𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

[ Martin Septim x Reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ Death No More ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flames.

You could feel their tongues scorching your skin and flesh down to the bone. The sky was thunderous, crimson red, and gates ablaze and ajar like watching eyes giving way to hordes of destruction.

The world as you knew it was no more.

...

Your eyes bolted open, making you suddenly aware of your freezing surroundings, of your heart beating hard and rapid against your eardrums, and of the sweat on your forehead.

It was one of those nights.

Rubbing your eyes rather harshly you rose from your bed, careful to not awake the other sleeping people in the room. You scanned their bodies, no one stirred awake. A cult to Sanguine had been your family for the past five years, every second to it had been full of the warmth that no one else had given you; power, knowledge and pleasure were your gods and you wouldn't have it any other way... maybe until a week ago.

During a ritual to contact the Lord of Hedonism something had gone... wrong. Wrong in a way you couldn't describe, in a way that the others didn't seem to notice. No one had died, no one had been hurt, but those dreams hadn't come before the ritual, it seemed that you were the only one to have them, and they were the same every time. You swallowed thickly and walked away from the sleeping chambers.

The fortress you called home was pretty lonely at night, everyone was either sleeping or in the library conducting studies. You had found the silence pretty comfortable and nice in the past, a good way to spend life alone... now, it seemed unwelcoming and cold, like whispers were coming out to get you from those shadowed high corners. The fireplace in the middle kept your body warm, although your mind was feverish in a way you couldn't explain at the moment.

"Restless night?" A calm, deep voice said from the hallway. Lit only by flame, standing at the doorway where you thought only horrors would come to stand, a fellow brother of your congregation.

Martin, you thoygh was his name. You barely had interacted with him, the fact that he beared the Sanguine Rose made it rather intimidating to do so. Still, he strode towards you and sat by your side, warming his hands in the flames –calm and homely, nondestructive ones– with you.

"It's been like this for a while now" You replied, not turning to look at him. Maybe if you didn't acknowledge him much he'd leave you to your devices.

Instead, you felt his piercing eyes on your form, and a shiver went down your spine.

"Weeks?" He asked,  "Is this about the ritual?"

You nodded, slowly, in silence. No one had asked tou about it before. No one had noticed the shift you went through, for everyone else it'd been just another failed experiment that you'd all have to conduct another day.

"What did you see?" He continued.

A knot formed on your throat.

"A... a door. Multiple doors. Gates, opening up all over Tamriel. Fire, and... mh" you stopped,  the images coming back to you so alive and vivid. It was almost prophetic, you often wondered if it was. "Whatever I saw, it wasn't our Lord's sphere" You knew what it looked like, you've read whole tomes about the Prince of Change and his plane before. You just didn't dare to say it.

Soon, you felt his arms snake around your form, giving you a warmth that seemed so human and foreign against anything you had felt until then, and you found it oddly soothing and comfortable.

"It will be alright.  Everything passes" he said, and you both stayed like that for the rest of the night.

...

You were grateful for that night. Although the nightmares never ceased, you found yourself talking day and night with Martin, eating your meals together, going to bring supplies.  He even stayed awake with you until late at night studying, so your sleeping time would be reduced and you'd be less terrorized.

Both if you cared about each other, deeply. Too deeply. Your lord would be proud of the many nights you spent secluded from everything else, with limbs entangled and lips locked onto each other's.

"Everything passes" he'd say, kissing your temple as you regained your breath.

You hoped he was right...

You had hoped for so long that he was right, but your acquired clairvoyance spoke clear as day.

You had barely escaped out alive of the tragedy that struck the Cult of Sanguine. Everyone else laid dead right beside your feet, and you felt sick, cold in a way that you knew you shouldn't be.

You couldn't find his body amongst the ones lost.

Years passed with you wondering what had happened to him, if he had survived and now lived a different life, or if he had been wholly consumed by the tragedy and now suffered an eternal fate inside the infinity if Oblivion. Your heart ached whenever you thought of him, of his sharp gaze and rare smiles, of his intelligent soothing words. Of how perfectly his body had fit against yours.

Your heart ached now, even more when the Gates finally opened.

And the fires latched onto your skin, scorched the land with hirdes of chaos as you fought against them. From a nobody cultist to a hero, you rose fast and clear.

The Gate at Kvatch closed, rain poured upon you as you held the Sigil Stone on your palm. You strode fiercely towards the Chapel of Akatosh, slaying whatever monster came into your way. And upon entering through its doors you found a familiar face, far away, tending to the sick, your heart sunk in an unexplainable way.

It didn't take long for you both to escape from Kvatch, you saved as many people as you could, and you could barely but surely see the recognition on his face when his gaze laid upon you.

You now walked together towards Weynon Priory, and the sky threatened of thunder, a warning.

"You're alive" He choked out,  and you finally tuned to face him with a heart pounding into your ears.

"I am" You replied, smiling slightly, voice thin and breakable. You reached out to caress his face, but soon dropped your hand; you didn't know if you could even touch him now. He looked so kind, majestic and pristine, he looked reformed and beautiful, his eyes shone with compassion while yours sunk in with restlessness. He was a priest, while you had stayed in your dark ways. "You're... uh. You're alive too. And you're a Septim. Wow..."

He chuckled and grabbed your hand, pulling you close once again, and he smiled despite the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"I am," he imitated.  "Hopefully staying that way"

Not able to take it anymore, you kissed him like you'd never see him again.

_________
Mh :'( 🖤🖤🖤