#martin septim fanfiction

[aladaylessecondblog]

TES Lore: Prophecy says you cannot fix what will happen. These people are doomed to die and nothing can change that.

Me, wielding fanfic:

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Wrong Turn but a Right Deed

CW: Single graphic depiction of a child's death This... is maybe not what anyone was expecting - least of all me. Triggered by this post by @groundrootvegetable. Tagging @hannah-heartstrings and @wispstalk as they expressed interest.

When Martin and his Hero leave Kvatch, it's by way of the sandy heathland at the city's back. It's safer, says the hero; the only dangers are desperate wolves come down from the Highlands. They walk for three days, meeting resistance neither from bandits, animals or terrain. It is only as they crest a small rise, the land falling away in a dramatic sweep and a salt-air breeze rising to meet them, that they realise something is amiss. Martin purses his lips. "Either Lake Rumare is significantly larger than I recall, or we have taken a wrong turn…" The Hero simply curses the Abecean's merry little waves.

Since they're here, Martin suggests going into Anvil. The Hero isn't happy about it, but supplies are needed. With Matius' cuirass rolled in the Hero's pack, they'll simply be a pair of refugees. The hazy mist burns away as they make their way down the cliffs, revealing a sky as clear and empty as the azure Abecean. Despite it being the end of summer, the air warms quickly around them, as if the Gold Coast hasn't quite gotten notice of the changing season. They trudge on with increasing stickiness, halting only when the lighthouse hoves into view.

The sands between them swarm with people. There's laughter and singing and sounds of splashing in the air. In the warm waters, older children frolic while elders swim sedately. On the beach, men play-wrestle and race while women help young ones shape the wet sands into crenelated forts. Their liveliness is incongruous with the horrors Hero and Priest have just witnessed. Both stand, dumbstruck, until a gull's harsh call prompts the Hero into action.

The Hero, eyes intent and wide, says, "You should wait here. There's too many people. We can't risk someone spotting you and commenting on it around the wrong ears." Martin ducks his chin, a pallor under the ruddy glow of his cheeks. "Here." The Hero manoeuvres him around the side of a boulder. "Sit here. You won't be visible, but you can see down the beach both ways. Don't talk to anyone. If you see someone approaching that doesn't look right, you run and hide nearby. I will find you." Martin nods dumbly, siting where he's told, eyes glazed. "And Brother Martin?" His focus snaps back to his Hero, unlooping some trinket from around their neck. "I will come back," the Hero says, pressing the trinket into his hand. Then, just like that, the Hero is gone. Ownerless footprints track away from him and there is nothing for him to do but settle back, watching the people of Anvil frolic from behind his stone barrier.

He's so engrossed with his watch, that Martin starts with surprise when, sometime later, a purple leather ball bounces along the sand, rolling to a stop on his side of the boulder. High voices call out and a child of around ten summers comes trotting after the ball. Lithe but short, dark hair and dark skin, he instantly reminds Martin of a child in the Kvatch congregation. "Hi," the boy grins. Martin's gore rises as he recalls finding his parishioner cloven in two, mere paces from his home. The boy frowns. "You okay there, mister?" Abruptly, Martin realises what he must look like, with blood smeared over his cassock. Heavens' forfend! – what he must smell like. "Yes. Thank you. I… was… helping deliver a child at one of the farmsteads." He smiles. "A healthy little girl. I'm afraid I may have dozed off on my way back to chapel." "Okay," the boy says.

He scampers off with his ball, and Martin thinks that will be the end of it. But no; the boy returns shortly with a flask. Shly, he holds it out. "It's Aloe and Watermelon. Nice and refreshing." Martin finds he has to blink several times before he can take it, his vision suddenly hazy. "Thank you, my child," he says, voice thick. "This is most kind of you." The drink is indeed sweet and refreshing – perhaps the best thing Martin has ever tasted. "S'alright," the boy says, kicking his heel. "Mam says you should always offer a hand to them as looks like they needs it. And you…" He goes shy again, waving a hand to complete his point. "Your mother is very wise, and raising a good son." Martin passes the flask back as the boy ducks his chin, colour rising in his cheeks. "Thanks. And, hey." The boy's head shoots back up with another grin. "If you need any help getting home, ours is the yellow and purple parasol. Just come ask for Lazarus."

[hannah-heartstrings]

Lecrinn introducing Martin and Garrus:

Martin: It's good to meet you, Garrus! Lecrinn's told me so much about you.

Lecrinn: Not that much! 😅

Garrus: Thank you, sir, it's nice to meet you too. I've heard a good deal about you as well.

Jauffre: You're not supposed to tell anyone about Martin!

Lecrinn: *😅 intensifies*

[abstractredd]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lucien Lachance/Martin Septim Characters: Lucien Lachance, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Ocato (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Rare Pairings, where the FUCK are you Marcien nation wake up, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Forbidden Love, Introspection, not beta we die like... well. Summary:

It was hard to describe what it was they had, Martin and Lucien.

[ghoulingcooper]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

Relationships: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters: Martin Septim, Baurus (Elder Scrolls), Jena (Elder Scrolls), Caroline (Elder Scrolls), Cyrus (Oblivion), Achille (Oblivion), Arcturus (Oblivion), Captain Steffan (Elder Scrolls), Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Texting, Humor, Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around

Summary: where did baurus' gin go???? the groupchat investigates.

for @da3drat <3

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

I wrote another transimgration fic because Martin DESERVED BETTER im not sure if im giving him something better but my point stands-

[druidx]

WIP Drinking Game

Yoinked from @blind-the-winds

Rules: Create a drinking game that one could theoretically play while reading your WIP, using recurring themes or writing elements.

Tagging: @wildswrites @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame @aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior

WIP name: The Ruby Falls

Take a sip whenever:

Someone comments on Aderyn's weight, eating habits or offers her food (forcefully or otherwise)

Martin & Baurus touch, pre-revelation

Someone is referred to by a nickname (ex. Rook, Gramps, B)

Aderyn gets another scar

Take a shot whenever:

Aderyn knowingly and flagrantly breaks the law (such as impersonating a cop, B&E)

The Ruby Key is referred to as "warm from body heat"

Someone mentions Aderyn being domesticated

Down your drink whenever:

Aderyn does something Penetration Tester related

Someone mentions 'red-drink'

Martin & Baurus get together

Pour one out for the fallen when:

Martin and Baurus break up

Aderyn gets THE scar

Martin is taken to hospital

[philosopherbouquet]

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Warnings: Major Character Death

Chapters: 7/7

Fandom: Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls

Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil & Martin Septim

Characters: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Blades (Elder Scrolls), Lucien Lachance, Mehrunes Dagon

Additional Tags: TES Summer Fest (Elder Scrolls), Fandom Week, TES Summer Fest 2023, Magic, Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Oblivion Main Quest, Explicit Language, tesfest23, Some Plot, This follows along Oblivion's main questline, Minor inaccurate take on the Imperial Cult Religion, Canonical Character Death, Explicit langauge is mainly for chapter 3, Unhappy Ending, Shivering Isles (Elder Scrolls), Mentally Unwell Hero of Kvatch, Complete

SUMMARY: From the priest of Akatosh to now Cyrodiil last hope and only chance of survival, Martin has a lot of opinions about everything. None more so than about the Hero of Kvatch.

For TES SummerFest 2023

@tes-summer-fest​   

[not-your-night-mother]

Working on my commission prices with miss Alysia

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Daedra of Kvatch minor details

Been a while since I’ve written anything for this AU, so here’s some random details that don’t have too much of an impact on the main story. The AU has changed quite a bit since my last posts about it, so I thought I’d just throw in some minor stuff, like secondary character backstories and small quirks about HoK, who still doesn’t have an actual name. I’m thinking Samael or Weylin.

HoK has a Breton woman named Alice who keeps just showing up in his palace and not even the guards knows how she gets in. She keeps saying that a cat, rabbit, and mouse let her in through a secret door, but no one has been able to find any of the mentioned creatures. She is currently the acting Duchess of Mania.

HoK does actually know the cat Alice is talking about, but he refuses to say anything because he finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

HoK has made an extra artifact since he became MadGod and became more familiar with his powers. It’s a necklace that he gave to Martin. It has a powerful shield enchantment, as well as resistances to all types of magic, disease and poison.

HoK sometimes forgets he’s Sheogorath and will be surprised anytime he does something daedric-y.

The first, and only, time HoK was there for a christening of a baby (would it be a divining? An akatoshening?) the baby gained an unbreakable tie to the Isles. Her hair yearned stark white, and her magical pools grew to unwarranted amounts. She later grew up to be the worlds strongest conjured, mystic, alteration mage, destruction mage, and illusionist. She later became HoK’s apprentice.

After the Oblivion Crisis ended, the hero who went into Mankato Camorans Paradise and later became the Champion of Cyrodiil, later remade the Knights of the Nine and vowed to wipe the Daedra from Tamriel. This makes things awkward between them and HoK.

Martin and HoK actually had 2 wedding ceremonies. One in the Shivering Isles and one in Cyrodiil.

HoK founded a museum in the Imperial City, where he stores multiple artifacts he comes across in his journey, and where CoC stores the ones they come across as well.

HoK regularly travels to Skingrad to have tea with Count Janus, as well as a few other guests of varying afflictions. The regulars are a werewolf, a lich, and a Dunmer woman who says she was cured of Corprus. HoK calls these meetings Outcast Anonymous. Janus calls them Sundas brunch, even though they almost always start at 11:25 p.m.

The other Daedric Princes have different emotions about HoK. Some (Dagon, Molag, Namira, and Nocturnal) despise him for his ability to walk on Mundas, others (Malacath, Hircine, Sanguine, the True Tribunal occasionally, and Clavicus Vile) actually like him and hang out with him quite often, the others don’t really pay him any mind.

HoK works part time as a teacher for the Arcane University about proper etiquette when working with Daedra and how to safely traverse the planes of Oblivion.

He has a pet. It’s a ferret named Hircine. Hircine pretends to hate it, but he is in love with the Baby Hircine™️ as he calls it when he thinks HoK isn’t looking

Martin does his very best to accept HoKs station and nature, but it is hard when he can feel the presence of his old master, Sanguine, on his husband.

There are no mirrors in the entire Imperial Palace except for one, which is inside HoK’s private library, which not even Martin is allowed inside.

It’s not very rare for insane people to show up at the Palace. Martin doesn’t know how to feel about them, as HoK finds their antics either amusing or annoying depending on the day, instead of sad and pitiful as Martin does

[larkscribbles]

A Septim For Your Thoughts

[AO3] [800 words]

The priest softened the break in conversation with an over dramatic narrowing of his eyes. “I don’t think it’s coin, but please, do correct me if I’m wrong. If the Blades should need to consider paying you, that is.”

Martin Septim inquires about what drives the Hero of Kvatch.

The wind whistled cold and loud around Cloud Ruler temple. The din produced by the Blades’ training was almost entirely drowned out. She hadn’t heard his approach.

“A septim for your thoughts?”

The Hero of Kvatch straightened up, heavy armour clanking. “That’s an interesting way of coping with your predicament.”

Martin laughed softly at this before leaning on the rail next to his friend. “Not an intentional pun, mind you. I’m still getting used to the idea of it.” He continued, smile failing, shifting to something more reflective.

“I wasn’t thinking.” Avery declared loudly.

Martin should avoid too much introspection; with the mental toll of reading the Mysterium Xarxes, portals to Oblivion itself opening up everywhere, and the stress of finding out you’re the last heir to the Septim dynasty? She feared for his health. Not that she’d admit it aloud.

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she was once again struck with how inarticulate she was. Before gaining the title of Hero of Kvatch she’d never particularly bothered to socialise with people past a certain extent, the positive reputation of her newly-earned title did little to aid this. Nothing to exploit or lose, a simple mercenary at heart. This approach to life had begun to show its flaws. Especially in the middle of a world-wide disaster. Someone more charismatic might have been better suited. Then again, would they be a competent fighter as she? Sword sharp, words blunt.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Martin’s well masked confusion, only betrayed by a quirk of his eyebrow.

“I was observing.” She gestured to the training in an attempt to save face. The Septim follows the imperial’s line of sight and nods understandingly.

“May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, obviously.” Martin glanced sideways, meeting her eye. Avery’s face scrunched, trying to search for an indication of where this is going.

“Very well.” She relented.

“What drives you?” Do you have an aim in life?”

The woman snorts at this, not exactly what she would consider a prying question. Although her answer is not the most moral, she is at least honest enough with herself to know what it truly is. And given Martin’s vague allusions to his history he would not be one to judge so harshly.

The priest softened the break in conversation with an over dramatic narrowing of his eyes. “I don’t think it’s coin, but please, do correct me if I’m wrong. If the Blades should need to consider paying you, that is.”

“Power.”

“Power?” He echoed, brow furrowing. “That’s quite vague and likely dangerous. To what end?” The priest consoled himself with the idea she didn’t seem like the type to jump at any opportunity for it, as wilful as she usually was.

“I…” her eyes found the mountains, she focused on gathering her words. “To be able to do what I want.”

“With power comes fame and responsibility-“

“I don’t want fame.”

“Are you sure, Hero of Kvatch? Would you rather be emperor instead of me?” He smiled dryly.

“I do not envy you.” She mirrored the expression. “With power comes attention, good and bad… but I do not care about recognition as much as I desire… freedom. I do not wish to be subservient to anyone. My choices must be my own. I want the power to carve out my own path. I don’t want to be…”

She lowered her gaze. Weak. Unable to act. Unable to fix things. Unable to protect. As she has been on many occasions; recent occasions. The emperor’s assassination. The Grey Prince. It was never enough. Fate was cruel and she wanted no part in it.

“So you desire freedom.”

“Perhaps.” She sighed, flexing her fingers as if to alleviate the awkwardness she felt. “I was never cut out to be a philosopher. I think and then I just… do.”

“Well whatever you do, be careful of how you go about this pursuit of power. And by The Divines, please don’t meddle with daedra.”

“More so than I’m already doing?” The poor joke doesn’t disguise how Avery was unsure to appropriately respond to the genuine pain behind his words.

“Yes, I suppose that's all I can ask.” He deflated, eyes downcast.

They settled into silence until Martin inclined his head towards the heavy set of stone doors.

“It’s cold out and you look like you could use some rest.” He rubbed at the sides of his arms to drive the point home.

Avery mirrored the action, wrinkling her nose.

“Us both with your eyebags.”

“There’s soup.”

“Good. All this introspection has made me famished.”

“Not whatever adventure you’ve just been on?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we’re inside - when I’ve got this aforementioned soup.”

“Fair enough.” He rolled his eyes. “I will hold my enthusiasm.”

The pair hurriedly retreated to the main hall, into the warmth and hushed whispers of Cloud Ruler Temple.

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

Author’s note: Howdy folks! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I figured no good sitting there so I polished it up and posted it! I did write it months ago, having freshly finished oblivion and before retconning a few things about my hero of Kvatch so if there’s an inconsistency I apologise haha. (Also it’s my Hero of Kvatch and I get to sloppily foreshadow someone’s descent into madness.)

[aladaylessecondblog]

Just No (Elder Scrolls one-shot)

Author's Note: Martin Septim is the Nerevarine

--------

"Friend or traitor, co...no."

"No?" Martin asked.

"An Imperial? Azura made you an IMPERIAL?" Dagoth Ur was bristling with anger.

"It gets worse," Martin shook his head, and reached into his pocket, retrieving the Amulet of Kings--then putting it on. "They told me I was the emperor's bastard son."

It took Dagoth Ur a moment to recover. He walked away, returned, and seemed to be struggling for words.

"You think I wanted this?"

"No. No. This is--hold on, I'll deal with you, but--I need to speak to Azura first and have a nice long conversation about this joke, because clearly she meant it as one."

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Gift

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion CW: Mention of canon-standard violence Words: 600 Context: Written for the TES Summer Fest prompt: Golden. As it's a bit more experimental, Concit is welcome on this piece. Tagging: @tes-summer-fest, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary

"My champion!" cries the man imprisoned by fate as the doors to the great hall open. He pours a cup of ale, placing it in front of where his hero sits heavily, their shoulders bowed by the dusty road. Food is procured; only the crackle of the ever-present fire sounds as the hero devours the commons presented. "What news of the outside world?" asks the imprisoned man after his hero has supped, resting a chin on raised, clasped hands. His hero smiles, a tired curving of the lips. "Same as it ever was, I suppose. People are born, people die. The earth is tilled." The smile droops. "The threat against us grows worse." "And where have your travels taken you, my friend? The world cannot be overrun already. There must surely be some beauty or interest you've seen?" The hero takes another sip of ale. "No, not overrun. Not yet. I am managing to stay ahead of the daedric hordes." The hero places down their cup. "Which is why I am come from Leyawiin county, by way of Bravil." They run a weary hand over their face. "The gates are clustered thick in the Blackwood. It's as if the enemy knows there is limited manpower to stop them at the edge of the territories. But," the smile they give is more of a grimace, "you asked about what beauty there is still in the world, not the unholy beasts that terrorise it. Be fair warned, o my Emperor, I am no poet." Their grimace relaxes into a lighter thing. The man imprisoned tops off their hero's cup. "I feel sure you will do it justice. You are more eloquent than you think." "If thou sayest." The hero winks. They take a swig from the cup and settle back, thinking. From without the hall, a Blade hails another as the guard changes. The wind, whipping down from the mountains, sings in the eves. Presently, the hero begins, "I came from Leyawiin county, aye, and through Bravil. But dark was closing in before I ever reached the city. So rather than take on spriggans by night, I stopped at Bawnwatch Camp. "They say a ghost haunts that mound, but if he came that night, I never saw – a gate opening wouldn't even have roused me! But when I did awake, fully refreshed next morning, what a sight it was that greeted me. "Bawnwatch sits on a little island, no larger than this room, in Niben Bay. Meaning it is surrounded on most sides by the water. The night I rode in on was damp and foggy, but the morn I woke to was glorious! "Fluffy, dappled clouds, like a herd of sheep, raced across the lavender sky, chasing mares' tails. The shore opposite was drenched in shadow, but the water! Filled with barely lapping waves, it looked like molten gold–" The man imprisoned laughs. "You couldn't think of a less cliché description?" "Do you want to hear this or not?" the hero laughs back. "And I'm telling you! It looked like someone took the Empire's coffers and melted it all down in the Nibenay. It was glorious and stunning and…" The hero draws a breath, their mouth hanging for want of a word. Their eyes search the rafters as if for divine inspiration. "A blessing." Their eyes glitter in the sconcelight, their voice softening, "Something to make up for all the blood and death of the Deadlands." The man imprisoned reaches out to squeeze his hero's hand. "A gift, to remind you of what you fight for."

[hannah-heartstrings]

Stalemate

Happy Birthday @druidx! Hopefully it’s not weird that I know that, I saw you mention it in a tag and ideas started turning.

But your support has helped keep me writing and helped me improve, which means a lot. So to say thanks here’s a quick fic of Baurus making Martin rest.

And inviting the rest of my taglist to the party: @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

           Warm light flickered across the stone floor as the fireplace crackled, it turning to a blur as Baurus’s eyelids drooped. As his head began to nod he quickly straightened, snapping himself back awake. “All right, Martin,” he walked over to the table covered in a pile of books, “time for bed.”

           He didn’t look up, even as Baurus's shadow cast across the pages. “Good night then.”

           “I meant you.”

           “I know,” he flipped a page, “I was just ignoring it.”

           He looked annoyed from beside him. “Don’t you need to protect your mind?”

           “From the Mysterium Xarxes, I’m reading the commentaries right now.”

           “I know,” the edge in his voice grew, “but you won’t be able to protect yourself if you’re sleep deprived.”

           Martin’s tone grew irritated back. “I can’t sleep even if I try so why bother?”

           “You might; you can at least rest your mind.”

           He looked up slightly, gaze distant. “Being idle isn’t as restful as you may think.”

           “You don’t have to worry about the crisis, our friend is taking care of it, you should take care of yourself. At least read something that isn’t about daedra.”

           A particularly loud crackle came from the fire, as if agreeing with Baurus.

           Martin looked back down at the book. “I’d rather keep working; you should go on to bed though.”

           “I need to guard you.”

           “I’m surrounded by thick walls and patrols, I’ll be fine.”

           He narrowed his eyes, considering. “You really want me to get some sleep?”

           “One of us might as well.”

           Rounding the table he sat across Martin. “I’ll go to sleep when you do.”

           “What?” His gaze snapped up at him.

           Crossing his arms, he leaned back. “Your move.”

           He sighed. “Seems we’re at a stalemate.”

           “No, a stalemate’s when neither side can do anything. You’re just being stubborn.”

           “I’m not the only one.” He noticed his heavy eyelids, eyes starting to water. “It doesn’t matter though,” he looked back down, “you’re about to fall asleep anyway.”

           Annoyed, he scooted the chair back, standing up.

           “Good night,” he gave a victorious smirk.

           “Nah, I’m just getting some coffee, seems like it’s going to be a long night.”

           He sighed. “…All right, fine.”

           They parted ways in the hallway, Baurus hurrying off to the barracks.

           Martin continued on to his room, sitting on his bed and listening as footsteps went back and forth. When they stopped he waited a moment then crept across the room, pleased with his scheme. Sliding his door open he paused surprised as a Blade stood there. “Roliand?”

           “Hello your highness, Baurus said I needed to guard your room.”

           He sighed.

           “He also said to give you a message.”

           “Oh?” he asked already annoyed.

           He looked a tad confused as he delivered it. “I’m supposed to tell you: checkmate.”

[abstractredd]

Chapters: 3/6 Fandom: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lucien Lachance/Martin Septim Characters: Lucien Lachance, Martin Septim, Jauffre (Elder Scrolls), Ocato (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Rare Pairings, where the FUCK are you Marcien nation wake up, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Forbidden Love, Introspection, No beta we die like... well. Summary:

It was hard to describe what it was they had, Martin and Lucien.

[ghoulingcooper]

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls

Relationship: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim

Characters: Martin Septim, Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil

Additional Tags: POV Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Post-Canon Fix-It, Martin Septim Lives

Summary: Anna laughs as his stubble brushes her thighs, and he has to stop there, with his cheek on her soft skin, just to revel in the sound.