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Marriage to the Dragonborn	By : cisdesir Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 7854 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls, Skyrim, or any of the characters mentioned herein. I receive no profit or monetary gain from writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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"You'd best order lunch or those meads you've had will get you stumbling drunk at high noon." A playful female voice startled Farkas out of his misery. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and focused on the face in front of him. It was Ysolda.
Sometime along the way since he had stormed in, Hulda had stepped away and Ysolda was minding the bar. He glanced around the inn and found it mostly empty. Mikael was sitting at distant table lazily strumming his lute to the tune of Ragnar the Red. "I'll have the chicken leg and potatoes." Farkas muttered.
The redhead smiled, "Good choice. I'll get it plated for you." With that, she walked around the bar and into the kitchen. Farkas turned to follow her with his eyes. He could see Hulda bustling around in the kitchen preparing food for the eventual lunch break rush. He watched Ysolda pull pieces of chicken from the cooked pile in a cauldron with a large fork and some cut up potatoes, onto his plate. She went around the bar and plopped down the plate with a smile on her face.
"Eat up." Farkas thanked her and lifted a chicken leg to his mouth. When he finished, he wiped the grease from his mouth and Ysolda came back to take his plate away. Farkas dropped a pile of septims on the counter and stood up. She had been right, if he hadn't eaten he would have been stumbling drunk. Not exactly the appearance he wanted to show on his second day back home.
Ysolda interrupted him before he pushed open the door of the inn. "Could I interest you with a sweetroll? I'm done for the day and it would be nice to catch up with you. I have a fresh batch baked at home this morning." She offered, looking up at him. Farkas smiled. "I suppose so." Ysolda brightened. "Wonderful!" She opened the door and they both stepped out, squinting in the bright sunlight. She acknowledged a few patrons of the marketplace, and walked briskly on her home route.
She let him into her modest home, and had him sit down in the main room while she brought warmed-up sweetrolls to the small table. Farkas brought up the plate and tore off bits with his other hand.
"So, it's been a while. This is nice, visiting." Ysolda smiled. She seemed eager, like she had something in mind. Farkas nodded. Sure enough, Ysolda leaned forward. "I, you know, I saw you talking to Carlotta." She whispered, as if the house wasn't private. Farkas clenched his jaws and nodded again. "I'm guessing it didn't go well, judging by your face when you came into the inn... But... Well..."
Farkas raised an eyebrow. "Well, what?" Ysolda shifted in her seat. "If you wanted to know what we talked about-" Ysolda hastily interrupted. "Oh no! I mean, if you wanted to talk to someone, well, I'm here. Or, just, if you need to feel better, you know."
He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "What? Ysolda, are you-" She blushed in response. Farkas reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek. He smiled, amusement shining in his light colored eyes. "I'm a married man. You flatter me." Farkas whispered. The female Nord reddened more furiously. Deep down, he was puzzled at what came out of his mouth. With their history, he could have counted on her discretion.
When he met Ysolda, she was a shy girl just starting her merchant apprenticeship at Whiterun. She had taken an infatuation to the tall, dark and strong Companion. Farkas had always been amused by her attempts at flirtations when they ran into each other. This was a decade and a half ago. He'd usually humor her and buy a few overpriced trinkets.
After Ysolda's father had given his blessing for her first journey as a merchant and gave her a loan, she immediately went to Jorrvaskr and stammered that she wanted to hire protection. Kodlak had smiled gently and asked her if she already had one of their fine warriors in mind. She chose Farkas, and for a year, he journeyed Cyrodiil and Skyrim with her. It was this journey that turned her onto the idea of caravaneering, being a travel merchant. She provided him with food and lodging. On the first of every month she paid him with a heavy purse full of gold.
Farkas enjoyed the work; Ysolda did need protection- bandits and shady dealers often took her as a naive, easy target, and the pay was a bonus. As her bartering skills improved she acquired rarer items and the pay got even better. Farkas would send back the required cut to Jorrvaskr but other than that he had more septims than he knew what to do with.
It didn't take Farkas long to begin undressing Ysolda in his head. He was a red-blooded Nordic male, of course. Right when he first met her, he immediately noticed how her clothes would accentuate her tanned skin and eyes. The corset she always laced up would cling to her curves in all the right spots. She had a shapely bosom and rear and those assets of hers combined with her smarts definitely was the perfect traits she needed to be successful. In Whiterun, he had paid her the same respect as any other citizen both because he was a Companion and also a guard of Whiterun. His honor was, and had always been, important to him. And even while he was a hired muscle, his honor was still important to him.
He didn't want to anger her father or her five brothers by getting sent home like some handsy sellsword. That's not what the Companions were known for. So he didn't bed the girl immediately - although he was certain he could. While on the road, they shared the same tent but separate bedrolls. This was to ensure that he was always within reach by her side. But indeed it was a bit challenging to not get out of his bedroll and crawl into hers when he felt the urge to be with a woman. At this time he had yet to be inducted into The Circle so the only thing he needed to control was his lust.
Let the record show that it was her who came onto him.
They had left from Whiterun and set up camp just outside Imperial City, Cyrodiil. It took them about three weeks to get there. Ysolda was so enamored with the magnificent city that they had stayed two more weeks, both touring and trading. After that, they ventured to Cheydinhal. A perfectly presentable city with equally presentable citizens, but Farkas couldn't be any happier when they finally left. That city was skeevier than Riften. It was like Markarth and Riften combined only with more history of corruption and blood. Ysolda only stayed a day attempting to trade. She was mainly unsuccessful as the citizens all haggled like old fishwives, down to the last septim and Farkas had to chase off thieves several times.
So they moved on southbound to Bravil and Ysolda finally met her first khajit caravan. Bravil had the worst crime rate of any city Farkas had seen so far, combined with a horrible swamp environment. He barely slept when they stayed there for a few days. They were lucky enough to not get murdered but he felt they were testing their luck the longer they remained. The khajit caravan Ysolda met had been kind to her and that was how Ysolda got it in her head that she would one day own a caravan. Their leader taught Ysolda a few tips about trading outside of Skyrim, which were good cities to attend and cities to avoid in particular.
Farkas liked the city of Skingrad, and it was there that Ysolda loaded up on their wines and cheeses to bring and sell in Skyrim. They had been in Cyrodiil for almost three months. Ysolda was in a cheerful mood and decided to splurge by renting a room at the inn that night.
They had sent for hot water and taken baths separately, with Ysolda going first and then Farkas. The water was tepid by the time he climbed into the tub, but he was grateful for the ability to wash up properly after quite a while. They hadn't dared to even leave their carriage in Cheydinhal or Bravil for fear that their driver would get robbed or that Ysolda would be assaulted going out alone.
After Farkas had finished washing up and put on his civilian clothes, Ysolda ordered that dinner and wine be sent up to their room. They stayed up late, drinking wine and eating extremely well. Ysolda was always animated and talkative. Sometimes a bit too much, but she was interested in his life. Farkas surprised himself when he found himself opening to her.
"How did you come to join the Companions?" She asked, taking a sip of rich Jazbay grape wine and complementing it with a bite of goat cheese.
"I was raised in it... Jergen, our father I like to think, brought us to Jorrvaskr when we were mere pups. Kodlak mentioned that we came from the southeast, probably Falkreath but I have no idea if I was born there."
"What happened to your father?" Farkas shrugged in response. "He left to fight in the Great War and never returned. I think he died. The Companions and Tilma all took part in raising us. I completed my trial at around 15 years and became a Companion. I knew I'd always join. How else do you repay this kind of favor?"
Ysolda murmured in agreement. "Is it hard, being away from your love?"
Farkas looked up at her in confusion. "I... don't have a love. Companions don't."
She shifted. "Oh… No girl you're sweet on back in Whiterun?" Farkas shook his head.
"I see. Well, I just expected that as someone with rank and honor such as yours, well, you wouldn't have a problem meeting someone." Ysolda glanced down and studied her drink, swirling the dark liquid inside the metal goblet. Farkas smirked and leaned back in his seat. "You thought true. I don't."
He took entertainment in watching her redden. Despite gaining considerable skill in bartering and maintaining her calm exterior, she was still young and Farkas estimated, inexperienced. If only she wasn't paying him...
Ysolda took another drink from her goblet, looking everywhere but him. She put the drink down and folded her hands in her lap. " Of course not." A giggle broke out unexpectedly and she bit her lip to stifle it. Farkas raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"It's just that this conversation is funny. So, what is it - is it your status or your looks… or your talent?" She giggled again. The alcohol was finally getting to her, the so-called liquid courage coursing through her body.
"I don't know. I like to think it's my looks, though. What would you say?"
"Hmm, you'd get a pass for status and looks, although I can't say anything on your talent. I have yet to experience it." Ysolda lifted her eyes to meet his. Farkas' smirk grew wider.
"Have yet? If you didn't have five brothers and a father I'm afraid of, Ysolda, you would know by now." Ysolda blushed and tightened her lips demurely. "So it's... common for sellswords to sleep with their employers?"
"You could say that. It's against Companion rules, though. So five brothers or no, maybe I wouldn't."
"Do you think you'd make an exception for me?"
Farkas shrugged and stood up, and Ysolda followed him. "How about you run that by your papa first and let me know." He quickly turned away as if to push his chair into the table to avoid laughing. Ysolda's flirty expression had dropped into a glare immediately.
She flared. "Oh is that so? Do you think I'm some spoiled milk-drinker just getting her feet wet with reality? Is that it?" Farkas bit his lip stifling his laughter and Ysolda stomped up to him. Compared to his bulky physique, she was slight, but she didn't seem to notice it now. With every word, Ysolda stabbed a finger into his chest. "I'll-have-you-know-I-worked-for-it-all! Father didn't give me a damn thing besides a loan I've repaid three times over with ten percent interest!" Farkas' eyebrows rose up in his forehead.
Their faces were dangerously close and he could just …
Farkas ducked around Ysolda and stood up. "If a father trusts you to go alone with his daughter then you don't fuck his daughter." He shrugged. "The code is pretty simple here, if you were a Companion or not. I'm not some cheap sellsword that hangs around in a bar soliciting customers and sleeps them on the side for a discount." His words came out slightly slurred. Ysolda's face was still red, but he suspected it was mostly from the mead. Her eyes seemed unfocused.
"We're drunk. I'm going now. Good night, Ysolda." He hastily turned away before his urge to grab her and fulfill her desires all night overtook him.
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- 7
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Marriage to the Dragonborn