Someone posted a prompt asking for a story where the Dragonborn's voice is terrible. I was pleased to oblige.
Midsummer was when the Companions celebrated.
They remembered their fallen. They celebrated their triumph and glories, and their continued life. They enjoyed ale and mead and friendships. And late in the evening, they enjoyed songs and stories.
"Sing!" They chanted, their voices roared as their boots stomped out a thunderous rhythm upon the floor. They slammed their fists upon the table, making the wood groan in time with their pounding.
Vilkas tried to stop him.
Liam stood anyway.
"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart!" He began.
Vilkas groaned. But Liam was absorbed in his song. His eyes were closed, and his head tilted back. He belted out his song, clearly absorbed in his performance.
"I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes!" Liam continued, his voice rising over the cacophony. The others finally began to hear him, and one by one, they fell silent.
"With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.
"Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!"
Only Liam would sing about himself Vilkas thought, his head heavy in his hands. And he sung so poorly that listening to the caterwauling of a pair of sabrecats in heat would have been preferable.
"It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes.
"Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes."
Jorrvaskr was silent, except for Liam's song. It was awful. Vilkas- and the other companions- had heard some terrible bards in the past, but this... this was the worst.
"For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows.
"You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come."
Liam was grinning. The others were staring at him in a tableau of shock and disbelief.
"Well," Aela said finally, shaking her head sadly. "I knew you were famous for your voice but that was more," she paused, and seemed to think about it before giving up, "...than I expected."
"Didn't I hear a rumor that you were a part of the Bard's College?" Athis drawled with a chuckle. "It might be time to go back to class."
Liam grinned, the red in his cheeks a result of the mead and not shame. He had known how bad his voice was, and he was enjoying their misery.
"You said you wanted a song. You didn't say it had to be a good one."
With that, they all laughed, and the evening resumed.
But they had learned to never, ever let Liam sing again.