dragonyris | 9 December 2018

9 December 2018

OC-tober Day 1 - Eldest

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“Hey, mom. Where should I put your ashes after you die?”

Llethasi looked up from her ledger, and squinted at her daughter. “Why the sudden question? What, is there a writ on my head?”

“Well, no,” Vareysa drawled, pulling on her boots by the door. “It’s just that you’re getting really, really old.”

Llethasi snorted. “I’m only 354.”

“Yeah, still the oldest in our family. And soon you’ll be 355…400…470… I mean, look. Most of your hair’s white now-”

“How about,” Llethasi cut in, wanting to smack the smug smirk off her daughter’s face. “You bury my ashes under your house, so I can haunt you when I die.”

“Aw. Love you too, mom.” Vareysa blew a kiss, then shouldered her backpack and left the smithy with a wink.

“S’wit,” Llethasi muttered, rolling her eyes.

OC-tober Day 2 - Couple

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“Happy birthday, Anni!”

Vareysa upended her backpack, and Aneril’s eyes flew wide. She stared in stunned silence, as jewels and gems poured out of the pack like a waterfall, landing in a small mountain of riches on their dining table. Vareysa grinned when she saw Aneril’s shocked expression.

“Do you like them?”

Aneril blinked, shook her head, then worked her mouth that was hanging agape. “How…did you get all these?” Aneril said slowly, then started when a thought struck. “Wait! Did you steal them all?”

“Uh.” Vareysa glanced at the gems, then back at Aneril. “Maybe…? Only a couple… A couple dozen…”

“A couple hundred, more like!” Aneril jabbed a finger at the stolen loot. “Give them back, now!”

Vareysa pouted. “All of them?”

“All of them. Now!”

OC-tober Day 3 - Nature

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Shur’azan padded leisurely on all fours - yet still a silent, white silhouette among the thick greens and browns of the forest. His deep blue eyes scan the surroundings constantly, like a predator on a hunt, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

He was young and curious, always taking in the new environments he traveled to. Jungles, hills, deserts, beaches, and the wide open sea he loved swimming in. He saw and remembered - and when he returned to familiar places, he could always navigate with much more subtlety. Avoiding danger while he moved along as he did now, picking his way through the jungle forest, until he saw-?

He sniffed and prodded his paw at the short log lying on a carpet of brown, crispy leaves. The log was dry - great for a fire! A little too big, but nothing a sharp metal sword couldn’t handle.

Clamping his fangs around the log, Shur’azan picked it up and trotted happily back to where his mothers had made camp - those two-legs would love his present, like always.

OC-tober Day 4 - Drive

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“Fareeha, dear. Where are we?”

“Er…”

Ana watched from the backseat with Kamilah, as their daughter reached for the GPS - which was off. It had been off for a while, and though both mothers knew about it, they’d decided to see how far Fareeha could go without realising it.

And the answer was: very, very far indeed.

Fareeha tapped at the GPS, and it came alight to display their current location. “We’re…in Port Said.”

“Right,” Ana drawled. “And where were we going again?”

“Alexandria…”

“Well, at least she’s not too far off this time,” Kamilah said. “I thought she was going to drive us all the way to Israel.”

“She would have if I hadn’t stopped her, my dear,” Ana chuckled, knowing full well Fareeha’s cheeks were flushed.

“You could’ve said something earlier…” Fareeha grumbled, turning the steering wheel to change lanes.

“No, no. It’s alright. Since we’re here, might as well spend the day here.” Ana glanced at Kamilah, the both of them biting down smiles. “We’ll take it as a surprise you planned for us.”

OC-tober Day 5/6 - Handy/Orange

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Aneril’s eye twitched as she watched Vareysa fiddle with the orange in her hands. First she prodded at the green stem with her thumb, then changed her mind and dug her nail into the middle of the orange. Only a bit of rind popped out despite her efforts, so Vareysa made a face and reached for her dagger-

“Oh, just hand it over!” Aneril snatched the orange from Vareysa, and dug into the rind around the stem. “It’s like you’ve never seen an orange before,” she groused, peeling the rind off with ease.

“Well, I have. Just never eaten one before,” Vareysa replied, lips curved just slightly. “We don’t have oranges in Morrowind, you know.”

“Obviously.” Aneril pushed the tiger cub’s head away with her foot, when he tried to nibble at the rinds she’d thrown to the grass. “No, cubby. This is not for you.” When the tiger growled in complaint, she planted a leg in front of him, so he couldn’t reach the rinds himself.

Ignoring the light dig of claws into her pants, Aneril finished peeling the orange and handed it to Vareysa - who opened her mouth. Aneril cocked a brow, then shoved the entire orange into her waiting mouth, getting a muffled gasp in surprise.

“Feed yourself, you baby.”

Vareysa snorted, taking the orange and peeling off a slice, which she dropped into Aneril’s mouth. “Why feed myself when I have such a handy little helper with me?”

OC-tober Day 8 - Native

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“What is that?”

Vareysa’s grin unfurled when she saw what Aneril was pointing at. “Oh, it’s a plant.”

“A plant?” Aneril parroted indignantly. Almost offended, really. “That-, it has tentacles! It belongs in the sea, like a-, a jellyfish…” She groaned, head falling into her hand. “You have netches…”

Vareysa chuckled at Aneril’s apparent distress - which hadn’t stopped since they landed in Morrowind. The Altmer handled the giant mushrooms pretty well, but the other native wildlife? Not so well.

Strolling over to the ‘tentacle’ plant, Vareysa tapped at one tentacle, which twitched at her touch. “It’s not that weird, Anni. Oh, but there are some pretty special…things people do with it. Sometimes, you’ll hear about a group of mer gathering around one of these…making merry through the night…”

Aneril’s face blanched, and Vareysa let out a hearty cackle, taking Aneril by the hand and tugging her up the road.

“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.”

Vareysa just shrugged, swinging their hands gently as they walked along, before Aneril stopped dead at the sight of a nix-hound hopping across the road ahead, turning its needle-like nose about.

“What is that!”

OC-tober Day 9 - Snack

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“What’s my little girl’s favourite snack?”

Selyn perked up in her seat, as Vareysa approached the dinner table with a bowl in each hand. “Jelly!”

“And jelly she shall have,” Vareysa declared, setting the bowl of scrib jelly in front of Selyn, who dug her spoon in eagerly.

Vareysa smiled to herself, running a hand down her daughter’s copper-brown hair, before indulging in her own sweetened ash yam paste.

OC-tober Day 10 - Movies

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“Ana. Ana!” Kamilah looked sternly at her wife, who had put on her puppy eyes, holding her chosen disc to the player. “Beyonce’s concert is not a movie.”

“She’s right, ami,” Fareeha said, tossing popcorn into her mouth.

“Wet blankets…” Ana mumbled, putting the disc back.

Kamilah let out a silent groan when Ana reached for another disc - the live-action Lion King movie. She exchanged a glance with Fareeha, who shrugged and continued eating her popcorn. Kamilah slid lower in the sofa; it seemed she’d spend movie night sleeping discretely on Ana’s shoulder…again.

OC-tober Day 11 - Odd

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“By the way, Star,” Ayrenn says when Astaire emerges from the teleporter pad, amid a swirl of azure light. “I noticed something odd in the treasury records today - a few hundred coins in expenditure by the royal family…but I don’t remember making a purchase.”

“Me neither,” Astaire replies, as they walk towards the basement’s stairs. “Perhaps it was mama?”

“Oh, my dear,” Ayrenn laughs softly, climbing up into the entrance hall. “I’m hoping it isn’t her. If it is, we’ll surely have…”

Ayrenn’s voice trails off when they turn into the living room. The hearth is lit, and Sielaire is sprawled out on the fluffy rug before the fire, fast asleep. A large litter of kittens are sleeping peacefully on her, draped over Sielaire’s body like a living blanket of fur.

Ayrenn breathes a sigh, while Astaire giggles beside her, “Well, I guess our little mystery’s solved.”

OC-tober Day 12 - Future

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“Mom, can you marry Ari already?”

Llethasi’s bored gaze whipped up from her book, and fixed on Vareysa - who sat on the sofa with both her legs on the coffee table. “What?”

“It’s been so long! What, 50 years? Longer?”

“So?”

“Think about my future!” Vareysa’s grin appeared when her mother snorted. “Do you really want me to live the rest of my life without another parent?”

“What, am I not enough?”

“Yeah, of course! You’re a great mom. It’s just, you’re kinda…really emotionally constipated.”

Llethasi rolled her eyes, lifting her book again. “Deal with it.”

“Mom,” Vareysa fake-whined. “At this rate, I’m going to die before you marry Ari.”

Llethasi shot her beloved daughter a drab stare. “Then die.”

OC-tober Day 13 - Superstition

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Llethasi clicked her tongue and rapped her knuckles on Selyn’s head lightly, before reaching over to pluck out the chopsticks stuck upright in the girl’s bowl of saltrice. “How many times have I told you? You’re eating, not burning incense.”

While Selyn pouted and muttered an apology, Vareysa said, “Come on, mom. It’s just silly superstition.”

“I know. But I’m not going to risk luring one of those withered old windbags into my house, to lecture me,” Llethasi grumbled. “I’ve had enough at the tomb.”

OC-tober Day 14/15 - Mellow/Scar

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The candle was burning low by the time Vareysa returned to the inn room. Shur’azan was fast asleep on the floor by the bed, and barely stirred as she went to check on Aneril.

The Altmer was sleeping on her front, so she wouldn’t aggravate the wounds on her back. Vareysa sat beside her, running a hand up the bandages wrapped around Aneril’s midriff, to the angry red scars that criss-crossed her upper back - gifts from the dremora they’d fought while rescuing Galerion and destroying the Great Shackle.

Most of the scars would heal after another visit to the healer tomorrow, but the long ridge that carved its way down to the bandages would surely stay forever. And Vareysa knew it wouldn’t be the last lash Coldharbour left on Aneril’s body.

Sighing quietly, she pressed her lips to Aneril’s back, and the top of her blonde tresses. Then Vareysa slipped under the covers as well, eager to get some rest before their assault on Coldharbour resumed the next morning.

OC-tober Day 16 - Sweet (Or the lack of)

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“Here, try it.” Ayrenn places a slice of cake onto Sielaire’s plate. “I followed your mother’s recipe to the letter.”

“Really? Then I’m surprised it doesn’t have apples in it,” Sielaire jokes, digging her fork into the fluffy cake, and tasting a mouthful.

Ayrenn waits, watching in anticipation as Sielaire chews…then stops for a while. Her wife glances at her, and flashes an oddly-stiff smile before taking another bite.

Sielaire nods slowly. “It’s…good.”

Raising a brow at Sielaire’s apparent difficulty with the cake, Ayrenn takes a slice for herself. A single bite later, she nearly chokes at her own dastardly creation, which tastes saltier than seawater, with not a single hint of sugary sweetness anywhere.

“Sie!” Ayrenn coughs, spitting out the cake. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”

“I…thought it was a prank.” Sielaire gives a sheepish laugh through her mouthful of cake, then swallows.

“Oh, for Auri-El’s sake, Sie! Did you just-? No, I’m throwing this away.” Ayrenn snatches up the cake plate. “I can’t believe you took two bites of this!”

OC-tober Day 17 - Connection

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Though Selyn hadn’t dared look up when Aneril knelt before her, curious grey eyes flickered towards the wooden horse and cart Aneril held in her hand.

“Look, this is a fun little toy I played with when I was younger. Wanna try it?” Aneril asked, but as usual, the girl gave no reaction. So Aneril held up her own forearm, and pulled the horse and cart along its length. “See? It can travel anywhere, you know. Like…this!”

Aneril made a fwoosh sound with her mouth, and she lifted the cart high into the air, as it jumped from her arm to Selyn’s thigh. Clicking her tongue in rhythmic clip-clops, Aneril moved the horse and cart over Selyn’s lap, until the cart got ‘stuck’ between her knees.

“Eek! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Aneril said in a comical horse voice, and she paused when she heard a faint giggle.

Aneril looked up, and saw that little smile on Selyn’s face, the girl biting on her bottom lip as if to hide it. Chuckling to herself, Aneril lifted the toy and offered it to Selyn again. “Here, you can try. It’s yours.”

Selyn stared at the toy for a few long moments, then raised her gaze cautiously to meet Aneril’s eyes. Breath caught in Aneril’s throat, overwhelmed by the first contact the girl had made with her willingly, since they’d adopted her months ago. Heart beating faster, Aneril nudged the toy towards the girl, who took it slowly in her hands.

A brighter smile spread across Selyn’s face as she fiddled with the toy, and received a gentle peck on the top of her head.

OC-tober Day 18 - Kid

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“Anni, do you want to have a kid someday?”

Aneril fixed her with a brief stare, then said, “Thought we already had one?” She nodded at the living room’s carpet, where their now-adult tiger was sprawled out on his back, sleeping unglamorously with his paws sticking up in the air, and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“I meant, a kid with two legs,” Vareysa clarified with a sigh.

A smile flickered over Aneril’s lips. “Like…a guar?”

“You-!” Vareysa pounced onto the sofa where Aneril sat, climbing into her wife’s lap as she pulled at Aneril’s ears. “You know exactly what I mean, guar-brain!”

Aneril laughed, arms hugging at Vareysa instinctively. “So…one like us, then?”

“Yes,” Vareysa said, calming down from her own laughter. “Like us.”

“…Sure,” Aneril replied after a moment’s thought, smile turning soft. “One day.”

OC-tober Day 19 - ~~Tide~~ Wave (idk how this mistake happened but it did bye)

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“Sie. Sie, come here,” Lirinwe croons down at the toddler trying to walk away from her, round verdant eyes staring out into the distance. “Darling, come say goodbye to your papa.”

At her mother’s gentle tug on her hand, Sielaire turns her head back to look up at her father, who stands beside his horse, ready to leave on his business trip to Alinor. He smiles and kneels down, wrapping his arms around the girl in a hug that lifts her off the ground, eliciting a thrilled squeal from Sielaire.

“Be good, my little sapling,” Erelmir says, setting her down. “And when papa comes back, he’ll have a lot of candies for you. Promise.” He sticks out his little finger, which Sielaire hooks with her own.

Erelmir kisses the top of her head, and ruffles her short red locks playfully. Then he stands and pecks his wife on the cheek, before climbing onto his horse. “I’ll be home next week, beloved. Don’t miss me too much, if you can.”

Lirinwe rolls her eyes, getting a grin and wink from her husband. She bends down to pick Sielaire up in her arms, gesturing at Erelmir. “Papa’s leaving now, Sie. Say bye bye.”

Sielaire flashes a toothy grin much like her father’s, and waves a little hand in farewell.

OC-tober Day 20 - Fall

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“Looks like he’s having fun,” Aneril said, watching the tiger cub sprint and prance and roll all over the carpet of brown and orange leaves on the forest floor. He’d been at this for nearly an hour, and showed no signs of stopping just yet.

Vareysa hummed. “Won’t be long before he starts trying to eat the leaves too.”

OC-tober Day 21 - Grow

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“Renn. Renn…”

Ayrenn rouses at the call of her name, and the nudge on her shoulder. She cracks her eyes open with difficulty, and squints at the mer sitting by her bed. It’s hard to see under the moonlight, but Sielaire’s face seems to be scrunched up, while she holds two grown cats who are trying to crawl away from her.

“Sie?” Ayrenn utters. “Sie, why are you still up?”

“My babies… They’re growing so fast…”

Ayrenn frowns as Sielaire hugs the cats closer to her. Her wife’s words are quite slurred, and ends with an audible sniffle. “Sie, were you drinking?”

“Thinking. Yeah,” Sielaire mumbles, and Ayrenn sighs. This crazy cat lady is definitely drunk - thing is, what makes Sielaire drunk is enough to send ten Nords under the table. Just why was she drinking so much in the early morning, however…

“My babies. They’re all grown up. But they’re gonna die. They all die so fast,” Sielaire sniffles even more, ignoring the mewls of protests from her ‘babies’ as she keeps them in her death trap of a hug.

Ayrenn turns her head and groans into the pillow. It’s going to be a long night…

OC-tober Day 22 - Dance

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“Do you know how to dance?”

“What?”

“Dance,” Aneril clarified with a sigh. “You know, the thing we have to do for our wedding?”

“Uh…that’s the Altmer part of the wedding, right?” Vareysa asked, and her fiancée nodded. “What kind of dance? I mean, I can dance very well with my daggers. You’ve seen that before.”

Aneril rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up. “Our wedding is in two weeks, and you haven’t bothered to learn.”

“Well, I have been busy…” Vareysa replied, as Aneril guided her hand to rest on her fiancee’s shoulder.

“No excuses.” Aneril circled an arm around Vareysa’s waist, and took her free hand. “You are going to dance like-” She stopped short, distracted by the metal hilt jutting up from the back of Vareysa’s pants. “A dagger? Really? We’re at home!”

“I told you, sweetie. Daggers are my thing,” Vareysa said, a crooked smile on her lips.

Aneril stared back at her, unamused, and led Vareysa into the first steps of the dance anyway. “You have a problem.”

OC-tober Day 23 - Extraneous

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“Mom? What’s this word?” Selyn held a book out to Vareysa, who peered at the page and wondered why the child was reading some complicated thesis on destruction magic. She must’ve had taken it from Aneril’s shelf.

“Uh. It’s ‘extraneous’. Means ‘unrelated’.” Vareysa hummed, reading the passsage. “Or in this case, something that’s external…that is to say, from the outside.”

Selyn’s face scrunched up, looking perplexed as she read the book again. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay, darling.” Vareysa patted her head. “Neither does our writer.”

OC-tober Day 24 - Moon

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Ana: The moon is very beautiful tonight.

Milah: Yeah.

Ana: You know who’s even more beautiful?

Milah: Me.

Ana, tearing up cos her girl is feeling good about herself: Yeah.

OC-tober Day 25 - Feel

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Vareysa waved, amused as she watched Cadwell lead the Nords away from the Everfull Flagon with a skip in his step, whistling a tune composed of notes as random as the man’s thoughts. She tilted her head, glancing into the distance, then turned around. “Anni, are you sure you don’t want to follow-?”

She paused upon realising no one stood with her. Vareysa frowned and walked back into the tavern, where she found Aneril standing by the bar, leaning on it heavily with both hands. She hurried over to the Altmer, and saw that Aneril had her eyes screwed shut, hands trembling on the countertop as she drew shallow breaths. Her sword lay on the floor, dropped and forgotten.

A side of the ‘hero of the Dominion’ that no one ever saw, which had only gotten worse since they were stranded in Coldharbour. Aneril was on the verge of another breakdown, and Vareysa stepped in before her panic attack could escalate.

“Anni, breathe.” Vareysa took her hands, squeezing firmly. “The fighting’s over. It’s safe now.” She waited, and Aneril jerked her head in a nod - a good sign. Vareysa pressed Aneril’s palm to her cheek. “Focus on me, Anni. What do you feel?”

Aneril drew two more breaths, then whispered, “You.”

“Yes. I’m here, with you. It’ll be alright.” Vareysa smiled when Aneril cracked her eyes open. “Come on, let’s follow Cadwell back to the Hollow City, hm? We’ll take a break before going on.”

For a moment, Vareysa worried that Aneril would argue again. But this time, she nodded, and Vareysa breathed a sigh of relief. She pressed a kiss to Aneril’s lips, smiling when Aneril responded, then led her out of the tavern.

OC-tober Day 26 - Black

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When Ayrenn reaches for her wife and finds only an empty space in bed, she wakes instantly. Pushing herself up, she drags a hand down her face and looks about the room, heart beating quicker with worry when she can’t find her partner. She pulls the covers off and rises from bed, walking out to the terrace in search - which ends when she takes a step through the doors.

Sielaire is huddled in the corner, where the door meets the cold stone wall. At Ayrenn’s entrance, she lifts her head out of instinct, her hands coming alight with an electric green glow. Ayrenn conjures a ward in response, but Sielaire glances at her, and quickly dissipates her magicka - or at least, as much as she can.

Green lightning still flickers about Sielaire’s hands, but it doesn’t hurt Ayrenn when she kneels down and takes Sielaire gently by the wrists.

Sielaire has averted her eyes, but rasps, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Ayrenn caresses her cheek, and tries to turn her head, but Sielaire resists. Her wife’s body is trembling, and her legs are twitching, as if in paranoia. “What did you dream this time?”

Prolonged silence, then Sielaire whispers, “Daedra. On all sides. Closing in…”

Ah. The turmoil in Cyrodiil has dogged at this battlereeve’s heels, even after the Queen had ordered her return home. Guilt and anger at herself swells, but Ayrenn pushes her own thoughts down, and guides Sielaire to lean against her. Head resting on Ayrenn’s shoulder, Sielaire clutches onto her dress tightly. It doesn’t take long for the sobs to start.

“It’s alright,” Ayrenn murmurs, rocking the one in her arms. “You’re safe now.”

OC-tober Day 27 - Whisper

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Ana: Oh Milah, whisper something dirty to me babe

Milah, leaning close to her ear: The dishes you left in the sink.

OC-tober Day 28 - Escape

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Ana fell back to the ground with a howl, hands clutching at her head, grasping uselessly, aggravating the pain in her head, in her eye.

Shards. Broken shards, embedded deep.

She scrabbled blindly at the floor, warm blood dripping from the cuts around her eye and beneath her eyelid. Copper touched her tongue, a taste all too familiar, accompanied with a new, disturbing texture that made her retch violently.

Help. Help. Please. Help.

Hand reaching for the the canister on her chestguard, she ripped it out with difficulty, shaking fingers clawing at the release mechanism until she heard that familiar hiss. Numbness slowly seeped into her head as she curled up on the floor, amid blood and tears and fear, darkness overtaking her vision.

Escape. From the pain. For now.

OC-tober Day 29/30 - Mirror/Mar

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Aneril didn’t like looking at herself in the mirror. But here she stood in front of one, clad in her underwear, staring at the scars that marred her body. Two centuries’ worth of experience, worn as disfigurement on her physical being. Surely the mer back in Summerset would balk at the sight - such a blatant disregard for their ideals of perfection, a rebellion flaunted in her refusal to seek magical treatment to knit her torn skin back together.

Running a finger over the scar that cut down her eye, Aneril wondered why…it repulsed her still. She didn’t care for the superficial standards of her race, and kept her scars as a reminder, a symbol of her independence from that society. And yet…here they still were, in the back of her mind, whispering her failure, her imperfection, her shame-

Aneril blinked in surprise when Vareysa clasped her on the arm - she hadn’t noticed her wife entering their room. Vareysa hopped up to peck her on the cheek, and crooned, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

She looked back into Vareysa’s eyes in the mirror, unsure if she believed it, but accepted it with a faint smile nonetheless.

OC-tober Day 31 - Spirit

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Milah, stroking Fareeha’s head: It’s okay, habibti. No matter what happens, you know your ami is always with us in spirit-

Ana, yelling from outside the window: I’M NOT DEAD

Summary: Post-S1. The Discovery experienced a glitch in the spore drive, and it sent them into a parallel timeline, in the midst of a ship battle where the Shenzhou was eventually destroyed - but not before Michael saved the doomed Captain Georgiou. (Inspired by Voyager’s episode, ‘Deadlock’)

A/N: Just a quick ficlet because I wanted the Captain and Emperor to meet. idk

—

Philippa’s awakening was sudden, startling. She shot up in the biobed the instant her eyes snapped open; every muscle in her body was wound tight. Her chest heaved as she took desperate gasps of air, sirens blaring in her ears, her eyes seeing nothing but red, gold, then a blinding white as searing heat scorched through the fabric of her uniform and onto her skin, Michael’s voice behind her screaming–

“Philippa!”

Heavy breaths caught in her throat, and she nearly choked as she opened her eyes, which had been screwed shut in the reliving of…

“Philippa,” Michael said, voice tight, though the beginnings of a smile curved her lips when Philippa met her gaze. “Philippa, it’s okay. You’re safe–”

“Michael?” Philippa panted, as her eyes twitched away to look around the sickbay, taking in the sterile, undamaged facility. She glimpsed Saru standing behind Michael – dressed in command colours – before spotting an unfamiliar doctor, who was passing a medical tricorder over her body.

Pollard smiled gently when she noticed Philippa holding herself still to aid the examination. “Relax, Captain. Commander Burnham is right – you’re safe. We’ve managed to heal the wounds you’ve sustained.”

“Wounds?” Philippa echoed, gaze growing distant. That's…right. She was caught in an explosion. Shenzhou had taken a direct hit to its warp core just before…

“Captain,” Michael said softly, drawing Philippa’s attention. “You might want to lie down–”

“No. My ship–, what happened to the Shenzhou? My crew? Michael, did you manage to get them out?” Philippa’s voice grew thick as reality sank in – she had given the evacuation order just seconds too late, and the bridge crew had refused to leave without her. She knew that they were gone, and her gut instinct was confirmed by Michael.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” Michael set a hand on her shoulder, as if to hold her steady under the impact of the blow. “You’re the only one I managed to save.”

Philippa let out a trembling breath, closing her eyes as she bowed her head briefly. She swallowed hard, and compartmentalised – there would be time for grief later. “Michael, what happened?”

“It’s a…long story.” Michael exchanged glances with Saru, who had come to stand beside her bed when the doctor left. “That’s why you might want to lie down.”

Philippa nodded blankly and followed Michael’s gentle urging, lying back in her biobed.

“I must say, Captain,” Saru spoke up. “How very glad I am to see you again.”

She cocked her head quizzically. “Saru, you were on the bridge with me. And…” Philippa frowned, looking back at Michael. “You said I was the only one you saved?”

“Long story,” Michael repeated with a smile. “And you have no idea just how long, trust me.”

“Well, it seems like I have the time.” Philippa touched her medical gown. “I’m all ears, Number One.”

—

“Klingon vessel en route. ETA 2 hours.”

“Good. Contact me when you’ve commandeered the ship.”

“Ma'am?” Davis said quickly, when Philippa moved to cut the connection. “About the Klingon crew – may I request permission to keep some alive? My crew’s been howling for some payback…”

Philippa snorted. “Just make sure none of the filth is onboard when I arrive.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Davis grinned, but Philippa didn’t spare him another glance, and ended the transmission. The computer screen went dark at another press of a button, and she stood from the chair, walking over to the other end of her study, where a small number of reinforced crates were stacked by the wall.

Philippa opened the top crate, and her lips curled in disgust. She picked up the Andorian rifle, hefting it this way and that, before tossing it back with distaste. Andorian arms were always too unwieldy and inaccurate, and its grip never felt right in her hands. Their designs were primitive at best, and she would rather charge into a firefight with her blade than these toys.

Shutting the crate, Philippa dropped it carelessly onto the concrete floor. A slight smile appeared on her face when she discovered Federation weapons in the next stash, and felt a better sense of satisfaction when she took a phaser rifle. These were more to her liking, and though their designs were still inferior to the Empire’s sleeker weaponry, she could wield these without–

A trio of short beeps from her computer caught her attention. She turned around and found the map of her ‘lair’ – the underground bunker that was her refuge – overlaid onscreen. She narrowed her eyes, noting how close the red blips were to her study, tripping motion sensors embedded in the walls of the corridor leading towards her. Hostiles, no doubt. But how did they get past the first entrance? DNA identification was required, and Philippa had installed a virtual intelligence that could identify imposters.

No matter. Casting one last glance at the map, she hefted the rifle and stood before the doors, hearing the muted, affirmative ping from the scanner by the study’s doors. They slid open, and Philippa was quick to take aim at the head of–

Her eyes widened, and her finger froze on the trigger, even as Michael and her doppelganger raised their own phaser pistols.

They locked gazes – the same women from different universes – then, as expected, the Captain smiled and lowered her weapon. Michael glanced at her, and was only willing to lower her own pistol when Philippa aimed her rifle down at the floor.

“Well, now. This is certainly interesting,” the Captain said, giving her a once-over, and Philippa smirked. The buoyant, amiable voice she’d heard in old recordings, now bore a subtle edge sharp enough to cut – it seemed the toothless tiger had begun to grow her fangs.

“I hear you’ve been busy tarnishing my good name, Emperor.”

Philippa’s smirk grew into a crooked smile, and she let her rifle hang by her side, confident that Starfleet principles would see to her continued survival this day. Now though, her curiosity begged a few questions…

She cast a brief glance at Michael, then met her soft counterpart’s eyes. “What good is a name that belongs to a ghost, Captain?”

2. You meet a man who has killed someone and done time for it before. Does this factor into how you treat him? Will he ever truly escape that sin?

Depends. What was his motive? Did he have one? Does he regret what he did, and is he willing to do it again? Has he made any effort to change, and make up for what he’s done? There are too many factors to give a definite answer. Suffice to say, if the man committed manslaughter, or was somehow forced to murder, I will give him the benefit of doubt. An assassin, on the other hand…

And - killing? Whatever you label it - a sin, a necessary evil, a righteous deed - you will never escape it. I have killed hundreds in the name of the Dominion, in hopes of a better future, and I can still feel the blood on my hands.

7. You have the key to immortality in your hands. But not for free. If you want it, as a price, your worst enemy also gains immortality. Is it worth it?

Immortality has never interested me. Besides, as an Altmer, I still have centuries to live - so many years that I don’t know what to do with. So, no. I don’t want it. I’m satisfied with what I have.

But, let’s say that I do want it - I still wouldn’t use this key, whatever it is. To grant my worst enemy the same? Ha. Not a chance.

14. What of love? Say you discover your lifelong crush on another has finally been reciprocated… but they are currently dating a family member or a dear friend the crush feels responsible to honour. Do you force the break up? Date on the side? Bottle it up forever?

I will never pursue a relationship with someone already committed to another - even if they are trapped in a loveless relationship. I won’t cause needless pain to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

And no, I don’t care to think further on this matter with regards to my…current predicament.

Quick outline for my side gays, the mom gays.

Llethasi met Arisa while on an escort job for her caravan. Arisa sees the spear-wielding grump and goes hearteyes and invites her for a rendezvous at the inn, the moment they stopover in a town. They keep pawing at each other until the escort contract ends.
Arisa takes note of the guild hall where Llethasi’s posted, and starts visiting frequently because she was ‘just passing by’. Llethasi just shrugs, doesn’t bother about the authenticity of her reasons. If a pretty woman wants to warm her bed, just as well.
Llethasi’s door is always open to Arisa – whether for sex or not – and this arrangement goes on for about 20 years, after which Llethasi adopts Vareysa. In the meantime, Llethasi’s changed from an active fighter in the guild, to their smith, and ends up opening her own small shop in the marketplace.
Arisa’s family fell out of favour with House Hlaalu, at the same time she struck out to be her own merchant, outside of her family’s business. Politics made it difficult for her to trade, and she’s had to rely on Llethasi’s donations and generosity, sleeping over in Llethasi’s house to save money that would’ve been spent at an inn.
Her trade routes were short during this time, because it’s prudent for her to keep smaller stocks that she can sell, instead of a large and immovable supply. So she’s able to drop by town frequently, and spend more time with Llethasi. She becomes the second mother-figure in Vareysa’s life, and ‘passes on’ her silver tongue to the girl, who quickly emulates her smooth mannerisms and charm.
Llethasi and Arisa help each other’s businesses out. Arisa keeps a stock of Llethasi’s weapons in her caravan to sell, and Llethasi has a small corner in her shop where she sells Arisa’s goods. Mutual promotion, so to speak.
As Vareysa grows older, she becomes more curious as to the nature of their relationship – it’s obvious they’re not dating, and they chat openly about taking lovers in the other’s absence, but they always gravitate back to each other. That’s when Arisa tells her, they’re ‘insignificant others’ – a little joke they’d come up with, before Vareysa entered the picture.
Vareysa doesn’t really pry into their relationship, because they seem happy enough with it – Llethasi, in particular. Her mother’s happy when Arisa’s around, but also relishes her privacy at other times. Arisa, though, she starts thinking things over, after Vareysa asks one too many questions. And she’s the first one to realize that she’s in love with her ‘insignificant other’.
They’ve already established that they love each other, years ago. But their interpretations of that love differ. Llethasi thinks it’s platonic, sexual. Arisa shares in that, but she knows she loves Llethasi romantically as well.
She wants to ask, but she doesn’t dare. Llethasi’s a prickly woman, who shows distaste for practically 90% of mer and man alike, and prefers being alone. That she’s kept Arisa around for this long is kind of surprising, actually. Arisa worries that their deal has hinged on their not having deep attachments to each other, that Llethasi prefers it this way and she might break things off if Arisa wants to take it a step further.
So she doesn’t press. She does start showing more affection though, and Llethasi seems to have no problems with it. They somehow start slipping into an ‘old married couple’ routine without even realising it.
Meanwhile, Vareysa notices how Llethasi’s eyes linger on Arisa while she’s not looking, and how Arisa looks over her shoulder at Llethasi’s shop when she’s leaving with her caravan.
“Stop fucking each other and just talk for one minute, for the love of the fetching Three!” Vareysa hollers from the clifftops, attracting the attention of a dozen cliff racers.
I’ve too much time on my hands, so here’s grump oblivious mom and carefree pining mom

(gdi eso give me more face options)

19th of Last Seed

Raz would love to say that life goes on, but he isn’t sure that it has. Oh Ayrenn, dearest friend. Just what have you done? Our dream lies in broken, bloodied pieces, and now, you are not here to put it back together. Would you even want to? Raz knows what you told Sielaire. He understands why, but wishes you hadn’t. He fears you made a mistake.

You gave all your loyal subjects one last hope for the future - save for, perhaps, the one who needs it most. Raz is afraid that in your passing, you have taken the battlereeve with you as well. Her body still lingers, her heart still beats, but she no longer lives.

This one has stayed behind to watch over Sielaire, after everyone else has left. She barely speaks, barely eats, barely moves. Raz will leave on his scouting missions for an entire day, and return to find her still lying in bed, having taken no food nor drink. And when he has forced her to sit with Raz for a while…he wonders. He looks into her barren eyes, and wonders if she will ever come back. Wonders if this wound you left will ever heal. Wonders if it will forever pain her as deeply as it did, the day she lost you. The day we lost you.

Raz knows you have told her to forget the dream, to live for herself. But in so doing, he fears you have hurt her deeper than you ever have.

Some Sielaire notes cos I can’t stop thinking about the trailer (yesimobsessedshut)

She has 3 new scars on her face: corner of the eye, nose bridge, right side of bottom lip. She certainly has more on her body. Assuming Altmer ‘Perfection’ includes physical appearance as well, it subjects her to a few stares and whispers. But she’s used to it, and doesn’t care. (Even if she does worry over this superficiality herself from time to time.)
What she really does care about, is what it says about her skill. A good warrior has scars to prove they survived. An excellent warrior carries little scars because few are able to even touch them. Ayrenn likes to say it’s a silly notion, that accidents happen, that warriors have to be good before they’re excellent, but Sie doesn’t buy it. Most of the time.
(They also represent her trauma of course, but I’ve beaten that horse half to death already, so pass.)
Sie often carries an amulet of Auri-El on her - she carried it every day during the Alliance War. (Assuming the amulet that fell with her in the trailer was hers, not fallen from somewhere above the cliff, the gryphon, or from the sky like some god-given gift.)
She’s a devout of Auri-El, even if she doesn’t voice it often. (She rarely voices much of anything tbh) When she was younger and still drifting from place to place, she often prayed at the Monastery of Serene Harmony in Shimmerene, hoping she’d receive some kind of direction from the Divine.
And she does, in a way - it was after she’d finished her prayers one day, that she stepped out of the monastery to find a large crowd gathered in the city square, where a herald is proclaiming the birth of Princess Ayrenn, firstborn of King Hidellith.
She and Raz have a pretty good relationship with each other - professionally and personally. Both are devoted to the Queen and would lay down their lives for her, and they commiserate over how the Queen loves making their job tougher sometimes. Like, 'We love her, but damn if she doesn’t make us wanna pull our hair out.“
Raz enjoys teasing Sie. e.g. since she loves cats, he likes calling Sie his 'lanky fur-less sister’.
"Hey, we even have the same hair colour!”
“No, we do not.”

Whenever Sie loses track of Ayrenn and can’t find her, Raz would be her top choice to check with - if he’s around, that is.
“Oh, the Queen is lying naked in bed, covered in aromatic oils, with two silken scarves draped strategically over her body.”
“……What.”
“Hey, Raz is just passing on the message. Go check, if you’d like.”

Stuff on my littlest baby cos I screwed myself by starting a slow burn for her moms and it’ll be 8481753 years before I get to write her for real

Aneril and Vareysa found Selyn as a 5-year-old in a slave caravan they raided in Vvardenfell. She was the sole child among the slaves, and her parents were absent. She was deathly silent, didn’t dare to move, refused to engage in social interaction other than obeying instructions - a self-preservation instinct, the other slaves said, it kept her out of trouble with the slavers when others were abused for ‘bad behaviour’.

They leave her behind in town with the other liberated slaves, as they had business to attend. And when they return, they find the girl still in the temple’s care, where the priests have made little progress with her. She performs only the bare minimum to survive, and that’s it.

The priests warned Aneril and Rey that she’d be difficult to look after, but it’s something they’ve discussed for their entire trip around the island, so they take her in and bring her back home.

They spend the first few weeks caring for her 24/7 - Selyn doesn’t move unless told to eat, sleep, etc. They keep reminding her that she can do anything without fearing punishment, that no one will lay even a finger on her, that they’ll protect her, that she’s safe. It’s tiring and doesn’t seem to be working at first, but then Selyn finally makes eye contact with Aneril while she’s offering the girl a toy. It’s small but steady steps after that.

Steady, but painful. Crying was her main form of communication at the start - crying ‘mama’ when she wakes from her nightmares, crying when they ask where her family is, crying as she stumbles over her words recounting how she saw her mother cut down by slavers. It’s difficult for the girl to process and understand her trauma and loss, but she works through it over the years with help from her new family.

Selyn’s eyes are pale grey instead of typical Dunmer red, indicating mixed blood. But she only remembers her Dunmer mother, not her father. Selyn likes to imagine herself as half-Altmer, taking after Aneril in terms of eye colour and her gift for magic.

When Selyn was young, she spoke with an accent and used a dialect that indicates her Ashlander heritage. They offered to identify and bring her back to the tribe, but she vehemently refused to go anywhere ‘back there’, fearing another slaver attack. So she grows up in the city, and eventually loses her accent and dialect.

She grows into a quiet and soft-spoken woman, but she’s no push-over. Selyn specialises in destruction and conjuration magic, can wield a sword and dagger as taught by her mothers. But she much prefers staff/spear combat, taught by her grandmother Llethasi. She falls back on her staff when she runs out of magicka, and if Selyn really wants to deal serious physical damage, she’ll conjure a spearhead at the crystal affixed to the tip of her staff.

Selyn mostly uses her combat training for self-defense, and won’t initiate fights. She prefers to resolve matters before they turn violent.

That said, Selyn hates House Dres with a passion - they’re the only people she’ll voluntarily stir trouble with. She hates House Telvanni too, and it’s more of a pity-hate - she thinks they’ll collapse without slaves to do even the most basic, mundane chores like washing their damned underwear.

She would’ve done something against them, but Vareysa wouldn’t allow it. As she did with Aneril, Vareysa begged Selyn not to antagonise the Great Houses, for fear that she’ll bring a Morag Tong writ down on her head. So, for the time being, she settles for freeing a few slaves here and there, on the sly.

She looks like a typical broody, hostile Dunmer in the first pic but she’s really a lil cutiepie who just wants to eat cakes and read books pls leave her in peace thank

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back. Your daughter’s in jail,” Aneril said, not bothering to look up at Vareysa, who’d stopped in the middle of untying her boots by the door.

Her wife stared in stunned silence, then walked over, boots and all. “Say again?”

“Your daughter’s in jail,” Aneril repeated, folding the letter in her hands. “Got into a brawl at the tavern, caused some property damage.”

“Our daughter did that,” Vareysa said slowly in disbelief. “You mean, Selyn did that?”

“How many daughters do we have?”

“Well, one! But-, Selyn? Our Selyn? She can’t even hurt people’s feelings!”

Despite their daughter’s predicament, Aneril leaned back in her chair, regarding her wife’s incredulity with amusement. “Apparently she bypassed the feelings this time and went straight for the body. Broke his nose, busted his lip…kneed his groin.”

Vareysa’s jaw dropped in amazement. “…Is it odd that I’m kinda proud of her?”

“No, I am too. But the one she fought? Dres son.”

“Oh, Ayem’s merciful tits,” Vareysa groaned, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “The first time she gets into trouble…” She clapped one hand to her forehead, pacing back and forth before she stopped in front of Aneril. “I want to see her.”

“Selyn, sweetie?”

The inmate, still clad in the simple robes she preferred, raised her head from the straw-bed where she lay, and turned back to look through the bars, grey eyes widening in surprise. “Mom!”

Selyn clambered over and reached between the bars for Vareysa, who’d clutched onto her, touching their foreheads together. “Mom, I’m so sorry…”

“What for?” Vareysa laughed quietly. “That you’ve finally stood up for yourself? Oh yes, your mother’s told me everything,” she added when Selyn seemed surprised. “Sounds like the bastard had it coming-”

The family of three turned their heads in unison at the derisive snort and spit upon the ground, staring at the mer in a cell diagonally across from Selyn’s. “Swallowed all her sweet little lies, have you? Your bitch of a daughter had no right to stare at me like I’m some common peasant staining the floor. Do you know who I am? I can have her thrown into the slave pens with all the other worthless cattle-”

“Shut that shithole you call a mouth, fetcher,” Vareysa spat back at him, as Aneril clasped a steadying hand on Selyn’s shoulder. “You’re lucky my ‘bitch’ of a daughter didn’t flay you alive. And if you dare open your mouth again,” she hissed, wearing a dark, crooked smile as she cut off his attempt to speak. “I might just finish the job, before you even get out of your cell.”

Venom dripped from her tongue, and it gave the man pause. He shrunk back from Vareysa’s predatory gaze, and shuffled back into the dark corner of his cell without another word.

Vareysa waited, before turning back to her daughter with a smile. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible, alright?”

“Thanks, mom.” Selyn gave that little grin of hers, a face of youthful innocence she hadn’t grown out of, at 30 years of age.

Llethasi sat hunched over the shop’s counter, scratching her quill over parchment in sharp strokes, with that ever-present frown upon her brows - something Arisa found endearing, even if she did constantly nag the stubborn mer about it.

The blacksmith didn’t even look up at Arisa’s approach, and only reacted when Arisa hugged her about the neck. Llethasi clicked her tongue and threw her hands up in annoyance.

“You made me lose count!” Llethasi chided, tossing her quill onto the parchment, upon which a long list of calculations was written.

Arisa laughed under her breath, passing a quick eye over the bills spread across the counter - all of which were payments to the smithy. Llethasi was doing very well for herself indeed. “Where’s your abacus?”

“Lost it,” Llethasi grumbled, slapping her arms away. “Now let me finish this before I lose my damn mind.”

How typical, acting as if Arisa hadn’t just returned from her months-long trade route in the mainland. But with a century’s worth of history between them, Arisa was unfazed. She merely smiled and desisted with a kiss atop Llethasi’s head, stepping away from the counter - and that’s when she noticed the lone figure in the far corner of the shop, hidden by a divider that shielded her from visitors through the door.

It was a young Dunmer girl with light copper-brown hair, sitting hunched over her own table much like Llethasi, except she was rubbing a crayon over a book. She can’t have adopted another one, can she? Arisa thought, casting a bemused glance at Llethasi, before making her way to the girl.

“Hello,” Arisa sang as she approached the table, but was given pause when the girl flinched reflexively away from her, shoulders hunching even more as if she was trying to curl up in her chair.

Curious, Arisa stooped down and reached a hand out to the girl, intending to give her a gentle pat on the head, but the girl shrunk away from her. The child was freezing up, fearful grey eyes fixed on the edge of the table away from Arisa, who grew concerned.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m a friend,” Arisa said gently. “What’s your name-?”

“Ari.” Llethasi waited for Arisa to turn her head, then waved her over. When Arisa had returned to the counter, Llethasi glanced over her shoulder and said quietly, “Leave her alone.”

“Who is she?” Arisa asked, equally soft.

“She’s my granddaughter.” Llethasi cocked her head, matter-of-fact as Arisa’s eyes grew rounder by the second. “Reysa adopted her.”

“Oh! Oh, this is-” Arisa’s voice died away, her instant joy fading as she followed Llethasi’s gaze, looking back at the girl who was still frozen at the table.

Llethasi rose from her seat then, and went over to the girl. “Selyn,” she said, her tone softer than Arisa had ever heard. “Do you want to go inside?” She waited as Selyn fidgeted jerkily in the chair, before nodding her head. Llethasi took the girl’s hand and, with a comforting grasp on Selyn’s shoulder, led her into the private office in the back of the shop.

Arisa followed them, and stood at a distance as Llethasi settled the girl in her chair, then placed a few children’s storybooks on the desk. ‘Call me if you need anything, alright?’ Llethasi said, to which Selyn nodded again. She ruffled the girl’s hair affectionately, then left Selyn alone in the office, closing the door behind her.

“Aneril and Reysa rescued her from a slave caravan,” Llethasi explained, voice still quiet as they walked back into the smithy.

“Oh, poor thing.”

“She was much worse off when they first brought her back. Wouldn’t even talk or acknowledge anyone. Been getting better, but…we’re still going slow.” Llethasi shrugged.

“Ah. Then I’m sorry for…”

“You didn’t know.” Llethasi waved away her apology, leaning against the display counter with a sigh. Then she glanced at the bills still spread over her own workspace. “Actually, if you’re sorry, do my accounts for me.”

Arisa stared at her, unamused. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

“Dinner’s on me tonight.”

“Still horrible.”

Arisa hung around the smithy for the day, during which Selyn was coaxed out into the shop again by Llethasi, who provided her with a bowl of scrib jelly to eat while she continued to work on her colouring book. And when the sun had set halfway across the sky, Aneril finally appeared at the smithy, still dressed in the leathers she preferred for dealing with paperwork in the Fighters Guild hall.

She greeted Arisa with a smile and hug, then went over to hug Selyn as well. Arisa was mildly surprised to see the girl reach out for Aneril, but then again, the Altmer was her mother after all.

“Did you have a good day with your grandma?” Aneril asked, her voice soft and soothing, and she smiled when Selyn nodded. “That’s very good. Here, let’s pack up your things, then go home and wash up. Then we’ll have dinner with grandma, alright?”

Selyn nodded again; mother and daughter packed up the girl’s belongings together, and Aneril never stopped speaking to the girl, even getting a flash of a smile from Selyn once. And when they were done, Aneril slung the backpack over her shoulder, taking the girl’s hand in her own.

“We’ll see you at the tavern, mom,” Aneril said as she walked towards the door. “And you too, Ari?”

“Of course,” Arisa replied, watching the two go. “She’s quite good as a mother, huh?”

“They both are.” Llethasi smiled to herself, then looked over the shop and sighed. “Now help me clean up the shop or we’ll be late to dinner.”

A/N: TES Anilah thing I wrote during the Quakecon stream lmao

The world spun violently about her, yanking the ground from beneath her feet, and Ana’s knees crashed hard onto rough, sun-baked stones. But the pain left no imprint on her consciousness, as she bent low with her head nearly to the paved road, supported only by arms she could barely feel. Her stomach convulsed, and she retched again, tasting the sour and acrid tang in her mouth from the two times she’d fallen similarly onto hot sands, emptying her spartan rations in violent heaves.

Nothing came up this time, and Ana pulled herself together by sheer force of will. She had to go on - and with barely a thought to her wound from a poisoned blade, she glanced at the head hanging limply from her shoulder, feeling the body on her back weigh her ever closer to the ground. Kamilah had fallen unconscious a while back, and for much too long; Ana could feel the hastily-bandaged wounds soaking through Kamilah’s robes, and she was afraid her love couldn’t hold on much longer.

Fear bit deep, and Ana hauled herself back onto her feet, fighting against the world’s bid to throw her to the ground again. She lifted her head, blinking through eyes blurred by exhaustion, pain, and poison, and she spied the domed roofs of the city of Sentinel. So close, yet so far.

Hitching Kamilah farther up her back, she took a breath to speak, and managed only a wordless croak. Ana ran her tongue over cracked, bleeding lips, swallowed through a parched throat, and rasped, “We’re nearly there, Milah.”

She would have no memory of her arduous trek up to the capital city - only recalling that she finally collapsed before its southern gates, and with darkening vision, saw the city guards running over to them.

When Kamilah came to, the familiar interior of the Mages Guild hall confused her. She was…lying in her own bed, covered in the soft blanket that kept her warm at night, when she should be sharing a tent with Ana - her love and bodyguard for this mission she’d accepted to recover a relic-

She tried to bolt up in bed, but promptly fell back onto the mattress with a pained groan, feeling her muscles protest and her wounds pulling beneath their bandages. She took slow, calming breaths, trying to recall what happened after she’d retrieved the enchanted sword of an ancient king, and was ambushed by a group of bandits who’d followed them into the tomb.

Ana had leapt to her defense without hesitation, but her arrows and Kamilah’s spells couldn’t pose a proper defense against ten thugs. Kamilah had suffered two sword stabs through her gut, and she vaguely remembered throwing one last healing spell at Ana, before she fell to the floor unconscious. And since she’d been knocked out, that could only mean Ana had brought her back…

Ana. Kamilah looked around, and found the woman asleep in the bed beside hers. Pushing herself up and off her own bed, Kamilah staggered over and practically fell over Ana’s body. With light-headed worry, she examined Ana visually and, unable to focus in her tired state, settled for cupping her cheek instead.

“Ana…” Kamilah whispered, but Ana didn’t stir.

“You’re awake.” Deyab raised a brow when Kamilah glanced back at him. “Couldn’t even wait to throw yourself at her, huh?”

“Shut up,” Kamilah growled, the hushed tone of her voice lending an edge to her unvoiced threat. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Yes, yes. She fainted at the gates, and the guards carried the two of you back here. Lucky too - if you’d bled any more, you would’ve gone to see Tall Papa himself.” Deyab gave his report as he cast pre-emptive healing spells over Kamilah and Ana - then nodded at the latter. “But this one, she was closer to death than you. Poison nearly ran its course while she was carrying you back here.”

Kamilah’s throat tightened, and her breath caught in her throat when she turned back to find warm golden eyes gazing up at her. Naturally, her love’s mouth curved into a lop-sided smirk.

“I must be dead,” Ana murmured, touching weak fingers to Kamilah’s cheek. “They said nothing about beautiful women in the afterlife…”

“Well, I’m out of here.” Deyab threw his hands up with an impressive roll of his eyes. “Oh, by the way, thanks for bringing the sword back.” Neither of the women paid him any attention as he made his escape.

“I heard you ran all the way back here with poison in your veins,” Kamilah said quietly - she must be more tired than she thought, as no chides about Ana’s recklessness came to mind. “You could’ve died.”

“I would die a thousand deaths for you, Moon Lily.” Her smile turned into a grin when Kamilah pressed a finger to her lips.

“Don’t say things like that, you idiot,” Kamilah scolded, but bent down to give her a kiss nonetheless. Crawling under the covers with Ana, Kamilah rested her head on her love’s shoulder, and closed her eyes with Ana’s arm wound around her.

“I love you,” she uttered while drifting back to sleep, and she didn’t have to look up to know that Ana was wearing her infuriatingly radiant smile.

ANONYMOUS ASKED:

Can we get a oneshot where Ana and Kamilah go to a coffee shop and Ana makes the worst coffee puns known to man? Just picture Ana leaning over to Kamilah saying, "I like you a-latte," whilst Kamilah pauses, lifts up her cup and replies dryly, "this is tea."

---

“Hey, Milah,” Ana said as she set their drinks on the table. “I love you a latte.”

“This is tea,” Kamilah deadpanned, though Ana caught the fleeting pause as she lifted her cup of tea to her lips.

“I’m serious. I love you so much, I don’t think I can love you any mocha.”

Kamilah closed her eyes briefly, and took a sip of her tea.

“Nothing in this world can convince me tea leaf your side.”

“Oh god…” Kamilah groaned under her breath.

“Some joke about being stuck with their wives, but I wanna be chai-ned to you forever.”

“Ana. No.”

“You’re so brewtiful, Milah.”

“Ana.”

“You’re my darjeeling.”

Kamilah’s face had fallen into her hand now, and her soft sob did little to deter Ana from going, “Oh, your ass looks lovely today. Makes me wanna cuppa feel.”

“I hate you,” Kamilah whined, muffled against her palms.

“Bet your tea’s making you feel a little steamy, eh?” Ana leaned in with a grin. “Want me to…grind your bean good tonight-?”

“That’s it!” Kamilah declared aloud. She sprang up from her chair, and snatched her cup up as she made her escape. “I’m done!”

“Oh Milah, come on,” Ana sang between cackles, picking up her own drink to follow her darling out the door. At least she’d had the foresight to get their order in takeaway cups.

Ana tailed Kamilah all the way to the parking lot - but her wife had run ahead of her, and by the time Ana reached her parking spot, Kamilah had slipped away on her bike.

“Aw, Milah! Come back, babe!” Ana called after her, going to stand by the curb with a satisfied smile on her lips. But it slowly fell away as the minutes ticked by, and Ana started to get restless on her feet. Doubt had just trickled in when Kamilah’s bike glided back onto the road again, and Ana brightened at her wife’s reappearance.

Kamilah slid to a smooth stop in front of Ana, and pushed up her visor so Ana could watch her heave a sigh. She fixed Ana with an unamused stare, then said, “I love you too matcha for my own good.”

Ana’s face truly lit up then, and she clamped Kamilah in a tight hug, planting a smooch on her helmet.

Hey. Imagine. Old Anilah. Ana’s favourite way to cheer Milah up when she’s sad and depressed, is go up to her and pester her, “Pull up my eyepatch, habibti. Come on, just pull it up. Trust me.”

So Milah pulls it up…to find a big googly eye pasted over Ana’s eyelid. It made her laugh uncontrollably the first time, and makes her giggle every time after, even though she knows what to expect.

I’m reading up a lil on Altmer stuff and:

Calian: A praxic talisman, a symbol of a person’s membership in the civilized High Elf society.

Aneril keeps her talisman for the longest time even after she left Summerset to find her own way. It’s been with her for so long, it’s part of her identity. But after the Summerset crisis passed, and she returned home for a disastrous reunion with her family, she vows never to set foot in Summerset again.

She destroys her calian herself - cuts all ties from the society that has hurt her so deeply, and doesn’t look back as she leaves to make her own life in Morrowind with her new family.

(#she breaks down after cos it feels wrong and she hates it #hates that she's so torn over something she should be happy about #it's like cutting off a part of herself #that she's tried so long to ignore #only after a few years does it feel like she's left that heavy baggage behind)

Prompt: Sie finds out Raz had a mage turn him into Ayrenn to trick the Heritance @theminipickle

“Ah, Sielaire. You’re finally here. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Sielaire smiles gently, closing the door behind her. She’s glad to find that Ayrenn reached Woodhearth ahead of her – it’s been too long since they’ve last parted. “Indeed. I’m sorry to lay this on you first, but…”

She offers the scrolls in her hand to Ayrenn – reports and letters all demanding the queen’s attention. Curiously, Ayrenn doesn’t heave a sigh this time, and instead smiles jovially. “Ah yes. Thank you, Battlereeve.”

“‘Battlereeve’?” Sielaire repeats incredulously as Ayrenn takes the scrolls, and hesitates before setting them onto the table, unread. “Is our meeting 'official’ now?”

Ayrenn tilts her head, gazing at Sielaire in perplexity and growing amusement. She seems to be thinking of a smart remark, but Sielaire decides to put an end to her game before it even starts. Cupping Ayrenn’s cheek in both hands, Sielaire dips in to press a firm kiss to her lips, feeling Ayrenn take a surprised breath, before relaxing in Sielaire’s hold.

'I missed you,’ Sielaire wants to say, but she’s distracted when Ayrenn gives a low, throaty purr.

“Well, this one could get used to this…”

Sielaire blinks as the words sink in, noting the very Khajiiti lilt in those syllables, and she springs back from Ayrenn with a start. Her magicka has started gathering in her hands, swiftly building up to a deadly, blinding green, when Ayrenn raises her own hands in panic.

“Wait, relax. Relax! It’s just Raz!” Ayrenn says quickly, but Sielaire’s eyes merely narrow at her claim. “It’s true! This one just has a very elaborate illusion cast on him. Trust this one, he is your beloved half-brother–”

“You’re not my–!” Sielaire catches herself, realising that only Raz and Ayrenn knew of his tease. Green glow dissipates from her fingers, and she takes a step towards Raz. “You’re not Ayrenn. Why are you posing as her?”

“It was for this little mission of mine… Quite a success, really.”

“And you didn’t bother telling me that first, when I walked in?” Sielaire’s slowly losing control of her tone, growing into a more hysterical pitch as she realises what she’s just done. With Raz. “You didn’t say–, you didn’t stop me from–”

“Ah, that. Well, you kiss rather well. Raz admits he was taken by surprise. He might’ve let it go on if–”

Raz is cut off when Sielaire’s hand flies through the air, smacking soundly into his cheek. He gasps and stares at Sielaire with wide eyes, mouth hung agape – his expression made more disorienting while masked in Ayrenn’s noble features–no.

Sielaire takes a step back, but bites down the apology that rises reflexively to her tongue. Instead, she raises a finger in warning – and in threat. “Turn back now, or else.”

“Maybe,” Raz drawls, his own accent now breaking through his admittedly perfect Altmer speak. “But he does quite like how Ayrenn’s body feels. Very smooth, very lanky. Quite agile–” He sucks air through his teeth, realising he is playing with death when green magicka gathers about Sielaire’s hands again. “Oh, alright. Spoilsport,” he mutters under his breath, as Ayrenn’s features fall away to reveal Raz’s cat-like visage.

Sielaire continues glaring at Raz for a few more moments, ignoring the flush that has risen to her cheeks. Then she turns towards the door to make her escape – but not before snapping at that annoying, and obviously unrepentant Khajiit, “I hate you.”

[Halcyon asks from the boch @spatialheather]

☾ - sleep headcanon, Milah

Really likes snuggling up to Ana’s broad back <3

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon, Ana

During OW days, she gets into a mobile building game with Milah. When she needs a break, she logs in and works on the house they’re building together, and sometimes they leave notes for each other around the virtual house.

♥ - family headcanon, Zaid

Loves children, and looked forward to caring for his grandchildren.

☮ - friendship headcanon, Lesi (Layla & Mesi)

Best buds, often hung out together apart from their clique - it’s quiet this way.

▼ - childhood headcanon, Safiya

Very protective of Ana - she’d throw down with anyone who messed with Ana.

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon, Satyrverse Anilah

Being in satyr form gives them comfort, and they get kinda lazy about shifting, so it’s common to find a greying tiger curled up on the living room’s carpet, with a shrike snoozing on top of her head.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon, Adelah

Learnt cooking mostly from Milah. Her cooking’s best in the family, second only to her mimi’s of course.

☼ - appearance headcanon, Angela

Always neat when working/on duty. But when she’s home on days off? Oversized jumpers, messy hair all day every day.

ൠ - random headcanon, Khalid

He was so close with Ana that their parents thought they were dating.

[TES asks from the boch @spatialheather]

☠ - angry/violent headcanon, Sielaire

Never really was one to get angry, or carry personal grievances. Loses her temper much faster when a loved one is hurt/threatened, though. She probably got angry most often during the war, when Renn was hurt by enemy soldiers.

✿ - sex headcanon, Renn

Likes holding the reins, having her partner dance to her tune. And it only makes her relish even more when Sie, who usually goes along with her wishes, seizes control and makes the Queen obey.

☆ - happy headcanon, Star

Star’s given an indrik by her mothers, and she grows up with it. Knowing Renn’s playful nature, she and her mother often use the indrik’s teleportation powers to play tricks on Sie.

♡ - romantic headcanon, Rey

Loves very deeply, and that love blinds her. Will use unorthodox or criminal methods to keep Anni safe. The only thing that holds her back, is Anni’s moral compass, and upsetting her wife with her actions.

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon, Anni

Likes: her beautiful Dunmer family, peace and quiet, seafood, fine perfumes

Dislikes: nix-hounds, politics, Summerset Altmer - fuck em and fuck herself too

■ - home headcanon, Selyn

Home is with her family - her mothers and grandmothers. They’ve loved and protected her from the start, and she will do anything to protect them in return.

Sie and Renn have long reached an agreement that Renn, as Queen and the heart of the Dominion, will always be more important between the two of them. Thus, they have a rule that Renn will never put herself in danger to save Sie from a life-threatening situation e.g. block a killing blow. Sie, on the other hand, will risk her very life to protect Renn - who cannot prevent her from doing so.

It causes plenty of friction during the war, mostly Renn being frustrated with Sie’s obligation, and Sie getting angry that Renn broke their rule a few times to save her. Renn takes a while to accept it, then hones herself in restoration magic to keep her love alive, and alleviate the pain Sie suffers for her sake.

Redguard Anilah is my prime go-to for their TES AU, but then my elf-loving ass started thinking of them as mer and:

Kamilah would totes fit as a Dunmer. Grumpy and hates everyone, will probably throw you into lava if you wrong her, sarcasm so sharp you’d wish you were stabbed by an actual spear instead. It’d hurt less.

Ana, Bosmer. Typical sharpshooter archer, able to plant an arrow in your eye from across the continent, most prob enjoys jumping around high places. She’s not a Green Pact follower at first, but after she suffers a traumatic injury and is saved by the grace of Y’ffre (in some form or other), she becomes faithful and adheres to the Pact. Basically her free pass to not eat Milah’s Dunmer version of kale.

“Ana, eat your damned greens-”

“NOOOOO”

“The Pact only applies to Valenwood greens so eat up OR ELSE.”

I’ve kinda written on how the family deals with Ana being gone. But how about them adjusting to life with Ana back.

-

Ana shows up for dinner. Milah goes “Oh crap I forgot to cook your portion.”

Fareeha leaving work, “Bye guys I’m late for meeting my moms.”

“Don’t you mean ‘mom’?”

“Haha yeah totes!” -sweats-

Milah trudging into the bathroom in the morning and getting the shock of her life when she sees Ana brushing her teeth.

“Oh FUCK I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GHOST”

Milah and Fareeha drive off on a trip to another state, and 1 hour later Milah goes “Habibti I feel like we’ve forgotten something.”

“………WE FORGOT AMI.”

Character Development Asks - TES (Sielaire, Renn, Astaire, Alwinarwe) @spatialheather

1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with? [Sielaire]

Her brother, Virano, is younger than her by 9 years. Her sister, Rilenya, is younger by 20 years. Though she’s taken care of both and protects them fiercely, Virano is more of an independent loner, while Rilenya is closer to Sie.

17. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child? [Sielaire]

Her grandmother left this splendid model of a ship in their house, and though Sielaire didn’t exactly play with it, she spent quite some time fidgeting and poring over it. Her father noticed, so he bought a few sailor toys that she could move around in the ship and play pretend. (She was the dashing, courageous captain, of course. And she’s rescued plenty of princesses and cats from sea monsters.)

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others? [Sielaire]

When she was younger, ambition. It meant the person had a specific goal in life, something she lacked and sorely wanted. When she’s older though, she knows how ambition can often crash and burn without wisdom.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism? [Sielaire]

Self-criticism - it’s necessary in order to achieve Alaxon.

21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others? [Sielaire]

She’ll examine her own actions first, determine if she could’ve prevented it somehow. If it’s not her blame, she’ll look to others, but also recognises that sometimes there’s no blame to be had. Only circumstance.

-x-x-

2/3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother/father like? [Renn]

(I’m ignoring any datamined info on her mom, since Tuinden never appeared.) It was…good, in an Altmer way. Her parents gave her all she needed, and she never found her childhood lacking - in a material sense. Emotionally, she was more distant from her father than her mother, who stayed with her more often.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing? [Renn]

Just enough, then one more layer on top. e.g. shirt and pants + jacket, dress + shawl/scarf

22. What does your character like in other people? [Renn]

Boldness, ingenuity, determination, and a touch of cheekiness.

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve? [Renn]

Her first reaction is to be defensive - she’s spent too much time building herself up to be picked apart like that. But she bites her tongue, recognises there might be some truth hiding in the criticism, and listens. Whether she accepts it, however, depends on her own judgment.

-x-x-

31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable. [Astaire]

A quiet night in the palace. She’s lounging by the lit fireplace, lying on plump cushions as she reads a novel about lands far from Summerset. A cat or two are lying on the cushions with her as well. And she knows both her parents are in their bedroom opposite hers - Sie and Renn are safe, and just within reach.

-x-x-

32. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable. [Alwinarwe]

When her parents are trying to matchmake her - again - and she can’t just blow off her suitor with a few well-chosen words, knowing her family would object and make her life harder. It’ll be even worse if her suitor actually shows genuine interest - which is rare.

Times like these, she sorely misses Ayrenn - her cousin has a gift for telling people to fuck off so subtly, they’d only reel long after she’s taken her leave.

Character Development Asks - Halcyon [Ana, Kamilah] @spatialheather @ultimateja

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? [Ana]

You’d think it’s when her eye was shot, and she was lying on the ground, clutching her head and howling in pain, right??

No. It’s when she accidentally scratched Milah’s hoverbike that she took for a spin.

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status? [Ana]

Honour. What’s the point of status without honour, integrity?

39. Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)? [Ana]

“Does Milah count? :p”

-cue Milah suplexing her to the ground-

-x-x-

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know? [Kamilah]

She experienced it. Kamilah heard, loud and clear on the comms, her squad leader giving the order to leave her behind in the collapsing bunker. ‘Leave her, it doesn’t matter.’ It killed something in her that day.

Her therapist and Ana knows.

38. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat? [Kamilah]

She’ll remove herself. But after she’s had her family, she’ll remove the problem/threat, because she has reason to stay.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? [Kamilah]

Honestly, she doesn’t really care. What comes, will come. If she goes to paradise, cool. If she goes to hell, eh. At least Ana will be there too :p

Been thinking about Aneril being married into Vareysa’s family. Specifically, her adoption into the Dunmer household.

My headcanon is that, if a member of the clan wishes to bring another into the family, they have to perform a ritual at the family’s ancestral tomb, and seek the ancestors’ blessing before the newcomer can adopt the family name. If the newcomer is deemed worthy, they’re welcomed with no trouble. If not, a task may be given to prove their worth, or they’re just flat-out rejected. (Usually this goes smoothly, when the living elders vouch for the newcomer’s character.)

Vareysa herself had to go through this too, when she was adopted by Llethasi. Since the Nilven clan has strong Redoran roots, Llethasi had to convince the ancestor spirits to accept this young thief into the fold. (Though her argument mostly was: ‘Accept her or fuck you, I’m adopting her anyway.)

For Aneril, even though she’s an Altmer, it’s easier to gain approval. As the hero who saved Tamriel from the Planemeld, then stopped Baar Dau from crashing into Vivec City, her name’s pretty well-known, even among the spirits. They’re more than willing to accept a warrior with proven honour and deeds into the clan.

Character Development Asks - TES (Aneril, Vareysa, Selyn) @spatialheather

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets? [Vareysa]

A lockpick, loose coins, maybe a small pouch of candied nuts. She doesn’t really like keeping stuff in her pockets though. Prefers belt pouches.

26. How does your character behave around children? [Vareysa]

She doesn’t go out of her way to interact with them. She just behaves normally, if a little better than usual. But when one approaches her, she turns into a kid herself rather easily. Children feel pretty comfortable around her.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? [Vareysa]

She’s unsure of anything that happens beyond the bounds of Nirn. But she does know this - it’s common for Dunmer ancestors to remain on Nirn as spirits to help their descendants. And if she can, she’ll remain for Selyn as long as she’s able. For Anni too; she kinda expects her Altmer wife to outlive her.

-x-x-

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares? [Aneril]

Coldharbour. It haunts her even centuries after the Planemeld, though much less often, and they don’t affect her badly anymore. Some nightmares involve her losing Rey and Selyn - these scare her most.

-x-x-

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams? [Selyn]

Most often, it’s about casting or inventing ridiculous magical spells herself - after she’s had long days of research and experiments. There’s also this silly little dream where she’s always riding about on a guar, and crossing a sea made of scrib jelly…? Makes her wake up hungry.

*rubs hands together* aw yis les adapt this to Vampire AUs

Sielaire gets turned into a vampire, has to retreat from her position in the military and serve from the shadows. Maybe as an Eye or independent. Ayrenn helps to keep hunters off her back.
Angst: Sie breaks off their relationship and runs away, doesn’t want to drag Ayrenn down with her.
Modern AU: Ayrenn is the queen of the largest clan of vampires. Sielaire is a vampire hunter tasked with bringing them down. Gay ensues. Feeding most likely. Bonus if Sielaire asks Ayrenn to turn her. Extra bonus if Ayrenn asks Sie to become a vampire, because she can’t bear the thought of outliving Sie.
(I see your Underworld AU) Ayrenn is a vampire, and she first meets werewolf Sielaire who tries to tear her face off. Of course Love Overcomes All and they get together.
Sexy Addon: Sielaire emergency transforms into a werewolf when Ayrenn’s in danger, and when she turns back into a human, she’s naked and covered in blood, panting with that feral glint still in her eyes.

SPATIALHEATHER ASKED:

“i’m done. we’re done.”’ but not as angst :>

Sielaire stares at Ayrenn, frozen as her world crumbles around her, heart turned to ashes.

“I can’t take your cats anymore,” Ayrenn whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

“No,” Sielaire says, a mere echo of herself. She takes a few steps back. “You-, I’m done. We’re done.”

“Sie, please,” Ayrenn begs, moving to follow Sielaire as her wife starts walking away, picking up every cat in her path. But her teary voice turns perplexed when Sielaire reaches the door. “Sie. Sie, why are you taking Raz-?”

“Well then,” Raz drawls, not bothering to resist when Sielaire hauls him onto her shoulder. His tail sways in amusement, then drapes over Sielaire’s head. “Raz guesses this is goodbye, kitten.”

I just fuckin realised Aneril is basically the Altmer version of Milah

Raised in a neglectful, abusive household. (Aneril’s purely emotional) Ran away to make their own life, and had to struggle to stand on their feet.
Self-esteem is in pieces, has depression after a series of bad life events snowballed into a crushing weight on their shoulders.
Joined the army partly out of a passive disregard for their own life, thinking it’s worthless in the larger picture.
Nearly died in a war, (in Aneril’s case she did), and it spurred a major change in their lives. (Milah requested a transfer to start anew, Aneril joined the Queen’s Eyes instead of returning to the army.)
This change led to them meeting their sunshine wives, whom they really, really dislike at first.
Have I mentioned they’re both grumps? Cos they’re both major grumps who first grew soft for their wives, allowed love back into their lives, then started nursing a hope for the future and for themselves.
Become great moms cos of their poor upbringing in the past, provides nothing but support and love for their daughters.

Ayrenn paces impatiently outside the cave mouth. She has half a mind to fly in with sword in hand, if not for the guards hovering near her. She looks into the dark recess of the cave frequently, fingers flexing in her need to do something about this situation.

Of all the damned, reckless things this mer chose to do, why did she choose to enter this cave, all alone and unannounced, leaving the rest of the entourage to panic while Ayrenn sent the guards in after her? This is a frequent hideout for pirates and smugglers, and was even home to a Sload during the Daedric crisis, for Auri-El’s sake! Ayrenn rarely gets angry with her wife, but now she has half a mind to grab Sielaire by the shoulders, and shake her to her senses-

The crunch of boots on sand and gravel catches their attention, and Ayrenn looks up as her guards step forward with swords at ready. But they relax at the sight of Sielaire, accompanied by her own guards. Her dress is still clean but for a few spots of dirt, her cheek bears a small scratch, and in her arms are…

“Oh, Sie,” Ayrenn groans, moving forward to meet her wife. “Did you really just go in there for a stray kitten?”

Sielaire breaks into a smile - bashful, yet with a goofiness borne of her success. “I couldn’t let it wander in there all alone…”

Ayrenn watches as Sielaire scratches behind the large ears of the kitten, which will no doubt find a new home in the palace soon. Face falling into her hand, Ayrenn frowns and rumbles, “Let’s head back to the carriage. And bring me a bottle of wine.”

THEMINIPICKLE ASKED:

hi i hate myself and want to suffer: sie/renn "i'm done. we're done."

hello dis me @ you I’M DONE WE’RE DONE WHY THIS ANGST WHY

(AU where Ayrenn marries and has a child with someone else)

It takes all her strength to keep standing. Her body feels weak, throat tight as she waits for her lov-the Queen to respond. Ayrenn stares back at her, speechless, and Sielaire averts her gaze when she sees that tell-tale glisten in Ayrenn’s eyes.

“Sie, I-” Ayrenn’s voice breaks, and she bites on her bottom lip, trying to compose herself. “Why?”

Her question is hushed, unneeded. The boundary that had formed between them since the birth of the royal heir, has only grown wider over the long years Sielaire has had to stand aside and watch. Watch as her very dream is snatched away and lived by someone else. Sielaire was the first to grow cold, then Ayrenn, after her touch has been spurned by Sielaire too many times to count.

“I can’t-” Sielaire breaks as quickly as Ayrenn, but finds the strength to continue. “I can’t stay anymore. I cannot bear to.”

“Sielaire,” Ayrenn says. “I love you. I still love you, damn it! And I know you-”

“And what does that mean!” Sielaire raises her voice, tears slipping from her eyes in anger. “You love me, and so you will keep me at your side, torture me with the life I can never have with you? I don’t-” Sobs mar her breath, and Sielaire clamps a hand over her mouth, moisture rolling down her fingers and she rides out the sudden surge of anger and despair - of love, damn it.

“I can’t take it anymore. I will go insane if I stay any longer,” Sielaire forces through her throat, stepping back when Ayrenn tries to approach her. “I’m done. We are done.”

“Sielaire, no. Sie, please,” Ayrenn begs through her tears, clutching onto Sielaire’s arm in desperation. But it does no good - Sielaire pulls away from her, and without a backward glance, walks out of the Queen’s study.

Out of the Queen’s life.

GAYVELINE ASKED:

Angst 9, for Sierenn?

9. “I swear, if you say another word, I’ll leave.” (Sorry, no angst for this one)

Modern Tamriel AU

“Mm,” Ayrenn hums, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Wish you were kneading my dough instead.”

Sielaire rolls her eyes, sighing as she continues kneading the actual dough between her flour-covered hands. “Renn, you’re supposed to be helping me with this. You’re the one who wanted to cook in the first place.”

“I know, Sie dear,” Ayrenn croons. “But you’re so good with your fingers, it made me forget…” She lets out a crude giggle-snort when Sielaire pinches her nose, coating it in a layer of white.

“Help me, dearest,” Sielaire says, sickly sweet. “Or you can forget about eating any of this.”

Ayrenn pouts playfully, then hands Sielaire the small prep bowl of oil. And as her wife is brushing over the baking bowl, Ayrenn presses up to her side and purrs, “Bet you wish you were oiling up something else instead.”

“Like…the most spoiled child in Tamriel?” Sielaire deadpans, though a faint smirk curves her lips when Ayrenn gives her a peck.

“So you are thinking about me.”

“More like, you just admitted you are a child.” Sielaire puts the dough in the oiled bowl, covers it with a wet towel, then sets it in the warm oven to rise. As she moves to the sink to wash her hands, Sielaire heaves a louder sigh when Ayrenn comes to stand beside her.

Sielaire flicks the tap off and turns to face Ayrenn, who holds a box of cherries in her hand. She keeps a straight face, wiping off Ayrenn’s flour-covered nose with her wet fingers, while her wife wears a crooked smile and picks up a single cherry.

“Sie, taste it,” Ayrenn says, prodding the cherry at Sielaire’s mouth. “Come on, taste my cherry.”

Sielaire snorts, a smile appearing on her face. “I swear, if you say another word, I’ll leave.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re stuck with me, my darling wife,” Ayrenn sings sweetly, as Sielaire takes the cherry between her teeth, plucking it from the stem.

“You’re horrible,” Sielaire murmurs, coaxing a smile to Ayrenn’s lips when she dips in for a kiss.

“Only for you, Sie.” Ayrenn’s crooked smile breaks into a grin. “Only for you.”

Selyn has faint scars about her wrists, left by the heavy slave shackles that chafed and cut into her skin when she was young. They heal, and she doesn’t give them much thought until she’s older, when she notices a Dres ‘merchant’ eyeing her wrists with a wicked, knowing gleam in their eye.

She hurries away, but realises she’s been marked. Permanently. She starts covering up her wrists with long sleeves and bracelets, and becomes more conscious of her own body. Aneril recognises this behaviour, pulls her aside to ask what’s wrong, and is relieved when Selyn points at her wrists.

She listens to Selyn’s fears, nods, then shows her daughter the hesitation scars on her own forearm. “These don’t dictate who you are. They’re just reminders, proof of what you’ve gone through. What you’ve survived. That you are strong.”

Aneril clasps Selyn’s shoulders. “You are much stronger now than when we first found you. So the next time someone looks at your wrists, and tries to take advantage…someone like a Dres bastard… Show them just how strong you’ve grown, hm?”

Selyn tries to grapple with an internal conflict, between her peaceful nature and the sudden urge to break a ‘Dres bastard’s nose. But she just ends up shedding a few tears, and hugs her mother.

A week later, she lands in jail for roughing up a Dres slaver.

ANONYMOUS ASKED:

20?

Since no one’s specified, I’m gonna do ALL (incl. Sie for @whosyourvladi)

20. What does your oc wear in the city/settlements? In the house? When travelling, but not adventuring or expecting combat? Do they vary their clothes depending on what hold/city they’re in? Does your oc have a good or bad sense of fashion? How many clothes does your oc have?

Ayrenn: For all locations, she has an even mix of dresses and pants. It really depends on the purpose of her visit. If she’s there in a royal capacity, it’s mostly dresses. In more casual/personal settings, she’ll wear pants. When traveling, she’ll still wear some light armour for safety. Her wardrobe might vary for official visits: her tailors sometimes alter the usual Altmer fashion to include some flair to match local fashions. She has a good fashion sense, and a huge royal wardrobe to go with it.

Sielaire: Mostly same as Ayrenn, except even in official settings she’s more likely to wear pants and coats instead - she’s more mobile in them, and can react quickly in times of trouble. She has a good fashion sense, though her fixation with scarves might seem a little overboard at times. Of course, she has a wardrobe to match her royal spouse’s - in size and style.

Aneril: She wears dresses more often - preferably light ones that end above the knee, though she wears longer ones in cold weather. When traveling, it’s usually a shirt and pants - made of sturdier cloth to withstand wear. She doesn’t vary her clothes much, only the weather really affects her wardrobe. Her fashion’s good by Summerset standards - she knows what flatters her body and which jewelry goes with it. Her wardrobe is modest in size, bigger than a regular commoner’s.

Vareysa: Shirt and pants. Sometimes nice vests and jackets. If she’s feeling fancy, maybe a half cape too. This goes for everywhere, even while she’s on the road. She doesn’t really vary her clothes until she’s in the city itself, and if something new catches her eye, she’ll try it out. Her fashion sense is pretty standard, though it can sometimes fly out of the window when she experiments. Her wardrobe’s smaller than Aneril’s, but lasts just as long.

Selyn: Pants with shirt or robes. She likes longer, flowing clothes - sort of like a typical mage, but she avoids ankle-length robes for mobility. On the road, she dresses the same, maybe with a piece of armour or two for protection (and because her moms nagged). She doesn’t vary her fashion, doesn’t really care to. To her, what is comfortable is fashionable. So she thinks it’s good. Her wardrobe’s more to Aneril’s size.

Aneril heaved a sigh as they approached the temple ziggurat, where a large crowd had gathered to witness the first meeting between the Altmer queen and Vivec, since the signing of a peace treaty that had ended the Alliance War in Morrowind. They all gawked up at the guards and dignitaries gathered on the upper terrace, and would no doubt stare at Aneril as well, when she went nearer.

Ignoring the few eyes already on her, Aneril turned around, adjusting her six-year-old daughter in her arms as she set Selyn carefully on the ground. The girl seemed reluctant to let her go, little arms unwinding from around her neck, and eventually grasping at the golden wings of her pauldrons.

“You’ll have to stay here and wait, my dear,” Aneril said. “When the ceremony’s over, we’ll go for tea, and have lots and lots of scrib jelly, okay?” She smiled when Selyn’s eyes brightened, and planted a kiss on the girl’s head.

“And you.” Aneril stood to face her wife. “Don’t cause any trouble while I’m up there.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Vareysa crooned, smiling as she received a kiss from her wife as well.

Aneril huffed a short laugh, then glanced back at the crowd - more heads had turned to look at her. “I don’t suppose you could stab me-?”

“No,” Vareysa replied. “At least, not with a dagger. And not in public.”

Rolling her eyes, Aneril pinched Vareysa’s cheek, then squared her shoulders and walked off to take her spot among the dignitaries.

Vareysa had managed to squeeze into a corner of the ziggurat, where they could watch Aneril receive a medallion from Queen Ayrenn - a reward long overdue for the hero of Tamriel. Aneril had been dreading the spotlight this ceremony would drag her into, but the serious, stoic expression on her face betrayed none of her reluctance.

Vareysa chuckled to herself. They’d better find a quiet tavern after this.

She looked to Selyn, who stood on the parapet with her mother’s arm wound protectively around her waist. She watched quietly as Aneril saluted to the Queen, engrossed in the proceedings. She’d been captivated since she first saw Aneril in her gold-trimmed Dominion ceremonial armour, and could hardly be separated from her mother during the four-hour journey here.

“Your mama’s a hero, Selyn,” Vareysa explained, when Aneril stepped out of sight. “She saved the world, you know?”

Selyn blinked at her with guileless eyes, then shook her head. Vareysa laughed softly, then carried the girl down from her high perch. “We’ll tell you all about it later, alright?”

Selyn nodded, and grasped her mother’s hand with a smile.

A/N: Modern AU

“Oh, be a sport, Sie. Look, it likes you!”

“It’s pretending,” Sielaire utters, sitting rigidly straight even as the gryphon in her lap rubs its head against her cheek.

“No, you’re just being grumpy.” Ayrenn tweaks her nose, obviously taking too much pleasure in how ‘grumpy’ Sielaire is.

“This one’s going to grow up and knock me off a cliff too,” Sielaire continues to grouse, jerking her head back when the gryphon’s beak poked into her face. “I can’t believe you actually got me a gryphon.” Despite her alleged dislike for it, Sielaire runs a hand down the white, fluffy plumage on its head.

“You like it, Sie. Admit it,” Ayrenn laughs. “Besides, one can only have so many cats before tiring of them.” A crooked smirk curves her lips as Sielaire’s eyes grow round, and Ayrenn quickly lifts her phone to distract her. “Now, smile for the camera!”

“Renn-!” Sielaire starts to say, as Ayrenn snaps a string of photos - all with Sielaire looking utterly nonplussed, while the baby gryphon gazes adoringly up at her. “You’re-, I don’t-! Cats are just fine!”

“Of course they are, dear,” Ayrenn sings, pinching Sielaire on the chin. Then she scoops the gryphon up into her arms, raising it to the air playfully. “Come, let’s go to the park and let this little one catch some wind, yes?”

“But-, Renn!”

“Last one to the car is a rotten banana!”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Selyn’s fingers twitched nervously on the urn’s smooth ceramic surface. Her heart was beating fast, breaths shallow. “I…don’t know what to do. When I see her? What do I say?”

Vareysa cocked her head. “Tell her you’re her daughter, I suppose?”

A strained laugh squeezes through Selyn’s throat, and Aneril sets a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. I’m sure your mother’s just as eager to see you.”

Selyn swallowed, then nodded. She set the urn of her birth mother on the floor before her, and lighted three incense sticks, placing it in a holder by the urn. Selyn took a steadying breath and closed her eyes, clearing her mind, forgetting the tomb they were in. Gathering magicka in her hands, she whispered an incantation the wisewoman had taught her. The last syllable left her lips, and her surroundings fell away, replaced by an unearthly yet serene air.

She opened her eyes to find herself kneeling in nothingness, a void softly lit as if a thick veil covered the sun. But her mind did not ponder this strange place. Instead, she stared at the figure who stood to the front, back facing her. Long hair, the colour of loam after a night’s rain, fell past the woman’s shoulders. She wore the traditional garb of Ashlanders, though free of the ever-present layer of fine ash that came with living in Vvardenfell.

The Dunmer turned around, and Selyn’s breath caught when eyes of bright red fell upon her, widening in surprise. They stared at each other, wordless for an eternity, before the woman who bore her features spoke.

“Selyn?”

Breathless, hushed, hopeful. A pitch lower than Selyn’s, calmer than the voice which only screamed her name in nightmares. Tears welled and fell from Selyn’s eyes, as she broke into a silly, blissful grin.

“Momma.”

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Yris

December 2018

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She of Two Worlds (Philippa Georgiou, ST: Discovery)
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