raptureofthemoon: (writing)

I have a list of 40 prompts (and I'm not sure where I got it.) This was for #15, "After the incident..."

Post Waking Nightmare.

_______________________________

“After the incident, I secluded myself. For a while. Took the odd job on freighters, in the kitchens of taverns. It was at one of the inns I met the priest of Mara who took me in, gave me stability, safety... A home.”

Danae rolled on her pallet near the fire, looked up at Erandur, brow furrowed. The firelight played across her face, curving along her cheekbones, her jaw, pooling in the hollow of her throat.

“Is Erandur your real name?”

“No,” he said, after a moment. “It was the name the priest gave me.”

“Was Casimir?”

He started slightly, unused to hearing that name from anyone save the voices in his memory. “No, I took that name in service to Vaermina.”

“Would you tell me your real name?”

Erandur smiled. She was guileless. When she’d walked through the door of the Windpeak Inn, he’d known, thought not quite how, that she would be the one to lead him through the miasma, to put right what he’d helped to wrong. He probably could have been forthright with her and still gotten her help, but so many years of skirting the truth had left their mark.

He was just thankful she had taken his subterfuge in stride.

She blinked sleepily up at him. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips and she sighed deeply, as she always did when she was about to fall asleep. Sharing close quarters on the road made him aware of all sorts of little intimacies… Two weeks they’d been traveling together and already he knew many of her noises, the sighs that preceded sleep, the quick inhales of shock or surprise, the light bubble of laughter at the unexpectedly humorous. He knew the way she liked to sleep, limbs splayed out like a trama root. He knew how she took her tea, berry or honey sweetened and with milk when available.

It was more years than he’d like to count since he had this kind of intimate knowledge of anyone, let alone a woman. Let alone a woman he’d felt himself drawn to from the first moment he saw her.

The firelight turned her snow colored hair yellow, made her skin glow rose-gold. She wrinkled her nose, opened her great grey eyes. Her voice was soft, on the edge of sleep. “Erandur?”

Guileless. And stubborn.

“Yes,” he said, at last. “I think, one day, I’ll tell you.”

raptureofthemoon: (Default)
From my Pushing Boundaries universe.


“Septim for your thoughts,” Ulfric said.

“I haven’t seen my children in weeks.” She’d kept the thought at bay, but being around Mira and her new family had brought back the heavy feeling in the pit of her belly. That feeling that she was not doing right by them, the little children that had come suddenly into her life, borne on the winds of a storm, the tide of blood spilled in war.

“How old are they?”

“Three and six.”

“Young.”

“Young enough that the grief of losing their parents still makes them cry every time I leave them. Young enough to not understand why I must be gone so often. I’m not sure I understand it myself… Especially now. Alduin is gone. The Empire is out. The war is done. We’re at peace. Or as much as we ever can be.”

“And why must you be away so often?” Ulfric asked, drinking from a water skin before offering it to her.

“My duties to the College, mainly, at this point.”

“I imagine you won’t want to step down from your position as Archmage,” he said and she nodded. “Is delegation not an option?”

“That’s my next step. Mirabelle and the others aren’t keen on an Archmage who isn’t often in residence, but I’m working on them. Now that the war is over, post travels far faster and, well, let’s just say, as mages there are other ways of getting messages to each other that we should be working on.”

A slight smile curled Ulfric’s mouth, faded away as he looked into the fire. “Windhelm is quite a lot closer to Winterhold than Solitude.” He burst out laughing as she stared at him. “Spare me the dragon’s glare, please. I only mean, there’s a house for sale in the city. It’s a good house. Plenty of room for the little ones. You’d have Wuunferth close by for discussions of spells, potions, hexes. And you can make the trek to Winterhold in under three days.“

She opened her mouth, shut it just as fast as he gave her the same steely look from that morning. “Would you say no, just because I offered the idea? I want you close, it’s true. I’ve made that desire known and if the conversation we had at your College is any sign, I would think we were getting somewhere with that. But this is not just about me or what we might have. Would you not make life easier on yourself and those children just because it means living in my city? I know you’re stubborn, Dragonborn, but there comes a time when stubbornness becomes spite.”



raptureofthemoon: (writing)
Title: Pushing Boundaries
Fandom: Skyrim
Characters/Pairing: Ulfric/F!Dragonborn (Seirian)
Rating: T

The last time he saw her like this had been the night of the battle for Solitude. The Stormcloaks had been victorious. (Only just, Ulfric admits to himself. Had the Dragonborn not taken a treated arrow during the midst of battle, well…it may very well have swung the other way.)

Feverish and sporting fresh stitches, she’d shaken off the healer, stormed down the main thoroughfare of the city. In only her night shift. So determined to see to her home, to the vagabond children inside—left in the tender care of her housecarl—that even the smoking husk of the city and the Stormcloak guards (who’d been advised not to impede her movements but to let Ulfric or Galmar know when and where she went) wouldn’t stop her.

Read on A03




 


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