![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyrimkinkmeme CLOSED FOR PROMPTS,
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
>Please post your prompts with the paired characters and any notable kinks/trigger warnings in the title.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Line in the Snow
Date: 2014-02-12 02:08 am (UTC)I joined the Legion to see the world, he thinks, with a kind of soft, hazy terror. This is more of the world than I bargained for.
He’s not even sure where he is: some high mountain pass in the Jeralls, a little clearing dusted in snow. It burns the backs of his knees where he sits, with his back to the trunk of a sturdy pine and his arms bound tightly behind the tree. Crispus is from Leyawiin. Before coming to Skyrim he had never even seen snow, and Khajiit are less foreign to him than Nords, all appearances to the contrary.
“Pay attention, boy,” growls the Stormcloak officer, and he comes back to himself with a shudder.
The man kneeling beside him is unmistakably from Skyrim: flaxen hair, cool blue eyes, a square jaw adorned with a neat white scar. The thick, rough accent of the native Nords. A bear pelt dangles over his shoulders with every lethal claw still attached; the fur is wet with melting snow, and still reeks faintly of the animal it came from. The man’s upper arms are bare to the snow, but he doesn’t seem to feel it.
Crispus, stripped of his cloak and the upper half of his Legion leathers, is shivering uncontrollably. But maybe he’s just a coward.
Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, Titus Mede II, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty.
“I asked you,” says the officer, “where the rest of the Legion scouts are camped.”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
The man’s steel dagger rests, yet again, on the bare skin of his torso. Crispus takes a slow breath of the frosty air and tries to focus on the finely pattered knotwork on the blade’s hilt, rather than the roaring in his ears. “We’ll see about that,” says the Nord.
His head thunks back against the tree when the knife parts his skin again. It hurts, but the pain is not the worst of it. All his mind is shrieking at him to flee, to fight, but the ropes tying Crispus to the tree barely even have enough give for him to flinch. Farther up the hill he can hear the steady hammer blows of a man beating out a sword. They come too slow to match the thud-thud-thud of his heart. Crispus shuts his eyes.
His torturer makes a frustrated sound. “I could leave you here, for the wolves to find. They’ll smell the blood.” Crispus does not answer. “Have you ever seen a wolf pack down an elk, boy? They don’t wait till it’s dead, to start their feeding. When they’re pulling your guts out – what then?”
May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty.
“Then I’ll be dead,” he says, wishing that his voice would stop wavering. “And you still won’t have your information.”
The backhand knocks his face against the tree, so hard the rough bark cuts his cheek.
It takes Crispus a moment to realize that the sudden low clamor is coming from the Stormcloaks’ camp, and not the product of the ringing in his ears. He can hear a deep voice, followed by low, muted cheers. Someone shouts about “the true High King.” I thought the High King was dead, he thinks, dizzily – and then the bottom drops out of his stomach, when he realizes who they must be referring to.
And then the man himself is there, striding down the hill, no doubt looking for the ranking officer of the camp. Ulfric Stormcloak is every bit as imposing as the stories make him out to be. Big, even for a Nord, bearded and braided, with a fierce hooked nose like an eagle’s bill or the prow of a northern longship. He moves surprisingly quietly for such a large man, and Crispus is reminded of the enormous cat that prowled into their camp one night, like Cyrodiil’s mountain lions but freakishly massive. He looks quickly down at his lap. Like a small animal, trying to avoid a predator’s gaze.
And yet he cannot help but watch, out of the corner of his eye, as the infamous murderer stops just outside the ring of trees. His narrowed gaze sweeps over Crispus, over the Stormcloak officer, over the knife in his hand and the blue-painted shield laid aside in the leaves. For a long moment it’s quiet. “What is this?” the jarl finally asks, softly.
Line in the Snow part 2
Date: 2014-02-12 02:10 am (UTC)The regicide’s eyes darken, brows drawing down and lines deepening on his face. He fixes Crispus with a glare. When he steps into the clearing his mail clinks softly, and Crispus shuts his eyes. He’s heard Ulfric Stormcloak can shout a man apart. Perhaps he’s just a coward after all, but he’d rather not see his death coming for him in that fashion.
“Were you not given orders on the treatment of prisoners?” The man’s voice is low and even.
“He’ll live. I’ve only given him a scare, it’s not even—”
“I know torture when I see it,” says the jarl, with an edge in his voice that makes even Crispus flinch. He opens his eyes, though. This conversation has taken an unexpected turn.
“…Of course, my jarl,” the rebel says.
“Those orders came from me.”
“Aye,” mutters the officer.
The jarl cocks his head, calmly. “Is that all you have to say?”
There is a long moment of silence. Then - “It’s no worse than they’ve done to ours,” the officer blurts, suddenly. “There’s reports coming in from Helgen—”
“And so you would learn torture at the feet of your Imperial masters, as they have learned it at the feet of their elven ones?” His nostrils flare, and Crispus realizes with a thrill of foreboding that his calm, steady manner cloaks rage, black as a storm. “You challenge my authority? The man to whom you swore an oath? Pick up your shield.”
The officer stares at him.
“Pick. It. Up,” the jarl says; he has no shield of his own, but his blade is already drawn. The other man swallows. He looks suddenly very small, but there must be some truth to what Crispus has heard about Nords, that they consider it dishonor to refuse a challenge, for the man picks up his shield and squares his shoulders. He draws his own blade, but makes no move to use it. He is very pale.
“Go on,” his commander says, in a soft voice, staring him down. He is utterly still, unblinking. “At least try to hurt me.”
The officer steels himself and swings, with a roar.
Torygg did not stand a chance, Crispus will remember thinking, later. The Stormcloak fights like his name; three ferocious blows and one deft hook of his axe and his subordinate stands shieldless and stunned, and in another two seconds it is over. The jarl seizes him by the scruff and slams him against a tree, buries his axe only whispers from his face. Where it stands, shivering.
“The last time I saw a legionnaire treated so, it was one of the Thalmor holding the knife,” he growls. The officer swallows. “A true Nord lets his enemies die with honor. If you ever defy my orders again – if I even hear rumor you’ve been torturing prisoners – I will have your head myself.” With a contemptuous shove he pushes the officer away. Rips his axe free of the tree. Looks calmly around, to the silent crowd that has formed around the edges of the clearing. “Galmar,” he says. “Who’s second in command here?”
“That’d be Thorygg,” says a greying warrior, also wearing the bear cloak and helm.
Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-12 02:11 am (UTC)“My jarl--!” says Crispus’ erstwhile tormenter, but the one called Galmar elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up, you idiot,” he says. He doesn’t take his eyes off the jarl as he says it; there’s a strange expression on his face, harsh and knowing. “What are you all looking at?” he barks, to the crowd of Stormcloak soldiers. “Get back to your posts.”
The soldiers disperse. Frost hangs in the air as the jarl blows out a long breath through his nose. Galmar claps him silently on the shoulder, and then quickly drops his hand. They both turn to leave.
“Thank you,” Crispus blurts, still stunned by his turn of fortune. A traitor and a killer the man may be, but never let it be said that Crispus Decimus did not give thanks where it was due.
Ulfric Stormcloak pins him with an icy gaze. “Save your thanks for whatever gods you still believe in, Imperial,” he says, and stalks rapidly up the hill.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-12 10:08 pm (UTC)I kind of love Crispus, and I really love Ulfric here :D
no subject
Date: 2014-02-14 11:42 pm (UTC)Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-12 11:11 pm (UTC)Side note: I love how you've portrayed Galmar here, as probably the only person in the whole scene with a full understanding of what's actually going on between the lines. Oh Galmar. You're a good friend.
Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-14 11:43 pm (UTC)Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-13 12:37 am (UTC)The last line is the best part of this whole fill. Patented Ulfric blend of jerkass and badass, right there. Thank you so very much!
Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-14 11:45 pm (UTC)Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-14 08:03 am (UTC)The window may be small, but it reveals so much with so little; that's good writing. Your style reads nicely, a!a, and lends both elegance and weight to your storytelling.
I do hope I stumble upon more fills from you in the future!
Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-14 11:46 pm (UTC)Re: Line in the Snow part 3/3
Date: 2014-02-18 11:26 pm (UTC)