A/N: Hello! I know I've abandoned yet another story, I'm really bad at this, but this one I promised a few friends I'd try to see through to the end. While watching Shakespeare in Love, I had an idea for a Skyrim AU under the plot of Romeo and Juliet. Of course, I had to tweak some details a bit, because I didn't want any major characters to die in order to stay SOMEWHAT true to Skyrim canon. This takes place after the Dragon Crisis. The dragonborn, a Breton mage by the name of Viola, is forced into an arranged marriage to Hadvar in order to keep Whiterun out of the civil war. But she does not love him. Instead, she meets a tall, dark, and handsome warrior by the name of Vilkas, and the two slowly fall in love. How will the two prevail when she is promised to another? Vilkas x Fem!Dragonborn
Whiterun was never a quiet city. Even after the Dragon Crisis was over, the Civil War between the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloak Rebellion continued to rage on, and Whiterun was in turmoil. Two long-standing clans: the Battle-Borns and the Gray-Manes, had been feuding since the war began. Once great friends, the two clans picked their sides along with the rest of Skyrim: The Legion and the Stormcloaks respectively. Every citizen of Whiterun was affected by the feud—even travelers were involved. When a Battle-Born and a Gray-Mane ran into each other, the situation quickly got out of hand.
It was a noisy morning in Whiterun. The marketplace was crowded with citizens, merchants, and travelers of all walks of life. Avulstein Gray-Mane had stopped by his mother's stall that morning to check up on her when an unwelcome visitor approached.
"Still trying to push this second-rate junk, Fralia?" There was a laugh, and Fralia and Avulstein turned around to face Idolaf Battle-Born who returned their gaze with a smug grin.
"Second-rate?" Avulstein scoffed. He crossed his arms at the other Nord in defiance. "My father Eorland is the greatest blacksmith in all of Whiterun. This jewelry is top of the line."
"Top of the line for milk-drinkers and criminal scum."
Avulstein's nostrils flared, and his hand reflexively reached for his sword. Idolaf sneered at the other man, noticing his new stance.
"Now, Avulstein," Fralia interjected. The woman was clearly distraught. She didn't care much for violence, and both of her sons had a bad tendency for getting themselves into trouble. Thankfully, Thorald was over at Skyforge with his father.
Unfortunately, Avulstein was perfectly capable of getting into trouble even in his brother's absence.
Avulstein clenched his jaw as he thought about his next move. Finally, he moved his sword hand, kissed his mother on the cheek, and turned to walk away.
"Look at that, folks," Idolaf heckled. "Just another cowardly criminal-supporter, running away scared. You are a blight on our fine Empire, just like the murderers you sympathize with."
Idolaf was so busy entertaining the crowd that he didn't react in time to prevent Avulstein's strong right hook from making contact with his jaw and sending him to the dirt. Wiping new blood from his lip, Idolaf got up.
All Hell broke loose.
It didn't take long for Idolaf's and Avulstein's clansmen to join in on the chaos as a full-on brawl broke out. Any civilian who couldn't get out of the way in time were forcibly dragged into the fight. Those who escaped to a safe distance either retreated to their homes or inn rooms or stayed to watch. Insults were hurled in different tongues, and blood was shed. Thankfully, none of the brawlers had drawn their swords yet, so any bloodshed was caused by brute fists.
After nearly twenty minutes, the riot was forced to an end by the town guards, who had come riding in on horses, blowing on their horns to clear the area for the entrance of the Jarl. On a horse of his own, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater stood before the brawlers who had quickly ended their fight and attempted to act casual.
"That is enough," bellowed the Jarl, his tone dangerous. "Battle-Born, Gray-Mane, front and center!"
Sheepishly, Idolaf and Avulstein emerged from the pack, both of them equally bruised and bloody. They shot an icy glare at one another and then bowed their heads to their ruler.
"I will have no more fighting in my hold, do you understand me? We are starting to get a reputation! Sort it out with your words! The next time I hear word of another marketplace free-for-all, I will have the heads of the first two to throw the punches. Is that understood?"
Wordlessly, the two men nodded. Balgruuf looked them both over once more before turning and heading back to Dragonsreach as the crowd finally dispersed.
Back at Dragonsreach, the Jarl held a meeting with his housecarl, Irileth.
"My Jarl," Irileth began, "We have received another letter from the Emperor."
"Gods," Balgruuf hissed, "this has been the third of this moon. Is it about the same thing?"
"It appears so."
At this, Balgruuf shook his head. "I have tried to stay out of this war for as long as I could," the Nord sighed tiredly. "We are having enough trouble with our own citizens as it is. We can not afford to send out troops to aid in this blasted battle."
Just then, there was a knock on the chamber door. At his summons to enter, a young-looking guard poked his head in. "My Jarl," he addressed Balgruuf with a respectful bow of his head. "The dragonborn, Lady Viola, has arrived."
"...Perhaps," Irileth mumbled as the guard left the room, "we do not have to go to war to show loyalty to our Empire."
Intrigued, Balgruuf raised an eyebrow at his housecarl. "Oh? And how would we do that?"
"With a bit of Legion-friendly propaganda, of course." Through the crack of the door, Irileth could see right into the throne room. A flaxen-haired Breton woman in rich silks stood waiting patiently. "It's about time our most honored thane show allegiance to her new country, is it not? And she is so young and pretty... she would make a fantastic bride."
Balgruuf's eyes lit up. A political marriage would make for excellent publicity, and if the heroine of Skyrim and Whiterun's very own celebrity exchanged vows with a decorated Legionary officer, the Emperor would be most pleased.
"Irileth, Bring me Hadvar. He is a promising soldier, climbing up the ranks. He should be stationed in Riverwood at the moment."
With a bow, the Dunmer was gone, and Balgruuf entered the throne room to greet his guest.
"Ah, Lady Viola," he smiled at the young woman. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever thought of settling down?"
The Breton's forehead wrinkled in confusion and surprise, clearly taken off-guard by the odd question. "Well sure, I've thought about it," the woman admitted, eyeing the older man carefully. "...but I am not sure that I am ready, yet. I have not fallen in love."
Jarl Balgruuf was in a difficult place, having heard her answer. He cared for Viola like one of his children, the young lady being only nineteen years of age. He was still surprised that this delicate little flower was the heroine of legend who had taken care of Skyrim's dragon problem with her powerful magic and Thu'um. However, the Jarl's duty was to his city, and he needed her in order to keep the peace.
"My dear," he started meekly, "there are matters that we should discuss."
Avulstein Gray-Mane, after being treated by his mother for his injuries, decided to pay a visit to his father over at Skyforge later that day. Climbing up the stone steps, both Eorland and Avulstein's brother, Thorald, turned to look at him.
"Gods, what has happened to you?" Eorland shook his head, disappointed. No doubt, his boy had gotten into another fight.
"It was nothing I couldn't handle," Avulstein responded casually. "Though I wish Thorald or some of the Companions were there. It was exhilarating."
"You were foolish to quarrel."
"They insulted your craftsmanship and Mother's shop."
"Then they are dogs who do not know true quality."
The brothers smirked at their father's comment.
"Who is a dog?" said a fourth voice, and the men snapped their attention to the source. A tall, armored man with jaw-length dark-brown hair eyed them suspiciously through his warpaint.
"Lord Vilkas," Eorland greeted the companion with respect. "What can I do for you?"
"My blade has become dull again."
"That is because you entrusted it to Addrienne Avenicci."
Vilkas glared at the elderly man. "Addrienne is a fine blacksmith."
"Oh, she's a wonderful blacksmith," Eorland mused, "But I am the best. And you didn't visit her to get your blade sharpened." Vilkas appeared annoyed at the blacksmith. "You cannot bed her, Vilkas," Eorland chastised. "She is a married woman."
Vilkas scoffed, removing his sword from its sheathe and gently handing it to Eorland. "You misjudge me, old friend." he said before walking away, heading through the doors of Jorrvaskr.
Once inside, Vilkas was greeted warmly by his twin, Farkas. "Welcome home, Brother," the slightly taller nord embraced his brother. "How were your travels?"
Vilkas gave his brother a half-smile. "They were alright, I suppose," the Nord sighed. "The hunts begin to grow monotonous, though. I need something new. A new challenge."
Farkas laughed at his brother. "You have killed one of almost every beast there is. What more is there?" But he knew. He knew his brother didn't realize it, but Farkas had. The trips to Warmaiden's, Addrienne Avenicci, Vilkas was searching for something more. He had only recently found out about Addrienne's husband, and had since then been in a sour mood, yet denied any such thing when confronted about it. For someone so smart, Vilkas sure was dense about certain things.
Farkas decided he would help his brother find what he was looking for, as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
A brunette Nord had been polishing her shield in her quarters when she heard the front door open and shut with much force. Confused, the woman set her gear on her bed and went downstairs to check on the source, finding her mistress had returned home quite upset.
"Welcome home, My Thane," the woman bowed her head at the blonde breton and looked down at the shorter woman. "Is everything alright?"
A pair of blue eyes locked with the brunette's brown orbs as the blonde gave a bitter half-chuckle. "Everything is grand, Lydia. I had gone over to the Jarl's palace to inquire his court wizard about a book."
Lydia looked confused. "Did you get your book, My Thane?"
"Yes, yes I did," the blonde, who had started pacing, stopped and brandished a book about magical herbs, before continuing her pace. "And then I got something else."
Lydia gave a questioning stare to her mistress.
"Married. The Jarl wishes me to be married!" Viola fumed. "To the man who was my captor when I first entered this odd country!"
"Lord Hadvar, My Thane?"
Viola groaned. "So you do know him. He was not a displeasing man as it turned out... but Lydia, I do not love this man. And I am not yet ready to settle down... I have so many plans!"
Lydia appeared to be conflicted as Viola explained in whole what she and the Jarl had discussed. While she was sworn to serve her Thane, her loyalty to Jarl Balgruuf could not be severed either. "I believe you should learn to love him," Lydia suggested. "Perhaps you will grow fond of him."
Viola stopped her pacing once more and looked at Lydia, defeated. "I know, it is for Whiterun, and Whiterun is my home. That is why I agreed."
Lydia sighed with relief, but regretted it when noticing how dejected Viola looked. Lydia had come to love her Thane as a younger sister, and it was difficult seeing the young woman resign herself to a fate she did not desire.
"Lord Hadvar had arrived toward the end of our discussion, having been filled in by Irileth. He also agreed. We are to celebrate tonight, in the palace."
And that should be it for chapter 1. This chapter jumps around a lot... I found it really hard to stay true to the original play while writing this, especially because script format is very different from story format. I really wanted to hammer out all of the opening scenes in one go, and hopefully things will get better? c: The next chapter will focus on the Ball scene where, with a little help from Farkas, the two heroes meet for the first time.
