#oblivion fanfiction

[hannah-heartstrings]

            The large red moon rested between spires on Skingrad’s wall, swathing the city’s pale stone in soft pink light.

#skingrad #oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #the elder scrolls #tes #prose #my writing #writing #fanfiction #i feel like a red moon would mean light red moonlight? anyone know?

[inkoherentwriting]

WIP Wday

tagged by the astounding @thequeenofthewinter ! tagging from my follower list here: @hannahcbrown , @gwilin-stay-winnin , @druidx, @avantegarda , @archangelsammy (if you want to be tagged or not tagged in future wip wednesdays please let me know via a message or an inbox ask!)

Guilbert's leg was stretched out along the bedroll-- not that it mattered strongly. The muscles ached whether Guilbert left them stretched or if he pulled his leg back closer to the rest of his body. It was a matter of hurting or hurting slightly less.

"Agh... Thank you again for saving me." Guilbert was rubbing said injured leg lightly when he looked up. His savior, the leader of these bandits, had her back to him. He had to wonder if she was regretting her choice. Maybe wondering now whether to kill him or--

"Listen. Ya don't need to keep thankin' me." He almost didn't hear from how soft her voice was.

He sighed. "I feel as though I do?" This was the terrifying part. "Getting to know you as we did our.... work... I feel you do care about others and about doing what is right. You simply need someone to believe in the you that is deep down inside the tough and gruff bandit leader you want everyone to assume you are."

She did not answer him.

"That's just... it's something I observed." Guilbert felt his voice quickening slightly with panic. "I genuinely believe, deep down, that you're a kind person." He watched her fist clench and waited for the worst; he was going to get beaten and left for dead.

Guilbert winced, closing his eyes and bracing.

"You're kind. That's why ya see it in me." A sigh. "Look... relax your leg. Get some food an' rest tonight. And then get outta here tomorrow mornin' ya hear?"

"Huh?"

"You're not fit for bein' a bandit, Guilbert." It was the first time she'd called him by name. This and the realization he was being let go oddly left his throat as constricted as the bandit leader's now sounded. "You're too damn nice."

#tag game #you know what my friends/mutuals inspired me #there will be time for non-tes fic later #as well as fics featuring more complicated relationships #now is the time for indulgence in simplicity #elder scrolls oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #guilbert jemane #oc: miraina #set during the fic where they meet #hee hee :)

[katastronoot]

Friday Kiss Tag Game

Tagged by: @hannahcbrown thanks friend!

Tagging: @wispstalk @boethiahspillowbook @friend-of-giants and anyone else who wants to do it. This is so sweet

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

I thought about drawing something but I haven’t written anything for Baurus and Frieda yet. I planned on making it short and sweet but then 1200 words later here I am haha

••••••••

Strength.

She had always needed strength.

The moment she lost her parents and became orphaned on the streets of Anvil, she wished for strength. Pleaded for it. Prayed to the gods—the gods who were but just a whisper in the wind. They never really made their intentions clear. They weren’t listening to her prayers, couldn’t have been.

Because strength.

It never came to her when she needed it most.

Frieda’s gaze focused on the warm amber candle light flickering against the back wall of the washroom. It shifted the drab temple walls to those shades of warmer orangey hues complementing the deep red imperial banners that hung the walls. Her body was finally getting adjusted to the heat of the water that surrounded her, she could feel the stress of her endeavors begin to fade. With an exhale of breath she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that same flame from her candle. It took more self-control than she wanted to push away the visions of fiery hells that she journeyed through in the day prior. It was unavoidable.

Her waking hours were spent in the plane as well as her nights. She dreamt of that place.

Her own place. Her own piece.

Oblivion.

•••

He hadn’t seen her come back to the temple that night.

Martin was spending every waking hour studying the texts. He was on duty and was determined to never leave the emperor's side. He couldn’t let it happen again.

It was Jauffrey that gave him the order to get some rest. He would have denied it and stood guarding the door until his feet ached and he succumbed to over exhaustion. But, Frieda.

Frieda might just be the one reason why he would step away.

And he hadn’t seen her come home.

Most of his brethren, the other blades were retired for the night. It was late. The halls of the temple were quiet, only echoing each solid footstep he took. After hearing word that their hero came in but just a moment ago—soaking wet and hobbling down to the quarters—he took great stride to reach her.

Who knew what kind of torment she went through.

He did not find her sleeping in her cot and the rain pounding on the roof told him that she was not camping under the stars. He knocked on the door to the baths. No answer but a crackle of thunder shuddering from above. However, warmth was peeking through the cracks in the doorframe.

“Frieda.” He called softly but firmly. His eyes took in the sight. A sight that he has seen one too many times.

Her bare form was slumped in the bath. Articles of bloodied armor and underthings scattered the stone floor. The smell of incense and soap invaded his senses. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t for how dark the bath water had turned.

Crimson.

He approached her, chest rising and falling heavy. His skin touched hers and he felt her pulse beating at ease. He took a breath.

“Frieda, wake up.” He nudged her shoulder before taking a seat on the floor, an arm resting on the tub. Her eyes were rolling side to side behind her lids. Spasms and jolted movements struck through her joints as hushed whimpers escaped plush lips. She must have been having another one of those dreams. Those nightmares.

His gaze examined her body—riddled with cuts and purple marks. The dips and curves in her beautiful form were beginning to flatten. When was the last time she had a proper meal?

He cursed at her state.

For one so experienced in the art of restoration, she never conserved enough energy to heal herself.

•••

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of a voice.

Baurus.

Frieda took a deep breath calming the race of her beating heart. She didn't startle so easily back then. She was so much more composed. But, sending her soul into the madness of oblivion every day does provoke change.

Her eyes met his dark brown. Soft.

“How long was I out?” The hoarseness in her voice made her grimace.

“Not sure. I noticed you did not come in and as soon as I could I went looking for you… Frieda. Look at you.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the mother-hen tone to his voice. He was just that. Always so caring and kind.

“I am still breathing, aren’t I? My limbs are all in place. I seem quite alright.”

He looked down upon her. His build still held above her even at the angle. She took notice of the furrow in his dark brow, its creases painted with concern. Someone with such duty should not worry about one such as her.

“Baurus, truly—“ her vision tore away from his to the sight of her pale skin against the tinged water. More and more marks. More that would become scars serving as constant reminders of her place in this war. Constant storytellers painted along her flesh. A wrenching sensation washed through her stomach.

“—I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shrugged, “I had a meal this morning.”

He let out a sigh, “Would you like me to bring you something?” His voice was quiet. She looked up into his eyes—not wanting his warmth to leave her.

“Please, stay.” Her tone cracked as she placed her palm against his skin.

“I’m not ready to be alone again.”

His body shifted closer. She could feel the heat from his skin against hers that had begun to chill from the cold bath water.

“How is Martin?” She asked with intent to distract herself from her state.

Baurus shook his head, “He has been working hard. I don’t think I even saw him blink his eyes today. He’s pushing himself to the point—“ his voice took a pause and he exhaled. “You need to rest. Both of you. Just take a moment for yourself and breathe. Please. I am tired of seeing you suffer.”

“We both have a duty…I can’t rest. You know this.”

He felt her hand grip his wrist. As he looked down into her eyes he was able to see through the darkness that pooled beneath her eyelids. Her beautiful heterochromatic eyes that glimmered in blues and greens. He saw her beauty through her misery.

What he would give to take it away from her.

“You are strong, Frieda. You will fight this battle and remain successful as you are every day. In years to come we will look back on this as just a small feat in our lives full of many.”

Her fingertips brushed along his arm, pulling him in closer towards her. All of her attention pooled to the words that he spoke.

“I am here for you. I always will be. For you, for Martin. I am here and I do not intend on going anywhere.”

His voice grew softer, “you are not alone anymore.”

She smiled through the wetness that formed against her eyes. With a gentle tug on the linen of his tunic, he yelped as she nearly pulled him into the cool water with her.

The delicate skin of his lips met hers in an embrace. It was not forceful. Not lustful—but tender and comforting. They both needed this. A release of emotion in an act of intimacy. Being both on duty at the temple never allowed for much opportunity to show their affection.

This kiss was one of many to come, even if she had to wait far in between.

His lips parted hers. Deep brown gazing into two orbs—one of blue and one of green.

She knew at that moment that he was the one thing she never thought she could have.

Her strength.

#tes #my writing #oblivion #fan fic #oc frieda #baurus #hok #tesblr #tag game #oneshot #oblivion fanfiction

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Light in the Darkness

Universe: TES IV: Oblivion (Vanilla) CW: Alcohol Words: 619 Context: Written for the @tescheer prompt "Lantern".

[Being an excerpt of Arkved of Cheydinhal's journal, c. 3E431]

The month of Morning Star is a drear and dreadful one. Even Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast, is not immune to winter-tide storms filled with freezing rain and howling gales. The Abecean grows bitter and cruel under leaden skies, goaded by the winds to make rubble of the docks and soak through even the toughest oilcloth. The desperate weather, however, could not deter me from attending a most interesting event with my good friend, the painter Rythe Lythandas.

Attired in our glad rags and oilcloths, we ran through the sheeting rain from the Count's Arms to the Great Chapel of Dibella; for what better time than this dark and dreadful month to bring the light and cheer from a celebration of the Arts?

And cheer there was, in plenty! The church's main floor had been rearranged, with great trestles down the center and pews becoming seats at the feast table. And those pews were filled bursting with painters and playwrights, weavers and tale-spinners, artisans and lutists. The raucous crowd rhapsodized with animate flailing of limbs. Snatches of song, as took the players' fancy, filled the air. Laughter danced, sprinkled between lines of poetry.

The Sybil welcomed us in, bade us relax and find a place in the myriad company. I found my hand filled with a cup of mulled wine and with Rythe gayly beside me, took my time in admiring the chapel. It may surprise you, dear reader, that despite this chronicler's wide travels, I had yet to be inside this very chapel.

The chapel is a vast space, with arching hights – velvet-dark on this night of revelry – decorated in sheets of dainty lace. Planters of sunrise-coloured flowers adorned the altar, but what most struck me were the garlands of sacred lotus flowers. They hung suspended on threads of gold between the chapel pillars and, like joyful lanterns, glittered by some magical fancy. Under their soft incandescence, as if the hand of the goddess was laid upon my brow, I was filled with peace and awe at the marvels and wonder of our world. At my side, Rythe nudged me. "Committing it all to memory, eh?" "Indeed," said I, my gaze lingering upon them, "They're extraordinary in their holy beauty." "Take good note then, my friend. You can describe them to me anon, and I shall paint them for you." "Oh! You're the painter with the 'magic' brush," Rythe's neighbour cried, and Rythe turned away to converse with them, while my own – on hearing I was a scholarly adventurer – implored me to tell of my travels. And thus the night was spent in amiable chatter and the trading of stories; but ever did my eyes find those most sacred of blooms…

–––

Several months later, Rythe invited me to dine with he and his Lady wife, and bade me recount the glittering lotus blooms to her, her delighted smile widening as I spoke. As we were saying goodbye, he handed me a small rectangle, wrapped in cloth. I should not open it, said he, until I was at home. Dutifully I did so, and found to my most pleasant surprise a portrait of myself, gazing up at the golden blooms, my face dusted with buttercream light. It hangs in my study, mere feet from where I write now, lending me the joy of that night.

Although… I would swear to you, gentle reader, there is something otherworldly about it. On nights most foul, when winter has his firm and frozen grip upon the world, the painted blooms will glow with an echo of the revels in Anvil, dusting my room in Dibella's golden light.

#Week 3: Lantern #tescheer2023 #oc Arkved of Cheydinhal #faux lore #dibella #anvil #headcanon festival #writing #TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #I swear this isn't because of da3drat's post - but it may have helped #I mostly wanted to write something new short and quickly finished #also I would love to get the scene described in the painting depicted irl but I have no idea what Arkved looks like... #wandering words

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday? Nah... How about fic Wednesday instead? 💛

Finally posting the first chapter of an Oblivion fic, with my heroes of Kvatch Florian and Drissa!

-----------

Fic rating: M

Fic relationships: Martin Septim/Male Hero of Kvatch

Fic description:

At a pivotal time for the Empire, in the wake of the Emperor’s death, two so-called heroes emerge from the ashes of Kvatch - an incompetent thief and a disgraced arena fighter. One takes the chance at redemption. The other seeks their own ruin.

Chapter description:

Florian and Drissa were two people from completely different walks of life in the Imperial City. The one thing that they both have in common? Ending up in the Imperial City Prison.

Chapter excerpt(s):

"We've been onto you for a while, Florian Livius. Now we have all the proof we need to put you behind bars." His mark had a smirk across his face as he approached them, which turned into a grin as Florian’s hands were bound behind his back. There was no way... He had fallen for a trap placed by these buffoons? "H-Hey, I'm certain that we can work things out. The bounty on my head can’t be that high, can it?" The guard who was keeping hold of his left arm glared at him from under his helmet. "Not a chance. No bounties and no running to your guild to get you out of trouble for cheap. Not this time." ------- “I’m sorry, did you just say that I am under arrest... For murder?” She scowled, feeling her teeth grind as she shifted her jaw. “The only times in which I have killed people were when I was fighting in the arena, and they were lawful kills – we sign contracts about those sorts of things!” Silence fell over the Dunmer as her eyes flicked between the small contingency of guards, and a familiar blonde head of hair she could see sticking out from behind a tree nearby. Oh, she knew exactly what this was about. She had killed the previous Grand Champion and took his place in the arena after they had unearthed some unsettling facts about his parentage. He had lost the will to live. He had asked for her to end him. “Did one of the Grey Prince’s fans put you up to this? He was the one who chose to step foot in the arena, his death was- it was a mercy to him, he was suffering-“ One of the guards cut her off by grabbing hold of her other wrist as she spoke – an especially easy task given that she was speaking far too expressively with her hand – before a manacle was clasped around it. “A murder was committed at the Waterfront, and our eyewitness places you at the scene of the crime.”

#meg has done some writing #fic - with light comes shadow #hok oc florian livius #hok oc drissa #oblivion fanfiction #tes iv fanfiction

[druidx]

Theme Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @alias-levi​ :D

Rules: Bold the themes that appear in your WIP (& italicize those that are loosely covered) then tag 10 people.

Tagging: ​ @wildswrites @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame​ ​@aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior

I swear I’ve done one of these for The Ruby Falls, but do you think I can find it to check? Can I, frick. Anyway.

The Ruby Falls

addiction | beauty | betrayal | change vs. tradition | chaos vs. order | circle of life | coming of age | communication | convention vs. rebellion | corruption | courage | crime and law | dangers of ignorance | darkness and light | death | desire to escape | dreams | displacement | empowerment | facing darkness | facing reality | faith vs. doubt | fall from grace | fame and fortune | family | fate | fear | fear of failure | free will | friendship | fulfilment | good vs. bad | government | greed | guilt and forgiveness | hard work | heroism | hierarchy | honesty | hope | identity crisis | immortality | independence | individual vs. society | inner vs. outer strength | innocence | injustice | isolation | knowledge vs. ignorance | life | loneliness | lost love | love | man vs. nature | manipulation | materialism | motherhood | nature | nature vs. nurture | oppression | optimism | peer pressure | poverty | power | power of words | prejudice | pride | progress | quest | racism | rebirth | relationships | religion | responsibility | revenge | sacrifice | secrets | self-awareness | self-preservation | self-reliance | sexuality | social class structure | survival | technology | temptation and destruction | time | totalitarianism | weakness | vanity | war | wealth | wisdom of experience | youth

#meta writing #theme tag #tag game #TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #haven's ember series #modern oblivion au #oc aderyn griffiths #meta wandering words #this has been in my drafts so long

[hircines-lapdog]

The shadows are your friend. They conceal you from prey. It is this darkness that allows you to hunt and survive and live.

These thoughts rattled through Valya’s head like a mantra as she crept through the makeshift tunnels underneath the Imperial Prison. She clung to them like a raft, insistent that they were true. She was a hunter, one who stalked the undergrowth of the forests of Cyrodiil as a means of livelihood. The darkness should not bother her, yet, it did. There was no breeze carrying the smell of fresh growth or hints of rain, nor was there the soft thump thump thump of deer bounding down the trails. No… the air here was stale and reeked of mold. The only sound of life being the chittering of rats and faint words of goblintongue. These shadows were not her friend. They sought to trap her, suffocate her, be her next jail cell. And yet still Valya trudged on, a rickety bow gripped tight in her shaking hands.

“Stay behind.” The guards, Blades Valya thinks they were called, had said to her. “You can not be trusted.” The thought would make her laugh if she were not so scared. What terrible, terrible things must be occurring for the Emperor, by the Nine, The Emperor, to be secreted away through her jail cell. To have the Blades be suspicious of her, unarmed and in rags. She had been arrested for poaching, after all, not murder. The only blood Valya spilt was that of animals and now goblins as she continued through the tunnels, praying that the maze of stone and mud would eventually lead to freedom.

They instead lead her to a massacre.

Men shouting and fighting under arched doorways stained with blood. The Emperor, sword drawn, backed against a wall. Figures seemingly materialized from the darkness, launching themselves at the Blades only to be cut down. Their apparel was red, the kind where Valya struggled to determine where the cloth ended and the pools of blood began. Something about them sent shivers down her spine. The shadows she was so desperate to leave behind became her haven as she crouched in the corner, pressed to the cold stone as if the earth might open up and swallow her whole. Some primal part told Valya that that would be preferable to whatever fate awaited her at the hands of these red cloaked assassins.

Assassins… that’s what they were. That’s why the Emperor has appeared at her cell and why the Blades were so on edge. Valya’s eyes scanned the room until they settled on the man in regal robes, a bright red amulet resting against his chest. He looked up, his eyes finding her, and for a moment that felt like a millenium, Valya felt as if her soul had been laid bare before this man. He knew something she did not, and they both knew it.

“You again? You’re awfully persistent, aren’t you? Persistent enough to be an assassin, mayhaps.” Valya was dragged from the moment that felt like an eternity by one of the Blades, a woman, standing over her, sword drawn. Had the figures in red all been killed and she hadn’t noticed? Valya’s eyes frantically darted around, desperate to find an escape route. She was no assassin. She just wanted to go home, but something told her the Blade standing over her would not listen.

“That’s enough. She is a friend, not a foe.”

His voice was quiet yet demanding. The kind of voice that would silence a room and draw everyone’s attention without the need for shouting. The Blade stepped back, incredulous, as the Emperor approached. His eyes were kind, yet that did not put Valya at ease. This was a man who commanded the world. No one with that much power could be truly kind.

“Yes… it’s you. The one from my dreams. I know your face and your heart. The eyes of the Nine turn their gazes upon you as more sinister forces turn theirs unto me. Come, walk with me, friend. I would have a soul as bright as yours with me in these dark moments.”

Valya blinked, mirroring the confused looks of the Blades around them. What was she to say to this request? Surely she could not refuse? This was the Emperor himself, addressing her as if she were an old friend. How do you know me? She wanted to ask. What do you mean by dreams? Sinister forces? I’m certainly not ordained by the gods. Perhaps you’re mistaken? Ultimately, Valya decided that these questions could wait, and that it was rude to deny such a simple request.

And so they walked. The Blades did not speak to her beyond barking orders, and the Emperor merely continued with his cryptic words. Though she would never admit it, Valya was concerned that perhaps the most powerful man in Tamriel was losing it. That was, until they were both shoved into a small room with orders to defend the man with her life. It was then that Emperor Uriel Septim VII turned to her, his expression one of sorrow and acceptance, and pressed the ruby red amulet into her hand.

“Take this. It is the Amulet of Kings. Find Jauffre of Weynon Priory. Ask him about my son, Martin. He will know what to do. I wish you luck, hero.”

Valya protested. “What? Why me? Why can’t you-“

“It is my time. These tunnels will serve as my tomb.” He gave her a sad smile, “I have lived a long life, but those in the shadows plot against me, and it seems today their plans will be set in motion. Go then, close shut the jaws of Oblivion. I have faith that the Nine will guide you.”

The next few moments felt as if they happened in slow motion. Valya opened her mouth, prepared to demand answers. What does the Emperor mean ‘Close shut the jaws of Oblivion?’ She was no one. A hunter from the wilds.

Then the wall opened up.

Another red clad figure, blade at the ready, leapt from the darkness. Before Valya could even draw her bow their dagger sank into the Emperor’s back. She had never seen a body drop so fast, like it was made of lead. A shout was heard from somewhere. One of the Blades. The assassin then turned to her, and though no eyes could be seen from behind their visor, Valya knew they were filled with bloodlust. She fumbled for an arrow and drew, just as they leapt at her.

Thunk.

A second body dropping to the floor like it was lead filled. More blood pooling on the floor. Valya felt sick. She was no murderer. It was self defense. Yet she killed a person all the same. And as the last surviving Blade of the Emperor’s escort came, and she numbly recounted what the Emperor had ordered her to do, Valya never looked away from the two bodies on the floor and the mixing pool of blood beneath them both. A Royal and the heretic that killed him. Before she could stop it, a thought struck Valya as she turned to fulfill the mission set before her.

And yet they both bleed red all the same.

#idk I wanted to write this for awhile now #I think a lot about my early hok and just how scared she was ajskd #tes #the elder scrolls #oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #oneshot #my writing #Valya

[da3drat]

uhhhhh lemme get a martinceleste, number 19 BLEASE

AAA TY THE CUTEST PROMPT

19. A kiss for luck

"Celeste!" Martin calls, stumbling out of Cloud Ruler temple half asleep.

She is leading Rain out of the stables, barely visible in the flurries of pre dawn snow. He jogs to meet her in the stable arch, pulling his thin shirt around him.

"I thought you were asleep?" She says, running one hand vigorously along his arm trying to warm him.

She looks to him like a fairy tale heroine; bundled in a warm furry cloak, cheeks and nose pink from the cold, amber eyes bright like fire. She is fussing over him, rambling about catching a chill or freezing to death in these clothes, as she always does when she's avoiding her own thoughts.

"I wanted to see you off, but you got up so early. Trying to avoid goodbyes?" He jokes.

"Of course not." She says, but she doesn't meet his gaze.

He watches her stroke Rain's muzzle for a moment.

"Are you scared?"

She puffs herself up indignantly.

"What? Of Miscarcand? No. I know you said it was dangerous but it can't be any worse than Oblivion. And wandering around the Deadlands is practically an average Morndas at this point."

It almost sounds like the truth, but Martin knows her tells. 

He pulls her into the stable, out of the falling snow, and dusts the flakes off her hood.

"You're right." He says, voice growing quiet. "No long dead Aylied king stands a chance against you. But be careful anyway please. For me."

Her nerves seem to still a bit, and she fidgets with the lining on her hood.

"Okay. For you." She whispers.

"And even though I know you don't need it-"

Martin tentatively tips her chin up to look at him, giving her plenty of time to pull away before he leans in to kiss her. She is still with surprise for only a moment before she melts into him like water. When they pull away, her cheeks have somehow grown even pinker.

"-For luck."

#um?????? i just realized idk how to write kissing. #but frankly idk how to write anything really so! par for the course ig! :D #tysm cat<333333333 #martinxceleste #martinxhok #oblivion fanfiction #prompt fill #celeste #writing

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Dreams, Nightmares, Daedra, and Love

Summary: While the Champion of Cyrodiil journeys through Mankar Camoran's Paradise, Martin wakes up to find HoK crying in the kitchen.

Request: Yes / No

Warnings: mentions of sex, drug abuse, alcohol, human sacrifice, mental illness, mental disorders, and nightmares

This story is to celebrate my 50 post milestone, since the Daedra of Kvatch AU was the whole reason I made this blog, I thought it would be fitting to post them a story to celebrate.

Martin's eyes snapped open, the images of his nightmare still dancing in his mind. The Emperor sat up and looked around the room for the Blades Agent who was supposed to be watching over him. He got up and left the room, his eyes dancing suspiciously around the room as he made his way downstairs. Sounds of muffled tears and hitched breathing made Martin stop his search and go into the kitchen.

When he opened the door, he found HoK, the agent who recovered the Amulet of Kings, balling his eyes out on the floor, his body shaking and his hamds clawing at the moonstone colored hair on his head. Martin sat next to the god and just sat with him. HoK put hus hand on Martin's and his sobs died down to an occasional cry. "You know, when I was younger I joined a cult of Sanguine. It was the day I found out I was adopted. I was filled with such anger and hatred and grief, that I thought it would help me cope. But the wine, the skooma, the sex, it never made my anger, or my grief, go away. They just gave me a way to hide it. They weren't coping mechanisms, they were distractions." HoK was now making now noises other than his soft breathing and his body was no longer shaking. "And then I met Sanguine himself. I had to sacrifice the barmaid who I had lain with for the past week, as well as drink 4 bottles of wine to get his attention. Doing so was the worst mistake of my life. Me and him laid together, and afterwards he gave me his Rose. That was the moment I realized, I wasnt actually happy. I was even sadder, even angrier, and even more broken than when I had joined. I fled to a temple of Akatosh, burning the Rose as an offering and dedicating my life to his service." Martin looked at HoK, who's eyes were glowing in the darkness and who's hair seemed to float around his head. "I had been in the Chantry for 5 years when we met. And when you told me I was the son of the Emperor, I knew that it was Akatosh telling me that this was how I could earn my forgiveness. That my sins would be forgotten if I saved this world." HoK squeezed Martin's hand and sighed.

"I was born in Bravil. My mother was a guard and my father was a fletcher. The night I was born, my mother was tended too by the Counts mage at the time, who was known for his skills in Conjuration. There was... Complications with the birth. I wasn't coming out, but my mother wouldnt survive if they cut me out and she was the best guard they had, second only to the captain. So the mage used his magic to summon me. The spell opened a portal from her womb, to his arms and I worked magnificently. But there were... Side effects." HoK was now laying his head on Martin's lap, and Martin was playing with his hair. "I was born with snow white hair, and two different eyes. One was as red as an apple, the other as purple as nightshade. The magic also affected both mine and my mothets minds. She suffered from episodes of major paranoia and bouts of depression. It was so bad that she had to be discharged from the City Guard, and she loved that job more than she loved my father. And with me, I had hallucinations and delusions, or at least I thought they were. Now I'm not so sure. One day, when my mom's paranoia was so bad that she thought I was an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, I found myself in the most beautiful garden I've ever seen, and it was tended to by golden women with cat eyes and golden armor. There was a man wearing a bronze crown and green robes. Me and him painted, and sang, and played, and I fell asleep and woke up in the back of my father's shop. Another time I opened my eyes to see that I was in a prison, not in a cell, but sitting on the torturers desk. There were two women guarding me, their skin was the color of charcoal and their armor looked like a starless sky. I watched as a woman in a large black dress decorated with Slaughterfish spines acused a woman of plotting to assassinate her. The woman confessed and was put to death. One of the guards covered my eyes when she was killed, the placed a kiss on my forehead and I woke up in the city cemetery."

Martin was now petting HoK as he snuggled closer to him, letting out a content sigh as he got more comfortable. "No one believef me for obvious reasons, so I was locked in an asylum, which was an official part of the Chapel of Mara. I spent 15 years there before they let me out. I fled to the Imperial City, Bravil now holding too many painful memories. I lived there for 3 years before I was arrested for helping a fleeing Gray Fox. That's how I met your father." HoK was now sitting up again, but now sitting in Martin's lap with his head laying on his shoulder.

"When he gave me the Amulet, I froze, I was scared and confused and then he was killed in front of me. I ran, I ran from the sewers, I ran from the city, I ran from everything. Thats when I arrived in the Shivering Isles, the portal feeling more like a home than anything I felt in here in Cyrodiil. I loved it there, my mind felt at peace and my body felt calm. When I became Duke of Dementia, I felt like I was finally in control of my life. But then the Duke of Paranoia, the same man who played with me as a child, a man who kept me company while I was in the asylum, a man who I have no qualms against saying I fell in love with, he betray both me and Lord Sheogorath. And then the Greymarch happened and I had to defeat Jyggalag and then I BECAME Sheogorath. My life felt like it had shattered once more, I had lost my Lord, I had lost my Love, while yes I was now a god, I don't even know how my powers work. And then the Amuket began to have adverse affects on me and my guards, so I had to take it to Jauffre. And thats when I met you." The two where now starijg at each other, HoK's arms wrapped around Martin's neck and Martins hand resting on HoK's thighs. "I will admit, when we first met..."

"I didn't really like you."

"I truthfully couldn't stand you."

The pair looked at each other before breaking out into laughter. "You reminded me of the priests of Mara who tried to heal me of my 'afflictions' using anything but healing magic." HoK rested his forehead on Martin's, who squeezed HoK's thigh. "And when you walked in, I could sense your power and station, which reminded me of Sanguine and my days under his command."

The two sat there in a comfortable silence. Martin could feel HoK's breath on his face and he moved closer. HoK saw Martin's movements and moved with him. The pairs lips brushed against each other, neither wanting to push the other too far. They sat there, their lips on each other's, neither pushing any further as to not push the other away. When they pulled apart, HoK laid his head on Martin's shoulder and shoved his face into his neck. "I know that we both just confessed for our mutual distaste for the other, but I must say HoK, I think I lov..."

The doors to the kitchen were kicked open, causing HoK to push himself off of Martin. Infront of them stood Jauffre, Baurus, and Diana, the woman chosen to be HoK and Martin's Champion. "I have it my Lord." Diana said, dropping to a knee as she held the Amulet of kings up. HoK growled at the necklace and stepped back, the red glow coming from it felt like fire to him. "You have served me well Diana, now, let us get to the Imperial City so that we might stop the Lord of Destruction once and for all." Jauffre and Baurus left the room, Diana following after giving HoK the artifacts he let her borrow. Martin and HoK stood infront of each other, Martin placing the Amulet on a counter so he might be able to hold HoK. The two embraced, HoK placing a kiss on Martins lips and then burying his face into his shoulder. "HoK, I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what Dagon does, and no matter what I must do to stop him. I will always love you." Martin kissed HoK's forehead and stared into his eyes. "That sounds like a goodbye." HoK cupped Martin's face and shook his head. "It might be." Martin smiled sadly before turning and grabbing the Amulet. "Martin? Martin what do you mean?" Martin walked back to his room, HoK not being able to follow because of the Amulets aura. Hok fell to his knees in the kitchen, staring at the floor. "I love you too." He whispered, holding his fingers to his lips.

#elder scrolls #martin septim #hero of kvatch #daedra of kvatch au #elder scrolls au #elder scrolls oblivion #oblivion au #oblivion #martin septim x male hero of kvatch #gay #elder scrolls fanfiction #oblivion fanfiction #martin septim fanfiction #50 posts #tumblr milestone #milestone celebration

[dollar-store-apocrypha]

The Illusionist: To New Beginnings and Old Conclusions by SeydaNeen / @dirty-bosmer

fandom || Oblivion rating || T categories || f/m, gen pairings || Raminus Polus/f!OC genre || coming of age, adventure, romance characters of note || Raminus Polus, Fathis Aren, The Gray Fox, Methredhel status || 18/18, 107k

Following the death of the Emperor, Nimileth escapes prison and with it, the shadows darkening her past. But she's a skilled illusionist, a thief, a swindler, and old habits it would seem are hard to kick.

"I needed this during quarantine, and there's a part 2 (!!!)" -- Goo

"GOOD LORD THIS HURTED ME IN THE MEOW MEOW ; A;" -- memai

"Nim is immediately a compelling character right off the bat. She wants to do good, to be good, but she struggles with anger and darker impulses, and this being the prologue makes me immediately want to read on and see how she's faring in the future." -- FourCatProductions

#tes #the elder scrolls #oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #fic recs #multichapter #raminus polus #mages guild #thieves guild #bosmer #wlm

[hannah-heartstrings]

Sweet Surprise

During a trip to Skingrad, Lecrinn and Garrus decide to surprise each other. Early in the timeline, though I'm not actually sure how canon it is.

The lost sweetroll prompt fic. I spent half a month writing this, finished it, and went "meh." By then I'd worked on it to the point of not being able to tell if it was good or not, and I still can't tell.

So I'll just release it into the wild and you can tell me. (I do know some things I do and don't like but I decided to keep them to the tags.) From October 2022 but I'm still accepting concrit on it.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

            Cradling two sweet rolls in one hand Lecrinn held them close as she pushed the heavy door with the other. She opened it just enough to slip out, leaving the chatter and warmth of the busy inn for the street outside. It was also busy and warm but more tolerably so.

            She squinted against the afternoon sun. Now that she had the sweet rolls it was time to find Garrus, after she dragged him all the way from Cheydinhal to Skingrad it was only right he get something out of it.

            The roads were narrow between the tall stone buildings that arched above them. She weaved through their hustle and bustle. The street widened out into a fork, forward continued to more buildings and to the left, a statue of a horseman. There gazing up at the statue she found Garrus.

            Catching her from the corner of his eye he turned and beamed at her.

            She couldn’t help but smile back.

            “I have a surprise for you,” he said as she walked up.

            “So do I!” She stopped, both their smiles falling at the sweet rolls in the other’s hands. Looking back up at the other’s face they gave laughing smiles.

            “I suppose we had the same idea,” he shifted.

            She shrugged. “It’s a good idea.” His smile looked forced, he seemed to feel awkward, she didn’t know why and it was making her feel awkward too. “Well… this one’s yours,” she held one out and they swapped, both laughing a little. She noticed he only held one. “Did you already eat yours?”

            “I uh,” he glanced down, “I don’t know how much money this trip will end up costing so I only bought one for you.”

            “Oh…” she looked to her second one.

            “You can keep it.”

            “Nah, lets split it later.”

            “No, you bought it for yourself, you can have it.”

            She walked passed him. “One and a half sweet rolls is still more than I planned on getting.”

            He tilted his head, he supposed that was true. Turning he saw her sitting on the round base of the statue. He looked startled. “Are you allowed to sit there?”

            “I don’t see anyone guarding it.” Pulling the pack off her shoulders and beside her she rifled through it.

            “What if you get in trouble?”

            “Then you can just arrest me.”

            He looked around before going over to sit beside her.

            Finding a small cloth she wrapped up one of the rolls and put it in her pack. She then turned all her attention to the one in her hand, closing her eyes as she took a bite, savoring its sweet spice.

            “Mmm!”

            She looked to Garrus who was looking at his sweet roll surprised.

            “They really are better in Skingrad.”

            “Salmo’s sweet rolls are famous for a reason.”

            “Perhaps we should get more of these before we leave.”

            Her smile widened. “Does Cheydinhal have its own desserts?” She took another bite.

            “There’s the thirty layer cake.”

            She had to quickly swallow the bite. “Thirty layers?”

            “They’re thin.”

            “Why would you ever need thirty layers?!”

            “No, they’re very thin, it isn’t much taller than a regular cake.”

            “Oh… I’m having a hard time picturing it,” she gave a smirk, “I think I’ll have to see it for myself.” The smile turned more genuine. “Is it good?” She took a smaller bite.

            “I haven’t got to try one, they’re expensive.”

            The smile fell. “Oh.”

            “I like the spiced root cake the Dunmer make, and there’s one made from something called marshmerrow, it’s a little too sweet for me but I think you’d like it.”

            “I’ll have to try them next time I’m in town.”

            “I’m also quite fond of the bread they make out of yams, though,” he lowered his voice, “I’ve been afraid to try it with scrib jelly.”

            “What’s that?”

            “…Maybe when you’re done with your sweet roll.”

            Her brows rose.

            As they continued eating she looked around, gaze catching on the red leaves of a nearby tree, its branches bobbing slightly.

            He stared out at the street. “I have been trying to learn more about Dunmer culture, and not judge things that are different too quickly.”

            She smirked to him. “Except for scrib jelly?”

            “Well some things are easier to respect from afar.”

            “Ah.”

            “It is admirable though, because not much grows in the ashlands they have to find food elsewhere and they managed to get multiple food types out of something others wouldn’t see as such, they’re survivors, no matter the situation you put them in.”

            She furrowed her brows. “I really don’t want to know what a scrib is, do I?”

            “No.” Tearing a piece off his sweet roll he rolled it between his fingers. “I hope that learning more about them will help me be a better guard to them, like you said, at the very least, perhaps I’ll be a better man.”

            Her smile lessened but turned more genuine. “You are a good guard.”

            “I hope so, protecting everyone is why I became a guard in the first place.” Eating the bite his eyes lit up. He turned to her. “Does the Merchant Inn still make those blackberry tarts?”

            “What?” She blinked, brain taking a second to keep up with the sudden topic change.

            “I use to get them sometimes when I was training in the Imperial City.”

            “Um…” she glanced off, thinking, before turning back to him. “I don’t know, I’ll check. If they do I’ll bring you some, unless they wouldn’t stay good… Maybe I’ll just have to bring you there,” she smirked.

            “Hopefully that can be soon,” he turned back to his sweet roll.

            She looked surprised. Did he mean he wanted the tarts soon or did he like her dragging him places? She looked away as she couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face.

            Turning back to him she saw he was staring at his dessert, the same awkward look as when she gave it to him. Seemed whatever had been bothering him never really went away. “What’s wrong?”

            “I am grateful, truly, but since I wanted to surprise you didn’t know what I was doing and bought some too.”

            “So now we have three sweet rolls,” she was confused as to how this was a problem.

            “I just feel bad you had to pay for two.”

            “Oh…” she glanced off with a smirk, “don’t worry about that.”

#tes oc #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion #the elder scrolls #tes #hero of kvatch #garrus darelliun #fanfiction #my writing #lecrinn #thiefguard #i don't think i like how they're talking about dunmer culture #it feels off to me #i do like the last line though #and though this scene might not be canon garrus liking ash yams is because it keeps cropping up in fics that don't get finished 😅 #also when she says he's a good guard i thought it also said she looked sad because he didn't know how much that meant coming from her #but it's not there? or in my cut file? so apparently i didn't write it? #i think it would've been better with it #also their reactions to the thirty layer cake came from me reading about it on uesp and thinking the rich of cheydinhal had gone too far #and my mom pulling up a picture to show me that the layers are paper thin XD

[hannah-the-rebel-writer]

I finally wrote the part of this fic I've been looking forward to the most! Because I skipped ahead but whatever. XD

Not sure yet if this means I can finally move on or if my motivation for it will be reignited.

#i could not make myself write the middle i just had to skip to the end #oblivion fanfiction #writing #writeblr

[ramphastestoco]

I know this is a long shot, but this is my last option here. Does anyone know of a fanfic writer that goes/went by "Daegrima"? Their fic "As long as they believe it" fucked me up majorly when I first read it, and I just discovered it's nowhere to be found anymore. I do still have the old ao3 link but it hasn't done me much good :(

I'd give my left leg to be able to read it again. If anyone knows the writer (or happens to have the story stored somewhere), please, please, please let me know!!!!

#elderscrollsonline #elder scrolls oblivion #fanfic #lost media #im genuinely upsetti spaghetti #ive read through a bunch of similar fics #but nothing else manages to scratch the very specific itch #please help #elder scrolls fanfiction #oblivion fanfiction

[spockiscoolerthanyou]

I’ve started writing a self insert of the whole events of oblivion along with y/n becoming immortal then finding out they are Dragonborn and living til the events of Skyrim were they destroy alduin it’s going to have lots of chapters but overall going to be really shitty! Enjoy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38668203/chapters/96672549

#skyrim fanfiction #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion x male reader #Skyrim x male reader #ao3 fanfic #it’s so shit #elder scrolls #Skyrim #oblivion

[nine-blessed-hero]

Greetings After a Long Departure

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion Warnings: None Words: 1014 Context: A gameplay event I remembered, and wanted to write out - see below fic for details Taglist (ask +/-): @writeblrsupport @jacquesfindswritingandadvice

It's been a few years since… Everything. Maybe many. Time has passed and Rowan has stopped counting.

Time enough that when xe teaches the rookies how to shoot, xir shoulder and elbow joints pop. Time enough that xe has become a Master of Alchemy; that xe is expanding xir repertoire and learning how to move in heavy armour.

There is always more to learn, xe tells the apprentice Mages. You never stop honing your skills, xe tells the Fighters Guild hot-shots. There's always someone who can teach you fresh ideas, recent papers to study, some new knack to discover.

Rowan – leading by example – is in the Imperial City proper for the first time in… oh, probably a year? Time enough to notice that the fresh white stone of the Market District, replaced after Everything, is now dull and grey; that the joyful colours splashed around the Arena in his honour are faded and chipped; that the Arboretum is not as deftly pruned as it once was. But xe is not here to critique the architecture. Xe has heard word and whisper of someone even better at the art of stealth than xe and is hoping they are willing to teach xir.

It is to xir horror then, that Armand tells xir xe is looking for the Imperial Spymaster, Marana Rian, found in the Temple District. Rowan who takes the most circuitous route to the Waterfront; Rowan who has not set foot in the Temple District since Everything was over; Rowan who makes airs of not recalling what happened That Night when asked, but will not deign to look in that direction should xe catch sight of a marble toothed maw over the walls.

But perhaps it has been time enough. Time enough for a heart to heal. Time enough xe can think about That Night without frailty overtaking xir limbs. Time enough that xe went back to see him.

Xir foot rings off the cobbles of the Temple District. It's impossible not to see him, life-like twisted marble. Xir heart lurches. A guard looks curiously at xir, as a palid hand gropes for the wall. Xe flashes a sickly smile. Xe almost turns, running back to the safety of hearth and home. But no – it has been time enough. Xe straightens xir tunic and goes forth.

Xe's greeted, as xe enters the Temple, by a fresh-faced novice. No lines of care on their scaled face, only nubs of burgeoning horns ridging their brow. When the novice asks xir business, xe gestures to the statue, feet tucked in with garlands and offerings. The novice clearly doesn't recognise xir, taking xir to be some distant pilgrim, as they jabber about That Night while leading xir towards the statue.

He is bigger than xe remembers. With his wings held aloft and head thrown back, he takes up most of the space in the not-small temple. So tall, once they stop at the edge of the field of offerings, xe barely comes up to his knee. Rowan feels lost, for a moment, craning xir head back as if it were possible, this close, to see all of him; and wonders how xe forgot he was the size of a building.

Xe can touch it if xe wants, the novice says. It's just a statue. Tests were done; it's perfectly safe. From here they can see the shimmer on one claw, worn smooth and shiny by many hands and many prayers. He isn't there. That's what they'd told xir after the tests were concluded. Still – the need to give some recognition to the man transformed gnaws in xir breast.

The novice natters on as Rowan picks a way through the flowers and offerings, but xe doesn't hear, recalling only that last conversation; the way he made it sound as if he were taking a trip – not too far, not too long. Finds xe knows just what to do.

Rowan takes a breath. Smiles. "Hello, you." Reaches out as if to cup his cheek. "Read any good books lately?" Xir fingers skim the statue. A soft and golden sunlight finds xir. Xe feels warm and full; content as if after a hearty meal in the company of loved ones. In xir mind, a noise like the bones of the world sliding past each other; words, perhaps, but they're so slow and bass xe doesn't understand – can only let them resonate through xir being.

Slowly the incandescence fades; the sense of a lingering hug, reluctantly parted from. Xe's left feeling comforted; the grind of everyday lifted and lightened. As if things will start going better for xir, and everyone is a potential new friend.

When Rowan turns, xe finds a small crowd gathered behind xir. The novice is gaping. Several people are in prayerful stances. Xe can hear the word 'miracle' being uttered. "What-? But the- It's never-," the novice stutters, their eyes flaring wide. "Who are you?" Before Rowan can speak, the crowd speaks for xir, calling out xir titles: Fighters Guildmaster, Archmage, Champion– "The Hero of Kvatch!"

Well, shit.

Rowan smiles, picks xir way back through the collection of offerings. "I apologise for having interrupted your afternoon," xe says. "But… the Statue-" Rowan raises xir voice, knowing that the crowd will just make up some half-truth otherwise. "They told me, 'he's gone'. They told me it was just a statue, and the man I watched transform into our saviour was no longer on Mundus. I guess they weren't quite correct." Xe swallows to stop xir voice from cracking and glances back at the statue. "He's still here, in his own way. He's always been here, patient as ever, awaiting my return." Xe turns fully now, damp eyes cast aloft. "I'm sorry, Martin. Time and again, you've waited for me; it's been time enough. I promise I won't be so long again."

Warmth stirs again, a lingering caress, drawing a sweet smile from xir. Rowan presses a small bag of coins into the novice's hand – "To keep up the Temple's good works." – and leaves the congregation to its awed colloquy.

–––

So: I'd somehow missed all the spoilers about the Blessings of Akatosh from the Avatar statue, and when I went to find Marana Rian, many gameplay hours after completing the MQ, I got a sudden rush of nostalgia and went to look at the statue (I, like Rowan, maaay have been avoiding the area a bit. Y'know - MQ was ended, I had no real reason to go back there). Noticing the 'activate' fist, I did so and was pleasantly surprised by the Blessings. I later read a headcanon that this is a gift from Martin, an apology/ "love letter", only given to the Hero and unavailable to anyone else in Cyrodiil, which I really liked the sound of - hence why I've made it clear that to everyone else, it is just a statue; it's not until Rowan returns, that xe learns the truth.

#writing #hero of kvatch #oc rowan #martin septim #TESFic #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #wandering words

[umbracirrus]

Oh!! I don't know if I've mentioned but alongside a slowly growing pile of WIPs, my Balgruuf/Dragonborn fic, and my Hermaeus Mora cross stitch, I've actually been doing some writing for Oblivion? Based on my HoK that I drew and was probably my first post on here. It's only meant to be a four part HoK/Martin Septim thing based around the end of the main quest, parts of Shivering Isles, and a lil' bit beyond, and have been slowly chipping away at it for months. I've been really liking some of the progress and want to share part of it!!

The Imperial City was still a good half-day’s journey from where the Blades had camped out, and the feeling in Aelia’s chest was both relieved yet bittersweet. It was both where her journey had begun, on that fateful day in which the city guards had mistaken her for another and had her arrested, and with luck, it would also be where it ended once Martin officially took on the mantle of Emperor and lit the Dragonfires. She obviously wouldn’t be laying down her sword, but it would be the closure of what was no doubt the most dramatic chapter of her life, and the opening of a new one.

It looked so small from where they were, up in the hills near to Aleswell. Almost insignificant.

“It’s quite the sight, isn’t it…?” A voice, that of the soon-to-be Emperor, drew her mind out of its current wandering as she gave a slight nod. Martin was stood just behind her, to the side, looking at where she had sat herself down at the edge of a grassy verge. “Mind if I join you?”

All that she needed to do was pat at the grass beside her, and he was quick to make his way to the ground and sit by her side. A hand, warm and perhaps just as calloused as her own from all the recent battles, found its way towards the one which she had never bothered with returning to her lap. Words were not needed in that moment, that simple action was enough to convey what was on their minds.

Worry for what was to come, but hope for the future beyond.

None of the other Blades sought to interrupt the quiet between the two of them, aside from the occasional approaching of their location to see if they were still there, still safe.

The first time in which either of them made any sort of noise was when a butterfly emerged and landed atop her hair which she had let loose during this brief downtime, something which went unnoticed by her but managed to somewhat amuse him.

Martin pulled his hand away from hers, and turned to face her. “Hold still for a second,” he muttered, now reaching over towards her head. All that she could really do was look at him, confused, until he drew back, the creature now settled on his finger. “This little thing landed on you. Didn’t want you to end up running your hand through your hair and swatting it away, because I have seen you doing that a lot lately… at least when I have actually had a chance to see you.”

It wasn’t a lie. She had been moving almost non-stop ever for what felt like the past two, three months. More or less since she had needed to seek out an artefact of Daedric origin in order to make her way to Mankar Camoran. The only times in which she had been able to rest and recuperate were when Martin had ordered it of her. Usually, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that she had got the rest that she needed, escorting her to his personal quarters as opposed to the communal sleeping quarters.

The butterfly took off moments later, and Aelia let out a quiet laugh at the disappointed “oh…!” he had given off as a result. In turn, he started chuckling at her reaction once the dismay at the bug flying off had worn away.

When the laughter wore off, the hand which had previously been used to recover the butterfly from her hair reached out for her face, his thumb stroking across her cheek, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She accepted the gentle action wholeheartedly, bringing her own hand up to his. They then parted slightly; their foreheads pressed together as blue gazed into green.

“Martin… Would it be selfish if I were to ask for another?”

“Not when it is something that we both want.”

#meg has done some writing #I'm posting this half asleep at like almost 11pm because i just reread part of this draft and I'm gushing at these lovesick idiots #i always seem to read drafts of stuff at night then get mad at myself next day because of the clusterfuck that is recent documents on word #butterflies are a very recurring thing in what I have so far #tes iv: oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #martin septim/hero of kvatch #oblivion