#daedra you are wrong on this

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Friendly reminder that Sheogorath is going to win the Daedra Sexyman Poll, so the least you can do is give the Oblivion Sexyman victory to Party Marty. 🎉✨

[tactful-kind-daedra]

"What?! No no! I just found her and-- I'd never do anything bad to innocent animals! I promise!" He assures her quickly, even as his gloved hand was being gnawed on pretty harshly by the weasel. "She's cute right? I just need a partner in crime to make a nice little compartment for her to sleep in while we travel!" Amets was flashing his assistant the big puppy eyes. "I promise on my life I won't be mean to the lil fella, pleeeease?"

@letsriddlemethislucifer

The explanation was enough to appease her... for the moment. She'd like to believe that most in the main army group wouldn't knowing hurt an animal just trying to survive. Though, while Amets promised not to harm the weasel...well... the same couldn't said for the other party. Daedra's brows raised in unease as she watched the little creature biting and gnawing quite ferociously.

She had to commend his gloves; they were doing a great job holding together!

"Er... I suppose she is but...Are you sure she wants to be a pet?" Daedra asked, turning her gaze up from Veneer to her captor. "She looks pretty mad...."

[trappedinafantasy37]

Welp, I just did the embrace Bhaal ending with Daedra and I gotta say, this is objectively the worse ending. And it is very much the ending I never wanted for her. Because this was always going to be the ending for a Durge who embraced Bhaal. And Minthara being killed was always going to be her ending too. What makes all of this worse is that Minthara saw it coming too, she just did not realize it.

When she first tells you about Orin, she criticizes Orin by saying that if she could turn the plot of the Absolute towards slaughter, she would take it. Minthara also criticizes Orin for wanting to be Daddy's Little Girl who would do anything to please Bhaal. She perceives these to be character flaws within Orin. Sadly her analysis is incorrect, because these are innate characteristics of Bhaalspawn in general, including Durge. All Bhaalspawn are born with the same urges: kill other Bhaalspawn, breed more Bhaalspawn, and then kill everything. Of course, a Bhaalspawn can fight these urges. But it is a never ending fight, one we see Durge struggle with throughout the entire story. They only "beat" these urges by having Bhaal's blood removed from them.

But because Minthara sees these as character flaws within Orin, she fails to see them in Durge as well. And when Minthara learns that Durge is a Bhaalspawn, of course she is elated. Durge is the child of a god. A deeply religious Minthara would obviously admire that, almost as far as borderline worshiping Durge (cause old habits die hard). She truly believes that Durge is nothing like Orin and would never be anything like Orin, and she has to believe this to be true because she does not want to be afraid of Durge like she is of Orin.

Despite popular belief, Minthara is indeed capable of love and has a strong desire for it. I have always read Minthara as a person who strongly wants what she feels she cannot have. And in Menzoberranzan, genuine love is frowned upon (or at least making it known). So of course she wants it. And there is no shame in that. It is trust that she struggles with, and she always has good reason to be distrustful. And the moment she became an exile, we see her start to deconstruct her previous ways of life, but with great difficulty as it is hard to let go of the only things you have ever known. She wants to love, she wants to trust, she doesn't want to be afraid, and she doesn't want to kill her lovers.

Thanks to the business with the Absolute, Minthara finds herself in a unique position in which she actually can read someone else's mind. And for the first time in her life, she has guaranteed certainty that the person that she loves won't hurt her, or betray her, or use and abuse her, or kill her. And that was a promise Durge made to her. And so she openly embraced Durge with everything that she has and becomes devoted.

Sadly, devotion is Minthara's fatal flaw. There is nothing wrong with being devoted to someone or some god, of course. But Minthara is too devoted in which her devotion makes her blind, and she has spent so much of her life being devoted to someone other than herself, and she does not know how to live a life without being devoted to someone. She does not realize the crux of her devotion until she is turned into a sacrificial lamb by Orin. It is Minthara who questions the worth of devotion if it only leads to death and she starts to become a little more selective of who she devotes herself to. Cause she was once devoted to Orin and was willing to be devoted to Bhaal if given the chance, and yet she was still put on that altar. But this never happens if Orin never takes her.

Edit: I forgot that Patch 7 added in the second part of Minthara's dialogue about Orin. Meaning Minthara can still come to question the worth of devotion, even without being a kidnap victim to Orin. However, she questions her devotion after Durge has made their choice in regards to Bhaal. Despite her beginning to question devotion, she still remains devoted to Durge as she perceives Durge as her savior, and not being like Lolth or the Absolute or Bhaal.

Her devotion to Lolth, still ended with her being abandoned (or so she feels) and left vulnerable to the Absolute, because her devotion to Lolth did not make her an exception. Her devotion to the Absolute still led to her mind being ripped apart, because her devotion to the Absolute did not make her an exception. Minthara may be of a feline nature, but she does not have nine lives and cannot always get lucky. Every time she has devoted herself to someone, it always led her close to the grave. Her devotion to Durge, encouraging Durge to embrace who they are, will get her rewarded with death. And death was always going to be her reward.

And of course she thinks this could never happen to her. She read Durge's mind and Durge did show her that they would never hurt her. That Durge would never do to her what Lolth or the Absolute did, or even previous lovers did to her. That her devotion would be rewarded with mutual devotion. But this is coming from a Durge who has not embraced Bhaal just yet and does not yet want to become Daddy's Special Baby. And Minthara is not stupid for believing that Durge was sincere. No one wants to believe that the person that they love would ever hurt them. That does not make someone stupid or weak. Minthara could only read Durge's mind, not Durge's future.

When Durge embraces Bhaal, she still believes them to be the same exact person with the same exact desires as when she read their mind. Durge has finally followed her advice and embraced themselves, become exactly what she always saw them to be. Durge is now on the path to ascension, to true godhood. And Minthara's proximity to it all will keep her safe from all threats because she would be that god's consort. She can finally have a life without fear or distrust. She will have a god to worship, someone to love, and a new house in Durge's name. She will have everything she could have ever wanted and all she had to do was be devoted. All she had to do was be herself.

In that moment, her devotion to Durge makes her blind to the reality that Durge has changed and has become the very thing she herself criticized about Orin. She still believes that Durge won't hurt her and that Durge won't use the Absolute as a tool for slaughter. Her devotion makes her blind to the fact that Bhaal is like Lolth and the Absolute and most certainly will use Durge like a puppet. Her devotion makes her blind to the reality that Durge has only become a master of their urges, because they are willfully giving in to them and no longer fighting them. And the urge wants to kill everything, no exceptions. Her devotion makes her blind to the knife that Durge will inevitably turn against her, because her devotion was never going to make her an exception.

[dxwnfxll]

CAN YOU DO A SANGUINE ONE PRETTY PLEASE UHHHHHHHHHH IDK WHATEVER U FEEL

You got it pal *flips burger*

••|| Headache ||••

Sanguine x Gn reader

Cw: Alcohol, suggestive stuff

Your head was pounding as you slowly sat up, your hands hardly feeling the cool stone below you. You had to sit there for a moment feeling as if the contents in your stomach would spill over at any moment. Your eyes glanced around still seeing people partying as if it were the end of the world, the smell of sweat, booze and skooma littered the air. Had you been out for a while? You didn't know

You stayed on the floor before feeling a clawed hand grab at your shoulder. "I was wondering when you'd wake up!" The boisterous voice of the mischievous god rang in your ears, your head began to hurt worse as he helped you up "don't tell me you're pooped out [y/n] the nights just begun!" Had it though? You felt like you had been here for hours.. Wherever here was that is.

Maybe the look on your face said all, your eyes slowly shutting as he walked with you. The noises of people getting more acquainted in other rooms and people talking loudly causing your head to pound worse. "Alright alright, i can see when someones had enough"

You felt him take a sharp turn down some hallway in..whatever this place was, he only hummed a small tune. You recognized it from the bards that played in the college that you hailed from. That's right, you began to remember.

You were a bard, your friends had decided to celebrate a good show one evening at the winking skeever. You all shared an ale and then a man walked over in dark robes, a friendly drinking contest for a staff. Your friends declined but you were never one to back away from a challenge, six drinks in and you showed up here on the floor.

He pulled you closer to him as he walked, his hand rubbing against your shoulder. He took a sip from his goblet, had he had that thing in his hand this entire time? Then he shoved it towards you clumsily "want some?" He offered as you shook your head and pushed it away.

He shrugged with a 'suit yourself' as he downed the contents "y'know, you are quite a riot [y/n]. You remind me of an old farmers boy.." He trailed off on some story and you couldn't hear what he had to say. Your mind only coming back as he stopped you, he held some flower? In his hand. It looked similar to a rose but it looked solid "here ya are, as promised. You beat me in my little game and so the staff is yours"

You looked at it, it felt wrong to stare at it. You took it hesitantly within your grasp, the daedra laughed his goblet spilling over a bit wait hadn't he finished that- "what? Expecting for it to shoot fire out as soon as you touch it?" His large clawed hand patted your back a little too rough causing you to lurch forward a bit

He sighed happily as his laughter died down, taking one last sip from his goblet he spoke again "I like you little [race], you should come back sometime. Maybe I can host a more private party"

Before you could say more you found yourself lying in some snow, you groaned shivering as you got up. Looking around you noticed you were just outside of Windhelm 'great..' You thought as you stood up. You could almost hear the prince of debauchery laugh in your head as you wondered how to get back home.

Sorry if this seems rushed or whatever lolol

Requests are still open for TES characters!!

Ty for reading and requesting!

[seimsisk]

my adventures in Skyrim so far:

Got lost in the very first scene, ended up following the imperials completely on accident like a confused lost puppy

tried approaching some stormcloaks on the assumption of "I got no beef with you I literally just followed the first person I saw". that didn't turn out well.

tried talking to some imperials (I really wanted to ask for directions) and they got mad at me and tried killing me. jumped in the river and arrived at Whiterun drenched and cold and miserable

made friends with some kajits. these cat people are beautiful and I just want to be with them forever.

got lost in whiterun several times. ran out of food and had to resort to stealing every piece of unattended food on sight. I'm a thief now. I was forced by circumstances into a life of crime. I steal cheese and old tomatoes and then I cook them in the communal kitchen.

Made friends with the Jarl

Got one-hit-killed by some giants

Tried finding a bandit camp in the way to markath, but got lost. Took a carriage there to mark the town on my map. Saw a murder. Got involved into some shady shit. Made friends with a wizard archaeologist. Bought some spells including a spell that should keep me from getting lost all the time. Nearly died trying to fight a spider.

On the way back got sucked into investigating daedras and forced to kill a guy. I have some regrets on not accepting the daedra reward though. I keep getting murdered by random animals and bandits. Maybe being evil would solve my issues.

Got back to whiterun. Got lost a bunch more times trying to find the bandits, regardless of the clairvoyance spell.

Cleared up a bandit camp.

It was the wrong camp.

Tried spending the night at the empty bandit camp but imperials had taken over it and threatened me with sharp swords. I've never felt so disrespected in my life.

Really wish I had an evil patron god rn.

Just realized the bandit camp is apparently marked on my map

[trickstarbrave]

mephala, putting together spider voryn: hey azura, your champion is an absolute FREAK. it’s okay though, I’m gonna make him a matching freak

HGVFBHFBWEHFBWEH YEAHHHHHH

matching fucked up little freak

azura: this won't work!!!! if you kill my champion with your fucked up sex pest spiders im gonna beat you mephala: no look. see? they're happy together azura: azura: that is. disgusting. azura: boethiah what is wrong with your son? boethiah: YESSSSS A WORTHY MATE FOR MY SON!!! A KILLER DAEDRA!!!! A FINE BRIDE!!!! azura: i want a divorce.

[ask-neloth]

[A tidy scroll lies innocently on your desk when you return to it, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. It was not there previously. It carries no curses or enchantments of any kind, and the piece of twine holding it together slips loose with a single tug. The handwriting within is sharp, traditional. Daedric script with Morrowind orthography. It reads:] Master Neloth, I heard that you were accepting questions, and so I ask one, if you will answer. Burn this letter if you will not. I divide practitioners of magic into the arcane and the Daedric. Of the latter, there are the bound and the unbound. I am bound to one Daedra Lord, and this limits the scope of my magic. My question is this: How can my gifts be applied to a study of the arcane? [The letter is unsigned, but you have your suspicions.]

Hmm, a proper question at long last. Though right away I would say you are limiting yourself needlessly. You even say: ‘I divide practitioners…’. For what reason? It’s not that you are incorrect, for there are mages among us who couldn’t even light a candle, yet with the assistance of a Daedric Prince could set the world ablaze. So I am going to assume that your magicka reserves are quite shallow and that your Prince gives you the ability to practice with any amount of competence.

Now, while I can’t say I know who you are as an individual, the style of your script and the specific formalities you invoke tell me you are a Morrowind native, most likely Vvardenfell. So, there is likely one of three Daedric Princes you find yourself in service to, and I think it’s quite easy to infer which one given the…secrecy you imploy. 

The Webspinner, though often cruel, is a remarkably practical Prince to serve, though I can only assume she was attracted to you through the sheer amount of misfortune your life must contain. Mephala does not seek out those who live sunny lives. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t tend to toy with mortals for her own amusement. She is the Plot-Weaver; you have a purpose within her web. Your query aligns well with her realm, so I believe the answer will be far simpler than you might have originally imagined. 

How can you apply these gifts to the study of the arcane? Try to frame your study within Mephala’s sphere. The arcane arts already deal in secrecy and mystery, so this should not feel unnatural. 

Do not seek surface-level spells and concepts that any sideshow performer could master. You must burrow deep and uncover spellforms lost to time—techniques that no longer have names. You will both excel as a master of the arts and please your patron. She may very well offer you a boon for your efforts. 

Now, if I assumed the wrong, you may simply apply this concept to the sphere of whomever it is you serve. But I sincerely doubt that I am wrong. Feel free to inform me of your progress.    

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Pumpkin 🎃 and Moon 🌙 for the writing ask game (moon for the sole purpose of hearing more depressing josh lore 🤭)

Helloooo! 🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?

I play Morrowind if I'm finding I don't know where I'm going with a story. Usually my ideas come after i've played through a particularly interesting quest. The Arkanis series (which is getting a third fic soon) is a result of Josh dying about 8 times as I tried to get him go through Kogoruhn. I don't really write notes outside of a stream of consciousness lets play on one of my discord servers. Most of my ideas are filed in my head.

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

Josh rarely speaks of his past and goes to great lengths to hide what he is. He's kept his face hidden in public since the outbreak of the Oblivion Crisis and hasn't been back on Vvardenfell since Red Mountain erupted. His story was quickly co-opted by the growing New Temple and he hates it. None of it feels like him and he laments how Erra's contributions were largely forgotten, yes he's a saint but Teldryn doesn't think its enough.

He feels guilty that his actions were the catalyst for Baar Dau falling into the Norvayn Bay and the subsequent eruption that followed. He had been seeing this destruction in bits and pieces of his dreams for years. He just didn't make it in time. He curses himself for not figuring it out sooner and only managed to save a small group of immediate family and the Ashlanders who still followed him off the island in time.

Josh makes up stories about his Corprus scaring, for a while he could get away with blaming Red Mountain for it but as the decades dragged on and Josh still looked 57 he found that blaming the eruption would start to garner questions. As of 4E 199 he has a story about getting on the wrong side of a pyromancer which Sydari doesn't believe. Eventually he would change this story into "Dragon Attack" until his past finally catches up with him after Sydari finds a very thick dossier at the Thalmor Embassy with prints of a very familiar looking Dunmer scattered through it.

Josh had been hiding who he was for two hundred years when Sydari found out about it. Within a few months the Blades (whom he defected from after having his Corprus infection 'cured'), leaked his identity- Josh won't play ball and Sydari listens to Josh more than she listens to Delphine and Esburn. He knew the reaction to his return would be mixed. There's a lot of distaste towards him from the Dunmer who see his disappearance during both the Oblivion Crisis and Red Year as a betrayal. There's an equal amount that see his absence during those times as a part of the Dunmer's atonement as they return to worshipping the Three Good Daedra. The truth was Teldryn was mourning.

He still tries to hide his identity where he can, being recognised in public isn't something he'll ever be comfortable with. He was lucky that his name had been lost when the New Temple was forming their doctrine and reproductions of his visage gradually lost their likeness as the years went on. He doesn't speak about what happened and unless you are close to him (and that is a very small section of people) you will never get it out of him. Eventually, his youngest son will write a book. It is banned in Morrowind.

october-themed writeblr ask game

[inkysqueed]

day 1 of fully recovering from dental work, it's time for some indulgent shipping as it involves thiefguard im obligated to tag @hannah-heartstrings

(probably) non-canon sillies under the cut >:D

Garrus was a respectable man, Guilbert thought, and so he hoped the guardsman would not mind if he kept him company. It was a lovely morning in Cheydinhal anyway, too beautiful to waste inside. The river babbled quietly under bridges and greenery seemed to rustle as both men strolled the town. "Things have been peaceful here since you moved away," Garrus said with a nod. "Most troublemakers now think twice." Guilbert nodded back, smiling brightly. "It's because you and Lecrinn make such a wonderful team! Who would dare mess with the captain of the guard and his daedra-slaying friend?" His smile slowly faded, however, when he noticed what appeared to be Garrus grimacing. "Did I say something wrong?" "No, I just..." "Is Lecrinn hurt?" Guilbert was clenching his hands nervously now. "No! Gods no, she's as spry as ever. It's just... how do you manage it?" "Manage what?" Guilbert blinked. He wasn't entirely sure what he was managing to do. "She-- Miraina loves you. And you're comfortable around each other..." Garrus brushed some of his hair back as his hand ran through it. He sighed. "I want something like that with Lecrinn too." Guilbert's smile returned. "The four of us aren't so different there-- Miraina and I have a friendship built on trust and a touch of danger--" He stopped when Garrus began to look at him as if he had sprouted two more heads. "...what?" "You don't know do you?" Garrus's voice was light and unmistakably horrified. "Guilbert--" Guilbert was beginning to panic. "What do I not know? Has something happened?" Garrus kept staring at him. "Guilbert, I- I thought you knew. I thought you knew Miraina's madly in love with you. Romantic love, my good man!" It was now Guilbert's turn to stare at Garrus. "..what?" "I thought you two were lovers!!" Garrus finally cried, wringing his hands harmlessly. Guilbert swallowed. His face felt warm now. "...Miraina's in love with me?" He watched as Garrus, proud and tall, seemed to deflate with a sigh. He barely caught what the guard captain said. "...Is this what I sounded like to the rest of the guard?"

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

I don’t know if someone’s done this before.

If my Skyrim OCs had Tumblr

👑Stormcrown-Queen

What would happen if I took over the empire? Like, what would they do? Stop me?

🪖General-Tullius follow

This is what’s wrong with the Empire these days. No respect for the Empire.

👑Stormcrown-Queen

Quiet.

52k notes

🧝‍♀️elven-overlord-elenwen follow

Why is it that the lesser races of man won’t accept our rightful rule? @earwyn-the-waterelf

🧜‍♂️earwyn-the-waterelf

I do not know ma’am. Maybe our methods aren’t as good as we think.

🧝‍♀️elven-overlord-elenwen follow

You question me, Half-breed?

🧜‍♂️earwyn-the-waterelf

Of course not ma’am.

12 notes

🐟the-fish-elf

Guys, let’s bully Elenwen off the site. She refers to her own subordinate as “half-breed”.

🪄circe-the-alchemist

Also the racism

👑Stormcrown-queen

And the genecide

🐟the-fish-elf

I thought all that was obvious and it was unnecessary to mention.

🧝‍♂️elven-supremacy

You dare try to “cancel” our lady Elenwen!!

🐟the-fish-elf

Shut up Ondolemar.

25k notes

☀️daylight-dawnbreak follow

I’m tired of vampire sympathizers. They’ll literally kill you. You’re not the exception

🩸nocturnalbatboy follow

Oh and the Dawnguard are so much better? They literally kill people just because they suspect they’re vampires?

☀️daylight-dawnbreak follow

That happened once!!

🩸nocturnalbatboy follow

And that makes it okay??? Besides, the Dawnguard are total hypocrites! I heard they have a vampire working with them!!

☀️daylight-dawnbreak follow

You leave Serana out of this!

🧛‍♀️bloodbabe

No, seriously. Leave me out of this.

🩸nocturnalbatboy follow

Serana!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️

🧛‍♀️bloodbabe

Aaaaaand blocked.

105k notes

🏹greenpactalchemy

Hello to all my Bosmer and Bosmer affiliated alchemists! Today we’ll be going over a green pact friendly healing potion! So, there are a few ingredients that can be used, but some are not readily available for the average Wood Elf, such as a Daedra Heart. But others you can find solely off foraging. If you crush up a blue dart wing, combine with the shell of a Rock Warbler egg, and mix in Ash Hopper Jelly, you’ll get a concoction that will not only heal your wounds, but also grant you a resistance to shock damage, all while staying well in the bounds of the Greenpact!

🗻Son-of-Skyrim-435 follow

So you support cannibalism? Typical knife ears.

🏹greenpactalchemy

???????

🌳daughter-of-Valenwood

We got a live on boys.

12k notes

🥳Haskillthemanic follow

Will someone please help me find my master?

🌘Daedric-seducer

No😊

3 notes

[quicksilverdrabbles]

Team Dragonborn: *walking down a road near the river in Whiterun*

Lucien: You know, Dwarven Oil is known to have some very good regenerative properties to magicka if you ever decide to make some Magicka potions of your own. We can try to see if we can find any the next time we're in a dwarven ruin.

Morana: That would be nice. There are alot of spellswords among us now, I could distribute them to you and the others.

Lucien: Oh, how generous!

Inigo: *squinting at the words and drawings in the sign language book Lucien gave him* Lucien, I do not think these gestures are accurate to what Morana is saying.

Lucien: How is that?

Inigo: The book says she just called you a very rude word.

Morana: *shakes her head* I didn't.

Lucien: Oh dear.. That was the only book on Imperial Sign Language I could find in the Arcanaeum. I'll have to tell Urag it's incorrect... *blinks, remembering how frightening the Orc is* ... Ahaa.. or, uh. Someone else can tell him.

Taliesin: That 'library' is a joke. Half of the books there are ones you could find in an average general goods store, and the other half is just pure nonsense. Only very rarely do we actually find anything of use.

Kaidan: And that's only after we get the book back from whatever dungeon it's ended up in.

Xelzaz: I'm of a mind to agree.

Lucien: It's... Certainly different compared to the libraries in the Imperial City.

Morana: Urag is very nice. He's patient when we can't find anything we need and have to ask for more... *her hands slow to a stop, her gaze fixed on the river*

Xelzaz: Hm? Is something wrong, Morana?

Morana: *suddenly bolts away from the group, ditching her satchel and notebook and using a wind spell to jump halfway across the river and catch something in her hands midair, plunging into the water shortly after*

Kaidan: MORANA?!

Taliesin: What the hell is she doing?!

Xelzaz: *runs after her, wading into the water and going under to see where she went*

Morana: *tilts her head, spotting Xelzaz in the water. Her hands stay clutched around whatever she was holding as she attempts to swim back to shallow water*

Xelzaz: Oh, for the love of.. *swims forward and grabs the back of her armor, pulling her back to shore and emerging from underwater* What in the world were you thinking?!

Morana: *her hood and mask comes undone as she pops her head out of the water, revealing a bright smile.* Xelzaz, look! *holds out her hand and reveals a blue dartwing dragonfly, now dead* I haven't been able to find any in ages! We can make more Fear poisons now!

Xelzaz: Surely there were more ingredients with Fear properties available to you?! And stop using your voice, you're still healing from the last time!

Morana: *pouts, finding her satchel on the shore and putting the dragonfly in it for later* I have Namira's Rot, but we haven't encountered a Daedra for Daedra Hearts in weeks and Powdered Mammoth Tusk is hard to come by. And I'm horrible at fishing, I can't get Cryodilic Spadetails.

Inigo: My friend, your mask has fallen off.

Morana: Ah! *looks around, trying to feel through the water for it*

Xelzaz: I'll find it, you go back to the others and dry off before you catch a cold.

Morana: Thank you, Xel.

Xelzaz: Yes, yes, don't mention it.

Lucien: Oh goodness, you're completely soaked. All for one dragonfly?

Morana: I'm gonna go get the rest of them once they come back. I was excited and scared more off.

Inigo: Hehe, that was very funny to watch. I was tempted to jump in with you.

Lucien: And what on earth are you two doing?

Kaidan and Taliesin: *kneeling on the ground clutching their chests, overwhelmed by the sight of Morana's smile*

Kaidan: Fuck, that was so cute.

Taliesin: What can I do to see that again?

Morana: *tilts her head, a confused expression on her face. She snorts, breaking out into quiet giggles, lifting a hand up to try and hide her smile* You guys are silly.

Inigo: *staring at Kaidan and Taliesin, now laying on the ground with red faces* My friend, I think you are going to kill them at this rate.

[katastronoot]

When a Quiet Heart Beats

Vampire oc (Raena) x Celann (Skyrim Dawnguard)

Prologue and Chapter 1

Words: 3,525

Content warning: Blood, violence, animal death

My first ongoing fic I’m posting here on tumblr. Yippeeee also fyi I haven’t played Skyrim in so long so if I spell things wrong sorry! I had to get Raena and Celann’s story out in words I hope you guys enjoy :3

Prologue

The cave was dark. He was used to it by now. The thick musty air that invaded his lungs nearly choked him with every breath. It was a minor hazard in his career. Much easier to dismiss than the looming darkness that surrounded him–the sharp beady eyes that shone through the pitch. Predatory glares that stalked his every foot step, every movement. To be on alert was a constant. The wrong move could result in his life, his companions lives, and then many more from there on.

These abominations were all the same…monsters.

His dagger rested heavy on his hip as he made hurried light strides through the tunnels of the cavern. A torch in hand, a bow strapped to his back and a quiver full of iron arrows were all he wielded. In his mind a dagger was quicker to draw and stab when his life depended on it while he used his heavily trained marksman skills to subdue his enemies from afar.

It was just so much harder to see them when they lived in the dark. But thankfully he had a solution to that.

The charcoal gray husky padded swiftly in front of him. His movements were mechanical. The pair of them have done this walk many times before. They were quite the team when fighting monsters and daedra. He trusted Reacher’s every step while the dog led their caravan including two other vigilants behind them.

Cobwebs and exsanguinated corpses lay at their feet. Celann almost stepped on a limb when his four footed lead went to a standstill. He made a gesture with his arms for the others to come forth. Their mage engulfed all forms with an invisibility spell before they continued forward into the vampires den.

To say it happened fast would be an understatement. He was no wizard nor spellcaster. When the charges of lightning magic came he was already collided into stone rubble. Clouds of smoke and dust hindered his vision while wails and screams echoed throughout the underground hideout.

His heart fell to his stomach when he heard it.

A high pitched whimper. Cries out for help in a way where words were not needed. He always made sure his second never got hurt. He always put his life first and now…now he failed him.

Celann pushed himself up on his knees. Fighting the pain that shot through his shoulder. He looked around in the dark, a single flame illuminated a corner where the dog lay in a puddle of crimson.

Please he prayed under his breath to his gods. Please give me the strength.

The fight echoed down the tunnels. There weren’t any more enemies in his sight. He pushed off onto his feet and crouched down to where Reacher lay below. He was still breathing, the wound in his side still wept. But the stone bookshelf that crushed his legs shot a knife through Celann’s heart. He knew he wouldn’t make it. He had to put him out of his misery but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“Plea—please…”

A chill went up the vigilants spine as he heard a small voice from the adjacent room. Upon further inspection he realized the room was more of a closet. Small with limited storage, save for the iron cage that made most of the space. He gritted his teeth fighting through the tears that stained his cheeks, while he struggled to keep composure.

“Please…don't.” The woman repeated, “don’t come near.”

Celann picked up the single iron candle holder and held the flame closer to her voice. He approached cautiously until he felt his feet still. The golden light bounced off of shining yellowish green eyes. The kinds that glowed ominously in the dark.

Emotions were a storm as he became angry, angry about what these creatures had done to him. Furious at what they are making him lose. But that anger, he knew deep within his gut, was not directed by this creature that had been trapped away in torment. She had tears in her eyes as well. Hollowed cheeks and her withered dress fell from her malnourished frame. She was starved, mouth agape in predatory lust. Hungry for blood.

“Don’t come near me, leave!” she cried, “No more! No more!”

“Why are you in there?” He asked, “Wh–”

“Don’t! Please.”

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts while Reacher still whimpered in the corner. Her eyes followed him as she shrunk to the back of the cage. He pitied her but why? She was a monster just like the rest of them…but something deep within, maybe a tiny voice in the back of his head told him that she was innocent.

Would saving another’s life while half of his perished in a corner make it all any better? Would it ease the burn over his heart?

The woman clutched the bars. Her skin was a mossy green that contrasted against the dark gray of the cave walls. Her hair was tousled in a mess of soft brown that matched the painted freckles upon her cheeks and nose. She would have been a beautiful elf, he thought, if it weren't for how sickly her condition looked.

“What caused this?” He asked quietly while a sharp high pitched ring made him wince. His head was pounding from his collision to the wall. He clutched it with his palm. “Who are you?”

She fell silent. Shaking her head and crying. Celann looked around the room to the vampiric corpse that lay by the entryway. He hobbled slowly and reached down to check the pockets. A few gold septims along with an iron key.

“Will this release you?”

The vigilant watched as the woman's eyes darted from the corpse to the door of the cavern. She shook while remaining silent. It was apparent with her condition, if he released her she wouldn’t get very far. She needed blood to regain strength.

He sighed and closed his eyes, tired from holding back emotion. His companion was still suffering in the corner. The cries began to muffle but the suffering was still present.

“I know you are hungry,” he began. “I know you don’t want to hurt me…just please–.”

The woman watched him closely as he rested his weight up against the bars. “Please end his suffering. Make it quick. Easy.” He paused and turned from Reacher back to her form within the cage, “Find yourself to safety. Get away from here. There will be patrols…do not linger.”

She nodded her head, he went to his companion to say a final goodbye. This had to be it, he reasoned. Many moons of speaking in agreement with Isran, his found family, debating whether or not they should leave this faction that seemingly meant to do good but their tactics were well…not what he imagined before joining. He felt his dagger again on his hip. He should kill the creature in the cage. She was a monster after all…

“Rest, my friend. May the gods lead you to peace.” A kiss to his snout, and a pat on his neck to offer comfort. Why the vigilant is choosing to let his enemy take this life he did not know. It was a better option he reasoned than leaving him to die alone on the floor and suffer. Maybe he should have been the stronger man and perform the deed himself. Was that really his point of weakness?

He took the iron key and tossed it to the center of the cell.

“Please, no more suffering.”

CHAPTER 1

Some years later

“Don’t worry lad. I will make sure that Bran gets an even better looking set than before. Even if I have to spend day and night at the forge.” The large nord patted him on his shoulder, his cheeks turned pink from the ale. Celann nodded in thanks and glanced at the furry blob down by his feet under the table at the inn. He gave him a frown when he saw that the dog returned to chewing on its leather cuirass.

“Is there any other material that he won’t be able to chew through?”

Gunmar chuckled, “Aye I can make him a steel set but I’m not sure he will be able to move around as much as he likes.”

A grunt came from across the table. Durak, their orc ranger, spoke behind his mug. “That’s better. Keep him out of the troll pen. I tire of hearing them chase in the morning.”

“I forget you need your beauty sleep, Durak.” Celann smirked while the orcs tusks turned in a scowl. “But in all, we should probably wait to take Bran out again until after he is trained to not chew through everything that touches his fur.”

“I will leave you to that.” Gunmar remarked, “my skill set includes taming foul beasts and trolls—not spoiled lap dogs.”

A cold nose touched the inside of his palm that rested by his knee. A furry gray, white snout and two blue eyes looked up at him—begging for scratches. Yeah spoiled lap dog is right.

Celann grinned and ruffled through his ears. He knew he was in deep if it meant correcting any of this creature's misdoings.

But that was okay.

The three vampire hunters sat around their table at the Bee and the Barb for another hour or so, chatting and relieving the stress of another hunt. They had just cleared out a den a little north of Ivarstead the night prior and spent the day resting in their rented rooms.

Things had honestly quieted down after the Dragonborn left and Harkon the vampire lord of the Volkihar clan was defeated. They still had jobs however, the threat of vampires always loomed throughout Skyrim.

“Have you heard any from our dragon shouting friend?” He turned back to Gunmar. The man ran a few fingers through his thick beard in thought.

“I saw the lass a little while ago. She came in needing a new set of greaves. Claimed I always smithed the best.” He rolled his eyes. I think it was just because she didn’t want to travel any farther west.”

Durak grunted and picked up another tankard. Celann had to admit that he didn’t miss the Dragonborn and the commotion that followed her. Things were so much simpler, something he would enjoy. He was able to focus on other things now that he didn't have to keep a watchful eye over his shoulder for one of the Volkihar vampires. He could focus on his routine, and maybe even find some time to live–find a new hobby or read one of those novels that Sorine is always going on about. Bran licked his knee, leaving a few bite marks on his leather greaves…perhaps training the dog would come first.

“I have had enough of it!.” A stark voice broke through the ambience of the inn. An older nord clad in deer skins and worn down linen, barged in with aggravation on his face.

“If any of you are the ones leaving carcasses around my home by Talos you will have seen your last days! Mark my words!”

“Calm down now, whatever is the matter?”

The man turned to one of the argonian barkeeps, “I have run into at least ten dead deer on my land this week! All of them rotten corpses, strung out. I won’t be ridiculed like this!”

Gunmar gave the two of them a sideways glance as they listened to more shouting and argument. A few of the patrons in the inn went on to say the old man was mad–perhaps imagining things.

“I could take care of these mongrels for a fair price if you're interested” The sellsword clad in golden mage robes chimed in from a corner. “Sounds like an easy task for a master of the arcane arts.”

“I wouldnt give you a septim to clean my chamber pot, Marcurio! It was likely one of your wizard friends that caused this! The shape of the creatures–all hollowed out like they got the life sucked out of em”

Duraks deep voice interrupted, “Did you see any blood?”

He looked at the orc in confusion.

“Any wounds or gashes? Were the corpses hard like stone?”

“Aye, they were. You know what did this?”

The orc turned to his brethren and then his gaze landed on Celann. “It’s your turn to take odd jobs.”

He sighed, so much for finding free time this night.

“I will take Bran back to his pen.”

He nodded to Gunmar before walking over to speak more to the disgruntled patron.

This might be a long night, he only prayed it wouldn’t be.

+++

A beam of moonlight shrouded the forest in an ethereal glow. The orange leaves falling around the birch trees of the Rift danced, while the wolf packs to the north sang their freighting tune. This reminded her that she was grateful. Grateful to have come all the way to Skyrim. She smiled and stopped in her bare footsteps.

She may have just found a place to be happy.

Her undead companion leaped in front, sending her into a fit of chuckles.

“Easy now, we mustn't cause too much commotion. You will scare away every living creature for a hundred miles.”

Its shining blue eyes met her yellow ones for just a second before bounding ahead in an inhuman stride. She shook her head, if he gets lost she could always just summon him once more. They were bonded after all.

It had been years since she found herself journeying alone, well if one didn't take her companion into account. She has traveled all over these lands, albeit settling in Cyrodiil for the most part. Skyrim though, it was something else.

The people were kind. Well, except for the thalmor that had made their own little place here. The nords were good. They cared for their own and worshiped a god that she believed was worth worshiping. Someone who gave them all hope and courage. She could respect it.

The game is plenty. The woodlands are thriving with wildlife. She has been able to be kept fed enough that she can enjoy some of the daylight and that was a feat in itself. To be healthy–her body and mind.

But in all of this state of living she found that there was something missing. Something she hadn’t had in a lifetime.

Family.

Of course, she created her own but it wasn’t the same. Coming from a large family–from what she could remember–it saddened her. She did not remember much of her childhood in Valenwood. She remembered her kind mother and her strong father. Her mischievous little sisters…She could never have that again. But, she has spent many moons accepting that. It was just that–the way of life for a creature such as her.

Loneliness.

The vampire strolled to her favorite piece of this land. A little cliffside that looked over the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil. She could see the Jerrall mountains stretch far and even sometimes feel the breeze of the cool mountain air.

A rustling far from her in the bushes to the east caught her attention. She quickly turned around, using her vampiric keen eyesight to determine what it was. It sounded like footsteps. Human footsteps.

She knew that there were vampire hunters to the east of this area. That was her cue to stow away for the night. She was not intending to become someone else's prized hunt.

Raena departed swiftly and quietly on two feet, only to find herself coming to a standstill once again.

+++

He found three already. Animal corpses drained of blood. It was disgusting he thought as he looked at the flesh in a scowl. A life put to such waste. Another animal for game that should have been hunted to feed a family and instead—it fed an abomination.

Celann sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His mead induced buzz finally breaking into a moment of sobriety. He hadn’t seen any other signs of the monster in this area. Perhaps they moved on.

The hunter strolled further, taking a few moments to catch a breath and take in the beautiful sights of this side of the Rift. He loved the beautiful orange and yellow shades of the trees but nothing still didn’t compare to the sights beyond dayspring canyon, where Fort Dawnguard lies. This thought only had him wishing to go home and rest for the night.

He smirked thinking about it. His first time he ever went hunting he was very young. Maybe about eight or ten years old and he paraded after his grandfather in the woods west of Evermore in High Rock. Even then he wasn’t very good with the arcane arts. He remembers that his grandfather had to teach him the old way of tracking. The way that didn’t use spells or magic.

If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t be so good at what he does now.

Several rustling of leaves and interruptions in the undergrowth. The patterns didn’t seem to be humanoid. More like animalistic.

In this case hunting monsters one couldn’t really ever be sure.

He followed the tracks with a watchful eye on his surroundings. Staying on high alert he withdrew his bow, an iron arrow in hand.

A blur of gray rushed past him in surprise.

He almost scolded Bran for being an erratic haywired pup but he remembered that the dog left with the others to head back to the fort. A couple barks and panting brought him back to the creature at hand. His hands. Licking them.

Celann looked down and he could swear that he was looking into a moment far into the past.

Thick long dark gray fur and a black nose with little tan speckling on the end. It reminded him of a close friend he had, the only difference was this dog had glowing blue eyes instead of the jade green of one he knew before.

He went to put his bow away only to find the dog chewing on the end of his arrow. It had mirth and happiness in its eyes. He chuckled, what an odd thing that he didn’t expect to see.

He pet it behind his ears, its tongue stuck out while it panted happily. A few barks and yaps, it jumped up attempting to lick at the hunters face.

“Alright, alright. Easy there, easy.”

The dogs tail waggled back and forth. He crouched down and scratched its neck. The resemblance was…something else.

Celann continued to stalk through the woods, checking for signs of vampiric activity. The gray dog followed in his footsteps, bouncing around trying to catch a falling leaf or chase a lone scampering rodent.

He was sure that he wouldn’t get anywhere on this job with the newfound distraction but…he welcomed it.

“You haven’t seen any vampires around here, have you boy? No undead walking around?”

The dog tilted its to the side and barked once. Celann chuckled, “I would have figured. You know I used to have a dog a lot like you….I miss him very much…if you need a home you are welcome to come with me. We have two other huskies at the fort. They would love a new friend.”

The dog ran in front panting and sniffing the ground. Celann was about to reach in his pack to hand him a scrap of dried meat until he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Someone was behind a thicket of trees, something with glowing yellow eyes.

“Wait!” The hunter scolded quietly as he watched the dog bounce away from him towards the creature. He heard a hushed feminine voice before the dog disappeared behind the trees.

Celann withdrew his bow once more, stalking quietly, closer to where he saw his new friend depart.

Then he felt his feet still.

Her skin was a soft shade of moss and her eyes glowed a yellowish green. A sight he remembered once long before. The only vampire whose life he spared.

But, that couldn’t be. He thought as his mind directed back to the gray dog bouncing around in the woods with him that night. It couldn’t be. He was dead…or maybe he wasn’t after all this time.

Her form was still hiding, she was obscured in the darkness under the growth of the leaves but their eyes were locked together. No one made any movement.

“Who’s there?” He called out like a fool. A fool whose mind was nearly being lost. He cringed inwardly at himself but the woman didn’t say a word. She only watched.

“Please tell me I’m not crazy.” He said softly, “I know you don’t I?”

He saw the bushes move. Her eyes went dark and all he saw was greenery of the woods. He approached cautiously and went to push apart the branches only to come face to face with an empty clearing—and a single charm on a stone that lay by his feet.

An old rusted collar tag that read the name.

REACHER.

[wellthebardsdead]

Dragonborn: Okay Kaidan has a horse, inigo has a horse, Lucien has a daedra pretending to be a horse.

Lucien: I’m telling you it’s just a horse!

Dragonborn: Horses can’t talk via telepathy or at all for that matter. Cary what would you like to ride? I can catch a horse for you or you can ride a reindeer or I can summon arvaak for you but you’d probably be a little disturbed by his appearance.

Caryalind: I’m content following along side you lot until I can afford my own steed. I couldn’t exactly take the entire treasury with me given how hard it was to run away and all… in hindsight I should have acquired a gryphon before leaving home…

Lucien: I? Hold on a moment I thought they were untameable.

Caryalind: oh they are. They’re absolutely untameable. The ‘tamed’ ones people have claimed to see have merely formed a bond of mutual respect with an individual. They’re proud creatures, and don’t just form relationships with anyone. I still remember my father nearly breaking his spine attempting to tame one… I wish it had dropped him from a higher distance…

Dragonborn: you and me both… Well, I certainly think any Gryphon would be lucky to befriend you cary.

Caryalind: You are too kind my friend, but you’re not wrong. A number of them let me ride on them quite regularly. It’s how I managed to reach my room in the palace so easily without being caught. Well, before my friend gave me that spell. The only trouble would be trying to convince one to come to skyrim… especially with the dragons about.

Dragonborn: that’s… fair… well. I’ll keep an eye out for a steed as pretty as you then~

Caryalind: *snorts* thank you.

*A few weeks later*

Caryalind: IS THAT A FUCKING UNICORN?!

Dragonborn: *riding said unicorn* Surprise! I found you a steed… do you have a healing potion by the way it stabbed me several times-

[aladaylessecondblog]

So in my Skyrim fanfic the Dragonborn gets this letter from the Archmage of the College of Winterhold. Says he's got a friend who's "slightly less than alive" and wants the man escorted to the face sculptor in Riften as he's heard the woman has started working on the undead. Promises a great reward if she does the mission, even if the face sculptor turns out not to be working on the undead.

So the Dragonborn goes to Winterhold because big reward, and the guy she's escorting has his face wrapped up in bandages like some sort of Dunmer version of Joshua Graham except only one eye is exposed. And he's a vampire, she can tell that from the one eye she can see.

(Spoiler: It's Dagoth Ur, and the Archmage is the Nerevarine who you may have seen on my page already from the art I commissioned, but neither of these facts are obvious.)

(Fun additional spoiler for fun future chapters: Her mother's an Ashlander and booooooooy is Ashlander mama gonna have a lot to complain about when she sees her daughter again)

I linked it elsewhere but this post is getting more attention so here's the link for those of you who are interested

Faal Hah Wuld (9718 words) by Aladayle Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Dunmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Dagoth Ur Characters: Female Dunmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Thorald Gray-Mane, Nord Nerevarine (Elder Scrolls), Dagoth Ur Additional Tags: Post-Skyrim Main Quest, Daedra (Elder Scrolls), The Dragonborn is ADHD, The Author Also Has ADHD, Skyrim Special Edition, Skooma (Elder Scrolls), Skooma is Meth, Thalmor Being Assholes (Elder Scrolls), The Author Is Overly Ambitious, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind References Series: Part 3 of After Destiny Summary: My mother called me Sadrith, because I was born in a mushroom cave. The khajiit caravan we traveled with called me Bishu Aydith, what they told me meant little dreamer, for the grand dreams I was always having. Dragons, flight, empirical wars… Something is wrong with me. Something that makes everything take more to do. Something that scrambles my mind, that gives me wild creativity but takes my ability to do much with it. Something that only skooma seems to help. As my mother once said - Akatosh blessed me with the soul and blood of a dragon, and Sheogorath cursed me, that I may not turn into Tiber Septim. I have defeated Alduin, though as is my mind's wont, I have no idea what to do next. But perhaps with help, I could figure it out.

[trickstarbrave]

azura's shrine scene....

i am half awake so. apologies for any weird typos or if it doesn't sound good. i just really wanted to write this out before i went to bed.

vivi au again... this one where steren and vivi are in love. vivienneis from @mulberrycafe!!

--

Steren had a bad feeling. 

He jolted awake to the sound of the heavy inn door shutting, body screaming at him to move. The bed beside him was empty, a chill settling in and not just from the lack of body heat of his lover keeping him warm.

Vivienne had a strange look on his face when he heard about the shrine of Azura. Had he really gone there? 

He shoved his clothes on, burying himself in the warm furs and enchanted cloak. From the room beside him, Kaidan came out with a yawn, giving him an odd look.

“What are you doing dressed like that…?” It was late, after all. Under normal circumstances he would in fact be dead asleep, but his anxiety only continued to grow.

“Vivienne is missing.” He said simply, putting Trueflame on his belt. He rarely used it, but if there was ever a time for it, it would be now. “I’m going to go bring him back.”

Kaidan had paused for a moment, before turning. “I’ll get Taliesan up and get dressed.”

“I’m heading to the shrine of Azura.” Steren replied, already heading to the door. “I’ll meet you there.” 

How long had it been since he confronted Azura…? For him it had been months. In truth it was closer to two centuries in this world, if daedric princes even perceived time the same way mortals did. If things were fine when he arrived, maybe he would demand an answer as to why she dropped him here. But he couldn’t shake that something very, very wrong was going to happen instead. 

Steren hated the cold too--especially with how dark it was. The only light was from the moons, stars twinkling overhead. Why had his people built the damn thing so far north? Ridiculous. It would have been better near the hotsprings further south… At least then he could keep warm. 

But as he approached, he quickly heard the loud, angry yelling of Azura booming in his head.

“You dare come to my shrine after all you have done?!” Steren moved his feet faster, trying to force himself through the heavy snow despite his exhaustion. “You defile my shrine with the blood of my priestess and you still believe you have a right to speak to me?!”

“Sh-she was trying to kill me you crazy bitch!” Vivienne shouted in reply over the howling wind. “I’ve never once set foot in any shrine to you! I’ve never once said anything against your name! I came here with questions to know why I was forbidden near you and now I can see why!! You’re a fucking sham! You can pretend to be good all you want but no god who attacks those seeking them is worthy of any kind of worship at all!!”

Then there was the sound of Azura laughing, as Steren forced himself to move faster, his breath coming quick, lungs burning from what felt like shards of ice pricking it. “A sham, am I?” More laughter followed as Steren could see Vivienne at the shrine now, his hood blown off. “A sham says the false god!” Winged twilights appeared as well, claws eager and ready to spill more blood on the steps. 

Steren had finally made it in time to pull out Trueflame, the warmth of the fire at least keeping his face warm, as he cleanly sliced one of the daedra’s arms off. The winged twilight screamed in agony, hissing and spitting and cursed at him. He then looked up at the shrine, overlaid with the image of Azura. 

She locked eyes on his, her expression from rage faltering.

“You…” She began. “You are not supposed to be here.” 

“And here I am.” Steren glared. 

“The interference must have been Vivec…” Azura scowled again,the winged twilights ready to rip him apart but being held back by Azura’s hesitance. “You were supposed to be--” 

“I did everything you asked of me.” Steren began. “Set me up to get the divine disease,” He took another step forward, still glaring. “And I did.” It was agonizing, painful, and horrifying. To be plagued with nightmares and fever. To feel like his body was not his own. To wonder if he was doomed, just like the other twisted monsters he had seen. “Then you had me complete the trials, and I did as you asked.” How fucking insufferable some of it was--he had to be complacent in slavery, he had to bend over backwards to appease some nobles. He had to kill and lie and blackmail and even use sex to accomplish it. “I even killed my father as you asked, and said goodbye to my other one!”

Steren had to. He knew if Dagoth Ur wasn’t stopped, it would be the end of everything else. More ruined families. More ruined lives.His ata was long gone in terms of sanity, merely a twisted shell in a reanimated body. And he said goodbye to his dad because he knew it wouldn’t be long until he too joined Nerevar and Voryn in the afterlife. They couldn’t change the past, but they could spend countless years in Moonshadow together, without the fear of death or politics getting in the way.

“And all I fucking asked after every fucking hell you put me through was to be with my parents again!” That was all he had wanted at the time. He wasn’t asking for much; just kill him quick and painless and send him on his way. He didn’t care if he had to wait a bit either in Moonshadow for his parents’ souls to be ready to greet him. He just wanted to be in their arms at last, and finally rest. “All I asked was to see them again… And you sent me to another world so I can never meet them again!” 

“I did as was promised--” Azura began, her brow furrowed, but Steren wasn’t finished, all the rage inside him bubbling up. 

“And then when I finally make something for myself here, finally decided to build a life here and be happy,” He grit his teeth, “Mephala ordered my lover to kill me!” What had he done that was so objectionable to the Good Three? He followed his orders and played his part. He was clever. He killed when he had to. He overthrew authority as promised. He slayed the sharmat and became hortator. He completed every trial even when he wanted nothing more than to fucking give up--and they still wanted him dead and alone from everything he had ever known! “And now here you are, trying to kill my lover yourself!” 

“Vivec has tricked you!” Azura hissed. “I gave you everything as promised, and yet you listen to the lies and manipulations of a false god!”  The ground trembled from her rage now. “He is the one who separated you from your parents! He is the one who wants you dead!” 

“Don’t you dare lie to my fucking face.” Steren hissed. “Vivienne is not Vivec, and he loves me. He saved me.” 

Steren knew that at least. He knew Vivienne was not Vivec. He knew Vivienne was kind--too kind, in fact. He would give nearly anything to save someone else, nearly died saving this gods forsaken world to kill the World Eater himself. And at the end of the day he continued to lay awake feeling guilty and horrible for things he had no control over. He continued to feel like he was dirty, unworthy of love, and unworthy of praise. He feared one day everyone would leave him, and justifiably so--even Steren who had nowhere else to go home to. 

Vivienne saved his life nearly countless times, but more than that, he gave Steren a reason to live. Before he got his memories of his first lifetime, he was going through the motions, terrified and confused. Then when he got them back, he was on a mission to save both of his parents from the tragedy they were trapped in. With that done, after lifetimes of being left alone and confused, wondering what his place was in the world, he had… Nothing. No reason to go on. No one to love him. No where he wanted to be. Nothing he wanted to do. 

But Vivienne gave him a reason to live. Not just survive, but truly live. They sang. They danced. They played music together and broke bread together. They complained together and stargazed together. Vivienne kept him warm for no other reason than to try and make Steren comfortable. He found himself wanting to be there--to be by Vivienne’s side just a bit longer. To watch him fail to lie and covering for him with the moon-and-star ring’s enchantment. To listen to his sweet laughter. To hold him in his arms every night. 

For once, Steren felt like a full, complete person. He stopped missing his parents and bemoaning his lot in life. He would forever miss and grieve them, but here, like this, he could build a life even knowing he would never see them again. He was healing. He was loved. 

And he wasn’t going to let anyone take that from him, daedric prince or not. 

“Kill the false god,” Azura hissed as the winged twilights readied themselves, “And bring this disobedient, misguided child to Mournhold to be punished accordingly.” He didn’t care what threats she made; Steren wasn’t going anywhere--

“No!” Vivienne suddenly shouted, storm clouds rolling in suddenly. There was something off about his voice… Not like the dragon tongue, but something deeper, rawer trembling in it. 

A massive bolt of lightning struck the statue and the daedra. Steren had to close his eyes from the light, groaning as he was near blinded by the intensity, being blasted back into the snow. 

When his eyes finally readjusted he quickly pulled himself out of the snow he was knocked into, sprinting and tripping his way back up the shrine. “Vivienne!?” He shouted, terrified. 

He couldn’t lose Vivi--he had already lost everything else. He couldn’t lose another person he loved. 

Back up at the shrine, Steren could hear Kaidan and Taliesan shouting, not far behind. The statue was reduced to nothing but rubble, the daedra laying dead--mostly bloodied gore, if he was being honest. 

And floating above it was Vivienne, gently floating down as though he were nothing more than a weightless snowflake, before his body went limp the moment it touched the ground.

“Vivienne?!” Steren grabbed him quickly, ripping off his own glove to check for a pulse. Vivienne was alive--but he was freezing, cold as ice. “Vivienne, it’s alright--wake up--”

“Steren,” Kaidan came in quickly, also checking his pulse with a furrowed brow, before taking Vivienne from his arms. Steren growled, teeth bared, only to be pulled back by Taliesan.

“Kaidan brought his horse.” Taliesan explained. “And it’s fucking frigid out here--the both of you will freeze to death if we let you carry him back.” Steren hated that he had a point, watching Kaidan climb up on the horse with Vivienne in his arms. Steren couldn’t handle the cold and was already trembling this far up north, even with Trueflame and his enchanted cloak. He couldn’t keep Vivienne warm, and instead he would quickly become dead weight. “Let’s get you back as well so you can both warm up--” 

Steren allowed it, letting Taliesan help him up on his own horse, before riding back to the inn. But the whole ride he watched Vivienne’s silvery hair sway in the wind outside the hooded cloak Kaidan pulled over him, feeling nothing more than helpless. 

He couldn’t save his parents. He couldn’t protect Vivienne. What could he do? Was he destined to lose everything he loved? Was that the cruel fate decided for him since birth…? 

No. No, even if that was what the god’s decided, Steren refused to be a plaything to fate of all things. 

Let the gods curse him. Let the daedra brand him for death or order him to be dragged back to their temples to be tortured for his disobedience. Let them try to take one more fucking thing away from him. 

Steren had killed gods before, and he would do it again if he had to.

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

“I can teach you how to use that,” Baurus says, pointing to the sword she’s holding away from herself like it might swing back and bite her.

“Sure,” she says, eyebrows raised, “but maybe I should learn from someone with more experience being a teacher rather than a student.”

He frowns. His face is all big soft doe eyes and long lashes and not a line to be seen. He always introduces himself as the youngest Blade in history, and he’s so proud of it that she still has not figured out how to tell him that inducting men whose voices still crack when they’re flustered into his personal secret guard sounds like the kind of thing that makes you lose faith in an emperor. “I’m good. Really. Here,” he pulls himself up a little straighter and makes his expression serious, “tell me what you used to do and I’ll use metaphors about it.”

“I’m a barber,” Molly tells him. She switches the sword to her other hand to wipe her sweaty palm on the outside of her thigh. “Please don’t do the metaphors.”

“Okay, a b—really? A barber?” He squints at her, skeptical. “You weren’t.”

“No, I am.”

He tilts his head and says thoughtfully, “Well, alright, I guess. Can you pretend it’s just… half a pair of scissors, and the daedra are hair?”

It’s her turn now to squint back at him incredulously. “…no.”

“But if you could—”

“It’s not going to work, kid.”

Baurus twitches the corners of his mouth disapprovingly, in a passable mimicry of Jauffre, and moves her elbow to bring the sword closer to her center of gravity. “If you don’t even know how to hold it, how did you fight them the first time, in Kvatch?”

For just a moment, nausea wrings out her whole torso like a dishrag. She nearly drops the sword, but doesn’t, because it’s just a word and she’s heard it her whole life and she is here, in the freezing Jeralls, in the sunlight. She’s fine. She inhales. Exhales. Counts to twenty. That’s supposed to be in a different order, she thinks, but what does it matter?

He’s still looking at her like he expects an answer. “I had,” she says thickly, smoke in her throat and ash on her tongue, count again one-two-three-four-five— “a rake.” To twenty. To twenty. She'll make it to a hundred in increments of twenty before her mouth tastes right and the bile leaves her throat, at this rate.

For a moment Baurus doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Huh,” he says at last, and then, “alright. Would you rather a mace? Something blunt?”

“No.” This armor goes with a sword, in the way nineteen comes before twenty. She will learn the sword. Anything else would be—wrong. Molly shuffles her feet to match how he’s standing and shifts her jaw, drags her teeth across each other in a way that hurts all the way up to her temples, swallows the taste of daedric blood. “Show me.”