Elder Scrolls Breton Novels & Stories

Eldric’s voice is laced with something between scorn and challenge, his eyes dark and accusing. My blood chills as I take in the sight of the familiar crest, the worn edges suggesting it’s been handled before now. Before I can respond, Eldric gives a slight nod, and Valen clears his throat, unfurling the scroll to read its contents aloud. The words echo through the chamber, each sentence sharper than the last: “To my dearest brother,

I reminded. She laughed a little. “Right, that.” I brought her hand up to kiss it. “We’ve got this love.” She gave me that troublesome smirk. “Oh, I know.” “Come on out Brennus. I know you’re here. Come out and bring that weasel Aragon with you!” Eligor spat. “You’re an audacious one calling other people weasels,” Greier spoke up from where she was. Not being able to find her was definitely playing tricks on Eligor, who visibly hadn’t expected to hear her. “Greier? What are you doing here?”

Ethan’s smile dropped and he slammed his eyes shut. I frowned, filled with impatience, as I watched his lips move rapidly. “She is still alive,” he said with his eyes still closed. “I know. She is missing,” I snapped a reply. “The mountain of ravens in the middle of the dangerous waters of Ardelene in the land of the elves.” My brows snapped up and my mother gasped in disbelief. “The elves?” she whispered, slapping her lips with her palm. “For once, you have helped me,” I muttered and Ethan opened his eyes, staring into my dark eyes with a flicker of mischief sweeping against his face.

They laughed and talked until Bella noticed them. “Hey!” Bella smiled. “If it isn’t the white wolves of the mountains.” She turned to Charlotte and laughed. “These gentlemen are Brecc and Eros. Alpha and Omega of the Ice Mountains. Be careful with these two. They like Earth girls.” Charlotte smiled and offered her right hand. Brecc picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “You have no idea what a pleasure it is to meet you.” Eros followed behind, lifting her right hand to his heart. “I have no words to explain the joy it is to meet you.”

Then I heard it. Aodren. My eyes lifted from the page. Jorvan continued speaking. I understood nothing else. I looked at Beren. He took a bite of bread. “What did he say?” “Learn Aedrathi.” I stared at him. “Excuse me?” “Then you stop asking me what everyone says.” Someone at the next fire spoke. Aodren again. Several meaningless words followed. I looked at Beren. “Fine.” He paused. “Fine?” “Teach me.”

Julien’s eyes crinkle with amusement when Elsida’s spine straightens and she stalks towards the blonde crouched beneath him. What was she doing? he mused. “Get up!” Elsida bellowed, her eyes flared as she pulled the blonde’s ponytail. “Get off me bitch!,” the blonde snapped as she feared her head, glaring daggers at Elsida. Julien snapped a finger and the blonde’s head snapped to his, “Partir,” he drawled in French.

“You know. You have enough spies. I was by the bridge, waiting to get the fuck out of Volare when Cass turned around and screamed the rejection oath at him. The full spiel.” Elle tilted her head, weighing up my determined statement. “Okay then. Well, in the interest of not pretending, would you like me to read this? Elder Brent’s handwriting really is appalling isn’t it? This is you…” pointing towards the etching of a leafy plant. Pale blue, leafy fronds, a bit of gold edging. “Yep, I guess that that is my brand.” “Well, would you like to know what your wolf tends to achieve in the past?”

They cheer and weep and call me saint and savior and bride. I stare straight ahead. The roses look like splashes of blood against the snow. At the northern gate waits a second cage-wagon, larger, drawn by eight black horses that steam and stamp. The bars are carved with runes that hurt to look at. Eldorian emissaries stand beside it (tall, pale, armor like liquid night, eyes glowing faint violet). Their skin is marked with moving runes that crawl like living tattoos. One steps forward (female, wings like fractured glass folded against her back).

"You bring the pattern of the kill-switch, Luna of the Ridge. We have been... expecting you." Elara stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't let her posture falter. She held the sealed scroll—the "maintenance instructions"—as if it were a declaration of war. "The Ridge does not leave its allies to unravel, Grendel. We provide the repairs."

" Damn it. Beatrice had grown up in the Western French territories. I had forgotten. Most Alphas here didn't speak French. Before I could respond, Elara replied. Also in French. Fluently. « Merci. Votre présence fait honneur à notre maison. » /"Thank you. Your presence honors our home." Beatrice's eyes lit up. "Oh?" She laughed softly. "Cassian, you never mentioned your Luna speaks French." I looked at Elara. I hadn't known. Beatrice turned back to her. "And where did you learn?" "My father traded with the Western packs when I was younger," Elara replied. "He believed learning languages builds bridges between territories."