#feels like an honnor because i do feel that way about your contents !!!

[dreamtydraw]

Idk man I just love everything you make. Like, everything. Your accounts always have such good vibes and I have the most fun seeing what shenanigans you get up to

*gigantic audible parisian gasp*

No u <3

Be blasted

[griffinsandpeacocks]

Get Up And Write Week 2: “I’ll be here ‘til we collide, I don’t care if I survive.″ Force of Nature, Bea Miller

Warning: I have a head cannon due to the altmer maintaining their population despite their disturbing habits on the Isle that certain male mer could carry a child. I mean the altmer should have died out other wise especially given a lot of them died in the Oblivion Crisis, so my head cannon is that they have a minority in the male population that can carry a child. Please turn back if that is not your cup of tea. I rather not deal with flamers thank you.

Faernil sat in the cell looking up the ceiling feeling hopeless. He hadn’t done anything but then again he’d been asking to get screwed by being in Skyrim of all places to begin with. He should have known better. His arms tighten around his legs and he sighs. He was just looking for his son. He needed to find Martin. He was going to die instead. He hears the guards move but doesn’t look his stomach churns when he smells food from the hall he sighs and drops his head onto his knees. 

“Martin... Please stay safe...” He whispers terrified he wasn’t going to be able to help his son at all anymore. He had wanted to stay with him, Martin had always been saddened by not having his father but Faernil had said even if Martin had died to save them, he was still there watching from the stars. Aside that, Faernil would always be there for him as long as he should want him around. Faernil sighed he had held the favor of The Nine for a time but still... His little son was well trained and even if he died to some cruel nords his brat could survive on his own. He took a lot after his father he could pass for a breton unless his ears were on show and then again if he tanned his skin went from the dull tan to a golden sheen like his own. 

He had had no stolen good on him and hadn’t even done anything in fact he’d been trying to get supplies so he could search further, as he hadn’t seen Martin at Darkwater crossing where they’d agreed to meet back up. He had heard a group of Imperials attacked a group of Stormcloaks and he felt his chest tighten. He was terrified his baby was gone. Yet he’d looked he hadn’t found his body, so Martin was either on the run from the fighting or he’d been captured. He can’t stop the soft sob. 

“What are you upset about? Being in a cell?” The guard asks and Faernil scoffs lifting his head and rubbing his tears away into his sleeve. At least they’s let him keep his mage robes. Another mistake he’d wager. 

“No... I don’t care of my circumstance... I’m worried my son is out there hurt or dying and I’m no where near to help him like I’ve promised since he was old enough to understand words.” Faernil says looking over at the blond that looks at him with concern. His stomach growls again  as the smell of food drifts down and Faernil drops his head to his knees and hides the sigh. The man moves and the elf looks up shocked when the man offers a chunk of bread.

“Won’t this get you in trouble?” Faernil asks cautious and the blond smiles blue eyes rather dazzling.

“Not really? We’re not the Thalmor we do feed our prisoners.” He says and Faernil stands a bit shaky as he’d curled up in the corner since he’d been thrown in on his face. He takes the bread with a soft thanks and the man asks him what he did which gets the elf to laugh a bit sad.

“Being gold with pointy ears is my best guess. I was bartering to continue looking for my son and got grabbed and told I’d broken some such law and if I wanted to live I’d go with them.” He says honestly. The man frowns and asks if his things had been placed in the chest and Faernil shakes his head and says they’s gone upstairs with it. The man storms off and Faernil sighs and moves back to his corner. 

A commotion is heard up above and the elf waits and eventually the same blond that had given him the bread came back a bag in his hands and a bruise forming on his jaw. Another man more formally dressed by Skyrim standards walks behind him.

“So this all is yours?” The first ask setting it on the ground he opens the bag and shows the contents. The elf comes closer. Most of his things are there and some that are not. He points out what’s not his and mentions some of his easier to sell supplies are gone. The man growls and the man places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t, it’s not worth it. You what were you accused of?” He asks and Faernil sighs. He explains again he’d just been bartering and gotten a vague arrest. They looked at the reports and nothing said anything about Faernil being in the cells. So the regally dressed man opened the cell and handed over the bag of everything. Faernil tried to say he couldn’t take what wasn’t his but the older of the two nords looked at him and Faernil could see his patience wearing thin.

“Accept it as payment for being wrongly imprisioned as there’s no record we have no idea who those things belonged to. They’re likely dead. Take them.” Faernil sighs and nods, giving up the argument. He looks at the younger nord.

“Thank you. Truly you could have left me in there, I can go look for Martin again.” He says smiling and the younger man shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“You reminded me of someone who got dragged into Helgan with us. I’m Ralof by the way.” He says and the older nord paused and turned to look at the mer again. Faernil feels mildly uncomfortable.

“Can you describe them?” He asks watching Ralof with a feeling of dread in his chest.

“Tall about your height, he had long sandy blond hair and at first I mistook him for a breton but then we went under some sun and there was that gleam you altmer give off. He has bright grey eyes.” Faernil stops him there pain in his features as he tries to make his voice work.

“Last you saw him he was alright?” He asks voice choked and Ralof paused and nods and Faernil sighs his shoulders slumping with relief. 

“We just sent him out to retrieve an Ice Wraith fang.” The older man says and Faernil paused he pursed his lips.

“As a test..?” He asks fear griping his chest. The older nord nods and Faernil feels his chest tighten. 

“He’ll be fine, he made it through Helgan, there was a dragon there and word is he fought one and killed it in Whiterun too.” Faernil feels his heart stop there’s a ringing in his ears and he feels cold.

“What...?” He asks voice tight and Ralof looks sheepish as he sees this is not comforting news to the elf.

“He’s fared far worse than just getting to an ice wraith.” Ralofsays in an almost questioning tone he’s trying to calm the elf down, he can see it’s not working as well as he’d like.

“Damnit Martin... You weren’t supposed to become anyone special. It’ll only get you hurt!” Faernil hissed hands clenching as he thinks how he can stop this. The older nord looks at him with a barely hidden sneer.

“Should he instead die without any honnor like a dog?” He asks and the altmer snarls and glares him down.

“He’d die without knowing how much it hurts when those you fought for turn their backs!” He spits and the man glares and gets closer to him and Faernil steps up so their practically in each other’s face.

“What would you know of people turning their backs on you after you gave your all?” The man shouts and Faernil can sense the power in his voice but doesn’t flinch instead he holds out his hand and summons a simple shield. It’s the crusaders shield. 

“I was a Champion to Cyrodill. They would have my head to hand it over to the Thalmor because I’m a Blade. Don’t test me boy, I’ve loved a man that held dragon blood in his veins you’re parlor tricks won’t phase me. Do not test me, or I’ll show you how fierce a dragon truly is.” Faernil hissed and the man looks to the shield sees the red diamond and steps back glaring at him.

“You’re claiming to be the Seventh Champion?” He asks and Faernil sneers.

“It’s truth not a mere claim. What else do I need to do to prove it? Pull out the shattered amulet of my long dead lover?” He snarks and Ulfric gives him a curious look.

“You have the shattered amulet of kings?” He asks and Faernil sniffs feeling the urge to cry he fights back the tears as he vanishes the shield and reached under his robe and pulled out the broken amulet he stares down at it sadly.

“I’ve had it since that last battle.” He says softly there is clear pain in his voice. Ralof bumps their shoulders together and Faernil looks up and smiles at the young nord.

“You’re Martin’s father then?” He asks and Faernil laughs and blushed shaking his head.

“Mother.” He corrects and both men look at him confused.

“It’s a trait we mer prize, since we’re so obsessed with purity it’s hard to have a female child so having a son who can carry on the linage in either fashion is well sought after. I’m one of the unlucky sods with the trait.” He says softly.

“Unlucky, how?” Ralof asks and Faernil sighs and his hand clenches around the amulet he feels the shattered stone cut into his palm but pays no heed to it.

“Unlucky because if I get dragged back to the isle I become a brood mare.” The elf explains and Ralof looks at him confused and Faernil shrugs blushing as he looks to the side and coughs.

“We basically go through a time where we become extremely fertil, there are ways to encourage that out of turn So I’m not just concerned he’ll get hurt... I might be mildly terrified of what could happen to me.” Faernil says softly opening his hand he heals the cuts and puts the amulet back and then holds out his hand to heal Ralof’s face the bruise fading away quickly under a master healer’s hand.

“You know healing magic?” The older nord asks.

“I’m a master in the healing arts. I... Used to just be adept but after having my son I became overprotective. He once to prove a point vanished for a couple days on his own and when I found him he’d made a camp and had fended for himself remarkably well he then told me if I kept coddling him he was going to go join the Legion which... Was enough of a wake up call I started to teach him all I knew that he was willing to learn.” Faernil says softly and Ralof looks at him with a curious look.

“No offense meant but... You look like a breeze could knock you over.” Ralof states and the older nord is now laughing and Faernil will admit he enjoyed the sound as much as the arrogant man irked him.

“Well... I mean... You’re not wrong.” Faernil agrees laughing softly.

“Would you be willing to join with your son? We could use healers.” The man says and Faernil looks at the nord skeptically.

“No. I will heal any injured you have here... But I refuse to be involved in another war. I watched so many die in the last one... I can’t do that again. Going out and killing dangers to people like aggressive wildlife and bandits is one thing... Killing men who are just taking orders... I can’t do that anymore. I watched my own knights die so that me and my son could flee from Thalmor with these gods forsaken relics... I gave up on fighting then. We had hid waited and gone back... You know what those bastards did to my knights?” Faernil asks and Ulfric looks at him. Ralof looks sick already.

“What?” He asks and Faernil sneers.

“They had cut off their heads and put eight of them on pikes. The ninth knight, the knight for Talos, was strung up like some garish decoration in pieces to make the rune for liar. I... I don’t want to deal with it anymore... I can’t stand the thought of that happening again... Yet you nords have a painfully accurate saying ‘War, the season unending.’ It’s true. Those of us that live on Nirn are petty at our core. Thus war is eternal and self sustaining.” Faernil says and he looks at the older nord.

“I can show you to the area our injured are, we are in painful need of healers with your skill.” He says and Faernil sighs knowing now that he showed a needed talent this man would hound him for it. He follows them securing his bag and watches as a tall rugged blond drags the two who’d thrown him in jail down the stairs they’d come up. He doesn’t pay any further heed following the two he enters a room that reeks of blood. Faernil has to step bag a sick look on his face he covers his mouth and nose and swallows he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as fire and death flash behind his eyes. Yet he fights it all back, there are dying men that need his help. He swallows thickly and walks back in the two nords watching him as he walks the room Wunfurth watches him as he’s been seeing what he can do. Faernil goes to one man who is giving shallow rattling breaths and he sees the fire in his eyes and smiles softly.

“I’m here to help.” He says gently and his hands glow as he gently checks the man over seeing it’s a miracle the man’s alive his ribs were broken likely from a shield or hammer blow and it’s shocking he was managing to breath. Faernil winced as it was going to hurt when he fixed the ribs.

“Take as deep a breath as you can. This will hurt...” He advises the man takes a breath ready to tear into the elf with words but Faernil takes the chance and channels his magic the ribs lifting off the lungs and setting in place Faenril holds the magic and mutters under his breath a specific spell until he feels the easy flow signaling the ribs were set. The man had his jaw and eyes clenched shut but hadn’t wailed in pain. Faernil stops his magic and looks at the jug of water near by and pours a small glass he helps prop the man up just a bit so he can drink and then he channels some more healing through the man fixing several injuries that had been building into serious internal damage if they’d been left much longer. 

The elf went about the room like that healing the majorly damaged ones first before he found others that had breaks that were mending but some were done in a hurry and needed re-breaking. Faernil sighs and just keeps healing what he can that is easy or quick before he moves onto the ones that need to be hurt again before being healed properly. It was his least favorite type of healing. Though the nords in the room he’s been circling in for the past week have begun to call him an angel and he smiles as some would share stories with him and others were weary of him still. He enjoyed it though as much as it made him nauseous he loved to help people it was in his soul. 

“Hey, there’s a few new guys coming in. A soldier he’d healed previously says walking in with a wince, he’d been made a guard at the palace at Faernil’s suggestion. He’d healed but there was always going to be lingering damage that made him a more reliable guard than a soldier. At least as a guard he’d be within close range of a healer if the injuries flared and caused him to get hurt again. Faernil smiles at him and gestures at empty beds and he stands from the chair he’d been resting in and the soldier that had gotten him to sit groans in frustration.

“How in all Oblivion do you not get tired?” He asks exasperated and Faernil laughs.

“I do, I just hide it really well.” He teases as he helps get the injured men and women into beds though some fight it not trusting the elf. Faernil had reluctantly agreed to stay at the Palace and become the resident healer. Only because if he stayed he’d eventually see Martin. Ralof and Ulfric had said when the young man came in they’d call for him so he could say hello to his son and they could both be assured the other was safe. Faernil had slowly become at home in the chilly palace and had even begun to see perhaps not all the nords were close minded assholes. Many were genuinely happy to see him about the palace when he’d leave the healing rooms when his presence wasn’t urgently needed. 

The new group had one man that had his eyes wrapped and Faernil saw the lingering burns of magic and cringed already aware of what had happened even as another explains he was rescued from a group of Thalmor. Faernil stayed quite not wishing to distress the man he was as gentle as he could be unraveling the bandages he saw the man’s eyes were severely damaged. If he’d see at all it would be a miracle and testament to Faernil’s healing abilities. He sighs again he straightens up and takes a deep breath as he starts to heal focusing harder than necessary so he doesn’t have to chant and possibly terrify the poor soldier. He sags tiredly against the wall after doing what he can silently. It’s a huge strain as the words in a chant help direct the magic to do specifics but when silent one had to focus so solely on what they needed it drained on their will much more than just a powerful spell would.  

“I... I can see? How...” The man sound startled and confused and Faernil steps away worried how he’ll react to see an elf. He glanced to another soldier in a bed who’s recovering and they purse their lips and watch the man.

“We have a talented healer helping us now.” He says slowly and the man looks at the other soldier and Faernil moves a bit away to help some other soldiers first though one is very angry and very awake.

“Get away from me you filthy gold skin bastard.” He snarls as Faernil approaches and the conversation ceased in the room everyone now looking at Faernil who just blinks at the man.

“You know, I took a bath not too long ago so not filthy also not a bastard despite a quite a few people swearing otherwise. Now be silent and still so I can heal you and get you out of my care as quickly as I can.” He sighs and flicks his hand to immobilize the man long enough he sets the breaks and heals the lacerations and then looks to the two guards that typically stay outside the room but when new injured soldiers come they like to come in to be sure the elf isn’t hurt trying to help. It had happened once as he was tending an unconscious soldier who’d woken up in fight mode and had almost strangled him. He backs up and releases the spell the man glaring and about to go off when the previously blind soldier speaks up.

“You’d insult a man that just healed you? Someone who has no reason to help you and could have left you for dead?” He asks and the man glanced over anger clear in his face.

“You went through it, how can you even begin to trust this bastard?” He spits back and the previously blind man sneers.

“Because there’d been an elf with us who was equally tormented you blind fucker. He took more than the rest of us because when those black robed assholes came in he’d insult them so they’d target him. He died before the rest of us and if I hadn’t followed suit we’d all be sporting more damage. So shut your mouth before I get up and rip out your tongue.” Faernil froze and turned.

“Did you know his name?” Faernil asks terrified and the man looks at him and nods.

“He wasn’t a Stormcloak, he was just a dunmer that had gotten caught when he’d tried to help us in the skirmish that saw us captured. His name was Servas.” The man says and Faernil’s form relaxes he’s sad to hear a dunmer had been put through that but it wasn’t Martin.

“You were scared it was someone you knew?” The man asks and Faernil gives a soft smile as he moves about healing others in need of his care.

“I had feared it was my son, Martin would be that bold... Or stupid. If the Thalmor ever caught him they’d make his death slow and painful.” He says softly frowning now as he treats the injuries of a woman covered by fire burns these burns are different from any he’s dealt with before... He paused and sighs his magic isn’t as effective on them and it’s troubling. He paused and looked at the alchemy table. He always hated yielding to alchemy where his magic failed. He was still a very proud mage. He looks at the woman and pursed his lips trying to think of a calm way to say that he was borderline useless in her case.

“Dragon fire’s that different from magical burns then?” She asks cracking a pained smile and he sighs nodding.

“I’m afraid my magic is near useless in this case. However, I can make some salve that should hopefully help. It will take a while to make so I’m afraid you’ll be in pain longer than I would like.” He sighs and she shrugs wincing as she does.

“Eh I’m a warrior I’m used to it.” Faernil hissed and stood.

“Doesn’t mean you should be because of my incompetence!” He growls and stalks to the alchemy table realizing he doesn’t have the proper stock to make the potion. He stares down at the table a moment. He turns on his heel and looks at  the woman.

“I’m an idiot.” Faernil states simply with a deadpan expression and she laughs.

“Out of ingredients?” He nods and packs up his small bag and paused. He wasn’t keen on walking around the city as he didn’t know what had happened with those that had screwed him over the first time. Yet.. He looks around at those in the room some were asleep some were talking with others. Some hated him and others were genuinely thankful. He walks out with a soft promise he’d be back shortly. He walks down and Yrsarald looks up from the map and blinks at him in shock.

“The golden angel has emerged from his healing room!” He says as a joke and Faernil laughs.

“I Wouldn’t if it weren’t for my lack of ability to help with dragon burns. The burns resist the healing of magic so I need to make a salve. Unfortunately I need to go on an ingredient trip.” Faernil sighs and Yrsarald frowns.

“You’ve been using your own stock... Let me see about getting some money for you to get more than some scraps pulled together.” He says and Faernil blushed and he bows his head in shocked thanks. He follows him out and sees Ulfric in a heated debate and hears him raise his voice when Galmar asks what drives him. That line.. ‘I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must.’ Faernil paused and shook softly. He stares down and starts whispering a prayer to all The Nine and their various names. He startles when a hand lands on his shoulder. Galmar is looking at him.

“What are you doing?” He asks eyes narrow in suspicion. Faernil blinks and goes to answer. 

“Praying. For you lot.” A voice Faernil knows well and a smile breaks out on his face and a saying leaves him in altmeris that is roughly a saying that means a joyous meeting was upon those in the area. Martin smiles and says it back and walks up and hugs his mother who wraps his son in his arms tightly and Faernil can’t hold back a flood of heartfelt altmeris that was a garble of apologies and thanks that he’d come back safe. Martin was the last shred of family and happiness Faernil had and he hated being parted from him, especially when in such dangerous circumstances. 

“You are going to give me grey hair.” Faernil sighs softly as he pulls back smiling at his son and thankful he was unharmed minor marks that never had been there. Faernil tuts and turns the young Martin’s face about frowning in worry.

“You’ve had close calls...” He notes and Martin blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Calm down, I just don’t have as much experience dealing with loathsome pricks.” He jokes and Faernil laughs now suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Martin... I might have experience, but that does not mean I don’t have close calls. Speaking of I need to go get supplies to help heal a woman covered in dragon burns.” Faernil says now side tracked back to his initial plans and Yrsarald laughs near Ulfric who watches eyes seeming like chips of cold ice sharp and piercing. Faernil paid it no mind but Martin seemed to. He caught the look and he stared right back his posture changed his form seeming to become charged. Faernil pushed it to the back of his mind and made a split decision.

“I’ll become a healer but I stay here... I can’t face what waits out in the open field. I’ve done enough for this gods forsaken continent. I refuse to hold dying men and women and hear names of their loved ones. I can’t handle that anymore, I will break, but healing the soldiers that come back... That I can do.” Faernil says softly and Ulfric nods. 

“I’ll see to it you have what you need.” He says and Martin tosses a cloth to Galmar who catches it opening it he cracks a grin and chuckles. 

“So you did it.” He says sounding approving and Martin looks at his mother.

“I’m a Stormcloak now right?” He asks and his mother pursed his lips Faernil won’t say a word against it. He nods and gestures his son forward.

“Fight for whatever cause fills your heart with courage and pride.” He says softly and Martin’s face lights up knowing Faernil wasn’t upset. The elf was however secretly terrified. He watched his son swear in and he looks to Ulfric who watches Martin a look in his eyes, it’s calculating. Faernil paces a bit in the alchemy shop later waiting for his order to be fully brought together by the master who was bickering at his apprentice. He ignores it and takes the bundle paying with money given to get the ingredients and he freezes as the man speaks of the vial and his apprentice insists he can’t go. Life work wasted... He had a foolish soft spot.

“Tell me more, I’m willing to go. No one should watch their life’s work wither in their twilight hours.” He says and the master explains much. As Faernil goes out he brews the salve and contemplates his soon to be new adventure. He carefully helps the woman apply the salve and he’d shown Wunfurth the salve and how it was made in case they needed more of it. He explained he was going on a short trip as there was an alchemy related relic he heard tail of and wished to look into it. Ulfric nods the people in Faernil’s care were all recovering, thus Faernil was free to do what he’d like. 

The trip wasn’t bad in fact it was less an adventure than he’d thought. It was a fairly easy in and out trip. The sad part was getting the broken phail back sad to see the other mer look so crushed and despondent. The apprentice asks him for help once the altmer goes to lay down. Faernil pursed his lips, two he had on hand, powdered mammoth tusk could be used in potions to help set bones. The hart was merely an easy commodity. It was useful enough he liked having at least a few on hand.

“I’ve no clue how to get the snow... I have the other things but...” He sighs and he and the apprentice feel despondent as Faernil leaves and goes back to the palace and Faernil starts pouring through the library he finds in the Palace when he isn’t treating patients trying to find out where this unmelting snow could be or if it was possible to get at all. His son finds him in the room later that month leaning on his alchemy table heavily shaking all over as he can feel a heat flaring. He looks at his son who he’d told what to look for and Martin is frozen in shock never having thought he’d see his mother like this.

“A heat?” Faernil nods and he stands shakily and tries to move out of the room to go and find a place he can hide in until it passes but Martin stops him. 

“I’ll go ask Ulfric for a place to hide you.” He says and rushes out Faernil shakily sits in a chair full body tremors wracking his form. He looks up at the door Martin coming in with Ulfric who paused never having seen the elf blush this fiercely and Faernil swallows thickly as all he wants to do is something he refuses to acknowledge. 

“He needs to have a safe place to wait this out. I’m not going to have him get hurt not while I can protect him.” Martin says fiercely. Faernil looks down and starts up a mantra trying to keep his focus long enough he won’t jump someone and beg they help him. Ulfric helps him up which has Faernil on the verge of doing what he’s fighting not to he is panting heavily and trying hard to focus as he is placed in a room and Ulfric swears he’ll have Yrsarald watch it as Yrsarald was straight and respected the elf enough he’d keep the room secure until he came back to himself. Faernil lost any track of time from there. He woke up finally back to his senses and felt mortified. He hid in the room remembering foggy parts of the last couple days where he had tried seducing Yrsarald on several occasions. The door opens and Yrsarald peeks in.

“Ah, you’re aware again.” He says and Faernil sinks lower into the bed hiding under the blanket. The nord laughs softly.

“You might have tried jumping me but you were easy to put off. It’s Ulfric you’ll want to be more concerned about.” Yrsarald says placing a tray with food down. 

“What did I do?” Faernil asks muffled and the nord laughs at the childish behavior.

“You may have had your tongue down his throat at some point when he had swapped with me to bring you food as I had to take care of something personal.” Yrsarald says. Faernil screams into the soft bed and Yrsarald walks out trying not to laugh. Eventually the elf comes down in his healing robes, he’d switched out of his typical ones hoping to make an impression and not be shouted through a wall for his horrible behavior when the cycle he went through hit. His robes are styled like the clothes back on the Isle, they had a creamy over-robe a white under-robe that was only held closed by the fawn colored belt that kept it wrapped proper then the high colored grey undershirt and leather leggings he wore under it his black travel boots were a staple. He walks down and froze hearing Ulfric talking with Martin.

“He wasn’t thinking clearly he didn’t mean to offend or give any suggestions, Jarl, he’ll probbably be mortified of what he’s done when he comes to.” Martin was saying nervously and Ulfric sounds flustered when he replies.

“He stuck his tongue down my throat and you tell me he wasn’t trying to mean anything by it!?” Faernil feels like sinking into the floor.

“According to half the troops he’s treated you’re a lucky sod.” Galmar says and Ulfric growls as Martin makes a choked sound possibly fake gagging at the thought. Faernil stays where he is too afraid to go further. 

“Lucky! Lucky that he’ll be disgusted when he’s clear headed?” Ulfric barks and Martin shouts next.

“I said mortified! He isn’t like the Thalmor! Don’t you dare accuse him of thinking men to be beneath him!” Martin sounds offended and Faernil knows his son’s temper when he feels his mother’s being insulted and sweeps out Ulfric who’d gone to shout back at the newer Stormcloak froze eyes locking onto Faernil;s form the instant he stepped into the hall. Martin though was getting ready to start up a new round of insults and Faernil swept up and wrapped a hand over his mouth. Looking down unable to meet the nord’s gaze Faernil met Martin’s when his son looked back and up at him. Faernil hid his tears as well as he could.

“Don’t yell at the Jarl, Martin. He has a reason for thinking I’d feel that way, though who I’m disgusted with isn’t him. I should have better control of myself. You need to watch your temper.” Faernil says softly. He steps back and bows to Ulfric and turns to head back to the healing room.

“I have patients to tend to but my most sincere apology my Jarl. My behavior was abhorrent and I regret you seeing that. I’ll take care the next one is somewhere it won’t bother anyone.” Faernil states walking away. Yrsarald sees him and goes to say something but seeing the pained expression and tears stops him and he watches as the mer moves up the stairs like someone lit his robes on fire. He paused set down his map and walked into the hall.

“Who the fuck upset him and who am I throwing through a wall?” He asks and Martin points at Ulfric and Ulfric paused blinking at Yrsarald in confusion.

“I’m not sure why he’s upset... Other than the incident. Why are you this upset?” Ulfric’s curious Yrsarald rarely got this confrontational unless fighting. Yrsarald glares at his Jarl.

“Respectfully Jarl Ulfric, he’d been upset he jumped you as he’d been afraid he’d caused offense. He hadn’t been crying when he came out here, and he’d been listening for a while before walking out. So, what the hell has him that upset?” Yrsarald asks calmly though he’s giving off pure rage. Galmar looks at Ulfric.

“You might want to go talk to him.” He suggests and Martin nods sagely watching Ulfric who looks at the three who stare at him in varying stages of rage to Galmar’s bland unimpressed expression. 

“If my mom is crying when I go up to him to tell him I help Quintis fix that stupid Phail I will shout you through a wall. Just a heads up.” Martin states walking out of the palace and Yrsarald points at the room with the stairs that lead up. Ulfric sighs. When had his life become this much of a disaster? He walks up and hears several voices in the room several asking the elf if he was okay. The mer gave a reply but it was too soft for Ulfric to hear, he moves closer and pressed an ear to the door.

“You mean... You went through a weird... Elf cycle thing... Which makes it really hard for you to focus let alone reason out not to do certain things that increase your chances of getting laid... Kissed the Jarl and now you’re terrified he’s disgusted with you and is angry?” A soldier asks. There’s a painful sounding laugh.

“Yes that about sums up my epic stupidity. I can’t recall everything.. It takes a while after a cycle... I... I haven’t had to deal with them in so long since I’ve always had Martin with me and now of all times I go and practically spit in my host’s face...” Faernil’s voice; Ulfric knows it well enough and there’s snickers in the room.

“Mouth more like...” Someone jokes there’s laughs but a groan he can tell is the elf.

“Please it is not amusing the least bit. I might literally die and you all are making it sound as if he’ll skip in here laugh it off and tell me what a grand job I’m doing.” Faernil whines and they all go quite.

“He won’t risk chasing off such a great healer. It would loose too many men and women. Even if you are an altmer, you aren’t such a bad catch, in my opinion he’s lucky he got a kiss. He’d be foolish to be offended and angry, I mean if he’s straight he should brush it off, if not pursuing you be a great idea.” A female says and Faernil laughs.

“I’m flattered sweet heart but I don’t think the Jarl feels the same. His words were and I quote ‘Lucky! Lucky that he’ll be disgusted when he’s clear headed!’“ Faernil sighs sounding sad almost.

“Wow you have it hard for the Jarl don’t you?” That’s Ralof, he comes up to talk with the elf when not on a mission. Ulfric listens not sure why, he thinks it must be because this elf had treated everyone with the same level of care even the man that almost hurt him he had treated to his full capability. There’s a long stretch of silence then a heavy thump against the door someone sliding down by the sound of it. Then softly he hears a sob.

“Why do The Nine hate me?” It’s Faernil.

“No! Don’t cry! Please, I’m terrible at this kind of thing! Gurdur says so all the time!” It’s Ralof again and there’s rustling faintly and then he feels a softer thump against the door. 

“I’m not crying!” Faernil hissed and Ulfric can almost see the elf rubbing stubbornly at his face and storming away from Ralof. The elf had been kind in all his interactions it wasn’t hard to see how and why he had made so many friends so quickly.

“Dear, you look like you’re drowning. Sit down and talk it out; you look like you need it.” A female soldier says and Ulfric hears the rustle of movement and then Faernil starts talking.

“I... I Don’t know when, why, or how, all I know is he caught my attention. Heh... Actually how I do know... ‘I fight so that all the fighting I’ve already done hasn’t been for nothing!’ He’s... I know that feeling... I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve given as much as you possibly can and yet you’re being pushed into a corner more and more being demanded and you feel like you’re drowning... And you fight because you can do nothing else. You dig in your heels and you bare your teeth because the things you’ve already done will not be for nothing. I... He isn’t bad on the eyes I suppose... I like his laugh it’s deep like thunder... I don’t know if I can stand it if I have to keep standing alone... Martin’s an adult I can’t keep shadowing him... He’ll need to be alone to grow... Mommy can’t just smother him his whole life.” Faernil sighs and Ralof speaks up.

“You won’t be alone. Each of us you’ve made friends with will be here and if not Ulfic someone out there will love you, no one who can see how much you care from your soul not fall head over heels for you.” Ralof says and there’s agreement echoed in the room.

“I have a brother that I know has an elf fetish.” A man speaks up ad there’s a groan and a round of laughs. Faernil sighs at least Ulfric thinks he does.

“You lot are a great help but... No thank you... I don’t need a blind date. I just need my heart to stop being so foolish. I lost Martin Septim in The Oblivion Crisis... Even if I could have the Jarl... What’s to say I won’t loose him to this war?” Faernil asks as he stands and walks to the other end of the room and starts on his potions he’ll need to help some injuries that his healing magic won’t do much for. Ulfric stands in shock at the other side of the door and feels a heavy feeling in his chest. He had a terrible experience at the hands of elves, Thalmor, and since then he’s been distant or outright hostile towards them. He turns unable to face the elf that he isn’t sure he can face in front of others right now.

Yrsarald sees him and paused he can tell Ulfric isn’t sure what to do and has obviously learned something that’s troubling him. So he’ll just wait. Ulfric goes to Galmar and they talk of the next moves on the war. Ulfric has little clue how he feels on this or even how to react with the new knowledge. It takes months before he has even the smallest clue. In that time Faernil has come and gone several times coming back looking exhausted and skirting the hall as if trying to avoid attention, or maybe Ulfric. He eventually grows comfortable near the Jarl but the elf keeps a poised air and acts with nothing but respect towards Ulfric. 

When a dragon attacks the city Faernil is one of the first to respond as he is out in the city when it happens. The shriek it lets out as it rears it’s head back and tries to scorch the area Faernil just throws his hands up with a chant on his lips the fire raining down stopped and held at bay as people flee and soldiers and guards respond rushing forward drawing their bows and Faernil chants keeping the shield though sweat beads at his brow as the heat stings his palms. He lets it fall as the fire dies and he spins ice gathering around him he throws an ice spike straight into it’s face and as it’s head thrashed he gathers lightening and runs forward he leaps onto a smaller wall and leaps higher Ulfric had rushed out planning to use his own thu’um to fight the beast back and watches as Faernil let’s lose a bolt of bright violet light that lands straight in the beasts open maw. It thrashed body going limp and it falls as Faernil lands it’s body dropping down onto him Faernil spins down and crouched magic flaring around him as the beast lands on him. 

“Get him out from under it!” Ulfric shouts and the troops rush to help him move the dragon Faernil is crouched in a glimmering shield but he’s shaking and the shield crashed as he drops face first into the snowy cobbles. Ulfric hefts the dragon as high as he can off the elf and barks at someone to get the elf. Ralof who had been in the city to report how a mission he lead went ducks under and drags the elf out and lays him down patting his face and trying to wake him as everyone else drops the dragon and turn to watch. 

“Faernil, wake up... You’re too stubborn to die...: Ralof says nervous as he pats the elf’s face again. He winced and back handed him and the elf’s eyes go wide they glow blue and a shock sends Ralof flying a few feet through the snow with a yelp. The elf sits up panting looking around wide eyed and when he sees Ralof smoking he goes pale and slips trying to stand too quickly and getting caught on his robes.

“Damit!” He shouts and Ulfric hauls him to his feet Faernil doesn’t pause he rushes to Ralof and crouched hands shaking as he checks for a pulse. He hides his face in his hands.

“You don’t wake up a mage that’s magically exhausted you idiot. You lucky idiot.” Faernil sighs. He drinks a mana potion and sends a gentle wave of healing over the nord who groans and sits up.

“Got it... Next time Ulfric hits you...” He groused rubbing his chest with a wince and Faernil turns looking at the group.

“I... Thank all of you... I wasn’t going to be able to hold that shield up and the dragon off of me much longer... I wasn’t even sure that the lightening was going to kill it...” Faernil says looking down and someone shouts about it not being dead and Faernil responds so quickly Ulfric’s surprised the elf didn’t slip. He summons a spectral blade and embeds it in the beast’s remaining eye.

“Stay down!” He shouts and lightening lights up around him his eyes glow the same soft violet as the sparks surging around him and the dragon thrashed and then went still smoke curling up from it and Faernil sways smoke rising from his hands he waves one and laughs.

“It’s dead now..” He chuckles and falls into the snow. Ulfric cursed and checks for a pulse he picks up the elf and brings him to the healing room asking Wunfurth to look the elf over and the mage tries and sighs.

“Ulfric I’m no healer... He’s drained but I can sense he’s alive and not shattered so he’s not likely to die but if or when he’ll wake up I don’t know.” He says and pats the man’s shoulder as he walks out. Ulfric feels cold dread as he sits down in the chair by the bed. If Martin found out he’d die. It takes a week for the elf to stir and even then his hands are burned from his stunts with the lightening antics he’d pulled and his mana is sluggish and slow to build he’s virtually useless as far as magic goes. Wunfurth suggests he not to heavy tasks with his hands and mentions alchemy is in fact on that list and Faernil looks upset, more so than anyone has seen.

“I don’t want to be useless!” He protests and Martin had just walked in.

“What?” He asks eyes becoming daggers and Faernil looks at his son. 

“I killed a dragon and may have... I burnt my hands and drained my mana...” Faernil explains and Martin sighs. He looks exasperated as he walks over to his mother he folds his hands over his mother’s and chants softly a glow around their hands. He pulls back unravels the bandages and smiles up at his mother.

“You’ll be able to do alchemy now! Just don’t stress you’re magic please... We both know you can shatter your core... Please, I might be an adult now but I’m not ready to loose you.” He says hugging his mother close and Faernil sighs and hug Martin back he buries his face in the dirty blond hair.

“I can’t promise you forever, Martin... But I won’t do anything too foolish... Not unless I need to.” He swears and smiles at his son. Martin grins uneasily and nods. It’s several months later when they ride out to Solitude. Faernil goes because he worries and because he needs to be there to help. It is weird and many comment on it but he gives the same answer.

“A battle healer is useful on the front line.” Faernil’s face is set in cold determination but Ulfric can see he is afraid. The night before they would start the siege Ulfric goes to the elf’s tent. He had broached becoming at least a friend to the elf during the time the elf was recovering after felling the dragon. He had to address the fear he saw.

“You don’t have to be here. I can see you’re afraid. If you don’t want to see the death that will wait for us tomorrow you can leave.” Ulfric says and Faernil looks up holding that same shattered ruby from their first meeting. 

“I can’t do that Ulfric. I need to see something... No someone through this fight. Even if it kills me.” He says solemnly. Ulfric grits his teeth.

“You don’t need to protect Martin, he’s a capable warrior, he’s felled dragons, Sovengard he’s the Dragonborn! He can use the Thu’um even better than I can.” Ulfric argues and Faernil smiles softly.

“I’m not talking about Martin. He has his father’s blood running strong in him, he’ll die on his terms and his terms only.” Faernil says softly and Ulfric paused, and decides to reveal what he knew.

“Then you’ve followed me here.” He says and Faernil nods still keeping his neutral expression. They had grown close the elf shattering wall after wall Ulfric had tried to put up and the elf had helped him improve the city while he played War Chief. His reputation had improved and he had worked to treat elves like he would everyone else as after all not all altmer were Thalmor and Faernil had proved it over and over and over again.

“You’re afraid you’ll lose someone precious in this war.” He says and Faernil nods again swallowing thickly.

“Tell me then... If I asked you to come to my tent, to spend this last night of war with me?” Ulfric asks and Faernil suddenly looks conflicted. 

“I... I want to more than I have words to explain... But I can’t... If you fall tomorrow...” Faernil looks terrified and Ulfric moves in close and kneels down cupping the elf’s face.

“I’ll be here until we collide.” Ulfric swears and the elf flushed and leans in gauging if he’s dreaming sure of it when lips meet his. Shocked when the kiss grows deeper and a jolt runs through him alerting him to two facts. One he would spend the night with Ulfric and two, he was certainly not dreaming.

“I don’t care if I survive... You Ulfric have been a light to me for a while... If I can love one last time... Then I’ll die happy even if we fall tomorrow.” Faernil whispers and it’s an oath Ulfric feels it in his bones.

“I plan on making you my Queen so neither of us dies tomorrow, that’s an order.” Ulfric smirks as Faernil smiles.

“As you wish, my King.” Faernil’s eyes glow with sheer joy and Ulfric is glad to have seen that before they go to the final battle.