#thongvor silver-blood

[xidolafx]

Enemies to lovers but its Idolaf Battle-Born & Thongvor Silver-Blood

[nientedenada]

Pics by Wroniec. The Tumblr Sexyman contest had me thinking of the time I got given Hot Thongvor and Ondolemar fanart for my fic. I’ve never been able to find Wroniec’s gallery, but if you’re out there, I’d still love to link and promote your work. Context: Madanach and co. have just broken out and killed Thonar Silver-Blood. Thongvor runs into Ondolemar and is convinced he has something to do with his brother’s murder.

“You deserve death,” said Thongvor flatly. “You and all your kind.” “You are a true son of Ysgramor,” said Ondolemar. Thongvor looked startled at that. “That’s not a compliment,” Ondolemar clarified for him.  “Not to an elf. “Exactly.”

Later on they become unexpected buddies, as long as they have the same enemy.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

That moment when your bestie gives you Thongvor Silver-Blood/Last Dragonborn as a crackship and you roll with it to surprising results

ao3 | masterlist

So @elder-dragon-reposes gave me this prompt. She wanted to see what I could do with Leara Rose-blade and one of the Silver-Blood brothers. I chose Thongvor. So, to start Leara off with Thongvor, I read his UESP page. And I learned some things. You can get Thongvor to talk about Talos, and if you're an elf, like Leara, he says:

"He founded the Empire, and now they've turned their back on him. To appease your kind, Elf. Do your people rule Skyrim, or do the Nords?"

Leara would cooly reply,

"You may find that some of my kind stand with Skyrim. I'm here on behalf of Ulfric Stormcloak."

(Floor him, Lea, c'mon)

He may also say:

"Your kind started the Great War. Nearly destroyed the Imperial City. Then the Emperor took the coward's way out and surrendered. Now you people dictate everything we do. Don't want us acknowledging a "mere human" like Talos as the god he is."

At which point Leara, Thalmor agent though she was at the time, would say,

"Your gross generalization of all elves under one banner is fascinating. Tell me, do all Nords see eye-to-eye with you? Because I thought you and Jarl Igmund had a few fundamental differences of your own."

Leara just dismantles him. Deconstructs his worldview until she dominates his perception. That's my girl.

This conversation happens:

Thongvor: "Reburrus, I need you to draft a letter to Ulfric requesting more men." Yngvar: "Ha! About time we got some more muscle in this city." Reburrus: "Thongvor, do you really think that's wise? I mean, King Ulfric is such a busy man, and there are so many areas of Skyrim to protect." Thongvor: "Whose side are you on, Reburrus? I'm not worried about Skyrim, I'm worried about the Reach. Specifically, the part of the Reach we're standing on." Reburrus: "Yes, Thongvor. I'll draft the letter immediately."

And after Reburrus sends the letter, Ulfric's natural inclination is to send his trusty Rose-blade.

"I know you're inclined toward the negotiator's table, but with the situation in the Reach, I need someone I can trust on top of things."

And Leara smiles at Ulfric.

"Of course."

And she's off to Markarth.

Does Ulfric know that his old friend Thongvor is about to simp for the woman Ulfric loves? No. If he did, he'd have sent Galmar or literally anyone else.

So then I asked my friend: What do you want to bet that this is the conversation Leara walks in on when arriving at Understone Keep?

Thongvor: "I want soldiers sent to deal with these dragons. Every able-bodied man and woman who can carry a bow." Reburrus: "We can't do that. Every soldier we send to hunt dragons is one more man that can't defend the Reach." Thongvor: "Killing dragons isn't defending the Reach?" Reburrus: "Our men know how to kill Forsworn and Legionnaires, not dragons."

And she clears her throat, light and delicate, and says,

"I can handle the dragons for you."

And Thongvor is going to put his foot in his mouth [see above where Leara dismantles him and informs him Ulfric sent her], and Thongvor just has to trust this half-elf, apparently from "King Ulfric" (she probably has a letter with a seal or something) to go handle the immediate dragon problem. And she does, and it's amazing.

Right now Thongvor is catching feelings for Ulfric's liaison and he has no idea what to do. She's not what he's perpetrated elves to be. And it's got him on the wrong foot.

Thongovr does need help in Markarth and Leara is surprisingly effective. She's diplomatic and soft-spoken and has an uncanny ability to introduce logic into situations and to soothe hot tempers. Thongvor can see why Ulfric sent her of all people. And after a while, he doesn't particularly want to send her back. Thongvor isn't an idiot: He knows there are many people in Markarth who still sympathize with or are on the side of the Empire or the Forsworn. He can't name names, but he knows they're there and they are a threat to his family's hold on the city. But Leara Stormcrown is keeping everything together. The dragons aren't so much of a threat now and there hasn't been a Forsworn attack or riot in several weeks. Thongvor is living high on Leara's success.

And then Ulfric writes, requesting Leara return to Windhelm at Thongvor's earliest convenience, because he needs his negotiator. back. Unfortunately for Ulfric, Thongvor doesn't find this convenient at all. He almost anticipates the city falling into anarchy as soon as Leara leaves and he can't have that. Markarth needs her. He needs her–

So Thongvor starts inventing excuses to keep her in the city. Leara knows Ulfric needs her to help him handle the Imperial deligations from Solitude, but Thongvor hasn't signed off on her mission to Markarth. She's getting antsy to leave, but she can't abandon her orders.

And this leads into the Forsworn Conspiracy/No One Escapes Cidhna Mine. There are problems from the Forsworn. When Leara starts looking into it, Thongvor doesn't want her to, but she does anyway and Thonar, what do you mean you arrested her?

And then Leara is in Cidhna Mine and Thongvor, Mr Foot-In-His-Mouth, is stalling on getting her out and his concern that Ulfric is going to find out.

(Firm belief that Thonar doesn't like Leara at all, by the way. Thinks his brother is a fool.)

And then . . . the Forsworn break out of the mines, and Leara is standing in his quarters. It's 3am. She's in rags. She's never looked more mesmerizing. Why is it so cold all of a sudden?

"I stopped them from killing your brother – barely. I did that for you, by the way. You're welcome, Jarl Thongvor. You're welcome, because Madanach is free, and he's gone to spread the truth to the Reachfolk."

Oh. She's . . . cross.

Her finger, directed at his throat, is a jagged spear of ice as it presses into his skin. There's a blizzard in her eyes and frost on her skin. That's what they meant when they called her Dragon of the North.

"Since coming to Markarth, I have followed your every direction. I have aided the people and dealt with your problems for you. But no longer. When your idea of aiding the people is the eradication and abuse of half the populace, then you are no longer worth my attention. People say Ulfric oppresses the Dunmer, but at least they have roofs over their heads, food in their stomachs, fires for warmth, and city walls for protection – the Reachfolk have nothing. You would take everything from a people whose only crime is living in the land you desire for your own! When I return to Windhelm–"

And then Thongvor snaps. He grabs Leara by the shoulders.

"I did it for you! I tried to protect you from the Forsworn! I would drive them into the depths of Oblivion so you never suffer at their hands again, like you have tonight!"

Leara's stare is a long winter.

"You did it for yourself."

And then her skin – he can almost feel the softness of her thin shoulders through the prison rags – is so cold it burns.

"The only one who hurt me tonight is you. I thought you were better than that. Really, I did."

And then Leara walks away. More painful than watching her go is knowing that she would never look on him again. That all her regard, so carefully attained in recent months, is shattered and gone. And Thongvor cries.

LATER IN WINDHELM:

Ulfric is just lounging on his throne, waiting for Thongvor to send Leara back, when the doors just blow up and she's there and she's brought the winter wind in her wake, but she's got a stiff lip and an iron spine. Ulfric is on his feet in moments because this isn't laughing Leara, this is Leara struggling, and he meets her across the room in moments.

She almost flinches back when he reaches for her.

His hand falls.

"Leara . . ."

Her eyes are distant, off to the side, and then she looks at him, and maybe there's a thaw but it comes with a swell of rain and barely restrained tears.

"I failed in the Reach, Jarl Ulfric."

Ulfric doubts that. Leara doesn't fail. But he hesitates to ask what she means because there's something haunted in her eyes. He reaches for her hand and when she takes it, slowly, he says,

"Tell me."

And she does, and Ulfric hears thunder.

Clear across the province, Thongvor shivers.

And that's it. That's the post. Thank you for coming to my TES talk

[bethrnoora]

disappointing that apparently the default arrangement for peace talks if you do a neutral run sets markarth to be under control of the silver-bloods :/

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Maybe its my intense bias but almost all the Stormcloak Jarls suck? I mean like as people AND as rulers. There's a few exceptions but still..

----

Eastmarch: Ulfric. Helps Nords. Doesn't help anyone else. Even the other Stormcloak Jarls say they think Ulfic is self interested. Many also seem to think his rebellion is justified, but that Ulfric is doing it for selfish reasons.

Falkreath: Dengeir. Lowkey losing his mind. Suspicious of everyone including abjectly loyal citizens. Only better than Siddgeir because he's not corrupt.

Haafingar: Ulfric again except hes King now. See above.

Hjaalmarch: Sorli the Builder. Totally aloof. Morthal's citizens seem to hate her just as much as Igrod Ravencrone. Cut dialogue shows she isn't even interested in ruling Morthal and wants a position in a more prestigious Hold like Riften.

The Pale: Skald. Huge asshole and abusive to everyone. Probably the worst jarl in any hold because he cant even get Stormcloak loyalists to like him. Enough said.

The Reach: Thongvor Silver-Blood. Genocidal and enriches his family via Cidnha mine slave labor. Thinks his money entitles him to power. Huge racist against non-nords. Hates Forsworn but seems to cover up for their presence in the city while also wanting to imprison them for his mines. Basically a dumber racist version of Maven Black-Briar.

The Rift: Laila Law-Giver. Decent as Jarls go but along with everyone else in Riften politics, she is complicit in corruption. Still far far better than Maven Black-Briar *literally* running the city after the Empire retakes it.

Whiterun: Vignar Grey-Mane. Decent old coot. Has pride in his strong Nord values while not being a racist or overly xenophobic (in comparison at least). Seems proactive about working to protect Whiterun and it's people.

Winterhold: Korir. Racist xenophobic bigot who seems to be passing his prejudice to his son who espouses similar views. Actively hates the College despite it being the only thing bringing people to Winterhold anymore. Won't even foster good relations with the only thing contributing to the economy of Winterhold. Complains about Winterholds decay so asks you to get some ancient crown purely so *he* can get more respect from other jarls. No actual benefit to the hold. Literally blames it on the College when it gets extra cold outside.

All in all, the Imperial Jarls of Falkreath and Riften are the only ones who seem worse than their Stormcloak replacements/alternatives IMO.

Of course it's all my opinion! What are your thoughts?

[moodcrab]

Fixing Skyrim's Daedric Quests

Introduction

Unlike my Oblivion character - a mere mortal who stumbled upon a shrine while lost in the wilderness, becomes somewhat obsessed with gaining the level requirement and collecting an offering, then undertakes the quest feeling like a dark god is testing their worthiness to be their champion - The Last Dragonborn has Daedric Princes falling over themselves to make them their champion straight out the gate. Level one? Who cares! No offering? No problem! Not my Summoning Day? We haven't cared about that since Morrowind! Literally told me to go fuck myself? Take the prize anyway Champ you've earned it!

Basically, much like factions, Skyrim shoves nearly all of the Daedric Quests in the player's face as soon as possible because they're widely considered to be the best and most rewarding by fans of the previous games. But the older games had them, to varying degrees, hidden away or locked behind mechanics, and Bethesda didn't want newer, more casual fans to miss them. In doing so the Princes and their cults lose that air of mystery and danger they once had.

On the other hand, it was nice to be doing something else entirely then have a surprise Daedric Quests blind side me, and it's not like the old Oblivion way was perfect. Find shrine, give offering, get quest for EVERY Prince? And just one quest and I'm the champion, dedicated my soul to your afterlife and all that jazz?

This series is going to try to maximise the good parts of Skyrim Daedric Quests, while bringing back some of the classic elements that it left out, starting with...

Part I - Namria

Quest A) A Taste of Death.

If you visit the Treasury House in Markarth you might overhear an argument between Brother Verulus and Thongvor Silver-Blood. This location change means you are unlikely to just run into this quest immediately as in vanilla, but also gives you a high chance of encountering it during The Forsworn Conspiracy, in which case it has the double benefit of acting as a kind of red herring in that quest and linking this quest with Markarth's corruption and secret society vibes.

Brother Verulus wants the city guard to stop their lockdown of the Halls of the Dead and to actually go in and deal with the draugr head on (in my alternative "Fixed" Skyrim the increased draugr population is connected with Alduin's return, who is raising his Dragon Priests to serve him, even within cities). Why doesn't he go pester the Jarl or the Captain about this, asks Thongvor, dismissively. Oh come on, don't act coy, we all know who really controls the guard in Markarth, why not let them do their job, replies Verulus. Thongvor counters that that would be a desecration of the Nordic dead, that guards putting them down like a pest would be dishonourable. What's more, perhaps if the glorious Nordic dead of the city weren't being tended to by a poncy Imperial Priest of Arkay instead of a proper old fashioned Orkey Shaman, maybe none of this would have happened. Verulus starts to lose his temper at this, and in anger implies that he knows that the draugr problem that plagues the other cities isn't the real issue here, that most of the ancient dead here are Reachfolk not Nord, and begins to demand a true explanation for being locked out but stops himself, he has said too much and leaves.

The quest begins by talking to Verulus who will ask you to investigate what's really going on in The Halls of the Dead. How you get in is up to you. If you're a sneaky type or a smooth talker you'll get in that way. You can also commit a crime to lure the guard away maybe. You could go find Thongvor who can be convinced to give you an alternative - take care of Verulus, but more on that later.

However you get into the Halls, on entering you start finding evidence of cannibalism, butchered bodies, cooking stations and so on. As you delve deeper you hear Eola, a Reachman Namira Devotee, goading and teasing you; "Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear... Don't you see what I am about down here in the dark? Is that disgust? Revulsion?... Or curiosity? Why don't you come deeper, and scratch that itch?" You can question her about who she is, what is her purpose here, why is Thongvor protecting her etc. but it will come down to convincing her to leave, killing her, or accepting her invitation to eat human flesh.

Now, IF you sided with Thongvor, the plan is to lie to Verulus to get him to follow you into the Halls of the Dead, this time you'll be confronted directly by Eola and Thongvor together. They intend to kill and eat you both and blame your deaths on Draugr. You can fight your way out and try to save Verulus, or you can prove yourself by killing Verulus yourself and tasting him by way of a test.

If you partake in cannibalism you will get a monologue from Eola about Namira, waxing poetic about the oldest god, The Black Fly, being the Daedric Prince of decay and squalor and all things ugly and repulsive... But also her significance to the Reachmen. To them she is the Spirit Queen who is the true god of death, not Arkay, the primal darkness that gives and takes life. You will gain the power to feast on a corps once a night or when underground, and unlock the second quest.

Quest B - A Guest for Dinner

The second quest will be even less obvious to the player and will hopefully take most people completely by surprise the first time it happens. The quest will only begin after the following criteria are met: You have used the lesser power to consume 10 or more corpses. You own a fully furnished player home. You spend the night there with either your spouse or a follower. When you sleep, a slow, loud, ominous knocking at the door awakens you.

At your door is a stranger in rags and a hideous face asking to come in. You can refuse or invite them to stay. Once inside they will take a seat at your table and ask what is being served for dinner. At this point your follower/spouse will be freaking out a little. You can offer food, like regular food, which will disappoint him and he'll leave. You can offer your spouse or follower as the meal and you'll have to attack them, the screen will darken for an gruesome audible muckbang. Or you can tell the Stranger he is on the menu, which will please him greatly and he will warn you against choking on him, depending on the disposition of your specific follower or spouse they will either join in or abandon you forever.

The Stranger, if he survives the night, will give you the Ring of Namira as thanks. If you ate him Eola, who incidentally will now double as a replacement spouse/follower, will arrive and give you the Ring. The Ring is a powerful reflect damage/magic ring, a unique enchantment in Skyrim.

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Nostos

Tagged by @mareenavee, @dirty-bosmer, @skyrim-forever, @rainpebble3 tyty friends🙏

I am tagging @thana-topsr @greyborn2 @gilgamish @thequeenofthewinter @changelingsandothernonsense

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence, mushy stuff [kissin' not viscera]) Category: M/F Genre(s): Romance Main characters: Borgakh the Steel Heart, Khemor gro-Skaven (Male orc LDB)

Summary: Khemor gro-Skaven thought that after he defeated Alduin, he would not have to worry about anything more dangerous than a quill knife for the rest of his existence. But when the jarl of the Pale asks him to investigate the destruction of the Hall of the Vigilants, it sets off a chain of events that ultimately leads him to wash up at the feet of Borgakh the Steel-Heart of Mor Khazgur. But what can a crippled conjuration mage-scholar half again her age possibly offer to a future Shield-Wife?

I introduced Khemor in last week's WIP Wednesday, here.

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

As the sun dipped towards the Druadach mountains, Borgakh led them through the maze of jagged boulders and juniper scrub that made up the Karthald highlands. If it was not for the wall of mountains staying generally to their left, or the leyline of magicka he could sense to the northeast, Khemor would have suspected she was leading them in circles as they wound their way over the harsh terrain.

In several places he was certain the path would disappear only to have Borgakh make a sharp turn and what had seemed to be an impenetrable scrub thicket or wall of rock would be revealed to be passable, or broken in just right way to allow a horse and rider through while fooling the eyes of anyone not looking at it from the correct angle.

Calder was chatting happily as he led Bear on a loose rein, occasionally gesturing with the thrown horseshoe in his hand. The young Nord’s ability to make conversation with anyone under any circumstances had often served Khemor better than his housecarl’s sword arm, and he was grateful for it. It gave him more time to look at Borgakh.

Despite the chill in the air and her damp clothes, she showed no outward sign of discomfort, and navigated the uneven ground and broken rocks at a rapid pace. Now that he was behind her, he could see a buckler and sword strapped beneath her pack, not obvious to the casual observer but still easy to access. A quiver of arrows and a vicious looking knife at her hip seemed to be the weapons she preferred to have closest to hand.

How does anyone live out here? Strongholds had been doing it since the Merethic Era, but so far Khemor had seen nothing even resembling land that would be productive enough to support a settlement. Surely they don’t eat only deer and juniper berries?

"...really, you haven’t heard of the Dragonborn?"

Calder’s question caught Khemor’s wandering attention. Even if he was not recognized by sight it had been a very long time since he had met anyone who did not know of him. They really were on the edge of the map out here, weren’t they?

"I think Pavo, the owner of Kolskeggr, said something about it. Once."

"Well, surely you noticed the dragons returning, even out here! I’ve seen the empty mounds, they must be around."

Borgakh waved her hand dismissively in response. "Oh, yes, the dragons. There’s one that was at the ruins downriver."

"There’s a lair nearby?" Calder looked over his shoulder at Khemor, flashing him a toothy grin.

Next to him, Gregor heaved a weary sigh and said, "We aren’t out here to look for dragons, boy. If Jarl Thongvor wanted it gone he would have asked."

"Ha! I doubt the Silver-Bloods even know what’s all out here in this divinesforsaken backwater." Calder quickly looked over at Borgakh. "No offense."

She grunted in acknowledgement but said nothing. The path was pitching up in a gentle slope, the crest of the hillock just ahead of them. Khemor hoped the stronghold was close - it had been a very long day, and his hip and leg were throbbing. He was going to have to have Gregor assist him off of Blue if he didn’t want to make the poor mare kneel to let him dismount.

"Anyways, I hope they haven’t given you too much trouble, at least lately. My Thane-" Calder waved vaguely back towards Khemor, "-defeated Alduin two summers ago. That was the dragon that was bringing back all the other ones."

Borgakh nodded but said nothing, so Calder continued, huffing slightly between his words as he climbed.

"We’ve been killing the others as they become problems, but most seem to be retreating to the mountains."

"Yes, I’ve seen them flying west sometimes. We’ve lost a few goats." Borgakh’s voice held no trace of effort as she stepped lightly from foothold to foothold.

"Well, if needed I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with any that show up while we’re here," said Calder, in his most gallant tone. "Quite frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t targeted your settlement, they can’t seem to resist every other little hamlet and farm in the rest of Skyrim."

"Oh, I didn’t say they hadn’t attacked." Despite only being able to see a sliver of Borgakh’s face from this angle, Khemor could tell she had a smile playing on her lips.

"I said they didn’t give Mor Khazgur any trouble." Borgakh reached the top of the rise, and stood aside, gesturing to the valley below with a grand sweep of her arm.

The expected mountain-orc stronghold, with its usual curving timbers, sturdy walls, and longhouse would have been the dominant feature of the glen if it were not for the massive dragon skeleton that was splayed out on the valley floor.

"By Talos," Gregor murmured as he pulled his horse up next to Khemor.

Borgakh grinned at Calder’s dumbstruck expression, obviously pleased with herself.

It was a good piece of dramatic timing, Khemor had to admit. And the look on Calder’s face was rather amusing.

The skeleton was undeniably real even from this distance --a small industry making facsimiles had sprung up across Skyrim to take advantage of the standing bounties, and Khemor had seen many fakes just as large as this one-- but the genuine article was unmistakable.

At the far end of the basin, several broken treetops, their exposed inner wood no longer stark white, and a deep groove in the earth, now filled with new spring grass, showed where the dragon’s final stoop must have ended. As he looked more closely, Khemor could see a section of the logs on the stronghold wall had been scorched shiny black, and a few had been replaced, their brown bark standing in contrast to the char on the others.

"It must have been quite a battle," he said, breaking his silence.

"Yes," agreed Borgakh, turning her head to look up at him. Her teeth flashed white in the oncoming evening gloom. "It thought we made an easy target. Now our animals graze around its bones."

"We will be certain to keep that in mind," said Gregor.

"See that you do."

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday

I posted this before I was tagged in anything but have since been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter and @throughtrialbyfire so thank you!!!

I actually have a WIP that I would like to share~ It's part of the next chapter of The Perfect Storm, and it's quite long so I've put some under the read more.

Given Whiterun’s delicate situation with regard to the ongoing war, and its central position in Skyrim which crossed over many roads and travel routes, linking hold to hold, it was not rare for Balgruuf to be receiving correspondences from the other Jarls of Skyrim. There would always be at least one per week, with some communications being more frequent than others – he couldn’t actually remember the last time that he had heard from Korir in Winterhold, whereas discussions with Siddgeir, Skald, and Thongvor Silver-Blood were held monthly.

But rare was the occasion that he would receive letters from both Windhelm and Solitude on the same day. Ulfric and Elisif, two Jarls at the complete opposite ends of Skyrim’s political spectrum. It was not the most welcoming of sights, seeing wax seals bearing the red wolf of Haafingar and the blue Bear of Eastmarch alongside each other in the hands of the apprehensive-looking Proventus.

Had it not been down to the fact that he was actually expecting a message from Ulfric, he would have taken the letters as a sign of the war inching ever closer to Whiterun’s doorstep. He recently had to reach out to him on the behest of Belethor, whose store – being a cornerstone of business in the city – had been closed for over a week on account of his goods being held up in Windhelm’s docks. With there being no general goods store, pressure was piling up on other vendors who were in turn reaching their own limits in terms of demand. There was only so long that such a position would be feasible without having to fall back on contingency supply plans, which he would much rather put into place when the war was no longer at a stalemate as opposed to as a result of supply issues.

It didn’t escape his notice, however, that this was not the first time that goods had been delayed when coming from Windhelm – and Proventus in turn remarked that it had all started happening ever since Elyse had clashed with Ulfric. Whether it was a direct result of that or not was another question, but not one that he would touch upon unless he had stronger evidence than mere correlation.

Leaning back on his seat in his study, forefinger and thumb rubbing against his chin and beard as he looked between the two letters, he decided that he would read the letter from Ulfric first, given that it was one that he had been anticipating. There was a small, nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he would likely need a strong drink once he had finished with it, but on the other hand, since when did communications with the other Jarls not ask for such?

Jarl Balgruuf, Rest assured that trade will resume imminently, but that additional and appropriate tolls and tariffs will need to be paid by either yourself or the recipient before anything can be released. An invoice from my steward will soon follow this letter once he has finished with summing up the costs. This accounts for the space which the goods have taken up, depriving Windhelm’s citizens of safe storage for their own wares and supplies, in addition to the burden which was placed upon both the city’s guards and the good Nords working at the docks. In future, I would recommend that you ensure that your citizens are not using illicit traders to acquire their goods. I will not tolerate dirty money infecting Skyrim’s economy. On the topic of fees and fines, I believe that your Thane has been ignoring attempts at communications regarding her fine for assaulting me, in addition to my attempts at apologising for my brash manner of speaking with her. It has taken much self-reflection to realise that I was on the wrong side of that situation, though her escalation was still not necessary. I would like to make reparations with her, but cannot with her ignoring me. Perhaps, as her Jarl, she will listen to you. It is also time that you start listening to me too. Whiterun’s future depends on it. Regards, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak

“Irileth…” He knew that his housecarl would be close enough to be able to hear him, she always was as of late. The door creaked open, the Dunmer in question being quick to emerge with the noise that she made being enough of an indication of the raised eyebrow on her face. “Could you please inform Proventus that I would like to have an urgent audience with Belethor before this evening?” he asked, not looking up from the letter on his desk but instead reaching out for some fresh parchment and a clean quill. “And before he asks, the discussion with the brothers from the Drunken Huntsman can be pushed back to tomorrow, I will have more time then and this matter is much more pressing.”

“Yes, my Jarl.”

With a quiet click, the door fell shut again and Balgruuf sighed. That feeling about needing a drink after reading the letter was on point, as usual. Fortunately, given that his work as of late was necessitating him needing more and more time in his study, he had been prepared for such an occasion and had a few bottles of Colovian brandy locked away in a cupboard – and by the Divines, he needed something strong.

Elisif’s letter would simply have to wait until later.

[uwuthrad]

I feel like the biggest thing preventing me from actually committing to joining the Stormcloaks in-game is that the imperial side just has all the objectively better jarls:

- Imperial-Whiterun gets to keep Jarl Balgruuf, who’s a bro and also gave me a sexual awakening when I was young, so can’t do that to him. His replacement would be Vignar Gray-Mane, who’s an old dude that just sorta hangs out in Jorrvaskr instead of... his house? anywhere else? go get yourself some sun, man - and also he just gives me the willies.

- Imperial-Falkreath keeps Siddgeir, who’s admittedly a useless git, but who has a terrifyingly efficient steward I really wish I could marry. Stormcloak-Falkreath gets Dengeir back, and while he seems marginally less despicable than his nephew, he’s also so fucking paranoid he sees conspiracies everywhere, which uh. Does not fill me with confidence for the future of the people in his care.

- Imperial-Markarth keeps Igmund (who?) whereas Stormcloak-Markarth gets Thongvor Silver-Blood (brother to the guy who threw you in prison for asking too many questions. Never forget, Justice4Eltrys). I’d argue that Igmund at least keeps the Silver-Bloods from entirely taking over the Reach, but literally who gives a shit. Markarth is a death trap full of daedric princes, cannibals, and absolutely no handrails whatsoever. Let it burn for all I care.

- Imperial-Morthal has Idgrod Raven-Crone, and I’m sorry but queen shit, don’t even care what qualities the other guy might have. (I looked it up and it’s some miner lady from Stonehills, so really did they just grab the first person they saw? A travesty.) There’s no universe in which deposing Granny Idgrod is right, not taking any arguments, next.

- Stormcloak-Dawnstar has Skald the Elder, which, eww? Who the fuck put that slimy pig in charge? Imperial-Dawnstar replaces him with Brina Merilis, who actually seems to be in possession of common sense. Love that for her.

- Stormcloak-Riften has Laila Law-Giver, who has three braincells going at any given moment and all of them are fighting for who gets to be first. Literally everyone is playing her and she doesn’t notice. Imperial-Riften replaces her with Maven Black-Briar, who’s admittedly the leader of a crime syndicate and just a bit of a dick besides, but she was tugging the strings of the old Jarl anyway, so really, what difference does it make? Also it’s Riften. Love the city, but if it found someone incorruptible it would get a mental breakdown.

- Stormcloak-Winterhold has Korir, whose guts you’re going to hate if you’re a mage, which sucks, because the mages’ college is quite literally the only reason to lug it up there. He’s a bigot who’s blatantly raising his kid to be a racist little prick, and somehow he thinks rolling up to the other Jarls with a bigass helmet from his paw-paw will make the other jarls think he’s hot shit again. Imperial-Winterhold gets Kraldar, who is a) not a raging asshole and b) willing to hear other perspectives out, which gives me hope that someone might one day think to ask the college if one of their mages couldn’t pop down to check on the structural integrity of the stables.

- Stormcloak-Windhelm gets Ulfric, and like I love you man, you’ve got some good points, but you suck as an administrator (the slums? the argonians outside the city? the bloody serial killer???). Imperial-Eastmarch gets Brunwulf Free-Winter, who re: rare gift of common sense and a modicum of empathy for other people’s suffering. The bar is. so. low.

- I will give the Stormcloaks points for Solitude even though Elisif stays no matter what, because if they take the city I at least can harbor hope someone is going to give this girl some lessons in good government, because uhhh Elisif you’re very pretty and I’d like to touch your hair, but, honey, no.

 tl;dr: you will take my granny and my dilf from my cold, dead hands

[your-talos-is-problematic]

Hello citizens of Skyrim! Today we will vote for High King/Queen of the province. Tumblr has a limited number of poll options so we will do Imperial and Stormcloak polls and pit the winners against each other. Happy voting!

[dumpsterhipster]

Dancing Day by FourCatProductions / @darklight-tower

fandom || Skyrim rating || T categories || multi pairings || multiple genre || vignette cluster, character study characters of note || Thonar Silver-Blood, Thongvor Silver-Blood, Betrid Silver-Blood, Calcelmo, Faleen, Uraccen, Voada, Rumarin status || 1/1. 5.6k

There's a holiday celebration in honor of some visiting dignitaries. Markarth celebrates.

***

“Imperial holidays,” Thongvor said by way of greeting, and his tone made it clear what he thought of the matter (and indeed, of all things Imperial). “What a great load of pomp.”

Thonar, who had had a headache since the parades began earlier that morning, massaged one throbbing temple and took another sip from his now-full goblet.

“It’s Breton. Comes from Daggerfall.”

“Same thing,” Thongvor said. “Did you know Igmund’s got them watering down the wine?”

“I did. Which begs the question, how are you already drunk?”

***

I loved every single scene here so much, and I absolutely love the transition from 'privileged position at the heart of power in the keep', moving outward to the periphery [...] It's a wonderful structure for a piece where everything stands on its own, but is also deepened in context: oblivious Nord power, the servants (esteemed, not at all esteemed) who support it, the prisoners who unsuccessfully resisted it, and then finally the active resistance. -- wandavon

I am NOT OKAY. -- cosmikaze

[janearts]

Some NPCs from my most recent foray back into the world of Skyrim.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

The Leara Crackship Collection, or "Why does everyone want in the Dragonborn's pants?"

Courtesy of my own brand of Elmirien tragedy and comedy

Also on ao3

Leara Rose-blade/Thongvor Silver-Blood Silver Rose

Leara Rose-blade/Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced PiercedRose

Leara Rose-blade/General Tullius TulLea

Leara Rose-blade/Galmar Stone-Fist StoneRose

Leara Rose-blade/Rahgot RoseRage

Leara Rose-blade/Ralof RaLea

Leara Rose-blade/Esbern The Meth Ship

[njadastonearm]

okay yeah the Forsworn stuff is bad and the cult of Namira and the house with Molag Bal are terrible but like. can we talk about how Markarth has Skyrim’s only for-profit prison and how the guards are paid not by the jarl but by a private citizen. what the fuck.

[bethrnoora]

Ivarstead and solitude :))

Ivarstead - How do you feel about the Greybeards and Paarthurnax?

im kind of neutral on the Greybeards as a whole, in the context of Skyrim i definitely prefer/sympathize more with them than with the Blades bc the Greybeards are mostly minding their business. I love Paarthurnax though, I think he's a really cool character and I always enjoy when an ancient fucking dragon plays a major role in a fantasy plotline, especially when he becomes a mentor or ally figure. can't imagine going through with the quest to kill him even if I was more interested in the Blades quest as it is

Solitude - Who’s your favorite Jarl? Who’s your least favorite? Why these?

ELISIF NATION RISE UP...i just adore her, I think there's a really interesting angle to her in that she's been thrust into a position she's relatively unprepared for due to the traumatic death of her husband and is understandably unsure of herself and paranoid of all the eyes on her. which definitely people around her interpret as weakness as a leader but I think underneath that anxiety there's an extremely strong will and keen understanding of her situation

umm i'm mostly neutral on a lot of the others but honestly I fucking hate the Silver-Blood family so the possibility of Thongvor Silver-Blood becoming jarl in Markarth is like ew <3 die.