coffee-at-daybreak

[coffee-at-daybreak]

Pictured: An Alfiq investigating the local lorebook collection.

[coffee-at-daybreak]

[coffee-at-daybreak]

I loved your Martin fics they were so good, do you take requests? 🥺

thank you sm!! and yes i'm willing to take requests !! ask away 🫶

[coffee-at-daybreak]

if only | martin septim x reader

a/n: i've got a fatal case of martin brainrot so here's another fic >:3 ty all sm for the love on my prev piece !! i truly appreciate it

"When I asked if there was any work to be done around here, this is not what I meant," you grumble, looking up from the document Jauffre just set down in front of you. You're seated at one of the tables in the great hall of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is nearly deserted save for the two of you. Everyone else seems to be caught up in their afternoon tasks.

"I'm afraid this is all there is right now," the senior Blade shoots back at you. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. "You also just returned from destroying a Gate. It would be wise to take it easy for some time."

You frown at him, but unfortunately, he's right. Just a day ago, you had limped back to base with a number of improperly healed injuries and sleepless nights. At least there was one less Gate of Oblivion to worry about.

"Well, I never claimed to be wise. Just bored," you say, and grin at the exasperated look Jauffre gives you.

"A trip to Bruma for some supplies should keep you busy enough. Again, it's all I have for now. Unless you want to train our newest recruits." He arches an eyebrow at you.

You grimace and shake your head. "Bruma it is, then." You read over the paper again. It's just a supply order for some food, weapons, and armor to be delivered to Cloud Ruler Temple - surely for those new recruits he just mentioned.

Jauffre nods. "Excellent. We would be most grateful. Just hand the paper to each of the business owners listed on there. I'll provide you with the gold to give them, and some for you as well."

Now that makes the job a little more agreeable. "Alright. I can start heading there soon," you say.

"Head where, if I may ask?" The new voice prompts you and Jauffre to both turn and see Martin approaching the table. The first thing you notice is that he looks awfully tired. His eyes appear duller than usual, and there are faint circles of darkness under them. Concern wraps its way around your chest, but your question is answered when you see he's holding that damned Mysterium Xarxes book. He'd been studying it before you left days ago, and it seems he still is.

"Good afternoon, your Highness," Jauffre greets him politely. "I was just discussing an errand with our friend here. How is your deciphering of the book coming?"

Martin shakes his head and sets the tome down on the table. The thump of it falling on the wood almost echoes through the hall.

"I'm afraid I haven't made much progress," he admits, his soft voice tinged with defeat. "I have been caught on the same part for a few days now. I am determined to keep working at it, of course, but it is... taxing."

You feel a jab of sympathy in your gut. He looks as exhausted as you feel. Whatever he's doing might be just as bad as facing Daedra in a fiery battlefield.

"You should withdraw from your studies for a while, then," Jauffre advises him. "Take some time to rest. You might return to it with a clearer head."

Martin nods slowly, looking a little more relieved at that suggestion. His gaze shifts from Jauffre over to you. "What is this errand you are being sent on?"

"I'm just dropping off some orders in Bruma." You cast him a small smile. "You should come with me. You need to get out of here for a bit."

Martin's eyes immediately brighten back up, and the sight makes your heartbeat stutter. Before he can even open his mouth to reply, though, Jauffre beats him to it.

"Absolutely not." The grandmaster shakes his head and levels you a sharp glare. "It is far too dangerous for him in such a busy city. There could be spies or assassins at any corner. He must stay here."

The familiar heat of frustration builds up within you. "Come on. I'll be there- I'll make sure he's safe. He can't stay here all the time. It'll drive him mad."

"If the Mysterium Xarxes doesn't do it first," Martin pipes in. He tosses a somewhat pleading glance at Jauffre.

The older man shakes his head again. "No. I'm sorry, Martin, but as the only living heir, we cannot put you at any risk. I can have another Blade accompany you for a walk outside, but you must not leave the Temple grounds."

The speed at which Martin masks his disappointment is impressive. He dips his head. "I understand. Thank you, Jauffre."

You aren't hiding your expression as well. You practically glare daggers at Jauffre, but he doesn't seem to notice - or care. He just hands you a pouch of coins.

"Right, then. Here are the funds for those orders. I'll see you when you get back."

You mutter your agreement as he turns and heads back out to the courtyard to return to his training. The second the doors shut behind him, you look over at Martin.

He looks right back at you, and you catch the slightest little glimmer in his eyes. One that you surely mimic in your own gaze.

"Jauffre is quite the guard," he says. "Very loyal to the rules."

You pick up the bag of coin with a grin. "Too bad we're not all like him."

And so with the help of a secret side passage through the fortress, the two of you sneak out unseen later that evening. It's nearly dusk when you finally reach Bruma. Martin gets a good laugh at watching you practically sprint for the places Jauffre listed, trying to reach them before they close. Thankfully, you manage to place all the orders just in time.

After that it’s easy for the two of you to blend in with the citizens. You pay a visit to the Chapel, admiring the clean and quiet atmosphere. You stroll around outside the grounds of Castle Bruma, then scurry away when the patrolling guards start to throw you second glances. You don’t get to wander around much more when snow begins to soak through your boots and your shared laughter is accompanied by chattering teeth. You end up rushing into Olaf’s Tap and Tack, a cozy inn at the center of town.

It’s surprisingly busy, filled with clusters of civilians and guards. There’s not even a table available, so you tug Martin along with you to the far edge of the front counter of the bar. You use some of that coin Jauffre gave you to buy a couple bottles of mead and a singular pastry to share.

An hour or so passes, but it’s hard to keep track of the time. You’re too caught up in swapping stories and feeling warmth ease farther into your body. Maybe it’s the cheap mead slipping into your belly, or hearing Martin’s laughter as you tell him about one of your embarrassing mishaps with the Imperial guards, but you begin to feel significantly lighter than when you were still at Cloud Ruler Temple.

You almost don’t notice that the crowd and noise of the inn has dwindled, and you and Martin are some of the last ones there aside from a drunk passed out on a table. When the innkeeper himself finally retires to his quarters, you take it as your sign to head out, leaving a few spare coins on the counter for him.

The snow outside is coming down softer than before. If the air is any colder, you don’t really feel it, your body still buzzing with warmth. It makes it easier for the two of you to wander around aimlessly again, conversing quietly about something, anything, to put off the dreaded trek back to the Temple.

“No, no. I’m pretty sure it was a sweetroll we were eating back there,” you say defensively as you head down one of the empty streets. You’re walking so close together that your shoulders brush occasionally - accidentally or intentionally, who knows.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Martin protests in an amused tone. “It was a sweetcake."

“Same thing.”

“Not quite- there is a distinction.”

You can’t help the snort of laughter that rises up in you. You turn to look at him. “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about baked goods. Please, do enlighten me on-”

You shut up when you suddenly notice someone at the opposite end of the street, walking in your direction. It only takes a second to recognize the familiar outfit on them - Blades armor. A jolt of panic shocks your whole body, and before you can even think about it, you snatch Martin’s hand and quickly pull him with you off the street.

You dive into a small, small space between two houses, now blanketed by darkness instead of the torch-lit path of the street. You press your back into the wooden wall behind you, your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“What? What is it?” Martin’s whisper is equal parts confused and worried. He mirrors you, leaning closer to his side of the little alley space right across you.

“One of the Blades is out there,” you say under your breath. “I think it’s Caroline.”

To your horror, Martin starts to tilt his head closer to the end of the alley, like he plans to take a peek. You didn’t realize you’re still holding his hand, which you squeeze and tug on.

“What are you doing?!” You hiss.

He pulls back into the safety of the shadows. You can hardly see him, but his light blue eyes are more visible than the rest of him. “She may be here searching for me. If they somehow found out I’m not there…”

“Then Jauffre will definitely have me kicked out- or killed.” You can’t help but cringe.

“I will tell him it was my idea. He won’t kill me, after all,” Martin offers.

You start to scoff and say something back, but the clinking of armor comes closer and you both freeze. You look out of the corner of your eye and watch with bated breath as the shadow of the Blade gets bigger. You half expect Martin to step out and reveal himself, but fortunately he stays put.

Caroline walks by , but thank the Divines she doesn’t look down the alley. Her head turns the other direction, her eyes sweeping over the rest of the city. You wait another few moments. Her footsteps fade and she heads for another street.

You let out a breath, though you still keep it as quiet as possible. Your body relaxes from the tense stance it was just in.

“You would think I saw one of those assassins Jauffre mentioned,” you mutter.

Martin breathes out a hushed chuckle. “With reflexes like yours, I would still be in good hands.”

You feel a light pressure on your hand. You realize it’s his thumb, making a subtle sweep on the back of your palm. Blood rushes up your neck and you instinctively let go. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assures you, but he sounds almost … disappointed. He turns to glance towards the street again. “I suppose that was a sign that we should be returning to Cloud Ruler Temple.”

Your heart sinks, but you nod. “I suppose.”

A moment passes, then another… and neither of you move.

In your urgency to stay hidden, you hadn’t noticed just how small this space is. Even with your backs pressed into the walls, you’re close enough to feel your knees brushing his. And now that your vision has adjusted to the darkness, you see him better too - the snowflakes still lingering in his hair and the reflection of the nearby torch lights in his eyes.

Eyes you are surprised to find are already on you when you dare to look up at him.

You take a deep breath. Even that little movement brings you just a tad closer. “Well, let’s not both rush at once,” you joke.

That earns you a smile from him, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s still a little pull in his brow as he studies you for a moment. “I’m not exactly eager to go back,” he admits.

You almost agree right away, but instead you ask him gently, “Why not?”

Martin takes a deep breath of his own, and when he exhales, you swear you can just barely feel his breath ghosting over your hair. “There is… so much expected of me back there. I am expected to lead the Blades, and decipher that awful book, and prepare to become the next emperor.”

His gaze lifts and meets your own, and your heart trips over itself.

“But when I am with you, like tonight, I feel very much at ease. It’s as though I am just another man. No expectations, no duties, no worries plaguing me- or us.” His eyebrows scrunch with a bit of concern as he looks at you. “I’m sure you know what it is like, to have so many responsibilities and people depending on you.”

You can only nod, not wanting to interrupt him. You do know what it’s like.

“But here,” he continues, “I can imagine I am not the next Emperor, and you are not the Hero of Kvatch. I can imagine we are just two normal civilians with no expectations or worries-” He cracks a small, somewhat sad smile. “-even if only for a night.”

You sit in silence for a moment as the weight of his words wraps around you. A number of emotions flit about in your head and chest, but above all else, there’s an undeniable warmth spreading within you.

“I imagine that, too,” you confess. Your hand itches to take his again, to actually focus on how his skin feels. “If only things were … simpler.”

He nods once. Another pause passes between you two.

“But they’re not.” You dare to look back up at him. “Maybe that’s why we should make the most of nights like this.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you rethink them, especially when you see a flicker of surprise in Martin’s eyes. Your heart begins to gallop and you start to think up a rushed apology.

“Maybe we should,” he says before you can do so. His face softens again, and you notice his gaze jumping to your hand now, like maybe he’s facing the same urge you had a moment ago.

So this time, you go for it. Your fingers brush over his loosely, still giving him the chance to retreat in case this is all a misunderstanding.

But then he takes your hand within his so easily that you just know it’s not. His fingers and palm wrap over your own, and his skin is softer than you imagined. You suddenly feel lighter, warmer, in every which way.

“We should head back soon before they send a real search party for you,” you reason, but you instinctively lean off the wall, just an inch closer to him.

“Soon, you say…” Martin’s other hand places itself at the small of your back, and your heart now feels like it’s just about dancing in your chest. He brings you an inch even closer. “How soon?” He murmurs. You’ve never been close enough to hear his voice that low and soft, and it sends a shiver of elation down your spine.

“Soon enough that Jauffre won’t pummel me on sight,” you reply, and Martin chuckles again. You want nothing more than to lean the rest of the way in, to feel the rumble of his chest against your own and to bury your hand in his hair and to kiss him like you’re not his Blade, and he’s not your Emperor - like you’re just normal civilians.

But you remember with a terrifying yet thrilling thought - maybe you can be. Even if only for a night.

“We’ll head back, but until we get there…” your voice falls to a whisper, afraid it will shake if it gets any louder. Your free hand finds purchase between his shoulder and neck, pausing to ask, “...can we still just be ‘normal civilians’?”

He gives you a hushed “yes” decorated with a smile, and you bury the last of your doubts as you pull him in.

It’s a very soft and timid kiss at first, a gentle press of your lips that only lasts a few seconds. You break apart for a moment, but there’s an unspoken charge still lingering between you, neither of you daring to move away from one another.

“Was that alri-” Martin starts to ask, but you don’t let him finish. You tug him back in and this time, there’s no reluctance from either of you.

This time the kiss is solid, relentless, maybe even a little clumsy, but you can’t possibly care about that. You only care about how tender his lips are when they take yours with enough firmness to make your belly flip in delight, and the distant taste of that cheap tavern mead and pastry sugar, and the warmth of your bodies finally coming this close. It feels so incredibly natural, so incredibly right, and Gods know you’ve been overdue for something to go right.

Your joined hands have let go of one another in search of a new anchor spot. Yours finds its way to his hair after all, fingers lost in the soft brown strands, and you relish in the shaky breath he exhales into the kiss. And when his hand circles your waist firmly, pulling you in until your body is flush against his, it’s your turn to be winded.

You are momentarily lost in one another until a guard’s distant voice grounds you. The kiss is reluctantly broken, but neither of you have the strength to go farther than that. For a moment you stay clinging to one another, foreheads touching and visible breaths mingling.

The guard’s voice comes a bit closer, and the familiar weight of reality presses down on you again. “That’s our cue,” you whisper. “I’d like to survive long enough to sneak you out again.”

“Very well.” Martin heaves a sigh that nearly breaks your heart. It springs back to life when he places one last chaste kiss on your forehead. “Thank you - I needed a night like this. I will cherish it until the next one.”

You smile, and it takes all your strength to not lean back in towards him. If only you could. Instead, you step away, and lead him out on a brisk walk out of the alley and into the city.

The guards don’t spare you more than a quick glance, and luckily you don’t spot Caroline again. You make it through the gate of Bruma and head back to Cloud Ruler Temple. But that entire trek in between, through the snowy and quiet night, you find yourselves hand in hand for another little while longer.

[coffee-at-daybreak]

[coffee-at-daybreak]

I hate astrid

All my homies hate astrid

[coffee-at-daybreak]

ya girl met lucien lachance for the first time today bc i guess i accidentally killed someone and the way i went

i get it now

[coffee-at-daybreak]

late night reading | martin septim x reader

a/n: i may or may not have been recently engulfed by oblivion remastered and of course like the gooner i am, i fell for babygirl martin. he has no business being that precious. ik i'm going a lil off script seeing as i've only written skyrim pieces so far but i hope there's at least a few other ppl who can indulge in both <3 ty so very much for stopping by!!

You don't know what's making more noise - the forest outside, the raging thoughts in your head, or the obnoxious snoring of someone else in the Weynon house.

You turn for the tenth time in your temporary bed. It's a perfectly good bed, but like everything else right now, it just feels ... wrong. Too warm, too soft, you don't know. But you do know you cannot get comfortable enough to even think of sleeping.

As if it's not difficult enough with your mind still racing. It's been a few hours since you returned to Weynon Priory with Martin, only to walk right into disaster. A messy fight, a monk slain, the Amulet of Kings gone. Every bone in your body wanted to chase after those attackers, but Jauffre was right - it was foolish to pursue them through the woods at night.

So, you must wait. Dawn can't be too far off, but Gods, the hours are dragging by.

Your head hurts. You don't know whether it's the lack of sleep, the aftermath of the battle, the stress pulling your body tight like a bowstring - or a fun combination of everything.

Exasperated, you dart out of the bed and head downstairs. Maybe some fresh air will help.

You don't bother being silent with your footsteps, especially with that snoring upstairs. You hurry down the steps and start to cross the room towards the front door when a hushed call of your name comes from behind you.

You turn around, your body half prepared to draw a weapon. But instead of an enemy, you see Martin seated on a bench in the corner, bathed in the faint light of a lantern propped up next to him. His pale blue eyes, softened with concern, catch your own.

"Are you alright?" He asks. His voice is as hushed and gentle as ever. "What's happened?"

You hesitate, glancing between him and the door. "N-nothing. I was just..." You turn your full attention to him. "Wait, what are you doing down here?"

He offers a small, sheepish smile and lifts his hands briefly to reveal an open book in them. "I'm sure it's no surprise, but ... reading."

It's certainly not a surprise. Almost every stop and moment of respite you'd had on your way back from Kvatch involved him reading some tome or another. The familiarity of it is oddly relaxing, though. The erratic pace of your heart and breathing starts to come down.

"Sort of an odd time to be reading, isn't it?" You ask. You keep your tone light to show you're only teasing, but your voice shakes a little on the last word. And attentive as he is, Martin notices.

"Perhaps. But is it not an odd time to be heading outside?" His eyes dart from you to the window, where it's very obviously pitch black outside.

You purse your lips and shrug. "What are the odds we get attacked again?"

Martin just looks at you with deep concern. "Please, do not test those odds."

You smile. It wasn't the first time you said or did something to give him that little crease in his brow, or that worried frown tugging on his lips. Something about that look causes your heart to stir.

You heave a soft sigh and finally step away from the door, instead moving for the same corner as him. To your relief, he scoots over on the bench, leaving just enough space for you.

"I take it you can't sleep either?" You ask as you take a seat next to him. You're close enough to sense the subtle warmth of his body and to catch that faint smell of clean fabric and mint he always carries. You don't know whether to be comforted or thrilled by it.

"There was a feeble attempt made," he admits. "It seems my mind is not as exhausted as my body is."

You nod to that. You start to voice your agreement when you're interrupted by another loud snore from upstairs. "I suppose it comes easy to some people," you mutter.

Martin gives you a soft chuckle, a rare but delightful sound to your ears. "I am envious of them," he says.

A moment of quiet passes, then he is asking you again with that oh so gentle voice. "Are you alright?"

You stare at your boots, mulling over your response. "I don't know. I feel a little ... overwhelmed."

There's another pause as he gives you a chance to continue. That's when you realize who exactly you're talking to. You fight back a cringe and turn to look at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sure that's nothing compared to how you feel."

His face softens and he shakes his head. "This is no competition, my friend. Your feelings are valid." He casts a glance to the woods visible through the window. "There is a lot ahead of us, and it's natural to be uncertain."

You feel a small jab in your chest. You wonder if he's thinking of his approaching title as Emperor. To go from a simple priest to the next ruler of Cyrodiil... He sure has a lot on his plate.

"But I have faith it will all unfold as we go, and we are on the right path." His eyes flick back to meet yours. "I am glad we are on it together."

Warmth blooms from inside you. Some of it even reaches your skin, your cheeks tingling a little as you smile at him.

He suddenly looks away, averting his gaze. Maybe you're imagining it in the low glow of the lantern, but it actually looks like he might be the flushed one.

"I am sorry you are unable to sleep," he adds. "If there is anything in particular you would like to speak of, I am here to listen."

Your heart swells at the offer, and you do consider it for a second. "Thank you, but it's alright. I'd rather just keep my mind off of it." Your eyes jump to the book in his hands. "Can I ask what you're reading?"

He turns it to show you the cover. "'Incident at Necrom'. I believe it is a fictional work on illusion magic."

You hum curiously. "Sounds fascinating." You are about to ask him for a summary, but a better idea crosses your mind. "Would you be willing to read it to me?"

Martin is obviously caught off guard by that request, and you almost laugh at that surprised little stretch to his eyes. "Forgive me, but ... is that a jest?" He asks with just a hint of nervousness.

"Not at all. I'd love to hear it," you assure him.

He hesitates only a moment longer, but when he realizes you really aren't joking, he relaxes and opens the book. "Then I'd be glad to."

He flips the pages until he's back to the start of the book, and clears his throat quietly before beginning. "'The situation simply is this'..."

It's suddenly easy to ignore everything else - the forest outside, the raging thoughts in your head, the obnoxious snoring upstairs. Instead you are lost in the deep but soft cadence of his voice. It calms you, soothing away the tension both in your mind and body.

Without thinking much of it, you tip your head down until it's leaning ever so lightly on his shoulder. He stutters on the current word for only a second, but continues in spite of the speedy heart rate you just gave him.

[coffee-at-daybreak]

dropping in to say i love your fics! i binged them all on ao3 like a week ago... then stumbled across u on tumblr ^_^

hello hello !! and thank you sm for reading and loving my work !! i will continue to do my part and put out my silly lil fics lol

[coffee-at-daybreak]

Teldryn chilling on your dash.

[coffee-at-daybreak]

The cat is waiting for his interview and the newscaster won’t stop laughing. How rude and unprofessional

[coffee-at-daybreak]

Mr Marcurio Skyrim. First companion character I ever had a crush on (and figured out how to make carry an infinite amount of cabbages)

[coffee-at-daybreak]

anxiety is like that one skyrim glitch where combat music would keep playing despite not being in combat and even in the main menu

[coffee-at-daybreak]

i am destined to play you forever

[coffee-at-daybreak]

what it feels like listening to music and thinking about the character

[coffee-at-daybreak]

precautionary | teldryn sero x reader

a/n: writing about this damn elf is my savior sometimes. if i'm sad or stressed i just crank out silly lil scenarios about him and i'm instantly giggling and kicking my feet. here's some protective/jealous pre-bf tel content teehee

“I hate this place.”

“I know. You only remind me everytime we come here.”

“And yet, here we are again.”

You shake your head - partly in response to Teldryn’s snarky comment, and partly to get rid of the snowflakes still caught in your hair. It seems everytime you come to Windhelm, it’s blasting you with cold breezes and a harsh snowfall. As if the city’s residents aren’t welcoming enough.

Hence why you led Teldryn on a brisk beeline straight for the New Gnesis Cornerclub. The air is cozy and quiet, a soothing contrast to the city outside. The Dunmer here may not be much friendlier, but at least they aren’t outright hateful like the Nords that pester you at the entrance gates.

“Cut it out,” you say to your companion. “I told you, it’s only one night. I’ll deliver the parcel to the court wizard first thing in the morning, then we’ll leave.”

“We’d better.” Teldryn crosses his arms, rubbing them briefly in an effort to warm himself up even faster. “Otherwise I might end up in jail for something unpleasant.”

You roll your eyes. You’ve traveled with Teldryn long enough to know he’s being dramatic about it. But you also know his displeasure is justified. This city is one of the last places you’d bring a Dunmer - especially one who has lived in the Gray Quarter and has spoken about how awful it was.

“You’re just extra grouchy because you’re hungry,” you say, trying to lighten your tone with a joke.

His helmet conceals his expression but you can almost feel the unamused glare he’s certainly giving you right now.

You grin and pat his arm. “How about you grab us a table, and I’ll grab us some food and drinks. I’ll ask the owner if he’s got any rooms left we can rent.”

Teldryn sighs, his body physically deflating a tad. “Fine.”

He takes to one corner of the room while you head for the counter. The cornerclub is quiet, only a handful of Dunmer occupying some of the tables. You reach the counter and the tavern owner looks up from cleaning some glasses.

“Good evening. What’s on the menu?” You ask.

“Not much left. Just some ash yam stew and flin.”

“That’ll work. Two of each, please.” You slide over the coin. He eagerly takes it, red eyes bright as he nods at you.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back with those.” He steps away from the counter to prepare the meals.

You fold your arms and lean against the counter. Your body aches with exhaustion, days of traveling in the bitter cold having worn down your muscles and bones. You really hope there are some rooms available- you could use a break from sleeping on a bedroll.

“‘Scuse me.”

You look up, startled by the sudden voice. It’s not the tavern owner, though. You see an unfamiliar Dunmer smiling down at you, his own elbow leaning casually onto the same counter.

“Never seen you ‘round here before,” he drawls in a deep voice. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here so late?”

You merely blink back at him, caught off guard. You’ve never seen him before, either. He must be one of the Gray Quarter’s residents. His clothes are barely more than rags, and he reeks of drink and smoke. Something about him makes your hackles raise.

You shrug. “Just passing through for the night.”

“Is that so?” The Dunmer’s smile turns to a catlike grin. “I can make it a fun night, if you’d like some company.”

His heavyset eyes rake up and down your body, which immediately wants to shudder in response. Instead, you tense and tilt your chin up.

“No, thank you. I’m just-”

“I got a nice place I can take ya to,” he interrupts. His words are dragging, slurred from his drinking, no doubt. “I’ll show you a good time, swear.”

He suddenly leans in, and you immediately step back. Your heartbeat jumps to a quicker pace.

“Tell me your name, sweetheart,” The Dunmer continues.

You shake your head, retreating even farther from him. To your horror, he keeps inching closer.

“Aw, c’mon now. I only wanna-” His hand reaches for your hair.

You’re already prepared to back away, but before you can do so, there’s a burst of something hot and bright flying right by you. Next thing you know, the Dunmer is stumbling back and crying out, his hand covered in flames. He flails it around desperately until the fire dissipates into the air around him. The other occupants of the tavern all look over in alarm.

You’re so shocked that you jump in surprise when you feel someone else come up next to you. But this presence is all too familiar.

“You’d be wise to back off, s’wit,” Teldryn growls at the Dunmer. He steps in front of you, blocking you from the stranger’s view. He still has a palm open with a fire spell at the ready, and his other hand is poised on the sword at his belt.

You can barely see over Teldryn’s shoulder, but you do manage to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. His eyes are wide, sobered up by pain and fear, as he gawks at your companion.

Teldryn merely jerks his head in a “move along” motion. And sure enough, the drunk scurries away, stumbling his way to the corner of the tavern.

You let out a long exhale, the tension finally leaving your body. Teldryn turns around and looks you up and down, but unlike the stranger, you know he’s doing it out of concern.

“You alright?” He asks.

You cross your arms. “That was a bit much, don’t you think?”

He lets go of his magic with a flex of his hand and places it on his hip instead. “That’s not a thank-you. You should work on that, sera.”

You roll your eyes, but there is an urge to smile somewhere in there. You must admit, you are relieved- and amused.

“Or don’t thank me and just give me a pay bonus instead,” Teldryn adds.

You laugh, and though you almost miss it, you notice he relaxes a little more at the sound. He leans up on the counter alongside you.

“I suppose you’ve earned both, dear hero,” you joke.

The tavern keeper comes back with your trays of food and drink, his eyes darting around. “Everything alright out here?” He asks.

“Just grand,” Teldryn answers immediately, taking the trays and sliding one to you. He then asks the owner, “You happen to have any rooms open?”

“Two, actually. I can get you each-”

“No, just one will do,” Teldryn says curtly, handing over the coin. The tavern keeper’s eyes go even brighter as he takes it.

“You got it. I’ll go make sure it’s prepped for you two. Thank you.” Then he’s off again.

Your eyes jump over to Teldryn, but he’s busy peeling some of his cowl and downing his bottle of flin. There’s a light warmth flushing in your cheeks. This is the first time he’s gotten just one room for the two of you, and maybe you’re foolish for reading too much into it, but the thought makes your pulse quicken.

“What was that? He had two rooms available,” you ask him.

He lowers the bottle and sighs. “Don’t care. We don’t need to spend that much coin. And I don’t like the idea of you being in a room by yourself when there’s certain n’wahs here.” His hand clenches around his bottle.

You blink, surprised. Pleasantly so. This level of care from him is… new, but welcome.

“I can handle myself,” you remind him.

“Believe me - I know.” Teldryn stirs at his stew, but he casts you a quick side glance. “This is for my own reassurance.”

He looks back down, meaning he doesn’t catch that little smile on your lips. You start to stir at your own bowl, the delicious smell wafting towards your nose.

“Don’t worry - I’ll take the floor,” Teldryn says.

You turn and shoot a fast “no!” in reply - a little too fast.

He looks back at you, and that little sliver of skin visible beneath his cowl reveals a handsome grin. “Oh? Does that mean you want to share a bed with me?”

“Wha- no! I mean, that’s not what I-” you start to sputter, and the blush is spreading to your whole face now.

Teldryn laughs, his shoulder bumping yours. “Relax, serjo. You are far too easy to mess with. Now eat up.”

You turn back to your food, trying to focus on that instead of your racing heart and mind. The tavern keeper comes back to let you both know the room’s ready, but you take your time finishing your meals and enjoying the calming atmosphere.

At one point, though, your skin prickles with uneasiness. You dare to toss a glance over your shoulder. Just as you suspected, that Dunmer drunk is still staring at you from where he’s hunched up in the corner. His hateful eyes flick between you both, but seem to linger on you. Your body stiffens up.

“What?” Teldryn notices.

You turn back ahead. “N-nothing. Our friend is still pissed, is all.”

Teldryn looks over his shoulder as well. He lets out a gruff scoff. “Should he try anything, I’ll flay him alive. And just as a precaution-”

Then suddenly his arm is coming around you, wrapping loosely around your waist. You jump a little, but not out of fear like you felt earlier. No, Teldryn is comfortable and familiar- and damn it, is his touch thrilling.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures you with surprising gentleness.

You don’t hesitate to lean into him and the faint warmth of his body. “I know. Thank you.”

[coffee-at-daybreak]

This is on the Dragonborn's fridge