I've been playing Skyrim again, revisiting J'Hirra's save and enjoying her adventures. I hope this story entertains everyone who enjoyed The Tail of J'Hirra, and newcomers as well. Happy Holidays from J'Hirra, Inigo and Vilkas. And myself, of course!
This one has been the Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim thrice over; she has been Harbinger of the Companions; she has been a loving wife, and juggled the struggles and joys of parenthood between her duties as an adventurer, but this land and the people in it will never fail to surprise her.
J'Hirra never plans to give up adventuring, no matter that she is the mother of two…well, three if you count Vilkas. Yet after she saved the world from a cult of vampires, Oblivion-bent on blocking out the sun, she didn't expect anything as exciting would happen.
She believes she has been proved wrong. Though for a time, she thought the world had finally found a semblance of balance, and her life some peace and quiet. In the months following the Dawnguard's victory against the vampire menace, this one and Vilkas focused on raising our daughters. We split our duties as Companions between the two of us so the other could stay home with the girls.
If there was a time we were too busy, Inigo and Serana offered to help babysit. This one thinks she sees children in their future. So, with that thought in this one's mind, she and Vilkas set out to Riften.
We had plans of buying the pair a home in the city; Honeyside. Khajiit is thane of Riften, a title she earned after clearing out a local skooma dealer, so she is entitled to a slice of property. Although, if she wishes to boast, she is thane of many a city.
While there, we also planned to kill two dragons with one arrow and pick up some gifts for the girls. After all, what would the New Life Festival be without gifts?
Khajiit purchased the deed to the home and purred when she imagined Inigo's reaction. He loves Riften so. This one knew he would cherish this gift.
This one and Vilkas perused the market stalls, dusted with snow. Skyrim is always cold, but in the winter the cold is bitter and brutal. This one was warmed by Vilkas's bear-skin cloak, which he graciously loaned to her. She is always forgetting her cloaks.
Bundled up in her lover's scent, this one was content to linger in the cold until we found the perfect gifts. Sofie mentioned wanting a new dress and Lucia wants a cookbook and a sword. They are old enough now to start training with real weapons, under supervision of course. This one longs to rip out her fur when they roll their eyes and argue with her, but she is so enamored with them.
"Watch your purse, dear." Vilkas' voice rumbled. This one caught him eyeing a shifty-looking fellow roaming the crowds, eyeing their coin purses. Ah, Riften; if you didn't leave the city one septim short, you wouldn't be able to say you'd visited!
In any case, we found gifts for our girls and left the market without incident. Then, Vilkas stopped and this one walked right into him, our armor clanking together.
"Hear that? Someone's crying." Vilkas peered over the crowds, scowling. "And of course, no one in this rathole of a city cares. Damn Riften. " We came upon a woman outside Honorhall Orphanage.
"What seems to be the trouble, m'lady?" Vilkas asked. This one recognized her as Constance Mitchell, the orphanage caretaker. The old woman who ran the place, Grelod the Kind as she was ironically nicknamed, was murdered a year ago. Such a shame…but not really.
This one isn't partial to Honorhall. When this one and Vilkas realized we wanted children, it was the first place we went. Grelod claimed we weren't suitable and yet provided no logical explanation. This one believes she did not trust a Khajiit and a Nord to be suitable parents.
Constance was nice to us, apologizing profusely as we left although she could not help. She sent this one's family a letter, inviting us to adopt after she took over the orphanage.
This one wanted to, but Vilkas was completely against having anymore children. The girls turn his hair gray at times.
Constance dried her eyes and explained her sorry state.
"There was a robbery last night; the children had all their presents stolen. I promised them a happy celebration, and instead I've let them down. It's bad enough no one in this horrible city has room in their heart for a child."
This one's blood boiled. Who would do that to innocent children, especially orphans? This one immediately offered any help so could, and asked to speak to the orphans. Constance showed us inside and we set our sights on the scene of the robbery.
A smashed window was the point of entry. Vilkas peered out the window and noted, "This window connects to the courtyard. The intruder would have been hidden by the bushes. It's also closest to the gate, so they had an easy escape, especially if the guards were changing their shifts."
This one approached the children, gathered around a flourishing pine tree with a vacant base. They cried and sniffled and this one's heart ached for them.
"Did you see what happened, little cub?" This one asked, kneeling down to address a little boy, drying his eyes.
"No. The window broke and it got cold in here, that's what woke me up. I saw someone climbing out the window and all our stuff was gone. Are you gonna help me get my present back? It was from my dad, it's all I have left of him."
"Of course. What was this present?" J'Hirra asked.
"It was a diamond claw, like a dragon's." This one and Vilkas exchanged looks. Such claws open doorways to Nordic ruins.
"How did the claw come to be in your father's possession?" This one asked.
"He tended my family's tomb. It's been in his family for years. He wanted me to have it. Maybe he thought it would make me rich someday!"
Constance stepped in and explained, "When he died, he stated in his will that he wished for his son to have it. He said it was very important to keep it safe. The only other person who knew about this claw is Sven's uncle."
"He has an uncle? Why is he here, then?" Vilkas asked.
"He didn't want Sven. It wouldn't surprise me at all if he stole the claw out of greed."
"Where does he live?" J'Hirra asked.
"In a cabin outside of Dawnstar on the water's edge. It's not much, you'll know it right away. Go there, quickly. Who knows if he has any plans of keeping it."
"Children, this one will return everything that was stolen before the day is done. You have her word."
"That's the Dragonborn! She'll help us!" Sven cried and the children cheered as we left the orphanage.
This one and Vilkas rode through the snow to Windhelm. There, we were beset upon by Meeko, tail wagging furiously, and the girls. Lydia took the gifts upstairs and this one snarled when she realized the girls had not done the dishes yet. "Girls, what did this one tell you?" This one threw open the door, interrupting the girls as they sword-fought. "Do them now!"
"J'Hirra, come on, it's the Life Festival. " Vilkas intervened.
"This, Vilkas, is why the girls walk all over you! Come on, girls, do the dishes." Sighing and muttering, the girls set about doing the dishes. This one went upstairs and found Inigo and Serana cozied up by the fire. Inigo jumped to his feet.
"My friend! How did the shopping go?"
"We have a predicament; the children at Honorhall had their gifts stolen."
"What? How horrible! Ah, but I see it in your eyes. The Dragonborn has a plan to save the day, no? And with the help of her trusty sidekick Inigo?"
"Of course. We're going to Dawnstar. The thief is the uncle to one of the children. He must have wanted the boy's present for himself."
"A thieving uncle, suffering urchins, and a mysterious gift. Sounds like a job for us, my friend!" Inigo leaped to his feet and grabbed his ebony bow and sword. Serana chuckled and kissed his cheek before he could rush out the door.
"Keep this idiot in one piece for me, J'Hirra." Serana said, patting her lover's furry, blue cheek.
"Not joining us?" Vilkas asked.
"It's been a while, I should share him every once in a while. Besides, I'm not a fan of the sun. Have fun, Inigo. You've got your gift ready, right?"
"Of course, how could I forget?"
"I'll see you tonight, then." Smiling, Serana watched us leave. Inigo slapped his paw to his forehead.
"By the Gods! I forgot to get Serana a gift!"
Vilkas chuckled. "And on your first Life Festival with her…Who does that?"
"Alright, do not rub it in my face, smelly dog, or you'll be short a few hairs! What do I do? She was out all day yesterday looking for something for me!"
"Get her something along the way." This one suggested as we mounted our steeds and bundled up in our cloaks for the journey. Inigo chewed his nails as we rode through the snow-covered pines along the road. Very few people roamed the road in this cold, save for the brazen saber cats and snow bears.
"I've got it!" Inigo exclaimed as he removed his sword from a saber cat's face and climbed back onto his steed. "J'Hirra, remember when we killed those bandits a week ago?"
"No, we kill a lot of bandits."
"Vilkas, you remember, don't you? You said you hated the bandit chief so much, you'd take his head as a trophy?"
"What of it?"
"You don't actually have his head, do you?"
"You're going to give your lover a severed head?" Vilkas' brows disappeared into his hairline.
"Alright, anyone else might freak out, but she is a vampire, she'd love it!"
We both gave him looks and he scowled and glared down at his saddle as we rode on. Finally, we reached Dawnstar and took a left at the fork in the road and followed it away from town. Vilkas climbed off his horse and knelt, inspecting the blood turning the snow crimson.
"He's hurt, not from a shard of glass, either."
We followed the blood to a cabin on the edge of the coast. This one drew Wuuthrad, Inigo readied his bow, Vilkas unsheathed his greatsword. This one planted her foot in the center of the door and the door burst open and slammed into the wall.
Someone uttered a scream. This one leaped inside, axe raised to strike. A gaunt older man huddled beneath the table, his hands over his head. "I gave you what you wanted! Leave me be!" He pleaded.
"This one will not leave until you have over every gift you stole from those children." Vilkas and Inigo wrenched him out from under the table and hurled him to his knees at this one's feet.
The old man quivered in his rags, malnourished and freezing. This one thought she understood why he'd stolen the claw. His home consisted of only a brazier, a bed roll and a bucket for…well, you know.
"Fine. Fine, take 'em. They're not gonna do me any good!" Inigo dragged a loaded sack from the corner of the room. This one and Vilkas inspected the toys and clothes within but there was no claw. This one turned on the old man and said, "Where is your nephew's diamond dragon claw?"
"I was ambushed. Some bandits made off with it, I had no choice but to give it to them."
"Where did these bandits go and what did they want with it?" This one asked.
"They were after the treasure within my family's tomb."
"And where is this tomb?"
"Three miles from here. Follow the water and you'll run right into it. Get it back for me and I'll give you half what it's worth."
This one brought her axe closer to his neck. "Do not mistake this one for a greedy thief like you. Just out of interest, what is in that tomb that the bandits wanted so badly?"
"Sven's great-grandfather fought in the Great War against the elves. He was a beloved military general and his weapons are legendary, they'd go for millions."
"So you planned to unlock the tomb with the claw, get the weapons, and live fat and rich for the rest of your life?"
"Well, that was the idea. Damn bandits ploughed me. My brother was an idiot. He was sitting on a gold mine all his life and he never cared. The brat will, though. I was exiled, I need the wealth my family possesses more than that brat. I'm his brother for Talos' sake!"
"You lost the right to that money when you did whatever made them exile you. Now, all you're owed is a jail cell." Inigo said, holding the door for us as we dragged the old man out under his arms. We left him in the hands of the Dawnstar guard and Inigo inspected the sack containing the gifts. "You don't think the children would miss this, do you?" He asked, holding up a wooden statuette of a dragon.
"Inigo, get Serana a present yourself. Be creative." This one snapped and he sighed and shoved the statuette back in the sack. We rode on along the river and stumbled upon many footprints branching off the road. The marks in the snow were deep set, as if they'd marched through the snow in thick, heavy armor.
Then, we came across something more unsettling. "Ack, stop!" Ichigo cried, "I have snow in my boot." Vilkas sighed and leaned on the tree and snow tumbled down and cascaded over his head. This one laughed at him and her humor faded in horror. A pair of bony, twig-like hands snaked out from behind the tree and closed over Vilkas' throat.
This one charged, awe drawn and hurled her blade into the splintery arm. The arm came off and Vilkas coughed and sputtered, his gasps drowned by the shrill roar of fury. A skeletal man shambled out behind the tree. He wore ancient, ragged armor depicting the symbol of the Empire. The creature lunged at Vilkas and tackled him.
Inigo screamed behind her. This one turned to find him on his back as a draugr clutched his leg, sword raised over his fallen form. This one froze, unable to choose who to help first; her husband, or her very best friend, both in peril. Naturally, this one chose both.
"Fus ro dah!" this one roared and Vilaks flew into the tree and the draugr soared into a tree trunk, shattering its spine. The draugr flew off of Inigo and tumbled over in the snow. Inigo suffocated it in the snow, turning his face away in disgust as it writhed and died for good this time.
"Are you both alright?" This one asked, breathless from shouting.
"My back's a little bruised, but I'm alive. Thank you, dear." Vilkas pulled this one into his arms and kissed her cheek, soothing her . She'd frozen in fear at the sight of those hands around his throat.
"No, I am not alright!" Inigo exclaimed, wiping his paw on his armor. "The dead walk among the living! How did those things get out! They're supposed to be contained! This is so, so wrong!"
"The bandits must have unleashed them." Vilkas said, using his foot to turn over the corpse Inigo had suffocated. "Look at that armor! This armor dates back to the Great War!" He knelt to get a better look, hardly minding the stench in his eagerness to see a little piece of history.
J'Hirra's husband, ladies and gentlemen; part time warrior, part time historian.
"So what? All I hear is they're rotted through and stink more than the average zombie." Inigo said, shuddering as he pressed on. This one followed him; we had to close up that crypt before even more draugr could get out. Who wants to be reminded of death during the New Life Festival, after all? It rather defeats the purpose of the festival, does it not?
We followed the tracks along a snowy path, weaving between trees that dislodged their snow onto our heads if we disturbed them. We came upon a crater, an icy staircase spiraling down into a crypt, the door swinging open in the frigid breeze. Inigo sighed as he slid off his horse. "Okay, here we go. Go to your happy place, Inigo…"
Vilkas gripped this one shoulder to halt her, shouldering the door open as he stepped inside. He knows this one can handle herself, yet he still worries for her safety at times. He drew his sword and stepped into the darkness and this one and Inigo followed. Inigo lit a torch, casting away the darkness and revealing the dusty skeletons lining the walls.
The urns were open and picked clean of offerings and skeletons had been disturbed from their resting places. Vilkas curled his lip and hoisted the skeleton back into its coffin. "There's enough madness in the world, the least we can do is respect the ones who died to protect us from it all…" He grumbled.
"Do not touch me until after you have bathed, yes?" Inigo recoiled from Vilkas.
"Sure thing, cat." Vilkas brushed bone dust onto Inigo as he passed. Inigo kept his cool but this one saw him squirm like a little girl who'd put her foot in skeever droppings. We stumbled into a corridor, carvings on the wall depicted the Nords battling the elves alongside the Empire. A Nord led them, larger than the others, a battleaxe and greatsword raised in his hands.
Vilkas admired the carvings. "I wish I could read the text. It looks like this was an esteemed general and mighty in battle. Wait, I can read something here. I think this is his name; Asger."
One carving depicted the general atop a pile of long-eared corpses, holding an elven head by the hair. The next carving showed the general's defeat after a long duel in the Imperial City with an elven mage. They both fell, dead, and the general's body was laid to rest in his homeland.
The coffins around us cracked as their lids unsealed. Every coffin in the hall burst open and the walking dead stepped out, clutching ancient, rusted weapons. A voice resounded in this one's mind, one not her own.
"Dragonborn, come and face me. My blade is dry and yearns for the blood of a worthy opponent."
"Who are you?" This one asked, not at all shaking. This voice left her in a cold, cold sweat.
"My name is Asger. Skyrim and the traitorous Empire has forgotten it, but no longer. My spirit has been set free. I will return and I will bring my army with me."
"No, no, stay put, don't leave on behalf of us!" Inigo squawked, panic stricken at the thought.
"I fought and died for the Empire against the damn elves! My men lost their lives fighting the Empire's wars and what do they do? Hand over the freedom of the Nord people to the enemy! I will liberate my people from the elves and their puppets. Skyrim will be free and my death and the deaths of my men won't have been for nothing."
"This one has done her part in that. Ulfric Stormcloak won the war. Skyrim is independent. You can rest in peace." This one assured him.
"You cut off the arm of the Empire by driving it out of Skyrim. As long as the Empire exists, as long as the Aldmeri Dominion exists, I will never rest."
"Alright then, I guess we'd better go." Inigo turned to leave and this one gripped his shoulder.
"So what will you do?" This one asked.
"I will lead my army to Cyrodiil and we will destroy them."
"Skyrim is still recovering from the rebellion. If word gets out an undead army from Skyrim is traveling towards Cyrodiil, Skyrim will be in danger. We cannot afford that kind of attention now, you'll doom us!"
"A small price to pay for the future of this land. Get out of my way and my men will let you leave unharmed. Stand in my way, and we will cut you down."
Vilkas drew his sword and J'Hirra was seconds ahead of him. Inigo sighed. "No, of course we can't take the easy way out for once…" He drew his sword.
"Then J'Hirra will have to stop you."
"Then my tomb is yours, Dragonborn."
The draugr charged from all sides. Back to back, this one and her friends stood against them. Our blades clashed, cutting through ancient armor like butter. Rusted weapons shattered against our armor, undead flesh split under our blades. The smell of their rotting flesh permeated the corridor; their roars raised the fur on her arms.
Finally, they lay dead and this one and her friends pressed on. Inigo snorted, "Next time you want to liberate Skyrim, check and make sure your army has something better than rusty blades. Hear that, dead general?" He shook in his boots as we continued into the darkness.
Screams and the clashing of steel echoed down the halls and we ran towards the sound. Outside the main burial chamber, the bandits who'd made off with the claw lay in pieces all around us. The undead stood over their corpses, their rusted swords dripping with blood.
"Zuun haal viik!" This one shouted and their bloodied weapons flew from their hands. We rained steel upon them and when they moved no more, we caught our breath outside the door, sealed and impenetrable.
Inigo's torchlight glittered off something in the dead bandit's hand. The diamond claw! This one turned it over in her hands, taking note of the symbols on the bottom of the foot; wolf, saber cat, and bear. This one rotated the symbols on the locked door and the door descended, hitting us with a wave of dust.
We'd arrived in the main burial chamber, lined with coffins. Up the crumbling stone staircase was a coffin, larger than any other. Inigo gulped and whispered, "Why me? Why do I let myself get dragged into these things?"
This one gave Vilkas' hand a squeeze for comfort and whispered, "Watch your back. If you die and get reanimated, I will kill you again."
He returned the pressure against her hand. "Wouldn't dream of it."
We stepped into the chamber and the torchlight flickered and waved in the frigid breeze that swept through the room. This one heard scratching against the underside of the coffin. It was the sound of rotted fingertips clawing to get out. Then came the pounding, the muffled roar of fury, and the coffin lid went flying into the air.
A massive Nord emerged from the coffin; his armor bore the symbol of the Empire, bedecked with war medals. In his hand he clutched a battleaxe, in the other, a broken greatsword.
His mane of long, wispy hair cascaded down his back. His face was that of a nightmare; skeletal, the eye sockets empty and black. Yet, they stared right into this one's soul and made something inside her cry out in fear.
"You are a fool, Dragonborn." His voice resounded in her mind for he could not speak, his tongue was gone to rot. "Very well. Your blood will be the first spilled for the freedom of Tamriel. Wuld nah kest!" He flew across the room and this one scarcely had time to block.
She blocked with the hilt of Wuuthrad, halting his blow. His greatsword crept around her defenses and searing pain coursed up and down her arm. He shouted and this one's weapons flew from her claws. Vilkas charged in with a roar and slashed at the general. The general, agile in his gaunt form, spun out of his reach and rammed Vilkas with the hilt of his battleaxe.
Vilkas flew backward and collided into the wall and the general slung his battle axe towards him. Vilkas ducked and the blade embedded itself in the wall. Vilkas thrust his sword towards the general and the roar of "Fus ro dah!" split the air. Vilkas flew backwards into the wall and the general bared down on his crumpled form.
Inigo fired an arrow into the back of the general's head. The general whirled, the arrowhead protruding through his empty eye socket. Inigo whimpered. The general charged at him and Inigo's courage broke; he tore from the chamber and into the darkness. This one bellowed, "Yol toor shul!" Flames erupted from this one's lips and engulfed the general. He writhed, his withered, rotting body set ablaze.
Vilkas tossed this one Wuuthrad and she and Vilkas charged. We had him! "Iiz slen nus!" His breath was a blizzard, freezing us solid. This one rolled to a stop at his feet and the general plunged back his sword arm, poised to penetrate her heart.
This one thought for sure this was the end. An arrow flew into the general's hand, knocking his sword away. Inigo cried, "Alright, ugly, let's end this!" His hand shaking, he wrenched his sword from its scabbard and charged towards the general. The general blocked his blade with his battleaxe but Inigo took him by surprise. He plunged his claw into his quiver and drew an arrow, stabbing the general with it.
The general's skull caved to his arrow and he stumbled backwards. Inigo charged and sunk his sword into the general's stomach. The general slumped over him and Inigo squirmed to get away. This one wanted so to cry for Inigo to unfreeze her but alas she could not say a word. Otherwise she would have warned him when the general reached for the dagger in his belt.
Inigo caved, doubling over as the dagger pierced his armor and sunk into his chest. This one would have screamed in horror if she could. Inigo fell to the floor and did not get up.
The general walked over him and the ice encasing this one cracked. Her fingertips numb, she grasped Wuuthrad, fighting to keep her eyes away from Inigo's motionless form.
This one could not hope to fight on, frozen as she was. So, she raised her head to the ceiling and shouted, "Ohdahving!" She prayed it would work. The general snorted, raising his battle axe.
"What was that supposed to do? It's clear who the real master of the Way of the Voice is on this day." The ground shook, the ceiling trembled. Dust cascaded from above and rained down on us. Snow poured in, Vilkas dragged this one to safety as the cieling caved in. The dragon Ohdahviing gazed down upon the general, smoke curling from his gaping jaw.
He lunged, monstrous jaws opening wide as he swallowed the general in a single gulp. Vilkas gaped and this one fought back a smile. Ohdahviing said, his booming voice echoing off the walls of the chamber, "Dovahkiin, it is a pleasure. Now, if that is all, I'll be on my way." He took flight, his shape blocking out the sun before he vanished into the clouds.
"Well, that's one way to solve a problem." This one turned and was relieved to see Inigo propped up against a coffin. Her relief faded when she saw the blood leaking from his ebony armor and his face twisted in pain.
Vilkas helped him stand and this one offered him a healing potion. Together, we caught our breath and stared up at the empty coffin of the war lord whose return we had prevented.
One day, the Empire will answer for their crimes, but today is a day to celebrate the joys of life with family and friends. War, suffering, death and violence will have to wait for another day.
Inigo said, "Do you think Serana would like his sword?"
Vilkas smacked him upside the head. "Tell her the truth, stupid cat! If she loves you, she'll forgive you and let you make it up to her."
"I will say I was injured before I could get something. She'll understand."
Sighing, this one pulled the deed from her pack and thrust it under his nose. Inigo's skeptic look fell away and he looked up at this one with tears in his eyes. "My friend…you would do this for me? You would buy me a home in the city I love most?"
"Yes, but Serana doesn't need to know that. Give her the deed yourself, from this one's paws to yours, my dearest friend."
Inigo pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "Thank you. You need to know that nothing I have can come close to what you have given Serana and me; I hope you can forgive me for that."
"You've given this one so much more than you think you have. She will not ask for more."
"No, but you should."
Vilkas cleared his throat. "Shall we get going? The night is still young."
Indeed it is. This one relinquished her hold on Inigo before Vilkas could turn green with jealousy. Together, we three returned to Riften and found Constance waiting for us. Her face lit up like a beacon. "You've done it! Thank you, thank you! The children will be so—,"
The children rushed out the door to greet us and Inigo threw the sack of toys at them before they could tackle him. The children raided the sack for their gifts but Sven, looking up at us with hopeful eyes. This one handed him the diamond claw but before he could thank her, she took him aside.
"Sven, your father leaves you in protection of your family tomb. When you come of age, you must promise to keep your great-grandfather's remains at rest. Will you give this one your word? This is not the key to riches but to your family's sacred history. Promise J'Hirra, yes?"
"I promise." He did not understand, she could tell, but his eyes were wise for his age and Khajiit trusts him.
"Keep that claw safe, even if you never return to your family's tomb."
"I will. Thank you, Dragonborn."
This one and her friends traveled back to Windhelm beneath the stars. The tavern doors were flung wide despite the chill and drunken patrons danced and sang, sloshing mead all down themselves. People sang in the streets and ate and drank sizzling meats and golden mead. Vilkas grinned. "Come on, let's hurry! I can't wait."
We hurried home and the girls and Lydia and Serana were gathered around the table waiting for us. A feast of roast pork, vegetables and sweetrolls awaited us, goblets brimming with mead were waiting to be sipped.
"Mama, papa!" Lucia cried, waving us over, "Come and sit down!" So we did. We ate and drank and made merry for hours and the dreadful events of the day were long forgotten. Instead, we made memories of life, laughter and love. We gave the girls their presents and they squealed with delight. This one gifted Lydia a bloated sack of coin for her year's work of hard work and she swooned.
Inigo, blushing, presented the deed to Serana and she threw her arms around him, knocking him from his chair. "I have a surprise for you as well. I've decided to cure my vampirism." Serana announced and this one could scarcely believe it.
"You can do that?" This one asked.
"I found someone in Morthal. He's very experienced."
"Serana," Inigo gripped her shoulders, "Are you sure? You're so proud of your vampire heritage. You love being a vampire, don't you?"
"I love you more. I want us to spend our lives together."
Inigo smiled, ears flattening back as emotion choked him. "I…I love you too, Serana."
Vilkas sneezed and we all started laughing. After dinner, the girls retired to bed with Meeko and Lydia went to her quarters. Inigo and Serana set off for Riften to begin their lives together. This one and Vilkas went towards our room when Vilkas stopped this one.
"What is it, dearest one?"
Vilkas was giving her a look she knew all too well, one that made her warm around the collar. "We should bathe, don't you think? We spent so much time in those ruins." This one could not stifle her smile. What better way to end the day?
This one took his smooth hand in her furred claw and led him not to our room but to the bathroom. We filled the tub with water and Vilkas stripped down to his loincloth. This one could hardly tear her eyes away. He only gets handsomer every day. Cheeks reddening under her gaze, Vilkas let his loin cloth fall away and he took this one into his arms and kissed her.
He left her breathless, her body flushed with heat and craving more. Grinning, he pushed her away and stepped into the tub, his eyes twinkling. This one realized she was still clothed and all but threw her armor off to join him. The way he looked at her, eyes roaming every inch of her bare skin…it still makes this one breathless to recall.
We sunk into the water together. He pulled this one into his lap, the water sloshing over the edge and flooding the floor as we did what a man and woman in love do best behind closed doors. Afterwards, this one was exhausted and almost wanted to fall asleep in his arms. He'd been so generous tonight, every one of her desires had been met.
"I am one lucky man. How in Oblivion did I get a woman like you?" Vilkas murmured in this one's ear, his arms around her waist.
"Yes, you are. And…J'Hirra supposes she is the luckiest Khajiit there ever was."
Vilkas chuckled. "Want to go to bed? I'll carry you."
"Yes. You were…very vigorous. More so than usual. And you're being very sweet, too. Could it be you are forgetting something, Vilkas?"
Vilkas ravished her neck with kisses. "Not at all. That was your present."
This one burst out laughing. He'd given Inigo grief about forgetting his gift, now she realized it was out of guilt for forgetting to buy this one a gift. This one rolled over to face him, nipping his chin.
"You forgot! You are quite the hypocrite, yes?"
"Not at all! I planned this! Why else would I have agreed to do everything you wanted?"
This one wasn't even angry but that might also be because she was no better. "This one…may have a confession to make as well."
Vilkas smiled, eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh? Let me guess…"
"But it is not her fault, yes? Please do not be upset. We were so busy shopping and then this one got distracted by the robbery and—,"
Vilkas swept in and kissed this one and he was laughing when we broke apart. "Angry? No, this is too good. I did everything you wanted; now you have to do the same."
This one realized she'd doomed herself and yet her body trembled for him. "Everything?"
"Those leather strips have been sitting under our bed for months. It's time we used them, isn't it?"
Oh, Gods. Yet, this one could not refuse. He is too good to her. As long as nothing leaves these four walls, this one will be satisfied, even if she has to live with a week of smug smirking and taunts.
In the end, this one had little to worry about. Vilkas has a way of making everything worthwhile. As we drifted off in each other's arms, silver moonlight pooling on our bed, Vilkas drew this one close. He kissed her forehead, his fingertips caressing her ears.
"I'm blessed to have spent the festival with you."
This one could not help but purr. Every day with him and the girls is a blessing to her.
"This one feels the same, Vilkas."