Chapter One
It was hot today. Hotter than Moth was used to. He wasn't going to complain, of course, but he regrets not asking his husband of half a year what the weather was like down in Whiterun and how different it was from Markarth where he spent so many years.
He learned a long time ago to stop having so many expectations for his life. He never expected to leave the Bagol stronghold and, in a blink, he and his sister were registering for the Imperial Army. In a drunken stupor, alongside his fellow soldiers, he declared loudly that he'd die before he'd quit fighting. In the next breath, he was the Jarl of Markarth's personal blacksmith, asking some strange dark skinned man in battered Orsimer armor who the Jarl had sent to him for a better set to find him a Daedric Heart.
Moth didn't expect him to be back so quickly but he was. Something about a "friend" in Winterhold's magic college. And he certainly didn't expect the man to reject payment in return for Moth's "company".
Now here he was, married, chopping firewood in Whiterun while his daughter ran past with the other kids of the Hold and his husband did Malacath knows what inside. Probably get on his housecarl's nerves.
He stopped Lucia with a simple call of her name. The other kids, Lars and Braith he remembered, stopped too but kept their distance. He was aware of how he came off to others. Especially others who had never encountered an Orsimer before. But no one in Whiterun treated him unkindly. Whether or not it was out of basic decency or fear of his spouse, he neither knew nor cared.
"Where's your Papa?" he asked the young girl, retying his hair.
"I think he's still sleeping, Pa," she chirped, still breathing hard from all the running.
"What?" He looked up at the sun, "It's the middle of the day! Go wake him up."
She ran for the house, hoping to get in and get out quickly. She barreled past Lydia, one of her Papa's multiple housecarls, who was coming down the stairs at the same time. She got to the double doors that led to her fathers' bedroom, slowly opened it, "Papa?"
The bedroom was empty. Lucia frowned and came all the way in. She was sure he was still in here. "Papa?" she called again. Again, no answer. She went to the bed, clambered on top and started to feel around the side Felwinter usually slept on.
Warm. He was here recently.
She got off on the other side of the bed and her foot kicked into something small and hard. A small bottle rolled away and clattered against the wall. Picking it up, she took a closer look and paid attention to every little detail she could find, like her fathers had taught her. Recently empty and a smell she remembered from watching him brew it yesterday in Arcadia's old shop.
An invisibility potion.
Her head swiveled around the room, wondering where he could've possibly snuck off to. That's when her eyes landed on the long sword leaning against the wall. An slender Ebony sword named "Midnight". "For the originality," Papa would joke. She never understood the joke. All she knew was that he would probably be furious if he knew she was playing with it.
She pattered over to the weapon, took a look around and called, "Papa? Braith challenged me to another fight! Can I use Midnight?"
No response.
She continued, "Keep quiet if it's okay!"
Nothing. Lucia looked around once more to make sure Felwinter wasn't actually there, wrapped her small hands around the sword's equally black scabbard and pulled.
To her surprise, the sword didn't budge.
Lucia frowned and pulled again, harder this time and was unable to do much as shift its position on the wall. She stepped to the left and tried to knock Midnight over to the floor. First she pushed with just her arms, then with her entire body. She even tried running into the sword from a short distance, only to end up on her back as a result.
"What are you doing?" The suddenness and gruffness of the question made her jump. Moth was standing at the open door, sweat dripping down his furrowed brow.
Lucia stood and pointed at Midnight, "Pa, I think there's something wrong with Papa's sword."
"Where is he?" Moth grumbled, stepping into the room.
She suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, "Uhhh…"
A bang followed by a curse interrupted her. Moth slowly walked over to his side of the bed and looked under to see his husband, half naked and lying face down on the floor; eyes still full of sleep.
Felwinter gave Moth the sleepy version of that grin he gave everyone when he knew he was in trouble and hoped to charm his way out of it. It worked on the Orsimer more times than he cared to admit. Not today.
"Do you know what time it is?"
Felwinter seemed to think about it, "Mmm, Early mor-"
"The middle of the day!" Moth cut him Orc got to his feet and jerked his thumb, "Will you get out from under there? You've got a meeting with the Jarl."
Fel groaned and slowly slide out from under the bed. He then rose to his full height, standing only slightly taller than Moth himself.
"How did you hide from Lucia, Fel?
"Invisibility potion," Felwinter muttered, kicking the empty bottle under the bed.
Lucia was still trying to move the sword, having resorted to kicking it. The sword never budged.
Felwinter walked over to the sword, grasped onto the hilt for a few seconds and lifted it handed Moth the sword and this time, it moved as normal.
"Magic, " Moth grumbled, handing him back the blade. He knew magic when he saw it, "For what?"
He placed the sword against the bed, shrugged and smiled, "Farkas. For when I ask him to hand it over to me. He tries for about 20 minutes then he gives up and goes off to sulk in a corner somewhere."
Moth frowned, "He hasn't figured out its magic yet?"
"Maybe next time he will," Felwinter chuckled, "I heard nine is a lucky number for Nords."
"Ah, Felwinter! It's good to see you, friend," Jarl Balgruuf greeted heartily, clapping him hard on the shoulder.
Felwinter gave a thin smile, "It is good to see me, isn't it?"
Balgruuf laughed, either missing or ignoring the Dragonborn's snark, "I called you here because I have a bit of a problem."
Felwinter's eyes widened and shifted in the direction of the exit, "Does it involve one of your kids?"
Balgruuf's eyebrows raised, "What? No!"
Felwinter visibly relaxed, "Oh! Okay."
"Why? Is something wrong with Nelk-"
Felwinter shook his head, "No, no! Not at all!"
The Jarl's brow unfurrowed only slightly, "Are you sure? This Whispering Lady character…"
"You know kids and their imaginary friends," Felwinter waved it off. It wasn't until the shattered pieces of a platter crunched under the Dragonborn's foot did both men realize they had been walking. Felwinter gestured at it, "See? Energetic, rambunctious, never clean up after themselves. Perfectly normal kids."
Balgruuf's eyes narrowed but at least his face relaxed, "Actually, that was Hrongar. He was… throwing things."
Felwinter stared at the plate and kept the irritated growl inside his throat, "When do you plan to kick him out?"
"He's my brother, Felwinter."
"He's throwing things like a child!"
"You've started three house fires in the last month. Two of them the same house!" The Nord countered, "When should I kick you out?"
"...Alright, I'll give you that-"
"I mean, is it on purpose? I'm starting to think it's on purpose. All Heimskr does is scream about Talos. He isn't hurting anyone."
"Anyway, this problem of yours?" Felwinter said loudly, hoping to knock the conversation back on track.
"Ah, yes." They had reached Balgruff's throne. He promptly took a seat, "Bandits."
Felwinter stared for a few seconds, "…Bandits?"
Balgruuf nodded, "With magic. I need you to clear them out," he explained, reclining deeper into the throne, "And take Lydia with you. She seems bored when you leave."
"Why?" The taller man asked, "I gave her free reign to do what she wants when I'm not around. And all she does is sleep-"
"Fel…"
"And eat my sweet rolls."
Balgruuf simply looked at him until he sighed, "As you say, my Jarl." He bowed slightly and walked towards the exit, scattering the pieces of the plate, "And tell Hrongar to come pick up his mess!"
Balgruuf rubbed his temple, "Felwinter?!"
"What?" he turned around, arms raised slightly, "Unlike him, I clean up my messes. I put out those fires!"
Lydia kicked away a rock coming up to her foot and attempted to stay close to her Thane, who was stomping towards Redoran's Reach with an indignant look she was more used to seeing on the man's daughter or the Jarl's brother when neither got their way.
The doorway to Redoran's Reach was clear and unguarded. Felwinter continued up to it at full speed, hunched over and hands balled into fists.
And he was grumbling too. She heard Moth's name, the Jarl, even her own more than once. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she'd be slightly more insulted at the possible choice words he was saying about her. Instead, Lydia picked up her pace, drawing her sword and running past him to squat near the side of the door and wait for him to take the lead and quietly sneak in after he did.
Apparently she still had a lot more to learn about her Thane, because he stomped up to the solid wood double doors, ripped one off and sent it flying into the cave with just one hard kick.
He continued inside, not even sparing Lydia a look. She got up and ran inside after him, knowing that every bandit in this camp and the next three camps over probably heard the crash.
She caught up with him just in time to watch him parry a screaming bandit's sword away with his own in one hand and send her flying back with a blast of lightning to the chest with the other. The second Felwinter had dispatched her, he stepped to the left, letting an arrow go whizzing past his unarmoured head. Lydia got to him in time to block the second arrow loosed at him with her shield and bash the archer's head in.
Felwinter simply gave her a nod, mixed with a look of pure unadulterated annoyance. It was then she noticed that his Ebony armor was covered in some sort of frost and that the air around them had gotten slightly colder. Her Thane took longer to notice. He looked down at himself in confusion and slowly turned around to see the mage the guards feared so much. Hands up, face contorted with concentration, hitting her Thane with what the mage must have thought was a nasty Frostbite spell.
Felwinter let the mage attack him for a few more seconds before twisting his body and lopping off his head as gracefully as Lydia had ever seen anyone behead a man. The head rolled off and body staggered and pitched forward. Felwinter had to push it off him before continuing deeper into the cave.
Lydia found herself finishing off the last two bandits while her Thane engaged their leader on his own.
For the first time, Felwinter seemed to be on the defensive; ducking under and side stepping attacks in armor that should've made such movements impossible. The Nordic bandit leader was swinging his massive axe like mad, screaming every curse and threat he could think of to the man who had walked into his compound and killed all his people almost single handedly.
Lydia maintained her distance, ready to step in should her Thane need her. It was when Felwinter was knocked backwards did she start to move in. The bandit leader did the same, preparing to finish the job.
A devilish smile crossed the Dragonborn's face and both Nords stopped in their tracks.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
She recognized it immediately. Simple words that hummed with power. Felwinter suddenly shot forward at an impossible speed, kicking up a cloud of dust directly into Lydia's face. He must have brought up his sword at the last second because the next thing any of them knew, the Nordic bandit had been ran through and pinned to the stone wall by the black weapon.
Felwinter let go of the sword and stepped back, watching the man die on his own, choking on his own blood.
Then he proceeded to pick the bandit's pockets.
"Why does he have a whole rabbit in here?" Felwinter grumbled, tossing said rabbit to the ground. He kept tossing things until he found the man's coin purse, turning around and counting the septims with smug upturned lips. He paused when he saw her face, "What?"
She shook her head.
"Oh, you don't approve, Lydia?" He asked, shrugging and sounding like a child teasing. He tightened the small red sack, "I was going to give this to you but if you don't like then that's fine. My daughter is due for an allowance raise anyway."
Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She raised up her hand anyway.
He smirked and tossed her the bag of coins. He walked past her, "If you're gonna judge, at least help while you do it." He stopped over a barrel and his smile grew wider as he dipped his hand inside and picked up a handful of salt, something he complained about never being able to find. He resealed the barrel with a layer of ice, hauled it onto his shoulder and started to walk out of the cave.
"Um, Thane?"
Felwinter's heavy shoulders rose in a sigh but he stopped and turned to look back at her. Lydia simply rose her arm and pointed to the corpse of the bandit leader, still pinned to the cave wall by Felwinter's sword.
"Oh," He blinked a few times before his face broke out in a wide, toothy smile, "Be a dear, Lydia and uh…grab it for me."
"Your reaction was unnecessary," Felwinter muttered, holding a block of ice wrapped in linen to his forehead.
"I don't like being made the butt of some childish joke, Thane." She spat out his title like it was making her sick.
"Admit it, it was funny!"
"It was not!"
"You need a sense of humor."
"You need to grow up!"
The guards at the front of Whiterun looked at each other and opened the doors to let them in. The streets were well lit for the night and busy as people walked towards the taverns.
Lydia opened the front door to their home and let Felwinter, still carrying the barrel of salt, inside. She proceeded to stomp up the stairs to her own bedroom.
Felwinter placed the barrel down, "Good night, Lydia!" he sang.
A slammed door was her only response.
Chuckling to himself, Felwinter slowly unstrapped his armor and walked up the stairs to his own room, where Moth was settled with a cup of mead and one of Felwinter's many books, "Fel. Welcome back."
Felwinter groaned and collapsed onto the bed. Moth allowed himself a small smile, "How was the fighting?"
Felwinter groaned again, louder this time. Moth finished off the mead and pulled off his boots. The Orc sat on the bed, back against the headboard and started running his hands through his love's tightly coiled black hair.
His eyes remained closed but Felwinter smiled, "What are you thinking about?"
Moth tore his eyes away from muscular lines in the Dragonborn's back and leaned down to lightly scraped a tusk behind his ear, "You're too tired for what I'm thinking about," he growled.
Felwinter pushed himself up, "I'm never that tired." He pushed into a kiss, pressing the Orc down to the bed.
Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed throughout the streets outside and the house shook as something sped by overhead. Both men paused.
Another roar, followed by more buildings shaking. Moth sighed and pushed against Fel, "Go do what you need to do."
But Fel dropped back onto the bed like dead weight, "Can't. I'm tired."
A third roar. "Fel!"
Felwinter suddenly rolled himself out of the bed, hitting the ground hard. Shooting up from the floor, he stomped over to his sword, ripped open the door and was greeted by a frightened Lucia barreling headfirst into his lower stomach, hard enough to make even Moth wince. Doubled over, Fel simply grumbled and continued on, forgoing his armor completely.