Hello guys! This story features a crossover between Hetalia and a popular game called Skyrim. The game itself is from a large franchise of games called the Elder Scrolls Series. All of the games take place in this giant island called Tamriel, but each game takes place in a different part of the island. Skyrim takes place in a part of the island called Skyrim. Does it make sense? Like most fantasy games, Skyrim has a vast amount of lore and creatures. I will be explaining them here, but if you have any other questions, you can go to the wiki or message me and I will gladly explain it, as Skyrim is one of my favorite games.
Dwarven ruins- Dwarves were the first race to ever live in Skyrim, sadly they wiped themselves out after having huge wars. The only remaining sign of their existence is the many ruins around Skyrim (Which are mostly underground), which are full of bronze machinery and other metal works. The ruins are extremely dangerous because the robots that protect the buildings are still active and on alert.
Falmer- also called Ice or Snow Elves, Falmer originally lived on the surface, but were pushed underground by the Dwarves in hatred. Falmer used to look like their Dark and Wood Elf relatives but the underground has twisted them into unforgiving monsters that walk with a hunch and are full of hate.
Winterhold- Is a town that was basically built around the college of Winterhold. It used to be bustling and full of life, but because of the war's relevance in Skyrim, the town is almost barren, except for a few towns' people.
College of Winterhold- The only school of magic in Skyrim and one of the best Schools in Tamriel, Only some of the best Mages get into this college.
Stormcloak(s)- Skyrim is being torn up in a war between the Stormcloaks, a group believing in Nordic gods, and The Empire, a band of men looking to take over all of Tamriel and ban warship of gods and ect.
Nine Divines- Nine gods and goddesses that rule in religion all over Tamriel, While Talos (God of war and governess) is the most worshipped one in Skyrim, all of the other gods and goddesses are extremely important too.
Zenithar- The god of work and commerce, he is mostly associated with money and honest work and is one of the Nine Divines.
Septim- the currency of Skyrim. It's basically a gold coin which was named after the man who invented it.
*All of the spells used here are actual spells in Skyrim
I hope you enjoy and I would really recommend Skyrim to anyone who loves video games!
oOo
Arthur walked along the familiar path, the soft rock crumbling under his feet as he trotted forward through the mist, his long dark cloak clinging to him like a shroud, dragging along the ground and disturbing the dew that gathered on the worn trail, but covering the basket he held in the crook of his right elbow.
A loud rumble echoed from the other side of the mountains, and Arthur nervously looked over his shoulder, looking for the source of the noise in the darkness, even though he already knew exactly what was making the noise, he sent a silent prayer that the horrid creature wouldn't dare soar to his side of the mountain. But, when he looked up the trail to see if he could spot it, he got an eyeful of the sun as it was rising.
"Damn dragon." He mumbled as he took a step off of the path and continued walking through the woods. The idea of a dragon terrified him, he never was quite good at combat, (he only carried a dagger at the bottom of his basket, and he swore up and down that he had fought a giant troll before) but his skills flourished in magic and alchemy. Francis, on the other hand, seemed to know his way around archery pretty well, even Arthur had to admit, his swordsmanship was useful too.
Arthur reached the clearing and he ogled at its beauty, seeming to breathe the scenery in; watching the fireflies dance around and glimmer the same emerald green as Arthur's eyes, the tall grass glinting in the barely-there sunlight of dawn. This all surrounded a crumbling tower made of pale brick and glossy bronze. The brick was weathered away in some areas, but overall the tower still worked, it still hissed with steam and murmured of grinding gears.
He quickly padded across the clearing and stood on the platform, his face hardened and expressionless, he reached for a nearby lever and he gave a light tug, but it jammed. Angry, he pulled on it again, this time putting all of his body weight into it. The switch flew back and Arthur was flung onto his back, the gears grumbled as they turned and Arthur was pulled into the unforgiving darkness of the abandoned dwarven ruins.
He quickly rummaged the through his basket before pulling out a potion and squinted at it, trying to read the label in what little light there was. The platform was lowering quickly and he had no idea what lurked in the darkness below, so he decided to pop the cork out of the neck and take a swig of whatever sloshed in the bottle.
To his surprise, the potion was the actual one he wanted, as he looked at his hands they slowly started to fade away, and right in time too because the platform landed and the metallic gate opened up to let him through.
He didn't dare move, or make any slight sounds, and he could already hear the slight stirring and footsteps of the half-blind Falmer as they wandered the ruins aimlessly, the scratching of their long talon-like claws mixed with hiss of steam made them almost impossible to hear.
Arthur blinked several times, trying to force his eyes to adjust. When they did he could make out the outline of their pale skin in the soft blue light a pile of chaurus eggs provided.
There were two of them. One was pacing around what seemed to be a lock box, and the other standing guard at the end of the hallway, where a door was. The one at the end made a motion with its hand and made some kind of intelligible growling noise, which the other one mimicked back. The end one walked to the door nearest to it and walked through.
Arthur smiled; this was going to be easier than he though.
The second one, who was originally guarding the lock box, pulled the bow off of his back and held it in his right hand.
Arthur took a step forward in an attempt to surprise attack it, but his boot made too much sound when it hit loose dirt. Falmer were almost blind, but never deaf, and always deadly.
Its pointy ears perked up and it gave a grumble and barred its teeth, scrunching up its bat-like nose and rushed at Arthur.
Arthur quickly dodged and pushed his dagger towards the creature and dug it into the nape of the neck and forced it up, practically destroying its neck and killing it. It fell limply to its knees and landed face first into the ground.
Arthur sat down beside its limp corpse; he quickly pulled the dagger out of its neck and began loosely filleting the ears of the creature and searching the body for any kind of valuables.
All he really found was some money and an apple, but the lock box was probably holding something valuable, considering the fact that it was guarded .
Arthur padded over to it and popped open the lid, exposing a glimmering amulet with what appeared to be a diamond in the center. Arthur's eyes seemed to light up brighter than the diamond ever could.
He quickly pocketed it away and ran back towards the platform and pulled the handle to rise to the surface; the underground was dank and suffocating, and the sooner he got out, the better.
oOo
Arthur pushed the wooden door open and let the door squeak, warning the shop keeper that a customer was present.
"Ahhh, welcome to my humble shop." Sighed Lucan while pushing a basket of what appeared to be mountain flowers onto the shelf behind him and the counter.
Lucan wasn't the cheapest trader; he didn't have good prices, and he didn't settle for anything less than the price, but he was the only trader that was within walking distance, unless Arthur moved closer to another town.
But, considering Arthur's dabble in the arts of necromancy, being excepted to a city was hard.
Hell, his little escapades created his friendship with Francis. During his time at the college of Winterhold, he was a gifted student. He quickly learned spells, pulled alchemy together in amazing amounts of time, and almost always knew what he was doing. Sadly, his fellow students didn't share the same respect towards darker magic as he did and he was quickly removed from the college.
The same day he was removed he met a stormcloak soldier, who was nearly on the brink of starvation and almost frozen to death. He was sitting outside of the inn, on it's porch, his knees pulled to his chest and huddled in what little protection the stormcloak was given. The town was called Winterhold for a reason, so the snow was practically pelting him.
Arthur barely noticed him when he walked up the steps to the inn; he was too lost in thought and anger about his removal from the college. He realized the man was there when he uncurled himself and looked up at Arthur, who stopped right before going in the door to watch him. Arthur and the man's eyes met, and Arthur knew he couldn't pretend he hadn't seen him. The man's ice blue eyes had a pleading look to them, and snot ran down his nose and mixed with the dirt covering his face, while his hair stuck out in wispy tuffs from under his helmet. He was the textbook definition of "in need".
"Do you know where the Winterhold camp is?" he rasped out.
"What?" Arthur asked, still in shock that the man had spoken to him.
"The Winerhold camp…" The man cleared his throat. "Do you know where it might be?"
Arthur shook his head, was he supposed to know where the camp was?
The man nodded his head in understanding, and then opened his mouth to speak again.
"Could you…. by chance," The man seemed pained to say these words. "Spare a septim?"
"Do I look like Zenithar to you?" Arthur asked, slightly annoyed with the man.
"No, not at all, But you wouldn't let a soldier starve, would you?" He replied with a smile as starved as he was.
Arthur gave a dramatic sighed to emphasize how much of a bother this man was being and stuck out his hand to help him up. The man in return took Arthur's hand and pulled himself up. It was almost comical watching him get up; he was as stiff as a board and willowy, and he seemed to tower over Arthur's stalky build.
"Though you are definitely not one of them, divines bless your heart." He said with sneer.
Arthur gave a glare. "What makes you think I was going to give you money?" He spat.
Francis shrank considerably and began to try to sit back down. He shot a pitiful look towards Arthur and pursed his chapped lips. Arthur started to feel bad. Sure, this man had just insulted him, but he didn't deserve to freeze outside.
"Come on." Arthur sighed.
"What?" Francis questioned, a confused look washing over him.
"Get your sorry hide up, I'm offering you food!" Arthur hollered.
Francis made a slight 'O' with his mouth and quickly got to his feet again.
"Come on, let's go inside." Arthur said, motioning towards the inn. "I'll buy you something."
The shop keeper cleared his throat and Arthur was brought back from oblivion.
"You don't look too good." Lucan stated while cocking his head to the side. "Are you sick?"
"Uh, no." Arthur tried to come up with an excuse "Just exhausted."
Lucan looked confused, but nodded nonetheless.
"Anyhow, what brings you here?"
"I've got some items that might strike your fancy." Arthur explained while displaying his Falmer ears and amulet on the counter.
Lucan gave an unimpressed look at Arthur and glanced at the items before him.
"The amulet is real diamond." Arthur stated while pushing it closer to the shop keeper.
"How much would do you think it's worth?" Lucan asked, a smile cracked across his face.
"I don't know," Arthur chimed in a round-about way. "I'd say around 1,000 septims."
Lucan's eyes widened in shock, but his smooth smile still prevailed.
"I think you've got yourself a deal, Kirkland." He said while reaching forward to shake his hand, Arthur took it and shoo k vigorously. "Even though it may cost me my whole damn store."
The keeper snatched up the items and put them under the counter, and then returned with a small pouch.
"Here's your share." He said while handing it to Arthur, who quickly scooped it up and briefly left, muttering a thanks.
oOo
Arthur stepped through the gates of Whiterun, and instantly he realized how much his appearance differed from the citizen's attire. His dark black cloak stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the resident's soft multicolored dresses and tunics.
He padded through the wind district of the city and attempted to blend in with the rest of the people who were walking the street as well. Whiterun's streets were never crowded, but always had citizen's taking some kind of stroll.
The sun sat in the center of the sky, and Arthur realized, while looking up, that he would be home at dusk, considering how far away Whiterun was. So, with what little time he had he began to briskly walk to a small elixir shop on the upper district of Whiterun. He quickly got through the crowd using his elbow technique, which always seemed to work, and quickly walked into Arcadia's Cauldron.
"Ah! A customer!" Arcadia exclaimed. She was sitting in a chair, her elbow propped against her alchemy table. She straightened up quickly and got out of her seat and walked to the shop counter, her dress elegantly flowing behind her.
"Oh, yes. I'm here to pick up some items" Arthur stated while closing the wooden door behind him, careful to not close his cape in the door.
"Oh! You're the man who wanted the soul gems and healing potions, right?" She questioned while leaning over the wooden counter, a sideways grin caked across her face. All Arthur could respond with was a curt nod. The woman must've been some kind of mind reader.
She reached under the counter and pulled out exactly what Arthur wanted: a grand soul gem, and three minor healing potions.
"Thank you." Arthur uttered while dropping a portion of his bag of Septims on the counter.
"Good luck with your soul trapping." Arcadia called her smile widening as Arthur halfway pulled open the door.
Arthur's eyes widened as large as her smile, his thick brows knit together and he turned back to Arcadia, one foot outside and one foot inside the doorway.
"How do you know I'm soul trapping?" Arthur enquired, a half shocked, half curious expression gracing his face, while a smug smile tuned his lips. The only people who truly know about soul trapping were wizards experienced in revival, or even worse, necromancy.
Arcadia's smirk seemed even smugger as she smoothly replied "You're not the first necromancer to come waltzing in here looking for materials."
Arthur sighed.
"Are you going to tell everyone that there is someone practicing dark magic within Whiterun's walls?" He asked a cold sweat he hadn't noticed before forming on his neck.
"And lose business?" Arcadia scoffed. "Not in a million years."
Arthur gave a huff if relief, he wouldn't be caught, but he certainly would be blackmailed by Arcadia.
"Thanks." Arthur groaned, walking through the door again.
oOo
Arthur stepped into the cabin; he was instantly enveloped in darkness and the chill of night air. His hand peaked out of his black void of a cloak and sprung to life with flickering flames. It instantly lit up the room, shedding light on the small cabin's space. A fire place appeared across the room and Arthur gave an absent-minded grin as he padded over to the edge of the hearth. Quickly, he flicked his wrist and the flames gusted forward and lit up the charred wood, bringing the whole room alive with the glowing of the flickering flames.
Arthur smiled at his handy work; he took pride in the fact that he was a more advanced mage than most. He then glanced over his shoulder, across the room sat a large bed, in it a large shape protruded, covered and bundled in blankets and furs.
Arthur set the basket down by the fireplace and walked over to the edge of the bed.
"Rise, Francis." He called, but the still form gave no response. Arthur groaned and rubbed his temples.
"Why must you make things so complicated?!" He roared before letting the flickering flames fade in his hand. They slowly returned in purple smoke tendrils.
"Francis, rise, damn you!" Arthur yelled while aiming the purple fog in the body's direction.
Francis inhaled loudly and his body straightened like a board while lying on his side. If Arthur had not known better, he would have thought Francis was drowning because of the way he rasped out his breath.
Arthur leaned over the bed to get a better look at Francis's face, but his view was obstructed by the greasy mop that was the resting man's hair. His chapped lips parted and he let out a pained groan before rolling over on his back.
Arthur quickly sprang back and ran to the basket by the fireplace. After digging around, he pulled out a small potion bottle and padded back to the bed.
"What's wrong?" Arthur asked in as soothing of a tone as he could muster while pulling Francis's locks out of his closed eyes.
"It… Augh... hurts" Francis groaned out while curling in on himself under the covers.
"W-where?" Arthur asked, unsure of himself.
Francis limply pulled his hand out from under the blankets and pointed at his torso while biting back sounds of pain. Arthur nervously looked around the cabin. Francis normally had a high pain tolerance; He was in the army for divines' sake! So that meant whatever Francis was complaining about was serious.
Arthur swallowed his anxiety and slowly peeled the covers off of the man, who shivered in response, but what he revealed made Arthur feel sick to his stomach; little spots of blood were littered all over his shirt. Arthur quickly pulled the shirt up and gagged at the sight.
oOo
Arthur leaned over his alchemy table while beads of sweat formed on his tightly knit brows. He was actively mixing together several wild flowers and night shade to create different kinds of poisons. He was deep in thought when a knock on the door echoed through the cabin. Annoyed, Arthur slammed his ingredients down on the table before sauntering over to the door way. He angrily ripped the door open.
"What do you want?" Arthur snapped. He quickly retreated when he realized who he was talking to; a real Stormcloak soldier, and telling by his armor, he was of some kind of honor.
"Is this the residence of Francis Bonnefoy?" The soldier asked sternly, his expression hidden by his helmet.
"Y-yes." Arthur quickly replied.
"Are you a family member of him? The soldier questioned again.
"No." Arthur answered back.
"Then what relation are you to him?"
Arthur thought about this question. Was he a friend? Comrade? Or something a little more? He couldn't exactly say what, so he just blurted out the best answer he could come up with.
"I'm a friend of his he lives with." Arthur quickly tried.
"Well…" the Soldier continued while pulling out a scroll to read. "The Stormcloak army regrets to inform you that Francis Bonnefoy passed in our most recent capture of imperial grounds."
Arthur choked and felt his heart fall into his gut.
"Come again?" He asked disbelievingly.
"I'm sorry sir, but your friend is dead." The soldier cut in. "His corpse is in the back of our wagon and I need to know if you would give him the honor of burying him yourself or letting his body be buried in a mass marked Stormcloak grave." The Soldier didn't seem to want to put anything lightly, and seemed a little annoyed to even be there.
"I-I don't know." Arthur said while rubbing his forehead, trying to clear his mind as it fuzzed with questions.
"Well…" The Stormcloak continued while turning around to walk down the dirt path and beginning to whistle.
"Wait!" Arthur called waving his hands in a wild manner.
"Yes?" The soldier asked while looking over his shoulder.
"I-I will bury the body myself." Arthur stated nervously.
"Well, we need help with the body." The soldier rubbed the nape of his neck nervously, his irritable demeanor softening. "Could you lend a hand?"
"Ah." Arthur responded, his eyebrows knit in confusion. His answer was neither an agreement nor refusal.
He followed the soldier like a lost puppy, trailing behind aimlessly. Suddenly the soldier stopped, and Arthur slammed into his metal-plated back.
"You okay?" The soldier asked over his shoulder, while his armor clanked as he adjusted.
"Uh… y-yeah." Arthur replied with a grimace. He looked over the soldier's shoulder and saw a cart. A horse sat in the front, it's tail flicking at the feet of the driver, who was swinging the reigns in time with his humming. His head flicked up when he heard Arthur and the Soldier's scuffle.
"Eh… Who's this?" The man asked, his blonde goatee bobbing while he spoke. His helmet didn't have a face covering, and all of his facial expressions seemed to be more intense; or at least his frown was.
"He wanted the body." The Soldier replied with a sigh.
"Well, show him it!" The driver replied with an annoyed expression and disappointment in his voice.
The Soldier groaned in exasperation, and led Arthur to the back of the cart. The driver's eyebrow rose and a instigating smirk.
"I'm sorry, but am I hearing attitude?" his accusing tone rang.
"I've had to deal with you for almost 8 days; I don't need any of your fooling around." The Soldier wearily replied. The driver grimaced, hung his head in defeat, and played with the reigns in his lap.
The putrid smell of death greeted Arthur as neared the end of the cart. As a necromancer, this wasn't the first time he had smelt it, but the idea that it radiated off of Francis's body made him uneasy.
The Arthur still followed as the soldier came to the end of the cart, he sniffle a little at the stench, and then opened the back gate on the cart. Half way pulling it down he then turned to Arthur.
"If it wouldn't inconvenience you too much, could you help me carry the body?" He asked. Arthur just swallowed and nodded, shock was still setting in and he couldn't really make a decision.
The gate as pulled down to reveal different bodies all packed into the tiny cart. Some bodies were generously given a shroud to cover them, others lay sprawled out and uncovered with their jaws twisted and eyes still wide in shock, but all of them laid on stiff boards to keep them stacked neatly.
The soldier leaned in and pulled a body off of the top, grunted, and then plopped it on the ground. Francis was lucky enough to be covered, but the unknown didn't comfort him in the slightest. Arthur crouched over the form and slowly peeled the linen that clung to his face to reveal snow white skin and sunken bruised eyes, still open and glazed over in death. There seemed to be no wounds apparent on his neck to indicate a cause of death, but Arthur only pulled the shroud down to the shoulder, so he couldn't be sure.
Arthur struggled to find words to say. Everything was setting in, and he had so many questions with so little answers.
"How did he die?" Arthur managed to choke out.
"Well," The soldier rubbed the back of his hand on his helmet. "I believe he was stabbed somewhere on the abdomen."
Arthur didn't even meet the eyes of the soldier, which he could feel burning the back of his skull. He slowly pulled the cover down to his waist and stared at the three long gashes drug along Francis's stomach, the third one deeper than the rest and showing internal organs. Arthur gagged and covered his mouth; he then walked a few feet away and vomited all over the path. His ears buzzed and he wasn't sure if it was just his mind or the many flies that jutted around the cart.
oOo
Arthur was pulled back to reality as Francis groaned again, his eyes were closed, but eyebrows were knit tighter than Arthur's.
Arthur pulled his glance from Francis's face to his abdomen, which was littered with bruising and scrapes, but the most apparent thing was three deep sunken wounds, haphazardly stitched together. The skin around them was pale with rot, while maggots writhed and wiggled as they tried to escape from between the lose stitching.
Arthur gagged as he plucked the maggots out of the wounds before throwing them on the floorboards and crushing them with his boot.
Francis groaned again and opened his glazed over eyes.
"Why?" He groaned out, his wording awkward and nearly tone-deaf.
"Why what?" asked Arthur in a soft voice.
"Why does it hurt?" Francis answered, his eyes no longer clouded with dullness, but grief.
Arthur took a step back and wondered about Francis. Did Francis even know he was dead? Or brought back? It would make sense considering he slept all the time, maybe he didn't think about it.
Arthur didn't know what exactly to say to Francis, was it okay to explain what happened to him, or will he go into shock?
"Here, drink this." Arthur stated while handing him the potion bottle in his left hand. Francis slowly reached for it and brought it to his lips, his questioning look still burning through Arthur.
"Well," Arthur started as Francis kept drinking. "Do you remember what happened during the battle for the hold?"
Francis shook his head and Arthur sighed.
"Well, you, uh, got in a little bit of a fight, and you didn't walk out of it." Arthur explained. His explanation wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. Honestly, Arthur didn't really like lying to Francis, and every word he spoke felt like he was swallowing a rock. It made him feel sick.
Francis took another swig from the bottle and nodded.
"After that they took you back home and I patched you up." Arthur stated.
Francis just watched him before slowly nodding, and Arthur could see the uncertainty in his features. Worried that Francis would think about it too much, he decided to change the subject.
"would you like to sit by the fire?" Arthur offered his hand to help him up.
"err, yes." Francis agreed while grabbing Arthur's hand and throwing the covers off of himself, stood up. Arthur walked near the fire and pulled a chair from the nearby dining table so Francis could sit down and watched as he did so. It was almost humorous watching Francis stand up; he looked like a puppet that had an ill practiced master. Arthur would have chuckled, if the situation wasn't so bleak.
"Are you hungry?" Arthur asked a weak smile gracing his face. Francis just gave a blank stare.
Arthur decided to take the dead silence as a yes while padding over to the dining table to cut a piece of bread for Francis. While doing so, Francis hummed in content as he was warmed by the fire.
Arthur laid out the chunk of bread he loosely cut with a dagger on a silver plate and passed it to Francis. Arthur then turned his attention to cleaning the dagger, while the sounds of Francis eating happily and the fire cracking echoed around the walls.
Arthur began rubbing the knife on an old cloth when the happy ambiance was interrupted by an ear-splitting scream and the clatter of the metal tray hitting the ground.
Startled, Arthur threw the knife on to the table forcefully, denting the table in the process.
"Are you okay?" He quickly asked while looking over his shoulder.
Francis had his hands over his face and was shaking, while his ragged breathing echoed. The tray was thrown to the side and the reflective surface mirrored the ceiling.
"Arthur?" Francis shakily asked, while his voice was muffled by his hands. "Why?"
Arthur quickly ran to Francis's side while slinging an arm over his shoulder in a comforting position and bent down to his height.
"Why what, love?" He asked as comfortingly as he could. Even as he spoke those words he felt the pin-pricks of fear in his throat, and a cold sweat formed on his brow.
Francis extended his arm, his boney finger extended in accusation. Arthur's eyes followed the direction of the pointing and he was met with the discarded tray, reflecting the whole scene in fire-warmed light.
Arthur swallowed. Francis knew. He knew what he looked like. He knew what Arthur did, and worst of all, Arthur knew Francis would be shocked, albeit on a sub-conscious level.
"Why did you do it?" Francis asked removing his hands from his pale face to meet his glazed eyes with Arthur's bright ones.
Every single word drowned Arthur in guilt. He knew.
"I'm sorry, Francis." Arthur cried, tears brimming his eyes as he hugged Francis, who was sniffling too. He never meant for this to happen, and he never wanted Francis to find out this way.
"What can I do to make it up to you? Please!" Arthur cried into his shoulder.
Francis pushed him back a little and Arthur felt a little hurt, but it quickly turned into curiosity when Francis began to speak into his ear.
"Kill me."
Arthur's curious expression fell and tears brimmed his eyes again.
"No" He choked out.
"Please." Francis continued, his voice stronger in contrast to Arthur's crumbling one.
"I can't." Arthur reasoned.
"Yes." Francis countered while pulling the dagger out of Arthur's sheath and positioning it at his throat, a small smile gracing his face.
"Francis please don't!" Arthur cried while trying to pull the dagger out of his hands.
Arthur fumbled and got to watch in shear horror as Francis plunged the dagger into his throat. His eyes rolled back in his skull and his smile grew. All Arthur could do was watch and hyperventilate.
Arthur pulled the dagger out of Francis's throat and attempted to stop the bleeding to no avail. He watched as Francis's life slipped through his fingers for a second time.
The dagger glimmered in Arthur's hand and he gave it a disbelieving look. Could it be? Was that really his soul trapping dagger?
Arthur wasn't too sure, but he was going to take any shot he could get.
Quickly Arthur ran to his basket, he rummaged around before he found what he needed. A grand soul gem splayed itself out on his palm and Arthur gave it a weak smile.
He then set it next to the dagger and prayed to Talos that his plan would work. Surprisingly, it did, and the little wisps of Francis's soul trailed themselves straight to the gem, which glimmered with the new power.
Arthur sighed in content and picked the gem up and watched as it glowed like a star, the purple hue shining on to Arthur's skin as he smiled at it.
The idea that Francis was still around comforted Arthur, even though it was in gem form. Actually, the gem form probably wasn't the best form for Francis, but Arthur didn't have access to any kind of body to transport him in, so the only thing he could do would be making him into a familiar, only summonable through Arthur.
The idea of having Francis under his thumb made Arthur smile a bit. How bad could it be? The only thing that would kill Francis would be Arthur's death, and he wouldn't let that happen anytime soon. The only problem was that Francis had to stay with Arthur most of the time, which would be okay, if Francis didn't get on his nerves all the time.
Arthur thought about it, but the pros really outweighed the cons, or at least as far as he knew.
He sighed and cleared his head, he then recited 'Conjure Familiar' and watched as his hand lit up with purple haze mixed with a dark epicenter. Reluctantly, Arthur dropped the crystal into the center, and closed his eyes as he initiated the spell and sent a silent prayer for it to work.
The spell hissed and Arthur opened his eyes. He couldn't believe it!
It worked!
Before him stood Francis, his stormcloak steel armor and his hair tied in a ponytail in the back. An ethereal haze hung around the man, but all in all, he looked like he normally did. He also seemed entertained by his new glow, as he was focused on his hands.
"Francis?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows closely knit together.
Francis's head snapped up and he quickly ran to Arthur and enveloped the smaller man into a hug, a grin on his face.
"Francis, I'm sorry. I knew you'd never have wanted that, but I-" Francis cut him off.
"It's okay." He comforted, while Arthur fell to his knees and Francis fell with him, still tight in a hug.
"No, it's not." Arthur continued. "I knew. I knew you wouldn't want to be like that but I did it anyway."
"Arthur, it's fine. Really. I'm okay." Francis assured. "Just promise me one thing."
He pulled away so he could look Arthur in his teary red eyes.
"What?" Arthur asked, his forehead leaning to rest on Francis's.
"You won't lie to me again." Francis whispered his hand beginning to lace with Arthur's free one.
"I promise." Arthur replied.
"Good." Francis's words tickled his forehead as his mouth floated above before resting a kiss on Arthur's forehead. A slight blush crept upon Arthur's cheeks, but it was hidden by the orange glow of the fire.
As they held each other Arthur asked himself an important question; Was Talos worth fighting for if you people had to die for him?