A/N: This was an actual happening while I was playing. Farkas is my chosen husband and follower for the majority of my game time in Skyrim so "attached" is quite an understatement considering him. So enjoy reading through this little one-shot I made and may the roads lead you to warm sands.
This was by far the most terrifying experience in all her days here at Skyrim. Come sabre cats and trolls, rebels and bandits, daedras or dragons, nothing she feared on the face of Tamriel, nothing but his death. Anything but that.
It all began when Niramae entered Mzulft, a dank and dark Dwarven Ruin in the Rift to retrieve the Staff of Magnus for the College of Winterhold. Farkas had insisted on accompanying her, refusing to be left alone in Breezehome like a common house husband. At first he was hesitant, knowing that he didn't trust magic like most Nords. However, he supported his wife in all her endeavours and that meant accompanying her through treacherous underground crevices in all of Skyrim. She sighed and placed a kiss on his lips before fitting the helmet over his head. He was a warrior at heart, and she respected that with all her being. It was why she fell in love with him in the first place.
The rains had been pouring down through the entire journey, and the roads had not been faring them well. There were numerous encounters with bandits, rogue mages, and much to Farkas' dismay, spiders. She always made sure to stand in front of him whenever they face a certain eight legged arachnid. By midnight, they settled in an abandoned bandit camp. It was decent enough, a bonfire and a bedroll tucked under an alcove of a small hill. The rock formation was enough to hide the light of the fire, and yet spacious enough to let the cool breeze in.
Farkas was setting a venison they hunted earlier over the fire while she removed her daedric armour, it was a beast of a metal, but it protected her well. She donned a simple tunic and some leggings. He tossed her an apple and she smiled, settling into his lap.
"Tired?" he leaned on a boulder beside her.
"Yeah, that dragon wore me off a bit." she said, untangling the auburn braids in her hair. He combed through them by habit. "You never were a good shot, unless your target was standing still and you were sneaking." he chuckled. She scoffed, she knew that.
"Says you. I counted the arrows on that dragon carcass. Fifteen steel arrows and eighteen Elven arrows, one particularly found its way to its eye. It is clear who is the better shot, husband."
He enveloped her in his arms. Sometimes, Farkas was boggled at how little she was. He could wrap his arms around her bodice twice and yet that very same body lifted war hammers with ease. She revelled in his embrace, snuggling deeper and deeper, as if he never ended.
"You're always so warm." she murmured, her voice muffled by his clothes.
They ate in comfortable silence. He was always the better cook. They settled into the bedroll and his arm wrapped around her waist. And like she expected, it crawled upwards. "Not here you," she tugged his arm back to where it was decent.
"Nobody else is here," he shrugged. "And you never seemed like the one to withhold lovemaking to our marital bed."
"I…" she thought for a while. She had her insecurities when it came to that certain topic. Growing up with priests and priestesses of Mara, she was taught from an early age that lovemaking was a sacred act and should only be done in appropriate places in appropriate times, with the utmost seriousness.
"I just thought that it wouldn't be comfortable since were on a bedroll." she muttered, embarrassed that she sounded like a prude. He bellowed, and she was actually afraid that creatures from outside would hear them and attack, catching them in their small clothes.
Farkas however, was payed no mind to these. He held her face and looked at her. Really looked at her and said. "Love, anywhere is a marital bed as long as I'm with you."
"I… I'm really sorry." she broke his gaze. He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Tis alright, my love. Perhaps when we return home safe, then I shall ravish you twice for you owe me." he chuckled. She laughed along and kissed him goodnight.
He was asleep in a jiffy, already snoring loudly. She muffled it with her hair, knowing that this was not the most soundproof abode.
Shame washed over her as he slept. They were fairly new into the marriage, only about two moons in. They had been shield siblings long before, often going on epic adventures together. It was only until she defeated Alduin, staggering into the mighty hall of Jorrvaskr with him supporting her. He was tending to her wounds and she just popped the question.
It was an understatement to say he was shocked. There are two types of people, those who burst when caught unprecedented, and those who stood still. Farkas was the latter of the two. His first word uttered was unexpected. He asked her why.
She, however, was the bursting type. She attacked him, barraged him with all her reasons, she tripped over her words, said them to fast, mixed and stuttered and messed until he kissed her and said yes with a gentle smile to his face. He told her why not. And she agreed, nodding vigorously.
It was only fair to him that she satisfied him, after all, that is one of her primary wifely duties. Although Farkas never pushed her into anything, at all. Also, that is a reason why she never felt like she was doing enough. For he was too good to ever ask.
And now that he did, she flat out refused him. It wracked her to the very core.
She shifted their positions, taking him into her arms instead and resting his head upon her shoulder, running her fingers through his dark mane. Perhaps someday she would get over this silly notion of hers.
He sighed in his sleep, holding her closer and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Hold that thought, she'll get right to it, after this quest.
They arrived in Mzulft in the dead of night, three days into their quest. Farkas has suggested they rest and wait till morning outside the ruins, but she had insisted to enter the ancient golden doors immediately, for a courier from Tolfdir came early this morning informing them that all have been evacuated from the College. Ancano's strange ward has stretched till the outer reaches of the bridge connecting the College to the rest of Winterhold. There have been casualties, and Mirabelle has been on of them.
It was a long and perilous trek, the machinery were hostile to them. Farkas was a little at ease, since surely Dwarven ruins would not house frostbite spiders. Turns out, the dwarves had their own versions, mechanic spiders. These ones tried were updated with electrocuting their enemies. Farkas trudged unhappily the rest of the journey through.
They retrieved the information from the Synod like they had hoped. Afterwards, they returned to Tolfdir and continued on to Labyrinthian, the mage equivalent to Ysgrammor's Tomb. They followed the visions of the ghosts of the former colleagues of Savos Aren, departed Arch-mage of the college to the centre of the old Nordic Ruins.
Much to her surprise, a Word Wall appeared. She heard the tell tale hymn of Nordic heroes in her head whenever she was near one. Farkas has held her, through it. She had a tendency to faint when garnering a dragon shout.
They reached the atrium where the last two of the colleagues's ghosts were encasing Morkeir, the dragon priest. In his hand was the Staff of Magnus, gleaming in its magical glory. They defeated him, all potions downed, weapons uncharged and breathing raggedly. Farkas was heaving on the ground after Morkeir's last spell hit him square on the chest. She downed her last Magicka potion to cast a restoration spell on him. He got back to his feet, giving her a wet kiss immediately. She laughed and hugged him, thankful that they got out alive.
After all this, she was a planning a long vacation with him just lounging about in their house at Whiterun. Be domestic for a while, enjoy married life. Yes that would sound splendid.
They travelled back to Winterhold, intent to stopping Ancano and his wicked grasp for power over the Eye of Magnus. They barrelled in, destroying the ward with the staff. It gleamed in her hand, radiating power in every spectre.
They found Ancano in the Hall of Elements, manipulating the humongous glowing orb, its encryptions pulsing with eerie blue lights. "You think you can stop me, did you? With your mighty staff by your side!" he screamed, a shrill edge of insanity to his tone.
"End this now, Ancano. You do not know of the power you are attempting to harness." Tolfdir warned, inching towards the mad elf. Niramae threw a nervous look at Farkas behind her; he had his weapon at the ready, an iron warhammer of scorching in his hand. She knew that it would do no good in this battle, for it was a battle for magicka, physical weapons would be futile.
She should have told him to wait outside, but he outright refused. She tried telling him that physical attacks would be useless inside, but he claims that the howling Northern wind had impaired his hearing and ran ahead of her towards the College.
It was all a blur. Ancano had cast a spell so quick that even she was blinded for a moment. She shot the staff's magic at him and he staggered. It gave her time to take in what had exactly happened. Ancano had cast a paralysing spell. On the ground were Tolfdir and Farkas, immobilised and still. She tried casting a reversing spell but it did not take effect, Farkas could only blink at her, there was panic in his eyes. Fear gripped her heart, she now knew why he did not trust magic.
Ancano cast a blizzard of powerful spells, that left her heaving and dizzy. His fire bolts were particularly powerful, she could feel her skin roasting beneath the armour, it was a deathly weapon. She tried utilising the staff, since she was not an adept mage herself, she was a warrior and in here, warriors were children.
When she was down, Ancano began attacking Tolfdir and Farkas. Her blood boiled hotter than spells, he was attacking paralysed opponents, there was no honor in the battle! But of course, he was an elf, not an honour bound Nord.
She aimed the staff at the Eye of Magnus, hoping that the contact would prove her a balance in the fight and prove her it did. Magic Anomalies in the form of ghostly wyrms sprung form the aggravated orb and began attacking the elf.
While it kept him busy, she dragged herself over Farkas, who was bloodied and struggling to breathe. "Here now, here now love," she muttered, brushing his blood matted hair out of his face. She readied her hands and healed him. She knew she had to preserve her magic but getting him out of here alive was her main priority.
It became a gruesome cycle; eye of magnus, wyrms, heal, repeat. Till Ancano was weakened and heaving. She gathered the little magic left in her, if there was any left. She heard her heart pulsating in her chest, struggling to pump enough blood to generate magic. She made an ice spike, and it struck him through the heart, killing him at last.
She collapsed on the ground struggling to breathe. The amount of magic leaving her body was taking its toll. She saw double and the world tumbled around her. There was a piercing ring in her ears that rendered her unable to hear anything besides it. Her hands were burning, freezing and bleeding at the same time, from the magic that exited her body. And in her head was just one thing. Not like this.
Not face flat on the cold grounds of a college far from her home. Not when Skyrim is just beginning to heal from war and the apocalypse. Not so early in her life. She just got married to man she loved, she was not about to die like this.
The Eye of Magnus spun faster and emulated a harsh glow. It started cracking, the etchings on its surface melting off. Niramae readied herself and it imploded, the magic it released was enough to burn the skin off if not protected by armour.
Slowly, she dragged herself towards the empty shell of the orb, it was over. Finally.
She woke up in the Hall of Restoration, colleagues of the Hall healed the wounded. Tolfdir was sitting on the bunk beside hers. Nirya was nursing his burnt shoulder, wrapping a linen bandage firmly around it.
"Good, you're awake." he said, in his old raspy voice. "I was afraid that we'd lost two Arch-mages."
There was something entirely wrong with what he said but she ignored it for more pressing matters. "Ancano… the eye… its-!" she struggled sitting up, till a sharp pain hit her side. It was bandaged, she recalled that Ancano threw a strong shock spell that hit her there. It would leave a mark, an ugly one.
"Yes we know, lie back down." Tolfdir ushered. Onmund rushed to her side with a kind smile on his face. She let him ease her back on the bunk.
"Ancano's remains will be sent back to Summerset Isle. He was accepted as a traitor of the Aldmeri Dominion of attempting to harness the power of the Eye for himself. They have cleansed the College of all sentences. As for the Eye, it was taken by the Psijic Order for safe keeping. It was apparent that the world is not ready for such a powerful entity. As for you, we are in your debt. I am sure that it is within you that Savos would hand his legacy to."
Niramae was baffled with this. She was not even past a novice, she only knew a few spells, and used them seldom, preferring her hardy Ebony War Axe over anything else. Surely they would not want her as Arch-Mage. Tolfdir saw her hesitance.
"We know that your are fairly new to the College, and the role of Arch-Mage is a heavy burden to bear, but it is yours. Savos has requested it, and I will hold him to his honour."
She looked away and contemplated. She was the Harbinger of the Companions, the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, by Ysmir's Beard the Dragonborn, and now the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. It was more that a heavy burden. But she respected Savos, and will hold him to his honour.
She looked around for a familiar head of dark hair. "Where's Farkas?"
J'zargo looked up from the healing Faralda. "The Companion? He… seemed to be here a while ago. J'zargo saw him exiting the College claiming he was fine."
"He went away? Why?" she felt her heartbeat pace faster. She remembered him badly wounded, certainly not a day's time would heal him enough to travel alone.
"I have to find him!" she struggled to get up and reached for the medicine cabinet, downed five healing potions and scoured for her weapons. The colleagues looked at her hopelessly, knowing that there was no stopping her. "In which direction did he go?"
"J'zargo noticed him with keen eyes heading due West?"
Possibly towards Whiterun, to Jorrvaskr, or maybe Breezehome. Niramae thanked the College and promised to return shortly. Running towards the stables, she felt a hovering fear. He was alone, wounded in the middle of Eastmarch. If she went by horse, she may catch up to him.
She just passed Dawnstar, quickly scanning the small town to see if they have seen him. The innkeeper said he had seen him pass by for a mug of ale till continuing on. He looked fine, slightly wounded but nothing fatal. He did not say however, where he was heading. His path still seems like towards Whiterun.
As she rode on, she can't help but fume with rage. Why would he leave? And without saying anything as well! Did he not care for the worry that would haunt her? Not knowing if how he was faring or where in Ysmir's beard he is in Skyrim?
Was he upset with her for hauling him into all that mess? Did she accidentally hit him with her magic? Why?!
It was infuriating her to no ends, clouding her judgement. So far, no enemies had attacked her, only coming upon dead bodies slightly charred. Most likely from his weapon's enchantment. He had been here, the bodies were still slightly warm. She urged Spirit to run faster, determined to catch him on her way there.
She had reached Whiterun, handing Spirit to the stableboy and handing him a bag of septims, She patted Spirit and thanked her. Breezehome was her first stop, checking to see of he was there. No one had been in the kitchen. Racing upstairs, she only found Lydia eating a piece of bread.
"Honor to you my-
"Have you seen Farkas?!" she did not mean to shout. Lydia was taken aback but still answered.
"No my Thane, I last saw him with you about a moon before."
"Please, inform me if you ever happen upon him. Please."
Lydia gave him a look and she knew the meaning of it. She looked crazed. But her husband had decided to go awol and she had been on the road for three straight days without sleep or rest.
"Yes, my Thane."
"I'll be in Jorrvaskr." she said before exiting the house. Running to the halls to the Cloud District, her heart was pounding wildly. If he was not there, she did not know where she'll go. The warm air of the Halls enveloped her. It choked her airways that were used to the frigid air of the outdoors. It was the wee hours of the morning and no one was awake. She ran to the living quarters, hoping praying to the Divines that Farkas would be in his room.
And there was none.
"Vilkas!"
The other twin had burst through his room in his smalls with a great sword haphazardly swinging in his grasp. "Harbinger! What is it!" he slurred, still half asleep.
"Farkas!"
"Wrong twin!"
"No!" she almost strangled him in frustration. "Where is your brother?!"
It was then that Vilkas threw her one of his signature scowls. "Why are you asking me? You were the one with him to Winterhold." he said, yawning afterwards. "And its in the wee hours of the morning, don't go shouting in the quarters. I bet he's just somewhere." he waved his hands and went back to his room.
Niramae was this close to losing it. It was raining outside, difficult to tell what time due to the heavy clouds. She didn't know where to look, so she did what she thought was rational, running outside Whiterun and screaming his name in the fields.
She did this for the next four hours, just circling the fields shouting his name till her voice had gone hoarse. She actually tried shouting his name in dragon language to see if it would reverberate with the same power until she gave up.
She was drenched, tired, and a possible candidate for a very potent cold. Her shouting did not go unnoticed however. Behind the tall grass was a sabre cat prowling, its ears pricked high and its tail swishing rhythmically.
It pounced on her, knocking the air out of her lungs. It pinned her arms but she managed to slip the hidden dagger on her boot to stab it in its side. It growled in pain and lurched. She scrambled to her feet and reached for her axe but the sabre cat lunged at her, it teeth about to latch on to her face. Till an arrow zoomed just a fraction of an inch past her skull and into the beast's throat. It died instantly.
She stood there, which was unwise since she would be an easy target. Slowly she turned around to see who the archer was. And there he was standing, looking at her. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was Farkas, well and in a far better condition that she was.
She walked to him, a numb expression on her face.
It was apparent that he was uneasy with her staring and he shifted from on foot to another, face towards the ground.
"We've stopped. What is it?" he muttered.
She just stood there.
"What?"
"You evil bastard!" She screamed and she swore Farkas almost faltered in his step from the force. "You left me wounded in Winterhold with no word of where you were going or why you went away and now you're asking why we've stopped!" Some guards all the way to the barracks actually heard them and turned their heads.
"Why did you go alone! You were wounded yourself!"
Farkas swallowed deeply.
"By Ysgrammor you better answer me or I'll fill the room with spider eggs!"
He flinched. "Alright alright! I caught news that you were elected to be Arch-Mage and I thought…"
She hung for the suspense. "You thought what!"
He sighed. "I thought you wouldn't need my help any longer." he looked down, defeated.
She stood there and softened at his words after a while.
"I knew that I had no skill in magic. I mean lying there paralyzed and useless, while you had to waste your magic to restore me when you should've been preserving it for the fight." he couldn't look at her. "I was dead weight for you. Absolutely of no use. You needed a skilled mage for your travels. I thought that the reason why you didn't let go of me, was because I was your husband and you have an obligation to haul my sorry ass along. I figured I should just do the deed myself."
He stood there as well, drenched and weary and looking like a lost puppy. She cured him of his lycanthropy long ago but sometimes he really does resemble a pup. If he were, he'd have his tail down and his ears lowered, with large puppy dog eyes staring at the floor. It was extremely difficult to stay mad.
"Ice brain."
"I'm sorry alright." he said defensively and looked up at her. She had the biggest smile.
She tackled him and they fell to the ground. She kissed him all over till settling on his lips.
"The reason I tag you along is because of one reason." she held his nose. "Because I love you."
He stayed silent looking into her green eyes. They were slightly glossy and he knew the tears were coming.
"And in love everything follows. Everything is easier with you, fighting, camping, hunting, sneaking, sleeping, smiling EVERYTHING lunkhead!" she giggled and sniffled. He was mesmerised.
"So don't you dare think you're not the one and only person I'd choose to stay with forever. Because I'll take you everywhere, Sovngarde and back whether you like it or not. And I'm not even metaphorical on that one." she laughed through her tears.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" his wife was currently punching his chest and he didn't exactly know if she was trying to kiss him or strangle him. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry." he tucked her hair behind her ear.
"You should be, I was going crazy looking for you."
" I love you."
" I love you too, stupid."
He kissed her in the rain, like in all those sappy love stories from the books shipped from Cyrodiil. And he swore that his wife was the best thing that ever happened to him. She was the best thing that happened to Skyrim. He was a lucky man, to have been chosen by the Dragonborn. And in no way that he was ever going to let anyone say otherwise.