Little Book of Drabbles

by NoAnonymity

Summary:

The cumulative work of all the 100 Word Drabbles I've posted on my Tumblr.

Chapter 1: Cicero

"Stop looking at me like that, weirdo."
But he couldn't, and he wouldn't. The dragonborn felt chills up their spine as the jester’s eyes twinkled, his hands still firmly locked around theirs from the exchange of coin.
Such a kind stranger to help Cicero and poor mother, kind enough to use such gentle language upon him too, when most would spit, or flee.
Not this one, they'd fixed his wheel, and deserved far more than a measly handful of gold.
He kissed across their hand, up their wrist, and cackled when they yanked themselves free, before setting off briskly down the road.

__

“I’m right here, okay?”
The listener pressed their hand to his side, their glove slick with blood.
His hand grasped at their wrist, as tightly as he could muster in his weakened state, a wobbly, tearful smile upon his face.
"Dear listener is soiling their clothes" he murmured, curling tighter into their arms.
“Who did this?”
"The wolf" he spat, feeling the burn of the three deep claw marks on his hip.
He trembled in their hold, their hand petting gently through his hair, and their lips pressing soft kisses to his temple.
Despite his weak pleas, they refused to leave his side, not until the sun had rose high and the bleeding had stopped, and the loyal keeper had faded into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke, he promised himself he would return to their side.
His listener. Their keeper.

--

"Cicero, by Sithis, be serious for two minutes please!"
Bodies lay around their feet, yet the jester insisted on dancing, humming a cheery tune as he splashed in the puddles of blood.
"Dance with me listener!"
His laughter was infectious as he grabbed their hands, spinning and twirling them around the camp.
He moved like a torch bug trapped in a jar, but still the dragonborn laughed with him, and in the void Sithis laughed with them. The listener and keeper taking joy in his work.
Murder could be all fun and games with the right jester at your side.

--

She hadn't meant to leave the skooma out, let alone leave it amongst the bottles of home brewed healing potions. How was the jester to know his listener kept narcotics with her potions?
When she'd sent him to drink a bottle to assist in the healing of his latest wound, she hadn't anticipated finding him lounging half-naked upon the steps of the night mother.
"Cicero, are you high?"
He burst into a fit of echoing laughter.
"No listener! Silly listener!" He continued to giggle. "Cicero is small!"
"Cicero, how high are you?"
"It is hi, how are you? But thank you for asking!"

--

The jester hummed happily, plucking merrily at the strings of his non-existent lute. His voice was hushed as he sung morbid tunes of cats and young maids.
"Cicero."
He pranced as his song reached its crescendo, ignorant of his listener frantically glancing at the sleeping family around the small hut.
He hoped onto their table, the listener narrowly catching the bowl that fell, yet the keeper paid no mind, finishing his song and eagerly beginning another.
"Can you shut up for five minutes!?"
They keeper flinched, and immediately the listener regretted shocking the jester, and more so regretting awakening the entire house.

--

“Cicero.”
Their voice was stern and clipped, brow set in a heavy frown as the imperial buried himself further beneath the covers.
“No! The listener wishes to give me poison! To quiet poor Cicero and send him swiftly to Sithis!”
He wailed, although muffled by the sheet.
“Cicero you have a cold, you’re not dying, though if you keep up this act I might entertain the idea.”
The shifting halted at once, the jester’s reddened face appearing from beneath.
“Truly, listener?”
He whimpered, pulling at their heartstrings with his childish pout.
“No, Cicero.”
They sighed.
“But you must take your medicine, or I’ll just tell mom on you.”

--

“Come to me, my keeper.”
Their voice was low and sultry, oozing over the keeper’s body and tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. A shiver ran across his skin, and despite the view of their silk draped body laying across their bed, he persisted in his nightly rituals.
After all, he reasoned, if he was in poor condition, how could he aptly pleasure his listener?
He stripped himself bare, flushing at the heavy breath they took in anticipation, followed by the impatient clawing at the sheets as he began to neatly fold his attire.
He’d barely unclasped the hem of his trousers when he felt their bare chest against his back.
“Bed. Now.”

--

“Is a chicken really a bird if it can’t fly?”
The listener groaned burying their face into their pillow.
‘Leaving that pure moon sugar out was such a bad idea.’ They though bitterly.
Now, it was far past midnight and the ‘sample’ the jester had taken would probably keep him tittering till dawn.
It wasn’t foreign for Cicero to mutter and sleep talk, but tonight’s conjured questions had the listener questioning their handle on reality.
“And coconuts! If they have hair and milk, why aren’t they mammals!”
“They don’t have nipples!” The listener snapped, tackling the jester to the bed. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

--

“Take off your shirt.”
The listener hadn't expected their keeper to be so abrupt in his request, though they supposed his urgency was due to the blood slowly seeping into their garment.
"Mother will have my head if Listener dies. Cicero must keep his Listener safe."
The listener chuckled softly, mind wondering as the jester tended to their wounds. He was ever so gentle. And as the final bandage was tied into place, they couldn't restrain themselves from placing a tender kiss against his cheek.
"You do keep me safe, my dear keeper."
The man stared incredulously, was the listener not aware of the injuries they had sustained?
"But you were injured dear listener! The safest place for you is home, with Mother."
The listener chuckled again, resting their forehead against his own.
“When I’m with you, I’m home, my sweet Cicero."

Chapter 2: Marcurio

"Marcurio can you shut up for five minutes, please???"
The dragonborn was exasperated, close to tearing the mage's tongue from his mouth.
"Certainly not! I am a master of the arcane! If we get arrested my reputation will be ruined!" He argued, red in the cheeks from his fury.
The dragonborn pulled him into a quiet corner, footfalls of the guards following close behind.
"You are impossible." They muttered, pressing him against the wall and themselves upon him. He shut up when air left his lungs, kissing in the cover of darkness, guards passing by without a second thought.

--

“Besides, pick-up lines only work when I’m drunk.”
His anger flared to life at their response, were they flirting back?
The imperials nostrils flared, eyes burning into the back of the thief’s chair. He’d initially dreaded entering the flagon due to the smell, but now he had even more reason to despise the place.
His cheeks were set aflame as the dragonborn locked their eyes upon him with a smirk, gently biting at their knuckle to suppress their laughter.
They knew he was watching!
With burning determination, he swooped past and snatched up the dragonborn.
Two could play at this game.

--

“Where’s my food?”
The imperial gaped at the pile of rich cuisine piled upon the dragonborn’s plate, his sat sparsely beside theirs at the banquet table.
“Important parties served first my charming little sidekick.”
He choked upon the saliva gathering in his mouth.
“Sidekick!?”
They chuckled into their napkin at his pitched whispers, his cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“You and I both know you’d be dead without me! I’m just as important.”
“Cry me a river Marc, just because you’re important to me doesn’t mean they recognise that.”
He’d taken pause at that, watching as they slid a portion of their meal upon his plate.

Chapter 3: Argis the Bulwark

"Comfy there?"
"Mhm, definitely, pillows are over-rated"
The dragonborn settled themselves further into the Nord, pressed so close against his chest they could feel his chuckle rumble through him.
Scarred hands ran absent-mindedly along their skin, their breaths in sync as sleep overtook the pair.
Argis wouldn't sleep as soundly tonight - too conscious of his lover laying upon him like a cat - but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make, if only to see their eyes bright from a night of deep slumber, especially in a city where the beds are made of stone.

--

“Congratulations hero, now you have a black eye to compliment your white one.”
The Nord groaned, his heavy weight swaying from foot to foot as the dragonborn guided him up the steep steps to Vlindrel Hall.
“Wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that.”
Grumbled his deep baritone, slow-paced and slurring from the alcohol.
“You know I can look after myself, you big idiot. You don’t need to be getting yourself into fights – that’s my job.”
“Sorry,”
his forehead pressed close to theirs, heady mead on his breath.
“I’m protective over the things I love.”

Chapter 4: Anbarys Rendar

Their eyes watched him carefully as he worked his hair, ashen fingers sweeping loose strands into a bun.
The dust had barely settled from his sweeping, and one loose strand brushed against his nose.
He sneezed, high pitched like a small animal. He sneezed again, and soon there were more strands needing to be fixed back into place.
"I'm sorry but that was adorable."
He'd forgotten the dragonborn’s presence in the corner, and their growing smirk fanned the flames in his cheeks till he was a dark purple up to his ears.
He swept with the door open from then on.

Chapter 5: Torvar

"You're breaking my heart, babe!"
But they wouldn't hear it, continuing to tightly pack the bottles of wine and mead into the chest, before sealing it with the turn of a key.
"I didn't want to do this Torvar, but you've left me no choice, you're going dry, for a week minimum."
The man looked as if he was about to cry, following behind the dragonborn as they left the room.
They nearly conceded when he began to sniffle.
But the image of him streaking through Whiterun as he had the night before quickly erased the sympathy they held.

Chapter 6: Farkas

Modern AU
"Love? Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash?"
Why had she made him empty the bins? Why hadn't she thrown that thing straight in the bins outside?
Her periods had been late before, but never this long, Nd that damn stick had revealed why, but she'd wanted to take another before saying anything, just to be sure - or just to delay it.
"what do two lines mean?" She let out a shuddering breath, turning to face him, his eyes wide with confusion and breaths rising with the hammering of his heart.
It was time for a talk.

--

The dragonborn perched at the edge of the bed, forced from it by the tossing and turning of their lover.
Farkas woke with a start, sweating and breathless.
"I'm here my love."
They whispered, and desperately he searched for their hand in the dark.
"Sing to me, please?"
He near begged, pulling their hand to him and kissing over the palm.
They shuffled beneath the sheets, leant against the headboard with his head resting in their lap.
Fingers ran through his hair, and as a soft and gentle melody filled his ears, he felt clear, and calm with them.

--

Modern AU
"Farkas!"
They hollered from the top of the stairs, their casted leg resting on their heel.
"Love, I said I'd bring you breakfast in bed."
He announced as he came to the bottom.
"Yeah but then I miss my husband dancing about the kitchen in nothing but boxers."
He sighed and shook his head, bounding up the stairs and picking them up bridal style. He laughed with them as they descended the stairs, and continued to do so as he carried right through to the kitchen.
"Am I your husband or your taxi service?"
"Depends how you take your payment."

--

“You sure we don’t have enough?”
He chuckled deeply, his grin beaming as he watched the collection of children running across the riverbank.
“Not at all, what makes you think we do?”
The dragonborn smirked, eyes glancing from him to their flock.
“We started with one and now we have seven. I don’t think there are any orphans left in Skyrim.”
“There are places we’ve yet to check, there are lives we’ve yet to change. Unless you no longer want to do this?”
Thick, rough, fingers slipped between theirs.
“I never want to stop, not as long as I have you.”

--

His fingers plucked idly, the curve of his lute resting upon his thigh, chair leaned back, and boots perched atop his bar.
His companion rested against the headboard of his bed, furs wrapped loosely around their waist, their eyes lidded as they hummed along with his playing.
“Sing to me? Please.”
He whispered, daring not to disturb the quiet tranquillity they’d created.
A smile stretched across their face, eyes barely opening as their humming turned to a quiet melody, simple and soulful, blending perfectly with the acoustics of his lute.
A song to their sanctuary.

--

There was a time when Farkas longed for Jorrvaskr, when contracts would lead him so far from the hall that he wouldn't care for gold or glory, he just wanted home.
His brother, Kodlak, his bar that sheltered his books and Tilma's cooking. It would be all he wanted.
Then he met the dragonborn.
And suddenly that longing was no longer there, instead he found himself longing for their company and the rejuvenated sense of adventure they brought.
They noticed of course - he never was the most subtle - and soon enough they fell into something far more meaningful than shield siblings. He loved them. And they loved him.
"Morning sleepy head."
"You know I wasn't sleeping" no, just dreaming deeply, of them, obviously.
"I know, but I feel mean calling you lazy. Now come on, we need to make tracks back to Jorrvaskr."
"What’s the rush?
He sat up, pulling them back into his bed.
"Don't you want to go home?"
He smiled, kissing their forehead.
“When I’m with you, I’m home.”

--

He hadn't meant to get so drunk, but then again, he hadn't anticipated the newest member to be such good company.
The day had been long, and their success at Dustman's Cairn was reason enough for celebration, and Farkas found himself longing for excuses to stay in their presence, even if it meant drowning himself in cheap mead.
Now here he was, stumbling down the stairs of Jorrvaskr, resting almost all his weight on their shoulders. He was considerably impressed they could hold him up so well.
It wasn't until he was in his bed, that he realised they would be leaving him, alone, and at risk of his wolf taking him wandering in his inebriated state.
So, he reached out, fingers looping around their wrist.
“Please stay with me.”

Chapter 7: Vilkas

"I thought you didn’t like cats?"
The small creature purred at Vilkas through the bars, his fingertips grazing the fur of its cheek.
The khajit had replenished stock from their homeland, and the gentle creature had seemed to captivate the Nord, to the dragonborns delight.
He'd seemed further impressed when Ma'dran had displayed its ability to catch mice and rats, and soon he was handing over a pouch of his coin.
"Rat catcher for the cellar?"
He cradled the cage beneath his arm almost tentatively.
"Aye, and to stop the kids from bringing home forest creatures."

--

"I don't know why I married you."
His words hammered in his head and weighed down his heart, but not as much as the guilt. Vilkas knew he'd said awful words, the likes the measly bouquet of flowers in his hand didn't make up for. They had every right to be angry.
He'd been tired, drunk, jealous, stupidly so, and he couldn't bear to think how badly his beloved felt if he felt this bad.
He was surprised when the door opened and no slap to the face followed.
"I want to say I'm sorry."

--

"We have two dragon sightings, five dungeons to delve, twelve items to deliver, two jarls to meet, and one world to save."
"...or we could make out..."
He'd started at their words, the long list in his hand suddenly forgotten as he stared at them wide-eyed.
"You know we have a lot of things that need our attention, correct?"
"Well I need attention too! Self-care and all that."
They muttered, feet kicking idly at the snow. He could see the blush tinting their cheeks. It had been quite a while since they'd last been together.
"Come here you."

--

Music spilled from the Mare with each opening of the doors, the travelling bards making revelry bloom within the tavern’s walls. The fire had been smothered, and dancers filled the fire pit, spinning, and looping, and clapping to the music.
Vilkas joined the onlookers at the benches, arms crossed with a grin as a particular dancer caught his eye. The dragonborn moved with endearing clumsiness, making them crack their smile even wider when they caught his gaze. They wove through the crowd to him, smiling cheekily with a flushed face.
“I’ve never seen you dance before.”
“How’s about a front-row seat?” They smirked, looping his arm and pulling him into the crowd.

--

Vilkas watched from the porch as the newest whelp sparred - or rather, slaughtered - a training dummy.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he announced between a particularly savage strike, one that severed the head from the straw body. "Falmer are hardly a force to be taken lightly."
"Still got my ass kicked." They responded bitterly.
"But you got out alive, not many people can say that."
They considered him silently for what he deemed an uncomfortably long time.
“Don’t look at me like that.” he shuffled in place, arms coming to cross over his chest defensively.
Finally, they sighed, rolling their shoulders, fixing their stance, and landing a skillful hit on the mannequin.

Chapter 8: Malborn

There was a snow elf in the kitchen, as well as two small, snow humans, and the floor was a glistening white tundra - had the burst sacks contained snow, not flour.
Even through the powdery coating, Malborn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, his shy smile growing with the gleeful laughter of his children.
"You're an idiot. I married an idiot."
She said with an exasperated smile of her own, wiping the flour from his lips with a gentle thumb and pecking them with a chaste kiss. She felt the flour on her nose.
"I'm your idiot though, right?"

Chapter 9: Erandur

"Dovahkiin, pray to my lady, for she is the only one who can save me now."
The dragonborn did nothing save laying a cold, wet, towel upon the dark elf’s forehead and grazing their knuckles across the peak of his cheek bones.
"Erandur you have a cold, you're not dying."
They stated with a smile, one he couldn't help but return when they bent to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.
Weakly he took their hand, kissing the palm sweetly.
"If I wasn't dying my dear, then explain why lady Mara has sent me an angel."

Chapter 10: Ondolemar

"Where's my food?"
The commander glanced around the room, even under the table, then took to suspiciously eyeing the dragonborn seated in the corner of his office with their book.
They looked up when he coughed, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.
"Stooping to common thievery? My that is childish."
They could only raise their brow, completely oblivious to the topic. Clearly it wasn't them.
There was a commotion outside his door, and the pair watched - one in horror, one in joy - as the dogs of Understone keep fought over his steak.
Damn mutts.

--

“This weather is despicable.”
“Oh do you ever have anything positive to say? It’s just rain, you’re not going to melt. Besides, we wouldn’t be out here if one of your guys hadn’t gone rogue!”
The dragonborn bellowed over the storm, trudging through the muddied path with the unwilling Thalmor trailing behind.
They could see it was getting to him – pale cheeks and chapped lips – pity the dragonborn that pities the Thalmor.
Lok Vah Koor!
The rain halted and clouds cleared, the sloshing of mud drawing his attention.
“Let's get moving your superior-ness, we don’t have long!”

--

“I hate you.”
“You don’t hate me, quit lying to yourself.”
His frown deepened, finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose in attempts to stave off his headache.
“Well, I certainly don’t like you.”
“Lying again! For a Justiciar you’re not very convincing, how did you persuade all those people to deny Talos?”
“Brute force.”
“Maybe you should try that on me.”
Their voice dropped an octave, so sultry and seductive that he choked on the wine in his throat.
They sped from his quarters narrowly evading the firebolt he’d let fly from his palm – what was he going to do with them?

Chapter 11: Teldryn Sero

He tossed his helmet between his hands, grinning flirtatiously when the dragonborn glanced his way.
"Oh please, I called you handsome once, get over it."
With a roll of their eyes they turned back to the ashy hills, ignoring the way his stare burned into their back.
"Well perhaps I wish to hear it again, hear how the almighty dragonborn has succumb to my ravishingly handsome features."
With swift movements, they scooped up a handful of ash, flinging it into the Dunmers face.
He spluttered and spat as the dragonborn laughed.
"Maybe you should put the helmet back on."

--

"Well excuse me for falling in love with you."
He'd sobered in an instant, choking on his mouthful of sujamma. The dragonborn sniggered, laughing innocently into their hand.
"What did you just say?"
He whispered, taking their chin between his fingers and thumb.
"I said, I looove you."
They laughed at the slur of their words, poking at his nose with a gentle finger.
He'd wrapped his arm around them when they'd nearly fell from the stool, and almost immediately he found their head buried in the crook of his neck.
They'd never hear the end of this.

--

"Are we lost, or do you know where we are?"
His hands rested atop his hips, weight passing from right foot to left. He shook his head, chuckling softly enough it couldn't escape his helmet, observing the dragonborn as they triumphantly stuffed the crumpled map back into their pack.
"Of course I do! We head for the Skaal Village."
And so they marched, stepping over the boundary from snow to ash.
"Wrong way."
He quipped; lips sealed tight to quell his laughter.
"I knew that. I was testing you."
"Of course, Dovahkiin."
So, they marched on, in the right direction.

--

“Are you trying to flirt? Because you’re embarrassing yourself.”
He barely registered the whack to his arm, delivered by a red-faced dragonborn as he watched the dark-haired Companion wander off to his mead.
“I don’t need your mockery thank you, besides, it’s not like he notices.”
“Why bother then? You could do so much better than a lumbering Nord who smells of wet dog.”
He grimaced, eyes still boring holes into the male’s cranium.
“And who would you suggest? Perhaps the best Swordsman in all Morrowind?”
Deep purple tinted his cheeks, eyes quickly darting across the floor.
“Now who’s embarrassed hm?”

--

He’d become cold as of late, falling back into old ways in which he’d hide from them. He knew exactly what he was doing, sheltering both his heart and theirs to keep things professional, simple, safe.
“But, I said I love you, you even said it back!”
“I was caught up in the moment, we were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”
Saying it was like bile in his throat, a blade twisting in his gut. He’d meant every word, they both knew it, yet he was the only one denying it.
“You don’t mean that.”
They whispered, resolve breaking till water filled their eyes.
“I do. Now come on, we have a job to do.”
And the last brick in the wall was placed with the donning of his helm.

--

Teldryns voice rang out over the enraptured crowd of the Netch as he told of his and the dragonborn’s latest conquest, using his new wealth to make the wine flow like water among the patrons.
With the closure of his story and Geldis’ final rounds, he took his seat beside his partner to finally notice the five untouched tankards.
“Rather bask in my glory sober tonight my dear?”
“It’s a rare pleasure, but one I have no choice in now, alcohols bad for the baby.”
Geldis’ glare as he spat the contents of his bottle to the floorboards was shadowed by the growing smirk on his partners' lips.
“I’m pregnant.”

--

He rolled his eyes from his perch against the archway, observing his partner rifling through their packs in a vain attempt to organise their endless collection of treasures whilst fighting their fatigue.
The mercenary shook his head with a growing smile, strolling through the obstacles despite the dragonborn’s glare. He crouched down before them, gently kissing the tip of their nose with a chuckle.
“Bed. Now.”
Their mouth opened in retort, only to release the jaw-breaking yawn they’d been stifling. He grinned ear to ear, taking the opportunity to lift them over his shoulder, and escort them to their room.

--

Why the Dragonborn was so insistent on discovering the locations of all the standing stones in Skyrim was beyond him, but Teldryn couldn't deny the view from the Tower Stone was worth it.
It was a rare occasion, after all, it was rare for the blizzards to stop, but the clear skies allowed them to see over the glacial constructions and out into the ocean.
As much as he appreciated the scenery, nothing could beat the sight of his companion, their nose buried in their bulging journal, no doubt squeezing in a sketch of the stones design.
He caught their eyes when they glanced over their shoulder, and the two shared small smiles.
That was until they slipped on the loose snow.
He'd never known himself move so fast, catapulted from his relaxed position on a crumbling stone, to half hanging off the cliff, his hand a vice around their wrist.
“I’ve got you.”

--

Teldryn was splattered with ash, still in the midst of fighting the unending spawn, when he finally noticed the dragonborn perched atop the battlements and conveniently doing nothing.
“Are you testing me?” he yelled, sending the last spawn to the floor.
"Yes"
They strolled past him, hips swaying as they made their way into the keep. It was as he watched them that he noticed the familiar deep red of his favourite shirt peeking out from beneath their cuirass.
“Is that my shirt?” he'd caught up to them, hooking a finger into the stray fabric.
"Also yes."
Who exactly had he been hired by?

--

The terrain on Solstheim was significantly more difficult to traverse than that of Skyrim. Where snow would crunch and melt underfoot, the ash caved and collapsed, often taking the dragonborn’s foot with it. It felt strangely similar to walking on ice. Another great difference was the wildlife, whilst still large, the ash hoppers that inhabited the dunes were considerably more... jumpy.
The dragonborn discovered this through a series of considerably humorous events, first their foot had caught in an ash slide, sending them sprawling down the dune, only to have a hopper leaping towards their face.
Rather than having their face bitten off, it was instead splashed with hopper blood guts, and jelly.
The newly hired swordsman stood over them, and despite his face being hidden, the dragonborn knew he was smug.
“You’re safe now. Shall we carry on?”

Chapter 12: Rune

“You must be an amazing thief; you've definitely stole my heart."
He shot them a wink unashamedly, chuckling as they groaned into their tankard.
"Please, Rune, that one almost made me vomit."
They shook their head, throwing back the last of their drink.
"Besides, pick-up lines only work when I'm drunk."
His eyes lit up, and soon he was rolling a septim across his fingers.
"Well then in that case, perhaps you'd let me buy you another round till they start work-ing?"
They bit the inside of their cheek.
"It'll take a lot."
"For you, I got plenty."

Chapter 13: Harkon

"You know, you look pretty good for your age."
They said, eyes quickly scanning up and down his dominating frame.
"Are you attempting to ire me?" He grumbled, low and deep.
"I'm bold, not stupid, in fact I was complimenting you. Considering how long Serana was locked in that box I'm guessing you're old as balls, but I'd still climb you like a tree."
His blush was furious against his pale complexion, and instinctively his chest puffed.
"Consider yourself lucky I don't smite you were you stand for that comment. I can prove my age makes me no less capable."

Chapter 14: Miraak

He'd appeared as an apparition, an image to spark fear into the heart of the false dragonborn, but he'd not been received as expected. He'd stolen their kill, yet still they looked upon him with fire in their eyes.
FUS RO DAH
It went right through him, and he laughed.
But then it began to rumble
"You hear that? That's the sound of my awesomeness!"
He turned to see the mountain shed its snow, an avalanche that brought the trees down with it.
It came up to his waist but stopped at their feet.
This was going to be interesting.

--

"This is where you impress me right?"
Dragon bones littered the field, and Miraak seethed with anger. The blatant impudence of the last dragonborn was unfathomable, but yet here he was, struggling for breath as they ran circles around him.
Tentacles thrashed and thwipped at them as they cut across the pool to him, teeth bared and fire blazing from their eyes, and suddenly all the fight was wrought from him.
He collapsed to the floor, arms shielding his head pathetically, and they towered him, dominated him, and he knew true fear.

--

“Do I dare ask?”
The ancient dragonborn found many things in this new world confusing, the confines of Solstheim were considerably old age in compare to Skyrim, especially in the company of the last dragonborn.
“It’s called fun, Miraak, you should take notes. Not all in this world is doom and destruction.”
Apparently not, from how the collective of orphans laughed and frolicked as they hopped from various furniture, their matron seated happily in the corner.
“The floor is lava!”
They shouted, the dragonborn throwing themselves atop a bed along with two children.
The floor was not lava, and they really weren’t in danger… He had so much to learn.

--

If there was one thing Miraak needed to learn, it was that this new mortal form could be hurt. A lesson that had yet to be learned, despite the number of scrapes and cuts the dragonborn had fixed up.
"You're vulnerable-"
"I am the first Dragonborn, I am not vulnerable." He spat the word as if it were poison.
"Dragonborn or not, you're a lot fleshier than you were in Mora's realm. You need to be careful. You worry me."
Miraak regarded them silently as they prepared the needle to stitch up his latest wound, letting their words filter through his dense skull.
"Thank you." He surrendered quietly.
“Save the thanks till later, this is going to hurt.”

--

The dragonborn heard the floorboards outside their door, as they had done the previous nights. It was a signal to move from the centre of the bed to the right, making room for the ancient dragonborn to settle when he eventually summoned the nerve to enter the room.
As predicted, a door creaked open, much sooner than it had the first night he'd sought their company.
Back-to-back, the odd pair lay beneath the blanket. Miraak’s breathing was heavier than usual - it must have been a terrible nightmare - and it prompted the last dragonborn to take a risk.
They rolled over; a hand placed gingerly on his hip.
“You’re safe now.”

-

"I am Miraak, the first dragonborn, slayer of dragons and conqueror of man, I will not reduce myself to anything less."
The ancient Nord threw the cotton shirt aside, adding it to the pile of iron armour his companion had dared present to him.
"Please, you can't stroll around looking like the Lord of tentacles forever, you scare the children. All I want is for you to see some of the joys this era has, and this festival is a perfect opportunity."
The dragonborn themselves had changed, shedding their usual armour for casual clothing.
“Can we just pretend like we’re normal for once? Please?”
Miraak sighed, taking in their pleading eyes for a moment.
"Very well."

--

He was mortal now, a thought Miraak struggled greatly to comprehend. No longer did he hold a godly stature over mankind. He was no longer revered, in fact, it became clear the people of this era barely new of his existence.
The world felt foreign, and it scared him.
"Please stay with me." Despite its small population, Ravenrock didn't feel safe, and his body still trembled with Mora's influence. His chest still burned.
“I’m scared.”
He felt far too vulnerable. He wasn’t entirely sure he could even trust this new dragonborn, but what choice did he have? They needn't have saved him after all he did to them.
The last dragonborn could see the exhaustion taking over him, the strength he possessed in apocrypha lost to the oblivion realm.
“It’s okay to cry.”
They whispered; a cautious arm wrapped around his shoulders as they sat atop their bed.
Finally, he let the events of the last week take effect, and wept.

Chapter 15: Brynjolf

"What am I supposed to do Delvin? Walk up like, I know you never have time for me, so excuse me for falling in love with you!"
They slumped in their chair, dimly staring into what was left at the bottom of the tankard.
"It hurts you know; I feel like he's stopped loving me."
"Well you should've told me."
His sudden presence almost made Delvin fall from his chair.
"You should've walked right up and slapped me in the mouth for making you feel like that."
He crouched down before them.
"How can I make it up to you?"

--

Modern AU
"You know, when your phone buzzes it means I'm trying to talk to you right?"
Six texts and three missed calls later and he'd finally responded. They were coming to the end of their tether by now.
"I was busy."
"You're always busy! Can’t you spare me five minutes?" They were exhausted, heaving the heavy shopping further up their arm as they left the bus.
"No!"
"Why?"
"That's my business! I don't need you suffocating me all the time!"
"I suffocate you? Bullshit!" The bags were forgotten at the doorstep.
"If you think I'm suffocating you so much then fine! Were done!"

Chapter 16: Isran

"Dovahkiin."
His baritone sent shivers to their core.
"We march for Solitude at daybreak."
"You sound nervous."
He huffed, the dragonborn could read him too well.
"I cannot anticipate what the battle will be like... or who will make it out."
He pulled them flush against his bare torso.
"I thought there was time for us too-"
They cut him off with a kiss, his beard rough against their skin.
"I don't plan on dying, and I'm sure not letting you go that easily. You need all your energy, and when we both return, I'll be all yours."

Chapter 17: Sheogorath

"Having a champion's so much fun, so many more ways to spread madness, I'm glad your mine."
He chattered as he lounged at the table of Breezehome, stacking the dragonborn’s cheeses in an abstract likeness to Martin Septim.
"It's hardly an occupation I chose to take"
"Ah-ah no backsies."
He cackled
"You can regret it all you want, but in the end you'll go mad too, they all do."
He whispered ominously.
They swallowed thickly, there were times this madman could be genuinely terrifying, even whilst constructing cheese monarchs.
"What havoc are we causing today then?"

Chapter 18: Gelebor

"Do women actually find this attractive?"
He asked incredulously, gesturing to the poorly written romance novel in his hand.
"I was unaware one required a torso akin to cobblestone paving to be desirable. In that case I'm at the bottom of the ladder."
"I wouldn’t take it to heart. Personally, I think you look pretty good for your age, partnered with your personality I wouldn't hesitate to be with a man or mer like you. If the opportunity came up."
His breath hitched, cheeks enflaming a bright pink.
"My, you know how to make an old mer blush."

--

"Please be careful with that, the ice makes things more fragile."
"Tell that to the betrayed that popped out the ice, they seemed fine trying to kill me."
They'd meant it as a jest, but the way his face darkened showed he hadn't interpreted it as such.
"Don't remind me, every time I pass by those that remain I feel sick. To think, I nearly sent you to your death."
"Hey, I needed to go, and look at us now, you have me and you have the chantry, and you get to be fussy over both of us."
He chuckled at that.
"Sorry, I'm protective over the things I love."

--

The words echoed softly in his ears, his throat tightening with each second they sunk into his mind.
“I’m pregnant.”
His jaw trembled, tears welling in his eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
“M-mine?”
It was as if he was drowning, that with the gentle nod of their head the flood gates opened, and the snow elf found himself unable to hold back the tears. He fell to his knees, sobbing against their stomach that would soon be swollen with his child.
He blessed them with kisses a thousand times, whispering prayers and thanks to Auriel.

--

They looked ethereal, doused with the light of Auriel as they lay draped across the floor of the balcony, the glittering silks that covered them outlining every dip and curve of the naked body that lay beneath. He knelt beside them, a gentle finger running the length of their spine, eliciting a gentle squeak from their sealed lips.
“Enjoying the sun my darling?” His voice gave way to the suppressed chuckle that stirred from their glare.
“I was till you so rudely interrupted me.” They huffed, returning to their book. He waited till they were once more engrossed in their story before trailing his fingers along their spine. The frown that crinkled their face vanished in an instant when they turned, the diamond of the ring before them blinding in the sun’s rays.
“Will you marry me?”

Chapter 19: Serana

"You're not seriously going to do this are you?"
The dragonborn raised an eyebrow - as if she was the demented one here.
"It's not that far-"
"Are you kidding! You're either going to smash your skull at the bottom or drown."
She summarised, peering over the ledge of Bards Leap.
"I'll be fine."
They grin, kissing her quickly before gracefully tipping back. She heard a splash, then nothing but the beating of her own heart.
When she finally reached the edge of the pool, there they stood, smiling, and wet, but safe.
"You're an idiot. I married an idiot."

--

“Oh, mistress of darkness! A being as beautiful as yours deserves not to be shrouded, why, if I had the power, I would block out the sun! If only to gaze upon your face without shadow.”
“Are you trying to flirt? Because you’re embarrassing yourself.”
The dragonborn chuckled, dusting off the powdered snow from their knees as they stood, impressions left in the slow from where they’d knelt before her.
“I’ve seen how many propositions you’ve turned down, thought old-fashioned poetry might have worked. You know, considering your age-“
They were cut off with a sharp jab to their ribs.

--

“Would you be serious for two minutes, please? I feel like a babysitter with you around.”
The woman huffed, arms crossed as she observed the dragonborn gathering gloom blossoms, their arms full of the illuminated flower that decorated the veil.
“I am being serious! I might die when I face your father, so I’m never going to have a chance to come back here, and these will likely have great alchemical properties.”
“If you die tomorrow you won’t be making potions anyway.”
She argued flatly, smirking as their mouth locked open, their retaliation dying in their throat.

--

Mortality, Serana now knew, was something she never truly comprehended. Her adventures with the Dragonborn had made her comfortable with the idea it would be such a way forever.
The illusion shattered slowly as she sat at their side, their fellow Dawnguard gathered around the room to witness the passing of their most prominent member.
“Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.”
The bite in her words drowned as her tears started to stream. She felt their fingers tense around hers, the last of their strength, just for her.
“Your life was my life’s best part.”

--

Serana was doing her best to stay a generous distance ahead of the dragonborn, a difficult feat when they were leading the way.
“I told you not to fall in love with me!”
The hollered gleefully over the hills, near cackling as they sprinted to keep up with her.
They caught her far sooner than she'd hoped, but then what else did she expect from the legendary dragonborn.
“Please shut up. Just shut up.”
She muttered; her hood pulled tighter to shade her reddening cheeks - she'd forgotten they could do that.
"And here's me thinking I never stood a chance; guess I am irresistible after all."
"I said shut up!"

Chapter 20: Enthir

His cat-like grin spread across his face, white teeth contrasting against tanned skin in the low light.
"Well, you’re a prick."
"Perhaps my dear but I'm your only choice for miles. You want another fence? Better start walking to Riften."
Smug radiated off him in waves, his ego inflating with every huff of breath.
"So, do we have a deal?"
He outstretched his hand, long, slender, fingers coaxing them in.
They grasped it firmly, too firmly.
He pressed his lips tightly together, red-cheeked as he held in the squeal that threatened to spill.
"Deal."

--

The dragonborn shook the staff, incredulous to the idea of the elf’s asking price.
“This cost’s a thousand septims!?” a mixture of guffaws and hacking came from their mouth in disbelief. “You’re asking students for that kind of money? For something I’m not even convinced is real!”
“Hey!” the bosmer interjected “I may not be kosher, but my products are! And that’s a decent price for a staff of frenzy.” He finished with the folding of his arms.
“I’m not paying that. You always want something other than money Enthir, no holes for me to dig you out of this time?” His cheeks reddened, brief flashbacks of bad deals and vampires.
“Perhaps…there is one thing I’d want.” Their eyebrow raised in question. “Tomorrow, sunset, the roof of the Hall of Attainment. Be there.”
His finality came with the brush of his hand against theirs as he passed, the dragonborn left with questions, and apparently, a date.

Chapter 21: Saadia

“I swear I’m not scared.”
“Nervous then?”
“Maybe a little.”
Their chuckle prickled gooseflesh upon her naked arms, fingers rubbing gentle, idle, circles upon her hips.
“It’s good to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”
“Liar.”
They had no fear – she’d seen evidence of that, but as they’d stripped each other of their clothes, naked as babes before the sight of the other, she realised – they were as vulnerable as her.
With a shuddering breath, she reached out for them, hands bracing against their shoulders and gliding up their neck to meet in a lover’s kiss.
“Let’s be brave together then.”

Chapter 22: Ysolda

Centaur!DB
“So, our first stop is Rorikstead, I need to speak with Mralki, and Ennis, I’m hoping to set up trading for when I take over the Mare.”
“Anywhere else milady?”
They chuckled at the brief pinch to their shoulder, hooves trotting over the rocky hills to the small hamlet.
“Very funny, you know I can’t ride horses, you’re the closest I can get. Literally.”
She squealed as he bucked, arms desperately clinging to his torso to save herself from slipping.
“Tell me, am I your husband or your carriage service?”
He laughed merrily as she righted herself upon his back.
“Both, now giddy up.”

Chapter 23: Ulfric

“Ulfric please, stop and listen to me for just a moment.”
A heavy sigh parted his lips as their hands wrapped tightly around his fist.
“Please, don’t go out there.”
The battle was ripe, and blood was readily spilling on his doorstep.
“I won’t abandon my men, and I won’t abandon my country.”
He argued, stern, cold, eyes glaring defiantly.
“And what of me? You’d abandon me so easily?”
With such words, his eyes filled with guilt, palm caressing their face tenderly.
“Never, but I must fight for you, for your future within our country. I’m sorry, I’m protective over the things I love.”

Chapter 24: Ghorbash the Iron-Hand

His consciousness woke before his body, unable to move, but able to smell, and think, and smile.
The room smelled of them, heady and lingering after the night’s activities, filling his lungs as his great expanse of bare chest flexed with a great breath. He groaned, rumbling primally till it made his cock twitch.
He felt hands upon him, tugging gently at his chest hair.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Immensely.”
He answered, pulling their body closer to his.
“Though I’d be even more delighted if we could continue where we left off.”

--

He’d once assumed leaving the stronghold would bring him guilt and regret with the abandonment of his old way of life. But it’d been untrue, not once had he felt it, and certainly not now as he lay nude by the hearth with the dragonborn, heavy furs draped carelessly across their bodies.
Their eyes turned from the flickering firelight and captured his gaze, and he knew he’d give it up all over again if it meant he ended up back at their side. He placed a firm, crooked kiss upon their lips, pulling away to rumble gently.
“Will you marry me?”

Chapter 25: Aela

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”
The new blood groaned, head pounding and muscles aching as they rose from the dust of the training yard.
“By the gods what happened?”
“You ran at me, smart choice with most archers, but you forget I have a shield. One bash and you passed out for like an hour.”
She chuckled, honeyed voice soothing their damaged pride – at least they could make her laugh.
“Noted, I’ll get you next time though.”
They swayed and swaggered to the door, gazing upon the warrior bathed in sunlight, a wide smirk upon her painted face.
“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 26: Maul

"The answer's still no." Ever since the guild master first showed up in his room, they'd become persistent in their endeavour to recruit the newly appointed housecarl.
"Please? The guilds better than it's ever been, and Mavens guard dog and house sitter is hardly a suitable title for a man of your capabilities."
"I’m no thief."
“Don’t sell yourself short. You and I both know there's more to guild now than just picking pockets." They approached him, chest-to-chest, he could feel their breath on his skin.
"You should stick to what you know, go steal some poor sods gold."
“You were always gold to me. Perhaps I could steal you for my outfit? Maybe even a little bit more” their nose bumped his, their lips pressed against the corner of his mouth, and with the flicker of candlelight, they were gone with the shadows...
Maybe he could re-join after all.

Chapter 27: Neloth

Neloth - Talvas observed - was in a far darker mood than usual. The crease between his brow was deep, his mage light dim, and his fingers fumbling. The younger Dunmer had observed the wizard scratch out several misspelled words, and mistakes were something Neloth rarely made.
He hadn't quite been himself, not since the dragonborn had left with the intent to finally defeat Miraak. The proclamation seemed to have unsettled the Telvanni.
"We are all worried for them Master." Talvas whispered.
The wizard ceased his scratching, defeatedly laying down his quill.
“I don’t know anyone else who can make me feel this way.”
The apprentice smiled.
"You should tell them that, when they come back."

--

"Can I kiss you?"
Neloth would have spat out his drink were he not so intent on maintaining decorum amongst the rabble of the Wretching Netch. How Talvas and the dragonborn had persuaded him so far into Ravenrock he couldn't remember.
"I'm not drunk enough for this" he muttered into his tankard, chugging the alcohol in hopes onlookers would surmise it to be the cause of his purple cheeks, and not the dragonborn’s sudden outburst.
"So, you are at least a little drunk?" Questioned Talvas, struggling to hide his own grin behind his mug.
"Baby steps Talvas, just you wait, I'll get that kiss by the end of the night. Another round Geldis!"

--

There were two things that could persuade Neloth to enter the town of Ravenrock, one was great discovery, and the other was the dragonborn.
“I told you not to fall in love with me.” despite their solemn words, there was still that ever persistent smile upon their lips.
“I don’t understand. Surely Skyrim has nothing more to offer you.” although he could give them every reason not to go, he wasn't brave enough to give them a reason to stay.
His eyes drifted to the ship and the horizon beyond it, distracting him enough that the dragonborn was able to place a kiss upon his cheek.
"Wait for me. Maybe then I’ll let you fall in love."

--

The Dragonborn had been successful, in all aspects. Alduin was defeated, Miraak was defeated, the civil war was - for now - resolved, and even Ravenrock seemed to be flourishing once again from their divine intervention.
So, imagine his surprise when they chose - of all places in Tamriel - the small nook of Tel Mithryn he'd dedicated to them.
Then, gradually, the nook had become nothing but storage, and they'd made themselves a regular in his room, in his bed, and in his arms.
It was nice. Though he could hardly keep himself from asking them the question.
"Why?"
“Because, when I’m with you, I’m home.”

--

The old elf had yet to fully acclimate to this new relationship. He was invested, but it'd been so long, and he'd gotten so old - though he was loath to admit it.
He hadn't been the most social elf in his younger years, and he'd maintained bachelor status for the majority of his elder life.
He didn't regret it one single bit, he'd accomplished things others could only dream of. But that didn't stop him from being a touch reluctant in making moves upon his new lover.
“Can I kiss you?”
In his dreams he'd sweep them off their feet, his lips pressed against theirs in a kiss that'd take their breath away.
But in reality, he'd happily settle for the small hitch in breath, their surprise turning to glee as they nodded, and met him in the middle.

Chapter 28: Legate Fasendil

The candle had burnt out, his tent suddenly dark, the silhouettes of his soldiers painting the canvas walls, the light of the campfire drawing him away from his pile of papers.
The legate stood to his full height, back popping in several places after hours of stooping over maps and missives.
A hand placed itself gently on his shoulder.
"Some wine, Fasendil?"
He took it gratefully, his fingers shamelessly tracing their own as he took the glass.
"Thank you, Dovahkiin. Divines know what I'd do without you."
"You'd do just fine Fasendil, I mostly just keep the dragons out of your way." They smiled, shuffling closer till their arms touched.
"You believe I would lead these hopeful soldiers to victory, dragonborn?"
“I do, my dear Legate, I believe in you.”

Chapter 29: Ralis Sedarys

The dragonborn was awakened by shuddering breaths. A sniffled inhale, and a hollow sob, was followed by the shuffling of the thin blanket that covered their newest travelling companion.
The dragonborn watched silently as the ragged Dunmer pulled at his covers, bundling the threadbare edge and using it to wipe angrily at his eyes.
They reached out, pressing their knuckles to his shoulder blade
“I’m right here, okay?”
He rolled into them, clutching them as he sobbed into their chest.
This wasn't the first night the regret of all he'd done had broken him. Nor would it be the last. But the dragonborn would remain by his side, if only to ensure he wouldn't face his demons alone.