Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Comments

Reunions

[(Anonymous)]

I'm always struck by the bit in the peace conference when Tullius is speaking and Ulfric turns and says "Master Arngeir, are you just going to let him continue to..."

It's the way he automatically uses Arngeir's title. He almost sounds like a kid running to his dad to complain about his brother. There's something weirdly...vulnerable is absolutely not the right word, but it always reminds me that Ulfric Stormcloak was a kid once, and that the Greybeards not only mentored but more or less raised him for half his childhood. Which always gets me wondering what the Greybeards think about seeing their ex-pupil after all these years.

So that's my prompt. Arngeir's the most obvious choice, but I'd love to hear about what any of them are thinking about the man Ulfric's become. Are they sad? Disappointed? Righteously pissed off? All of the above? I dunno, I just feel like the inside of a Greybeard's head might be an interesting place for fic.

Re: Reunions

[(Anonymous)]

This prompt gave me feels of the bittersweet variety.

Re: Reunions

[(Anonymous)]

Ha, now I'm always going to hear that line as "Daaaaad, make him stop it!"

But yes, seconded. This could be really interesting, I bet dudes who never speak have fascinating thoughts.

Re: Reunions

[(Anonymous)]

Intresting, someone should do a fill on this.

Question...

[(Anonymous)]

I've tried multiple playthroughs to hear this, but haven't been able to trigger it. Could someone please list the conditions for this dialogue?

Re: Question...

[(Anonymous)]

You just have to be a Stormcloak going into the conference, I think. After you make a decision about Elenwen staying/going, and depending on which side you're on, either Tullius or Ulfric will feel the need to make a show of how they are ONLY there to deal with the dragons, not to negotiate with the opposing side, yadda yadda. If you're a Stormcloak, Tullius is the one who pulls the alpha-male political-theatre routine:

Tullius: "One moment. I just want to make clear that the only reason I agreed to attend this council was to deal with the dragon menace. I have no authority to negotiate a permanent settlement, unless Ulfric is willing to sue for peace and turn himself over to Imperial justice.”
Ulfric: "Master Arngeir, are you just going to let him continue to--"
Tullius: “We’re here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons. Nothing more. We consider even sitting down to talk with these rebels more than generous.”
Ulfric: “Enough posturing, Tullius! If you came here to talk, let’s get on with it.”

Re: Question...

[(Anonymous)]

Thanks! That would explain why I've never seen this. The civil war is unpleasant enough that I almost always put it off till the very end of a playthrough- if I do that quest line at all.

Is OP (or anyone) still interested in a fill? I've got some ideas, but it may take a while to get the characters to cooperate.

A Hero for Skyrim 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

Title: A Hero for Skyrim

Summary: Einarth reflects on the disciple Arngeir wanted and the one he got.

Tags: char:arngeir, char:delphine, char:einarth, char:elenwen, char:elisif, char:esbern, char:F!NPC, char:F!PC, char:galmar_stone-fist, char:general_tullius, char:jarl_balgruff, char:legate_rikke, char:M!NPC, char:ulfric_stormcloak, kink:angst, kink:family, kink:rivalry, es:skyrim, race:altmer, race:breton, race:imperial, race:Nord

Author’s note:
This is my first fill, so please let me know if I’ve messed up anything! I’d prefer not to repeatedly screw up protocol, posting, tags, etc. I’ve taken a few liberties with the timeline and circumstances, so those who want lore purity may not like this. Please don’t hurt me! But for the most part, I’ve tried to remain faithful to the spirit of things. Special thanks to the Passerby!Anon who kindly provided the context for this prompt!

Warning: Spoilers ahoy!

-----------

“You were not invited here. You are not welcome here.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but Einarth was fairly certain he saw the Dragonborn flinch before dropping her gaze to the floor. The statement was not meant for her, but Arngeir’s disapproval of her association with the Blades was palpable.

“We have as much right to be at this council as all of you.” The woman ploughed on, “More, actually, since we were the ones that put the Dragonborn on this path.”

There was no mistaking the expression on the girl’s face this time. Her shame was plainly visible to anyone who saw her…

“Were you? The hubris of the Blades truly knows no bounds.”

Well, he quietly amended, it was obvious to everyone but Arngeir. The look he leveled at the girl while he addressed the female Blade was completely unnecessary. Einarth knew the girl well enough to realize that she had already been punishing herself for this summit. It was entirely possible she had been doing so before she had even mustered the courage to request the assistance of the Greybeards. At this moment however, the girl kept her silence, even as the older woman continued to press the issue...

“If it were up to you, the Dragonborn would sit dreaming on this mountain doing nothing!”

It was then that her companion cut in, “Delphine, we're not here to rehearse old grudges.” He then turned to address Arngeir: “The matter at hand is urgent. Alduin must be stopped. You wouldn't have called this council if you didn't agree. We know a great deal about the situation and the threat that Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed.”

At last, a voice of reason. Einarth surmised that it might have been this man, and not Delphine, whose council the Dragonborn child had heeded. He may not have appreciated the source, but he did not need to in order to recognize the pragmatism driving the man’s words. The man may be a Blade, but he had demonstrated good sense and an understanding of what was at stake. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it might prove advantageous to have a well spoken participant whose position was relatively neutral in the proceedings. Be that as it may, Einarth knew that it was not his place to speak for the Greybeards. The girl would have to speak up, and soon, if she wanted the Blades present at this event.

She did not get the opportunity, for Arngeir heaved a sigh and granted them entrance, and the Blades moved past the old masters into the room that would host the peace council. The child made no move to follow them, but stood before her teacher, struggling to find the appropriate words to speak. This time too, Arngeir did not give her the chance. “So, you've done it. The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace.”

A Hero for Skyrim 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

At that, the girl’s eyes snapped up to meet Arngeir’s as he continued to lament the turn of events. “I should not have agreed to host this council. The Greybeards have no business involving ourselves in such matters.”

“Don’t worry. I”ll get them to agree to peace.” As she spoke, Einarth saw that she had not allowed herself to hide behind necessity, even if it was truth; the girl would not be able to secure Jarl Balgruuf’s aid without a peace treaty. Saying so might have spared her some of Arngeir’s displeasure, but she was Dragonborn, and she did not shy away from difficulty. Her courage and integrity were qualities that her generally reserved nature belied.

Arngeir gave a mirthless chuckle. “Peace? I doubt it. They may put their weapons down for a moment, but only to gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not yet tired of war. Far from it. Do you know the ancient Nord word for war? ‘Season Unending...’ So it has proved.”

The girl quirked a sad smile at that, and for a moment, they shared a look of commiseration as Arngeir ushered her forward. “But regrets are pointless. Here we are. Take your seat at the council table and let us see what wisdom we can find among these warriors of Skyrim.”

As the stragglers moved into position at last, Einarth sighed inwardly. It was a rare moment when Arngeir and the Dragonborn were of the same mind, and it was not for lack of effort on the girl’s part. She was blessed by the gods, as was her birthright, and (unlike many favored beings) was possessed of a self-awareness that granted her wisdom beyond her years. Her openness and humility might have been unexpected from one of her ilk, but life had seen fit to burden her with extraordinary responsibilities. Responsibilities that could not, and would not, be denied. But to say that she had borne such difficulty with grace would have been… insufficient. Perhaps ‘endured’ was a better word for it. One does not go with joy to a probable death.

The day she had arrived upon the doorsteps of High Hrothgar, they had mistaken her for a simple deliveryman. The villagers of Ivarstead often left tribute to the Greybeards, as did the occasional pilgrim, and the Dragonborn had trudged up the seven thousand steps bearing such as well. Even when she had presented herself, she bore a largely unassuming appearance, save for the lingering fear and fire in her eyes. When she Shouted, it had been with consternation, and when she spoke, she had all but begged for answers.

Arngeir had shared her dismay, but his stemmed from a very different source. The girl was a far cry from what the fabled hero of legend could have been expected to be. She was small, and not particularly gifted in either the art of war or magic. Furthermore, the prophesied Hero of Skyrim was not even a child of Skyrim. Indeed, the ways of the Nords were almost barbaric to her at first, but she could hardly be faulted for her fear given the nature of her arrival; only Sheogorath could have found being wrongfully sentenced to death charming. The timing of her visit was rather unfortunate, but destiny seems to have played no small part in this; she claimed to have been kneeling upon the chopping block, moments away from death, when Alduin himself had appeared and razed Helgen to the ground. Einarth suppressed a snort. If that was truly the way it happened, then it seems fair to say that Akatosh had a decidedly heavy-handed way of announcing the potential doom of Tamriel to his chosen.

The girl had accepted her destiny without much complaint, but it was evident that she did not feel as though she had any choice in the matter. Arngeir too, had seemed resigned to his duty to instruct her, and made little effort to understand the one who would likely become his greatest student. Perhaps he never would, for Arngeir still mourned his past failure with another student: Ulfric.

A Hero for Skyrim 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Ulfric had been a son in all but blood to him, but the boy was not suited to this life. Even before The Great War, it was obvious that the boy was far too passionate for the life of study and reflection that his master hoped he would follow. Ulfric had simply had too much of his father in him to not be lured by the stories of great men and their gloried feats.

It was this same passion however, that had made him a joy to teach, despite his impulsiveness. The boy had arrived, not with with fear and dismay, but with eagerness and awe. His father had instilled within him a profound reverence for the old heroes and their ways, and the pride in his stance, even as he bowed before them, was unmistakable. He was born to be a leader of men, and Arngeir had hoped to shape the boy into a man who would eventually lead the Greybeards when the time came.

Indeed, the boy had become a leader, but not the one that Arngeir had wished for. The disappointment had weighed heavily upon them all, but it was Arngeir who had taken it the hardest. Sorrow was not an emotion easily displayed by Nords, and Einarth often wondered that if he had shown the boy what he had truly felt… Would Ulfric have stayed? It was easier to turn one’s back on anger directed towards them, and the bitterness of the days leading up to his departure only served to poison everything they had shared prior.

The irony of it was not lost on the junior Greybeard: Arngeir had always been the most passionate of them, and though he had grown since, his path to wisdom had always been at odds with his nature. The difference was that Ulfric had felt the call of the world below too keenly. Lacking such impetus, Arngeir had channeled his passion into mastery of the Voice. For all they had said about the other, they were not so different as they believed.

Einarth sighed as he moved to stand at the far end of the room. He had no desire take part in this, but it was necessary for the Greybeards to help the Dragonborn mediate this mess. The girl needed people supporting her throughout this ordeal, people who could actually be present in the way that the grandmaster, Paarthurnax, could not. Arngeir certainly could not be counted upon to support her. If anything, the man hardly approved of anything she did outside of study and meditation. This could be acceptable if it helped their leader maintain his neutrality, but if the mild-mannered girl had to reign in tempers at the council... Einarth was uncertain as to how much of his authority the Elder would be willing to lend her. After all, Arngeir hadn’t wanted this meeting to happen at all. It had been Paarthurnax who had made the decision.

Paarthurnax…

The old man shifted uncomfortably, as though he feared even thinking about the Grandmaster in the presence of such bloodthirsty people would reveal their most carefully guarded secrets. What would they do, he wondered, if they knew that their Dragonborn was a disciple of Alduin’s dreaded second? It was a line of thought that did not bear consideration. No one who followed the Way of the Voice voice would betray the one who had helped bring about not only their order, but the downfall of the World Eater. It was an act of courage worthy of respect; one that brought their master pain. That the old dragon could overcome his nature was proof that he was worthy, and even if he had accomplished nothing else, it would have been enough.

A Hero for Skyrim 9/?

[(Anonymous)]

The rest of the meeting progressed without serious incident. Arngeir was eventually able to lay out the terms of the treaty, and though both sides could not resist taking a final jab, it was ratified and the endeavor concluded. It was hardly surprising when both parties had stated that this was only a temporary agreement, but at least they had been open about their intent for once. Einarth wondered just how long she could put off becoming further enmeshed in the war. After everything that had transpired this day, she could not possibly avoid it indefinitely. For now at least, the participants parted on civil terms. Ulfric had even granted the Dragonborn the barest acknowledgement of her fairness as he departed the room.

Not everyone was pleased with the outcome however. The elf had remained impassive, and Elisif had seemed satisfied, but Balgruuf minced no words, “Giving up Markarth was a heavy price for this truce, Dragonborn. I hope it was worth it.” The Dragonborn held his gaze, and the Jarl seemed to accept the resolve in her stance.

Einarth saw the girl take a moment to lean back and sigh. It was a pleasant surprise, to see the Imperial soldier who had grumbled at Ulfric lean over and give her a supportive squeeze on the shoulder. "I hope this truce gives you what you need. It won't last." The Dragonborn turned to the woman, and they shared a grim smile. Perhaps the Legionnaire was not as disagreeable as he’d first thought.

Arngeir quickly turned the remaining company to the task for which this peace was arranged. “Jarl Balgruuf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn’s plan?”

“Yes. I am ready to do my part. Just say the word, and my men will help you spring this trap.”

“But the difficulty remains: how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?”

Salient point or no, Einarth cared not. Just how poorly did Arngeir regard the Dragonborn for him to put her on the spot like this? Especially when he knew the girl had thrown all her energies into convincing these people to even be in the same room at all!

“Well, that’s an excellent question! You haven’t overlooked that little detail, have you?” There was a dangerous edge in the general’s voice. The Imperial delegation’s collective eyes bored into the girl, and Einarth found rage quickly replacing the shocked stupor that the carelessness--or was it callousness?--that his peer’s words had induced in him. What was he thinking?! If he discredited the girl now, the Dragonborn could be reduced to little more than a laughing stock at best. Who would listen to her then? What help would they allow her to provide? Would she be marked as irredeemably undependable? Would they use and sacrifice the girl in a misguided sense of self-preservation? And what of the treaty? Would it fall apart, aborted as it were, by the actions of the Greybeards?

It was the male Blade who came to the girl’s rescue:
“I believe I can be of help here.”

A Hero for Skyrim 10/?

[(Anonymous)]

Something in Einarth seized, and he prayed that the man would be able to sway the gathering again.

“I anticipated the problem. While you were arranging the meeting, I was busy in the library of Sky Haven Temple. An unguessed trove of lost lore… but the important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of the dragons they slew. Cross-referencing this with Delphine’s map of dragon burial sites, I believe I’ve identified one of the dragons that Alduin has raised up.”

The Dragonborn quickly jumped upon the information, and a plan was formulated soon after. The panic that had begun to build in the Greybeard subsided, and Einarth marveled at the irony present in the day’s events. Peace had been upheld- rescued even! - by the actions of the Blades, agents of violence, and not the Greybeards, who maintained lives of peace... It was a humbling revelation, and though he detested their ways, the elder accepted it without malice. Thank the divines that the girl had sought their counsel. Or rather, the wisdom that one of the Blades possessed. Einarth had an inkling of whose idea it was to kill the grandmaster. Indeed, no sooner had the Dragonborn solidified plans to capture the dragon called “Odahviing,” the woman approached her to press her point again. He was proud to see that the girl held firm, even when Delphine had called her ungrateful. But it was worth noting perhaps, that the Blade was not truly angry. Mutual disappointment seemed to be what connected them now, and the Greybeard wondered how much the loss of their companionship hurt the child. The Dragonborn thanked them and bade them farewell, and Einarth himself nodded at their uncertain glance in his direction.

As the last of the Imperial party began the journey down the seven thousand steps, the Greybeard wondered where the Stormcloaks had gone. They had not seen footsteps heading back to the small village below when they had opened the front doors. Einarth shared a look with Arngeir, and at his nod, began to search the halls for the former student and his second. He had not thought that he would ever find himself trying to find the boy hiding yet again in the cold halls of High Hrothgar. A small smile tinged with sorrow surfaced, as the old man thought back on better days.

A Hero for Skyrim 11/?

[(Anonymous)]

Such a shame, really. The boy had shown so much promise. That the one Arngeir had chosen would turn into the man he did was distressing to say the least. Perhaps they should have seen the possibility, but who could rightly say? Ulfric had always been strong, stubborn, and always searching for more. What it was exactly the boy had been seeking, he could not be certain. But whatever it was he set off to do, whatever it was he set out to be… None of that had happened. He could hardly believe what he saw today.

He tried to think of when their old student had been spiteful or petty, and found nothing. Even the anger he saw today was nothing like the anger the boy had had when he had been frustrated with some teaching or other. It was nothing like the anger born of a sense of honor and duty he had seen when the boy rejected their admonitions of peace to fight in the Great War. There had even been compassion, a trait that had been notably missing when he had attacked the woman he widowed, and the girl who tried to bring peace in Skyrim, however brief it might prove to be.

They way of the warrior had surely destroyed the best of him. But even the Blade that the girl had looked up to had found peace and wisdom. And there were many great men who possessed both valor and charity. What could have possibly happened differently for the boy? Perhaps the world had been too hard for someone so bright and hopeful. But if so, how was it that his honor permitted his current behavior? What could have so warped his view of the world that he could not see blessings for what they were?

Voices. There were voices in the courtyard, and though his feet carried him to the door, Einarth stopped when he saw the former protege and the initiate standing side by side.

A Hero for Skyrim 14/?

[(Anonymous)]

There were no words in the common tongue that could even begin to express the anger and dismay that the Greybeard felt. He could have cursed himself for having been so blind to the Dragonborn’s plight. She was ill-suited to embody the ideals of the Nords but, he had utterly taken for granted the idea that the girl, generous as she was, would have had friends. It seemed that she enjoyed little meaningful companionship of any sort, and that should not have been a surprise either. She did spend many weeks traveling from one end of Skyrim to another after all, and though she might meet many people on her journey, such never-ending travel was not conducive to building strong relationships. The girl was not fond of mercenaries, and as far as he was aware, there was only one person with whom the girl was in regular contact. A dark-haired, female, Nord warrior whose name escaped him. The few times that she had accompanied the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar, the stoic woman had opted to wait near the entrance until the girl had concluded her business. The only hitch in her otherwise deferential attitude being her exasperation when tasked with the mundane.

For all the prestige, wealth, and power that came with being a chosen of the gods, the Dragonborn was completely and truly alone. Was there anywhere she felt at home? Was there anywhere she felt at peace?

He had believed that the girl enjoyed the peace and quiet of the mountain, but the Greybeard found himself beginning to suspect that as well. Could she truly have been at peace while under the tutelage of one who did not even see her, even as he spoke to her? Einarth found himself wanting to Shout more than he had ever wanted to before, and had this been an altogether different situation, he would have been horrified that he wanted to Shout at another sentient being. Arngeir had been more affected than he had thought, and Einarth wondered at what could have happened to the girl that would have made her so painfully perceptive of such behavior. To have failed in their duty to the Dragonborn to so great an extent… It was a wonder she kept returning at all. No one could fault her if she rejected their teachings. It would have been only natural, under the strain of such neglect. And yet, the Greybeard heard no malice her voice, laden though it was, with envy. He could hear the yearning in spite of it; feel the desire to live up to the hopes of others. Had she never felt worthy? Had she ever felt as though she were enough? Such insecurity never prevented her from completing her objectives, and there were many in Skyrim who would claim her as their champion. But what of the Dragonborn?

A Hero for Skyrim 15/?

[(Anonymous)]

Worry subsumed his anger, as Einarth mulled over her words: “You are everything a Nord should be.” Did she truly believe that? It did not bode well, for one so steadfast, to hold in such high esteem, one so broken. She was well aware of his failings, so what was it about the fallen disciple that compelled her? What did she see in him that made her feel so inadequate? Was it her desire to earn Arngeir’s approval? Or was it something else? The Greybeard trained his gaze upon the man in question. Seeing the hardened warrior standing there, looking like a lost little boy, was strangely nostalgic. It reminded him of the days when the impetuous boy had finally begun to see the merits of meditating on the Words, but struggled to achieve the inner stillness required...

"Master Arngeir, are you just going to..."

A hazy thought suddenly came into focus: The girl may understand longing and loss as well as, if not better, than Arngeir and Ulfric. Was it sympathy that gave her such insight? It was a trait not held in high regard by the Nords, for Skyrim was a harsh, unforgiving land. It has been said that only a Nord was stubborn enough to carve a living out of Skyrim's tough soil, and while such a feat was not beyond the other races, the statement was indicative of the Nordic temperament. Stolid resolve in the face of hardship gave them a sense of community like few other cultures, and there were few other peoples you would want on your side when one must weather a crisis.

But this went beyond cultural identity. The Dragonborn was an outsider, one bound to them by the machinations of the gods, at once apart yet belonging to them… The child could have resented them for it. The people certainly made plenty of demands petty enough, even demeaning enough, to warrant it. But she had chosen to accept it all, going so far as to make excuses for her detractors. Such generosity would have been admirable, if it weren’t so painfully clear how little her own well-being meant to her.

“Tell me, Ulfric. Why do you fight?”

Cold fear took root in the old man’s heart. Was the girl simply looking for something to die for? Was she truly without hope?

A Hero for Skyrim 16/?

[(Anonymous)]

Ulfric slowly came to himself while he fixed the Dragonborn with searching eyes. “You know my answer,” he began carefully, “it is no different than when I last spoke of it in your presence.” The girl kept her silence, and so he continued, “Why would you ask if you will not believe me?”

“Because it’s not freedom you want.” She opened her eyes then, and turned to the man beside her, voice full of sorrow, “You’re looking for salvation. Skyrim is the arena you hope to earn it in.”

A Hero for Skyrim 20/?

[(Anonymous)]

“We’re all being played.”

Blunt. Without an audience, the girl was typically concise- often to the point of bludgeoning- with her words. Necessity had forced her to make an earnest effort to learn speechcraft, but she could be rather unwieldy at times. Like now. It was almost comical, how she could cut through to the heart of the matter, and then flounder though an explanation. Not that he could judge. He simply kept his peace rather than waste his energies on such effort. An ability that Arngeir seems to have lost since reaching his level of mastery of the Voice. Perhaps that was where Ulfric got it from…

“Do you know what happened to him since he left?”

The question should not have surprised him as much as it did. The Greybeard had heard of the events that lead to the current situation, but nothing of the underlying causes. His hesitation must have have shown on his face, for the girl sighed and turned back to the mountain. She was clearly uncomfortable with what she wanted to say. “Ulfric wasn’t joking when he called the elf who attended the talks the ‘chief Talos hunter’. She’s the First Emissary of the Thalmor in Skyrim. Before that, she served in the Great War as an interrogator.” The girl hesitated before elaborating, “I have no proof, but if what I’ve seen of the places that Thalmor reserve for that sort of thing is any indication, an ‘interrogator’ isn’t very different than a torturer.”

No wonder Ulfric was furious with her. But if that were so, how could she have knowingly forced him to face such a nightmare? Einarth looked at the Dragonborn, unsure of how to resolve what he knew of her, with what she had done. She did not back down, “I’m not sure how much you overheard, but I’ll repeat to you what I told him: If I had sent her away to spare his feelings, that would have only made him look petty and weak. And it’s true. The people in that room would have destroyed his claim at the Moot if he fell apart here. And he needed to face her eventually; she probably knows him better than anyone else alive. I have no doubt that she has access to far more subtle forms of control than we know of.” He must have looked skeptical, because the girl added bitterly, “You don’t go to war with Daedric Princes without learning a few things, and Thalmor are hardly above using many of the same tactics.

A Hero for Skyrim 21/?

[(Anonymous)]

She continued, “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened in Markarth, and his imprisonment afterwards. There’s another event worth noting: when I was first ‘welcomed’ to Skyrim, he and I were siblings in bondage. The very same cart and everything.” Well, that was quite the coincidence… “All three times, the Thalmor have been involved in his capture. All three times, he has somehow escaped relatively unharmed- at least, as far as encounters with the Thalmor go. No one is that lucky. I should know: I’m the god’s favorite pull toy.” The Greybeard was not impressed at all by the poor joke. At least, he certainly hoped she wasn’t serious. “He’s being set up by the Thalmor.” She uncrossed her arms and set them akimbo. “I’ve seen their files. And it makes perfect sense: the Thalmor stand to gain the most out of a protracted civil war. They’re probably trying to weaken and split up the Empire as much as possible before they eventually resume their war.”

So, the girl did indeed know what was in store for her when all was said and done. He might have been proud of her perceptiveness if it hadn’t come at such a price. Einarth was not one for coddling children - he certainly had not the faintest idea how - but a youth spent waging war was not a way to spend one’s life. Ulfric tried, and what had that wrought him?

“The thing is, both sides know. They know, and what are they doing anyway?”

He did not need to try to determine what the Dragonborn was feeling. It was all over her face, and in the way she wrung her hands; the girl radiated frustration from every part of her person. Perhaps it was simply her anxiety, perhaps it was her dovah soul, but on rare occasions the girl would become animated. Not unlike the soft glow of an ember, smouldering quietly among the ashes, that might flare up into a roaring fire. She was far too passionate to keep the calm composure of a diplomat. Clearly, this child was not meant for politics. And yet, he would have said the same of her Dragonborn heritage. Though Einarth would never admit it now, he would have never chosen one so small and unassuming to become the legendary hero of Skyrim. But maybe it was for that reason that Akatosh saw fit to bestow them with a champion at once mild yet contrary. A new perspective- an agent of change not bound by their traditions and predispositions. The old man grimaced. The child would learn if she must. It certainly seems as though she wants to. Or was it that she cannot help but try?

wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal...
To keep evil forever at bay…

The prophecy spoke only of Alduin’s defeat, but the son of Akatosh was not the only evil that threatened the world. It could conceivably be in the girl’s nature to rise to the challenge, or to answer a threat. And just as she had taken up the sword, so too could she learn to wield the spoken word. The question was: to what end would the Dragonborn pursue the war?

A Hero for Skyrim 22/?

[(Anonymous)]

She sighed wearily, “At the very least, I’ve bought us some time before this all comes to a head. After I’ve dealt with Alduin, well… we’ll see how much more I’ll be able to do.”

Einarth saw the girl withdraw to dark places within herself, somewhere between resignation and dread. There was something in her manner that led Einarth to believe that there was more to her hopelessness than feelings of inadequacy. And her words, though vague, were laden with implications. Implications that he hoped were little more than unfounded fears. His lips tightened into a thin line as he considered what she had said, and what he himself at wondered at many a time.

One does not go with joy to a probable death.

He must have made a face then, because the girl smiled at him in her small, wry, yet sad, way. She turned back to the scene before them and said nothing for a time.

It was ironic, in the bitterest sense, that the girl was resigned to glory, even as Ulfric chased it. The old man saw how much she abhorred it, and how much Ulfric had wanted it. He thought of small hands, bruised, scraped, and cut. Of the slow development of calluses and bandages that slowly claimed more of her as time went on. Of the way her soft feminine form gave way to the battle hardened body of the warrior. He thought of what he had seen of other warriors, and of Ulfric, and the scarred bodies such men inhabited. The weary souls they possessed. Of the haunted eyes that eventually marked them. There were few, like the Blade the girl had sought, who were more philosophers than warriors, but most men learned the value of wisdom far too late. Too late than what such wisdom might have been able to save of them, even. If she lived through this, would the girl share a similar fate? Would she follow in the footsteps of Ulfric, spiraling ever further onto a path that would twist her as it had him?

A Hero for Skyrim 28/28

[(Anonymous)]

It was some time before the girl made ready to leave, and as per usual, the girl spoke briefly with the Old One before heading to the great doors. Einarth trailed her to the entrance this time; the others were meditating, and Arngeir was nowhere to be found.

Just as she reached the doors however, the Dragonborn paused, “He never truly left this place, you know? He still carries a piece of High Hrothgar within him. And feels badly about betraying the ideals of the Order.”

It would have been hard to believe if he had not seen it for himself. How the former disciple had addressed, without hesitation, the Greybeards by their titles. How the boy had reacted to mild reprimands from Einarth himself. He seemed adamant that he would not bow to anyone at the meeting, but had immediately rebuked his guard at the old man’s silent request.

“Maybe one day, he’ll come home for good. Please give him my regards when he does.”

Gods! Was she trying to break an old man’s heart?

The Dragonborn smiled that small, sad smile of hers, and then shut the doors behind her.

Einarth stood for a moment, processing her words. But as he turned, he wondered perhaps if her parting words were not for him. His eyes briefly met Arngeir’s and saw that they were stormy with emotions he had never really learned to hide. Einarth nodded and addressed his fellow Greybeard, and left the room to meditate. He wondered if the girl’s words would help the old man. And perhaps help him see how much the girl understood. He sighed heavily. Whatever his old friend made of this, was not for him to worry about. And they were all far too private to share such deeply personal thoughts.

So he proceeded to the courtyard to meditate on the Words. Meditate and await the Dragonborn’s next visit.

Author's Note

[(Anonymous)]

And that’s that! Hopefully this satisfies the prompt well enough to forgive the delays! This author also confesses to being a slow writer, and not a fan of the civil war questline...

A few notes about the story:
(feel free to skip this entirely)

I’ll probably never be satisfied with this, and a rewrite may be in order. But, as first attempts go, I suppose it could have been worse. If you guys have any likes, dislikes, suggestions, etc... please say something! I’m hoping to fill some of the other prompts around here, and would absolutely love any feedback you’re willing to offer!

A long-winded bit of writing (hopefully I haven’t bored you to tears!), but a fair number of old men I’ve known are given to monologuing. And that’s if they bother to talk at all. Grandstanding in the presence of their peers is fairly common, too. But in the case of the Greybeards, they don’t really have the option of voicing their thoughts. The lives they lead are marked by study and contemplation. They seem the sort to consider things at great length... and then be stingy with their words. I could totally see one of them being a bit of a troll if he wanted! (Is anyone interested in a prankster Greybeard story?)

I very nearly called this story “The Prodigal Son”. Casual blasphemy aside, Ulfric really feels like the impulsive child who runs away to do whatever he wants. He’s got good reasons to... but then he goes and breaks their code, challenges and kills a man in an absurdly one-sided duel, is callous and condescending to non-Nords, and is a terrible administrator (don’t get me started on the economics of prejudice).

While that’s a fairly ominous image of how he may run Skyrim, it’s not necessarily a deal breaker. That’s what advisors are for; if you can’t do it yourself, get good help. The problem is the fact that Ulfric doesn’t listen to the only other advisor he has in Windhelm. Ulfric flat out tells Jorleif not to bother him with any more “nonsense” about the elves in his city. Meanwhile, he listens to Galmar carry on with hateful speech; they’re trying to psyche themselves up for a war with the Aldmeri Dominion after they’ve liberated Skyrim, and trash talk is part of that. Again, I’m not convinced that either of them are quite that hateful (Galmar doesn’t bat an eye when you beat up his brother for being racist), but when you feed off of a continual litany of hate, it will warp your mind.

As sad as it is, it all makes sense: they’re both deeply scarred by the wars they’ve fought, the imprisonments, and betrayals. They’re trying to reclaim something that was taken from them, and follow in the footsteps of the legends they were raised on. That’s not bad. It’s noble. The problem is that they are so married to the idea of restoring Skyrim of old, that they don’t see Skyrim as it is now. It’s hard to hate them when you realize that they are both essentially romantics. Used, betrayed, and embittered romantics, but still... When you finally corner him, Ulfric requests that the Dragonborn be the one to kill him, because it would “make for a better song.” Conversely, when you corner Tullius, Galmar is exasperated with Uflric’s “sense of the dramatic moment.” (Oh, Galmar! I know he didn’t mean to, but that bit made me laugh...) And his constant need to give you ever loftier sounding titles… Ulfric seriously can’t seem to stop himself. This is a man on a quest for redemption. He’s burdened by suffering and failure, and everything that happens pushes him further into either a downward spiral, or an ever grander vision of glory. Neither direction is healthy, and if you follow each path to their logical conclusions, the odds are good that he’ll end up dead or mad. Either outcome would be a terrible waste.

Author's Note 2/2

[(Anonymous)]

They need a strong counterpoint. Someone who can stand in opposition to, but with them, in order to balance their ideologies and methods. They’re people worth saving, and they certainly deserve help for all the things they’ve endured for Skyrim, and for their service to the Empire before that (though I still haven’t forgiven them for Ondolemar- but’s a separate rant entirely). It’s great to see all the people on this site who’ve tried (and succeeded!) in giving those two some much needed love (even though Galmar would probably hurt me if he caught me saying so)! Seriously, you guys are Awesome and the smut doesn’t hurt either! and I hope to see yet more greatness pour forth from your fingertips! :D

Anyway... I thought it’d be interesting to pit Arngeir’s students against each other. Even if Ulfric is no longer the favorite, that won’t stop the Dragonborn from having daddy issues if daddy won’t acknowledge her. As interesting as it would have been for Arngeir to compare/contrast them, I thought I’d have another Greybeard comment from the outside. Partially because the idea of breaking an old man’s heart, and pouring its contents out for you guys, was a bit much for me. But also because I got hung up on the idea of one mentor figure accusing the other of favoritism, when he’s obviously guilty of it himself (Hello, Pot! Have you met my friend, Kettle?). Though he doesn’t recognize it, he hasn’t quite moved past that episode with Ulfric either.

Why Einarth? He’s the only Greybeard that talks back to Arngeir. Scolds him actually, when you ask about Dragonrend and are initially shut down. Einarth also stands behind you during the peace council, which could be interpreted as a supportive gesture. So he seemed like the perfect candidate to watch our unhappy not-quite-family fail to get along. In this setup, he’s also the most likely to notice and appreciate the cautiously hopeful ending in the midst of this mess.

The way I see it, for the curious:
Paarthurnax = Grandpa
Arngeir + Einarth = parents
Borri + Wulfgar = uncles
Ulfric + Dragonborn = kids / possible couple

Looking back, there’s a possible love triangle involving the Dragonborn, Ulfric, and Rikke in there (if you squint hard enough). Though the Dragonborn might decide that she can’t follow Ulfric, and instead run off with the legate. If so, that’s his loss.

And I need to stop thinking about all the rampant plot bunnies. Sweet Mara, they’re EVERYWHERE. someone help me…!

So, there you have it OP! Hope you find this satisfactory. If not leave me to my shame I’m working on a happier, nuttier prompt if you’re interested… A!A dives for cover

Re: Author's Note

[(Anonymous)]

I for one would love to hear about the economics of prejudice. And if it's anything like this fill, I'm sure anything you wrote on the subject would be an amazing page-turner. Awesome job, A!Anon.

Re: Author's Note

[(Anonymous)]

This fill was just... wow.
I really, really love how you've written everybody, and I'd also like you to know that you've made me... not-hate Ulfric. I'm not quite certain I can say that I *like* him (yet), but after realizing who he was before who he is now... ugh. It IS hard to hate him.
Blargh, completing the civil war is so much easier when you think of one side as simply led by a charismatic power-hungry racist.
(captcha says mea culpa. this feels apt.)
(stupid video games with their stupid complex characters and their stupid moral dilemmas, UGH.)

OP Re: A Hero for Skyrim 28/28

[(Anonymous)]

No one tells stories the way he does. Especially the old songs when he thinks no one is watching. If I could give those back to him, restore his dreams, then maybe he might be able to see Skyrim again. To really see what it is, and what it has become. He loves the stories too much because he thinks they’re all he has now. He’s not fighting for the future, he’s fighting for what he’s lost. And there’s so much he’s missing because of it.” The Dragonborn wiped her face with her hands before turning to the old master, “He cares in spite of everything that’s happened to him. Skyrim needs people like that. People who can find it in themselves to fight, to love even, especially when they’re past hope. At the very least, he deserves a chance to be the kind of man he wants to be, to be the man he sought to be all those years ago.

And you've just summed up Ulfric Stormcloak in one paragraph. I am crying. Actual tears. I agree with you that it's hard to hate them once you realize that they're romantics at heart, and I love your Einarth voice. This fill is everything I could have hoped and more.