Hi, thank you for clicking! This is the first edition in a long line of Skyrim FFs I plan on writing. I'm basing all of these tales off of my own TES: V game files, and I'm trying to stick as closely to the lore as I can.
If you're a nerd like me, I hope you find yourself enjoying the story, as you won't be seeing any sexy Orcs named Jenna, or anything of the sort.
This particular scene was written a few months ago, so I apologise for any mistakes. Please drop me a review if you have the time, I would love to hear some feedback regarding the text, characters, and though it's some time into the future, which race you might be interested in reading about next. Thank you in advanced.
The Elder Scrolls © Bethesda
Characters © The Talbot
"Your father and I came over by caravan. Your father's mother, Fazala, was the leader, and my father, Dro'shanhad, was an old friend of hers who needed work. Dar'khari and I met only when we were leaving our homeland."
There was a distinct hint of nostalgia in her voice, and M'aizan could swear he saw the faintest of smiles grace her dark lips. Of course, as an ignorant child, he knew not that his next question would take it away.
"Why aren't they around anymore?"
For a few heartbeats, there was only silence.
"Your grandparents were… ri'sallidad…" his mother murmured, her hazy, silver gaze glued to the plate she was cleaning. After a moment of silent scrubbing, however, the golden Khajiit's ears perked, and she chanced a glance back at her son, who was staring at her with his head cocked curiously. "…Martyrs, my son. They died fighting against the injustices of Skyrim… and protecting me and your ahnurr."
M'aizan blinked, wiggling in his seat with excitement. Of course, the young Khajiit was disappointed that he would never meet either of his grandparents, but they were heroes! Skyrim may not see them as such, but it was a comforting idea for the boy, even if it would be unwise to ever voice his opinion about them to most people outside his family.
Propping his restless self onto his knees, bubbling to ask more questions, his sister suddenly made her way down the staircase, gripping a doll tightly in her hand. M'aizan gestured with a wave for her to sit beside him, and the dusky Khajiit blinked at him groggily before obliging.
"How was your nap?" their mother inquired softly, forcing a change in mood as she turned and smiled at her children, picking a bit of old meat off the plate and flicking it into the fireplace.
"Fine," Shivani replied with a yawn, rubbing her glossy, green eyes. "What were you and M'aizan talking about? He looks ready to run all the way to Elsweyr."
Elsweyr, M'aizan knew, was far, far away.
"Dro'shanhad and Fazala!" he blurted out before Zahirra could answer, wincing as his mother ordered him to lower his voice and sit properly. The speckled Khajiit then started walking over to the dinner table with a platter of venison in hand. M'aizan and Shivani got up quickly to help carry over the vegetables, momentarily ceasing their conversation.
"Mother says they were ree-sally-did," the boy finally tried to explain while setting down a plate of potatoes and carrots.
"Ri'sallidad," his mother corrected, amused. "I need to teach you two your mother tongue one day. You sound like a Man-cub."
Dismissing her last comment and trying to conceal his embarrassment, M'aizan continued, returning to the counter to carry over the garlic bread. "It means 'martyrs'," he explained. It was at that point, however, that the brown Khajiit realised he really didn't know what that meant, either. He bit down on his lower lip, hoping that Shivani wouldn't ask him. The cub was bitter about the understanding silence that followed however, as that meant that she knew and he did not. Now he couldn't ask what it meant, either, without looking stupid.
Shivani's brows knitted together promptly as she set down a plate in front of their mother. "That's sad," she muttered, confused. "That's why you're excited?"