#vampire x dragonborn

[mentally-retired]

cw for spoilers also some adult trans humour cus my character is trans

anyways, enjoy!

Gra'kuldiwiem couldn't sleep again. Maybe it was his brain parasite. Or maybe the constant impending doom he and his companions always seemed to be in. Or perhaps it was just because he was thinking about all of these reasons he couldn't sleep, pushing him further into endless restless nights with no hope of shut eye. Whatever the reason, the dreary dragonborn groaned with discontent.

The others seemed asleep. Or at least they were much better at pretending they were than him. His gaze drifted to his favourite vampire party member. Or well, there had been a bit more than just being “party members” between them. However, Gra'kuldiwiem was new to any kind of relationship, friendship or more. He was just new to society as a whole, despite living in Baldur's Gate for 14 years, his first 16 years being in the woods made certain social rules an enigma. For all he knew, perhaps all friends did this, and what he did with Astarion was purely platonic and friendly. What good pals do. Gra'kuldiwiem loved having friends.

Gra'kuldiwiem was pulled out of this... entertaining train of thoughts by the soft scritch of fingers tracing on sand. Definitely not the only one awake. Astarion must be trying to figure out that damned poem. Gra'kuldiwiem hated the poem. He didn't know what it said. Not that it looked bad on Astarion. Gra'kuldiwiem has yet to find proof that anything looks bad on Astarion. But it was driving the vampire to dangerous options. Making deals with that devil. A devil that would deal with children is more cruel than any normal one, and he was worried Mol would end up making a deal up in that tower. Everything about that vile infernal made Gra'kuldiwiem's skin crawl. Or his scales. Speaking of his scales. They were cold. Gra'kuldiwiem doesn't do nearly as much soaking in the sunlight as he'd like, he misses the heat. All his warm blooded companions seem so tempting to just… squeeze. But none of them seem like the cuddling type, especially from an 8ft tall dragonborn who dresses like he's haunting a graveyard.

However tonight, with his growing drowsiness, he is less keen in senses.

"Hey... Astarion... Hi... hello... you awake....?" He speaks to the vampire hunched over the room he traced in the sand. As the vampire turns, his smile seems forced as it spreads across his previously uneasy face.

"Hello darling.. always for you~? Anything you had in mind?" The word felt pushed out of him, like practiced lines rather than genuinely eager.

"I'm cold. There's no sun in this forest. Hard to sleep.... can I sleep in your bedroll with you" The dragonborn’s pout made his stature seems less intimidating

"Love, I am not sure if you noticed, but it wouldn't fit the one of you let alone both of us. And anyways, I am not a cuddly person."

"Then I'll just hold your bedrolll and maybe just bring mine over. This isn't a matter of cuddling this is a matter of you are all warm blooded bastards and I am freezing my dick off."

"You don't have a dick?" Astarion gave Gra'kuldiwiem a curious look, eyes glancing down in case Gra'kuldiwiem forgot where the aforementioned dick would go. "Having a dick is more of a mental state than an actual physical thing." Gra'kuldiwiem insisted "Please?"

Astarion sighed "Very well. Don't.. don't try anything. But, I wouldn't want our spellcaster to be... lethargic."

Grabbing his bedroll, he curled himself around the pale elf. His tail gently wrapped around the other like a third arm in which to seek additional warmth. Just as Gra'kuldiwiem suspected, hogging all this warm blooded heat. Not as warm as the bears he'd spend his childhood cuddled down with during those long winter nights or those wolves who huddled in a pile during bitter fall mornings. But warm. Comforting. Familiar, in a sense.

Astarion shoulders tensed. Frozen like a deer in the torchlight of an adventuring party. Low, soft rumbles started in Gra'kuldiwiem's stomach, then rumbling deep from his throat. The dragonborn's head lay atop of Astarion's, softly brushing his scaled chin through the pale elf's hair. Astarion's body started to relax in the bard's embrace. For the first time since the Absolute priestess he ate put him under with her sleep spell, Gra'kuldiwiem fell into a deep slumber.

"Darling..."

...

"Dear..."

...

"Love..."

...

"Oh for god's sake wake up already, I am running out of nice things to call you." With a large wrench, finally Gra'kuldiwiem blinked his eyes open.

"Mmmmm....?" He found his arms had remained tightly wrapped around the elf.

"I see why it’s Wyll's job is to wake you up. I need you to let go before the others wake up. The sun, or what version of it we have here, is going to be up soon. I think... you're good for warmth."

Gra'kuldiwiem unlatched his arms but not before leaving a kiss on the vampire's cheek, leaving a blue mark behind. "Sleep well Astarion. Well figure it out, the poem, I promise. You're not alone."

guys would anyone read a piece of writing about my dragonborn bard boy bg3 character being his silly reptile self and incidently accidentally comforting Astarion through The Horrors™️ with late night cuddles would anyone read that

edit: guys ive posted it in reblogs

[teem-boo]

compilation of shitposts featuring my freaks 💞 i swear ill draw a proper piece one day

[brabblesblog]

A wedding at the Crimson Palace

The palace has played host to countless soirees, but this wedding will be its first. Come join us when we open our doors on the sunset of 28 Tarsakh (April 28), 1494 (2024).

Chapter 14 of Remember ye not the former things.

Prequel: Whither is thy beloved gone?

Invitation made by my editor and friend <3 @editing-by-night

[madameoni]

You love me for everything you hate me for

Look, I saw my dragonborn's hands holding Astarion's and my brain short circuited. Just. Big hands, tiny waist.

[yorkshirereaper]

POV: you tried to rob the wrong house

[helgiafterdark]

[star-lit-mist]

An art piece I made awhile back with my oc Tarak Fjord (left) and my friends oc Nerium Oleander (right)

Yes a base was used but the lining along with everything here was drawn by me on my phone lol

Nerium Oleander belongs to @weirdisme

[herhighness-thequeenofhearts]

Morally grey bisexual girlboss w/ a hot vampire SO:

Summer Westerling 🤝 Selene Durante

(Click for better quality)

Apparently I have a type for romance options AND player characters

[umbracirrus]

Excuse the fact that this is a screenshot of my document as opposed to copying and pasting from a word document but I'm writing from my phone because I'm unwell and barely have the energy to get my laptop. I hate feeling ill so bloody much.

Anyway I kinda indulged myself on the vampire Balgruuf AU I started incoherently rambling on about a few hours ago. To make myself feel better obviously.

[artesianalpondscum]

MINOR BALDUR'S GATE 3 SPOILERS

hahaha read it and weep i got to romance with Astarion, honestly my proudest moment in this game :3

[zihua-art]

⭐️Comm form here!❄️

+ comm tips for artists & style examples below cut

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Surpise

Summary:They get a surprise visit from you, since you need their bodyheat for the harsh cold nights

Type:Hcs:Fluff:Halsin X Dragonborn!M!Reader: Astarion X Dragonborn!M!Reader: Gale X Dragonborn!M!Reader: Wyll X Dragonborn!M!Reader

Version:Bg3

Halsin

At first you scared him

He was just laying there when he suddenly felt another body pressed against him

Practically laying on top of him

He was ready to slam you into the ground, but once he saw you he relaxed

Welcomed you, literally. He turned and wrapped his arms around you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs

As an elf he doesn't really sleep, but he will stop his meditation just for you

Wyll

Probably laughed when he realized it was you

He was worried for a moment, probably jolted out of his sleep

He'd left you snuggle up to him, just for warmth- for now anyways

He'd probably smile throughout the night

He'd very much appreciate your warmth

Will invite you back again, just for warmth!...totally

Gale

Probably the heaviest sleeper, so he wouldn't even realize

It wouldn't be until he wakes up to get some water to feel your scaled body pressed to his

He'd panic so much and shove you away

After you explained he'd sigh and let you come back to snuffle him

Honestly slept so good that night, it's been so long since he felt interaction

He'd hope you would come back again, he wouldn't ask! But he'd hope

Astarion

He knew you were coming

Even opened his arms to you so you could properly lay with him

He's a vampire, he doesn't sleep

He'd honestly enjoy the snuggle, it's better to be used for warmth than sex

And he'd tell you that too, if your close

If not, than he'll keep it close to him, but would hope you came back for more.

[A/n:They should add snuggling to the game, like...I wanna snuggle Gale so bad 😭 please!. I hope you enjoyed]

[teem-boo]

.•｡ﾟ HOME 彡 CONTROL  ﾟ｡•.

Day #4 and #5 of @theemperorweek !!! This took longer than I anticipated 💀 but I finally finished!

Used the prompts to draw a piece for my post-canon AU, which I will be calling Knights of the Gate!

[cambion-companion]

Possession

Caring at all is caring too much.

I've never written from Raphael's perspective...at least not for this long. The idea just came to me last night. He is a very possessive and proud creature. I had to wonder how he'd react if Tav yanked on that chain a little.

Raphael x Tav (female) | drabble | Raphael POV

Caring at all was caring too much. The twisting knife of jealously lodged in Raphael’s chest.

He lounged upon silken pillows, a cup of wine held idly in hand, surrounded by doe-eyed doting mortals all wanting something from him.

Not her. The nymph of his orisons who now swept in a dance some meters away, her vivid satin skirts swirling with each twirl only to come close and hug her body at the end of each enticing movement.

Raphael took a sip of wine, the bitter draught staining his lips maroon.  

She was taken up into the arms of a green dragonborn, the large clawed hands dipping too low upon her form, feeling the curve of her-

The pain of shattered glass piercing the palm of his hand registered in Raphael’s mind.  He was yet loathe to tear his gaze away from her, yet left little choice as the courtiers surrounding him began to make a fuss akin to a gaggle of hens upon seeing a fox.

Red blood was pooling in Raphael’s palm. “Hush.” Was all he said to the women and men attending him, the word commanding immediate silence.  He plucked the remnants of the ruined crystal from his hand idly, smirking slightly.  

Raphael pushed aside offered hands of help, magic lighting his fingertips as he healed himself.  His brow darkened and his eyes smoldered as he trapped her again within line of sight.

She had come to the end of her dance, in more ways than one Raphael mused, and was now leaning up to kiss the cheek of the scaled interloper.

Unacceptable.

Raphael stood, abruptly. His anger spread around him like a cloud of brimstone. The mortals surrounding him scattered.  

Raphael approached her slowly, as a stalking cat does its prey. Her attention was drawn, recognition flashed in her eyes.  Those lovely eyes in which Raphael desired to only ever see his own reflection.

Before she could speak, though those lush lips of hers did part, Raphael stroked his hand down her side to rest atop her hip. With a gentle movement belying his true intent he pulled her to him. “What is a little bird doing straying so far from her cage.”  He purred against her hair, feeling the change in her body, the tensing of her muscles beneath thin fabric.

“It is a gilded cage at best.”  Tav replied. Her eyes narrowing in challenge. Just the way which had first drawn him to her. “Besides, I am not beholden to you.”

“Then why do you not walk away?”  Raphael coaxed her to sway with him, in a dance more fitted to lovers. Their movements guided by the new music lilting from musicians atop the raised dais.

Tav hesitated. “We have a contract.”

“Which you are no closer to fulfilling.”  The glow from the many candles and torches flickered and shone off the polished floor. Raphael turned his face in, closing his eyes as he inhaled her scent. Allowing himself one moment to forget his turmoil. “Least of all in the arms of a potential paramour.”

“Then what are you?”

Raphael smiled, loathe to admire her bravery in quibbling with him. He looked down upon her upturned face, caught between the desire to take her in his hands and kiss the soul right from her mouth or rake his claws down the soft skin of her back.  

His deep eyes showed nothing of this conflict.  With care he replied. “I am your master.” He held her tighter as she began to revile. “You are the brightest of my treasures. You will tarnish from all this inaction, and no longer be my favorite.”

The muscles of her neck tightened, drawing his gaze to the mark her vampire companion had made there.  Raphael wanted to swoop down, as a fell eagle to a mouse, and replace the scar with one of his own design.

“I will go, then.”  Tav seemed to take his warning to heart. She was defiant yet not to the point of becoming a fool.

“Good girl.”  Raphael smiled, smugly aware of the effect such praise had upon her. “When you return, we will feast.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Raphael held her for a moment more, the moment fleeting as a crystalline flake of ice falling unguided from the sky.

Then he let her go. Grimacing only when she had turned away. His fingers still itching to bury themselves in her in myriad ways.

Raphael returned to his lounging, his little flock of admirers slowly trickling back. With effort, Raphael pulled his thoughts back into careful order.  He would not allow himself to submit to the chaos she stirred within him.  He had many deals being laid at his feet, and eager souls practically throwing themselves at him. It was business as usual.

[legitalicat]

From The Book Emerges a Man (Part 1) - Miraak x Reader

AN: This is my first official request made by my spiritual twin the lovely @foxyanon ! It is also my first proper Skyrim fanfic! I was surprised to find I enjoyed writing this as much as I did. I think I may be a Miraak girl now. Also Miraak's appearance is inspired by both this fanart by buttery_roll on Instagram!

Masterlist here!

Summary: Hermaeus Mora, often regarded as a demonic trickster, has sentenced you to be responsible for Miraak for the rest of his days. You can't help but despise the former Dragon Priest. Until you realize that he's only human.

TW: Tentacles (not inherently sexual in context but still), violence, weapons, mentions of blood, tension, forced proximity trope, TENSION, talks of a cult, enemies to friends, no romance YET, Hermaeus Mora, vampires, no reader description except wears a dress

Pairings: Past Miraak x OC

Word Count: 3.3k

The First of the Dragonborns and the Last Dragonborn. You could imagine the bards singing of this legendary battle for the rest of the Era. A mythical tale centuries, maybe a few millennia, in the making.

Yet, you couldn’t do it. Staring at the former Dragon Priest before you, an arrow notched in your bow as you were prepared to release the final piercing blow, when you came to the realization. Hermaeus Mora would only use you to the end of your days. Yet, if Miraak were to live, you would be free. Having slain his dragons, Miraak was no longer a threat to Nirn.

So, you dropped the bow and turned away. You would exit the way you came with the Black Book. You were free, and free you would remain.

“No,” Hermaeus Mora said, appearing before you as the Wretched Abyss.

“I leave. He lives. You lose,” you said angrily. “I am tired of being the plaything to bastards who won’t handle their business themselves!”

“You wish for me to handle my business myself? So be it,” his voice echoed around you as though it emerged from the very air of his realm.

Tentacles emerged from the oily pool behind you and wrapped themselves around your neck. For a moment, you were ready. Sovngarde was a better fate, where you were revered and rewarded for your sacrifices to the world, than to be at Mora’s will for the rest of his days.

“You think I will kill you? No, foolish mortal. It is not your time, and it is not your fate,” Mora said to you, toying with you. “You are slated for more…divine prospects.”

“Fuck you,” you uttered as the tentacles squeezed tighter, inadvertently lifting you off the ground.

“Even fate may be changed should one so desire,” he told you, your vision going fuzzy at the edges as you struggled for air. “And since you have decided you shall change his, he is now yours. After all, you have a debt to be paid.”

He dropped you, his tentacles retreating to the ooze. You gasped for a breath when you hit your knees. The fuzziness disappeared as you stared at the ground. He couldn’t be serious.

“Miraak, the First Dragonborn, the betrayer of the Priests, the First Servant, your final task is to serve the Last Dragonborn until your last breath. You shall leave Apocrypha a mortal man once more, the clock beginning where it froze when I first brought you. This shall be your new fate.”

That was what brought you home to Skyrim, Miraak by your side. You knew it was easier than continuing to fight. You had relative freedom while forcing this betrayer of Men and Mer to help you in your duty to Nirn. It felt like justice enough.

Your first night back in Skyrim, you made your way by carriage to your home, Lakeview Manor. You had thought the first person you would bring there, aside from your housecarl Rayya that is, would be your husband. Never had you imagined you would be forced to share your home with a long unimportant Dragon Priest.

“This is where you will keep me? This…hovel?” he asked as you began to dismount the carriage. “I was a king!”

You pulled him down by his robes, and flung him into the dirt. You put your full weight on top of him, sitting with a knee on either side of his chest. You pulled Mehrune’s Dagger from its sheath on your side and held the blade to his throat.

“A king?” you snarled. “You were a tool, a puppet, to be used by Mora until your veins ran dry! And now he’s stuck you with me. Tell me, little worm, do you feel the threatening aura of this blade now? Now that you can once again die by a mortal’s hand, do you feel the fear you brought upon others?”

The fact he still insisted upon wearing the mask and robes from his days as a Dragon Priest infuriated you to no end. It kept you from seeing the fear this blade now instilled in him. You could feel it in the way his muscles tensed under you. The nikriin (coward) was so used to preying on those he could control and manipulate, he didn’t know how to play fair.

You moved your dagger from his throat and cut away at the fabric holding his golden mask in place. In anger, you threw it far from where you two were and watched it as it disappeared down the hill. And if the Divine were good, you would never see the stupid thing in your life again.

You were surprised when you turned back to face him. You had not known much of the Dragon Priests, if you were honest, at least not before you were declared Dragonborn. So, you truly had not expected the man before you.

You would be surprised if Miraak was younger than forty, at least physically. There were fine lines on from the outer corners of his eyes. His hair was darker than you had expected, black with white peppered throughout. It was fast approaching his shoulders, a few wisps resting across his face. His beard was much the same in terms of coloring, the short coarse hair following along his jawline and trailing around his lips.

What captivated you, though, were the scars and his eyes. The scars, you suppose, could’ve been expected. He had championed a rebellion against Dragons, and you were all too familiar with them at this point to think the scars, that dragged across his face from under his right eye and disappearing into the left half of his beard, had been made by anything other than the claws of dragons. His eyes were overwhelmingly stunning. A sliver of a black pupil surrounded by a bright yellow that faded into a burning orange, his eyes looked reptilian.

“I earned my kingdom, Dragonborn,” he growled.

You pushed yourself off of him, practically growling in pure frustration as you sheathed your dagger. You began to walk into the house, thinking of ways you could send him back to Oblivion, when you stopped. Your old friend Faendal had always told you your heart was too big, and as you thought about the man who had been alone for over a millennia, you could understand why. You almost felt a pity for him now, as mortal as any other man with everyone he had ever known dead.

You did not turn back to face him. You merely took in a few deep breaths, smelling the smoke from the hearth’s fire floating into the sky above and the lake all but a stone’s throw away. And it felt calming. That was why you picked this place.

“Go to the lake and take a bath, you stink of horse and sea. I will have my steward bring you a set of clothes, leave the robes. I want no other connection to the atrocities you’ve committed in my house. We stay here for a week, then I have other holdings I must tend to,” you told him before walking into the home.

Your week went by rather quickly. Thankfully, both Falkreath and Whiterun were close enough to Lakeview that you could check on them during the week. The Jarls and their stewards had no news for their holds, each citing the end of the war as better news for their jails. None of your contacts in either offered a different story. At least for now, all seemed right in your favorite corner of the world.

Until you returned to the manor and found Miraak struggling to wrestle your cow into a single place so that he could milk it. You didn’t even really understand what you were seeing as you watched this insane man. He was wearing standard tavern clothes, the only clothes for men you had in your possession, and just kept wrapping his arms around the cow in a multitude of places. You could only assume he was trying hold it one position, at least.

You looked to Rayya, who was leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk on her face. You walked over to your steward.

“What is going on??” you asked her.

“You told me you wanted him to earn his keep. The ignorant fool won’t accept the fact that he is failing,” she said, chuckling.

“So you think it better to allow him to stress out my cow?” you asked.

“I tried, my Thane. He would not listen to anyone but you,” she told you. She shook her head and walked away, no doubt to do her rounds of the property.

Sighing, you walked over to the pen that held your cow and chickens. The chickens may not have been smart, but they had at least managed to keep out of his grasp. Your poor cow, that you had named after Faendal after one too many Black-Briar Meads, was mooing indignantly as she kept trying to step out of his grasp. She was just a little too slow to accomplish it.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“This cow will learn it’s place. It will listen to me,” he told you, not even bothering to glance your way as he repositioned his grip once more.

“Oh my fuck are you truly that much of an idiot?” you asked him as you pulled him off the cow.

He stood straight and looked down at you. He truly was an imposing force. Without his padded robes, he was still broad shouldered. You were near certain he was a solid wall of muscle, taller than you by at least a head.

“Rayya cares for her every day, you are a stranger to her. She has no trust in you, she will not willingly give you what you have not yet earned,” you snapped at him.

His eyes, which still dazzled you, moved down to look directly at his feet. You could see Miraak’s jaw clench and release a few times over.

“I…I apologize, Dragonborn. I merely thought I should earn my keep here,” he said quietly. “I know that you more than anyone is paying a price near too high for Mora’s trickery.”

His apology was sincere. So sincere, in fact, you were rendered speechless. The last few weeks had been so intense, between the Mora’s decision, the journey back to Skyrim from Solstheim, and the duties and detours you had as was your duty to Skyrim. You had never once suspected he may, after so long, feel some inkling of regret for his actions.

“Just…my stewards, anyone I employ, really, they know what they are doing. You can trust that their instruction will be true and fair,” you muttered. You began to side step him when his arm grabbed you.

You had been travelling light since your return, trading your normal armor for a green dress that you saw that tavern woman wore. It felt freeing, to some degree, to be able to go at least just a few days without armor stiffening your movements. So, his hand touched your bare skin. Goose pimples popped up over your entire body as his heat spread over you and your blood rushed to your cheeks.

“How was your trip?” he asked you. Surprised, you turned to face him. His handsome face once again took your breath away.

“Uneventful. Thank the Divine,” you said. His eyes traveled to your chest, where an amulet to your favorite Divine rested.

“I didn’t take you for one of piety,” he commented.

“I never was but being a god sent piece to move about the board, you gain an appreciation,” you muttered.

“I shall get our things ready to ride for Solitude tomorrow,” he said. He let you go and walked into the house.

It was supposed to be a simple ride. You had made it so many times and so many ways. You had even chosen to stick to the roads this time to avoid any such event.

But pesky vampires didn’t care much for plans. They were getting more courageous, some even coming out in the broad daylight. Which is exactly what these did.

There were at least ten of them. It was one of the larger groups you had come across. And when one laid slain at your feet, another came. They were overwhelming you.

Until he saved you.

In moments that were almost too quick to comprehend, he had cut down any vampire that had touched you. There was a fire burning in his eyes as he moved his sword about. You stood there, stunned, as the blood of vampires drenched him when the last of them were dead.

He looked at you, that fire seeming to consume him. Miraak closed the distance between you, pulling your dented helm from your head to toss it aside, and took your face in his firm hands.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you. His eyes searched your face. Your armor had thankfully kept any of their attacks from reaching your flesh.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He looked like he was at a loss for words entirely. His gaze softened as he looked you over once more. And if you were crazy, which despite all the blows to the head you most definitely were not, you would have sworn he looked a little teary eyed.

“Let’s set up camp for the evening. It would be night soon, and you should rest,” he said quietly as he released you from his hold. You watched as he walked away into the nearby forest.

You looked as the sun was beginning to set over the mountains. Thankfully there was enough light left to arrange your camp. You got to work silently on building a simple lean-to with enough room to fit both of you. You had hidden it a bit past the tree line, giving you perfect view of the road without being seen from it.

Miraak returned to your side not long after you were finished making a fire with a deer he had shot down and dressed. And so you watched as he butchered it down into smaller slabs of meat. Once it was on the fire cooking, the stars already shone bright in the sky.

“You can’t milk a cow but you can field dress a deer?” you asked him. You were both sitting by the fire, and you glanced up at him.

The firelight danced across his features. It seemed to make the scars even deeper. His eyes practically glowed at any time, but seemed ethereal now.

“It is not much different than slaughtering a Dragon. More pliable, but that typically works to my favor,” he answered with a shrug.

“I have to ask. You were…I mean you were a dragon priest. The world laid at your feet, you only had to answer to the dragons. Why ruin all that, why turn on them and seal your fate in Apocrypha?” you asked him.

Until you had spoken the words, you didn’t realize how much you desired an answer. The stories from the Merethic Era were scattered at best. Most of them had been deemed so impossible that they were nothing but a legend. Even Miraak’s story had been lost, and his was truth.

“The Dragons were cruel. Simple as that,” he told you with another shrug.

“No. That was known by everyone once they arrived in Tamriel. That’s not a good enough answer. So the truth. Now,” you said firmly.

He sighed and leaned forward a bit. He adjusted the meat’s position over the fire before looking to you.

“There were barely better to us than they were the men they ruled over. We were given control, sure, but at what cost? They fed us their barely edible scraps, instructed us to build temples until our hands bled. They didn’t even allow human companions for us, only them. It is not a great wonder many were able to scatter and bury the dragons, we were used to being alone,” he told you. You leaned back a bit, resting yourself against the shelter.

“There was a woman,” he said quietly.

“Isn’t there always?” you muttered. If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge your words.

“This woman was…she was beautiful. One of your Divines personified, if I ever cared to wager. There was no other explanation for how one as stunning as the stars could exist on Nirn,” he said. His voice was soft, heavy.

“You fell in love,” you whispered.

You had never imagined a man such as him in love. In the few stories you had managed to hear, he was not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. More akin to the dragons he once served than a rabbit. And his ferocity in the fight against the vampires earlier felt like proof of that.

But then you thought of the way he looked at you. The way he touched you, or held you. How ever since he joined your company, you hadn’t so much as even gotten a scratch. How he seemed to always be aware of the next step, ensuring that no harm came to you.

Your heart began fluttering against your chest like a thousand butterflies has been entrapped inside you. You had been so preoccupied with hating him and hating how he had been thrust upon you, you had never thought of him as anything but a monster.

“I did. But like I said, our lives were dedicated to the Dragons. We were allowed nothing more. The rest of the world…the dragons made their lives torturous, yes. I will not deny that, and I will not deny the part I played. But, at least they got to share their life with someone.”

You nodded silently.

“When Alduin found out I dared break one of their many rules, he made me watch as they tore her limb from limb. My dear Thildys, whose only crime was being the object of all my desires. And if that were not cruel enough, The World Eater marked me for eternity with his claws still dripping with her blood,” he said.

Your heart ached for him. You remembered how you felt when you found Kodlak had been killed. The betrayal from the universe felt as real as any wound you had suffered. You weren’t even in love with Kodlak and you killed the Silver Hands to avenge him and the entire Glenmoril Coven just to give him way to escape the clutches of Hircine’s Hunt.

You thought of what you would do for a person you had loved. Especially if the beings you considered gods made you watch while they tore your love apart. And you felt a burning desire within you to destroy anyone who had so much as whispered your name. You couldn’t begin to fathom what it would feel like for real.

“You rebelled in revenge,” you said.

“I did. I thought…I thought if I overpowered them I would have the power to turn back fate. They feared me, for a while, as I amassed followers and slew Dragons. And then I began to lose, the rest of the Dragon Priests circled Alduin and fought against me, turned my allies against me. Then Mora promised me that if I served him, he would give Thildys back to me. That is all I have wanted all this time,” Miraak finished his tale.

You were waiting for some lament about how Mora tricked him. That seemed to be the status quo wherever Hermaeus Mora made himself known. He would promise powerful people the world, and all they got was an earful of lies.

But yet nothing of the sort fell from his lips. He merely pulled the meat off the fire and portioned both of you out some. You noticed he handed you a larger slab. Before you could protest, he spoke.

“You have her eyes, Dragonborn.”

[yorkshirereaper]

Closeup because I don’t want it taken down. NSFW under the cut

I had so much fun detailing Cicero’s scars and burns. Also Gianna doesn’t have a dragon tattoo on her shoulder I just got carried away and I like how it looks.