Nearing the end here. Btw, this pretty much follows what I did in my playthrough - I just elaborated. Considerably. Don't own, don't sue.
Alesan settled nicely into life at the lake house; he bickered and played with Lucia, and was more than glad to have Farkas teach him how to use even just a wooden sword. Farkas was happy, she knew, and already planning ahead, talking about teacing Alesan how to wield a greatsword like his Pa. Although her times at home were few, brief, and far between, she took great joy in her house, her family. There were many instances where she raged at what destiny held for her, times when she came home to find chickens slaughtered and wolf pelts strung up to tan, or bandit gear beside a pyre on the hill nearby; Rayya had even mentioned, in conspiratorial whispers so as not to frighten the children or anger Farkas, the shadows of dragons passing above.
But winter became spring, and life returned to the lake valley, and the attacks by wolves were much lesser, and the bandits had learned to stay away. Summer was a time of plenty, with the garden proving bountiful, the game plenty, and Farkas' store successful with the people of Falkreath. Emara allowed herself to relax - perhaps this destiny as Dragonborn, once fulfilled, would leave her be, and she could live in peace with her family.
She was looking forward to the beauty and respite of the lake country again, after helping to clear the Forsworn out of Markarth, when she guided her horse up the path from the lake. It had been a long ride, and she was exhausted, half-dozing atop the sturdy mare's wide back, but a commotion up ahead managed to rouse her into full awareness; she gently heeled the mare into a swifter pace, and rounded the corner. What she saw made her freeze in horror.
A Giant swung its club so forcefully the air whistled around it, the bulky piece of wood slamming Rayya aside as though she were no more than a child's toy. Farkas cried out, trying to usher the children back toward the house, even as he slashed at the air between himself and the looming creature. Ineffectually, as it turned out; the club collided with him next, making his armored form crash into the side of the house so forcefully she heard the metal break. The children screamed, trying to scramble back into the house, but in two strides, the giant was upon them; they were both crushed beneath a single solid blow.
Blood was everywhere. The cow had been ripped to pieces, her mare's half-stable reduced to splinters, Rayya's broken corpse in the remains. And her family. Her family was no more than a pile of shattered bones and bloody matter on the earth she had toiled with her own two hands, tamed to her will.
Something within her tightened, creaked, and fractured. A cry that was far from human erupted from her lungs as she hurled herself from the mare's back, not even noticing when the brave equine charged alongside her master in her headlong rush towards the creature who had slaughtered her family so unrepentantly. The giant had a few seconds to turn and look at her, bewildered, before she was upon it; one Shout soaked into the very core of its being, sapping away vitality, as she slashed at it with her ebon axe, bashed it with her ebon shield. It staggered beneath the onslaught, but recovered quickly, and batted her horse aside with ease - something in the back of her mind registered its last pained scream before its back broke against a tree.
She couldn't care. Another Shout tore from her throat, making the Giant stumble and nearly fall to its knees. It only managed to remain upright due to sheer size, but as she forged ahead with fury twined around every fiber of her being, it seemed to reconsider its quarry. Apparently deciding to flee the maddened Bosmer, it turned and made to lope away. With a scream of pure mindless rage, Emara launched herself off the edge of the slight bluff on which her house stood, and landed on the Giant's back. It lurched in surprise, and tried to pull her off, but she was latched on with all her strength; both legs tightened, vise-like, about the Giant's neck, while her left hand gripped its lank, filthy hair, her shield forgotten on the ground. Her right arched overhead, and flashed down, plunging the sharp black edge of her axe into its head once. And again. And again.
Blood began to gush from the wounds in its skull; its club fell to the ground, unnoticed, as it wobbled and collapsed to its knees. Her attacks only continued, until it finally toppled forward onto its face, groaned a final time, and was still. Her breath came in harsh gasps, one trembling hand holding a fistful of hair with bloody scalp dangling from the end. In a flash, she remembered the carnage above, and her axe was dropped, forgotten in a heartbeat, as she dashed back up the hill. A nearly animalistic whimper of sorrow tumbled past slack lips as she saw the still body of her horse, the twisted shell of Rayya; when her gaze landed upon the crater where two small blots of bone, cloth, and blood lay unmoving, she yanked her helm off and let it fall as she sank to her knees, retching into the fertile earth.
"My.. my love..."
Farkas! He yet lived? Her head whipped around, eyes wide and wild, and looked at the feebly moving form of her husband. The cry of fragile hope twined with pure despair that erupted from her said more than any words could as she scrambled across the ground to his side, cradling his limp form in her arms. Blood was leaking from the corner of his lips, and each breath clearly pained him; he could barely move the fingers of his left hand, but other than that, he was still. "Farkas! Oh, Farkas, my love, forgive me, I was too late, too late, the children... But I can still save you! I can.. I can still..."
His lips curved into a weak parody of a smile as tears rolled down the sloping planes of her face, dripping onto his skin, his head twitching briefly to one side as though trying to shake it. "No.. no, my Emara, my.. my heart.. I am..." He coughed, blood pouring out of his mouth in a crimson tide, then groaned in agony. "..I am.. too far gone.. but at least I saw you.. one last.. time..."
"No no no.. Farkas, Farkas no, don't.. you.. you can't leave me!" Her forehead pressed to his, eyes squeezing tightly shut against the onslaught of tears that just wouldn't stop. She felt him shudder in her arms, and then.. the labored sound of his breathing ceased.
Her world shrank down to that single moment as her eyes snapped open and she stared into his lifeless gaze.
Her fingers twitched, spasmed, clutched at him and shook, as though that would mend his mangled body and breathe the spark of life back into him.
It was useless.
What was left of her sanity, and her very soul, broke. She sobbed once, twice, then raised her face to the unbearably sunny skies and Shouted her anguish for all of Tamriel to know.
Something heard her.
Whether it was the touch of the Divines, seeking to repair what was left of their Champion in the defense of their world, or some darker knowledge from the planes of Oblivion, none would likely ever know - certainly Emara never would, and she would never question it. But in that moment, the very fabric of space and time bent itself around the tortured Dragonborn. Light and sound rushed past her in a tide more powerful than any ocean's course; the sun reversed its path through the sky, again and again, moving too quickly for her to even consider counting.
And then it stopped.
When reality solidified around her once more, she was struck dumb; there was no crippled, empty body of Farkas in her arms, no blood-churned mud around the former shapes of her children; Rayya was calmly feeding her mare, who neighed happily in her stall; the corpse of the Giant who had destroyed her world was nowhere to be seen.
Her breaths came quickly, shallowly, and her vision darkened at the edges, before she drew her lower lip between her teeth and bit down; the pain cleared her sight, the taste of blood in her mouth mingling with the remnants of bile, and her gaze flew to the skies. It was night. The constellations above were familiar, welcome; the phase of the moon was.. utterly bewildering. She knew this night - it was Fredas, the 17th of Midyear. The day before she'd left for Markarth.
"My Thane?" Emara jerked, and rose unsteadily, turning to face Rayya with a look like she'd just seen the end of the world. "Are you well, Thane?"
"..Rayya." The word was a struggle, her voice hoarse and scratchy; she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, spat out a mouthful of blood, and staggered forward. "Yes, I.. I'm.. fine." She neared the housecarl, and something hard entered her face, before she placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. "..You have served me well, Rayya. I thank you. But my time in Falkreath Hold has come to an end - you should return to Jarl Siddgeir. Sell my house, if you wish."
Rayya looked stunned, but before she could argue, Emara had hurried past her and moved into the house like a woman possessed. Farkas and the children looked up sharply from the table they were clearing when the door swung violently open, presenting the haggard, tear-streaked face of the woman who held them all together. "..Love? Is something the matter?"
"Pack everything we absolutely need and be ready to leave at dawn. We're moving to Markarth." Normally soft-spoken and tender with her family, the hard, no-nonsense tone that was heard from Emara then stunned all three. Lucia and Alesan shared an uncertain look, then glanced at Farkas, who gestured for them to set down their plates.
"Go to your room, children." They hurriedly did as they were told, closing the doors behind them, and leaving their adoptive parents alone in the dining hall. Farkas didn't hesitate a moment; he strode across the room and gathered his wife, always so strong and courageous, into his arms. When she crumpled into his embrace, gripping his upper arms with a violent shiver, he knew something terrible had happened to her. But how? She had only gone outside an hour ago, maybe even less. He stroked her back, held her close, and murmured into the tangled mass of her hair. "What happened?"
She shook her head, her voice muffled against is chest. "I couldn't even begin to explain it." Her face tilted up, just enough for her to look into his eyes. Alive. Not dead. He was still alive. She still had time. "It's not safe here. We'll go to Markarth, at least until I can gather enough money to buy a better house - perhaps in Solitude. Proudspire Manor is large enough for all of us, and safe. Safe." She whispered the last word, before her face hardened, and she hissed in sudden anger. "I won't let a Giant slaughter my family! Not. Again."
Not again? Farkas turned those words over and over in his head. Something had happened. Something she couldn't put into words. She was the Dragonborn - she was somehow outside the rules of this world. He would just have to accept that. After a few silent moments, he nodded. "All right, love. I trust your judgement."
She slumped against him, and sighed. She'd managed to save them. Nothing would ever hurt her family again.
Nothing.