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skyrimkinkmeme ([personal profile] skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm

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Re: Fire and Potions - 47/?

(Anonymous) 2014-08-02 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
A/N:

*Translations at the end of the chapter.

*The song the bard sang in the previous chapter was taken from the brilliant and talented Malukah’s cover of The Dragonborn Comes on YouTube if you’d like to hear it for yourself.


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Farengar stirred, halfway between sleep and consciousness, suspecting it was morning. He heard the distant, muffled sounds of people leaving their rooms and exchanging greetings, confirming his suspicions. Cracking his eyes open, he blearily tried to marshal the energy to rise. He preferred late nights spent in quiet, uninterrupted research.

The sound of incoherent mumbling made him alert, as the Dragonborn beside him began to murmur quietly in his sleep. Farengar turned his head, listening to his unintelligible whispers in silent curiosity. Several words, odd and exotic, rolled off his tongue. Though he could not say with certainty, they sounded Altmeris, interspersed with Dovahkul.

"Nu... ae na... baene cendre. Aure... Frul Bron."

Therion’s murmurs grew softer, replaced with even breaths.

The Altmeris sounded pleasant to Farengar’s ears; subtle and refined. Its appeal was completely different from that of the ancient, ominous Dovahkul, although Therion’s voice could add a charming quality to any language. Words fell from his lips with a natural poise and grace, much like the elf himself.

Farengar stared at his parted lips, entranced despite himself.

He cursed his perfect memory, as memories of their first kiss replayed in his mind, recalling every detail with maddening clarity.

Swinging his legs out of bed he hurriedly put on his shoes, dispelled the rune on the door, and left, shutting it loudly behind him.

Outside of the inn, he let the crisp, cold air of Solitude wash over him.

...you can barely keep your hands off of me…

Therion’s voice played in his mind, clear and real as the night he had been tricked into drinking that damnable love potion.

Frowning at his traitorous memory, he tried to think of something else.

It was to no avail. The elf was still there in his mind - grinning.

Futilely, he chided his memory, silently ordering it to leave him in peace. As usual his mind ignored him; he had little to no control over the way it behaved. It stored and recalled vast amounts of information on a whim, occasionally moving too fast for him to keep up, and he had a puzzling time explaining it to anyone who asked what he meant. For now his mind seemed to have centered on the Dragonborn and there was nothing he could do to distract it.

He felt Therion’s breath against his ear.

“You’re actually quite handsome.”

He made a sound of frustration and stomped off, startling the villagers around him.

They looked at each other and shrugged, as the grumpy wizard stormed off.

“Mages,” one said to the other, shaking their head.


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Therion awoke to the sound of the door slamming. He looked at it nonplussed, before a slow smile crept across his lips. Rolling out of bed with a low chuckle, he dressed in his armor and set to work hiding daggers about his person, still feeling tired, but more relaxed than he had in weeks.


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“Gods, what a relief. I thought we’d spend the whole week choosing a jarl for Solitude. At least that much is behind us. Tell me, Dragonborn, what did Irileth say when she woke you yesterday?” Balgruuf asked Therion curiously, looking over at his dark elf housecarl in the distance. Delegates were trailing in, as Therion, Balgruuf, Farengar, and Proventus milled around outside with the guards from their hold.

“That if I embarrassed us by falling asleep again she wouldn’t hesitate to run me through,” Therion explained.

“And what did you say?”

The elf chuckled.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Balgruuf laughed heartily, while Farengar silently left to join Irileth, already at the table.

“All in all, yesterday wasn’t so bad,” Therion said, grinning at the jarl from beneath his mask. “The look on Erikur’s face was delightful.”