#herma mora take me away~

[moodcrab]

Fixing Skyrim's Main Quest

Part One, Setting

Obviously it's set in Skyrim, but let's tweak it a bit.

Time

First of all, if there's one thing we can all agree on from Skyrim and Fallout 4 it's that Bethesda doesn't know how long 200 years is.

It's a very long time.

For reference, two hundred years back from the time of writing this Mad King George was king of England, it wasn't even the Victorian Era yet. The American Civil War was decades away from starting. The entire industrial AND technological revolutions as well as BOTH World Wars and the collapse of the British AND Ottoman Empires happened in that time, with plenty of room to spare.

It's a VERY long time!

Placing a two hundred year gap between Oblivion and Skyrim was a bad decision considering how very little actually happened. Tamriel should be drastically different, like they should have cars by now.

The major events that did happen, the Rise of the Medes, the Rise of the Thalmor, The Red Year, The Infernal City, The Void Nights, The Great War and White Gold Concordat could easily happen within one lifetime, so we're going to say the events of Skyrim take place in 4E64.

From a writing point of view, this small change makes it a lot easier to keep track of things that were a bit of a mess in vanilla, like the life of Ulfric, or the backstory of Gaius, Karliah and Mercer, which were all over the place if you were actually paying attention. It also means you can talk to people who actually remember these things happening, who were children during the Oblivion Crisis. You could even change Esbern's name to one of the younger Blades members you meet in Oblivion seeing as Esbern has the role of lore depository.

Religion and Culture

The next setting change is to remember this is Skyrim, not Cyrodiil. The Nords don't worship the Nine/Eight. In fact, the only reason the Nine/Eight exists as a pantheon at all because of the Nords stubbornness around the worship of foreign gods.

The Temple of Kynareth is now The Temple of Kyn, and Gildergleam Sanctuary is the home of Kyn's Holy Order. The College of Winterhold is no longer Hogwarts but the Chantry of Jhunal (a 'college' is a place of study, research and academia, not just a school). You might meet The Vigilant of Stuhn on the road, who don't live in a hut but a temple. Instead of a priest of Arkay in the Halls of the Dead we have priests of Orkey. Tsun, a god we actually meet in vanilla but has no shrines or altars, will replace Zenithar. And, most interesting to our story, a cult of both Alduin and Herma Mora - our two villains - gods to be placated rather than worshipped.

This said, the Imperial Cult will definitely have a strong presence in Skyrim and Talos, being an Ysmir, is particularly venerated (as is Ysgramor and Wulfharth). Yes, over the centuries the Imperial Cult and will obviously have spread into Skyrim, we can lean into this with the Civil War, putting a much bigger emphasis on the more "Imperialised" Holds siding with the Empire and the old school Atmoran Holds siding with the Stormcloaks. It never made much sense to me that the "true Nords" were more upset than the Imperials over the whole Talos situation, this change makes it so that while both sides are pissed off, one reacts with frustrating diplomacy and patience while the over reacts with stubborn honour and impulse, a more cultural divide rather than a pro/anti Talos one.

The Imperial position would be to play along with the Thalmor in the open, but to secretly fund and organise cults to other men-turned-gods and Imperial/Nordic hero gods such as Pelinal, Wulfharth, Ysgramor, Reman, Alessia and Martin, as well as the concept of Ysmir (which would actually include Tiber Septim and The Last Dragonborn). They would not openly support nor allow any arrests or persecutions of these cults by Justiciars. The Stormcloak position will remain "Fuck that bitch this is Skyrim."

Geography

This might sound crazy, but Skyrim was too hot.

No I'm kidding, I'm not so in love with the lore that I think a game of endless snow would be anything but boring. But there are some things that were cut out of the land that left Skyrim wanting. For instance there are hardly any settlements. Amber Guard, Granitehall, Nimalten City, Reich Corigate, Lainalten, Oakwood, Pargran Village, Laintar Dale, Dunpar Wall, Dragon Wood, and North Keep are all Skyrim cities that are missing from the game. Like not even abandoned ruins, they're just not there.

I totally understand there are size limitations but this is meant to be a country. It has five town sized cities and three village sized cities. And some villages. And they mostly look like Riverwood. Seriously, what exactly is the difference between Karthwasten, Falkreath, Shor's Stone, Winterhold and Riverwood, all towns from different Holds? It's like if shopping malls were made of wood.

The other thing about the vanilla settlements I didn't like was Bethesda seems to be stuck in Fallout style post apocalyptic design. Solitude has been there for thousands of years but no one has ever thought to shift these boulders from out of the middle of the street? There are ruins in better shape than Windhelm and Markarth? You can sum it up with Whiterun's Western Watchtower, which looks exactly the same after a dragon destroys it. Surely the ravages of civil war and the dragon crisis would have a bigger impact if things weren't already destroyed.

In fact, let's address the Imperial Fort situation. At the start of the game only 3 forts were occupied by actual soldiers, two of which were destroyed in the early game (Helgan and the Western Watchtower). Literally ALL other forts are in ruins and occupied by bandits or other undesirables. Consider that Skyrim is a country that recently took part in the Great War, but is currently dealing with a Civil War. Forts are not easy to build, and are insanely useful for medieval warfare. It truly beggars belief that practically none of them are maintained and fortified until the Player Character decides to get involved. To strain credulity further, many of the war camps you encounter in the wilds are literally in the shadows of major fortifications that have been left to rot. There is even a side quest to reclaim a Nord's fort from bandits, which is also a ruin. Is the implication that the man lives in a ruin? Or is it that in the short time the bandits have been there they've done a century or two of damage? Why would they do that?

Skyrim has a lot of dungeons, and a lot of quests that are basically "clear dungeon", we can't sacrifice some of this boring content for some more towns or forts, with characters, and things to do?

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

event denouement

A few miles outside of Blacklight, Barfok's legs decide to rebel against her. It's quite sudden-- one moment, she's walking, the next's lying face-down in a ditch. Herma-Mora is tickling her face sympathetically and her limbs are cold as ice and her poor, tired legs just aren't listening to her any more.

"Rise, Barfok," Herma-Mora prods her gently with a tentacle.

She sniffles-- her nose takes in ashy soil and she coughs pathetically. "I can't," she snivels, "It hurts."

"If you lie there," says Herma-Mora, with infinite patience, "You will... die."

"So let me die," she wheezes. "Let me choke to death here, on this... on this hateful ash!"

"Barfok..."

The tentacles are all around her, the afternoon light turning soupy and green, like algae in a pond. She whines and pushes her head into a tuft of spiky grass, clenching her eyes shut, feeling branches rake her skin. There's no pain in it, not compared to the screaming hotness of her burned back.

Even behind her eyelids he is there. "Barfok, rise."

"No! I'll die here, I'll die here."

"Rise."

"I want to die. I want to die. I want to die."

"Rise, girl."

"No! Leave me alone! I want to die here!"

"Look at me."

"I hate you. I hate you, you stupid squid meal. You stupid inky pile of dung. You slimy wretch. I hate you. Leave me. Let me die."

"Child of Atmora, look at me."

It is not Herma-Mora who roughly tugs away her coat. Nor is it Herma-Mora whose cold, calloused hands peel away the tunic from her broken skin. Barfok screams a guttural scream and thrashes, but there is a weight upon her, then, pinning her legs to the ground. She cannot see her assailant, but she feels her clothing stripped away from her, feels flames fresh upon her mutilated back, feels hands, prying, oh, gods, there's a hand on her--

"Let go!" Barfok screeches, kicking like a wild thing. "Let go of me! Unhand me!"

"Child!" someone who is not Herma-Mora replies sternly.

"Don’t hurt me!" Barfok yells, kicking out, lashing around blindly, "Go away, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me!"

"Girl--"

Barfok's hand finds an arm and she rakes her nails into it. Then, all at once, the weight rises from her. Wheezing, mouth full of ash, Barfok rolls to her side, then scrabbles frantically to lift herself upright. She manages to peel herself from the ground-- her arms collapse. Someone catches her.

She finds herself lying in the broad lap of a strange woman. "Kyne," she breathes.

For the apparition must be none other than Kyne. The woman now holding Barfok is tall, very tall, and strong, with lean and muscled limbs. Her face is broad and ugly, but her eyes-- her hooded eyes are blue-white, clear as glaciers, pale as the winter's coldest snow, and her hair-- her hair is red like old blood, long and loose and floating around her, thick with electricity. Her skin is pale, her lips thin and dry, the teeth beyond them yellow. The very bones of the earth bend away from her in fear.

"Kyne," says Barfok deliriously, "You've come for me! Yes, Kyne, oh monah Kaan, yes, take me to Sovngarde, take me to bormahi! Take me where the oxen roast and where it no longer hurts, take me back, take me back..."

The most terrible god amongst mortals frowns. "I am not Kyne," she says. "Have I wings?"

Barfok squints at her. "No," she rasps, "But you can take mine. I can feel them growing from my back. Oh, it hurts, it hurts so. Take those wings I'm growing."

"You are badly burned, little one."

"Is that what that is? The fire? Isn't that how a new forest grows? Oh..."

For, really, she got ash in her ruined back, and now that someone is holding her the wound is screaming with pain. She might have blacked out; when she wakes again she's lying on her side, and the thunderous god is behind her, rubbing something into the searing agony that is her shoulders.

"Who are you?" Barfok whimpers.

"I am Atmoran," answers the deity.

"Did Herma-Mora send you?"

"No. Do not breathe deeply."

"What are you called?"

"I am called many things. To the Nords I am Chemua. Brace yourself."

Barfok's world goes black again, and when her vision becomes something other than tentacles and eyeballs she's once more sitting upright, propped up in the woman's arms. She's shuddering all over from pain but the pain isn't bothering her any more. "Chemua," she mumbles, pronouncing it with a K- sound at the start.

"Tchemua," the woman corrects her.

"What did you do to me?"

"Bile of elf. A salve to replace the skin that was lost."

"That's gross."

"Yes." Content that Barfok might remain sitting on her own, Chemua moves around her, settles in front of her in an animal squat. "So," she begins, "Why is a daughter of Atmora dying in the east?"

Barfok certainly feels like she's dying. The earthbones are humming disconcerted  around her and her head is swimming. "Herma-Mora told me to," she answers pathetically.

The incarnate storm that is Chemua makes a contemptuous sound. "A Nord, then," she says. "Obedient you are. Like a sheep."

"Baaa," is Barfok’s feeble response.

"A domesticated animal," Chemua continues. "I should kill you as sacrifice, but Kyne loves not a domestic thing."

"Why are the qethsegolle afraid of you?"

"Because I hate them."

"What for?"

Chemua rises to her feet, glacier-eyes flashing. "For they are not Atmora," says she. "They are not the home that is lost to me. They dare to live when my home has died, and they are not home, and so I hate them. I hate this world, this vus, this task of Shor's. I hate it because I cannot leave it, and because I hate it, I vow to make it hurt. Do you understand?"

Barfok does not understand. She feels very confused-- and very dizzy, and very bashful-- but mostly confused. How can one hate Shor's work, when Shor's work is love, and made of love? How can one hear the qethsegolle and not love them? How does one peer into a candle and not have their face lit up?

Thoroughly perplexed, Barfok offers forth a "Baaa?"

Chemua snorts a laugh and it sounds like a gout of dragon-flame. "A Nordic answer." And, now thoroughly disinterested, she turns away.

"You helped me," Barfok says in wonder, as if that were any sort of argument. Then, "Can you tell me where to find Ysmir?"

This makes the Atmoran pause. "Go towards the mountain," she answers, meditative. "On the northern slopes there is an elven fortress."

"Baa. I mean, thanks. Do you really hate the world?"

"Yes," says Chemua calmly. "Very much.

"I love the world. I love the qethsegolle. Very much."

"No, you don't. If you loved it you would not wish to depart it."

Barfok can't even offer a baa to that. And then it doesn't matter; the pain creeps back, she loses her consciousness again, and when she comes to she's once more walking in shaky Herma-Mora guided steps, alone but for the daedra. And the next time her legs stop working, the next time Herma-Mora has to coax her back to standing, she finds herself whispering furious, indignant whispers: "I don't want to die!"  

[writtenbyjenn]

I Win (Miraak x Mage!Dragonborn!Reader)

Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1344

“We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to fight!” Miraak and Y/N circled one another at the apex of Apocrypha.

“Herma-Mora is tricking you! Haven’t you heard the whispers of the seekers? The flutters in the pages?”

He fell silent for a moment. Then shook his head, as to him, it didn’t matter anyways. “There is no escape; I will take your soul and make one myself!”

“Listen,” Y/N pleaded.

“If you keep up this blasphemous talk, Hermaeus Mora will kill you himself,” Miraak said.

“His plan is to kill you. You have caused him too much trouble, Miraak. You know this.”

The pair continued circling one another, each deftly doging each other’s shouts and blows.

“How do you know about his plan? How do you even have a plan for escape?” No one in Apocrypha could know more than him. He had been there for so long.

“You see, but you refuse to listen! The walls speak, the seekers whisper… You wish to defy Herma-Mora? Escape without either of our lives being lost,” Y/N said, narrowly dodging a bout of flame.

“Impossible. Hermaeus Mora won’t allow it,”

“He can’t harm us here,” Y/N stood still and looked upwards. Miraak’s eyes followed. The sky had become dark… No, rather, Hermaeus Mora lay just beyond the arena. He couldn’t enter. There was… a barrier?

“He sees I intend to stop you, but not in the way he imagined,” Y/N’s weapon was at their side. It would be impossibly easy to strike now and end them, but Miraak was intrigued.

“You’re a mage? What spell can hold back a daedric prince as powerful as him?” Miraak looked curiously over at the dragonborn sitting in front of him.

“Your time here has made you arrogant… There is always more to learn. And Apocrypha is the holder of all knowledge. I simply asked, and the walls opened for me, leading me to the spell I needed.”

“Now, we can make a plan,” the dragonborn sat down on the floor, the sky growing ever darker as Hermaeus Mora spread himself to almost completely cover the dome shaped barrier.

“No,” Miraak said involuntarily. He didn’t like this dragonborn. He didn’t like being outdone. “What happens when I am released? I will still take over Solstheim.”

“Then I will fight you. I will not hold back. I will destroy you,” Somehow, Miraak knew their words to be true. “But you deserve a chance. The right to be free. The right to choose your path.”

It was a simple plan, really, even though it would take much effort. The barrier would stay intact, and a simple illusion spell, to make it look as though they were still fighting. They would have some time before Hermaeus Mora realized the trick. After that, a much more complicated and tiring teleportation spell to get them far enough away to complete their escape.

Y/N nearly collapsed after teleporting them to a far flung corner of Apocrypha. Miraak didn’t hesitate to help them; his escape was much more important than his pride. Stumbling forward, the pair found what they were looking for- a black book. One that had been tampered with.

Miraak flung it open and felt a strange pull as he was taken back to the physical world.

The first thing he saw was blue. The sky. He hadn’t seen it in so long…

He was laying flat on his back, the ash of Solstheim cradling him. He took it all in; the smell of the wind, the ash in the air, the clouds lazily floating across the sky.

Beside him, Y/N stirred. He hadn’t even noticed them, let alone their exhaustion from the escape. They sat up, looking over at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Why did you save me? I can do anything now. I could turn on you in an instant...” He was free now. He had the choice. He no longer had to rely on the help of some silly little dragonborn who thought they could do anything.

“No one deserves that kind of punishment, to be trapped somewhere against their own will. I made it my duty to save everyone I could, so when I heard about you, I felt compelled to help.” Y/N stated flatly.

Miraak didn’t understand, but didn’t feel as though it was his place to question them. Why save everyone? Why waste effort on strangers and civilians. It confused him. He pushed it to the back of his mind as he stood up.

“What will you do now?” Y/N asked, standing beside him.

“I will follow you. I leave no debt unpaid, and assisting in my escape was no paltry matter,” Miraak stated. It was clear from his voice that he did not like this arrangement, but it was the only thing that Miraak could think of. The world had changed very drastically from when he last saw it; there was no way he could conquer it with his lack of information.

“Then how about we make a deal…” Y/N started, “I will share my knowledge with you, and in return you share yours with me. I know everything about today’s world, and you have information I find most interesting…”

“Oh? And what information is that?” Miraak asked.

“I am very interested in hearing about your magical techniques, and how they differ from today’s… Oh! I know the perfect place we can go. Somewhere we can talk freely with another dov…” Y/N began walking, Miraak trailing behind.

The entire journey from Solstheim to Skyrim and their long trek to the Throat of the World, Y/N recounted many things to Miraak. From the history he had missed, the magic they had learned and pioneered, and their journey as a dragonborn.

Miraak was content to listen. He took this time to take it all in, to learn and to contemplate. What would his life be now? Who was he, if not a man who conquered? Was following this dragonborn the correct course of action?

As time passed, he knew the answer. Ever since he was child, he was always looked at as though he was inhuman. But even though he hid behind his mask, Y/N always treated him as a person. Even after all he had done. He had never felt so… human.

At the same time, the dragon blood that ran through the pair was not forgotten as they trained together most evenings, sharpening their voices and improving their skills.

One such training session began, and this time the focus was hand to hand combat. Weapons strewn aside in the grass, the two grappled.

Being in a forest had its advantages and disadvantages, one of such came to light. A butterfly floated down between the pair, and landed itself on Miraak’s mask, right between his eyes. Y/N laughed, a musical tone Miraak rarely heard.

Miraak felt his chest jump. Quickly pushing this feeling aside, he launched forward, “Stop laughing!”

Y/N was taken down, hands pinned beside their head, but they didn’t seem to mind as they continued their laughing fit. Miraak felt his face flush. He was equally embarrassed and enamored by their laugh. He knew he had to shut them up, and his brain, rife with the feelings he had been stowing for months, sprung into action.

Quickly flicking his mask aside, Miraak pressed his lips to theirs. Y/N’s laughter was interrupted by a sound of surprise. Leaning in and pressing their face to his, Y/N relished the feel of his lips against their own.

“Hah! The first dragonborn wins again. You shouldn’t let your guard down like that,” Miraak knew he won the brawl, thanks to his bold move.

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorted, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss.

The next thing he knew, Miraak was flat on his back.

“And actually, I win,” Y/N smiled sweetly and laughed again. Miraak lunged towards them once again.

(If you liked it please send me requests!!!)

[ainaavas-sketchbook]

TESFest Day 06 - Final Kiss/Prophecy

"Hind siiv Alduin, hmm?" Ivrasea stared down the dragon in front of her. They had managed to lure Odahviing into the trap above Dragon's Reach.

"Vahzah. Where is he?" Miraak walks up next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. He is always there, reminding her where she is, who she is. Making sure she doesn't lose herself talking with the dragons. She tends to forget the people around her don't also understand the dragon tongue.

"Rinik vahzah. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was test your Thu'um myself. Many have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was really the strongest... Among ourselves, of course. None we yet ready to openly defy him." Ivrasea rolled her eyes at the dragon. She didn't particularly care about what the dragons thought of Alduin. She just wanted to get this stupid prophecy thing over with but of course the dragons aren't making it easy on her.

"He's hiding? Where?" Odahviing laughed at her impatience. Ivrasea took a step forward, a spell flaring to life in her hand, but she was of course held back by Miraak.

"Unslaad krosis. He has travelled to Sovengarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillsejoor. A privilege he jealously guards... His door to Sovengarde is in Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah middovahhe lahvraan til. Zu'u lost ofan hin laan... now that I have answered your question, will you allow me to go free?" She narrowed her eyes at the dragon before responding.

"No. Not until Alduin is defeated." The dragon seemed to smile at her.

"Hmm... krosis. There is one detail I neglected to mention about Skuldafn." It seemed so quiet up here with the dragon. She wasn't alone, she knew that by the hand on her shoulder, keeping her grounded. And she knew there were other people in the room with her, witnessing the conversation between her and Odahviing.

"What is it? Spill it." She was trying so hard to keep her composure but she was so tired from all this. The dragons got on every last one of her nerves, making her want to kill them even more. And they all seemed to enjoy it.

"You have the Thu'um of a dovah but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there, but not while imprisoned here." At the reminder of not having the wings of a dovah, she felt suddenly uncomfortable in her skin. It happened occasionly, like her dragon soul trying to break out of her skin, like it was the wrong vessel.

"Do you expect me to taker your word on that?" She felt another hand on her other shoulder, and whispered words in her ear.

"You can trust him. What would be the point of trapping his if you didn't think he'd tell the truth?" Miraak's words made sense of course. Why shouldn't she believe him? She just didn't want to believe it'd be so easy.

"Ahraan. You would me, Dovahkiin. I may not tell the whole truth but I am no liar. Go see for yourself. I will be here, of course... unless alduin returns before you do." Odahviing was right of course. She didn't have any other option, nor the time to figure something else out. She sighed and put her hands up on Miraak's for a moment before stepping away from him. She signalled for the guards to let up the trap.

"Fine, I'll let you go, as long as you take me to Skuldafn."

"Saraan uth — I await your command, as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can? Zok brit uth! I warn you, once you've flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase. Amativ! Mu bo kotin stinselok."

Ivrasea turned around to face Miraak. He took his mask off, which startled her a bit. He never much liked taking it off in public. She never quite understood why. The influence of Herma Mora wasn't very obvious anymore, at least not to anyone who wasn't looking for it. She wasn't sure what color his eyes used to be, but now the iris's are a mix of greens and blacks. His sclera is mostly white now, but with a bit of green here and there. He was smiling at her. She didn't quite understand why. She was about to leave him alone again. With no idea if she'd even return.

Miraak noticed the sadness in her expression and grabbed her hands. That was his way of soothing and her and for some reason it usually worked. But not today. There is just too much happening and she just wasn't ready for any of it.

"I'm not ready for this. I barely survive last time I went up against and I had help then. What am I supposed to do against him in the place he's the strongest?" He let go of her hands and instead cupped her face in his hands. She felt a bit more relaxed with him.

"Don't worry so much. You'll be fine. You are so much more powerful than you think." She closed her eyes for a moment and placed her hands over his.

"I hate prophecies," she whispered. Miraak chuckled a bit and she smiled.

"I know." He leaned forward and kissed her. It felt like a last kiss. A goodbye. She had make sure she made it back alive. She didn't want this to be the last for them. He let her go and helped her up on Odahviing.

Putting his mask back on he said to her, "You better defeat him and make it back to me alive." She smiled down at him.

"You know I will."

[strigital]

Herma Mora: He's getting old now. The sparkle is gone from his eye, he no longer chases his ball, won't bring back the stick. He just sleeps all day, but his paws no longer jerk like they used to, meaning he doesn't dream of chasing squirrels anymore. I... I'm afraid I'll have to put him down soon. It's going to be hard without him, but maybe a new puppy will be able to distract me from grim thoughts? You know... someone to take care of and everything.

Hircine: That's so sad to hear. Man... I am so sorry. But listen. You don't have to put him down! There's always an option to give him away to a foster home for elders. They know how to care for old dogs like him and he'll live out his last days being loved and cared for! And you won't have to deal with the pain of making the decision to end the life of your best friend! Instead, you'll know that in the end, you did what was best for him!

Miraak: For the last time WE ARE NOT DOGS.

Nim: Firstly: speak for yourself, buddy. Secondly: please shut up and let my man handle the situation!

[ladydaedra]

Of Daedra and Dragons - Pt One

Pairing: Miraak x Female!LDB

~~~~

"A health potion would've sufficed," the Nord grumbles while remaining still as the Dragonborn behind him continues her work on the wound he had sustained during their escape from Apocrypha and Herma Mora, "or better yet; a healing spell,"

He almost flinches when a sharp point stabs at healthy skin. He is certain that wasn't an accident, "You were unconscious for two days and a potion needs to be consumed rather than poured onto the wound," she explains as if she is explaining this to a child, "and I am not well-versed in the arcane arts, so forgive the lack of a spell," as she spoke the last words, she yanks the stitches shut and Miraak grits his teeth to prevent a grunt of pain from leaving his throat. He refuses to show any more weaknesses around her.

Silence envelopes the pair as she moves onto a smaller, less painful wound situated on his side which forces him to hold his right arm in the air as she works and he takes this opportunity to observe his surroundings.

They are in a small cottage and he is uncertain if the Nord woman beside him owns it or they are simply borrowing it while its true owners are gone. A fire is situated opposite of the door and across the room from the bed he sits upon is a staircase undoubtedly leading upstairs into, what he assumes, to be another bed if not a small kitchen.

Then his gaze lands onto the dresser to his left and onto his helmet, "You know he won't stop looking," Miraak begins as she is finishing up the stitches, "we can run all throughout Tamriel and he won't stop chasing us,"

She sighs and lowers her hands, "We well deal with that when the time comes. For now, we need to get off of this island," she looks up and follows his gaze to his mask, "and we will leave everything Mora has a connection to; the Black Books and your mask, for example,"

"It won't help,"

"It's worth a try,"

Miraak scoffs and turns to look down at her. The naïve optimism in her green eyes in pathetic. To think she can outrun and outsmart a Daedric Prince is the most arrogant thing he has ever witnessed anyone do and he has lived a long life.

"And what do we do once we get to Skyrim?" he asks in a taunting tone, fully confident that her 'plan' won't work and why would it, "do we stick together like glue, adventuring around Skyrim and taken down evil people while simultaneously dodging a vengeful Daedra?"

She shrugs, arms crossed, "That sounds like the smartest option,"

"We will be giving Mora an easy target," Miraak snaps bitterly, rising from his seat on the bed faster than she can stop him and proceeds to walk forward a few steps, "he wants a champion and we are his favorite candidates and we managed to escape his clutches. So tell me, oh mighty Dragonborn of Legend; is it still the smart thing to do?"

She stares at him, unflinching and unmoving, "Yes," she says firmly, confidently and he suppresses a chuckle.

"Fine," he all but growls, hands dropping to his side as he leans forward, glare hard and cold, "but if we die, then that is on you,"

A shrug, "Alright,"

Miraak clenches his jaw as he stares at her. She risked her life to get him out of Apocrypha, spent the past two days watching over him and making sure he doesn't die, and here she sits, perfectly fine with him dying in the end. So much time wasted on his life when in the end it would be for nothing.

Without another word, he turns and walks away from her and only hesitating at the dresser where his helmet rests. A part of him wants to pick it up again, to actually wear the damned thing. But he doesn't, forces himself to leave it there for it will bring nothing but painful memories of the centuries he had spent in Apocrypha with nothing but books and Seekers as company.

"You hesitate," the Dragonborn interrupts his trance and he tears his gaze from the mask and to the door beside the dresser, which undoubtedly leads outside, "I thought you wanted out of Apocrypha,"

His fist clenches at his side, "I did," he replies curtly and gives her no opportunity to reply as he walks to the stairs and ascends them, leaving her down there alone.

He wanted freedom for so long and he was willing to do anything to achieve that, including terrorizing an entire island and its inhabitants. He is out of that damned place, now a free man with an uncertain future ahead of him only now with the constant threat of death from Mora.

Miraak is unsure how to feel at the moment. Angry that he is in such a predicament or overjoyed at the thought of being able to see the skies of Tamriel once more. He should be grateful that the Dragonborn downstairs decided to drag him out with her but even there he is unsure. Did she save the man who has been making her life a living hell the past few months out of the kindness of her heart or does she have an ulterior motive.

He finds himself hoping that she has no ulterior motive. He doesn't want to be another pawn in someone else's games.

[elflivesmatter]

FIRST, LAST, EVERYTHING - PART 1.

pairing: unnamed fem!dragonborn x miraak

content warnings: canon typical violence

i have been working on this for a week. yall better appreciate it.

apocrypha . . .

"you think he'll let you walk away? even if you manage to leave this place, do you think he'll let you live?" she asked, stumbling to her feet. the gash in her side was screaming in pain but the dragon inside of her refused to give in. she readied her sword, preparing for an attack.

"i am dragonborn - "

"but not a god. even we are bound to their will."

the image of storn crag-strider flashed before her eyes, the endless tentacles of herma-mora violating every crevice of his body to take the secrets of his people.

nocturnal, reminding her that she expected service in exchange for protection.

molag bol demanding sacrifice.

even she was bound to their will.

"you slayed the world eater, what could you be bound to?" miraak asked. if she could see his face, she would see confusion.

"it is through hermaeus mora's will that we fight today! it was akatosh's will that i slew alduin! they control the fates of man and mer. it is arrogance to believe even we are anything but players in their petty games."

she grimaced in pain, the wound in her side demanding her attention. if she made it out of this fight alive, she would to find some healing potions and get some medical attention. she wasn't sure the skaal would welcome her back - she'd probably have to go back to ravenrock.

"enough talk." miraak raised his hand to her, his fingers glowing with magic.

before either of them had a chance to move, however, an inky black tentacle erupted from miraak's chest, the first dragonborn screaming in agony.

"stop it!" she shouted, but it was as though the god willfully ignored her. of course he did. she grit her teeth, steadying her nerve. with the last of her strength she swung her sword, slicing the tentacle in twain and causing the god to let out an unearthly screech.

miraak fell to the ground in a heap, and the last dragonborn limped over to him, disregarding the writhing mass behind her.

"listen to me. there are many gods, many men and many mer. but right now, in this moment, there are only two of us. and i'm going to need you to trust me. right now and for a bit of time after. i need you to trust me."

his response was a haggard wheeze.

"i'll get you someplace safe."

nocturnal. i can't fulfill our contract if i die here.

the world fell away around her, consumed by darkness until her body fell to the ground.

they were no longer in apocrypha.

they weren't even in solstheim.

it took her a second to to recognize her surroundings, a familiar hiding place for people like her.

for nightingales.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

In a way the whole "Izuku is the Dragonborn" fic would need to leave most of the backstory of Izuku the 4-14 years old dragon slayer on luck or Inko doing all the work while Izuku is, like, put in a position of safety (he still needs to eat dragon souls tho, same for Miraaks... How would that work even?) So I might need to move things around a bit.

Basically here's the backstory on all major shit:

Helgen: Inko and Izuku run away with Hadvar. They are not scheduled for execution because, you know, Hadvar might not go out of his way for a stranger but there is a small kid involved, younger than his cousin dammit, way younger than your usual Stormcloak Child Soldier Conscript from Dawnstar (an actual canon thing believe it or not) so he puts his foot down. In the keep Hadvar does most of the work obviously, even if Inko does, in her desperation, cut down people getting dangerously close to Izuku. She is a better lockpick than she expected, especially with her Quirk, and Izuku in his curiosity ends up pawing off the book and a strange, mysterious ring inside the Mage's cell. They then go to Riverwood with Hadvar, where they are directed to both Farengar and the College for matters regarding magical space travel, so to speak.

Riverwood: However, they are pennyless and alone in a foreign world, so Inko tries first to make money by working at the local lumber mill as she sends a courier to Whiterun for the Dragon Thing. Assume we are playing with my modded version of the game, which means Riverwood is currently the home of one Triss Merigold from the Witcher. She is also spacially displaced as of late, and is searching for Yennefer, Ciri and Geralt, with whom she jumped into this reality before getting lost from them. Dorthe and Frodnar will direct the small Izuku to her, since Dorthe is the one "babysitting" Izuku while his mother works so he's playing with the slightly older kids. Basically, they know she is a mage of some sort since she showed them some sort of light show, and Inko still needs to make money if she wants to leave with the proper equipment so they can't even go to Farengarym yet.

This allows us to 1) Set up the Triss Merigold X Midoriya Inko endgame and NO I AM NOR FUCKING STUTTERING and 2) Give Inko a competent bodyguard of sorts before she actually does get used to the unforgiving land of Skyrim and starts giving people heart attacks with her Quirk.

Of the Major Guilds:

Companions: Inko Joins as a way to make money for Izuku. With the mercenary work she manages to buy the house in Whiterun, so now Izuku can be left in a safe location, with "Aunt" Lydia as his babysitter. Whiterun Shenanigans ensue with Izuku befriending Lucia and Lars. Also Braith but, like, after lots of character development. Lucia is obviously the first to be adopted.

Inko is the one who becomes a werewolf and the Harbinger in the end, Izuku is not involved in this Storyline outside of some encounters with "Aunt" Aela and "Uncles" Vilkas and Farkas. Inko renounces her condition in the end.

College of Winterhold: They move to winterhold together since Farengar can't help them. Izuku is actually a quick study, as exemplified to that one spell book he found in helgen that thought him within seconds how to shoot lightning from his hands, much to his mother's worry. He ends up killing a bandit in self defense that way when he's barely 5. It was either do that or let them get to his mom.

Anyway, Inko is enrolled, but so is Izuku, the two now living on College Grounds. Triss is also there as an honorary lecturer. Anyway, Whe most of the adventuring is still done by Inko, is Izuku who receives the visit of the Psijic Order and, ultimately, he is the one to kill Ancano and close the eye of Magnus. Inko becomes Archmage still, even if she tries her hardest to have Toldfir step up instead.

The way Izuku kills Ancano is actually more based on guile than actual magical prowess. He is the only one not paralyzed in the boss fight, so what he does, is grab one of J'Zargo experimental Scrolls, summon a Skeleton Minion (Oblivion spell he was recently taught so to have someone protecting him in times of crisis), and then run with it against Ancano, too busy as he is being a megalomaniac, suicide bombing himself. He survives, but only thanks to the Restoration Professor quick intervention as Ancano dies and the paralysis falters.

Restoration magic did save the day in the end.

J'Zargo, who is usually aloof and snarky over his experiments, is actually horrified his rival's son almost got killed because of him, so he pledges he will do everything in his power to find a way to help them with their issue. He is a great magician after all, and his class is one of the brightest to date, they can find a way out for them.

Dragon War: Since all they can do now is wait for the College, Inko returns to Whiterun with Izuku and Triss, but on the way the watchtower is attacked, Mirmulmir is slain, and Izuku absorbs his dragon soul. This jumpstarts the events of Skyrim, with Izuku and Inko having to go on a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar to better understand what is happening to her son, who is now terrified of talking least he blew his mother apart with his voice.

A 5 years old kid makes a poor warrior, so the Greybeard offer to train him for his destiny, but Inko refuses. They don't need her son to kill dragons, just to eat their souls, so what she can do, is do the actual dragon slaying, and then have Izuku eat the souls. This still forces her to bring Izuku on her adventures, which isn't ideal, but only the dragon related ones. Izuku still learns the shouts of unrelenting force and whirlwind sprint as well as Dragonrend, but is Inko the one wielding the blade.

As a side note, Paarthurnax, for once not having to deal with a 4th era Nord, can finally give the unadulterated lore of the order rather than the imperialized, akatosh centric one, which leads Izuku to grow interested in Kyne, Warrior-Widow of Shor, for how much she reminds him of his mom.

Anyway, Inko is the one doing most of the stuff, Paarthurnax isn't killed, and Izuku gets two dragon buddies, one a wise and aging mentor war criminal, the other a brash and snarky red dragon he can call with his voice.

Izuku and Inko go both to Sovengarde. Inko meets back Kodlak, but also Ysgramor, who she now recognizes as a war criminal bastard, and she is the one dealing the killing blow on Alduin. Inko, Breath of Kyne, is the one sand in the songs now, the mother of the dragonborn who delivered them from evil.

Thieves Guild: Inko also does it all, but is the start of Izuku's involvement with Daedras. Inko takes the pledge to Nocturnal, so her soul is now bound to her realm, but is her son that catches the Prince's eye. Inko also tries to reform the guild back to its old robin hood ways, with divergent results.

Explorer Guild: This is the Legacy of the Dragonborn Mod. Inko founds the explorers guild and moves to the now bigger home in the Museum in Solitude. Proudspire manor has been bought by Yennefer, now advisor to Queen Elisif, who thanks to her influence has grown more confident. Girlboss helping Girlboss prosper and all that. She lives there with husband and daughter, and there's a reunion with Triss. Usual angst about "is she going to leave me? Are our adventures over?" But Triss stays because she cares about Inko and shit.

Anyway, inko is the one doing most of the stuff here too, but she now has a big enough home to adopt more than just Lucia.

She adopts every orphan, as well as Sissel and Britte in Rorikstead after murdering their abusive father. She then kills Grelod in Riften, so to also be able to adopt the orphans at the orphanage. To do so, she catches the attention of the Dark Brotherhood since she just stolen their contact. She of course adopts Aventus Aretino too.

Dark Brotherhood: All Inko. Unlike thieves guild, Izuku isn't even aware she's doing this, since he's back in Solitude with his new siblings.

Princes:

Izuku does Sheogorath. He's playing in the streets with his siblings and the other Solitude kids, when he finds Sheogorath abandoned follower. So he sneaks in the blue palace, gets to the forbidden wing, and meets Sheogorath, the Hero of Kvatch. Does his quest since it's a pretty easy quest even for a 5 years old kid, and then gets the Wabbajack in exchange.

Inko does Sanguine. The sham marriage is actually to Triss this time, which leads to more angst obviously.

Inko also does Vaermina (destroying the staff), Dagon (Destroying the Razor), Hircine (Gets the Ring), Malacath, Namira (Saves the priest and kills the cannibals), Molag Bal (Just... Never completes his quest and leaves the bastard hanging), Boethia (sacrifices one of the two racist dudes in Windhelm after trucking him into following her), Azura (Uncorrupted Star) and Peryte.

Izuku finds Meridia's Beacon but it's Inko who does the quest.

Izuku is the one meeting Barbas and they have "A boy and his dog" adventures together before he manages to bring him back to Clavicus Vile and convince him to take him back without needing to do his quest. He gets the Mask as a Result, but also a dog in the form of Styx, the spectral wolf, another mod.

Izuku does Mephala, pretty early on too. He befriends Baalgruf's bastard son while still living in Whiterun, who tells him about the whispering door, and after a couple of deceptions he gets the blade. He never charges it tho.

While is Inko the one getting the Ogma Infinium, she can't open it, and is Izuku the one opening it and gaining the boost in knowledge, as well as becoming Herma Mora champion.

Dawnguard and Dragonborn are also done by Inko, but is Midoriya who is sent to Apocrypha when she opens a black book. There he has a odd "Older Sibling trying to murder Younger Sibling" relationship with Miraak, and is ultimately forced to see him get killed by Herma Mora. Aunt Serana becomes a permanent fixture in the house.

Bard College is done by Inko but Izuku is also part of the college now.

Most quests are done by Inko, but the misc quests that require either speech or guile are done by Izuku, especially if they involve children. This includes stuff like paying for Erik the Slayer armor in Rorikstead, or cheering up that girl in Solitude whose uncle was executed for aiding in regicide.

Speaking of which:

Civil War: Inko does it obviously, and she sides with the empire, because 1) Hadvar, 2) Baalgruf, and 3) Elisif.

And also because she went to Windhelm one time to stop a serial killer and gods she couldn't believe how racist those fuckers were.

Modded followers are obviously Inigo, Lucien and Shirley Curry, to name a few.

Forgotten City is done by Inko, Izuku is not even in the time loop. Project AHO is done by Inko and ends with her freeing the slaves and murdering every single slaver in the settlement. Most modded quest mods are done by her honestly.

Izuku obviously keeps himself up to date with his magical studies, which means around 8-10 years old he moves back to winterhold, still waiting for a way home, so J'Zargo can study him to reverse engineer his quirk, and he can learn more spells. Most of his siblings are almost of age by now too, and his mother has started calming down in her worry, since she trusts her old coursemates and teacher to keek Izuku safe...

Ok, no, she trusts Onmund and Toldfir to keep Izuku safe, in this order, but it's still more people she would trust if he started living with any of her other guilds.

Anyway, can't think of much else.

[yffresbeard]

Can we get your opinion regarding all of the various daedric princes?

I went less “Yes I like them, no I don’t” and more “here’s aspects I like or aspects I don’t like, here’s what I’d like to see more of”.

Also, me liking their complexity and concepts and finding them interesting is different than me liking them personally, y’know?

Azura

I’d really like to know more about her ties to the Dunmer and the Khajiit and which she favors, given that the Dunmer at large spent uh, centuries enslaving her other “children” and she didn’t do much about it.

Boethiah

I’m always sorta annoyed that Azura is the focus of any Daedra-Dunmer discussion, because I personally think Boethiah is way cooler and would very much like to see the connection to the other 2 good daedra expanded on and explored more beyond “here’s why they worship them, but we’re not really gonna show you examples beyond Azura and Mephala via the Tong.” Also would really like to know what she did to Trinimac if she didn’t literally consume him.

Clavicus Vile

Bastard man. I’d love to see more about his actual metaphysical relationship with Barbas, love to see him get outsmarted by a mortal or two. Part of me feels like he’s underutilized but I think he’s actually at a perfect amount, it just feels like a lot less because other princes are overutilized in comparison.

Herma Mora

I always thought it was really interesting that Mephala is his “sister” over Azura, since Azura’s sphere includes prophecy and Mora is the prince of Fate - those two always seemed more connected to me than Mephala’s sphere of secrets and Mora’s of forbidden knowledge, but I also see the connection. Bastard for abducting Miraak. I wanna know what knowledge he sought from the Skaal.

Hircine

I fucking love Hircine, man. The fact that he honors hunter AND prey makes him one of the most fair and even-handed princes. He doesn’t really do trickery or deceit, what you see is what you get. Impeccable design, he got a great major appearance in Bloodmoon and we know a lot about why different people revere him to different degrees.

Jyggalag

I would be fascinated to know more about Jyggalag beyond what we were given in Shivering Isles. There seems to be so little lore beyond why the other princes wanted to destroy him. Like, why do mortals seem to know so little about him? Did he ever have widespread worship among them?

Malacath

Malacath is easily one of the chillest Princes, he’s just a cool dad. I think it’d be really cool to see more of him - he’s utilized just enough in ESO to not feel like it’s too much or not enough, and he’s talked about enough outside of those quests that it feels very natural. I’d really like to hear Malacath talk about Trinimac, though.

Mehrunes Dagon

I actually really like Dagon conceptually! Like all the Princes (the ones that aren’t Molag Bal, anyway) the things he stands for aren’t necessarily evil. Change, natural disasters, revolution, ambition... none of those things on their own are bad things. I would really, really love to know Dagon’s motivation for the Oblivion Crisis. Sure, Mankar tells us that Nirn was Dagon’s realm and they’re taking it back, but Mankar was also an idiot who said the wrong realms for a bunch of princes. I wish he was still super polite a la Battlespire.

Mephala

Same deal w/ Boethiah here, although Mephala does get a bit more discussion via the Morag Tong. I’m not a fan of how her sphere is soooo secretive that even we’re not allowed to know it as fans and not characters. I’d be interested to know how she felt about the Tong abandoning her worship in favor of Vivec to continue their existence. Also wanna know how she feels about them not doing Secret Murder anymore and instead doing like, government-sanctioned executions.

Meridia

Meridia has the potential to be a lot cooler than she is, and I’m actually really hoping that they continue to expand on her like they are in ESO! Like, I think them taking away her title as the Prince of Greed and instead portraying her as more benevolent was actually a detriment because it just didn’t fit with the Daedra. It’d be cool if they played more into her former status as a Magne-ge and her fall from grace, too.

Molag Bal

The writers should not have given him some of the titles he has. The point gets across by just calling him the Prince of Subjugation and Domination. You don’t need the other one. I actually like that there’s a villain that’s not really nuanced or complex and you can just hate because you’re supposed to.

Namira

Not nearly used as much as she could be given her deeper lore. The Khajiit call her “The Dark behind the World” and believe Namira was the Darkness inside Lorkhan’s heart. Unfortunately, all we ever get is cannibalism as a taboo and nothing about her as Darkness or as the Spirit Daedra.

Peryite

I talk about Peryite too much already, you all know how I feel about Peryite. I don’t need to talk more about him.

Sanguine

Sanguine’s a bro. He’s vibing. I think there’s a good mix of showing his fun hedonistic indulgent side, and the darker side of indulgence as well, there’s just not enough of him and I think he could do with an expansion of his sphere to include something else to make him a little more robust as a Prince.

Sheogorath

Listen, I love Sheo. Greymarch is literally my url. I think the lore is fascinating. But in terms of overuse, Sheo takes the cake. He’s a fan favorite, and for good reason, but he’s both saturated in the series and now means a little less. He’s wacky cheese wheel fish stick man more than anything now. ESO brings back a little of the darker Sheo present in Shivering Isles, which I appreciate.

Vaermina

Man, Vaermina could be so much cooler if they did literally anything with her. Like she has so much potential, and it’s wasted. Like I can’t even speak to what could be expanded on because they’ve done so little with her.

Send me a TES topic and I’ll talk about it. Or maybe meme.

[glimmeringtwilight]

Omg. I just came across your blog (Yanderemommabean mentioned you and I got curious) and I love your work so far? You've written quality yandere content for both Hermaeus Mora and Bendy and that just blows my mind (in a good way). You, sir or madame, are heaven sent. Could I request something for Herma Mora? Maybe something where the S/O is the LDB, and is in a consensual relationship with Mora? And they take full advantage of his yandere ways and set out to conquer the world with his help.

(Hey btw I fucking hate Maven with a passion and I alwaysuse cheats to delete her from the game(or just kill her) after she’s no longeruseful to me, so that’s going to reflect in this piece. Sorry if you like herlol)

 There was something beautiful about the way the sun set inSkyrim, like a fire swallowing the sky before nightfall.

 The cold seeps into your skin as you watch the sky turn afurious red; you hear the murmur of the shadows, dark like ink and bleeding intothe landscape surrounding it. Distantly, you see the backdrop of Solitude silhouettedby the falling sun.

 There’s a harsh crack of hooves against the cobbled roadbehind you, and the moment is shattered. You turn to look, watching as a man infur and steel hops off his horse, drawing his sword as he approaches. It’sdifficult to contain your smile, standing still so as to not provoke him as he comes to a stop afew feet away.

 “You’ve got quite the bounty on your head, stranger,” Hetells you, his voice rough with what you assume to be exhaustion.

 “Who ordered the bounty, again?” There’s too many for you tokeep track of now, it seems. Your work doesn’t exactly earn you many friends.

 “Maven Black-briar.”

Oh. Her. You’dmeant to deal with her later, since the woman didn’t know how to watch hertongue around you. You’d incinerated dragons with your words alone, and still shehad the audacity to call you stupid. But you refrained from retaliating. Youbit your tongue and let her walk away, then. Instead, when you left the inn thatday, you decided to pay her son in the Riften jail a visit.

 The mercenary cleared his throat, and you snap your gazeback to him.

 “And how do you know the bounty is for me?” You ask himcarefully.

 He shifts. You watch his knuckles turn white as he tightenshis grip around the handle of his blade. His armor clinks as he motions vaguelywith his free hand at your robes, saying, “I haven’t seen many with the kind a’…armor you got there.”

 He had a point. Your robes, which were a deep green andshimmered with the golden threads woven into it, were one of a kind. A giftfrom Mora; to remind you of him. It did; every glimpse of the fabricreminded you of the oily depths of the ocean surrounding the towering bookcasesof Apocrypha.

 You turn to face the stranger, bracing your elbows againstthe cobblestone wall behind you. Despite your relaxed stance, the man doesn’tease. He continues to eye you carefully, looking like he’s poised to lunge foryou at any second.

 “Mm, fair point.” You hum, moving to rest your hand against thepommel of your dagger. His attention snaps to the movement and he lunges foryou, jabbing the tip of his sword at your throat.

 He doesn’t quite make it there. The stranger’s eyes turn wide and horrified, his sword inches away. Gradually, it drops from hishand, and he looks down at his chest, where a pointed tendril pokes out.

 You step away from him as he begins to shake. His breathingbecomes labored and wet as blood fills his lungs, and you busy yourself withgrabbing your things. He gurgles and sputters behind you, laboring for air.

 You can feel Mora. His extension into the mortal planeallows you to feel his consciousness, lapping against yours like flame. A yearago, that would have terrified you. Now it’s a familiar feeling.

 He’s livid, you can tell. You feel his anger and it’s enoughto send your heart hammering against your ribcage as his rage bleeds into you. Themercenary groans and you hear him fall to the ground with a bodily thud.

 You turn back to look. He lays in the road in a growingpuddle of his own blood.

 Your eyes turn to the blazing silhouette of Solitude. Mora’sstill there, his wrath simmering in the background of your mind.

 Maven can wait; you have a city to take. After all, who’sbetter to rule Skyrim than a dragon?

[peacefiresky-archive]

The Fanged Stag

a certain stag belongs to @skyrimlesbian!

[a small book, detailing a local ghost story, written anonymously]

My name is -- well, my name doesn’t matter at this point. All you need to know about me is that I used to be a hunter.

It was an honest trade. I worked here and there, traveling Skyrim’s wilderness. I was born and raised the traditional Nord way, though my Ma was a Breton. Real good at magic. She said that the winter would be a tough one. My Da, well, he was real tough on me, saying that if I ever want to be the man of the house I’d have to start providing for my family. I didn’t really like hunting - I take more after my Ma, I think, I like to make things grow. My friend, a real big, tough guy named Helmar, loved it.

He loved it so much that he started making it hard for the rest of us to get meat.

He’s always been a bit touched by Uncle Sheo. Or maybe that Dagon one. Real violent, always getting into fights. He stuck around me for Divines-know-what. Real, real good with a bow and a big old hammer.

He’d invited me hunting with him, and I agreed just ‘cause it was the only way to get any good meat. I had just planned to follow along with him, getting what scraps I could and heading home. That’s when we saw it.

It was a biiiiig bastard. Biggest damn deer I’ve ever seen. Beautiful, too, with huge old antlers on its head, like Kyne had made them for it herself. Helmar went real quiet, and I started thinking about that old story about Herma-Mora and the White Stag. Ysmir Ysgramore had been hunting after a big bastard like this one, when Herma-Mora popped up and twisted his words and almost turned him into what he hated most! And I started thinking about the Daedra, like Hircine. Ma honors Hircine. I thought that maybe that big old stag was Hircine and that if Helmar killed it, we’d be in a world of hurt.

I told Helmar, and he called me a superstitious milk-drinker. He ran off ahead, and I sat real still and waited for him to come back. I heard noises in those woods. Evil, dark noises.

It turned dark soon, and it got cold, and I knew I’d have to head back without him. I started packing up my things when I noticed the stag. Watching me. Its eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Sharp teeth stained red, bared at me. Blood matted in its fur.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought I could reason with it.

“I’m just leavin’,” I said. “I ain’t here to hurt no one. I told Helmar - I told him not to, but he didn’t listen, so I’m goin’ home without him.”

The stag lifted its mighty head and stared me in the eye. Apparently satisfied, it huffed, and turned away from me. And I went on my way home.

But once I was a safe distance away, I looked back. It was a glorious thing, you know, and I had to see it one more time -

But there, illuminated in the moonlight, with skin the color of snow and hair like the bark on the trees, stood a man, naked as the day he was born and covered in blood. I turned and left and swore never to tell anybody and never to hunt anything I don’t need, lest that man come after me. But I can’t. Let this serve as a warning to all you bloodthirsty hunters who would seek to abuse Kyne’s gift -

Beware the Fanged Stag.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

At the start of it all, before the first snow fell and, aye, before there was even a Nirn for the snow to fall on, Shor sat in the throne of Sovngarde and all was good.

Now, we all know Sovngarde: it's a great hall of feasting and fighting and... loving, where all great warriors will some day go. Shor is its king and always he has reigned. His days were spent feasting, and fighting, and ahem; he hunted great stags in the fields and quaffed great mugs of mead and sang a great number of songs at great volumes. His hall was always full, and all loved him greatly, and all was good.

But one day Shor woke up, aye, as I'm sure we've all woken up, with a head that felt cleaved by an axe. He peeled his face out the puddle of mead he'd been sleeping in and looked around him at his hall, and he saw Sovngarde, of course, where all is good. Clutching his splitting head, he climbed to his feet and he said:

"What am I doing? What is the point of this all? Where is the challenge against which I might prove myself? Where is the failure that lets me triumph? Where is the disgrace against which my glory shines? By me! What am I doing?"

For he saw true that day (although I'm sure the light hurt his eyes): Sovngarde was not good. How could it be, when there was no such thing as bad! How could Shor be glorious, when he lived such an easy life!

So around the hall Shor went, rousing all his companions. He kicked Tsun in the ribs, pulled Stuhn from the rafters, shook Kyne out her bed and Dibella out Kyne's bed and Mara out Kyne's bed too. He doused water on Herma-Mora's face and pulled Dagon out a barrel and even roused sleepless Jhunal from his scribbling. And he told them what he had seen, and that this could not go on. And because Shor is Shor, and he's quite persuasive, all agreed with him.

So all the gods and all the people of Shor's mead-hall set about building. Because there was no Nirn yet (and aye, this is what they were building), all their material had to come from Shor's hall. They cut down the rafters for lumber, used whale-bones as supports, chipped away at the mantle for stones, and scooped up ash from the hearth as mortar. From these things they crafted trees, and mountains, and plains, and tundras, and glaciers, and auroras, and the moons, and the sun. Herma-Mora even spun their memories into water to make rivers and oceans. They worked and they labored and they stripped Sovngarde bare and they built something new and by the end they all stepped back and looked at what they'd done. And they thought it was very, very good.

But there was one group who didn't help build Nirn, and this is the dragons. Now, make no mistake, in those days Alduin and his brothers were welcome in Sovngarde and reveled like the rest of them. But dragons are lazy, which is why they take slaves. While the others were building, Alduin and his ilk would just lay around and stuff their faces. "Why are they working so hard?" asked they (though it sounded funny for all the meat in their gobs). "Don't they see Sovngarde is already good? Hey, you, put down your tools and come feast with us!" But the gods heeded not their calls, and even Shor, who they loved to feast with most, ignored them. So the dragons grew very bitter, and none more bitter than Alduin.

Then came the day when Nirn was finished. Men, I need not tell you how glorious Nirn is, for we all see it with our own eyes. The gods all gathered around to admire it: how imperfect! How perilous! How fraught with danger! There was much badness in Nirn, just as they dreamed of. And in a place with so much badness, they could all finally see what was good.

But just as they were admiring their handiwork, Alduin came floating over with his brothers. "What's this, Shor!" cried Alduin. "I have just been into your Hall, and there is no meat in the hearths, no barrels of mead, no roasting oxen to feast upon!"

"Yes, brother," said Shor proudly. "We've taken them and used them to build something new! There's going to be a change around here-- this is my new Hall, which is Nirn, and we will no longer live our lives in easy luxury, but struggle and earn those good things."

But Alduin was furious, he stomped his feet and flapped his wings. "I HATE change!" cried he. "I want to feast and revel! And if this new world of yours stops me from doing so, I will destroy it all!"

So Alduin and his dragons rushed forwards and began to destroy Shor's new Hall! They ripped up the mountains, tore up the plains, shattered the tundra and burned down the forest and melted the glaciers with a fiery yol.

Shor and all his gods rushed forwards to defend Nirn, and a great war happened, of which all Nords know, and of which I shan't speak here. And at the end of it the dragons were defeated, but not before they had broken and ruined Nirn! Even mighty Shor fell in the fighting, ripped in half by Alduin's claws, and Tsun fell by his side.

Weeping, the gods gathered round the ruins of this new thing they'd made. They could repair it, they knew, if only they had materials! But they had stripped Shor's hall to the bone and nothing was left with which to build. They wept and were in despair.

Then mother-Kyne stepped forwards. In her grief she sheared off her hair, which became thunder-clouds. And she pulled her breath from her lungs, which became wind. And her tears for her husband fell to the ground and became the first snow. And she said to her fellow-gods, "I will use my body to rebuild this thing Shor made."

And one by one the people of Shor's hall came forwards. They laid themselves down to become trees in the forest, and curled up in balls to become mountains, and fell between the hills to become glaciers, and stretched their arms wide to become plains and tundras. So many of Shor's people gave themselves up that soon Nirn was even more vast and more splendid and more surprising than it had ever been before. The volunteers were so many that some couldn't fit, and instead they became trees and mushrooms and foxes and deer and bears. And others still gave themselves to Nirn in wonder, and became the new revelers of Shor's Hall, the first men.

But Alduin, who was stricken but not defeated, saw this act of love and he hated it. So, while nobody was looking, he went to Shor's corpse and pulled out his heart. And, wickedly, he stole away into Shor's new Hall, and hid the heart somewhere deep and secret, so that no funeral-rites could be done, and Shor could never return to Sovngarde. Then he flew away, vowing to one day return and devour Shor's creation as payment for the feasting Shor had stolen to create it.

So now we live on Nirn, which is full of a great number of things. We walk on the bones of those who used themselves to build Shor's creation. We struggle and we face great adversary, and when we die, we will enter Sovngarde, and build it anew, and, having known badness, we will see that all is good.

[daggerfall]

Plot twist Herma Mora just wanted his tiny bf to have some nice time in the mortal world for a bit so he lets the last dragonborn drag him around on adventures while Mora’s relaxing in apocrypha reading cheesy romance novels

pls dont imply that herma mora and miraak are in a relationship, that ship dynamic makes me reaaaaaal uncomfortable given the obvious canon facts that miraak is willing to do whatever it takes to get the fuck away from that tentacle blob

[ftb-writes]

The prompt fill is here!

More adventures of Alduin and Tyranus!

--

"I have to admit," Tyranus huffs, "the fact that you knew what was going on here on Solstheim and neglected to tell me…"

"I didn't want you anywhere near Miraak," Alduin defends. "His lust for power worried even me, back then, so when I realized he was back, and after I'd taken this form; I couldn't bear the thought of losing you at his or Hermeaus-Mora's hands -- or, tentacles, in Mora's case. And many men have lost their minds in Apocrypha!" Alduin cups his lover's cheek in a tender palm. "I do not doubt your ability, my Dovahkiin, but do not go where I cannot follow, please. I don't want to lose you."

Tyranus feels his exacerbation melt away at the weary in his husband's eyes. "Alduin, I didn't realize…" Tyranus sighs and leans into the former dragon's side. "I thought you were trying to shelter me."

Alduin laughs, despite the dragonborn's mild shamefulness. "Oh, my Dovahkiin, I know you can handle yourself in a fight.but I also know that if you believe in your heart that you fight for what's right -- as you do while we work to stop Miraak -- you will keep getting up when you're brought down until you can't get back up. You fight until your enemies put you in the ground. I can help you keep fighting for a longer, so the chances of you walking away are better. And when you walk away, it's to come back to me. And Dii Ronaaz, I only want you to come home to me, at the end of the day."

Frea comes back around the corner, then. The trio is still in Miraak's temple; Tyranus had told her he had needed a moment to recover from his first glimpse into Herma-Mora's realm.

"Have you caught your breath, my friend? We must get back to the village and tell them what is happening."

"Yes, I have, thank you," Tyranus assures her. "Help me up, husband?"

The endearment is an apology, and Alduin scoops the Argonian into his arms and carries him, giggling between half-hearted protests.

"You two have the All-Father's blessings," Frea as they exit the temple through a back door. "It is clear you have known each other for some time, yes, but it is like your souls already knew one another long before the two of you met."

Alduin looks to Tyranus and smiles. "I was once a bitter, angry being, Lady Frea. I think Tyranus's balming spirit helps that. And I think my restless spirit was searching for his, even before I knew he existed."

The honesty is not as surprising as it once may have been, nor is the affection that comes with it; Tyranus still flushes none the less, because well neither is surprising on their own, they are when other people are around. Frea smiles, unknowing.

"I love you, too," Tyranus tells him softly, snuggling closer to his husband's chest. "So much. I'm sorry; I didn't take any of that into account."

"Tyranus," Alduin cuts in. "I understand. We'll get through this, together. Miraak will rue the day he crossed us. As will Herma-Mora." And then, quite enough Frea could not hear, "I will remind him how powerful the firstborn of Bormahu can be." Alduin tightens his grip on Tyranus in the closest embrace to a hug he could manage with an armful of armored Argonian, and realizes his husband is shivering.

"Lady Frea, how much further to your village? Tyranus is cold."

Is half-caring, half-teasing question earns him a light smack to the shoulder, though when Frea glances back in concern, Tyranus can't stop his sneeze. "I'll be fine, Lady Frea, as soon as I have a chance to make a fire."

"It is not much farther," Frea explains. "Apologies, my friends, I should have taken your cold blood into account."

"It is not so bad," Tyranus soothes. "Our scales have a unique spell, woven into the very keratin they're made of, that keeps us warmer; unfortunately, magic can only do so much. This portion of Solstheim is just a bit too cold for me."

"And once we can rest, I will help warm you up," Alduin murmurs, husky, and Frea flushes now and spins back to the path. Tyranus gives his husband another smack for his efforts. "What," Alduin demands, laughing. "It's the truth!"

"You're cruel," Tyranus hisses, low enough only Alduin would hear, "trying to get me all flustered in public!"

"Never said I wasn't," Alduin rumbles back, and Tyranus can't help the laughter that bubbles out of him at his husband's antics.

"At least wait until we can find me a warm coat," Tyranus chastises, and gets a roll of eyes and a chuckle.

"So, tell me about Miraak. What are his weaknesses?"

Tyranus's question sowers the teasing mood, and Alduin frowns. "He was always obsessed with knowledge and power, and it led to him becoming a powerful mage. But his time in Apocrypha, well likely giving him more abilities, must have blinded him to his own arrogance. he is a rash and egotistical man, and believes himself above both the dragons he wants served, and probably Hermaeus-Mora himself. He doesn't realize that once he's proven his usefulness has waned, Herma-Mora will toss him aside."

"We could use that to our advantage," Tyranus murmurs, "if we can trick him into admitting he doesn't intend to be Mora's servant forever, Mora would most likely punish him for it."

"His arrogance will make it almost too easy," Alduin growls.

"If I show off a bit for Herma-Mora, it will make it all the more damning for Miraak," Tyranus suggests, and Alduin polls of face, but does not dispute it. "Show him that even at half the age Miraak was when they first made a deal, I know about as much as him. And perhaps by showing off, it will make Miraak think Mora has been holding knowledge back."

"Which will infuriate Miraak to no end," Alduin admits. "Your logic is sound, my Dovahkiin, but I dislike it just the same."

"I will be alright," Tyranus whispers. "I have you to look after me."

[strigital]

So about the Daedra Princes corrupting their champions...

…Miraak the mask used to look pretty much like any other standard issue dragon priest mask, with the only unique things about it being its name and enchantments, but after falling to Hermaeus Mora’s influence, not just the man, but the mask too changed to reflect the aspects of the Gardener of Men. The mask mimicked Herma Mora’s “shapeless void of tentacles” motif, as did the man’s clothes, weapons and even his body. His mask now was eerily similar to his master’s favorite shape: a nightmarish entity without a face and a mouthful of tentacles. His robes once brown and incrusted with gold became moldy-green, torn and covered in Herma Mora’s inky-black slime, draconic elements on his outfit morphed into ones resembling the shapeless beasts of Apocrypha. His sword now was an extension of the Daedric Prince’s self, spitting out black tendrils whenever Miraak swung it around, his staff fell victim to the same fate. Even his Voice, his Thu’um was no longer his – it was now a twisted, nightmarish screeching that sounded more like a wailing of a horrifying beast from the pits of Herma’s Realm, rather than a Shout of an atmoran hero. Miraak became an embodiment of everything that made Mora recognizable by mortals, so that any time he sent out his Dragonborn puppet to do his bidding, those unlucky ones who met Miraak immediately knew who was their executioner’s master. Even Miraak’s own body was no longer his: his eyes were just two pits of black tar with faint sparkles of glowing green irises inside, his very own skin was crawling with Herma Mora’s slimy tendrils and black blotches which constantly moved about his body creating an illusion that the man was rotting alive. The only thing that remained somewhat untouched by Hermaeus’s tainted touch was Miraak’s mind and soul, and even so there was hardly anything human left of him. It would take decades if not ages of constant cleansing rituals by the Watchers of Stendarr to purify Miraak’s very essence of the Daedra’s influence, because as long as there’s at least one drop of Herma Mora’s taint in him, Miraak will never truly be free.

The same thing happened to one of Miraak’s soul siblings. Nim became the hound of the Father of Manbeasts pretty early on in her career as Dovahkiin and found her newly found powers quite useful, never shying away from releasing her inner beast if the circumstances were just right. And the more she let the wolf out, the stronger Hircine’s grip on her soul became, until eventually she too became a reflection of the Daedric Prince’s aspects, just like Miraak. Her mask - the mighty Konahrik - was pretty much similar to all the other masks, except with tusks, that were meant to emphasize the status of the wearer as the mightiest of dragon priests. Hircine’s influence forced some noticeable changes: the mask gained a pair of twisted antlers which resembled one of the Aspects’ of Hircine – Uricanbeg’s - appearance, its tusks now also were covered in an abundance of intricate carvings that read out the chant used to summon Hircine on his Summoning day, and the mask’s lower half morphed to have some noticeable teeth like that of a werewolf. The Dragonborn’s armor, weapons and even her own body too succumbed to these changes: any fur she wore on her person somehow became a lot more life-like and looked like it truly was just a part of her body, rather than an adornment. Any weapon she picked up would gain these detailed carved images of wolves’ heads and elks’ antlers, blades would take form of a claw or a fang and sometimes a faint growl could be heard after each swing of her sword or dagger. Her body, just like Miraak’s, too became an embodiment of her Daedric master’s influence: her smirk started to resemble a snarl, her eyes glowed in the dark similar to how wolf’s eyes do, her canines and nails grew longer and if she didn’t know better she’d think she’s fallen victim to vampirism. Even her Thu’um was now less of a Shout and more of a bark with which a wolf would attack its enemy. Maybe if she followed in Kodlak’s footsteps and cleansed herself as he did, she would’ve eventually regained her humanity, but as she continues to hunt in Hircine’s name, she becomes more and more like her master.

This also made me wonder… How would Dragonborn change if they served another Prince? Would Sheogorath’s Dovahkiin be constantly followed by a bunch of glowing butterflies and smell like cheese? Would the Last Dragonborn in Meridia’s service have a pair of tiny white wings and a constant white halo around them? What about a Dragonborn loyal to Sanguine? Would they become irresistible to any man or woman and wherever they went roses would grow out of the ground? And what if Dovahkiin’s dragon allies too changed their appearance to be more similar with their Dovahkiin’s master?

I gotta admit, all this stuff is just begging to be drawn and/or written, don’t you think?

[ladydaedra]

Of Daedra and Dragons - Pt Two

Pairing: Miraak x f!LDB

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She watches as he retreats upstairs at a hurried pace, fists clenched at his side as he goes. Closing her eyes, she sighs and tosses the bandages aside before falling back onto the bed. What was she doing? Why did she risk her own life to bring him from Apocrypha and back into Tamriel? That is what he wanted right?

Divines, what will Frea and the Skaal think of her actions? What about Raven Rock? Miraak enslaved them for who knows how long so, understandably, every person on Solstheim holds a grudge against the man upstairs.

She knew the second she decided to save him that they won't be coming back to Solstheim, at least Miraak wont. Which begs the question; how are they going to get to Gjalund's boat without getting caught? Do the people of Raven Rock even know what Miraak looks like? If they did, they would recognize the mask and not the man underneath. So they probably could just stroll on through and beeline for the ship.

And then what?

Miraak is right; Herma-Mora won't stop chasing them until one of them becomes his champion and it is because of this that she knows she is right in suggesting that they remain travel companions until Herma-Mora is dealt with. How they do that, she has no idea.

Opening her eyes, she stares up at the wooden ceiling above her that separates her and Miraak. She can only guess on how he feels about the whole situation. The man did wake up an hour ago to her sitting beside his bed with a sword on her lap. Obviously she doesn't trust him and she is certain the feeling is mutual.

A wolf howls in the distance and she closes her eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to clear her head before she sits up, running a hand through her hair. Sitting there, she takes a few seconds to listen for any activity on the floor above her and when silence greets her, she pushes herself off of the bed and walks around it to the bed behind her. While it would have been easier just to curl up and sleep on the bed she was just on, she would have felt weird sleeping in the bed Miraak was unconscious on.

~~~~

With a grunt, she falls onto the snow blanketing the mountains of Solstheim, the Black Book slipping from her grasp and landing a few feet from her. With a groan, she begins pushing herself up onto her feet while ignoring the pain coming from everywhere on her body.

With a start, she spins around frantically, fearful that she will see the mass of tentacles that is Hermaeous Mora come to finish them off. Them. She turns again, searching for the man she just saved from a death even he didn't deserve.

Lying beside her, unconscious and bleeding from multiple wounds - all caused by her blade - is Miraak. A brief flash of relief floods through her as she kneels beside him, tilting his mask up enough so she can feel his pulse, pursing her lips when she feels a steady beat. He's alive, they both are but they won't be if they stay out in the snow.

~~~~

The morning didn't fare better for either of them. Miraak remained silent as they made their trek down to Raven Rock, always walking a few paces ahead of her and she can feel his irritation from where she is. At the moment, she is beginning to question her logic on dragging him out of Apocrypha.

Then Raven Rock comes into view and she bites her lip as they continue onward. Her worries from the night prior return and she begins to get anxious at the thought of people knowing who the man she is travelling with truly is and what he has done to them. But how would they know as long as he doesn't utter a single word.

"When we get to town, I will do the talking," she calls out to him in hopes of forming a plan on getting to the boat without any aggression from the people of Raven Rock. If he hears her, he doesn't let her know and she rolls her eyes in annoyance, "they may not have ever seen you, but I am certain they will remember your voice and if you speak then there if no way you will be leaving this island," more silence and she glares at his back. Normally, she would take the silence as a yes but this is Miraak and he has always been one wanting control, "Miraak-"

"By the Nines, I hear you!" he snaps back at her, his tone harsh and cold as he doesn't even look back at her as he continues walking, "I heard you the first time and there was no reason to continue repeating the same phrase over and over again,"

She scoffs and continues to glare at him, "You could have just said okay or anything just to let me know you agree," she retorts with just as much bitterness as he had, "I may be a Dragonborn but that doesn't mean I can read minds, you know,"

"Yes," he says through gritted teeth as they enter a patch of trees and he makes no move to hold back any low hanging branches for her, instead letting them fly back as if hoping one would hit her, "I could have but frankly I was enjoying the peace and quiet and had hoped you would take my lack of response as a sign that I didn't want to talk but here we are!"

She stops abruptly to avoid being hit by a branch he held onto a bit too long before letting go, purposefully trying to hit her with it, "could you stop!"

"No," he replies before letting another branch go. She grits her teeth as she can hear the smirk in his voice, tempting her to draw her sword on him or to simply Shout at him but she refrains.

"You're acting like a child!"

"And you are annoying,"

"I'm annoying?"

"You're annoyingly optimistic about us defeating Mora,"

"We have a chance to do exactly that!"

"He almost killed both of us back in Apocrypha!"

"Because we were fighting each other!" She all but yells as they walk out of the trees, "you were almost dead and I was too tired to fight Mora! There was no way we could of killed him then but now-"

"Now we are on the run with a pissed off Daedric Prince hot on our tails," he interrupts sternly as he steps over a fallen log and still refuses to even look back at her, "admit it, Kulaas, there is no hope of victory for us and any freedom we had is gone,"

She bites her tongue at his nickname, deciding it is not worth her breath to argue against. Instead, she scoffs and glares at him, "I doubt you had much freedom in Apocrypha," she snaps, her anger getting the best of her, "with being a servant of a Prince and all,"

She never saw him spin around and march towards her until he has her pinned to the side of a cliff, arm braced against her throat and she stares up into his narrowed and dangerous eyes that are as blue as ice and just as cold, "I was no slave," he informs her with a low voice, one meant to strike fear in her but she refuses to give him the satisfaction.

"I never said you were," she bites back, tempting fate, "so tell me, Miraak, why has your fight for freedom left you since you left Apocrypha?"

"It hasn't,"

"Then why are you so reluctant to help me fight Hermaeous Mora?"

He stares down at her with emotionless eyes and says nothing in response. She meets his gaze head on and tries her damnedest to pull his response from his reaction but the attempt was futile. After a few more seconds, he gives her one final glare before stepping away from her. As she stands up straighter, she watches him walk away in the direction of Raven Rock.

"I will not wait for you at the boat, Kulaas," he calls over his shoulder and she ignores the annoyance rising at the nickname before she follows. That is an argument for another day.