#its to make up for the fact that the ice elf is either dead or missing :)

[strixton]

spent around 30 min or more figuring out how to custom pose characters in hero forge to do this, but here is my fire genesi and his ice elf "roommate" (and their dog)

[aithorin]

Chasing You - Thranduil x Reader

Plot: Imagine overhearing Thranduil’s conversation with Tauriel and running away

A/N-This fic is also posted on AO3 under the same username. I will insert a link to it below. However, this is also a slightly different version as I’ve made a couple of edits. I’ll post the updated version eventually on AO3, but for now this is the only edited version. Also, some of the lines in this are from the movies, so as a disclaimer, I do not own any recognizable content.

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823933

Slight NSFW Warning!

The hooves of your horse thundered in your ear as you pushed it to gallop quickly throughout Mirkwood. All around, the sickened trees passed in a blur, and yet somehow they still managed to loom over you, mocking your troubles with their height. You hunched closer to your horse, looking for comfort, and threaded your fingers throughout its mane. The wind burned at your eyes, causing tears of a completely different kind to well. They mingled with the ones symbolic of your heartbreak, mixing so thoroughly that they became indistinguishable from one another. The wind pulled at both, tugging at them as they trekked down your face. The tears disappeared into the air behind you, the wind having successfully stolen them.

So distracted by your thoughts, you didn’t even notice how the wind had prematurely dried the tear tracks along your face, pinching the skin slightly underneath. All you could focus on was Thranduil. Just the thought of his name sent a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, blurring your vision even more. Moments from your relationship flashed through your mind, and confusion merged with your hurt. You just didn’t understand. All this time he had seemed so genuine. To find out it was all a farce so suddenly only made your anguish sharper. There were no suspicions at all; you had been happy, and you thought that he had been happy too. But as a sob escaped your mouth, you realized that maybe some things weren’t meant to be. Echoes of the conversation you had accidently heard rang throughout your mind, and agony grappled at your heart as you thought about Thranduil’s betrayal.

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

Having finished your chores for the day, you hurried toward the throne room hoping to catch a moment alone with Thranduil. It was difficult to spend time with him considering your relationship was a secret, so every spare moment you had to sneak with him was precious. As you passed by a corridor, muffled voices floated through the air causing your footsteps to slow to a halt. Curious, you crept towards the sound, excitement filling you as you recognized Thranduil’s voice. It was perfect! You’d just wait for him to finish and then maybe you could spend a few moments together. But as the muffled noise turned into clear voices, your excitement quickly diminished as a deep hurt took root within your heart.

“Legolas said you fought well today… he has grown very fond of you.” Thranduil’s deep baritone resonated throughout the room.

A few moments passed before Tauriel stammered, “I assure you my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain of the guard.”

“Perhaps he did once...now I’m not so sure.” Thranduil sneered.

“I do not think…  you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly silvan elf.” Tauriel stuttered back.

“No, you’re right. I would not.” Thranduil declared, “Still… he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none”

At his words, a gasp left your mouth as your heart plummeted. Both of their heads snapped in your direction, but by then you had already turned and fled down the hall. Tears welled in your eyes as you began to understand the meaning behind his words. You were no different than Tauriel. In fact, you were inferior to her being that your station in life was that of a maid. If Legolas couldn’t pledge himself to the esteemed captain of the guard, then there was no hope that Thranduil would ever truly pledge himself to you either. All this time, you were nothing more than a fling to Thranduil, maybe even less. Did he see your feelings as a game, something to be toyed with? The conviction with which Thranduil spoke his words told you more than you ever needed to know. It was obvious he didn’t share in any of the things you felt. A choke escaped your throat as you realized your relationship was nothing but a lie.

Fleeing from the corridor, you ran to the comfort of your room. The door to your chambers creaked open, and light from the hall seeped through to illuminate it. As you stepped inside, you looked slowly around the room. Nothing seemed right anymore. You felt as though you were suffocating, and with a sudden clarity you knew what you had to do. You had to leave. The thought of staying in Mirkwood made you nauseous. Having to stay and look at Thranduil everyday, knowing that he never cared about you, would only break your heart over and over again. Leaving was the only way you had any hope of moving on. You quickly gathered what meager belongings you had, and hurried towards the stables. Climbing on top of the nearest horse, you saddled your pack and took off without a backward glance.

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

The trees of Mirkwood continued to whiz by, the tears continuously spilling from your eyes creating a distorted view of your surroundings. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

‘How could he do this to me? I loved him! I gave him everything. My heart, my mind, my trust, my body, everything, and yet in the end he didn’t care at all. It was nothing but a game to him.’ A choked, bitter laugh escaped through the sobs erupting from your throat. Everything just hurt; your heart felt tight, a huge lump in your throat made it difficult to breathe, and your eyes were swollen and tired from crying.

Why, why would he do this to you! You never thought he could be so cruel. Lost in the river of your despair, you failed to notice the sound of legs scurrying across the forest floor until it was too late.

A rustle of leaves sounded to your left before a giant spider leapt from behind the brush causing your horse to rear up in fright. The sudden change in gravity threw you from its back, causing your backside to hit the floor with a hard thud, knocking the breath from you. Letting out a wheeze as you attempted to regain your breath, you looked up just in time to see your horse let out a loud whine before bolting back in the direction you came. By then, the giant spider had turned its attention towards you and moved with a speed that surprised even your elven senses. You scurried back on all fours in terror, the dead leaves crunching beneath your hands. All too soon though, your path became blocked by one of the towering, ill trees that resided in the forest. Still, your arms flailed as you tried to get away, but the spider continued to advance, slowly trapping you in your place. Your breath started to quicken, and terrified gasps resounded throughout the forest. This was it. You were going to die in the forest alone, with the knowledge that no one had ever really loved you. A few stray tears escaped your eyes as you realized just how pathetic you really were. By now the spider loomed above you, its pincers poised above you, ready to strike. Ominous hisses spewed from its mouth, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unwilling to watch it deliver the killing blow. Having accepted your fate, your body relaxed, and you waited for the world you knew to be no more.

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

“I want the watch doubled at our borders. All roads. All rivers. Nothing moves but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom and no one leaves it.” Thranduil ordered, an unspoken warning in his tone, before walking away with a swish of his cloak.

No sooner had he left the throne room was he stopped by a servant.

“Forgive the intrusion my lord, but I couldn’t help overhearing your order and…” The elleth hesitated.

“Out with it, you insolent child! I don’t have all day! You’ve already overstepped your boundaries, don’t push them anymore.” Thranduil said, his patience growing thin.

“Well,” she began, “it’s just...I’m worried about (Y/N). When I stopped by our shared room all of her belongings were gone. I think she went into the forest, but she hasn’t come back. Will she be able to get back into the kingdom with your order?”

At the mention of your name, Thranduil’s blood turned ice cold in his veins. Where could you have possibly gone, and with all of your belongings too? You wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and you knew better than to go into the forest alone. You weren’t trained in the art of combat, and there were too many dangers that lurked in the forest these days. Thranduil’s mind became laced with panic as he ran through all of the possible things that could have happened to you. Were you lost? Injured? Dead? At that last thought, Thranduil swallowed as a hard lump of fear developed in his throat. He had to find you. Now.

He turned to look at the elleth, the cool facade on his face betraying none of the inward worry that he held.

“As king it is my duty to see to the safety and wellbeing of all that dwell within my kingdom. As such, I will personally see to it that (Y/N) is brought back home safe and unharmed.”

At his words, the elleth visibly relaxed. “Thank you my lord. You are most generous and kind.” With a nod of her head, the elleth bowed her head before walking away to return to her duties.

Thranduil turned to the nearest guard. “You,” he said, “Ready my elk. We leave at once.”

“Yes my lord.”

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

Thranduil raced through the forest, looking for any sign of a trail. Suddenly, a lone horse came barreling in their direction, rearing in a panic. The small group of guards he had with him leaped in front to calm it down.

Grabbing its reins, Thranduil inspected the horse, noticing a pack saddled to its back. Peering inside, he saw your possessions and his expression turned grim. Without a word, he swung back onto his elk and charged down the path the horse came from.

Galloping along the path, Thranduil prayed that you were okay. He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. Meeting you had breathed new life into him. For the first time since his wife died, he actually felt happy, something his own son couldn’t even provide him. Every beat of his heart was dedicated solely to you, and if you were to be taken from him like his wife was, he didn’t think he would ever be able to recover.

Deep in the forest now, Thranduil was beginning to doubt that he’d be able to find you when he heard noises coming from off the path. The hiss of a spider, leaves crackling as someone scrambled. His eyes widened as he realized a spider was attacking someone. Jumping from his elk, Thranduil’s footsteps pounded as he ran, and the sound of metal scraping could be heard as he drew his sword. Bursting into a clearing, he saw a giant spider above someone, poised to kill whoever was trapped. As the spider went in for the killing blow so did Thranduil. Fortunately, Thranduil was faster, and blood spurted as he drove his sword into the spider’s back. The spider howled in pain, limbs flailing as the life slowly drained from it along with its blood. All too soon, the spider dropped dead, and Thranduil hurried to push it off of whoever was trapped beneath it.

Rolling the spider’s body to the side, Thranduil was met with the sight of you curled tightly, hugging your knees to your chest with your eyes clenched shut. Dried tear tracks painted your cheeks, and visible tremors shook your body. Thranduil kneeled next to you as a big weight lifted from his chest. You were alive! Scared and shaken but alive. He had made it to your side in time, albeit he was cutting it a bit close.

Right in front of you, Thranduil slowly reached out to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. At his touch, you jumped and started to shake even harder, your eyes still shut tight.

“Meleth nin,” he spoke softly, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

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

“Meleth nin” you heard a soft voice whisper, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

At the sound of his voice, you wanted to let out a sob. It sounded just like him, but you knew that it couldn’t be Thranduil. There was no way that Thranduil was in front of you. He was back at the palace, most likely atop his throne, while you were here, probably bleeding out from a spider bite. That was it you reasoned. You had been bitten by the spider, and now you were going delirious from its venom before you died. It was the only explanation. He didn’t love you. You didn’t want to open your eyes. If you did the illusion would be shattered. At least this way you could pretend that you wouldn’t die alone, and that your love was here.

But when his hand started to shake your shoulder, the possibility that maybe he actually was here started to seem more like a reality. You reluctantly opened your eyes to see his cerulean ones staring into yours, deep with concern. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, but with the threat of death looming over you gone, you remembered why you left in the first place. You snatched your wandering arms back and lowered your eyes as more tears suddenly welled in your eyes. ‘He isn’t mine’, you reminded yourself, ‘he never was’. Having him be so close yet at the same time so far made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Melamin, are you alright? I was so worried I had lost you.” Thranduil whispered.

Deciding to ignore the endearment, you chose to answer the way your relationship now demanded. That of a respectful servant addressing her king. Still looking down at your feet, you replied meekly, “Yes, your majesty. Thank you for rescuing me. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

At your words, his eyes squinted ever so slightly in confusion. Why were you talking to him like that, as though you were just another one of his subjects? Something else was wrong. You couldn’t even look at him. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the few guards surrounding the clearing leaving just the two of you.

“What is wrong meleth nin? Why can’t you look at me?”

The continued endearments caused the sob that had been stuck in your throat to escape. Why did he insist on continuing the game? Was it not enough that he had taken your heart? Must he continue to squeeze it as well? How spiteful could he be to insist on calling you that?

“Please,” you whispered “Do not continue to jest. My heart cannot take it.”

Thranduil grabbed your hands and with the sudden movement, you finally tilted your head to meet his gaze. Seeing your heartbroken face, he felt his own heart twinge within his chest. He could feel you slipping away and with every passing minute he feared that he would not be able to get you back. “I don’t understand,” he pleaded, “Whatever it is that I have done, tell me, and I will not rest until I have eased your mind.”

His words made your head droop in despair. So he was going to continue to feign ignorance until he could break your heart and see your expression for himself. His insisted cruelty caused the first seeds of anger to break through the dam of your heartbreak. Thranduil might have shattered your heart, but you’d be damned before you’d let him see the effects. You’d get through this conversation, and then part from Mirkwood and put this chapter of your life behind you.

With your newfound determination, you looked at him with your face hard and eyes steely. “Do not think me so naive that I will continue to play along with your game, my lord. You may have fooled me once, but I refuse to let you do so again. You can cease your act of mocking love and concern. Please, just go back to the palace and have a laugh about the foolish maid who believed that a king could ever possibly care for her, and I will be on my way.”

Thranduil stared at you in bewilderment. Where was all of this coming from? Just this morning, everything was fine, and in that short time you now doubted his love for you. What could have possibly happened?

“Whoever has planted this seed of doubt in your mind will wish that they had never opened their mouth,” Thranduil swore gravelly, “I do not know what has caused this skepticism, but know that my feelings for you are honest and true.” He lifted your hands enclosed in his to place a soft kiss upon them.

Looking into his eyes, you were tempted to believe him. He seemed so earnest, but the words that he spoke earlier rang through your mind, “Do not give him hope where there is none”, and your temptations were banished. You let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. YOU were the one who made your feelings toward me clear as day, no one else. If you cannot bring yourself to be honest about anything else, then at least take responsibility for revealing your true feelings about me.”

“I do not know what you speak of!” Letting go of you, he stood from the forest floor and began to circle the clearing in frustration. “Care to enlighten me?”

Crossing your arms, you stood with him. “I heard you. Earlier, in the corridor with Tauriel. With it, the veil from my eyes was lifted, and I am now able to see this relationship for what it is: a complete and utter lie.”

He spun around to face you. “That had absolutely nothing to do with you! It was about Legolas. It, in no way, concerned how I feel about you.”

“It had everything to do with me.” you spoke softly. “If the prince is not allowed to pledge himself to Tauriel, the esteemed captain of the guard, where does that leave me? I am a servant my lord, the lowest of the low, and if the prince cannot be with someone who is far above my own station, why would the king of all people do any different?”

You turned to face him, and saw a guilt stricken look cross into Thranduil’s eyes as he realized the implication of his words.

“Forgive me Meleth. I did not realize the severity of my words when I spoke.” He apologized. He crossed the clearing to stand in front of you. Gently grabbing your shoulders, he looked deep into your eyes, “My feelings for you are earnest and unchanging. You have reminded me what happiness looks like. When you came into my life, I saw glimmers of light that I had not seen since my wife died. The first time I looked into your eyes, my heart thawed and began to beat within my chest again. You are the one who has breathed life back into me.”

Shrugging his hands off, you turned away from him.  “Be that as it may, you must believe it someplace deep inside otherwise you would not have spoken as you did. If it really was a mistake, then you would not care if Tauriel and Legolas were together, but you do.”

“No!” Thranduil protested, “I did not realize how selfish I was being when I spoke with Tauriel. If Legolas wishes to be with her so be it. I do not care.” Turning you back around, he gently cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “How could I care if it would cost me you?” He whispered.

Staring into his eyes filled with nothing but love, you felt the weight on your chest slowly begin to lift for the first time in hours. Perhaps there was hope after all. Yet as your overwhelming emotions faded, your mind began to clear, leaving nothing but logic and the cold sting of reality as you reconsidered his earlier words. Casting your eyes to the ground, you said, “As much as it pains me to say it, it does not really matter whether you care or not. In many ways, the words you spoke held nothing but the truth. It’s foolish to believe that we can ever truly be together. I am a maid, and you are a king. This relationship has no future for you surely cannot pledge yourself to me. The people would never accept me as queen.”

Crossing your arms, you turned your back so that he would not be able to see the tears welling in your eyes. “We aren’t even truly together right now. We ignore each other around the presence of others, stealing hidden moments in the dead of night. Do you know how painful it is? To see you look at me so coldly, so uncaringly, in the light of day, yet share in the warmth of your embrace at night. It’s exhausting. Do you have any idea how much it makes my heart ache? All I want is the freedom to speak to you, comfort you, touch you, whenever I wish, but our relationship forbids it! I can’t even send you a simple smile when I pass you in the halls! Too often, I can see the stress of a wasted council meeting etched on your face, and I yearn to soothe you and share in your troubles but I cannot. I did not lie when I said your conversation with Tauriel lifted a veil from my eyes, but I can see that it's different from what I originally thought. I think it would be best for us to part ways right here, and that way we can both move on. Elves are immortal. If I left now, I would be but a flicker on the line that is your life. I’m sure it would not be too hard to forget me and our relationship.” you mumbled quietly.

Thranduil’s gaze turned fiery. “Do what you will. But know this, should you choose to leave this forest do not think for one second that I will ever forget you. Ten, a hundred, even thousands of years from now, I will ache for you every second of every day. Not once will you ever leave my mind.”

His gaze softened, “Please… come home, and I promise we will truly be together, no more sneaking around. I am not ashamed to be with you; we will walk the halls together and share in each other’s troubles as you wish.”

“But your advisors and the people-”

His eyes flashed, “Speak no more of it. Love has slipped from my grasp once before, and I refuse to allow it to again. I am the king of this realm, and if I wish to be with you then the people will have to accept it.”

Hearing his words, you wanted nothing more than to accept, but your doubt and insecurity still lingered near the surface. How could you accept when you knew that you would only hold him back? The people would not be happy, and it would lead to unrest in the kingdom. How could you be that selfish? You couldn’t tear apart an entire kingdom for your own happiness. To make matters worse you wouldn’t even be able to help Thranduil bring about peace. You were a servant for crying out loud; you knew nothing about diplomacy!

As an internal war waged within you, Thranduil noticed the doubt in your eyes holding you back. He could sense that you lied upon a threshold and with one little push, you would surrender your doubts and come back to him. Determined to give you that final push, he glided towards you. Lost within your mind, you didn’t even notice that he had started to move until he had pressed himself against your back. The feel of his hard chest against your back brought an immediate halt to the worries swirling within you. Time came to a complete standstill, and you held your breath in anticipation, nervous yet also excited to see what he would do.

Achingly slow, he lifted a hand to gently brush your hair back, baring your neck. With the back of his hand, he started to tenderly trace a path along the curve of your neck. The hand continued downward, skimming the curve of your breasts to reach its resting place on your belly. Your eyes fluttered closed again in appreciation, and without even realizing, you leaned slightly into him, unconsciously craving to be closer. He bent down, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Tell me Melamin, what troubles you so?”

You shivered as the heat of his breath hit your neck. As he started to pepper your jawline in featherlight kisses, your mind became clouded, but you still managed to share your doubts with him. “I still worry… of the people’s reaction… to our relationship.” you whispered.

Thranduil hummed in response and raised his hand to caress the other side of your jaw. He pressed himself even closer to you and with it a fire that only he could sate ignited within you. “Tell me, does it feel like I care for their reaction? Let go meleth, and I promise you everything will be fine.”

With that, he used his hand to tilt you toward him and leaned down to capture you in a kiss. It started sweet but soon an overwhelming need took over you. The kiss was transformed into a battle of passion, and you turned around to fully face him. Your hands trailed all over Thranduil’s body, sliding up his chest to eventually twist themselves into his hair. With a soft tug, you pulled him even closer to deepen the kiss. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t care. At that moment, all that mattered was him. With every second that passed, your doubts slowly melted away as thoughts of Thranduil consumed your mind. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips and his hands gliding over your hips. You wanted nothing more than to drown in the river of his love.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you opened your eyes to gaze into his. Seeing the love and adoration he held for you in them, you allowed yourself to be drawn into the torrent, and you let go.

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

Afterwards, as you lay cuddled together on the forest floor, Thranduil reached down to entwine your hands together. Resting his head against your shoulder, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of the way and asked once again, “Come home, meleth nin?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you replied, “Yes.”

[fairfaxleasee]

I was looking through your Devil's Hands prompt list and am intrigued! How about either 9 (Just dropped by to make sure you’re as happy with our little deal as I am.) or 10 (Hm. I forgot you could tempt me with things I want)? Happy Friday!

For @dadrunkwriting

"Hm. I forgot you could tempt me with things I want..." Gamlen Amell ran a hand along his chin and licked his lips.

Solas doubted very much the shemlen had forgotten anything of the sort. "Just so we're clear, Gamlen, my proposal is that I will pay you for information about your niece. Not rumor, not speculation, and not your opinion. I am only interested in information."

Information on Cassia Hawke was annoyingly difficult to come by. There were plenty people who "knew" things about the Champion, and more who "knew" somehow more outlandish things about the Ice Queen, but people who knew anything about Cassia Hawke the woman were somehow rarer than people who knew about Elvhanan.

As far as Solas could tell, there were only two people alive who really knew her, and both of them refused to speak with him. (Well, technically the imitation wolf would talk with him, but he rarely said anything that wasn't an insult or a threat. He certainly wasn't willing to talk with Solas about his 'Cass.') The degree of loyalty ara vherlin had cultivated in her servant was surprising, but it was obvious she was a lost cause to Solas.

Merrill was supposed to have known ara vherlin, but it seemed that the women had managed to spend ten years in each other's company and Merrill knew just as little (and 'knew' just as much) as the people who'd never even met ara vherlin.

Which is why Solas had been forced to lower himself to this meeting. Gamlen Amell was ara vherlin's only living relative, and unfortunately the dead ones were beyond Solas' reach. He'd lived with her for over a year. He had to know something.

Solas just hoped it wouldn't take too long to get to it. Every second in the shemlen's company was absolute agony.

"Oh, I can give you information alright..."

"Then I suggest you get to it. No information, no money."

"Straight down to business then? I can respect that."

Solas had no idea why the shemlen thought he could affect a behavior he'd never received, but this wasn't the time to bring it up. "...yes. I think it's preferable that we keep our interaction to a minimum."

"Well," Gamlen leaned in and motioned for Solas to mirror the movement. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes and reluctantly did as requested. Once he was close enough, the shemlen took a look around the bar (despite the fact Solas was already positive no one was paying them any heed) and whispered, "The thing to know about my niece, elf, is... she's completely out of her blighted mind."

Solas was sorely tempted to kill Gamlen now and be done with it. "...that is unhelpful to my endeavors, as well as a matter of opinion. It doesn't count as information."

"Well now just a bloody second! You're not going to go changing our deal now, you said you'd pay for information, you didn't say a blighted thing about how it had to be useful to you!"

"I had thought..." Solas forced a smile. "That it was implied."

"I'll tell you what's 'implied' - it's implied that there are a lot of other people who are interested in my time and hearing about my niece!" Solas doubted both those things. "It's implied that I've been nice enough to meet with you to talk, and now you're going and changing our deal -" Solas closed his eyes and counted in his head to ignore and resist murdering the shemlen. When he opened them, Gamlen was still ranting, "I'll imply you, is what I'll do!"

Solas slammed a fist on the table. "First, stop using that word. I do not know what you think it means, but whatever that is, it does not mean what you think it means! Second - I will pay you for useful information about your niece. But if you think you can get a better offer elsewhere, feel free to leave."

The man blanched and swallowed. "I... fine. I'll tell you what I know."

"Please. And I think it would be better for both of us if you were quick about it."

"Let's see now. Most of it comes back to the girl being out of her blighted mind, like I told you. Never went out, never had any friends, would just totally stop talking for hours on end. No idea what that was about. Complained when I was 'loud,' complained about my drinking - said it made the house 'smell funny,' wouldn't do anything Leandra or I told her to. Never did any of the things she was supposed to - didn't cook, didn't clean, always galivanting off somewhere with that entourage of hers, like that glowy elf she ran off with." He laughed. "Actually, you want to get to know her that badly, go get yourself some of those fancy lyrium tattoos. Knife-ears and those things and she'll throw herself at a man. Course, if you don't have those things, she'll completely ignore you. Did you know, in all the time she lived here, she never bought one thing at the Rose."

"Why do you know that?" Solas regretted the question before he'd finished asking it, but its monumental stupidity stuck out in the shemlen's monumentally stupid diatribe that Solas hadn't been able to resist.

"Kept trying to get put on her tab there! Only every time I do, I get told she's not a customer and doesn't have a tab! I asked her to open one for me - it was the least she could have done; she never once paid rent when she was living with me, and not just her mind! That damn dog of hers ate about a third of my cheese inventory! And once she made it in that Deep Roads expedition there wasn't even an extra copper for Dear Old Uncle Gamlen - no Nameday gifts, no Satinalia gifts, nothing! And she kept trying to poison me! First it was the mistletoe at the Satinalia dinner I had to invite myself to, then it was the cyanide at the Tevinter dinner party."

"I cannot imagine anyone wanting to poison you." It was a good thing Solas didn't have any handy or he'd have probably already slipped some in the man's drink. "But none of this is helpful. If I wanted gossip, I'd ask the bartender. I want insight."

"Alright. I'll give you insight. But it's going to cost you." Gamlen rubbed his fingers together.

"You will get paid when I get my information. Not sooner."

"Well, here goes - I think she always was jealous of Bethany. Although I suppose that made sense, Bethany was the nice one, and the pretty one, and the easy one, too bad she was also the apostate one. If she hadn't been, things would have gone very differently. Leandra'd have given Cassia up to the Circle in a heartbeat. Of course who knows, girl might have actually liked it there. You know, Leandra told me more than once that if she'd known that was what she was going to get, she wouldn't have thrown it all away."

"But they're dead."

"Who?"

"Leandra and Bethany - her mother and sister."

Who I would much rather be talking to than you.

"Yeah... but suspicious that way, isn't it? People around Cassia always seem to turn up dead. She says Bethany got the Taint, but there's really only her word for it, and that elf she's attached to - who knows what happened in the Deep Roads. Same with Leandra, girl said blood magic, but they never did like each other either."

Matricide and sororicide were perfectly plausible activities for the Ice Queen to get up to, but apparently even her uncle was unable to realize that ara vherlin had little in common with that character.

Solas shook his head and pulled his cloak back up. "This was a waste of time." He stood to leave.

"Hey! Get back here, elf, and give me my money!"

"I thought," Solas shot a bolt in the shemlen's direction. It was harmless, but it had the desired effect of stopping him in his tracks, "I was clear - I would pay you for information; not opinion, not speculation. And you obviously have no information to offer whatsoever on your niece."

"I told you," Gamlen took a step in his direction, then glanced at his hands nervously and stopped moving, "The girl's out of her blighted mind!"

"And I told you, that was your opinion. You get nothing for that. Good day, 'sir.'"

Solas stalked out of the shemlen's hovel. This entire trip had wasted a day chasing useless leads when he could have used it trying to figure out a way to outflank what was, by far, the most dangerous adversary he'd encountered. Who he still couldn't believe was human.

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 1

Society as a whole has the same collective belief. If you can’t see, hear or touch it, it doesn’t exist.

Funny how by that logic, Eras shouldn’t be alive.

Not that they were alive, by average standards at least. Even with quirks they're kind of an outlier. Muska had made it a point to joke about that fact ever since they realized it over breakfast a few years ago. Not that either of them ate breakfast. It was more of just a shared space to feel the dread of wakefulness and drink their coffee. Early morning just didn’t agree with the thought of food, or whatever metallic smoothie Eras decided to blend that day.

Now they're getting off topic.

Anyways, society as a whole doesn’t actually know about the world behind the veil. A convenient name for the sheet drawn over the existence of those that were beyond what defines as ‘human’. Muska and Eras were prime examples of people from “beyond the veil”.

Muska was a witch. Not the stereotypical black hat broom witch. That's just offensive. No, she’s the altar having, spell making, wary of the fae witch that knows everything and anything a witch should know. Eras always felt bad but she really just didn’t know a lot of what witches actually do besides the obvious that she sees every day. She does, however, make a point to note any shiny rocks or glass bottles that seem interesting. She may not understand what Muska does but she will make damn sure that she at least helps out when she can. Also, Muska- despite her prowess- was a former regular human. Thus she appeared like one. She has a quirk and everything, but she gave up on being completely human to become something slightly different. Those ‘beyond the veil’ are shaped by what they see afterall.

Eras is an entirely different species.

Black hair that's cut just above the shoulders would reveal pristine snow white hair underneath if jostled or blown by the wind. Arguably, since the dawn of quirks, that was the most normal thing about her. To keep that normality when she needs to visit society, two sets of sharp and longer than normal canines are just a mutation. Cat-like slits in black eyes that will glow a vibrant and toxic green during certain circumstances become a sign of quirk activation despite not having a quirk or quirk factor. Certain special abilities of course get played off the same way. That was how people like them decided to fit in with the normals of society. Life becoming safer under the disguise of being the same.

Muska had asked, after they revealed their actual self during the early years of their friendship, what life was like before the quirk wars. Eras had responded with a simple sentence that they packed all their feelings into and delivered with a deadpan.

“Like getting dropped off in hell to become Satan's personal whore, only to discover that he not only has a foot fetish, but also enjoys weird shit like my little pony.”

Safe to say the cackles that followed, when Eras passed a phone with my little pony on it to Scout after explaining that it was a pre-quirk show for children, were expected.

It was a familiar start to their morning, Eras waking from a ‘sleeping’ state and using the rope to come down to the ground from their ceiling wide hammock and Muska groaned loud enough to be heard through her door as the sun probably hit her face from the window.

Tibbles, Muska’s familiar, was sitting poised on the kitchen table. Right underneath the cabinet that carried the cat food and treats. Reaching up, Eras grabbed down the food and pulled over Tibbles fancy food plate that was bought because “he deserves the best”.

After quickly dishing out the familiars breakfast, Eras was thanked with an allowed head scratch and Tibbles went on to ignore the world in favor of food. Eras would always lament about not being able to hear Tibbles talk like Muska.

Walking over to the stove, gas powered thank you very much (electric stoves are a lie to all that is holy like cooking and making espressos), Eras pulled out the moka pot and coffee beans. Grinding the coffee into a fine espresso powder, she set it up to boil the water and brew the coffee.

Despite receiving no nutritional value from everything not blood related, coffee is one of the few things she continues to enjoy. She likes the taste. Pouring the now brewed coffee over ice in one cup and nothing in the other, Eras set up the two coffees to their designated people's expectations.

Halfway through the process, her keen ears (slightly pointed like a half elfs) picked up the telltale sign of a door being pushed open and the soft footsteps of fuzzy socks on wood making their way to the kitchen.

“Coffee’s almost done, want anything to eat in the next hour or 2?” Eras asked, not looking up from the task at hand.

“Crepe” was the only word from her best friend and roommate.

A snort escaped at her dead to the world tone as Eras finished up the coffees. Placing the iced mocha in front of Muska, Eras went back into the kitchen and started to grab the ingredients out for crepes. How the vampire who doesn’t eat human food became the chef was beyond understanding at this point.

The morning was a quiet affair as usual. Neither feeling the need to speak besides a quick question or too about specifics wanted in the crepe. Placing said food in front of her friend, Eras sat in the chair opposing Muska around the round table that was settled in a place surrounded by windows on two sides, vines and moss growing up the sides of the actual house gave accents to the view as Eras stared out at the forest that surrounded them.

The pine and moss covered forest was a peaceful background as they sat in companionable silence. Both with coffees and one with actual food. A phone rested in Muska’s left hand as she ate, probably scrolling some social platform or website.

Eras sighed in contentment, an unneeded action since she doesn’t need to fucking breathe at all but its the point behind it that matters. This was until her best friend, the light of her undead life, the pizza to her hut, decided to speak and say some cursed shit.

“I want to take the UA exam to join the hero course.”

Eras took another sip of her coffee, avoiding the inevitable for a short moment, before they returned their gaze to their friend. Who was still causally reading their phone. As if they didn’t say something ‘life’ changing.

“Why?” Eras finally asked, and really, just why?

“I want to get control over my quirk since I haven’t really used it despite having it for 2 centuries now and well, Recovery Girl is at UA.”

Well, Eras thought, that makes a little more sense. Sighing again, this time in resignation, Eras nodded.

“Sure, I’ll set up an identity and pay for it. The exam is in around 4 months so you’ll have to work out what kind of abilities you're gonna show off and I’ll update your quirk registry with it.”

“Energy manipulation, just tag me under that hotline.” Muska said, a small smirk appearing on their face as they turned to look up. Eras just sighed heavily once more for the dramatics.

“I won’t be joining with you know.” Eras said, slightly shifting with nervousness that she rarely displayed. She hasn’t been comfortable with the thought of a highschool, any kind of school that was physical, since she had to hide everything that made her, well, her. She despised the thought of schools and she had several degrees. 5 PhD’s and a handful of masters and bachelors. She didn’t need school.

A look of understanding invaded her friend's mischievous gaze as she nodded.

“I didn’t expect you too.”

And that was that.

@baguettehead

[blarrghe]

“You always look beautiful. Tonight, you look divine.” Dorian & Anders?

Next installment of this little series! Thanks for the great line :)

Summary: Dorian and Anders attend a wedding, and Anders makes some new friends.

The rest of this series is up on AO3 and you can read the whole thing in order there, or just this prompt fill under the cut.

--

The reception was to be held at an estate up on the coastal cliffs, a half hour drive from the Chantry in central Minrathous, and as they drove (Anders in the passenger seat of Dorian's flashy car, examining the many features of his complicated dashboard in favour of eyeing his hands any further), Dorian chatted amiably about nothing at all: more critique of bad hats and unfortunate robe choices, a rundown of the family gossip, commentary on the venue. The estate hosting the reception wasn't a vineyard, but he insisted that Anders get himself a glass and a view at their earliest convenience so that he could live vicariously, being temporarily sworn off the stuff as he was. 

It was all sort of a lot, this weekend afternoon of extravagance and small talk. Dorian was going on like they were mere acquaintances again, not touching anything to do with pushed-down childhood memories or acts of violence or threats of politically motivated poisoning. Anders tried to appreciate it, but Dorian drove too fast on the highway, and in the close quarters of his clean, comfortable car he still smelled darker than summer, better than wine. By the time Anders stepped out of the cool, filtered air of Dorian’s car, he was feeling somewhat queasy. His stomach was still turning somersaults as he inhaled more floral garden scents and followed Dorian down a maze of shrubbery and into a wide, dimly lit hall furnished in long tables draped in white satin and lace, magically floated lanterns, and a huge ice sculpture of a swan, dead centre.

Serving staff circulated with silver trays of tiny, frilly foods: puff pastries stuffed with cheese, figs skewered with cured meats, little glasses filled with complicated looking salads that were as difficult to eat as they looked, as well as drinks. They were elves, mostly, the staff; dressed in identical black uniforms, disappearing into the shadows when their trays ran empty, reappearing by the sides of anyone whose glass needed replacing, silent and expressionless. A few stray glances fell from the other well-dressed guests onto Dorian and Anders as they made a quiet entrance into the hall, and Anders found himself envying the invisibility of the servers, his chest tightening each time Dorian was afforded a nod or himself a curious once-over. He fiddled with the gilding of the cuff of his sleeve — Dorian’s sleeve, really — and Dorian paused to stop an elf with a tray, taking up glasses for each of them. 

“Nothing alcoholic for either of us, please,” he heard Dorian saying to the elf, voice soft and kindly as he flashed him one of those people-pleasing smiles, “can I count on you for that?” The elf nodded silently, and Anders caught the flash of coin being slipped into a pocket on the server’s apron while Dorian smiled some more. “Wonderful,” he went on, “we’ll look to you for the night, ser...” The elf nodded again, this time with wider eyes, hesitating as Dorian waited expectantly for a name. 

“Elarin,” the elf answered meekly, stuttering the name out quickly. 

“Elarin, lovely name. Magister Dorian Pavus, plus one —” Dorian gestured to Anders, and with almost as much hesitation and stuttering as the elf, Anders raised a hand in a wave and said “Anders,” before Dorian continued charming away. “You’re my man tonight, Elarin; sparkling fruit juice and water when you can, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” he finished with a friendly nod and sharp eyes, and Elarin nodded once more. 

“Of course, Master Pavus,” 

Dorian shuddered at the title, almost imperceptibly, just some tension settling on his brows as his eyes seemed to sharpen even further, but he didn’t correct it. “Oh, but one glass of Aggregio Pavali for my friend here, first. Finest vintage you have, and I’d see you pour it. Can’t let it have too much air.” Dorian added with a wink towards Anders, while Anders just stood by and tried not to blush. 

“Right away, Master Pavus,” said the elf, to one more twitch of Dorian’s perfectly placed smile, and then he turned on his heel to disappear through the growing crowd in a hurry. 

“There, see? I promised you I’d be careful.” Dorian noted as the elf left their earshot. 

Anders crossed his arms. “Good of you to be friendly about it,” he said with a stiff shrug, watching as everyone else in the hall seemed to grab bits of food and drink from the other elves circulating with trays without so much as a nod. 

“I find it greatly increases the chances of getting what I ask for,” Dorian’s usual wry smirk was back, “and with a name, if anything goes awry, we’ll know where to start.” 

“Smart.” Anders agreed, though it bit at him somewhat, how easily Dorian turned graciousness to machinations.

Elarin came back momentarily, wine bottle and glass in hand, and poured a serving of it expertly while Dorian watched with another of his smiles. He handed Anders the glass, Anders shot Dorian a look, but thanked the elf, and then he was gone again and Dorian was leading him quickly through the murmuring crowd of mingling guests to a wide, glass door that opened onto an airy balcony. 

He could smell the sea. Better than the beaches by Minrathous’ busy harbour, uncluttered by ships and without the backdrop of car exhaust and city noise. The balcony looked out over jagged cliffs of silvery rock and brightly sparkling waves, rolling up against the shore under a swirling mist of seaspray and white gulls. It was a lovely view, and then Dorian stepped into it, leaning his elbows up over a railing draped with garlands of white roses, and smiled out into the sun like it was made for him. 

“You should have this,” Anders offered him the untouched glass, feeling guilty for the special treatment and awkward about his ability to properly appreciate it, anyway. 

Dorian shook his head. “It’s all or nothing for me,” he said with a casual wave of his hand, “just don’t forget to breathe it in.” 

So Anders drank the wine, doing his best to appreciate its layers of sweet and dry, wood and leather, fruit and chocolate, while his head spun with a dizziness that had nothing to do with the height or the alcohol. The balcony was quiet, with everyone still working through their introductions to one another inside, and Dorian was quiet, gazing out beside him with something thoughtful hiding deep in his eyes, but Anders’ head was never quiet, and right now it was all alarm bells for the crowd and too many thoughts about Dorian’s lips and other worries he couldn’t place; discomfort in his robes (Dorian’s robes), discomfort with being waited on, discomfort with Tevinter society, as usual, but closer to it than he usually was, and too aware of his posture because of it. 

“Thank you again, for coming,” Dorian said after a moment, not taking his eyes off the waters below, “I think I saw the new Health Minister inside, so it doesn’t have to be a total waste of an evening. I was thinking of cornering him later to talk about the rising number of your critical cases coming from the Elvhen quarter —” 

“The east end projects, you mean.” Anders interrupted with correction. Elvhen quarter was an outdated name; people weren’t sectioned off in Tevinter anymore, not by law, anyway, and the slums of the city where the poorest classes lived were no longer restricted to elves. Though the name remained apt enough.

“Right,” Dorian flushed slightly, and the spirit in Anders that watched these things especially closely was heartened by the fact that the slip embarrassed him. “I was thinking about what you mentioned, the correlation between your cases at the hospital and the shutting down of that healthcare centre and the halfway houses — it’s an infrastructure problem, technically, but it’s very possible that with a new minister looking to make a good name for himself quickly, that the solution could be approached from the healthcare side of things…” 

Anders nodded along, and if his spirit companion was happy with Dorian’s care for words, then Anders was just happy to have his own remembered. Dorian’s expression began to lose some of its undecipherable sealonging, and he grew animated as Anders offered up a few more opinions of his own. 

And then they were talking, really talking, about the kinds of politics no one ever seemed to talk about, but that both Dorian and Anders always wanted them to. Anders moved to lean with him, looking out at the sea while describing the few simple changes that, if implemented to municipal health policy, could improve the lives of thousands of impoverished residents, throwing in some comments on the old legislation, comparing things to how it was done down south — not better, exactly, with the restrictions on magic, but somewhat more fair. An odd way to get comfortable, talking of deadly disease and dereliction, but it helped. He finished the glass of wine, still taking slow, appreciative sips, and began to feel just good, alcoholic side effects or not. 

Then, someone else stepped through the door behind them, and they both froze. Anders felt her before he saw her, a deep discomfort setting back into his bones as Justice perked up with an angry flare, and it seemed like Dorian did too, apparently equipped with some warning system of his own. He straightened, his smile fell and his eyes hardened, and then he turned around. 

“Mother,” he said, just a noun. The woman he said it to scowled, eyes that were darker and harder than her son’s stuck firmly on Anders. 

“At least you’re in black.” She said, flicking her gaze quickly over Dorian’s outfit before landing it back on Anders, and eyeing his robes (which remained — very obviously, he was sure —  Dorian’s robes) with a deep frown.   

She was in black, like her son, and like him had made it elegant. Draped in a sweeping shawl, neck decorated in simple, bright diamonds that could probably buy a house. “And this is?” 

“Anders, my Lady,” Anders did his best to remember the right greeting for a woman of her station in her current state — no handshake, for a Lady in mourning, so he ducked his head a little and hoped that would do. 

“That tells me nothing.” Apparently, he’d done it wrong. 

Beside him, Dorian sighed, and without masking his displeasure whatsoever, rolled his eyes. “A friend, mother. He’s one of the doctors who treated father, you might remember. We were just discussing health policy.” 

His mother huffed, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Lady Pavus. Your son has a real drive for improving our healthcare systems, and I imagine he gets that from you.” Anders did his best to compliment her, but beside him Dorian stifled a snort. 

“A wedding is hardly the place for politics.” she said. 

“And a mourning period is hardly the time for a wedding,” Dorian answered quickly, “yet here we are. I thought it more fitting to use the opportunity to rub elbows with our newest minister. Work over frivolity, as father might say.” there was a challenge in his tone, but his mother didn’t rise to it. She simply sighed, and stared holes into the collar of Anders’ glittering robes. 

“Your father would have wanted you to use the opportunity to mingle with some of the eligible women —” 

“Doctor Anders, what was it you were just saying about the way funding is distributed to hospitals in the south? It would be a shame not to bring that to the attention of the new minister, and I do think that he will be quite swamped with meetings after tonight. Shall we go see if we can get a few sober words in with him before the dinner?” Dorian plainly cut his mother off, not seeming to notice as her words petered out under his sudden burst of professionalism. 

Anders said nothing, but nodded slowly, his own eyes growing teary and unfocused as he attempted to keep the blaring, bright heat out of his head. He had kept his distance from the woman when the elder Pavus had been dying in his hospital, her shrill voice a warning enough. Now that she was here in front of him, he could hardly hear anything else for all of Justice’s angry energy. 

“I only came to say I’d be leaving after the speeches. I don’t expect you to, but do try not to let your politics cause any volatility in the later evening.” She said it like a warning, and the alarms in Anders’ head grew louder and louder. 

“All business, rest assured.” Dorian said curtly back, and then with one last long, sweeping look over Anders’ outfit from head to toe, the woman left and took her high-held head of glittering jewelry back inside.

“That was unpleasant.” Dorian muttered once she���d gone, voicing Anders’ own thought with a sigh. “We had better find our seats for dinner.” 

“Is it All Business Magister Dorian Pavus from here on out, then?” Anders quipped, or tried to quip, in a friendly way. His head was still unfocused. 

“Only until after the speeches, apparently.” Dorian winked, though it didn’t reach his smile, and it didn’t bring one out of Anders either. 

—

Anders excused himself to use the restroom inside, splashing water on his face and steadying Justice's ever growing discomfort with a breathing exercise and a tight squeezing motion to his hands, up and down the palms. When he came out again, Dorian had worked some of his magical charm to change their seats — away from his mother and other actual relations, and to the same table as the new health minister and some other people of political note. The energy given off by this new seating arrangement wasn't much better than what he'd suffered from Dorian's mother, but Dorian seemed to be making the most of things. Again, machinations out of the simplest niceties. All new kinds of intimidating, watching him politely talk shop with his hands carefully placed atop the table. 

Anders tuned most of it out, preoccupied with keeping Justice at bay and remembering his manners. In the Circle, they'd had classes on how to behave, in the event that they one day might be able to jump the many hoops of becoming state sanctioned healers and find an honourable position in good society, somewhere. He'd always failed them. Then he'd run away, and joined the kinds of societies where he never had to use them. So he tried to copy Dorian, napkin on his lap and hands on the table from the wrists, not the elbows, back straight. 

The food was delicious but there was too little of it, the speeches afterwards dry and lengthy, and of them there were too many. Cake was cut, and the newlyweds, both middle aged and stiffer than the ice sculpture they danced around, took the first slow steps onto the floor. There was a real band, but it played only old, melancholy songs. A trickle of other couples moved to join in after the first number, but Dorian stayed where he was, apparently having gotten himself engaged in an argument while Anders wasn't paying attention. 

“The bloodlines are dying out, it's more important now than ever that policy preserve the rights of mages —” someone was saying, a large man in red formal robes and with cheeks to match. 

  “Preserve them, certainly, but we needn't trample on the rights of others to do that,” Dorian replied evenly, and Anders adjusted his attention to listen to Dorian’s argument. He’d heard him explain the purpose of the Soporati bill with impassioned fervor a few times, but never seen him actually argue it with any of the other powers of his ilk. He watched the light dance in Dorian’s eyes, listened closely as he spun the other man’s argument in circles and unravelled it. His words flew out fast and certain and smooth, his argument practiced and absolutely correct. 

Mage rights were different in Tevinter, almost opposite to what they were everywhere else. Mages could vote on everything, and were free to pursue nearly anything they wanted, and it was a kind of freedom that still frequently blew Anders away. But it was far from absolute, and far from fair. Family name mattered more than ability, magical training was expensive and the Circle system an elitist nightmare of academia and bureaucratic absurdism — his own transfer from an acclaimed medical school in the southern system had been almost impossible to navigate, and in order to find a way into the system, he’d needed to practically restart. Years of work experience and training had meant nothing, and now he was a vastly overqualified resident, paying off debts under a contract that kept him legally part-time, so that he wouldn’t receive the same pay as someone with a full contract. Yet, his hours sat at just a hair under the limit set by national labour law for full time work, and loophole clauses let him work fourteen hour shifts anyway. As for those without magic, the vote was limited, and the reach of careers in anything but the Templar order was limited too, regardless of how much magic was actually needed for the job. Dorian wanted to make things freer for everyone, not just those who came from old names, and Anders — well, Anders liked that about him. He liked it a lot. 

“There are fewer mages in every generation, you should be more worried about protecting your own —” someone else at the table spoke up, taking the red-faced man’s side. 

“That's the lyrium drying up,” countered someone else, before Dorian could respond. At that, Dorian shook his head with a sigh. Lyrium wasn’t drying up, it was being hoarded and poorly managed and otherwise mishandled, and always had been, but any conspiracy theories that said the world was losing its magic were just that. 

“It's got nothing to do with lyrium, it's the old bloodlines being polluted.” Said the red man, which as conspiracy theories went, was much worse. Anders felt his blood begin to boil. 

 “Magical birth has almost nothing to do with lyrium exposure or bloodlines,” Anders spoke up, deciding to cut in, since they'd somehow fallen onto a subject he actually knew rather a lot about, though he usually argued about it against a very different perspective. 

“Oh? And you know this how?” Eyes on him again, the man’s red face all eyebrows and snarl.

“I'm a doctor. I specialize in spirit healing. Magical interaction with biology is my area of expertise.” Anders replied, forcing a calm as best he could. He took hold of his cool glass of water in one hand and tapped his fingers against his leg with the other, under the table. “Anyone can be a mage. There’s some genetic involvement, but it’s complex. There’s no one magic gene, it's essentially random.” 

 The red-faced man harrumphed at him, “mages are the maker's chosen, and in Tevinter the old families found ways to preserve the truest magical blood, long ago.” He said, going on to attempt to quote some more scripture at him before Dorian cut him off with a scathing remark. 

Anders sighed again, and let Dorian take the lead on the religious angle. He hadn’t grown up with a Tevinter interpretation of the Chant, and to look at him it was apparent that he wasn’t of an old Tevinter family, but if the service earlier in the day indicated anything, he knew exactly the sort of argument he’d be finding himself in if he tried it, and in his experience it was a futile one. Can’t argue with belief. 

Dorian was only halfway to the eventual wall that would block up this particular conversation when someone else swung by the table to interrupt with friendly greetings, and Anders’ head nearly split in two. A stout, dark-haired man with a wide forehead and receding hairline who called himself Devon Valarius patted the red-faced man warmly on the back, offered Dorian a drink with too knowing a laugh, traded in a few anecdotes about a recent sports game and the weather, and then moved on to the next table. The entire time he lingered, Anders had to clutch his water glass with both hands and breathe very, very carefully. 

Something was wrong, Justice was screaming, very wrong. 

“Who the fuck was that?” he whispered, nudging Dorian under the table. Anders’ voice had somehow turned hoarse and raspy despite the fact that he’d barely uttered three sentences since they’d sat down, and Dorian cocked an eyebrow while Anders finished his water in one large gulp. 

“Him?” Dorian shrugged, “Captain of the Minrathous Circle Templars, why?” 

 Templar. Was that all? It had been ages since he’d set foot near one, but such a reaction from Justice seemed like overkill, even for the ones back in Kirkwall, where they practically ruled the city. Here, Templar Captain was all but a vanity position. Anders frowned. “Don't let him near your drinks,” he whispered, “he doesn't...feel good.” 

 Dorian looked between Anders and the Templar, now two tables away, and his confusion mounted. “He's a blowhard and a buffoon, but he's not dangerous.” Dorian replied, quiet and reassuring, “there's no power in the Templar order here, it's all just formality. Trust me, I attended the Minrathous Circle. I could take that man out with less than the power held in my little finger.” 

Anders nodded, but the feeling didn’t abate. Dorian managed to get pulled back into arguments, but all Anders could do was follow the Templar around with his eyes. He moved from table to table, and then eventually to the dance floor, patting backs, making jokes, drinking wine. Harmless. Anders watched him a while longer, and then decided to try to shake the nerves off again with some more water in his face. It had been a strange day, after all, sitting in a Chantry for hours had probably just primed him to be extra sensitive to buffoonish Templars. He excused himself politely, to barely a nod from Dorian — who was busy again talking circles around the rest of the table, and gaining himself a bit of an audience from the others as well.

Anders splashed some water on his face in the restroom, and then he just spent some time walking, taking purposeful wrong turns down the halls of the sprawling estate and trying various doors just to see if they were locked. They mostly were, but then he pushed in through one that wasn’t, and found himself hit with a wave of heat and delicious smells and laughter, stumbling into a bustling kitchen. 

Elarin, the elf who had dutifully kept both him and Dorian in water and juice, was sitting on a long stainless steel counter by the door, and at the sight of Anders he jumped up, eyes wide and nervous. “Serah —” he started to exclaim, while at the same time Anders tried to apologetically back away. 

“Sorry — no, we don’t need anything — I was just looking for the ah —”

And then all that fumbling for words was interrupted by someone else, a very loud elf who pushed in through the door behind him and, as soon as it closed, slammed a plate of uneaten food down onto the counter and began an angry tirade: 

“Maker’s balls! First, she sends the fish back because it has bones, now the orange chicken is too orangey, I swear if that fucking bitch had a stick any further up her ass it would be poking out her eyeballs. And she wants to know why the fucking statue is melting, well yeah, lady, it’s mid summer in Minrathous, no amount of magic is going to keep that ice cold for more than an hour! Andraste’s ass, these fucking shems, all fucking day! The curtains, the linens, the flowers, the ice, the fish, now the fucking chicken —” seeing Anders, the elf stopped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her honey brown eyes grew huge and shiny. “Shit.” She said. 

Anders burst into laughter. It bubbled out of him, grin spreading as even the most tightly wound parts of him breathed out a sigh. Loud, guffawing, dumb laughter. Fuck. What a wonderful thing, curses. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he assured the staring elves, as soon as he could, “thank you for saying all that, really. Someone had to or I was going to and that would have gone very poorly, I think.” he breathed, still laughing between every other word. The expressions on the elves watching him softened a bit more. There were four of them now, Elarin, this young serving girl, and two more, on the other side of another long counter covered in dishes and ingredients, hovering over the stoves. They’d been busy cooking, and probably swearing like sailors themselves until he’d walked in, and all were now watching him in obvious confusion. 

Elarin laughed first, sitting back on the counter again and shaking his head. Then the girl relaxed, and chuckled a little as she moved to lean by Elarin, though she was still blushing.   

“You need a break, then?” Asked one of the cooks behind the line, the older of the two. His long grey hair was tied back and tucked into a net, and he had a long scar on one arm from elbow to wrist, as well as several tattoos over his face, but it was a kind face, the wrinkles mostly laugh lines. The cook shrugged as he turned to return to work, “no sweat. It happens sometimes. You want more food?” 

“Maker, please.” Anders said eagerly, “if it isn’t too much trouble.” 

“It’s nothing. We’re done serving, and these things, they always order three times what they need. Half the cake will still be here at the end of the night,” he gestured to where a large sheet cake sat at one end of the kitchen, cut into squares and waiting to go out and replace the stock of identical cake that was carefully plated on pretty tables outside, mostly untouched. “chicken or fish?” 

“I had the vegetarian option, actually.” 

“So you’re the motherfucker. There’s always at least one. You’re easy though, it’s these trendy, all-organic, no salt, allergic-to-flavour assholes these days, like there’s anything wrong with good old fashioned food —”

“Don’t get me started,” Anders agreed, “Organic is just a hoop to jump through, and people need salt —” 

 “Alright, I like you.” the chef remarked with a grin, “you can have some more vegetarian bullshit. You like the meal?”

Anders chuckled, “I wouldn’t call it bullshit,” he said. Then recalling the too-small courses of soup and pasta and other small portions of perfectly cooked vegetables, he mustered some seriousness to his tone, “it was incredible, actually, thank you.” 

“I like a challenge. I’ll fix you some more pasta. El?” 

Elarin answered eagerly as well, perking up to say “chicken,” from his spot on the counter. 

“Good choice. Chicken’s better, Blondie.” 

Anders swallowed, his heart suddenly in his throat. “I used to have a friend who called me that,” he said with a shake of his head, “but here it’s always honorifics and full titles, even in the fucking shops.” 

“Not for us,” cut in the young serving girl as she took up a new plate of chicken that the other cook had plated without changing anything about what was already on his pan, “wish me luck out there.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean — good luck.” Anders nodded towards her, and she shrugged her way out the door and back into the hall. 

“Where you from?” the cook asked, continuing the conversation as he set out a plate of pasta and a plate of chicken on the counter between them. 

“All over,” Anders sighed, “but my friends were in Kirkwall.” Now, they were all over — those that were even still his friends at all. 

He took his plate of pasta, a much more satisfying looking portion on this one, and leaned back on the counter next to Elarin, who once again hopped up onto it. If it was possible, this plate was also better than the last, more boldly spiced and perfectly balanced. 

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Anders asked appreciatively, between bites. 

“Army,” answered the cook, “you want to hear some war stories?” 

Anders frowned, and his heartbeat, which had just been beginning to settle down, picked up again. “No thanks,” he tried to shake off the unpleasant rush of heat through his head, “I have my own.” 

The cook — Red, everyone called him, though nothing about him was — continued to chat and curse away as more servers filtered through, cleaning up and pausing to vent and eat as the dinner portion of the night ended, and the kitchen staff was reduced to a skeleton crew. Anders finished his pasta, and fell into conversation with the small group of remaining staff as they gathered inside the kitchen during yet another round of speeches. Inappropriate jokes were told, gossip aired and complaints made, and Anders found himself having the easiest time he’d had all day.

“What's he like, the new Magister?” one of them asked him at one point, “are you here, you know, with him?”

Before he could fumble his answer to that, the gossip around Magister Dorian Pavus answered for him: 

“— can’t be. Watch what you say —”

“I heard he was like that, I don’t know —” 

“A Magister? Are you stupid?” 

“— I heard he was like that, but they fixed him —” 

“Fixed him?”

“You know, like with magic.”

“That’d be some fucking magic — you can’t fix —” 

Anders attempted to cut in. “I’m not with him. We’re friends. And you can’t ‘fix’ what I think you’re saying was fixed. It isn’t magically or medically possible and besides that it doesn’t need fixing —”

“Does here, if you’re a Magister.” replied one of the elves. Anders frowned. 

“We’re just friends.” He said again. 

“Elarin, you owe me ten bucks.” Elarin blushed, and handed some of the coin from his apron over to a blond elf who extended her hand.        

“He's the one trying to open up the vote for Soporati on all levels, isn't he?” asked the same blond elf, pocketing her coin happily. 

“Pfft. Having fun with his new position, way I hear it,” another bit of gossip answering for him again, “at every party, and every after party, too.” 

Anders was still frowning through all of it, “no,” he cut in again, defensively, “he really is trying. The parties are part of the work, even just now he was arguing the bill with that Maximilian asshole. He's a good man.”

 “No such thing as a good Magister.” He’d learned all their names, and the one who said that was the same brown-eyed elf who’d come in swearing the first time. Nella, her name was, and she hadn’t come back much happier. Anders frowned some more, unsure what to say. 

The kitchen, despite being hot from the cooking, felt cooler and clearer than the crowd outside. Justice had no qualms with the serving staff, it seemed, and they had none with him, once they’d all learned where he was from and heard him laugh at a terrible joke or two. No one was eyeing his robes or monitoring his utensil choices while he ate, but he was still out of place.

As the speeches ended, the servers took up empty trays to clear away glasses from the crowd, and filed out one by one. Anders caught Elarin on his way out. 

“Can you find my friend and just tell him I’m fine and that I’ll meet him out there in a minute?” he asked, still dreading reentering that crowd or sitting through any more slow songs or arguments at their table, “or just tell him I can make an excuse whenever he wants to leave, whatever.” Anders amended the instruction; Dorian didn’t really need him for this, anyway.   

  Instead, Elarin came back with a full tray of empty glasses, and Dorian. 

“What are you doing, hiding in here?”

If Anders was out of place in the kitchen, then Dorian was a sore thumb. Elarin and Nella and the other elves — Gendrin, Dominic, Rena, and the two cooks, Red and Oscar — were all silent and stony as he stood there, looking at Anders. 

Anders shrugged. “Taking a break?” he said, too meekly, but Dorian only smirked softly at him. 

“I know it’s a chore, but everyone is drunk now, and the band seems to have figured out what a beat is. Why don’t you come dance?” he offered with a smile that fluttered in Anders’ stomach. 

“And you feel alright?” Anders checked nervously — he’d taken his eyes off Dorian and his drinks for Maker knows how long, hiding in the kitchen. “No one’s tried to bribe any of you except us, have they?” he turned the question to Elarin, inspecting him with intent eyes. 

Dorian crossed his arms and sighed. “I’m fine. Too fine, if you ask me. Would you quit being on the case and just enjoy this party for a minute?” 

 “I am enjoying it. I've had three extra helpings of cake.” Anders relaxed slightly, bantering back. 

 “You’re wasting your beautiful robes slinking around back here.” Dorian argued. 

 “Oh so now I’m all dressed up like you, I’m beautiful?” Anders raised an eyebrow and targeted Dorian with a challenging smirk of his own, finding some more of his confidence again, “very cute.”  

“Nonsense, you’re always beautiful.” Dorian said, smiling and smouldering and flippantly taking all of Anders’ confidence with him as he did, “tonight, you look divine.”  

The collection of silently watching serving staff stifled obvious giggles. 

“And you’re wasting it. Come on, the spotlight awaits us!” Dorian turned, and pushed his way dramatically out the door, his own gorgeous black robes flowing gracefully out and whisping away behind him.

[anotherarchivesblog]

hi who are most of the people in the relationship charts you posted on insta a while ago?

Like I know you’ve posted some stuff about Nate and Zoe and even Venus but I’m really curious about everyone else!

I wanna preface this by thanking you for your patience since it took me forever to reply to this. I really appreciate it! <3

Anyways, those charts are divided into two parts — the first is Nate’s friend group (which I call the Zodiacs) and the second is the Celestial Council. The Zodiacs are central-focus characters while the Council’s role is more on the back burner.

I’ll talk about the characters individually under the cut, but if you’re not into summaries I’ll include a song that reminds me of each character since I think music is a fantastic personality descriptor:

ZODIACS

NATE SAGITTARIUS:  Nate is an overly ambitious teenage boy who becomes a Regulator at the Venus Villas after discovering that he’s half elf. I’m sure you know the rest of this rant by now.

“Genius Next Door” — Regina Spektor

ZOE SAGITTARIUS:  Nate’s punk-rock older sister, who is much cooler than he’ll ever be. Zoe is a dryad that was adopted by Jupiter Sagittarius shortly after she had woken up in a Bronx alleyway with a bad case of amnesia. Nowadays, she works as a Regulator at the Venus Villas and wields a talking snake shaped dagger named Sabik.

“OHFR?” — Rico Nasty

DANIEL ATKINS: As Head Regulator, Daniel Atkins is known to keep things in line. Daniel is an aloof ghost from the 1910s who hasn't matured much since his death. He’s notoriously bad with social cues and always says whatever he’s thinking, which Nate doesn’t seem to mind. The two of them quickly become best friends, much to Zoe’s dismay.

“Nobody” — Mitski

BRENDA ANTARES: With her competitive nature and innate sparing abilities, Brenda was the obvious choice for Mars’ Lieutenant. When she’s not assisting Mars, Brenda volunteers as a part-time cook at the Venus Villas. Brenda is a sweetheart who befriends anyone she can, which is ironic considering the fact that she shares a body with a temperamental demon named Aries.

“What’s Up Danger” — Blackway & Black Caviar

ANASTASIA CHERNOV: Not much is known about Anastasia’s past and she’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Anastasia Chernov is head general of Via’s Army and a recurring antagonist throughout the series. She is a blind vampire who, despite her overall brooding nature, loves cutesy magical girl animes and Vocaloids.

“Oh Ana” — Mother Mother

MAYBELLE SAVURI: Real hot girl shhh! Maybelle Savuri is a top-charting singer and model from the monster world who just so happens to be Venus’ daughter too. She’s a super rich vampire with shapeshifting powers, the cutest outfits, and confidence for days — what else could you possibly want?

“Girls in the Hood” — Megan Thee Stallion

LEO JEMBER: Resident golden boy and honorary funnyman, Leo Jember is one of the first friends Nate makes at the Villas. Leo is a (literal) angel who works the front desk at the Venus Villas, and spends his free time messing with his best friend Scorpius Singh. Leo is extremely popular with the workers at the Villas but he also has the tendency to push Venus’ buttons for fun.

“C7osure.” — Lil Nas X

SCORPIUS SINGH: The only Zodiac more secretive than Anastasia is Scorpius. Scorpius Singh is a witch cursed to kill everything he touches. Nowadays, his hands are constantly bandaged and he tends to keep his distance from other people. Around the Villas, Scorpius is known for his intellect and snippy attitude.

“Goodbye Mr A” — The Hoosiers

POLLY DE DIOS: Just like her father, Polly de Dios is a skilled inventor who helps with repairs around the Villas. Polly and her twin brother, Cas, are a pair of hyper-intelligent androids built by Mercury de Dios. Unlike her lax brother, Polly is a rule-abiding teenager with a love for list making and hard work.

“B.I.T.C.H” — Megan Thee Stallion

ALEX MILTON: Come through, daddy issues! Alex Milton is a blunt satyr who spends his free time committing petty crime. His tendency to use his powers in the mortal world often winds Alex in trouble with the Venus Villas. Despite his unpleasant nature, Alex is both humorous and intelligent… maybe that’s the reason Nate had a slight crush on him when they first met.

“Rich & Sad” — Post Malone

DAX LEE: Dax is good friends with Leo and Scorpius which, by default, makes him Nate’s friend as well. Dax Lee is a deaf merman who has the power to mind control other people whenever he sings. And while Dax may not be the smartest member of the Zodiacs, he certainly is the friendliest!

“This December” — Rick Montgomery

JEONG NA-RI: As a powerful psychic, Jeong Na-Ri is a force to be reckoned with. But after Nate accidentally frees her from a hundred-year imprisonment, Na-Ri quickly learns that the world she came back to is extremely different from the one that she left behind. Not only that but, with her immortal dad still around, Na-Ri now has a new step-mom and an older brother named Dax.

“Cartoons” — Louie Zong

CELESTIALS

**SOL JEMAL: As head of the Celestial Council, Sol plays a particularly important role in the monster world. Sol Jemal is an angel that has been around since the beginning of time so she’s pretty much seen it all by now. Her distant nature has caused an aura of mystery to form around her, but her sons Deneb and Leo reason that she’s not as omnipotent as she seems and, if anything, she’s just a bit uptight.

“YAH.” — Kendrick Lamar

MOON ATKINS: It doesn’t matter that they’re twins, Moon would like to make it perfectly clear that he is Sol’ older brother. (By five whole minutes!) While Sol is known for being the bringer of life, Moon Atkins was assigned the role of ruling over the dead. Because of this, Moon’s presence is seen as a bad omen in the monster world. However, Moon is quite the gentleman with an extreme interest in birds, particularly ravens.

“Lethargy″ — Bastille

MERCURY DE DIOS: The rest of the Council has the tendency to look over Mercury’s existence. Mercury de Dios is a gnome with a knack for inventing. He’s a genius when it comes to innovation, but has trouble when it comes to socializing with other people, so he avoids it completely by shutting himself in his workshop all day. When he’s not inventing, Mercury is either spending time with his children or trailing behind Venus and Mars around the Villas.

“Touch-Tone Telephone” — Lemon Demon

VENUS GALILEI: As both his boss and godmother, Venus spends a lot of time with Nate. Which is unfortunate for him, because while many other adults in the monster world think Nate is old enough to fight against Via’s Army, Venus adamantly believes that he is too young to get involved. Still, despite their many disagreements, the two care very deeply for each other.

“Glamorous”  — Fergie

TERRA GALILEI: Nate’s not the only one with an adopted dryad sister. Terra Galilei is Venus’ younger sister who is head of human relations — meaning that she keeps in touch with the very few humans who know of the monster world. Unlike her sister, Terra is a loud party animal with a love for sports.

“Lightning” — Rico Nasty

MARS HUYGENS:  Oh boy. Where to begin with Mars? Mars Huygens is a cyclops widely known in the monster world for his loudmouth and love of violence. He is one of the three Celestials who work at the Venus Villas — the other two being his spouses Venus and Mercury — much to the Regulators’ dismay. Despite his reputation, Mars gets along swimmingly with Brenda and, despite how often he teases the kid, has a bit of a soft spot for Nate as well.

“PRIDE.” — Kendrick Lamar

JUPITER SAGITTARIUS: Everyone in the monster world knows Jupiter as the elf who had a child with a human. Jupiter Sagittarius is Nate and Zoe’s music loving father who never really grew up. Jupiter supports his children in their endeavors, however he’s not quite qualified for his own responsibilities. Despite his scatter-mindedness, Jupiter puts a genuine effort into everything he does which, at the very least, is why his peers tend to like him so much.

“8TEEN” — Khalid

SATURN HAMILTON: With the exception of Mercury and Moon, no one in the Celestial Council really likes Saturn all that much. Saturn Hamilton is a workaholic satyr who is obsessed with the human world and its history. More often than not, Saturn finds himself butting heads with his eldest son, Alex, despite Saturn’s attempts to salvage their relationship as of late.

“Cemetery” — COIN

URI HERSCHEL: Uri is a man of few words… mostly because he’s a selective mute. Uri Herschel is an ice giant known for his eccentric nature — whether it be his odd choice of clothes or his peculiar love of taxidermy.

“Anklebiters” — Paramore

LEE NEPTUNE: Guess it’s time to release the kraken. Lee Neptune is a picture perfect beach dweller — a handsome surfer dude who plays the ukulele and has the ability to shapeshift into the legendary kraken. He may not be the smartest member of the Celestial Council, but he certainly is charming.

“Drunk Walk Home” — Mitski

PLUTO TOMBAUGH:  While he’s technically no longer a part of the Council, Pluto will always have an honorary spot in these lists. Pluto Tombaugh is a laid-back and likeable dwarf who is obsessed with the animals that reside in the monster world — which he collects and studies in his downtime.

“Jawbreaker” — Injury Reserve ft. Rico Nasty & Pro Teens

**The surname Jemal is just a placeholder and will most likely change down the line.

[unabasheddinosaurkitten]

Rise Of Orthros

Chapter Nine

The dragons riders and Abigail had made it back to Rishnag, they were hoping they made it in time. Luckily for them Amelia had awoken on the flight back to Rishnag, although she was still very weak from her encounter with Max.

Each step she took with ease, her eyes wondering at others as they watched. Some tried spitting on her, once a trust is broken from a mage it would be harder to get it back. Amelia knew that was always going to be a risk, she held onto her side before stopping with the others out the front of the castle.

"Sam? Why did you bring them here?" His father Michael asked.

Michael had brown, short hair, that slightly reveals a fine but tense face. His brown eyes glistened from the sun that was coming in from the north side of the town, his brown eyes sat lightly in their sockets. His tan skin was covered by armour and could only be seen on his neck. Not to mention a few scars he aquatinted in battle protecting his lord.

"Because father, we found evidence that indicates, that they are innocent," Sam said, Michael looked into his eyes, he could tell if his son was lying.

Michael stepped aside allowing them to enter, following behind Amelia. He couldn't help but frown at her slow posture, what happened on Gandor? It had to be something.

"My lord, Sam requests to speak with you," Michael said as he stepped forward bowing in front of him.

Lord Ragnar turned around to face Sam, "How did you get them?" He asked pointing towards Hunter, Hanna and Amelia.

"My lord, you need to listen to us. Hunter, Hanna and Amelia had no part in the assignation attempt on your life. Why would they?" Sam asked as he brought out the scroll handing it towards Lord Ragnar.

Lord Ragnar grabbed it with a little bit of hesitation, he opened it where he read the scroll frowning, "How do I know this isn't fake?" He asked.

Abigail stepped forward and bowed her head, "My lord, I was in the tavern all afternoon and never heard any one of them speaking about assassinating you, in honestly, they were going to check in to see if you could bring some guards out their, they don't trust Richard."

Lord Ragnar looked up towards her, "Hmm... well I guess that is the...." before he could finish, the sound of an arrow being released from a bow sounded through the palace.

Abigail watched before turning her hands in a circular motion, "Verndaðu þinn, verndaðu vin þinn." She used a force field to protect Lord Ragnar, the arrow bouncing off.

"Get him!" Lord Ragnar shouted towards his guards, who nodded and chased after the man

Hunter, Stephen and Sam also ran after the man, racing through the streets; Hunter picked up his speed heading towards the forest where the man was fleeing toward. The forest was gigantic, radiant, and prospering. Its canopy was marked by chestnut, walnut, and hickory, and occasional openings in their crowns allowed plenty of light through for an overabundance of mushrooms to monopolize the moist and fertile bottom layer below.

Silent branches waved from many a tree, and a range of flowers, which clung to any space they could find, clashed with the otherwise dark green landscape. A clamour of animal sounds, predominantly those of varmint, reverberated through the air, and were accompanied by the sounds of over a thousand birds.

The sun began setting behind the trees, giving it a nice glow, the wind blowing through the winds giving a slight chill in the air. Hunter continued to chase the man further into the forest, he needed answers and he didn't care if he ran after him all night long.

The man looked back as he noticed Hunter was gaining closer towards him, he flung his bow over his shoulder allowing him to quicken the pace he needed hopefully. Be one he couldn't get caught especially after everything he did and Richard didn't like those who failed.

Hunter knew that he couldn't let this man get away, he was working for Richard; he couldn't allow them to get away either, especially for what Richard tried doing to Amelia. Hunter was still haunted a little by her screams and the look he was given by her, when she wanted to give up.

He shook his head and moved more swiftly against the fallen leaves on the ground; the sound of crunching was heard from the leaves and twigs he had ran over: Hunter glanced forward to see the man being so concerned about Hunter chasing him, the man began tripping over his own feet every few seconds, slowing down his pace as he did.

Hunter reached forward grabbing the man in front of him sending them both to the ground, he pulled out a dagger from his pocket and went to attack, when the man kicked him off; Hunter groaned as he landed on his back, but he didn't give the man a chance to attack before swiping his leg, making the man lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Hunter was quick to pin him to the ground, punching him hard in the fact. A crack sounded through the face, the man groaned and blood started pouring from his nose, "Who are you? Why did you try to kill Lord Ragnar?"

The man once again pushed Hunter off him before standing up, holding his nose, "My name is Zachariah and that is a secret to why I did what I did. You'll have to kill me first."

Hunter frowned, standing in a stance in front of Zachariah before throwing another punch, Zachariah dodged the punch this time trying to hit Hunter who dodged as well. Jumping backwards; he landed a few meters away from Zachariah.

Zachariah screamed out as he charged forward only for Hunter to grab him by the waist and knocked him to the ground; he cried out as he hit the ground feeling a few bones break as he did. Zachariah coughed as he tried to get up.

Hunter smirked before taking another few steps back, he moved his hands slowly feeling the ground shake underneath him. He didn't want to use his ability yet but he knew he needed to get Zachariah back to Lord Ragnar and this was the only way.

Hunter moved slowly as he opened up his arms, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, feeling the water around him begin to move. A gasp left Zachariah's mouth, "A water elf? But I thought they weren't around anymore?"

Zachariah couldn't believe it to what he was witnessing, he was told they were no longer around but here one was standing in front of him. Zachariah tried to move only for ice to grab a hold of his arms and legs making him scream out.

"Don't struggle it'll hurt more... now I will let you go if you allow me to take you to the lord himself," Hunter replied as he stepped forward. "You can't fight on your way back otherwise it won't work and I will make sure you will get taken back by Richard and he can do what he pleases with you."

Zachariah gulped and nodded, "Yes... I will." He knew what would happen if Richard knew he was caught."

Hunter let the ice disappear before he grabbed Zachariah's hand taking him back towards the castle. Slowly walking behind knowing if he made a run for it, he would be able to get him.

Hunter pushed Zachariah into the castle, making him fall to the ground with a grunt, "Here he is my lord." He bowed before stepping to the side.

Lord Ragnar nodded at Hunter, letting him know he will handle this from now on, he stepped forward to Zachariah with a mighty backhanded strike sending Zachariah to the ground, he shouted, "How dare you! attack me in my own castle! Guards take him away, make this worm talk."

The guards nodded before dragging Zachariah away, he tried to fight only for the guards to hold him more tightly, "Please! Please don't hurt me!" Zachariah cried out, "I'll tell you everything you need to know."

A dark chuckle left Lord Ragnar's mouth, "Yes you will... worm, all in due time."

He turned towards the dragon riders and Abigail once again, "My dragon riders, I owe you an apology for what I did to you, not believing in my own protectors... Amelia whatever happened on Gandor, I am truly sorry."

Throughout the night, Zachariah's screams could be heard throughout the town, sending chills through everyone's spines, as the town knew all too well what happens when you cross the king.

Zachariah looked at the guards before whimpering, "Okay.. okay I will tell you everything you need to know, please stop."

The guards chuckled before staring at him, "Well then... start from the beginning."

"Richard wanted Amelia dead, but since she brought Hunter and Hanna with her, he knew he had to think of something bigger, so he asked me to help him, in return he will help my guild grow and become better, so I bumped into Hunter at the tavern, handing him a scroll that stated what was planned" He said.

The guards looked at each other, "That's not the scroll the lord himself received, it was actually the one signing that you and your guild will be doing the attack."

Zachariah's eyes widened as he realised what he had done, he had given away the wrong information, "Anyway so I ran here with the fake note that Richard had made up to look like Amelia, Hunter and Hanna were the ones to do it and while you'll all be concerned about them, no one would notice someone else trying to assassinate, lord Ragnar, it was the perfect plan until Max the priest decided to take matters into his own hands and try to kill Amelia, I raced back here in hopes I could get to Lord Ragnar in time, to set everything up for Richard to help with the assassination."

The guards smirked before heading out of the dungeon and towards the main hall where Lord Ragnar was seated, his hand resting against his chin while the dragon riders and Abigail were seated nearby.

"My lord, he has admitted everything, believe it or not it was Amelia's father Richard that was behind this whole scheme to have you assassinated."

A soft growl left Lord Ragnar's mouth as he banged his fist against his throne chair, "Bastards! Bring me their heads at once."

"Wait... my lord please just face them, maybe not all of them are involved," Amelia replied, she also wanted to see their faces again. She wanted them to know that she now knew they were behind everything, and that they couldn't harm her anymore than they already had.

She also wanted them to know, she had a family, a family who adored her and cared for, in ways she never was given as a child. She could stand tall in front of them for once and watch them die like they tried when she was young.

Lord Ragnar looked at Amelia's face and could see how serious she was about her statement, it was a weird request but he knew that it would bring a sort of justice back to there system, allowing everyone to know that he is not to be crossed, "Alright... guards bring them to me at once... alive."

Translations: Verndaðu þinn, verndaðu vin þinn - protect thy, protect thy friend

[sneakend]

Hyvää joulua, @fruzsislangblrstuff  !!! I had the honor of being your substitute santa for @langblrsecretsanta this year. I made a list of interesting Finnish Christmas traditions with related vocabulary. And since you like baking I added some Finnish recipes at the end! Hope you have a great year 2020!

♢ food ♢

Casseroles

Casseroles are a staple of Finnish Christmas, enough so that most people get sick of them by December 25th. The traditional Christmas dinner includes casseroles made of potatoes, carrots, liver and rutabaga. My family usually also includes a macaroni casserole even though this is a food that people eat throughout the year. It’s great for kids too since they’re often not that into the other casseroles. Moreover, sweet potato casserole has gained popularity in recent years and I think I even saw parsnip casserole at the grocery store this year.

laatikko = a casserole (the same word also means box so a cardboard box would be pahvilaatikko). The name of a specific casserole can be formed just by adding the name of a vegetable in front of this word, peruna (potato) + laatikko = perunalaatikko (potato casserole) just like in English.

bataatti = a sweet potato

lanttu = a rutabaga

palsternakka = a parsnip

peruna = a potato

porkkana = a carrot

makaroni = macaroni

maksa = a liver

Rosolli

A bound salad eaten mostly as a cold side dish, in particular as part of the traditional Finnish Christmas meal.

Rosolli is made of cooked, diced root vegetables, especially beetroot, carrot and potato, often combined with one or more of pickled cucumber (of either the vinegar or brine type), raw onion and apple. It is often served with a dressing made of whipped cream or a soured cream product available in Finland called kermaviili (being a type of viili made with sour cream), laced with vinegar or the pickling liquid of beetroot, which also colours the cream pink.

My personal opinion is that rosolli is gross but each to their own.

punajuuri = a beetroot

suolakurkku = pickled cucumber (literally “salt cucumber”)

etikka = vinegar

kermavaahto = whipped cream (literally “cream foam”)

Rice porridge (riisipuuro)

A warm porridge eaten with cinnamon and sugar. Can be eaten either as a dessert or breakfast on Christmas. A whole almond is hidden in the porridge and the one who finds it in their bowl gets to make a wish.

kaneli = cinnamon

sokeri = sugar

manteli = an almond

Christmas tart (joulutorttu)

A Finnish Christmas pastry, traditionally made from puff pastry in the shape of a star or pinwheel and filled with prune jam and often dusted with icing sugar. Lately people have also started using different jams or even caramel as a filling for these. Some years back there was some controversy in Sweden over the fact that some people think these pastries resemble swastikas. But not to worry, there are several different shapes one can choose from!

luumu = a prune/plum

Chocolate boxes

These are one of the most traditional (and lazy) gifts year after year. Every Christmas everyone gets at least a few of these, eats their favourites and leaves the rest to gather dust until they’re inedible. Every Christmas the supermarkets have special deals where you get a bunch of chocolate boxes relatively cheap (what’s really cheap in Finland?). The most popular are the ones by Fazer and Panda. Other popular Christmas sweets include green jellies, Julia and Budapest.

suklaarasia = a chocolate box

Glögg (glögi)

A Scandinavian, spiced, usually alcoholic drink, served warm. There are many different types in Finland, including a good selection of non-alcoholic glögg that’s sweet and even fit for children. The prices vary from under one euro to 20 euros (potentially even more). Some people add raisins and almonds to their glögg.

mauste = spice

rusina = a raisin

♢traditions♢

Little Christmas (pikkujoulu)

A Finnish traditional party held to anticipate Christmas. The Pikkujoulu party is non-formal, highly festive, and themed after Christmas. Pikkujoulu parties are held by various communities, organisations, companies, or just among friends. Pikkujoulu differs from Christmas as more free-form and less religious.

Saint Lucy’s Day (Lucian päivä) 

A Christian feast day observed on 13 December, commemorating Lucia of Syracuse, an early-4th-century martyr, who according to legend brought food and aid to Christians hiding in the Roman catacombs, wearing a candlelit wreath on her head to light her way and leave her hands free to carry as much food as possible. Her feast day, which coincided with the shortest day of the year prior to calendar reforms, is widely celebrated as a festival of light. Falling within the Advent season, Saint Lucy's Day is viewed as a precursor of Christmastide.

Saint Lucy's Day is celebrated most widely in Scandinavia and in Italy, with each emphasising a different aspect of her story. The Finnish celebrations have been historically tied to Swedish culture and the Swedish-speaking Finns. The St. Lucy of Finland has been elected since 1949 and she is crowned in the Helsinki Cathedral. Local St. Lucies are elected in almost every place where there is a Swedish populace in Finland. The Finnish-speaking population has also lately begun to embrace the celebrations. (Santa Lucia)

marttyyri = a martyr

pyhimys = a saint

seppele = a wreath

valo = light

Declaration of Christmas Peace (joulurauhan julistus)

Christmas Peace is a tradition based on old Scandinavian legislation created by Birger Jarl in the 13th century, extending the tradition of the Truce of God. Offenders who committed crimes on religious holidays like Christmas were given harsher punishments. The Declaration of Christmas Peace has remained in Finland where it is an essential part of the Christmas tradition.

Declaration of Christmas Peace is announced in several Finnish cities on Christmas Eve. The oldest and most popular event is held at noon at the Old Great Square of the former Finnish capital Turku where the declaration has been read since the 1320s. The Turku declaration has been broadcast by the Finnish Broadcasting Company since 1935. (on YouTube)

julistus = a declaration

rauha = peace

Kauneimmat joululaulut

Literally the most beautiful Christmas carols. An annual event organized by and held in local churches is numerous cities before Christmas. People gather to sing the most beloved Finnish Christmas carols and have a chance to donate money to a charity. The event has become an important Christmas tradition to a lot of people and many attend even if they aren’t religious.

kaunis = beautiful

laulu = a song

kirkko = a church

Heavy Christmas (Raskasta Joulua)

A music project from Finland founded by Erkka Korhonen. Raskasta Joulua have recorded traditional Christmas carols and Christmas hits in a Heavy metal style. Their albums and tours have featured appearances of many notable Finnish metal vocalists.  Raskasta Joulua have toured every year since 2005 and the 3 concert tour has become an annual tradition. (on YouTube | x | x | x)

Depressing Christmas carols

Many of the most beloved FInnish Christmas carols are quite melancholy and depressing. Here are some examples:

Varpunen jouluaamuna (The Sparrow on a Christmas Morning) - About a girl meeting her dead little brother who visits her in the form of a sparrow. (on YouTube)

Sylvian joululaulu (Sylvia's Christmas Song) - About a caged bird that can never return to its homeland. Zachris Topelius who wrote the original poem opposed the custom of trapping birds and piercing their eyes so they could be used to attract other birds. (on YouTube)

Konsta Jylhän joululaulu (Konsta Jylhä’s Christmas Carol) - About a little child visiting their mother’s grave on Christmas. (on YouTube)

Christmas sauna

You absolutely can’t have Christmas without sauna! It’s common to clean the sauna before Christmas and to use candles and lanterns to create a cozy atmosphere. It is also possible to buy a frozen vihta/vasta (a bunch of leafy, fragrant silver birch used to gently beat oneself) in some stores and thaw it for Christmas. Moreover, in Finland elves aren’t limited to Christmas elves but it’s believed that every sauna has its own elf that takes care of it.

♢items♢

Candles

Though candles are common in many places during Christmas, in Finland one should visit a graveyard during Christmas Eve to either light a candle or to simply admire the hundreds of candles already burning. For the Finnish independece day on 6th of December many also buy special blue and white candles (the colors are the same as in the Finnish flag).

kynttilä = a candle

hautausmaa = a graveyard

Poinsettia

This is a very popular Christmas flower in Finland and can be found in nearly all stores that sell flowers in December. It is called joulutähti in Finnish, which literally means Christmas star. People often gift this to others during Christmas. Hyacinths are another common Christmas flower and stores sell them in many different colors.

kukka = a flower

hyasintti = hyacinth

Elf door (tonttuovi)

A tiny decorative door through which the Christmas elves can wander. These are a rather recent craze in FInland but every year it’s possible to find more and more acessories for elf doors in the stores. There are tiny mailboxes, snowmen, sleds, presents, lanterns, Christmas trees, brooms etc. It’s possible to make an elf door by yourself, to buy one you have to paint or to get one that’s completely ready to set up.

ovi = a door

tonttu = an elf (like a Christmas elf, not Legolas)

kelkka = a sled

lumiukko = a snowman

lyhty = a lantern

Advent calendar (joulukalenteri)

Though many Finns swear by the traditional chocolate advent calendar, other options have become available in the recent years. There are the ever popular tea, toy and cosmetics calendars but also ones for cats and dogs, calendars filled with fishing equipment and the most Finnish of all, a salmiakki advent calendar. Additionally, this year an ice cream calendar was released by Vanhan Porvoon jäätelötehdas. Nokian panimo also created a beer calendar consisting of 24 000 beer cans and costing 48 000 euros.

salmiakki = salty liquorice

jäätelö = ice cream

kalja/olut = beer

♢tv♢

Santa’s hotline (Joulupukin Kuuma linja)

A tv show shown every Christmas in which children can call Santa. People can also send Christmas greetings through email and they are read during the show. In between the calls different Christmas themed cartoons are played. (on YouTube)

The Joulukalenteri

Finnish for "The Christmas Calendar"; the English word "the" is part of the name, making it approximately "The The Christmas calendar". It was a 1997 Finnish television miniseries produced by MTV3 that was broadcast again in 1998, 2007 and 2017. It was based on the Danish series The Julekalender from 1991. The series came out in December 1997 with one episode per day, concluding on Christmas Eve. It’s still popular to this day and caused nightmares for me when I was a kid. (Different advent calendar shows for children are popular in Finland but this one’s aimed at adults.)

Santa Claus and the Magic Drum  (Joulupukki ja noitarumpu)

A 51 minute long Finnish-Hungarian animation released in 1996. The story is based on a 1995 children's book of the same name by Mauri Kunnas. The movie has been recorded in Finnish, English (British) and Swedish. It was made for TV broadcasting and was first shown on Christmas Eve 1996, and has been broadcast on YLE TV2 nearly every Christmas Eve since. (on YouTube)

joulupukki = Santa Claus

noita = a witch

rumpu = a drum

♢recipes♢

Christmas

potato casserole

carrot casserole

rutabaga casserole

macaroni casserole (I’m vegetarian so I always make this without eggs and replace the meat with soy)

rosolli

rice porridge

Christmas tart

More Finnish pastries

Runeberg torte (Runebergin torttu) = a Finnish pastry flavored with almonds and arrack or rum. It usually has raspberry jam encircled by a ring of icing on top. The torte is named after the Finnish poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804–1877) who, according to legend, regularly enjoyed the torte with punsch for breakfast. Runeberg tortes are typically eaten only in Finland and are generally available in stores from the beginning of January to Runeberg's birthday on February 5.

Pulla = a mildly-sweet Finnish sweet roll or dessert bread flavored with crushed cardamom seeds and occasionally raisins or sliced almonds. Typically coated with egg wash and then sprinkled with white sugar or almonds.

Semla = a traditional sweet roll associated with Lent and especially Shrove Tuesday. Today, the Swedish-Finnish semla consists of a cardamom-spiced wheat bun which has its top cut off, and is then filled with a mix of milk and almond paste, topped with whipped cream. The cut-off top serves as a lid and is dusted with powdered sugar. In Finland, the bun is often filled with strawberry or raspberry jam instead of almond paste, and bakeries in Finland usually offer both versions.

pancake (pannukakku) = Structurally, the Finnish pancake resembles a hotcake, and is baked in an oven instead of using a frying pan.

Karelian pasty (karjalanpiirakka) = traditional pasties or pirogs from the region of Karelia. Today, the most familiar and common version has a thin rye crust with a filling of rice. Mashed potato and rice-and-carrot fillings are also commonly available. Butter, often mixed with chopped-up boiled egg (egg butter or munavoi), is spread over the hot pasties before eating.

spoon cookies (lusikkaleivät) = Lusikkaleivät are Finnish "spoon" cookies so named because they are shaped with a spoon. The inside of the spoon cookies is filled with a berry jam, either raspberry or strawberry.

mocha brownies (mokkapalat) = perhaps the most common treat in every child’s birthday party.

[mythopoeticreality]

The Road Goes Ever On- Chapter 2

Ayyy! New Chapter!^^ I have to admit, I got a bit excited and couldn’t really help myself. xD Ah well! Hope y’all enjoy, things are starting to get iiinteresting now... >D

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900423/chapters/54832213

Chapter 2

The forest fell silent at the sound of their approach. From the haunting questions asked by the owls, to the all-too-human screams of yowling foxes, to the skittering of leaves throughout the undergrowth stirred up by wandering voles and mice, all turned to sudden stillness with the first edges of the low-pitched rumble that shook across the forest floor. It was instinct. By the time the braying of the Hunt’s horn echoed through the trees, by the time the wild whoops and laughter danced, darting over the night air, the forest itself might as well have been barren. Dead.

They were a shining company, a blaze even through the Silvery light of Telperion which fell like a mist across Valinor. A blur of light and motion and the thunder of horse's hooves. A sight that was never meant to be seen. 

On other worlds, where they were remembered -- even on this world, in the regions beyond the sea and Grinding Ice, where the Powers’ might were not so focused, were the protection the Elder King placed over the Children of this realm was as naught -- none would venture out on this night. Here there were signs written on the air itself, a singing silence, a taste of wild herbs and distant mountainsides stirring in the cold. A sense of Magic that was as much a warning as the ringing of the Hunt’s horns. This was a night for the Oromandi, for the Tavari and the Orrosi. A night for those born before the world and older than its oldest. A night for those who were not of the world, but laughed at it much, and saw it as for the most part a play and a game for their own amusement.

And out here, on this night, a family slept peacefully beneath the stars. 

“You were quite right, cousin, they are such beautiful things…”

Two figures stood at  the edge of the glade, broken off from the rest of the Hunt, men tall and lean, who moved with all of the causal grace of  forest cats. Their hair stirred about them, spinning drifting tendrils that encircled them and obscured their faces, as though a wind whispered through the trees, yet if a wind did blow past, it touched at nothing else.

“Indeed, is it any wonder they were brought here, far from all harm?”

A light chuckle escaped from one, leaning back against a nearby tree. “Oh, no, no! Why, I would do much the same thing were they in my charge…” He stood, creeping nearer a pair of the sleeping elves, a father, who’s son was curled up upon his chest. Kneeling down, he casually brushed aside a strand of hair falling in front of the boy’s face. Blank staring eyes fluttered suddenly back to life as the child lifted his head, blinking curiously at this new stranger. The man smiled down at the boy.

“It is a good thing then,” He said, turning to glance back over to his companion, “That we mean them no harm at all, isn’t it?” 

~*~

“How much of this forest do you know?” 

“Isn’t that something you should have considered before taking me on as guide?” 

“Yet you took up the task willingly.”

Fëanáro shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I know it well enough, having come here before.” 

“Is there a break in the undergrowth anywhere near by? An overgrown track perhaps? The ruins of an old road?”

There was a pause, as Fëanáro thought. A road? Out here? To be used by who? Yet, he did remember something… “This way.” he grunted, leading the stranger along 

For a long while they moved in silence, picking their way through tangling briers and ducking beneath low lying tree-limbs. It was Fëanáro who finally broke it:“Those hunters, they meant ill with their purpose.” It was a pointed statement, his voice hard as he spoke it. 

The Stranger turned a glance to Fëanáro, just long enough to meet his eyes, before simply drawing his attention back out amongst the trees that surrounded them, breathing out a soft snort. 

The muscles in Fëanáro’s jaw tensed, teeth sliding across themselves as he gritted them. His nails bit deep into his palms, but he chose to allow for that rather than for his words to bite at the Stranger -- for now, atleast. Instead, somehow managing to keep his tone even, he continued on, “You knew those hunters. They regarded you as a guest.”

The words, and wherever he meant to lead with them were answered only by further silence however. It was the crooked, crossing shapes made by the branches across the sky that the Stranger was more concerned with, tracing them with his eyes as though they were words on a page. Somewhere nearby, an owl’s call echoed. The Stranger’s gaze fell upon the creature as they passed, and he nodded to the beast almost as if in greeting!

If he was any frame of mind to notice, Fëanáro might have been unnerved by just how intent and aware the bird’s gaze was as it watched the two.

As it stood, he only fixed the man with a flat look. “And must I too begin hooting like some wild bird in order to receive acknowledgement? ”

The stranger sighed. He paused for a moment in the road, his eyes narrowing, his head canting to the side as he continued to stare at the crossing tree-limbs above. “You are wondering if you have any reason to trust me.” The man said it as though he were making some observation about the weather.

“And?” Fëanáro pressed.

The Stranger took a step back, letting his gaze fall from the forest canopy and settled his eyes  finally on Fëanáro, “I never said you did.”

He didn’t know which was worse, the words themselves, or that bloody matter-of-fact  calm  that he continued on speaking to him with! As though it mattered not one wit how it was  Fëanáro thought of him! Either way, he would have no more of it.“The only reason we now talk is because you made no mention of me to those friends of yours!” The elf snapped, “Because you held me at a disadvantage and chose for some reason to simply release me. You were the one to say you wanted a guide, and yet you do not seem to care if I believe you might somehow still turn around and prove yourself some spy or servant of Melkor’s?”

The stranger blinked. “Melkor?” 

Fëanáro opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it a moment later, falling silent. His lips pressed into a pale, hard line, a long sigh escaping him. After some moments he finally found his voice again.“Do not think to mock me, now.” 

“I am not.” 

The elf gave a sharp snort, “Come off it! How can you not know of the very source of all evil in the world?”

“I am from Elsewhere. That is why you are here as my guide.” The words were spoken so simply, and even as they were still being voiced the man was already starting off again, waving for Fëanáro to come along.

“‘Elsewhere’” The elf scoffed, “and where would ‘Elsewhere’ be? The shores of Cuiviénen? Beyond the very spheres of the Earth?”

And the stranger still said nothing, simply shutting his eyes and lifting his shoulders in another one of those bloody shrugs again!

“No….” Fëanáro murmured… “No, that could not possibly…”

“Do you really think your world could be all that there is?” The stranger asked.

But  Fëanáro did not answer. Whatever it was that he thought of the man, there was something to the way he’s asked the question, to the way he spoke of it, as if it  could be so simple, that seemed genuine.

And it was, the Noldorin Prince had to admit, intriguing. Worlds beyond his own to explore and discover? Vast places full of knowledge still outside his reach? Despite himself, he found he wanted to believe this stranger…

“If you are from this ‘Elsewhere,’ then tell me,” Fëanáro asked, “How did you find your way here?”

A spark of something familiar lit the Stranger’s eyes when Fëanáro asked. He recognized it, had felt that particular kind of pride that came whenever he was asked of his own projects.

“I built a Road,” The man replied. 

~*~

Horns, or the echoes of them. They called to Tyelcormo from the edges of his dreams. He turned in his sleep, twitching at the sound. "Not now...a few more moments..." came the words, soft and slurred.

The Horns sounded again.

He awoke on instinct as much as anything. When the horns sounded, you got up -- so it was, riding in Oromë’s company. So, slowly, the silver-haired elf stretched, a low groan escaping him and his eyes blinking blearily open as he pressed his hands over his face. Tyelcormo dug in his elbow beneath him, pushing himself upright. Memory -- where he was, that he was with his family, that he could actually sleep in for a time -- filtered back in slowly. The Horns must have been a dream...

Still half-asleep he blinked in Telperion’s light, his gaze absently scanning over the clearing.

And then he tuned to Curvo.

“Ilúvatar in--fucking shit!” He’d lept up half-way through the phrase and was already shaking his brother awake. “Curvo, Curvo!”

Still on the ground, Curufinwë swatted his brother back, in his sleep. “Continue Tyelco, and you will  loose your hands.'' His words were a near growl.

“It’s not my hands you should bloody well be worrying about, eejit!”  Another low curse escaped Tyelco, and he was on his feet once more, pacing now to the edge of the glade.

“What are you--” Curvo murmured, beginning to push himself upright. He froze. His eyes widened. The realization clubbed him over the head like a hammer in the forge. The weight that had been resting on his chest all night, the warm little bundle that had slept so peacefully curled up in his arms? Gone. 

A strangled sound came cracking out of Curvo’s throat.  “My son.”  He breathed, “My-- Tyelco!”

Tyelcormo snapped his head up from the earth he crouched over, gaze darting towards his brother, now on his feet as well and coming towards him fast.

“Where is my son?” The words were soft, as Curvo ground them out, yet there were swords that would seem dull in comparison.

“I don’t know.” Tyelcormo murmured, heaving himself back up off of the forest floor. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, looking him in the eye “But we are going to find out.” And with those words he gestured out, along the ground, in the direction where the broken, disturbed undergrowth left a track.

Curufinwë said no more, only sliding the hunting knife on his belt free from it’s scabbard, before setting off.

[bluerosesburnblue]

An HPHM Theory: Who put the objects in the Vaults?

So we all know the drill by now, right? A curse starts up, we spend the year hunting down the Vault, we open it up, and we find a bunch of hidden objects that point us towards the next Vault. Rinse. Repeat.

But who’s leaving those objects there? It was assumed from the start that Jacob was the culprit, but there seems to be some logical inconsistencies with that

And I think Albus Dumbledore has some explaining to do

So let’s start off with why I don’t think Jacob could have placed those objects in the Vaults

First off, it’s been hinted quite a few times in recent Years that there’s an order the Vaults are intended to be opened in. We haven’t just been taking these curses as they come; whoever’s activating them each year is doing so in a deliberate manner.

The next vault. The final vault. These are numbered terms. And the objects we find in them always hint towards what we’ll need to open the very next vault that unleashes these curses

There’s a set order to them. And whoever put those objects in there was aware of that fact. So why do I think this excludes Jacob?

(Screenshots are from I-GGames on Youtube)

Our beloved Jacob’s Sibling™ seems to be pretty confident that the wand we found in the Vault of Ice was Jacob’s. Now, they could be completely wrong about their guess in the Vault of Fear that he broke it, but I’m inclined to believe them on a few points. After all, why wouldn’t they know what their own brother’s wand looked like? And it worked. Touching the broken wand to the Vault opened it. But we can’t confirm when or how it was broken

But if we assume that that’s Jacob’s wand and he needed it to open the second vault... how did it get in the first?

Canonically, Jacob was expelled mid-search, like, right after Duncan’s potion exploded and killed him while they were still working on the Forest Vault. We haven’t gotten confirmation if he eventually completed it or not, but we do have reason to doubt he would’ve been able to make it back to Hogwarts to put this stuff in there. After all, based on what we know of the Vaults, if you mess with it it unleashes its curse until someone gets in and opens the Vault, at which point the curse ends. Everyone talks about how the Vaults haven’t been messed with since Jacob’s team was hunting them. It’s unlikely that he could’ve managed to sneak back into Hogwarts, open the Vaults with no one noticing, and then left without anyone seeing him or the curses being unleashed. Even if we assume that Jacob could’ve opened the Vault and gotten in relatively quickly since he knew how to break each curse already, that still doesn’t make sense with the rumors we’ve heard of Jacob’s whereabouts

The mysterious voice claiming to be Jacob says that he’s in the Portrait Vault

Now, I don’t believe he is. Especially since they’ve been foreshadowing that this isn’t Jacob for a long time. But the writers clearly want us to believe that this is at least a possibility. But if Jacob’s trapped in the Vault, then he couldn’t have gotten his stuff into the other Vaults

Similarly, we still have Duncan’s unsubstantiated claim that there’s rumors among the faculty that Jacob’s been working on Knockturn Alley. This one also seems weird to me, though, since we meet Alistair, a shady wizard who frequents Knockturn Alley and knows Jacob pretty well

(Courtesy of BeartheCaptain on Youtube)

(and GamingVideos)

Seems pretty weird to me that someone who is known for talking to everyone on Knockturn Alley and was particularly fond of Jacob... supposedly hasn’t seen him in years and didn’t even know he was missing until the articles came out. Not that Alistair is the most trustworthy person, but it does shed doubt onto the Knockturn Alley rumor. Especially since, you know, at this point in the story we’ve gone there several times and it’s never been brought up. Jacob’s Sibling doesn’t even attempt to follow up on that one. (Seriously, I almost want them to just walk out into the street and scream “HEY DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE MY BROTHER JACOB LASTNAME IS” and see what happens. Best case scenario is that Jacob himself runs out to clamp his hand on their mouth and drag them off because that was the dumbest thing he’s ever seen them do what is WRONG with you???)

Our other options are that Jacob joined the Cabal, as implied by, well, R’s letter:

or that he simply made himself disappear. Both of which would put him in a better position to put things into the Vaults, but neither of which are particularly likely for him to have gone to the effort to have done so. (Or he’s dead in which case, yeah, of course he couldn’t put anything in the Vaults)

So with all of this doubt on Jacob’s ability to leave the clues in the Vaults for his beloved little sibling, who did?

Let’s talk about Dumbledore’s shady ass for a second.

I didn’t start thinking of this theory until Pitts told us we were done with detention. What exactly, did he say?

That meat is for the dragon, obviously. What else would we be needing specially seasoned meat for? Rakepick’s specifically having us train to fight a dragon. There was a dragon portrait in the last Vault.

...but how would Pitts know that? He calls it Dumbledore’s detention and specifically says that Dumbledore told him to take care of Jacob’s Reckless Sibling. I think it’s extremely likely that Dumbledore told him to give us the meat when we were done. And note that of all of the possible Hogwarts detentions we could’ve gotten, we specifically got kitchen duty with the House Elves

That’s all that the House Elves seem to do for us in regards to this Vault. But, wait, what was that in the Forest Vault?

A tiny sweater. Such as one meant for a House Elf. But the House Elves are quite tangential to the whole portrait vault. All we need is spiced meat, which we could get from a ton of places that aren’t the Hogwarts Kitchens. And while a few of the Elves speak kindly about Jacob, I can’t remember any of them mentioning that he asked for favors or served detention

The only reason that the House Elves are prominent is that Dumbledore made them prominent, unless there’s some other hidden aspect to them we have yet to see. The most likely reason that the sweater is in there is because someone anticipated that Jacob’s Mid-blink Sibling would be befriending them to get the meat. The only person who could anticipate that connection is Dumbledore

Let’s move on to something that’s been bugging me for a while. In Year 5 Chapter 19, Dumbledore tells us to use Legilimency on him. Dumbledore. A known Occlumens. One skilled enough to be able to block out only the things he didn’t want us to see. And yet, we see this:

I’m sorry, what!? Wait! Hold on, sir, go back, can we talk about this!?

We don’t even know what he’s whispering or when this happened. But this line seems too deliberate to brush off. And we do know one thing from it: Dumbledore knows exactly where the Vault of Ice is. And, given how he shows up when we open the Forest Vault, I suspect he already knows were all of the Vaults are, even before Jacob’s Mind-Reading Sibling finds them. If only thanks to Jacob. After all, he and Snape were very aware of Jacob’s own Legilimency and Dumbledore has repeatedly noted that he was very interested in the boy

It’s no surprise that Dumbledore knows more than he’s telling us. He has from the start. He has a better idea of what happened to Jacob, but he won’t tell anyone. And it’s him who constantly warns us that the voice we hear in the Vaults might not be Jacob

We saw him in front of the Vault. We couldn’t discern what he was whispering.

My suspicion is that Dumbledore is the one who’s been placing all of these clues in the Vaults. Maybe what he was whispering was a spell or something to open the Vault. Maybe it was instructions to someone or something in the Vault. Regardless:

Dumbledore would easily be able to place something into the Vaults without anyone else noticing given that he’s the Headmaster

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s set something up in a hidden room in the school (looking at you, Sorceror’s/Philosopher’s Stone)

Dumbledore is the only person who could make the direct connection between the House Elves and the Vaults

Dumbledore clearly has a good reason to suspect that the voice we’re hearing either isn’t Jacob, or isn’t telling the truth

Dumbledore keeps disappearing for months at a time seriously where are you going and why?

Wouldn’t be the first time he’s intentionally set things up to manipulate a child in HP canon to try and take down a threat (though chronologically it may be the first depending on when he suspected that he’d have to train Harry to take down Voldemort. Regardless, the action is in-character)

Currently, I think it’s very likely that Dumbledore knew about at the very least the dangers the Vaults posed, but possibly also about the Cabal, too. He saw the vast potential that Jacob had and attempted to use him to neutralize the Vaults. This failed, spectacularly, and so he moved down the line to the next best choice: Jacob’s Sibling. Knowing full well about the bond between the siblings, he’s set the younger of the two up to crack the Vaults by using Jacob’s memory

His words never match his actions. He reprimands us for hunting down the Vaults and tells us to never do it again, then rewards us with House Points which subtly enforces the idea that this is a good thing he does want us to do. The one time he punishes us, it’s while there’s a witness present and also a setup to get us a key item necessary to open the next Vault

Dumbledore wants us to open the Vaults. And I think he’s made it so that Jacob’s Sibling wants to open them, too

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Lord of the Rings AU

One would think that peace was finally agreed upon after the One Ring was cast into the fires from which it was born. And for a long time, Middle Earth was a place of peace and prosper. And yet, it did not last.

Lines that were believed to last a thousand years failed against the ravages of time, dried in the sand and gave rise to those driven by darker forces, by vanity, ambition, and a thirst for power.

The Targaryens assumed dominion after they discovered a way to tame one of the gravest calamities Middle Earth ever saw: dragons. They took over the city of Gondor quickly and continued their rule for many, many generations. Not all were bad kings and queens. Some were good. Some not so good. Some were worse. Far worse. And then, the Dance of the Dragons came to pass, which marked the ongoing decay of a family that had since grown too obsessed with the purity of its own blood. The dragons died, one by one, but the Targaryen’s power remained intact.

After that, the madness spread much faster, festered like an old wound, only fate deciding over it by no more than the flip of a coin, or so people started to believe.

Then Aerys Targaryen took the throne. Over time, he had his pyromancers develop an even worse weapon than the Fire of Orthanc, which once was used during the Battle of Hornburg, a green liquid soon to be known as wildfire. And Aerys, as fate would have it, used it against the people he was sworn to protect, burned them alive, just to hear them scream for a mercy that never came.

However, the Age of Dragons came to an end when a young member of the Army of Gondor, who was part of the chosen circle Aerys coined his own Kingsguard, a man by the name Jaime Lannister, drove a sword through Aerys’s back.

And where one reign ends another begins.

Robert Baratheon took the throne after him and became the new King of Gondor. Sooner rather than later, the crimes of the Mad King became no more than a whisper in the dark, stories told to children to scare them into slipping under the covers to finally go to sleep.

Though it was never just a story.

It was only the beginning of something that should keep every man, woman, and child, every elf, every dwarf, and every hobbit in all of Middle Earth wide awake.

Because history, or so it seems to be, is always on the verge of repeating itself.

However, our story begins elsewhere, in the small town called Bree, at an establishment known as The Prancing Pony.

Disgraced wizard Tyrion is sipping his second jug of ale, waiting with all patience he can muster. Not that he prides himself being on time. He found that it’s much easier to assume that he is on time for the sole reason that he will appear wherever he sees fit when he sees fit.

That doesn’t mean he likes to be kept waiting, however.

“I suppose I am right to assume that this is not your first?”

Tyrion smiles as he turns around to see the familiar bulky, blond figure stride past him, one hand always resting on the pommel of a sword.

He smiles. “It’s been a long time since we last saw one another, Lady Brienne.”

“You are not supposed to call me that in public, Wizard.”

“My pardon, Captain Galladon,” he laughs. “But rest assured, no one around here cares for who you are. The Prancing Pony is not exactly the place known for offering shelter to the most virtuous of Middle Earth. They would be fools to report to anyone. Even more so because it would be quite a ride all the way to Gondor.”

The mannish woman studies him for a long moment, but then sighs as she unbuckles her sword and sets it down next to her with a thud.

“So. Why did you have me summoned all the way to here, Wizard? You know I don’t like to leave my post for longer than is necessary.”

“Acutely aware, yes. You are very devoted to your service, of that there is no doubt.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to make you an exception offer, in fact.”

“Offer.”

“Yes, to take part in an adventure. You were chosen as one of the members of my company in pursuit of no less than saving Middle-Earth. This mission will involve a great deal of fighting. There is no guarantee of success. And no one must know about it. But of that I assure you, Captain, this is a quest of utmost honorable intentions.”

“And what is that mission supposed to be, may I ask, Wizard? I have a city to defend, and no time to undergo some adventure.”

“I need your help to gather some items across Middle-Earth. My brother over there will join us as well. And some more fellows,” Tyrion informs her. “I know he tries hard to look broody and mysterious, but he is a jolly fellow once you get to know him a bit.”

He waves at the cloaked man, who gets up slowly to stride over to the table. Brienne tilts her head as light illuminates the man’s features even under the hood, and she cannot help but gasp, “The Kingslayer?”

Jaime grimaces at the strange fellow he watched from across the room at his brother’s behest. “Is that… is that a woman?”

“Oh, I see you two will get along wonderfully! The fascination, I see, is absolutely mutual.”

“You must be joking, Wizard. Or perhaps you had some mushrooms on your way here, but I can only repeat it: I have better to do than this.”

“In fact, you do not. None of us do. The fate of Middle-Earth, I am afraid, is at stake here. Why else do you think would I bring my brother into this? Even more so since he is actually… dead.”

“For most to know,” Jaime huffs. And inside his heart, he only ever adds to himself.

Brienne remains reluctant to undertake this quest, but the Wizard is the only one, well, now one of two, who knows of her secret identity. And she cannot be revealed as anyone other than Galladon, or else all sacrifices she made to become part of the Army of Gondor will be in vain.

In the safety of Tyrion’s chamber, he reveals the details of his motivation to undertake this adventure.

“Rumors have since become more than rumors. The cast out daughter and only living heir to Aerys Targaryen, Daenerys Stormborn, is out to reclaim what she believes is her birthright.”

“She wants to be Queen of Gondor.”

“Yes. In the dead fire pits of Mordor, a new and perhaps even darker power rose in the shape of the Night King who turned to ice what once was blazing fire. I have seen the Mount Doom, I travelled there and saw that the fires died out.”

“What?”

“The Night King and Daenerys Stormborn made a contract of sort, it appears, wherein he will revive three dragon eggs from stone, her children, as she says, so she may rule in Gondor. In exchange, she is meant to help him free the armies of the fallen in Mordor so they may march westward.”

“And how do you think can that be stopped?”

“I found a scroll, an ancient text that says that there is a way to defeat the eternal ice with the aid of two magical swords made of Valyrian steel, which, combined, will form Lightbringer, a blade that may slay the Night King and thus end his reign of terror before it can even begin.”

“That still leaves one question, though: why do you want me for that quest? I can’t help you with those magical items better than any other knight with my skills could.”

“Because we need to get into Gondor, as part of what is needed to forge Lightbringer. You will well know that I am no longer… wanted there… for a number of reasons. And to make matters worse, as you will know better than anyone, there is the issue of the barricade no one without your consent will move past. And if I may add, you have proven more capable than most knights I ever came across. You have a particular set of skills I believe vital to the success of our mission, Lady Brienne.”

At last, Brienne agrees, under the pretense that they will speak the truth to one another and that the Kingslayer, a man of questionable morals to say the least, remains as far away from her as is possible.

“I am doing this for the greater good, not for either one of you.”

To disguise her identity as Galladon, she has to travel as herself, cutting short the hair she used to wear longer as Captain of the Army of Gondor, a sensation that since grew unfamiliar to Brienne, who barely recalls the girl who liked wooden swords as much as she liked to twirl in a dress around her father’s halls, unaware and childishly uncaring of how ridiculous she looked to the rest of the world.

Jaime, for his part, has to come to terms with travelling with a man, pardon, woman, of the Army of Gondor, a responsibility and honor he had to abandon in favor of his own life when he became the Kingslayer. Though no one, safe for Tyrion, would even begin to comprehend why he did it, why he slew the Mad King.

It was his finest act, but history, more often than not, will forget its heroes until its concluding chapters.

And so, the small company begins its quest in search for Lightbringer, a journey that soon proves dangerous as the undead Dothraki riders of Daenerys Targaryen start to chase them as well as the items they are so desperate to obtain.

Along the way, they meet a great many interesting characters, some friendly, others not so much, sharing, in fact, in a great adventure. Yet, the impending threat of the Dragon Queen as well as the Night King may not be the only danger ahead of them, as secrets and lies may put them apart when they must stand together.

As their success hangs by a single thread, so does the fate of the world, just about to flip the coin another time.

And one can only hope that history, for once, does not forget itself and learns from its errors, so there may be a tomorrow, so there may be light.

Note: my knowledge of the franchise is mostly limited to the movies, not the books, alongside some good old google search. No offense to LOTR fans intended in case I mess up timelines and such! Also... sorry for weird edits, I could not resist. :)

Additional Image Sources: The Lord of the Rings trilogy & The Hobbit trilogy.

[karenhikari]

You Are My Sunshine

Summary: It was an insane idea, but perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf. And maybe, just maybe, he was doing much more than simply saving an elf's life. Spoilers for all three of the books.

Hello, hello, hello! Remember all those months ago when I said that you could expect a Blitzstone story from me soon? I messed up. Of course I messed up. This story has been sitting on my desk for weeks, ready to be published, but school mercilessly consumed whatever leisure time I had. So, it wasn't until now that I could find the time to publish this little something.

Without further ado, please read and enjoy!

You Are My Sunshine

–*–*–

You are my sunshine, My only sunshine.

–*–*–

If someone had told Blitzen that, one day, he would share his house with an elf, he would have laughed. After all, elves were creatures of light and sun, of green fields that smelled like dew drops and pine needles. The mere idea that one of those beings would ever set foot in Nidavellir was absurd. So no, Blitzen had never spared more than a vague thought for those aurous creatures.

However, Destiny had a tendency to work in bizarre ways and, somehow, Destiny had dropped ―literally dropped― Hearthstone in the dwarfen realm.

The day he met the elf started normally to say the least. Blitzen had woken up at around noon. He'd invested a considerable amount of time in getting dressed and tidying up his bedroom, making it around one in the afternoon when he finally got to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast.

He had ―with much reluctancy, let it be said― accepted that it was time to go grocery shopping. Sighing, Blitzen prepared an insipid plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother to clean up the dining room before he grabbed his keys and left the house.

Unfortunately, the son of Freya never made it to the grocery store.

Blitzen had only walked two or three blocks when something caught his attention. Certainly, Blitzen was not the kind of dwarf that walked straight into an alley or that peeked into a rubbish bin. However, just as he walked around a corner, a strange sound escaped the metallic coffins of a dumpster, and he couldn't help it.

Naturally, Blitzen knew all the obvious rules for staying alive―don't walk alone into what could very well be a trap, don't go unarmed into an unknown territory, do not trust your surroundings and follow your gut. To summarize―don't do stupid shit.

On the other hand, the noise he'd heard wasn't the growling of a big animal or the clinging of swords. Rather, it sounded like a weakened whimper.

It would have been so easy to merely keep walking, to hush the tiny voice that told Blitzen to turn around and check what had uttered such a small sound. It would have been so simple to ignore the thought that urged him to follow his hunch and drown it in his grocery list, to focus on the carton of milk he still had to buy. Regrettably, Blitzen had inherited a sense of curiosity of both of his parents. Whenever an idea wormed its way into his head, he couldn't let it go. And so, Blitzen didn't turn the next corner in his trip to the store, for he turned on his heels and walked straight into the dead-end alley.

As soon as he walked closer to the trash can, it became obvious that the metallic dumpster was where the snivel he'd heard had come from. Usually, the son of Freya would not have gone anywhere near a pile of garbage. This time, however, curiosity got the best of him and he promptly stood closer to the bin, careful not to touch anything.

His resolution did not last for too long. As soon as he was able to take a peek into the dumpster, he recognized the whimpering creature. Shivering and surrounded by trash bags the same color of his outfit, laid a clearly unconscious elf.

There was no mistake―it had to be one of the inhabitants of Alfheim. Hair so blond it was almost white, delicate yet sharp features, snowy skin that Blitzen supposed looked even paler than usual at the moment, since he hadn't seen the sun in the gods knew how long. Blitzen had never met an elf, but he damn right knew what they looked like, and the creature in front of him sure as Helheim was an elf.

And a rapidly fading, sick-looking elf, at that.

There was a reason why elves stayed out of Nidavellir and dwarves only ever traveled to Alfheim in old tales. Doing otherwise could kill them. It was because of that reason that Yggdrasil was divided into different worlds to start with. Elves and dwarves could not coexist, it was absurd to even consider it. So, either that elf was trying to get himself killed, or he had ended in Nidavellir by mistake.

A few hours later, Blitzen would ask himself what had motivated him to practically jump into a trash can bin so that he could push an unknown elf out of it. He was not sure of how he had managed to drag the elf to his apartment without calling someone's attention either. Perhaps the reason for that obliviousness was merely that his neighbors were used to his bizarre ways by that time and knew better than to ask him what he was doing.

Getting the elf to his apartment was only half problem. The elf was still unconscious and he kept shaking. Blitzen was not an expert. In fact, he was as far of an elf healthcare expert as one could get, but he was pretty sure that elves could only last a couple of days without their beloved sun, and if this elf's state was anything to go by, he was dangerously approaching the last hours of his second day.

As soon as he got the elf into his home, Blitzen paced around his apartment, promptly collecting every single blanket he possessed. He then proceeded to drop them on the benumbed elf in a desperate attempt to help him keep whatever warmness his body still had.

Blitzen had never seen an elf before and, quite frankly, the wounded, whimpering young man in front of him seemed nothing like the majestic creatures he'd read about. Instead, the person lying in his couch only seemed weakened, hypothermic and wounded. For some reason, Blitzen felt an even stronger drawn to him than he would have, had he met an overwhelming, luminous elf instead.

The gods knew how that elf had ended in Nidavellir. However it had been, Blitzen was not about to let him die in his own living room. It was clear that the elf was much too weakened for Blitzen to even try to make him travel through Yggdrasil, though that did not mean that instead of taking the elf to the sun, Blitzen could not bring the sun to the elf.

It was an insane idea, yet a plausible one, and Blitzen was short of other options.

Perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself ―and it was a very vague 'perhaps' indeed―, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf.

–*–*–

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

It was almost ironic, that, in the same way that Blitzen had managed to steal an artificial drop of sun to keep Hearthstone alive while in Nidavellir, Hearth was now returning the favor by endeavoring himself in burning the kenaz rune above his head in the middle of Niflheim. On one hand, Blitzen was beyond proud of the skill level Hearth had accomplished. Not so long in the past, his elf had only managed to summon the power of one rune for a few seconds before he passed out. Now, Hearth had calmly wielded the power of the torch rune for an extended period of time while managing to remain almost unfazed, with the added challenge of the inhospitability of the field they were in.

On the other hand, however, Blitzen was also extremely concerned. Hearthstone's skin, snowy-white on a good day had gone almost transparent from the cold and the effort. His lips, instead of the rouge color Blitzen knew to be a healthy one for his friend had turned crepe pink, and green veins peppered his hands and cheeks, emphasizing the translusence of his skin.

The cold was so intense that Blitzen could hardly feel Hearthstone's hands between his own, as both of them clung on to the blanket that covered their bodies. The action, useless as it was, gave him something else to think about.

He'd told Magnus that the two of them would be the last of them to succumb to death, although he was more than aware that such knowledge was of no comfort. If anything, the one thing that gave the son of Freya some sort of vague relief was the certainty that he would die cradling Hearthstone in his arms. Even if that meant he would have to feel him grow colder with each passing second, to the point where it was as if he were holding ice cubes instead of his friend's hands.

At least, in the end, he would have Hearthstone to cling on to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear How much I love you. Please don't take My sunshine away.

–*–*–

Ever since Hearthstone had met Blitzen, he'd known the dwarf had some outlandish ideas. Being around the son of Freya was bizarre on a regular basis. As an example of the heartwarming oddity that came so naturally to Blitzen, Hearth could quote the fact that he was still alive at the moment. After all, what other dwarf in the Nine Realms would have done what Blitz had upon a half-dead elf lying on the street? None other, that was which―none.

Not only had Blitzen picked him up and taken him to his own house, no. The son of Freya had also spent that afternoon and the better part of the consequent night working, until he completed another one of his crazy ideas―a sort of tanning bed that emitted a white light that felt as pleasant and warm on his skin as the sun rays.

Blitzen could have easily kicked him out after that. He could have sold off his design of the tanning bed for mountains of red gold. He could have, at the very least, asked Hearthstone to pay him rent. Instead, the son of Freya let out a fruity laugh whenever Hearth mentioned any of those things.

"You are still too weak to leave, my friend," he had brushed off every single time Hearth suggested that it was time he returned to where he'd come from. "This house is big enough to keep us both comfortably, there is no need for you to leave."

The one and only time Hearth had proposed Blitzen began selling either the design of the tanning bed or the artifact itself, the dwarf's features had darkened. "I don't need their money," he'd said. "I made the bed for you and that's it. I wanted to save you. They wouldn't understand that."

Eventually, Blitzen had resorted to several excuses and illegitimate reasons to make Hearthstone stay. First, he'd told Hearth that he couldn't leave until he had taught Blitzen proper ASL.

To be completely honest, Hearth had not believed Blitzen's interest at first. He'd thought it was merely something the son of Freya had said, although he did not necessarily mean it. Something that was not like the other elves' glares of contempt or like his parents' open despise, albeit it held the same meaning. At the time, Hearthstone had thought nothing of Blitzen's proposition. It was something the dwarf had said out of pity, a poignant offering, an attempt to make him feel better about his deafness.

However, Blitz had learned. He'd sat in front of Hearthstone every afternoon for months on end, genuinely paying attention to the elf's corrections. Less than six months after Hearth had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen was already capable of holding a fluent conversation in ASL. Blitz rarely spoke using his voice when they were alone, and they were alone for the most part.

Still, Blitz had not let him leave then either. The reason he had offered then was still plausible, albeit a little risible too―Hearth was the only one out of the two who could cook to save his life.

Inge had taught him how to handle himself around the kitchen, despite the fact that she always insisted that he left in the most polite of ways. She said that he did not need to learn such things, that they were below him. The truth was, Hearthstone actually enjoyed cooking. He had to pay close attention to the measures of the ingredients, to the correct order of the steps, to the times. It gave him something to keep his mind busy, something where it didn't matter if he could listen or talk.

It had proven to be a valuable ability while he stayed in Nidavellir, seeing as taking care of the kitchen was the one chore Blitzen allowed him to do. No matter how many times Hearth reassured him he was fine and that he could do something as simple as sweeping or doing some laundry, Blitz insisted. Hearth was a guest, he said, and he would not allow him to work.

Finally, when Hearth had dared suggest Blitzen collected rent from him, nearly a year after the elf had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen's instant reaction had been to frown. "Excuse me?" he'd asked, forcing Hearthstone to repeat himself. Although that was mostly etiquette, as Blitz proceeded to interrupt him midsentence, grasping Hearth's wrists. It was then that the dwarf turned to raise an eyebrow at his friend. Slowly, Blitzen readjusted the position of his hands, until they were holding Hearth's.

"Honestly?" he'd smiled, mouthing the words so he didn't have to let go of Hearth. "I like having you here. I really enjoy your company. I think… I think there's a reason why you fell on Nidavellir rather than any of the other worlds. You told me that you didn't want to go back to Alfheim. Then don't do it. The doors of my home are open for you, as long as you need or want to stay here. The gods know that I had felt loneliness creep around the corners of this house before you showed up. So, really, if the reason you want to leave is that you don't want to be a problem or to cause me an inconvenience, I'm telling you right now that it isn't like that at all. You're my best friend, you know? If you feel comfortable staying here, then please, feel free to do so."

Ever so slowly, Blitzen let go of Hearth's hands, allowing him to sign. Even once he was free of the dwarf's restraints, Hearth took a moment to consider his answer. Finally, he exhaled a sigh and raised his eyes to meet Blitzen's.

"Do you… do you mean that?" he asked, shaking fingers drawing the words rapidly in the air.

"Every word," the dwarf confirmed. Needing to show Hearth how convinced he was of what he had said, he accompanied his speech with the movement of his hands―first, he made the thumps-up sign with his left hand at the height if his chest. He placed his right hand, doing the same gesture, behind his left one, his left thumb touching the back of his right hand. Then, the sign for 'word'―his left index extended vertically, while his right thumb and index, extended horizontally, not touching his other hand*.

Blitzen, bless his heart, had taken the time to know him so well, that he didn't add anything to those two words. Neither did he move. Instead, he tilted his head and he waited with a gentle smile on his face. Blitz didn't pressure him for an answer, much less did he demand one. And it was a good thing, as well, because by the time Hearth was certain of what he wanted to say, his hands were shaking so much that he would have found himself unable to answer anything.

Being deaf, Hearth knew better than anyone that actions spoke louder than words. Although, given his upbringing, he'd never been one to initiate physical contact. Blitzen, on the other hand… Blitzen was different. From the first day he'd been there, Blitzen had showed no qualms about taking Hearth's hands or fixing his clothes. He didn't mind hugging him or linking their arms. Of course, he wasn't bothered either when Hearth corrected the position of his fingers when he taught Blitz ASL.

For once, Hearthstone decided to follow Blitzen's example. Rather than trying to spell something out with his faltering hands, Hearth leaned forward to engulf his dwarf friend in a tight hug. It was probably the first time he initiated a touch of that kind. Unlike anything he could have expected, Blitz didn't pull back or react badly at the contact. Hearth had to tell himself that of course Blitzen would not do something like that to him. Ever since he'd met him, Blitzen had been nothing if not kind and patient to him. Instead, no more than a millisecond later, Blitz was returning the embrace. Hearth felt the vibrations of his laughter resonate through their entwined forms.

When Blitzen's laughter died down and a different, slower form of reverberation filled the space between them, Hearth had a very clear idea of what Blitz must have been saying―That's alright, bud. That's alright. He'd seen Blitz spell out those words so many times that it wasn't hard to picture his hands moving or his lips spelling out the words.

Sighing, Hearth allowed himself to hide his face in the crook of Blitzen's neck, inhaling the dwarf's familiar scent. This was home, he told himself. This strange relationship he'd built with a dwarf, this bizarre stay of his in the one world where it should have been impossible for him to survive. This was home, the one place in Yggdrasil where he was wanted, alien as that idea was to him.

In a rushed thought, Hearth sent a fast expression of gratitude to whoever god had guided his path to Nidavellir instead of any of the other worlds, to whoever had made his path cross with the one person in the Nine Realms who was selfless enough to take care of a stranger and offer him his very own house to live n.

That afternoon, nearly a year ago then, Blitzen had done much more than simply picking an unconscious elf up. He'd saved his life in more ways than Blitzed would ever know.

–*–*–

The other night, dear

When I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear,

I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

–*–*–

Of the many reasons, Hearthstone had imagined he would go back to his parents' house, needing the Skofnung stone to save his best friend's life had never crossed his mind. It wasn't that he actively wanted to go back to Alfheim, but on the nights what he could not stop thinking of his parents' disdainful words, on the days when he asked himself how long it would take before Blitzen grew tired of him and asked him to leave, he wondered. He did so with dread, with a daunting emptiness in his chest and a hitch in his breath. Where would he go? Back to the humiliation his parents had subjected him to for as long as he could remember? Would he try to find a way of living in another of Yggdrasil's worlds, on his own?

Hearthstone had never been able to come up with an answer that settled the thumping between his ribs. He knew that there was no answer to that question that would ease the knot of anguish that formed in his chest whenever that thought assaulted him. And so, he prayed. He prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that Blitzen was kind-hearted enough to not send him packing, even if the day came when his dwarfen friend realized how useless he was, Hearthstone prayed that Blitzen chose to keep him. Even if it was out of pity, even if it was only an act of commiseration, he prayed.

Blitzen had not given up on him, no matter how many times Hearthstone proved he wasn't worthy of the devotion Blitzen treated him with, the son of Freya only insisted that Hearth was more talented than he gave himself credit for. Blitzen trusted him, that much was crystal clear. He counted on him with the same blind dependence with which Hearthstone had leaned on him from the day that they had met.

Hearth couldn't let him down. Not then. He couldn't fail Blitzen. It was simply not an option.

His decision had been instant. If Blitzen needed the Skofnung stone, then Hearthstone would get it for him. Blitz had done so much for him… this was the least he could do to repay him. So Hearthstone had gone back to the sumptuous residence that had always felt too cold and too indifferent to call home.

Blitz had asked him not to. Of course he had, as he frantically tried to stop the hemorrhage in his chest, always too selfless and too generous, but he didn't understand. Hearth could not lose him. He wouldn't allow himself to forsake the only one who had believed in him, the first person who had ever cherished him.

No. there was no 'maybe', there was no 'trying'. He would get the Skofnung stone for Blitzen or he would die while attempting to obtain it. There was no other possibility.

So that night, the first one he spent in his parent's house in over a decade, Hearthstone held on to the memory of Blitzen's laughter, to the way his eyes softened in his smile, and he prayed. He prayed to the All Father and to Sif and to Freya that he would be strong enough to save Blitzen's life.

–*–*–

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

As the cold water of the shower un-prettified Blitzen, Hearthstone felt droplets of his own pool at the bottom of his eyes. However, it was not long before the water began dying with red and Hearthstone's shaking hands fidgeted, trying to find the Skofnung stone. With faltering fingers, he placed the gravel on top of the dwarf's bleeding wound. Immediately, the edges of his injury started to sew themselves together, stitching the skin back in place.

Too slowly for Hearthstone's taste, the color began returning to Blitzen's features, and his body grew limp in Hearth's arms instead of the frigid stiffness of granite. In a rapid motion, Hearth caught sight of the dwarf's lips moving, no doubt to question where they were, how he was alive, to insist that Hearth did not return to Alfheim.

He couldn't have cared less about what Blitzen was saying. Even if he had, tears clouded his vision, making it impossible for him to read the dwarf's lips. There would be time to answer all those questions later. There would be time to explain his friend what had happened.

For now, it didn't matter. For that exquisite, perfect moment, nothing else mattered. They would deal with his father later, with Andvari's ring, with Ragnarok itself if it were to come, but they would do so together. At least for those stolen minutes, the only thing important enough to be worried about was the wellbeing of the man in front of him.

So he let Blitzen know. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him for dear life under the icy gush of water. Hearth's hands bowled into fists around the fabric of Blitzen's shirt. He felt the vibration of the dwarf's voice, his arms encircling his waist. As if by magic, the tension in Hearth's shoulders melted away, not by the art of the water, but by the steadfastness of Blitzen's embrace.

Hearth rocked them both back and forth, pulling them as close together as it was humanly possible. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of Blitzen being next to him. He was there, confused, certainly, befuddled, disoriented, but alive. Blitz was alive and Hearth was home.

There was nothing, nothing in the Nine Worlds that Hearth wouldn't have done to recover this feeling. This closeness, the simplicity with which he could limply fall into Blitzen's arms and forget about the rest of the existing world. And so, he clung to the son of Freya, and he thanked every god he could remember for allowing him to have his dwarf back, and he cried.

Not only had he paid his debt to his father that day; rather, he'd also given Blitz back a small amount of everything the dwarf had given him. In a way, Hearth supposed it could have been summarized as him saving Blitzen's life, in the same way the dwarf had saved his all those years in the past.

Nonetheless, Hearthstone knew better―Blitz might have built a machine that was able to reproduce rays as bright and warm as the sun's. However, they could not compare with the radiance or the closeness Hearth felt when Blitzen held him. And, in the same way that he had done the first time Blitz had successfully signed a full sentence without making a single mistake, Hearthstone vowed to devote his life to the one he owed it to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

–*–*–

Well... here goes nothing. This is it. I really hope you enjoyed reading this little something, because I sure enjoyed writing it.

Now, after finishing the series I was as convinced as any other that Hearth and Blitz are a married couple and Magnus didn't notice. So, of course I knew that writing a Blitzstone story would simply be a matter of time. The other day I was reading some Solangelo fanfiction and came across a story with this song. And you know how catchy this tune is, so I was trying to come up with a decent plot for Hearth and Blitz with this song still going around in my head and then... I realized that the lyrics actually worked great for this lovely couple. So... here we are now.

As for the "*", I must admit that I do not speak ASL. I really want to learn it, because it is fascinating to me, but at current time I do not speak it. I searched for those signs on the internet and then tried to describe them as best as I could. If any of them are wrong, please, please point it out to me.

Alright, it seems that this is all for today. In case any of you is reading "Tales of a Caged Animal", I hope to publish the next chapter soon. I really hoped you enjoyed this story and if you did, please leave a comemnt!

Read you soon!

[twitchesandstitches]

Tamitayo and a new adventure:

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(Happy Birthday!)

(It should be noted, that i don’t know EVERYTHING about your character, so i had to make some guesses along the way, also this takes place early game still, meaning that Tamitayo is still low level. (as i am/was writing this). While all the mods you have is still at play in this fic, some other mods that’s added are: ApachiiSkyHair, Better Cloth Enchanting, Apocalypse - Magic of Skyrim and a few others you might notice along the way maybe.)

(Hope you like the story! :D)

(Shuvika-Nebuki, Nakila Kaythees and Ciinia Ivywood belongs to me.)

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The giant dark elf called “Tamitayo” wandered around like usual. The large curvy lady found a bandit camp, and alongside her housecarl Lydia, she decided to go raid it. Though when they went in, they discovered there was already a battle at play. A large werewolf with tusks and grey-greenish fur was attacking the bandits alongside what appeared to be a female vampire lord. Judging by the vampires appearance, traits and abilities, she must be from the Volkihar clan, and a powerful one at that.

When the werewolf and vampire had killed all the bandits, they looked at Tamitayo and Lydia. Mistaking them for bandits trying to hide or escape, the two attacked them.

Tamitayo may have been bigger than the tusked werewolf, but regular werewolves were known the be able to knock giants around, and this one was definitely no ordinary werewolf, and Tamitayo was more of a magic user then a direct fighter anyway. The best Tamitayo could do was to keep her distance from the werewolf and fire spells at it, either until the transformation wore off, or the beast itself was slain. She seemed to have to go for the last one, as the werewolf would just hurry over to one of the corpses and consume it’s heart both to heal and contain the form for longer, and matters did not get easier when it called forth 2 ice wolf spirits to aid it. It was at this point Tamitayo knew she was dealing with an alpha. She had to admit that even a regular werewolf was she not prepared for, neither in gear, perks or skill, but against an ALPHA werewolf with so many corpses laying around? She knew she was done for, unless hit with HUGE amount of luck all of a sudden.

Lydia wasn’t doing much better, while she had her situation a bit better under control, mostly due to having a bit more experience the Tamitayo, the female vampire lord was almost as powerful as the tusked werewolf. Just like how the werewolf had summons those wolves for aid, the female vampire lord summoned a gargoyle to aid her, along with some bats just for good measure.

It was then that Hadvar came in. He had been sent out to spy on the fortress, as General Tullies had plans on recapturing the fort the bandits were in for future operations. Hadvar was quick to notice the tusked werewolf and Tamitayo and quickly ran over, telling them to stop fighting. Which was a good thing, because the werewolf has Tamitayo overpowered and beaten, but seemed to listen to what Hadvar had to say.

The tusked werewolf removed itself from the giant dark elf and waited for an explanation.

“This lady helped me escape Helgen and she helped Riverwood by warning the jarl as well as dealing with a few issues here and there. She’s no bandit, even if she dresses like one.” Told Hadvar to the tusked werewolf, who looked at Tamitayo and back to Hadvar before reverting back to its original form.

The werewolf turned out to be a strong female orc warrior. While she was no taller than the average orc, you could tell by her muscles that she was stronger than most. She was blind on one eye, while the other was the usual red color that orc eyes tend to be. The orc lady had warpaint on her face that resembled that of a dragon. A few scars ran over her face, one of them right over her blind eye, indicating she had been blinded against a beast of some sort. She had long wild black hair that went down her back and some of it was hanging down from her shoulders.

The orc warrior was quick to re-equip her armor and weapons, which was made in the wolf armor style but instead of being made of steel it was made of orichalcum, and her weapon was a giant legendary deadric/dwemer hammer. Ones the armor came on, Tamitayo could recognize who she was; She was the harbinger of the companions, Shuvika-Nebuki!

“Oh my gosh! You’re the harbinger, Shuvika-Nebuki! I’ve heard so many tales about you!” Tamitayo almost squealed, almost losing her usually flirty and dominating personality and getting it replaced by a child-like excitement.

“Yes-yes, i’ve heard that one a lot.” Replied Shuvika, as she lifted her giant hammer, Volendrung, onto her shoulder. “Sorry for almost killing you back there. Thought you were a bandit.”

“It’s no problem, really. I’m just glad we got that cleared.” she said and gave her a shaky smile.

Shuvika shaked her head a bit. “Hadvar, tell Tullies that besides a few bodies that needs cleaning up, this fort is ready for him to take over. I need to take your friend here for a moment.” She said as she grabbed Tamitayo and dragged her along.

Tamitayo was a bit confused at first and asked “What are you doing?”

“You have great potential, and a friend of Hadvar is a friend of mine. But you still have a lot of catching up to do, and i’m gonna try and help you out with that. First, we’re going to Solitude and getting you some REAL clothes to keep you warm, because i don’t want you to freeze yourself half to death! You’re a dunmer, you’re people deal better with hot weathers not cold weathers.” She said as she continued onward.

Tamitayo whined a bit, she liked showing a bit of skin, but Shuvika was dead-set on this, so she just followed along, and who knows, it might be better then she thinks.

When they arrive at Solitude began Shuvika and walk towards one of the shops. Tamitayo looked around before following. “I have a feeling something happened here…”

“There has. Just a few days ago, a man was executed for helping Ulfric Stormcloak escape.” Told Shuvika in a rather calm voice.

Tamitayo was shocked by this and decided not to ask any further questions about that.

Shuvika made her order for the clothes, though they had to be made from the bottom up, due to Tamitayo’s big size. Both in height and girth. Shuvika told her to send it to Whiterun when they were done, and soon told Tamitayo to follow along as they now were headed for Whiterun. It was a rather strange feeling for Tamitayo to take order from this smaller person and being the “rookie” of them as well.

They jumped on the back of the carriage driver and it slowly began to roll along the road. Tamitayo looked first at Shuvika, then at Lydia then over to the vampire who had transformed alongside Shuvika Nebuki. It was just now she realized she never got her name or who she was.

“I never got your name. Mind i ask what it is?”

The vampire looked up, still having her face covered by the hood, as they were in the sunlight. “My name is Serana. As you can tell already, i’m a vampire. I’m still not entirely sure how long i was locked away though.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The giant dunmer wanted to continue the talk, but then notices that Serana was staring at her, hungryly and licking her lips. She felt herself blush when she saw that. She was not used to be on the prey side of things, and it was now she realized how MUCH she needs to catch up. Sure to the ordinary people and bandits she’s top pred, but for experienced and more advanced people like Serana? There’s no chance there, or at least not yet.

Tamitayo tried to act like she didn’t notice the smaller woman’s “hint” and wanted to change the subject. “So, besides being the harbinger of the companions, what else do you do?”

Shuvika looked up and replied “I’m also a thane of Whiterun. My housecarl, Nakila Kaythees, is currently with Ciinia Ivywood to help her out. Cii’ is still very new to this whole adventuring, but she has a lot of fire despite her worries and fear. I didn’t wish to see her get hurt, so i asked my housecarl to travel with her.”

“You’re a thane of Whiterun too? How did you earn it?” Tamitayo asked excited.

“I went into Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieved the Dragonstone, and later i helped killing the dragon Mirmulnir and absorbed his soul. Turns out i’m the Dragonborn. It was then i was promoted as thane of Whiterun and got Nakila as my housecarl.” She said, rather happy with Tamitayo’s attitude and completely oblivious to Serana’s “teasings” of the giant dark elf.

The big elf was in awe of this, this was the type of badass adventure she could become with the right training or knowledge. The thought made her so happy. “The way i got my title was not nearly as epic. I mostly helped out his people, you know clearing out bandits, finding lost things, stuff like that.”

“Still a good job nonetheless.” Said Shuvika and gave the curvy dunmer a friendly clap.

They arrived at Whiterun. Tamitayo knew the city pretty well, not as well as Riverwood, but still pretty well. Shuvika and Serana began to walk up to Jorrvaskr to hang out with some pals and to wait for their order. Tamitayo and Lydia followed along, and on the way they saw Ysolda, a trade merchant who she had helped out quite a bit and gotten pretty good friends with. Ysolda helped Tamitayo a bit with her speechcraft and likes to teach her a few things from time to time, and Tamitayo has sometimes helped Ysolda travel around safely inside her gut.

Tamitayo also saw Carlotta Valentia, one of the most beautiful woman in Skyrim. She herself had to admit she had a little crush on the small nordic lady, or at least small compared to her massive size at least. She helped her out by dealing with an annoying bard at one point, as well as making sure she gets some rest every now and then, even if she had to eat her in order to do it. Not that she complained, Carlotta was as tasty as she was beautiful, which is why she’s surprised why so far she’s the only pred to have eaten her when she has such a heavenly taste, and she’s not a pred despite her strong attitude. She’s almost like a sea turtle; big, strong, beautiful and can give a nasty bite, but is still a prey.

They all finally arrived at Jorrvaskr, where Shuvika told Tamitayo to sit down and relax and basically just chill. Throughout the whole time they were waiting for their shipment to arrive, did Shuvika not notice, not even once, that both Aela The Huntress, Serana and Njada Stonearm was giving Tamitayo hungry looks and licking their lips which caused the giant dunmer lady to blush. On one hand she kinda liked this feeling, on the other hand she wanna be top pred “again” so to say, so she had to get up in level fast. Or at least in her mind she needs too. Ria was one of the few people who didn’t look at Tamitayo that way. Tamitayo could tell that Ria was a pred to, but a shy one that still had much to learn. It wouldn’t be to hard for the tall dunmer to eat the small cutie, but that’ll have to wait for now.

Shuvika went up to Dragonsreach to buy some magic tomes from Farengar Secret-Fire. She bought from different schools of magic so Tamitayo could get a “taste” of what type of magic she’d use. Some of the spells that she bought included: Perilous Path, Raise Wall, Magelight and Wither from alteration. Soul Cloak, Bound Sword and Conjure Familiar from Conjuration. Ice Spike, Fireball, Lightning Bold and Rift Bolt from Destruction. Clairvoyance, Calm and Curse of the Silent from Illusion. And finally Healing Hands, Steadfast Ward, Sun Fire, Bone Spirit, Circle of Strength and Lamb of Mara from Restoration.

Shuvika was still away when the shipment arrived. The clothes that had been made for Tamitayo was a pair of Boots and gloves made in the thalmor style, which was pretty fancy despite how big jerks those guys usually are. Seriously why does the baddies always get the cool stuff? As for her actual attire, it was one of those “fine clothes” which were yellow-greenish with a fur pelt around the shoulders and other decorations. Lastly there was a gold circlet with 3 emeralds in it. Tamitayo tried it on and had to admit they were pretty nice and warm and didn’t look half-bad either. Now she didn’t need to waste magicka on keeping herself warm. Though she was quick to put two-and-two together and could guess that Shuvika would like to enchant said clothes when she get back. And she would be proven right when that happened.

Shuvike soon returned, both with the tomes and some armor she had made for Tamitayo’s follower and housecarl, Lydia. It was all nordic armor, along with a nordic shield and bow. The enchantments that had been put on said armor included Fortify Block, Health, Archery, One-Handed and various resistances to different magics. The nordic bow and sword she gave Lydia was both enchanted with Fiery Soul Trap and Chaos Damage. Basically, Lydia got one heck of an upgrade from Shuvika. She really wanted to make sure the two of them got a good start so they didn’t ended up in a bad situation, or at least not one they’d have a chance to beat.

Tamitayo gave Shuvika her new clothes so they could be enchanted as well. It was not long before she returned with them. The enchantments they got were mostly focused on health and magicka and regen, since neither of them still wasn’t to sure what type of magic she’d end up preferring. Shuvika also handed Tamitayo a shield. It was a Chitin Shield, which was an light armor shield that was better than elven shields. The shield had Fortify Block and Health on it. Shuvika also handed her the books so she could learn the spells.

Tamitayo pointed out why she gave her both a ward spell and an actual shield. The ward was most effective against magic while the shield was best against physical attacks. So this way, when fighting either mages or dragons, she’d have a ward to protect herself with, while when fighting against creatures or people who used either melee weapons or bows, she had a real shield to protect herself with.

Honestly, Tamitayo was almost close to crying. This “tiny” orc lady, again only tiny compared to her, was being so protective and friendly towards her. She had to admit, she had been kinda lonely up until she started adventuring, and feeling so loved and protected by someone was something she hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever. She hugged the orc close into her belly as she muttered out a “Thank you so much.”

“No problem you big guff.” Said Shuvika and patted the tall dunmer on the side. “Now let’s get started on a few quests to start your training and to get your new gear tested!”

They all 4 went out and walked towards the gate, when they saw one of the guards talk to some strangers.

“Look, you’ve already been told you’re not allowed here. Turn around and go back the way you came.” Said the Whiterun Guard to the strangers.

“We’re causing no trouble. All we ask is to look for her.” said one of the strangers.

“I don’t care what you’re doing, after what happened you’re lucky i don’t toss you in jail. Now get lost.”

“We will be back. This is not over.”

One of the strangers walked up to Tamitayo. “You there. We are looking for someone in Whiterun, and will pay good money for information.”

“Who are you looking for?” Asked Tamitayo, curious as to why these guys were here and what this was about.

“A woman – a foreigner in these lands. Redguard, like us. She is likely not using her true name. We will pay for any information regarding her location. We are not welcome here in Whiterun, so we will be in Rorikstead if you learn anything.”

“Why are you looking for this person?”

“It’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that we’re paying for information. If that doesn’t interest you, feel free to walk away.”

Tamitayo simply nodded and looked at Shuvika. The orc lady had a smile on her face. “Looks like you got yourself a quest Tami’. I’m not much of a detective, so i’ll find something else to do. But i feel like this is something you and Lydia can pull off on your own. So see you later.” She said, waving farewell for now and walked off with Serana behind her. Tamitayo kinda liked the new nickname “Tami”.

Tamitayo was about to turn around to look for clues as to who this redguard woman was, when she heard the gates open again and a cute and slightly chubby wood elf walked in, alongside a tall naga.

Dispite their namesake, nagas looked nothing like either the lamias of Daggerfall or the Tsaesci of Akavir. Nagas were a sub-specie of argonians, who were usually 7-8 foot tall, walked on two legs like their smaller cousins and carried many similarities with them, but had a much more aquatic appearance with fins and webbed hand and feet, as well as whiskers on their snout.

The naga himself was 8 foot tall, dorned in heavy Orichalcum, argonian style armor from head to toe. He carried a large shield, the Shield of Ysgramor, as well as a large powerful mace, the Mace of Molag Bal. He had a scar on his throat, which seemed pretty old. The chubby wood elf lady was wearing a white dress with a big red robe around it, both fitting her body shape pretty well. She also wore some thick boots and gloves, and on her head she wore a beautiful flower crown. Her hair was thick and bushy and reached her shoulders, and her eyes were a beautiful purple. She wasn’t much taller than the regular wood elf, which in Tamitayo’s opinion just made her look more hug-able.

Tamitayo took a moment and was able to put two-and-two together and figure out that these two were Nakila Kaythees, Shuvika’s housecarl, and Ciinia Ivywood, Shuvika’s friend. How jarl Balgruuf the Greater was able to get a naga to work for him was a big question, then again him and Irileth had been all over Tamriel and seen many outlandish things, so picking up a naga who had left the inner regions of Black Marsh may not be so crazy of an idea.

Tamitayo walked up to the small wood elf, which caused the naga to give the dunmer a look that clearly showed he didn’t really trust her.

“You two are Nakila Kaythees and Ciinia Ivywood right? I’m a friend of Shuvika-Nebuki.” She said while greeting them. The nagas expression changed slightly, but it was clear he didn’t really trust her yet.

“O-oh. Y-yes, t-that’s u-us.” Spoke Ciinia shyly. God could that woman be any cuter, thought Tamitayo inside her head. “W-we c-came here for a-a quick rest.” She finished off, looking down into the ground, being pretty shy around the giant curvy dunmer in front of her.

“Nice to meet you, but i have a question. Do you guys know anything about some strangers looking for a redguard woman here in Whiterun?” She asked.

“A-actually, w-we do. W-while t-travelling, we s-saw some Alik'r warriors t-talk to a-a woman, thinking it w-was h-her, u-until one of t-them pointed o-out that she d-didn’t have t-the s-scar. S-so w-whoever they’re l-looking for h-has o-one scar, n-no more, n-no less. A-a g-good place to s-start l-looking would b-be T-the B-bannered Mare.” added Ciinia. Nakila simply nodded in agreement, he didn’t seem to be the type to talk much.

Tamitayo thanked them both and headed towards The Bannered Mare. When inside she took a moment to look around, until Lydia clapped her a bit on the side and pointed at one of the workers in the in. She was a redguard woman, and she so happened to have a single scar on her face. Was Saadia the one those alik'r warriors were looking for? Only one way to find out.

The tall dunmer walked over to Saadia, remembering the description she’s gotten, there could be no better candidate for the one the alik'r warriors was looking for. Just to be sure, she wasn’t going to throw accusations right away and play it simple.

“Yes? How can i help you?” asked Saadia when Tamitayo approached her.

“Did you know some alik'r warriors are looking for a redguard woman?” She asked the smaller woman quietly.

“Are you sure?” Saadia asked, now sounding a bit scared. “Oh no! They’ve found me? I need your help! Please, come with me. I need to speak to you privately.”

Tamitayo and Lydia followed Saadia behind the kitchen and up the stairs into a bedroom, where Saadia pulled out a knife. “So, are you working with them?? You think you can take me? You so much as touch me, you’re going to lose fingers. I mean it! I’ll… I’ll cut you in half! So the alik'r know where i am? What did they offer you? Gold? How many more of them are coming? Tell me!”

“Relax, i’m not going to hurt you.” The giant dunmer who dwarfed Saadia respounded looking at the elven knife the redguard woman was holding in her hand. Lydia had not yet pulled out her sword, but was ready to do so.

“Then i need your help and there isn’t anyone i can trust here in the city.” Saadia said seemingly more calm.

“Maybe. What do you want?” Asked Tamitayo with a shrug that made her chest give a little giggle.

“I am not the person the people of Whiterun think i am. My real name is Iman. I am a noble of House Suda in Hammerfell. The men who are looking for me, the alik'r, they are assassins in employ of Aldmeri Dominion. They wish to exchange my blood for gold. I need you to root them out and drive them away before they find me and drag me back to Hammerfell for an execution.” Saadia, now revealed to be Iman, explained to the dark elf.

“How am i supposed to get rid of them?” Tamitayo asked.

“They’re mercenaries, only in it for the money. They’re led by a man named Kematu. Get rid of him, and the rest will scatter. I don’t dare show my face, lest they recognize me, so you’ll have to find out where they are.”

“Any suggestions as to how i can find them?” Tamitayo asked in.

“I heard one of them was just arrested trying to sneak into the city. If he’s locked up in the jail, perhaps you can get it out of him. Please, i know i’m asking you to do something difficult, maybe even dangerous. I just don’t know who else I can trust.” Saadia said pleading with the dark elf woman.

Tamitayo stood there for a moment, before asking “Why haven’t you gone to the guards for help?”

“You think i’d be in hiding if this was something i trusted the town guards to handle? These men are ruthless. Cunning, deceitful… they’ll pay off whoever they can. I can’t trust anyone here in Whiterun. Guards and jarls can be bought. And the Alik'r are close; I’m running out of time, si i’m choosing to trust you.”

Tamitayo ones again stood there, she felt bad for Saadia, or Imen. Though she still felt there was more to it. “Why are the Alik'r after you?” She asked.

“I don’t know for sure. I spoke out against the Aldmeri Dominion publicly; I suspect that’s why these men were hired to hunt me down.” Saadia said with a certain note in her voice.

Tamitayo decided that was as much she could get right now, and she thought it was enough too. She and Lydia left Saadia and walked out of the Bannered Mare, and went up to Dragonsreach. From there, they went into the area where the jail was located. Sure enough, they found the Alik'r who had been arrested. Tamitayo walked towards the caged door and saw the Alik'r prisoner approach. “I need to find Kematu. Where is he hiding?” She asked the prisoner.

“You have a death with, then?” The prisoner shouted out in shock and surprise. “If you know that name, you must know to meet him would be to meet your end. But it seems we both have needs, friend. Perhaps we can help each other out.” He continued in a much more calm tone.

“What is it that you need?” Asked Tamitayo curiously.

“I have dishonored my brothers by being captured, and so they have left me here. My life with the Alik'r is over now, but i have no wish to die in this gods-forsaken land. If i can be released from prison, i may start over. See to that, and i’ll tell you what you want to know.” The prisoner said with hope in his voice.

“How much to pay your fine?” Asked Tamitayo.

“100 gold will secure my release. You can afford that, can’t you? I suppose you’d better hope you can, if you want the information. Get the money into the hands of one of these guards, and i’ll tell you what you want to know.” He said.

Tamitayo was about to go to one of the guards, when a thought crossed her mind. “Why did they leave you here?” She asked.

“Because o was clumsy enough to be captured. Kematu always says we’re supposed to be the best of the best. I wasn’t.” The prisoner replied, clearly disappointed in himself.

Tamitayo approached one of the guards in the jail room, and bowed down a bit so they were at the same eye level. “I want to pay that prisoner’s fine.” She said.

“Done. Convince him to stay out of the city while you’re at it.” Said the whiterun guard annoyed.

Tamitayo went back to the Alik'r prisoner. “Let’s talk about how we can help each other.” She said to him.

“You buy my way out of here, and i’ll tell you what you want to know.” He replied, waiting for a response.

“You’re fine’s been paid. Now tell me about Kematu.” Tamitayo replied to him.

“Very well. Kematu is west of Whiterun. It’s an unassuming little cave called Swindler’s Den. You realize if you set foot there, you’re never coming back out. They’ll kill you. But that’s your problem, not mine.” The prisoner said.

Tamitayo was satisfied with this information and left. She could hear some banter between the guard, who was being pretty sassy, and the Alik'r prisoner.

Tamitayo and Lydia then left Whiterun and headed west. They travelled over some hills and rivers, and encountered also a few wolves on the way.

When they were close to Swindler’s Den, Tamitayo saw some familiar faces. Four of them. Shuvika-Nebuki, Serana, Nakila Kaythees and Ciinia Ivywood were all present. Shuvika and Serana looked ready for action, Ciinia seemed pretty nervous and Nakila seemed like he just wanted it over and done with and then go back to bed.

“Hey guys! It’s been a while, good to see you!” Tamitayo shouted, as she approached the others. Shuvika gave a quick greeting with a smile, Ciinia just waved shyly at the giant dunmer, Serana gave a quick chuckle and waved as well and Nakila just gave a handshake and a sigh.

“Good to see you too Tami’” Said Shuvika, the orc woman looking ready for battle. “So how’s it going on your quest?”

“Well, i’m looking for someone named Kematu. He’s the leader of the Alik'r warrior and is after this cute woman named Saadia, or her real name is Imen. According to Imen, is the Alik'r mercenaries, hired by the Aldmeri Dominion to hunt her down because she spoke out against them openly. Their leader is someone named Kematu and i was told he resides in Swindler’s Den.” She explained and pointed towards Swindler’s Den.

Nakila’s expression changed to confusion, and so did Ciinia’s and Lydia’s. True Lydia was there, but she didn’t really bother to put the pieces together until she heard it a second time. Neither of them said anything yet though, they wanted to go a bit further first, maybe they could get some info from Kematu.

After a bit of talking, they all decided to go there together, apparently Shuvika had two objective here; finding a mammoth tusk for Ysolda back in Whiterun again, for business, and to also find some ancient technology for Sorine Jurard of the Dawngaurds, most likely to either upgrade their crossbows or make new types of ammunition for them. Ciinia was just there, because Shuvika thought it would be a good opportunity for her to get a bit of experience.

They all went towards Swindler’s Den, and there was a few bandits outside, who they overmanned easily. Tamitayo ate one of them, since she was a bit hungry and forgot to eat anything before she left. After that, they all sneaked inside Swindler’s Den, keeping it low to see and hear anything of notice. They all heard two bandits talk.

“I’m not sure I like these Alik'r warriors hiding out here. They seem like trouble.” One of the bandits said to the other.

“Keep it to yourself. They’re not paying us to talk. They’ll be gone as soon as they’ve found whoever they’re looking for. And we’ll have all the more coin.” The bandit thug simply replied and went back to what they were doing.

This definitely confirmed that the Alik'r was here, and that they were paying the bandits apparently.

Shuvika counted down and all at ones they charged in. Shuvika and Serana remained in their normal forms this time. Swindler’s Den was quite large with a lot of rooms, and a lot of bandits. Shuvika swung around Volendrung and smashed bandits, outlaws and thugs left and right, she also used the fire breath shout at one point. Serana mostly used her powerful magics to deal with the bandits, only using her elven knife when they got a bit to close. Nakila was similar to Shuvika, smashing the bandits to bloody bits with the Mace of Molag Bal, while blocking incoming arrows with the Shield of Ysgramor. Ciinia was much more careful, keeping herself either at a distance or out of sight, as she shot one ice spike after the other at the bandits, while also summoning a flame atronach. Lydia stood close to Tamitayo to help her out, and switched between using bow and arrow and using her shield and sword. Tamitayo herself, used the chitin shield Shuvika gave her to block incoming arrows and melee, while using various of her new spells against them, such as “wither” to reduce their movements and damage, “stoneflesh” to increase her own defences, “soul cloak” so that when the bandits die, one of her soul gems gets filled up, “circle of strenth” to steal the stamina from hostiles that steps inside of it and “lamb of Mara” to steal a bit of the health that her foe is losing. When it came to Tamitayo’s offensive spells, she used both ice spikes, lightning bolt, firebolt and rift bolt, with the latter not just damaging the opponent, but also teleport them a bit backwards to give her some more space and distance.

After defeating the last of the bandits, with the last three being eaten by Serana, Tamitayo and Lydia, they began searching for where the Alik'r were. They searched for a while, but couldn’t find them. It was then Tamitayo remembered the “clairvoyance” spell she had learned. She activated it, and a blue-like mist immediately emerged and made a trail, almost looking like a giant mystical snake. It lead down to a small passage half filled with water with a waterfall at the end. There was a hidden pathway behind the waterfall.

Ones everyone had regrouped, did they all walk through the water and through the waterfall. If the Alik'r was on the other side, they would already know they were there, either by all the sound and noise from before, or by Tamitayo’s clairvoyance spell. Soon they entered the secret room. They heard Kematu yell “Alik'r, hold!” and they saw that the Alik'r had readied themselves, but did not attack.

“You’ve proven your strength, warrior. Let’s avoid any more bloodshed. I think you and i have some things to talk about.” Kematu said in calm, collective tone as Tamitayo and the others approached. “Stay your hand, warrior!” He said ones they were close enough. “It’s no secret why you’re here and you have proven your skill in combat. Let us talk a moment, and no one else needs to die. I think we can all profit from the situation in which we find ourselves. My men will not attack you, if you lower your weapons.” He said in gentle, requesting tone.

Tamitayo and the others lowered their weapons as he requested. “Why are you after Saadia?” Tamitayo asked.

“She sold the city out to the Aldmeri Dominion. Were it not for her betrayal, Taneth could have held its ground in the war. The other noble houses discovered her betrayal and she fled. They want her brought back alive. The resistance against the dominion is alive and well in Hammerfell, and they want justice.” Kematu explained to them.

Tamitayo sat there for a moment. She had known Saadia for a while now, usually she’d sit by the redguard woman and tell her about her latest quest or something she did. To think she’d done this would break her heart if it was true. “I’ve been sent here to kill you.” She simply continued on, trying to ignore the feelings.

“Of course, sent by… what is it that she’s calling herself these days? Shazra? Saadia? One of those, correct? Did she appeal to your sense of honor? Your greed? A more… base need, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. No doubt she’s convinced you that she’s the victim. But, do you know why we pursue her?” He asked them, clearly meaning besides what he’s already told them, that was pretty clear in his voice.

“Saadia told me - you’re assassins.” Tamitayo continued.

“Assassins? No, nothing so crass. "Saadia”, as you know her, is wanted by the noble houses of Taneth for treason. We were hired to see her returned to Hammerfell for her crimes. You can help us with that, and make sure no one else gets hurt.“ Kematu said with a welcoming tone.

Nakila began to talk in a way, and Tamitayo could now understand why he wasn’t much of a talker, because he CAN’T actually talk. The only sounds he was able to make was chirping sounds similar to that of birds and hissing sounds like that of a lizard, snake or crocodile. The cut on his throat had damaged his ability to speak so long ago. Ciinia and Shuvika seemed to be able to understand what he was saying though, and Ciinia began to translate what he said to Tamitayo.

"Nakila s-says that K-kematu h-has the s-stronger a-agument. There’s p-plenty of h-holes in S-saadia’s s-story. People o-often times s-speaks o-out against t-the dominion, e-especially in H-hammerfell, b-but for the m-most p-parts they just i-ignore it, o-or s-send justicars t-to make t-them m-mysteriously d-dissappear.” She translated.

“Not to mention for a supposedly "ruthless Thalmor assassin”, Kematu’s not the one who pulled a dagger on you! Just remember how she claimed to not know of the Alik'r in Whiterun and then she tells you of the one in jail all of a sudden?“ Interrupted Lydia, which made Nakila slap her on the back of the head with his tail for interrupting. He continued to speak in his damaged animalistic language, and Ciinia translated.

"T-the r-redguards had a-a war with t-the Thalmor and n-no Redguard would e-ever s-support the Thalmor l-lest work f-for t-them. T-the T-thalmor have n-no i-influence in H-hammerfell a-as the R-redguards p-pushed them out d-during the w-war. I-it w-wouldn’t m-matter i-if s-she s-spoke out a-against the Thalmor b-because l-literally e-everyone in Hammerfell h-hates t-them a-already. A-also knowing t-the Thalmor, s-she w-would have b-been d-dead already i-if s-she was r-really being h-hunted by t-them, and c-considering t-that t-the Thalmor was c-constantly h-harrashed b-by the Alik'r d-during the war, i-i h-highly d-doubt that t-they would w-want to a-ask t-them of all people f-for help. K-kematu’s story m-makes m-more s-sense as w-well if y-you think about i-it.” Ciinia continued to translate for Nakila.

Tamitayo stood there for a moment. They were right, but it still hurt having to do this against Saadia, she had considered her a friend, but crime is still a crime, especially when it’s so big that it could change a war for the worst. “So, what do you wany me to do?” She asked Kematu.

“She trusts you, at least to some extent. She sent you after us, and has no reason to think that you’d do anything other than that. Convince her that we’ll be coming for her, and she needs to leave. Lead her to the stables outside Whiterun. We’ll be waiting to take her into custody. I’ll gladly share a portion of the bounty for your efforts in seeing proper justice done.” Kematu continued to explain to them.

“All right, i’ll do it.” Said Tamitayo with a bit of pain in her voice.

“Good. We’ll be waiting for you at the stables. It will be good to finally be able to return home.” Said Kematu happily, clearly he just wanted to go home by now.

Tamitayo and the others walked back out of the waterfall entrance. Shuvika just told Tamitayo and Lydia to go on ahead, as she still needed to find those schematics for Sorine Jurard and that mammoth tusk for Ysolda.

Shuvika, Lydia, Ciinia and Nakila all went back to Whiterun after a bit of walking. Tamitayo was still bothered of having to do this.

After a bit of travelling they reached the city. Shuvika halted for a moment and looked at Ciinia and Nakila. “I think i want to do this by myself.” She said in a sad tone.

The other two nodded and walked off. Tamitayo continued towards the Bannered Mare, and as she entered she walked upstairs and found Saadia waiting. She walked up to the redguard woman.

“Any news of the Alik'r?” Saadia asked worriedly.

“I was unable to defeat them all, and they’re coming for you.” Tamitayo lied to her.

“What? How? I thought they weren’t allowed within the city!” Saadia said shocked at the news.

“They’ve found a way in. We need to get you out of here.” Tamitayo continued to lie.

“But where will i go? I can’t keep running forever!” She said to Tamitayo and Lydia.

“There’s a horse waiting at the stables. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Tamitayo said with a lie again.

“After all this, i have to pick up and leave again? If you really think this is the only way, i trust you. Let’s not waste any time.” Saadia said as she rose from the chair and prepared to head out for the stables. The word “trust” cut Tamitayo right in the heart, and made her feel bad for what she had to do.

Tamitayo and Lydia followed Saadia out of Whiterun and towards the stables. Here they were met face to face with Kematu and some of his Alik'r warriors.

“We meet at last, my dear lady.” Kematu said, with a voice like that of a hunter who’s happy that the hunt was FINALLY over.

“What is this? What have you done?” Saadia asked Tamitayo, who looked sad into the ground, but didn’t answer and was instead interrupted by Kematu saying “Of, come now. You didn’t really expect to manipulate people forever, did you? Your luck had to run out sometime.” before firing a paralyse spell on her, causing her to be stiff like a statue.

Tamitayo walked up to Kematu, and he looked up at the giant dunmer woman. “Now, we’ll take our friend here back to Hammerfell, where she wil pay the price of her treason.” he said.

Tamitayo looked down worried at Saadia and back at Kematu. “She won’t be harmed?” she asked.

“Not on the way back. Once she gets there, it’s not up to me to decide what’s done with her. And as for you, i owe you a portion of the reward, don’t i? Well, here you go. Spend it wisely, and if i may… Don’t allow yourself to be fooled by a pretty face. You’re better than that.” Kematu told her in a polite manner.

Tamitayo watched as the Alik'r left with Saadia. She felt bad and she was going to miss her a lot, but justice had to be done. She walked back into Whiterun and saw Ysolda. She had gotten quite a big belly, and Tamitayo walked up to the nord lady and asked “Who did you eat?”

Ysolda looked up at her giant dunmer friend. “Oh, Ciinia told Nakila to stay back in Breezehome to get the rest he deserves. Her plan was to go to the College of Winterhold so she could learn more about magic. She didn’t know the way so she asked me for help, and you know how persuasive i can be. Shuvika should be back in a bit, she’s on a little errand for me that i hope to get done before travelling to Winterhold with our friend here.” She explained to Tamitayo.

Soon enough was Shuvika and Serana back and walked up to Ysolda. “Here’s the mammoth tusk you wanted.” the orc said happily and handed it to her.

“Thank you Shuvika. Here’s a bit for your trouble.” She replied and handed Shuvika some gold.

Shuvika then looked at Tamitayo. “So what do you plan on doing now my big plump friend?” She asked.

“I’m not entirely sure which direction to go, though now that i think about it, i should maybe get better at using my magic.” The giant dunmer replied.

This gave Shuvika an idea. “Hey, why don’t you take with Ciinia to the College of Winterhold? That’s a place where you learn about different types of magic, how it works and all that” Shuvika suggested. “Just make sure you don’t make Urag gro-Shub mad. He’s the librarian of the Arcanaeum, and trust me, you will NOT win in a fight. Even the Archmage, Savos Aren is scared of making him mad, and even i could not take him on, and neither can Serana, so just for your own safety, don’t make that orc angry.” Shuvika suggested to keep her friend safe.

Tamitayo nodded, but has made up her mind. She was going. She looked at Ysolda. “Think you can take two more?” She asked the nord lady who simply nodded.

Ysolda may be tiny when compared to a giant like Tamitayo, but that didn’t stop her from swallowing both her and Lydia, ones that was all well and done, she began her travel to Winterhold with her passengers. They all said goodbye to Shuvika and Serana before they left.

Inside Ysolda’s belly had Ciinia and Tamitayo begun to talk about what they already knew about magic, and what they might want to wish to explore more of. Lydia just stood there and listened, didn’t say much. This helped taking Tamitayo’s mind off of Saadia.

After a bit of time, had Ysolda arrived at Winterhold. Here she let the three ladies out. “Thanks for travelling with the Ysolda caravan. Hope you had a good trip.” She said in a joking manner before waving goodbye and began to head home to Whiterun.

Tamitayo, Lydia and Ciinia began to walk into Winterhold, when they heard a roar in the distance, a dragon was nearby, and very close. It was actually going to attack the city.

Tamitayo, Lydia and Ciinia watched as the dragon attacked. The town guards grabbed their bows and weapons and began fighting back. Lydia found her bow as well, the one Shuvika had made for her, and began to shoot after the dragon. Ciinia summoned a flame atronach and began to fire spells after the dragon as well. Tamitayo summoned stoneflesh to increase her own endurance and began to use various of different spells, such as “wither” to lower the dragon’s movement and attack, when she was able to hit, “Raise Wall” to create a wall to help protect her allies that was to far away for her to use ward on, “Curse of the Silent” to drain the dragon’s magica when she was able to land a hit with it, “Lamb of Mara” to drain the dragon’s health, and “Circle of Strength” whenever the dragon landed to fight in melee. She switched between using her ranged magic for when the dragon was either flying or far away, to using her bound swords, where she dual-wielded them against the dragon.

The battle was fierce, and even with the guard’s help, the dragon would not go down easily. Eventually though, was the dragon so full of arrows and ice spikes, as well as overall damage by everything else, that it crash landed on the ground. It was angry, all it wanted, was to kill Tamitayo, so it charged directly towards her. She fired all the spells she could on that short while, before it fired a frost breath against her. She was able to block it with a ward in time, but it drained her a lot. Lydia and the guards arrived with bow and melee and helped out in the fight, and so did Ciinia and her flame atronach.

The dragon suddenly shouted “ZUN HAAL WIIK!”, and everyone that was hit by the dragon’s shout was ripped of their weapons, as the shout defied steel and metal. As if that wasn’t enough the dragon let out another shout, “FAAS RU MAAR!”, and everyone that was hit by it, felt terror like never before.

Tamitayo was now alone with this dragon, it was clear that it was a quite powerful one. And it wanted her dead. She tried to fight back, but it charged at her, and while she was good with her bound weapons, the dragon was to powerful for the tall dunmer to handle alone, and even with allies it was still difficult.

The dragon threw her into a building, and now he let yet out another shout. “MUL QAH DIIV!” As the dragon said this shout, it’s entire body was covered in some sort of ethereal armor, and Tamitayo could feel its power increase. The dragon had gotten a 25% increase it’s attacks, a 125% increase to it’s defence and endurance, a 25% increase for fire resistance and frost resistance, it’s shouts becoming more powerful and a 20% decrease in shout recharge time.

Tamitayo had to admit, there was no way, even in the dragon’s wounded stage, that she would win this fight, and she doubted she could even if it hadn’t used this specific shout. A howl could suddenly be heard, and Tamitayo looked out to the side, and saw a grey-greenish werewolf with tusks howling into the sky, summoning other werewolves as well as frost spirits, and besides the werewolf was a vampire lord who had summoned bats and a gargoyle. The werewolves, ice wolf spirits, the vampire lord, the gargoyle and the bats all charged the dragon with violent fury, clawing and biting at it, while the vampire lord used it’s magic against it. Meanwhile Lydia, Ciinia and the guards have managed to free themselves from the shout that filled them with terror. They all looked on as the werewolves attacked. They decided to use long range tactics while the werewolves had the dragon distracted, they could kill them afterwards.

Tamitayo got to her feet, and summoned her own familiar spirit, and began to fight against the dragon as well. The battle was fierce, bloody and intense. It lasted for a long time. Soon the dragon has had enough and ones again focuses on Tamitayo and charges towards her, but she was saved by Nakila, how looked very angry that he never can catch a break. He smacked the dragon in the face with the Mace of Molag Bal. However the dragon was able to hit him to the side and into a building hard enough to make him covered in debris. Nakila looked at the situation. He took aim, and threw his mace in Tamitayo’s direction. She was able to grab it in time, lending a powerful blow on the dragon’s lower jaw. She grabbed the side of it’s head and swung herself up on top of the dragon and first hit it in the eye with the mace. By this point, the mul qah diiv shout had run out, and with one final strike she smashed the mace down into the dragon’s skull so hard, it hit the ground and bounced up into the air again.

She jumped down and looked as the dragon’s body collapsed. However, as the dragon drew its final breath, it began to glow, and a whirlwind of colour erupted from it as it’s body began to burn, and surged towards Tamitayo. Ones it was all over, she felt new power and knowledge inside of her, and everyone around her looked at her in amazement, and she knew what it meant, just like Shuvika-Nebuki, she too was a Dragonborn.

After the amazement was over, had the werewolves and the vampire mysteriously disappeared, and everyone had helped patching and healing those who got wounded. Tamitayo was still in shock and surprise. She was really the stuff of legend, just like Shuvika! She couldn’t believe it. She was both excited and scared for what this would mean for the future. Speaking of the future, Tamitayo and Ciinia looked up at the College of Winterhold. True, she didn’t know what the future had in store, but she knew where she would start, and that would be at the college, alongside her friends Ciinia, who was going to study with her. Lydia, her housecarl who had sworn to protect her and has grown quite close to her. Shuvika, while they’ll not be at the same place, she knew their paths would cross again, and she had a feeling it would be quite often. Nakila, the naga argonian who had sworn to protect both Shuvika and Ciinia, while grumpy, was he still a good friend. And finally Serana, while she hadn’t had much interaction with her as with the others, she still felt kinda close to her.

She didn’t know what the future hold, but so far, it seemed to have gotten a good and interesting start.

[deltaengineering]

Summer Anime 2018 Part 1: Nurupo

I feel bad for calling last season weak now, since that turned out okay, what with Megalobox, Hinamatsuri and Rokuhoudou (the best show you didn’t watch). Maybe this is a lesson to not be so negative, but all the positivity in the world can’t make this season look good. To balance it out, I’ll be bringing along some hot opinions from people getting paid to see the bright side this time.

P.S. Part 2 is here.

Island

What: A very Frontwing version of When They Cry, apparently. Awesome McCooldude wakes up on an island full of pliant girls and/or dark secrets.

✅  looks alright

❌ story is tryhard mystery nonsense based on convenient amnesia, very unlikely to deliver

❌❌ an absolutely terrible cast of generic VN characters, enjoy your common route hijinks with them

❌❌ Frontwing being Frontwing, please see picture.

ANN sez: “This episode accomplishes the two things that it absolutely must for the series to have a chance of succeeding: it makes the main trio of girls endearing enough and layers on some intriguing mysteries.”

Hanebad!

What: Some girls take badminton very seriously. Somewhere between genocide and extinction level event seriously.

✅  well animated and directed

✅  there appears to be more to the characters than nothing at all, so the overbearing presence of the drama llama might actually pay off

❌ has a tendency to wallow in ostentatious KyoAni-style presentational kitsch

❌ speaking of which, making the cast of Euphonium look like a bunch of carefree slackers by comparison is not a good thing

ANN sez: “From the lush colors of their school's flowers to the alienating saturation and long shots of their gym hallways, every mood HANEBADO strives for is captured perfectly through its visual storytelling, and solidified through fundamentally sturdy dialogue and plotting.”

Senjuushi

What: Touken Ranbu with firearms.

❌ This is a cute boys doing cute things anime set against a backdrop of global thermonuclear war and combining the ultra seriousness of ufotable TR with the slice of life tone of Doga Kobo TR makes for a very, let’s say, “uneven” experience. 

❌  Unsurprisingly, it has the production values of neither of the above and looks like crap instead.

❌❌ The localized title is “The Thousand Musketeers” and given the reckless pace in which it introduces pointless characters, it might actually hit that number in 12 episodes.

❌❌ Mobile game character designs must be stopped, for fuck’s sake

ANN sez: “The story itself has some promise, especially if you're a fan of antique guns.“

Shichisei no Subaru

What: VRMMO light novel garbage about MMO newtypes.

❌ High tier light novel tropes like “u die in the game u die 4 real”, grade schooler magical girlfriends and demigod abilities

❌ Yes, the characters start as grade schoolers and then there’s a timeskip where they become high schoolers. They don’t change at all, which is either cutting commentary on arrested development or an indication of how good this show’s writing is.

❌ Ideas like permadeath in an MMO and giving good players a stake in the game company are hilariously stupid even by this genre’s standards.

❌ You’ve seen this exact cast of characters before, likely in better shows.

❌❌ There’s really no single egregiously bad aspect, but the stank of mediocrity is so overwhelming as to deserve a double minus all of its own.

ANN sez: “This episode banks heavily on the appeal of its mysteries, but those mysteries actually are pretty appealing, and I ultimately respect this episode's choice to introduce so much of its world and characters before getting to the real conceit.”

Banana Fish

What: A well regarded classic manga about New York’s seedy gang underbelly of drugs and violence. And BL.

✅ ✅   Looks good. Like actually, legitimately good. Animation, character design, directing, this show is quality.

❌ Updating the setting to contemporary times seems like a not so great idea since everything about this is deeply steeped in the mid-80s gang violence and drugs panic, no matter how many smartphones get used.

♎ The pacing is ultra fast. While I will admit that I’ll take that over a snoozefest (especially in a seasonal rundown), if this wants to be a legitimate high tier anime it needs to let the atmosphere breathe more. 24 episodes isn’t much for a 19-volume manga.

❌ I’ve praised MAPPA for promising first episodes before, and then I got the likes of Yuri on Ice and Virgin Soul out of it. This is not an anime original so it will be harder to fuck up, but life finds a way - especially given the need for condensing the story as noted above.

❌ Ultimately, just being a classy production with proven writing isn’t the be-all-end-all; quality aside, I still have to like what it does, and I’m not sure what amounts to a homoerotic 80s crime B-thriller is exactly in my wheelhouse.

✅ What else are you gonna watch this season?

ANN sez: “The one negative I can foresee is that one character is portrayed as a fairly stereotypical gay sexual predator, and this story pitches itself consistently as a seedier exploration of its boys' love subject matter, so it's reasonable to expect these kinds of details going forward.”

Yume Oukoku to Nemureru 100-nin no Ouji-sama

What: Girls get their wish-fulfilment isekai nonsense too, it’s just a pretty pointless definition when you can just say “basic otome harem” instead. But sure, nondescript girl wakes up in fantasy dream universe where she has a magical trait that makes a large number of princes desire her. Call it what you like.

♎ Successfully avoids the most obnoxious otome harem and isekai tropes, but that just makes it even more bland

❌ lots of exposition about an universe that is hardly complicated and transparently an excuse anyway

❌ Main character is agreeable but exceptionally boring

❌ The princes are all generically princely and very little else

❌❌ combine that with sluggish pacing and this might be the most boring show so far, which is not an easy feat

ANN sez: “There were also some neat details here and there that I particularly appreciated, like the fact that our heroine is actually a working adult, as well as the idea that rather than being “trapped in a new world” she's in truth been returned to her home.”

Back Street Girls

What: A trio of yakuza thugs get a forced sex change because their boss wants to be an idol producer. It’s funny, laugh.

❌ This is not the warm, fuzzy trans acceptance anime you’ve been looking for, to put it mildly. I am not easily offended, but it would have to be pretty darn good to outrun this premise. Yeah, about that...

❌❌ runs its one joke (idols are not supposed to be thugs, like, at all!) into the ground before it exceeds a 3-minute short runtime; is actually 24 minutes long anyway. Hope you really like that joke.

❌❌ the execution of said joke is the pits of anime comedy, nothing but reaction faces and shouting

❌❌ production values are basically non-existent, at most you can say that they took the time to color in those manga panels

❌ learning that Chiaki Kon is directing this pile is just sad, put THAT in your auteur pipe and smoke it.

ANN sez: Nothing, since western licensors mysteriously chose to skip this one. Really a shame because I was looking forward to the outrage.

Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo no Dorei Majutsu

What: It has “Isekai” and “Maou” in the title so what do you fucking think. What it doesn’t tell you is that it’s also about an MMO, for the full LN shitter nuclear triad.

❌❌ It’s about a loser otaku who gets trapped in his MMO wherein he has the mostest hax, complete with complementary slave pettan catgirl and slave oppai elf

❌❌ This is meant to be funny because he’s too much of a dweeb to put his penis where his mouth is.

❌ Technically better executed than Death March or Isekai Smartphone, so it gets one single minus for effort.

ANN sez: “The idea that Takuma is so insecure about talking to other people that he can only comfortably speak in the voice of his demon lord character is ingenious in a dramatic sense and endearing in a personal one, while Takuma's clear understanding of his personal failings makes him far more sympathetic than the genre's usual snarky protagonists.”

Satsuriku no Tenshi

What: Early teen girl checks herself into Silent Hill General Hospital for grief counselling.

✅  Atmosphere works reasonably well; it’s creepy where it needs to be, which is everywhere and all the time.

❌ The girl is a nonfactor blob and the tough guy she gets paired up with is an annoying chuuni edgelord (it is called 𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 after all), which is not promising for the long run

❌ So obviously based on a run-of-the-mill spoopy RPGmaker freeware game you can practically see the floor tiles.

❌❌ 24 solid minutes of Getting Cornered By A Rape Metaphor quickly goes from unsettling to incredibly tedious.

❌❌ There’s really nowhere for this to go, given how unoriginal everything is; at best it’s going to be “it was all a dream”, at worst “everyone was dead all along, please feel sad now”.

ANN sez: “The design of the facility is one of those fanciful every-level-is-a-different-setting worlds, but the artistic effort strongly pushes the creepiness factor with a design aesthetic that suggests age, decay, and neglect.“

Harukana Receive

What: Girls play beach volleyball in scenic Okinawa, some light sports drama seems to be on the horizon.

✅  Looks just good enough

✅  Girls are just cute and likeable enough

❌ the sports aspect is weak; maybe I’m just spoiled on Emiya-san’s incredible beach volleyball scene right now, but even when not compared to a top tier studio ostentatiously flaunting the budget of their fucking cooking short the match here isn’t very compelling.

♎ where Hanebad has a bad case of the cereals, this may have the opposite problem of being too cotton candy to be worth it

✅  “good enough” is not a ringing endorsement, but counts for something when being just okay will net you a third or possibly second place of the season.

ANN sez: “This is, of course, all just conjecture right now. ”

Chio-chan no Tsuugakuro

What: We took Nichijou and replaced the surrealism with video game references and the production values with donkey dung. Let’s see if delta notices!

❌❌ Production values are not optional when you want to be Nichijou; it being astoundingly over the top and imbued with impeccable timing is a (or even the) main part of Nichijou’s appeal. Without them you’re left with basic reactionface manzai over awkward situations, the king of comedy.

❌❌ Suffice it to say, this show is 100% trying to be funny, while also 100% not succeeding at being funny.

❌Asscreed is a more original tentpole to rotate your first episode around than the usual Dragon Quest, but not by much.

♎ neurotic nerd main character that is little more than a bundle of social anxieties will be #relatable to anime professionals, observe:

ANN sez: “Chio's overthinking in this situation is both hilarious and painfully true-to-life, with her furious strategizing coming across as both absurd and very familiar to anyone who's not comfortable in conversation.”

Planet With

Wat: Appears to be a tokusatsu/crypto-mecha show aimed at the younger set, with the gimmick being that our protagonist is (initially?) on the side of the villains(?).

✅  Pretty wacky, actually. It definitely doesn’t neatly fit in your square notions of what an anime is, man (unless you’ve watched FLCL).

❌ It seems very uncertain whether the wackiness is in service of anything. It might be To Be Heroine, or it might just be Heybot with fewer fart jokes.

♎ Furthermore, it wants to be intriguing and sort of is, but merely being intriguing is not that hard - you just make no sense and hope for the best. This has the not making sense part down, do you feel lucky?

❌ tries to build up characters by immediately going for the sad flashbacks, which I never like, especially if the rest of the show is eIDLIVE-level nonsense.

❌ Looks mostly fiiiiiine, but is also full of subpar CG

ANN sez: “So if the heroes are fighting against someone who just wants peace, then what does that make them? And more importantly, if they find out that the bears aren't evil, will they stop?”

Hataraku Saibou

What: A cutesy educational comedy about the workings of a human body.

✅  Well made, characters are cute, topic is interesting.

❌ Educational aspect can get in the way; I’m not suddenly giving heavy exposition a pass just because it’s trying to teach me something, especially if it’s things I basically already know.

♎ Will have to show if it can keep coming up with good scenarios. The lung infection in episode 1 was alright and so will probably be the skin cut in the preview, but beyond that I’m not sure what’s left for red and white blood cells to do. I’m not expecting a show with this tone to tackle things like retroviruses, if you know what I mean.

♎ An actual storyline seems like too much to expect, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but not a positive either.

✅  Doesn’t rock my socks off but is an easily watchable show with a fine idea and high production values, which again is hard to say no to right now.

ANN sez: “But since it culminates in one of my favorite scenes from the manga, visualizing sneezing as shooting a torpedo out your nose, I can forgive the random gendering of cells.”

Ongaku Shoujo

What: DEEN are getting in on the idol mobile game anime biz too.

✅  The main character’s gimmick is that apart from being A Honk, she can’t sing for shit; this is moderately funny.

❌ It might have counted for more if that hadn’t come out seconds before the episode ended. Even if it isn’t a momentous twist, it was more of a point of interest than the incredibly bland leadup to it had.

❌  Yeah, “Ongaku Shoujo” is an entirely indicative name of how generic this show is: Music + girls, indeed. I assume “Idols” was taken.

❌ I’m still not sure what the ideal cast size of a show like this is, but 12 idols is Idolmaster turf and as such too many. They have personalities? I think?

❌ a very small handful of cuts aside, woeful production quality; I know picking on DEEN is 2ez but this is not their finest work. Animation snobs can feel proud that there’s no CG dancing here, for the rest of us it’s an object lesson on why CG is the lesser of two evils.

✅  Tumbling SR cards in the ED (which is probably actually the OP) made me laugh; this show can’t even afford URs.

❌❌ Overall, just another idol show. Large cast plus presence of a P-san marks it as Im@s-type – but if you're in the market for an Idolmaster clone with bad looks, I would recommend Wake Up Girls instead because that’s at least pretty real at points.

ANN sez: They’re out for the weekend, ask again later. I suspect it’s nothing funny.

[lordrethandus]

The Flame That Guides Us Home Pt 4

Istrys hurried through chamber after chamber, occasionally raising more corpses along the way that her pets generously left behind for her. Yet even with them mapping the ship out, she still felt no closer to finding Rethandus than when she first boarded; and she would need to find him before that bomb went off, or all that would remain of them both would be fleeting memories.

Almost half of her ghouls attending the Oathguard were already slain, but that was to be expected. A surprise rush might work fine for unarmed mechanics still disoriented from the Krakenax slamming into the cliffside, but seasoned and well armed felguards wouldn't be so easily vanquished. “The fewer ghouls the better.” Istrys thought. It would be easier to focus on finding Rethandus if she also wasn't fighting a half dozen battles at the same time.

Then the Necromancer slid to a halt before a door she didn't notice when her pets dashed down this hallway. According to the schematics she ‘borrowed’ from Gonthar's belongings, this would have to either be an armory or mess hall, but who knows how outdated the Army of the Light's Intel could be?

“Venturing into this place alone seems risky.” The ever-reclusive Vesk whispered in Istrys’ head. “We don't know what lies behind this door… it could be an ambush.”

Istrys wasn't concerned. “We haven't come all this way for safety.” Vesk made a sound Istrys could only assume was protest, but it didn't stop the Necromancer from pressing her hands against the thick fel iron door and pushing it open.

This chamber was significantly larger than any of the others she's encountered, with out a single spark of light illuminating the choking darkness; she couldn't smell it but she could taste it in the air, the musky familiarity of death and suffering. No doubt this was the place she was looking for.

“This is an obvious trap.” Vesk spoke up again, but that undeniable fact didn't deter Istrys from slowly advancing forward.

“Quiet.” The Necromancer's whisper was as low as it could be. Cautiously she walked forward, inching deeper and deeper into the chamber with her ears straining for even the slightest sound. Klink… klink… klink… klink… the bone talons on the toes of her blight iron boots tapped against the cold felsteel floor with every step, but even with such a faint and deliberate sound, Istrys could hear the echo bouncing off the distant walls. Klink… klink……. klink………… kloop.

Istrys looked down to find her right boot in an inch of water. “No, it's too thick… this must be bloo-” Immediately her eyes snapped to a shape by her boot, malformed and soaked. It was a skull, and for the longest split second of her life, she was convinced it belonged to Rethandus; relief washed over her body when she plucked it off the floor and raised it to eye level.

The eye sockets were too large, too far apart, and too close to the nose socket to belong to any elf. Secondly Rethandus had a very distinct curve of his skull from getting bashed in by something heavy, but whether or not it marked his first death or happened later was irrelevant; this skull had no such damage. Lastly there were two gaping sockets on the bottom front, on either side of the skull's crooked incisors. “Moyasi…” Istrys thought to herself, remembering his obnoxiously long tusks that stuck out from under his upper lips. “Him and that panda left with Andy. I must be close if-”

“You must be this Esmeralda he’s told me so much about.” The Necromancer's ears twitched at the sudden voice, and caused her spiteful glare to snap to the darkness ahead; despite being determined to not let these echoes confuse her, she couldn't pinpoint the direction of the demon's voice in this accursed room.

“Then you know why I'm here.” Istrys answered back. “Give him back to me, and maybe I'll give you a clean death.”

“Oh I fully intend on surviving the death rattle of the Burning Legion.” The female voice seemed to be coming from behind her now. The Necromancer whirled around with her dominant hand on the hilt of her plague-rotten runesword, but all she found was more darkness and echoes. “Did you know he was quite the womanizer in his first life? For decades he would be any woman who spread her legs… he had quite the appetite. Had he not perished in Northrend, he would have made the ideal pleasure slave.” With that last remark Istrys was convinced she was dealing with either a succubus or perhaps a shivarra. She hoped it was the former; killing a twelve foot tall, four armed giant in the dark without any corpses could prove fatal.

“But what he never told you was his vice is so deeply ingrained, that it never dulled when he was raised into in death. But for a decade his perversion grew rampant without an outlet.” She continued with the sound of a smile dancing along her lips. “Every woman he's ever met, he's craved. You, Covaya, Syrahn, Tyrasam, Kaevia, and hundreds more. Even little Jaeras… he wishes to be her first… so she may know what a real man inside her is like.”

“Don't listen to this fiend.” Vesk warned. “She only wishes to make you angry.”

“Well it's fucking working!” Istrys couldn't concentrate on keeping her distant ghouls in check while this demon boiled her blood.

A cruel laughter bounced around the Necromancer. “Did you honestly think you were special? That he only had eyes for you?! Hahahaha… so naive! If he could trade you for Zion he wouldn't hesitate!”

“Show yourself, you filthy bitch!” Istrys shouted, eager to spill her blood. Before long a bright green light lit up the chamber, revealing the long tables and gruesome tools the Burning Legion used to torture Rethandus. Istrys turned to face the succubus with a malevolence burning in her eyes. “Oooh… I can't describe how much I'm going to enjoy desecrating your corpse.”

“Oh, I believe you would.” Azazel didn't bother hiding the amusement written on her face. A healthy ember of felfire hovered silently in her hands until she dropped it into the puddle of blood. Istrys had to hop out of it before the flames reached her feet, but now she could only see the silhouette of the succubus frantically dancing along the wall, despite the demon standing perfectly still. “Unfortunately you'll be too preoccupied to butcher me. Darling… come hither.”

Istrys strained her eyes at the second silhouette, but she couldn't recognize it at all. “He told me you would come rescue him, you know. He wanted so desperately for you to swoop in and free him from my torment. You never came.” Azazel motioned for the figure to step closer. “Seems you two have some catching up to do. Goodbye, Esmeralda, and good luck. Andy… kill her.”

Rethandus began walking toward Istrys with the felflames around his feet sputtering out from the sheer cold. The closer he grew, the more horrified Istrys became; all of his beautiful silver hair was gone, burned off his scalp along with most of his skin. He was still wearing his armor but it was nearly falling off his body, held together by huge felsteel staples likely buried directly into his flesh. Both hands were gone, but welded to his right forearm was a serrated slab of folded felsteel so long the tip dragged along the ground. Lastly his chestplate was split in half, exposing his heart that overflowed with fel corruption.

Rethandus was already sailing through the air by the time Istrys unsheathed her sword. Their weapons struck together with a deafening clash that echoed mercilessly off the walls. Istrys nearly lost her arm when his blade bounced off her runesword, and with a surge of power he twisted his body to strike at her again and again.

Rethandus was slow, but his attacks were brutally strong. Istrys was smaller and remained faster, but his freezing aura tightened its grip on her bones, and she couldn't keep dodging forever. “Istrys!” Vesk's voice was loud and booming. “You must fight back! Kill Rethandus!”

“I-…!” The creeping rime on her armor made it impossible to continue avoiding him. Left, right, left again, a thrust forward, his attacks were relentless. The tortured husk spun his body around for two consecutive downward strokes from above, with enough force to cut the Necromancer in half. Istrys collapsed onto one knee from the first hit, feeling her fingers shatter as her sword groaned and rattled in her hands; the second hit nearly took her arm off. “I can't!”

“Istrys!” In a flash he slashed at her again in an upward arch, the blow hitting her so hard it ripped her sword out of her weakened grip and into the air. Istrys caught a glimpse of her sword disappearing in the felflame, but she was forced to duck as Rethandus moved to behead her.

Istrys fell hard on her back, but he was already upon her before she could react. His iron boot slammed against her chestplate and pinned her to the ground. Istrys stared deep into his face, his once beautiful frozen eyes now dull, dead, and empty. He raised his bladed arm up to cleave her head in twain, but the Necromancer raised both of her hands and overloaded a few of her unholy runes, hurling a torrent of shadow magic into his face. His balance shifted just enough for her to wiggle free, but Rethandus was thrown into an enraged frenzy.

  Scrrraaauuughk… the crackling hiss of the air around Istrys freezing into a haze compelled her to retreat, but the hungering cold was already cutting through her armor and digging deep into her bones. She could barely move her legs now, her feet and ankles frozen solid in a sheet of ice. Instead of trying her luck to retrieve her sword, Istrys fled further into the darkness. A thick iron table stood between her and her desperate escape. She wouldn't dare look behind her to see his jagged blade rip through her body; she just had to believe he wasn't a moment away from ushering in her second death.

Istrys scampered beneath the table, only to find herself trapped against the wall. Rethandus cut through the table like it was made of parchment, pressed his boot against one of the cleaved pieces, and sent it flying toward her. It was too fast to dodge.

“AAAAUUUGH!” Her right arm vanished between the wall and the ruined table, her shoulder and collarbone shattered and useless. Istrys found herself trapped like a wounded rat, unable to free herself, or even cut through her arm in time before Rethandus caught up with her. Then she remembered, “A husk is all he is. A mindless ghoul in need of a master.” Shadow magic coursed through her left hand when she reached out to grasp at Rethandus in an attempt to bind his corpse to her will.

Agony akin to taking an axe to the skull struck her in the forehead the moment she made contact. She felt it swell like a festering blister, a deafening and blinding sensation so pure and real she swore she was dying herself. Istrys tasted what Rethandus went through in his final moments; when they twisted and pulled each of his fingers off, when demonic hounds feasted on his hands, the bladed whip striking his flesh a hundred times, even when they seared his face in felfire. Then his voice flooded her mind. “You abandoned me. I waited for your rescue. Why didn't you save me? What did I do to deserve this? I'm sorry Mother. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

It was too much to endure. One last push was all Rethandus needed to eject her influence out of his mind. The feedback left the Necromancer mentally debilitated, unable to move and barely conscious. Vesk was yelling at the top of her lungs, but her voice was too distant and too muffled to understand. Istrys slowly looked up to see her legs encased in ice, and the frozen boots of Rethandus. “This is it…” She heard herself speak in the lowest of whispers, but it was all the strength she had left. A necromancer of her caliber, felled by an empty undead husk? This ironic defeat would haunt her to the end of all existence.

Then Rethandus staggered forward, his bladed forearm clapped against the floor with a ringing bang. Istrys looked forward to see his left shoulder engulfed in embers as pitch black as the night sky. His husk growled in pain before rising to his full height again, and when he turned to face whoever hurt him, her eyes trailed off until they settled on the familiar cripple near the door.

Zolaar the Harvester was already channeling another spell in his hands, with shadows leaking from his palms and spilling out from between his fingers like sand. When he launched a second bolt of his foul magic, Rethandus angrily smacked it out of the air just before it nailed him in the chest. Another one whizzed past his head when he ducked, and another was blocked with his blade. No more than ten feet left before he reached Zolaar and Rethandus felt the air around him twist and shudder; the instant he looked down the hidden rune at his feet activated, tossing him a foot into the air and locking him in place. The harder he struggled to break free, the stronger it seemed to grip him, feeding off his unstable fel and frost magic.

“Istrys!” Zolaar called out to despite being out of breath from running. When he collapsed at her side,  he was forced to remove his mask, snorting loudly through the mess of scabbed lips and jagged teeth he once called his face. “W-we need to l-leave! That won’t h-hold him for long…!”

Istrys didn't answer. Her head was slumped against the wall and her eyes were closed; she had to focus on not slipping under, or she knew she would never open her eyes again. A surge of shadow magic coursed through her bones soon after the distant shouting of the Harvester stopped, filling her to the brim with rejuvenating power. The Necromancer opened her eyes to see Zolaar's twisted face, and the back of Rethandus’ mindless husk breaking through the first seal to escape his magical prison.

“Aughhh… what the fuck happened?!” Istrys rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

“You almost d-died!” Zolaar coughed out, frantically trying to pull her free from the remains of the table pinning her to the wall. “We n-need to flee b-before he frees himself!” Istrys felt as strong as she could be in her condition. The ice on her legs snapped when she forced her legs to move, the bones in her collar clicked back into place. The Necromancer dug her fingers between her other arm and the table, and with a surge of strength she managed to wrench herself free.

“Istrys! He is about to break free!” Vesk's voice was deafening again. Istrys could feel the bones in her crushed arm reforming, but the flattened armor wouldn't allow a full recovery for now. Slowly the Necromancer was pulled up onto her feet by the Harvester, just as Rethandus shattered the rune and collapsed to his knees.

A guttural roar sent Zolaar squirming away like a beaten puppy. Istrys turned to see Rethandus’ husk sprinting toward her at top speed, the metal floor beneath her boots trembling with each step. “Run…!” Zolaar squeaked out, nearly falling onto the floor. “RUN!”

Istrys let her crumbled arm hang limp and useless off her crushed shoulder, but with her other arm, she reached out toward the sickly green glow of the fel flames. Forked lightning as black as pitch danced around her palm and leapt from her fingers. Her runesword was half-eaten by the flames and unforgivably hot, melting through her gauntlet to lick at her flesh the instant it was back in her grasp.

With her ruined sword, Istrys waited until he was close enough to touch before swinging her blade around as hard and as fast as she could.

[whispersafterdusk]

In Your Hands - ch 12

A lucky blow and a single misstep was all it had taken to send Ralsten and a Falmer plummeting off a bridge and into a river below them; while the wood elf wasn't in his full plate armor he was still rather heavy and with that extra weight he simply didn't have the strength to both fight the river's current and also keep his head above the surface -- the river dumped him over several falls until he washed up, coughing and vomiting water, on the iced over shore near yet another Falmer encampment.  This camp had only four Falmer in it and Ralsten made short work of them (taking advantage of the fact that they were not prepared for him to suddenly be in their midst) and then he'd had been forced to duck inside one of their stinking huts and rapidly strip off his armor and underclothes.

Each time he considered how lucky he was that he was unable to feel cold he seemed to find something new to really make him appreciate that detail, and now even though he couldn't feel it he knew he was definitely in danger of freezing solid now that he was soaking wet; quickly scavenging through the other huts at the camp turned up enough straw, wood, and scrap to build a fire and keep it going for (hopefully) long enough to completely dry his clothes and armor and once he'd spread those out he moved to huddle next to the flames to warm up his iced-over hair and body. ((Continued below cut))

It was difficult to focus as he baked next to the flames; the more insistent and gnawing thought distracting him was of Serana -- he'd only taken one Falmer over the side with him when he'd fallen and they had been fighting a group of six (one of which had been behind the others and pelting Ralsten with ice).  He knew that Serana was more than capable and didn't think the Falmer could actually kill her, but she could be injured...bleeding out in the blizzard, or knocked off as he had, or any other unpleasant and nerve wracking scenes his mind could dream up.

As the wood popped and crackled next to him he tried to force himself to think of anything BUT that; he thought of home and Lucia...but that was overshadowed by the worry of what would happen if he couldn't cure himself of this vampirism.  And then there was the worry of dragons reappearing, and even without the bow or Serana Harkon could still find a way to harm many and--

Hunching over he put his head on his knees and tried to empty his mind entirely.

Several hours later his clothing was dry enough and he was able to dress himself; there was still too much moisture in the padding and straps of his armor (especially in his boots) to risk putting it on and the wasted time along with not knowing where Serana might be and what may have happened to her was driving him mad.

In another attempt to calm his mind he began to pace in the limited space at the back of the hut, the fire still burning away merrily and in a sudden gut punch of alarm Ralsten realized that what he was hearing wasn't just the fire -- there were footsteps coming this way, and they were going at a quick pace.

Inwardly he groaned and picked up his sword, hugging the inner wall of the hut to stand with his back to the wall next to the hut's opening; he expected to hear the growling or raspy breathing of a Falmer but...no, the footsteps were too even - too uniform - and the breathing he heard was ragged but not...not anything like the Falmer.

Cautiously Ralsten stuck his head around the edge of the hut's opening, and he almost dropped his sword when he realized in a rush that Serana was the one hurrying this way -- she stumbled here and there on the ice and had the one lantern they'd brought lit and held in front of her, with her other hand ready with the glimmers of a spell.

"Serana!"

Her head whipped toward him and even at this distance he could see relief on her face; she hurried to him and he grabbed her by the shoulders to sweep her into the hut, looking her up and down.

"You're uninjured?  They didn't hurt you?"

"You're alive!" she said instead, ignoring his questions.  "I thought -- when you fell, I thought-"

"Very nearly, very nearly," he replied, shaking his head.  "I'm not and it doesn't matter.  Are you all right?"  There was ice and snow caked in a thin layer across her shoulders and back and he saw with some dismay that it was decidedly thicker across her thighs and the tops of her boots.  "Did you get wet?  Here, sit down-"

He guided her toward the fireside where he'd been sitting on a folded bit of old sackcloth; she collapsed but it seemed more out of relief than exhaustion, and Ralsten found himself running a hand over the snow clinging to her legs.

"You're going to freeze."

"I can't believe I found you alive."

"Get those boots off."

It seemed neither was all that interested in directly answering the other, but Serana at least bent down to try and work the frozen leather boots off her feet and calves; Ralsten knelt at her feet and helped and could see how the fabric of the cloth pants she wore under the leather was stuck to her skin.

"--how deep - how wet did you get?" he asked, looking up to meet her eyes.

"To the waist.  It's fine-"

"No," he interrupted.  "Just because we can't feel the cold doesn't mean our bodies won't freeze.  Get those wet clothes off, while we still have a fire to dry them with."

She stared at him a moment, then raised an eyebrow.  "I don't have any extra clothing to wear while these dry."

"Neither did I - I just sat here nude.  I'll put my back to you, but I don't want you freezing."

Serana looked...uncertain, but Ralsten moved to sit on the other side of the fire, crossing his legs and laying his sword across his knees as he stared into the gloom beyond the hut.  Behind him after a pause he heard her unbuckling her belt, then the sound of leather rubbing on leather and a few pained noises as she no doubt reached the parts that were frozen to her.

"...you'll have to tend the fire, if you don't want me turning around," he said into the silence that followed.

He heard more shuffling, more sounds of cloth rustling and then a few sharp thuds as she shook something out, then there was quiet.

"-you can turn around, if you want."

Very cautiously Ralsten turned and saw that she'd beaten the snow off her cloak and had it across her lap; her leather pants, the cloth ones beneath it, and her boots were neatly arranged near the fire's edge, and bare leg from knees to toes was all Ralsten could see.

He tried not to look at them.  "How did you find me?"

"Entirely by accident, I think.  After I killed those Falmer I retraced our steps until I found a spot against the cliff that I could climb down...then I had to find a way in through the ice, and I fell through it a few times walking along the river.  I- I really wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that I hadn't found you washed up somewhere."  She looked uncomfortable at the thought.  "...I don't know what I would have done if I'd found you dead."

Ralsten smiled weakly at her.  "Carried on, obtained the bow, and stopped your father.  You'd do just fine without me."

"Maybe.  But I wouldn't want to."

He looked at her curiously, and she shook her head more at herself than anything else.

"I mean - I wouldn't want to have to finish this without you.  We've come this far...suffered so much," she added after a breath.

Ralsten smiled at her; she smiled back and smoothed her cloak over her knees.

Her things took less time than his to dry; they both ended up redressed and fully armored again just as they ran out of fuel for the fire -- they left it smoldering as they strode back out into the frigid air.

"There isn't an easy way to climb out, is there?"

Serana shook her head.  "No, there isn't - we'll both end up soaked again if we try to get out the way we came in."

Ralsten blew out a frustrated sigh.  "Right.  I guess we'll see what we can find in here."

"...please tell me the ewer survived that tumble."

He had to laugh at that.  "Yes, yes it did.  Let's get out of this...wherever this is."

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

"Look at this place..."

Ralsten didn't reply; after days on end of fighting through Falmer camps (at this point it was more a Falmer city -- he'd seen far more of them in this one valley than he'd ever seen in any ruins) they had come to a bridge of finely worked stone that crossed a wide, deep canyon, and on its far side was what could only be the Inner Sanctum, or at least the entrance to it.

The architecture was unlike any Ralsten had seen, all pointed stone archways with worked...was that silver?  Iron?  He couldn't tell, but there was skillfully worked, decorative metal grating on the windows that faced them, and just barely visible through the main archway was some kind of courtyard.

"This looks nothing like what the Falmer favor."

"Time changed them, and not for the better.  This...place, this view..."  Serana walked onto the bridge and about a third of the way across, leaning against the railing to look down into the canyon.

To their right was more cliff face (this place seemed to be built into, or carved from, the mountains it was nestled in) but to the left, seen through the bare sliver between the canyon's walls, one could spot the sinewy and snow-coated tops of the Falmer village's huts -- he didn't care much for the reminder of what they'd fought through for the last week but if one looked out instead of down there was nothing more than exposed icy walls that reflected the pale blue of the sky, and dotted along the canyon walls were the nests of hawks, some visibly roosting undisturbed by the two that stood on the bridge looking at them.

They crossed the bridge slowly, taking in the view, then found themselves in a courtyard at the base of an enormous statue of Auri-El; the statue towered over them and despite the weather and its age it was still intact and only slightly tarnished.

To either side of the statue were the bases of stairs leading up to a platform where a basin mounted on a pedestal waited; they climbed the stairs with an unspoken excitement -- they were finally here, after such a difficult journey.

The basin on its pedestal was set on a slightly raised hexagon of stone and from its base extended some carved grooves that stretched forward to join with that of a carved sun emblem that was in front of another door that no doubt led deeper into the Sanctum.

Ralsten took the ewer from his pack and pried the top open then poured the water into the basin; a hole he hadn't noticed in the bowl before opened at the water's touch and it drained out as quickly as he'd poured it in.  The elf frowned and opened his mouth to say...not exactly the type of words one should utter in anything resembling a temple, but moments after the water had drained into the pedestal it began to seep out of the pedestal's base and into the three cut grooves into the stone floor, which Ralsten had assumed were decorative when he'd first glanced at them.

Surprisingly the water didn't immediately freeze and all of it made it to the end of the grooves to empty into the carved relief of the sun emblem of Auri-El.  For a time he and Serana watched the water flow and perfectly fill the sun carving to the brim...and then, the stone beneath their feet began to groan and vibrate, and the sun-shaped handles upon the spun and ponderously unlocked.

He sat the empty ewer on the ground and went to grab one of the handles, grunting and straining to pull the old metal door open; Serana stepped inside ahead of him and immediately stopped just inside the door.

"These Falmer are...they're frozen in the ice.  And I thought the Soul Cairn was creepy."

Brow furrowing Ralsten moved further into the room; this place definitely felt like a temple but the ceiling had caved in in several spots, including one place in the center of the room that allowed some sunlight to reach inside and fall over one of the altars to Auri-El.

And, the room was just...full of frozen Falmer.

They were all frozen in poses that suggested they'd been fighting or trying to seize something when the freezing effect had struck them.   And some had been frozen atop of small, raised platforms that Ralsten thought may have been places to stand and pray at some time in the past, but now seemed to be displaying these unfortunate Falmer.

"This is...well, awful," he said, voice hardly above a whisper.

Even whispering his voice still echoed unnervingly, and he could hear the crackle of ice and the trickle of rock and snow resettling.  

"Let's just find the bow and leave."

He led the way further into the temple; when he reached the altar at the center of the room he found that the light coming in wasn't because of a hole in the ceiling due to neglect but because of purposeful design -- at the very top of a circular hole was another decorative grate made to look like the sun's rays and daylight was peeking through the narrow opening.  Ralsten paused to consider the shrine and decided it was probably best he not touch it and moved on to find two doors at the back of the room that led further inward.

Peeking through the doors he found a narrow, hallway-like room with more raised prayer places, a few long tables, and more frozen Falmer, as well as yet another door; the moment his foot crossed the threshold into this room however several thundering cracks and snarls of challenge came from the room they'd just left.

"They're...alive?" Serana asked, sounding amazed.

Ralsten spun around and saw that the frozen Falmer were breaking free and charging at them...but while they moved and howled, they were still...ice - little more than statues come to life.

One came tearing at him from the side; it was the wrong side for the mace so Ralsten swung his sword instead and glanced off the Falmer's rock hard, icy skin.  Swearing quietly he followed up the ineffective swing with slamming his shoulder into the Falmer and dashing it into the wall.

Serana's draining spell surged around him and struck the Falmer -- to Ralsten's relief the creature began to falter and he had the time and the space between them to raise his mace and crack it off the creature's head, snapping off one of its ears and sending it skittering across the stone floor.  The Falmer didn't notice the injury nor did it bleed from it and it seemed as much ice on the inside as it was on the outside, which made Ralsten wonder if these were truly frozen Falmer or just some kind of magical construct made in their image.

A blast of lightning shot over his shoulder (he felt something like static ripple across his entire body as it passed) and struck the Falmer dead center and sent it exploding into jagged shards; the other frozen Falmer that had awakened - including a pair of chaurus - were almost upon them now.  Ralsten returned his sword to his belt and hefted his mace, gritting his teeth and determined to hold this doorway...and hoping the ice Falmer weren't smart enough to circle around through the other door and come up behind them.

Ralsten met the next Falmer with an underhand swing that caught it in the hip and stumbled it; his hair rose again as Serana shot her lightning once more, which sent the Falmer backwards into the floor with a large scorch mark across its face but ultimately still intact.  Using the downed Falmer as a springboard Ralsten leapt over it while bringing his mace around in a wide arc, knocking two more over and shattering off an arm at the elbow on a third; he left the two he'd knocked into the floor for Serana to finish off and charged forward to meet the rest of the oncoming group -- two Falmer and two chaurus.

The two chaurus spat at him in near perfect unison; he braced for the burn of the poisonous spit but instead only felt a...well, it was a sort burning, but not the exact type of pain he was expecting and it was only on the small amount of skin visible between the sleeve of his breastplate and the top of his gauntlets.  He brought the head of the mace down toward the forward-most chaurus and managed to clip its mandible on the right side as it wrenched its head to avoid the blow, but the second chaurus spat again and hit him square in the chest with some of it splattering up to soak his neck and into his beard, leaving Ralsten cursing at the fact that this set of armor didn't have full facial covering.

Hissing at the burn he raised an arm to catch the hand of one Falmer slashing at him with its bare hand - the hardened ice form of the thing made its fingers into sharp, nasty looking talons - and then slid to the side to avoid the grapple attempt by the other.  Grunting and putting all of his weight behind it Ralsten swung the Falmer whose arm he'd caught and sent it stumbling into one of the chaurus, then was surprised when the other dove at him and seized his leg in its mandibles; it yanked backward and set Ralsten to the floor flat on his back, which gave the other Falmer the opening it needed to jump on top of him and scratch and claw at his face and then his arms when he covered his head with them.

The lightning that struck the one ravaging him traveled through the elf's body too -- it brought to mind uncomfortable memories of being at the mercy of that orsimer vampire, seemingly so long ago, but the blast sent the Falmer flying (and the lower half of one of its legs soaring in the opposite direction of the rest of it).  A second blast followed immediately, driving off the chaurus that still held Ralsten's leg in a painful grip; he managed to aim a kick at the second chaurus that sent it sliding backward and then rolled to his knees and swung down with his mace in the same motion to connect solidly with the Falmer Serana had just blasted.  

As Ralsten was still feeling the effects of the mild shock off the lightning spell his blow wasn't all that powerful but it put a noticeable crack into the Falmer's stomach that extended down to its waist; it hissed and snarled at him from where it writhed on the floor seconds before Serana blasted it to pieces, peppering the elf with razor sharp slivers of ice.

He felt a hand on his shoulder right before Serana hauled him backward from the remaining Falmer and chaurus pair, sliding him across a slick of ice made from chaurus spit; one jumped for him and he batted it aside into the doorframe right as Serana latched onto it with her draining spell.  With Serana handling that one Ralsten climbed back to his feet and swept around him in an arc to send the chaurus tumbling to its side then he threw himself on top of it, beginning to pummel it over and over as ice chips broke away and pelted him, the floor, and the nearby wall.  By the time he had beaten the creature into a pile of shattered ice Serana had blown the other to pieces and moved on to the sole Falmer left standing; she kept hurling lightning into it until it too blew apart and sent pieces scattering across the temple floor.

Then, there was silence.

Ralsten sucked in a breath and reached up to wrench his helmet off; he scrubbed his hands through his beard and over his neck to try and wipe away any clinging spittle from the chaurus (his beard had needed trimming even before he'd been made a vampire - he didn't think it had grown any since his turning, thankfully, but if it had been as close cut as he'd preferred to keep it then he wouldn't be contending now with hair that was matted and frozen with the burning poison).

"That all of them?" he panted.  He noticed a smear of blood on his gauntlet alongside the greenish chaurus spit; there were tiny cuts on his chin, neck, and face from all the ice slivers and they were just deep enough to draw blood.

"Looks like it."  Serana slowly looked about the room -- not all of the Falmer had come to life but there wasn't really a way they could determine if they eventually would.

Ralsten loosened his armor enough to reach into his undershirt and pull out a rag to wipe his face with, smearing away the blood and greenish spit before wadding it into a ball and dropping it to the floor at his feet; he cautiously moved over to one of the unmoving frozen Falmer and took his mace to it until he'd hammered the head loose and knocked it to the floor.  Serana walked with him and kept watch as he systematically did the same to all the other frozen creatures in the room, then they went back to the doorway they started at and began to carefully creep further into the Inner Sanctum.

They continued to find frozen Falmer and chaurus the further they went through the eerie, darkened halls of ice -- Ralsten broke each of them apart, just in case.

They came to an area where the walls had fully caved in and ice and snow had spilled inside and kept accumulating over the years; a wind whistled in through a hole somewhere and it was strangely unnerving to go from a dreary temple back into the inside of a glacier...but then ahead of them they spied a crack in the ice clinging to some of the familiar brick of the temple's walls, and when they'd slipped through they found themselves in some kind of...chapel-like chamber, with more frozen Falmer arranged in two parallel lines leading up to a throne, and sitting upon that throne watching as they slipped inside was a pale figure with piercing golden eyes -- it was another snow elf clad in white armor with black decorative trim.

At first the snow elf did not move save for the occasional blink, but he stirred at last as Ralsten held out an arm to stop Serana from venturing further into the room.

"Did you really come here expecting to claim Auriel's Bow?" the elf snapped - his voice echoed strangely in the room, and while the tone was sharp the elf gave off an appearance bordering on boredom.  "You've done exactly as I predicted and brought your fetching companion to me."

Serana frowned at that.  "Wait, is he talking about me?"

"Which, I'm sorry to say, means your usefulness is at an end!" the snow elf went on, face contorting into a sneer.

He waved a hand idly and some of the lines of Falmer before him sprang to life with a chorus of crackling noises that were echoed in the dimmer reaches of the room -- Falmer that they had not seen when they'd entered thanks to their attention being drawn to the snow elf who could only be the Arch-Curate.

Ralsten hefted his mace and aimed a kick at the Falmer that reached him first, then parried the one behind it and ducked yet a third one's attempt to claw his face.  His ears began to ring as Serana cut loose with the lightning again and their world turned into a whirlwind of dodging flailing, pale limbs and sending broken pieces to the floor to shatter and create a rather treacherous, slippery area.

"An impressive display but a wasted effort.  You delay nothing but your own deaths!"

The Arch-Curate's words were barely audible over the sounds of battle; a sudden vibration and rumble shook the entire room.

"Watch out!  He's pulling down the ceiling!"

Serana's warning came quickly enough for Ralsten to dive out of the way of a chunk of rock and ice that broke loose from above and smashed to the floor; another wave of Falmer came rushing at him from the gloom and he was quickly swarmed and reduced to swinging desperately with his mace to keep them at bay, all semblance of finesse in his attacks gone as he struggled to keep their hands off him.

Another rumble and then Ralsten was driven to his knees as more of the ceiling collapsed inward -- a wide slab of rock crushed some of the Falmer nearby but Ralsten himself was showered with rocks the size of his head that left him staggering and stumbling to get free of the cave in.

"Your life ends here, Vyrthur!" he heard Serana yell -- she sounded angry and determined, with no sign of pain or hesitation in her voice.

"Child, my life ended long before you were born!  I won't let you ruin centuries of preparations..."

"Surrender and give us the bow!"

Ralsten kicked himself free as the other two shouted at one another, then the entire ground seemed to heave under his feet and an even bigger cave in rained down around him; he was again forced down to his knees and tried to shield his head with his arms as rocks crashed down onto and around him; his vision swam after a particularly solid knock on the head and when he came to his senses he found Serana shoving stones out of the way to reach out to him -- he was on his stomach, covered in dirt and ice with his ears ringing, and Vyrthur wasn't visible from where he lay.

"Are you all right?" she grunted and shoved a rock aside that was laying across one of his wrists.  "Come on, we can do this.  I know we can.  He's up there on the balcony.  Come on!"

At her urging he dragged himself from the cave in; it seemed the ceiling collapse had also rid them of the attacking Falmer, and sunlight was streaming in as the Arch-Curate had pulled down so much of the ceiling and walls that this chapel was now fully open to the elements.

As he stood and staggered toward the throne and the balcony beyond it Ralsten was aware of an exhaustion that he'd never felt before; he hadn't slept at all since leaving the castle and since vampires were incapable of actually sleeping anywhere but in a coffin he hadn't had any sort of rest aside from the few times they'd stopped to sit -- his body ached and his arms felt so heavy, and there was now a hunger burning in his gut too but he knew eating wouldn't solve the exhaustion any more than sitting still for a few hours at a time had...and he wondered when he would even get the chance to sleep again.

Serana was rushing out onto the balcony ahead of him; he sucked in a breath and hurried after her, trying to ignore the bone-deep weariness and pain.

This balcony was like standing at the top of the world.  The clouds and the tops of the mountains were all around them and as he glanced over the carved stone railing to his left he could see far below the lake where they'd battle the two dragons.

Vyrthur waited for them at the middle of the balcony, face twisted in disgust and anger.

"Enough, Vyrthur.  Give us the bow," Serana said, her tone low and threatening.

Vyrthur snorted.  "How dare you.  I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, girl.  I had the ears of a god!"

"Until the Betrayed corrupted you.  Yes, yes, we've heard this sad story."

Ralsten came up to stand at Serana's side as Vyrthur laughed bitterly.

"Gelebor and his kind are easily manipulated fools.  Look into my eyes, Serana.  You tell me what I am."

Serana stared at him for a long moment, silent, then looked faintly surprised.  "You're...you're a vampire?  But Auriel should have protected you..."

"The moment I was infected by one of my own Initiates, Auri-El turned his back on me.  I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter what the cost."

Serana's look of surprise changed to a skeptical one.  "You want to take revenge...on a god?"

Vyrthur glared at them, eyes little more than slits.  "Auri-El himself may have been beyond my reach, but his influence on our world wasn't. All I needed was the blood of a vampire and his own weapon, Auriel's Bow."

"The blood of a vampire...Auriel's Bow..." Serana repeated slowly, realization creeping across her face.  "It...it was you?  You created that prophecy?"

Vyrthur began to slowly stalk toward them.  "A prophecy that lacked a single, final ingredient...the blood of a pure vampire.  The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbor."

Serana stood her ground as the Arch-Curate walked within arm's reach of her; her expression slowly hardened as he spoke, and when he stopped she shook her head...then suddenly rushed forward to grab him by the collar and bodily lift his feet from the stone.  "You were waiting...all this time for someone with my blood to come along.  Well, too bad for you...I intend on keeping it.  Let's see if YOUR blood has any power to it!"

"What trickery is this?" Vyrthur hissed.  He kicked out at her and she threw him back toward the balcony rail.

He quickly regained his feet and rapidly launched a spell aimed at Serana; she side stepped it and it slammed full force into Ralsten - it was some kind of shard of ice, far larger and with more force behind it than Serana used and it blasted the wood elf from his feet and into the railing behind him.

He slung an arm over the railing and used it to drag himself back upright; Serana and Vyrthur continued to trade spells, the elf exclusively trying to strike her with ice and her alternating between her draining spell and the lightning.  Neither of them seemed to be paying him any mind so he waited and watched, and then when Vyrthur danced away from one of the blasts of lightning it put the man's back to Ralsten.

He charged with both sword and mace, bringing them down across Vyrthur's shoulders and back in an X-shaped dual slash; the sudden reminder that Ralsten was there too dragged Vyrthur's attention from Serana and in seconds later he was cloaked in a swirling, howling snow storm that drove Ralsten back toward the railing again.

The shield of snow and wind also deflected or at least absorbed part of Serana's next bolt of lightning and didn't seem to faze the snow elf in the slightest as he aimed and then slammed another shard of ice into Ralsten point blank; Ralsten let out a yelp of pain and rolled, then dropped several feet as he rolled off the edge of the steps to the floor below them and got wedged briefly between the wall there and what seemed to be another altar to Auriel.

Vyrthur snarled as Serana latched onto him with the draining spell, using both hands to channel it through the roiling storm of snow surrounding him; this too didn't seem to faze him at first but after a few steps toward her he grimaced and hissed out a spell of his own.

A frost atronach materialized a few feet away from Ralsten and immediately turned to pummel him.  Ralsten ducked the summoned creature's giant arm and backpedaled to gain some space to fight the blasted thing.

Up on the balcony above him Serana and Vyrthur continued to fight -- Vyrthur grew tired of Serana's draining and struck her with a draining spell of his own and it turned into a contest of wills as they stood locked on to one another.

Ralsten continued to dance around the swings of the atronach, knowing if any of them connected he'd likely lose his head or even get knocked over the side...and as that thought struck him, he glanced up again to where Vyrthur and Serana fought.

They were far enough apart that...

He ducked around the atronach's arm a final time and rushed for the stairs, coming up behind Serana; he wrapped his arms around her waist and crushed her in against him, meeting Vyrthur's disdainful gaze.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The shout struck the snow elf and threw him backwards like a child's toy; the stone railing of the balcony caught the Arch-Curate at the calves and flipped him backwards, sending him plummeting head first off the balcony to the ground far, far below.

For a moment neither of them moved -- Ralsten still held Serana to him and her feet weren't even touching the ground, but when she stirred in his arms he slowly lowered her, then remembered the atronach and spun to face it but found that it had disappeared.

Serana moved to railing and looked over it, down to where the body of the Arch-Curate could be seen; even from here they could pick out the brilliant red stain spreading across the rocks and snow.

She let out a slow, steady sigh and closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun and wind.  Ralsten let himself drop to the ground, leaning back against the railing and trying to ignore how all of him, inside and out, ached.

"We did it...there's no way he survived that.  But where's the bow?" Serana asked into the silence.  "He definitely didn't have it on him."

Ralsten opened his mouth to reply when the altar down below them rumbled and stone ground against stone - what he thought was an altar was another wayshrine rising from the floor, and to their surprise Gelebor walked out of it.

He solemnly climbed the stairs, looking to them both questioningly; Serana subtly nodded her head toward the railing and the Knight-Paladin moved closed to peer over, staring down at the body of his brother dashed against the rocks below.

"So, the deed has been done," Gelebor said softly.  "The restoration of this wayshrine means that Vyrthur is dead, and the Betrayed no longer have control over him."

Ralsten hesitated, then looked up to him.  "The Betrayed weren't to blame, Gelebor.  I'm sorry."

Gelebor looked to him in confusion.  "What? What are you talking about?"

"He was a vampire," Serana answered, which prompted Gelebor to turn his attention to her.  "He was controlling them."

Gelebor nodded, clasping hands behind his back and staring down to the stones.  "A vampire? I see...that would explain much.  Deep inside, it brings me joy that the Betrayed weren't to blame for what happened here."

"Why?" Ralsten asked.  He pulled himself to his feet again and rested against the railing, bracing his arms against the stone.

Gelebor smiled faintly to him.  "Because that means there's still hope that they might one day shed their hatred and learn to believe in Auri-El once again.  It's been a long time since I felt that way, and it's been long overdue.  My thanks, to both of you."

"You're welcome," Ralsten said reflexively - it felt awkward to say and it had escaped his mouth before he'd had a chance to realize what he was saying.

Gelebor looked between them.  "You risked everything to get Auriel's Bow, and in turn, you've restored the Chantry.  I can't think of a more deserving champion to carry it than you.  If you wish to learn more of this bow, or for me to enchant the arrows to use with it, you've but to ask.  I'd be more than happy to help."

"Enchanted arrows?  Enchanted with what?"

"We call them Sunhallowed arrows," Gelebor said.  He turned and led them down the steps to the wayshrine.

The inside of this wayshrine bore a pedestal instead of a water basin, and displayed there atop it was the bow.  Gelebor gestured and stood aside, and Ralsten stepped in cautiously to reach up and take it.

It felt warm to the touch and looked a lot like the armor that Gelebor and Vyrthur wore; there was a dusty quiver full of arrows waiting there with it, and Ralsten carried both bow and quiver out to show Serana.

She ran her fingers over the bow's grip.  "It's...not as shiny as I was expecting.  Still, it's beautiful."  Looking up she met Ralsten's gaze and smiled.

Ralsten returned the smile, feeling relieved to finally have the weapon in hand; after a few breaths he broke the gaze and turned his attention to Gelebor.  "What will happen to you now?"

Gelebor inhaled slowly before replying.  "Even with Vyrthur gone and the Inner Sanctum destroyed, my duty as a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El remains.  I've been sworn to protect this vale and everything it represents until I die."  He went silent, staring thoughtfully to the wayshrine.  "For the time being these will remain open.  If remnants of our kind who escaped the betrayal at the hands of the dwarves exist out there, perhaps they will find this place one day."

"Do you think there's many out there, still?"

"With my brother dead it's quite possible that I'm the last of our kind," Gelebor answered after a pause.  "But it is also quite possible that there are some other isolated conclaves of snow elves nestled elsewhere on Nirn.  For now I will remain here, on the overlook and continue trying to keep the Sanctum free of the Betrayed.  You're welcome to return here at any time, of course," he added.

"What about the arrows?" Serana asked.  "You called them Sunhallowed...what does that mean?"

"This bow was said to be carried by Auri-El himself into battle against the forces of Lorkhan in ancient and mythic times.  It's craftsmanship has no equal anywhere within Tamriel and possibly beyond, and it is said it draws its power from Aetherius itself - channeling it through the sun.  Therefore, when an arrow is loosed from the bow, it produces a magical effect very similar to being burned by fire.  With Sunhallowed arrows you would be able to produce a much more spectacular effect...causing bursts of sunlight to envelop your foes.  It would certainly hurt anything but is especially devastating to the undead."

Ralsten held the bow a bit more gingerly at that -- this would be an incredible weapon to use against Harkon but as he himself was now undead...if someone managed to get the bow out of his hands and turn it against him or Serana...

"...and blood?" Serana asked quietly.  "Vyrthur mentioned something about using blood."

"Well, using an arrow with the bow that's been dipped in blood may cause it to function differently...corrupting its purpose.  That's of course if you're foolish enough to try it," Gelebor added.  The disapproval was clear in his tone and Serana nodded in understanding.

Ralsten took a deep breath.  "How do I get some of these Sunhallowed arrows?  You said you could make them?"

"I can."

Gelebor looked down to the arrows as Ralsten offered him the quiver that had been left with the bow; he carefully removed one of the elven arrows and tested it between his hands, then nodded.  "These will do.   And I can always make more, provided you bring me good quality elven arrows in the future."

"Thank you."

Gelebor took the quiver and retreated back toward where the throne sat on its dais; Ralsten again dropped to the stone to lean against the balcony railing, peering out through it at the nearby mountains.  It was a beautiful, peaceful view; Serana joined him but sat facing him instead with her legs crossed underneath herself.  He could tell she was troubled and didn't need to guess what was on her mind.

Having the bow meant they could now confront her father.  And confronting her father meant killing him.

"Hey," he murmured after a time.  "Are you all right?"

"...I think we both know the answer to that," came her answer.   "It's...it's time to face my father.  If we don't, he'll keep chasing us for the rest of our lives."

"We'll face him.  Together," he said, putting heavy emphasis on the final word.

The smile she flashed him was a grateful one and another stretch of silence fell between them.

"-if we head back to the castle and kick the front door in, we're going to be knee deep in his friends."

Ralsten nodded.  "And he knows we know about the back door now as well."

Serana huffed out a sigh, not looking thrilled.  "Let's head back to Isran and let him see what we've got first.  I'm betting he'll lend us a sword or two..."

Nodding again Ralsten glanced beyond her to where Gelebor was doing his incantations and rituals over the arrows -- whenever the Knight-Paladin was done they would set out immediately.