#ty Sithi!

[owlpartytime]

Expose your fictional crushes!

Ty @negative-speedforce

This was surprisingly hard to narrow down.

Honorable mention goes to Sithis, who is more of a concept than anything else.

@hobbit0fhobbiton @seikilos-stele @iamramblingbrambles @cordaged @zeldurz and anyone else that wants to play

[ciceroandlucien]

The sanctuary had been thriving since the Listener had been chosen. Contracts were pouring in as Skyrim recovered from the civil war. People who hoped their enemies would be wiped out in battle were now having to seek out other ways to take care of their problems. This was good news for the Dark Brotherhood. The Listener had had to move into the Sanctuary to be close to the Night Mother after the frequency of traveling back and forth became unbearable.

Cicero maintained his position as Keeper, however, he was now free to return to the blade. This return excited him tremendously. During his caesura, Cicero had never fallen out of practice, but it was nothing compared to the real thing and he had to admit, he was a bit nervous. 

His first contract was to be a young apprentice at a forge in the southern region of the Pale. The young man was believed to be forging weapons for a band of bandits that were holed up north of Whiterun and his mentor had reason to believe the bandits would be coming to raid their small village once the arsenal was completed. Cicero knew of the village as he had passed through it on his way to the Falkreath Sanctuary not that long ago. Memory of the trek and his broken wagon wheel flashed into Cicero’s head and his rage churned up once again. Damn that wagon wheel!

The details of the contract meant that it had a fairly urgent timeline. Cicero had time to prepare, of course, but it left little time for nervousness. He set about gathering the necessary items for the job and laid them out across his bed: his ebony blade, freshly sharpened by Eorlund Gray-Mane at SkyForge in Whiterun, a bottle of paralysis poison, just in case, and finally, his shrouded armor.

Cicero had put his jester’s motley away, at least for the evening. A first in ages; he had grown to see it as a second skin. But there was no longer loneliness, nor solitude. Cicero had his family once again. And the silence had once again brought joy as it meant an imminent kill for him. The laughter had become a distant memory. Still, Cicero had felt bittersweet folding it carefully and tucking it into the drawer. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye quite yet. 

Pulling on the shrouded armor, the material hugged his skin. Yes, he thought, this familiar feeling is good too. The leather, suede and clinking of the metal studs against the buckles as he tightened the belts. He had forgotten how powerful it made him feel. He had once become one with the darkness, the most deadly of the assassins at his former sanctuary. And tonight, he mused while tying his red hair back, would be a return to his former glory.

Suited up, Cicero tucked the potion into his satchel, sheathed his knife, pulled on a robe and set out into the afternoon sunlight. When he arrived at the village, the smithy would be closing soon and the apprentice would be dampening the forge fire and cooling the smelter. The village people would have returned to their homes for dinner and, with any luck, Cicero would have no trouble at all sending the young man’s soul to Sithis. Cicero did not prefer to travel during the daylight hours, but the distance he needed to cover required his early departure from the sanctuary. His robes would conceal his identity for the journey. 

Along the way, Cicero spotted a shrine, a carved statue of a beautiful woman  surrounded by tall stones, littered with nightshade flowers. He strode closer to view an inscription on a placard affixed to the stone base of the statue..

“May time mend thy wounds

The way lover’s touch cannot

But think of me always

And I will never be forgot”

Cicero felt a pang in his chest. His heart had never truly recovered from his loss of Alisanne. He thought of her often during his time of solitude, but with all that had been happening, he realized she had not crossed his mind in weeks, if not longer. He felt guilty, ashamed at having let her slip away from him. Cicero walked around the stones and gathered some more Nightshade flowers. He placed them delicately on the placard and closed his eyes.

“My dearest Alisanne,” he began, “the pain never ceases. It does not even seem to wane. But distractions of progress and accomplishment have clouded my mind. You would be proud of all that has transpired, I think. But I would gladly leave it all behind to join you in the Void for eternity.”

Cicero left the shrine to return to the road and as he did, he looked back. The blueish glow of an apparition could be seen passing between two of the tall stones. For a brief moment, Cicero’s breath caught as he watched the figure approach the flowers he had left behind. The figure plucked one up and placed it behind an ear before dissipating in a shimmering show of light. Cicero felt his flesh shiver as bumps raise on his arms and legs 

The sunlight had begun to wane as Cicero approached the village. There were still people milling about the paths and Cicero had some time to kill. He found the graveyard for the village and stepped carefully between the plots, examining the inscriptions on each headstone. Children, infants, elders who had lived full lives, warriors who had died in battle, adventurers that crossed the wrong creature. He came across a grave with two headstones close together. The inscription described a couple, in love since childhood, who had tried to elope to a cave in the forest and met fate at the hands of a troll. The couple’s families had each insisted they be buried with their own elders, but the people of the village, knowing of their relationship, had prepared the graves side by side instead. “Love remains when blood runs dry” the inscription finished. 

Cicero mulled over this. He decided that for him, at least, the message was clear. He would be an assassin for as long as he was able, and when he could spill no more blood, he would return to his love, Alisanne. She would be awaiting him in the Void and he would arrive filled with a lifetime of stories to share.

The forge was the last light remaining in the village. The apprentice seemed to be having some difficulty in putting it out, unless he wasn’t yet trying to do so. Cicero had shed his cloak and crept toward the shadows away from the forge, but with a good view of it. The apprentice was not trying to dampen the forge fire. He was still working, in fact. Cicero spotted steel daggers, swords and axes on the bench against the structure. He placed his hand on his own dagger and nodded, knowing that he would certainly have no trouble squaring up with this young man, if needed, even if he was out-armed. 

The apprentice brought a dagger to the grindstone for sharpening. Cicero crept closer, drawing his blade as silently as a cat on soil. He approached the apprentice and with a swift movement, threw an arm around the apprentice’s chest and slashed his throat deeply from ear to ear. He held the young man for a few moments as the life drained from the wound and then slowly lowered him over the grindstone. 

On his way away from the smithy, Cicero snagged a couple of steel daggers. They would be fun for the practice room, he reasoned. One can never have enough daggers. 

The instructions of this contract stated that Cicero needed to speak with the contact for his payment after the job was done. The contact being the smithy, Cicero wandered the shadows just off the path through the village, trying to remember which home belonged to the man. Finally he happened upon it, knowing it was the right one because the man stood on the upstairs balcony and waved Cicero over quietly.

“You’re the assassin, right?”

Cicero nodded.

“The job is done? You saw the weapons, right? It had to be done. I have a duty to protect my village. They rely on me to provide the tools they need to protect themselves as well!” 

Cicero continued to nod. He recalled how many times contracts would attempt to justify their need for the Black Sacrament. He didn’t much care what reason he was killing the targets, personally, though he assumed some of his brothers and sisters enjoyed hearing the logic behind their tasks. 

“It is done,” Cicero confirmed. 

“Good,” the contact finally quieted. “Here’s the gold. Please do not mention this to anyone.”

Cicero accepted the purse of gold and turned to make his way down the balcony steps back to the path.

“Wait,” the contact said a little loud for Cicero’s comfort. Cicero glanced over the railing to the path below where the two guards in the village were crossing paths and then faced the contact expectantly. “I have another job for you, if you’ll take it.”

Cicero continued to listen, saying nothing.

“The boy, my apprentice, Frejdrik,” the contact stumbled over what to call the young man. “He had a lover. A young lady. She lived in Hjaalmarch but crossed through the Pale often. She brought Black-briar mead from Riften to the holds farther away than they would normally deliver. She may have been the one to arrange this whole business with the bandits.” 

The contact was beginning to break into a sweat. He had clearly been worrying about this.

“I–I don't have proof of this, of course,” he stammered. “But if it was her, she could still arrange the bandits' attack on our village. And I cannot risk that. I don’t have any more gold to offer you. Perhaps we could make a deal? You, an assassin, surely have much need for weapons, sharp and deadly? What say you? Could we work something out?”

Cicero sat with the proposition. Killing outside of his Brotherhood contracts was rare even before he became the Keeper. He had enjoyed the thrill of a random victim, of whom he had no knowledge prior. But he had tended to stick mostly with killing the guards who whispered to him, “I know who you are. Hail Sithis!” He did not appreciate their remissness, indiscretion and preferred to have as few people know of him as possible. Still, having a smithy at his service sounded nice.

“Okay,” Cicero finally agreed. The contact let out a sigh of relief. 

“She’s probably still in Riften,” he whispered. “She usually stays in Haelga’s bunkhouse for the evening after she arrives, spends a day or two fishing, drinking, whatever those ruffians do over there, before loading her wagon and returning.” He paused for a bit before continuing, “I would prefer if she did not have to learn of Frejdrik’s death. I despise the boy for all of this, but I was young and in love once and I remember what it is like. I’m sure they were hoping the bandits would pay them off and they could take their spoils to begin life anew somewhere. He was a reluctant apprentice, set up with me by his father after he swore he would not become a hunter if his life depended upon it. Foolish boy. This whole thing makes me sick.” The contact spat over the balcony railing. 

Cicero asked the man if he had any advice for dealing with the apprentice’s lover. The contact gave him her name, “Mjari,” and told Cicero that she was quicker witted than any other girl in town. She had grown up with the quiver and knew well how to use it. He didn’t expect Cicero to have trouble if he caught her unaware, but if he gave any inkling of his intentions with time for her to notice, “well,” he stated, “I may see you next as a corpse on your way back to your home.”

Cicero smiled behind his mask. A girl after my own heart, he thought. You don’t come across too many young women with weapons skills that aren’t veterans of the war or part of a faction already. The thought struck Cicero. Mjari visited Riften often. Perhaps she had fallen in with the Thieves Guild or one of its splinter groups. There must have been some way she had connected with the bandits, as the contact had said. Not that he believed he had bitten off more than he could chew, but Cicero asked the man if he had a timeline in mind, as it was possible that this would need some preparation. 

“I suppose I can go out this evening and clean up the mess by the forge. If I can clear it so there is no evidence of his death, I can probably play it off as him having left town. But try not to take too long. If she returns and finds out her love is dead, she may incite a riot right there upon arrival. And I don’t doubt she would bring the bandits that very day. If you can’t get to her on this trip, her next trip is on Mondas and she will be back in Riften by Middas, if not sooner. If I can convince her that Frejdrik has left town on an errand, she may elect not to stay over that night, expediting her arrival in Riften. Please, just get it done. As soon as you can, okay?”

Cicero nodded and made his way down the steps once more. His steel daggers were tucked into his belts as he had no spare sheaths. They poked him as he walked. Cicero swung back by the forge and collected his robe from behind a bush where he had shed it. The scene was gruesome, but Cicero shrugged as it was not his mess to clean up. Then he made his way out to the road leading back to Dawnstar. 

[thecipherlegacy]

Touch prompts- "Holding the other's chin up" for Mavasha and Quinn.

Touch ask prompt

Sorry these are taking forever! I've been getting carried away lol anyway, thank you for the prompt! Hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been through a lot together, and Malavai was thrilled to say that he and his lord were getting married. He already properly filed for the appropriate paperwork and made sure it was scheduled at their desired location on Dromund Kaas, but something about this whole ordeal made his stomach knot. He felt anxious. No matter his research about Sith marriages and the like, he still felt anxiety settling in his stomach.

To snap him from his thoughts was a set of small footsteps arriving in his doorway. "You're finally tying the knot with tall sith lady huh?" Vettes unwelcome voice filtered in. He rolled his eyes and picked up his datapad in an attempt to look busy, as if that ever stopped her.

"I am marrying her, yes." He responded curtly. "And If you've come here to tease me I would appreciate it if you didn't."

The twilek snickered, which only fueled the fire that was his frustration. "Yeah, that sounds like something I would do. But, not today" she admitted. This actually simmered his irritation into intrigue and he stoppeded his act to give her a glance. "uh... Congrats, Quinn. Really, she's scary as hell, but... you two are... good... together" she sounded awkward, but it really was the nicest thing she had ever said to him.

After a brief silence, Quinn responded. "Was that really you trying to sound sincere?" His brow raised at her. This earned a dramatic look of hurt.

"I'm being serious! Gosh. You try and say something nice-" the small woman pouted and crossed her arms. Malavai often had to remind himself that she was a grown woman. "Im just happy for you guys, you're stuffy and a pain, but you two seem happy. In a crazy... Sithy kind of way"

He couldn't believe it. Perhaps it was his good mood from getting engaged, or maybe his nerves had rattled him so much that her insulting explanations of Imperials and sith didn't bother him in the moment, but he actually felt himself smile briefly. "Thank you. I am a lucky man." Malavai claimed with pride.

She perked back up and gave him a grin, this time it was a little more devilish. "Soooooo you guys going to have some little sith babies?" There it was. The Vette he knew and disliked greatly. He really didn't understand why Mavasha kept her around. Sometimes he was convinced it was because she delighted in seeing him suffer under Vettes constant chatter.

With that said, he went back to pretending to be busy though he was on leave to plan his wedding. "That isn't really your business" he muttered. He was so flustered by the question he hadn't noticed the sound of heels approaching.

"Though, I wouldn't mind building a family with you, Quinn" Mavashas smooth voice filled the room. Malavai's heart fluttered just from the sound. He looked up to find her standing behind Vette in the doorway. "Vette, dear, give us some time please. I'm sure my apprentice would like some time with you anyway"

"Yes, your sithiness" The twi'lek saluted before leaving them alone. Once she was gone, the tall torguta woman sauntered in and sat beside Malavai.

"How are the plans for our wedding going, my love?" She asked.

Every time she called him such things he could feel his face heat up and his heart felt full. He never thought he would feel that way. "They are complete. I've booked the location on Dromund Kaas, gotten the flora ordered, scheduled you for an appointment with a seamstress so you can get your dress, and I have arranged for the invitations to be sent out in two days so it is exactly two months out. Plenty of time for our colleagues and family to plan."

She chuckled. He was always so orderly. He had insisted on doing all of this himself, and who was she to deny him his favorite passtime of organizing and planning? "Well good, then with all of that out of the way you should finally have time for your fiancé." Mavasha purred and held his hands. She instantly could feel his buried anxiety and frowned slightly. "Malavai whats wrong?"

Her sudden change in mood caught him off guard. He always forgot how she could feel his emotions through the force. "Nothing, my lord. I am simply tired from all of the planning." This lie didn't get far, and he knew that when her ruby lips fell into a deeper frown.

"Don't insult my intelligence, darling. You're anxious- oh...." her eyes darted away and she let go of his hands "are you having second thoughts?-"

Malavai's stomach twisted uncomfortably when he spotted that pain in her eyes and he took her hands back in his as if his life depended on her touch. "No! Not at all, Mavasha. I am simply... Nervous." His cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. "This all feels too good to be true. I am worried something is bound to go wrong, but I cannot prepare for it if I'm not sure what's causing this feeling."

The woman seemed to relax once more at that. Her eyes met his again. "So you're having pre-wedding jitters then?"

She watched him straighten his posture even more than it already had been, that seemed to be his way of fidgeting when he was tense. He would shift or tense up while his blue eyes darted around anxiously. "I suppose that seems to be the case, my lord." He finally responded awkwardly. "I never expected to marry anyone, much less a Dark lord of the empire. This is all very... foreign to me. Love and marriage, planning for a family, all of it. I wasn't trained for this"

His fiancé gave a soft chuckle, then her clawed hand gently slotted under his chin so he would look up and meet her ruby red gaze. After all their time together, Mavasha could still see his breath leave his lungs when he looked into her eyes. "Oh my dear Captain" she started. "This is something that no amount of training would prepare you for. Matters of passion and heart have nothing to do with paperwork and numbers-"

"Well there is some paperwork involved in-"

"Malavai." Her warning tone hushed him. "You know what I meant, dear. If something is to happen we will face it together, but for now we just look forward to the day we are wed. I, for one, cannot wait for the day I become Mavasha Quinn. I'll wear your name like a medal, Captain."

His pale cheeks turned rosy and a small smile played his lips. "You always know just what to say don't you?" He asked. Her smug grin answered that before she even spoke again.

"I do my best, Malavai." Came her response as her long fingers gently pet his stubble. He leaned into her touch like a kitten desperate for attention. "Now, no more fretting, alright? Since you handled it all, it's bound to be perfect." With that, she leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. His stubble was rough in the usual way that made the dark lord want to press further, but she restrained herself.

"So, how about you take a break at long last and join me for a nice meal planteside, hm?" The woman insisted. "Your bride to be has been wanting some time with you."

Her captain gave a nod without hesitation and stood from his seat. "Come then, my love, my work is finished and all of my time is now devoted to you." His arm was offered to her with a smile that made her heart melt. Mavasha linked her arm with his, ready to enjoy a rare evening of romance.

[supervillain-smut]

lucien nsfw headcanons? if u dont have too many asks

Happy Halloween children of Sithis! Have some filth about your precious Speaker.

Lucien is always 100% in control, even if he’s tied up. If you tie him up he considers it practice for getting out of bindings.

He can absolutely free himself and take control back whenever he pleases.

He has a particular love for having his hair pulled, probably the quickest way to get him to be any sort of vocal.

Just a warning: If you’re a khaijit he will absolutely pull your tail to plant your ass firmly against his hips.

Second roughest lover out of the Cheydinhal sanctuary, third roughest in Falrkeath under Arnbjorn, who is first, and Cicero, should he be allowed to be as rough as he wants.

His voice is lovely, of course, but if you’re willing to give up hearing it, he can work wonders with that tongue of his, such as tying a knot in a cherry stem.

Make him work for everything, and he will be so much more satisfied than if he’s simply given it. Man loves to work hard for his rewards.

[potterpasta]

Parental figure, I crave more Vicente and Brotherhood headcannons! D'you have any? Maybe some Sheo ones?

Oh, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my headcanons so far! I’ll be happy to share some more!! I do have a few that delve a little more into their backstories and other aspects of their personal lives :) -Vicente is actually on rather good terms with Janus Hassildor. It’s good to have friends in high places, or for Janus, on the shady side of the law. -Vicente tells us he contracted his vampirism “on an expedition to Vvardenfell.” But what was he doing on Vvardenfell? What kind of expedition? Was he an adventurer, like the player? Was he a mercenary? Ok this one’s less of a headcanon and more of a question but still it’s a fun thing to think about. -Vicente collects old and rare books. He loves reading and he thinks it’s be a shame to let books go to ruin. Tying this into the previous one, I like to think he was exploring Tamriel for cool books and collectibles to add to his collection. He was on Vvardenfell looking for things to add to his collection, maybe some old Tribunal banned books or some Dwemer book-ends. Anyway he probably made himself a camp in some ruins and was bit in his sleep. -When he realized he had been infected he was surprised. He might have been disgusted at first, but very quickly came to accept his fate. -Lucien was recruited at the age of 18 after murdering a thief in Riften. He was traveling around Skyrim for scholarly reasons most likely, and the Rift was his last stop before going home to Cyrodiil. -When Lucien was offered a spot in the DB, he immediately decided that was a much more interesting career choice than what his parents had been pushing him towards, and he had already been worshiping Sithis in secret for a while. He didn’t even have to think before accepting. -Lucien’s favorite things to read are murder mysteries and cheesey romance novels. Vicente prefers tragic comedies. -Vicente met Babette in Bruma while on a contract. They recognized each other as vampires, but never brought up the Brotherhood (just to be safe) Maybe after a while they trust each other enough to talk about it, but not for a while. Vicente’s shocked and disgusted that someone would turn a child. -It’s the Purification that first makes Babette question her faith in the Night Mother. Astrid definitely takes advantage of this when winning her loyalty. -Nazir mentions that he learned to cook from his father, whom he killed afterward. I like to think he poisoned the meal his father made him cook. He was most likely rather young when this happened, 13 - 15 at the oldest. He would have grown up with the Brotherhood. -Cicero was brought up by Sithis worshipers. Not necessarily Dark Brotherhood, but at least someone who would admire them. His first kill was someone who was rude to him. -Sheo!HoK still remembers their time in Tamriel sometimes, and have influenced a few of Sheogorath’s decisions. Because of them, a strange tie between Sheogorath and the Dark Brotherhood has been formed. Alright my laptop’s kind of lagging now and it’s like 1:48 am so I’ll stop this here. I got kind of Vicente-heavy again but I can’t help it. Hope you enjoy!

[karasu-hieis-dragon]

I quickly scrolled through your Crosshair spoiler posts and notes... and I feel like I have to say it: I LOVE YOU ❤❤❤ (and Crosshair ofc)

Ty for listening 😄

Anon,

You made my day let me tell you and I will say with 100% certainty I love you too! We can bask in the glory that is the toothpick bastard and simp regardless. Keep spreading the love and positive vibe babes <3

Love,

Sithy

[skyskrim]

ok so..im trying to buff on elder scrolls lore, do any other nerds wanna confirm im on the right track here? i THINK it’s sound, i put a lot of time into it, but it’s also pretty simplistic i guess.

THE DAWN ERA

1. Anu, Padomay, and the et’Ada

There are a couple of interpretations of this story. Before everything, there was the Void, and in it was Anu and Padomay. As Anu was light, Padomay was darkness. Some say that Anu and Padomay were twins, while others say that Anu was merely the unchanging stasis and had no consciousness, and that Padomay was the agent of change. Out of the chaos, formless spiritual beings called the et’Ada or Original Spirits were born to populate the universe. The et’Ada would eventually become known as the Gods/Aedra and the Demons/Daedra, by humans and the Aldmer (the first elves) respectively. Some sources state that the et’Ada were born in a clash between Anu and Padomay - all Daedra were born from Padomay’s blood, and all Aedra from a mix of both Anu and Padomay’s blood.

2. Anui-El, Sithis, and the Aurbis

After the et’Ada were born, Anu decided to ‘birth’ his own soul to reflect and understand himself. The soul that he birthed was Anui-El, who would be the soul of all things. Padomay also births his soul, creating Sithis, who is now worshipped by a few groups including the Dark Brotherhood. Some sources say that Sithis was really born of Anui-El’s self-reflection, while others say that Anui-El was one of Sithis’ ideas who then became manifest and trapped their world in everlasting imperfection. In any case, everything that would happen between these souls would become the beginning of the Aurbis (the universe).

3. Auri-El, Lorkhan, and time

In the beginning the Aurbis was turbulent and confusing, and the et’Ada couldn’t form identities. This is when Anui-El birthed HIS soul, just like Anu before him, in order stabilize the Aurbis. This soul was Auri-El, now known as the chief god of the Nine Divines. Auri-El began the force of time, which allowed the the et’Ada and the Aurbis itself to realize their true nature and limitations. The et’Ada started to become individuals with names, and the Aurbis was divided into two areas - Aetherius on the outer extremities, and Oblivion within. At the same time that Auri-El was born, Sithis also birthed his soul. His soul’s name was Lorkhan, and Sithis tasked him with destroying Anui-El and the Aurbis. 

4. Mundus

Lorkhan started filling the universe with new ideas, and while pretending to be one of them he convinced Auri-El and many et’Ada to give Aurbis a soul. Create a new plane of existence in this way would allow the et’Ada to form lesser beings of their own, and to self-reflect - but all of Lorkhan’s ideas were secretly based solely on limitation, and this idea was his trap. Many et’Ada refused to help in the creation, either uninterested or suspecting his true intentions. But Lorkhan, Auri-El, and the rest of the et’Ada worked to create Mundus; the mortal plane.

5. Magnus, the Magne Ge, and magic

One et’Ada, Magnus, became the Architect for Mundus and was responsible for the schematics and diagrams necessary to create it. However, during the forming of the final planet (Nirn) it became evident that Mundus’ creation would require all of them to sacrifice their divinity, their youth and strength. At this point et’Ada had started dying. Most of those remaining objected, or withdrew in order to retain some of their power when bound to the mortal plane. One group called the Magna Ge escaped, lead by Magnus himself who was disgusted by his creation. Among the Magna Ge was an Aedra named Merid-Nunda, eventually to become the Daedric Prince Meridia. Magnus escaped the mortal plane by ripping a hole in the sky, through Oblivion and into the Aetherius. This hole is the Sun, now known to mortals as Magnus. The others ripped smaller holes which are now the stars, now also called the Magna Ge. One theory states that what remains of Magnus makes up the magic in the world, and that the hole he made is what allows magic to defy all laws on all planes of existence.

5. Aedra, Daedra, and the Convention

The et’Ada that remained after the creation was finished are now loosely referred to as the Aedra. The et’Ada that hadn’t contributed to Mundus became the Daedra, forming their different realms throughout Oblivion. When the Aedra had become trapped, Auri-El begged Anu to free them, but Anui-El gave him his bow and shield. He then organized a secret meeting called the Convention with the other Aedra to decide Lorkhan’s punishment for tricking them. Together they confronted Lorkhan at the Adamantine Tower, where Trinimac (the alleged precursor to the Daedric Prince Malacath) ripped out Lorkhan’s heart. He and Auri-El attempted to destroy it, before tying it to an arrow and shooting it into the sea. Where it landed, the Red Mountain formed, and around that the island of Vvardenfell rose.

6. First life and the Eight Divines

With Lorkhan’s heart, Mundus gained its own divinity that allowed Auri-El and the other Aedra to leave without unravelling its existence. The last group of Aedra that decided to remain in Mundus became the Earthbones, the laws of nature and the planets, and the Ehlnofey, the first mortals and the ancestors of all life in Mundus. Thus the Merethic or Mythic Era began. Other Aedra and their aspects simply wasted away. Eight of the Aedra who remained are believed to have been the most active in the creation of Mundus, and have become known as the Eight Divines. These Aedra are Akatosh (suggested to be Auri-El), Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, Talos and Zenithar.

7. Afterwards: Man and Mer

Of the Ehlnofey created on Nirn a large portion emerged intact, while the rest were scattered throughout the lands. This larger group created a society much like the one they had lived in before, the Old Ehnlofey, while the others wandered and gradually found each other over the years. Though the Wandering Ehnlofey were hardened by their plight and were more numerous, the old Ehnlofey retained their power and knowledge. As we understand, the Old Ehnlofey were the ancestors of Mer, while the Wandering Ehnlofey were those of Men. By the time the Wandering Ehnlofey finally found them, the Old Ehnlofey saw them as degenerates rather than their own kin. War broke out over Nirn, reshaping the land and sea into the continents they are now - the Old Ehnlofey land became Tamriel, the others becoming Akavir, Pyandonea, Atmora, and Yokuda.

so yeah idk if im gonna do more after this, i pretty much just did this to understand what aedra and daedra are.. since all the wiki pages on this topic kinda conflict and are pretty much just hard to understand, so maybe itll be useful to someone! who knows! i cant believe i just spent like 2 days doing this!

[sabitherunt-blog]

Sooo I posted this on Ao3 but also going to post it here. Enjoy!

The Listener's Keeper

Greetings Sister

  Cicero quietly stalked the deserted alleyway, the muffle spell placed on his boots making detection near impossible. He was silent, deadly, and with purpose. He'd been tracking his latest contract for nearly two hours, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

  Ahead of him, the Altmer mage swayed drunkenly back and forth causing the assassin to nearly chuckle to himself. The poor fool had no idea death was approaching. It would be sad if it wasn't so funny.

  Cicero shifted his weight, careful not to make a sound, and began to stride forward. His blade was once more ready to taste flesh, to send another soul to the Dark Lord. Coiled like a deadly snake, ready to strike, Cicero inched forward.

  Out of nowhere, a scream rang out from a nearby backstreet. Cicero froze, blade merely inches from his target. He looked at the mage but the sod hadn't moved. Once more the assassin raised his dagger, prepared to strike, and once more he was made to freeze. Another scream, louder this time.

  It almost sounds like a child.

  Cicero cocked his head as more screams flooded through the dark alleys. Whomever it was, it was most unlikely anyone would care to help, especially in this area of the city. He almost pitied the poor soul but dismissed these thoughts. It was no concern of his. He had a contact to complete and a purpose to fulfill.

  He frowned. Why was he still standing here? Why hadn't he done the deed? And why the hell was he feeling such an urgent need to investigate what was going on? He was a highly trained assassin for Sithis' sake! Not some do-gooder vigilante!

  Stifling a growl of irritation, Cicero sprung into action. Faster than lighting he had one gloved hand over the old mage's mouth, the other drawing the ebony dagger across his throat. The assassin felt a twinge of regret at not being able to savor the kill fully but he would have to be satisfied with simply knowing he had done his job.

  Duty done, Cicero sheathed his blade and turned, making his way hurriedly through the maze of back alleys, following the commotion and the echoes of crying. He was lithe and quick and he knew he was getting closer when he heard another scream for help. This time he was certain the cries were from a child and he picked up his pace, careful not to give himself away.

  Just then, as he was beginning to round the next corner, he heard an angry shout from someone other than the child, followed by a blood curdling shriek of pure agony. Cicero felt his heart thunder in his chest, why he wasn't sure, nothing shook him, but for some strange reason he actually felt worry and worse, fear.

  He turned the corner and felt his blood run cold. Ahead of him was a large Argonian male, his scales a horrid greenish black, drunkenly brandishing a knife, and the source of the screaming, a small Khajiit child. The brute had the tiny thing hoisted up against a nearby wall and was hissing curses at her. And there was blood, quite a bit of it, but Cicero could not tell where it was coming from.

  Cicero saw red. White hot rage filled his entire body and without a second thought he was racing forward, dagger drawn and ready for the taste of more blood. Without any hesitation he buried his blade at the base of the Argonian's skull, severing the beast's spinal cord. There was no sound, no crying out, just the sound of the large oaf's body hitting the ground. Cicero grinned. Two souls in one night, how pleased his Dark Father must be.

  Pulling his dagger free, Cicero rolled the corpse over, catching sight of a set of claw marks across the lizard's face. He smirked. It looked as if the cat had fought back. He kicked the body away, then turned his attention on the frightened child that was huddling against the wall.

  She was a tiny little thing, a runt really, with pitch black fur darker than the void. Her piercing blue eyes were like twin daggers, causing the assassin to pause. It lasted but a moment though once he noticed her bloodstained skirts. He quickly searched for the source and felt his stomach turn once he found it.

  The small child's tail, barely holding on by a piece of flesh. He could tell immediately it wasn't salvageable but the poor thing would most likely bleed to death before she could reach help.

  Acting quickly, Cicero ripped off his hood, not caring she would see his face, before stripping off his upper armor. He hastily used his dagger to cut the fabric into strips, wadding up most of it and placing it over the wound. The small Khajiit hissed in pain and made to move away but Cicero held tight.

  "Stop," he commanded, voice dropping low. "Do as I say or otherwise you will bleed to death."

  The child paused and stared at him. His tone brooked no argument and slowly she nodded.

  His lip twitched slightly and he changed his tone to be slightly gentler.

  "Good. Now I need you to put pressure on the wound for me. Just like I am. We have to slow the blood flow."

  Again the child nodded, her tiny hands coming up and replacing his. She whimpered but held her tail tightly, just as Cicero instructed. He nodded before taking another strip of fabric and tying a tourniquet just below the injury. He tightened it as much as possible before taking the last bit of fabric and rolling it into a ball. He then held it in front of her. She stared at him confused and he sighed.

  "Open your mouth," he commanded. She tilted her head and began to protest. "Now!" He snapped. His sharp tone caused her to jump but she obeyed and opened her mouth, sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight. He placed the ball in her mouth, instructing her to hold on to it. He then pulled out his dagger and her eyes went wide.

  "Don't look, little one."

  Her eyes slammed shut immediately and she pressed her face into her knees. He felt his stomach knot as he gingerly brushed her hands away from her tail. He didn't like this but there weren't really any other options.   Praying to Sithis that this worked, he gripped the tail tightly, just below where it was still holding together, and cleanly cut the last bit of flesh, severing her tail completely

  Immediately he dropped his dagger and caught the tiny child as she lurched forward. She struggled weakly against him but he held her tight, listening to her muffled cries of pain. She shook violently and he knew she was going into shock. Hurriedly he placed one hand over the fresh wound and began casting a small healing spell. He wasn't the most proficient in magic but he knew enough to get by. Finally he felt a swell of relief as he felt the skin start to mend and heal.

  Releasing her, he fished out a small health potion and uncorked it. She didn't have the strength to take it so Cicero held her chin and pressed it to her lips. He almost smiled when he felt her begin to lap at it, slowly drinking it down. Several minutes passed but it finally seemed to kick in and the youngster started to stir.

  She shifted, her newly bobbed tail flicking widely, and she stared at it curiously. Cicero had to stifle a laugh at her bewildered expression. She looked up to him, eyeing him cautiously before dropping her gaze to the ground.

  The assassin began to stand, he had been exposed for to long, and gathered up what was left of his shirt. This was going to be tough to explain to Rasha but he doubted it would matter much seeing as how he had completed his contract successfully. The devil was in the details. Turning to leave though, something caught his eye.

  Cicero's breath caught in his throat. Dangling off a chain situated around the child's neck was an amulet of Sithis. He quickly dropped down and took it between his fingers, watching the moonlight dance off it. These were very rare, even among the Brotherhood. His own had been a gift from a dear friend during his first days as an initiate. He looked up at the child, her bright blues eyes almost familiar, and then back at the amulet.He twisted it this way and that until a small inscription caught his eye.

  Hail Sithis!

  Two simple words and yet they held more meaning than anyone could possibly know. This had once belonged to his friend, his dark sister, Baset. He looked up at the youngster once more and he could see it. He could see that familiar feralness, that sharpness he remembered her for. This child must be hers.

  Another revelation hit him. Not only was this little girl Baset's child, but she must also be the reason Baset fled in the first place. A million different emotions went through him at once. How could Baset not have told him? Surely she could trust him. The Brotherhood was not known for having children in their ranks but it was not unheard of. Surely Baset knew the child would have been well cared for, loved even, and would not have wanted for anything. She most certainly wouldn't have been attacked by some drunken slob.

  Cicero shook his head. He needed to speak to Baset himself before he said anything to Rasha. But that would be for later. For now he needed to make sure the child was safely returned to her mother.

  Suddenly he realized the little girl was staring at him with open curiosity. He grinned, releasing her necklace, and sat back down.

  "My apologies," he said. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a member of the Brotherhood."

  It was meant as a joke. Such a little thing wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about, but then he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. Her gaze darted to his armor, his dagger, the corpse of her assailant, and finally back at him.

 "Brother," she said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened but so did his smile.

  "Greetings Sister. Tell me, what are you doing out here al-..."

  He didn't get to finish his sentence because the little ball of fluff barreled into him and hugged him tight. Her little arms were wound around him and she was muttering so quickly he couldn't understand what she was saying. He did manage to pick out 'thank you' in the jumble of words and he gently patted her head. After a few moments he extracted himself from her hold and he stood.

  "Anything for a fellow sibling," he told her. She smiled and clambered to her feet. She wobbled a little but she would be okay. She was healed for the most part, at least physically. He fixed her with a stern gaze. "You should be going home. I'm sure your mother is worried sick."

  Her gaze shifted to the corpse nearby before she looked back at him.

  "You're right," she agreed softly. "Thank you again.”

 As she started to leave, Cicero stopped her briefly and placed a gloved finger against his lips.

  “Let us keep our meeting between the two of us,” he told her. He couldn't risk Baset knowing he was looking for her. “It will be our little secret.”

  The child grinned up at him before nodding. He made a shooing motion and she giggled before turning and running off. Cicero waited a moment or so and then began to follow her. He told himself it was only so that he could track down his wayward Sister, but he was lying to himself. After everything she had just been through he wanted to be sure she made it home safe.

  Suddenly he stopped. Something was off. Quickly he reached for where he kept his coin pouch and found it missing. He grinned. Although he had just lost a hundred septims, Cicero couldn’t bring himself to be angry. She was most definitely Baset’s daughter.

  Chuckling to himself, Cicero quickly began walking after the little cat. He slid into the darkness once more, and disappeared into the shadows.

Eek! My very first fanfic ever! I hope y'all like it. Please leave a comment if you do. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.