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theseerasures · 5 years ago

Note

for your frozen meme: "It’s the kind of bright day that practically drags you outside by the arm: clear blue sky, picturesque clouds, the sun shining down on the grass."

original fic here.

The longing sneaks up on her. One minute she’s still brushing the sleep from her eyes, wondering about the significance of Bruni having antlers in her last dream; the next she’s slip-sliding down the hallway and out the castle, still wearing pajamas.

For some reason the tombstones still take her by surprise. Even when she’s looking for them, they come into view earlier than she expects. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, bringing out the steadily growing green over solid rock. Nature and life reclaiming themselves in six short years. At the foot of each there’s a finely crafted wreath of ice; Elsa must have stopped over here before heading to the castle yesterday.

Weird, how this place still sticks to them like a bur. This isn’t where Mother and Father died, where they would forever rest. It’s not even where their memories live on, but they keep coming back here anyway, even after the bodies have been found, even after the truths have been uncovered. Here, where Anna buried them; here, where Elsa couldn’t.

“I thought you’d want to know,” Anna finally says, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her dress, “I’m getting married today.”

That’s all she’s got, really. What else is there even to say? Shame you can’t make it? Too cruel, even for the moments she’s angriest with them.

She doesn’t feel angry right now, just a strange sense of–waiting. Waiting for what? She’s not sure, but she’s willing to stick around and find out. “I asked General Mattias. Remember him? Of course you do, you commissioned that portrait–I asked him to walk me down the aisle, since. You know.”

Anna sighs, decides who cares about grass stains, anyway?, and just sits down on the ground. “I don’t know. I guess I…I guess I want to say I wish you could be here.”

“And I do,” she feels compelled to quickly add, “I really…but then I start thinking about what else might still be true, if you were.”

“How much longer would you have kept the gates closed?” It always come down to this–this thing that Elsa forgave so easily, but Anna still can’t–like the bur trapped itself in her somehow, just under the skin, so she can’t do anything without bumping up against it. “How much longer would you have kept Elsa in her room?” She turns her head a little, looks just in Mother’s direction. “How much longer would you have just let him? How much longer would you have kept everything a secret?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently,” she says, picking up steam, “What if you never went off to find Ahtohallan? Elsa would have never had a coronation. I might have never met Kristoff. Or what if you had found it and come back? Or what if you tried to find it earlier? What if the Accident happened later? Or didn’t happen at all? What if–”

“What if you never tried to shave all Bjorny-Bear’s fur off when you were four?” A quiet, amused voice asks from behind, “Things might have turned out completely utterly exactly the same.”

“Bjorny-Bear!” Anna exclaims as Elsa kneels down on the grass next to her, “I forgot all about him.”

“I thought you’d try to fix your day-of jitters with a chocolate raid or twelve,” Elsa comments, “Isn’t it bad luck to berate your deceased parents right before your wedding?”

Anna rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, probably.” Between the trolls and the Northuldra and the scary planner they hired to tell them about Arendelle royal wedding minutiae going back seven generations she’s had to wade through enough rites and superstitions to choke a narwhal. Still, she doesn’t want it any other way, and Kristoff agrees: what’s the point of a wedding if it doesn’t celebrate every part that makes them them, right?

(She’d dug up some old pictures of Mother and Father’s wedding a while ago. Their ceremony had looked lavish, sophisticated, and one hundred percent Arendellian; nothing so subversive as a teensy Northuldra compass to mar the hundreds of crocuses they’d stitched onto Mother’s dress.

Mother herself had looked perfectly, genuinely happy. Anna doesn’t get it, and she kind of hopes she never will.)

“And I wasn’t berating,” she says out loud, “I was just…well. Do you ever think about it? What might have happened?”

“If they never died?”

She shrugs. “Or just, I dunno. Whenever.”

Elsa hms thoughtfully. “I used to, more,” she replies, “In my room. Mostly about how much happier everyone would be if I didn’t exist.”

Anna takes in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” Elsa says, looking immediately apologetic, “That wasn’t appropriate for today, I shouldn’t–”

“It’s okay,” Anna says, waving her off, “I’m the one who dragged myself to a graveyard before sunrise, remember? Pretty sure we left appropriate behind like, three years ago.”

“If not before,” Elsa agrees. Then she looks up at the tombstones herself. “I don’t think about them much now. What-might-have-beens, I mean.”

“How come?”

“There are just too many possible variables in play,” Elsa replies, “What if Runeard had survived his treachery? Mother might have never left the Forest. We wouldn’t even exist. Or what if she had, and married Father anyway? What would have happened to us, if Runeard still had control? Who knows the damage Arendelle might have caused then. Our past already haunts us enough without adding what-ifs into the mix. Better to just focus on our lives as-is, I think–no more and no less.”

Anna just stares at her.

“…What?” Elsa asks, a little defensively.

“You sure look like my sister,” Anna says, “But you can’t be–something halfway reasonable about the past just came out of your mouth.”

“Hey!” Elsa gives her a playful shove. “That was one time.”

“If by one time you mean one full-time job…”

“Fine, fine,” Elsa laughs. She gets up and extends a hand. “Come on. If we’re not back by eight to get dressed, Kristoff will hear about it and get a coronary.”

“He really might,” Anna agrees. She lets herself be pulled up, then uses the momentum to wrap her sister in a hug. “I’m happier you do exist,” she says into Elsa’s shoulder. “You?”

She pulls back. Elsa’s eyes dart around the clearing for a little bit, but then she lets out a sound like a mix of weariness and laughter. “I’m…getting there.” She’s looking steadily back at Anna now. “Most days. Today, definitely.”

Anna nods. “I’m happy,” she says. Looks past Elsa now, at Mother and Father’s graves. Maybe this is the thing she’s been waiting for–to be able to tell them that, and have it be the truth.

Maybe it will help them rest easier. She hopes so.

The sun has fully risen now; Anna can feel its heat on her back. When she looks back at her sister Elsa is smiling at her. “Good,” she says, picking up Anna’s hand. “Let’s get you married, sis.”

Anna smiles, too. “I’m ready to go.”

#Anonymous #counterpunches #sakuraayanami #disney #helen writes #helen writes only two genres: a) elsa is dead #b) anna is mad at inanimate objects

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mazurah · 8 years ago

Text

Lost in Time Ch. 3: Disparity - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl escape the Dragon and figure out that they are from different eras.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for language.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 3: Disparity

Fayrl continued his soothing song, feeling the cart steady as it came back to a more reasonable speed. He mentally thanked the Three that this was working.

Ma'zurah managed to seat herself in the driver's seat without falling. When she felt more stable, she burst out, "What in Molag's balls was that! Four fucking hells!"

Seeing that Ma'zurah had taken control of the reigns, Fayrl felt comfortable enough to speak again, though he was ready to sing another verse of the guar soothing song should the horse seem startled again.

"If I didn't know better, I would say it was a Dragon. But that has to be impossible, right?"

"You know what? After everything Ma'zurah has seen, she is willing to believe anything. If it looks like a Dragon, and breathes fire like a Dragon, and eats people like a Dragon, then it probably is a Dragon. What else would it be?" Ma'zurah started shaking from the adrenaline. "Gods dammit...."

"I don't know where that thing came from. I didn't think there were any Dragons still alive! Nor do I know what was going on in that town. Who were you talking about?" Fayrl wished desperately for a good bottle of brandy.

"Uh... at which point?" Ma'zurah hugged herself as best she could with one hand holding the reins, and hunched forward tiredly.

"Any of it!” Fayrl burst out. “How do you not know about the civil war? It's been going on for decades and finally it's pulled all but the Gold Coast and a few other areas into the fray. And I didn't recognize the names you were mentioning. I sure don't know how this Ulfric is Jarl! I mean, there's another Stormcloak who is a Thane, but that is hardly the same. Windhelm already has a Jarl. Something isn't right here. Something doesn't fit." A horrifying feeling gripped Fayrl. "I don't think I belong here."

"What does Fayrl mean? Ma'zurah was just in the Imperial City a little over a year ago. There was no civil war. Emperor Uriel Septim was fine."

"Who is Emperor Uriel Septim? I've never heard of such a person. Varen Aquilarios was the Emperor until recently. And Cyrodiil's Imperial City has been at war since... the fifth century? It's been mostly contained until just two years ago when all that business with the Planemeld or whatever it is called started happening. I heard some of the mages at the Windhelm Mages Guild discussing it when I was performing there. A dark anchor had dropped just south-west of Fort Amol."

Fayrl was rarely this forthright with someone he knew so little about, but in light of all the craziness, he needed to establish some facts.

"Fayrl... Ma'zurah is pretty sure that the Planemeld was something like seven hundred years ago..." Ma'zurah's face had taken on a horrified expression. "Oh no... what if Ma'zurah is out of time too? Ma'zurah knew it smelled strange here..."

"Wait." Fayrl was silent a moment. "No. No, that can't be right. Tell me, what is the year, as far as you know?"

He hoped it would prove the point he wanted to make.

"The 429th year of the third era, what year is it as far as you know?"

Fayrl's breath caught in his throat. That couldn't be right. "Why, it is 580th year of the second era last I checked. And I know it to be true. There is no way that I am speaking to someone from the future. That is madness!"

"This is madness... Ma'zurah wonders if Sheggorath has done something to make this happen..." Ma'zurah looked at Fayrl with bright eyes. "We have to get back to Oblivion somehow... Ma'zurah's rings are not working. There has to be another way."

"Go back to Sheogorath's realm? How is that going to solve our problem? Do you not think he is going to try to get us further lost in time if we succeed?" Fayrl shook his head. "We don't even know where we are. Or possibly, when we are. How are we going to find our way back to Oblivion?"

"Ma'zurah does not know." She swallowed in apprehension. "We have to find out something about this place, or time..." She looked down the road. There were three standing stones with holes in them, and a sharp curve in the road ahead.

Fayrl decided to try and use a technique the spy masters would use to try and recall information. "Do you recognize anything here? Or back where we came from? A smell, a sound, a feeling?"

Ma'zurah shook her head. "Back there, the others said this place is Helgen, in Skyrim. Ma'zurah has never been to Skyrim before. Has Fayrl?"

He nodded. "I’ve passed through Helgen before, but never spent any real time there. It sure didn't look like it does now."

"How is it different?” Ma'zurah asked insistently. “That could be helpful."

“There were just a few small cottages then, now there are stoneworks. There was mostly just a farm with a few families and a wooden fence built into an earthen barricade then."

"It sounds like it has been built up since then,” Ma'zurah mused, “so we are probably in your future, but where we are in relation to this one is questionable..."

The cart turned the curve of the road, and a stone walled village came into view between the trees on the horizon.

"Can you guess what direction we are headed?” Fayrl asked, glancing at the sky. “I don't know exactly what time of day it is to try and figure it out based off the sun's position."

"Ma'zurah is a mystic. She can use every spell known to the Arcane University in the school of Mysticism. She also knows quite a few other spells besides, but none of them are location spells... we will have to ask at that place ahead, assuming they are not hostile to Dunmer and Khajiit. It's the best shot we have right now though. The road does not turn anywhere else, and Ma'zurah doubts the cart would not break should we take it off the road."

"Well, then let's hope they are friendly, or easily charmed. I have had enough of being chased by men with weapons for one day. How about you, my dear?"

Ma'zurah shot Fayrl a look, one eyebrow raised, and continued driving the cart. They drew close to the gate, and they saw that the wall was in serious disrepair. The gate had no doors, and the wall ended a hundred feet away on either side. There was a guard standing watch in the gateway, and people moving through the small town. The whole village was shaded by large trees.

Fayrl rested his hand on his hip as they drew closer. Having his sword closer at hand made him feel infinitely more secure. "By the Three, let them not immediately try to put a sword through my chest…." he muttered.

Ma'zurah called out to the guard as soon as they were in range. "There was an attack at Helgen! We came as quickly as we could! There are many wounded and dead!" If the guards were focused on the news they brought, they would not be attempting to kill the messengers.

Fayrl picked up on Ma'zurah's idea and began to wave his arms frantically, trying to give off as much of an air of panic as possible. He used a quick burst of flame to burn a small hole into the back of his tunic to give more credit to their claims.

"Halt!" cried the guard, raising an arm to motion them to stop before him. He had not made any motion toward his weapon yet, but he was firm in his command. "I need to hear your names and your business before you bring that cart in here. We don't like games here."

"There's no time for that!” cried Fayrl. “We need to make preparations for the wounded and send for reinforcements! Helgen's going to be a pile of ash if we don't hurry!"

"This one is Ma'zurah. It is really not important,” Ma'zurah explained in a rush, “There is a creature up there attacking Helgen! We do not know what it is, but it was huge and black and it spat fire. Surely you heard it! If you do not believe us, go see for yourself, but we must keep going to warn others. We should warn the Jarl, can you give us directions?"

The guard looked at her incredulously. "Now look here, miss, if you expect me to believe that a--"

Fayrl cut him off mid-sentence, hopping down from the cart, running up to the man, and grasping him by the arm. "My dear wife wouldn't believe me, and surely I could hardly believe it myself, but I know nothing else that looks and acts as that creature did. It was like a Dragon of legend, only larger than the stories ever painted them to be! Look!" Fayrl turned to show off his burnt tunic. "I ran to join my wife in this cart and was nearly roasted alive! If I hadn't thought quickly, I might be... well, there are enough like that there already. I can only pray that mother didn't suffer long in the beast's jaws. You must help the rest of the town! Everyone will be lost if something is not done!"

Tears brimmed at the edges of Fayrl's eyes as he shook the guard. "You must save them!" he cried.

The guard looked between them, the evidence before him persuading him at last. "Alright, I can't leave our town unprotected. If there really is a Dragon, we need all the men we can get here. But Bjorni at the other gate can direct you to Whiterun. I’ll take you to him."

"Thank you!" Ma'zurah helped Fayrl up onto the cart and muttered, "Wife huh? Did you want to stop for supplies? We do not know how far it is to Whiterun. Ma'zurah only has fruit from the Skooma Cat's realm."

Fayrl settled into the cart and then cast a glance in the guard’s direction. The man’s body language looked anxious as he led their horse to the opposite gate.

Fayrl leaned toward Ma'zurah, “I don't want to chance that we might blow our cover. I have some ash yam loaf, it should be enough. It's not a far ride to Whiterun, at least, it wasn't when I was last here.”

Ma'zurah looked at Fayrl. "You know the way then?"

The opposite gate guard saw them and gestured for them to halt at the gate.

Fayrl nodded quickly to Ma'zurah, then turned to speak to the guard. The first guard beat him to it and started to explain the situation to his companion.

The second guard seemed confused, but turned and gave the requested directions to the pair on the cart. It all still sounded the same as when Fayrl had last taken the road. He was relieved. If the road looked different in the same manner as Helgen and Riverwood looked different between his time and now, it would be hard to navigate by memory alone.

"Thank you," he told the guards.

Ma'zurah drove the cart forward and across the bridge out of town and over a hill, then turned to Fayrl. "You think we actually should tell the Jarl? They might not believe us, but then again they might give us a reward. We need resources as well as information."

"I don't know what to expect from Whiterun if we do reach there. Though I've no idea what we are going to do one way or the other. All of my connections will not be here. My husband will not be here. All of my accounts will be long since gone, I am sure, there goes my hidden cache."

"You seem to have a lot in this area. Would you tell Ma'zurah about your husband?"

"It would be my great pleasure to tell you of my handsome husband, though I must admit, words can hardly do justice to his intellect and beauty." Fayrl sighed dramatically and wished he had his lute with him.

His beautiful lute! Oh, he hoped it would not be pillaged by bandits and either smashed and burned for firewood or sold for far less than its value.

"Would you like to hear about his appearance? Or how we met? Or something else specifically?"

"Ma'zurah does not know.” Ma’zurah hunched in on herself. “She just wants to be distracted from the fact that she may never see her girlfriend or fiance again..."

"You cannot speak like that.” Fayrl chided, moving closer beside her. “Come, I will tell you about how we met. It is a humorous story.”

Ma’zurah nodded.

"I met him here in Skyrim, actually.” Fayrl began. “I can't recall the name of the town, it matters little. I was at the market, and was thinking of how I had not had a traveling companion for some time. I was, at that point, working as a traveling bard, and I was missing the companionship. So, it felt serendipitous when, strolling through the market, I found myself staring at a very out of place looking Khajiit, all on his own. Usually only caravans come to the towns, or the occasional merchant to set up their wares. I had not seen a Khajiit in a town who was not a merchant. So, seeing him struggling with a man over purchasing food, I strolled forward to intercede on his behalf."

Ma'zurah gave him an odd look. "You are Indoril right? From the mainland? Ma'zurah understands that House Indoril is very traditional, and generally not likely to teach tolerance of other races. Your husband is Khajiit?"

Fayrl laughed. “A source of much of a mark upon my mother and myself by my uncle Tanval. My mother had always detested slaves, a personal matter concerning the disownment of a former grandmaster. But she witnessed something that an Argonian slave did, where she selflessly saved the life of a stableboy. Afterwards, she asked the slave how she had learned medicine, for her job was to wash, not anything related to medicine. The slave explained she used to be the healer for her village when she had been captured by slavers. Well, mother began to question everything she had been told about slaves, and shortly after, about a lot of other things as well. The signing of the Pact, while not an instant cure, has certainly begun to rectify the situation. Though, if you are acquainted with slavery on the mainland, then it must mean that it has not dissolved for good, even so many centuries later."

"No... No it has not,” said Ma’zurah slowly. “Ma'zurah has seen many injustices, and though she has many responsibilities, she tries to right some of them herself."

"It saddens me deeply to hear. There is so much I wish I could change in my time." Fayrl tried to set aside that depressing thought.

Ma’zurah gave Fayrl a speculative stare. "Ma'zurah wonders... Fayrl has visited Ebonheart. Has Fayrl seen the Twin Lamps?"

"When I was last in Ebonheart, admittedly, not for a few years now, there were no lamps of note, I am sorry to say."

"Ah. Alright." Ma'zurah looked slightly disappointed. "But Fayrl was telling this one about how he met his husband. Please continue!"

"Oh, yes!" Fayrl perked back up instantly. "So I intervened to assist the Khajiit. I admit I was quite interested in learning the tale of how he came to be in that place and that situation, so I offered to buy him a hot meal and a drink, and if he liked, to join me in my tent for the evening." There was a wistful expression on Fayrl’s face. "To my great joy, Qau-dar readily agreed. He seemed most eager about sharing my tent, and I myself was very pleased at the prospect of taking my first Khajiit lover." Fayrl looked at Ma’zurah and his voice took on a richer, deeper note. "And do you know what happened that night?"

Ma'zurah raised an eyebrow at him. "No, not at all."

"He went to sleep! Can you believe that? All the lead up, and what appeared to be flirting, and the fetcher just laid down besides me in the bedroll and went right to sleep!"

Ma'zurah laughed. "You were not specific enough with your desires? He did not understand?"

Fayrl laughed. "Yes, I did gather that rather quickly as the days grew into weeks and the weeks into months. Still, I have never seen someone so eager to jump into my bedroll before and then for nothing to happen." The edges of Fayrl’s eyes creased with laughter. "In a way it only made him more desirable."

"But you eventually got him to understand? You did marry him." Ma'zurah grinned at him.

Fayrl laughed a little nervously. "Well, no, not exactly. I mean, Qau-dar seems to understand what I meant then now, but when I try to bring it up he always seems to have a convenient lack of understanding. You would think he found me wholly unattractive. Yet he asked me to marry him, not the other way around. And though it was just for a week of free food and room, it is still legally binding within the borders of Skyrim."

Ma'zurah looked confused. "Wait, so he did not mean it? He misled you? And you still pursue him?"

"He did not mislead me. I am technically already married. Though, I would rather leave that in the past. That was arranged, to sire children, though the plan seems to have caused more trouble in the House than less. It's part of why I was spending time in Skyrim."

"Oh. Well... If he truly does not understand what you mean, then have you tried asking him using direct words? Khajiit are often very straightforward about these matters, at least when Ma'zurah was in Elsweyr."

"What do you mean by direct? How much more direct can you get than ‘share my bed’?"

"Sharing someone's bed could mean simply sleeping. It really depends on the context. Have you told him the specific acts you want once you get him in your bed?" Ma'zurah attempted to hide a smirk.

"I have also offered my body for his use, but that seemed to have gone by without understanding as well. Or perhaps he is simply not interested. Yet I swear he is flirting with me at times. But then again, perhaps it is a cultural difference?"

"Ma'zurah does not know. Ma'zurah had to leave Elsweyr when she was sixteen." Ma'zurah took a deep breath. "If he is not interested, then it seems very cruel to this one that he leads you on."

Fayrl smiled. "He has never attempted to lead me on. I happily pursue in the hopes of learning more about him. He is so different from anyone I have ever met. I would like to grow closer to him, regardless of how he is comfortable with that taking shape. In the meantime he does not keep me from pursuing other passions."

Ma'zurah nodded. "That is generally the way of the Khajiit. You sound quite in love with him though."

"What?!" Fayrl jerked in surprise. "I would hardly say my feelings have developed to that point!"

"Really?" Ma’zurah raised her eyebrows. "You were just sighing about how beautiful and intelligent he is, how much you desire to spend time with him, how different he is, and how much much you want to be closer to him. That sounds very much like love to Ma'zurah."

"I could say much the same about you, my mysterious time-traveling lady, but I would hardly call the feeling love."

"Well... It sounds like more than that to Ma'zurah. And Ma'zurah should know. She almost lost love once because she did not admit it until it was almost too late."

Fayrl shook his head. "I assure you, it is not like that."

"Well Fayrl should know Fayrl better than anybody else, so Ma'zurah will accept his word for it." She sighed and looked around at the landscape. They had just arrived at a crossroads with bridges over a river to the north and east.

Fayrl was happy to take advantage of the distraction. "Take the left fork here."

Ma'zurah directed the horse to the left and took in the huge fields of golden wheat, with houses dotted along the road at intervals. "This is a nice place. Nicer than Ma'zurah imagined Skyrim to be. Warmer too."

"This is so bizarre,” Fayrl said softly, “It is not so different as I would have expected. The buildings are different, but they are in the same places."

"The city is the same?" Ma’zurah pointed across the fields of wheat to the north where the high stone walls of Whiterun rose from atop a tall hill.

"Well, mostly. It feels surreal to encounter it so the same and yet so different!"

Ma'zurah nodded, then jumped as a crash sounded from behind the next farmhouse.

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Fayrl’s husband, Qau-dar, belongs to @warmsandstraveler. Fayrl’s author has an ongoing, publically available RP going with him and several other people in an alternate timeline in which nobody gets lost in time.

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

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

#TES #Elder Scrolls Lore #Skyrim #ESO #Morrowind #My Writing #Fanfic #Lost In Time TES Fanfic #Fayrl Indoril #Ma'zurah the Khajiit #Rated T

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