#falk firebeard

[martinseptimkisser]

the look on falk firebeard's face when he sees when my dragonborn comes into the throne room to yuri out with elisif

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

hello, i hope everyones having a good wednesday!! my brain, for some unknown reason, believes it to be late fall right now. maybe i'm just craving that chill in the air AHAH

thank you to the fantastic @skyrim-forever and @umbracirrus for tagging me this week!! <33333

tagging the amazing @thequeenofthewinter @oblivions-dawn @orfeoarte @changelingsandothernonsense

@viss-and-pinegar @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @dirty-bosmer @totally-not-deacon !! as always, there's no pressure, but i'd love to see what you're working on. <3333

this is a section from the very rough draft of chapter 39 of Cycle of the Serpent. the trio are becoming intrigued about varnius junius' plea, and have decided to do something about it.

Falk Firebeard, the steward to Jarl Elisif, had been here a great many years. He said so as he talked to the trio, his voice inviting, with the faintest hint of surprise that they were back. At first he must have assumed they were here to petition for the Burning of King Olaf, a sigh heaving down his lungs and his hands rubbing at his face. When Emeros explained the real reason they were here today, he visibly appeared to relax, and made a comment about the man that the Bosmer had mentioned being jumpy at the best of times. "I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go," he admitted in a half-hush, apparently unneeded, as the court made it clear the prior day that they did share his opinion. "If it were anything, I'm certain that Sybille's scrying would have picked up on it." The court wizard, seated near the Jarl, gave Wyndrelis a curious look, her eyes practically luminous under her dark hood. He swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat. He didn't enjoy the way she scrutinized him, or his friends. Her eyes, a particular shade of citrine which looked to be peering right into him and down to the veins beneath his skin, set the mild panic to rise, sensation a slow crawl up his back of something very off about the woman. "Yes, but what if there's something the scrying hasn't picked up on? I'm no stranger to magic," Wyndrelis managed out, "if there is something going on, wouldn't it be better to investigate?"

The man rubbed his face, hands fidgeting with one another idly. His glances to Elisif, her housecarl, and other figures in the court landed him with approving nods, and Falk again spoke up. "There have been reports of... weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave. Travelers disappearing, odd lights. I suspect wild animals or perhaps bandits." "Travelers disappearing?" Emeros repeated, his eyes wide as the words left him half-breathless. "And you didn't think that this was worth an investigation?" "Again, I thought it might be wild animals and bandits," Falk justified, enunciating the statement. "We all did. They've taken advantage with the war going on, all this uncertainty, no one is truly safe. But I digress, if you really think it's worth looking into, then I will make sure that you three are repaid for your work." A housecarl nearest Falk scoffed into a drink, prompting the court wizard to scowl. "Is there something funny, Erikur?" "No, no, not at all." The man rolled his eyes as he sipped from his goblet, a sort of wine from the smell of it. "I just find it a bit interesting that we're sending three strangers to investigate Haafingar's matters. This should be the work of someone from our own Hold, not these elves who had to get a military pardon when they first arrived here." Phoebe, over at her desk, winced. She looked to Erikur, a sharp, probably dangerous gaze on anyone else that merely served to make her appear like a mouse scolding a wolf. "Besides, our coffers are emptier by the day. What can we even reward three would-be bandit-slayers when they inevitably return without having spilt so much as skeever blood?"

"Erikur," the hulking figure on the other side of the throne snapped, "that's enough." Erikur shrugged, and took another long drink from his goblet. Elisif looked over the trio, her face worn into a dreary resignation. "Then what do you propose? We've already sent a detachment to Dragon Bridge, and Sybille's scrying has shown nothing, yet, I must admit that the idea of leaving this uninvestigated makes me uneasy." Erikur's focus darted around the room. "We should send a handful of our own soldiers. Perhaps discuss it with General Tullius? See if he will offer some help." The room descended into murmurs of agreement, the idea clearly tantalizing to the court. Wyndrelis frowned. He looked to Emeros and Athenath, both equally unsatisfied with this resolution. "I will send word to Captain Aldis, and ask if he's any new recruits he might test by sending them that way. Phoebe, draft a letter to the Captain, and deliver it as soon as possible," Elisif commanded, tension leaving her as she watched the pale-haired girl scratch something down into a new roll of paper. Athenath spluttered, "but what if it's something- I don't know, important?" "Then our soldiers will have it taken care of, instead of recent strangers dirtying their hands." Erikurs cavalier reply left the Altmer again struggling for words, Emeros placing a gentle palm on his shoulder. Wyndrelis shrunk back, his steps taking him to the stairs. A few mutters from the Bosmer, and Athenath was moving to the stairwell, face scrunched in a look of intense frustration with the dismissal. As the trio left the Blue Palace, the sneer never quite fell from Athenath's face, and Wyndrelis swallowed down the urge to ask of it, or to pry into why Erikurs words prodded so harshly into them as to leave their features twisted, until the Altmer ran a hand down their face and features relaxed, like he'd wiped it all away and resigned to the outcome. This wasn't ideal, but when was anything the trio had been through in the past few weeks?

[elder-dragon-reposes]

@nerevar-quote-and-star

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Elisif the Fair: Outwardly, I’m everything a well brought up girl should be.

Elisif, who is grieving for her husband, threatened by rebellion, dismissed by General Tullius, under the eye of the Thalmor, sneered at and ridiculed by half of Skyrim, and well aware of the stress she causes her steward while trying to handle her own anxieties — and the pestering Bards' College headmaster: Inside, I’m screaming.

[omegatheimmortaldragonborn]

Some of my favourite characters in skyrim, and why 👹

Balgruuf The Greater: i think this speaks for itself tbh, my favourite Jarl

Balimund: I don't actually know, kinda just looked at him and said "yes, he's the one." Or at least one of them anyway lmfao

Brynjolf: cocky thief with a *small amount* of issues, need i say more?

Captain Aldis: Self Explanatory. he's pretty, good personality, wants books, and lots of muscle? Yes please

Captain Gjalund Salt-Sage: idk he just smiled at my character once and it did things LMFAOOO

Captain Lonely-Gale: Father? Sorry, Father? Sorry-

Falk Firebeard: Steward whos probably a borderline alcoholic? Possibly involved in scandals? Pretty? Yes please

Glover Mallory: no.1 Smith, thief gone good, first I've found to sell Daedric stuff, what more can you want?

Halbarn Iron-Fur: personality is on point, easily lovable, one of my favourite smiths along side Glover

Idolaf Battle-Born: Dilf with an attitude, fuck yeah

Igmund: As with Balimund, I'm not even sure

Korir: if Siddgeir and Balgruuf had a child, he's them. Personality wise anyway, bit of a wanker tho

Kraldar: idk he's just there and he's sweet

Roggi Knot-Beard: Our favourite alcoholic, lovable character, ray of sunshine.

Rune: He's baby. Todd let me help him find out who his parents are i beg

Torbjorn Shatter-Shield: Dilf, I feel so bad tho oh my god, I killed Nilsine in Muiri's quest... never again. I don't need the bonus.

Ulfric Stormcloak: I can fix him

[helgiafterdark]

i swear he's with everyone at the blue palace

[starcleere]

Need a fic of Tally and Cary starting an anonymous agony aunt column where they give advice to all bereaved citizens of Skyrim.

Featuring:

Occupying the Proudspire Manor balcony 24/7 to read letters and bitch over the terrible relationships ("-this idiot is OBVIOUSLY not interested in the ex, I've never seen a flag more red than when we marched on Cyrodiil in the Great War!" "Tally, don't say that in the middle of Solitude-")

Some advice-seekers seeming suspiciously familiar ("This 'Romantic of Solitude' pining for his strong independent colleague... isn't this Falk Firebeard?")

Surprising the growing readerbase with very deep and touching advice on topics of family, self-confidence, and loneliness, since the two lads can relate.

Shrieks in the middle of the night. People start to whisper about the ghost inhabiting Proudspire Manor... it's just the lads getting the GOOD tea.

Caryalind: *LOUD gasp* Taliesin, sitting up from bed with cucumber slices falling from his eyes: "What?!" Cary, waving around a letter: "Nazeem's wife wants a divorce!"

DB wondering why there are so many letters to Proudspire Manor all of a sudden. They don't know about the side hustle.

Guest aunt Nebby! A lot of readers actually prefer his snarky, blunt advice. It certainly resonates with the Nord way of things.

Nebarra: "If he tells you what to do with your own money one more time, tell HIM what to do with his LACK of money and kick him out the house."

Xelzaz figures it out a good while into the bit. He connected the dots between the sudden popularity of this advice column and the piles of letters in Cary's room. He prefers to read the letters and be a sounding board for Tally and Cary instead of publishing his own advice.

He'll definitely share some quick cooking tips though. Some people think that The Gourmet is a contributor to the column; it's just Xelzaz.

Just Tally, Cary, Nebs, and Xelzaz on the Proudspire balcony, popping open Alto Wine and bonding over shitty relationship advice.

[scribeofskyrim]

Loredas, 16th of Frostfall, 4E 201

Thank the Divines for a quiet day!

We're back at the Manor, getting ready for a trip to the Blue Palace tomorrow. It's only mid-afternoon, but we've got a plan for the rest of the day and I don't want to be up half the night writing!

We came out of Rebel's Cairn to a beautiful morning. It was a bit windswept and desolate up there on top of the mountain, but the view was amazing! I could see the road snaking past the river, and I could even make out Dragonsreach in the distance.

We checked the map and saw that Rorikstead looked pretty close, so we headed that way. As luck would have it, the town was practically right there at the base of the mountain, and there was a Khajiit with a stall selling his goods by the road.

Before I could talk to the trader a courier ran up, said he had a top secret message from Falk Firebeard, then handed me a sealed note. Once he ran off, I peeked at it, then called the others in for a huddle.

Falk has more information about that group of cultists who were trying to summon Potema. He wants us to come back to Solitude right away.

I mean, we can't ignore a summons like that, so we sold what we could to K'irava, the trader, before we hit the road back here.

It was a lot faster getting back. Not only did the weather hold most of the way, we were able to travel over relatively flat ground or roads until we got to Morthal. The only delay was when I got chased by two mudcrabs!

We moved as quickly as we could. I wanted to get back and have time to actually rest before going into Solitude tomorrow.

And I really, really need a bath.

The plan: I'll wash up once Erandur's done, then organize the books we picked up along the way. Lydia's offered to prepare food for the trip, along with dinner tonight, so I'll pull out everything we've got on Potema and have it ready for us to flip through while we eat. Valdimar's going to go over our gear and see if any of our enchanted items need charged or armor needs repaired. Erandur wants to sort through the potions and make what he can that we're short on.

We don't want to go in unprepared, so once we're done with dinner and reading, we'll get our gear ready, then get some shut-eye.

-/-/-/-/-/-

And THIS is why I should never write in this thing until my day is actually over.

At least it didn't go too badly.

I mean, it didn't go as well as I'd hoped, but it could've been A LOT worse.

I was upstairs, sorting books in the library tower, when I heard a fight break out in the dining room.

I ran to the walkway, and looked down.

Valdimar had Erandur pinned against the wall. His left forearm was across Erandur's shoulders, like he was doing a shield bash, and he had an Ice Spike in his right hand, aimed at Erandur's face.

Lydia had been chopping vegetables at the table. Now, she had the knife pointed at them, and was slowly stepping to put herself between me and them, despite the fact that I was on an upper floor.

Erandur had his face turned to the side and his eyes shut tight, bracing himself for the hit. He wasn't struggling, and from my position I could see thin lines of fire curl around his fingertips, as if by instinct. Then he clenched his fists, snuffing them out.

I told Valdimar to stop, but he still brought his hand back, as though to release the spell, and Erandur just grit his teeth and… Waited.

This made Valdimar pause, and he almost snarled when he said, "You were in the cult of Vaermina?!"

Erandur finally opened his eyes and looked at Valdimar. He took a deep, shuddering breath that I could see from where I was and shouted back, "I was only a child!"

He whispered, "I lost everything," and then his voice cracked, and the tears started. Valdimar's spell vanished, and he let Erandur go. He looked like he'd been slapped. I don't think Lydia even blinked.

Erandur sank to the floor, curled up against the wall, knees up with one hand clenched over his heart and the other gripping his opposite shoulder. He'd actually taken off his scarf earlier, and without it he looked even thinner. Even though he's tall for a Dunmer, he looked tiny compared to Valdimar, who was still standing over him.

I half-tripped down the steps to get to him, and hugged him while he wept. Septim came up and managed to worm his way into Erandur's arms.

I looked over my shoulder to glare at Valdimar, and he mouthed "Sorry" and made a gesture like he didn't know. I turned my attention to Lydia, but by this point she'd lowered her knife and gone back to tending to dinner like one of her teammates wasn't having a breakdown. Then I saw her fill a cup of water and set it at Erandur's place at the table.

Valdimar pulled out Erandur's chair for him, and we carefully got him off the floor and to the table. Once he was there, he managed to pull himself together enough to talk, and it was like a dam broke.

The fancy accent was gone, but some of the proper language remained, and he told us…

He told us everything. Well, almost, but it was more than enough. The way he talked, I'm certain he's never told anyone his story before.

He said he was born in The Pale, in a town called Dunstad Grove. His parents were kind, wonderful people, and what little childhood he had with them was a happy one.

And then there's this… Hole in his mind, he said, like pages ripped out of a book, and the next thing he remembers is his parents' funeral. He knows they died, but not how. He was only eight years old. The other villagers were sad for him, but no one knew what to do with him.

Then a Dunmer lady in purple robes came up to him and asked if he'd like to go with her. He'd never seen another Dunmer before in his life aside from his parents. She knew he was sad, and asked him if he had nightmares. He did, and she told him she could make the nightmares go away. If he went with her, she could even make the sad memories go away forever.

I've heard that one before! Damn Daedric cults. Miss Agrippina always warned us about how they liked to prey on desperate people, especially orphans.

Anyway, Erandur packed up with little he had, including the Dwarven mace his father hid under the floorboards, and went with her.

He said that once they got to Nightcaller Temple, the priests there said he could join them. He would be part of their family, and they would take care of him, but he had to give them something in return.

He started to cry again, but only a little. He had his face in his hands and we could barely hear him when he said, "They took my name."

When Erandur told us this, we all looked at each other in shock.

Now, I'm no expert in Dunmer culture, but even I know how important family and names are to them. The first word I learned in Dunmeri was an Ashlander insult that translates to "No-Name" or "Nameless".

Valdimar said, "By Talos! Who would take a Dunmer's name?"

"A Daedric bitch, that's who," Erandur said. He sounded bitter, and reached past the water that he'd been sipping at to grab a wine bottle off the table.

He uncorked the wine with his dagger in one fluid motion, like an expert, and took a long drink straight from the bottle before he continued with his story.

They named him Casimir. They taught him how to fight, how to use magic, and alchemy. They also taught him how to Sleep. He learned to navigate the Quagmire, the land of nightmares that Vaermina calls home. There, he would steal the memories of sleepers who entered there from our realm, leaving nightmares and terror in his wake.

He grabbed at his heart and said that they also trained him to pick good marks. He learned how to find people's fears and insecurities, and how to use them against them. He mastered the art of manipulation. He used it to persuade or outright seduce people into joining the cult, or to simply follow him; then they'd be kidnapped and used as sacrifices in their rituals.

"I did horrible things," he said, "I'm a monster."

"Not really," I said. "I saw it myself."

He shot me a look, and I came clean.

"It was your memories I saw in the Dreamstride."

After I explained what the Dreamstride and Vaermina's Torpor is, I told everyone about the night years ago in Nightcaller Temple, when the Orcs attacked. I told them how he ran through the fray, scared out of his mind because he didn't want to go back to the Quagmire for who knows how many years.

I explained that the others were driven mad, but he knew the High Priests - Like him and his friends - would probably survive it with their minds intact.

But he didn't want to gamble. He was afraid, and I didn't see what happened after he pulled the chain, but my guess is that he bolted through the door before the Miasma could take him, and escaped into the night. He saw his chance, and he took it.

Erandur just stared at me as I told the others the full story of what happened in the Temple, before he destroyed the Skull. I described how he killed his old friends, and how Vaermina tried to get me to kill him in exchange for the Skull's power.

Erandur was quiet while I talked about Veren and Thorek, and started to tear up again. Valdimar asked how he could cry over them, and Erandur said that he'd never forgiven himself for betraying them and running away.

Killing the other worshipers, the ones who had been driven mad by their Sleep, was a mercy, he explained. Doing so freed their minds from the Quagmire, so they could finally rest. Veren and Thorek, on the other hand, had survived their Sleep, so killing them felt more like murder, even though they struck first.

He said that even though they did terrible things, they weren't completely terrible people. Yes, they tried to kill us, but they were still his family, his brothers, and he loved them. He said that he asks Mara for forgiveness every day; not only for what he did while serving Vaermina, but for betraying his old friends, too.

"At least the nightmares stopped," he said, and he finished off his wine.

Lydia had been chopping up vegetables and tending to the stew she was making while he talked, and at this point it was ready, so she dished some out for us. She grabbed a second wine bottle from Erandur's reach before he could get to it, and set a warm mug of tea in front of him.

"You can't be hungover when you go to the Blue Palace tomorrow," she said, then sat down.

I'll admit, I think that made me relax as much as it did him!

I was afraid that the others wouldn't want him around any more once they found out, and I know he was worried, too. Having Lydia state that he was coming with us (it was very clearly NOT a request) was a relief.

Valdimar was obviously feeling guilty about slamming him into the wall earlier. He'd scooched his chair right up next to Erandur's so he could put his hand on his back or shoulder when he thought Erandur needed it. Erandur had flinched a little the first time Valdimar put his hand on him, but quickly relaxed and ended up almost leaning against his arm.

Erandur smiled and thanked Lydia, and we ate for a bit before Valdimar asked him when he left Nightcaller Temple.

Erandur said it was almost a hundred years ago.

I could tell that Valdimar and Lydia were trying to do the numbers in their heads. I didn't even bother. Finally, Valdimar gave up and asked, "How old are you?"

Erandur thought for a moment. "Two hundred and seven."

Lydia looked up and blurted out that he didn't look much older than Irileth!

Erandur laughed, and Valdimar said that he always suspected that he was around 130. Over 150 was impossible, not to mention 200!

Erandur sipped at his tea and said 130 sounded about right. He explained a bit more about how the Miasma worked. They used it in rituals all the time, and most of them take months to complete. A "big" ritual could be expected to take at least a year. He had been a High Priest, and the Sleep for that is a decade. He did so many he never bothered keeping track. He confessed that he completely missed the Void Nights!

"What did you do after you left the Cult?"

Leave it to Lydia to ask the questions we don't know how to.

Erandur put his spoon back in his bowl and did his nervous laugh before he said, and I quote, "I went a little wild."

Valdimar laughed, and said he couldn't picture him being "wild".

Erandur actually started to look nervous, and said that he used to be quite a different person. The Cult of Vaermina raised him to be harsh and selfish. He said they encouraged his alchemy experiments, and his "creative brutality".

He was the perfect acolyte, but the Cult controlled every part of his life. Even his haircut wasn't his choice. It got worse as a High Priest. In theory he had all the power and control, but then he had to serve as an example.

When he escaped, getting a job was the last thing he wanted, but he didn't know what to do. So, he did what he knew best: Alchemy.

He wandered around, selling potions on the road like a skooma dealer, and soon ran into some bandits. They tried to kill him, but failed, and he found a note on one of them talking about a smuggling ring up the coast that would buy their goods.

I've had my suspicions about Erandur from the day I met him, but I saw plenty of little clues in the time since that kept telling me I was right. I've only seen one kind of person who can uncork a bottle with their dagger like he can, then re-sheathe it while they take a drink.

"I knew you were on a boat!"

I was SO certain!

Erandur laughed, and said that I was half-right. He found the smuggling ring and offered his services as an alchemist and a healer. He mostly stayed at the hideout, but he did do a bit of sailing and learned a lot from the sailors that he spent his first months of freedom with.

Gangs don't last long (don't I know it!) so he had to move around a lot, and went from group to group. He even confessed that he went by "Kaz" during that time. He was clearly embarrassed by that, and yes, he did spell it for us when Valdimar asked.

I would say something here about being Young and Stupid, but that's me, so…

We started asking him more questions about his life of crime, but he waved us off and promised that he'd tell us more, later. It was getting late, and he was tired.

So, he got up to say his prayers before he went to bed. He said he needed to thank Mara for bringing people like us into his life, who wouldn't judge him for who he used to be.

Valdimar asked if he could speak with him for a minute, so I helped Lydia clear the table while they went into the front room to talk. Lydia explained that Erandur has slipped up while he was chatting with Valdimar earlier. She didn't catch it, but it was enough to alarm Valdimar. She asked me not to be too angry with him. He was only trying to protect me.

I reassured her that I wasn't angry at anyone. I admitted that it was a little scary to see Valdimar like that. Lydia agreed. She'd never seen him so mad! He always reminded her of a big, cuddly bear.

I reminded her that all bears have teeth.

I was cleaning up the broken glass by the alchemy table when the door opened and they rejoined us in the main hall.

I could tell Erandur had been crying again, and I asked if everything was all right.

Erandur nodded, and I really like how he put it so I hope I got it right, "My heart is tired, but it is full."

He left to do his prayers, and Valdimar went back to getting the armor ready for tomorrow while Lydia packed the food. I asked him if Erandur really was all right, and he said that he was. Valdimar wanted to explain himself and apologize in private. Erandur was just so relieved that we honestly didn't hate him that he broke down again.

Lydia mused aloud if priests usually got "that kind of treatment", and explained, when I asked, that since priests are always the ones helping people and healing them and listening and giving counsel, who does it for them? He's always taking care of us; when was the last time anyone actually took care of him?

Like I said, she's a savvy sweetroll.

Anyway, I sat down to write this while they finished getting things ready for tomorrow. They've both gone to bed, and Septim's asleep by the fire, so it's just me and Erandur.

He's getting the potions sorted; he wants to have it done for tomorrow. He tried apologizing for not telling them earlier, but I said that was all right. Honestly, how do you even bring that up? Where do you start? "Oh, by the way, I used to be in an evil cult and I was so good at the evil they made me a high priest!"

That got a real laugh out of him, and he had to say I was right.

I made sure to give him a big hug, too. He hugged me back and thanked me for letting him join us. He said there weren't many people who knew he'd been in Vaermina's cult, but almost all of them pushed him away as soon as they found out.

Considering that most of the people who accepted him did crime for a living, I'm not surprised.

But I'm getting tired, so I'm going to stop here so I can finish this book on the Wolf Queen while I drain my wine, then get my ass to bed.

It's been a hell of a night.

---

Back | Next

[thelurkershideout]

A lightly feral Dragonborn that just refuses to sit on appropriate surfaces. A chair? No thank you. A bench? Absolutely not. A table? Yes. The floor? Excellent. Somehow managing to sit on a hanging light fixture like it's a porch swing? PERFECT. How did they get up there? Who knows. Is it comfortable? They seem to be having an excellent time.

One day Balgruuf finds them sitting in the rafters of Dragonsreach. Ulfric comes out of his war room to find them lounging on top of the stone structure above his throne. Falk Firebeard has asked them not to sleep in the stairwells of the Blue Palace multiple times. Inn keepers are routinely confused when they plop themselves on the floor in front of a chair instead of in it.

[skyrimtournaments]

Best Marriage Candidate Tournament: Round 1

Torvar is a member of the Companions, and something of a drunk. He can be married once you're the Harbinger. Sorex works at the Winking Skeever in Solitude, and aspires to run it once his father- the owner- dies. He can be married once you've delivered a bottle of rum to Falk Firebeard for him.

[aquicat]

New chapter of 'Guilt, My Brother" is out!

So sorry for the hiatus! I'm back at it now!

Later, Babette found Cicero, “there’s something I forgot to give you,” she admitted, rummaging past herbs, vials and what looked like desiccated mudcrabs in her knapsack. Eventually, she pulled out a cloth bundle and handed it to him, “I took them from your room before I left Falkreath.”

Cicero undid the string and the package spilt open onto the floor. There was a thud of fabric and a clatter of metal. The metal was a long black knife with an odd shape - the same as the one from his strange dream, the cloth was a red and black motley almost identical to the burnt one. He choked trying to speak. Shimmers of gold poked through the folds of fabric, torn and repaired a thousand times by someone he almost knew.

Fic summery for newcomers:

Cicero arrives at the Blue Palace after having lost his memories. He knows his name, and he knows he's a jester - but what he doesn't know is why he's plagued by violent urges, and why the laughter in the back of his mind won't leave him alone.

Meanwhile, Queen Elisif struggles to gain true power over her country - thwarted by her advisor, Falk Firebeard.

If you like lesbians, blood and existential crisis, and if you don't mind the occasional typo, this fic is for you. (I think. I'm not legally liable if you hate it)

[throughtrialbyfire]

A Petition to Jarl Elisif

i really enjoyed how this scene turned out from my longfic, so i thought i'd just post it here for ppl to read if they want. enjoy! <3

  For the next several minutes, Athenath stood close to his companions as Viarmo rambled on and on about tradition, about the spirit of Solitude, history, all things which fell onto uncaring ears. Phoebe, behind her desk and under her plumed cap, gave the trio a sheepish smile while she listened and recorded the words spoken among the courtiers and the headmaster, her hands a flurry across the scroll which seemed near-never ending in her lap. Athenath would occasionally glance to Emeros or Wyndrelis, and do their best to keep their posture tall instead of shrinking into themself.    "Jarl Elisif, you know as well as I do that the Burning of King Olaf is tradition in Solitude. What's a city in the midst of war without its traditions to keep its residents in good spirits?"    "Viarmo," Elisif breathed as she rested her head in the crook of her thumb, rubbing gingerly at the ridge of her brow, "we have had this discussion before. It's simply too inappropriate with the death of my husband to reinstate the festival now."   "Your Grace,"-Viarmo gestured a sweeping hand to the students lined at his side, in such a neat row it could almost be taken for part of a performance-"I merely implore you to think about the prospective bards in the situation. Not only has this festival been held since time immemorial, but the bards that this festival exists for inducting as full-fledged members of the college are unable to take part in their rightful festivities. These three," he moved his hand, bringing to sweep along the air where Emeros, Athenath, and Wyndrelis stood, "are brand new to the college, and taking part in the festival is a rite of passage to the new students! And as you know, Ataf," he moved to gesture to the plume-hatted man, who gave a nervous wave of his fingers, "was set to be inducted as a fully-recognized bard! And Jorn," he gestured to the Nord, who puffed out his chest with pride, "was in charge of this year's effigy! That's a prestigious honor, and we at the College would implore you to reconsider." 

  "Headmaster Viarmo," Falk hardened his words in his throat, words enunciated with a sharpness of warning, "we understand your wishes to reinstate the festival, we truly do. Not only is it most inappropriate during the period of our Lady's grieving, but in such times of war as this, you would have us let our guard down for one night?"    The room clenched in silence, the air tight and hard to gather into full breaths. Athenath's gaze struggled to find a focus, slipping quick from the visages of fellow bards to the members of the court, his hands lightly taken by tremor. Breathe, deep and slow, they pushed and pulled air like waves as Viarmo scoffed.    "There are plenty of guards who would still keep our city safe, so our residents could rest a moment at ease. This could even serve to boost morale, if you'd let it."    "Enough," Jarl Elisif's word left Viarmo scrambling for something else to say, her voice hinting at the drain this conversation put on her as the edges of her speech drooped and wilted like dying flowers. "I understand how much this festival means to you, Viarmo, but High King Torygg-"   "Was an enormous supporter of the arts, a continuous and reliable patron of our College, and friend to myself and several other members. Would it not be an insult to his memory to push away the very festival he cherished so?"    Athenath swallowed tightly as Elisif's weary gaze flitted between the faces of the students, then to Viarmo. 

  "Headmaster, I believe it's time you go. I will give it some thought. You are right in this regard, my husband was always thrilled at the festival's occurance every year, but this is not the time to be discussing such matters."    Viarmo floundered for more to say, his brow tight and lowered, his hand raised as though he were attempting to point at some spectre behind the Jarl, but at the measured pace of her housecarl who inched closer in his heavy armor, Viarmo blew a breath out between loose lips and scrubbed his face with his palm.    "Thank you for your time, Your Grace."    He gave a flourishing bow, the feather in his cap bending with the motion, velvet cape pouring over his shoulders like a velvet waterfall. As he rose, he turned on his heel, gesturing for his students to follow him. Emeros looked down at Athenath and arched a brow, the Altmer shrugging as he turned to Wyndrelis, who similarly wore a look of subdued confusion at the rapid change in the headmaster's attitude. One moment he was ready to stand up for the festival, and all it represented, and the next...    The moment the group had exited the Blue Palace, Viarmo gave a long and heavy, near-dramatic sigh. "Well, we'll just have to see what Giraud comes up with. Great work, everyone, perhaps she will give it some thought with having seen you all there."    Athenath had his doubts. How could just laying eyes upon some of the students make the Jarl change her mind? They raked their long fingers through their curls, shedding more glances to the uncomfortably grimacing faces of the other students. Clearly, this had gone even worse than anyone anticipated, and Viarmo's disappointment visibly scurried itself up his shoulders. Normally so high and poised, his body slumped in on itself as he lead the way back to the ancient college.    "Fear not," he turned to face his students, who stopped in their tracks, "while we may not be able to put on the Burning of King Olaf yet, that does not mean our sacred festival is doomed to obscurity. We'll simply have to be patient. Ataf, Jorn, I apologize if your induction will be later than usual."   Ataf waved a hand, his face still bearing the hallmarks of his own discomfort, a twitched and upwards-curled lip and furrowed brow, eyes never quite meeting anyone else's face. "I'm not too worried. It just means I can spend more time on my studies."    Viarmo gave a nod of agreement. Maybe he truly did believe the excuse, but Athenath knew that sort of phrasing anywhere; something he'd used himself in different times, a brushing off of concerns just to placate whoever stood before them. Either way, the older Altmer said that they should head back to the college, and he'd work on his next appeal in a week or two. Whether this would include him marching the students back to the Blue Palace, Athenath didn't know, and he sincerely hoped it would exclude them this time.  

[paladinofthelantern]

does anyone know if durak (the orc who gives you the intro quest to dawnguard once you hit level 10) prevents the courier from arriving to deliver falk firebeard's letter for "the wolf queen awakened" if you did "the man who cried wolf" quest, level up to 10, and then go to a town? i'm thinking maybe they are both trying to appear at the same time or something? please help.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Elisif the Fair, hyped on pumpkin spice and sugar: It's been the Witches Festival for three days and it's not even the Witches Festival yet!

Falk Firebeard: Shor save us.

[omegatheimmortaldragonborn]

Aldis when he finds out about Bryling and Falk

[corvidexoskeleton]

I couldn't figure out why the skyrim courier wasn't delivering anything, so I selected the refID for him and used the console to move him to my location. He then proceeded to give me a fucking stack of mail, including letters from ralis sedarys, falk firebeard, jarl sidgier, mulush gro-shugurz thanking me for killing someone, calcelmo asking to buy another single dwemer arrow, and three seperate inheritance letters informing me of the deaths of some vampire mistwalkers that I presumably killed at one point