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bysithis · 2 years

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TESfest22 - confession/curse

that's right. two months late and i'm coming in with a TESfest entry. you love to see it.

anyway. sad gay werewolf hours! enjoy.

“Hallas?”

“Yes, my love?”

Somehow, Faelen can’t quite bring himself to meet his lover’s gaze. Instead, his eyes settle on his chest, flushed still and glistening, an amulet resting against his sternum. Made of tarnished silver, it shines dully in the candlelight: a curved warhorn, suspended on a chain of interlocking rings. Faelen’s hand moves, as if to reach out and touch it, before stilling atop Hallas’ stomach.

“There…—there was something I wanted to tell you.”

It comes out quieter than he meant it to. More worried. He suppressed a wince, glancing up at Hallas’ face to find dark brown eyes staring back at him from beneath a brow furrowed in concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I—yes, I’m fine. It’s—I’m fine.” Hallas shifts beneath him, rolling onto his side. Faelen again finds his gaze drawn to the amulet, the interlocking rings whispering against each other when Hallas rolls over.

“Really,” he emphasises. “I’m fine.”

Earlier, he’d gone to Farkas about it all. Gods know he isn’t the smartest of the Companions, but he might just be the best-natured.

I have to tell him, Farkas. Faelen was met with a steady gaze, with eyes so pale a blue they almost shone silver. It might be a horrible mistake. It might be the worst mistake of my life. But—but he needs to know. After all we’ve been through together, Hallas and I—

I understand.

Faelen blinked. You… you do?

Of course. A pause. Farkas smiled at him, his weathered and scarred face momentarily transformed. You love him. It isn’t hard to understand.

Farkas’ gaze finally left him, sliding towards the shape of the dying Gildergreen, her bare branches arching towards the sky, pale and ghostly in the gathering gloom. The two of them sat on the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr, ale in hand, the sound of laughter, music, and clashing blades drifting through the cool night air.

If you feel you must tell him, then tell him, he continued finally, turning again to look at Faelen. This time, the elf did not meet his gaze. Instead, he stared ahead, mouth downturned at the corners. But he will not like it.

I know. I know. It felt as if the weight on his chest would crush his lungs; the night breeze stole the words as they left his lips. But I do not tell him to make him happy. I tell him because… because it is the right thing to do. After a pause, he added. I will not tell him about you and the others. Don’t worry. I won’t bring the Companions into it.

Farkas let a breath out through his nose, taking a deep drink from his tankard. I know. I never thought you would, Faelen.

It helped to hear. Faelen let out a breath, nodding, fingers tapping nervously against the sides of his cup. He could feel the nerves jangling in his belly, making him feel sick. It was a chill night, yet sweat was beading on his brow, his upper lip; he tasted salt.

Next to him, Farkas shifted, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. For a moment, he stood and stretched, a strip of skin revealed beneath his tunic when he spread his arms. Despite his size, Faelen always felt he looked so vulnerable without his armour; despite his size, he was. The Companions are legend walking, yes, but they are flesh and blood, as well.

Faelen. The elf looked up to meet Farkas’ eyes. He looked serious—more serious than Faelen remembered ever having seen him before. He will have silver.

“Faelen?”

He will have silver. Faelen blinks, coming back to himself. His hand smooths against Hallas’ bare side, dangerously close to the hanging amulet.

“Mm. I’m sorry.” The words are punctuated with a shake of the head. With a kiss, sweet and simple, pressed against the jut of Hallas’ collarbone.

“Don’t apologise,” comes the soft reply. “Just… tell me what’s going on.”

Hallas’ voice is soft, scratchy. Achingly familiar. Faelen blinks hard, feeling his eyes prick and burn. He can’t remember where Hallas put his sword. By the foot of the bed? By the door? When they stumbled into the bedroom earlier, drunk on mead and one another, he could barely tell his hands apart from Hallas’. How is he supposed to know where he put his sword?

“Alright. Alright. But just—just promise me you’ll hear me out.”

Hallas nods, voice hushed and grave when he replies, “Of course.”

Faelen can tell how worried he is—and he can tell how hard he’s trying to hide it. His brow is creased, jaw clenched tight, and he just can’t seem to keep his hands still. They smooth over Faelen’s shoulders, down his back, over his arms. In any other moment, it would be comforting. But now, moonlight spilling in through the window, making Faelen’s blood sing, making the silver shimmer?

Letting out a breath, Faelen pushes himself upright, a lump forming in his throat when he feels Hallas’ hand slip from his shoulder.

He will have silver. Faelen blinks around the room, eyes damp now, stinging; Hallas’ sword leans against the table on the far side of the room.

“I—well, there’s no easy way to say it. So, I suppose—I suppose I’ll just… say it.” A pause. The bed creaks as Hallas pushes himself upright, too, knees bent under the furs. Faelen can’t bring himself to look at him, and yet he must. Surely, he owes Hallas at least that much? Despite everything, he finds himself thinking of earlier: Hallas’ breath loud and quick in his ears, nails digging into the nape of his neck.

Faelen lifts his head and meets his gaze.

“I’m—a werewolf.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then—

Faelen looks away from Hallas again before he can see the first tear spill over, cursing himself for his cowardice.

“I have been all this time. Since before we met. Long before. And I never told you because—” He will have silver. Despite everything, Faelen laughs, soft and sad. “Because of that… thing around your neck. I wanted to. You know? Back then, I was looking for a cure. I thought maybe if I told you—if I told you I wanted to get better, you might try to help me. But, in the end, I—was too scared.

“I—I control it. I swear, Hallas. No innocents have died at my hands, I promise you that.” Silence. Feeling as if he might be sick, Faelen turns to look at him again, feeling a pang behind his ribs when he’s met with red-rimmed eyes, Hallas’ jaw working. This time, though, Faelen doesn’t look away. “You must believe me.”

“How can I? How can I when you’ve been lying all this time?” His voice is shaking. Anger? Fear? Faelen can’t place it. Nonetheless, he feels his stomach twist. “A werewolf… By the Gods, Faelen. You realise the position you’ve put me in?”

“Was I supposed to not tell you? Would you have preferred that?”

“No—Gods, no. But that would have been simpler.” Hallas pushes a hand back through dark hair, eyes screwed tight shut. Faelen feels the need to reach out, to find his hands with his own, but he forces himself to stay still. Part of him fears that Hallas’ body will come alive like silver. That it will burn the skin from his palms.

Another part of him thinks that to touch him one last time—one last time before the inevitable severance—would be worth the scars.

“You know who I am. What I am,” Hallas is saying. “I am a Vigilant of Stendarr. I have a duty to Him, Faelen. A duty to—”

“To spread His mercy?” Faelen bites. “A curious mercy, that which comes at the point of a sword.”

“I do what I believe to be right,” Hallas pushes, voice raised to match his own. “Can you say the same? Why else would you keep this from me if not because you know it is wrong?”

“You cannot think that. You cannot think that.” The words come out a plea. “You know why I didn’t tell you, Hallas, and it had nothing to do with feeling wrong.”

“Then what? Tell me.” He will have silver. It is not all he has, Faelen thinks, hearing the unyielding hardness of his voice; he has steel. “Tell me why.”

“Hallas, enough.” He makes to push himself up out of the bed, at last, waiting for the moment Hallas will spring up from the bed, grab his sword and cut him down. Only, the moment doesn’t come. Hallas only watches him, eyes bright with tears still, though he no longer cries. Faelen turns away, looking for where his trousers landed earlier, and feels fingers curl about his wrist.

“No. Tell me why.”

Without thinking, he snatches his hand back, getting up so quickly he almost stumbles. “Because I didn’t want to be a pelt on your floor! Because I didn’t want to be a head mounted on your wall! I do not want to be anything apart from what I am, Hallas—but I do not want to die, either.”

A pause. Hallas is quiet for a moment, small and pale amid the furs strewn over the bed. Meek. That’s how he seemed when Faelen first met him, too. He remembers the first time he saw him hold his sword. Remembers thinking how little it suited him.

Finally, Hallas replies.

“Then you should leave.”

And, after pulling on his trousers, Faelen does.

#the ending is a bit rough bc i just wanted to finish the damn thing #but! here it is #at last #faelen #hallas #tesfest22 #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fic #farkas #(briefly)#tesblr #elder scrolls #tes oc #tes ocs

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infinity-books · 1 year

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The Whispering Forest

"Elara," Faelen said one day, his voice filled with concern, "we must be cautious. The path to the Crystal of Harmony is treacherous, and many have lost their way." #readingcommunity #writerslift #fantasy

In a world where magic flowed through the very veins of the earth, a young adventurer named Elara embarked on a journey to explore the fabled Whispering Forest, a place where animals could talk, and humans could understand them. This enchanted forest was said to hold many secrets, including the location of the Crystal of Harmony, a powerful artifact rumored to have the ability to restore balance…

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#1247BC #Elara #Faelen #Lark #The Crystal of Harmony #The Enchanted Grove

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lunar-realms · 1 year

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🍬, 🧟‍♂️, 👻, and 👾 :3

🍬 what's your favorite candy? - Azure

"My favorite is most definitely those caramel coated apple lollipops."

🧟‍♂️ what's your favorite monster? - Faelen

"My favorite monsters are probably werewolves. Such a fun concept and they're only really dangerous one night a month!"

👻 do you believe in ghosts? - Kuro

"...Does a demon believe in ghosts? I mean... no, actually. I don't think I do."

"But Kuro, the haunted castle-"

"We don't speak about the haunted castle, Shiro."

👾 what's your favorite spooky story? - Ian

"My favorite spooky story has got to be... oh it's that one that starts with a dark and stormy night... Haha, I'm kidding. It's the one about the haunted castle."

#ic #Azure #Faelen #Kuro #Ian

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greedkinggreaser · 4 months

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I'm only as good as my god

#homestuck #hiveswap #fantroll #my art #Lucier Faelen

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neopronouns-in-action · 3 days

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Neopronouns in Action #084: The Griffon’s Curse

Neopronouns: she/shim/sher/shimself, faal/fala/faell/faelen/falself, zae/zaen/zaez/zaenself, and dae/daes/daeself

___

She/shim/sher/shimself:

Replace he with she

Replace him with shim

Replace his with sher

Replace himself with shimself

EX:

"He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He's going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

Becomes:

"She is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as she gets a fence set up around sher yard so the puppy can go outside without shim having to walk it. Sher uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting shim use, since she lost sher. She's going to buy toys and train the puppy shimself.”

faal/fala/faell/faelen/falself

Replace she with faal

Replace him with fala

Replace his with faell

Replace hers with faelen

Replace himself with falself

EX:

Becomes:

"Faal is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as faal gets a fence set up around faell yard so the puppy can go outside without fala having to walk it. Faell uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting fala use, since faal lost faell. Faal's going to buy toys and train the puppy falaself.”

___

zae/zaen/zaez/zaenself

Replace he with zae

Replace him with zaen

Replace his with zarz

Replace himself with zaenself

EX:

Becomes:

"Zae is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as zae gets a fence set up around zaez yard so the puppy can go outside without zaen having to walk it. Zaez uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting zaen use, since zae lost zaez. Zae's going to buy toys and train the puppy zaenself.”

___

dae/daes/daeself

Replace it with dae

Replace its with daes

Replace itself with daeself

EX:

"It is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as it gets a fence set up around its yard so the puppy can go outside without it having to walk it. Its uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting it use, since it lost its. It's going to buy toys and train the puppy itself."

Becomes:

"Dae is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as dae gets a fence set up around daes yard so the puppy can go outside without dae having to walk it. Daes uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting dae use, since dae lost daes. Dae's going to buy toys and train the puppy daeself."

___

“Are you really just going to ignore me, after everything that happened yesterday?” Zaez voice came from behind sher, and she froze, fala, on sher shoulder, giving a startled, guilty cheep that betrayed a depth of emotion she would rather have kept hidden.

Drawing sher wings in self-consciously close against sher back, she turned slowly, unhappy to do so, but knowing that doing anything else she could do would just make it worse.

Zae stood there, just a few steps away, just where the path along the cliff face went around the bend. Two steps backward, and zae would be out of sight completely, she would have had no way of knowing zae was there. Dae crouched behind zaez feet, wide, golden eyes beseeching fala openly on sher shoulder.

That wasn’t helping shim feel any better.

For a few seconds she just stood there, unable to think of anything to say, so that the only sounds was the wind rushing over the snow, and the sound of sher own heartbeat within sher chest.

“Well?” Zae demanded, when the silence stretched for too long. Zae took a step forward just as a fresh gust of wind came through, sending zaez long red fur, and zaez familiar and anxious scent twisting in the air towards shim, like the mountain itself was demanding answers. “Are you going to say something?”

Dae skipped forward a little and fluttered daes yellow-gold wings, flashing the cyan spots in the sunlight as dae gave a mournful cry.

Despite sher wishes, faal answered it with faell own, betraying exactly how upset she was, though she would have traded anything to be able to play it cool.

“I don’t know what to say!” she exclaimed, feeling sher face burn beneath sher fur in a shamed blush.

Zae moved closer again, reaching one hand out to brace on the rock wall. To sher mortification, faal leapt down from sher shoulder and ran to meet dae in the middle.

Zae looked pointedly away from their affectionate dragons as the two nuzzled eachother and began to anxiously preen eachother’s feathers, saying in a rough voice as zae looked intently at zaez claws on the rock face, “You could have told me you were the Shadow Storm.”

She winced, and only resisted the urge to turn and make sure no was one behind shim was through a monumental effort. It took an even bigger effort to resist the urge to unfurl sher wings and fly away entirely. But that wouldn’t help anything. Normal people couldn’t fly during this kind of weather, at this time of day. It would just compound the fact that she had lied, that she had kept this secret from the one person she was supposed to trust completely.

The anxiety was already making sher heart race in sher chest, and she shivered, pulling sher arms across sher chest self-consciously, gripping tightly to try and ward off the panic. “I can’t tell anyone.” She said desperately, knowing the words were completely inadequate.

“Not even me?” Zaez words could have been a demand, but they came out sounding like nothing but despair.

Faal and dae were still in between them, running their beaks through eachother’s feathers, giving soft chirps of affection.

She cared about zaen, and zae cared about sher. They both knew it.

That didn’t make this conversation any easier though.

“I can’t tell anyone.” She said again, wholly unable to articulate the sheer magnitude of sher statement.

How could words describe the way she felt a pit of fear open up in sher stomach at the thought of telling anyone sher alter ego?

The curse the griffon had laid on shim commanded secrecy, before all else. She couldn’t boast or brag about sher accomplishments as the Shadow Storm. She couldn’t use it to gain favor or attention or even to get out of punishments when she was caught seemingly slacking in sher duties, while in reality she was off as the Shadow Storm, fighting to protect people.

She had been cursed because of sher pride. And the griffon had made sure that she would never be allowed to be proud of being the Shadow Storm. The first thing she had done when she’d gotten back home that first day was try to tell zaen what had happened, but even just planning the words out in sher head had sent sher heart racing with anxiety she couldn’t control, and the longer she contemplated the thought, the worse it got, until she’d literally been shaking with the nameless, horrible fear.

She had tried writing it down. She had tried singing it. She had tried making it into a riddle, and even a joke. But every time she tried to tell zaen, the same terror overwhelmed shim until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

She couldn’t tell anyone.

It was bad enough now that zae knew. It was even worse that she had no way to explain or excuse shimself.

She couldn’t even say, ‘I wanted to tell you’. All she could say was, ‘I can’t’.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Zae closed the distance between them, stepping around their dragons, who happily broke apart and followed in zaez footsteps, pressing their sides together so tightly it was almost like they wanted to fuse into a single being, both still making small sounds of anxiety, though faal at this point was visibly quivvering with the fear she felt eating at sher heart.

“I can’t. Tell. Anyone.” She said again, desperate. She found shimself backing up as zae approached, instinctively trying to get away from what the griffon’s spell was screaming at shim was a threat.

Zae knew, and could tell anyone zae wanted to, and there would be nothing she could do to stop zaen. She didn’t want to find out what would happen if the griffon’s plan were unraveled like that. She didn’t want anyone to know, but it wouldn’t be up to shim. Zae could tell anyone zae wanted.

She felt the back of sher legs hit the stone steps leading up to the school, and fumbled backward with an arm to find the railing. “Please, don’t tell anyone.” she begged.

Zae had stopped when zae realized she was backing away, and now zae just stood there, staring at shim, expression more hurt than she could ever remember seeing zaen.

Zae said, in a suddenly choked voice, “I wouldn’t betray you like that. I can’t even believe you think I would.” Dae gave a little cry to match zaez obvious sorrow.

She was suddenly even more strongly gripped by the urge to flee, and damn the consequences. Sher heart was pounding in sher chest so hard she almost thought it would burst out and into the air. Faal broke away from dae and fanned faell wings with a high keen.

All sher logical reasons for not doing it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Zae knew. Seeing even more proof wouldn’t make that knowledge more real in any way. It was already real. Zae already knew. There was nothing she could do to stop zaen from telling anyone. Even just the fact that zae knew was like a dagger of fear in sher heart. She hated that griffon so much. Why had she ever accepted the dare to raid its eyrie?

Zae must have seen what she was planning, because zae stepped forward suddenly, hand outstretched, crying, “Wait!”

But it was too late. She had already been cloaked in the roaring shadows of sher curse and was in the air, shooting straight upward in a manuver that no one else could even dream of matching. It was impossible for a normal person to fly like this in good weather, let alone during the most turbulent time of the day. It didn’t matter. Zae already knew. There was nothing she could do to change that.

All she could do was follow the terror in sher heart, laid there by the griffon’s curse, and fly as far and fast as sher cursed wings would take shim, until the fear receded enough to let shim come back.

She could only hope and pray that zae would keep zaez word not to tell anyone else. Otherwise, she knew in sher heart that she would have to fly away again and never be able to look back.

#she/shim/sher/shimself #faal/fala/faell/faelen/falself #zae/zaen/zaez/zaenself #dae/daes/daeself #neopronouns #neopronouns in action #short story #short stories #original fiction #fiction #writing prompts #story ideas #public domain #neopronoun short story

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hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 2 years

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More Cuphead AU brainrot doodles and stuff! :D(Reblogs appreciated!) I have. so much brainrot and I want to screm, but also, I don’t wanna flood followers’ dashboards hh-

#Cuphead #cuphead au #my au #king dice #cuphead pachi-pachi #chef saltbaker #cuphead ocs #my ocs #Hunter Pop #Rodrigo Faelene #Blacky #Rogue Blacktail #Co-Pilot Buddy #Jack Light #Fizzy Pop #ask to tag #tw: blood

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wonderloste · 2 years

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& RE : banter / @frestoniia.

“ — — IT’S IN THE WAY YOU PHRASE THINGS , you see. Whether I wish to or not, if spoken as a command, I must obey you. Such is my curse.” Faelen hums, melancholy but matter-of-fact in his explanation. It occurs to him, he has likely acted strange since their meeting, taking rather inoffensive statements from the other far too literally, when they’re said to him. At best, it can at times make him appear erratic to those who don’t understand. “I am, understandably, not the safest creature to have one’s company with.”

#festoniia #faelen vc u ever seen ella enchanted #ʚ c. gryphon ɞ ⁄ you’ve got what it takes to set me free‚ oh‚ you could mean everything to me.#ʚ o. in character ɞ ⁄ you’ll lose your mind wandering for hours‚ may even decide to start talking to flowers.

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eldritchdemonfox · 1 year

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Name: The Lady of The Lake (Kaede Faelen), The South Wind.

Age: old (dead)

Gender: Female

Race: powerful nature spirit (water spirit)

Height: 6’ 11”

Power: controls water, can see into people’s souls/hearts, old magic

Affiliation: Excallibur

Extra: she’s dead and gone…or so it seems

Name: Excalibur

Age: ancient

Gender: sharp

Race: magic sword

Height: about 4’ in longsword form

Power: practically unbreakable by anything other than powerful magic, will not tarnish or rust, Always stays sharp, can cut through armor like butter, glows, grants benefits to whoever holds it, can change size and shape, but must always be a blade.

Affiliation: The Lady of The Lake, Her bloodline, and Her Chosen Champions

Extra: the sword Arthur pulled from the stone. Now Nimue’s prison. Made with ancient magic by Fae long ago

#fox’s rambles #oc #fox creates #picrew #lore post #info post #the lady of the lake #discord roleplay #excalibur #Kaede faelen

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evanslittlespace · 2 months

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nightmares agere comfort

you haddnt gone to bed regressed that night, but you certainly woke up in headspace. your little heart was pounding and your tiny hands trembling when your eyes snapped open. a nightmare. you hate nightmares. your eyes dart around the room for a moment until you can reassure yourself you were safe. after a few moments your feet slowly slide from the warmth of the crisp bedding you had once slept so peacefully in and meet the fuzzy carpet of your bedroom floor. slowly your tiny little feet pitter patter across the carpet and your fingers find their way to your pacifier on the way. you weren't even really aware you had slipped into little space. but you knew exactly where you were going. you opened your door of which was decorated in glow in the dark stars and stickers from your faveriout movie and you wander through the cold dark corridor fighting your fears of the shadowy night leaking into the house. you find yourself Infront of a door and you slowly push it open sending a quiet creek into the darkened room behind the door. in a bed is your caregiver, faelen. they're laying in the bed under the sheets sleeping. you slowly and quietly shuffle to the bed and climb up into the warm sheets. you didn't think faelen was awake. but slowly a pair of arms wrap around you pulling you into a warm hug. the smell of forest and coffee fill your noes, the smell of your caregiver and slowly the sound of quiet humming fills the room. a hand runs threw your hair and a small kiss is placed on the back of your head. slowly you fall asleep dreaming sweetly, faelen holding you gently

#age regression #agere blog #agere little #age regressor #agere community #agere #sfw age regression #little space #sfw agere #sfw little blog

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bysithis · 2 years

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TESfest22 - storms

my belated entry for day two of TESfest22, on the theme of storms. hope you folks enjoy! tagging @tes-summer-fest once again.

faelen is actually a new character of mine, and this was my first time writing for him. still getting to grips with his voice, i think, but this was fun to write nonetheless!

ao3 link

When Faelen awakes, face-down in the dirt with a mouthful of mud and grass, the first thing he knows is the cold.

When he came to Skyrim, that cold took him unawares. He’d known nothing like it in Valenwood, with its humid mangroves and their damp, smothering heat. Skyrim’s icy winds were sharp, unforgiving, tearing at any inch of exposed skin. It was unbearable, but he had adjusted. Adapted.

Or so he thought. And yet, here he is, soaked through and shivering on the forest floor, teeth rattling in his skull.

The crack of thunder. Faelen pushes himself up with a start, hands planted in the dirt, chest heaving with every ragged breath. Gods, where is he? He doesn’t recognise this place. The trees are strange to him, almost frightening in the ghostly half-light filtering through the leaves. Here and there, trunks have been smashed by the storm, splintered into shards red with sap.

Another rumble. Faelen turns his head up towards the sky, waiting for the next flash of lightning to split the clouds. And when it does—

When it does, his gaze catches on something momentarily illuminated in the treeline. A face painted in white, in the incandescence of the storm.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice is swallowed by the howling of the wind. Instinctively, he reaches behind him for his bow, only for his hand to close on empty air. With a hissed curse, he reaches for the dagger at his hip instead, gripping at the hilt with frozen fingers.

“Who is there?!” Already his throat is raw from screaming—yet, in this wind, he might as well be speaking in a whisper. “Come out, damn you!”

His eyes, beginning to adjust to the darkness now, are drawn to a sudden movement between the trees. Bracken stirring, bending, snapping. The glint of a blade. Faelen grits his teeth, wishing for his bow, and readjusts his grip on the dagger.

“I’ll kill you! I promise you that! Come one step closer, and I’ll—”

Another flash of lightning. It splits upon the figure before him, broad and strong, decked out in heavy steel armor. Dark hair falls choppy around a fierce, pale face. Faelen can make out a strong, square jaw. Brows drawn in a frown, lips pressed tightly together. Warpaint smudged around pale eyes.

“Vilkas?” Faelen’s voice comes hoarse and croaky, torn and ragged. How long has he been out here? His throat is so dry it feels as if he’s swallowed sawdust. “Gods. It really is you, isn’t it?” Finally, he lowers his hand, the dagger all but forgotten.

“Yeah. It’s me.” Vilkas wastes no time in closing the distance between them, sword lowered, his free hand already reaching out for Faelen’s shoulder. Before the elf has time to say anything else, he finds himself pulled into a crushing embrace, rough lips pressed to his brow. A shaky breath leaves him, swallowed by the storm, but he knows Vilkas feels it; his grip around his shoulders only tightens, and Faelen is all too happy to sink into it.

“What happened?” Vilkas asks, pulling back just enough to look at him. A callused finger curls beneath his chin, tilting his head this way and that to check for cuts and bruises. “You were with us, and then you were gone. Even Aela didn’t see where you went.”

Faelen shakes his head. “I—I don’t know. I don’t remember. I—” He remembers running with the others by his side. Remembers the vicious rain stinging his eyes, the wind ripping through his fur. Ahead of them, the Silver Hand fort loomed above the tundra, dirty orange light glinting through arrow slits in the walls. And then—

Then, nothing. Then, darkness. Then, waking to the rain pelting his skin and the wind tearing at his armour.

He shakes his head again. “I don’t remember. I just woke up here.”

Vilkas tries to hide it, but Faelen knows him well enough to catch the look that passes over his features. A shadow of worry, dark and gloomy. But then, Vilkas looks away, off between the trees.

“I’ll get you home. Can you walk?”

“I—I think so.” Looking down at himself, Faelen takes a step back on unsteady legs, hand hovering over Vilkas’ arm. “Yes, I think so. I’m a little shaken, but not hurt.” That’s not entirely the truth: he hurts all over. But he has his pride, at least. He won’t have Vilkas carry him all the way back to Jorrvaskr.

“Alright. Then we’ll—”

Abruptly, Vilkas cuts off, head turning sharply towards the edge of the clearing. Faelen follows his gaze, feeling a sudden icy dread prickle up his spine, the back of his neck, the base of his skull. Breath coming sharp and shallow, he looks up and down the treeline, but can’t see anything. Can’t see anything, or hear anything, or smell anything, but—

“Get behind me.”

“What is it? Who is it? Vilk—”

“Faelen—”

“Looks like we found ‘em, boys!” The words are punctuated with another clap of thunder and jeered applause. Taking a stumbling step back, Faelen looks around for the source of the voice, but it’s no use. In the midst of the storm, all is sound and confusion, bolts of lightning shuddering through the sky like so much dragon fire.

But then, the speaker emerges—and with him two others. Three. Four. More? The forest is alive with shadows innumerable, some perhaps in the shape of men.

“Quite the adventure you led us on, mutt.” Faelen can just make out his features in the gloom: a broad, crooked nose, and a balding head of straw-like hair. In his hand hangs a wicked-looking scimitar. “And what’s this? Led us to a friend of yours, did you?”

“A pup!” Supplies another voice in the dark. The first man laughs, barks his agreement.

Through it all, Vilkas remains quiet, steady. When finally they fall quiet, he takes a moment to look them over, the whole lot of them, and slowly says, “I will give you one chance to turn and leave. But only one.”

Another raucous chorus of jeers. The leader is saying something, mocking them in that nasally voice of his, but it fades to little more than background noise as Faelen watches Vilkas drop his sword with a dull thud. As he watches the dark fur sprout from the back of his neck, his hands. Vilkas’ form hunches over, limbs growing long and well-muscled, sharp claws sprouting from his fingers. Past him, still standing in the shadow of the treeline, the man with the scimitar stands quite still, his grin now frozen in a grimace, his face pale.

When Vilkas lunges forward, his roar is louder than the sound of the storm.

#once again #no beta we die like men #tesfest22 #the companions #skyrim #vilkas #faelen #loves of big gruff men being soft! come get y'all juice!#skyrim fic #skyrim fanfiction #tesblr

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jarondont · 5 months

Text

Chapter 1!!!

So I finally finished Ch. 1 of my book Smoke from the Fire- the first installment in The Reign of the Revolution series :DDDDD

Remember that NOTHING is final (but this is what I'm likely going to stick with), and also due to personal reasons this is the only full chapter I'll be sharing. I'll share snippets of certain scenes, certain lines of dialogue I like, or anything else like character-related stuff, but I won't be sharing any more full chapters :(

Word count: 2,056

Anyways, I hope you like it!

Let's begin, shall we?

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

In my life, I’d made a lot of mistakes.

But none quite as bad as this.

All I could do now was close my eyes, clench my fists, and hope that they wouldn’t find me.

Because if they did, I was as good as dead.

---

In case you haven’t seen the overabundance of wanted posters with my name on them, let’s begin with an introduction.

My name is Silas Crow. Guilty until proven innocent; wanted dead or alive.

It’s not that I’ve led a life of crime. Quite the opposite, actually. Up until a few years ago, my parents and I had been living a simple life on the island of Cartris—a territory of Losca, just a little south of the mainland. Popí was a fisherman, although he liked to call himself a sailor. Mimá would sell the fish he caught. She was also well-educated, so she’d reserve some time every day to teach me. When I didn’t have lessons, I’d often go on fishing trips with Popí or help Mimá at the Cartris fish market. Sometimes, Popí would even take us to mainland Losca for a week. We’d sell fish there—at the larger market, so that we’d get more money.

It was a peaceful life. But that was before Endox came around.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had always been high for us peasants, but Endox wasn’t satisfied. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since so many peasants had gathered for the protest, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

It had been one of those weeks where Popí took us to the mainland. But this time, instead of selling fish, we were there for the protest.

If only we had realized beforehand what a mistake that had been.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. Later, I’d find out that only about thirty of them made it out alive. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself.

Then she, too, was shot. The bullet lodged itself in her leg, causing her to cry out in pain and collapse to her knees.

“Mimá!” I screamed, an agonizing mixture of fear and sorrow building up in my chest.

Mimá grasped her calf where she had been shot, but she gathered up her strength to look at me one last time. “Go, Silas, please!” She cried. “Find the Nemesis. Find Hunt. He’ll help you.”

“No!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Come with me, please—I can’t lose you, too.”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the pain.

Then she was shot again. As the second bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor's troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

---

Days passed, then weeks, but it felt as if the March on Estraham had happened only yesterday. The streets were plagued with the emperor’s soldiers, or the Dekhrinn, as they had come to be known—Loscan for people of terror.

They accepted this name—in fact, causing terror was their main goal. Whenever they saw the Dekhrinn coming, people hid away in their homes, shut the curtains, and locked their doors. And yet, every day, someone would disappear, usually in the dead of night. But no one dared to fight against them. They were too terrified.

As for me … I lived off of whatever I could find. And I had come to discover just how many alleys Losca’s capital city, Cyvalos, had.

Alleys that were perfect for hiding.

As the stomping of boots drew closer, the only thing I could focus on was the racing of my heart in my ears. The voices became more and more defined until they stopped right outside the alley.

“Have you found anyone?” a deep voice asked.

“No, sir,” a second man said.

“Names.”

“What?”

“Tell me their names,” the first one demanded, irritated.

I heard the crinkling of paper, and I took that opportunity to slightly peek my head out from the shadows. Four Dekhrinn were positioned just outside the alley, their armor shining red and gold. Loscan colors. Two of the men stood off to the side, one twirling his fingers nervously and the other rocking back and forth on his heels. Another Dekhrinn stood with his back to me—the one who had fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last man stood in front of him, a badge on his shoulder making it clear that he was the one in charge.

“We were assigned four revolutionaries, sir,” said the man with the paper. “Fenerias Hunt, Annwyl Cadarius, Eraka Orelein, and—” he hesitated. “And Silas Crow.”

So they were looking for me.

“You still haven’t caught Crow?” growled the man in charge. A pause, then he mumbled, “The next time I ask for a report, that Silas boy should have been brought to the emperor, alive or dead. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, I heard his boots stomp away.

The other three Dekhrinn let out a long exhale as soon as he was out of earshot. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then the man with the list of names yelled, “Well? Don’t just stand around! Find them!” and he, too, stomped away.

The two other Dekhrinn shuffled closer to the alleyway entrance. I ducked into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“How do they expect us to find them?” one wondered aloud. “Losca is huge. They could be anywhere.” Silence, then he prompted, “Henrik?”

“What?” The other man—Henrik—asked.

“Do you ever wondered what would happen if we … you know, ran away?”

Henrik was silent for a beat. “Don’t say that. You never know who’s listening.”

“Yes, but …” There was a shuffling of feet. “Endox—”

“The emperor, Keflas,” Henrik corrected. “Show some respect if you want your head to stay attached to your neck.”

“If the emperor hears what I have to say about him, he’d behead me anyway,” the man named Keflas mumbled. “I think … well, don’t you think he’s a bit unfair?”

I had half a mind to run up to his face and yell, you think? but I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

Keflas continued, “I’m scared, Henrik. Just the other day, Sigourney’s husband disappeared.”

Henrik grunted, finally opening up to conversation although he still sounded a bit uncomfortable. “I heard about that,” he said. “Rumor has it that he was turned in by his own brother. They say you could hear his screams from the other side of the castle.”

Keflas shuddered. “Whatever he said, he probably didn’t deserve and end like that.”

“Exactly, which is why you should shut up before someone hears you!” retorted Henrik.

Keflas mumbled an apology. “Maybe we should start searching.”

Henrik muttered his agreement, and I heard their feet stomp away.

I slowly peeked my head out again, checking to make sure they were gone. Once I was sure that the alley was empty, I tiptoed out of my hiding place. This was my chance.

I ran as fast as I dared out of the alley—or tried to. Halfway out, I tripped on a root and fell on my face with a thud.

“Did you hear that?” came Henrik’s voice from the other side of the alley.

“Dakhas,” I cursed quietly. How could I be so stupid?

“Someone’s in there,” said Keflas.

I cursed again, then stood and quickly brushed myself off. Maybe I could still make it out without them finding me.

“There he is!” Henrik yelled.

I glanced behind me. Henrik and the other Dekhrinn from earlier—the one with the list of names—were running towards me while Keflas called for more soldiers.

That settles it, I thought. Time to go.

I sprinted out the alley.

Blood rushing in my ears and the Dekhrinn only a few paces behind me, I turned a corner just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed past me, just missing my ear.

I paused only for a second. Almost there, I thought to myself.

I kept running, pushing past confused passersby whose eyes widened when they saw who were behind me. I just had to get to the docks.

To the Nemesis.

As it came into view, I paused for a second to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. After weeks of searching, I had finally found what Mimá had told me to find. The Nemesis was what seemed like a large trading vessel. Why she asked me to find it, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get aboard, or else I was dead meat.

“Hey!”

Oh no.

I glanced behind me and saw not two, but eight Dekhrinn running after me, pistols drawn. I eyed the docks again, but it was too far of a run. They’d shoot me down before I even got close.

To my left was a bustling fish market that seemed to go on for miles. If I mixed in with that crowd, they’d never find me.

I whispered a request for the Nemesis to stay at the docks for a little longer, then raced toward the fish market with eight Dekhrinn hot on my heels.

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So, what'd you think?

Also, keep in mind the names of the three revolutionaries (excluding Silas) they're searching for. These characters are important later 😉

(So is the prince but he comes in in book 3)

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