Skyrim One-Shots

Ancano x Reader ~Colds of Skyrim~

You gaze to the ocean and rivers below, the white valleys and mountains framing the cold waters. Your eyes stung with the sharp wind currently whipping about Winterhold, bringing along with it dusts of snow that clouded over you every now and then. You knew your skin was prickling up with the chill, and you knew your fingers were turning purple at the tips along with your toes, but you couldn't feel it. The hollow stare you cast to the lands below you was dull and lacked any sort of human emotion. Your eyes were void of everything, save for their color,

Your hands brushed against the jagged, broken edge of the bridge. You wondered if the bridge would just collapse if you started picked at the loose stones, and you wondered if your body would be found if it lay beneath the piles of rubble that would land atop the sea or ground below. Likely not.

The thought didn't scare you (nothing really scared you anymore), and you crossed your legs dangling over the edge. Night was starting to set and you began to grow tired, the desire to just let your eyes close and let your body go slack and fall over the edge tempting, more so than you realized it should have been.

This wasn't normal or healthy, the way you constantly contemplated your own death. People were out running jobs and chopping wood and farming while you sat at a very dangerous bridge that seemed to literally move when the wind blew against it and wishing that wind would pick up just a little more, enough to take you off guard and push you off.

That wasn't normal.

The want to die wasn't normal. It wasn't accepted as something that even existed, not for people like you, anyway. You hadn't been in a single war, hadn't killed a single person, hadn't lost a sister or brother or parent or spouse. Not like you had any to lose. You were born and bred on the streets of Markarth. A place of awful people, greedy and rude and sneering. 

You got your hands stepped on, your barely 6-year-old fingers being crushed under the weight of a full grown man and breaking. Even to this day, a good decade and some more years later, that hand didn't work as it should. It was stiff and refused to bend some days, and others it was perfectly fine. Some days you felt the pain of having them broken all over again and others it was perfectly fine.

With a sigh, you brought a hand to rub the right side of your face, frowning as your hood rustled about your face and your fur robes (easily mistaken for a mage's, but indeed not for it didn't have the right style).

The gates of the College of Winterhold screeched open and then they slammed back to the way they had been due to the wind. You wondered who had exited but did not look. Not your business- you weren't a part of the College. 

Abruptly, there was a voice. "Get up, you sleaze, I need assistance moving the books in the Arcanum."

You turned your head, looking up to meet an unimpressed male Altmer in Thalmor robes who had a glare of sharp poisons. You scrambled for words to try to tell him you weren't an apprentice, but he leaned down with his lips in a sharp curve downwards and gripped your forearm tightly, pulling you up with his strength.

"I-I'm not an- not enrolled, sir," you got out, eyes wide as he began walking towards the gate. He paused, tall body twisting as he met your eyes. Who was this man? He was hindering you from your chance at freedom, and that was all you knew. 

And, well, that he was a Thalmor. Those robes weren't just sold by common merchants.

"I know," he muttered. "You weren't doing anything so I figured I could put you to use. Follow me, and no more questions unless I say you can ask them. My patience runs thing this eve."

You swallowed, confusion ripping at your throat, but you tried your best to keep pace with his long strides, nearly having to jog to catch up as he opened the gates and surprisingly held it open and let you slip in before he did so himself. He made haste to a set of grand doors, and you had to peel your eyes away from the statue in the middle of the courtyard to not trip on anything or fall behind in this unfamiliar place.

Biting your lip, you entered the College behind him, confused. Gods, this place was so warm. You rubbed your gloved hands together a bit.

He turned to look at you, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. Was his telling you was he expected or something? Why did he even urge you to come with him, and why had you accepted?

"Do you have a residence?"

You blinked then shook your head. "No."

"Income?"

"No," you repeated, frowning.

"Can you use magic?"

You shifted on your feet. "Not well."

"Have you had someone to teach you?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Any ambitions?"

You grimaced. "Nothing."

"Welcome to the College of Winterhold, then. You help me out with some things, I'll give you coin, food, and a bed. I despise these chores," he muttered.

You shrank back. "I don't- I didn't-"

"I don't care," he glared. "Now, come with me. I'll show you how to do things from here on out. You stay with me unless I tell you otherwise. You may call me Ancano."

You could do nothing but nod and follow, internally thinking two things.

One; what the actual fuck was going on.

Two; had he just saved you from yourself?

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wtf is this

ik no one requested this but i wanted to get it up because everything else i just blank on and it's better to update than to not update, i guess.

whatever.

ughhghafh i'm sore from working out this entire week.

g'night

dani out

Adieu!