Efaldra's face fell the instant her homestead came into view. She slowed her horse as she took in the mess strewn around her manor, spotting broken fence pieces, spoiled food, and even someone's underwear decorating the front lawn. Her animals had scattered around the property, with her cow somehow ending up on the balcony above the master bedroom. Initially, she thought another group of bandits had attacked, and panic shot through her when she heard screaming from inside.
"Kharjo, let's hurry," she said to her follower as she leaped off her horse and sprinted forward on foot.
She heard him do the same, and she drew her glass sword in one hand as an ice spell appeared in the other. The circlet and enchanted robes she wore glowed in response to her adrenaline. Intent on saving her family from whatever disaster had occurred here, she kicked open the front door and charged through the entryway, only to stumble to a halt when she reached the main hall.
Not only did the entire space look like she had repeatedly used Unrelenting Force with wild abandon, but a rather loud conflict was indeed taking place. Only, the utter danger her head had imagined turned out to be nothing more than a clash between angry family members.
Incensed cries and yells assaulted her ears as she watched her Orsimer husband, Ghorbash, swiftly losing his parental leverage. With one arm, he held their thrashing son, Blaise, upside down in the air while his free hand tried to soothe their crying daughter, Lucia. Her jaw dropped when she realized Lucia's sable hair had been hacked into uneven chunks, and Ghorbash was actually shaking Blaise like a tambourine in order to get him to drop the iron dagger still in his grip.
None had noticed her less than subtle entrance, engrossed as they were in their arguing and the children's general proclamations of hatred for each other. Neither her housecarl nor her steward were anywhere to be found, but her bard, Llewellyn, trudged by, nursing a black eye and a sour expression. She sheathed her sword at her hip and gave Kharjo an apologetic look before extending her palm and sending an ice spike into the wooden dining table.
The pandemonium ceased at once. Several pairs of eyes locked onto her, and as soon as she opened her mouth to ask what in Oblivion was going on, she found herself interrupted by her children launching themselves at her waist.
"Mama!"
"Ma!"
"I hate Blaise! He's terrible! Look what he did to my hair!"
"Lucia started it! She pricked my bum with my own dagger!"
"That's not true!"
"I can prove it!"
And so, in front of the guest she'd hoped to introduce over supper, her charming son whirled around, bent over, and pulled down his trousers, exposing his arse for all to see.
There was never a more mortified parent than Efaldra at that moment.
"Look! That wound on my right cheek!" Blaise shouted, pointing at a red spot she could barely make out.
"Eww, put your bum away. Though that's your better end, isn't it?" Lucia hissed, tears and mucus still pouring from her facial orifices as she clung to her mother.
"Enough. Blaise, pull your pants back up. Lucia, stop blowing your nose into my robes," Efaldra chastised while sending her spouse a glare that said, what happened here?
Ghorbash, a mighty and esteemed warrior from the Dushnikh Yal stronghold, only shrugged sheepishly and retorted, "I looked away for one second, Efaldra!"
Sighing, she ushered the children toward their room and made a mental note to drill them with manners and etiquette as soon as possible. Had she brought them back like this to her home city in the Summerset Isles, she would have been the laughingstock of the Direnni family, Dragonborn or no. Once she sentenced both of them to timeout on opposite sides of the room, she returned to the main hall, only for Lucia to blatantly disobey her by scurrying up to the heavily armed Kharjo.
"A kitty! Mama, I didn't know you had a kitty! He's so cute," she gushed, all evidence of her distress gone as she tried to grab his tail. "Can I keep him? Please?"
With horror, Efaldra clamped her hands over the little girl's mouth and dragged her back to her timeout corner, asking Kharjo to excuse the inadvertently racist remarks. Her follower seemed amused more than anything, at least. After telling Lucia to stay put—and promising to fix what she could of her horrid new hairstyle—Efaldra wandered back past the fireplace, where Llewellyn was plucking away at his lute with clear bitterness.
"What happened to him?" she inquired when she reached Ghorbash's side, nodding to the bard's bruised mug.
Her husband grunted and crossed his arms. "Once the calamity started, he suggested that we put the kids back where we found them. So I put him back in his place."
That certainly knocked her sympathy for Llewellyn down several notches. They listened to his unenthusiastic playing for a few seconds before she glanced around and frowned.
"Where are Rayya and Derkeethus?"
"Your loyal housecarl has been hiding in the cellar, and your steward said something about heading out to purchase more building materials… all the way over in Darkwater Crossing," Ghorbash replied dryly.
Efaldra ran her hand over her face and nodded. "Of course. Well, if Kharjo and I had known about the outbreak of this Lakeview civil war, we would have gotten some rest before heading here."
"Yeah, about that…" Ghorbash suddenly rumbled, narrowing his eyes at the Khajiit in the doorway. "So who's your friend this time, Efaldra?"
She recognized the wary and aggressive tone, and she hurried to put a stop to her spouse's jealousy before it spiraled out of control again, such as the time she had brought home a dashing Nord follower. Vorstag still refused to talk to her on account of the beating he had received after making one too many appreciative comments about her chest in front of Ghorbash. Fortunately, Kharjo was the most platonic follower she'd run into thus far.
"This is Kharjo, and no, I am not his type, he has no interest in getting acquainted with my cleavage, and you are not to contact the Circle and have them chase him around in beast form for your amusement," she declared, already sensing the devious ideas that popped into his head.
Ghorbash huffed, glowering at Kharjo in warning. "Fine. But I'm keeping my eye on you, cat."
Kharjo's answering mischievous grin did not help.
The rest of the afternoon went by… no less chaotically.
Following their timeout session, Blaise and Lucia grabbed several tokens of Efaldra's affection that she had lovingly set next to their beds and flung them at each other. Gems, rare books, and custom pieces of armor she'd paid good money for became makeshift ballistics. It took both her and Ghorbash to put a stop to the rapid rate of fire, and only when she threatened to relocate the family to the cramped quarters of Breezehome did the children stalk off in different directions. A headache crawled its way through her temples as her spouse grabbed the nearest liquor bottle and plopped himself into a nearby chair.
"Who knew raising kids could be so exhausting?" he wheezed, pouring himself a drink. "I once went three training days without resting during my time in the Legion. Ten minutes with these two hellions, and I'm ready to take a nap."
"Maybe parents develop some kind of special stamina when they start with babies," Efaldra mused. "We must have missed that crucial metamorphosis by going the adoption route."
Ghorbash leered at her. "So should we try for a baby once all this dragon business is finished? Start the whole childrearing thing from the beginning?"
The suggestion brought warmth to her chest, and she sent him her best sultry smile as she prepared to deliver a coy response.
Unfortunately, her flirtatious moment was ruined by a new commotion resounding from the main hall. Exhaling in vexation, she crossed additional offspring off the to-do list for the time being and spun around to stomp out. The offensive sight of a skeever greeted her from the dining table, and despite Llewellyn's best efforts to smash it with his lute, it scurried around evading the attacks until it made the decision to leap straight at her.
The stream of flames that surged from her hand barbecued it in midair, and its charred corpse hit the wall next to her as a shrill howl suddenly filled the entire manor.
"Why would you do that?" Blaise shrieked from the other side of the table. "I was going to ask if I could keep it as a pet. I'm never speaking to you again!"
And off he went in an overdramatic display of anguish that raised questions about his masculinity.
Kharjo sauntered over to stand next to her, feline features set in an observant expression. "This has been… very enlightening."
"Indeed," Efaldra answered with deep dismay. "I was naïve to think that perhaps this would be one time my family didn't prove to be a source of embarrassment."
"Hey! Back up from my wife before I turn you into a fur rug, Cargo!" Ghorbash barked from the bedroom.
Her fingers came up to pinch the bridge of her nose in a pose of exasperation as she addressed her follower. "If you can find a section of the manor that isn't teeming with hostility or insanity, please feel free to make yourself at home," she told him. "And we will spend only one night here, I promise. Any longer, and I'll be far too tired to even bother going up against Alduin."
Once Kharjo went to try his luck at the north wing, she hunted down Rayya, who was having a grand time hammering away at the cellar's fully functional forge—which, in retrospect, seemed a terrible idea to build below the abode where the children lived. Something about the noxious fumes, but oh well; it was done. The Redguard housecarl snapped to attention when Efaldra snatched the blacksmith hammer from her hand, and reluctantly, Rayya complied with her Thane's order to station herself at the kitchen and cook dinner.
Efaldra took a few blessed minutes of peace to herself, unloading the items from her pack into the safes and chests surrounding the forge. A self-professed hoarder, she produced animal pelts, ingots, daggers, and potions that should have been physically impossible to all fit into the simple traveling bag she lugged around with her on her adventures. She was halfway through her obsessive-compulsive organizing when the surface over her head suddenly shook from a loud impact. Cursing, she dropped the ingots she was arranging in alphabetical order and dragged herself to the ladder leading back to the manor.
The interior had been evacuated, but the telltale sounds of a battle waging outside brought new speed to her movements. Dashing to the open entrance, Efaldra came upon the sight of her follower, her spouse, her bard, and her housecarl taking on an incensed giant that had murdered all of her chickens. So busy was she mourning for her deceased poultry, that the members of her household managed to kill the giant without her help.
"While I would never question your priorities, my Thane, I'm surprised at your concern for the chickens when the children are in hysterics over there," Rayya commented in a flat tone, pointing to Blaise and Lucia quivering in the stables.
"Of course the children are first on my mind," Efaldra sputtered as her face flushed. Leaning down, she grabbed the chickens and shoved them at the housecarl. "Here. You might as well add these to the meal. Now off to the kitchen with you."
Once again demoted from guardian warrior to improvised chef, Rayya took the birds and made her disgruntled way back inside. Llewellyn and Kharjo followed her while Ghorbash herded Blaise and Lucia up the stairs to the balcony on the other side of the manor since they refused to go near the giant's corpse. Efaldra felt a few drops of rain hit her head before the sky gave way to an abrupt downpour, and she had to coax her carriage driver, Gunjar, to come in out of the storm when, for some incomprehensible reason, he stubbornly declined to leave his post.
With everyone inside, she glanced at the dead giant now draped over her doorstep.
Meh. We'll move that thing later. Bloody chicken-killing savage.
In the next hour, she spent a ridiculous amount of time playing hairdresser to her distraught daughter. All attempts to salvage the girl's once-vibrant tresses ended in an unsightly crew cut that even Efaldra wanted to claw her eyes out over. When Lucia asked for a mirror to see the results, Efaldra spared her the horror and sent her off to play. Blaise, still cross with his mother for roasting his disgusting rat pet (which she wouldn't have allowed him to keep, anyway), took to following Kharjo around and lamenting about how it was unfair, how everything was unfair, and no one understood him. She witnessed Kharjo's eyes glaze over as he offhandedly agreed with all the complaints pouring from the boy's mouth.
Dinner, of course, turned out to be a disastrous event. Rayya stood at the far end of the dining table and unleashed a defensive running documentary about how she was trained for combat, not cooking. After one taste, Efaldra and Kharjo silently pushed away their bowls of the concoction trying to pass off as stew. Llewellyn leaped from the table with the declaration that he felt ill, Blaise and Lucia outright spat their mouthfuls at each other, and Ghorbash stomped to the kitchen with the intention of preparing a meal that was at least edible. Gunjar, who had waited for everyone else's reactions before tasting the stew, set his spoon down, looking smug.
"Damn it, Derkeethus," Efaldra muttered to herself as the space erupted with louder chatter and arguing. "Now would be a fantastic time to have my steward hire an in-house chef. How do the children even eat while I'm gone?"
When Llewellyn returned to the main hall, she barked at him to play something that would hopefully distract people enough to prevent further mayhem.
"What would you like me to play?"
"For the love of the Nines, I don't care, just hurry up and let me hear something besides all this quarreling," she snapped, rubbing her temples.
He picked up his flute just as Blaise and Lucia decided on using their spoons as catapults for Rayya's food. The offended housecarl remained in her spot with her arms folded over her chest, and Kharjo was kind enough to help Efaldra separate the wayward siblings to different wings of the manor. While he carted Blaise over to the storage room, she sat Lucia down in the kitchen, where Ghorbash muttered about how ridiculous it was for a woman to utterly fail at something so simple and domestic like making stew.
"I just don't understand," he griped, throwing leeks and peeled potatoes into a pot of boiling beef stock. "The men over in Dushnikh Yal would make better wives than your housecarl, Efaldra."
"Well, in her defense, she did state that she hadn't been taught the art of domesticity. I'm no four star chef myself."
"Yeah, but you've got your looks going for you." Her husband sent her an impish wink and a tusk-filled grin.
Despite her sheer exhaustion, she chuckled. "You, sir, are biased."
Lucia stared back and forth between her parents during the exchange and wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I knew this about Papa because he's always making goo-goo eyes when you come home, Mama, but I expected better of you. Just, eww…"
And then Efaldra Direnni, the Altmer noblewoman and Dragonborn of legend, was accused of having cooties.
Later on, after everyone managed to eat a stew that didn't assail their gag reflexes, she readied the children for bed. Or, at least, tried to.
Blaise, in a fit of childish mischief, ran away wearing only his underwear when Ghorbash attempted to give him his evening bath. In the next room, she fared worse with Lucia, who, upon seeing her own reflection in the bathwater, wailed like a banshee and threw a temper tantrum that both Efaldra and Rayya failed to restrain. This went on for the better part of a half hour until they decided to just sort of dunk the girl into the basin a few times and call it sufficient.
Both children put up a fight when their parents tucked them into their beds. Eventually, all the adults ended up in the bedroom, trying to convince them to go to sleep.
"But Mama, you'll be gone by the morning, won't you?" Lucia pouted from under the frilly white nightcap she insisted on wearing for the next several months.
"Yeah, we don't want to fall asleep when we don't know when you'll be back," Blaise added, evidently having gotten over his anger about the skeever.
Their unhappy faces tugged at Efaldra's heartstrings, and she found herself torn between duty and parental love. Kharjo stepped forward at that moment, offering to tell them a few bedtime stories of his homeland that would carry them over until she returned. She sent him a grateful look when they accepted, and she asked Llewellyn to play some soft background music as they settled in to listen. The atmosphere finally winded down to a calm quality, with Kharjo's lilting, accented voice weaving together the tales of Elsweyr.
Ghorbash took her hand and entwined their fingers as Blaise and Lucia's eyelids grew heavy. Once Kharjo finished the last story and Llewellyn plucked the final few notes on his lute, Efaldra stood and planted a kiss on each child's forehead. The adults tiptoed out, and she was about to shut the doors and thank the Divines for the peace and quiet she so desperately needed.
The front entrance banged open.
"I have returned!" Derkeethus's voice announced. "By the way, did you all know there's a dead giant out in the front?"
NO!
Her heart plummeted when the children's eyes instantly popped open. Their achievements in the past forty minutes came undone as Blaise and Lucia shot out of their beds and barreled past Efaldra to greet her friendly Argonian steward—whom she now wanted to kill.
"Derkeethus! Derkeethus! What took you so long?" they chirped.
"Damn it, lizard!" Ghorbash roared from downstairs. "Efaldra and I were able to get these two to sleep at last, then you come in and just ruin everything!"
"Oh, she's here?" was Derkeethus's nonchalant reply. "Excellent! I need to let her know I borrowed one of her horses, which, sadly, didn't make it on the journey back…"
"She will be most displeased," Kharjo remarked. "I have seen how she reacts when her equines die."
"And who might you be?"
The volume of noise escalated as everyone began talking at once, and above the new ruckus, Llewellyn called, "Should I play something again, mistress?"
Efaldra stayed frozen on the spot in front of the children's bedroom, fuming and too livid to respond.
"Derkeethus, I need another opinion on this stew I made earlier." Rayya's voice joined the fray. "Perhaps the Argonian digestive system will have better luck with it."
"Don't do it," Gunjar warned. "That culinary abomination is better off as poison."
"Say that again, carriage driver," Rayya snarled.
When all the bickering reached an intolerable crescendo, Efaldra commanded her legs to walk… out the north balcony and down the stairs to escape the manor. She came upon an amateur conjurer at some ritual stones down by the lake, and she absentmindedly zapped him to death when he grew hostile. Sighing, she sat next to the skeleton he'd laid out on an altar in the middle of the stone circle, weary beyond her mind.
However, she had found silence and tranquility at last.
"You're the best company I've had all day," she said to the skeletal remains of some unfortunate soul. "The quiet is best. Now move. This is the only place around here where I can get some sleep."
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A/N: Fill for the kink meme under the title "Chaos at the Hearth." I wrote this months back as an exercise in first person perspective, but changed it to third person after the editing process. The idea came not only from the prompt, but also from my own speculations on the calamity of such a mixed household in Hearthfire. My first homestead featured so many different races that it was like Tamriel's version of the United Nations. Thanks for reading!