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maysoulrose · 1 year

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The Thief and The Moon chpt 1

You guys i’m doing it. I’ve been writing a fanfic about one of my skyrim oc’s and her relationship with Brynjolf because i’m a sucker for the man. I posted the first chapter on Fanfic . net if you’d rather read it there, but I’mma try and post here too!!!!!!!!!!! I finally finished enough chapters to where I feel like it could be at a stopping point, in case I take a long break or something, so here they come! I’ll try to link each chapter on every post for convenience sake!

here’s my story on the website of the fiction : @ maysoulrose

ALSO this whole thing started because I stumbled upon THIS STORY ABOUT FARKAS AND I’M DYING. it really inspired me to write my own.

it’s freaking steamy as HECK so get your eyeballs READY.

Chapter 1

“Pay up.” Brynjolf held out his hand in anticipation. The two guards at the front gate of Riften eyed each other. Bashfully, the one on the left scratched the back of his head before confessing.

“Sorry Brynjolf, the only person who came through today saw right past our scheme… and…”

“She scared the pants off of us!!!” the other guard burst out. Brynjolf gave his eyebrow a good raise.

“Really?” He folded his arms in thought. “What did this person look like?”

“Terrifying” The guard on the right said, followed by a smack on the back of the head by the other.

“He wants physical features, dimwit.”

“Oh. uh…” He collected his thoughts for a moment. “Tall, really long hair, like, super long. Dark elf… I… I think.”

“... Fine. But I expect payment later. Don’t mess the next one up.” Brynjolf jabbed the closest guard in the shoulder.

“Yessir” the two say in unison. Brynjolf swings open the giant gate and enters the city.

It was just past midday. The market was gathering the usual attendees. Brynjolf scoured the crowd. No sign of this mysterious Dark elf. He had been meaning to find a new recruit or two for the guild and since she caught his little shake down, maybe this elf would be a good fit. She’s probably still here in the city since the guards hadn’t seen her leave.

“Better take my usual spot at the snake oil counter and see if she shows.” He muttered to himself. He adjusted the quilted fine hat that sat atop his head and straightened out the matching tunic. He felt a little uncomfortable in the getup he wore, for his merchant ploy to lure In a possible victim- I mean… Customer.. But it helped with the whole … ‘outfit.’

He leaned his hips against his booth and took in the crowd. Grelka was her usual angry self. Marise was over there, chiming about her crispy carrots. Brand-Shei… just waiting to be framed.

“Where’s my little guinea pig…” he whispered. Balimund was working away at the forge. That one fisherman walked by, who definitely was having secret love affairs. He scoffed at the thought, then glanced back over toward the front gate.

An unfamiliar figure was making their way across the bridge and over the canal. That had to be her. Probably just coming from a visit to the town alchemist.

Brynjolf ran through his mental list of introductions and tried to pick the best one for her as she approached the market.

"Here we go."

His eyes traced her form from head to toe. She had a fur hood and covered most of her face with a scarf. A pouch of coin strapped around her waist. She definitely wasn’t afraid of showing a little skin. She wore a set of fur armor. Bare shoulders and arms with a thin strip of fur across her chest. Her hips draped with assorted pelts and skins.

He continued his gaze downward… Through the fabric shifting as she walked, Brynjolf got a glimpse of a dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh. Already promising to fit in with his crowd.

The woman pulled back her hood, revealing a fountain of white hair, cascading down her chest and past her hips. A very small hint of purple shimmered off the waves when the sun hit it just right.

“Wow. They weren’t kidding.” Brynjolf recalled the guard’s description of her. She then tugs on her scarf and tucks it under her chin. Brynjolf felt his heart twinge with excitement.

She was beautiful. The closer she got, the more he felt himself entranced by her. She was elegant in the way she held herself. She was tall, and all of her features seemed to be just a bit longer than your average passer by. Her skin is on the lighter side, for a dark elf, and a bit warm in tone. Almost purple, rather than gray. A hint of pink revealed itself on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her skin seemed to have a velvet texture that shimmered like glitter. As if a diamond was crushed into pure dust and was sprinkled all across it.

By the time he realized he was gawking at her, she had caught his eyes. Hers were white, with only a hint of a pupil if you looked closely. Brynjolf snapped his jaw shut and approached her.

"So… you're the little lady that sniffed out my scheme at the front gate."

The elf stopped in front of him; he had her full attention.

It's a good thing he was skilled in the art of speech otherwise her otherworldly eyes might've made him stutter.

"I admire how you were able to catch that shakedown, and even more with how you handled the situation." He continued. "How about doing a little job for me, eh? Should be easy for a Lass like you." He paused for a moment, but she just kept her eyes on him. White lashes lining her lids.

"... not much of a talker, I see." He clears his throat. "I have a bit of an errand to run, But need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, that extra pair of hands always gets paid. Handsomely." He waited for a response.

She shifted her weight to the other side, extending out her leg slightly, and folding her arms.

"I'm listening." Her voice was smooth and low, almost a whisper. Brynjolf grinned at her response.

"See that argonian over there?"

————————————————

"EVERYONE, EVERYONE!" Brynjolf stood at his makeshift booth, waving his arms. "Please! Gather 'round. I have an AMAZING new product."

Everyone in the market groaned and shuffled over to him.

"What is it this time?" Brand Shei huffed. Murmurs and eye rolls were plentiful among the onlookers.

The mysterious elf watched the crowd and disappeared into it the moment everyone had their attention on the presentation. Quite literally it seemed. One moment Brynjolf was giving her the nod of approval, the next it was as If she never existed.

She slipped away, disappearing into wisps of shadowy smoke. The Argonian had left his booth, just as Brynjolf had planned. She tackled the lock of his cabinet and the Strongbox within. As expected, there lies a silver ring. Swiping the piece of fine jewelry, and softly closing the cabinet behind her, She made her way to Brand-Shei.

The dunmer had sat his rump on a pile of crates next to a couple of barrels. She reached an arm between two of them, just behind his back, and slipped the ring into one of his pouches.

Brynjolf continued on about his new "limb growing serum". He scanned the crowd, and almost jumped when he saw those moonlit eyes staring right at him, as if she had never left.

"Uh, that's all from me for today! Please! 20 gold per bottle. It'll change your life!" He shook around the tall potion container, appealingly.

Once the crowd dispersed, he jumped down from his platform and approached the mystery woman.

"Done without a hitch! You continue to impress.. Here's your share." He handed her a small pouch of gold, holding about 200 septims. She took the bag and dumped the contents into the satchel already on her hip.

Just a few paces behind them, sounds of a guard promptly arresting Brand-Shei for the planted ring filled the air. Brynjolf took a step closer to the lady elf and lowered his voice.

"Listen, if you're interested in doing more jobs like this, come meet me in the ratway. Just a test to see if you really have what it takes. We could use somebody with your skills." He smirks at her.

She ponders the invitation for a moment and shuffles around her freshly filled coin purse.

"Sounds like a deal~" flashing him a smile.

Brynjolf exhaled a breath of relief. He was really hoping she'd say yes.

"Good on ya. Do you have a name?" He asks. It takes her a moment to respond, like she's considering if she should trust him with it.

"... Allustria." She whispers with her alluring voice. Brynjolf smiles.

"Fitting"

read it on the fanfiction site

#brynjolf #skyrim fanfiction #brynjolf x dragonborn #elder scrolls #romance #elder scrolls skyrim #dark elf #the thief and the moon #fanfic #my stories #my ocs

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argisthebulwark · 6 days

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Hi yes hello just stopping by to say that I'm obsessed with everything you write. Every time you post something new I literally drop everything to read it immediately. Your drabbles about Farkas, Vilkas, and Brynjolf always leave me smiling, swooning, and pining. How you fit so much perfect characterization into so few words yet make it so spot on for them each individually leaves me in awe. Especially for the less popular characters! Like Balimund – love that big cuddly blacksmith man! And Thrynn! I flipped out when I saw you had Thrynn content, he's one of my absolute favorites and there's so little about him out there. I'm absolutely obsessed with your headcanons about him! But anyway, that's all, I love you and hope you have a lovely day.

Thank you!!! I wish I could type thank you a hundred times because this is so very kind, I am always so relieved to hear that people enjoy the things i write. I work really hard on characterization so it's awesome to hear that it comes across!!! Thrynn!! I know I haven't talked about him in ages but it's so exciting when people get interested in niche side characters, it feels like there's so much freedom with them since bethesda gave them a handful of repetitive lines and called it a day lol. I was soo into him for a hot minute idk what happened. I keep a sheet of paper with a running tally mark of how many times I've used each dude, I guess he just never made it on there lol. I am so so so grateful that we have this shared fandom space. It's so fun to create things and hear from folks that enjoy them, tesblr is the nicest place I've been on the internet. Thank you again for your message, it made my day <3

#asks #screaming and crying tbh people are being so nice #this is what's it all about babey

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1000fiction · 2 years

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Mid-year

Mid-year. TES Summerfest Free Day. Ft. Paarthurnax.

Mid-Year.

One of the finest months - the temperature finally rising, the most frozen of areas a touch more bearable than the rest of the year. That delightful time of year when most of the wildlife were too preoccupied with their partners than with wanderers – and those with cubs or pups could be heard a mile off thanks to the rambunctious nature of the young.

It was when the roads were dry and the dragonborn’s boots weren’t caked in mud, when they could travel from Whiterun to Riverwood to Rorikstead without a sudden torrent drenching them down to their skin. It made travelling Skyrim easier – easier, not easy, for it never was easy to travel in this land – so the hardest to reach places were suddenly a little less daunting to access.

Errands were enjoyable, so long as they steered clear of the caves and dead things, but otherwise it was a convenient excuse to see as many friends as possible.

They’d started off in Whiterun, and slowly made way around the province; Falkreath, Markarth, Solitude, Morthal. They’d bought out every Alchemists stock of ice wraith teeth and fire salts along the way. Then up to Dawnstar, Winterhold, Windhelm – they’d purchased salt and acquired a new warming enchantment upon their clothes.

Finally, Riften, fire salts for a new pair of boots from Balimund, meat and veg from Marise for the teeth.

Bolli had sold them fish, which they coated in copious amounts of salt so it kept for the journey – it added extra flavour also, which they knew he liked, said it reminded him of the sea.

The ride through the Rift was everything they’d expected - quiet, calm, decorated with golden leaves that would fall in the following months, but not yet – till finally they crossed the threshold to Ivarstead.

Gwilin smiled their way as usual, with Klimmek at their side offering his company up the steps.

They’d declined – company was waiting for them at the top.

Even the trolls seemed tempered by the season, too lazy to interrupt the dragonborn’s journey when they could be burying themselves in the snow.

High Hrothgar held its chill as usual, though the Greybeards seemed ignorant to changing seasons, locked away in their own little world – even more isolated since the destruction of Alduin but less so at the same time.

They’d appreciated the vegetables, meat also. Arngeir gave his thanks on behalf or the group, though their thanks was evident in its own subtle way, a glint in an eye, a twitch of lip, an eagerness in biting into a fresh cool apple.

They were happy to guard the dragonborns belongings, watching them leave with nothing but casual clothes, new boots, and a sack of overly salted fish.

It was rude to keep company waiting, and so they headed up.

The word wall was unoccupied when they reached the clearing, instead, a great shadow loomed over, the beast perched atop the very highest peak of the Throat of the World.

His face turned up towards the sky, throat vibrating with his pleasant grumbles, long mouth pinching back into a smile – at least that’s what it looked like.

Basking. They’d seen a lizard do it once.

If the dragonborn thought hard enough about it – they were technically seeing a lizard do it again, just a very big one.

Either way, he seemed content, content to absorb the warm rays usually obstructed by thick cloud or heavy snow. It was now they realised they hadn’t had to shout – no weather had blocked their path – he’d already cleared the way and was taking full advantage of the clear skies.

They were loath to break his focus, so they laid in the snow, spread starfish to feel the sun on their exposed skin, the enchantment warding off the nip from the ground beneath their back.

It was two hours later they came too – assuming the purrs had rumbled through the mountain and coerced them into sleep in the complete safety of their friend – the sun now making its way toward the horizon line. The dragon clambered down the cliff face to sit in the snow beside them, his tail tapping them awake.

“Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin”

“Good afternoon to you too, Paarthurnax. Have you enjoyed your day?”

He grumbled in contemplation, as if words wove together within his throat before rolling off his tongue.

“Geh… yes. To feel the sun again, it is, aan kogaan… a blessing. One I feared I would never experience again.”

The dragonborn smiled, corners of their eyes crinkling.

“You know what else is a blessing?”

The great beast cocked his head to the side, pupils pinched closed together as he stared curiously down his snout.

It made them laugh, his expression akin to a young pup.

They opened the sack, scent of fish and saltwater making him rear his head, throat pulsing in anticipation as they took a slimy creature and flung it into the air.

He darted out like a snake, catching the fish in his mouth to savour the flavour on his tongue before swallowing it whole. He rumbled happily, scales and spikes rattling in glee, as he awaited the next toss.

It was long until they’d emptied the bag, The great dragon succeeding in catching every fish thrown his way – including the purposefully tricky ones, under leg, without looking, he’d even turned to demonstrate he could catch one over his shoulder.

“Good?” They asked breathlessly, shoulder aching from tossing so many sea creatures – it was harder than it looked.

“Indeed Dovahkiin! I am grateful.”

Was it a smile? Perhaps not in the traditional sense but his eyes certainly gleamed with gratitude.

“I’m glad. Parthurnaxx, I hope we continue to do this every year.”

“Ahrk zu'u hi, mal dovah”

His snout pressed into their stomach, their body laying against his nasal ridge, arms wrapped as far as they could go.

“Perhaps next mid-year I shall travel to a warmer mountain, may we spend all day in the sun.”

#skyrim #skyrim x reader #paarthurnax #tesfest22 #Oh my god I actually did it. I finished something.

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monstersandmaw · 2 years

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Any backstory on the new dunmer lad? 👀

Was gonna share this photo on Instagram stories and then realised no one on there is interested. One (1) person on here is, so there you go:

This is Næthir, my very grumpy, slightly mud-spattered, bitter dunmer (why do all the elf character design options look so… skrunkly??). Literally 2 seconds after taking those photos he got attacked by a bear and three wolves and contracted bone break fever, so he’s really not having a good day.

I don’t have much for him yet, except that he doesn’t have a home or a family, and he’s been on his own since he was a child. He learned to pick pockets and steal food from market stalls, and he worked as a stable hand for a merchant for a while until there was a spate of thefts at the house and he was accused because he’s a dunmer. It was nothing to do with him, but he was dismissed anyway, which only made him hate humans all the more.

He travelled all the way to Windhelm when he was about 15 because he’d always been told by people that there was a community of Dunmer folk there (usually in a nasty “go join your people in Windhelm, elf” way), but he didn’t stay long because there was so little work and way to make a living there. Besides, it was bloody freezing. He went to Solstheim for a few years and then went south again, crossed the border and was working for a khajiit caravan as a smuggler when he was caught and taken to Helgen. He’s only 19 at the start of the game (as opposed to Lein who is 27), but he’s sour, bitter, and not a very kind person. The only people he is kind to are the homeless children he meets on his travels, and he will always give them what he can to help out, knowing what it’s like to live without a home or a family.

He’s panromantic, demisexual, not super intelligent, but not stupid, athletic, very good at killing things (he’s gonna fit right in with the DB and the thieves guild), is relatively strong with magic (he reads a few spell books from the khajiit traders and learns some basic spells but not much beyond that until he goes to Winterhold), and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly read: at all. He has little time for the racist nords either, and resents the way humans treat him as an elf in Skyrim.

That was cheerful, wasn’t it? He gets less bitter as he grows up and goes through the events of the game, but he’s always got that sarcastic, wry humour and he isn’t very good at making friends. Lydia drives him up the wall, but he likes Serana after a time, and Balimund the smith in Riften is kind to him. He feels most at home with the DB and the Thieves Guild.

#his ears are also super sensitive but no one needs to know that #Dunmer #Skyrim oc #Skyrim dragonborn #Skyrim #dark elf #grumpy skrunkly boy #behold a new blorbo #he’s rude but he has reason to be

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valen-dreth · 1 year

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balimund is always my husband of choice…I know you would get it

oooohhhh a very good choice...... he is so kind i think :]

#asks

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leeniejs33 · 2 years

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A very patient man

So this is from a writing prompt I saw months ago. The details finally clicked in my mind. I hope you enjoy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The king stood within his palace walls, a piece of parchment clasped tightly in his hand. He sighed mournfully as he glared down at it. He placed it down on his desk gently, folded his hands and closed his eyes for a few moments. 55 years he sat on this throne and nearly every one of those years his subjects lived in peace. The first few was a turbulent time. He had been crowned immediately after his father's death during a war the eastern province started. He slid his hand through his long hair and pulled it over his shoulder. He resigned himself to a decision. But he did not waver in the slightest. "Page?" A young man stepped forth from the corner of the room and bowed his head to his king. "Yes, sire?" "Kindly fetch me a barber and the commander," the king said in a patient tone he was well known for. The young man nodded. "Of course, sire. At once." He hurried off. In this world hair held a special significance. When leaders were crowned their heads were shaved completely. It was customary for them to never cut it, save for declarations of war. To receive a small lock of hair told that the ruler was either new to his title or that they went to war often. It told that they were rash and foolhardy. However, to receive a long lock of hair told a much different story. This told that said ruler had a lifetime of experience upon the throne and they very rarely went to war so rashly. It had only been a month since he had received a lock of hair from the king of the eastern province. This lock was quite short. Barely as long as his smallest finger. He had heard the new king was stepping beyond his borders, eager to expand his empire. And had already declared war on at least three countries that surrounded his kingdom. The king shook his head. The boy knew nothing of war tactics. The doors opened and a young woman strode through carrying a bag. She was pink in the face from her rush to answer his summons. She clasped her hands over her bag and bowed low. "You summoned a barber, sire?" He bid her to stand with a raise of his hand. "What is your name?" "Alia, sire. I am the apprentice to the royal barber. I have been tending your children's hair for nearly a year. I imagine you expected my master but he is currently tending to the queen's hair and sent me instead." The king nodded solemnly. The doors opened again and his commander strode in and bowed. "You sent for me your highness?" "I have. Today is a sad one. And the tasks ahead shall be grueling. The eastern province has declared war upon us." The young lady gasped, the commander was unfazed. "Your highness," the commander began, "surely King Joesiah received your peace offering?" In light of the declaration the king had received, he had returned the lock of hair with several carts full of his finest goods, a customary peace offering. "He has indeed. He took it and brutally murdered my messengers as well as razed several of my people's villages." The kings voice lowered and turned cold and resolute. "He will not be persuaded and he will not back down. We must respond. We will need to send letters to our neighboring countries. I shall see to the weapon selection myself. If Balimund receives anything other than a war axe then he shall be unwilling to come to our aid." The commander bowed again and exited to follow his king's wishes. "Now, miss Alia," he turned to the young woman who was not much older than his grandchildren, "we must begin." "Of course sire, how much hair shall I cut to send?" "All of it." Alia's eyes blinked at him in shock. She looked to the long mane that stretched over his chest and down past his waist. "A-All of it?!" Her voice trembled. Never in her life had she seen her king declare war. He had never cut so much as a single lock. But to send all of it... "Yes, every last strand. They must know the severity of their actions. They will know they just evoked the wrath of a very patient man."

#patience #king #writing #writing prompts #war #peace #patient man

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melusinah · 3 years

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I'm legitimately having the worst time picking a good character to play in Skyrim. I know I made up that one dark elf to play, I just can't get into it I guess.

#so many mods have made it a completely different game for me #I don't even play the story I'm just over here playing short term characters to role play #cate #last short term char was a bawd #she was a very good bawd she would kick your ass for messing with her girls and her like 3 guys #i even got a nice modded house with a bunch of rooms for them all to stay in #now I'm playing a mara worshipping healer who's trying to get Balimund's attention by travelling around to get fire salts #it's taking a long time #luckily i have like 3 followers I lost the fourth one she didn't die she just wandered off #i think it was because my character flirted with her

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debaited · 1 year

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12, 16 & 25 for veris and balimund (physically restraining myself from asking for the entire list) >:3

You can ask me as many questions as you want, my friend. I love talking about my sweet guys <3

Veris & Balimund

12. What is the biggest hardship they've survived together?

Basically Veris's redemption and working through all the trauma. Veris attends the Temple and between consulting priests, becoming Mara's champion, and their long and emotional talks together, it's a process. But Balimund loves him a lot and wants to see him become happy and grow to love himself <3

16. What are their love languages?

Veris's love languages are physical touch and acts of service and Balimund's biggest love language is words of affirmation <3

25. Do they call each other any pet names?

They call each other "love" and Veris says "my heart" sometimes <3

#ask games #mutuals <3 #veris and balimund #oc: veris #skyrim couples #skyrim ocs

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daedrabait · 1 year

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Reforged

Balimund x Veris (trans male Dunmer) - 4617 words

I finally finished this. This is the SFW version.

Nsfw version posted on ao3.

Contents: Dialogue heavy. Some mildly suggestive language. Fluff and heavy, difficult conversations with brief mentions of past hurts. Minor descriptions of injury. Redemption themes.

Hope you like feelings cause there's lots of them here.

"Ten pinches of fire salts should do the trick."

Veris was almost sure that the smith was the only genuine person who resided within Riften's walls. That was a pretty astute observation, coming from Veris, who was hardly a saint himself. The irony wasn't lost on him. But he was self aware enough to decipher between those who had a dark heart like he did, and those who didn't.

On most occasions, Veris saw those with such sweet temperaments as targets - something to sink his claws into and devour, to suck clean every bit of generosity he could. That was the starved, ever yearning part of his battered being, the part that had kept him alive all those years in Windhelm. But something about Balimund and the way he looked at Veris, made him want to help. Not for just his own gain, but to get the man to flash him another smile, to see his eyes warm upon him as they had before.

Veris was used to running errands. It was large part of his life, doing things for people for something in return. He was trying to build himself up here in Riften, a city teeming with opportunity: from guilds of thieves looking to expand their following, to crooked politicians wanting things swept under rugs, to merchants needing menial errands ran for them. And then there was the Nord blacksmith whose presence was like a warm breeze amongst the cold, cutthroat atmosphere of the city. Balimund.

Strange. Veris usually hated feeling indebted to anyone, and did services only to gain and keep himself in high-esteem. He did not care about the opinions of others. Or did he?

Veris's bitter temperament seemed to be changing as of late, he noticed. Was it thanks to the little vials of magical hormones he had been ingesting? The kinds that were changing his body slowly, helping it to match his mind?

He had come to Riften for a new start. People who didn't know him, places that he had not graced in a past form that he could no longer stand to take. He could do things his own way, now. He could be recognized for who, and what, he was. No longer Windhelm's Dunmeri wench. He didn't have to lay with men that he'd rather slit the throats of. He was reclaiming himself.

Veris missed a lot of things. He missed being able to dress the way he liked most of all. Dresses. He liked dresses. But he wanted to be seen as a man in a dress, instead of the woman that he had been perceived as. A pang of chest-deep discontent hit him. He didn't completely hate his body. But he wanted it to change.

His voice had dropped in pitch, and there was hair growing where it had not before. His hips were still wide, but there were parts in the middle that had filled out. His arms were becoming more toned by the exploring and swinging swords he had done, as well as the medicine. The life-saving medicine. He was extremely happy with these changes, even if they made some things more difficult for him.

The trek back to Riften was strenuous. He had spent too much time in the wilderness executing bandits, gathering ingredients, and delivering ore samples. But he had achieved most of what he had set out to do.

Veris would be lying if he said he wasn't eager to deliver the fire salts back to Balimund. Tired as he was, his muscles knotted and sore, he still walked across the city to where the blacksmith worked diligently. It was getting late, stars twinkling in the sunset bathed sky, but there Balimund was, hammering away at his forge. He always worked late. No one else in Riften seemed as dedicated or as honest in their work as he was.

"I have the salts for you, sera," Veris's voice was rasped, and though he was born and raised in Skyrim, living in the Grey Quarter with the rest of the Windhelm Dunmeri for so long had given him a whisper of their ashy Morrowind accent. It was even more tangible now with the deepening of his voice.

Balimund looked up at Veris with those warm brown eyes of his, his square face streaked with soot from the forge. And then he smiled, and it lit up his entire face, smoothing the crease between his bushy, furrowed brows. The sight made Veris's chest warm.

Pathetic, he thought to himself. Pathetic to let a man you barely know make you feel so soft.

"You do?" The man stood up straight, placing his hammer down. Veris felt dwarfed by the Nord, coming up to his chest in height. He felt his cheeks warm as he dug into the satchel secured to his hip, drawing out the jar he had collected the salts in and holding it out to the blacksmith. "Thank you so much. I didn't expect you to pay so much attention to it, really. I know travelling Skyrim isn't exactly easy right now."

The Nord's brown eyes were shining as he took the jar, examining it. His deep, raspy voice was soothing. "Excellent. This'll do perfectly."

Veris's cheeks were aflame. He wondered if the blacksmith noticed. He hoped not. "It wasn't that big of a deal," he said, the words sounding a bit feeble to his own ears. Where was the man who had effortlessly seduced guards out of collecting the endless bounties that were on his head? "It was on the way."

That wasn't the entire truth. But what reason would he have to say more than he had already? He'd embarrassed himself enough.

Balimund smiled at him again and then motioned to the forge before him. "How about I show you some things about forging your own armor? I know you're a mercenary; it could be very helpful to you."

Veris's stomach fluttered. The thought of being taught how to smith by such a man was both enticing and daunting. The complicated feelings Balimund gave him made him want to turn tail, but he couldn't deny that spending more time in his presence sounded delightful. And that the learning experience would indeed be helpful to him.

It wasn't a secret that Veris was doing mercenary work, but something about being referred to as a blade for hire without the disdain that usually adorned such titles felt strange. Everyone knew that mercenaries usually did the bloody and less savory work that their employers would rather not get their own hands dirty with. But this didn't seem to bother Balimund.

Balimund was patient as he showed Veris how to shape metal. He was obviously passionate about his craft. They stood close together, sometimes brushing; every point of contact sent warmth through Veris. The Dunmer hadn't realized that it had been so long since he had felt the touch of another. It had been even longer still since the touch came from someone he actually liked.

Balimund didn't talk as much as he grunted and made gestures to whatever he was showing Veris. It was oddly comforting, the way he preferred to let his hands do most of the talking. And what lovely hands he had. They were large, and roughened by his work. His wide fingers were stained with soot, blonde hair dusted over his lightly scarred knuckles. Veris knew the Nord's hands were warm. The thought of them settling upon his hips crawled up into the Dunmer's thoughts.

Pain surged through his own hand in that moment, surging and sudden. Hammer. Veris realized he was holding a hammer in one hand and a sword in the other, and instead of striking the sword, he had struck himself square in the knuckles. Reflexively, he released his grip on both the sword and the tool he was using to meld it, withdrawing and holding his injured hand to his chest with a hissed swear.

Balimund reacted fast, going to him and placing a hand on his shoulder to steer him toward the Temple of Mara, where healers were present. Veris cursed himself for not being more knowledgable in restoration magic; the last thing he wanted was for a priest to heal him. He felt incredibly unclean as he crossed the threshold into the temple. He was angry and embarrassed, but the warm and gentle hand on his shoulder kept him steady. It felt ironic that a punishment for the slightest of impure thoughts was going to be magicked away by priests of love. He felt a smile creep onto his face despite himself.

"I should have paid better attention, I suppose," Veris muttered as they approached Maramal. Balimund grunted and rubbed his hand on the Dunmer's shoulder sympathetically.

"It happens to us all, friend. Especially as apprentices," he said softly, his tone gentle. Veris's heart throbbed. He clamped down on the feeling.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?" The sentence came out with more bite than Veris had intended. He immediately regretted it, which was a strange feeling in itself. Veris usually didn't care about offending others.

The big blacksmith took it in stride, his chuckle filling the gaps in the air as the priest diligently took Veris's hand to heal his broken knuckles. He didn't feel the pain anymore after the initial hit; he had always had a good tolerance, and had even grown to enjoy pain in certain situations as a coping mechanism. But it was a hand, which was a very important part of him - and it needed mending. Bones popped back into place, blood flowing warmly and leaving a tingle in his joints as the warming, golden aura of restoration magic restored his hand to its former glory.

Veris wiggled his fingers to test their efficiency and after feeling no pain nor stiffness, he nodded to the priest. The man gave him a dazzling smile that only those deep within the worship of a higher power could. Veris sure felt wholly out of place here. But he also did not feel any contempt. This temple was a good thing, and he had been helped here... so he felt it right that he leave an offer to their charity. After handing the priest a palm full of septims, which he gratefully accepted, Veris exited the Temple with Balimund in tow.

"That was a good thing you did back there. I already knew you were a good sort, but I don't think you give yourself enough credit for it," Balimund said softly. Why was his voice so soothing? It made Veris want to be angry. But he couldn't muster it. If only the sweet man knew the atrocities that he had committed.

"Just because I did a few things for a few people doesn't mean I'm a good person. Besides, both of you have helped me in some way. It isn't as if it was a... selfless exchange or anything," Veris said as he rubbed his hand over his own chest. The words sounded feeble to his own ears, even if he had meant them to be firm. He never liked compliments that weren't material. He felt like he was lying to everyone all the time (and sometimes, he was) with the person he presented on the outside. He didn't like people having expectations of him. It made things complicated. He had disappointed so many in the Grey Quarter; for some reason, he didn't want to repeat this in Riften. Especially not in front of the sweet blacksmith that he actually liked. Yet what choice did he have? He could no longer bare to pretend to be something he was not.

"Besides - It was five septims," he added, a bit too late. Balimund was gazing at him as they neared his shop again, and the way he was looking at Veris made him want to squirm. Such open, honest brown eyes. How could he let himself be so open in a place like this, where kindness and honesty were viewed as weaknesses to exploit? It was bewildering.

Balimund shook his head, what looked like amusement sparking in his eyes. "It's not about the amount. Besides, you don't have much to give, do you? The fact that you even thought to was a good deed in itself. You could have walked out of that place without speaking a word to Maramal and he still would have healed you and wished you well."

Veris looked to him, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you could have taken without giving. You had every right to, and even if you had, it doesn't make you a bad person. But you chose to give, and that matters too."

Veris raised an eyebrow at the man. "I'm no saint."

Balimund laughed again, and the Dunmer's heart gave a flutter. "I never said that. But you don't have to be a saint for the little things you do to count. That's all.

Veris shrugged, unsure how to respond. He was getting all sorts of warm feelings from the man and this conversation that he didn't know how to process.

"I can give you more lessons tomorrow, if you would rather rest up after harming yourself. I wouldn't blame you for it. Taking a whack to the knuckles with a hammer is nothing to sneeze at. You took it remarkably well, though," Balimund said, sounding impressed. Veris's cheeks warmed. He couldn't well admit to the man that he had grown to enjoy pain after years of having it used as a weapon against him. It seemed a heavy subject to lay upon someone he had barely become acquainted with.

"Thank you. I think I'll come back tomorrow," Veris told him, flashing him a smile. Why was he nervous? It wasn't as if he hadn't flirted with and slept with many people. Simply talking to and getting lessons from Balimund should not nearly have been as nerve-racking as it was. But when he looked at Veris with those warm brown eyes of his it simply stripped away all the hard outer armor the Dunmer had carefully cultivated all these years. Those eyes made him want to be honest. And honestly was foreign to someone who grew up within the consequences that Veris had.

The Nord was looking at him with those eyes right now. "Where are you staying?"

The elf had no reason to lie. So he didn't. "I'm staying at the Bee and Barb. I don't... have a place here, yet."

The blacksmith smiled and approached Veris slowly, his posture lose and open. "You could join me for dinner instead. I have an extra spot inside the shop, since I have no apprentice right now. You wouldn't have to stay in a crowded inn for the night, and I've been told that I'm a decent cook."

Veris was shocked. He didn't want to assume Balimund was coming onto him, but heat still colored his cheeks. He was extremely attracted to the big blacksmith,

He must have been quiet for a beat too long. How could he as a worshipper of Dibella be so bad at such things? "There's no pressure, of course. I don't wish to make you uncomfortable," Balimund added, his voice gentle and tentative.

The Dunmer's cheeks were on fire. There's no way that the Nord couldn't see it. "I'd love to spend time with you, Balimund. Really," Veris said softly, letting his voice drop low. "You needn't worry about offending me."

The Dunmer noticed the slightest hint of color on the other man's cheeks. Internally, he patted himself on the back. It wasn't as smooth as his line deliveries usually were, but other times it had come natural. Now, well... he wasn't sure what it was about Balimund that made him overthink every move.

An inner part of himself squirmed. Veris was transgender... He had boundaries now to keep his mental well-being safe and not have repeats of the past. Balimund was a lovely man, but would he understand? A part of Veris knew he would. But the other part cringed at the possibility of rejection or the prospect that the other man would have certain expectations of him.

If he were to become intimate with the big blacksmith... Well, it would mean something, he was pretty sure.

He subconsciously shook the thoughts from his head. He was too deep in his own mind.

So instead he allowed the Nord to lead him inside of his shop and let go of his tight hold on the situation. Whatever happened would happen. Maybe they would just have dinner together and he'd fall asleep within the big man's embrace. That wasn't a bad idea. When was the last time he'd cuddled someone?

The shop was dimly lit and warm, a fireplace near the entrance with a chair on either side of it. "I'll be back in a moment," Balimund said softly as he walked ahead, "Make yourself comfortable."

Veris sat in one of the chairs and cast his hands over the fire, using a flame spell to set the low burning logs aflame. The warmth seeped pleasantly into his bones, and he found himself instantly relaxed. The house had Balimund's aura leeched into it, warm and smelling like the earthy fire. It was nice.

Something in the back of his mind whispered to him. The Nord had left the strange Dunmer he barely knew alone in his home. Veris was a thief who had stolen from many people, even some of the people he had cared about. Why would the blacksmith trust him? Or maybe it was a test.

A little part of him itched to try it - to at least dig around for something valuable. But he did not want to. He would not steal from this man who had been so kind to him. He didn't need to do such things so much anymore, and breaking the Nord's trust wasn't something he wanted to commit lightly.

Veris flinched slightly at the sound of the blacksmith's footsteps steadily approaching, a cool spark of shame skidding down his spine at the thoughts he had before and guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. But he hadn't done anything wrong, so why was he feeling so badly over mere thoughts?

He looked up to see Balimund smiling at him, the soot from earlier washed from his face, his smithing clothes replaced with a common, clean tunic and trousers. His blonde hair was brushed over his shoulders. Veris's heart fluttered. He was very handsome, and the fact that he had bothered cleaning up was even more attractive.

"Thank you for stoking the fire," the Nord said softly as he sat in the chair across from Veris.

The elf smiled, humming softly. "I used one of those fancy little flame spells, so don't credit me too much."

Balimund laughed softly, his brown eyes gazing warmly at him. "That's even more impressive than poking at it like I would've, honestly."

Veris raised an eyebrow. "You think magic is impressive?" Most Nords were wary or even afraid of magic. While Balimund was different from most Nords, it still stood up to chance about how he felt on the subject.

"Sure. I've never been any good at it, and I don't know many people who are. It takes a lot of focus," Balimund responded, sounding amused.

Veris laughed and shrugged, his cheeks flushing again. "I suppose so. I'm still working on my skills. I fight as a spellsword, mostly," he said softly, brushing aside the purple curls that fell into his face as he leaned forward to cast the flames higher.

"That's smart. It's good to have more than one skill to fall back on," Balimund commented appreciatively. Veris smiled to himself, thinking about the way he'd practiced with daggers before working up to swords when he was younger. It had taken him a while to build up the muscle to wield fluently, naturally small and frail as he used to be. Both his own work and the hormones he was taking were changing that. He felt strong, and feeling strong was lovely after being weak for so long.

He glanced at the blacksmith, who was watching him with those warm eyes. The Dunmer's heart fluttered despite himself. Why? Why was it so easy for him to incite such a stir in Veris?

"For what it's worth," he said slowly, "Smithing is no joke. You're strong." His eyes wandered to the Nord's thick, bare arms. Golden hair carpeted along his forearm, and he had half a mind to reach out to stroke it. So he did. Balimund's skin was warm, and his hair was surprisingly soft. A sweet and well-groomed man? What had he gotten himself into? He wanted nothing more than to crawl into the blacksmith's lap.

Balimund's muscles jumped slightly under Veris's fingers as the Dunmer stroked along the length of his forearm, letting his growing nails trail lightly on his skin. "Thank you," the Nord breathed, and Veris wondered what for. Oh. The compliment. His brain was barely functioning.

"You're very handsome and sweet to me, Balimund..." he said slowly, his voice dropped low, "Is there something you want from me?"

Balimund's hand covered his, taking it firmly but not unkindly. Veris looked up at him, a little confused. Had he done something wrong?

"Veris," he said softly, his thick and callused fingers stroking over the Dunmer's, "I think you're a very lovely man, and I wouldn't say no to being intimate with you. But that isn't why I've been being kind to you."

A spark of warmth spread through Veris at the words and the affirmation of his gender. He logically knew Balimund seen him as a man, but to hear it after years of mostly being sexualized as female by potential partners... It made him incredibly happy.

But what was he saying? Veris wasn't used to people being honest. He was only flirting and not trying to accuse the man of anything.

"It's okay, Balimund," he said softly, chuckling a little as he stroked the man's fingers with his own in return, "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I want you to know that you deserve kindness, as you are a decent man," the Nord said softly, pressing his lips against Veris's fingers. His mustache tickled against the Dunmer's knuckles. He watched the blacksmith with wide eyes, bewildered.

"Balimund... No offense, but you have no idea what kind of man I am. I've done... terrible things," he bit out, his body tensing as the euphoria from earlier turned to dread. Expectations. The one thing he was most afraid of: the very thing he always disappointed everyone in.

Balimund was looking at him with those open, honest brown eyes again. It made him want to shrink away.

"That doesn't matter. I'm not talking about the past. I've watched you for a while now; you walk around this town, doing things for people and donating to the needy."

Veris straightened. It was true that he had been doing things for many, but that was for coin. As for donating to those in need... "I know what it's like to not have enough to get by. It's the least that I can do. I'm no hyper charitable soul by any means."

"You don't need to be," Balimund said as he enveloped Veris's other hand in his, kneeling near his chair. Veris watched him with widened, bewildered eyes. "I'm no fool. I know what this town is like. I know what drives people into doing bad things, and I know that everyone is much more complex than they seem on the outside. You have a good heart. That's all I care about."

Veris's notched eyebrow raised despite himself. "You don't care that I'm a liar, a thief, and a murderer?"

Balimund watched him with steady eyes, the firelight bathing him in a warm yellow glow. It was beautiful against his pale, Nordic features, and illuminated his eyes from their usual rich brown to amber. His eyes were truly beautiful. The brown was much lovelier than the usual blue Veris had seen on most Nords. "I think you're more than that."

A shaky laugh broke free of Veris's lips. "So I'm not just a liar, a thief, and a murderer? That makes it better?"

The Nord's lips pressed into a hard line, and Veris felt the crushing weight of guilt settle upon his shoulders. He was disappointing this lovely, patient man. But better now than later, right?

"Look, I should probably just go at this point," he blurted out. But he couldn't move. Not with the big man knelt in front of him. It wasn't that Balimund was barring his exit; it was the weight of this conversation anchoring him to the chair. No one else had ever spoke to him this way. No one else had ever cared to let him unburden his heavy conscious to them.

"You can, if you want," Balimund said, his voice impossibly soft. It yanked at Veris's heartstrings in a way that mere gentle spoken words should not have made possible. The man was offering him an out. The Dunmer had spent his life stuck in situations, forced to endure with no way out. But here he was, offered complete and utter control over this whole situation.

"I... thought about stealing from you, Balimund." The words spilled out of Veris's lips before he could stop them. He immediately regretted them, but something in him, some small point of pressure, deflated with relief at the confession.

The Nord said simply, "But you didn't, did you?"

Veris stared at him. He really, really didn't understand the man. "I... I mean. No."

Balimund smiled, and the elf felt faint at how dazzling it was. "Then what does it matter?"

"I thought about it - That's why it matters! I was going to, but..."

"But you didn't." He said it, and it felt like the closing of a book - the resolution of a conflict. He pressed both of Veris's fists to his mouth, kissing each of them.

Veris stared at him behind cloudy eyes. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he said, strained. It sounded accusatory. Maybe it was. The whirlwind of emotions that Veris was feeling right now because of the blacksmith wasn't fair. It didn't make sense.

"You matter," he said simply. "You deserve to recognize that."

Veris shook his head slowly. He spent too many years being brushed aside, being wrong and bad, to understand that. "I don't," he bit out, "Do you even understand where I'm from and what I did to get here?"

"We're all a product of our upbringings, Veris. But you can choose your own path. You aren't unmalleable. You can take whatever path and whatever shape you desire."

It was too much. But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to be held by this blacksmith, the only man who had expressed genuine concern for his well-being. So he leaned forward as he took Balimund's face into his hand, and kissed him. The Nord melted into the kiss, one of his hands very gently cupping one of Veris's face. His hands were warm and gentle. His facial hair brushed across the Dunmer's skin, giving it a pleasant tingle. The loveliest, kindest man who had ever spoken to him was kissing him now, and he never wanted it to end. What did this mean for him?

Veris found himself ready to move on. He was ready to be happy. He was ready to be better, to hear what the blacksmith was trying to make him understand.

#my writing #balimund the blacksmith #balimund x oc #oc: veris #skyrim fanfiction #dunmer oc #fanfic writer #ao3 fanfiction #riften #skyrim #tes #tesblr

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the-khajiit-bard · 3 years

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Rating My Skyrim Spouses (in no particular order)

Scouts Many-Marshes — 10/10 tbh my favorite husband. He says the cutest things. Refers to our house as “our little nest.”

Darkeethus — -20/10 I’m not even sure why he’s a marriage option. He keeps his job as a miner, which would be no problem, if we had a house closer to the mine. He’s literally always gone and the only time I see him is when he’s running to work.

Aela — 8/10 she’s pretty but petty. No house is good enough for her except for the most expensive one (in Solitude). Just don’t ask her how the kids are in any other home and I guess she’s okay.

Balimund — 9/10 he’s a hard working man that loves me. Plus I have access to his forge which is pretty cool.

Moth Gro-Bagol — 10/10 a very close second to Scouts. Hard working muscley orc man with a good heart. Need I say more?

Valdimar — 7/10 he’s decent. Not much for talking when I bring him on the road. Pretty cool magic though. I wish he would stop calling me thane now that we’re married.

Belrand — 9/10 I did not marry this man for his looks. I married this man bc he is strong and has the BEST travel commentary. Would recommend to any dragonborn since being on the road can be tiresome. He definitely entertains.

Who’s your favorite spouse? Let me know who and why :)

#skyrim spouses #the elder scrolls #skyrim #aela the huntress #balimund #belrand #scouts many marshes #skyrim nord #skyrim argonian

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sunfoxfic · 2 years

Text

Anyway I have Thoughts on Skyrim survival mode and no where else to share them so here I go

The main thing I'd like to start off with is that I am heavily enjoying this playing experience. It feels better paced and more strategic overall, and it may be the fact that I've played the game 5 times but I think the fact that it is necessarily slower than normal game play is really helping.

I definitely think they could have possibly placed more beds around the country and made tiredness more of an issue, but without messing around with what beds are available, I definitely think they've struck a good balance on how often you need to sleep. Not so often that traveling between civilized areas is an issue, but frequently enough that you have to be aware of where you're starting, where you're going, and where you're going to sleep once you're done.

(Though there are definitely times where I think they made really weird decisions over whether a bed is owned or not. Why are random beds all over Markarth - you know the ones - owned, but you can sleep in random strangers' houses if you've chopped wood for them??)

Eating, likewise, isn't as bad as it could be. Getting salt in the early game is definitely an issue, so raiding barrels around cities is important, but getting food to prepare with the salt isn't an issue. Worse comes to worst, cabbage and salt makes cabbage soup, which is heavy but offers a lot of hunger points.

The best food is probably salmon which is easy to acquire and lightweight, though only 220 hunger points (other foods are frequently 380, and the difference is worth it imo). Seared slaughterfish is also 0.1 carry weight, but less common.

As for other strategy:

Get married early on. Personally I recommend marrying Balimund and moving him to Breezehome because then you'll have three blacksmiths in one city, which is nice for leveling up. Getting married gives you a steady source of income and homecooked meals, which are good.

The Steed Stone is your friend. The Steed Stone will mean that you get to carry around things like ingredients and soul gems, because without the Steed Stone you've got shit for carry weight and your armor is heavy, but you need that armor for the cold. Get the Steed Stone, at least until you can get the perk for heavy armor that allows it to weigh nothing, or until you get some decent light armor that provides the same amount of warmth.

Before you have Breezehome - and it will be a while - the Thieves' Guild and the Companions are good choices for reliable beds.

Do not make the mistake I did - wait to go to Winterhold. You can pay to get a carriage there but you cannot pay to get a carriage out. I genuinely almost died of cold getting from Winterhold to Windhelm because I did not think it through. Winterhold is cold, Winterhold is isolated from other places, Winterhold is not that helpful early on. Get some decent armor or at least a few hot soups before you go.

Speaking of hot soups! They aren't very helpful. They're bulky food, 0.5 carry weight each, and they don't actually do shit for your warmth. They cost a lot in fire salts and you're probably better off using the fire salts in alchemy or even just straight up selling it.

Be aware of what minor quests you have to do at any given time. Trust me, you will be kicking yourself, early game especially, if you leave Windhelm only to realize that you completely passed up the opportunity to complete a random heist quest you currently have. My recommendation? Have any quest that you feel you can do whenever selected. This means radiant quests, quick fetch quests, "go talk to this person for me" quests, etc. Quests that you'd like to know if they're nearby. This will help you choose somewhere to go - if you have a huge clump of quests all in the same area, for example - and it makes it harder to forget.

Okay, onto where I think survival mode could use some serious improvements:

Horses: Horses have always been a bit broken, but they should be so helpful in survival mode for getting around. But they're just.... Not. Because you can't reliably know where your horses are. At the very least, I think there should be a mechanic to put your horse in a stable where one is available, or, better yet, tie up the horse at specific points. Especially getting to Falkreath, Winterhold, Dawnstar, and Morthal. More minor, but also I think you shouldn't become as cold as quickly when riding a horse.

Carriages: Survival mode actually made carriages useful more than just the one time! But I think there's a lot of room for improvement on them. First of all, I think rather than a flat fee of 20 gold to travel to a hold with a stable and 50 to travel to a hold without, I think the price should vary based on proximity (and possibly political alignment?). So going to Winterhold from Windhelm maybe costs 30 gold, but going to Solitude from Riften costs 80.

Secondly, I think you should be able to hire a carriage to go to a minor city, if it's within the same hold. So you can pay 20 gold to go to Riverwood from Whiterun, or 30 to go to Falkreath from Riften. But you can't go to, say, Karthwasten if you're leaving from Whiterun.

The last thing I think would be good is perks that could have been added to the speech tree: First, the perk to have a flat fee of 10 gold no matter where you're traveling. Second, the perk to be able to hire a carriage to take you to any location on the map that has already been discovered. Either or both of these would be so invaluable to game play without making it easier or feeling forced in, imo.

Warmth: This is pretty minor, but I think there should be a perk on the destruction tree that makes it so using fire magic warms you up. Or, alternatively, a destruction spell (probably adept, but I could see the argument that it should be apprentice or expert level) that warms the user up. My last idea would be an enchantment on armor that keeps you from getting cold as quickly.

Sleeping: I honestly see no reason why traveling bedrolls couldn't have been added to the game. They definitely could have done something with how long it takes to rest up - i.e., it may take 2 hours to rest completely when sleeping on a normal bed, while it takes 3 hours to rest completely sleeping on a stone bed (looking at you Markarth), and 4 hours to rest completely sleeping in a bedroll. That, combined with the limited carry weight, means that traveling bedrolls are good but not necessarily great, and with the cold, they wouldn't be the best option at all.

Anyway. I have opinions on Skyrim survival mode.

#rambles #not ml #skyrim

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