#oc ; hyron aedther

[throughtrialbyfire]

Friday Kiss Tag Game ♥

wooooo!! thank you so much for tagging me @boethiahspillowbook !! <3 this was so much fun to write and i'm delighted to share this piece!!

i'm tagging @totally-not-deacon @trickstarbrave @your-talos-is-problematic @skyrim-forever @orfeoarte @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @umbracirrus and anyone who wants to do it, if you're not tagged, feel free to hop in!! and no pressure as always!!

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!

decided to bring a little treat, this features my very first LDB oc, Hyron Aedther! he's such a challenge and a joy to write. this is fresh out of the brain, and i hope you enjoy it!!

Hyron was not a very tactful man, but he was good at what he did. Stealing seemed to run in the family, as whispers of his grandfather's history with the Thieves Guild of Cyrodiil echoed down the branches of his lineage like a harsh and hollow wind. Still, wind nonetheless, and he tended not to reflect on the dead too long. The Altmer wound his way through the streets of Riften, noon sunlight dripping along the mountains like cupped hands desperately dragging water from a stream, in hopes this would quench the thirst. He had found himself doing this more than he liked. His silver hair tied behind him, the world at his back, he wondered if this would all come to a peaceful end. No, he chastised himself, don't be so dramatic, Hyron. It's only a crush. He seldom found himself in these positions, heart bent over backwards for the attentions of someone who he didn't know if would or could return his feelings. But he'd found himself watching the other man in the Ragged Flagon with increasing interest over the past few weeks, the way the ginger joked with Vekel and Delvin, the way he laughed at Vex's dry humor, the sound of his laugh, gods, the sound of his laugh. It battered Hyron open entirely, the sound of that thief's laugh. Brynjolf. Gods, his name even felt right in his mouth. Brynjolf, his friend, Brynjolf, his fellow thief, Bryn… Gods. Gods, he was utterly pathetic.

Pathetic. Like a soggy, sopping wet hound back from a hunt with nothing to show for it, to a master who would only feed him half the scraps he'd saved that night as punishment for his effort. His stomach churned with the weight of it. The thought of Brynjolf rejecting him made him want to tear his hair out, the image of the man's mouth moving in such a way to say, 'I'm sorry, lad, I just don't feel the same.' Or worse, what if he laughed at him? What if he thought Hyron was a lovesick fool, unfit to handle being in the same room as him? What if he hated Hyron for this, solely on the basis that Hyron had shown one fleck of weakness in the wild portrait of his life, the intensity of the color so rotten and bare it turned all away with it? What if… "Ah, there you are, lad. I've been looking for you."

The sound of his voice made the Altmer jump. He turned, the other thief rushing to catch up to him, his guild boots - mismatched with his regular dayclothes, his blue coat wrapped around his arms - thudding the wooden boards of the bridge over the canal. "Oh." Brynjolf furrowed his brow, slowing his pace as he approached the taller man. "Something on your mind?" Hyron shook his head. "No." A moment passed between them, before the other shrugged his shoulders, taking in their surroundings with familiarity, a boredom passing into his face. "What'd'you say we head to the Bee and Barb, get something to drink?" Hyron scoffed with a frail smirk, "why not the Flagon?" Brynjolf returned the smirk with a shrug. "Need a change of scenery, of course." Much to Keerava and Talen-Jei's displeasure, they found the two thieves in their tavern, keeping a distance from the bar, choosing instead to sit by the stairs. After a couple of small drinks and a paltry meal, Brynjolf turned to Hyron, his sharp gaze not missing the slight flinch of the elf's shoulders. "Alright, come on," he said in a quiet voice, "what's on your mind, lad?" Hyron knit his brow, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "You've been quieter than usual, and that's saying something."

Hyron's pulse quickened. "Nothing." He paused, and before Brynjolf could interject, he piped up, "I'm adjusting to my new life. It's hard." Brynjolf thought this over, rubbing at his chin, the bristle of it against his hand making a noise that Hyron only wished could be caused by his hand in the same place on the man's face, only wished he could rub his cheek, thumb his cheekbone, run his fingers though his fire-red hair, look into his eyes so intensely it was as though staring into a chasm of ice back in Winterhold- "You seem to be doing a lot of adjusting lately. I'm guessing this has something to do with that whole Dragonborn business." Hyron nodded. A lie. It worked. "I see." Brynjolf didn't seem satisfied, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his barrel chest. He looked towards the bar, flitting his gaze between Hyron and Keerava, before rising. A few moments passed of him exchanging quiet words with the Argonian woman, before she handed him a key. Approaching Hyron, he cocked his head quickly to the stairs. "Come on, let's talk somewhere private." His heart hammered against his chest. In his throat. No way out. Mouse. Mouse in a trap. Hyron stood there with the door behind him and the bed before and Brynjolf opening the window to let some fresh air in - as fresh as it got here - and turned back to him, noon sun golden on his skin. "Come on, out with it, lad. I know it can't just be this Dragonborn mess that's got you all worked up." Hyron swallowed hard. His chest hurt. He sat on the edge of the bed and released a loud, exasperated sigh, cradling his face in his hands. The pressure next to him told him that Brynjolf was seated right there, right there, next to him, gods, he could feel his body heat, it made Hyron dizzy. Intoxicating, the feel of the other's presence. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't," he grunted in his typical manner, cursing himself internally for it. He was never one for words. Never found them useful. So, instead, he remained quiet most often, but here and now with Brynjolf beside him…

"I may be in over my head with something." He finally decided that this was a conclusive enough answer. He looked through his long, golden fingers to Brynjolf, who appeared taken aback. "It's not something I'm used to." "Well, if it's debts you need settling, that's your own business, I'm afraid. We look out for each other in the Guild, but we pay our own ways." Hyron waited, then shook his head, silver eyes latched to the other. Brynjolf relaxed only momentarily, before leaning closer, intrigued. "…Oh, lad," he grinned now, a waggle of his brow catching Hyron off-guard, "is it perhaps a lady you're in trouble with?" Hyron waited. Shook his head. Brynjolf, this time, cocked his head to the side for a second before it hit him, and he nodded slow, almost sagely. "A man." Hyron nodded. "I see." The silence threw Hyron under the weight of the entire lake, an entire mountain's worth of pressure in his spine, his stomach tying furious knots, a sailor afraid of falling overboard. Before too long could pass, before the moment could fall apart, Brynjolf raked his fingers through his hair and rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward, something bitter crossing his eyes. "I understand." What?

Hyron removed his hands from his face as the other began to speak, picking his words carefully. "I've had relationships that have gone… Well, for lack of better words to describe it, terribly. But I've also had some lovely ones. Sometimes someone comes along and everything about them tears you open like a ragged purse, reminds you of all the things you once wanted when you were a young man. I don't really chase these sorts of urges, to spill open for people, but…" Neither spoke a while. The noon crept closer to evening. Hyron watched Brynjolf and Brynjolf watched Hyron and before the Altmer could find the words for it, he cradled the other's face in his long, spindly hand, and when Brynjolf pressed his own palm against it, terror seized him that it was to push his hand away and to tell him to leave and to never come back and to forever fade from Brynjolf's memory, but now, no, he did not do that, instead the Nord ran his fingers along Hyron's and seemed to grow closer to him, closer in a way that made Hyron's stomach ache and his chest burn and bleed open with his pulse, so loud he swore the Nord heard it. It was a soft kiss, much softer than the Altmer anticipated. Brynjolf's lips were rough, not unexpected, but warm, and he was so tender with the other, so unexpectedly comforting. Hyron swore he glimpsed the gods a moment there, and he found his arms around Brynjolf's neck, deepening their kiss until he thought he might break his own nose against the other. When Brynjolf pulled away, he laughed, heartfelt and soothing. Worry turned away from Hyron's mind, no longer interested in haunting him, his eyes locked on the Nord. "The night's still young. There's loose coin for the taking, and plenty of room in this bed afterwards." The promise of more tore Hyron open with light, a burning, a brightness that he hadn't felt in so many years. All he could do was nod, and together, the pair departed, off to fill the Guild coffers with gold and their time with each other.

#ldb oc #ldb x brynjolf #brynjolf #tes fic #skyrim fic #tesblr #thieves guild #tes v #my writing #bishop.txt #oc ; hyron aedther #one shot #oc x canon #last dragonborn

[throughtrialbyfire]

6, for any OC?

6 - How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

anon this is such a fantastic one, thank u so much!!

i'm going to answer it with a few characters because i find the exploration of their morals to be really fascinating, if thats alright!

hyron is probably one of the most difficult to sway. he's not exactly a good person, but i would never say he's truly "bad". if he feels something is wrong, he won't do it, plain and simple.

wyndrelis is hard to sway, but not impossible. in fact, some of his backstory hinges on someone using just the right words, just the right tactics, to get him deeper into a hole he had a hard time clawing out of. that's a story for another day, but i think if someone really got in his head, made him feel like he belonged, like his talents and his work was worth something to them - especially someone powerful admiring his work - he would do just about anything.

nethalam has no trouble bending his own morality to suit his needs. he'll gladly assist someone who he shouldn't, if it means he may get something out of it, and if someone else comes along and offers better, he'll take their side instead.

casirus lived his whole life on a different moral code, and it took a long time for him to break out of that. he's still unlearning a lot of what the vigilants of stendarr put into his head about daedra/daedra worship, the gods, etc etc, but he's determined to get better. if someone were to try to bend his morality right now, at this fragile time in his life, i think he would stand up for himself despite how much it makes his knees shake.

thank you so much for sending this! <3

Edgy/misc. OC asks

#bishop.txt #oc ; hyron aedther #oc ; nethalam #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; casirus #asks #ask games

[throughtrialbyfire]

Sovngarde and Helgen for ur lovely ask game <3<3<3

Sovngarde - How would your Last Dragonborn celebrate after the battle with Alduin, or would they celebrate at all?

OOOOOOOOOOO omg ok. i dont think Hyron would celebrate immediately. i think he'd take a minute to process, then of course have to climb his way down the 7,000 steps. THEN i think brynjolf would insist on celebrating, so they'd go to the ragged flagon and host a celebration there

as for the dragonborn trio, i think it would take a while for them to be in the mood for celebration. the defeat of alduin is what they came all this way for, so what now? what do they do once the biggest thing that's haunted them is out of the way?? in short it would take a good while, maybe a few weeks, for them to really decide to sit down and try to celebrate that the dragon crisis is, for all intents and purposes, over.

Helgen - Who was your first Skyrim character? Do you still make anything with them/play as them now?

hyron!! he was the very first skyrim character i ever made. i went into the game and the entire world of TES completely blind, with no clue what to expect and no idea about the lore, so i threw together a high elf and went on adventures. he's developed into much more of an oc now, with his own perspectives and personality. i do like to write about him from time to time, he's a very fun guy and i like that he insisted upon being an actual oc and not just a character i used to play the game and be left at that.

thank you so much for the ask <33333333333

skyrim asks

#bishop.txt #asks #ask game #oc ; hyron aedther #dragonborn trio

[throughtrialbyfire]

11 for any of your ocs for the tes oc questions! :)

11. If they could have any animal or creature in existence as a pet or companion, what would it be? (Assuming said creature would be docile toward them!)

ooooo!!!!!!!! i'm gonna answer for hyron and say wolf >:3 i actually think he would adopt a wolf pup (via circumstances) and it would be his best friend.

thank u for the ask!! <3333

TES oc asks

#bishop.txt #asks #ask game #oc ; hyron aedther

[throughtrialbyfire]

For the Dragonborn Ask Meme: 4, 12, 16, 20, 24!

hey there, thank you so much for the asks!! i'm gonna be answering these for my first LDB oc ever, Hyron Aedther!

4 - At present, how are they perceived by the people of Skyrim? By the general population, and by different factions?

Hyron, in general, is viewed in mixed-high regard. he's the grandson of my HoK, so the legacy of his grandfather follows him. that being said, he did forge his own path and while he has a tendency towards the morally grey, and can come across as gruff and solemn, he did defeat alduin and end the civil war on the side of the empire, so…

as for the factions, that's sort of a mixed basket. he's the guildmaster for the thieves guild, but he's got his hands in most of the others. he's viewed decently due to his dedication and his willingness to work with others, but he tends to keep a distance from other people. the only person who can really get close to him is brynjolf.

12 - Which standing stone have they used for the longest and why?

thief stone! at first it was because he thought it would be good for when he goes into dungeons or ruins, and now he's glad he chose it.

16 - Where did they choose to live and what drew them there? Does it really feel like home?

he lives in riften, in honeyside! it's for the convenience of it, but if he had a real choice, he'd build a cabin right on the river in riverwood and spend his mornings drinking tea/coffee on the porch like an old man.

20 - Which NPC have they killed and absolutely NOT regretted it (excluding the major villains)?

would ulfric count as "not a major villain"? hyron hates ulfric, that was his main motivator for going into the civil war is trying to kill ulfric HAHA

24 - How did they respond to Miraak and what do they feel about him? Do they regret killing him? Did they spare him?

so fun fact, hyrons playthrough is actually on the ps3 without any dlc, so hyron technically never met miraak. however, he would probably see a lot of himself in miraak - or who he could become if he doesn't tread carefully with the powers of the dragonborn - and would probably opt to spare him!

thank you so much!! <33

dragonborn asks

#bishop.txt #oc ; hyron aedther #ldb oc #asks #ask games

[throughtrialbyfire]

typed up a quick piece last night and wound up really liking it, so i'm posting it here! i haven't written hyron before, despite him being my first LDB, so this was a lot of fun. rated G, warning for animal death, 1220 words

"Andronicus"

Caves. Hyron hated caves.

The Dragonborn had never been fond of being sent on petty errands to dig into ancient ruins or rotting hulls of villages or the various nooks and crannies that littered the northern province's geography, but he found himself there regardless of his own wishes. He swept his blade through another one of the ferocious, starved wolves that made their home in the hole cut through the mountain, their whines and growls hitching in his ears with a sharp ending. Just another day's fight. Just another thing he had to do.

He'd come here to retrieve what he supposed could be an item of value. Something Mercer had hidden away in the years he'd been stealing from the Guild. The Altmer figured it did no good to leave the Guild coffers emptied, and had spent many nights deciphering his journals for any indications as to where he may have tossed the twice-stolen loot. Which, of course, lead him here, in the backend of the Reach with nothing else in his mind but getting done and getting back to Riften, to Bryn, to his strange new family.

Silence overwhelmed him as he crept through the dark, Shadowcloak of Nocturnal serving him well. He took out bandits and mage familiars with little problem, wild animals fallen before him as he worked his way through turning corridors and damp caverns. His boots barely made a sound against the dirt beneath him, the drip of moisture echoing down passages as he listened for any other signs of life.

Nothing.

He inhaled deeply of the humid air and kept moving.

He steeled his nerves and took his options in, directions to choose. One lead to a smaller alcove, but upon closer inspection, bore only spider webs. Another seemed to stretch onward to his right, but he wondered if a man could even fit through the entrance. So, straight ahead he went.

Flecks of water landing on the back of his neck made him wince, white hair pulling the liquid down his neck. He shuddered and ignored the sensation, scrunching up his nose. The motion just continued to smear his facepaint, the once sharp, jagged abundance of lines smudged here and there from sweat or rubbing his face on the back of his sleeve.

Out of the abyss charged a wolf, teeth bared, faster than he could ready his blade. Hyron braced, and with a yowl of pain, took the first bite to his arm as he wrenched his sword from its hilt. He had plenty of healing potions, he'd be alright, but gods, it fucking hurt. He had never seen a wolf in such a frenzy, teeth gnashing and back arched, fur on end as it charged him again and again, his sword plunging each time in rapid succession. As it weakened, it still made feeble attempts at him, but the Altmer was faster, and he had magic on his side.

Paralysis.

One strong, steady plunge of the sword.

He slid against the cave wall and began to address his wounds, Restoration against his palm, golden light skimming against the surface of his armor. He knew that the Nightingale Armor was not meant for combat, but it had become a second skin to him. He forgot it wasn't perfect for these sorts of things. But as he worked to heal his injuries and popped the cork from a Cure Disease potion, he could hear something stirring in the far end of the cavern. He braced himself.

Rising to his feet, he cast Detect Life. One single glow came back, small, something resting opposite him. Furrowing his brow, he stepped closer, examining the thing that came into view in the thin light of the cracks in the cave ceiling.

Among dirt and small animal bones slept an ice wolf pup, paws extending in sleep with a large yawn of its tiny mouth.

He cast Detect Life once more, glancing around the room, nerves sending shockwaves through his body as he looked for any signs of another wolf. He realized what he'd slain had been its mother. He swallowed and looked to the pup, dispelling his magic.

Hyron knelt and pressed a hand delicately to its fur. The animal stirred, alarmed at the large thing looming over him. Hyron prepared to cast a calm spell when the little creature began to mouth at his hand, attempting to play with the strange beast that settled near him.

He laughed, awkward, unsteady, but laughed. Hyron sat down along the cave wall, pulling the pup into his lap. It couldn't be more than a couple weeks old. He'd need to find a substitute for its mother's milk until it got old enough to eat meat, but it was a soft thing, and playful, already trying to bite and tussle with Hyron's hands.

No. Gods, no. He'd need to leave it be, what was he thinking? He couldn't bring this animal back to the Guild. Vekel and Dirge hated wolves, they'd lose their shit. But, he thought in a passing motion, Hyron was the new Guildmaster. Perhaps…

He smiled at the creature he'd found, even if the edges of his mouth tamped down with grief. He had no idea how Brynjolf - or the rest of the Guild, for that matter - would react to him carrying this bundle of fur into the Ragged Flagon. And what if it grew to despise them? What if it became wild, even with the best of his care?

Hyron nestled the pup into his arms, pale fur shining against his dark armor, the crest of the Nightingale plastered along his chest as his new companion whined curiously at him.

He couldn't believe he was doing this.

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

"A wolf?" Brynjolf clutched his head in his hands, groaning, pushing his red hair back with his strong palms. "Let me get this straight, lad. You go looking for some of Mercer Frey's stolen goods, and you come back with a wolf?"

The pup mouthed at a length of Hyron's hair. The Altmer nodded. Brynjolf groaned again.

"By the gods," he watched as the tiny beast began to paw at Hyron, the Altmer running his fingers along its head and pulling it higher to his chest, chin pressed between its ears. Brynjolf knew there was no way he'd be able to convince the other out of keeping the thing. The carriage ride from the Reach to the Rift had solidified the relationship between the pair, and every day, the wolf pup seemed to grow more playful and more attached to the strange elf. "Well, do you at least have a name for the thing?"

Hyron thought it over, shrugging. He remembered the nights in Anvil, at his grandfather's mansion, where the older elf would tell him stories of his old friends, the valiant warriors he fought side-by-side with during the Oblivion Crisis, when his name spread far and wide as the Hero of Kvatch. Vyregoth had always said he loathed the title, but would grin at every mention of it. The victories he'd won, the life he'd lead, before he settled down near the sea.

"Andronicus," he finally replied, the pup squirming to be placed on the floor so he could run around the Ragged Flagon, causing him to laugh. "I think Andronicus."

#tes v #skyrim fanfic #brynjolf #thieves guild #ficblr #my writing #oc ; hyron aedther #ldb #ldb oc #last dragonborn #altmer oc #bishop.txt

[throughtrialbyfire]

#bishop.txt #audio #music #posting the song i named this blog after bc it fucks #oc ; emeros #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; athenath #dragonborn trio #cycle of the serpent #oc ; hyron aedther #Bandcamp