#mjoll

@thequeenofthewinter tagged me in WIP Wednesday... last week? and I forgot as usual so here we are. don't worry about it. I tag @dirty-bosmer, @bretongirlwrites, and @oblivions-dawn

As Land of Ash and Heart is almost over, I've been working some more on my Dawnguard fic. Here's Serana making new friends in the oddest manner possible.

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One had dark brown hair, braided back from a severe, handsome face. Another was taller and broader, blonde and blue-eyed, with a streak of turquoise paint over one cheek. Both wore sturdy iron armor and had the sharp eyes of warriors.

The woman between them was altogether different. She was short and full-figured, wearing no armor at all–just a thick blue coat and a lumpy knitted hat. A few escaped locks of chestnut hair framed a cheerfully pretty olive-skinned face. Under this country-innkeeper appearance, though, there was something wrong about her.

No, not wrong as such, but strange. Something behind her form seemed to flicker and spark, like she was trying to exist in two places at once.

“You’re not vampires,” Serana said at last, rather stupidly.

“No, I’m afraid not,” said the short one. “We’re…what’s the word for people that aren’t vampires?”

Cattle, thought Serana, but didn’t say it. Because she was not her father.

The Dragonborn

Imagine

Imagine the Dragonborn exhausted from a month or few of no sleep trudging home to their love, their spouse. The thought of whom was the only thing keeping them going. At first it was just;

They'll retrieve The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and come home to their love. They'll swap stories my short travel to their shop tales. They'll enjoy homecooked meals and many pleasant nights.

Then it became:

They just have to do this one thing to keep their love safe and then they'll be reunited.

And finally:

They just want to hold their love, their spouse as they both sleep. To have their love safe in their arms and be asleep for the first time in moons.

When all is said and done, Skyrim is as safe as it was before, which isn't very safe.

At least it's no longer doomed. Their love awaits at home with their lovely shop and heavenly home cooked meals. Though they truly only wish to see their love.

Exhausted and overburdened with the knowledge they've discovered. Worn from the endless fighting to save the world and see their spouse again. They make their way home, climbing the unclimmable mountains, swimming accross lake and running past wolves. It's been too long.

The Dragonborn trudges on faster than they've ever travelled before. With their one priority on their mind, their spouse. The one for whom they would fight armies, take down dragons and go toe to toe with ancient gods. To whom they would give their best armour to protect. For whom they would study a little at the bards college to tell better stories of their adventure. For whom they would marry within hours of proposing. Whose store and cooking are the best in all of the world. The person, no, hero, they live with.

Sleep is secondary but their limbs are on the brink of giving way as they make their way past congratulations of friend and stranger alike. The Dragonborn promises stories, but first they must rest, and no one can argue.

Entering the house, they see their spouse. Their love is as alluring as ever. Yet their greeting is met with their love looking as if they see a ghost.

The Dragonborn can confirm there is no ghost behind them.

"my love... They SAID YOU went to SOVENGUARD!"

Their love's voice breaks over the words as they yell. Realization snaps the thin resolve holding them upright and they fall into their loves' embrace. Relieved their love is safe and horrified for what their spouse must have thought. They are also fighting the urge to fall asleep from severe sleep deprivation.

How could they explain everything to their love? So much has happened and where would they start?

"I did but I live"

It's not nearly enough.

And it's everything because the Dragonborn will sleep holding their love. Comforting each other through nightmares, and talking so much throughout the day that their voices grow hoarse.

soft mjoll + edda soulmate moodboard aesthetic for @sadamericanorca ~ ♡💌♡