#faleen

[nerywen]

bro thinks he's less successful than his uncle, but at least bro has a pet dwarven spider

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday: Silver Lining

Tagged by @saltymaplesyrup, @moriche, and @gilgamish thank you friends❤️

I am tagging @tallmatcha and @dirty-bosmer

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Explicit Category: M/M Genre(s): Romance/Court Intrigue/Monetary Policy and the dangers of an inflation crisis with an inherently deflationary currency

Main pairing: Moth gro-Bagol/Thongvor Silver-Blood

Summary: Moth and Thongvor been friends with benefits since their legion days, and Moth has insisted on staying politically neutral despite Thongvor's ambitions. When the Stormcloaks take Markarth and Thongvor ascends to the Mournful Throne, staying out of politics becomes more dangerous than Moth anticipated.

This WIP Wednesday proceeds directly from the last snippet shared here.

=================================

The great bronze gates shrieked on their hinges as the guards on the timbers levered them into place. A final rush of stragglers slipped through before the doors closed with a final, booming clang. Moth was faint with relief as he spotted a familiar soot-stained tunic and apron among the dark green of the Markarth guards and bright steel of the Legionnaires.

“Ghorza, praise Malacath,” he said, drawing his sister into a quick embrace. Behind Ghorza, Tacitus, her apprentice, bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “We need to get to—”

The winches on either side of the gates were released, and the guards that had been holding them sprang back as the drum gears spun freely. On the other side of the thick bronze, metal slid over metal as the heavy portcullis slammed into place. A team of Legionnaires slid the thick drawbar, hewn from the trunk of a single fir tree, across the doors. It rested beneath the release levers, locking them in place.

“Archers!” The echoes of the order were subsumed by the sound of the shutters opening on the arrow loops around the doorway. Guards pressed forward, bows drawn.

Moth, Ghorza, and Tacitus turned as one and made for the smithy. As they passed through the open arch that separated the entrance hall from the main palace, Moth slowed to a jog as Calcelmo, the court wizard, and Aicantar, his assistant and nephew, came running from the passage that led to the old Dwemer ruins. Calcelmo’s arms were full of parchment scrolls and books, and Aicantar was practically dragging him along. The old Altmer was trying to turn back down the passage.

“Uncle, we have to leave it!” Aicantar was saying.

“But the artifacts—those soldiers will just take them all!”

“The museum is guarded, and we have your research notes, we have to leave them!”

Another robed figure came pelting up the rough-hewn passage behind Calcelmo: Brother Verulus. He grabbed Calcelmo’s other arm and with Aicantar compelled Calcelmo forward.

“Aicantar, Verulus!” Moth called to the men, beckoning them. “We’ll shelter in the smithy, hurry!”

Moth turned and continued following Ghorza and Tacitus, trusting self-preservation would keep them following.

Behind them, a loud bang that shook dust and loose stones from the ceiling sounded from the gates.

There was a different sort of chaos in the palace. Servants scurried this way and that, the sound of doors slamming and draw bars sliding into place echoed up and down the residence halls. Anton the cook was pulling the jarl’s hunting hounds into the kitchen by their collars, swearing at them as they strained against him, whining to return to their master’s side. Igmund and Raerek stood at the top of the stairs: Igmund in his armor, but bare-headed except for the jarl’s circlet. Raerek was unarmored, but wore a sword at his side. They were deep in conversation.

“Moth—” Igmund called out as Moth hurried by.

“Yes, my Jarl?” He bowed, perhaps more deeply than usual, aware that unless the tide of the battle made a most unlikely turn, it would be for the last time. “How may I be of service?”

“By keeping yourself safe.” Igmund clapped Moth on the shoulder, giving it a bracing squeeze. “You have served the Mournful Throne faithfully. You as well, Calcelmo,” Igmund said, looking over Moth’s shoulder to where Calcelmo, Aicantar, and Verulus were just cresting the stairs. “Long may both of you continue to do so, no matter the outcome of this battle.”

“Thank you, my Jarl. It has been an honor to serve your household,” Moth said.

“And now it is my turn to face my fate with honor,” Igmund responded. “I trust your personal ties with Thongvor will keep you and Ghorza safe, but as my last command to you: look after the other servants, if that becomes necessary. Galmar and Thongvor are honorable, but soldiers in the heat of battle…”

“Of course, my Jarl.”

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Topps (1996) - Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire Trading Cards - #51 - Take That, Xizor! by Greg & Tim Hildebrandt

[fishysos]

The only canon Skyrim couple that matters to me. plus that one drawing meme by sweepswoop_ on twitter.

I made Faleen older bc she looks so young in game and I refuse to believe she is for my own sanity.

[scribeofskyrim]

Turdas, 14th of Evening Star, 4E 201

All right, I'm clean, we're in Markarth, and now I'm sitting at the bar, waiting on the others to wash up.

I just wanted to write about the trip here real quick. It wasn't much special. It looked like there was a path up the mountainside just right of the campsite, so after we had breakfast and broke camp, we decided to see if we could save time by going up and over the hill .

It was a bit of a steep climb up, but we got over just fine. We ran into a hunter with a cozy little mountaintop cabin that we traded with real quick before going on our way. Valdimar wasn't too thrilled about the slide down the other side, though.

I'll admit, it was a lot steeper than it looked, but we all got down safely. Septim had to be coaxed, and I couldn't help but joke if a bottle of mead might tempt the big guy down!

It was worth it, though. I decided to go down at that point because we could all see a Stormcloak encampment at the base of the hillside. I wanted to see if they would take what we'd gotten from the Falmer. They didn't want any of that, but we did have some regular armor and weapons to trade, which the camp quartermaster was glad for.

Anyway, I asked them if the hill in front of us, just across the river, was climbable, and they said it was. In fact, they pointed out a goat path! I could see some ruins at the top, too. Nothing big, just some small arches, but it was a handy landmark.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Lydia's out. now we're just waiting for the guys.

Anyway, after we finished our business, I thanked them for the travel tip and we kept going. There were a few chunks of Dwemer ruins by the water, and lucky me, I found a chest with some gold in it!

We crossed the river, but that didn't do much to help with the dirt. We went up and over the goat path, and were pleasantly surprised to find that there were steps going down the other side. They were worn and a bit crumbly, but it was better than nothing! The steps led us right into Karthwasten, and we waved to Ainethach as we walked through town.

I don't think he even recognized us at first, but I don't blame him. We were a mess!

The walk from Karthwasten to Markarth was mostly quiet, aside from being jumped by a trip of Forsworn by the house near the bridge to Old Hroldan. Luckily, they weren't too hard to handle, and we kept them from slaughtering a traveler who was on the path a bit ahead of us.

And then we got here! We came straight here and paid for a bath.

The bath here is very Dwemer in style, and it looks like they reused old bits of ruins to build it, along with newer parts filling in the gaps. Valdimar said the Dwemer chairs and such they had down there were copies, but the bath is still really nice! I can tell they took full advantage of the Dwemer technology left over to heat everything.

And that's it! I guess I'll braid Lydia's hair while we wait.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Divines, can't the Daedra leave me alone?!

I mean, I know I messed up, but why ME, of all people?

Molag Bal's an idiot.

We're back at the Inn. We haven't gone to see Calcelmo yet because I had to be NICE and offer to help a Vigilant check out a suspicious building.

The others insisted that I sit down, and said we should all eat an early dinner and have a drink before we go talk with him, and honestly, that was a good idea.

I do feel better after a bit of food, but I know I'll feel A LOT better after I write down what happened.

So, we left the Inn and were on our way to Calcelmo's lab when a Vigilant standing by a door set into the rock addressed Erandur as "Brother" and asked him if we'd seen anyone go in or out of there. He said we hadn't. In fact, we just got here, and the Vigilant said that something strange was going on. No one else in town had seen anyone coming or going, either.

And yet, there were reports of noises and such coming from inside. The Vigilance suspected Daedric activity, so he was sent to investigate.

Erandur shifted uncomfortably when he went to look at the door, and said that he could feel the evil coming off of it. The Vigilant agreed, and asked if we'd be willing to help him check it out.

I figured it wouldn't take long, so I agreed. I followed him in first, with Septim on my heels. The door closed behind me, but when I went to try and open it, it wouldn't. I went to speak with the Vigilant, who'd introduced himself as Tyranus, but he was busy making notes about the state of the place.

He was right, though. The food was fresh, the lights lit, and it all looked like someone had simply… stepped out for a moment.

Septim started to whine, and I tried but couldn't pick the lock on the door.

It was like… I know I would've thought I was crazy if I didn't experience what happened later, but it was like something pushed the lockpicks out of the keyhole!

I decided to follow Tyranus, and I just hoped the others weren't panicking too badly out there.

We eventually found a locked door that led to the basement, when all of a sudden there was a terrible, booming voice in my head.

It felt like the time Vaermina spoke to me, and I could tell that the voice was speaking to Tyranus, too. The man panicked, and ran towards the exit. We were sacred, too, so Septim and I followed him. As we ran, things started flying off the shelves at us! Bottles of wine, baskets, plates - Things were moving around, and when we got back to the main room, where there was a dining table with chairs, all the chairs were stacked on top of the table, perfectly balanced.

It's something that would take even two people more than a bit of time to do, but this happened in the handful of seconds between us finding the locked door and running back here!

The voice told me that the other was weak, but I was strong, and that I had to kill him!

Obviously I didn't want to kill Tyranus, but I'm sure he was being told the same thing as me, because he suddenly said that it was me or him, and then he attacked me!

Septim lunged at him, and that gave me enough time to summon my Flame Atronach while I dodged the flying junk that Molag Bal was throwing around.

You know, for a Daedric Prince, that felt a bit like a temper tantrum a little kid would throw.

Anyway, once Tyranus was dead, the voice said I could have a reward, and beckoned me to follow it back to that door.

And because I'm stupid, I didn't even think to check if the front door was unlocked, so down I went.

I know, I know! I was still jittery and confused because of what just happened, all right?

But don't worry, I got even Stupider!

You see, once I went down the steps, I found myself in a basement, and then I ended up in a tunnel dug out of the back and into some Dwemer ruins. Just a little section, though. It was a small room, with a black pedestal, a creepy-looking altar-type thing, and there was a rusty, very spiky mace hovering there. The voice told me to claim my reward, and I figured oh, well, why not?

I said I was stupid.

I should've listened to Septim.

He was whining and growling .

I reached for the mace, and a ring of spike-like cage bars sprung up from the floor, and trapped me!

The voice called me a fool, and that was when it reveled itself as Molag Bal.

He wanted to know what I saw, and I told him that I saw a rusty old mace that I'd be lucky to get 50 septims for.

This made him less than happy, and he went on to explain that a cultist of Boethiah had desecrated it in her name.

I know the Daedra have rivalries, but I had no idea it was this petty. That's like spilling wine on a lady's dress after she insults your friend!

Anyway, he gave me the offer to help him get revenge, but I refused. I said I didn't want to help him in the first place! I didn't want to kill Tyranus, but he gave me no choice!

He agreed to let me go, and said that the priest who insulted him was also a prisoner, but not one of his. He told me that the priest was in pain, suffering and left to rot. I could save him, and then bring him there.

And then the spikes dropped, and we bolted for the door.

The others were relieved to see me. They'd heard the fight and things breaking, but they had to act like nothing was bothering them as the guards walked by. Lydia and Valdimar both gave me one of their bear hugs, but Erandur recoiled slightly when he went to give me one.

He excused himself, then put his hand over my heart. I could feel a flash of warmth from his hand, and my vision went all gold and fuzzy for a second.

After the blessing, he smiled and said, "Much better!" and gave me a hug.

Anyway, writing it did help me calm down. I'm ready to shake off the last bit of that icky feeling from having a Daedric prince in my head that Erandur's blessing didn't banish. Helping Calcelmo with his love problem should do it!

-/-/-/-/-/-

Now that things have quieted down, I can write.

And I'm gonna need to! I'm sure at least Erandur and Lydia aren't going to remember much of what happened. Valdimar might, though.

They're ALL gonna have hangovers tomorrow!

So, we went to Calcelmo's lab in Understone Keep, and told him we were there to help him with his problem.

He was surprised to see us again, and at first thought we were there to help clear out more ruins. Aicantar and another man were there, both working, so Erandur quietly explained that he was a priest of Mara. Calcelmo realized why we were really there, and gestured for us to go off to the side a bit, away from prying ears.

He confessed that he had a crush on Faleen, the Jarl's housecarl. It was so bad that whenever he was around her, he would get so nervous he shook, and couldn't talk!

I have to admit, it was adorable to hear him talk about how much just being around her flustered him. Being an Altmer, there was no way he could hide the blush that started as soon as he started talking about her.

He said he could never hope to speak with her. He'd seen firsthand how quickly she turned on men who offended her. He compared her to a sabercat!

We asked if there was anyone who knew what she likes. He could safely strike up a conversation that way, and see where it goes.

He suggested that we talk to Faleen's friend, Yngvar. He said that Yngvar was popular with the ladies, but thankfully Faleen wasn't his type. Yngvar's a guard at the Treasury House, but Calcelmo said we could probably find him drinking at the Silver-Blood Inn now that his shift was done.

So, we came back here. There was a big Nord outside, already a few meads deep and singing a loud song.

I'd seen him at the bar before, and he asked if things were "bloody enough" for me.

Given how my day had gone, I told him it was bloody enough, and then he told me to leave! Blood and Silver was what ran Markarth, and if I couldn't take the blood, I should go.

Whatever. I rolled my eyes and said I already killed one man today, and I didn't want to stain my robes any more than they already were.

I gestured to the fresh blood, and he just laughed. He said I was all right, and called me "sister." He asked what he could do for me, and I told him we were looking for Yngvar.

Of course, he was Yngvar, and wanted to know why we were looking for him. I told him that I heard he might be able to tell me more about Faleen and what she likes. He gave me a look and asked if I was interested in her.

I told him we weren't here for me, then leaned in and whispered that we were here for Calcelmo.

He laughed about that, and said he should've known! He was happy for the both of them, and said that Faleen could use a man like him in her life. He swung his arm over my shoulder, then leaned in and whispered that Faleen likes to act tough, but has a secret soft spot for poetry.

Turns out, Yngvar took some classes at the Bard's College when he was younger, and he had a knack for poetry. He said he had a poem that worked great when he was courting an older lady in Rorikstead. He could change it up a bit for Faleen and sell it to me, if I had the gold.

I was annoyed about the money at the time, but given that he's probably spent it all on drinks for us tonight, I'll let it go.

I did consider asking Erandur to write one, but we were short on time and I honestly wanted to see what sort of poem a woman like Faleen might enjoy. So, I handed over the 200 septims, and after a few minutes with a quill (he had it memorized!) he handed me the poem. He recommended just handing the paper to Faleen rather than giving it to Calcelmo to learn. Given how he acted around her, Yngvar was certain he'd mess it up, and we all agreed.

I thanked him, and we headed for the Keep. He said we'd probably find her having dinner at this hour, so we went inside and asked a guard where we could find Faleen. He pointed to a Redguard woman eating at a side table, and I walked over with Septim to talk to her. The others hung back and waited.

I apologized for interrupting her dinner, and said that I wanted to talk to her about Calcelmo. She was curious about why, and I asked if she had any thoughts about him.

She called him an "odd little man" and while she didn't sound too impressed about his work with Dwemer artifacts, she seemed to like his intelligence.

I almost laughed at her calling him "little". He's really tall!

She wanted to know why I asked about him, and I said I was just curious. She called me strange for that, and then I slipped the paper to her and said it was from him.

She was a bit confused, but read the poem and couldn't believe it when she was finished. I told her that Calcelmo cared about her, and while she admitted that she'd never thought of him like that before, the poem was giving her ideas.

It was a really good poem. We read it on the way over, and while Erandur admitted that it wasn't what he would've written - Most women don't like being compared to stones and mountains - he had to agree that it seemed perfect for Faleen.

She had me wait a moment while she wrote a letter for me to take back. She said she wasn't as good with words as he was, but she hoped it would be enough for him to understand.

We went back to Calcelmo's lab, and handed him the letter from Faleen. He read it, and asked what poem she was talking about. We explained the situation, and thankfully he wasn't mad about it.

He said he had to go see her right away, so we followed from what I think was a respectful distance.

We watched from the lower level as he went up to her. We couldn't hear what they said, but it must've been good, because she grabbed the sides of his hood and pulled him in for a kiss!

Some of the other guards who were eating nearby cheered, and we couldn't help but laugh before we left the Keep.

It was dark out, and we came back here to the Inn for dinner and drinks. We ran into Yngvar when we got inside and told him what happened. He was so happy for Faleen that he declared the first round was on him!

Other people, clearly guards, asked what happened, and when they heard that Faleen had finally found a man, it turned into a party!

I was happy to accept the drinks pushed my way, but Lydia told me that I already used up my Stupid privileges for the day. She said I could only have two drinks, and that it was their turn to be Stupid!

Again, in hindsight, I'm glad I agreed to that, because otherwise I wouldn't have remembered what happened later.

As the evening went on and everyone got more and more drunk, Lydia started to look a little down. Normally she gets all giggly and happy, but not this time.

I was about to say something when Erandur, who'd just finished singing a particularly bawdy song, sat back down and noticed her moping. He asked what was wrong, but she just sighed and said, "Erandur, you're an expert on love, right?"

He laughed and said that he wouldn't call himself an expert, but he'd help if he could. He asked what the problem was, and by the Nine, I've never seen her look so sad! She turned to him and asked, "Erandur, am I broken?"

He put his arm around her shoulder, assured her that she wasn't and asked why she would ever think such a thing.

Valdimar was in the seat next to Erandur, and while he'd been keeping up with the others on their drinks, it takes a lot to get him really drunk. He was still pretty red in the face, though, and swayed a bit when he turned to watch.

Lydia said that while she was happy for Calcelmo and Faleen and "those other people" we helped, she just didn't understand what the fuss was about. She confessed that she's never fallen in love! She doesn't even want to! She's just not interested in romance, at least, not for herself.

I was going to say something about that, because I know for a fact that she reads romance books! Not to mention all the gossiping we do about Erandur and Valdimar!

Anyway, Erandur nodded at this, all wise-like, and said that the real problem was one that he'd gotten in a lot of arguments about with other priests. Mara is the goddess of love, but no one ever really bothers to explain what kind of love. Some of them, like Maramal, only believe Her to be the goddess of romantic love, but Erandur and most of the others say that She oversees all the different kinds of love!

Lydia asked what he meant by different kinds, and he took another drink from his wine bottle before explaining that yes, there were many different kinds of love. He said that you can feel love for your family and that's different than what you feel for your friends, and also for what you feel for things like nature and gods and everything else. It's all right to not feel one of those.

"There's love everywhere," he said.

She said that she always heard finding "The One" was the most important thing in life, and Erandur actually grumbled about that and said that was horseshit. Love is everything, so how could you say that one type of love is better than another? "Love is love is love" he said, if it's for a partner or partners or your friends or your family. None of them is more important than or better than the others, and she wasn't less of a person or broken for not wanting one of those.

She said she only really loved her friends. Her family was all right, but she could deal with them not liking her, and she didn't care about romance, but not having friends would be awful!

Erandur said that was just fine. He's a priest of Mara, and he would know! He said that we needed more words for the different kinds of love, because whenever people said they loved someone, everyone always thought it was in a romantic way, and that wasn't good enough. There are plenty of ways to love people!

Valdimar piped up that they had Shield-Sisters and War-Wives and such, and Erandur agreed that yes, that was a start, but those were words for soldiers and warriors "and other fighty people". He said we needed more words, because he loved almost everyone and everything, but whenever he said that people thought he was crazy.

Lydia asked if he really loved everyone, and he said that yes, he did, just in different ways.

Erandur gave her a hug and said that, for example, he loved her, and she smiled and said she loved him "like a friend!" and hugged him back. He asked if now she understood why we needed more words, and she nodded with a very serious look on her face and agreed that we need "more better" words.

Then he let her go and gestured to me with his wine bottle and said, "And I love you, Bronwen." I told him I loved him, too, but it was hard to not burst out laughing! He damn near fell off the stool!

And then - Oh, I hope hope hope Lydia remembers!

He leaned on Valdimar and said, "And I love you, too, Valdimar."

Valdimar turned even redder and just laughed as he said, "I love you, Erandur."

And then, to make his point, Erandur raised his drink and shouted, "I love you, Markarth!" while he was still leaning on Valdimar.

Someone from the back told him to shut up, and he shot back, "I still love you, even if some of your people are rude!"

Lydia was laughing after that, and back to her normal, happy drunk self for the rest of the night.

That included having to walk her to her room and make sure she actually got into bed. She tends to fall asleep anywhere when she's had too many!

Valdimar and Erandur went to their rooms shortly after I got Lydia to hers, and that just leaves me and a few others. Septim's in my room, sleeping. He spent most of the evening begging for snacks from the revelers and getting a bunch of attention, so he's all worn out with a full belly!

Oh, I hope they remember it when they wake up. I had no idea Lydia was like that, and I can't understand it, but that's fine. I don't understand a lot of things, and that doesn't make them any less real.

Besides, she's not alone in thinking that she's broken. I used to think I was, too.

I never understood what Dru and the other girls were going on about when we'd be drinking together and they'd start talking about the people they wanted to sleep with, or play a game like "Bed, Wed, Behead."

I usually got yelled at because I never voted to Bed anyone.

It's not that I don't enjoy it or think it's terrible, it's just that I don't think I look at people the same way everyone else does. I've seen Dru (and a lot of other people) do a lot of really Stupid things simply because someone caught their fancy.

I mean, I always thought I was laying it on real thick and being too obvious when we were working, and I'll never understand how a low-cut dress can make a man not notice his pocket being picked, but it works!

When I see a beautiful person, I don't get all heated like that. Sometimes they're beautiful like a waterfall, or a mountain or the stars. Some people are like flowers, or jewels, or a bolt of silk. Some people are like a storm or a cold drink on a hot day.

I'm rambling with my ink. I've never really thought about it before, at least, not in a way I can put down.

I'm so glad I started keeping a journal!

Anyway, I guess I just… "see" different.

Oh, well. If there can be people out there like Lydia who don't fall in love, there can be people like me who don't fall in lust, right?

I mean, it just makes sense.

I'd better get to bed. We got a long walk to Riften tomorrow!

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[scribblewing]

Rummaged through my old scanned files and found some chibis from 5 years ago to colour. Quil was in the middle of a redesign at that time, who knows how much of it'll stick.

[dumpsterhipster]

Dancing Day by FourCatProductions / @darklight-tower

fandom || Skyrim rating || T categories || multi pairings || multiple genre || vignette cluster, character study characters of note || Thonar Silver-Blood, Thongvor Silver-Blood, Betrid Silver-Blood, Calcelmo, Faleen, Uraccen, Voada, Rumarin status || 1/1. 5.6k

There's a holiday celebration in honor of some visiting dignitaries. Markarth celebrates.

***

“Imperial holidays,” Thongvor said by way of greeting, and his tone made it clear what he thought of the matter (and indeed, of all things Imperial). “What a great load of pomp.”

Thonar, who had had a headache since the parades began earlier that morning, massaged one throbbing temple and took another sip from his now-full goblet.

“It’s Breton. Comes from Daggerfall.”

“Same thing,” Thongvor said. “Did you know Igmund’s got them watering down the wine?”

“I did. Which begs the question, how are you already drunk?”

***

I loved every single scene here so much, and I absolutely love the transition from 'privileged position at the heart of power in the keep', moving outward to the periphery [...] It's a wonderful structure for a piece where everything stands on its own, but is also deepened in context: oblivious Nord power, the servants (esteemed, not at all esteemed) who support it, the prisoners who unsuccessfully resisted it, and then finally the active resistance. -- wandavon

I am NOT OKAY. -- cosmikaze

[gentek]