the stone wall.

“See the inn on the other side?” Ralof asked, turning to the two behind him. “Jump through the roof and keep going! We’ll follow when we can!”

And here she was, the end of Skyrim chapter one. She startles as Sundrose suddenly jumps without a word. She rushes towards the hole, watching in awe as he neatly lands with a slight roll, before standing up and dusting himself off.

He looks up with a charming grin and reaches both of his arms out.

“Jump, little one. I’ll catch you.”

Elizabeth gulps and walks trepidly towards the edge. She steels herself by taking a few deep breaths, staring at Sundrose as she launches herself from the edge.

Time suddenly stood still as she registered the roar of the dragon was far too close for comfort. She could feel the sweltering breath as he opened his mouth, the stench of sulfur bringing tears to her eyes. Then came the scent of searing flesh as her pained screams filled the air. The last thing she heard was the cry of horror from the man below her.

She supposed as far as ways to die went, this was probably up there. Death by video game. That wasn’t a video game. And it wasn't a dream. Because she was in Skyrim and she was very, very, awake.

***

Imagine Serana finding you during a full moon.

Anon requested: “May I request a Serana (Skyrim) x Werewolf Male Reader? Reader is perhaps this lone wolf that lives out in the deep forests and knows how to defend himself without constantly having to rely on his form. Reader stumbles across Serana one night and they instantly click and become great friends. When a full moon comes out, reader goes crazy and afterwards is afraid she will judge him but she doesn’t and she slips her feelings for him and they get together, eventually they have a kid and happy life.”

.

This is a long fix.

The reader is NOT the Dragonborn. They are, however, acquainted with the DB.

D/b/n = Dragonborn’s name

~~~~~~~~

It was the sound of y/n’s woodpile falling over and quiet cursing that brought you outside. If he had lived in one of the cities he wouldn’t have bothered looking, but living in the wilderness outside Windhelm had taught y/n to be wary of strangers.

Y/n wasn’t an official resident, he just lived in the shambles of an old hut that had long since been abandoned. Sneaking out the back door (really just a hole in the wall covered by a bear fur), he found a person in a hood and cloak trying to be sneaky. The woodpile was scattered across the ground.

“Who in Shor’s bones are you?” The hooded figure looked up, and instantly y/n could tell what she was.

Vampire, the wolf inside him snarled. Y/n calmed it down and tightened the grip on his sword. The vampire held her hands up in a pacifying manner.

“My name is Serana. I’m looking for a vampire coven and was told that I could find help from a man named y/n.” Not good. Very few people knew y/n’s name, and even less knew his location.

“And who gave you that name?”

“D/b/n. Said they were cashing in on a favor to get you to help me.”

“Asshole.” Y/n sighed and ran a hand through his messy y/h/c locks. “Look, I do owe the soul sucker a favor. If they thought you needed my help, it’s probably serious.”

“It is. This coven stole an extremely powerful artifact from me and I need to get it back. Can you help me?” Y/n weighed the options in his head. On one hand, he could say no and go back to sleep. On the other hand, vampires with powerful magic things usually weren’t good news. A loud sigh escaped his mouth.

“...Fine. But it’s a one time deal, got it?”

“Thank you.” Little did y/n know that meeting Serana would set him on a whirlwind of an adventure, leading to the destruction of his shack and moving to Breezehome at d/b/n’s insistence.

<—>

A red full moon was a rare occurrence. And one that caused y/n much stress. Not because he was superstitious, but because (if legends were true) y/n would lose control of his werewolf and become feral for the night.

Which led him to his current problem: finding a suitable place to hide for the night. Or rather, getting away to find a hiding place.

“Serana, I’m serious. You need to stay here.” Y/n was gathering the last of his supplies he would need for the transformation tonight. Food, a spare set of clothes, his sword and armor, healing potions, and a small pouch of coins.

He wasn’t sure if he needed anything else for a Blood Moon transformation, but he was in a hurry. Y/n could already feel the sharp pains in his abdomen, warning him he would be turning soon. He hadn’t felt them since he was a child, and he certainly didn’t miss them. Maybe they were back because he hadn’t shifted into his werewolf form in almost three months.

“And what if you get hurt? This ‘task’ the Jarl gave you is bullshit.” If only she knew how right she was. There was no mission. It was the best excuse that y/n could come up with to leave Breezehome without Serana.

“Serana. If I felt like I couldn’t handle it, I would being you along. This is just a quick trip out of Whiterun and back. I’ll be home tomorrow.” Home and not a possible danger to you, y/n thought inside his mind. Serana just threw her hands up in frustration.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll stay here while you get your ass kicked. Just remember this when you say I was right.” Serana stormed off to her bedroom in the small home, and y/n set off to find a cave or the like to hide in.

Y/n passed out of the gates of the city, unaware he was followed by more than one set of eyes when he left the safety of Whiterun and traveled into the wilderness beyond.

<—>

“Die damn you!” The silver axe aimed at his head missed by a hair. Y/n rolled to the side and stabbed with his sword, cutting deep into the flesh of the Silver Hand member. Five others surrounded him, all carrying silver weapons and ready to put him down.

A sharp pain coursed through y/n, and he fell to one knee. The Silver Hand who had stabbed him retreated back, their sword bloodied and shining in the torchlight. Shit. Y/n tried to stand but one of the werewolf hunters slammed the hilt of their sword into the back of his head, causing his vision to swim.

Y/n dropped back to the ground and tried to crawl away. A leather boot connected with his ribs, sending y/n tumbling to his side. He was struggling to breath at this point, and the stab wound and his pounding head weren’t helping.

“Shit.” Y/n coughed up blood, out of healing potions and having no skill in Restoration magicks. The leader of the werewolf hunters raised their sword above y/n’s head.

Normally the Silver Hand (or any enemy) wasn’t a problem for y/n. He could avoid them easily enough. Of course, y/n wasn’t usually struggling to contain the beast within. And he usually had a certain vampire companion to watch his back.

Not that she knew he was a werewolf. Just like she wouldn’t know where to find his body. Just like she wouldn’t know y/n loved her.

The thought sent a cold chill down y/n’s spine with a grim realization. He was going to die. He’d die alone in a small dark hole without telling Serana how he felt.

“Time to die, beast!” Y/n closed his eyes and waited for cold silver to separate his head from his neck.

CR-AC-K. The sound of lightning cut through the air life a hot knife through butter. The leader toppled over, the life literally shocked out of him. Y/n spared a glance through his blurry vision, and a small smile appeared on his face.

Serana was terrifying in her fury. She wielded her magic like the master she was, sending the Silver Hand flying with lightning while slashing with the ebony dagger y/n had gifted her.

The fight was over in moments. The Silver Hand might be ready for werewolves, but vampires were a completely different story. All six hunters laid dead upon the floor, Serana surrounded by their corpses. Y/n was relieved that Serana was alright.

The relief quickly left y/n when he realized what Serana has done. She had followed him here with the intention of spying on him. She hadn’t believed y/n’s story for a second. And y/n was going to be turning to his beast form very soon.

“You followed me.” Y/n’s voice broke the silence, pain and a bit of disbelief laced in his voiced. Serana walked over to y/n and helped him to sit up.

“Does it bother you that I’m here?” Serana cupped y/n’s face in her hands, and y/n was grateful for the cool contact against his pounding head.

“No, I—” A sharp pain seized through y/n, and an inhuman growl left his throat. Was he already turning this quickly? “Serana, you need to leave.”

“While you lay here bleeding out? Not a chance.” Another growl escaped y/n, louder than the first. Serana’s face knit together in confusion, but she didn’t leave.

“Serana, go.” The desperation was clear as day in y/n’s voice, but the vampire refused to leave.

“No.”

“I...said...GO!” The last word left y/n’s mouth in a roar, and he was unable to hold the transformation back any longer. A howl ripped through the air and darkness overtook y/n’s vision.

‘I’m sorry, Serana.’

<—>

“...y/n...”

“...get up...guards...”

The y/h/c haired werewolf opened his eyes, the wooden timbers above him unfamiliar. Sitting up slowly, y/n winced as a dull ache ran through his bones. Then everything came rushing back to him.

The Blood Moon. Silver Hand. Transforming. Serana.

Was she okay? Y/n didn’t remember hurting her, but then again he didn’t remember anything from after his transformation last night. Just the sight of the moon hanging low and heavy in the sky like a pool of blood and the wolf side of himself howling at its freedom.

There was the sound of someone moving around in the adjoining room. Could it be...?

“Serana?” Y/n winced at how rough and scratchy his voice was. The sounds from the next room paused.

“Y/n?” The vampire came into the small room, and y/n reached for her. Serana pulled back, anger written on her face.

“You’re a werewolf.” The sharpness of her voice caused y/n to wince.

“...Surprise?”

“Surprise? Really y/n! You lied to me, nearly died, and all you say is surprise?”

“I didn’t think—” Serana cur y/n off before he could continue.

“No, of course you didn’t! I’m a vampire y/n. I’ve lived for well over 4,000 years old! You could have told me you were leaving because of the Blood Moon! I would have understood! Instead I follow you and find you half dead, barely conscious, and then you turn into a werewolf!” Serana threw her hands up in the air, walking over to the window and resting her hands on the sill.

“Do you know how I would have felt if you died? It would have destroyed me. I love you, you hard-headed idiot.” The proclamation was quiet, as if meant only for Serana. Y/n heard it all the same and his heart raced.

“Serana, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you’d react if you knew and I—I never expected you to stay for as long as you did.” Y/n took a deep breath, then stood up and with unsteady steps walked to join Serana by the window. He took her hand in his. “I love you. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be alone again after meeting you.”

“Y/n, you are possibly the most impossible man I have ever met.” Her hand tightened around his, cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you ever pull something like that again I’m going to find you and beat you senseless myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

<—>

“So you’re telling me this child asked you to kill an orphanage matron, and you did it?” Serana followed her husband through the winding streets of Windhelm, watching for patches of ice. It had been four years since the events of the Blood Moon, and a few months ago she and y/n had finally gotten married.

“Yes.” Y/n slid on a small patch of ice, but caught himself before he fell.

“And you want to...adopt him?”

“Yes.” A large gust of wind caused the couple to tighten their cloaks about them.

“May I ask why exactly? I know we’ve talked about adopting a child, but...” Y/n turned to face Serana and took her hand.

“Serana, he’s all alone in an abandoned house. He needs somebody to take care of him.”

“Fine. But if he says no then we listen to him. I don’t want him to send the Dark Brotherhood our way.”

“Here we are.” Serana has to admit, the small house above the river was rather dreary. Everything in this city was, but there was something about this house.

Y/n opened the door, quiet as a mouse, and walked up the stairs to the second floor. There was a shivering child curled up in a makeshift bed, and the sight gnawed at Serana’s heart.

“Aventus Aretino.” Y/n’s voice was loud in the cold room. The child shot up like lightning with a knife in his hand, calming down a little when he saw y/n.

“It’s you! But I didn’t contact the Brotherhood...why are you back? And who’s she?” Y/n kept his expression neutral, Serana following suit as the child glanced at her.

“You said you’d go back to Honorhall. It’s been three months since that time.” Aventus fidgeted in his spot, drawing the threadbare blanket closer around his shoulders.

“I know I said I’d go back, but...it doesn’t feel right! I can’t go back. Nobody would want me anyway.” It was now that Serana felt her heart break a little more. She could relate to being alone. All those years in the dark...

“You don’t have to, Aventus.” Serana’s voice held a tenderness that was rare to her. The boy turned to the vampire, confusion on his face.

“Then why are you here?” Y/n took a step forward and knelt down in front of Aventus. The boy seemed paler, and a bit too much on the skinny side for his age.

“This is my wife, Serana. We wanted to ask you—if you were comfortable with it—if you wanted to come with us.” Serana went to stand next to y/n, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But we would be happy if you did.”

“You’re—you’re serious?” Y/n smiled and held out a hand to Aventus.

“I swear it on the Night Mother.” Aventus suddenly lunged forward and hugged y/n’s neck tightly. Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes! Yes! When can we go?” Y/n laughed and wrapped his arms around Aventus. The sight warmed Serana’s heart.

“Right now if you like. Here, take my cloak. It’s cold out.” The three departed from the house and left the city, headed back towards the warmer climate of Whiterun.

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

I FINALLY GOT SKYRIM MARRIED

i have a BEAUTIFUL WIFE

...who i went through a lot of shit for. this is. a lot of exposition, bear with me :’) im very invested in my character’s personal story here

so astrid had a very important special job for me and sent me to markarth to speak with the client directly

it turned out to be the apothecary’s assistant, who i was passingly familiar with already, so i imagine it was a bit of a surprise to both of us, but she got right to the point - a man broke her heart and ruined her life, used her to hurt the people close to her, abandoned her to go become a bandit, now she wants him dead

u can probably imagine where this is going,

this is the first time ive had a dark brotherhood job i was legitimately PSYCHED to carry out, you BET ill go fuck this guy up for you id do this for free

however, she also had... another request, one that wasn’t required, but something she really, really wanted

see she was very close with/practically another daughter to the shatter-shields in windhelm, the wealthy family who recently lost a daughter to the windhelm butcher

alain had manipulated her and used her to get to the shatter-shields, i dont remember if he stole from them or what happened there, but whatever it was, the shatter-shields blamed muiri for this and disowned her, throwing her out onto the streets with nothing

so she was used and had her heart broken by a man she loved, then was told it was Her Fault, and lost her home and her friends/the closest thing to family she had all at once, and was so hurt and desperate she turned to the dark brotherhood to get revenge on them all

she wanted me to kill nilsine too, the shatter-shields’ other daughter

SO we have this really complicated situation where, on the one hand, she wants alain dead for using her and ruining her life and hurting her friends, and like, he’s a bandit leader now, so he’s someone i probably would’ve easily killed off anyway, by “this is a video game not real life”/skyrim standards that’s a no brainer, i have no moral conflict with that and can’t wait to slash this guy’s head off

but on the other hand she’s so broken she wants a woman who used to be her best friend/practically her sister dead too. i dont know what nilsine’s role in this was specifically but these people were essentially her family, and they victim blamed her when she needed their support the most and threw her out with nothing and nowhere to go

and i had already done quests with the shatter-shields before this, so like, i know them too, and they’re sort of friends to me, i helped solve the mystery of their other daughter’s murder and now I’m being asked to kill the other. not to mention everyone’s going to think the butcher’s back/there’s a copycat killer/something and it’s gonna cause a panic again (even if the game doesn’t acknowledge that/directly show that happening, y’know) 

killing someone’s daughter when they’re still in mourning over the first, when they’ve come to trust you, when you’re the one who helped them gain closure over that first death already, is just. a stone cold thing to do

especially looking at it from my character’s perspective, she’d be especially torn on this because she’s a mother herself, but her children are girls she rescued from the streets - lucia was thrown away by her family, sofie was a victim of tragedy and was let down by the people in authority who should have protected and helped her

so medea would relate to tova as a mother and a friend but also relate powerfully with muiri as a victim in this

ultimately i don’t think there’s any real justification to kill nilsine here, i dont think you can really morally defend that, but. i was so drawn to muiri and wanted so badly to give her a shot at a better life and help her heal from all this, and knew she would become a marriage option if i did it bc id seen her name on the marriage options list before, her story fits in so well with medea’s, and like, i dont imagine im gonna have a lot of options for wives who would Know about my connection to the dark brotherhood/the things ive done and be okay with it, so if i went with her, there wouldn’t be a “keeping this horrible secret from my wife” aspect to deal with even though the game probably doesn’t acknowledge it if you do (i mean im still. keeping it from my kids, but. y’know. when they’re older)

and “talk this out with her and help her see how badly her mind’s been warped by the pain she’s been through” isn’t an option given to you, so

in the end i went through with it. killing alain was easy, just like any other bandit camp raid, but to get at nilsine without being caught, i had to sneak into their house when the family was asleep

which i expected would involve a lot of careful sneaking and laborious lock picking

until i realized i could just walk right in

because the door was already unlocked for me. because they consider me a friend and allow me into their home

and that somehow made it so much worse

i killed nilsine with an arrow, nobody heard a thing, and i ran for it before anyone saw me in there or realized what had happened

muiri gave me a special ring as a “symbol of her affection” for doing this, which i think is about the biggest sign i coulda hoped for lmao

i held off on considering marriage for the time though and finally decided i had to go back to windhelm to see if there was anything i could do to make amends to the shatter-shields even though they shouldn’t know it was me/make sure i didnt get seen by a guard without realizing it or something (though it wouldn’t probably matter anyway, guards saw me leave the orphanage immediately after grelod’s death and shrugged that off, so,)

my name’s still clear in windhelm, but...

tova committed suicide after she discovered what happened

she couldn’t cope with losing another daughter

so now the father is the only one left, coping with. the death of his entire family occurring within like a couple months

i didnt see what happened here i came back later so i dont know if this is something you can possibly stop or if its possible to witness the moment they find nilsine or tova’s suicide or if this just Inevitably happens whenever you come back

i feel terrible about this but theres. not really any going back now,

so. i went back to muiri

i dont know if this is what everyone says or not but her response was just. “i mean, yeah, why wouldn’t I be” i love her lmao

i wouldnt choose to get married in riften if it was up to me but thats how it be in skyrim i guess

my babies are here!!!! what!!!!

and a. random guy i dont recognize lmao :’)

just wandered in to see what was going on i guess. or maybe we’re friends and i forgot who he is entirely which would be kind of sad :’ )

maybe it was my long lost father... slipped out before i ever had the chance to realize it

however i actually. ended up doing this scene twice because, fun fact, there’s a glitch where if you don’t manage to catch up to your spouse to talk about where to live before they leave the chapel they can just fucking Disappear sometimes, :’  ) i couldnt find her anywhere after the wedding and finally looked it up and apparently she just fell into the void so i had to reload and run it again. we’re double married now

planned better this time and dressed better but anyway that elf guy didn’t appear this time but some other guy did, who i ALSO cant quite identify, he looks. maybe. kind of like lucas valerian? who is actually a friend to me and was one of the first friends i made so it’d decently make sense for him to come to my wedding, but weird if he came and camilla didn’t, and im not even sure thats him anyway, so i dont know what happened here all around

muiri’s mentor lady came too though which was sweet

im spinning this kind of as... like, medea was so drawn to her and felt so strongly for her she couldn’t bring herself to disappoint her and this was an eye opener for them both as a kind of. “look what kind of people we’ve let ourselves become” and their marriage as a new beginning, love coming from a place of desperation and darkness, starting over and hoping that the divines will forgive what they’ve done

medea’s not leaving the brotherhood but i mmmmmight try to be a little more careful about who i kill

i had intended for her to come live with me in markarth, she’s in on my. assassin life so having kind of this Other Side to my life made sense but... she met my kids at the wedding i guess and she wanted to live with them... which is really cute,

it feels really weird having this huge fancy house all to myself (and uh. argis, i guess) in markarth and having my wife and kids (and lydia, and a fox) all squished into the honestly kinda run-down whiterun house though i think im gonna work on getting the solitude house for them bc its. safer there than in markarth i feel like and ive heard thats like the fanciest/biggest house

there she is..... my Wife

she also sells things now but i feel bad accepting it when she gives me “my share” of the profit like.... babe thats your money i have so much adventuring money and i didnt do shit to help earn that,

i buy things from her sometimes but i refuse to sell her stuff bc i dont want to take any more of her money :’ )

even tho it. doesnt really matter, its video games, i know, but

found lucia, the fox, and muiri all on the bed at once

lydia was just standing like this for a rly long time after muiri moved in i guess she was suspicious but chilled out eventually :’)

gettin along finally

i just realized if we move to solitude lydia’s gonna get left behind though :(

i mean ill still come visit her but. upsetting

my one issue is that muiri still keeps saying “thank you for solving my-....problem.” every time i come in speaking distance of her which is. weird given that its the same line she had before we were married, like, she apparently doesnt get any new things to say, and is Really repetitive (imagine living in a small space with your partner and they say the same sentence with the same intonation every time you step within like 2 feet of them. how long til that gets old, do you think, ) and also its just like??? girl let that go we gotta stop dwelling on this or the kids are gonna start questioning what apparently massively important problem mommy solved

idk why she was laying on the floor but anyway my kids have started calling her “mama” now too and im not crying or anything

Snakestone & Haar Go for a Walk

The thrilling yarn of Haar and Snakestone (none other than the incredible character of @mrsnakestone) walking down the road in Whiterun, then back up it again.

—– 

The first snowflakes of autumn had been falling since morning, frosting the tips of every blade of grass in Whiterun, delicately perching on the conifers, and melting on the paving stones. The guard was more active than usual and the townsfolk were scarce outdoors, as if there were a madman on the loose. The reality was much less sinister, the watchmen were pacing extra distance to keep warm, anxious to return home to prepare their winter attire before their next shift, meanwhile their families were huddled inside, drinking something warm no doubt.

Two men made their way down the lonely street. The first, a tall black-maned lion of a man, clad in plate-reinforced black leather, led the way toking his pipe every three or four steps. The slightly taller, much rounder, bare-chested lummox strode behind him with an impeccable swagger as if there were anyone else to see it. One brave shopkeeper was their only company, hastily moving her produce out from under their blankets and into her handcart and back indoors. The lummox swiped a carrot from the market stall and, only after a sharp kick to the shin from the other man, tossed a few Septims to the scowling shopkeeper. He took a bite of the carrot and chewed with great labor, eventually swallowing and coughing. "Fuckin' forgot I hate these things."

"You could use the veggies, Haar," his companion said. "You know you could do with less of that blubber. I was almost proud of you for picking that up."

Haar let out a booming laugh from his stomach that echoed off the city's walls. "And you could lay off the pipe you blacklung. Look at me, I'm Snakestone. AKH! AKH!" he mimicked in his best impression of a suffocating Argonian, with the carrot shoved between his lips like an orange cigar.

Snakestone chuckled quietly, trying not to rasp and wheeze in an effort not to sound like his friend's mockery of him. "Yeah yeah, you're just jealous you left your pipe at home. Ya know I never see you enjoying that- I made that special for you, you ungrateful-"

"Well of course, I enjoy earthly pleasures in moderation."

"You? Moderation?"

"Yeah yeah, fine, you got me.

"...And, uh, I don't have a wife that knows Restoration, so-"

Snakestone perked up, "Oh? You saying you got a wife now? You didn't have the ceremony without me, did you?"

"Nah, you know it ain't like that." Haar finished the remainder of the carrot in one bite and discarded the stem, struggling to down the wretched thing. "All that binds us is a business contract. She does the planning, I do the killing."

"Ha! Business contract my foot. You know Mara frowns upon such uncouth unions." Snakestone took the pipe out of his mouth and mockingly judged him with his eyes. "Well, when you two decide to do things proper, you best not forget-"

"Best not forget to have you stand up as my best man. I know, I know, as if it would ever be anyone else."

"You're damn right." Snakestone returned the pipe to his lips and drew in deep, leaving smoke rings trailing behind him as the pair continued down the empty street. They both stopped in front of a brazier near the gate, remaining silent for a while. Snakestone did a number on his pipeweed, meanwhile Haar absorbed all the warmth he could from the crackling fire against his exposed torso. Despite how he carried himself, he was bothered that every successive winter felt colder and colder to him. Must come with age, he thought, not that it brought him any comfort. And he surely wasn't about to let anyone know about it.

The two remained like this long after the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, until Snakestone broke the silence. "Here, before I forget." He took a coin purse out of his satchel and dumped some coins into his hands. "Your half."

"Bah, keep it. You've got two gremlins to feed. Besides, you took the contract, the jarl was paying you."

"Haar, buddy, don't tell me you don't deserve something for that performance."

"You're the one that drove your sword into that mage. He was the one with the bounty on his head."

"Maybe, but you know very well we would have had an uphill battle if it weren't for you throwing the little guy into the rest of the group."

Haar cracked up, finally failing to contain his stifled pride. "Fuckin' never gets old."

Snakestone clapped him on the back to distract him from the small pile of Septims he slipped into Haar's boot. To his surprise, he didn't seem to notice. "Well, what ever you say buddy. By Shor, it's gotten late."

"I know!" Haar growled. "And I haven't had a drink since supper."

"To the Mare?"

"To the Mare!"

The men made their way back up the main street. Not another soul had come outside the entire time, the city had entered its first deep sleep of the winter. As they reached the stairs up to the inn, Haar stopped and shook his left foot at Snakestone, causing an audible jingle.

"I'm buying."

Skyrim AU

Born in the city of whiterun Toshinori Yagi, a redguard, had a simple childhood. He didn't have much with his parents but he did have a good sense of justice and what was right or wrong at a young age. He wanted to be a pillar that the people could depend on and shine a light through the darkness. He knew a few basic spells such as fire, a shield and healing before the loss of his parents at the age of 5. He wasn't even home when it happened but from what he could hear from the guards was that a small group of bandits had broken into the home for anything they could loot and when Yagi's parents wouldn't hand the items over to them they had been what could be best described as slaughtered before the house was set ablaze to try and destroy the evidence. Two bodies were recovered from the rubble but they were unrecognizable, the young redguard feeling his whole world being shattered.

This wasn't fair why did this have to happen?! Surely the guard would do something about it right?! Unfortunately since there wasn't any evidence left to pin the crime on anyone the case had to be dropped and it left the young boy all alone with an aching hole in his chest. He vowed to one day bring those criminals to justice for what they had done before he was found by the are and sent to the local orphanage to live there. In his time there he would practice his simple spells of fire, shield and healing to make them better and stronger then ever,feeling anger and resentment bubble up inside him. He knew this wasn't good for a future hero to be holding onto these feelings so he did his best to try and let them go and with time the anger and resentment faded from his heart but the urge to bring them to justice remained.

He ran away from the local orphanage when he had just turned 8 yrs old,wanting to see the world and start his journey onto becoming the pillar that people needed. The young boy knew it wouldn't be easy but this was something he was determined to do and nothing would change his mind about it. Being able to pull together enough money for a simple sword and shield along with a bag of provisions Yagi had left the town of whiterun and started his journey into becoming a symbol of hope.

The years had quickly passed by and soon the young boy grew into a young adolescent, going by the alias All Might. People were already talking about him and his small heroic acts in smaller towns when he met his future master, a Nord woman by the name of Nana shimura. He had rushed into a fiery blaze to save the people trapped inside when he had ran into her after he himself got stuck inside the burning building trying to save the people inside. When he was asked why he was doing these heroic acts across skyrim this is what he told her.

"I want to be the symbol of hope and be able to make this land a place where people can smile without worry. I want to be able to give them somebody to look up to and know that everything is going to be ok when they hear my name All Might. I want to help those in need that are unable to help themselves and give them the justice they deserve when bad things happen to them."

A small smile spread across the nord woman's face at the teenage redguards answer before she simply held out her hand and said "then come with me young one and I will help you make your dream a reality."

Toshinori quickly grew to view Nana and her friend that went by the alias 'Torino' as his new family and it brought him comfort. He didn't think he would be able to have a family again after the death of his parents but life has a funny way of working for you. He often asked about the nature of nana's sword she wielded but she never gave him a straight answer, only telling him "when the time comes I will tell you" whenever he brought the subject up after training sessions. A few years passed by and before he knew it Toshinori was all grown up, his hair swept back into a bunny like hairstyle as he looked out upon the world with confidence and strength. Like he could take on anything and would come out on top. "Toshinori I think you are ready for this.." Nana spoke one day and turned her sword over to the redguard. "I.. I don't understand mo- master.." Toshi whispers softly as he grips the sword in his hands,feeling the energy that was stored up inside it tingling his hands.

"I know you don't. It's finally time for me to tell you the story behind this sword and how I came to carry it. The sword that has been dubbed by its holders as 'one for all'..."

And that is when toshinori learned the secret behind his master's might and the truth behind this powerful sword. There were two brothers and one of them was a powerful wizard while the younger brother was a simple blacksmith that made weaponry. The older brother robbed and took advantage of others under the illusion that he was helping them. In reality he was just simply taking what he wanted when he wanted,trying to mold the world into his image. When the younger brother saw the dark path his brother was going down he knew he had to do something to stop him so he forged a sword from ebony and grabbed a simple shield and armor before he went to challenge his brother. To stop him from wreaking havoc upon the world. The two brothers fought with the older one emerging victorious and leaving his brother for dead,the younger sibling slowly bleeding out on the ground but smiled softly as he saw the blade he had created had become charged with some of his brothers magic. Thinking that one day the sword would become powerful enough to stop his brother he poured the little magic he had left into the blade before handing the blade off to the person that found him then told them this with his final breath

"Make this blade stronger and as powerful as it can be before challenging my brother. A monster like that can't be allowed to roam free in this world. If you are unable to complete this task then pass it along to the next person you deem worthy and tell them these words as well. One day this sword, 'one for all', will be powerful enough to challenge and defeat my brother, All For One. When the task is done I will finally be able to rest in peace..."

And with those final words the younger brother left the world,leaving the fate of the newly forged sword and his brother to the future generations.

"And that is the story behind the blade and how it was created. I do not need to tell you the fates of the previous holders of this legendary blade as they all met their end by this man. I want you to know this toshinori. If anything should happen to me when I go to challenge All For One I want you to become the next bearer of One For All and become that symbol of hope that everyone needs. I know you can do it and you'll be a amazing successor to this sword's might!"

Another year passed by to train toshinori with his new blade before he, nana and Torino went off to challenge All For One. That was the last time the redguard ever saw his master, the woman he grew to love like a mother.

The sorcerer proved to be too much for the nord woman to defeat so with a smile and her final strength, the woman shoved the sword 'one for all' into Toshinori's arms before shoving him to Torino and telling her friend to get him to safety, hearing the boy screaming out for her. "I leave it all to you All Might!!" she called out,pulling out a second sword and with a smile charged at the sorcerer while the two fled the scene,not having to look back to know what had happened to Nana shimura.

When they eventually returned to the scene all that remained of her was the purple cape she always wore, slightly torn and under some rubble as the redguard screamed out in pain and agony at the loss of his master. That feeling of anger and resentment bloomed inside his heart again but also a new feeling joined them this time at this new loss for the redguard. RAGE. He did not want these new feelings to go away anytime soon, he used this feelings to push himself harder then before and get stronger like she had wanted him to be and to become that symbol of hope for everyone. Along the way to his goal of being that symbol he had made many connections and friendships, one of them being his best friend that was a wood elf by the name of David Shield. A young and very strong wizard himself the two had met when the young elf had been cornered by thugs wanting to use him for his knowledge and power. Toshinori didn't trust David at first since he didn't have good experiences with wizards but the wood elf was patient and showed the redguard so many new things and new spells to learn in their time together. When it was time to part ways the young wizard gave his new friend a set of ebony armor he had enchanted himself to protect him in his journey. Toshinori waves goodbye to his new friend before putting on the armor and continued his journey, the two promising to keep in touch.

Time continued to move forward for toshinori and soon everyone knew the name All Might. They knew that name meant that there would be justice for those who did wrong and he would protect the innocent. It brought a smile to his face as after all these years he had finally achieved his dream of becoming the symbol of hope.He had a shield made for him with a black rim,red wood,and two dragons etched into its wood. A yellow Dragon and a purple Dragon in honor of his late master while he had her old cape tied around his waist as a part of his outfit. He looked down at his sword one day and that dormant rage he had locked away over the years started to come back to the surface. He knew in his heart that it was his turn now. It was his turn to take on the sorcerer All For One.

He knew that All For One was powerful so he didn't face him head on at first. Instead he searched and took down the empire he had built over the years. Slowly but surely the evil sorcerer's empire fell to his might, the redguard being determined to avenge his master and end this sorcerer’s madness. Soon the time came when the symbol of hope stood before All For One with his blade gripped tightly in his hands, his knuckles white and teeth clenched tight as blue eyes stared down the sorcerer.

“so you're the new bearer of the sword that was created by me and my younger brother? I do indeed remember you All Might. I remember seeing you there as I destroyed the last holder of that sword. She was a pathe-”

“she was a true hero don't you DARE taint her name you monster!! I have come to avenge her and finally bring you to justice!!” The redguard roared out, his rage consuming him whole as he charged at the sorcerer who only sighed before getting ready to fight.

“I really thought we could have talked more All Might. Oh well if you're in such a hurry to fight me and meet your demise I will gladly grant that wish..”

And so All Might and All For One clashed in a battle that truly was fit for legend. The two of them fought for what seemed like an eternity until All Might slowly emerged from the rubble of the battlefield, beaten and bloody but what he thought to be victorious. Using the blade as a crutch the redguard limped away from the battlefield to seek aid for his wounds as he was too weak to use his own healing spells, not noticing that the evil sorcerers fingers started to twitch. It would seem that this great evil would not be defeated so easily…

Toshinori smiled softly at his victory and felt he had avenged his master and she could rest in peace as he had stumbled onto Torino's doorstep before passing out, the mentor helping the symbol inside and start to nurse him back to health. The days turned to weeks which then turned to months, the hero having suffered numerous injuries but thankfully was still alive. Torino was furious at him for going alone to fight All For One but simply shook his head and told him

“toshinori someone like All For One cannot be defeated so easily. You may be the first bearer of One For All that's been able to go against him head on but it doesn't mean that this war is over. It just means we won this battle for now. He will come back one day. In this time of peace now that he has been stopped for now it would be best to search for a successor to the blade in case the worst comes to pass when he does return…”

5 years had passed since that fight and since he had heeded his mentor's words. He could feel the change in the air as he was on the hunt for a new bearer of the sword One For All. A change that meant that new challenges would come and need to be faced head on. Gripping the blade tight in a scarried hand, blue eyes looked down on the city of Riften as it was his new home now, determined to find a worthy successor to the blade ‘One For All’ before time ran out and the sorcerer All For One would rise again to try and take back what was once his..

Ooc: wooooohhhh I finally finished the skyrim Au! Hope that you all like this backstory cause I'm really proud of this one!👍❤😊

“So glad you didn’t die”

(Alt title: chasing butterflies

So this is the first draft of a chapter of a story I’m writing for a friend, using some of our Skyrim characters! There might be (quite a few) of errors (for example, Edre might’ve mentioned her age incorrectly- she’s 54, not 43), But I will B

Word count: 3,420

Summary: after following an imperial legion cart full of prisoners, Edre is certain of one thing: that blond girl is important. So when a dragon attacks Helgen, Edre sees her chance. Run in, and take the girl. What she wasn’t expecting was for this girl to be a total dumbass.

******

Something about that little Breton girl was important. Even from her hiding spot Edre could tell she was unique. She was the only girl on that cart, for one, and she seem genuinely confused. As two of the criminals bantered on, the girl simply looked at her surroundings. It was amusing, the way she tried to get her surroundings. Knowing where she was going, she wouldn’t have any use for her awareness. Edre pulled her hood over her head, her body shimmering before it completely disappeared. Chameleon was a powerful spell, and one she used to its fullest advantage.

She continued following the cart for a while, until they pulled into the walls of Helgen. While she could jump and creep along the wall tops, her enchantments worked best when she was in dense areas. So instead she waited outside, watching as well as she could. If she climbed the right area she could see inside, but not very well. Eventually she gave up and just waited outside.

The only plus side to where she hid was that she was the first to see the dragon flying towards the hills.

Oh yes, it was undeniable; that was a dragon, flying straight towards the city. She wanted to run inside, interrupt the execution, take the Breton girl, and run… but this would be a far better distraction. So she saw the dragon flying forward, landing on the tower.

And she heard the dragon’s first shout, opening the sky to a torrent of flames. The second the dragon shouted, Edre took off sprinting, clutching her hood to her head as she dashed inside. She skidded to a stop at the execution block, but there was nobody there. Everybody had scattered. Although it was smart, it made Edre’s life a helluva lot harder.

She looked around for any sign of the blond Breton, clinging to her hood nervously as she scanned the area. Then she saw her. She was jumping out a window, brushing right past the dragon. The dragon, presumably stunned, just backed up and flew away. The Breton girl rolled, and was engulfed by the house she landed in. Edre groaned and ran forward. She almost made it to the girl, when some imperial dog started yelling at her to follow. That was just annoying and unnecessary.

Edre tracked after them for some time, until they ended up In a small alleyway under the dragon. The woman was about to follow after the imperial kid, but finally Edre had her chance. She wrapped a hand around her body, pulling her back. “Follow me,” Edre hissed as she dragged her away. The woman didn’t really fight back, save for a small whine.

Eventually they found a small corner to hide in. Edre pulled her hood off, grumbling. Up close, calling the woman a “woman” seemed generous. She looked young; crazy young, no older than twenty. And her eyes blazed with childlike energy. Edre groaned. This was gonna be fun. Just as she was about to explain everything, the young woman spoke up.

“So, Are you the next person that’s planning on trying to save me?” She asked, crossing her arms. Edre could already feel her patience running thin.

“Yes… yes I am. And if you follow me, we can make it out before anybody notices you’re missing—“

“Well I wanna go with Ralof. We were being carted away to our death together. Why didn’t you speak up then, anyways? You aren’t some… thalmor spy, are you?”

“By the nine… chill out, kid!” Edre pinched the bridge of her nose. She had been dealing with the worst headache, and this kid chattering on and on wasn’t helping. “Listen. I’m not a thalmor agent, and I didn’t try to save you for reasons. I value my life. And if you value yours, you’d follow me.”

“You look like a red guard. Are you a red guard?” The girl asked as Edre grabbed her hand. Edre instead pulled her along without another word, actually biting her tongue to keep from snapping at her. She’d heard of being “young and dumb”, but this girl took it to a whole new level.

The dragon roared above them, shooting out a jet of flames right beside them. Some poor imperial soldier got caught in the fire, burned to a crisp almost instantly. Edre sucked in a short breath. How fun.

The second the flames started to subdue, Edre started running with the girl in tow. They both sprinted across the road to the next safe spot to catch their breath. Then the next, and the next, up until they came to the prison keep. Some blond guy was yelling at a person in imperial armour, before he noticed the girl. He tried to wave her over, before the imperial man tried to get her attention. Edre swore under her breath, tightening her grip on the girl.

“Do you trust me? I can get you out of here, right now… if you trust me.” Edre took her hand off the girl, opening her calloused palm. She offered her hand to the girl. “Please.”

“You never even told me your name, or if you’re a redguard or what. I’m going with Ralof.” The girl turned around, and promptly ran away. It was then Edre noticed her hands were still bound together. She groaned. Now she was going to have to make some grand escape. She fucked up, big time.

Reaching into her bag, Edre pulled out an invisibility potion. She popped the cork off, drinking it quickly. She recoiled at the taste. Potions always sucked, save for healing potions. But they worked, and soon Edre found herself losing all colour before she simply faded away. And after that, it was as easy as sprinting to the gates and getting out.

Edre came to a stop by a rock outside the gates. There was a loud crash, followed by some crackling and screaming. People were still trapped inside. Edre shook her head, sitting down by the rock. Her lungs were sore, as were her legs. Her hands kept shaking.

“Holy shit… that actually just happened…” Edre whispered, closing her fingers into a fist. She felt she didn’t have enough strength to do even that, as if she was on the verge of passing out.  Slowly she could feel her breath coming back to her in short, quick puffs.

As the time passed, Edre could feel her strength returning to her. Eventually, she felt strong enough to actually stand up and move to a better hiding place. She soon found herself by a cave, where faint shouts could be heard. At least there would be people, even if they did end up hostile. Edre took a spot between two trees, pulling her hood down and placing a hand on her sword.

The time ticked by, and the shouts grew louder, until they turned into talking. Finally, after what seemed like forever, two people walked out. It was that blond man, and the woman. Edre’s breath caught in her throat; she was right there! They suddenly scurried to hide behind a rock, and there was a ground shaking roar. The dragon circled around them, before it flew away towards the mountains. The two people came out from hiding and exchanged a few words. Then, the man jogged away, leaving the woman alone. She fell to the ground with a sigh. Edre crept from her hiding place, somehow remaining undetected right until she was next to the woman.

“Well… glad you’re alive.”

“WHAT IN THE—“ The woman nearly jumped back, a small spark igniting in her palms before it flickered away. She let out a sigh of relief. “oh, it’s just… you… hi there, I’m surprised you’re alive.” The woman laughed weakly.

“I could say the same for you. I’m surprised you took such a long way.” Edre smirked, pulling the hood off her face. “Though, what can I say? The empire and the stormcloaks are both pretty dumb. They didn’t even know how to handle a dragon.”

“Oh, and you do?” The woman retorted with a huff. Edre laughed, mostly at her.

“That’s the thing, I don’t either. But I wouldn’t have tried to fight. I would’ve done so many things differently.”

“...fine, sure. Whatever you say, creepy old lady.” The woman crossed her arms.

“I’m not that old. Anyways, looks like we’re stuck together, and seeing as you actually survived, introductions are in order. I’m Edre. Thane of Whiterun, adventurer, mercenary, companion, and merchant in training. Oh, I also actively fight against the empire, the stormcloaks, and the thalmor. All at once!”

“So… you’re a mad woman?” The woman tilted her head. It was enough to get Edre to chuckle.

“You could say. Who are you?” Edre crossed her arms, her armor clinking together. The woman huffed again.

“Well, if you must know, I’m Zinnia. I’m a mage. I do magic. Now can I please get going?” The woman—Zinnia— stood up. Edre hummed.

“Nope. You’re coming with me. Like I said, we’re stuck together. Something about you has intrigued my associates, and they wish to talk to you. So come on. It’s a long walk.”

“But I never agreed. Therefore, I’m not going.” Zinnia crossed her own arms, turning her head. Edre sighed loudly.

“Let’s go… I don’t have all day.” Edre started to walk away, only to notice Zinnia was keeping her promise of not coming. Edre forced a smile. “If you follow me, we can get to wherever you’re going. Trust me.”

“I mean, I don’t trust you… I’ll come with you, but only if you walk first.” Zinnia raised an eyebrow. “Deal..?”

Edre could feel the pounding in her skull. This brat really made her want to tear her hair out. But instead, she forced another smile.

“Sounds perfect. Where do you need to go?” She asked through slightly gritted teeth. She was about one snarky comment away from snapping.

“I need to go to Riverwood. Then probably Whiterun.” Zinnia waved her hand around, signaling for Edre to start walking. The Breton woman sighed loudly again and took the lead, walking down the beaten path.

Was it possible she had made a mistake? What if this random brat wasn’t some important person? What if she was just some random brat Edre found at the wrong place? Edre shook her head slightly, trying to push those doubts away. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the thoughts. Eventually, Edre found a place of piece in her mind. All thinking ceased for her, silence filling her mind. Oh, blissful silence. Even Zinnia had stopped talking, instead humming a small tune.

But that peaceful silence eventually went away as they approached Riverwood. Two guards were “patrolling”, though it seemed more like they were going for a walk together. They both nodded at the two travelers before they continued their heated discussion. Edre snorted, biting back a snarky comment. Zinnia pushed past her, walking at a quickly and bouncy speed. Edre lagged behind, before she was completely separated.

Now, how fun was it going to be telling Zinnia that Edre didn’t work with anybody? That she just did work wherever it was needed? Because that’s how it goes for her. The imperial legion pays her? She does a job for them. The stormcloaks pay her? She does a job for them. At least it kept the coin rolling in.

Zinnia walked into some store, still bouncing. Edre sighed, walking to the door of the store. She leaned against it, folding her arms. People gave her sideways glances, but they mostly minded their own business. Only a couple of people asked any questions.

“What brings you to Riverwood?” One man, Sven, asked. Edre shrugged.

“My friend wished to come here, so I followed. But does it matter what brings me here? I'm here, and I'm not actively slaughtering every man, woman, and child I see.” Edre narrowed her eyes. “So I think I'm fine.”

Sven held up his hands in a defensive manner. “Just curious. We don't get many travelers here who don't just walk through, or go to some store. I was just asking. Is that a crime?”

“Just… Don't go sticking your nose into strangers business, okay kid?” Sven wrinkled his nose as Edre called him “kid”.

“Learn some respect, lady. I'm not a kid.” He turned around, ready to walk away. That's when Edre pushed herself off the pole, uncrossing her arms.

“Kid… I'm way older than you. You better get your damn head outta the clouds, before somebody knocks you down.” Edre narrowed her eyes. Sven looked her up and down, before he turned to gave her. He seemed to flex his muscles.

“Are you trying to start something? We don't like it when strangers come up trying to start trouble.” Sven cocked an eyebrow. Edre shook her head, stepping closer to him again. It seemed that was the moment he noticed just how short Edre is. He had to bite back his laughter.

“Hmm? Listen, kid. I don't usually do this, but I feel bad for you. Why don't you try and swing first. Don't worry. I may be older than you, but I'm not fragile.” Edre opened her arms like she was going to hug him, before she dropped them. Sven cocked an arm back, and swung.

Edre caught his fist as it came flying towards his face. He yelped as she squeezed his fist. She then pulled him forward, and swung her own fist. She connected with his face, square on. He cried out as she sent him staggering. At this point a tiny crowd had gathered, watching the scenewAA couple kids were chanting.

“Had enough yet?” Edre asked, having adopted a more fight-ready stance. Sven shook his head, gingerly touching his face. Edre smirked and lunged at him. She grabbed him, picking him up with only a quiet grunt. She then threw him down. He hit the ground with a thud and a groan. He didn't try to get up.

The crowd started to disperse, muttering and watching Edre nervously. It was then that Zinnia walked out, having donned new armor and a new weapon. She glanced at Sven with a slight hum. “Oh. I guess I missed a bit.” She walked beside Edre.

“Let's go, kid. I don't wanna be here any longer. I kinda--”

“Wow, you beat him up that quickly? Cool! I guess you really are that strong!” Zinnia grinned. “Yeah, we should get going. Apparently Whiterun is only a short ways away. We could even get there by today!” The smaller girl grabbed Edre's hand, and started to drag her away. Edre followed after her without a word, blinking slowly. This girl… was a damn mystery.

They exited the small settlement, walking at a nice, chill speed. Edre managed to get her hand free, leaving them walking side by side. They “chatted”, which really meant Zinnia talked about literally everything she saw.

“So like, how did you get so strong. Did you wrestle saber cats? Oh look, there's a deer! Saber cats eat deers, right? What if deers ate animals. Can you imagine a deer eating a butterfly? Oh hey, butterfly! Its pretty! I wanna see!” Zinnia pointed to a blue butterfly just floating around. Edre sighed quietly.

“Alright…” Zinnia didn't even have time to utter a confused squeal before Edre was chasing after the butterfly. She managed to catch it, making a slight cage in her rough hands. She was surprisingly gentle as she took it over to Zinnia, the slightest smile gracing her lips. Zinnia's eyes widened.

Edre opened her hands, and the butterfly flew out. Zinnia gasped quietly as it flitted around. For once, she was absolutely silent. She just watched it. Finally, it flew away. Edre turned towards Zinnia.

“You asked what I was… not that it matters, but I'm a Breton. And a refugee. I came to skyrim looking for a better life. The ship I was on wrecked, and then I was stranded. Saved by a dunmer woman. She had this tattoo on her neck, and an accent. She would sing all the time. And then one day, she was taken captive by the stormcloaks. I managed to sneak in, and saw just what they did to her. Spoiler alert, she was lying in a pool of her own blood.” Edre's voice was softer now as she spoke, almost as if she was reliving everything. Zinnia listened silently, staring off at where the butterfly had went. The sun was going down now, bathing the world in an orangish hue.

“... What was she like?” Zinnia asked softly. Edre laughed.

“She was… amazing. She was kind, she was caring… she was like a mom. I met her long before you were born, so we were really close when she was kidnapped. We lived together, had a small farm… she even took care of this one kid. A young orc boy. Raised him to be a good, honest man. And she was young. Same age, around twenty.”

“How old are you now?”

“54. We lived together for a long time… we both cooked for each other, we gave each other gifts… she taught me magic, I taught her sword fighting. She brewed me potions, I smithed her armor. Sometimes I could hear her crying in the middle of the night. Sobbing, loudly. It took me three years before I worked up the courage to try and comfort her. And then it took another three before she opened up to me about why she cried.”

“Where did you live?”

“A small settlement outside of Windhelm. I grew a deep hatred for Ulfric. Then he started the rebellion. We had to live in fear. Her son had to leave. He joined the imperial legion to try and fight.” Edre sighed softly. “We spent many nights hiding together rather than watching the sunset like we would.”

Zinnia kept watching the sunset. She blinked slowly, as the land was now purple. The rays of light were fading away, and stars could be seen twinkling up in the sky. She swallowed. “Did… did you care about her?”

“Of course. She was my best friend. We went through so much together… and then I just… had her ripped away from me. It tore me up, turned me bitter… it filled me with a hatred I’d never felt before. Not even my previous hatred for Ulfric could compare. I got scared. I stopped trusting anybody. The world was out to get me… I just knew it.”

“Did you love her?”

“Huh?” Edre seemed taken aback by the question, turning to Zinnia with a frown. Zinnia winced.

“I mean… I’m not gonna hate you if you do… I just feel, I dunno… maybe you were more than friends?”

“That’s ridiculous. Two women, in love? Zinnia, we were friends, that’s it.” Edre shook her head, a smile returning to her lips. “You’re crazy…”

“Yeah, sure, totally…” Zinnia pursed her lips, turning to face the sunset again. By this time, the sun had sank completely, stars glittering in the sky. Edre looked up, sighing softly.

“I miss her every day, though… come on, let’s get moving. I have a house in Whiterun, we can sleep there.” Edre started walking, motioning for Zinnia to follow. And she did, walking beside the old woman.

To Edre, Zinnia was a mystery. A young girl with a strange energy. She seemed far too young and happy, too ready to live. She seemed… fearless. And something about her marked her different. She wasn’t just some ordinary girl, that much was clear. But just what was so special about her?

And to Zinnia, Edre was a mystery. She was an old woman with a past, and even with as much as she had just shared Zinnia couldn’t help but feel there was more to it. Why did she leave her old home in the first place? And that dunmer woman, why would Edre deny how she probably felt towards her? Why wasn’t she telling the whole truth?

But as they walked, Edre would find Zinnia inching closer to her, and Edre would find herself looking for any possible danger.

They were in this together now, after all. They had to learn just how to get along.

And maybe then, they would finally tell the truth.

Tales of the Fallen: Prelude

Word Count: 2189

Characters: Fenedath the Fallen, Miana

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Miana stopped, tilting her head to listen. Her eyes darted from side to side, searching for something ahead of them. Fenedath frowned and turned to face the way they had come, scanning the trail behind them. Nothing was there. But Miana shook her head and drew her sword. Fenedath put a hand on the pommel of his blade, but stayed his hand. If it were just hunters, he’d rather not provoke them. Their presence had already proven to be unwelcome at best.

“I thought I heard something,” She whispered.

“Such as?”

“Footsteps. Not a bear- too light to be a bear, or even an elk. This was fast, like a person.”

“We should move, quickly. We’re in dangerous waters. The sooner we reach the next town, the better,” Fenedath took a step forward. Miana stepped in front of him and raised her shield. A loud thwump resounded as an arrow struck the wooden front. She broke off the shaft and glared into the surrounding forests.  

“Show yourselves,” She shouted.

Fenedath placed a hand on her shoulder. “Run.” He urged, but she stood rooted to the spot. He didn't like the feeling in the air. It was heavy, as though the very forest was holding its breath in nervous anticipation. He heard nothing, but the uneasy feeling would not leave him. “Miana, I’d rather not shed blood here on the open road.”

“If they want a fight, I’d gladly give it,” She frowned. “Since when did you become a scared old woman afraid of a little scuffle? You’ve got a blade and magic. What’s there to be scared of?”

“Skyrim’s in open rebellion against the Dominion; it's not a friendly place for two altmer to be traipsing about brandishing weapons at passers by,” Fenedath stepped out from behind her and walked briskly down the trail. “Whoever shot seems to have left us. Now let's move on.”

“Why don’t you turn around and go home then, if you’re so scared of a few wee little humans with arrows?” Miana jeered. “We’re so close, old friend. Don’t give up on me now.”

“I didn't say we should turn back; I just want to reach Whiterun and catch a carriage to Solitude.”

“We could have caught a carriage back in Riften if you weren't such a cautious tip-toer,” Mianna muttered. “I’m not afraid of these Stormcloaks. Why are you?”

“I wish I had your carefree spirit, Miana,” Fenedath said. “Now, let’s go.”

Miana grumbled under her breath and sheathed her sword. She stalked beside him, eyes downcast. She looked up at Fenedath as he stopped at the crest of the hill.

“There are soldiers coming,” he pointed further down the trail to a group of men and women. “Draw your hood, keep your head down, and prepare for a fight.” He drew the hood of his cloak low over his eyes and gripped his sword firmly. Miana pulled her hood on and adjusted her shield.

“They sure are in a hurry,” Miana said. “Wonder what they're running from?”

“I’m not sure, but it can't be good. That's Stormcloak gear by the look of it.”

They started up the trail briskly, hiding as much of themselves in their cloaks as possible. Mianna kept her eyes on the soldiers as they thundered down the trail on horseback. Fenedath kept his eyes on the forest. The uneasy feeling was following them. He could feel eyes upon them, watching, waiting.

He snapped his attention ahead as the sound of hooves grew louder. The soldiers slowed as they approached. Those whose faces weren't hidden behind helms were tired and scared. Their eyes darted all over for any sign of danger. Fenedath looked down at his feet as the two groups passed each other. He sucked in a short breath as their eyes bored into him. For a moment, he thought they were in the clear. But then the horses stopped.

“You there. Show yourselves.”

Fenedath stopped but did not turn around. “I beg your pardon, Sir, but what for?”

“They’s Thalmor spies, ain't they?” The soldiers chattered quietly amongst themselves. Fenedath’s stomach clenched. This was what he had been fearing.

“I said reveal yourself,” The leader grunted. Fenedath tightened his grip on his sword as he turned around. He slowly lowered his hood and brought his gaze up to meet the scowling nord’s.

“There, now we’ve seen each other. May we continue on our separate ways, Sir?” Fenedath said.

“Here it is customary to refer to ones of higher stations with more respect. Or is that stooping too low for you… Thalmor?” The leader jeered down at them.

Fenedath withheld a disgusted scoff. There had been a lot of those accusations on their journey, and he didn’t take too kindly to being associated with them.

Miana growled quietly, “We’ve got business to attend to, Nord. Goods to sell, and all that. We have no time for interruptions.”

“I see no cart. What type of merchants are you?” The other soldiers turned their horses to watch, snickering.

“Jewelry, enchantments, appraisal.” Fenedath said, “We come north to Skyrim every year.”

“And where are you off to sell, hmm? It wouldn’t be Solitude would it?”

“What business of yours is it where we go, eh, Nord?” Miana turned her back and started to march away. “Good day to you.”

Fenedath took a couple steps back and followed her. The soldiers lingered, watching them leave. For a moment, it seemed they would pursue, but they didn't.  They turned their horses. Fenedath blew out a sigh of relief and jogged to catch up to Miana. One less fight to worry about.

The sound of a horse screaming made his stomach drop. The two spun on their heels, eyes wide in shock. The canyon filled with shouting as imperial soldiers poured out of the forest and descended upon the Stormcloaks.

“Kill the Thalmor!” The leader roared. “Don’t let them escape!” A group of Stormcloak soldiers detached from the main group. Miana drew her sword and charged ahead, swearing as she went. Fenedath shook his head and charged after her.

The first soldier fell within seconds. Miana sliced through his horse’s chest. She sidestepped to avoid the horse as it crashed to the ground. The soldier hit the ground hard, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop at Fenedath’s feet. He dispatched the soldier with a sword through the back, grimacing as he went. This was not going to end well. He was sure of it already.  

“You alright back there, Old Man?” Miana called back to him as she parried a blow with her sword and stuck the soldier through the stomach. She yanked him from his horse and took his steed. Fenedath rolled his eyes as she challenged another one of the riders. Off she went, into the thick of things as she always did.

“Don’t go getting carried away, now!” Fenedath shouted.

“Then keep up with me!” She shouted back.

The first foot soldier charged him, shouting obscenities. Fenedath scowled slightly and brought his blade down on the man’s neck. He made a choking sound as he fell to his knees. Fenedath wrenched his blade from his collarbone and marched into the fray. Damn these Stormcloaks. This was the last thing he needed to be doing.

The Imperial soldiers left him and Miana well enough alone. The Stormcloaks, however, attacked them without fear. Miana stuck close by him, guarding his blind side while they fought. As he switched from using his sword to using magic, the Stormcloaks backed off, focusing more on the imperial soldiers instead.

As the battle raged, Miana drifted away, pushed and pulled by the throng of bodies fighting and falling all over the place. He moved to the edge of the battlefield, knowing that his blind side would hamper his fighting in the thick of the fray without her beside him. There were few Stormcloaks left. If he could only see her through the chaos, they could escape before the battle ended. But the mass of bodies and riderless horses made it impossible to focus.

Fenedath looked about when he heard a horse shriek. His gaze fell upon a stormcloak archer smiling smugly from the edge of the battle, bow slowly lowering. He turned and fled the battle, trampling soldiers in his way as his steed fled the fight.

Miana fell from her horse and hit the ground with a hard thump. She rolled several feet before coming to a stop at the edge of the trail. Fenedath ran to her, shoving every man and woman in his path to the side. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“Miana!” He shouted. She didn’t move, merely laid there, struggling for breath. He shouted to her again, hoping she was just dazed. He just hit the horse. It was just the horse. She’s only stunned, he told himself.

He fell to his knees beside her and turned her over, stomach churning at the sight of the arrow sticking clean through her stomach. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. She looked up at him with a weak smile.

“This puts a damper on things, doesn’t it?” She forced a laugh. Fenedath propped her up on his knee and broke off the tip from her back, too worried to answer. He thrusted a potion into her hand with shaking fingers. She held onto it, ready for what was coming next.

“Deep breath,” He said as he gripped the splintered shaft in his hand. She nodded and bit down on the hood of her cloak. She howled through the fabric in her mouth as he pulled it out. A quick spell pulled any remaining splinters and contaminants from the wound. She downed the potion as he pressed his palm and part of his cloak to her back. He muttered the familiar words of the healing spell, feeling the torn flesh under his hand knit itself back together slowly. He placed the other hand on her stomach, hoping to seal both sides at once, even though it would take longer. It didn’t feel safe here on the edge of the battle, but he needed her to at least be able to move.

“You there! Stand up!”

Fenedath swore and focused harder on the task at hand. He hadn’t bothered paying attention to the battle. The sound of fighting had stopped. He could hear the wheels of waggons coming down the trail, horses snorting and hooves clicking against the stone road. He was running out of time. Which side had won?

“I said stand up!” The voice repeated.

Two pairs of hands wrenched him from her. He shouted in protest, shaking them off. More bodies forced him to the ground, tying his hands behind his back. He still struggled despite the opposition, watching them stand over Miana as she lay bleeding on the ground. A few imperial soldiers crossed in front of him, escorting a few battered stormcloaks towards the wagons.

“She’s wounded, but not too badly. Grab her and throw them with the others.”

"Let me heal her!” Fenedath pleaded, “Please; she will die otherwise!”

The soldiers yanked him to his feet. He looked down at the man in front of him, hoping he would relent, but he turned his head, unfeeling. “If she dies, she dies. You’re both under arrest.”

"For what?” Miana protested as the soldiers hauled her up off the ground.

“Crossing the border illegally, assault of imperial soldiers, theft- dare I go on?”

“Theft? Theft of what?!” Miana snarled. “We’ve stolen nothing.”

“We harmed none of your soldiers! The stormcloaks attacked us and we defended ourselves,” Fenedath protested. “We crossed legally, had my whole inventory verified at the border and everything.”

“Explain all the jewels in the bag,” The man laughed as one of his soldiers threw Fenedath’s pack on the ground, spilling out a few necklaces and rings.

“I’m a jeweler,” Fenedath said, casting constant glances over at Miana. By the Eight, she was getting paler by the minute. “Those are custom pieces I forged back in the Imperial City. They’ve got my craftsman seal on them and everything. I can prove it!”

“Get these thieves in the cart,” The man scoffed.  “Perhaps the Thalmor have a bounty out for them.”

Fenedath relented as they dragged him towards the waggons. They bound his hands with thicker rope and tossed him into a waggon with several stormcloaks. They set Miana down beside him. She leaned against him, letting out a long, shaky sigh. He leaned his head against hers, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Is this it, Fen?”

“Aye, Lass, I think it might be,” He said.

“It was a good run,” She forced a laugh, “Maybe for you at least.”

Fenedath smiled weakly, staring down at his hands. He could burn away the rope so easily, save her life and his own. But with the soldier sitting in front of him with a dagger in his lap, he knew there was nothing he could do.

“Promise me one thing, Fen,” She mumbled into his neck as she closed her eyes. “Don’t give up."

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Next Chapter: In the Aftermath

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 4: An Audience with Jarl Balgruuf

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 4: An Audience with Jarl Balgruuf by C_R_Scott Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: Tim makes his way to the city of Whiterun and has his first audience with its ruler, Jarl Balgruuf.

(NOTE: I'm in the process of reblogging the initial chapters of this story because, for some reason, Tumblr won't let me edit the earlier versions that I created using the Tumblr app on my phone. I'm also in the process of creating a masterlist for this series)

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Tim couldn't remember the last time he'd had to walk so much in one day. It turned out the city of Whiterun was several miles away from Riverwood, so the entire journey took nearly the entire day. He'd started out about an hour or so after sunrise, and he didn't find himself passing through Whiterun's gates until it was so late in the afternoon the sun was flirting with the horizon.

He probably would've been there a lot sooner if he'd chosen to jog part of the distance and take his journey off the cobblestone path and through the wilderness in a more straight line fashion, especially when he was finally able to see the city in the distance. However, the pain from his back was still bothering him. It was hard enough just tolerating the jostling of the backpack full of hiking gear and weapons (a new quarterstaff along with his bow, arrows, and a couple of daggers from Helgen) Gerdur helped him get before he left Riverwood. The idea of indulging in any kind of parkour over the rocky terrain to cut down on his travel time in his current state was ludicrous. Still, despite the pain, Tim couldn't help but indulge in a climb up to a small ledge only slightly off the beaten path that gave him his first real view of the city he was traveling to.

Whiterun was the model of a stereotypical small medieval city. It was nestled on a flat plain that was dotted with various farms full of crops and livestock. In the city proper, a large wall surrounded a collection of rustic wooden rooftops, above which towered a massive keep. Tim had to shake his head. When he was a younger, far geekier kid, this was the kind of setting he always imagined when he used to play Wizards and Warlocks with his old friend Ives back in middle school.

  When he entered the keep known as Dragonsreach, Tim had to pause to take in the sight. It was just like something out of a fantasy novel. The throne room was right there up a small flight of stairs past the main doors. A large firepit blazed right in front of the throne where who he assumed was the Jarl sat, seemingly tied up in a heated conversation with another person. 

"If the news from Helgen is true... Well there's no telling what it means," a balding man in expensive looking clothing said to the Jarl with a fair amount of concern. "I only counsel caution. We cannot afford to act rashly in times like these."

When Jarl Balgruuf responded it caused Tim to pause. His voice spoke with authority and carried quite well in the vast room. "What would you have me do, then? Nothing?"

For a moment, Tim wondered if this really was the best way to approach the Jarl. He hadn't been stopped by any of the guards upon entering the town or the castle. A part of him wondered idly at the lack of security surrounding this apparent ruler.

Suddenly, the sound of a sword being immediately unsheathed as footsteps quickly approached him made him reverse that thought immediately. Tim kept his eyes on the gleaming blade held by a gray skinned, armored woman with sharp narrow features, red eyes, and pointed ears.

"What's the meaning of this interruption," the woman demanded sternly. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

Tim took a breath to compose himself. Was this an "elf" of some sort? Then he answered the Jarl's guard. "I have news from Helgen about the dragon attack," he said. "I was also sent with a message from Gerdur to Jarl Balgruff. Riverwood is in danger."

The woman refused to lower her blade or or defensive stance. But her eyes widened in surprise. "You know about Helgen?" She glanced between Tim and the Jarl before finally relaxing her stance and sheathed her blade. "The Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Approach."

Marginally, Tim relaxed as well now. With a respectful nod to the guard, climbed the last few stairs up to the Jarl's throne. He glanced at the dragon skull mounted over the throne before letting his eyes fall on the man beneath it. Jarl Balgruuf was a blond regal man, dressed in furs and fine clothing. Upon his head he wore a gold crown with several gems inlaid upon it. The way he sat upon the throne, it reminded Tim of a male lion lounging on the savannah, completely secure in his superiority. With a sigh, Tim bowed in what he hoped was a respectful gesture to the man before him.

"So," Jarl Balgruuf started. "You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

Tim nodded. "Yes. The dragon destroyed Helgen." He was careful to leave out the reason why he was in Helgen in the first place. Gerdur had told him the Jarl had not chosen a side in this country's civil war, but he wasn't going to take any chances. "Last I saw, the beast flew off toward the mountains in this direction."

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" Balgruuf exclaimed. Then he turned to the man on his right. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

Before the man Tim now knew as Proventus could respond, the Jarl's guard cut in. "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."

Proventus then interrupted her, earning a sharp glare from the elf. "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're prepping to join Ulfric's side and attack him."

Tim winced as Balgruff bellowed. "Enough!" The word echoed off the walls. First, he fixed a glare on Proventus. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" Then he turned to his guard. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once." 

Irileth, the grey-skinned elf nodded. "Yes, my Jarl," she said crisply before turning to leave the throne room. Soon after, Proventus left as well, muttering something about other duties as he decended down the stairs. Then Tim was left alone with the Jarl, who studied him for a long moment before speaking. "Well done," Balgruuf praised. "You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. May I know your name?" 

Tim inclined his head in a slight bow once more. "It's Timothy, sir, and thank you, Jarl Balgruuf. I'm sure Gerdur and Riverwood will feel a lot safer once your guards arrive. But I should go now. I've taken up enough of your time." he said politely. As Tim started to turn to descend the stairs himself, starting to wonder on his next steps on how to get back home, the Jarl spoke up once more, his tone thoughtful.

"There is another thing you could do for me."

Tim paused, eyeing the Jarl suspiciously as the man rose from his throne.

"Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumors of dragons."

As Balgruuf led the way to a side room next to the throne room, Tim felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He needed to start searching for a way back home, and he'd gotten more than his fill of dragons at Helgen. Running errands for this Jarl would just get in his way... but he couldn't say no right now. Last thing he needed was to insult this land's ruler and get thrown into a dungeon... or worse if nearly losing his head at Helgen before the dragon attach was any indication. With a defeated sigh, Tim followed obediently.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill him in on all the details." Tim heard Balgruuf say as he entered the room of the Jarl's court wizard. There was an odd scent in the air that reminded Tim of certain incenses his old friend Raven used to use back at Titans Tower. Across nearly every flat surface in the room was some sort of book, scrolls, potion, or gemstone in haphazard disarray. Then he turned his full attention on the robed man that the Jarl was speaking with, who was now studying him back in return.

"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?"

Tim shrugged. "I'll try to be as useful as I can, though I can't do anything with magic if it involves that."

Farengar smirked. "That shouldn't be a problem. I just need someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not be there."

It took every ounce of self control Tim had not to roll his eyes. Great, he was being sent to chase wild geese in some ancient, decrepit ruin that was probably booby trapped to hell and back. "And what does this have to do with dragons?" Tim asked, unable to completely mask the annoyed skepticism in his voice.

"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker - perhaps even a scholar?" Farengar observed with renewed interest in Tim. Apparently this seemed to elevate Tim's standing in the wizard's eyes. Farengar then proceeded to give Tim a brief explanation about how until the event at Helgen, stories of dragons were dismissed as fantasies and impossibilities. "One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible."

Tim thought about that for a moment, then shrugged with a nod in agreement. He'd had more than enough experiences like that in his life.

Farengar continued, explaining how he had been researching information about dragons before finally reaching his point. "I, uh, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a "Dragonstone," said to contain a map of dragon burial sites." He pointed to a location on a large map in his room. "Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

"Simplicity itself, huh," Tim echoed before shaking his head and pulling out a map of the region he'd gotten earlier at the general store in Riverwood. He marked the location of the barrow on it before re-folding it carefully. "Anything else you can tell me about this place?" Tim asked.

"It's an old tomb, built by the ancient Nords, perhaps dating back to the Dragon War itself."

Tim nodded as if he knew what Farengar was talking about, though he was mostly clueless. "Nords? Dragon War?" he thought silently. Suddenly, he missed the internet and its nearly infinite amount of wikis. He was suddenly struck with how hard it was going to be to do any kind of in depth research in this place. Did this city even have a library?

The mage must have caught some hint of a confused expression on Tim's face and misinterpreted it. "Ah. Maybe you just want to know how to get there. It's near Riverwood, a miserable little village a few miles south of here."

"So how do you know this 'Dragonstone' is in there?" Tim asked.

"Well, must preserve some professional secrets, mustn't we?" Fargengar replied cryptically. "I have my sources... reliable sources." 

Jarl Balgruuf, who had remained during this conversation, must have read the skeptical look on Tim's face. "This is a priority now. Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons. We need it, quickly. Before it's too late."

Tim sighed. "I understand," he said with resignation. "I'll head back out to Riverwood first thing in the morning and make my way to the barrows."

Balgruuf clapped a firm hand on Tim's shoulder. Thankfully, it was his uninjured one. "Thank you, Timothy. Succeed at this, and you'll be rewarded. Whiterun will be in your debt."

Tim brightened a little at that. If the reward was gold, or something that could be exchanged for gold, that could help his dire financial straits. Also, having someone like the Jarl and perhaps even this mage in his debt might help him get home.

Still... Despite Farengar's insistance that this job would be "simplicity itself", Tim knew that it likely wouldn't be anything close to that. His luck just wasn't that good.

  -------------------------

NOTE: BTW, here is a shot of the exact placement of Tim's burn scars from Alduin in Helgen. I know the color's really off in this shot, but I wanted to illustrate how extensive the damage really is.

Lost in Time Ch. 4: City - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl defeat a giant and bring word of the Dragon attack on Helgen to the Jarl of Whiterun.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: M for canon typical violence, prostitution, and non-explicit sexual situations.

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Lost in Time Chapter 4: City

As they got closer to the commotion, Fayrl and Ma’zurah discovered three people fighting a giant, which was pounding the ground with a great mace. Ma'zurah's eyes widened and she halted the cart so their horse would not bolt, and began to prepare an ice spike.

"What is with this place and giant creatures out to murder everyone?!" Fayrl cried. He had fought a giant only a single time in his life. It had been asleep. And there had been five of them. "If we live long enough to get out of here, it will be a miracle of the Three!"

"Sure, sure..." Ma'zurah sent the ice spike flying toward the giant, guiding its path with telekenisis. At the last second, she whistled loudly, catching the giant's attention so it whirled to face her. The ice spike hit it in the eye, and it roared and clutched its face, falling to one knee. The three fighters immediately closed in on it. "Damn! Did not hit it hard enough to kill it!" Ma'zurah muttered, and started to prepare another spell.

"Giants take a lot of damage to bring down, far more than other creatures. They do not feel pain as much as we do.” Fayrl lept out of the cart. “Try for the throat!" he called over his shoulder.

He began an invocation of his Prince. "Mephala, jikhi lo arc'ga!" Fayrl raised his hands towards the giant, and a light appeared underneath it, which spread out in fractals until it formed into an enormous web. Three large spiders began spinning silk around the giant's ankles. The three fighters jumped back with wide eyes. One of them continued trying to shoot the incapacitated giant; the other two backed off a bit further and put away their melee weapons to retrieve their bows.

Ma'zurah cast her ice spike again, throwing it harder this time with her telekinesis, and aimed for the giant’s neck. She missed her target only by an inch, and the spike embedded itself in the juncture of the giant's shoulder and neck, lodging right above the collarbone. The giant roared again, trying to rise, and fell back to its knees from the silk entangled around his calves. The spiders had managed to wrap the feet and calves of the giant securely enough to restrain it to the ground, and they began to sink their teeth into its flesh, injecting their venom into the giant, immediately discoloring the skin surrounding their bites. The giant sank into a stupor.

Fayrl watched as Ma’zurah’s ice spike missed the giant’s artery. "A little to the left and you'll have it!" he called out, then in a flash he was next to the spiders, cutting at the tendons in the heel to keep the giant from getting back up. The three fighters backed away a little further at Fayrl's sudden appearance next to the giant.

Ma'zurah prepared another ice spike, but the giant finally fell under the combined attacks of so many foes, so Ma'zurah let it fall to the ground. She let out a whoop of laughter at the victory and the rush of adrenaline.

Fayrl dismissed his spiders, and both the spiders and webs disappeared in a flash of flame. Fayrl appeared next to Ma’zurah. "You did it!" he exclaimed delightedly.

Ma’zurah laughed, giddy with success. "That was great! Ma'zurah wants to learn that teleportation trick Fayrl did!" The adrenaline suddenly became too much and Ma’zurah swayed. "Ai... Does Fayrl have any water? Ma'zurah thinks she might need to sit down."

Fayrl quickly produced a small canteen and handed it to her, steadying her as he helped her back to the cart. "It might be a bit hard for me to teach you the skill,” he told her. “It took many years of study with my master to achieve the requisite skills so he could show me how to perform it. But if you would like, I can attempt to teach you the teleport strike."

Ma'zurah took a drink from the canteen and sat for a second to catch her breath.

The three fighters cautiously walked over to the cart, a huntress with long red hair and three blue stripes of war paint across her face in the lead. "Hail! uh... friends! We thank you for the assistance."

Fayrl gave them a formal bow. "Hail and well met."

He glanced at Ma'zurah to check on her recovery. Ma'zurah flashed him a grin and took another sip of water. Satisfied, Fayrl turned to the fighters, giving them his full attention. "We are happy to help those in need."

The huntress took a step closer to Fayrl. "You both carry yourselves well in battle. A friendly word of warning though, not everyone around here is welcoming to magic. It might be in your best interests to hold back on the more showy displays."

"Thank you for your advice. I admit I have been to Skyrim many times, but I find my knowledge has become a bit out of date since last I was here. We shall endeavor to be more cautious in future. Had the threat not looked so large, we would have refrained."

Fayrl walked towards the woman who had address him, eyeing the other two warriors as he approached. They seemed guarded, suspicious. "My name is Fayrl In--" He paused, then continued. "and this is my dear wife. I apologize for her state, we have just found out she is with child and using magic is a terrible drain on her in her condition. Could you tell us where we might find an inn for the night?"

"You're married to a Khajiit?" the Nord man butted in. "Don't you know? Khajiit are not allowed inside the city walls. It's like that in almost every city."

Fayrl bristled and took a step forward. "You speak to me of fear. Would you, a hardened looking warrior, let petty fears keep you from what you knew was right?"

"Whoa whoa, hold on there!" The Nord held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I don't make the rules around here. I was just telling you. Where are you from that you haven't heard?"

Fayrl let the tension fade from his stance. "I did not say that I didn't know, just that I am not so cowardly as to let myself be swayed by the fears of another when love is involved. But in light of her condition and our situation, finding a place to stay has been... difficult. I apologize for my quick temper."

The huntress cleared her throat. "Well, in light of your assistance, perhaps we can convince the guard to make an exception. The Companions do have a lot of influence in the city."

"Oh!” Fayrl exclaimed. “Are we in the presence of the acclaimed Companions?" Fayrl’s tone took on a note of adoration. He made a bow so deep his neatly arranged hair nearly brushed the ground. "Please accept my most humble apologies! I would not have raised my voice so if I had known. The brave wolves of the north!"

The young woman behind the huntress stifled a giggle, and the Nord man raised his eyebrows. The huntress crossed her arms. "Alright, I don't know how you heard, but don't go spreading it around. May we ride with you?"

Fayrl wasn't sure what he had 'heard' that he wasn't meant to, but he had a piece of leverage on them now to play if need be. He turned to Ma'zurah. "My radiant moonbeam, would it be alright for the Companions to share the cart back to town?"

Ma'zurah stifled a snort. "Sure, why not? Ma'zurah does not care either way." She handed Fayrl his canteen, stood, and stretched.

Fayrl returned the canteen to his belt and held out a hand to help Ma’zurah onto the cart before climbing up himself. "My dear Companions, please make yourselves at home in our cart."

Fayrl wondered who would be the easiest target to draw more information out of. Not the woman with the warpaint; she seemed mostly business. One of the others. Perhaps the man that had backed down from him.

Ma'zurah settled into the driver's seat and waited for the others to take their seats as well before urging the horse forward.

Fayrl turned back toward the three warriors with a buffoonish grin. "So, my brave warriors, I hate to bother you after the fatigue of fighting such a foul creature as that, but might I have your names, so that I might tell our future child of how we all fought and then rode together? Oh, it would just be such a bright spot in our lives to brag of how we had met you all. All of our friends and families will be jealous when we tell them. Oh, please! I will try not to be too much of a bother." His face took on an open and pleading expression, one better suited to the face of a child seeing a dearly desired toy or treat, than a mer who had helped to slay a giant moments earlier.

Ma'zurah smacked Fayrl's arm with the back of her hand without looking at him. "Stop that, Fayrl, you will freak them out."

"Sorry, my dear," Fayrl said, then turned back to the three warriors. "I'm so very sorry, sometimes I get carried away. It's not often you meet those you hear of in tales and song." Fayrl managed to look thoroughly embarrassed.

The young Imperial girl giggled, and the other two looked at Fayrl, frowning skeptically. Finally, the Nord man said, "You know, you don't have to beg us for our names. We'd just tell you anyway. I'm Vilkas, and this is Aela and Ria." He pointed to the red haired Nordic woman and then the dark haired Imperial girl in turn. "Now strangers, might we get a formal introduction as well?"

Fayrl cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. Yes. I'm Fayrl. You might have guessed that. Or perhaps I had already said. And the beautiful, talented as the stars themselves, spirit of grace and beauty you see driving the cart is my wife, Ma'zurah." He flushed a little as he glanced at her.

Ma'zurah didn't turn her head, trying to hide a smirk from both Fayrl and the party in the back. Fayrl was a good actor, and funny, even if he was getting annoying and spouting ridiculous lies for no apparent reason. The cart reached the road that led uphill toward the city, and Ma'zurah turned onto it.

Fayrl hoped that his well established act of the likable fool would help them to proceed without issue going forward. They were approaching the gate and if he didn't make a good impression the Companions might not vouch for them.

Ma'zurah stopped the cart by the stables. "Okay, we will have to stop here and walk. Ma'zurah should only be a second." She fished in her pack for her coin purse, desperately hoping that her money was acceptable.

Fayrl hopped down from the cart to hurry and hold out a hand for her. It appeared a gesture of a mer assisting his wife. He slipped some coins into her hand. "Just in case. Shout if you have trouble," he whispered into her ear. He headed back to the Companions to continue his act of the likable fool.

Ma'zurah walked up to the stablemaster. "Greetings, this one is Ma'zurah. We need someone to look after the horse and cart. Do you take Imperial Septims?"

The tall Nord stablemaster looked her up and down. "We can't take your horse; no room," he declared. "I'm afraid you're going to have to go elsewhere."

Ma'zurah blinked. The man was standing right besides a half empty stable. "Godsdammit..." she muttered. She turned and looked at Fayrl over her shoulder. "Faaaaryl!"

Fayrl turned on his heel and was besides her in an instant, his hands near, but not on the hilts of his weapons in both preparation and warning. The Nord jumped at the suddenness with which Fayrl appeared. "Shor's bones! Where did you come from?"

Fayrl ignored the stablemaster. "You called, my dear? Any…" his voice took on a dark note, "...trouble?" His voice rose to its previous lighthearted timbre. “Something I can help you take care of?"

"That one insists he has no room for our horse." Ma'zurah crossed her arms and glared at the Nord. "Ma'zurah thinks he must be mistaken because Ma'zurah sees plenty of room, but Ma'zurah just wanted to double check, you know how her vision sometimes gets."

Fayrl stepped away from her and approached the stable. The Nord moved forward to stop Fayrl, but Fayrl easily sidestepped him, taking the hand reaching for him into his as if the taller man was a child who needed guidance. He led the man toward the row of empty stalls.

"My dear sera," he began, turning back to face the man, "I thought you said there was no more room. Yet it appears as though you may have just gotten an opening."

The Nord began to make poorly disguised excuses about reservations, but Fayrl merely took a step forward with an implicit threat in his gaze that made the taller man back away from him until he was backed against the side of the building.

"How about we broker a deal, my good sera?" Fayrl’s voice was filled with danger and unspoken promises of violence.

The Nord swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing up and down like the head of a nervous bird. "What kind of a deal?"

Fayrl smiled and leaned in to whisper in the man's ear.

At first the Nord stiffened. Then he began to relax. By the time Fayrl had leaned back, the Nord was leaning towards him to say something in return.

Fayrl laughed and leaned closer to the Nord, trailing his fingers across the man’s chest. "Of course. How could I say no?"

Ma'zurah raised her eyebrows and gave Fayrl a questioning look.

The three Companions walked back toward the stable. Aela had her arms crossed. Vilkas' brow was furrowed, and Ria was giggling at how close Fayrl was standing to the stablemaster.

"Is there a problem here?" Aela asked.

"Oh no, none at all." Fayrl’s hands lingering on the Nord's chest for a moment before he turned to the Companions. "I was just working out a payment deal with the stablemaster." He turned his back to the Nord to address the others, backing himself up against the larger man, though only Ma'zurah could tell exactly how close from the angle.

The stablemaster seemed to be tense behind him a bit.

"Ma'zurah, darling, why don't you go with the Companions and ensure we can get into the city?"

Ma'zurah looked at Fayrl skeptically, but walked up to him and gave him a handful of gold Imperial Septims. "Alright, but here. Just in case."

She walked back to the Companions and smiled. "Ma'zurah is ready to go! Fayrl should have no trouble getting into the city himself, and Ma'zurah thanks you for vouching for her!"

Aela glanced Ma'zurah up and down, smiled, and offered her an arm. "Not at all, come with me!"

Ma'zurah took the proffered arm and gave the tall woman a coy look out of the corner of her eye. Behind them Vilkas rolled his eyes but followed them up to the gate with Ria. On the way, Ma'zurah noticed a small caravan of Khajiit traders, but did not think she could afford to stop to talk with them. Upon reaching the gate they were stopped by the guard.

The guard, a hard looking woman who bore heavy scarring across her face, nearly blinding her in one eye, and with part of her nose missing, held up a hand. "Companions you are free to enter, of course, but we can't let your friend in.”

Aela stepped forward. "This one is with us--"

"Oh! And the Dark Elf back there too!" Ria cut in. Aela shot her an annoyed glance for interrupting.

"Yes. And the Dark Elf who is arranging accommodations for the horse. They helped us with our latest contract, so we would like to take them up to Jorrvaskr."

Ma'zurah shot Aela an anxious glance. "Ma'zurah should probably talk to the Jarl immediately. We bring urgent news."

The guard glanced between everyone present, deeply scrutinizing the faces of all involved. She glanced pointedly at Aela. "You can assure me that you will take responsibility for the actions of the both of these…" her voice turned derisive, "...people?" She turned her gaze to Ma’zurah. "And what news is this?"

Ma’zurah was not sure what to tell the woman, but without being able to consult with Fayrl, she settled for the truth. "Er... Ma'zurah does not wish to alarm anyone, but Fayrl and Ma'zurah have information about the Dragons."

The guard looked dumbfounded. "Dragons? In Skyrim? You must have had too much skooma," she scoffed. "I thought you had some actual news. If the Companions are willing to accept responsibility for your actions and any crimes you commit in the city, then I suppose I might be able to let you pass."

The three Companions shuffled uncomfortably in the background.

Ma'zurah pursed her lips and crossed her arms, pinning the surly woman with a glare. "Do not look at them. They have not known these two for more than half an hour, and Ma’zurah hardly expects them to vouch on so little acquaintance.” Ma’zurah took a step toward the guard.

“Instead examine yourself,” she continued. “Are you seriously willing to risk turning away not one, but two witnesses to an attack from a creature whose only logical description can be ‘Dragon’? When more witnesses arrive--and more will arrive--and it is discovered that you, personally, have detained the first two bearers of news, potentially at the risk of the rest of the Jarl's holdings, who do you think is going to be held responsible? What if this creature turns another of the Jarl's towns to slag?”

The guard leaned back, so much so that she had to take a full step backwards.

Ma’zurah bared her teeth in a feral smile. “Yes, this one did say ‘another’, because Helgen is already gone, and the guards from the village along the path to Whiterun from Helgen hurried hurried these two witnesses along to spread the word while they prepared a rescue for any survivors because they all heard and saw this creature fly overhead. Are you seriously willing to risk the anger of the Jarl when he finds out that you, personally, put his land in danger because you were not willing to accept the word of not one, but two eyewitnesses because of racial discrimination? Because this one needs no other corroboration than the corpses and charred stones of Helgen, and you will be held accountable." She gave the guard a cold and totally sober stare.

The guard resisted the stare for a tense moment, but finally nodded. "Very well, you and your elf companion, wherever they may be, are free to enter. But mark my word, there will be no lollygagging about. You report straight to the Jarl or I will have you thrown back out on your furry face."

"Thank you." Ma'zurah gave the guard a cool glance out of the corner of her eye as she moved to open the heavy gate. The three Companions hurried to assist her, and began walking through the streets of Whiterun.

Vilkas cleared his throat nervously. "Uh... what you said back there, about the Dragon, that was all true wasn't it?"

Ma’zurah nodded. "Unfortunately yes. Ma'zurah will need to visit the Jarl, and since it seems that these two are the first to bring word, Ma'zurah would appreciate your assistance with any more potential disruptive racists." She paused. "Actually, Ma'zurah thinks she would probably be taken more seriously if Fayrl were present. Perhaps we should wait." She made a face, and stopped in front of a blacksmith shop.

The Companions nodded nervously.

Meanwhile, Fayrl waited until he could see that the Companions were out of sight before pulling the stablemaster into one of the empty stalls and shutting the short door behind them. He knew he would have to do this quickly, and discreetly out of sight of passersby, but he could certainly do enough even so to get the Nord to not just cooperate, but possibly even pay him for the pleasure. He began manhandling the stablemaster, using his gifts in speech to speed along the process. He hated to rush things like this, but if he was gone too long someone might come to check on him, and that would likely ruin the illusion that he was married to Ma'zurah.

Fayrl managed to bring the Nord to climax with his voice as much as with his hands. He promised to return later to give him another installment of his ‘payment’. With a last caress, he hurried to help bring the horse into the stable, leaving the rest to the Nord. He quickly washed off his hands and jogged up to the gate.

A grim looking guard glared at him and ushered him to go on ahead, promising she would be keeping an eye on him. He winked at her and told her he hoped that she would, and he hurried through the gate. He paused just inside, his mind reeling from the strangeness of this new Whiterun which was vaguely familiar, and yet vastly different from the Whiterun he knew.

He saw the others waiting outside a blacksmith shop and walked over. "I hope you will forgive my absence. It took a bit more strenuous haggling than I thought to handle the stablemaster. Shall we?" He flashed a toothy grin Ma'zurah's direction.

The Companions began walking Ma'zurah and Fayrl up the hill to the Jarl's keep. They passed through a market and up some steps, and Vilkas and Ria bid the rest of the party farewell and headed toward a large building shaped like an overturned boat. Aela and Ma'zurah fell in stride with Fayrl as they passed under a massive dead looking tree toward another set of stairs. A man in a hooded yellow robe shouted from in front of a huge statue of Talos about the evils of elves who were denying freedom and stealing children and lives. Ma'zurah glanced at Fayrl. The few people on the streets seemed to be paying more attention to her than to Fayrl.

Fayrl busily studied the changes to the city. The temple of Kynareth and the keep appeared starkly unchanged compared to the rest of the city. But what shook him more than anything was the sight of the Gildergreen. On the one hand, it had grown far larger than when last he had seen it. On the other, it looked completely dead. That part chilled him to the bone and made him wonder about the Eldergleam. Had it, too, perished? He hoped not.

As they passed a yelling man in yellow robes and a statue of an armored man with a sword, he wondered what had happened to the Whiterun he knew. He had never seen the statue before and could not guess who it could be depicting. If he really had traveled to the fourth era, then he would not likely know much that was relevant. It made his skin crawl. He did not like feeling so lost or out of place.

They reached the huge wooden drawbridge that led to the keep, and were this time halted by a pair of guards on either side of the door. Aela spoke with the two guards barring passage forward in a low voice, and they stood back and waved the party forward.

They entered the keep, and Ma'zurah glanced around at the high pillars that supported the ceiling and balcony on the second floor on both sides of the hall. She caught sight of a dark haired human child sitting with his legs dangling between the bars of the balcony to the left, and waved to him cheerily, but the boy immediately withdrew from sight.

Fayrl felt far more at ease within the keep. Some of the furniture had been changed, but the tables and throne and tapestries were all in place. Some of them were even the same, unchanged since his last visit.

As they approached the throne, they passed between two long tables laid out as though in preparation for a feast. Beside the Jarl, who was lounging on his throne, stood a beautiful red haired Dunmer in leather armor, who drew her sword and stalked to intercept the party. "Halt! Who approaches Jarl Balgruuf unsummoned? State your names and your business quickly, or taste my steel."

Fayrl ignored the prickly Dunmer and stepped forward, giving a deep bow in the direction of the Jarl’s throne. "Jarl Balgruuf, my name is Fayrl, and may I present my wife, Ma'zurah. We have just come from Helgen by way of Riverwood. We bring grave news, I am afraid. News that concerns all of Whiterun hold, and perhaps even more than that."

The Dunmer with the drawn sword glanced at the Jarl for direction. He tilted his head and shifted on his throne. “It’s alright Irileth. Let them approach.” He gestured for them to continue.

Ma'zurah stepped up to Fayrl’s side and gave a flourishing Elsweyri bow. "Jarl, we two were in Helgen when it was attacked by a giant flying creature with huge black wings and fire breath which defies all description other than ‘Dragon’. We escaped on a cart and alerted the guards at the small town between here and Helgen, and they directed us to you to spread the word and request aid. The last we saw, Helgen was in flames, and there were many dead and injured."

The Jarl's relax posture gave way to stiffness and he leaned forward in his throne. “You're sure this was caused by a Dragon?”

Fayrl turned to show the Jarl the back of his tunic where it had been burned. "It’s all true! I was nearly burned alive! Only the quick thinking of my wife was there to save me." Fayrl turned to the Dunmer bodyguard, Irileth, who was still watching them carefully. "It was utterly awful! The smell of charred bones and flesh and wood and stones…. There must be something that can be done!"

Irileth turned to the Jarl. "My lord, if there is even a single iota of truth to this report, reinforcements must be sent to Riverwood at once, and a contingent sent to confirm the story at Helgen. Riverwood is dangerously undermanned to withstand any encounter, Dragon or no."

A short Imperial man with a balding head stepped forward as well and bowed. "My lord, the Jarl of Falkreath would not view such a move with kindness. He would likely believe it to be an aggressive gesture on the part of your lordship."

Fayrl turned his attention to the Imperial. "We spoke with the guards in Riverwood. They told us to continue to Whiterun and bring word." He turned to the Jarl. "They told us to come to you, Jarl Balgruuf."

The Jarl considered the situation for a moment. "I agree. Such a move could be construed as an aggressive gesture. We cannot risk that until we confirm this story. However, I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! We will send a pair of swift couriers to Helgen to find out the truth of the situation, and prepare a detachment for Riverwood in the event that they are needed. If the couriers can confirm this report, one will return straight here, and the other will bring word to Jarl Siddgeir to advise him of the attack within his holdings.” The Jarl turned to the balding man. “That should be enough to satisfy your caution, Proventus." The man nodded and bowed.

The Jarl turned back to Fayrl and Ma'zurah. "I thank you for your report. Stay in Whiterun, and I will send for you when the couriers return.”

Ma'zurah bowed again. "Yes, of course Jarl. We thank you."

Aela stepped forward and ushered the two back toward the door to the hall. "Come, I will take you to the nearest inn. Jarl Balgruuf is a fair man, and I'm certain he will have a reward for you once your story is confirmed."

Fayrl was not surprised by any of the outcome of reporting to the Jarl that a neighboring hold was under attack. Skyrim was only a loosely held together system of what boiled down to miniature kingdoms. The fact that remained unchanged was in some ways reassuring.

The three walked past the ends of the banquet tables and began walking down the short flight of steps until the dark haired boy Ma'zurah had spotted earlier greeted them with a sneer. "Oh good." he drawled, leaning against one of the pillars. "More wanderers here to lick my father's boots. Good job."

Something about the boy caught Fayrl’s interest. Sure, he spoke like a brat; unsurprising for the son of the ruler of a small hold in the middle of the frozen lands of Skyrim. But there was an aura about the boy that he felt a strange kinship to.

He stopped and turned back to the boy, reaching for one of the ties in his hair--the one used to identify other followers of his Mistress. "Young man, I am curious, do you happen to know where I might find something like this?"

It was a long shot, he knew. Still, if the boy knew someone connected to his Mistress, then she might be able to help send him back to his own time.

The boy leaned forward and examined the tie with a look of confusion, then he narrowed his eyes and glanced sharply up at Fayrl. "You know... Her, don't you?" He looked over at Aela and Ma'zurah suspiciously. "Yeah. I might. Lose the bootlickers and come find me again, and I might be able to help you. No promises though."

Fayrl gave the boy a grateful nod. "I have been loyal since before I was your age. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated. Let my Lady know I shall send prayers to her until I can return." His voice was quiet enough that only the boy could hear.

The boy gave him an evaluative look and stepped back, walking off in the direction of a flight of stairs to the right of the throne. Aela gave Fayrl a tight lipped look of disapproval and shook her head, gesturing the party forward.

Fayrl walked alongside the others. "What can I say, I have always liked children. Such wonderful imaginations. I can't wait until our own comes along." He motioned towards Ma'zurah’s belly with a foolish grin on his face.

Ma'zurah shook her head. She was becoming somewhat annoyed at Fayrl’s antics. She wished he’d consulted her before spinning these fanciful and completely unnecessary lies and assumed her complicity.

They followed Aela down through the city streets until they came to an inn with a sign depicting a horse with a flag.

"This is the Bannered Mare," Aela told them. "You'll want to stay here until the Jarl calls for you again. I'd also like to extend the invitation to you both to join the Companions for supper at Jorrvaskr. I'm sure you can find your way. Now, if you don't mind, I must take my leave."

Fayrl bowed. "Thank you, brave Companion Aela, and all of your fellows. You have done us a great service and we would be more than glad to accept your invitation."

Aela clasped Fayrl's forearm in a warriors greeting, offered the same to Ma’zurah, and turned and left.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

an “alternate ending” to this thing that @welcometoaltima wanted me to write.

     Tracking them down hadn’t been easy. You’d not expected it to be easy, all things considered, but you’d not expected it to be this difficult, either. For a group of so-called werewolf hunters, they’d made themselves particularly difficult to pin down. You’d asked some of the locals, but none of them seemed to be even remotely aware of the Silver Hand existing at all.

     Instead, you’d sought help from the Companions, who seemed to know where the hideouts of their main enemy were hidden away.

     ❝ Driftshade Refuge, ❞ Salvasi had responded when you’d asked for their assistance. ❝ It’s out in the Pale, between Frostflow Lighthouse and Fort Fellhammer. Here. ❞ She’d marked it on your map, which you were eternally grateful for because you weren’t sure you’d find it any other way.

     So, with a few supplies packed away in a bag and a few weapons strapped to your hips and back, you mounted your horse and began the long journey north.

     Despite how far you had to travel, it only take about half a day to reach your destination. You dismount your horse at a safe distance, tying it to a tree and giving it a soft pat on the neck before moving forward. Driftshade looked like an old fort of some kind, given the collapsed stone walls. Only one building was truly intact, and you suspected that it had been, at one point, the fort dungeon.

     Even from your position, safely hidden by the foliage, you could see two of the Silver Hand keeping watch. There were multiple ways you could’ve gone about this: summon an atronach and risk giving yourself away; draw your sword and attempt to take them on in a frontal assault; or draw your bow and shoot them down from your current position. After a short time to contemplate your options, you decide on the third. It would be your safest way in, and, at least if you missed, it would provide a decent distraction.

     An arrow is drawn back, your gaze steady; sights set upon the one guarding the door, you wait another moment longer before releasing the draw string. The arrow goes soaring, hitting its target dead on; by the time the second one has come ‘round to investigate, you’ve already had the chance to notch another arrow and ready it. Your eyes follow them for a few moments before you loose the second arrow. They turn just in time to get the arrow tip to their throat. Only once they’ve fallen and ceased moving do you dare tread out from the cover of the foliage, keeping low just in case. You don’t even bother to loot the corpses left behind before you make your way into the building.

     As you’d suspected, it was far larger in here than its outward appearance lead one to believe. Most of it was underground, and your initial suspicions are confirmed. While it didn’t look like much any more, the layout of the area told you that this had been the fort dungeon once upon a time. Most of the place looked relatively intact, though piles of rubble lined some of the walls.

     Down the steps do you travel, pausing when you catch movement down below you. Two more Silver Hand were patrolling the room; one, you could tell, was an archer. Perhaps it would be best to deal with them first, you decide, drawing back another arrow. The tip is leveled with the back of their neck, your hands steady and your sharp gaze focused from behind hazy goggles. For several beats, you don’t move, crouched behind the small stone parapet as best you can. Then you release the arrow, watching as it soars through the air and hits its target dead center. There’s a gargled gasp as they topple forward from their chair; their friend comes rushing over, sword drawn in a defensive manner. As they turn, you get the satisfaction of planting yet another arrow between their eyes.

     As you go to move forward, a horrifying scream echoes through the fort. You go completely rigid, breath catching in your throat. You recognized that scream, you knew that voice--

     Throwing caution to the wind, you hurry down the steps and to the wooden door across the way. You try to open it, to no avail; it’s barred from the other side, and you’re not physically strong enough to break it down. Still, you ram your shoulder into the wood a handful of times, until you’re sure you’d end up with a nasty bruise; the door doesn’t move an inch, and you hit it with your fist in frustration. Looks like you’d be taking the long way around.

     You should be moving silently, cautiously, picking off Silver Hand as you go, but in your fury you forget to do just that. Every werewolf hunter that comes your way gets an arrow between the eyes, whether you shoot it at them or stab it through their skull with your own two hands. They would regret this, you’d make sure of that.

     Despite how quickly you manage to work through the fort, it feels as though it’s been an agonizing process. Your armor is torn in places, fresh wounds mingling with old scars, as if your body was a canvas and their weapons a paintbrush. You pause for a brief moment to cast a Fast Healing spell upon yourself, before you drop your bow upon the ground and draw your sword. No matter what you found on the other side of this door, their leader would pay for what they’d done to Bezi.

     With a deep breath, you let the door swing open and step inside.

     In that moment, your nerve seems to leave you. Bezi is strung up on one of the wooden posts, silver weapons glistening with his blood. They’d impaled him at least a dozen times, if not more, with daggers and swords and silver-tipped arrows. He appears completely lifeless, usually bright blue eyes radiating with warmth now shockingly cold and empty. You can feel the lump in your throat, threatening to choke you, as your vision starts to blur. They killed him, strung him up like a game trophy for all to see. They treated his corpse like a prize - the thought alone gets your blood boiling once more.

     Despite the tears collecting in your eyes, your gaze sharpens once more and turns to settle upon the leader of the Silver Hand. He strolls towards you with confidence, expression smug and his weapon held lax in his grip. You’re certain your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you’re gripping your own. With a howl of fury, you rush him, fully intent on making sure he doesn’t leave this place alive.

     Metal clashes against metal as the two of you battle. Even in spite of the fury burning white-hot in your chest, you’re able to think clearly. Rushing head-long into a fight without thinking strategically has rarely ever wielded satisfactory results; that was something you’d learned a long time ago. Through all of this, your opponent seems to find himself regretting his decision; he was larger in stature, if by only a small margin, though more heavily-armored. You’re able to dance circles around him and his greatsword, shooting in to land a few strikes before leaping out of harm’s reach.

     Eventually, you impale him on your weapon. He lets out a gasp, sword clattering to the stone floor hollowly. Breathing heavily, you lean forward to look him in the eye.

     ❝ That’s for Bezi. ❞ And then you remove your sword and watch as he collapses, lifeless, to the floor.

     Without even pausing to think, you make your way towards your friend, exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Using your dagger, you cut him free and lower him to the floor. The tears have sprung up anew, blurring your vision again; you remove your helmet and toss it aside, running the back of your sleeve across your eyes. Then you set yourself to removing the weapons from the giant’s form, grunting with the effort of trying to remove the arrows in one piece. Once they’ve all been freed from his body, you use a Healing Hands spell, though you’re not really sure why. Bezi was dead because you hadn’t been fast enough to save him.

     So wrapped up in your thoughts are you that you don’t even notice the light return to Bezi’s eyes - you don’t even realize he’s alive until you hear him gasping for air. Startled, you jerk back a hair and turn a surprised look upon him. Gods be praised, he was alive!

     ❝ Tel...? ❞ The poor man sounds completely exhausted, and in no small amount of pain. ❝ Wh-- where am I? ❞

     ❝ That’s not important, ❞ you tell him, smiling in spite of the tears that fall. ❝ You’re okay now. That’s all that matters. ❞

     He offers you a weak smile, barely able to move from all of the silver in his system. He was extremely warm to the touch, dark skin flushed from fever; you felt like it would be a few days yet before he could travel of his own accord.

     ❝ I want-- I want to go home, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ Take me back home, Tel. ❞

     ❝ I can try. Let me help you up... ❞

     Retrieving your helmet, you place it back over your head before helping him to his feet. He’s leaning heavily against you, feet dragging as he struggles to walk; you’re forced to hobble slowly towards the door and up the stairs, more than ready to leave this horrible place behind. Once outside, your horse kneels so that Bezi can mount without much struggle. You untie it from the tree as it stands, and slowly but surely you begin the long trek back to Whiterun.

     For the next couple of weeks, you stay with him at Jorrvaskr, tending to him to the best of your abilities. He thanks you every time, but you can’t help the guilt that eats away at you.

     If you’d moved more quickly, he wouldn’t have been harmed.

     This was your fault.

The Spirit of Nirn CH3 P02

Some music to go along with the reading :)

When her feet were bathed in cool water and Marthe crossed the small stream that flows along wet rocks and lush grass, she could hear low voices from afar. It's been a while that she has visited the capital of Falkreath Hold, so there was no wondering that she can't remember all the names she once heard. The only name which comes to her mind was Runil. As far as Marthe know, he took care of the large and legendary cemetery Falkreath was famous for. Within the low voices, she heard, there was something more to hear. Brushwood was breaking loud as a rumbling thunder. Step by step the noise comes closer and eerie sounds curse everything in its path, that was able to fly and much faster than the hunter itself. The last thing Marthe heard was a sad and hungry growl just a few steps behind her. « "How often I've told you it's not the best idea to play tag with a Luna Moth and a Torchbug, Rumper? By the way, I will never understand how a little bear cub like you can be as loud as a running mammoth herd. And now come out. I could use your help." » If anyone could have a look at the little bear cub she was talking to, they would be surprised. Covered with nothing but dirt, mud, leaves, and branches there were no questions left what he has done the passing moments. « "Oh! Now, look at you, my little friend." » As soon as Rumper left the bush he was hiding himself in, Marthe turned around and start laughing. He was such a goof sometimes and currently, the little bear was looking like one. « "I'm sorry my little friend. I should not laugh." » It was a serious apology towards her little friend and another growl let her know that he had accepted it. After Rumper passed the stream and Marthe start telling what she has planned for the eve, the little bear lay down next to her feet and starts listening. While she was explaining what had happened a few hours ago, it seems that her talking was really a great bedtime story. He falls asleep right after the first two sentences. « "Now what do you say? Will you help me find this person in Falkreath, Rumper? ... Rumper? ... RUMP...!" » By gods, that hasn't happened now. He did not sleep while she tries to explain everything to him. Well, that wasn't the help she could need. She shook her head again and bowed down to him to scratch him softly behind his ears. There was always a way to get his attention and maybe she should think about his personal wishes for a moment. The little cub was an orphan she once found in the woods around Whiterun. After playing tag and hide-and-seek with him, he decides to follow her when she needs to leave the area back to the Ancient Woods. He's told her what happened to his mother (and the hunter who brings down his mother) and how jealous he's too all flying insects, butterflies, and birds. Yes. He greatest wish was to fly. Not that Marthe could help him with this wish, but she accepted his company on her trails and since this day nothing could separate these two. « "I will make you fly into this cold and very refreshing water if you don't wake up within the next minute, Rumper! And I will tell all the butterflies that you want to eat them and not only play with them." » Not even Marthe was able to imagine how quick a little sleeping bear cub could wake up. « "And I will get you something to eat. What about a sweet roll and a salmon?" » Now she got his full attention. He was so hungry he could have a whole mammoth at the moment. And again she explains everything important to the little bear, sparing the unnecessary parts to keep his attention. The plan was simple, it's implementation unclear. Something has to happen, though she owes him a sweet roll and a salmon and has no intention to go fishing this night. She would enter Falkreath over its cemetery to avoid an encounter with one of the holds guards. There were a lot of ways to get unnoticed into this city and she definitely knows a lot of them. The guards often appeared very harshly against strangers, so this detour should at least be a conclusion to the smallest problem of all. Rumper would wait for her return behind the woven fence of the cemetery to get his reward and first-hand news if Marthe found the person she was looking for. * * * * * « "You need to leave! Now!" » A harsh and very unkind voice yelled when young Marthe climbs through a hole in the fence. Her gaze wandered around until she found the man who was talking; no who was yelling at her and the first thing that came to her mind was Frosty the Snowman. Reflections of Moonlight sparkled on his bare head. He stands nearly six and a half feet tall and was muscular as a sabre cat. Did he break this hole into the fence? The proportions would fit. « "You're not supposed to be here. Leave now or I'll call the guards." » When she had passed the fence and set her feet on the cemetery ground, the large man came closer and she remembered his face. Sometimes, but not very often, she has seen him carrying another tombstone on the cemetery. But his name? No chance at all to remember that one. Marthe wouldn't be Marthe if she let her thoughts pass without asking. « "Did you break this hole into the fence? No offense, but the proportions... your head...everything would fit and I'm just curious." » Kust stares at the small lass that dares to set foot on the cemetery and can't believe what she was asking. The picture she imagined in this moment was a very funny one, at least for her. Kust with one of the tombstones, placing it wherever Runil wants it to be placed. A bit more right. No, not that far. Just a bit young lad. Now left, two or three steps. You're close, lad. What in Oblivion... He heard and see his young helper stumble and fall. With him the tombstone. Right through the fence. I've told you to remove all the small rocks from the ground. ALL rocks. Get that tombstone back in one piece but before you do that, get that bare head of yours out of the fence. It's somewhat odd among men, to crawl down on your knees like prey.  Yes, in her imagination it was his head that causes this hole in the fence, but she would never... with a second look at him the angelic looking lass smiled. « "I won't tell that anybody. I swear..." » Kust didn't get it. He yelled at her and threaten her with the guards and she comes closer and smiled, talking things he doesn't understand. What should she say to this Nord? That she was looking for someone she did not know who he was? Of whom she didn't know what he looked like? Of whom she didn't even know exactly where to look for him? Or was she to tell him there was someone waiting for his sweet roll and a salmon, who was far less welcome in the city than she was? She looked silently in the eyes of the Nord and made him make his own picture of her. A picture that certainly did not correspond to the truth, but to which she herself could not change anything. She did not come here for no reason and would certainly not disappear without the puzzle. « "Well, don't look at me like that. Do I look like a thief or murderer? I'm looking for someone who can help me and I've come to know that I can find helpful people in this beautiful city. You don't seem to belong to it." » The longer Marthe was looking at the middle-aged man, the more certain she was that he wasn't the man she was looking for. « "I'll tell the guards to keep an eye on you, and now you're going to leave this cemetery. Maybe you'll find someone at the inn who believes you're gibberish." » Kust let the young woman just stand and hoped she was reasonable enough to follow his words. When Kust finally went away, Marthe shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, then set off on her own. It was really time to get down from this cemetery because, among the dead, she would surely find no one able to save a life. And so the young woman moved through the streets of the small town, which was at the same time the capital of the hold and whose reputation had been quite severe in the past few years. She looked at the few remaining shops, looked around into gardens, and wrinkled her nose as she passed the longhouse of the Jarl. Marthe had already had this dubious pleasure when she once observed him on a hunting party. The young Jarl was an absolute mistake in her eyes. Arrogant, stupid, and extravagant, he always had his own advantage in view and not the needs of his people. So it took an hour and a half to reach the Dead Man's Drink. At least she stood near the steps to the Inn and watched a real giant talking to Narri about the still pending delivery of Black-Briar-Mead. As a regular guest of the house, he now waited for over a week on the belated delivery and had probably been more thirsty than good for him. Because of the darkness, she could not really see much of him, but the silhouette was impressive and the two-handed sword, which he carried on his back as if it were nothing, was certainly as big as Marthe herself. He muttered into his beard before he simply left the innkeeper's pretty employee and finally entered the Inn. After a day without great excitement or other important things to do, the thirst was all the worse, because you were thinking all the time that boredom was the greatest enemy of an experienced warrior and that at least time was beaten with a jug of mead. Not that he was drinking much. Oh no, don't mistake him with one of the drunken beggars who roam Skyrim roads at night. Marthe waited for the moment when Narri followed him back into the Inn before she decided that at least one attempt would be worth asking directly at the Inn for someone who could handle this task. This, however, was a little delayed, for Kust had kept his word, and informed the guards. On one of their rounds through the city, they had discovered the dainty person and tried to get her involved in a conversation to find out who she was. In any case, she was not known to any of them.

got some more ghosts and strange happenings in markarth

O....KA Y OR I COULD ALSO NOT DO THAT 

i really, really, really want to see what happens lmao but hes just like. a random priest guy. he seems nice. im becoming increasingly more of a moral disaster but i really cant bring myself to lure an innocent man to be murdered and devoured by cannibals 

i really love that the only requirement for her to ask this of me was just like ‘i showed up to check out what was going on in the tombs. didnt attack her. now apparently we’re friends and she wants me to bring a new victim for her and her friends’

like if they were just eating corpses thats like, ok, fucked up, but they’re dead anyway, so, uh, you do you, but apparently they’re also killing people, 

i wonder if this shrine is even on my map i wonder if i could find them without bringing the dude with me. i dont know if i necessarily want to go pick a fight with them but maybe just pop in like “hey what the fuck” 

i found a fairy ring! it didnt seem to do anything special but i love that its here

this guard is my friend hes always around the shops in whiterun so frequently when im waiting for something to open i just kinda hang out and chat with him for a few minutes. hes exactly the same as all the other guards but i feel like we have a connection

i guess presumably it could be different guards working this post but shhhhhhh dont ruin this for me 

arent you like 12. go to your room

HES JUST HANGING OUT 

I LOVE HIM

i have a video of this also but she was???? stuck in the ground?????

also a few seconds after i encountered this i got a little “quest failed” notice about. some sidequest i picked up somewhere about a spiced wine shipment. just out of nowhere when i was wandering around town and hadnt done anything. and i havent seen her around selling wine since then. did she fucking die. did she just get consumed by the ground

ive been collecting apples in a kettle and recently discovered THEY ALL GLITCHED THROUGH ONTO THE FLOOR :( 

what the hell happened here 

i just found a bunch of dead guards on the steps in markarth for no apparent reason, which nobody was acknowledging at all

did..... they fall on the steps and die, 

what Happened 

o kAY, 

you’d think the guards would have slightly more concern if they discovered one of their citizens is actually an assassin but i guess this guy’s on my side 

not sure how more people dont notice though considering the fact that im usually openly wearing dark brotherhood armor while im like, shopping for poison

sometimes i get these great shots of my companions looking like they’re posing for pics 

“was chillin with @ ArgisTheBulwark and we found this giant head lol #weird” 

“jenassa lookin FIERCE 👯‍♀️#yougogirl #girlsnight” 

argis is such a weird dude he noticed my amulet of mara and wanted to marry me Immediately when we first met, he gets mad at me whenever i pick up bread, and i was setting up my house and he just comes over and notices me putting a helmet on the shelf like “hey since you dropped that it means i can have it right” and im just like. no ??? this is my house ??? go away 

i have NEVER seen lydia do that at my whiterun house lmao 

his reaction lines are frequently... slightly late too like we’ll raid a cave and then AFTER i leave the cave he goes “huh look. a cave” he sets off traps constantly. hes a mess and hes growing on me so much i love my stupid best friend