The silence of Breezehome had an oddly calming, yet increasingly disturbing effect on the newlywed Farkas. The house was not nearly as large as Jorvasker, but it was homey in its own right. It always smelled nice, as his husband had never forgotten to keep fresh lavender and other mountain flowers that he'd pick up on his travels, but it was still quiet. It was so deathly quiet compared to Jorvasker that Farkas thought he'd drive himself mad without some sort of white noise to keep the silence away. Often, he would end up sitting around the hearth and listen to the fire crackle while Fenrir was away. But at night, when he had laid himself down to another attempt at a peaceful night's sleep, the silence would return to hound him before eventually being swallowed by the darkness.
Fenrir was never a quiet sleeper, and for that Farkas was grateful. The Argonian snored like a growling dragon whenever he was able to take a break from wandering, and his voice always kept the silence away as he lay in Farkas' arms. Although he would never hear it, Farkas always loved hearing the gentle snore of the road-weary Fenrir in his arms.
Farkas rolled onto his back, the faintest feeling of Fenrir's smooth arms wrapping around his chest and clinging for dear life remained in him like a forgotten memory. It was hard to believe some nights that Fenrir was the mighty Dragonborn, with how tightly his arms would embrace Farkas' chest before snuggling his snout just above Farkas' heart.
He stared up at the ceiling, wondering about the whereabouts of his bedmate at that exact moment. Farkas imagined Fenrir was at the very top of the Throat of the World, fighting dragons and drauger with his mighty Shouts. After the battle had ended, and all the dragon's souls had been taken, he would stop to take a look across the vast expanses of Skyrim to the tiny speck that was Whiterun, trying to pick out the small house that housed his lover. Then, he'd continue on his way, stepping over the killed drauger before making his way back down the mountain again.
"Ice wraiths," he could hear Fenrir correct him in his own patient, yet not patronizing way, "There's no drauger that high at the Throat."
A heavy pang hit Farkas as he remembered he was alone, and the witty Argonian was nowhere in sight. He turned on his side, attempting to banish the ensuing onslaught of emptiness, yet the bittersweet memories of his lover plagued him. The din of his mind grew louder and louder until he heard a creak on the stairs, and the chaos stopped.
The warrior in him was prepared to fight back until he heard a bump on the top stair, followed by a familiar utterance of the foreign curses as the door slowly opened. Farkas' heart soared, though he remained still as the bed gave way to another body. He felt smooth, scaly claws cross over his stomach and pull him close to the equally as smooth chest.
Farkas felt the tug of a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth as Fenrir's lips met his exposed neck.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Fenrir apologized in a voice as sleek as silver.
Farkas said nothing for a moment; he only pulled himself deeper into his love's embrace.
"Welcome home, love."
