#skyrim marry

[the-writing-trash-panda]

I can’t marry Hadvar and that pisses me off so what should I do. Marry someone else or not marry at all.

[electoons]

I love the college of winterhold. everyone there is casually deranged and there's like an alarming number of students and staff who threaten you immediately when they meet you. it's always one of the first questlines I do. which makes it even funnier when you get made the arch-mage of the college. I'm level 12 and got through this questline knowing exactly 3 spells. what do you mean you want me to lead the college. this school CANNOT be an accredited institution

[skyrim-forever]

we talk a lot about the fact that you can't marry Brynjolf but we don't talk enough about the fact we were robbed up an assassin romance with Nazir

him being your primary contact in the brotherhood, the bond after the fall of the Falkreath sanctuary plus his smooth voice and his wit, just <3

[umbracirrus]

Okay, so, I have recently been thinking about axes and their importance in Nord culture in Skyrim, in part because I have something planned in a fanfiction that involves giving an axe and have been doing a little bit of research into it, and I have gone down a bit of a rabbit hole so please bear with me on this mini essay in which I have pulled together my thoughts/observations about axes in Skyrim and my two favourite Jarls, Balgruuf and Ulfric.

So, as anyone who has done the Civil War quests in Skyrim would know, there is a pivotal point in which the balance of power in Skyrim shifts either towards the Empire or the Stormcloaks based purely upon the player's alignment - when Whiterun either aligns with the Imperials or is taken by force by the Stormcloaks. Of course, there is one particular event which happens immediately before the battle begins, and that is the delivery of an axe.

However, at this point I would just like to bring up something which will become relevant later no matter what your alignment - at the point of the axe being sent, you have been named a Thane of Whiterun. Balgruuf won't hear anything to do with the Civil War when a dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower, so becoming both Dragonborn and a Thane is a prerequisite to the Civil War.

If you align with the Empire, it is Balgruuf who decides to send an axe. If you ask why, he gives the explanation that "if he returns it to you it means we have business to settle. If he keeps it, then we are at peace.", and if you ask whether you should say anything, he says that Ulfric knows what it means (also important for later!). The other dialogue option which isn't just 'sure, okay, I'll do that' also says that it is tradition, and that Ulfric honours traditions.

Obviously, Ulfric doesn't accept it and you return to Balgruuf with the news that he will be attacking Whiterun and suddenly, the city is under siege. When you win, Balgruuf personally thanks you for what you have done after his victory speech.

Now, on the other side of things, if you side with the Stormcloaks, it is Ulfric who gives you the axe to take to Balgruuf, but his explanation is much more... succinct. "If he keeps it, I will bide my time. If he returns it to you, it means war."

And as with the other side, because the game would be pretty boring is Balgruuf was to go "sure, I accept Ulfric's axe", he rejects the axe and that in turn means that you return to Ulfric with his axe, and he expresses his disappointment that Balgruuf had done so.

The two Jarls wanted the other on their side, but their views were fundamentally different they couldn't accept. 😭Sending their axes was just a formality, a way of saying 'this is it, we have to fight now'.

So what I am basically getting at, the civil war quest establishes that giving an axe is a way of determining allies and enemies, depending on whether it is accepted or rejected.

Coming back to what I mentioned earlier, in order to do the civil war quest and to talk to Balgruuf in order to either give him Ulfric's axe or to give his axe to Ulfric, you have to have become the Dragonborn and are a Thane of Whiterun. When you become a Thane in Skyrim, you end up receiving a weapon as a reward, typically named 'Blade of *insert hold name here*'. Except in two places.

Whiterun, and Eastmarch. In those places, you get either the Axe of Whiterun or the Axe of Eastmarch.

If I remember correctly, the blade weapons are randomly generated so have the potential to be axes, but these two are specifically named to be and are axes.

What else is in common with Whiterun and Eastmarch?

Their Jarls (Balgruuf and Ulfric) are the only two people in Skyrim who actively partake in and have knowledge of the tradition of the sending of axes.

When you become a Thane of these two holds, you are not just becoming a Thane, you are becoming a trusted ally of the Jarl, somebody who they can rely upon. Even more so with Ulfric, because you can only become a Thane of Eastmarch with Ulfric as Jarl if you are Stormcloak aligned.

Speaking of being Stormcloak aligned, how about a diversion back to the Civil War, specifically when the battle for Whiterun has reached its penultimate stages, Balgruuf has been defeated and has surrendered control of Whiterun. After an argument with Vignar (and I'll get into him later because he makes my blood boil), Balgruuf turns to you and says a line which absolutely breaks my heart - "And you. A Stormcloak? I'd thought better of you." 😭

Balgruuf thought you his ally, he had given you his axe, and you have just gone and stabbed him in the back (figuratively, and quite possibly literally depending on character build). As I said, it breaks my heart when he says that line.

Basically, what I am getting at, is that the depth of such a simple tradition in Skyrim is immense and I wish that there were more things like it (beyond the duel to the death for the throne thing, looking at you Ulfric) or saw it used more in the game. And that Balgruuf and Ulfric are by far the best Jarls in terms of character development and just how much their homeland and traditions mean to them. And I wish that there was a way to keep Balgruuf as Jarl even if you are Stormcloak aligned because fuck Vignar, and you know what? Fuck Maven Black-Briar too, she sucks. Laila is pretty incompetent as Jarl but at least she isn't Maven and that's a rant for another time. But not having Maven as Jarl is main reason I join the Stormcloaks more often than not. Balgruuf is usually the main reason that I join the Imperials on playthroughs.

Now... Vignar Gray-Mane. When you make him Jarl of Whiterun and he names you Thane, he gives you the Blade of Whiterun, not the Axe of Whiterun (yeah, I know I said that I think the blade weapons can be randomly generated as axes, and no doubt it was given to stop you from having multiple axes of Whiterun, but I just don't like Vignar soooo....). That's mean. Especially after we protected the city and helped him become Jarl too. There's another layer of insult there if you've rescued Thorald, his nephew, from the Thalmor. At least Brunwulf Free-Winter gives you the Axe of Eastmarch when he is Jarl if you defeat Ulfric for the Imperials and complete that shitshow of a quest 'Blood on the Ice'. Brunwulf is a bro, not Vignar. Hmph.

[creeperthescamp]

what (or who) convinced y'all to get into tes?

i think when I was about 15 a family friend showed me skyrim since i was already into fallout, and she was showing me her dunmer assassin with her little house and her wife and I was like 'yea that looks pretty cool, i might try it out sometime'

however as soon as she mentioned there were cat people I immediately went 'OH FUCK I need this game RIGHT NOW' lmao I don't even remember if I knew anything else about the game! the existence of the khajiit was all I needed to know (and that you could be gay)

[evilwriter37]

The best answer.

[eternallovers65]

Its so funny how the moment roier and cellbit are together, they immediately begin to share the same braincell and will reverse back to fifth graders

[otpadsis]

ive been playing skyrim for the first time for a while now

[peony-plum]

Who would you marry?

[the-skooma-den]

I feel like skyrim was ahead of its time with how many of its marriage candidates were sad old men

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Babette: "Gee, Arnbjorn, I'd figure a guy with two wives would be happy."

Nazir: "No, that's a guy with two knives."

Cicero, holding two knives: "Cicero has to tell you, this is pretty terrific!"

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

Jia: *dries out apple seeds* Did you know that apple seeds can actually poison you? 😼

Miraak: *Sweating Jordan Peele meme*

Jia: Oh, don't worry, these are for my spell jars. I didn't let them slip into your pie by accident...😼

Miraak: *stares at his half-eaten apple pie* ...why on Nirn did you have to say it like that?

[skyrim-forever]

[argisthebulwark]

Can you get married in the name of gods other than Mara? Like could Dibella or Sithis bless my union?

[reirajustrei]

[coffee-at-daybreak]

what we want | teldryn sero x reader

Ever since you helped clear Raven Rock mine recently, the town was seeing a boom in business. Miners were flocking to get their share of work in. As a result, the Retching Netch would become quite hectic every night, seeing as all the exhausted workers just wanted a nice meal and drink and a comfy place to stay. You were lucky to have come into the inn when you did, before the rush, so you managed to snag a table tucked away in the corner. You stare at the half-finished loaf of bread you’d been picking at, lost deep in thought despite the ruckus around you.

You’re jolted out of it when you feel a boot tap against your own under the table. “Still awake, serjo?” Teldryn asks.

You look up at him, met with his slightly concerned but amused red eyes. “Huh?”

“You haven’t even had a drink yet and you look out of it.” He tilts his head. “Everything alright?”

How dare he ask you that, with that damned helmet off, staring at you with those damned alluring eyes, on that damned captivating face of his. You’ve seen it before, but the effect it has on you is just as intense as the first time - your skin gets warm, your mouth goes dry, and your belly feels like it’s housing a frenzied moth with all its fluttering.

But you maintain your composure, thank the gods. You nod at him. “Y-yes, I’m just … thinking.”

“About what?”

You gulp, nervousness wringing your already unstable belly into a knot. “Well…"

Teldryn chuckles. “Uh oh.”

There’s a long pause as he patiently waits for you to gather your words. The sound of voices and laughter echo off the walls of the inn. You toss around options in your head for a moment, but you finally go with the blunt, flat approach.

“What are we?” You ask.

He simply stares at you for a second. “..What?” He finally shoots back, in a tone that makes you feel like you just asked something silly.

But it’s not something silly to you. There’s a lot about him and your relationship that you do know. You know that you started out as a simple patron and hireling pair. You were acquaintances, people who talked only to discuss plans and money and whatnot. Then you were friends - you talked about your backgrounds, about your adventures, about your interests and dreams. You went from simply using his company, to actually cherishing it.

And you don’t know when, or how, but you strayed onto the messy path of more than friends. His lingering touches when he helped adjust your armor. The soft tone you started to adopt when you said his name. The way you two embraced after a brutal, exhausting battle at a bandit fort. Sharing a bed at an inn or holding hands to stay together in a crowded city. In the heat of the moment, these things all came naturally to you, and you honestly had never given it much thought before.

But it hit you this morning, when you two had been locked in a practice sparring session, and one particular moment had you mere inches apart, and all you wanted to do was pin him down and kiss the life out of him. But he’d leaned back, declaring you’d had enough practice and it was time to get moving. And you’d finally felt the strangling weight of that dreaded thought.

You didn’t know what you were - just a patron and their hireling, or something more.

“W-well, it’s just…” You rub at your neck nervously. Your pulse sounds like thunder in your ears. “I don’t want to assume anything, but sometimes it feels like… maybe we…”

You can’t even get the words out. There’s a strange, suffocating fear gripping at your chest. You can’t help but worry that this will turn out to be a grand misunderstanding, and you’ll be made to look like a fool. Knowing that could end in Teldryn leaving your side is all the more terrifying.

He is silent for a second, which only increases your fear. Then he’s cracking a smile, one side of his mouth lifting. “You are adorable, Dovahkiin.”

Heat grows under your cheeks. You watch him as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. His boot taps yours again, playfully.

“What do you want us to be?” He asks.

You blink at him. “Wha- you can’t ask me that!”

“Why not?” He laughs.

“You could be setting me up here,” you mumble. The warmth on your skin is spreading everywhere, and you worry you’ll start sweating any minute now.

“Now, now, I may have my dark side, but I’m not evil.” Teldryn’s smile turns into a grin. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“You are the worst. I regret saying anything.”

“Come on, tell me.” His eyes narrow, staring at you with paralyzing intensity. “What do you want us to be, serjo?”

You fight the urge to pick up your abandoned piece of bread and throw it at him. Instead, you take a deep breath in. You shift your foot under the table, extending it so that your leg leans into his a little. He holds your gaze, but you notice the way his eyes relax from their narrowed glare.

“I want us to be more,” you say, trying to keep your voice as firm and as steady as you can keep it. “I want you to be more than just a mercenary, and I want to be more than just your boss. I want us to be together because we want to be, not because we have to be.”

There’s another tense silence, in which he continues to simply stare at you. Panic overtakes you and you wave your hands in front of you a little. “Unless of course, you don’t want the same. Then I shall pay you a handsome amount of septims and we can pretend I never-”

“Sh.” He interrupts sharply, which works because you stop and look back at him. Your entire body is in overdrive. Your heart feels like it might leap out of your throat.

Teldryn’s smile softens. He unfolds one of his arms and pats at his lap. “Come here.”

You give him a split second “are you insane” look but he urges you again. You swallow the last of your nerves and stand, knees feeling a little weak as you step over to him. You take a very unsure, very careful seat on his leg. One of his arms immediately wraps around your waist to pull you closer. His other arm dives to pick up your legs and drape them across his lap, so you are situated comfortably against him.

It’s not fear that’s fueling your crazed heart rate anymore, but a thrill of elation. Especially your eyes lock with his, and you realize you’ve never seen them this close up before, their intense red color more hypnotizing than ever. In the cozy lantern lights of the inn, you could sit and study his details forever, from the angles of his face to the tiniest scar notched into his skin.

“Firstly, I don’t do this with any of my patrons,” he says , his voice so much closer and warmer, now that you hear it better amongst the noise of the inn.

“I’d hope not. Because if so, you might be in the wrong field of employment,” you quip, and his body quivers beneath your own with his laughter. You snake an arm around his neck, resting it over his shoulders. You can’t help but smile, a cheesy but genuine smile. Relief starts to sweep through you, eradicating the last of your worries.

“Second, consider this my resignation as your hireling,” Teldryn continues.

You arch an eyebrow in question. “What is your new title, then?” You dare to ask.

His hand moves off your leg and reaches out to take your own hand into it. You’d never felt his hand without his gloves on before. His skin is calloused but warm, and like him, it feels so strong, so protective.

He lifts your joined hands to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Yours. All yours,” he murmurs against your skin.

Were he not holding you so firmly right now, you might have actually swooned. That flutter in your abdomen floats up to your chest, where your heart feels like it’s blooming in joy. You don’t even care if there happens to be anyone looking at you two. It’s hard to care about anything else right now when he’s holding you like this, and looking at you with a tenderness reserved for only you.

“I do like the sound of that,” you admit. “I’ll approve it, so long as we make it fair and you consider me yours as well.”

He grins up at you, his arm giving you a playful squeeze around your abdomen. “Deal.” Then he lowers his arm at your back, which drops you just enough for him to lean in and join your lips together, as if to seal your new agreement.