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“FUS!”
Oikawa managed to dodge a candelabra flying his way at the last minute. It was kind of on him, at this point he should have expected this kind of behaviour from Skyrim’s - sigh - last hope. The last Dragonborn, the mighty Dovahkiin, stood in the middle of Solitude’s inn/tavern, The Winking Skeever, shouting away. His small frame could only be seen thanks to the height the table he had climbed onto gave him, although his colourful orange hair shone under the inn’s candlelight and almost blinded Oikawa as he laid his eyes on the Breton boy after reentering the building.
“Again ! Do it again !” an ever smaller mercenary screamed, jumping and applauding to display his enthusiasm
“Noya, the tavern…” a big brown-haired Nord tried to reason with his friend, sadly to no avail
Oikawa detached his eyes from the loud scene at the center of the main room and looked for his disciple instead. He spotted him sitting in a corner of the room, looking at his recent travel companion - the mighty Dovahkiin, with insistence. From a distance, he looked like he was brooding but as Oikawa stepped closer, he realised the younger Imperial displayed a somewhat detached yet fond expression - which turned into a scowl the second Oikawa sat next to him.
“This tavern not big enough for you or something?” Kageyama growled
“Why, don’t be so cold Lil’ Dagger! Have you no love left for your beloved mentor?”
“You’re a milk drinker, that’s what you are.”
Oikawa faked an offended gasp while clutching imaginary pearls above his tunic. Kageyama rolled his eyes at the display and took another sip of his mead. Oikawa, in front of the younger’s indifference, just shook his head and settled more comfortably on the bench they were sharing while drinking a bit from his own bottle. It was some time - i.e. a few shouts that earned the Dragonborn a mouthful from the inn owner - before Kageyama faced him ever so slightly and actually talked to him.
“The steward gave us some work earlier this week,” he started and Oikawa only hummed in response. There was really nothing spectacular about that fact lately, albeit maybe receiving a request from Skyrim’s capital’s steward to the Jarl was somewhat a feat. But his dear, dear, disciple and his new friend seemed to be taking care of all of Skyrim’s misfortune in these dire times, so there was really nothing to be surprised about. “We found a group of cultists trying to bring Potema back from the dead.” Oikawa frowned a bit at the information; cultist was still somewhat of a trigger word for the two of them (and for the Blades in general), and hearing about a potential cruel queen being resurrected was definitely not a good sign. However, Kageyama didn’t stop there. “They’re not likely to stop there, and I was thinking about tracking them down anyway. What we saw out there,” he paused for a few seconds, as if his voice wouldn’t get past his throat, “it was just too much to be a mere coincidence, Oikawa. It has something to do with Iwa - ”
He was suddenly cut off by the sound of Oikawa’s bottle breaking under the older’s grip. The brown-haired Imperial was pointedly looking ahead with no desire to acknowledge his disciple’s words. Kageyama opened his mouth as if to say something but didn’t dare to. He finally sighed, tired of the older’s antics, and got up to join Hinata and the others at the heart of the party - they had calmed down and were now talking about their adventures, all sitting either around or on a table.
Oikawa tried not to follow him with his gaze and kept pouting from his spot on the bench instead of going to the bar and order a new drink, like he actually wanted to do. He was annoyed, and frustrated, and sad, and angry - on so many different levels.
Kageyama was a brat, his brat. From the very moment Oikawa’s father, the Blades Grandmaster at the time, had brought the gullible-faced, loud, cute little Kageyama Tobio to the Cloud Ruler Temple, Oikawa had made it his duty to bully the kid until he would become a mighty warrior fit to fight by their side. He had succeeded, at first. He hadn’t really planned for the kid to get attached to him, and he definitely didn’t see it coming when Tobio had revealed himself to be gifted, a natural born fighter, and soon Oikawa had seen himself be put on the sidelines by his own father in favour of the brat. So yeah, maybe he had been a bit too hard on Tobio from there.
Oikawa deeply missed those simpler times, when an annoying gifted brat was his biggest obstacle in life. Simpler times, when he had a best friend, akin to a brother, training and fighting by his side. Simpler times, when his family, which consisted of most of the temple’s trainees, was so big they couldn’t all fit together at the lunch table.
Simpler times, when his family was still alive, when the temple was still standing back home in Cyrodiil, when Tobio and Dawnbreaker weren’t the only things he had left in the world.
He had tried though, he had really tried giving Tobio a safe teenagehood as much as they could afford. He fully realised roaming around Skyrim with barely enough to eat and only killing bandits to make ends meet wasn’t the ideal situation they had both hoped for but that was enough. Right? Tobio had never really complained.
Seeing the kid now, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a tingling sensation in his heart. Because Tobio was the only one he had left and vice-versa, Oikawa had naively thought it would stay that way forever. However, the kid he had basically raised from the tender age of 10 was now a man, with a life of his own, with travel companions and friends, and he was ready to turn a page of his life, a page Oikawa himself wasn’t sure he wanted to turn.
Oikawa’s brain brought him back to his current state - brooding alone in a corner of the inn, his hand sticky from the mead that had travelled down his hand and arm when he had broken the bottle. What a pathetic sight he probably offered.
“Now that’s a sad fate for a perfectly fine honey wine.”
Oikawa jumped at the voice coming suddenly from his right. He abruptly stood up, his hand hovering over the hilt of Dawnbreaker in case he had to unsheathe it, and glared at the source of the voice. He barely had to spare the person a glance to immediately relax his stance. The man that had spoken to him didn’t look very frightening. The man - probably a taller than average Breton or a rather small Nord - held his hands in front of him as a sign of surrender. Behind those surprisingly delicate hands, Oikawa could see very light ash blond hair and chestnut coloured eyes with a mole under the left one. Travelling down the man’s face, Oikawa could see the typical tunic of a mid-rated bard and a hair accessory made of a feather and a red jewel adorned the top of the other’s head.
“Sheesh,” Hinata’s whiny voice resonated from the center of the room, “calm down Grand King.” From the bold way he was speaking to him, the oldest of the two Blades assumed he was more than a bit drunk. No bother, he would make him regret his offence the next day.
“It’s okay Hinata.” the bard replied with a polite but contrite smile on his face. “I’m the one who sneaked up on him unannounced. It’s easy to forget how fast a strong warrior’s reflexes are.” he said that last part after turning to face Oikawa and the Imperial could swear the way the man’s eyes were half-lidded and the small twist of his smile were meant to be flirtatious. Oikawa would have probably taken the bait any other night - without his disciple and the Dragonborn present, preferably.
“What do you want?” Oikawa asked, maybe in a colder tone than necessary but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with strangers tonight. His reputation as a gentleman would suffer, but it’s not like the bard would remember the affront enough to write a heart-wrenching song that would become popular all over Skyrim. It’s not like it had worked before - oh wait, shit.
Thankfully, the smaller man didn’t seem to have taken any offense in the other’s tone. “Well, I was thinking of buying you another drink but if that’s your thing we could just spar in the middle of the tavern. I must warn you though, hitting others with my luth does not make good foreplay. Or so I’ve been told.”
Oikawa let out a small laugh despite himself, and although he tried to hide it afterwards by schooling his expression and stance, the bard smirked knowingly.
“Fine,” Oikawa scoffed and gave up - speechcraft was usually his strong suit but it wasn’t a battle that could be won against a pretty bard from Solitude, “how could I say no to the promise of some cold mead?”
“Oh, I feel so valued right now.” the other man replied in a flat tone but he was still smirking as he led Oikawa to the bar.
Before they could reach it however, Hinata walked up to them and stopped his friend by softly putting a hand on the other's arm. The silver-haired bard didn't even spare a glance to the other's hand before facing the Dragonborn, a sweet, oh so sweet, smile on his face. He delicately took Hinata's hand in his and used his free hand to pat the Breton's shoulder. “It's okay Hinata,” he finally said.
The redhead seemed unsure of what to do for a moment, looking desperately for something in his friend's eyes but finally gave up, nodded and returned to his initial spot around a table.
The bard turned towards Oikawa again, a small smile still on his lips - by the nines don't look at them Oikawa that's creepy - as he resumed his way to the bar.
“Some cold honey wine for me and my friend over there.” The bard said smoothly to the bartender, who merely raised an eyebrow before handing the man two bottles and pocketing the coins.
“Honey wine?” Oikawa finally picked up on the strange appellation.
“Oh right, sorry, mead. My mama was an Altmer, I picked up on some of her expressions.”
Oikawa didn't really know what to react to first, but thankfully his brain chose for him. First of all, the cute bard calling his mom “mama”? Cuter than a baby mammoth taking their first steps. The other man actually blushed a bit after processing what he had said, becoming suddenly self-aware. Oikawa just grinned like he usually did.
He then looked at the bard up and down, an eyebrow raised. The man didn’t look like he had elf blood at all. With the grin still on his lips, Oikawa guessed his action looked way more flirtatious than intended, but oh well. The bard must have picked on the true meaning of his look though, because he spoke again, “My adoptive mother. Although I wish height came from nurture and not nature, it would make my life slightly less miserable.”
“Tired of all the other Nords looking down on you?” Oikawa snickered.
“Something like that,” the other laughed.
They fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence after taking a first sip from their bottles. Thankfully for Oikawa, the bard seemed to be able to lead a conversation well because he decided to speak again. “So, do you want to talk about what got you in such a mood or would you rather drown your sorrows?”
Oikawa didn’t answer, he didn’t want to think about the past more than he already did daily. Also, his brain supplied immediately, a stranger shouldn’t have to know about his and Tobio’s situation. Right, also that. Instead, he just drank the remainder of his bottle to convey his response. The bard pursed his lips a bit at Oikawa’s reaction, seemingly amused, and took another sip of his own bottle. “I’m not buying you another one, handsome,” the bard said in a sickenly sweet voice - probably the honey from the mead, Oikawa’s intoxicated dumb brain suggested. “You’ll have to be more charming than that for that.”
“And if that’s the best I can do?” Oikawa replied, the corner of his mouth twitching involuntarily
“Now, now, don’t insult me Grand King. I’ve seen you around a few times and I know you can be quite the charmer when you want to.”
Oikawa’s right eye twitched at the nickname, but the bard didn’t have his name so he considered it fair. “Well, Mr. Refreshing,” the other frowned at the nickname he was just given. Oikawa just tipped his bottle covered in water droplets from the temperature change, and the other caught on to the meaning behind it, for which he huffed loudly before trying to muffle his giggles with his free hand. Oikawa’s gaze was fixed on the way the corner of the bard’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, almost hiding the mole. Eventually, he realised that he hadn’t finished his sentence and resumed talking, “I think it’s a bit creepy that you remember me -”
“You flirted with literally everyone at the tavern every time I saw you, it’s hard not to notice.”
“- but I’m going to see past that and return to my charming self.” He leaned towards the bard, who stopped mid-sip to stare at him with wide eyes. “Wanna head upstairs to get to know each other better?”
The ash blonde Nord scoffed, baffled. “Easy now, Sanguine enthusiast, not that charming.”
Oikawa feigned innocence, placing a hand over his heart and watching the other with big doe eyes. “Whatever do you mean? I was merely thinking about us sitting on a bench and talking with more privacy.”
The bard scoffed again, his lips stretched into a grin. “You’re so full of shit. How about a walk outside instead? The walls are nice to walk on at night and it’s fun to annoy the guards.”
Oikawa hummed at the proposal. He couldn’t help but steal a glance towards Tobio and the Dragonborn. He also couldn’t help the way his heart hurt a bit seeing his disciple enthralled in one of the very short mercenary’s narratives. Tobio would be fine without him, obviously. He had left him alone with the Dragonborn before, off to fight some bandits. Of course he would be fine.
“Sure,” Oikawa finally answered. The bard smiled softly, his gaze travelling from Oikawa to the group Tobio was a part of. He finished his bottle in one go, took Oikawa’s hand before he changed his mind and headed towards the doors. Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa saw a figure abruptly stand up - they appeared to be a man, albeit the hood covering most of their face made Oikawa doubt.
The bard saw the same figure move and muttered a curse under his breath before turning to Oikawa, apologetic. “I’ll be back in a minute, sorry.” Oikawa barely registered his own nod as the Nord walked over to the hooded man - who was accompanied by a slightly smaller hooded figure, he noticed. Oikawa wondered if he should ask the bard about the figures once he’d return, but finally decided it wasn’t worth risking to annoy the other. The three exchanged a few words and the bard joined him again, one hand raised as he apologised again. Oikawa noticed only now the traces of black ink present on the other’s palm. Cute, his dumb brain supplied again.
As the two finally stepped outside, Oikawa mused, “Writing some song lately?” The other looked at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. “The ink,” the Blades supplied, holding out his own hand.
“Oh,” the other man softly said when he realised Oikawa was right. The brown-haired Imperial cursed the low lighting, he was pretty sure the bard was blushing but would never be certain. “Not really, I’m not a bard full-time actually. I mostly do number jobs for rich people all over Skyrim. The bard thing is just a side-hustle to earn a bit more money.”
“Why a bard though?”
“I don’t know, I guess because I can sing fine and because learning how to play an instrument was way less trouble than learning how to lift a sword.”
“You could’ve lifted a bow and some arrows,” Oikawa snickered. He must have imagined it, but there was a weirdly ironic air in the way the bard’s lips twitched upwards.
“Like I said, way less trouble.” They finally reached some stairs leading to the top of Solitude’s fortifications, which circled the entire city. They passed some guards on their way and the bard waved at every one of them. Half of the guards seemed rather happy to see him and the other half not so much - Oikawa could swear they were cursing the Nord for five generations as they passed by. “I like it anyway, I was actually hoping to get a small job at the Emperor’s cousin’s wedding next week - nothing big of course, I’m not naive. Just thought, maybe I could be one of the esteemed guests’ designated bard, or maybe just be hired to sing the main bard’s chorus, something like that.” They stopped right over a balcony overhanging a courtyard in front of the Temple of the Divines and Oikawa was still glaring at the bard, confused. A wedding? Well, he did notice that Solitude was more lively lately, if that was even possible - maybe hectic was the right word. The Nord seemed to pick up on his confusion because he opened his eyes wide and gaped at him incredulously. “You don’t know about the wedding? Do you live in a cave?” Oikawa had barely the time to groan before the other man kept on talking. “An Imperial who doesn’t know the Emperor’s cousin is getting married! Pfff hahaha I can’t believe it!”
“I haven’t set foot in Cyrodiil in almost ten years,” Oikawa snapped back. Maybe it came out too harsh since the bard couldn’t have known his past, but truth be told he couldn’t care less.
The Nord picked up on the tone despite his own laughter however, and he let his laugh die in his throat, opting to look at the Imperial with a melancholic smile and compassionate eyes. “Yeah, sometimes it feels like fate is just relentlessly targeting us, huh?” Oikawa wanted to answer something along the lines of “what do you know about that” but he didn’t know more about the bard than the bard knew about him, so he stayed silent. “It gets better after a while,” the Nord said, then added, “probably.”
“Probably?” Oikawa couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“I don’t know, I’ll let you know when it does,” the bard smirked and faced the other, one of his hands on his hips and the other pressed against the stone of a decoration mounted on the wall.
Oikawa huffed, but saw something move from the corner of his eyes. He barely had the time to register that “something” was in fact the stone against which the bard was putting all of his weight before said bard lost balance and began toppling over the edge. Without thinking much, Oikawa grabbed the Nord by his middle before he could fall, holding him close to his chest until both of them fully processed what just happened - which took more time than they would’ve deemed appropriate under normal circumstances.
“Thank you,” the Nord breathed out rather shyly after escaping Oikawa’s hold.
“Sure,” the Imperial answered, trying to laugh off the awkwardness, “that thing is dangerous.”
“Yeah,” the bard seemed overly contemplative as he stared at the stone decoration with weird interest, “it could kill someone one day.”
The rest of the night unfolded without further incident. They resumed their walk on the walls and then decided to lie down in a patch of grass behind a house. They watched the stars and exchanged some words about the universe, the sky, the Divines, the Dragonborn, Oikawa’s adventures - anything that didn’t approach personal territory too much. Oikawa was thankful to the other man for not probing further every time he got defensive. Lots of people tried to get information about what had happened at the Blades’ headquarters back in Cyrodiil and were persistent about it ; they were usually lucky to get out of the conversation with their body or their mind in one piece.
The bard was weirdly easy to talk to, but also easy to listen to. His voice was clear and friendly, sometimes even sultry and alluring when the situation asked for it. He was expressive and drank Oikawa’s every work as he was telling stories of his adventures, fully invested in them and allowed himself some comments here and there. His frank laugh always left Oikawa smiling, it was a bit contagious. After what looked like hours if the sunrise was any indication, the Nord sat up and yawned, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. He looked fondly at Oikawa with a smile, and Oikawa responded with his own. He was going to say something when the door behind them opened abruptly.
“What the -” the woman who owned the house began, before noticing the bard, “oh it’s you.” She side-eyed Oikawa, something akin to pity reflecting in her eyes, before focusing on the Nord again. “Here for business?”
The bard hummed, smiling mysteriously at Oikawa when he answered, “Not at the moment, but in the upcoming week I hope.”
The woman shrugged, closed the door behind her and walked past them without another word, headed to the marketplace. Oikawa nudged the other man, “Friend of yours?”
“Sure, let’s call it that,” the Nord smirked. Oikawa didn’t probe further.
Both of them walked back to the inn ; even if the night had been amazing, the Imperial only dreamed about meeting his fluffy (and already paid for) bed. As they went through the doors, they spotted Hinata, the small mercenary and Tobio laying on the floor around the same table they had left them around last night. Oikawa and the bard laughed, probably for different reasons, but Oikawa was fairly certain he saw tenderness and contentment in the eyes of the ash blonde man while he looked at them.
“So,” Oikawa was the one to break the silence but didn’t know how to end his sentence. The bard probably noticed because he giggled before speaking in his turn.
“That was nice, Grand King. I hope we can do that again next time.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Perhaps this time we could even go upstairs.”
“My my, Mr. Refreshing -”
“To talk of course, Grand King,” he hastily said with a fake innocent expression. “What a dirty mind you have!”
Oikawa let out a laugh and shook his head. “Alright, I deserve it. And my name is Oikawa Tooru.”
“Well met, Oikawa,” the smaller man bowed slightly as if he was saying goodbye to an audience on stage. “You can call me Suga.”
“No full name, huh?”
“Hmm, maybe on the third date. Or if we fight a dragon together.”
After these words, Suga raised himself on his toes to lightly peck Oikawa’s cheek and was gone before the Imperial could fully process what had just happened.
(He couldn’t believe his dumb, sleep-deprived brain wished for a dragon attack to happen right there and now.)
His reverie was interrupted by Tobio’s cry of pain due to his hangover. Oikawa clicked his tongue and heavily sighed - back to playing daddy dearest for a fully-grown brat (and then maybe get some sleep).
A week later, Oikawa was watching the Emperor’s cousin give her speech full of hope for a peace that in the Imperial’s opinion could never really be obtained. He had hoped to see Suga among the entertainers, but he probably didn’t manage to get a job. Oikawa would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed, but this wedding wasn’t a mere event, and even if everyone in the Empire was technically invited, it didn’t mean everyone could actually participate in the festivities other than admire the spouses.
The bride was doing her speech next to her husband, both perched on the balcony below the spot Suga and he had spent a part of their night talking. He smiled faintly at the good memory - he didn’t get many of those ever since he stepped foot in Skyrim.
Just as he was imagining both of their figures flirting on those walls, he saw the stone decoration mounted on the wall suddenly collapse. Along with the other guests, he barely had time to gasp before the stones came down crashing on the poor bride, killing her on the spot. Oikawa watched as the guests began arguing, “It’s the Stormcloaks’ doing!” “The Empire is the one trying to sabotage peace in Skyrim!” and heard more than he saw the now widower wail for the loss of his bride, screaming to whoever would be willing to listen “It was a Dark Brotherhood assassin!”.
The Dark Brotherhood? Oikawa hadn’t heard of them in years and didn’t think anything particular about them before today, he just had the same general dislike as everyone of their kind and their borderline cult-like organisation. But they were the ones who had just tainted one of Oikawa’s rare good memories. Oikawa couldn’t care less about the Empire, or the rebellion, but oh did he want to make the Dark Brotherhood pay.