#skyrim rune

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.8

Caught Red Handed

Prev: Ch.7 - A Dampened Pursuit || Next: Ch.9 - Every Cloud... Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf and Ariene try to make time for one another, but before they're able to slip away, more than one crisis rears its head and gives them pause.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence, blood.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 4,323

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — — 

Brynjolf being a lieutenant for the Thieves Guild was the best worst-kept secret in Riften. A handful of the city’s wealthiest and most influential citizens knew all about his identity, as did its poorest and most unscrupulous inhabitants. Yet as far as Jarl Laila Law-Giver was concerned, he was just another merchant plying his trade in the city marketplace, and most everyday citizens thought he was nothing more than a peddler of, charitably, eccentric wares. 

This dichotomy was perfectly illustrated by the members of the town guard, half of whom were on his payroll and half of whom had no idea who he was. 

Of course, with their helmets obscuring their faces and muffling their voices, it was difficult to tell at a glance which guards were in on Brynjolf’s various schemes around town, so he had to keep a tight lid on communications.

“I didn’t know you lads could shop while on duty,” Brynjolf remarked casually to a guard who approached his stand in the market. 

The guard paused, and Brynjolf waited. Either the man would ignore him, bristle about being told how to behave by a citizen, or…

“If there’s a guards’ discount, I could be persuaded to buy,” he replied, and Brynjolf smiled. 

“Aye, it so happens there is,” he said, reaching beneath his counter to pull out a bottle. 

The guard dropped ten septims into Brynjolf’s hand, and Brynjolf passed the bottle to him. 

On the outside, the bottle was identical to all the others that Brynjolf sold. On the inside though, it was anything but. A rolled up scrap of paper was stuffed into the neck, and the guard would take it out later to find his instructions for the week scrawled on one side and a dead drop location that contained his next payment on the other. 

Brynjolf didn’t put too much stock in the other guards’ investigation skills, especially with Maven’s agent Anuriel keeping the other palace officials from spending any serious time hunting down the Guild, but it never hurt to be careful. Anuriel couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the last thing anybody needed was some rookie guard trying to prove himself and ratting on his fellow officers. 

Brynjolf passed instructions to two more guards throughout the rest of the afternoon, and sold a half dozen or so elixirs while he was at it. When the sun began to dip behind the roof of Mistveil Keep, he packed up his stall for the day and took the opportunity to visit some of the other local establishments. 

He dropped by the Pawned Prawn first, smirking when he saw the cracks in the Dwarven urn on display by the window. Once his business there was concluded he took a “delivery” to Haelga’s Bunkhouse. To an outside observer, he appeared to simply be doing regular errands at the end of the work day, but Bersi and Haelga were perfectly aware of his intentions. They each handed over that month’s protection money without a word of complaint, though if looks could kill, he’d be bleeding out on the bunkhouse floor.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile as he stepped back out into the cool evening air. A part of him had been worried that their newfound cooperation would be temporary, but for now at least, everything was back on track. And if they did ever lax in their payments again, he knew just who to send their way. 

Brynjolf rounded the corner of the Bee and Barb and there, standing at the edge of the market as though summoned by his thoughts, was Ariene. 

She’d traded her usual attire of Guild Armor and a quiver full of arrows for a short-sleeved blue dress and a belt lined with leather pouches. She’d even let some of her hair down from its ponytail, and she looked for all the world like any other townsperson running their errands for the day. She didn’t look quite like herself without her bow over her shoulder, but her orcish dagger still hung on her belt, the hilt of the weapon glinting in the last few rays of sunset.

She had a notebook in her hand and was talking to Marise, nodding and scribbling down something in response to what the dark elf said. She closed the book and slipped it into the pocket of her dress, then caught Brynjolf’s eye as she looked up. She smiled, bid Marise farewell and headed down the walkway towards him. 

“Fancy meeting you here, lass,” Brynjolf said as she approached. “I must say, you make a very convincing citizen.” 

Ariene looked down at herself, as though scrutinizing her own attire. 

“Do I? I admit, I’m not the most familiar with Skyrim’s fashion. It’s not too much, is it?” 

 Brynjolf tried to look at her as though she were a stranger to him, another mark out of dozens to be carefully scrutinized. 

The dress she wore wasn’t particularly ornate, but it was far from the plainest garment he’d seen the women of Riften wear. Delicate embroidery lined the dress’s hem, collar, and sleeve cuffs, telling Brynjolf that the wearer was someone who could afford more than simple necessities. However, the boots paired with the dress were well worn and caked in a layer of dirt and grime, she wore no jewelry, and her hairstyle was something she could accomplish easily on her own, without the help of a maid. All this told him that this was not a rich or noble woman in her day or travel ware, but a commoner wearing what was probably her best dress to market. 

Of course, Brynjolf had a pretty good idea of how much money Ariene had made with the Guild over the past month or so, and knew that she could have afforded even nicer clothing if she wished to have it. The fact that she wasn’t wearing more expensive clothes or her Guild armor told him that she wanted to be discreet, to blend into the crowd and not draw attention to herself. 

“It’s perfect,” Brynjolf said, nodding in approval. “Blue is your color, lass. Brings out your eyes.”  

Ariene’s cheeks flushed slightly, and Brynjolf grinned. 

“So,” he said. “What brings you out to the market at this hour? Most of the stalls are getting closed up for the evening.” 

“Actually, I was looking for you,” she said. “I thought we might have a drink at the Bee and Barb.” 

“A drink, eh?” Brynjolf repeated, raising an eyebrow playfully. “We could have a drink in the Flagon.”

“True,” Ariene acknowledged. She glanced around, then took a step closer.  “But I thought it’d be nice to have a little…privacy.” 

“Well then lass, by all means–” 

“Stop! Thief!”  

The marketplace exploded into pandemonium. Vendors shouted, shoppers screamed, and guards materialized seemingly out of nowhere, swarming towards the commotion like moths to a flame. Ariene had spun around to see where the shout had come from, and so she and Brynjolf both saw the exact moment that a figure wearing Guild armor burst into the center of the market, a guard hot on their heels. 

“Stop him!” the guard shouted again. 

The thief had a sword drawn, and Brynjolf’s stomach dropped when he realized that there was blood on the tip of the blade. Guards all around them drew their own weapons, and even as the thief raised his sword, Brynjolf knew it was over.

He glanced at Ariene, just in time to see her hand drift towards her dagger, but he caught her by the wrist. She looked up at him, frowning, but he just gave a small shake of his head. He didn’t need to speak. Looking back towards the fray, she knew as well as he did that there was nothing they could do. 

As soon as it had begun, the chaos was over, and guards were directing people away from the scene. Brynjolf took a breath and forced himself forward, Ariene falling into step behind him without a word. 

“Let me see him,” he said to the guard who tried to stop him as he stepped forward. He watched the man closely for a reaction to his presence, but there was no recognition in his posture. 

“We have this under control sir, please move along,” the guard said. 

“My father’s amulet was stolen last night,” Brynjolf insisted, the lie falling easily from his tongue. “At least let me see if it’s on the scoundrel.” 

The guard hesitated, but then he nodded and stepped back, allowing Brynjolf to kneel beside the dead man. He did his best to ignore the blood already pooling beneath the body and made a show of checking the man’s pockets, while discreetly checking under his hood as well. He caught sight of a pointed nose and a scraggly beard, and he bit back the sigh that welled in his chest. 

“Damn,” he said, getting to his feet. “The bastard doesn’t have it. This city is getting ridiculous, I tell you. Thieves in broad daylight now? Why can’t you lot do your jobs properly?”

“We have things handled here, sir,” the guard said, barely hiding his frustration. “You can move along now.”

“Come on dear,” Ariene said, pitching her voice a little higher than normal and tugging on Brynjolf’s arm. “We should go.”

“I have half a mind to complain to the jarl,” he called over his shoulder as he and Ariene walked away. 

“Very good, sir,” the guard said tiredly, and Brynjolf would have chuckled had the circumstances not been so grim. 

He tilted his head in the direction of the Temple of Mara, and Ariene nodded silently. They headed through the temple courtyard into the cemetery, ducking into the mausoleum when they were sure no one was there to see them. Brynjolf paused in front of the stone coffin, letting the haughtiness drop from his posture.

“Who was it?” Ariene asked quietly, and Brynjolf sighed. 

“No one that you know, lass. His name was Girrolf.”  

“Girrolf?” she repeated, and he nodded.

“Technically he’s not even one of us, not anymore. He was a new recruit a while back, before you joined up. He got caught on his first job and was sent to prison in Falkreath. Mercer didn’t think he was worth the risk to break out.” 

“So what, he broke out on his own?” Ariene asked, but Brynjolf shook his head. 

“I doubt it. The lad didn’t have that kind of skill. To be honest, he wasn’t as well suited to our line of work as he thought he was, but I’d hoped with some training, he’d improve.” 

Mercer had not shared that opinion, and Brynjolf had endured weeks of not so subtle digs about his recruiting tactics once Girrolf had ended up in jail. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“If I had to guess, the lad’s sentence was up and he was released. He must have thought that if he came back to us with a good haul, he’d be brought back into the fold.” 

“But he got caught again,” Ariene mused. “And instead of running, he tried to fight his way out.” 

“Which is a surefire way to just create more trouble,” Brynjolf said. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Something I’d have thought you’d know, lass.” 

Ariene folded her arms, raising her own eyebrow right back. 

“You didn’t need to hold me back, you know,” she said. “My brain would have caught up with my body before I did something drastic. It was just…” she trailed off, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. 

“Just what?” Brynjolf prompted. 

“Instinct.” She shook her head. “And look, I did know better than to get involved back there. In my father’s crew, if someone ever had any trouble with the guard, it was their problem and their problem alone. Why risk your entire organization over one fool who can’t even handle a minor scuffle with the law?”

“It sounds like your father and Mercer would get along,” Brynjolf observed, and Ariene chuckled ruefully. 

“You’re probably right. Gods know they’ve both got a mean streak, not to mention an ego that could fill a room.” 

She fell silent, but the thoughtful expression didn’t leave her face, and Brynjolf decided to press his luck. 

“What’s bothering you, lass?” he asked softly.

“It’s just…my father’s rule didn’t always stop people from jumping to their friends’ defense if things got ugly. For some, personal loyalty ran deeper than any adherence to my father’s rules.” 

Brynjolf nodded, eventually prompting her to continue with a quiet “And?” 

“And…I was never one of those people,” Ariene said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Every man for himself; it was the one rule my father had that I didn’t have trouble following. Even after I got away from him, I just…lived my life like that. Looking out for myself and only myself, and running whenever the heat got to be too much.”

Brynjolf thought back to that day he’d confronted her in the training room, to the distant look in her eyes and the slump in her shoulders when she’d said: 

“It seems no matter where I run to, I find something else to add to the long list of things I’m running from.” 

“But back there?” Ariene said, pulling him back to the present. “I didn’t even know who it was, but I saw the Guild armor, and my instinct was to draw my blade.” She pulled her dagger out of its sheath, looking down at it curiously. “I don’t even have my bow with me, but my first thought was to fight, not run.”  

“I wanted to fight too, you know,” Brynjolf said quietly. “Every part of me wanted to rush into the fray and pull that fool out. Despite Mercer’s cold streak, we try to have each other’s backs whenever we can.” 

“I know,” Ariene said. “And I know why tonight, we couldn’t. It’s just…never mind.” She shook herself, and gave him what was probably meant to be a smile, though it came out more like a grimace. “Let’s go downstairs. Probably best to let everyone know what happened.”

Brynjolf nodded.

“It’s not a good night to be hitting the streets wearing Guild armor, that’s for sure.” 

He activated the secret entrance, then stepped back to let Ariene descend the ladder first. He followed her down, and his boots barely touched the stone below before an angry and all too familiar voice rang out across the room. 

“There you are!” 

Brynjolf turned to see Mercer stalking towards him, a look of death in his eyes. 

“Mercer,” he said. “Something happened–” 

“We have a lead on the Goldenglow buyer.” 

Brynjolf immediately straightened, pushing what happened in the market aside in his mind for later. 

“Someone identified the symbol?” he asked. 

“No,” Mercer growled, clearly put out by the failure. “But the contact I spoke with did identify something else. The name on the Goldenglow bill of sale, Gajul-Lei? It’s one of Gulum-Ei’s old aliases.” 

Brynjolf’s eyes widened. 

“Gulum-Ei’s mixed up in all this? That Argonian couldn't find his tail with both hands.” 

“Who’s Gulum-Ei?” Ariene asked, and Brynjolf jumped. The lass had been so still that he hadn’t realized she was still in the entryway. 

“Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude,” Mercer explained. “I'm betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and that he can finger our buyer. I want you to get out there, shake him down and see what you come up with.” 

Ariene frowned.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re asking me to do that?” she said. 

“Who else would I be asking?” Mercer snapped. “You leave tonight. I’ve already arranged a wagon for you; it’s waiting at the stables.” 

He turned and stalked away without another word, and Ariene glanced back at Brynjolf.

“He’s in a good mood,” she muttered. 

“Just this once, I can’t blame him,” Brynjolf admitted. “We’ve been trying to get a lead on this for weeks.” 

“Well, I guess I need to pack a bag,” she said with a sigh.

She flashed him a small smile, then she turned and headed off towards the Ragged Flagon. Brynjolf watched her go for a moment, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand. 

“Mercer,” he called, stepping up to the Guildmaster’s desk. 

Mercer looked up at him as he approached, and his frown deepened into an outright scowl. 

“I won’t have my methods questioned, Brynjolf. You were the one who was so determined to convince me that the girl would be a good investment; now that she’s proven her worth I see no reason not to make use of her skills. Besides, she’s already tangled up in this mess. She may as well be the one to dig us out.”

Brynjolf blinked. 

“Eh, I actually wanted to give you a report on something that happened in the market tonight,” he said, folding his arms. “I’ve got no problem with you giving the lass the assignment.” 

Not strictly a lie; he was glad that Mercer seemed to finally consider Ariene a trustworthy operative. The insistence that she leave immediately when it could take anywhere between three days to a whole week just to get to Solitude was frustrating, and in his mind, a bit unnecessary. But Mercer was in one of his moods, so the last thing Brynjolf wanted to do was point that out to him and start another argument.

Mercer grunted, but didn’t say anything else, gesturing instead for Brynjolf to continue. 

“There was an…incident,” he began, then he went on to describe Girrolf’s failed attempt at burglary and subsequent death. 

“You’re supposed to have the guards under control, Brynjolf,” Mercer snapped when his story was finished, and Brynjolf grimaced. 

“We don’t have the funds to buy off all of them,” he replied. “And besides, Girrolf fought back, in the middle of the street surrounded by witnesses. Even the guards we do have sway over would have to defend themselves in a situation like that.” 

“I knew that lout wasn’t cut out for this,” Mercer muttered.

Brynjolf wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. Even if he thought Mercer was being overly harsh, he couldn’t deny that the lad had brought his fate down on himself. 

“I’ll speak with Maven,” Mercer continued. “Maybe she can use her resources to redirect the Jarl’s attention. Let everyone know to keep off the streets in the meantime. Hopefully the heat will die down in a few days and we can get back to work.” 

Brynjolf nodded and turned, but Mercer spoke up before he could make his exit. 

“Remember what I told you about attachments, Brynjolf.” 

Brynjolf frowned, looking back at him. 

“Excuse me?”

Mercer just raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you honestly think the rumors about the two of you somehow wouldn’t reach me?”

Brynjolf fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Last I checked, we were running a Guild, not a gossip chain,” he said, and Mercer scoffed.

“Last I checked, the Guild’s first lieutenant needed to keep himself free from distractions.” 

“Why is everyone suddenly so interested in how I spend my spare time?” Brynjolf demanded. “I don’t need your permission any more than I need Vekel’s, Guildmaster or no.” 

“True, and as far as I’m concerned, you can bed whoever you damn well please when you’re off the job,” Mercer growled. “As long as you’re able to keep your priorities in line.” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Brynjolf asked, crossing his arms. “The Guild will always come first, Mercer. I shouldn’t need to tell you that.”  

The two glared at each other for a moment, but then, to Brynjolf’s surprise, Mercer sighed and nodded his head. 

“You’re right, of course. And you’ve done nothing that gives me any real reason to think otherwise.” 

“Damn right I haven’t,” Brynjolf said with a huff. “So why the sudden scrutiny?”

Mercer glanced around the room, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. 

“It’s just that the last time a member of Guild leadership got involved with a subordinate? It didn’t exactly go well. That’s not something I’m eager to revisit anytime soon.”

Brynjolf winced. He had to admit, the comparison wasn’t entirely without merit. He could imagine how a strong willed, quick witted, and highly skilled thief like Ariene, who used a bow as her main weapon on top of it all, would give Mercer some bad memories.

He hadn’t known Karliah as well as he’d known Gallus; if he was honest, he’d felt a bit intimidated by the Dunmer when he was a young footpad. Still, it’d been plain even to him how much both Gallus and Mercer had admired and cared for her, which only made her betrayal sting all the more in the end. 

“This won’t end like that,” he said quietly, but Mercer just raised an eyebrow.

“And you can guarantee that, can you? Listen, like I said. Bed whoever you want, I can’t stop you. Just keep what I’ve said in mind. Men like us, we aren’t meant for the softer things in life.” 

“Whatever you say,” Brynjolf muttered, turning away. 

He scanned the cistern, and he knew from the way every Guildmember in the room became very absorbed in what they were doing the moment he laid eyes on them that this conversation would be all over the Guild by morning. 

Fine, let the footpads talk. It didn’t make any difference to him, as long as everyone still did their jobs. 

He approached Rune, who in his estimation would be least likely to indulge in any gossipping. 

“The streets are hot tonight, and probably will be for a few days,” he told the lad. “Everyone should lay low down here until things calm down a bit topside. Spread the word, and if anyone has work in other holds, they shouldn't wear guild armor until they leave the city.”

Rune nodded, and Brynjolf cast another glance around the cistern.

“Ariene went through towards the Flagon,” Rune offered in an overly casual voice. “Just in case you were wondering.”

Brynjolf looked back at him, raising an eyebrow, and Rune blinked a few times, holding his eyes wide open. They stood frozen for a moment, staring at each other, then Brynjolf finally laughed. 

“The innocent look doesn’t suit you lad,” he said, shaking his head. “Play to your strengths and stick to picking pockets.” 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Rune called after him, and Brynjolf chuckled as he walked away. 

Sure, the other Guildmembers could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but in their own strange way, they were all a family. He knew Mercer had his reasons for keeping things close to the chest, but that didn’t mean the rest of them had to live like that.

True to Rune’s word, he found Ariene sitting at a table in the Ragged Flagon, a new quiver of arrows and a pack of supplies at her feet. She was still in civilian clothes, though she’d pulled a thick travel cloak over her dress, and her bow was once again strapped across her body. 

She looked up as he approached, and nodded to the empty chair across from her. There was a drink and a small plate of bread and cheese sitting there for him, and Brynjolf smiled. 

“Sorry it’s not the meal that I’d hoped we’d have tonight,” she said as Brynjolf sat down and took a grateful sip of the ale.

“Don’t worry about it, lass,” he said, waving off her concern. “Vekel’s cooking hasn’t killed me yet.” 

“Don’t tempt me!” Vekel called from across the room, and Ariene snorted. 

“Have everything you need, lass?” Brynjolf asked, gesturing to her supplies, and she nodded.

“I think so. I have to say, I’d planned on avoiding Solitude, what with it being the site of the Imperial headquarters in Skyrim and all. But I doubt anyone that far north will be concerned about a border runner, what with the war in full swing after Ulfric’s escape.” 

Brynjolf frowned. 

“If you really want, we can assign someone else to this–” he began, but Ariene shook her head.

“I’ll be fine. I know how to blend in in a big city like Solitude. What about Gulum-Ei, any tips on how to handle him?” 

“He’s one of the most stubborn lizards I’ve ever met, I’ll tell you that much,” Brynjolf said with a snort. “You’re probably going to have to buy him off; coin is just about the only way to get his attention.” 

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. 

“Now that I think about it, I’ve not heard of him dealing with property before. Smuggling goods is his usual scheme. But then again, he hasn’t done business with us in the last year or so. I’ll bet you my last septim that whatever he’s up to now, he’s in way over his head.”

“Hmmm…maybe I can use that as leverage,” Ariene mused. “Thanks for the insight.” 

She rolled her neck and shoulders, letting out a sigh before getting to her feet and grabbing her knapsack. 

“I should probably get going, before Mercer comes in here and sees me ignoring his orders.”

“Stay sharp out there, lass,” Brynjolf said. He took a breath, then added: “and I’m sorry too. About tonight, I mean.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ariene said, shrugging. “Hopefully I won’t be gone too long, and we can pick things up where we left off.” 

“Come back with good intel, and I’ll buy you one of those fancy concoctions Talen-Jei makes at the Bee and Barb,” Brynjolf promised. 

“Deal,” she said, smiling. 

She started to move past him, to leave through the cistern’s back door, but Brynjolf caught her by the hand before she could exit. 

“Good luck, lass,” he said. 

A phrase he’d heard Gallus use years ago flitted through his mind, and he found himself repeating it. 

“Walk with the shadows.”

— — — 

Prev: Ch.7 - A Dampened Pursuit || Next: Ch.9 - Every Cloud...

[trisexyual]

rb and respond with your top unromanceable video game character/s that you think should have been romanceable

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Word Wall

Concept art for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Art by Adam Adamowicz

[gloryfore]

Rune stone magick

ᚹ ᛘ ᛖ

[argisthebulwark]

'I'd Kill For You' vs 'I'd Die For You'

summary: who would fight and who would lay down their life in place of yours? gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Farkas, Cicero, Rune, Mercer, Miraak, Teldryn, Erik warnings: canon typical non-graphic blood/injury/death

Brynjolf would die for you. He can’t bring himself to take a life - Gallus never mixed words when teaching Brynjolf that lesson. But he would gladly die in your place. He begs you to leave him and save yourself, to get as far away as you can before Mercer’s Frenzy spell. His knuckles are white as he struggles to keep the blade pointed away from you despite the magicka taking hold of his mind. "Please, you have to get away. Let me handle this traitor. If there is love for me in your heart then you need to run and not look back."

Farkas would kill for you. He would lay waste to an entire camp if you asked. Silver Hand or run of the mill bandits it makes no difference to Farkas - he’d cut down anyone threatening your life.  "You're not getting away from me that easy. I'm not burying you 'til I drink you under the table one more time."

Cicero would kill for you in a heartbeat. He’s been waiting. Please ask him to kill for you. Daggers are in hand awaiting your word. He’s already mapping out the order in which he’ll take down anyone who looks at you wrong. You are his Listener, after all. It is his duty to keep you safe from harm.  "Loyal Cicero strikes at your command, dearest Listener. Just say the word."

Rune would die for you without thinking. He’d jump in front of the killing blow meant for you. He would let you cry into his armor, would wipe your tears when you demand to know why he would do such a thing. He would tell you that you still have so much work to do, the rest of the Guild relies on you too much to let you die. "The rest of them, they need you. Go on and make me proud, yeah?"

Mercer would begrudgingly kill for you. He’d try to spin it so you don’t think it has anything to do with you but there’s no mistaking it - he saved you. He’d grumble something about you being more useful alive than dead but you both know. Even if he refuses to admit it he’d kill almost anyone to keep you safe.  "Don't let it go to your head. The moment you stop bein' useful I'm tossing you back to the wolves."

Miraak would only die for you. When it comes down to it, when his sole hope for survival is ending your life he can’t bring himself to do it. He lets you kill him because he knows what you mean to the rest of the world. He’s realized that even if his life stretched on for another millennia it would be worthless without you. "I cannot face it without you, Mal Dov. I have wasted enough lifetimes to mourn the one I might have lived with you."

Teldryn would kill for you. The moment he spots you in trouble, surrounded on all sides and outnumbered by bandits all the memories would come flooding back. The grief of losing a close friend and patron. He couldn’t lose you. He’d rush in without a thought, fending off swords and arrows at your side. "Can't have you dying and ruining my fine reputation. I am Morrowind's finest bladesman, you're not dying on my watch."

Erik would die for you. He’d do anything for you. After all you’ve done for him - reigniting his dreams of becoming an adventurer, helping him escape the family farm, seeing the world at his side, he will not allow you to die. Laying in your arms he reminds you that he’s loved every moment spent in your company. "I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to see everything with you."

[svkvba]

A dragonborn's Diary: Rune

(part 1)

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

*After they messed up a job and somehow caught a house on fire*

Rune: Does anyone else have the urge to lecture themselves?

Niruin, badly imitating Brynjolf: What in Oblivion did you guys do?!

Brynjolf, materializing out of nowhere: WHAT IN OBLIVION DID YOU GUYS DO.

Cynric Endell: Divines, you SUMMONED him!

[nazumorim]

マジック

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Cynric Endell: What do you call a snobbish criminal going down the stairs?

Mercer Frey: Are you serious?

Cynric: Yee!

Mercer: Fine. I don't know. What?

Cynric: A condescending con descending.

Mercer: Get. Out.

Rune: That was beautiful.

[most-datable-undatable]

Your Match-Ups!

Because I am a complete mess of a person, I forgot to put a few on my original list, so good news for the person who suggested Wizard from Stardew Valley a bit late: Because of my stupidity, he is now on the bracket!

We have a total of 104 contestants! This will be a standard single-elimination tournament. Match-ups were completely randomized, although for the first round I did not allow match-ups between two characters from the same franchise.

Voting will begin tomorrow morning at 9am PST. I will post one poll every ten or so minutes. I will do 26 tomorrow and 26 on Tuesday. Be sure to follow so you don't miss out on a vote for your favorite!

Without further ado: Your Most Datable Undatable Character Round 1 Match-Ups!

Day One

Kai (Harvest Moon: Back to Nature)/Hytham (AC: Valhalla)

Aphrodite (Stray Gods)/Robin (Stardew Valley)

Cole (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Dame Aylin (Baldur’s Gate 3)

Sten (Dragon Age: Origins)/Helena Blake (Mass Effect)

Kent Connolly (Fallout 4)/Asterius (Hades)

Serana (Skyrim)/Bo Calloway (Scarlet Hollow)

Perry (Harvest Moon: Animal Parade)/Cliff Holden (Our Life: Beginning & Always)

EDI (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Soma Jarlskona (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla)

Kasumi Goto (Mass Effect 2)/Shandra Jerro (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Mel (Fallout 4)/Neeshka (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Vivienne de Fer (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Pasqal Haneumann (Rogue Trader)

Carlos (Rune Factory 4)/Hypnos (Hades)

Scout Lace Harding (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Bishop (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Deacon (Fallout 4)/Theseus (Hades)

Virgil (Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura)/Avitus Rix (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Nathaniel Howe (Dragon Age: Awakening/Dragon Age 2)/Wynert (Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate)

Quinn (Dream Daddy)/Karliah (Skyrim)

Nick Valentine (Fallout 4)/Nakmor Drack (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Dagna (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Terry (Rune Factory 5)

Rolan (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Talos Drellik (Star Wars: The Old Republic)

Shiala (Mass Effect)/Jodi (Stardew Valley)

Tiran Kandros (Mass Effect: Andromeda)/Trickster (Hooked on You)

Arthur Maxson (Fallout 4)/Brassidas (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey)

Brynjolf (Skyrim)/Briala (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Mary Christiansen (Dream Daddy)/Chaos (Hades)

Olgierd von Everestu (The Witcher 3)/Wizard (Stardew Valley)

Day Two

Frea (Skyrim)/Rose of Sharon Cassidy (Fallout: New Vegas)

Legion (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Yuthura Ban (Knights of the Old Republic)

Qyzen Fess (Knights of the Old Republic)/Dammon (Baldur’s Gate 3)

Isobel Thorm (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Athena (Stray Gods)

Sandy (Stardew Valley)/Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy VII)

Kaelyn the Dove (Neverwinter Nights 2)/Medusa (Stray Gods)

Bao Dur (Knights of the Old Republic)/Evfra (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Arcade Gannon (Fallout: New Vegas)/Jeremus (Mount and Blade: Warband)

Nyreen Kandros (Mass Effect)/Shale (Dragon Age: Origins)

Urdnot Wrex (Mass Effect Series)/Marnie (Stardew Valley)

Talvas Fathryon (Skyrim)/Nihlus Kryik (Mass Effect)

Cremisius “Krem” Aclassi (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Gatekeeper (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Keldorn (Baldur’s Gate 2)/Lin Fa (Rune Factory 4)

Johnny Silverhand (Cyberpunk 2077)/Veronica Santangelo (Fallout: New Vegas)

Tarquin Victus (Mass Effect 3)/Aveline (Dragon Age 2)

Judith (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)/Varric Tethras (Dragon Age 2/Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Evelyn (Rune Factory 3)/Sagacious Zu (Jade Empire)

Jarun Tann (Mass Effect: Andromeda)/J’Zargo (Skyrim)

Joker (Mass Effect Series)/Vault Tec Rep (Fallout 4)

Eder (Pillars of Eternity 2)/Iorveth (The Witcher 2)

Atris (Knights of the Old Republic 2)/Vernon Roche (The Witcher 2)

Kharjo (Skyrim)/Lambert (The Witcher 3)

Mordin Solus (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Eskiel (The Witcher 3)

Raphael (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Takemura (Cyberpunk 2077)

Craig Boone (Fallout: New Vegas)/Canderous Ordo (Knights of the Old Republic)

Mira (Knights of the Old Republic 2)/Wistful Deviless (Sunless Sea)

[chasindbae]

A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON. !!

My greatest work, i don’t know if I can top this. Watercolor on cold press cotton

[crumblingfaggotazula]

Tried to make something similar to a Khajiit yesterday and I think I got pretty close!

Debated using the dragon communion eyes but I think the blue ones look better.

“May your road lead you to warm sands.”

Here’s the sliders for anyone who might want to make their own:

[realnormanosborn]

Yuck!NORMANOSBORN

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Dragon Rune Alphabet

Concept art for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Art by Adam Adamowicz

[thief-dd]

Ok but drunk Mercer is so cute 🥰 Are those your headcanons that you had the screenshot of?

Yes I had plans to draw all of them properly!! But then...time got in the way...

But here's a little preview into how it would have been!! I didn't draw Vipir in this case cuz I would rather not visualise that prompt......

[argisthebulwark]

Put Your Hands Around My Neck - Make Me Faithful

summary: breeding kink <3 f!reader, no y/n used. feat: Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Rune, Arnbjorn warnings: explicit sexual content. minors should not read or interact with this post in any way. breeding kink, explicit mention of pregnancy. a/n: not super proofread/edited. i've been putting too much pressure on myself for everything i post to be perfect and we are trying to make healthy changes. masterlist

Miraak wants an heir. He wants to fuck you over and over until you're carrying the one who will inherit everything he's spent lifetimes building. His manor, his followers, his power - he'll give them every single thing. His eyes roll back when he recounts how perfect your child will be once he's done fucking his cum deep into you. He loves to lay with you after sex, basking in your presence and babbling about what abilities the child will inherit from you both. Miraak's fingers dance over your skin as he daydreams about parenting the first child born to two Dragonborns. "It's all your fault, my love." He murmurs against the shell of your ear. Careful fingers comb hair away from your face when he tucks you close to his chest, that soothing voice lulling you closer to sleep. "I'd never indulged in fantasies of a future before meeting you - not once did I bother to think about leaving a thing for anyone other than myself. This is all your doing."

Farkas has no ulterior motive - he just has a breeding kink. He loves fucking you until his brain shuts off, nothing but pure animalistic urges driving him. His muscles are beyond sore and you're exhausted but he's still rambling about how badly he wants to fuck you full despite the cum running down your thigh. He always takes extra care of you after finishing; strong arms carrying you to a warm bath and sheepishly setting a warm cup of tea near your hand. It's so sweet to watch him fuss over you, sappy words falling from that filthy mouth of his. "Was I too rough with you?" He always asks, plucking the washcloth from you and working soapy water along your back. "I'd let you know if you crossed any boundaries." You remind him, relieved to feel loving kisses along your shoulder.

Brynjolf fantasizes about having a big family - something he hadn't bothered to want until meeting you. For years he brushed off the idea in favor of selflessly devoting himself to the Guild. But when he bends you over the table in your new home he can't avoid it any longer. Your pants are barely tugged out of the way before spit slicked fingers are teasing along your sensitive cunt. He's babbling about what great parents you'll be together while his hips snap against your ass, the sinful combination of his voice and the harsh thrust of his cock enough to leave you speechless. "Bought this big house for what, lass? Fillin' it up with kids?" "Bryn." It's a broken little moan but fuck, just the thought of it drives you mad. Arousal shimmers along every nerve in your body at the depraved way he's fucking you, needy hands grabbing along your armor. "Anythin' you want, love. Say the word 'n I'll give it to you."

Erandur who just gets so caught up in how deeply in love with you he is. He's so wrapped up in his devotion that he cannot shake the thought of creating new life together. You aren't sure he knows what he's saying as he rambles about how he'll take such good care of you, how he wants a baby that's pretty and kind like you, that you'll never lift a finger as long as he's around. He's gripping your hips, thrusts long and slow to drag out every delicious sensation he sends through your body. When you're both finished he settles between your legs, gentle kisses pressed to your stomach and thighs. There's a flush from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as Erandur murmurs words of adoration into your skin.

Rune never felt any particular way toward being a parent until he realizes what it truly means - that it will be you at his side. He cannot shake the thought of making you a parent, of you being the one to carry his child. He'd felt lukewarm on the thought of a family but one idea lingers - he may not know his past but a positive legacy is something he can achieve. He can take all the hurt and confusion he's lived with and pour it into loving your children. "Last time I asked you weren't certain." You remind him, struggling to keep your voice even. Rune groans into your cunt, his eyes closed in absolute bliss when he finally takes a breath. "It's you." He gulps, clambering up until you're face to face. Stars burst behind your eyes when his cock slides into you, each movement slow and careful. "Want to be a dad." He pants the words into your sweaty skin. "Wanna do better for our kids - wanna do everything with you."

Arnbjorn often catches himself fantasizing but always comes to his senses before it's too late. When his cum spills across your stomach and your thighs tighten around his waist he fights to rid himself of those damning fantasies - cumming deep in you until he fucks you full, muttering the filthy thoughts he keeps deep inside into your ear. But when he's balls deep and you're whimpering under him all he can think about is how badly he wants to fold your legs up to your chest and fuck you until his cum spills down to the mattress. Often you will gaze up at him, face all flushed and hair a mess over his pillow, and Arnbjorn is terrified that you somehow know what lurks within his mind. He knows better than to say something in the heat of the moment he cannot truly offer you, something he will never be ready for. He loves you enough to grit his teeth and give you a steady hand to hold while you sigh dreamily about taking a warm bath together.