A/N: Slightly shorter chapter. Sorry it took so long, hopefully this will tide you all over! Thank you for every review!
He walked home still grouchy, grumbling, and only mildly inebriated. He trudged up the stairs, wiping at his eyes with his hand, and stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. His wife was directly across from him, wearing that same damnable black slip and bent over as she delved into the chest against the opposite wall. His desire flared to life as his eyes traced the curve of her back as it dipped and the roundness of her ass. Her thighs and bottom were fleshy but, he suspected, firm with tone, and her hips jutted from her waist in a remarkably shapely way. She stood to face him, turning slightly, and he realized she had been unpacking her armor and gear. He also realized that her warrior lifestyle had led to a smaller bust than most women he'd enjoyed.
"So you return," she said, tone flat. "Don't think for a moment you'll be stumbling into my bed smelling like Colovian brandy and women."
"Your bed?" he scoffed. "I seem to recall being the one to buy the house. As for your other remark, it's a pointless dig. I barely drank and I had no women."
There was no malice in her voice, no accusation, simply a blatant expression of expectation and he realized with a start that not only did she believe he would have an affair, she anticipated it of him. His fists clenched. "I'm sorry my character disappoints you. We entered into this…agreement, and no matter the displeasure I will keep to my end of it. I will remain faithful."
Her eyes appraised him, jewels in her heart-shaped face, but at that exact moment he would have found a hagraven more attractive and approachable. "Do you expect me to do the same?"
For the longest of moments they stood there, gaze locked, and he didn't believe her. Her tone was so serious, though, so solid. She had never been one to joke around, except around Farkas, and he had never heard her use sarcasm; he wasn't even sure if she was aware of how to use it. It sunk in fully—she intended to sleep with other men. His fists were so tightly closed on themselves that he felt his fingernails draw blood from his palm. He wanted to stay calm, to be as infuriating to her as she was to him, but it was just not in his nature. He let loose an animalistic roar—he needed to hit something, needed to slice something, kill something, anything to expel his rage—
She kissed him then, swallowing his fury, and in his bewilderment he allowed her. Then his senses returned and he shoved her violently away.
"How dare you," he growled dangerously. "Don't touch me."
If the blatant, angry rejection stung her, she didn't show it. "If you're thinking that remaining celibate in our marriage will give Maramal a reason to perform an annulment, you're mistaken. I spoke with him about it before the ceremony. Our marriage does not have to be consummated to be binding."
He recoiled physically at her prediction of his previous thoughts.
"If you would like a sexless marriage, Vilkas, it makes no difference to me."
How could she be this way? How could she fight for the fate of Skyrim, battle dragons, take down a legendary long-dead ancient like Alduin, if she so obviously lacked passion!
"Why did you marry me then?" Finally, the question had been asked. It had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, and now it was finally in the open. If only she would answer it. When she didn't respond, he continued, hoping to goad her into it. "You care not for me, you don't give a damn about sex, you don't seem apt to begin any wifely duties anytime soon, so tell me, Aveline," he spoke her name with venom, "why become my wife?"
"What exactly do you define as wifely duties, Vilkas?" She observed him evenly, unsurprised by his emotions.
"You're avoiding the question!" he bellowed. "Why did you marry me, Aveline? Tell me why! Did you not realize I would take it seriously?"
"No."
Vilkas blinked, anger leaving him in a whoosh with his breath, as if he had been on the receiving end of a warhammer to the chest. "What?"
"I truly did not foresee you taking our marriage this seriously," she elaborated. Honesty rang in her every word. "I saw you as my perfect option: you disliked me as much as I did. We avoided each other as much as a leader and her second in command can. I spoke to you only when occasions with Farkas demanded it. I expected our marriage to change nothing."
"Why marry at all?" he asked, feeling desperation leech into his voice. "What did you hope to gain? Why act so…differently the night you proposed?"
She addressed the last question first. "I was pleasantly surprised it worked, actually. I knew I would need to appeal to your needs as a man in order for you to agree to such a proposal; no man would say yes in their right mind if I explained why I truly wished to marry, least of all you."
"Which brings us back to the question, Aveline: Why?" Why did you rope me into this? How is your conscience clear knowing we will now be forced to make each other miserable for the rest of our lives?
"It was necessary," she said, as casually as if she were discussing the weather. "I needed to get society, one man in particular, off my back. I'm the Dragonborn, a warrior, but just because I'm a woman and Alduin is gone, they expect me to marry."
"So you married me," he said slowly, "to stop other men from proposing?"
"One other man," she corrected. "Essentially, if that is how you would like to phrase it, yes. It was a logical step, though, wouldn't you say? I didn't do it out of any malice towards you, Vilkas, contrary to what you may think of me right now."
He strode forward, grabbing her upper arms in a vice grip and shaking her. "What if I wanted something else? What if I had my eye on someone? What if I wanted a happy marriage, with someone I loved? Did you consider that?"
"I did." Her eyes seemed almost to soften. "If you met any of those conditions, Vilkas, you wouldn't have said yes."
He dropped her, trembling, and knew that she was right. He turned away from her, muttering, "I'll sleep in the guest room."
Before she could protest, if she even had a mind to, he had slammed the bedroom door closed behind him.
The next morning, with barely a headache left as a reminder of the night before, Vilkas awoke to a hearty plate of breakfast and a beautiful woman sitting in a chair by the edge of his bed. His eyes narrowed immediately, but she seemed oddly demure, sitting with her head bowed and her hands clasped in her lap.
"I made you breakfast," she said. "Wifely duties, that's what you called it, right? I suppose it is something I agreed to when I tricked you into such a union." She looked up at him, and for the first time he saw a glimmer of something on her regal face. "I know you do not think very highly of me, Vilkas. Know that I didn't intend for you to get hurt, and I will do all I can to ease the misery you suffer at my hand. I wasn't intending to be cruel. I will compromise."
"Compromise," he scoffed.
"I know you think me…unfeeling." She hesitated, and when she began again, her voice had evened out—he had almost missed the slight tremor to it. She changed the subject, though he wished more than anything she would elaborate on what she had started to say. "We will live here, under the guise of husband and wife. I will cook your dinner, shine your blades, polish your armor, and, if you can stomach me, we will sleep in the same bed. You don't have to lie with me as a lover, I will not force that. If you wish to take another woman, or several, I will not stop you. In exchange, you will not demand more of me than I have offered."
She stopped, waiting for him to respond in some way. He didn't, and while it wasn't an outright agreement, he supposed it couldn't be taken as a rejection of the idea either. It was certainly a more preferable situation to the one they were in currently; with him brooding about, angry at her and alone, and her vanishing from sight without so much as a warning.
"It was selfish of me to trick you; I had forgotten, in the throes of my own distress, that this would affect your life so fully. Accept my sincerest of apologies. This doesn't have to be the end of your happiness."
"How is an apology to be perceived as sincere when I've never seen you sincerely anything?" he asked flatly.
She blinked at him, those small pink lips forming a slight O. "I…I have emotions, Vilkas, like anyone else."
He grunted, wanting to press her, wanting to ask why she never showed them, but he knew she wouldn't answer. She wouldn't open up to him about that. "You said not to demand more of you."
"Yes?" She eyed him carefully. "Is there a condition of my compromise that you are dissatisfied with?"
"I simply want to add one." Here, he sat up fully, leaning forward to look as far into her eyes as he dared. "You will tell me, explicitly and openly, when you are going somewhere, where you are going, and how long until you return. No more guessing games, no more waiting on a courier unless your plans have changed. I don't have to know what you're doing, but I am not fond of letting you run around Skyrim with no idea of your whereabouts."
The corner of her mouth tugged upwards in what he could have almost called a smile. "I will allow it."
His pulse quickened at the victory, and he boldly reached forward to tilt her face up. "One more," he said, feeling almost breathless. "I am allowed to ask you one question a day, any question I like, and you must answer it."
The traces of a smile vanished and her eyes began to narrow, and he realized he had been too brash. "Very well," she replied, stiff as a board once again. His hand dropped from her chin and she remarked dryly, "It seems you're getting more out of this compromise than I am."
"You stole something precious from me," he muttered. "Do you not think I'm entitled?"
"To be fair," she whispered, standing from her chair, "I gave up something as well." She stopped in the doorway, her dress falling behind like a waterfall of silk. For a warrior, he thought, she dressed herself stunningly when out of armor. He surmised that, despite owning no property, the Dragonborn had an immense amount of wealth. Benefits of being a real-life Nordic legend, I suppose. "You might want to eat before it gets cold," she remarked finally, and then she was gone from the guest room.
A/N: I believe her character is consistent; perhaps she's hiding more than she lets on. Reviews always appreciated.
