Chapter Text
It was the month of the Evening Star, the last days before the start of a new year in Skyrim. A particularly harsh winter, even by Nord standards, was blowing through the province. Many wouldn’t be out at this time now unless they had no choice. But it didn’t stop a figure draped in fur-lined robes and hood from trudging through knee-deep snow, looking barely unconvinced by the freezing cold.
Near the Falkreath Hold, close enough for one to maintain contact with civilization yet far enough that one would be undisturbed and given their well deserved peace, was a simple two floored cottage. It was made of wood on a foundation of stone, with twin wooden doors and two sets of windows on each side. Outside of which were garden plots that would see use during warmer seasons, as well as a chopping block for woodworking, but both were now covered in snow.
He pushes the door, entering the manor and feeling the warmth of the hearth from the doorway, but getting snow on the stone floors and pelt rugs of the cottage. Hanging over the hearth was a cooking pot, tended to by a Nord woman with black hair and pale skin, wearing a red tunic with black pants. Her eyes, once a sharp red but now blue, looking at him annoyed with arms crossed.
<“Shut the door will you? You’re letting the snow in and we just cleaned the floors last week.”> Serana scolded lightly as he entered after shaking off the snow on his robes, pulling the hood back to reveal a man of similar age with forest green hair in a small ponytail. Freckles adorn his cheeks as he smiles at her with emerald green eyes.
<“You mean I cleaned the floors last week.”> Izuku Midoriya reminds his friend and partner, “You were busy doing what again?”
<“Oh, you know, brewing potions in the basement and earning a living.”> Serana snarks back, before her tone changes to one more concern, <“Did the delivery go alright?”>
<“Yeah, Michel should have enough resources to keep the kids at the orphanage warm and fed this winter.”> He nodded with a sigh. As part of her revenge against him both removing her control of the Thieves Guild and destroying the Dark Brotherhood, destroying her two major means of influence within Riften, she cut off funding to the Honorhall Orphanage knowing how that would have effected him.
Thankfully it wasn’t a difficult problem. He wasn’t the same naive, bumbling fool that stumbled into Riften with Serana. He’s saved enough septims obtained from adventuring, investment in businesses across Skyrim and what not to live out the rest of his life comfortably many times over.
That and being the Thieves Guild’s new Guildmaster, he orchestrated some quests to ‘reallocate’ septims from the Black-Briar’s wealth back to the orphanage. In the end the orphanage continued running, with actually more funding than ever, and Maven Black-Briar could only seethe at the sight of him. Knowing that she, once the most powerful woman in Riften, was now powerless in the same city with him around.
<“I’m sure those kids were excited to see you again.”> Serana smiles at him while stirring a ladle in the cooking pot before reaching to lift it off the fire, before remembering her newly returned human nature.
It was still something to get used to, for the both of them. Every time he looks at her he still expects crimson blood-red eyes of a vampire instead of the sapphire blue. Having been adventuring. As for her, both a vampire and mortal had senses of touch, but those of the former were more dulled. Therefore she uses a piece of cloth to grab the pot’s handle instead of her bare hands.
<“It smells delicious this time.”> Izuku smiled as he took a seat at their table while she pours them both servings of the stew using a wooden ladle in bowls. He claps his hands together and mutters under his breath, “Itadakimasu.”
Serana mimicked him. She heard him explain it was a tradition from his home, where people would utter that phrase before eating their meals as a sort of blessing. She doesn't necessarily believe in it, but she notices the slightest smile on his lips when she always did it, so it became a habit.
They both used their spoons to take careful sips of the stew…
Before spitting it out and coughing at the same time, wiping their mouths with napkins.
<“This somehow tastes even worse than ever.”> Izuku couldn’t help but laugh as Serana pouts at him.
<“I’m practically a master at alchemy, this shouldn’t be that difficult.”> The former vampire glares at the stew like it was its fault and not hers, <“They’re both about timing, precision and ingredients!”>
<“You know, cooking isn’t really an exact science like alchemy, Serana. It’s more like art. A gut feeling.”> Izuku chuckled as Serana crossed her arms.
<“So what if I get a ‘gut feeling’ to add troll toes to your stew next time?”> Serana scoffs, <“The next one will be better. Mark my words, one day I’ll make a meal that’ll have you begging for seconds.”>
<“I look forward to that.”> He smiles encouragingly at her before looking at the table, <“In the meantime, we have the matter of dinner to address…”>
Serana looks away slightly to the side, her face burning red as if embarrassed, <“...That might be a problem.I used up the last of the ingredients to make that stew, I was so sure I had it this time.”>
Izuku rolled his eyes fondly before reaching under his robes, revealing a bag he has enchanted with magic to keep its contents warm. Inside was a handful of steaming, fresh from the oven sweetrolls.
<“Good thing I came prepared then. I got them on the way back to celebrate the New Life Festival, from the tavern we both like.”> He smiles as Serana lunges forth and steals two from the pouch.
<“See? This is why we make such a good team.”> She said before taking a large bite, and moaning in delight, <“You know me so well.”>
Not wanting to waste the stew Serana made as well, both were able to down it albeit after a few cups of reserve mead ‘borrowed’ from the Black-Briar Mediary a while back. The rest of the night was filled with them enjoying more mead and recounting their more pleasant memories through the year.
<“...Sounds to me we didn’t have as much excitement this year as we usually do.”> Serana muses while stirring the mead in a cup.
Izuku nodded in agreement while staring at his own reflection in his cup. He had visibly aged a lot especially during the events of the Second Great War. After the Dragon Crisis and Civil War, ending with Ulfric defeated, the Dominion chose to strike when the Imperial forces in Skyrim were still recovering. At the same time their armies march across the borders into the Empire.
After managing to throw them off Skyrim, Izuku was sent to build alliances both old and new with the Empire, to unite and push back the Dominion. This quest took him and Serana throughout all of Tamriel, to places like Hammerfell, High Rock, Cyordil and even infiltrating deep within the Summerset Isles to stir up unrest within the Dominion.
It was only during the last decisive battle did he take to the frontlines, in order to raise morale for the allied forces as they earned a massive victory against the Dominion and shattered their forces… And even now, two years after a five year long war and in his thirties, the deaths he witnessed still haunted Izuku.
It was nothing like the skirmishes fought through the Dragon Crisis and even the Civil War. A handful of bandits, Stormcloaks and Forsworn were one thing but two massive armies clashing was another.
Seeing his cup shuddering slightly, Serana reaches over and puts a comforting hand over his to help calm him down. Izuku’s breathing steadies before he smiles at her with thanks. He was grateful that he had her by his side through all the hardship.
It was often confusing to onlookers as to the exact nature of their relationship. They weren’t married, with Serana’s unease with temples and Izuku’s own conflicted opinions on the gods. He wouldn’t exactly call them lovers, their relationship wasn’t one that placed a high opinion sexual intercourse or such physical activities, both prefering chaste kisses and affectionate touches. Outside of rare occasions, sparring was their preferred physical activity.
They were simply… partners, that was the word they agreed on. Always at each other’s side to support one another. Closer than friends, more than lovers with a trust that goes beyond marriage… Izuku may have spent some time at the Bards College but he doesn’t have the words to describe the full extent of their relationship. They were simply satisfied with what they had together, and that was enough he supposed.
***
Izuku wakes up with a groan as he feels a hand smack his face from beside him on the double bed he was sleeping on.
<“What is it?”> He drowsily mumbled.
<“...’S cold…”> she grumbled sleepily while pulling the blanket to wrap around herself for more warmth, “Fire’s out… your job’s to cut the wood…”
>“And what’s your job again…?”> He lets out a yawn while sitting up.
<“Managing all nine of your properties…”> she mumbled back while stealing more of the blanket, <“Making sure you get your returns from business investments… selling potions I brew, all your adventuring loot, crops you grow-”>
<“Okay, okay, you made your point.”> Izuku chuckled while getting out of bed, putting on a coat before going outside. There was snow building up on the woodcutting block, but a swift Fus disperses it.
Izuku smiled at the idea that this would be what he uses a Thu'um for, instead of fighting enemies. For simple convenience rather than combat. He picks up a log and gets to work chopping, until he was satisfied they had enough firewood. There was something enjoyable about this, the monotony of it all. Especially after the past years of constant excitement.
He was glad for this. He was glad for his life.
To think he would come to feel this way after he was ripped from his home dimension was astounding. To think he would’ve found friends, loved ones, success, as well as power that he could call his own all in another realm. He still misses home dearly, his mother most of all, and he has not yet given up efforts in finding a way back.
…But to Izuku’s shame, he confesses that he has come to enjoy his life in Nirn more than he ever had in Japan on Earth. If he ever returns it would be for his mother only, to let her know where he has been all this time. Besides that, he struggled to imagine anything else for him back in Japan.
<“Izuku.”> Serana called from the porch of their cottage, two steaming cups of tea in hand wearing a dark red coat, <“Time for a break, don’t you think?”>
<“Just give me a moment, I’ll get the fire started first.”> He nodded while carrying the firewood and setting it outside their cottage, bringing in a handful for the hearth as Serana snapped her fingers to set it ablaze with a simple Flame spell.
They sit in comfortable chairs next to each other, sipping the freshly brewed tea Serana made.
<“I don’t get how you can make the best tea, but screw up something simple as stew.”> Izuku mutters teasingly.
<“Careful. I enjoy your attitude but not that much.”> She said, trying to make it sound like a threat and warning.
<“No, we both know you love me.”> He smirks confidently as Serana rolled her eyes, drinking from her cup again.
<“...Another year ahead of us.”> Serana muses, <“Anything exciting planned?”>
<“Unless another crisis pops up, I think it’s going to be a pretty boring year.”> Izuku said after some thought, <“Maybe a trip to Cyrodil? Or Hammerfell to see the sights? We never got to see much of either during the war.”>
<“That sounds lovely.”> Serana agreed with a smile, <“...I think I’d quite like that. A long vacation away from the famous Skyrim weather should do us both some good.”>
“Please, you were complaining about the weather throughout Tamriel.” Izuku laughs before mimicking her voice, “Oh, it’s too arid in Hammerfell! The damned wind in High Rock! Cyrodil’s weather is too boring-!”
<“It’s not my fault I’m more sensitive to the weather now.”> Serana blushed, annoyed at his teasing.
<“You were like that when you were still a vampire.”> He chuckled before raising his hands defensively as she looked ready to stab him with an elven dagger pulled from her hips.
A knock on the door interrupts them, and the two immediately turn to the door with wariness. The few who know they live here were too busy to drop by for a casual visit. Serana twirls her dagger, readying a spell with her other hand while Izuku approaches the door carefully to open it, magicka swirling in his other hand…
<“Special delivery for the Dragonborn.”> A courier stood outside, letter in hand and a casual expression despite the freezing weather and lack of proper clothing like a thick coat.
Izuku blinks at the sight of the courier before sighing and accepting it, tipping the man some septims for his trouble, before wishing him safe travels.
<“You know, sometimes I think if the Empire had their army trained by whoever trained those couriers, they’d have won the First Great War.”> He mumbled, ever confused by the couriers’ superhuman resilience and dedication to their jobs. How those people always knew where he was always confounded him.
<“Who is it from?”> Serana asks with curiosity, setting her dagger down on the table as Izuku started to open the letter,
“Give me a moment, I haven’t read i- - -
-- -
- --
- - -
Pain.
Pain like red hot iron stabbing his bones floods throughout his body.
Izuku tries to move but just doing so was an immense agony as the pain was amplified to beyond torturous levels. A scream escapes his mouth, causing it to ache as he felt it was parched and dry. Like he hadn’t just drank tea with…
Serana… where was she? Where was he?! The last thing he remembers was that… that letter? He read something and… the rest was foggy… There was more, he knew there was more but he couldn’t access that part of his memories…
Was he captured? How? He knew only a handful of beings that could bring him to this state of injury. What was done to him? His body… it felt… smaller, thinner, weaker… Like he was sapped of all his strength and magicka. It didn’t made any sense-
“Izuku?”
A voice he had only heard in his dream in the past years suddenly rings out next to him, in a language that did not exist in Skyrim nor Tamriel. A language that he had only taught Serana, at her insistence, so he does not forget a piece of his past and home.
He slowly and painfully shifts his head to the source of the voice, wondering at first if it was some auditory hallucination, or some kind of mental illusion from magic designed to torture him. But no… she was there… his mother crying at his side, sitting on a chair.
“Izuku… Oh my god, you’re awake!” She exclaimed tearfully, her hand reaching out to cup his bandaged face, sending the sensation of shards of glass moving in his jaw, “I- Doctor! Doctor, we need a doctor! My son is awake!”
It was then his vision recovers enough that he could see the rest of his body… the rest of his teenage body, draped in casts and bandages. Wires, screws and needles all throughout his broken body, holding it all together so it does not fall apart like a broken vase.
In a flash it all comes back to him. The day of his transport to Skyrim… There was an elderly man crossing the road too slow and no one helping him, so he offered his aid… Then there was a truck speeding ahead for reasons unknown… His body moved before his mind could, pushing the old man out of the way as the truck collided.
Izuku had always wondered how he ended up in Skyrim, found by the Vigilants of Stendarr with nothing but his school uniform. He imagined that maybe Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, whisked him away to safety to be the Last Dragonborn…
But the pain coursing through his broken body told another tale.
He had not been safely whisked away.