#alduin x dovahkiin

[globofhoney]

As a player who has legendaried Alchemy for two times, and restoration magic for five times.

I would like to advise Alduin's simps to take snowberries concentrated extract before you join him on....'fun times'

You probably wouldn't want to be in too much pain while he spewing his fire inside and all over you, no?

I recommend precautions before you doing anything rash.

#the elder scrolls #Skyrim #alduin #alduin x dovahkiin #dragon #the last dragonborn #alduin x reader #dovahkiin

[cryptid-called-ash]

Breyth: let’s play a fun game! It’s called ‘Sahrotaar or Vilkas’. I give you actual quotes I’ve heard Mira say, and you tell me if it’s something he said to his dragon or his fiancé.

Alduin:

Farkas:

Odahviing:

Vilkas:

Sahrotaar:

Miraak: I don’t like this game.

#mid grohiik #miraak x vilkas #miraak #vilkas #skyrim vilkas #alduin #odahviing #sahrotaar #farkas #the wolf twins #oc: breyth alarenzin septim #source: unknown #incorrect quotes #the dragonborn’s favour #double dovahkiin

[helgiafterdark]

#x #okay but paarth legit jumped in front of haela <3 #skyrim screencaps #skyrim screenshots #skyrim #tesv #skyrim scenery #paarthurnax #alduin #alduin's bane #dragons #dragon #dov #dovah #haela #oc #dragonborn #dovahkiin

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 30 - The Jarl's Gratitude

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild's reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 279

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter! I have never been able to make it through a full novel-length fic, but thanks to support from friends and comments from readers, I had the motivation to finish the piece :) There will be a sequel coming, and I will work on it as much as possible with school happening, but I won't be posting it until the spring. For now, I'll be posting snippets here and there when I can be active in ask games and in general. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Despite being called in together, Jarl Laila addressed the thieves separately. Brynjolf was first, Laila granting him ownership to Riftweald Manor. “I understand that Mercer Frey is not the man we all thought. I thank you both for putting an end to his reign. Brynjolf, Riftweald is yours if you so wish. Anuriel will speak with you about the terms while I speak with your partner.”

“Thank you, my Jarl,” Brynjolf gave her a genuine smile and bowed his head before following the Bosmer into a separate room. 

“Adranelle Rolaine.” Jarl Laila smiled warmly as the half-Breton. Adi felt uncomfortable under the Jarl’s gaze, hearing her full name out loud for the first time. Even more so with Maven’s piercing glare directed at the half-Breton behind the Jarl. 

“How-”

“You’re the talk of the town lately,” Jarl Laila held up her hand, stopping Adi from speaking. “My steward has informed me that you’ve made quite an impression in the Rift; several of our citizens have expressed their admiration. Much like Mjoll, you’ve become a champion of our hold. Your willingness to help people with their difficulties and providing assistance for their needs has caused many to sing your praises. As the Jarl of Riften, I feel it is my duty to honour your selfless behaviour by honouring you with the title Thane of Riften.”

“I would be honoured to accept, my Jarl,” Adi showed gratitude, although felt unsure. The last thing she needed was another title that screamed ‘hero,’ but who was she to decline the Jarl?"

“Before I can present you with the title, there is but a single requirement you must fulfill,” Laila continued. “A Thane of Riften is required to maintain permanent residence within the city walls. My steward-”

“Sorry to interrupt, my Jarl,” Brynjolf took his place next to Adi once again, slinging an arm around her waist. “But that’s not an issue. Adi will be living with me.” 

“I am?” Adi looked up at the Nord, confused. Living together wasn’t something they had discussed quite yet, so his statement was quite a surprise.

“Only if you want to, lass,” he looked at her. When their eyes locked, Adi knew her answer right away. She would not turn him down when he had unadulterated love for her. 

“Of course I do,” she smiled. “That just caught me off guard.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jarl Laila pulled them back. “I officially bestow the title Thane of Riften on you.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” Jarl Laila shook her head. “You’ve solved more problems in the short time you’ve been here than anyone in my court has their entire careers. You’ve been a beacon of hope in these dark times for my people, and I will never forget it. Therefore, by my authority as Jarl, I pronounce you Thane of Riften and award you all the benefits befitting your station. Congratulations.” 

That comment made Maven sneer, and her eyes darken. That reaction alone caused Adi’s smile to grow. Not only was she receiving a Noble title, but Maven’s disgust towards the recognition Adi was getting made it worth accepting. 

“Your Housecarl, Iona, will meet you in Riftweald Manor. Please ensure you will have a room for her, should you choose to redecorate.” Jarl Laila dismissed the thieves. 

Hand-in-hand, they left Mistveil and made a beeline for Riftweald, Brynjolf handing Adi a key to their new home. Brynjolf told Adi that the process was easy. Anuriel had the paperwork in order and just needed him to sign it. He added Adi’s name right then and there. The Steward would hear about the Manor’s redesign by the end of the week. 

“My Thane, may I speak with you for a moment?” if it were any other voice, Adi would be baffled as to how word spread so quickly. However, Adi recognized it to be Maven. She was not keen on hearing what the Nord woman had to say to her. 

“I’ll meet you inside,” Adi told Bryn, squeezing his hand before approaching her mother. Brynjolf nodded and climbed up the ladder to the top floor entrance.

“What is it, Lady Maven?” she asked innocently. 

“I know who you are, and I’m aware you have found out who I am to you,” her tone was low, menacing. “If word of this were to spill to anyone other than yourself and Leo, I will not hesitate to remove you from this situation. We both know how quickly word spreads in this town.”

“Word spreads this quickly in any of the Hold’s towns,” Adi shrugged. “And I can assure you, the news I received before I left to end Mercer’s life isn’t one I’d be keen on anyone finding out, either. Besides, I know things about you that would tarnish your reputation even more than the town finding out you abandoned a baby almost 30 years ago. I suggest you back off and leave myself, Brynjolf, and the Guild alone; otherwise, your luck will run dry.” 

“I won’t give up that easily, dear daughter,” she smirked, knowing how much that word would irk Adi. “You’ve just threatened the wrong woman.”

“And so have you.” 

***

Six weeks later, Riftweald Manor looked completely different from the dump Mercer left it. All traps and triggers were gone, the bottom tunnels into the Ratway were blocked off, the top floor door lead to a closed-off balcony, and the ground entrances were usable. Given a well-deserved break from the Guild, Adi and Brynjolf focused fully on redesigning their home together. The final floor plan was approved by Iona and sent to Anuriel. Renovations took little time and made the space warm and welcoming. It was perfect. The thieves couldn’t be happier. 

After Adi and Brynjolf hung up their final decoration - a drawing made by Delvin of one of the Guild’s celebrations in the Flagon - they collapsed onto a loveseat, Brynjolf pulling Adi into his chest. “You think the place is ready for our friends tonight?”

“I think it’s perfect.” she looked up and kissed him deeply. The previous week, they had entered the Cistern and invited the Guild members to a small Housewarming party. Everything remotely fragile was thought about, in consideration of drunken thieves in one place, and Adi made sure they were either too high to reach or unmovable. Mostly both, if she was going, to be honest. 

“You’re perfect,” Brynjolf shifted, so Adi straddled him, tangling his fingers in her hair. He deepened the kiss, Adi reciprocating with no hesitation, and moved to start removing her civilian clothes when a loud knock sounded at their front door. “You’d think that we wouldn’t get interrupted as much being away from the Cistern, but alas, I was wrong.” 

“I’m sure it’s just the courier or something,” Adi laughed. She kissed him again, then headed to their front door and met with Nazir. 

“Congratulations on the new place, Adranelle,” Nazir gave her a curt nod and handed her a bottle of Mead - packaged as a gift.

“Thank you, Nazir,” she took the mead and invited him in. “You do know the housewarming party isn’t until later, right?” 

“Yes, but I came early because I have… some unpleasant news.” 

“What is it?” Adi set the mead on a shelf, then turned the assassin. 

“The Night Mother informed me of a new… complicated contract.”

“One that only I can handle? What are the details.” 

“It involves you, yes,” Nazir hesitated. He wished not to ruin her day, but this was not something that could wait. “But not in the way that you think.” 

“Nazir, spit it out.”

“Someone wants you dead.” 

#tes: skyrim #skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf x oc #the thieves guild #brynjolf fanfiction #fanfiction #riften #the thieves guild main quest #the dark brotherhood #maven black briar #nazir skyrim

[umiwesker]

Tagged by my comraaade @krabzyr

⭐ Last Song: Chop Suey! by System of a Down

⭐ Favorite Color: "Pink" she said calmly.

⭐ Currently Watching: Ahsoka

⭐ Last Movie: Does One Piece LA count?

⭐ Currently Reading: Something something Alduin x Dovahkiin fanfic (please judge me)

⭐ Sweet / Spicy / Savory: Used to like spicy over everything, now I just don't really care lol

⭐ Relationship:

⭐ Current Obsession: Elder Scrolls and ✨pink decorations✨

⭐ Last Thing I Googled: Too lazy to look at the history but I'm sure it's something but ✨pink✨

⭐ Currently Working On: An art of friend's COD oc vibing with mine and renovate my room to pink😃

Tagging anyone who wants to participate😄

#i guess pink is my way of self healing now

[starchickenn]

🎨 Inktober 2021 2/31

🔵 Dovahkiin 32 x 32 px

~

#inktober #inktober2021 #skyrim #theelderscrolls #tamriel #dovahkiin #alduin #pixelart #pixelartist #anime #animeart #videogames

Please give credits if you share

#Instagram

[manidottir]

Dovahkiin

☾ — Physiology ☾ — Injuries Post Alduin ☾ — PTSD ☾ — Hobbies (x) ☾ — Bodyclaim ☾ — Romance ☾ — Misc headcanons (x) (x)

Playlists

☾ — Dovahkiin ☾ — Listener ☾ — Inquisitor ☾ — Company Dragon Slayer

#☾ .*. ━ ‹ directory. › #I'll add more to this as I post more

[darkeleni]

Do What Kings Do - Fancast Ships

Just some of my ships (two book ones and two game ones) that need more love. It's basically them being badass and some post-canon AU with them getting together and enjoying the sweet life. :DD (Further describtion in the inbox from YT.)

#fancast ships #fanedit #phoenix x franziska #feenziska #narumei #phoenix wright #franziska von karma #ace attorney #aceattorneyedit #skulduggery pleasant #valkyire cain #valduggery #the count of monte cristo #edmond dantes #haydee tebelen #edmond x haydee #skulduggery x valkyire #alduin #female dovahkiin #alduin x dovahkiin #skyrim

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part II

Note: I split the oneshot because damn 12k does nobody want to read in one go xD

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 6938

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed. 

Part I

_______

A few hours later, after they had eaten the rabbit, they began to look for tracks of the monster. There were a lot of them. For example, the scorched moss where Geralt almost turned into roasted meat, the dark footprints in the dirt, and the fallen trees. 

The witcher was impressed by how good the warrior from Keizaal could search for tracks. 

“You see that, Jaskier? The way the claws dig in the ground? It means the claws of the dovah are really big. That’s pretty unusual for female dragons, so it’s obvious we’re dealing with a male. But we uh... know that because Odahviing is male.”

While Jaskier and Y/N genuinely searched for any signs he just stared at the foreigner. He somehow felt like he had found a kindred spirit in the man standing in front with his back facing him. 

A weird association, but there were only a few things that could really impress Geralt. 

Magic, Fighting Skills, and usually breasts. 

Which made him sound like a skirt chaser, but that wasn't it. It just meant what it meant. Dicks definitely didn't attract hi-

"What the hell?"

He lifted his eyes from the lower body of Y/N, and his breath hitched when those e/c eyes pierced his. Did he see...?

"The footprints are gone!"

Oh. That.

"That does make sense... Or not? It's a dragon, after all? They can fly. Or not? Can they?"

 Jaskier stepped in front of him and obstructed his view on the other. Geralt turned and touched his face. His cheeks were burning. What's gotten into him? He remembered something Yennefer had told him once as a half-joke. 

I sometimes think that if I haven't met you, you would have chosen someone who fights like you, thinks like you, who lives like you. And from what I believe that someone would have been a man. Because it needs a brute to move a brute's heart. 

While his head was filled with thousand thoughts, Y/N and the bard inspected the tracks closer.

"It can't be that he took off. Do you see how the footprints are as deep as the others? If he wanted to fly away, they would be deeper because he had needed to shift his weight."

"Is that something you learned while hunting for the other dragons with the Dragonborn?"

The man from Keizaal nodded. Some locks fell into his face, and his expression was thoughtful while he searched for a plausible explanation. Geralt could see every feature of his sharp e/c eyes. 

They were different from Yennefer's violet ones, their spark was different, but for other people, they must be as enthralling as the eyes of the sorceress to him. That's at least what he believed. They had a particular pull. He didn't feel it, but it was there. Puzzling, but powerful. 

A cough pulled him away from Y/N's eyes, and Jaskier stared at him with a grin. 

"What?" he asked, his voice almost defensive.

"Nothing," responded his friend with a knowing undertone. What the hell was going on?

"Well, I can't think of anything that happened. Witcher, what about you?" 

The mesmerizing eyes turned to him, and he blinked. What was the question?

Thankfully, I always have a good answer ready. 

"Hmm." 

He shifted and knelt to see the footprints up close. They had a certain distance to each other as if the dragon was walking slowly. Y/N was right; he couldn't have flown away, the marks were too shallow. Either he disappeared into thin air, or the monster had an amazing control when it came to his weight.

 "Strange..." was all he said.

He focused on the sounds around them, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just the whistle of the wind, a few birds singing, and the steady heartbeats of the other two men. It was a dead end. 

"Fuck."

He looked up, surprised that he and the warrior of Keizaal said the same thing at the same time. Y/N shot him a grin, and Geralt snorted. 

"Maybe we should try to set up a trap"

He turned and watched Jaskier's expression. It was a good idea, and they didn't have any other options, besides he wasn't really in the mood to search the whole forest for the dragon. The h/c haired man agreed and pulled a bow out of his satchel. The bard's eyes once again widened.

"I want a bag like this too."

"If you don't want to carry your things anymore, you can give them to me. I'll store them."

Jaskier smiled brightly, and Y/N returned it. Something flared up in Geralt's chest, but he ignored it. Damn bruises make my chest hurt. 

The bard gave the foreigner their things, and he put them in his satchel. 

"Let's think about the trap," the warrior tested the string of his bow and then focused his eyes on Geralt and Jaskier. 

"Dragons are usually very picky about their food, but I belie- know that Odahviing is fine with deer meat. We should hunt some." 

.

And they did. With the help of Geralt's tracking skills and crossbow and the Y/N's bow, they easily got two does. Although it took a while to find them since most animals steered free of the area where the dragon rampaged. 

Geralt and Jaskier only watched, while Y/N slashed the throats of the already dead animals. 

"Dovahs have a keen sense of smell; we have to cover our own scent."

He continued to drench his hands with the blood and even smeared some on his neck and armor. When he couldn't hear the other two approaching, Y/N turned around and tilted his head questioningly. 

"U-Uh, what did you say?" asked the bard and avoided his gaze. 

“What? Did I say something wrong? Can you... Is it a sacrilege to use doe bloo-"

 Geralt interrupted him. 

"We couldn't understand what you said because you spoke in a different language." 

Y/N widened his eyes, and an apologetic look crossed his face. 

"I'm sorry...”

Jaskier’s slightly odd expression concerned him and he examined the witcher. Geralt was more intrigued than scared by the fact the atmosphere in the woods seemed to have changed as soon as the other spoke in his probably native language. 

The fact that Y/N’s voice got a lot deeper while he spoke, caused a shiver to run down his spine. The foreigner apologized again and then added:

“I said the dragon could smell us. We should cover our scent with the blood."

Jaskier didn't seem to like the idea, but the witcher nodded and followed his advice. 

Soon the bard's and his hands were stained with doe blood. Geralt was unaffected by it since he already got used to it by hunting monsters for years, but the other man looked a little pale. 

The warrior watched their actions and then approached the white-haired man. His yellow eyes followed all of his movements. 

"You should also put some on your throat... It’s a place where a lot of sweat gathers." 

As soon as Y/N touched his collarbone and neck, Geralt stiffened. Actually, he froze. Something about another man touching his carotid artery was really intimate. His nose caught the smell of iron, moss, and smoke. 

Someone who lives like you. 

Yennefer's words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously moving his head closer to the other man. 

The warrior was only a few centimeters smaller than him, his head reached up to his eyebrows. The hands on his throat were rough and slippery, but they touched him with such gentleness, Geralt had to shiver. 

He gulped, and his adam's apple pressed against Y/N's palm. The afternoon sun danced on the other man’s scars, and eyelashes and Geralt wondered if every man had such long ones. He breathed in and closed his eyes. 

Is this the essence of a kindred spirit?

Suddenly Y/N's hands disappeared from his throat, and he could no longer feel the warrior's presence so close to him. 

“Put some on your cheeks too.”

A little disappointed, he opened his eyes and noticed that the other man had already turned and now approached Jaskier just to do the same thing to the bard that he did to him. 

Y/N's bare hands touched his friend's throat, and neck and Geralt suddenly had a very, very dark thought. 

Abruptly he turned around and covered his lower face with his hand. 

Did I... About this man...? 

He could feel how heat crept up his neck, and he questioned the emotionlessness that every witcher was supposed to have. 

What the fuck was he thinking? He has Yennefer! 

Or at least had. Their relationship was somewhat in the stars at the moment. After their rather big fight last time... 

Geralt didn't know why that mattered though.

He buried the fluttery feeling that had sprouted in his chest when the other man had touched him. 

What he didn't realize, Y/N's heartbeat was pounding faster after the physical contact they had just shared.

-

After they had covered their scent with deer blood, they also smeared some dirt on their armor and clothes, much to the dismay of Jaskier. Then they decided to set up their stakeout one hundred meters away from the carcasses. 

It was close enough to quickly attack, but also far away enough for them to be safe in case the dragon wanted to grill them. They sat on the mossy ground and leaned on the trees surrounding them.

"Now, all we have to do is wait."

Patience was something every hunter was supposed to have, and both Geralt and Y/N obviously had it. The bard, on the other hand... 

The witcher's left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. After his friend had whistled, he began to eye the two men. Jaskier's stare felt like a cockroach was crawling over his body. He had a bad premonition about the weird behavior of the brown-haired man. He glared at him, but he just grinned. 

Stop staring! 

Geralt turned his head away and noticed how the warrior from Keizaal seemed to concentrate on something around his neck. He clenched and unclenched his fist with an absent expression. 

He watched for a while and then realized that Y/N was holding a ring that he wore on a necklace. 

A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he suddenly felt like a mountain weighed his shoulders down. 

"You have a wife?" 

His mouth was faster than his thoughts. 

The man startled and then shared eye contact with him. 

"Something like that..." 

Geralt frowned a little. What kind of answer was that? He stared at Y/N with a hard look, but the other added nothing else, just sighed and hid the ring under his heavy armor. 

The witcher only grunted and turned to face the direction of their trap. 

Shit, why was he so annoyed? 

The idea of the warrior having a doting wife waiting for him in Keizaal made his heart clench, and his chest felt tight. 

This time he couldn't blame the bruises on his rips. 

He finally acknowledged that the h/c haired man intrigued him and caused some rather odd feelings to rise. 

But this... Why... Why the fuck was he feeling jealous? 

And it wasn't even that the man had a wife, no; he was jealous because some woman had Y/N. 

That dragon must have indeed killed some of his brain cells. 

His yellow eyes traveled back to the other man's figure. His broad shoulders were hidden under his armor, but Geralt had seen them. 

Just after he had woken up, he had seen the man in regular clothes. Although he had worn a shirt, the witcher had been able to see how muscular Y/N was. 

His body seemed to be covered with scars. Tiny cuts on his hands, big slashes on his collarbone, and even some nasty ones close to his throat. Geralt was sure there were many more, but he wasn't able to see them. They were proof of fierce fights and the experiences the man had had to go through. 

Was it weird that they attracted him? 

Like the hands in his dreams that had traveled over his, the Butcher of Blaviken wanted to trace Y/N's scars with his fingers. He wanted to feel how his body had healed him, wanted to know the story of every scratch and bruise, wanted to touch the energetic muscles bursting with strength. 

A flame of desire began to burn in his body, and he lowered his head to hide the dark expression he wore on his face. 

These thoughts needed to stop; they would only become problematic in the future. 

Geralt scratched his neck and then examined the brown-red flakes under his fingernails. 

He felt a stare on his body again, and he sighed. 

God damn Jaskier...

When he lifted his head, he was surprised to see that it wasn't the bard who looked at him but the warrior from Keizaal. Y/N's e/c eyes were unfathomable, but he showed a somber expression. He paused for a second, and the world seemed to turn slower. 

The witcher could see every blemish on the other man's skin, every mole, every freckle. Geralt breathed in slowly, and the warrior's hair swayed in the wind. 

He's so handso... The wind?

Geralt abruptly stood up. 

"The-the wind turned!" he muttered and gulped. His cheeks felt hot, and he bit his lip. Jaskier frowned.

"Doesn't this mean that our smell would be...?" 

Y/N sighed and nodded. 

"Is a lake close by?" 

The bard shook his head. 

"But, we're only a few miles away from the sea."

The witcher watched the other man closely while he questioned the other's exhausted expression. 

"The wind has turned due to the late afternoon. We should move."

Geralt and Jaskier only watched when the other stood up and grabbed his bow. 

"Why not wait until the wind turns again?" asked the bard, and he followed after the h/c haired man. 

"That won't be the case until tomorrow. The sea has saved the warmth from the sun while the land cooled down. We have to wait until the land is warmer again." 

Jaskier eyed Y/N carefully. Geralt could already guess what he was thinking. He understood what the warrior from Keizaal meant. He learned about it when he was training to become a witcher. 

"So, what are we going to do now?"

They both contemplated for a while and then Geralt spoke:

"Maybe we should indeed wait for tomorrow. I think it would be best if you tell us some more things about your dragon before we storm into this unprepared." 

He tried to suppress a triumphant smile when the other two agreed. Of course, he wouldn't admit that he actually just wanted to spend some more time with Y/N. 

He had a thought that they wouldn't meet again after this whole thing was over. 

"Then what do we do about the deer corpses?" asked Jaskier, and it was a reasonable question. If they left them, they could attract other animals... 

Both the witcher and the warrior looked at each other and then huffed. The bard just stared between them, and his face gradually darkened.

"You're not... thinking about eating them are-are you?"

-

Two hours later, they had put up a camp close to a clear pond and already roasted some rabbit meat. 

They had buried the does, and although the physical labor was annoying, Jaskier was relieved that the two brutes didn't decide to eat them. The dead animals had been lying in the sun for a long time after all. 

Y/N was peeling his armor off and thinking about the situation he was in right now. 

The fact that they were on the hunt for a dragon excited him. Not the actual part of the chase but the fact that he would meet another specimen of his current best friends. 

After he had killed Alduin, he had lost himself in a killing spree. Paarthurnax had warned him to get a hold of himself, but he wasn’t able to. His dragon soul caused him to lose all rational thoughts.

When he finally realized that he could learn so much more about Akatosh and the dovahs, he had already committed mass slaughter, and Odahviing and the wise dragon from The Throat of the World were the last ones of their species. 

Or that's at least what the three of them had thought. But they were wrong, and now he had the chance to meet another dragon! And probably also the chance to go home. If he wanted to.

But first, they had to get a hold of him. 

"Jaskier?"

He faced the bard who currently played on his lute while also watching the fire. He hummed in response and looked up.

"We should wash off the blood in the pond. Do you want to go first?"

The man seemingly wanted to say yes but then shook his head and responded with a slight grin:

"No, you can go first. I'll watch the rabbit."

Y/N furrowed his brows but then smiled and thanked him. He left the pile of his armor and Jaskier behind and wandered to the pond, which was located behind some trees and big boulders. 

The view from the camp was obscured, which meant he had some privacy. Not that he cared much, but he would rather not show his back to the two other men. Since it showed one more change he had gone through in the last year.

Although Geralt wasn't currently in the camp anyway, he left to get some more branches for the fire.

The man carefully opened his shirt and took it off. His boots, pants, and underwear soon followed suit, and he stepped to the shore where some reed grew. 

The water was cold when he stepped in, but he endured it. His muscles just tensed a little. 

Y/N walked in further until the water reached his abdomen. He wasn’t even halfway in the pond, it was fairly big. 

He sucked in some air when he lowered himself into the water until it reached his chin. He had to rub his skin a little, but then the water around him turned slightly red. 

The man watched how the deer blood twirled, and he stared at his reflection. The red blood on his cheeks conjured a cursed memory in his head, and he heaved. 

Hii los dur, Dovahkiin. Hi aal krii zu'u nu nuz zu'u ahrk pah dii Zeymah fen koraav hi mah wah hin daan. You are cursed, Dragonborn. You may kill me now, but all my brethren and I will see how you fall to your doom. 

The ominous words of the last dovah he had killed echoed in his mind. He hugged himself, and his fingers touched his shoulder blades. 

The skin was still shedding. Y/N sighed. What was going on with his body? The shedding had started a few months ago but he had no idea why. 

And since it only started after he had arrived here he couldn’t ask Odahviing or Paarthurnax.

He breathed out slowly and then dived underwater. 

The coldness cleared his head a little, and he relaxed slightly. His feet left the muddy ground, and for a moment, he floated. 

If I could just stay like this... 

His hand clenched to a fist, and he released some Magicka. The small pressure on his nose disappeared, and he automatically breathed in. 

Air filled his lungs, and the Dragonborn smiled. Peace washed over him, and he spread his arms. 

He slowly floated to the surface, and his face broke through it. Water droplets pearled from his cheeks and eyelashes, and he stared into the sky. The tree crowns whistled, and he watched how some clouds traveled across the darkening sky. The sun was already setting. 

This was the ending of the first day together with the bard and the witcher. Geralt's face came to his mind, and he bit his lip. 

The white-haired man reminded him of Farkas, but he was also completely different. His attitude for example. Farkas was openly benevolent and also voiced his concerns. The witcher seemed to be reluctant. Although Y/N was able to feel that he cared deeply for his friend. 

They shared the same keen instincts, but Geralt's came from the harsh trials witchers had to go through while his love had them because he had been a werewolf. 

I can't believe that you chose Farkas over Vilkas. Do you like strength more than brains? 

Aela's voice sounded in his head, and Y/N huffed. 

The huntress had probably been right. He was attracted to the Butcher of Blaviken. These yellow eyes... They had something animalistic and penetrating that stirred an urge deep inside of him. 

He sighed and put his hands on his face. Then he scrubbed and splashed his face with water. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of a person standing behind a tree at the other side of the pond after he had wiped droplets from his eyes and opened them again.

Y/N breath stopped, and a wail got caught in his throat. He abruptly stood up again, although it felt like he had still no ground under his feet. What...? 

Light blue eyes framed by black war paint stared at him with a resentful look.

"Fa-Far..." 

His voice failed, but he agitatedly began to move across the pond, trying to reach his lost lover and husband.

Breath erratic and tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, but at that moment, he only felt happiness and relief. Farkas was alive!

"D-Dii Shul!" My Sunshine!

The ground suddenly declined, he lost his footing and dived involuntarily underwater. 

Nevertheless, he was still able to hear the words that had left the lips he had kissed so often. 

"So, you've abandoned me."

An ice-cold feeling washed over him, and his heart broke.

No, that's not true! I would never! You were gone! You left me! You died!

A disturbing scream erupted from his throat, and the skin around his mouth tore. The scream turned into a roar, and he clawed at his face. The e/c eyes shook, and the black pupils turned to slits. 

Shreds of flesh got caught by growing claws, and gigantic fangs emerged from the man's jaws. 

H/C hair parted, shrunk, and gave way for two enormous horns. His whole body shook, and his limbs twisted and cracked. His spine grew longer, broke through his lower back, and two bony wings arose from his back. 

The murky water of the pond turned red and swirled around the tremoring creature who rapidly grew until it was able to stand on the pond bed. Flesh turned hard and into black scales. New tissue engulfed its wings and tail and also got covered by rockhard scales.

Burning heat crawled up its throat, and furious flames burst from its maw. It broke through the pond's surface, and the splashed water evaporated immediately. 

The dragon spread its wings, and they created waterfalls when they left the water. The wingspan was as big as half of the pond, and when it pulled them closer to its body ready for takeoff, the leaves and needles of the surrounding trees shook. 

A thunderous boom announced the beast's presence, and it tensed its huge muscles. 

When it thrust off the pond bed, the water turned into waves and flooded over the shore and soaked shoes and clothes. Branches broke like grass when the dragon's wings grazed them, and trees lost all their leaves from the harsh wind which got created.

A scent caught the dragon’s attention and it whipped its head around. A triumphant roar shook the earth when it dashed towards the direction the smell came from.

The beast ignored the scared brown-haired human that stared at it from a small campsite.

-

Geralt was grabbing some more branches when he saw some Celandine, and he swiftly decided to take them with him. They were always helpful, after all. 

Putting the branches on the ground, he knelt and carefully tore the flowers and the not yet bloomed buds from their stems. 

While he stored them, his thoughts trailed off to the mysterious man who accompanied him and Jaskier.

Y/N had sparked something inside of him, and now he was questioning his heart, which confused him even more since the person he found interesting was a man. 

On the other hand, he couldn't quite tell if the feeling in his chest was something along the lines of romantic attraction or just common interest. 

Deep down in Geralt's heart, he knew that him eyeing the other man's ass was definitely not something one would call a platonic interest, but he just couldn't admit that he, who never thought about other men like that, suddenly liked one. 

He didn't feel disgusted, but the thought alarmed him.

He had seen a lot of things during his time as a witcher, and relationships between two men were never something that ended well. Various churches took care of that. 

An image in his head made his fists clench unconsciously.

And there was still Yennefer. They never openly ended their relationship so... Was he still involved with her? He couldn't tell. 

The Butcher of Blaviken sighed and then noticed a pebble in the moss. It had white streaks over its grey shape, and they reminded him of the scars in the foreigner's face. 

Was he seriously associating weird things to Y/N now?

Maybe the other cursed him. 

While he pondered some more about the other man, it took a while for him to notice that the forest had turned unnaturally silent. 

Birds stopped singing as if they held their breaths in fear, and suddenly a roar disrupted the silence. It came from far away, but Geralt was able to hear it loud and clear because of his mutated hearing.

He abruptly stood up and turned towards the direction. It came from the camp, and Geralt's heart sank. 

Please no.

He disregarded the branches he had meticulously collected and started to rush back the way he came from. Thankfully he had taken his swords with him, and he unsheathed the silver one. 

The image of the bard and the foreigner being killed carried his feet forward and pushed him to almost inhumane speed.

He wasn't even halfway back when a shadow cast on the moss stopped him in his tracks. A gigantic black dragon soared through the sky, and his wings caused the surrounding trees to shake. Geralt could feel the wind pressure, and the aura that the beast released caused a shiver to run down his spine.

The witcher grinned darkly. That bastard had an impressive bloodthirst. Geralt's hunter instincts wanted to fight that monster, but his heart worried for his best friend and his potential love interest.

He cursed himself for not taking his small bag with the various vials with potions and bombs, but he had no time to get annoyed because the dragon suddenly dived down, and he had to roll out of the way or else he would have been crushed. 

When he stood up again and turned, he came face to face with the beast's massive head, and his heart skipped a beat. 

Y/N fought against such big monsters? Repeatedly?

His respect for the other man increased significantly. 

Geralt couldn't avoid his legs to tense, but the dragon didn't attack. Instead, its e/c eyes examined him, and the witcher wondered if the monster's pupils acted like a human's because they widened considerably. 

This is a dovah... 

The beast was at least as big as a typical villager house, and Geralt was sure that the spikes on its body would cause massive damage to any attacker. The black scales seemed impenetrable, and the monster slayer seriously questioned his chances of survival. 

He had already felt it before when he had run from the dragon. It wasn't an enemy who he could overpower. If he had to fight, it would be either an overpriced victory or death. But escaping wasn't an option anymore, the dragon's tail had trapped him before the beast.

His grip around his sword tightened, and he was ready to use Quen on himself when the beast shifted and held its head up high. A growl escaped from its throat, and Geralt tensed even more. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke:

"Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok."

The witcher obviously didn't understand, but the voice of the dragon shook him to the core. It was as if someone was screaming in his ear, and he had to press his hands on them. For that, he carelessly let go of his sword, but he felt like his eardrums would explode at any time. 

His chest tingled, and the echo of the dragon's word resounded through his whole body. Geralt's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. 

The beast lowered its head until its throat almost touched the ground, and then it snorted. 

Hot air blew his hair back, and the Butcher of Blaviken came to his senses again. He needed to get his sword back! Right when he stretched out his hand to take his silver sword, the dragon crept forward until its snout was dangerously close. 

Geralt froze. If the monster decided to eat him now, he would have no time to react. This was the end. 

The realization hit him, and regret washed over him like a seastorm. There were many things in his life that he hadn't resolved yet—many things he wanted to achieve and also many things he wanted to try.

E/c eyes showed up in his mind, and his heart burned. If the dragon ate him now, would they meet in death? 

His eyes flickered to the dragon, and that's when he realized something. 

Although he had no time to elaborate the thought because the dragon moved its head forward until there was merely the distance of a hand between him and the beast. 

He breathed out slowly, and his witcher heart beat faster. He wanted to face his enemy to the last second, but after so many fights, he thought that closing his eyes and embracing death that way seemed more peaceful and freeing. So he closed them and took one last breath. 

I'm sorry, Ciri.

Seconds passed, where he only heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until wind brushed his hair in his face, and he heard a sniff. A rumble shook the earth, and he slowly opened his eyes again. 

The dragon breathed in and sniffed, its eyes closed, and Geralt couldn't believe it when the beast closed the distance, and the scaly snout touched his chest. Black shiny scales only a few centimeters from his face. 

He searched the dragon's eyes, but they were closed. The rumble sounded again, and if he didn't know any better, the witcher would have guessed that the monster was humming.

When it opened its eyes again, and yellow and e/c met, Geralt had an unbelievable thought, and he whispered:

"Y-Y/N?"

The look in the dragon's eyes changed, and it pulled its head back abruptly. 

A growl erupted from the beast's throat, and it only took a matter of seconds for it to tense its muscles and take off the ground. 

Geralt was left in a daze, panic, and realization the only thing he believed to have seen in the dragon's expression. 

Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the deep claw marks in the dirt before him were the only proof for the monster's presence. 

What... What just happened?

The dragon had touched him. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on his chest. It's warm. The dovah had an unexpectedly high body temperature. 

Why did it...? Y/N... Was it really him? H-How...

He remembered something the foreigner had told them. 

His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah.

"The dovahkiin..."

Geralt lifted himself off the ground and took off running to the direction the dragon left for.

-

The dragon didn't make it far. 

Geralt saw him soaring through the sky and circling above a clearing in the forest. The witcher could see a small hut standing at the clearing border, and he remembered another thing that Y/N had told him and Jaskier. 

I've been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here.

Geralt slowly realized that his intuition was probably correct.

When he arrived at the clearing, the black dragon had already landed. 

Although it was more like a crash. Long furrows plowed the forest ground. But the Butcher of Blaviken couldn't see the dragon lying there because a strange fog obstructed his view. He was hesitant about approaching the steam, but he really wanted to know if his theory was correct. A voice interrupted his twisting thoughts:

"Bormah, Bormah... Aak dovah!"

It was deep and raspy, and he didn't understand what it said, but Geralt could recognize it instantly. It was him.

Y/N was the dragon.

-

His whole body hurt. 

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" 

Blue eyes watched him with a worried expression. He didn't reply. What was there to say? The dovah needed to die. He was the only one capable of killing them. 

Why couldn't he understand? 

"Think about it, Y/N. You're one of them, so you shouldn-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them! I AM THE DRAGONBORN! Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin!" 

He knew he went too far as soon as he saw the other's expression. 

Farkas stared at him with slightly widened eyes. 

"Control yourself, Dovahkiin. Or else disaster will fall upon you and the ones you love." 

Arngeir stepped forward and put a shoulder on his lover's shoulder. He could feel how his pupils flickered. Anger welled in his stomach. 

"Don't touch him..." 

His voice was low and threatening. Farkas scoffed, but his face only showed hurt. 

"Don't worry about me, Dragonborn." 

The distance in his words was like a thorn in his heart. The idea that Farkas couldn't understand his thoughts tore his heart in two. Y/N only watched when his significant other walked out of the room, Arngeir following him. 

"Wa-Wait, Farkas, no!"

He reached out his hand to stop him, but the other man was already so far away. 

"Akatosh, Akatosh, help me!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and a wail escaped his lips. 

Arngeir was right. Disaster fell upon him. 

The skin shedding on his back, his pupils turning to slits, the increased usage of Dovahzul, all were signs for his slow transformation. 

He couldn't believe that the stories Odahviing had told him jokingly were real. His dragon soul was changing his body and personality. 

And now it had happened. He turned into a dragon. 

How many times had he already done that? The witcher mentioned that the monster they were hunting tormented the villagers. 

What had he done?!

The pain he felt after transforming was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Y/N became the monster he had thought he was slaying when he had eradicated all the dragons from Skyrim.

The scars he had received from all the dovah burned, and shame clung to his heart. 

Why didn't he listen to Arngeir? 

The greybeard was wise and only wanted his best after the dragonborn distanced himself from the Blades. His loved one died because he didn't listen! 

And now he... He turned into an inhumane beast. 

Suddenly he remembered the bard. Did he attack him?! A sinking feeling struck his gut. 

Please, no, no, NO!

What about Geralt? 

Oh Talos... I have to return to the camp!

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. He groaned. 

What if the two others were bleeding out while he laid here? If the witcher died... Y/N was sure he could never forgive himself. 

Farkas's death was something that he could slowly overcome, although it took him years, and he still hadn't let him go but... If the witcher's death joined, he was sure his shoulders would give in under all the regret.

Just imagining how these beautiful yellow eyes lost their light, he couldn't take it.

He didn't realize it immediately, but his heart was already in the hands of Geralt. He had already lost. 

Y/N finally regained some strength, and he used it to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see that the sky had already turned dark blue. 

He knew what lurked in the forest at night. 

The thought reminded him again of the witcher. What an irony that it took the white-haired man less than a day to sweep him off his feet. It was the complete opposite with Farkas. Maybe they weren't that similar at all.

He turned on his side and soon realized that his back felt different. The cold wind gave his arms goosebumps, but his back felt perfectly warm. He lifted his arm and cricked it to reach his shoulderblade. When his fingers grazed his back, he sucked in some air. 

That definitely wasn't flesh. That smooth texture... Y/N would recognize it everywhere. He had felt it so many times after all. 

His back was full of scales.

Panic and adrenaline gave him strength, and he sat up, ignoring the pain that bolted through his torso. Only now did he realize that he was completely naked. 

That shocked him less than the fact that only a few meters away stood the Butcher of Blaviken with wide eyes, his sword in his hand ready to attack. 

"Y-You..." Geralt didn’t continue. 

Y/N opened his mouth but didn't say anything as soon as he saw how the other man flinched.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, and he felt light-headed. He breathed in, it sounded strained.

A smile crept on his lips, and he grinned exhausted.

"Thank Talos, you're alive..."

.

The witcher didn't know what to respond. 

He was frozen although he couldn't tell if it was because the person before him was a fire-spitting dragon or because the man was butt naked. Something that usually wouldn't impress him but after realizing that Y/N attracted him... He was conflicted. 

"You... you turned into a dragon," he finally said with a neutral tone. 

The man sitting in the crater nodded slowly. He looked as lost as Geralt felt. 

Did he not know?

"Are you... Are you the dovahkiin?"

Y/N nodded again, and he lowered his head. 

The witcher could see the shame on his face. After receiving this information, he didn't know what to do with it. It should probably agitate him, all the villagers that had their cattle stolen and all the lost prey on hunts, but Geralt felt nothing. The shock was perhaps too deep. 

One is a sorceress, one a dragon. It seems like I fall in love with extraordinary people. Wait...

His eyes found the e/c ones. Did he really...? Y/n watched him with a conflicted expression. 

"Do you want to kill me?"

The question surprised him; he hadn't thought about it. But he opposed it. 

"Should I?" 

His voice had a challenging undertone, but it sounded light, and his heart fluttered a little when the other man smiled weakly. 

Geralt lowered his sword. Y/N didn't feel like a threat; in fact, he looked defeated. 

The h/c haired man leaned back and exposed his torso. The witcher was right. Even his chest was full of scars, and most of them looked like claw marks.  

A strong warrior. 

"I caused you a lot of trouble. If I have to pay for it, I'll gladly do it with my life. It's not worth much anymore." 

These words caused him to frown. The man sounded like he had already given up. Where was his will to fight? 

The imposing aura Geralt had felt when he stood tall as a dragon was gone without a trace. This man was broken. He couldn't imagine what Y/N had gone through, but he wouldn't let a warrior like him die a fool's death.

"It's true. You caused me a lot of trouble..."

The Dragonborn watched him with an apologetic expression. Geralt eyed him from head to toe, his stare burning.

"But instead of paying with your life, why not pay me with something else?" 

Y/N blinked and stared blankly, then he blushed furiously. The witcher’s heart skipped a beat. 

Did Y/N also...?

It excited Geralt that he apparently knew what he was hinting at and reacted this strongly. It meant he had a chance. Then he remembered the ring. Geralt examined the naked man and realized the necklace was gone.

"Your ring..."

Y/N touched his throat. Nothing was there. Geralt expected his face to turn panicked, but only a melancholic expression showed up. 

"It's fine. It's time to move on."

The witcher didn't pry further, but he knew he didn't have to. The smile on Y/N's lips said enough.

"So, how am I supposed to repay you?" 

The man lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He gulped, he didn't expect the man to be this willing. Suddenly he felt bad about his desires. 

"Toss me a coin."

The warrior from Keizaal tilted his head and puckered his lips. Then he smiled, and his e/c eyes turned into crescents. They looked happy. But most importantly, human.

Warmth spread in his chest. 

He had a thought that his future would be a lot more interesting with the dovahkiin by his side and Jaskier.

Wait...

Both of them opened their mouth and shouted: 

“Jaskier!”

_______

Endnote: Congrats! You made it! Like I said at the beginning, this fic is based on a headcanon of mine. Where the dragonborn slowly turns into a dragon because of his dragon soul. The dovahkiin is able to live a lot longer than any other human due to his dragon nature and it’s taking a toll on him. The scales are something I had imagined from the start. This is a drawing of my dragonborn which I used as inspiration for this fic:

I wanted the story to end in a rather light tone which some might not find appropriate but I honestly got a little exhausted. I wrote this as a oneshot of 12k words, which was definitely too much xD Writing so much is new to me. But I’m proud that I made it this far :)

I wanted Yennefer to play a part here but more like the one of a former lover. She was also a tool to give Geralt a reason why he likes Y/N since he’s officially straight in canon.

I already decided to create a fic where Geralt gets taken to Skyrim but I haven’t decided if it’s going to be a sequel to this yet. We’ll see I guess.

Some sentences that were spoken in Dovahzul were purposely not translated because it was either from Geralt’s sight or it was to show that the dragonborn was slowly changing. But they meant the following:

Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok = My soul sings for you. Who are you? You are not him (as in Farkas).

Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin = My Sword slays dragons not help them

Thank you for reading and being patient with me :D 

#the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #the witcher 3 #the witcher tv #dovah #dovahzul #dragon #fanficsforheartandsoul #fanfiction #fanfic #Dragonborn #keizaal #alduin #odahviing #paarthurnax #dovahkiin #the dragonborn #male reader #x reader #x male reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x male reader #geralt of rivia #skyrim #the elder scrolls

[tortie-tales]

Marcurio x Reader

Marcurio woke up, with a content feeling that he hasn't felt in a long time. He was warm, which was strange considering he and the dovahkiin had ended up camping in a cold, damp cave. 

Wait... warm?

His eyes widened as he saw the source of his warmth; his passed out partner.

Crap.

The guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, a trained assassin who also conversed with dead people, the woman who had defeated Alduin, was currently snuggled into his chest.

He started to panic a little bit. The dovahkiin was known for her violence, and he could only imagine what she would do if she woke up in his arms. 

He began to look around for a means of escape. He could shove her off, make a scene. But that would probably attract skeevers, and he didn't want that.

Then his mind began to wander. What would it be like waking up like this every morning? Make her breakfast, see her smile...

He smiled to himself on that last thought. Her genuine smile was a rare thing to see. 

He froze when she started to move.

Well, this is it. Goodbye world. 

To his surprise she just snuggled up closer to his chest, making his heart do a little flip.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stay like this for a few more minutes...

He put his arm around her, gently, and drifted off trying to figure out how to get out of the predicament. 

~~~~~~Time Skip~~~~~~~

Marcurio woke up cold.

My back hurts...

He sat up and looked around, confused to see that the dovahkiin's bedroll was gone. The woman was currently going through their supplies, no doubt planning for wherever her journey was going to take them next.

Was that whole thing just a dream?

He stretched, popping his back. His eyes caught hers, and he was surprised when she quickly broke off the eye contact, blushing. She continued to rifle through her bag, seemingly intrigued by a cabbage.

????

"Are you.. blushing?" He bit back a smile.

"...no," she whispered, her face flushed.

He grinned. "You are blushing!"

She glared at him, which only fueled his amusement. "I am not! Shut up and help me go through your crap. Why do you have so many cabbages?"

"Tell me, what ever could have caught the mighty dragonborn off guard?" He had to stop himself from laughing when he saw her face turn crimson red.

He fake gasped. "Did she have a naughty dre-"

"NO! SHUT UP, MARCURIO!" She yelled, throwing the cabbage at him.

He easily dodged it and laughed. "Well, if that's not it, then why are you like-" He gestured at her face, "that?"

She bitchfaced him, then grinned. His look of amusement quickly turned to one of horror.

"Please no. Not again."

She inhaled, readying herself to shout.

"Wait! I'm sorry! Have mercy!"

"Fus Ro Dah!"

His pillow flew across the cave.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you ok? You look rather pale." She continued to grin, knowing she had won.

He said nothing, still shocked over his near death experience.

"Aw, don't pout Marcurio. You know I wouldn't kill off my favorite pack mule." She started cackling at her own joke, and continued to organize and pack. 

~~~~~~~

By the time he had finally calmed down, she was almost done packing everything up. The only thing left was some food.

"You know," he started, cautiously, "I had an interesting dream last night myself." He glanced up to measure her reaction, ready to run if need be.

She stiffened. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Except I don't think it was a dream. You were pretty cuddly last night, (y/n)."

She looked at him, face red again. He started to laugh. "You know, I spent a good amount of time trying to figure out how to get out of that alive. It was nice, though. And now that I know you won't kill your favorite pack mule, we should-"

A cheese wheel smacked him in the face.

"OW"

"You deserved it," she huffed. She stood up, grabbing her pack. "Come on pack mule, let's head out."

"MY FACE"

"Quit being so dramatic."

#this was my first fanfic #and i am too lazy to rewrite it to make it better #enjoy #skyrim #reader x marcurio #reader/marcurio #elder scrolls v #dovahkiin #dovahkiin x marcurio #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim oneshot #x reader #skyrim x reader #dovakiin #marcurioxreader

[globofhoney]

LDB: Actually...Odahviing is much more fun to ride on.

Alduin: How dare you! I am the king! None have ever surpassed my mastery of flights and aerial combat! How could you say that to my face, you wretched joor?!

LDB: By papa Akatosh's molten scales! Stop bragging and being dramatic my lord!(?) I didn't mean he is better than you! I meant the scale plates on his back is much more comfortable to sit on! Because they did not poked and proded my 😺 and 🍑 all the time like yours!

(Alduin is unrideable as a dragon, not because of his status as the dragon king, but because he is way to spikey for anyone to sits on)

Alduin = Aldurian , he is spikey as hell nobody can touches him.

#alduin x dovahkiin #alduin x reader #skyrim #dovahkiin #the last dragonborn #alduin

[lockewrites]

Remnants of Slander

The Perfect Storm: Chapter 7

LDB x Miraak || SFW || 3102 words AO3 & FF

Telyra meets Miraak in Apocrypha with the intention of beginning to plan for his escape; instead, she’s given a history lesson.

It had been Erik’s suggestion to seek out Neloth before venturing in and out of Apocrypha.

“I know you haven’t felt any different,” he’d said, “but that can change. The more you’re in there, the more it could mess with you. Neloth might not care what happens to you, but he’ll certainly notice if anything happens to you.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

They gave the Dunmer the same line they fed the Skaal: she needed to know more before dealing with Miraak and with Mora blind to her presence, she was free to learn all she could in Apocrypha. Whether Neloth believed them, she didn’t know, but he didn’t turn her away. If anything, he was interested in the prospect of seeing first-hand the possible side effects of traveling to and from the Daedric realm so often.

Neloth provided her a room in which her body could sit comfortably while she spent time in Apocrypha and a promise that he would check her vitals and various other details he was interested in if she was gone for extended periods of time. Erik agreed to remain too--insisted actually, despite Telyra assuring him she was in good hands.

“I need to be there if anything goes wrong,” he said. “And this gives me a chance to nose through Neloth’s research. I might not understand half of it, but there could be something interesting.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” she promised.

It hadn’t been enough to convince him otherwise. She didn’t mind him being there to protect her: it gave her a sense of comfort she would never admit to since he’d never let her live that down, but it also left her with a pang of guilt. Stuck in a mushroom, sitting and reading, when she knew he wanted nothing more than to explore and properly earn his self-appointed name… but she quickly gave up the fight.

“All right,” she said, settling down on a mat on the floor. She crossed her legs and placed the black book on her lap. “Wish me luck.”

Erik leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched her with a forced smile. It disappeared just as she opened the book and the no-longer-shocking but no-less-disgusting tentacles swallowed her.

A harsh grunt escaped her as she landed on all fours on the familiar platform. Just as she had during previous visits, she heard the faint beating she knew to be wings. With little else to do, Telyra paced, switching between cracking her knuckles and playing with a conjured flame on her fingertips. Despite what assurance she gave Erik, a stone seemed to have settled in her gut, flipping with each passing moment as she waited for Miraak to arrive.

She expected her mind to be racing, bubbling over with thoughts and worries, but there was nothing but a constant hum. And a suffocating anticipation.

The wings had grown far louder and created several gusts of wind that whipped her hair around, the ends stinging as they caught her cheeks. His dragon finally landed, settling down several feet from her and causing the platform to whine with its weight.

“Mal dovahkiin,” Miraak said as he dismounted.

With her lips pursed, she said, “I have a name.”

He chuckled. “I am aware.”

Miraak approached her and held out his hand; she grasped his forearm as he did the same.

“I was not expecting your presence so soon,” he remarked, face still hidden behind that infuriating mask. “But I cannot say I am disappointed.”

Telrya shrugged. “Seemed there was no point in drawing this out. I want off this dreary island as soon as possible. And Alduin is still an issue.” She bit back a comment about Miraak being the reason she had to deal with the dragon in the first place.

His head tilted as he seemed to regard her. “You could have simply slain me that day on the beach,” he said. “That would have been the end to all of this, and you would have been free to return to Skyrim. Yet you allowed me to live. Your remaining here is your doing.”

She let her head fall back and sighed. “Yes, and I’m well aware that by not only letting you live but also agreeing to help you escape has only made things even more difficult for me.” With a roll of her eyes, she added, “I’ve already received this lecture from my friend.”

“Erik,” Miraak said.

Telyra nodded briefly before crossing her arms. “You’ll say his name, but not mine?”

Rather than offer an answer, Miraak asked, “My power aids me in hiding from Mora’s gaze. How will you do the same?”

She pulled the amulet from beneath her tunic. “I’m hoping this’ll work,” she said. “It was given to me by the Skaal. They still think I’m here to kill you.”

He didn’t acknowledge her words beyond a simple nod. He held his arm out and gestured toward his dragon. “I have established something akin to quarters here,” he explained. “Would you be so kind as to join me? There is little to be done here.”

Her eyes bounced between Miraak and the cerulean dragon. “You want me to ride that?”

Again, he tilted his head. “You have seen me do so on multiple occasions,” he replied. “Unless you would prefer to swim.”

She glanced down, looking at the putrid slime through the gaps in the floor, and sighed. “Fine.”

The dragon watched her step toward him, sniffing the air that wafted from her.

“Um, hi.” Telyra gave an awkward wave.

The serpentine dipped his head. “I am Sahrotaar.”

“Telyra,” she said. “May I…?”

His belly pressed into the ground, granting her permission to climb onto his back, but even with his lowered stance, the stirrup was too high.

Miraak moved beside her and clasped his fingers together, squatting slightly. “I would rather not watch you struggle,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You’re all sorts of snarky today,” she remarked, quickly balancing her foot in his palm before he had the chance to retract his help.

Sahrotaar let out something that sounded like a snort.

Miraak chuckled as he hoisted her up. “I am simply eager to begin.”

After she settled into the saddle, Miraak pulled himself up and did the same, leaving her little room on the seat.

“This definitely wasn’t made for two people,” she muttered.

“No,” he said, “it was not.”

His torso pressed into her back as he reached forward and took the reins. She felt his legs kick at Sahrotaar’s side before relaxing against hers; the situation felt well beyond strange. Her hands scrambled to grasp the front end of the saddle, seeking anything for purchase as soon as the dragon pushed off the ground.

A sigh was released behind her. “I will not allow you to fall,” he said, his arms squeezing closer to hers.

Despite his promise, her stomach seized in fear, but she swallowed down the nausea. To keep from thinking of slipping off and landing in the green sea, Telyra stared ahead and focused on the wind that whipped past them, the colors melding into one in her peripheral vision, the sturdy arms and legs that held her in place, the warmth he provided even against the chill that came with the breeze moving at such high speeds.

Each deep breath in seemed to settle her nerves, and as the rigidity of her body relaxed, so did Miraak’s grip.

“This is actually amazing,” she breathed.

Her eyes fell on the reins, watching Miraak’s hands remain in place, not bothering to direct Sahrotaar. Eras of traveling to and from the same location, and one didn’t often need directions. She wondered if Miraak would ever allow her to take control, guide his dragon wherever she wanted if they ever managed to get him and Miraak out of here. Flying over Solstheim, over Skyrim, over the mountains and seas… She couldn’t wait to tell Erik; he’d tell her it was stupid to agree to something so dangerous, but there’d be an inkling of jealousy.

Their journey came to end, much to Telyra’s disappointment. Once the fear of being airborne passed, she was elated, but the dragon descended and landed in an area that looked nearly identical to where she’d originally appeared.

Miraak slid down from behind her and held out his hand to help her do the same.

“Such a gentleman,” she remarked as she took it and jumped down beside him.

He gave something between a huff and a hum before moving to undo Sahrotaar’s saddle.

She watched as he reached up and around and under and expertly unclasped every hook, with Sarhotaar leaning this way and that to help, until finally the contraption landed with a heavy thud.

Now free, the dragon stretched its wings before pushing the saddle away and curling into a ball to rest. The action seemed far too endearing for something as dangerous as a dragon.

Miraak walked past Telyra and gestured for her to follow. He led her through an iron door, similar to ones she’d seen elsewhere in the realm, and down a corridor made of endless columns of tattered books. Just as any other time she’d seen these, she felt a strong urge to pull one of the books out, just to see if everything would come crumbling down. Several seekers wandered the hall, keeping watch but paying them no mind; a stark contrast to her original encounter with them.

He stopped suddenly and faced a solid wall. Before Telyra could question anything, he pressed his hand against the surface; a bright light emanated from his palm, and the wall began to shimmer before disappearing entirely. It revealed a large room that looked to be Apocrypha’s equivalent to a study.

With a flourish of his hand, he beckoned her forward before stepping through himself and resuming the illusion.

Her eyes scanned the room. Shelves and piles of books, very unlike the ones that made up the walls, were scattered around, many with tabs of notes sticking out. And there were lights everywhere, noticeably brighter than those that littered the realm and provided just enough to see one’s next step forward. Several tables stood in front of the bookshelves, many holding even more books but also stacks of notes. And in the center was a low seat that looked to be made of thousands upon thousands of sheets of paper. Telyra gaped, admiring how he’d manage to make even the dreariest of realms something close to cozy.

“Well,” he said, startling her, “shall we begin?”

They walked forward in tandem, Telyra stopping at the first pile of books and grabbing the one on top. “The Doors of Oblivion,” she read. She flipped through the heavily marked and dog-eared pages. “Anything useful?”

“No,” he replied from a different table. “The author’s master spent time here, but his experience offered me no solution.”

“Then why so many notes?”

“I noted any instance of Apocrypha’s or Mora’s mention,” he explained. “I had hoped being able to return to it at a later time would allow me insight I may have missed during my first read.”

“Oh.” She returned the book to the pile and looked around the room once more. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw him mirror her movements.

“Is it safe to assume you will not allow me to make use of the All-Maker stones once more?” he asked, his tone hinting that he already knew the answer.

Telyra merely scoffed. “Not by enslaving people.”

“The Tree Stone remains under my control,” he began. “I believe that can serve a purpose in my return. We will need to discover a means of amplifying its power without the remaining stones, however. And those that are building it are not under any illusion.” He quickly added the last part at her glare.

“Your cultists, you mean,” she said. “And they’re just willingly following your command?” With a tilt of her head, she crossed her arms.

“It is rather easy to garner followers with a simple display of power,” he explained. “You could do the same.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have Erik following me. I don’t need any more lives in my hands.”

Miraak stepped around the table and stood in front of the nearby bookshelf. His hand ran along the spines of each book. “With a mass at your command comes power. And with power, you are able to right what you believe to be wrong, whether on as large a scale as the world, or as small as a mere village.” He pulled out one of the books. “With enough power, you need not worry about anyone stepping in the way of your plans. Such as destroying Alduin. I imagine the civil war occurring in Skyrim will complicate matters.”

“That sounds like an abuse of power,” she said. “Like tyranny.”

“Not a poor word choice,” he admitted, “but is that so wrong?”

“No one person should have all of the power,” she retorted, furrowing her brow.

“And why not?” He turned to look at her. “Do you not know right from wrong? Would you not do all you could to ensure your people prospered? That nothing posed a threat to those you loved?”

“Doesn’t every tyrant sustain themselves on the belief that they’re doing what’s right?” she asked. “That only they know what’s best?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but within their actions, one can see the nature of their intent. And if such a person were allowed to rise to a level of power in which they could not be removed despite their acting in self-interest, then do the people who did nothing to stop them not deserve their fate?”

She frowned, watching him as he moved to the center of the room. “Not everyone can see below the surface.”

“I suppose that is the risk you take when placing your trust in others,” Miraak said before settling down on the sofa-like structure.

“They say you were a cruel tyrant,” she remarked, grabbing a random book and sitting beside him. “Only interested in gaining the power the dragons held over you so you could do the same with your followers.” She watched for any reaction, but he offered none but the flip of a page.

“History is not often kind to those that have lost.” His words were in monotone, like it’d been a thought he held often and grew tired of. He turned to her and sighed when he found her still staring at him. “You are going to request further detail.”

Not a question, but she nodded regardless.

Miraak closed his book and set it on his lap. “Such as?”

Pursing her lips, she thought a moment. “I guess the basic question would be: Why? Why do they call you a tyrant if you weren’t?”

“By its definition, I was,” he retorted. “At least, in the end. But there was no technicality in their purpose for use of that word; it was used simply to tarnish my name because, as you just confirmed, it is often associated with cruelty and ill intent.”

She opened her mouth to ask what he’d meant by ‘in the end,’ but he continued before she had the chance.

“I had amassed an impressive grouping of followers, and given that I had done the impossible and sought freedom from our dragon oppressors, they very rarely questioned my orders.” His head fell back against the seat as he continued. “Perhaps looking from the outside in, it appeared as though I was a cruel tyrant, as they said. It seemed I sent my people to their deaths for the sole purpose of retaining my power. While I could not allow the possibility of relinquishing what I had gained, it was not simply for the sake of holding such power. Power without purpose means nothing. I needed to remain strong so my people could be free.

“And when the prospect of freedom lies solely in the hands of a single man,” he continued, ���one of the simplest means of discouraging people from seeking to join such a movement is to discredit that man. A leader whose supposed cruelty is unfamiliar is often less preferable to one you already know.”

Telyra sat and listened, her mouth partially agape as his words settled in her mind, furthering her belief that she had, in fact, made the right decision to help him. Assuming he wasn’t lying, but she felt the honesty in his words, the faintest hint of hurt.

“History is not wrong to call me a tyrant,” Miraak said. “But I was never cruel to my people.”

“What did you mean when you said ‘at least, in the end’?”

His head turned just slightly to glance at her before returning to stare up toward the endlessly high walls of books. Silence hung between them, but it was impossible to know his thoughts when hidden behind his mask.

Finally, he sighed. “I was betrayed,” he explained. “Betrayed by someone I believed to be a very dear friend. After his leaving, I did not allow anyone to share in my power for fear of further infiltration. But the damage had already been done, and despite my efforts in ensuring his treachery would not benefit the dragons, he used what he had learned to end my rebellion.”

“Vahlok,” she said. “The ‘Guardian.’”

His head turned toward her. “You have read the book.”

Telyra nodded as a blush settled in her face.

“The Guardian and the Traitor,” he spat. “I do not fault the author for the lies he had been fed, but it does pain me to read such things and to know that others have as well, only serving to further the slander cast upon my name.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, feeling a touch of guilt for having read the book, “I’m more inclined to believe your version.” She smiled and began listing things on her fingers. “Despite the mind control, and the stealing of my dragon souls, and believing tyranny is okay if done for the right reasons, and attacking me the first time we met.”

He gave a soft laugh, ending it with an amused hum before returning to the book on his lap. “You remind me of him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I hope that’s not you saying you’re expecting me to turn on you.”

“I always suspect such things,” he admitted. “But no, it is not that aspect of him that you bring to mind.”

#miraak #miraak x dragonborn #miraak x last dragonborn #miraak x ldb #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim fanfiction #tes fanfiction #telyra ravencast #fic: the perfect storm #reposting this since it never showed up in the tags. if it still doesn't then I'm giving up >( #ship: it's only been a lifetime #alxxiis actually wrote something

[helgiafterdark]

#sky haven temple #reman cyrodiil #esbern #haela #x #karthspire #alduin's wall #skyrim screenshots #skyrim screencaps #skyrim #tesv #oc #dragonborn #dovahkiin

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 27 - Twilight Sepulcher

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 196

A/N: Happy first night of Hanukkah if anyone else celebrates it :) I wanted to get through the Twilight Sepulcher in one chapter, but it ended up being a "two-part" so we'll see the return of the key next chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

The weight of the key grew with each step in their journey to the Twilight Sepulcher. Brynjolf had offered to carry it for Adi, but the Dragonborn refused. She had it in her head that if anyone else were to take hold of the artifact, it wouldn’t get back to Nocturnal. She didn’t expect how much of a burden it would be. 

Day and night, it would whisper to her, entice her into using it. The key’s magic would invade her dreams, giving her images of the ideal life. All the riches she could ever imagine, all the power, and the ability to expose Maven Black-Briar without even trying.

It would be wrong to assume she wasn’t tempted. It knew how to find her deepest desire and show how it could make it happen. All the power she could have… she could be more powerful than- 

“Lass, we’re here,” Brynjolf halted Shadowmere. 

“Hm?” Adi snapped out of her thoughts, looking at her surroundings. Brynjolf had taken the reins more than halfway through their journey after noticing Adi’s lack of focus. The key was messing with her mind, and he wanted her to be as safe as possible as they travelled to the Sepulcher. 

Now that they were there, Brynjolf took the key from Adi’s possession and let her dismiss Shadowmere with the weight off her shoulders. “I’ll keep it with me for the rest of the journey, lass. We need you to have a clear mind.” 

Adi nodded and faced Karliah, who had tailed them. “I don't understand why you won't come with us.” 

“I've been a Nightingale for a very long time.” She said. “I sold my allegiance to Nocturnal in exchange for many profitable years of thieving. Falling in love with Gallus was wrong. It was a distraction that allowed the Sepulcher to be desecrated, and it likely cost him his life. Until the Key is returned, I will never set foot inside that place again.”

“Tell us about the conduit inside the Sepulcher.” Brynjolf requested. 

“The conduit to Nocturnal's realm, the realm of Evergloam, has been in Skyrim... well, longer than recorded history,” Karliah explained. “The Twilight Sepulcher was constructed around it by man and mer in order to shield it from those who would exploit its power. Through this conduit, we're given Nocturnal's greatest gift, our luck. What she gains in return is a complete mystery.”

Karliah bid them good luck, and the two Nightingales headed inside. They walked into a large room, where a part of pillars led to a glowing figure - one of the sentinels - and a staircase behind him. On the upper level were higher stone pillars that formed into arches. 

“I don't recognize you, but I sense that you're one of us. Who are you?” the figure turned to them, stopping Adi and Bryn in their tracks. 

“I'd ask the same question of you,” Adi spoke calmly. Brynjolf was almost too shocked to speak. 

“The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid.” He sighed. The sentinel sounded sad, defeated. Almost as if he had lost something when he was living. “I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.” 

“The last? What happened to the rest?” Adi asked, taking a cautious step forward. 

“We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here.”

“How are you to blame?”

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship.” What was he…? “Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key.” 

“Wait a moment... You're Gallus!” Adi and Bryn chorused together, looking at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“I haven't heard that name in a long time. How do you know of me?” He brought the attention of the partners back to him.. 

“I have the Key,” Brynjolf said, showing Gallus the Skeleton Key. It felt heavy in his hand. 

“The Key! You have the Skeleton Key!” Gallus’ demeanour changed with excitement and relief in his voice. “I never thought I'd see it again. And Mercer Frey?”

“Dead,” Adi spoke with venom, eyes darkening. 

“Then... it's over, and my death wasn't in vain. I owe you both a great deal.”

“We did this to honour the Guild,” Brynjolf said truthfully.

“You've done the Guild a great deed.” Gallus gave a nod of acknowledgement, smiling under the mask. “ And although they may not show it, I'm certain they appreciate your sacrifices. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone.”

“Karliah helped us.” 

“Karliah... she's still alive?” It was clear he still loved her, and it made Adi smile. “I feared she'd befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer's betrayal.”

“Take the Key and right all the wrongs.” 

"Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself... well... dying."

“Then we’ll have to proceed alone.” Adi took Bryn’s hand, interlocking their fingers. 

“I'm afraid so.” Gallus nodded. “I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.”

“What will we face in the Pilgrim's Path?” Brynjolf inquired. 

“I wish I could help you, but I've been a prisoner in this very chamber for the last quarter century. The only possible help I've come across are the remains of some poor fellow who was trying to follow in your footsteps. Perhaps his journal can help?”

Gallus gestured to a skeleton East of him, and Adi and Bryn thanked him before moving to it. Adi picked up the journal and read it. 

“Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers. 

Above all, they stand, vigilance everlasting. 

Beholden the murk yet contentious of the glow. Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried.

 Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish. 

The journey is complete. The Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion.”

“What do you think it means?” Brynjolf asked Adi as they read the words three times over. 

“I think the first one will have us fighting Sentinels,” Adi explained. “The second one has something to do with Nocturnal, and I believe darkness? I’m not sure what the third clue is. Those seem to be the most important.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Brynjolf shrugged. “Ready to begin, lass? I’d rather get this key returned sooner than later.”

“Let’s go, then,” Adi nodded. They returned to Gallus, journal in hand, and he greeted them. 

“I see you’re ready.”

“As ready as we can be.” Adi had a good feeling about it. It seemed like this would be the easiest part of their journey. One that was almost over. 

“Good luck, Nightingale.”

#tes: skyrim #skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf x oc #the thieves guild #brynjolf fanfiction #fanfiction #riften #the thieves guild main quest #the dark brotherhood #twilight sepulcher #karliah #gallus #mercer frey

[tortie-cat]

Marcurio x Reader

Marcurio woke up, with a content feeling that he hasn't felt in a long time. He was warm, which was strange considering he and the dovahkiin had ended up camping in a cold, damp cave.

Wait... warm?

His eyes widened as he saw the source of his warmth; his passed out partner.

Crap.

The guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, a trained assassin who also conversed with dead people, the woman who had defeated Alduin, was currently snuggled into his chest.

He started to panic a little bit. The dovahkiin was known for her violence, and he could only imagine what she would do if she woke up in his arms.

He began to look around for a means of escape. He could shove her off, make a scene. But that would probably attract skeevers, and he didn't want that.

Then his mind began to wander. What would it be like waking up like this every morning? Make her breakfast, see her smile...

He smiled to himself on that last thought. Her genuine smile was a rare thing to see.

He froze when she started to move.

Well, this is it. Goodbye world.

To his surprise she just snuggled up closer to his chest, making his heart do a little flip.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stay like this for a few more minutes...

He put his arm around her, gently, and drifted off trying to figure out how to get out of the predicament.

~~~~~~Time Skip~~~~~~~

Marcurio woke up cold.

My back hurts...

He sat up and looked around, confused to see that the dovahkiin's bedroll was gone. The woman was currently going through their supplies, no doubt planning for wherever her journey was going to take them next.

Was that whole thing just a dream?

He stretched, popping his back. His eyes caught hers, and he was surprised when she quickly broke off the eye contact, blushing. She continued to rifle through her bag, seemingly intrigued by a cabbage.

????

"Are you.. blushing?" He bit back a smile.

"...no," she whispered, her face flushed.

He grinned. "You are blushing!"

She glared at him, which only fueled his amusement. "I am not! Shut up and help me go through your crap. Why do you have so many cabbages?"

"Tell me, what ever could have caught the mighty dragonborn off guard?" He had to stop himself from laughing when he saw her face turn crimson red.

He fake gasped. "Did she have a naughty dre-"

"NO! SHUT UP, MARCURIO!" She yelled, throwing the cabbage at him.

He easily dodged it and laughed. "Well, if that's not it, then why are you like-" He gestured at her face, "that?"

She bitchfaced him, then grinned. His look of amusement quickly turned to one of horror.

"Please no. Not again."

She inhaled, readying herself to shout.

"Wait! I'm sorry! Have mercy!"

"Fus Ro Dah!"

His pillow flew across the cave.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you ok? You look rather pale." She continued to grin, knowing she had won.

He said nothing, still shocked over his near death experience.

"Aw, don't pout Marcurio. You know I wouldn't kill off my favorite pack mule." She started cackling at her own joke, and continued to organize and pack.

~~~~~~~

By the time he had finally calmed down, she was almost done packing everything up. The only thing left was some food.

"You know," he started, cautiously, "I had an interesting dream last night myself." He glanced up to measure her reaction, ready to run if need be.

She stiffened. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Except I don't think it was a dream. You were pretty cuddly last night, (y/n)."

She looked at him, face red again. He started to laugh. "You know, I spent a good amount of time trying to figure out how to get out of that alive. It was nice, though. And now that I know you won't kill your favorite pack mule, we should-"

A cheese wheel smacked him in the face.

"OW"

"You deserved it," she huffed. She stood up, grabbing her pack. "Come on pack mule, let's head out."

"MY FACE"

"Quit being so dramatic."

#marcurio #skyrim #elder scrolls #x reader #dovahkiin #marcurio x reader #skyrim x reader #skyrim oneshot

[ladydaedra]

Dawnstar

Part: 5/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; May contain controversial themes.

Wordcount: 1912

~~~

A blast of fire explodes nearby as Ayla drives her sword through the chest piece of a Thalmor soldier. She pulls it out and lets the body fall to the ground as she turns towards her comrade, Athena.

"Smug bastards decided to attack Dawnstar," Athena yells as she releases an arrow into a Thalmor wizard, "pretty daring to attack a Stormcloak held city so close to your base. Especially after the alliance,"

Ayla doesn't reply as she throws her sword into a charging Thalmor, stepping back as he falls in the spot she was standing, "Dawnstar is a good port," she says, trying to think of why the Thalmor would attack such a small town, "maybe they wanted a port of their own,"

Athena lets out a laugh, "c'mon Ayla, this it the fucking Thalmor we're talking about," she reasons as she dodges an arrow, "if they need a port, they'll leech off of the Empire's control of Solitude,"

Ayla sighs as she watches Odah burn down a group of both wizards and soldiers of the attacking Thalmor, who were brave enough to approach one of the dragons.

"The sooner we end the Thalmor in Skyrim, the better," Ayla snaps as she runs forward and sends both of her swords in the chest of two Thalmor. She pushes them both to the ground and pulls both blades out, blood following and coating the once golden Thalmor armor.

A body falls to the ground behind Ayla and she turns to see a hooded figure pulling the Thalmor soldier's head back and dragging their knife across the exposed throat, "for the Dragonborn, you really don't watch your surroundings," the woman says as she stands, tossing the body aside.

"Not all of us are skilled Assassins, Tal," Ayla replies as the two walk closer to the battle as another dragon joins Odah in burning several enemy wizards.

"There is always room in the Brotherhood, Ayla," Tal adds before running back into battle, leaving Ayla by herself. With a sigh and a small smile, she too runs into battle.

~~

The roar of two dragons can be heard overhead as they circle the recovering Dawnstar. Soldiers of Ayla's army, clad in black armor, walk around, collecting the dead bodies of the Thalmor and tossing them in a pile while others collect the dead, both innocent and fallen soldiers, and lying them down in a separate area.

"Another success," Kharjo reports as he comes to stand beside Ayla at the entrance to the town, watching the citizens slowly start emerging from their homes.

"I can see that," Ayla says with a small laugh before her smile fades, "I fear if we were a second later, the entire town would've been burnt to the ground," she feels that cat's gaze on her.

"We wouldn't let that happen," he assures her, "you wouldn't let that happen," Ayla turns her head to meet his stare and smiles sadly before looking back at the town.

She sees Taliyah approaching them and sends the assassin a smile, "Dawnstar lost three citizens. They died before the battle started," she informs the two, glancing back at the town, "the Thalmor retreated in the direction of Morthal. My guess, they're retreating to Solitude to regroup. We did kill a good chunk of their soldiers,"

"Not them all though," Ayla adds with a shrug, "and it is a very good chance that wasn't their whole army. The Thalmor aren't stupid,"

Tal shakes her head, "no, they aren't," she agrees before her gaze trails behind Ayla, "you expecting more soldiers?" she questions, head tilted and brows furrowed in confusion.

Ayla turns half her body and furrows her brows as well. A small group of blue-clad soldiers approaches them, the lead on horseback. Ayla fully turns around and glances over at Kharjo, who shrugs.

The three of them walk towards the group and stop a good five feet from the Stormcloak soldiers.

"Are you the Dragonborn?" the man on the horse asks, his gaze on Ayla.

"Yeah," Ayla responds with a nod. She hears a roar and the ground shake a bit as a dragon lands behind the trio, a small growl emitting from its throat, "do you need me for something?" she adds when the soldiers' focus remains on the dragon.

The lead soldier looks back at her and clears his throat, obviously nervous around the dragon, "Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak wishes to see you in Windhelm," he explains, gaze flickering between her and the dragon before finally resting on her.

"What for?" Kharjo asks and Ayla watches in silence as the soldier looks over at the Kahjiit, his gaze narrowing. But before the soldier could speak, Ayla raises a hand and the dragon growls as she does so.

"I want to know why he asks me to leave Dawnstar after a battle with the Thalmor," she asks, her gaze never leaving the soldier, "after months of not contacting me, why now?"

The soldier takes a deep breath, "we saw the dragons from Windhelm," he explains, nodding at the dragon behind Ayla, "we knew something was up. Things have also gotten really...tense in the civil war," he pauses, glancing back at his fellow comrades, "I...cannot explain here and now. it isn't safe,"

"You don't trust us, then?" Tal questions, crossing her arms and giving the man a hard stare.

"It's the citizens of this town that I don't trust," he explains, "there are Empire and Thalmor sympathizers in every hold the Stormcloaks control. Who knows who will be listening,"

Ayla sighs and glances over at Kharjo, "best to discuss this behind closed doors, I get it," she says before looking back at the dragon. It wasn't Odahviing who was with them, but another dragon that joined Ayla's cause.

Aaryah is what the dragon called herself. She has black scales with grey mixed in. Everyone always gets frightened of her more than Odah or Durnheviir because she reminds them of Alduin. But with Ayla's assurances and the dragon's blue eyes, they can rest assured that the World Eater remains deceased.

"Allow me to give final orders to my main circle," she says and the soldier nods once. The trio turns around and follows Ayla back towards the town. She sees Xaliyah and Brynjolf helping bury the three deceased citizens of Dawnstar.

She smiles when her gaze finds Athena in the crowd. She watches as the dark-haired female's face lights up and she runs into the arms of Vilkas. She watches the two reunite after months apart since Vilkas agreed to train and lead Ayla's army. She can't help but wonder if dragging her friends into this war was a good idea. Perhaps Athena and Vilkas would be happier if they were back at Jorrvasker, completely uninvolved with this war.

"Bring the fallen soldiers back to the base and arrange a proper funeral for them," Ayla orders Taliyah, "though do not start the funeral until I return. I wish to honor them for it is my cause that they died for. Have Xaliyah send one of her thieves into a Thalmor camp and steal anything valuable, plan-wise,"

Taliyah nods as she walks forward a few steps in front of Ayla, who stopped by where the horses are, "got it," she responds, "how long do you expect to be gone?" Ayla sighs as she glances at a nearby tree.

"Who knows at this point honestly," Ayla replies with a shrug, "I could be gone for weeks, months even," she pauses as she looks back at the Stormcloak soldiers and Aaryah, who is still guarding the town, "they mentioned that the Civil War is getting a bit more intense. So I may be in contact soon, should I need the army,"

Taliyah nods, "good luck out there, Dragonborn," she says as she walks away. Ayla rolls her eyes, smiling, at the woman before she turns to her horse, Sovn. She climbs onto the saddle and turns him towards the road leaving Dawnstar. She stops beside Aaryah, who turns her head to gaze at her.

"Geh, Dovahkiin?" she asks and Ayla sees the Stormcloaks jump out of the corner of her eye.

"Zu'u praag hi wah ba voth ont Hiimsejun," Ayla replies and the dragon nods. Ayla urges her horse forward and smiles at the group, "ready when you are," she informs them and the leader clears his throat.

"If you'll follow us," he says and leads the way down the road.

"I swear if this is a waste of our time," Kharjo says with annoyance as him and Ayla follow a good distance from the soldiers.

Ayla laughs at him, "it'll be alright, Kharjo," she reassures him, "besides, I want to make sure Ulfric has fulfilled his end of the bargain," Kharjo lets out a laugh at the thought of Windhelm's Nords abandoning their racism. Nords are known for their stubbornness, and the thought of them so easily ditching their stereotypical thoughts was something to laugh at.

"Are you sure that he has?" he questions as he glances up at the dark-scaled dragon flying above them, "what if he didn't?" Ayla looks over at him then follows his gaze up to Aaryah.

"I am not going to light Windhelm on fire if it's Jarl doesn't follow through with the agreement, Kharjo," she says, kind of hurt that her lieutenant would think that she would stoop that low, "I am not a member of the Thalmor. I won't subject people, good or bad, to that type of fate,"

"You had no qualms about it today,"

"They were attacking us," Ayla reminds him, "they would have gladly killed us if we didn't kill them. And by bad, I meant criminally bad, not Thalmor or Empire bad," the two settle into a comfortable silence, but something keeps nagging at Kharjo. With a glance at Ayla, he decides to go for it.

"What do you expect to see when we get there?" Kharjo continues the subject of the terms of the alliance between the Stormcloaks and Ayla's rebellion. He looks over at Ayla to see her gaze fixated on the back of Sovn's neck, no emotion on her face.

It wasn't till a few moments later does she answer the question, "I hope to see the Grey Quarter looking better than it has," she says slowly, still staring at the back of her horse's neck, "I hope to see people of all races treating everyone with respect, regardless of race, age, sex, sexuality, etcetera. I also hope to see the Rolff guy in jail,"

Kharjo scoffs, "Galmar's brother? As if," he says with a chuckle, "I doubt Ulfric would want to anger his second by throwing his brother in jail," Ayla shrugs, honestly not caring about the relation. Honestly, she never thought that the two were brothers. Simply because she really didn't care. But she can't help but wonder if Galmar knows she once beat Rolff to a pulp on the first time she visited Windhelm so long ago after hearing him belittle a Dunmer woman.

"Ulfric hopes to be High King of Skyrim one day," she says as she stares ahead of them, "he should learn that racism won't get him the throne any quicker," she pauses before smiling to herself, "the world's changing and we must change with it,"

~~~~~~

Translations:

Geh, dovakiin = yes, Dragonborn?

Zu'u praag hi wah ba voth ont Hiimsejun = I need you to fly with us to Windhelm

#Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #Dragonborn #Dovahkin #ulfric stormcloak #Brynjolf #Cicero #Imperials #Civil War #Thieves Guild #Dark Brotherhood #Thalmor #Fanfic