This is barely sticking to canon.. I know.. shhh.. this is my head-canon. Live with it.
It had taken her some time to accept being Harbinger, but she had finally begun to settle into the role. With Aela now the only remaining lycanthrope of the Circle, Emara left the Huntress in charge of the Companions when she finally mustered the courage to venture up the heights of the Throat of the World. She was gone two months, traveling to the base of and then scaling the giant mountain, beginning her studies with the Greybeards, perfecting her first Shout, learning of others.
When she returned to Whiterun, with a new appreciation of the warmth that covered the plains, she was halfway afraid things had changed at Jorrvaskr. But as she set foot inside the hall, and she was wrapped in the familiarity and welcome of her Companions, she smiled for the first time since before Kodlak's death. Aela was quick to approach, informing her of what had transpired during her absence, but once her discussion with the Huntress ended, she turned away, meaning to acquire a tankard of mead and a hot meal.
Instead, she nearly collided with Farkas, who stood there like a stone wall. She looked up at him in confusion, wondering how long he'd been standing there. His eyes, no longer pale with the curse of his disease, searched hers in silence for several long moments. She was on the verge of stepping around him when he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly as ever. "You're back."
She couldn't stop the amused twitch of her lips, or the smile that soon followed. "Yes, I am. It is good to see you, Farkas. Have you been well?"
He said nothing. Only looked at her for a few more beats. Then he turned and went outside.
What was that all about?
-x-
Sleep had become a precious commodity over the past weeks. It was not at all unusual for Emara to wake in the middle of the night and find herself restless, needing to move about. That night was no different. She stirred in her bed at Jorrvaskr, and almost immediately came fully awake. With a resigned sigh, she stood and pulled on doeskin breeches, and leather jerkin and boots, resolving to see what had become of her home in town and her housecarl. As she left the sleeping quarters, she froze on the stairs, hearing voices in the main hall; most of the Companions were asleep at this hour, so who could it be? Crouching, she crept forward, her ears perked. It was then that she discerned the voices of Aela and Farkas.
"Farkas, you can't keep this up. You were a walking disaster the whole time she was gone - now that she's back, things have to change." Aela's tone was insistent, almost pleading.
But Farkas was having none of it. "I was not. And no, they don't. Nothing has to change, and nothing is going to. She's the Harbinger, and I'm of the Circle - all is as it should be."
The Huntress scoffed, sounding annoyed now. "You're a fool. Everyone can see that she haunts your thoughts. Just tell Emara that you care for her, and let nature take its course."
Lycanthropy or not, Farkas' growl was undeniable. "This conversation is over."
Heavy footsteps were heard, followed by the opening and subsequent slam of the hall's main door, a sound loud enough that it made Emara cringe. She crept back down the stairs a bit, then sat on one of the steps, her elbows on her knees and chin cradled in upturned palms. She half-heard as Aela sighed and took a seat, muttering to herself about how men were all idiots. It was all background noise as she struggled with her tumultuous thoughts.
Farkas had acted strangely when she returned, then avoided her the rest of the day. To hear Aela tell it, the gruff Nord had some sort of feelings for her - and the implication was not that they were negative. She felt an unfamiliar twisting in her gut at the idea. What, exactly, were these 'feelings' Aela claimed Farkas had for her? More importantly: What was she going to do about it? Her mind turned toward a letter in her gear downstairs, one from a certain Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath, the only matter she had yet to turn her attention to.
Perhaps it was time she took another trip.
-x-
"Speak to my steward if you require anything." Siddgeir's vaguely effiminate, lackadaisical gesture was as much a dismissal as his words, and Emara only bowed before turning away. She looked up toward the second floor, wondering if the woman was upstairs, and started that way when a couple of chatting servants nearby garnered her attention with a single word.
"-married! After all this time, I can't believe they're finally going to do it." The female voice was bubbly with excitement, and out of curiosity, Emara halted, eavesdropping shamelessly. Not that she would need the information. She was just fascinated by the differences between Nord and Bosmer culture. Of course that was all it was.
"Well it's about time. He's been talking about going to Riften for ages - never expected him to take off so suddenly, let alone return with an Amulet of Mara! When's the wedding?" The male half of the conversation was vaguely amused, with far less anticipation than his female counterpart.
"Oh, we're all heading down there next Tirdas. From what I was told, the wedding will be held at the Temple of Mara on Middas, at about n-"
"Thane." Emara jumped, and looked up into the curious, somewhat disapproving face of Nenya, Siddgeir's steward. "Can I help you with something?"
Her reply was there before she'd even really considered it.
"I would like to buy land."
-x-
It had taken six weeks of steady work, learning how to fit the logs and the hardened clay together, how to hammer the nails so they wouldn't bend or break, how to sand the wood so it was free of splinters. Finally, it was done. There was a great sense of pride within her as Emara stood before the manor in the bright afternoon sun, hands on her hips and surveying her work. The lake sparkled in the near distance, wind rustled through the trees, birds sang from their boughs.
Inside, she knew a fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and Rayya was putting the finishing touches on the decor she'd ordered. The rooms were filled with furniture, odds and ends to fill the empty shelves, the scents of food and alchemy supplies mingled with the vague odor of smoke from the basement forge. Her black and white mare was happily settled in the half-stable behind her, munching on hay; chickens clucked as they pecked at the ground, milling around a furry cow who grazed steadily.
The house was perfect. The land was perfect.
All she needed now was someone to share it with.
-x-
She was the Dragonborn.
She had faced down Dragons, Draugr, and ghosts. She had scaled the inhospitable heights of the Throat of the World. She had survived Helgen, become a lycanthrope, and cured herself of the disease. There was little that stood in her way.
She had never been so nervous in her life.
It had taken a long time for the people of Whiterun to stop staring at her like she was some exotic oddity, but as she emerged now from the mostly-forgotten Breezehome, everyone within sight stopped to eye her askance. Funny, she mused, that a Bosmer in heavy steel with the ability to Shout had become commonplace, but let that same Bosmer set foot on the streets in a simple blue dress without a weapon in sight, and all eyes were on her once more. She bit back a smile, and proceeded through the streets in silence, making her way up into the Wind District with as much speed as she could manage, given how odd it felt to be wearing a dress again.
There was a sudden hush across the hall of Jorrvaskr as she stepped inside, and she tensed beneath the stares, which ranged from confused to admiring. After a quick glance around the hall, she saw that her quarry was not amongst those assembled, and on a whim, proceeded directly across the open space, out the back door to the training area.
As she'd hoped, he was there, alone, idly running an oiled rag across the length of his greatsword. He looked up when he heard the door open, and dropped his gaze back to the piece of Skyforged steel, only to do an immediate double-take and look back up at her with shock clearly painted on his face. She paused, for a moment uncertain, then forced herself to approach him. His eyes swept across her from the shine of her freshly washed and brushed hair, across her slim, feminine form to the barely visible toes of her comfortable boots, then returned to the Amulet of Mara around her neck. Something in his gaze made her heart beat faster, harder, louder, and she was certain that, somehow, he could hear it.
She stopped close enough to touch him, but didn't. She stood there, gazing at him, and waited for him to say something; she could see his throat working as he swallowed, the clench of his jaw as he thought. Finally, after several long moments, his mouth opened, his words carefully spoken. "You're ah.. you're wearing an Amulet of Mara."
She nodded, and nervously smoothed her hands across the soft blue fabric of her skirt. "Yes, I am."
He seemed to weigh this information, using it to proceed to the next logical point. "And you're talking.. to me."
This should not be funny. But it was. Her lips twitched threateningly as she fought a smile. "Yes, I am."
All the breath escaped him suddenly on a surprised sound, and he set his blade on the bench beside him before he stood and turned away, taking a few steps out toward the sunlit training area. Her hands clenched anxiously at her sides; had she misjudged Aela's meaning, that night she'd overheard them? Had she made a mistake? She was ready to make good her escape and save herself further embarrassment while his back was turned, but she lost her opportunity a moment later when he stopped and suddenly moved back toward her, a stern, confused look on his face. "Why me? I've treated you horribly from the moment you stepped through that door."
At least he wasn't completely rejecting her. Forcing herself to relax, at least a little, she licked her lips as she pondered how best to explain her reasoning. "You have never treated me as anything more than I am. To you, I am just a woman - not the Dragonborn, not the Harbinger. Just.. Emara." Taking a chance, she moved closer to him, looking up into his eyes. "With you, I feel normal. I miss that. I need that. But.. if you.. if you don't..."
She trailed off when he raised his hand, and fell silent, watching in hopeful confusion as his hand fell only slightly, enough to lightly brush callused fingertips across the amulet she wore. His brow furrowed, a sure sign he was deep in thought, and they stood like that for what seemed an eternity. When at last he spoke, his voice was a little rougher than normal, his eyes slowly meeting hers. "..If you're sure..?"
Joy buoyed her heart, and the smile that stole across her lips felt like it was going to split her face in two.. but she couldn't care less. She nodded, hesitantly reaching up to lay her fingertips on the back of his hand. "I am."
Something about him seemed to relax, as though a heavy burden had been taken from his shoulders, and he very nearly smiled. Almost. "Then I suppose.. I'll see you in Riften."
-x-
When word spread through Jorrvaskr of the impending marriage of their Harbinger and one of the Circle, the initial reaction was surprise, quickly followed by raucous merriment. It was decided they would set out for Riften the very next day, intent on seeing this wedding happen immediately. Emara and Farkas were swept along in a tide of celebration, barely able to spend time together, at least not alone. They found moments during the long trip to the Rift to simply sit and be. Occasionally, they spoke, telling each other about their lives before they met, and other things about themselves; more often than not, they just sat there, their hands barely touching. But it was enough.
Their arrival in Riften late one night nearly two weeks later stirred up a brief frenzy, at least until they all found rest at the Bee and Barb. Emara was awakened early the next morning by Aela, who, in the company of the other female Companions, dragged her off to prepare for her wedding.. despite her considerable protestations. The sun had just reached its zenith when she found herself unceremoniously escorted into the Temple of Mara, feeling as though her skin had been scrubbed half off, and her hair pulled so tight on her scalp she'd be amazed if it didn't all fall out.
But everyone was there. The Companions surrounded her with warmth and happiness. And most importantly, Farkas stood before the altar, waiting for her. He turned to look at her, and he smiled - it was faint, barely the slightest upward turn at the corners of his lips, but it was there, and from that moment forward, she was lost. She barely remembered stammering her way through an 'I do, now and forever.' at Maramal's urging (and with much quiet laughter from the assembled Companions), and suddenly, there was a ring in her hand. She turned it over, then glanced at Farkas, following his example as she slid the golden item onto a finger of her left hand.
Everyone began filtering out, talking about a party at the Bee and Barb before they left, and Emara vaguely noticed Aela with her arm around Maramal's shoulders, guiding the priest out of his own temple. Then, they were alone. She fidgeted, and her breath caught when Farkas crossed the few steps between them; her hands trembled as he took them in his own, but she couldn't even begin to stop smiling up at him.
"So.. that's it. We're married." He sounded just as stunned as she felt, and suddenly, he laughed - a short, brusque chuckle, but enough to elicit a soft sound of amusement from her. "..Where will we live? There's always Jorrvaskr, but..."
Her smile turned a bit sly then, even as her cheeks flushed with color. "I have a surprise.. but it can wait until after the festivities have ended." She tugged lightly on his hands as she started toward the door, her voice tinged with gentle affection. "Come.. husband."
There was no denying the light in his eyes when she called him that.