14 Works by AngelofAftermath
Listing Works
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The Chandler and the Weaver by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
08 Feb 2026
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Muvayni Femer was a weaver of stories as much as she was a weaver of thread and silk. She'd sometimes laugh, and brush her hand over Ji'Fayna's the same way an elderly mother might do (leaving Ji'Fayna wondering at the seemingly-young woman's age, as elves and Khajiit aged differently) and thank her for entertaining her ramblings. Her little brother, an adventurous lad about Ji'Fayna's age, had long outgrown listening to his sister. Ji'Fayna would quickly swallow her mouthful of tea and shake her head, her golden earrings shifting with the motion from her pointed ears. She'd say it was no problem, when really, it was the highlight of her week to sit and listen.
It had been a bit of a surprise, however, when Muvayni invited Ji'Fayna to her home. "I'd like you to bring some of your finest candles," she'd said one brittle, cold afternoon, autumn coming with no hesitation at all. "Do you, perhaps, have any you believe would be good for a family shrine?"
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These Things That You Know by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
08 Feb 2026
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Teldryn was a mer of mystery. This was a certainty Athenath had become all too familiar with, even as they tried over the course of the past year to get to know him. In their experience, however, trying to ask Teldryn about himself and his history and expecting a personal answer was much like banging fists against stone and thinking that surely, this time, their hands would meet sand that sifted and crumbled and gave clear insight. He'd meet their thirst for depths with dry humor and measured calm. He'd listen to their own stories about their life before arriving to Skyrim and he'd offer a tale in return about a former employer, or the time he lived in the Gray Quarter, or adventures across Solstheim, but never were the stories revealing.
Sometimes, the strange spellsword has his reasons for keeping his cards close to his chest, especially when destiny gets involved.
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Cycle of the Serpent by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
16 Jul 2025
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Surviving the dragon attack at Helgen by the skin of their teeth, three elves find themselves tossed into the midst of ancient legends, a civil war, and a hell of a lot of problems. They may all have different reasons for being in Skyrim, but if they have any hope of reaching their destinations alive, it lies in learning to trust their strange new companions... no matter what.
Updates monthly.
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The antelucan swell of stars took up the sky above them. Crowding their visions were the thick, black trees, which bowed like acolytes deep in prayer. In the heavens, the constellations took their shapes. If one stopped for a moment and configured them together, they might be able to spot specifics, but the clouds winnowed through the air with the leisurely stroll of a storm not quite ready to brew yet. The grass trod under their boots like lonesome horses hooves. They'd thought of taking a carriage for the journey, in fact, and could imagine in the waning light of the lantern the procurement of passage down the dark roads, and the gold changing hands, and the hours passed, able to sleep.
Nearly a year since arriving in Skyrim, the three Last Dragonborns make camp outside of Falkreath, and ruminate on their origins.
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The Most Loyal Companion by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
18 Aug 2024
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Meeko had been the most loyal companion. His friend had told him so. Yet, the stench in the cabin is growing, and the smell of a stranger is enough of a lure to pull him from his friend's side, if only for a moment.
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The door creaked open, budged against by a figure. Alarm ran through the air, the holes in the wood like many eyes which faced the blonde woman, whose armor burned against the pale of Morthal with black and red hues. She pushed and grunted until the door flung open like a mouth, and made a slow walk into the home. The woman spoke to herself, and adjusted her cowl as she gathered tinder and gave the hearth a fire. The first one in many years, though the shack knew not how long. The flames lit, crackling as dust burnt away, and the room gathered warmth in bundles. She stood a while, stretching, seating herself near the fire, and breathing in the cold air.
She would leave shortly after this moment. A few hours later, she would return with another person, with their head covered by a sack.
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This was not a position that Elisif had ever wanted to find herself in: High Queen of a broken country, a widow, and the bond which held her land together. But it was she who wore the jagged crown, and it was she who held the burden of its office.
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Maybe Athenath preferred to work alone. Guidance was an unnecessary burden on their shoulders, and when they thought about the hassle of having to sit by and listen to someone drone on and on about the importance of certain objects and not getting caught and all the shit they'd learned on their own ages ago, they wanted to gag. Plus, it didn't exactly pay him well. Something about the old ways of their guild must have been long, long forgotten. Fair share was a laughable suggestion. And teamwork was debatable, or downright nonexistent, depending on the person.
Or, how a future Last Dragonborn acquired their prized instrument.
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Upon The Shoreline by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls
14 Aug 2024
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See, here, the ship. The broken wood, the splintered underbelly sliced open upon the rocks like elk, strung up for harvest. See also the ghost, which lingers on the nearby shore like a warning, a lighthouse illuminated far too late.
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Money in the Rift changed hands as often as the leaves were gold, which was to say, a perpetual flow of currency ran like rivers through the hold. Riften was the cornerstone, the foundation of trade in the autumnal region, caravans and merchants from all across Skyrim - and some, brave or foolish, from beyond - traveling the floors of the long-armed realm, stretching over mountains and valleys and lakes. Of course, the Black-Briar family played more than a small role in the shifting tides of commerce, but who was Brynjolf to object when so much of this coin fell into his pockets?
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The sweet scent of cedar spread throughout his lungs. The main component in one of Mother's oils, something that preserved Her to the exact specifications of Keepers that came before. It clung to him. A perpetual reminder of his role, as the Keeper, never the Listener. Mother, sweet Mother, She never spoke to him through all his begging pleading crying praying, through all the lonely Fool of Hearts' years spent in here with Her, loyal solely to the will of his Night Mother and Dread Father, dutiful and unwavering even when fevers took him and the years hardened like once-broken bone. If only She would speak! She could! He knew She could! And yet She had chosen not to, for She only spoke to the Listener.
And the fact remained, he was not the Listener.
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This Abhorrent Hunger by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
16 Apr 2024
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He'd never meant to hurt anyone, but good intentions don't bring back the dead.
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Two scientists realize, upon losing contact with Dr. Richtofen, that they are truly alone in the aftermath of their actions.
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If by Sun and Moon I Swore by AngelofAftermath
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls
15 Jul 2023
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With the Empire's victory in the Skyrim Civil War, Hadvar has been quietly readjusting to regular life. When an old friend turns up at his door, that quiet he'd hoped for comes to a halt.