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argisthebulwark · 1 year ago

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Severed Ties Part Two: Why You Came Back

summary: Time heals all wounds and somehow, you will find your way back to each other. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. Part One: Why You Left feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Teldryn, Vilkas, Farkas, Rune, Arnbjorn warnings: none, bit longer than usual.

Between all your duties and missing Brynjolf, it took time to find a comfortable rhythm. There was no escaping each other even after you put an end to your romantic involvement, only breaks coming in the form of jobs halfway across Skyrim. Through everything you worked together to get the Guild back on its feet. You entrusted Brynjolf solely with its care when Nocturnal came calling, reminding you that the Skeleton Key’s rightful place was in her temple. The Twilight Sepulcher drained your body and soul. Exhaustion sapped at your strength when you shuffled out, unsure how you were going to get back to the inn. Riften was another beast entirely. Chilly fingers shook at the prospect of your bed being so far away, ready to risk it all for a short nap in the forest. Brynjolf was planted a few paces away, hood thrown back and worry in his eyes. Your heart stopped at the sight. You’d never seen him so far from Riften. He took one cautious step as if you were a wounded animal, like you'd bolt if he came too close. Collapsing into his arms felt like home. Strong arms carried you when your muscles failed, tears springing into your eyes when he tucked you safely into his chest. You gulped back the words you hadn’t said in ages when he buried his nose in his hair, turning to carry you home. He'd left all duties behind to be there for you when you needed him most. “I promise, love. Nothing’s gettin’ in the way of you and I again. Sorry it took me so long.”

Tales of Miraak’s reign of terror over Solstheim slowed, the island calming and hesitantly returning to its normal life. It had been years since you’d left Apocrypha and you could only hope that he’d found the answers he’d wanted so badly or at least some form of peace. The last memory of him still pained you but you’d never forget it - robes wrinkled where he crouched over the ancient desk, eyes wild and fingers stained with dark ink. Being back on Nirn was a blessing and a curse. You had settled quite easily into your life but there was a constant nagging need to hear every rumor about him, to keep up to date on what he was doing. Your home was comfortable but quiet, interrupted by a harsh knock on your door. Seeing him again stopped your heart. His eyes were wide, blessedly free from the mania you’d come to know. The mask and gloves were gone, robes traded for simple armor. There he stood, the man who had forgotten you suddenly standing on your doorstep, that lovely voice saying words you’d craved to hear. “I gave it all up. I gave up everything to stand here and ask you for another chance and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, My Dragon.”

You didn’t recognize him in such normal, simple clothes. Erandur, who lived in robes befitting a priest and Mara’s regalia, took the empty seat across from you in the tavern. His fingers quivered when he offered you a hand, hope bright in his eyes when he introduced himself. “I had to come over here, I couldn’t stop staring. You’re stunning.” His attempt to sound nonchalant sent a nervous giggle bubbling out of you. “Can we put the past behind us and start over?” “Start over?” You didn’t release his hand and he didn't pull away, heart swelling when you saw his smile. All else was forgotten when you felt Erandur’s tattooed fingers climbing up your wrist. “I am just a man who very badly wants to kiss someone he saw across the crowded tavern. Nothing more.”

A compromise. That’s what he’d proposed. Teldryn sat at your table, eyes sparkling when he took in the house you’d built. It was far from the bustling cities, trees insulating you from the noise of nearby farms. After parting from Teldryn it had become a safe haven from the rest of the world. You’d never admit that building it with your own hands was fueled mostly by spite. He’d come with apologies and offers mingled together in a practiced speech. Some time at home, some on the road, all of it spent together. It was unsettling how easily you trusted him again after all the time spent apart. His helmet rested on the table when Teldryn met your eyes and for the first time he looked unsure of what to say. His mouth opened, closing again and you caught a glimpse of that annoyed furrow between his brows you’d missed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to settle down in one place, but I could get used to this slow life with you. For a while.”

Loving Vilkas was easy, you’d never truly stopped. Learning to be gentle with one another was difficult. You struggled to learn how to look past your relationship and see Vilkas as more than your partner, acknowledging his role in the Companions. He worked on seeing you as more than his Harbinger, viewing you as his partner once again. It was a slow process - taking breaks and setting boundaries, but he was worth it. During the day you worked, creating healthier avenues for conversation. At night you were partners, nothing more. No work talk was allowed between dinner and breakfast. In those evenings you found one another again, softening and loving each other as you had so long ago. “Remind me, Harbinger. Am I permitted to kiss you during working hours? Are we allowed to sit this close, or are you worried I’ll distract you?”

Breezehome had been yours before Farkas entered your life. It was your refuge during the evenings when you couldn’t bear Jorrvaskr’s halls or the memories they held. A cool breeze whipped through your hair when you walked home, masking his footsteps until he appeared at your side. Neither one of you said a word when he took your hand, falling in step with you and allowing you to guide him to your doorstep. It didn’t happen all at once. Rather, it was small changes that slowly altered your life. It took work for Farkas to summon the confidence to live for himself, extracting his sense of self worth from the Companions. You reminded him that it was a balance, leaving wasn’t permanent. Dinners were often spent in Jorrvaskr before retreating to the peace of your home. “I didn’t think I was anything more than a fighter. Didn’t think anyone would want me to be more.”

Each day felt like a new opportunity for growth. You watched Rune from a distance hoping that he would make peace with his past. You didn’t want him to give up but it was too painful to love someone who lived entirely in the mysteries of what could have been, as if you were only allowed to love part of him. Luckily, Delvin and Vex had an endless catalogue of tasks that no one else wanted to complete. Jobs in other holds, jewelry to be stolen in Whiterun and planted on some poor sap in Solitude, the occasional trip to confer with the Dark Brotherhood. All the travel was good for your mind, allowing you time to think through everything far from him. Falling into your cot you stared up at the Cistern’s ceiling. Watery light from the early morning sun reminded you that you’d stayed up all night again. It had been difficult to sleep with Rune cramped into your tiny bed but without him the space felt too empty. His footsteps were silent when he knelt beside your bed, his warm hand on your shoulder the only warning that he was there. “I’ll never give up, not entirely. But it isn’t worth losing you over. Just give me some time, please don’t forget about me.”

Arnbjorn consumed your every thought. Despite your best efforts to appear cool and indifferent you couldn’t take another moment. It was fairly easy to avoid him during the day, but every evening you struggled to not look at him through dinner. After all the others had left in search of bed or prepping for their assignment you found yourself alone with him, a few drinks deep and blood heating under the weight of his gaze. Too drunk to be embarrassed by the stumbling way you explained how badly you wanted to be loved by him again, how deeply you wanted him to love you. You didn’t want to be a replacement for the love he’d lost. Cheeks burning and tears spilling you gasped out the least graceful declaration of love and how much you missed him. Your name on his lips had never sounded better. Soothing kisses and careful hands sufficed when words failed. You knew he wasn’t comfortable vocalizing softer emotions. Arnbjorn’s lips were on your forehead, fists balled into his armor when you dragged him closer. “Just need you to trust me, okay? It’s only you. My past is my past, no changin’ it. I just need some time but I promise it’s only you.”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfic #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #brynjolf #miraak #erandur #teldryn sero #vilkas #farkas #rune skyrim #arnbjorn

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britt-kageryuu · 3 months ago

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Donnie and Leo are streaming together, but Leo is playing the game. Their masks with lightly glowing stars, models are in matching starry hoodies, black legging shorts that showed off their leg marking, and leg wraps/socks.

Leo is replaying Skyrim w/DLC,(not the new update) but without any mods. Because there was an issue with something in their modded game, and Donnie couldn't tell if it was a mod, or a base game w/DLC. They bought a version of the game that had the DLC pre installed into the game, and they already know base game is held together with ductape and the Will of the Devine Beings.

Leo was messing with the character customization, "All these options, but the only thing I can make Blue is my Eyes! I miss the Terrapin mod already. Well can't do much more, now what do I name my Argonian?" Leo rambles on engaging with chat while Donnie is looking over the active running code in real time with his laptop.

"Let's Go, Lord Scaly Butt! On through the tutorials, then the place we keep crashing!" Leo shouts almost knocking Donnie over with his enthusiasm.

~~~~A bit of relearning the basics and 1 dead dragon later~~~~

Once they finished with the beginning quests, bought the Whiterun house to drop off the dragon parts, and returned the Golden Claw, Leo started to mess with simple tasks that quickly raise your levels.

"Alright Dee, what requirements are needed to replicate this crash scenario? Also this took over an hour! Did the game always take this long in the beginning?" Leo is once again rambling, looking back and forth between chat and Donnie.

This is causing the audience to wonder what kind of energy drinks or something he had, or what might've been added to his tea/coffee today.

Donnie in the mean time is reading over a list, ignoring his twin while scrolling, "The build according to your last save, you had the light dragon armor, not enchanted, you had finished this list of quest," they lean over to show Leo the list, "and as you can see, a long list of negligible variables that I have already tested out of possible crach sources. And while this may take a long time, I will try to keep you on track."

Leo's eyes go wide at the list as he reads it over, "How long have I been playing on that save! How long is this going to take!?!" He says slowly getting loader.

Donnie just leans away, "Give me a moment, I forgot to cull the quests that are not important to this process." They show the new list, "It might take a few dozen hours, it might not. You will need to fast travel occasionally to the crash point to help narrow down the possible source."

Leo stares at Donnie for a moment thinking over what he just said.

"But wouldn't that also mess up the results, since it might've been a combo of more things, not less?"

Donnie pauses, turns to Leo, then back at his laptop.

"Dee, how long have you been awake?" Leo asks with a look of disappointment.

Donnie was about to make their argument, but then let out a loud, long yawn. They shake their head before looking a bit panicked, "Wait, I'm fine, I've stayed up for longer, plus don't you want to replay Skyrim? And explore, fight dragons, try to complete those glitched quests?!" Donnie rambles, trying to justify his tiredness.

Leo still looked at him with suspicion, but goes back to the game. He is very much not convinced. He just knows is he fights Donnie on this, he might get bit.

The audience is making some jokes about Leo stealing Donnies energy, some are trying to justify Donnies argument, and some kinda want to see Leo force Donnie to go take a nap.

Leo continues to play, chatting with the audience, meanwhile Donnie at some point passed out, and started to let out snores, chuurs, a hiss or two, and some slight growls.

Either way the audience was enjoying themselves.

---------------

Masterpost

This was originally just an them replaying without mods, then I remembered how Stupidly Long the beginning of Skyrim is, then I remembered that the Skyrim background music makes me sleepy, thus we end up with the above.

I could not stick to my original plan since I was also replaying the beginning of Skyrim.

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midorisudachi · 10 months ago

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“The Inquisitor And Her Commander”

As some of you may have noticed, I am a huge fan of the Dragon Age games, especially Dragon Age Inquisition. Last year, I had planned on drawing all the main [playable] characters up until Dragon Age Day (which took place on December 4th), but I just didn’t have time to draw more than three characters (the Inquisitor, Solas, & Varric…please check them out in my gallery) due to being busy with work and other things. I’ll eventually draw the other characters when I gather more motivation to do so.

For now, please enjoy this piece. I hope everybody likes this. I worked very hard on this artwork. It took longer than usual to create, due to all the small details, the poses, & the armour. (Armour is not easy to draw for me!) For those of you who are DAI fans, you may recognize the flowers: Crystal Grace on the bottom and Andraste’s Grace on the top. I know Andraste’s Grace is not in DAI, but I thought it would be pretty to add to the artwork (since it technically exists in the Thedas world).

My OC Inquisitor is named Bryony Trevelyan. She is actually my 2nd Inquisitor character, the first one having been an elf (which I may draw someday). I had been playing DAI for the 3rd time, a few months ago, as a male character (since I wanted him to be in a romance with Dorian, so yes, my male Inquisitor is gay), but I stopped for a bit since I am playing Skyrim at the moment (with updates & mods). Anyway, back on the main subject: I drew Inquisitor Bryony Trevelyan in the Armor of the Dragon Hunter outfit (from the Jaws of Hakkon DLC), which I had altered the colours by tinting it with Veil Quartz. I based her crown from concept art for DAI. So much armour in the game! Which I love, especially since the DA games don’t give female characters the stereotypical skimpy outfits…I love that I get to make my female characters wear bad-ass armour.

Cullen Rutherford is such an adorable and slightly awkward character around my Inquisitor. I knew I had to romance him right away, because his looks are the type of man I am attracted to in real life. (I’m not going to lie…in the game, he’s hot for a video game character. Ha ha!) I’ve always enjoyed the flirting in the DA games when it comes to the relationships. The best scene was right before their first kiss, when Cullen got interrupted by a member of the Inquisition, and then got mad about it. Ha ha. I liked when my Inquisitor asked Cullen, “The day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?” And Cullen replied (with a laugh), “Longer that I should admit.” Awwwww.

I also liked the part in the Winter Palace, when all these people were flirting with Cullen, and one asked him, “Are you married, Commander?” And Cullen replied, “Not yet, but I am…already taken.” Double awwww, because a loyal man is so dreamy. :3 I actually had Bryony & Cullen get married in the last DLC. :3 They adopt a Mabari (dog), too!

I love DAI too much. :D It’s such a fun game with the most gorgeous graphics (especially on the Xbox Series X).

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mixture of Copic Markers & Ohuhu Markers. I used Koi Watercolours for the background. White accents done with both a gel pen and white watercolour. Gold acrylic was used for the Inquisition Symbol & the lines, which the scanner absolutely murders...the gold is such a pretty, shimmery metallic in real life. The light green around my art was done in Photoshop Elements.

Dragon Age Inquisition © Bioware & Electronic Arts

Fan artwork © Jacqueline E. McNeese

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trickstarbrave · 4 months ago

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skyrim's MSQ has a lot of logical issues and annoying railroading but there are a couple of things that rly make no sense to me

delphine getting into the sacred tomb of jurgen windcaller and taking the horn that she knows the dragonborn will be after. i dont know how she knows the ldb will be asked to go get it by the greybeards, but i can excuse that with her being an active scholar and archaeologist which she is shown to be before that point (no i dont know why she is then dismissive of scholars later on). im really confused how she managed to get it and get out without setting off any of the puzzle traps

why she put the note there. what if i missed the note. what if the note fell off into the water and was unreadable. like it seems not very good as a plan

she gives us a passcode in the note and then tests us to see if we're "really" the ldb and not with the thalmor. i could be a dragonborn AND allied with the thalmor, it isn't impossible. the thalmor, while bad guys in the story to a cartoonish degree, are not the big bad. thats alduin. regardless of if alduin is rly gonna end the world or just try to rule it again, the thalmor would want to oppose him and control the dragons (something the ldb can do). the ldb could be a thalmor sympathizer easily.

the general assumption the ldb is going to be allied with the blades even if the game acts wishy washy about it. there is no way to refuse delphine's quest to kill paarthurnax and no way to kill her instead. in vanilla you can delay this quest and be locked out of the blades until you do, but there is no way to NOT be allied with the blades. why even give us the facade of choice here asking us existential questions about what it means to be good and acting like we have a choice to make when we absolutely do not (and bethesda will probably say paarthurnax is killed canonically for this reason)

the entire thalmor embassy section. we get some world building for the thalmor but logically it makes no sense to be in this questline in this spot. "the thalmor might be behind the dragons coming back" is such a wild leap of logic, as is "thats why we need you to infiltrate the party" like this isnt super risky, liable to get me killed, and is unlikely to have a reward. if she said we need to know more about dragons and the thalmor might have information on any surviving blades members because she doesnt think shes the only one left alive, that would make more sense

although i still hate this quest because it doesnt matter if you are a super stealthy rogue who can make your way through undetected or a warrior in heavy armor cutting your way through all of them, the results will be the same: you are caught and malborn is held hostage where he either is killed there or has his entire life ruined having to live in hiding for the rest of his days. why give us a stealth mission if there is gonna be no reward for being stealthy? "oh well not every person will play a stealth build--" im not asking for non-stealth build characters to be locked out of this quest im saying maybe stealth characters dont get fucking caught at the end if they go thru the place undetected

you have to join the college as part of the main storyline which i think is rly dumb. i know ppl hate magic in skyrim and the ppl of winterhold are paranoid but come on guys you dont offer enchanting services to normies? you wont just let me look around the fucking library after i proved im dragoborn? the magic sucks in this game anyways and the college questline is underbaked, why am i being railroaded into this one. you dont make me join the thieves guild. cmon

the thalmor just kind of become irrelevant around halfway through the story. what do you mean i was caught breaking into the embassy and now they just kinda don't care? you'd think they'd report me to the empire aligned cities' guards or order a hit put out on me.

does bethesda even know if alduin was actually gonna eat the world or just try ruling again. bc its really not clear at all and i think that is an important distinction to make

#skyrim #tesblr

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morpheus-somnium · 4 months ago

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The Last DragonBorn [modern au]

[masterlist]

I know that there are different backstories for different player’s Dragonborns.

So I’m gonna go with the basic “i just found out that i’m the Dragonborn and now i have to save the world”

I don’t think they were on death-row (death sentence is so not PC according to the Skyrim Moot)

Based on their age i think they either were in juvie or in prison (if we want to go with the prisoner story)

Or they were at the Helgen Migration and Home Affairs Center, getting their passport checked (if we want to go with the board-crossing story) when suddenly Alduin appeared, the people started to evacuate, and while the person who was checking the LDB’s passport also ran out of the building, the LDB just stamped their own passport (I am so sorry for the long and weird sentences)

So how did the LDB found out that they are the LDB? They started showing “symptoms” of being one and they just googled it. They typed in “voice suddenly louder” and “speaking weird language in sleep” and then “weird languages” and then “ancient languages” and then “dovah” and then “dovahkiin” and then be like, hm, weird, still not me tho

Or everytime someone asks them about it they just shrug their shoulders and respond with “i don’t know, i’ve always been a weird” or “yeah, lately i’ve been shouting a lot, maybe i have some anger issues” or when someone mentions that their shouts are pretty strong, and can almost blow away someone the LDB is just like “oooh, maybe i invented some new type of magic!”

And one day, when the modern equivalent of the Bleak Falls Barrow and Dragon Rising happens, and their whole friend group (so like their in-game followers and their modded followers) is standing there, confused, until one friend of the LDB ask “LDB, wtf???”

And LDB is like “not to self-diagnose, but i think i might be the Dragonborn”

And the friends are like “yeah, that makes sense”

It’s so dangerous to be around LDB because when they get sick, their sneezes blow everyone away. And when they get those sneezes that make your head hurt and ears ring? LDB blows themselves back into a wall, tree, the ether, etc

LDB doesn’t have a house (in the beginning), however they do have an RV!! So LDB and company use it to go here and there, to move around, to sleep, to cook, to etc.

But also I don’t think LDB has a drivers license? i think two or three of the friends switch driving

And I think (because there are a lot of followers & modded followers) that the RV is huge, but LDB and friends mostly camp, except if it’s raining or there’s a storm, etc, but then the RV is cramped and everyone is sleeping on everyone

LDB would have a youtube channel where they would upload videos like: "i joined the thieves guild so you don't have to", "am i the last dragonborn? story time", "interview with a nightingale" and "did we find blackreach?!?!"

I think they would wear like a basic outfit (like whatever basic outfit you imagine for your LDB) and over it they would wear a lighter armor.

So imagine your favourite band T-shirt, your favourite shorts and shoes + a lot of armor

But they could also wear heavier armor or whatever you headcanon (olease draw your dragonborn in an urben fantasy, modern au setting 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️)

you know those little bags that can be attached to your belt or your thigh-belt? LDB has one those. Expect that bag is a pocket dimenson that can fit almost everything. It has dragonbones, cheese wheels, potions, a whole civilazition. it comes really handy when travelling, but really annoying when fighting. i mean, those bandits won't wait for you to fish out exactly that potion or cheese that you need.

They still would do quests!!

They would go to a random inn, or a random person and ask them "Have you heard any gossip lately?" and the people would be like "yeah, sure, i heard from my schoolmate that ... "

Also, you know how LDB always gets those weird letters feom an unknown "friend"? THAT WOULD BE GOSSIP GIRL, OMG

an unknown person known as gossip girl (who has like a website or something?) would just randomly send a text to LDB about a rumour they got texted, or something like that

and LDB would go to that random place

also, you know that theory that goes like Herma Mora is that person who keeps sending those letters? it would be hilarious to realise that he is Gossip Girl 🎀

ola, but LDB having a little dovahzul dictionary with them? either a book or on their phone?

or maybe a translator

"Hey ChatGPT, what does Yoltoorshul mea- Why are my boots on fire?"

imagine that LDB commands the friends to hide in a bush because they saw two dragons fighting and now they are using the speech to text function on their translator to figure out what the dragons are saying

LDB trying to make their own shouts? like a "No, U" shout

When the RV breaks down randomly and they have to push it a bit? LDB is on the back, hands are thightening around the metal ladder (so they won't fall off), while they are getting ready to shout a fusrodah.

you can't take pictures of videos of them without having to retouch it later. their soul is so ancient that it makes the electronics have problems. so their youtube channel has a lot of glitches as well.

they have two contacts on their phone: one for their favourite follower or sexyman, and one for Partyturmix (saved exactly like that). The greybeards are blocked. The blades are blocked. Those annoying characters that you don't like? Blocked.

Miraak just couldn't get in touch with them, cause they are so old and the LDB is so modern..? Miraak sends letters first, which the LDB automatically throws out ("Who is Miraak? Aren't they that tax collector from Solitude?"), then his followers (the dragonborn thinks they are those tiktokers that ask what you are listening right now, or geographical questions like "Dragonborn-" "My favourite Dragonborn? Hm, hard question, I think I liked Tibet Septim!" "No-" "Yes!"). Miraak eventually had to get a phone to message LDB.

#elder scrolls #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #tesblr #the elder scrolls #alternate universe #modern au #skyrim modern au #ldb #skyrim ldb

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 9 months ago

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Look, we thought pairing my LDB up with freaking Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced instead of Ulfric would be funny.

It wasn't. It was just sad.

ao3 | masterlist

As I told my dear sweet @elder-dragon-reposes, it's one thing for one of Ulfric's followers clear across Skyrim to get heart eyes for Ulfric's girlfriendsword arm, but it's another matter entirely if it's one of his generals. In his own city.

Yrsarald remembers the Dragonborn from when she came to call Ulfric to the Greybeards' council. He remembers that she was soft-spoken and adamant about the World-Eater. She's hopeful and compassionate, and that stands out to him, even if she is an elf.

Ulfric doesn't seem to mind her ancestry, so Yrsarald elects to ignore it untilunless it becomes a problem.

News comes that Alduin has been banished, and the Dragonborn is about Skyrim, helping people. It's . . . nice that the foreign half-elf seems to care so much for the well-being of Skyrim and her people. Yrsarald keeps tabs on her through the informants and spy networks. It's a matter of security if the Dragonborn turns traitor to Skyrim and helps the blasted Thalmor. Galmar isn't keeping up with it, so for Ulfric and the Stormcloaks' sake, Yrsarald is.

But all he hears are good things. She wins admiration everywhere she goes, but she doesn't belong anywhere. Balgruuf the Greater is trying to tie the Dragonborn to Whiterun, but she's as flighty as Kyne's winds. Somewhere in there, Yrsarald learns her name is Leara Ormand and she's from HIgh Rock. She grew up on magic and chivalry. She probably sees life as a fairy tale. He may disdain her for it.

But then she comes to Windhelm. They've had troubles of their own, being stretched between the care of the city and fighting a war. And she solves problems. He hears she's investigating the serial killer in town . . .

. . .then finds the Butcher, and she's hurt? Ulfric is concerned, but Yrsarald finds himself livid. He cannot see his Jarl's worry for his own shame that their hero came to help them, and all she got in return was a bleeding wound and permafrost on her skin.

Imagine being so in love with an otherwise mythic figure, a celebrity, that you can't see that your friend, your brother, is also in love with her. How can you see it when you aren't ready to admit your own feelings?

Leara is renting a room at Candlehearth when Yrsarald decides he needs to pay his respects to her. She is surprised when he meets her near dinner. He has never seen a woman so precisely featured before. She's not in armor (he's only seen her in silver plate); her hair is down (curling in blood rose vines) and she's bundled in a cornflower blue dress (it's loose to accommodate her bandages). He wants to sit down and talk to her, but he doesn't. He thanks her, though, and she smiles. He stops by the counter later to make sure Elda sends her a dessert .

"But don't bother her with who it's from." "Well if that's how you choose to show your appreciation."

Yrsarald buys Leara sweets after that. She doesn't know it's him. She knows it's someone who appreciates her service and feels bad about her getting hurt, but Elda won't crack. Drat the woman.

Leara wonders if Ulfric is gifting her the sweets. She wants to hope it's Ulfric. She wants their past to be past and for her to appreciate everything she continues to do not for him, but to his benefit; she wasn't drawn in by his smile or anything. Who else would it be if not him? Ralof? He's not in town. General Stone-Fist didn't seem too bothered about her.

Leara's still healing. She's not bedridden or anything, but she's not fit to go beyond the city gates where there are bandits and dragons and necromancers (oh my!), so she decides that visiting the court wizard might be a fruitful investment of her time. She shuffles off to the Palace of the Kings. She runs into Jorleif right off and, on telling him she'd like to visit the court wizard, he's ready to take her to Wuunferth because she's been to see him before, and after all, she is the Dragonborn.

And this is that delightful moment when fate can swing either way because if Ulfric shows up and offers to walk Leara, that's all she wrote. Yrsarald's lost his chance because now that soft smile from Candlehearth is directed at the Jarl, not him, and Yrsarald will never get it back.

But maybe, just maybe, if Yrsarald gets to Leara before Ulfric does, if he captures her attention in conversation, maybe she'll look at him.

For a general commanding troops, it's terribly hard to be brave before a woman.

He would ask her how she's healing from the attack, and Leara would sigh, tired with herself but patient in her speech, because she's healing but she feels like she's letting the people down. And the tips of her ears might turn pink (Yrsarald didn't know elf ears did that) because Leara didn't mean to be that candid and trouble him – but Yrsarald is tripping over himself to tell her that she's done more for Skyrim than anyone (why is his neck red?) and it's reasonable for her to convalesce after an injury.

"Rest and eat apple tarts." ". . . how did you know I was eating apple tarts?"

Yrsarald coughs (he did not mean to tell her that). Leara is staring at him. They're at Wuunferth's quarters. She blinks at him before thanking him for guiding her through the palace. Then she's gone, and Yrsarald is kicking himself for being an idiot.

He's smitten.

Soon (too soon) Leara has healed from her injury and she's at the palace again, but this time she's offering to help Ulfric negotiate a permanent peace between both sides. Ulfric's seen Leara at the table, he knows what she can do. Galmar is more skeptical, but when Ulfric looks to Yrsarald for his opinion (and Leara's too-blue winter deep eyes follow) he says to let her have at it.

Leara needs to be brought up on the Stormcloaks holdings and Ulfric says he'll help her, but then Galmar needs him for something else and Yrsarald (does NOTdoes) jumps at the chance to help the Dragonborn. She's attentive and quiet, and asks the right questions about supplies and movements. And Yrsarald realizes as he's talking to her that Leara has been in a war before.

"Were you in the Great War?"

The stiffening of her shoulders is almost imperceptible. He'd have missed it if he weren't watching her so intently.

"Yes."

Her reply is measured. She does not lie.

"Legion?"

Because everyone was in the Legion then. Back when it fought for Skyrim. He wouldn't fault her if she was . . . why is her face sour? Her mouth is pinched.

"It doesn't matter–" "It does."

Why does it matter? He wonders, why is he pressing?

Her eyes are wide. So wide and too-blue.

Leara looks ill.

And then he knows.

He knew from the beginning she couldn't be trusted. She was an elf. All elves scurried back to the Thalmor in the end. She was here for that blasted Thalmor "ambassador" – she would betray Ulfric and the sons of Skyrim to their deaths!

There's a breathless scream.

Yrsarald doesn't realize until then that he has her on the ground. She's so small and too precisely featured. Her eyes are too blue. She's a traitor, a liar, a fraud–

The Dragonborn does not care for Skyrim.

"Yrsarald, please–"

Yrsarald growls.

Why is she crying? Doesn't she realize what she's doing to Skyrim? – Done to him? All this time and Yrsarald realizes he let Leara lure him into a fairy tale, only for her to shatter it with frigid reality when he thinks, when he thinks . . .

He might love her.

But elves can't love.

"You will rue the day you stepped foot in Skyrim, elf!"

She's sobbing. If she were really a true Dragonborn, she'd try and Shout him off, but Yrsarald wonders if she lied about that, too. High Elf illusions.

"Yrsa–" "What's going–?!"

Then Yrsarald is yanked back forcibly. Galmar is there. And Ralof. And Ulfric.

Ulfric is on the floor with her. Kneeling beside her as she gasps and tears turn her white gold face into wet porcelain. Kneeling beside her as if the elf wasn't going to sell Ulfric and everything they'd worked for to the Thalmor!

Yrsarald strains against Galmar and Ralof. He grits his teeth.

"She's Thalmor!"

Galmar stills. Ralof pales. Ulfric's head is bowed. She isn't making any noise but she struggles to breathe and it's tearing Yrsarald apart and enraging him all at once.

"I know."

And with those words, Yrsarald questions everything he ever knew about Ulfric Stormcloak. Ulfric knew she was a Thalmor spy? Was he coming to stop her – but . . .

Then Ulfric is lifting Leara from the ground, helping her to her feet, and it's too gentle for a King about to arrest an enemy.

Her hands are grasping Ulfric's arm, her eyes wide. Ulfric's face is drawn.

"We will discuss this later."

And he walks out with her. And the elf is free. And Yrsarald doesn't understand.

And then Galmar speaks:

"What in Oblivion did you do?!"

Yrsarald . . . doesn't know anymore.

What he learns later is more than he could stomach. Leara was a member of the Thalmor and she was a member of the Blades before that, and during the war, she smuggled information from the Dominion to the Blades intelligence networks and then defected while smuggling Ulfric Stormcloak from captivity.

He's nauseous when Ralof tells him this. Respectful Ralof – save this time there's steel in his eyes and disdain in his voice.

Yrsarald realizes he deserves that.

Later, when she finds him at Candlehearth, drinking his weight in ale, he realizes he does not deserve the understanding and forgiveness and the self-loathing in her face.

"I know why you did what you did. I can't fault you for it, not when I could've sold your Jarl and cause out to the Dominion. But I–"

Leara's eyes trail off.

"I'm sorry."

He chokes out the words. Her eyes slip back. She was far away.

"I think it's for the best if we're not alone together anymore."

Then she's gone.

Yrsarald buys another round.

The next day, Galmar says Ulfric wants him in the Pale. Far away from the Dragonborn goes unspoken between them.

Yrsarald goes. Ulfric's face is hard when he bids Yrsarald goodbye. The Jarl is not as easily forgiving as the Dragonborn.

Yrsarald is in the Pale when, a month later, news comes that the Dragonborn is handling an armistice in Whiterun. Skyrim divided. What was she thinking? She's thinking for Skyrim, Yrsarald realizes. That's all she's thought about this entire time.

It's a year before he returns to the Eastern capital of Windhelm, and only then, it's because the High King is getting married.

Yrsarald sees her. He doesn't stay long after that.

After all, Ulfric would protect her. Had protected her. Even from Yrsarald.

He could live with that.

#thrice pierced/roseblade hurts actually like i am LEGIT hurt #i mean i actually made my fren CRY 😭#YRSARALD! SHE WAS ALMOST THERE AND THEN YOU THREW HER ON THE GROUND AND SCREAMED IN HER FACE #if he hadn't been an idiot they would've held hands #Or rather #his hand would've been on the table and she'd have put hers on his and done this cute quirky thing with her mouth and he'd have stared at i #skyrim #me at Yrsarald: Marny could've been YOUR SON! Kyneiren could've been YOUR DAUGHTER! You could've had ICE CREAM with Leara all the time!#BUT YOU HAD TO GO AND CHOKE HER ON THE FLOOR AND MAKE HER CRY #You could've bought her MORE apple tarts and she would've actually thanked YOU instead of thinking they came from some other guy!#but ulfric really said check mate and got the firl #yrsarald you dumb LOSER #anyway #rosecloak #FOREVER #oc: leara roseblade #ulfric stormcloak #yrsarald thrice pierced #windhelm #tes #the elder scrolls #ralof #galmar stone fist #last dragonborn #mod post #the ship name is very telling #pierced rose

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throughtrialbyfire · 8 months ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

on time this week! lets goooooo!! thank you to the amazing @thequeenofthewinter and @skyrim-forever for tagging me!! tagging @umbracirrus @your-talos-is-problematic @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @orfeoarte @thana-topsy @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wispstalk @gilgamish @viss-and-pinegar and anyone who feels like joining! no pressure as always <3

since i just finished my rewrite of the early chapters of Cycle of the Serpent and posted a new chapter, i'm bringing an excerpt from another wip. i have no idea when this one will even remotely get finished, as it's one that i come back to and then leave alone for months on end, but i love the slow working of it. so, here's a tiny bit of my dragonborn frothar fic, "Kill the Creature, Shed the Blood"! this is an extremely rough draft, but i hope you enjoy!

The dragon didn't entirely sell Dagny on not telling their father, but it sure was interesting. Plus, if it got her moping brother out of Dragonsreach for a night, then maybe it'd be fun to send him on his merry way. The two crept through the halls, down past a locked door, through strange and unused corridors. How many basements and cellars did one castle need? Frothar cursed silently as he followed his sister through the dark, her own cloak concealing her form. He'd donned one for his travels, and was glad he'd done so. The chill under these stones sunk into his blood. He couldn't stop the shivers that raced up his spine at every cobweb, and wondered how many frost spiders he may have been standing above his entire life. Maybe this was where Farengar got some of his ingredients, but he wouldn't pry. That'd give away where he'd been. And he couldn't be sure, he didn't see anything larger than a typical house spider, but… "Stop." Dagny pushed a hand out in front of her. Frothar, lost in his thoughts, stumbled backwards, boots making a loud, metallic sound against his armor. "What? Why?" She turned back, brow scrunched. "Because you're stepping on my cloak, what else?" He hadn't realized how close he'd been walking behind her. Trusting her sense of direction, and losing himself in the examinations of his surroundings, he'd found that he'd been a mere hairs width away from her. He swallowed uncomfortably, scrunching his nose. "Ah." "Come on," she hurried him along, rolling her eyes. She gestured forward, her feet again finding graceful step along the stone, his shambling awkwardly behind her. For his younger sister, she sure was bossy. But, that had always been Dagny, since the moment she was born. The minute the girl learned how to talk, he'd watched her demand things, from her toys to attention to outings. She'd demanded horses to ride and blades to spar with and dresses upon dresses. He snickered every now and again thinking back on the first year of the Dragon Crisis, how one of the ones she'd had tailored had never arrived, and she sulked for weeks after. Last he heard, it wound up in the closet of some Thalmor general's daughter, but that was just gossip.

Frothar did his best to keep a subtle distance between the pair, but not too far as to get lost in the dark. Lanterns were a risk, so Dagny lead by a tiny candle and her hand cupped around the flame. The flickering illuminated the dust, the piles of hay, the musty stench that surrounded them filling his nose. "So, how come you knew of these tunnels, and I didn't?" He finally asked, Dagny stopping momentarily. Before he could ask why, she swayed the candle, dropping the hand that shielded the flame, metal on a small bench catching the gleam. A shrine to Talos, as solemn as the grave, buried deep beneath Dragonsreach. "These tunnels were built for times of war, didn't you pay attention? Farengar taught us all about them, but you just kept dozing off in his lessons." "Not my fault that he taught them on the Great Balcony," Frothar replied, thinking back on the early summer afternoons where the wizard taught them the history of their Hold - much to the dismay of both the children and the wizard himself - and the warmth of creeping sleep that Frothar did his best to resist, and failed fantastically on some days. He figured this must have been one of those days, and instead turned his attention to the shrine. The offerings were simple; coins, snowberries, and tundra cotton. Still, it sent a pang of familiarity through him, of the conversations his father and uncle had in secret, of Nelkir's idle gossip, the youngest being fully aware of their father's worship. Perhaps Frothar was the last of the siblings to become aware of this fact, and in a way, it sent another pang of worry into his heart. Did he miss even more important information? Was he truly sleeping through some of the lessons Farengar departed, the important ones? He didn't have any time to think this over, as Dagny trudged forward through the dark, winding her way through familiar pathways. Frothar fell in step behind her, not wanting to be left behind. He didn't want to know if he was right on the frost spiders being beneath the castle, or whether that was just his paranoia.

The door slid open with a loud, thunderous creak, the kind that made him wince and worry if anyone heard it. Dagny, unfazed, pushed through, blowing the candle out. Frothar looked at her with a knit brow, but Dagny waved it away. "I know my way through the tunnels," she explained. Apparently, she'd been doing this for a while. He looked out on the horizon. Whiterun sat in a basin of wide plains, between the rising mountains, much like the center of a delicate bowl. The wind brushed through his dark hair, and he stepped forward, grass crunching beneath his feet. He'd packed his things for this trek, but he had no idea just how much of his adventure was going to be him tracking down the dragon, or him trying to survive it. "Good luck. Oh, and Frothar? Next time Nelkir offers first, take it up, or I'm gonna have to drag you through the dusty basements again." He watched as Dagny turned and shut the door behind her, barring it. He was truly, completely on his own out here.

#skyrim #skyrim fic #fanfic #tes v #tesblr #tes fanfiction #skyrim fanfiction #bishop.txt #wip wednesday #frothar of whiterun #dagny of whiterun #dragonborn frothar #ldb #last dragonborn #my writing

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sluiba · 5 months ago

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back when skyrim was a new game and i was on my first playthrough, i recruited a follower named jenassa. she's a gruff dunmer mercenary who has a handful of odd lines about how she considers death her "art" where other games would have inserted personality. she is accessible early in the game, requires no quest, and above all, is dirt cheap to hire.

from our very first excursion outside whiterun, it was clear something was wrong with jenassa. i don't know what was going on there, if it was something specific to my installation or a coding issue with her character, but her ai and pathfinding were deeply dysfunctional. she kept getting lost, stuck, and sidetracked way more than any other follower i've had before or since. she kept forgetting to use the superior weapons i gave her. she insisted on wearing armor she wasn't trained to use. i'd give her an item for safekeeping, and an hour later, she no longer had it. she was useless in a fight, and even more unreliable in her secondary role as a walking storage container.

it would've made sense to replace jenassa with literally any other follower, but i kept her around. one man's jank is another man's flavor, and it was amusing to me to try to imagine how her behavior might be perceived in-world by other characters. as a personal little in-joke, i decided to think of her oddities not as lackluster coding, but as in-character traits. she'd simply been struck on the head a few times too many and wasn't all there anymore, i thought, cruelly.

something funny happens when you spend a lot of time with a character, especially in a game that's as flat as your average bethesda rpg. you learn to come up with your own entertainment. your mind starts to fill in the blanks.

when jenassa first began disappearing, i was only concerned for the loot i'd left with her. over time, that worry transferred over to jenassa herself. what's she up to this time? oh no. i hope she's okay. with how much time and effort i was investing in backtracking and searching for her, i started to feel like she was the hero who went where she pleased, and i her follower. i just couldn't think of a single rational reason why my dragonborn, the fated chosen one of immeasurable power, would ever choose to follow this confused and fragile woman to the ends of nirn.

if there was no rational reason for it, i thought, perhaps there was an irrational one. perhaps love. as jenassa herself likes to point out, it is a lonely thing, facing all the dangers of skyrim by yourself.

i proposed. jenassa forgot we were getting married mid ceremony. i had to run after her and hire her again as a merc to get her to come back to the temple with me.

the more time i spent with jenassa, the more i found myself thinking of her as a proud warrior who had paid a terrible price for the years she'd spent exercising her craft. or perhaps, judging by her gaunt face, her faculties had simply been eroded by the ravages of time. i didn't need to figure out the specifics to begin to view her not as comic relief or as a liability, but as a tragic figure. here was a woman who was still passionate about her work, but was either too demented or too proud to realize she was no longer the graceful and deadly assassin she had once been.

in the swamps and tundras of skyrim, violence is life. forgetting how to fight is as much of a death sentence as forgetting how to eat. jenassa's yearning for the thrill of combat and her refusal to accept living without it were her defining traits, made her feel unique and full of life. left to her own devices, they would also be the end of her.

there's a kind of sad beauty in that.

i decided i would humor--

no.

i would protect her. from dragons and mages and falmer too, yes, but above all, from the ugly truth. let her live a beautiful lie for as long as possible. good job taking care of those bandits, jenassa. i'm glad you were here to protect me. don't worry about the quest. let's just go home.

it's okay if you don't remember where that is. if you get lost, i'll come find you.

i'll always find you.

#sluibaposting

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deadlymousex01 · 1 year ago

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Skyrim men reacting to s/o being pregnant

Farkas, Nazier, Brynolf, Bailmund

Fair warning for Nazier and Brynolf it's written as if your in a relationship but nothing very serious as a nod to the fact you can't marry these men in game....still unhappy about that....the others are written as if you're married

Apologies if these are a bit long, wanna do it justice! Enjoy!! :)

Farkas

When Farkas returned from the job he was sent on he went straight into your shared home of Breezehome, where you greeted him with a big hug and kiss as well as a refreshing mug of ale. Setting the mug down for a moment to shed his heavy armor he didn't notice your nervous twitches as you waiting for him to get comfortable to share the news. As he collapsed in the chair with a groan he picks up the ale again.

"So did you do anything interesting while I was gone?" he'd ask. You shrugged clearing you throat trying to find the way to word it.

"Well I did a few odd jobs, helped the guards kill some vampires and uh...oh I uh...I learned something new about myself."

"Oh really? What's that?" He asks taking a big drink of the ale.

"I'm pregnant." The poor man chokes and coughs hard as ale flies out of his mouth and nose at the shock of your words. You're left sitting there speechless and wide eyed as the man you love is coughing and wiping his face trying to recover before he looked up at you with the same wide eyed expression.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!"

"Pregnant." The man stared at you like you had grown two heads, which in a way you slowly were. Farkas stared at you for so long you started to fidget thinking that he was unhappy with the news so you try to tell him more details.

"I found out after the vampire fight, I was more tired than I usually was and Aela commented that my scent was different. I realized it's been a little over a month since my last bleed so I went to the temple and the healers confirmed it...at this moment I'm about a 2 months." Farkas was stunned, he didn't even think that the night you two shared before he left could of resulted in a child, he honestly never really thought about having kids. Slowly he slid out of the chair and stood on his knees next to your's lightly placing his hand on your stomach.

"You're pregnant....Gods I never thought...I mean..." He couldn't find the words and he never cursed so much before now that he wasn't his brother who could tell you so easily how happy he was. Looking up at you he cups your face before pulling you down into a gentle kiss like you were made of glass, pulling away with a smile.

"Let's hope the poor pup doesn't get my ugly mug." With a laugh you kiss him back resting your forehead against his, knowing that even though it was unexpected the two of you were going to make this work together.

Nazier

Nazier was used to you vanishing for weeks or months at a time, your duties as Listener and Dragonborn kept you busy, which is why the casual relationship the two of you shared worked well for him. It allowed you both to fill the desires you both had as well as make it so the distance didn't hinder the work you both needed to do.

When you returned from your travels you looked pretty tired and beat up, which struck him as odd, as you could handle yourself with almost anything. Putting some hot stew into a bowl, grabbing some fresh bread and a mug of mead he went down to the living quarters where you had retreated to. Smelling the stew you turn and give him a smile as you start to remove your armor.

"Thought you might need this, you looked pretty beat up. Rough travels?" He asks setting the food down on the table and sitting down in one of the seats next to it.

"You could say that. Fought a dragon outside Windhelm, got hurt and ended up stuck at the temple for a few weeks before I was able to get back here." you explain setting down the last of your armor. You were thankful for the loose tunic you were wearing as it hit your slightly bulging belly, you wanted to break the news to him before he saw it.

"A few weeks at temple? You must of been hurt bad, are you alright?" He asked concerned, the Brotherhood just found it's Listener and he didn't think they'd survive without you. Sitting in the open chair you pull the bowl to you and take a bite sighing happily at the flavors. Nazier may be a murder but he's also a damn good cook. You finish your bite before looking up at him.

"I wasn't hurt to bad, they kept me because they found out I have....something else happening with me..."

"Something else? What else?" You sigh before putting the spoon back in the bowl deciding just to get it over with.

"When I got hurt it was in my shoulder and ribs and while the healers were taking care of me...they found out I'm pregnant..." You look him in the eyes and as your words sink in. You can see him stiffen and look down at your belly.

"They kept me longer to make sure there was no harm done to the baby and only when they were satisfied did they let me go...I...I came straight here to tell you, ran into some wolves just outside of town that's why I looked rough but I kept going because I needed to tell you." Nazier nodded slowly when you finished talking the weight of everything setting heavily on his shoulders. You were pregnant and while the two of you were not serious with each other he knew you weren't seeing anyone else, you wouldn't be telling him otherwise, so it had to be his.

"How... how far along are you?" He asked slowly. you set your hand on your stomach the fabric tightening showing your small bump.

"Three and a half months." Nazier nodded again before sighing and running a hand down his face before leaning his elbows on the table.

"I'll be honest; this isn't something I was counting on when we started our little meet ups. I'm a murder, I don't know how to raise kids and I've never been the most maternal of people however...." He looks you in the eye "I am here for you. If you want to take it to the orphanage after it's born I will support you, if you want to keep it I will do my best to help."

"I want to keep it." You say looking him dead in the eye as well so he knows how serious you are. He stares at you for a second before leaning back in the chair with a smile.

"Then I suppose our little family here is growing again."

Brynjolf

Brynjolf had had no time for you anymore. The two of you had shared beds many times before Mercer's betrayal and even did so again before that final battle. Now that you were the guild master you expected that to continue not to have him suddenly want nothing to do with you. Frustrated you spent less and less time around the Flaggon, spending more time on the road. It wasn't until you were in Solitude taking care of business did you realize it had been three months since your last bleed and your belly and breasts had gotten bigger. You knew what it meant and you knew who the father had to be, so you started the long trek back to Riften.

As you enter the city gates you adjust your cloak around your shoulders to cover your front. Heading into the grave yard you ope the secret entrance and head down. Climbing down that ladder you're greeted by Sapphire and Rune. Nodding to them you spot Brynjolf and take a steading breath before heading over to him.

"Brynjolf, we need to talk."

"Sorry lass, I've important things to do. We'll speak another time." He says and starts turning to walk away from you. It may have been your frustrations for how he's been treating you or your hormones acting up but you were not going to take that. Grabbing the belt that hold the pouches on the front of his armor you pull him around to face you leaving him stunned by your strength and the anger on your face.

"No! We are talking now!" You almost yell before dragging him towards the training area. All the thieves in the area made a clear path for you wanting nothing to do with your rage. Once in the room you yelled out to the others there and they quickly ran out like their lives depended on it. You dragged him over to the training chests and forced him to sit on one of them before leaning down and pointing your finger in his face.

"You are going to sit there and be quiet until I'm done talking and your not leaving here until I'm done or so help me I will shout you right through the wall behind you!" Brynjolf nods and sits more comfortably on the chest giving you his full attention. He had never seen you this angry, it was both sexy and terrifying. You stand up straight looking at him dead in the eyes.

"You have been ignoring me, dismissive of me, and rude to me. You constantly make excuses not to talk to me and I've had enough, I need to tell you something important and I need you to listen well; I'm pregnant." Brynjolf wasn't sure what he was expecting you to say but it wasn't that, the man sitting on the chest suddenly looked like his brain shut off so with a sigh you continue moving your cloak so he can see your slightly belly.

"I'm three and a half months, and before you ask yes it's yours. You're the only man I've been with so there's no chance it's anyone else. I'm not asking you to quit the guild and go straight I know you can't. I'm only telling you this because you deserve to know, and because I am keeping it. I've a home here in Riften, I got after getting the Jarl to make me a Thane, I plan on living here but if it's a problem I do have a home in Whiterun. I do plan to return to the Guild after the child is no longer a helpless babe, but until then I won't be here much."

You finish your speech and look at him as you rest your hand on top of your belly. It wasn't something you did often but when you did it was a comfort. Brynjolf to his credit did sit and not interrupt you once during your talk and only when you seemed did he start to speak.

"Well you're right about one thing lass, I can't go straight. I've been in the guild to long to give it all up, that being said; I won't let you do this alone." That last bit shocked you as he stood up and gently placed a hand over yours.

"This is certainly unexpected, but any thief will tell you that sometimes you have to improvise. I'm sorry for ignoring you and making you feel tossed aside. If you live here in Riften I will be here with you, I will be here for the child. Everyone here knows I'm with the guild so I'm not worried about blowing cover. This is a new adventure and I've never been one to back down from a challenge. Besides with skills like ours our child will be the greatest thief in all of Skyrim and the world!"

Balimund

You stand in front of the cooking pot feeling happy and content. Alduin had been defeated, the civil war was over and while there was still some dragons to deal with most decided to follow Parthanaax. Now you could take a breath and relax. After most of your travels were done you had returned to Riften and found Balimund, wearing a amulet of mara you had both agreed to wed. Balimund had captured your heart when you knew his; his kind heart in taking in Asbjorn from the orphanage and training him, to his gratitude when you brought him the fire salts.

The door opens as your husband enters hot and tired from a day of working the forge. He walks over and gives you a kiss before going to wash up. When he comes back you've got dinner on the table and you and Asbjorn are already starting to eat. As he sits down and starts eating you feel both nervous and excited at the same time before you take a breath to calm yourself before sharing the news. Before you get the chance he turns to look at you.

"This is incredible, you're an amazing cook dear! Much better than we are." His praise never failed to make you smile or love him even more. Asbjorn nodded in agreement.

"I agree, watching him try to cook fish was always a nightmare, missed so many bones and ruined the fish." Balimund nudged him with his elbow before taking another bite and then asking another question.

"By the way, did you go to the temple today to get healed from being sick?" You had been sick the last few days and decided to go to the temple to see if they could heal you as healing potions didn't seem to help. It was there you were told you were pregnant and the smile that had been on your face when you found out had never left.

"Yes I did and it turns out I'm not sick...I'm pregnant." Balimund coughed choking on air for a moment while Asbjorn gave you a big smile.

"That's incredible! Congratulations to the both of you!" Balimund managed to remember how to breathe before he stood up quickly and pulled you into a big hug, picking you up and spinning you aorund.

"Gods be praised! This is the best news I've ever heard!" Setting you down gently he cupped your face and gave you a deep passionate kiss before pulling away with a big smile.

"I thought I was the happiest man in the world when you agreed to marry me but you continue to make me even happier. I'll get started working on a cradle tomorrow as well as taking some more orders to bring in more gold. Asbjorn; I know you'll have no problem handling the forge for a while when the baby arrives."

"Of course, I'm happy to help and happy for the both of you." The both of you sat down and continued to eat dinner, when you were going to go to Sovrenguard to battle Alduin you weren't sure you would ever have this but now here you are, with your growing family, with a happy air and a excitement for the future.

#farkas #brynjolf #skyrim men #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim #skyrim fandom #pregnancy #pregnant #female reader #balimund

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triggerthreestrikes · 5 months ago

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Skyrim Fanfic: The four Children of Akatosh. Character masterpost.

Synopsis:

So, Alduin is fated to come back. Akatosh, deciding he’s sick of his firstborn’s shit, decides to throw the prophecy of “the last Dragonborn” upside down because fuck you he’s the dragon god of time. He’s making FOUR last Dragonborn! And three of them aren’t going to be nords because he thinks it’ll be funny.

So let’s meet our heroes why don’t we~?

Silir

nord.

Age: 25

Hair: red

Eyes: blue

Weapon of choice: dual war axes

Silir is a man that, above all else, wants to live out his days at a forge. His one true passion is blacksmithing. Stormcloaks are only drawing the Aldmeri dominion’s eye, and the way he remembers it; The empire looked the other way until Ulfric killed the high king. Ulfric is either a fool and power hungry madman or an unwitting pawn of the dominion in Silir’s eyes. But he’s not a huge fan of the Empire leaving Hammerfell out to dry during the Great War. He’s on his way back to Skyrim after a long apprenticeship in Cyrodil. Riverwood has long been his home, and he hopes Alvor will be willing to let him lend a hand around the forge.

J’adar

Khajit.

Age: 19

Fur: grey

Eyes: Green

Weapons: Bow

J’adar has traveled far and wide in the trade caravans, but living in camps outside the city walls and haggling over furs and trinkets was never the life he wanted for himself. J’adar seeks to improve his Alchemy to make mixtures and cures for even the most obscure of diseases, and Skyrim’s abundance of ingredients are the perfect place to make a name for himself. He’s just, uh…going to have to figure out how to get into Skyrim without paying any fees for his more…exotic, ingredients.

Yura

Imperial (if the thalmor asks, and he isn’t able to kill them without witnesses.) (Akaviri.)

Age: What are you, a thalmor patrol? (26)

Hair: black

Eyes: black

Weapon: a family heirloom (Akaviri Katana.)

Officially, to anyone who asks, he’s an imperial with a strange name and where he’s going or his reasons for being in Skyrim are none of your damned business. No, he will not lower his hood or remove his serpentine half mask. If you’re wearing thalmor armor or robes and ask (and not in a city or village.) he’ll cut your throat and be done with you. If you’re an imperial soldier and hear whispers of a hooded figure wearing a serpentine mask killing Thalmor? No you didn’t. In fact, your legate won’t even remember you asked that question, and states that if you were to hypothetically ask if there were Akaviri out there, then, hypothetically, they would tell you that these Alleged, sightings are mere campfire tales, and you would be wise to not ask about it again.

Lilina

Altmer

Age: 19

Hair: Rose-gold

Eyes: Green

Weapons: …Do destruction spells count? What about atronarchs?

Lilina is a refugee from the Summerset Isle because she broke the Aldmeri rule of don’t question the accuracy of the narrative of history the Thalmor put out and don’t question our government. Suffice to say, she doesn’t think her spot at the academy is waiting for her. That’s okay though, because Skyrim has all of these cool barrows and Dwemer ruins to explore! And she heard the last remnants of the dragon cult ruins are here too! The study of dragons, nords, Talos…a lot of things…are banned by the Thalmor, so now she can study whatever she wants!

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes v skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #tes fanfic #Skyrim fanfic #skyrim oc #I love them all #the elder scrolls fanfiction #Altmer #Nord #Khajit #Akaviri

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elder-dragon-reposes · 10 months ago

Text

Kynadora- The Wheel Turns, Chapter 1

Summary: Julia Kynadora Lastblood had only intended to come to Skyrim as a healer and help whoever she could. Instead, she finds herself front and center in the Dragon Crisis and being drawn into the Civil War. Between that and trying to find her place in Skyrim while still managing to do what she came to Skyrim for originally, the internal turmoil she’s been struggling with since her childhood becoming worse shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Being Dragonborn certainly is though.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I've been working on getting this out for a bit now and Chapter 1 is now ready to post. I'd really like to thank @nerevar-quote-and-star for all the support as well as for acting as a beta reader for me!

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The first thing that her mind can register is the sounds of nature and the roll of a cart along a bumpy stone road. One hard bump along the road shoots pain through her head and shoulders, forcing her eyes open, and yet not a sound of pain out of her. The pain subsided slightly, but she could still feel her head throb and her eyes still took a moment to go from still seeing black to seeing only in a fuzzy haze, to finally allowing her to see the world around her enough to make out the details of the world around her. The first thing her eyes truly notice is the landscape around her, mountains and snow, and nothing familiar to her. The second thing is the blond man sitting on the cart before her. His focus is somewhere off in the distance, and his attention doesn’t shift until another bump of the cart causes her to hiss in pain.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” She nods, which her body registers as a mistake for her as soon as she follows through with the motion. Her head throbs in pain again harshly, before slowly easing off into something more manageable. It gives her the confidence to finally pull herself up into a sitting position so that the harsh bumps of the road don’t dig into her neck and bother her injury. Injuries? She’s not quite sure of what exactly is wrong with her yet. “You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

It was too much information all at once. Imperial ambush? Thief? The blond man’s armor wasn’t the type that just any bandit would wear. Or just any mercenary. And as she looked around, others in the carts in front of them wore similar garb. Why would the Imperials have ambushed them? And how did she get in the middle of it? She tried to focus on the questions, looking for the answers in her mind, but the memories surrounding the event weren’t coming to her. But it was causing more hurt. The blond’s eyes softened, a concern dancing across his features and she wished that it didn’t hurt a bit more than the physical pain dancing around her.

“Damn, you Stormcloaks.” She knew that name. How? Wait. Stormcloaks. The Civil War that had broken out in Skyrim months ago. The thing that she’d sworn to her uncle that she would avoid to the best of her abilities. That she of course had already gotten caught up in.

Wait. Where was she? She’d been heading towards a town, tiredness had been seeping into her bones and she’d been excited to finally be in Skyrim. Then noises of distress, and she’d gone to help and the world had gone dark. Her attention drifts from the conversation and onto the world around them. Things looked familiar and yet not. She didn’t know Skyrim well enough to try and even attempt to figure out where she was.

A gentle wind pushes through and her shoulders settle in a way. She’d still done it. Even if she had no idea where she was right now. She’d crossed the border into Skyrim. This was still it, the place that she’d wanted to see since she was a child and her father had told her stories that had been passed to him from his father. She was the first of her line to be in Skyrim since her great-grandfather had left for Cyrodiil. It was still more beautiful than she’d expected it to be, and she’d been expecting so much.

Her study and focus on the landscape rolling past them was interrupted by the man sitting on the left side of the blond calling out to her, dragging her attention back to the people sharing the cart with her. “You there. You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” That was true enough. She’d never done anything herself to warrant being arrested, no matter what the Empire and the Thalmor said about her family history. And she’d never left Cyrodiil until now. So it wasn’t even possible for her to be a Stormcloak, or really any other manner of criminal in Skyrim.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” Unfortunately, also true. After all, the fact that she was also currently a prisoner of the Empire would be why she couldn’t heal her head wound, and whatever else was wrong with her, the binds blocked magicka to try and circumvent any potential escapees. Or property damage. After all, a mage who doesn’t know anything beyond flames is just as dangerous as a mage who knows many spells beyond conjuring fire. Sometimes more if they couldn’t control the flames beyond conjuring them up. From what she could tell though, she seemed to still have her armor on. Her hood was missing and so was her pack and sword, but the rest of her armor seemed to still be attached to her.

As the dark-haired man was about to respond, the soldier driving the cart turned around and smacked the wood of the cart. “Shut up back there!” He turned back to the road, and the two men looked at one another before choosing to look away completely. Her own eyes drifted to the blond and then to the landscape around her.

The dark-haired man was ultimately the one to break the silence once more after their shared moment of silence. “And what’s wrong with him?” Her brows furrow and she turns her head as far as it will go without another shot of pain to her right. Finally noticing the man who had been sitting there this whole time and whose eyes had been on her for who knew how long. He was gagged and wearing a level of finery that no one else she’d seen was. He wasn’t a normal prisoner, and a hint of danger settled in her chest.

“Watch your tongue!” The blond man’s temper pulled her attention away from the gagged man, a shock as he had been nothing but calm in the minutes she’d been lucid enough to take note of what was around her. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” Her heart dropped. He really wasn’t a normal prisoner. This wasn’t a normal group of prisoners being transported Stuhn knows where. The dark-haired man seemed to be catching up to her thoughts as his next words registered in her pounding skull. Where were they taking them? Once more the conversation in the cart stalled. The blond mentioned Sovngarde, and all her focus went there for a moment. Had she earned a place there? Earned the ability to see her father again? Or would she join her mother in Aetherius, with the rest of her Imperial ancestors?

This time, it’s the blond who drags her out of her thoughts. He speaks softly once more, the anger he’d held before having dissipated. “Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

“Why do you care?” The thief’s hands were shaking, and when she looked down at her own for a moment she saw that her own were as well. It was getting more difficult to breathe, and her head hurt more from the accidental clenching and grinding of her jaw joining the head wound.

The blonde looks ahead for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing down the path of discussion he wished to. “A Nord’s last thoughts-” his eyes drift to her and he seems to correct himself, “anyone’s last thoughts should be of home.” He was right of course. She thought of many things. Of the castle and shops of Skingrad that she’d grown up in and around. Of rolling hills and smiling faces that she’d left behind. And of the little home in Rivercrest that she’d grown up in. The home that no longer existed, but lived on in memories. She wished that she might have seen the town once more before now though.

The thief’s own eyes glazed over for a moment, his focus far away from this cart and the road beneath it. Likely on what he had left behind for this potential fate too. “Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.” She heard of that village. She wasn’t sure where, but she’d heard of it. A song perhaps? One her father had sung? The blond nods and his attention turns back to her.

“And you?” His eyes are tired and for a moment she’s not quite sure how to answer him when the answer feels so large to such a small question.

She thinks of kind smiles once more. Of graves that had yet to be dug when she was taken from Rivercrest. Of open arms and strawberry treats. Of friends that she may never see again. She hopes that Baura will not blame herself for whatever may occur at the end of the road that they are all on. And that her uncle wouldn’t cause too much trouble for those responsible. Her voice is rough as she speaks, like when she would get sick as a child. “Skingrad. This is my first time in Skyrim if you’ll believe it.” The soldier driving makes a noise. Of realization or recognition, she couldn’t be sure. The Jarl sitting next to her made one of clear frustration, which drew her eyes back to him. He looked away when they finally landed back on him.

“Oh. What brought you to Skyrim then?” The blond was good at this. Calming people down and distracting them from their situation. She’d had to do the same for some of her patients and appreciated being on the other side of it for right now.

“I’m a healer. I needed to be out of Cyrodiil for some time, and Skyrim seemed like as good as any place to start helping.” The blond nodded and the man next to her made another muffled noise from behind his gag. She couldn’t decipher what it meant this time though. “And you? Where are you from?”

He seemed to be surprised at the question as if he hadn’t expected another of his cart mates to ask him anything in return. “Riverwood. It’s a small logging town not far from here.” She nods and tries her best to smile reassuringly at him. When this ended, she swore to find her way to Riverwood and find his family. Tell them of his kindness in the face of an upcoming execution. If she herself was not killed as well, that is.

The conversation stalled once more and with it came the view of a walled town covered in the banners of the Empire. From the view at the top of the hill, she could see homes and what appeared to be a keep. Likely a town that was being used as a command post by the military. It was a good spot, especially since she couldn’t imagine that it was too far from the Pale Pass. At least not if she’d gotten her geographical bearings right. It was especially hard to tell since she wasn’t quite sure how long she’d been out. Hours? Days? It was hard to tell.

As they passed through the entrance, a soldier shouted out to General Tullius that the headsman was ready and waiting. She’d met him once before now. Her uncle had been called to the Imperial City for some business or another, and he’d been at the gathering. From her view of his back, it didn’t seem that he’d changed that much. She’d spoken to him about something that seemed important at the time but had been ushered away from him by her uncle shortly after.

The thief begins praying to the Imperial Divines, and she can’t stop herself from sending her own prayers off. She focuses on Kyne and Stuhn. Her action drew the attention of both the blond man and the Jarl. It made sense. She doubted that they’d run into many Imperials that worshiped the Old Nord pantheon.

It isn’t until the blond mentions the Thalmor that she notices them over by Tullius. A chill runs down her spine, and she tries to control her breathing. Her eyes slam back down to her hands, sending a shock of pain through the area of her head most near them. For a moment she looks to her right and notices that the Jarl’s position now nearly matches hers.

“This is Helgen.” Her attention is drawn away from her panic, anxiety crawling up her throat, at the sound of his voice once more. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here.” His distraction works. It gives her more questions though. Was that girl here? Would she watch him lose his head? “Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” He laughs bitterly. “Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.” She wondered what that was like. Even before the killing of her parents, Imperial soldiers and walls had never equaled safety for her. She imagined that that was likely due to how her father had been the one truly caring for Rivercrest though, and not some strange commentary on the failure of the Empire and its soldiers. After all, she’d never really interacted with or seen many before Skingrad. Even though her interactions there didn’t necessarily prove very helpful in giving her a positive view of them.

She turns as much as she can to get a look at the town. At the very least before this ends, she wants to know the town as well as she can. She watches as a father orders his son inside their home, not wanting him to see the death that the soldiers he seemed fascinated by would be dealing with his own eyes just yet. She respected it. The boy seemed far too young to watch an execution, no matter how his family may feel one way or the other about the Civil War. Death wasn’t something that you could ignore once you’d been confronted with it. And it was hard to forget the memory of the first death, the first body, that you saw.

The carts all come to a stop and she releases a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding. Her heart drops, and nausea rises in her stomach. “Why are they stopping?” The thief’s voice is quiet, and she doubted that she would’ve heard it had it not been for being in such close quarters with him.

“Why do you think? End of the line. Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.” She prays silently as they begin to stand and move to the edge of the cart. She ignores the exchange between the blond and the thief as she does so, focused on keeping her feet straight. Standing had caused darkness to cloud her vision once more, the wound once more rearing its ugly head. As she made it to the edge, she lost her balance and slipped clumsily off of the cart causing her leg to catch wrong on the cobblestone ground. The soldier who had been driving the cart helped her to her feet, and she walked it off, continuing to where the soldiers were grouping them.

As she walks, who she assumes is the Captain gives them instructions to step to the block when they hear their name. What was she going to do when they didn’t call it though? Would they finally realize that she didn’t belong here in this group? Or would she be sent to the block anyhow? While wrong, and technically against Imperial law, she didn’t imagine that it would matter much to them. She didn’t trust the Empire to do the “right thing” here. Its citizens didn’t matter quite as much as it pretended that they did.

Darkness clouds her vision once more as she comes to a stop, and she has to put more weight on one leg over the other to prevent her legs from buckling underneath her. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.” The Jarl stalks off to the block, making more muffled sounds from behind the gag.

“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” The blond’s voice is sure in this. The Empire could say a lot of things about the Stormcloaks, but the idea that they weren’t loyal to him would be a complete lie.

The soldier holding the list continues, “Ralof of Riverwood.” The blond walks off to the block with that and a look to the list maker. Or Ralof. Ralof walks off to the block. He was sure in his steps, and she couldn’t help but admire him for his confidence, even as he walked to his death.

As the soldier moves on, a look thrown at Ralof’s back, the thief –Lokir– bolts upon his name being called. “Halt!” calls the Captain, but he keeps going. She calls for the archers, and he is downed nearly as quickly as he took off running. “Anyone else feel like running?” The Baura that lives in her mind says yes.

“Wait, you there. Step forward. Who are you?” She wasn’t on the list. She was expecting this, but something about it still felt strange. The fact that they’d just loaded her up with the rest of the prisoners, though she’d had her armor donned. And it certainly didn’t look like the Stormcloak’s armor or the Empire’s armor.

She remembers her uncle’s words. Hold your head high and look them in the eye when you introduce yourself. You have reason to be proud of your name. Your heritage. “Julia Lastblood. Of Skingrad.” If the soldier could look more confused, he likely would. She’d gotten many weird looks over the years as an Imperial with Nord’s surname.

He turns, “Captain, what do we do? She’s not on the list?” Here it was. A moment of truth for the place she’d lived all her life. Would she be sent to the block? Killed mercilessly like her parents? Or be spared

“Forget the list. She goes to the block.” Disappointed, but not surprised. Julia had known that this was a possibility from the very beginning, but the venom in the Captain’s voice drove the dagger of betrayal deeper into her heart.

The soldier seems surprised though, then disappointed that he will have to follow those orders. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Skingrad.” Hopefully, they would go to Rivercrest after. She liked the idea of being buried next to her parents, even if she would only see one of them in the afterlife. Whichever one she was going to.

As she walks to the block, she prays under her breath. All of the gods her father taught her to worship, from Kyne and the Hearth gods to the Dead ones and even to Alduin. Praying that the world’s end would come far in the future, in the hopes that her family that she had left behind would have long lives after her. She stands by the other prisoners and meets Ralof’s eyes. There is anger there that she hopes will disappear before his head is removed.

Tullius addresses the leader of the rebellion, trying and succeeding at making himself look taller while he does so. “Ulfric Stormcloak. 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 his throne.” Stormcloak grunts in protest, but the gag does not let him get out whatever words would be his last. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.” Julia would laugh if it weren’t for the circumstances. She’d been born after the Great War, and Cyrodiil had never been peaceful in her lifetime. Besides, they may as well be declaring Ulfric a martyr themselves.

Whatever Stormcloak was going to grunt in response was interrupted by a sound coming from the mountains above them. A screech. It felt wrong in a way. Like something had broken. Had torn. “What was that?” The soldier’s words echoed her thoughts. What kind of creature could sound like that? It had to be large. She didn’t know enough of the creatures in Skyrim to make a guess though.

“It’s nothing. Carry on.” Tullius’ voice brings her eyes back down from the mountains, and back to the Headsman’s block. Back to her execution, and not the mystery that was above them.

The Captain calls for the Priestess to begin her prayer, and Julia prays soundlessly once more. For herself? For those she loves? She’s not quite sure anymore. One of the Stormcloaks walks forward, interrupting both prayers. “For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with.” She could respect that. They hadn’t been allowed their complete last rites, though she doubted that they would be executed twice if one of them had prayed to Talos. “Come on, I haven’t got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” She knew that she was likely not included in that sentiment, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Could she?

After the headsman’s axe falls, some of the bystanders made their thoughts known; there were those calling him traitor, and those like Ralof that called him fearless. “Next, the renegade from Cyrodiil!” The renegade? The renegade? Julia doubted that anyone had ever referred to her as such, and it distracted her from the situation for a moment. It is interrupted once more though. The sound comes from the mountainside once more. But closer. It was louder. Whatever was making that sound was coming closer to Helgen. The soldier once more draws attention to it, but the Captain calls her forward.

“To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.” She moves forward, and Ralof once more meets her eyes. As she lowers herself down, her vision darkens once more. The leg she’d landed on ached as well. Neither pain would last much longer though. She closes her eyes as she sets her head on the block, and tries to empty her mind of every thought that was running through it.

Before the axe could fall and connect with her neck, the execution falls into chaos. A large, black creature lands on the tower that looms above her. It seemingly called down a storm of fire and meteors from the heavens, hitting the ground and the people around them. One of them hits the headsman, and another lands next to the block, causing it to rise and knock her on the head. She rolls off of it and regrets the movement. Her head screams in pain and it takes her a moment to orient herself.

“Hey, you! Julia! Get up! Come one, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof was suddenly by her side, leading her into another tower across from the one that the dragon had landed on. Her ears ring, and it makes it hard to hear the chaos around them as they rush in, Stormcloak closing the heavy door behind them. “Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages. We need to move, now!” As they discuss the plans moving forward, one of the soldiers comes up and cuts the binds holding Julia’s hands. As the binds break and fall to the ground, she can feel her Magicka regenerate and flood her body. Thanking the soldier, her hands raised to her head, and she cast a simple healing spell on the source of her head wound. As the spell worked itself, the world stopped spinning around her and the ringing in her ears halted. She blinked and looked around the entrance room of the tower that they’d entered.

Her eyes landed on two of the soldiers lying injured on the ground and she made her way over to them. As they argued about the next steps, Julia could help here. Her bag had been taken, so she didn’t have any healing potions she could supply, but she could use her magic to help them get back on their feet for the time being.

The same soldier that had cut her binds came up to her with scavenged bandages and other supplies, and assisted her in applying them to the injured. It would be nice not to have to drain her Magicka completely while trying to help, especially since they may need to throw spells at the thing flying around the skies. The dragon? It was a terrifying thought. Julia pushed it to the back of her mind, she could follow that thought process later when everyone was out of immediate danger.

Almost as if she’d summoned the thing, the ground shook and they could hear another one of the spine-chilling sounds coming from what felt like every direction. Ralof looked around the tower, panic clear on his face. Even after his outburst earlier, it was the least calm that she’d seen him through this whole ordeal. His eyes landed on her for a moment and his brows furled as he took in what she was doing.

His attention went to the stairs and several emotions crossed his face. “Up through the tower! Let’s go! This way, Julia! Move!” The soldier and her helped the injured to their feet and began making their way up the stairs. Before they reached them though, her place was taken by one of their fellow Stormcloaks and she made her way to Ralof’s side.

“We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!” Ralof and her rushed forward up the stairs to try and help, but they were interrupted by something crashing through the wall. The rocks that came down crushed the soldier, and the dragon’s face came into the tower through the hole that it’d created.

Julia could barely hear Ralof over the sound of outside and the dragon seemed to speak, and then fire rained from its mouth. “Get back!” She threw up a ward just in time, shielding them as best she could, but they could still feel the heat coming from the fire it spat. It flew off nearly as quickly as it came. Ralof looked at her and a small smile came to his face. “Thank you.”

She claps his shoulder, returning his smile. “Of course.” They made their way to the hole in the wall, looking down at the town surrounding the foot of the tower and the destruction that had been waged on top of it. She turns to Ralof for whatever step he felt was best to take next.

“See the inn on the other side?” She could, it would be quite a drop, but they could make it. “Jump through the roof and keep going!” Julia turned to Ralof and shook her head. She wasn’t just going to leave them. Not when they’d helped her. “Go! We’ll follow you when we can!” He nearly pushed her through the hole in the stone wall, but she jumped before he could.

She rolls as she hits the floor of the top floor and looks back up at the tower. Fire and smoke obscure her view of where she has jumped from, and she waits for the next person to come crashing through into the building next to her. They do not come, and the ground shakes the building in a way that demands her to keep going. They’ll follow when they can. Ralof promised. The least she can do is try to make sure that the path is safe for them too.

Julia climbs down the building through the large hole in the floor and exits it out the hole in the siding of the building. She takes in her surroundings, the destruction of Helgen had been hard and fast even with soldiers trying to kill the thing flying through the air and raining fire and meteors and other hell down on them from the heavens. A screech coming from the sky pushes her forward through the destruction.

As the smoke grows thicker and thicker, she can only hope that she’s moving forward and not back towards the tower that she’d jumped from. Can only hope that she won’t come across the dragon as it swoops through the town raining down destruction.

“Haming! Haming!” Voices flicker louder and louder as she moves ever closer, and the scene that unfolds from the smoke as she does makes her heart stop in her chest. The child she’d seen earlier speaking with his father was standing over what she could only assume was his father, clearly frozen in fear. The dragon’s shadow comes overhead, and Julia acts before she can even think to, running for the child and grabbing him into her arms in just enough time for the beast to land in front of them.

Her eyes meet the dragon’s, and a shiver runs down her spine. The red of its eyes feeling like death had come for them all. And it might have. She runs with the boy, crying now into her neck, throwing up another ward just in time for the dragon to throw more fire at them. Arms grab her, pulling her behind a destroyed building, and she drops the ward once the dragon takes off again.

“Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want it to stay that way. Gunnar, take care of the boy.” She nearly drops the boy as he shakes.

“No! I wanna stay with you!” The boy, Haming her mind supplies, clutches her shoulders tighter in a way that she can’t be good for his hands pushing into the metal of her armor.

“It might be best for us to stay together. At least until we can find somewhere safer.” The man who’d been crouched in the corner, Gunnar nods and gets up to follow along.

The list maker sighs, looking at the three of them, and turns to look where the dragon has left behind. “Alright. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense. You can figure out where best to go after that.” Julia nods and pats the poor boy on the back. She focuses on shielding his face from the corpse of his father as they pass. He’d seen enough of it for his lifetime. Aetherius knows that she had at his age.

Their little group follows after the soldier, taking cover by a wall as the dragon descends again, raining more fire at them. “Quickly! Follow me!” They duck through another destroyed building and come out to where most of the Imperial soldiers must have been firing arrows and spells at the thing as it flew through Helgen. Ahead of them, near the front and center of the fighting is General Tullius.

“Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!” For a moment his eyes meet hers and then go to the child she’s carrying and the man following after them. He nods her in that direction too, as if she is one of his soldiers to command and not a woman he’d almost executed mere minutes ago. She follows the command though, following Hadvar through the rubble and into the courtyard of the Keep, eyes scanning for any of the Stormcloaks she’d seen before, hoping that any one of them would appear. And almost as if a prayer had been answered, Ralof appears from the other side.

“Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!” The venom in Hadvar’s voice is clear, adding only to what is a small amount of context of their relationship that she can only assume would fill in pages of a book.

Her friend is quick to return that venom though, “We’re escaping Hadvar! You’re not stopping us this time!” Ralof’s brows furl at her arms holding Haming and over her shoulder where Gunnar is standing.

“Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!” Wait, what does Hadvar mean by that? Splitting up now would mean death for them. She adjusts Haming in her grip, shoving his weight entirely onto one arm.

“Julia, come on! Into the keep!” They’re both insane. Or stupid. Or both.

“With me, prisoner! Let’s go! Come on! We need to get inside!”

“Are you both insane?” Julia’s voice comes out far stronger than she’d thought it would, given the circumstances. “The dragon currently circling above us circumvents the damned war. Get in the keep!”

She heads for the door to the left of the building that Hadvar had been heading towards, grabbing Ralof’s shoulder with her open hand on the way there. Ralof looks at her confusedly as he opens the door for her, allowing himself to be pushed inside what she can only hope is a safe harbor. She hears Gunnar chuckle slightly, smoke inhalation making it rougher, and he pushes Hadvar in behind them.

Julia can only hope that getting them to work together becomes easier from here as she hears the large door shut loudly behind them.

#julia kynadora lastblood #kynadora #skyrim #helgen

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