For the SKM. In response to a prompt asking for the Dragonborn to have a crush on Alvor (who seems to have a very unhappy marriage to Sigrid.) There are more specifics, but I'm not going to go into them here.
Characters: Alvor, Sigrid, Hadvar, Dragonborn
Danica's world changed when the dragon attacked what would have been her execution. She'd been on unfamiliar ground ever since, thrust into the middle of a civil war she wanted nothing to do with. In a homeland she had never known. Ralof and Hadvar saved her, two men on opposite sides of the war. Neither seemed like a bad man, and that left her feeling lost. She didn't want to side against either of them.
Ralof had called out to her, brought her into the tower with the other Stormcloaks, though she was not one of them. But when she reached the top of the stairs, and he told her to leap to the nearby building, she had lost him.
She was unarmed, her hands bound together, and a Dragon—a creature that until today she had thought was mere legend—was attacking the fort. The fear had threatened to overwhelm her. Then she found Hadvar. She should have been angry at him for being complicit in her near-death. But Hadvar had kind eyes. So she had followed him out of the ruins of Helgen.
When they finally left the tunnels, he had tried to part ways, but she had followed him. She had nothing else to do, lost in this unfamiliar landscape.
When they had arrived in Riverwood, he took them straight to his uncle, Alvor. For Danica, it was lust at first sight, and she couldn't begin to explain why. Perhaps it was the laugh lines by his eyes, or the calluses upon his palms. He had the hands of a tradesman. It might have been the vee of exposed chest where his shirt hung open. Though she hadn't been able to put a name to it then—and still couldn't now—she'd been transfixed.
So when he asked her to go to Whiterun to alert the Jarl to the danger Riverwood faced, she hadn't thought to disagree. She'd nodded, and told him she would set out at first light. He had smiled at her, and she had been lost.
Later, as she lay in the spare bed, she couldn't stop herself from staring at Alvor, cradling Sigrid in his arms as he slept. She wanted that. She wanted the intimacy, the feeling of security that came from being held in a lover's arms.
Who was she kidding? She thought, as bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted that with Alvor.
It would be agony, but in the morning she would depart. She could not bear to disappoint him. With these thoughts on her mind, she drifted to sleep, and dreamt of him.
The morning dawned bright and clear, providing a sharp counterpoint to Danica's foul mood. She had slept poorly, and had been woken abruptly by Sigrid slamming things around by the hearth. She moved stiffly, anger clear in every line of her body. Alvor slouched at the table, speaking softly to Dorthe, trying to ignore his wife's attitude. The girl smiled at her father, adoration clear in her gaze. Whenever Sigrid looked their way, she would frown.
Sigrid was clearly upset at her husband's relationship with their daughter. Of the way Alvor clearly doted upon the girl, and perhaps the closeness they feIt. It brought back bad memories for Danica. Memories of her own mother picking at her for preferring the sword to the needle. For sneaking out and spending time with her brothers, training, instead of learning the proper "womanly arts."
When Sigrid had started what felt like an old argument at the breakfast table, Danica had stuffed her mouth with bread to avoid involvement.
"Dorthe, dear," Sigrid had began in that too-familiar tone of an unhappy mother, "I've been growin' some really lovely vegetables. Maybe tomorrow you could help me plant a new patch? What do you say?"
"Oh. Um." The girl had stared at her mother, and then her eyes had slanted toward Danica, a blush rising in her cheeks. "Well... You see..."
Sigrid hadn't let her finish.
"Shor's crown! There are things ladies like us are supposed to do. We've talked about this..."
"It's just that papa promised I could make something at the forge." At Dorthe's words, Sigrid's eyes had narrowed, and she had glared across the table at Alvor, who was studiously ignoring their argument. He hunched over his plate, and refused to look up from his food. Dorthe continued, her tone pleading. "So maybe we could do something together, hmm... next week? Is... that okay?"
Danica's stomach churned. If this was how they argued before guests, she hated to see what happened when they were alone.
"Well." Sigrid said, sitting back and scowling at the crown of her husband's head. "I can see your father and I are going to have to talk about this. And when we do, things are going to change."
She stood, and left the house, slamming the door behind her.
The silence that descended upon the room was deafening. Danica couldn't stand it. She left as quickly as she could manage, trying to ignore the tears which gathered in Dorthe's eyes, or the pain that filled Alvor's gaze when he looked upon his daughter.
Outside, Sigrid paced. Danica had hoped she'd gone further than just outside the house, but luck was not with her this day. She moved quietly, hoping to pass the woman without a confrontation. She thought she had succeeded, until she heard Sigrid's voice behind her.
"You're pretty. I'll give ya that. Just stay away from my husband, Alvor."
Danica didn't respond. She just kept walking, getting away from this, and the bad memories it was bringing up.
