Work Header

Dysfunctional Is As Good As It Gets

Chapter Text

"Damn it!" A frustrated voice rings out from across the hall. Elanduir frowns as she looks up from her tome, craning her head out the edge of her doorway to see what the fuss was about. The final exams were only a week away, and she really couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Brelyna, what is it?” The wood elf calls out. A fuming dumner stalks into view, hands clutched around a… Elandiur frowns. As to exactly what was in the other female’s hands, she literally had no idea.

“Third attempt and still it goes wrong! I can’t figure it out!” Brelyna practically shrieks, shoving the black thing towards the other woman’s face. Elanduir recoils swiftly as a pungent smell reaches her nose, launching herself out of her chair and out into the larger expanse of the hall.

“Oh dear lord,” she gagged, pinching her nose as Brelyna walks out of her room, still carrying the thing around. “How can you stand it?”

“Stand what?” Brelyna frowns, staring at Elanduir.

“That smell!”

What smell?”

“I thought you dark elves were supposed to have good senses!”

“We do! And I can’t smell a thing!”

“Are you sure you didn’t damage your nose during one of your accidents?”

“Are you saying I’m a bad mage?”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m merely thinking back to that wonderful occasion where I spent ten minutes seeing nothing but green, then another ten minutes being different farm animals thanks to your spells!”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Onmund’s form came into view as the young nord walks up to the two women. “We have our exams next week, shouldn’t you both be studying?”

Elanduir frantically tries to wave him back as he walks up to Brelyna, but it was too late. Onmund freezes, the blood draining slowly from his face as he staggers backwards, dragging the edges of his hood around his face. He stares in horror at the thing in Brelyna’s hands.

“What in oblivion is that?”

Brelyna scowls. “Well how should I know?”

“You’re the one who made it!”

“Incorrect – I merely summoned it. As to what it’s mean to be, I haven’t a clue because it certainly isn’t what I wanted.”

“And what did you want?”

A pause.

“If you must know… I was trying to summon a sweet roll.”

Another pause.

This time much, much longer.

“…What did you say?”

Brelyna shifted slightly this time, avoiding their gazes.

“A sweet roll, okay?” she scowls and places the black mass onto the edge of the stone wall that encircled the blue light vein. The other two mages swiftly backed away from the horror.

“I was hungry and we ran out of sweet rolls in the kitchens, and… I didn’t want to have to walk down to the town to buy it. Oh come on!” she sniffs as the other two stare incredulously at her. “As if you wouldn’t try to summon food if you’re hungry.”

“Well actually, we wouldn’t,” Elanduir says with a small grimace. “Didn’t you read the Basics of Magic?”

The dark elf shifts uncomfortably in front of them. “Well, I was meaning to get around to it… but that’s beside the point!”

“Well actually,” Onmund says with a roll of his eyes, “If you had bothered, then you would know that summoning has rather detrimental effects on food and other living organisms. This is why no one ever summons a person.”

Brelyna pauses, and looks back at the black thing that is currently sitting on the stone wall, almost radiating waves of stench which somehow the dark elf couldn’t detect.

“So what you’re saying is…”

“Yep. That’s your sweet roll.”

A long, long pause.


“That’s it? Oh?”


“I still can’t believe you can’t smell it.”

“I still don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“What’s going on here?” A voice purrs (literally).

“Oh god J’zargo, don’t come any closer.”

The Khajit stops at the doors, cocks his head to the left and gazes at them with a confused expression on his face. “And why not, may I ask?”

“Brelyna tried to summon food. And well…” Elanduir gestures helplessly at the mass sitting innocently on the wall. J’zargo frowns and inches closer tentatively, his whiskers and tail twitching as he sniffed.

Elanduir grimaces again. If her nose was good, she didn’t want to even think about what J’zargo might be inhaling right now.

“What is it?” the Khajit asked curiously.

Funny. He sounds almost… hungry.

“Well, it was supposed to be a sweet roll, but as you can clearly see – ”

Brelyna’s voice trails off in shock as the Khajit picks up the mass and tears off a tiny section before popping it in his mouth.
Elanduir recoils in horror against Onmund, who looks like he wants to throw up.

“Not bad,” J’zargo says with a twitch of his tail as he pops another piece into his mouth.


Absolute, deafening silence.

“Excuse me,” Elanduir finally mutters and races for the courtyard. Onmund says nothing and runs out behind her, retching slightly.

Brelyna just stands there paralyzed, staring at J’zargo until the last piece disappears into his mouth.

“I’m just going to pretend that you didn’t just eat that and go back to studying, shall I?” she asks faintly.

J’zargo shrugs.

“If you think that would be the best course of action,” he says, licking his fingers in relish. “That was rather tasty though. Thank you.”

“Okay,” Brelyna manages to say weakly before diving back into her room.

“Never doing that ever again,” Brelyna mutters under her breath as she runs to pull a heavy tome out of her bed side drawer (the words ‘Basics in Magic’ emblazoned on the cover). “Never, ever again.”

Chapter Text


“Did you wake up and get trampled by a Mammoth this morning, or did Brelyna experiment on you again?


Elanduir rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the past half hour. 

This is stupid.”

This is going to be hilarious!” 

She can practically feel the glee oozing from the pores of Onmund’s body as they sneak slowly up the stairs into the teacher’s sleeping quarters, dragging two giant barrels behind them.

“Once again, I repeat: This is stupid!” she hisses. A clunk as the edge of her barrel hit one of the stairs. A few apples bounce out and roll away.

Onmund ignores her and continues up, slowly manoeuvring his barrel with far more care.

“Oh, why do I bother?” she mutters.

“You shouldn’t, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past half hour.”

Silence. Except for the grating on barrels on stone.

“Remind why I’m doing this again?”

“Because I am an attractive, talented young man and you are madly in love with me and therefore you will do anything to please me.”


“I knew it! Ha!”

“…Someone needs lessons on how sarcasm works.”


Silence again.

Onmund peeks out at the next landing, and giggles.

Elanduir snorts.

He actually giggled.

Some man.

“Right, coast is clear. Onward march!”

“Of course the coast is clear, everyone else who aren’t stupid are currently down in the mess hall! Or otherwise known as the place where food is served and eaten and also where I want to be!”

“You owed me this, remember?”

“I fail to see how accidentally setting your hood alight equates to having to participate in your petty crimes.”

Onmunds turns to her with a huff and pouts.

“Really Ella, you’re no fun,”

“Yes I know. I go out hunting and killing fun in my spare time when I’m not studying.”

“You murderer!”

They finally made it to the next landing.


Onmund headed straight for the room towards the right.

“Er, you do know who’s room this is right?”

“Yes I do.”

“And why are you doing this again? I think I lost the memo which had the reason for this on it.”

“I told you, because I need some entertainment in this place or I’m going to crazy.”

A pause.

“So you decide to let some poor sob get bombard by apples as soon as his head hits his pillow. Right.”

Onmund just sniffs and ignores her. He moves quickly over to the bed (or at least, as quick and anyone can be dragging a giant barrel.

“Move your barrel over.”

Elanduir grits her teeth and drags her one the last couple of metres to where Onmund is.

“Alright. Work your magic then, o-wise-and-clearly-not-an-imbecile one.”

Onmund shakes his head sadly.

“No one appreciates me around here.”

“And they never will, just get on with it,” she snorts. “I’m still hungry!”

“Don’t get your underclothes in a knot, I’m working on it!”

 “I’ll knot your underclothes next time,” she mutters.

“What did you say?”



He waves his arms and mumbles something.

They pause.

Nothing happens.

He frowns and waves his arms again, this time in wider circles, chanting the spell louder.

They pause again.

Nothing happens.

He grumbles and waves his arms again, this time looking like a giant ridiculous bird trying to take flight. He chants even louder.

Suddenly, Elanduir feels a pressure building up. Her eardrums were pressed back into her head. Her skull felt like it was going to implode.

And then suddenly, it was over.

She blinks.

And looks down at her barrel.

Completely empty.

She looks over at his barrel.

Completely empty.

She blinks again.


“See?” he said smugly. “I told you I’m amazing.”

“Where did they go?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t touch the pillow.”

“…Wow. How many apples did we carry up again?”

“Oh, roughly a hundred or so - give or take a few dozen.”


“I know.”

“You know, you’re not so bad at the whole magic thing after all, you Nord.”

Onmund slings his arm around her shoulders and smiles smugly at her.

“Come on, Miss Murderer of Fun. Let us away to the dining hall!”




A shriek in the middle of the night rouses the entire tower.

More specifically, a shriek drowned out by the sound of hundreds of round things bouncing off the walls and down the stairs.

Sniggers from downstairs were quickly stifled as they heard shouting and the sound of people dashing about on the next floor up.

Elanduir rolls her eyes with a grin and tucks her blanket more securely around herself.

“Idiot,” she mutters fondly before closing her eyes again.