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>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.
All Quiet (2/3)
Date: 2014-02-19 07:56 am (UTC)Irileth had been an addition to their unit shortly after they arrived in Cyrodiil, when their unit was merged with a decimated unit native to Cyrodiil. The other added soldiers had been a smattering of Imperials and Bretons mostly, and had melded seamlessly into the ranks. Though Morrowind wasn’t allied with the Dominion, with tensions running high some Nords were all too quick to forget the nuances of Mer races and spit on anyone with elongated ears. Irileth had several decades over the untested Nords, and was perfectly capable of holding her own against them, but at the time Balgruuf hadn’t known that. All he had seen was his countrymen ganging up to harass a fellow comrade, and he’d tried to put a stop to it in the manner any young Nord soldier would.
The resulting fight had earned him a sound beating, a reputation for his temper, and Irileth’s amusement. That amusement had been melded into friendship by the countless battles since, and he counted few as closer friends than her.
“Balgruuf,” Irileth said again, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go get some rest. You’ll need it tomorrow.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.
He sighed and shook his head. He was weary down to his bones, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come. His hand drifted to his right side again.
Irileth’s sharp eyes missed nothing. “Is that mace wound still bothering you?” she asked.
Balgruuf shrugged, his hand dropping back to his side. “No more than any of my collection,” he said with a grin. “We’re all a ragged lot.”
Irileth’s cool gaze searched his face for a moment, but then she looked back out to the darkness. “All the more reason to get what sleep you can.”
“Hard to sleep, when those damn Thalmor could have their blades at our throats any moment,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree again.
She glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. “You doubt my skills as a sentry?” she said. “My eyes are easily worth twice those of some half-drunk Nord.” Her tone was sharp, but the gleam of mirth in her eyes gave away her away.
He laughed, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I take offense; if there were anything to drink aside from your Cyrodiilic swill, I wouldn’t stop at half-drunk.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but a strangled cry from the forest beyond them caught their attention. Both their swords were out in an instant.
They crept forward towards the noise, Irileth still carrying the torch.
“Who’s there?” Balgruuf called into the darkness.
Something growled and snapped, and a few seconds later a wolf emerged from the bushes, carrying the corpse of a large bird in its mouth. The wolf caught their scent and paused, eyeing them uncertainly before growling and retreating back into the bushes.
Balgruuf laughed, limping back to his post. “A fine pair of sentries we make,” he said. “Jumping at our own shadows.”
Irileth didn’t respond, still staring out to where the wolf had disappeared. After a moment, she sighed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. Fatigue had etched deep lines under her eyes. “Do you think this is the end of the Empire?” she said suddenly.
He blinked. “I… no. We’ve been routed, but there are still the forces in Hammerfell and Skyrim. The generals will call for them, and we’ll march back on Imperial City.” His bravado fell flat. The idea of fighting once more in that city, trying to breach its walls nonetheless, seemed unimaginable.
“If the city is not retaken, Cyrodiil will fall to the Dominion. What little of it that hasn’t already. The Empire will be finished.”
“There’s still Skyrim,” he reminded her. “And Hammerfell and Highrock.”
All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-02-19 07:58 am (UTC)“I’ve never been outside toe borders of Cyrodiil,” Irileth said suddenly, once more breaking the heavy silence.
“Truly?” Balgruuf said. Before marching out with the legion he had never left Skyrim, but he was only one and twenty. The Dunmer had much longer lifespans, and Irileth could easily be fifty or more years, and still be counted as in her youth. There was no doubt her experience surpassed his own.
She nodded. “My parents were refugees. By the time I was born, they remembered more of the horrors of their last days in Morrowind than any of the good of their lives there. They discouraged me from travelling far, and as soon as I was old enough I joined the Legion.” She ran a hand through her tangle of scarlet hair. “I wish I had defied them, now. I would have liked to see Morrowind. It’s not as if staying in Imperial City… did them any good.”
Balgruuf stared at her, and then tore his eyes away quickly. She’d never said she had had family in Imperial City. It reminded him all too keenly of how dutiful she was, staying with the Legion as the city burned… “We’ll cross the border into Skyrim any day now,” he said, mustering all his remaining confidence. “My homeland isn’t so strange as the tales I’ve heard of Morrowind, but it has its wonders.”
Irileth scowled. “Drunken nords and meaderies are hardly what I would call wonders…”
“More than that,” Balgruuf said, reaching over to give her a playful shove. “Even my hold has wonders. Giants wander the planes, herding great herds of mammoths. Whn they pass by, the ground shakes with their footsteps.” Irileth’s disbelieving look didn’t stop him. “Dragonsreach, the keep in Whiterun, was built by one of my ancestors to serve as a prison for the dragon he vanquished. That dragon’s skull hangs above the throne now…” He trailed off. He could picture it perfectly- the arched ceiling of the great hall of Dragonreach, the steps leading up to the dais where the throne sat. The long tables laden with delicacies during feasts, and the leering skull hanging over his father’s throne. When he was a child he had dreamed of taming a dragon of his own, and ruling over Whiterun from the back of his fiery steed.
“The skull of a dragon?” Irileth said, her brows quirking upwards. “Perhaps Nords aren’t all talk after all. That sounds like a sight to see.”
“I’ll bring you along to Whiterun, after the war’s done,” Balgruuf said.
Irileth’s expression closed in an instant, all the mirth draining from her features. “Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “It only invites ill luck. Don’t talk of plans until we’ve won.”
Balgruuf was silent for a moment. “We may die,” he said at last. “But if we do survive… well.. you won’t have any place to return to, not until Imperial City is rebuilt. And… and your family is gone. It’s… If we survive… you could come back to Whiterun to me. We always need more Thanes.”
She stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I would like to see that dragon skull of yours,” she said after a moment.
“Then the matter is settled,” he said, grinning.
Irileth gave him a small smile in return. “Go steal a few hours’ sleep. It’ll be a long march today.”
He nodded, weariness suddenly seeming to redouble its pull on his muscles. “Good night,” he said, turning to go, before pausing. “Irileth?”
“Yes?”
“Even if I don’t survive, you’d be welcome in Whiterun.”
Re: All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-02-20 03:18 am (UTC)Re: All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-02-21 02:07 pm (UTC)Past!fic always breaks my heart, though. Morrowind is gone and Cyrodiil is gone and...wah!
Re: All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-02-26 09:56 am (UTC)Re: All Quiet (3/3)
Date: 2014-03-20 05:00 am (UTC)♥