Stories of Skyrim

Faendal

It had been months since she set foot in Riverwood. So much had happened to her, to Skyrim, that she was barely the same mild-mannered Dunmer she had been. Riverwood looked the same on the surface. The mill was there, the forge embers burning low in the late night. Sven and Hilde's house was dark and silent. The rest of the town looked much the same, dark and silent, with the glaring exception of the inn.

She lingered under the Trader's gables, listening to the unmistakeable sounds of a party. The Dragonborn's defeat of Alduin had sent the entire country into a partying mood. Even the Thalmor had eased up, but that was no doubt the calm before the storm. Her heart gave a little lurch. Now that the dragons were dealt with, the war would begin again in earnest.

The door of the inn opened, a sliver of orange light cutting across the road. A single person stepped out onto the balcony. She recognised him immediately, the white hair tied behind his head, the green tunic he always favoured. His shoulders slumped as he walked to the end of the deck and dropped down onto the middle step. The neck of a bottle hung loosely between the fingers of his right hand. He dropped his face into his left with a sigh.

She felt for him. He looked so forlorn that her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her towards him. He looked up at the scuff of her feet on the cobbled stone path. "Looks like some party," she said quietly.

Faendal smiled faintly. "It is," he replied. "Its the engagement of the year," he added, bitterly.

"Oh? Who's getting hitched?" She joined him on his step, pulling her coat tight around her shoulders. No matter how long she lived in Skyrim, the cold still bit at her skin.

He took a long drag of the bottle before he said; "Camilla and Sven."

She winced. "Ah. Shit."

"Eeeyup," Faendal nodded. His eyes tracked up to the Barrow, the adventure they shared almost half a year earlier. "You know, I really thought I had a chance. After I came back with the Claw, things were different. She smiled at me all the time, came up to the mill to talk... it was like she finally saw me."

Danali hummed in sympathy. She'd seen it first hand, how Camilla enjoyed the chase and the game of leading the two men on. Riverwood was a huge change from the Imperial City and Camilla had sought her entertainment whenever she could.

Faendal finished his drink and the bottle was dropped into the thistles. It clinked off a dozen others- one of Embry's dumping spots. "She even asked if I'd thought of marriage. Children... as if I hadn't made my intentions clear. Just when I thought to ask for her hand... Sven inherited his uncle's farm in Rorikstead and now they're getting married."

"I'm sorry," Danali mumbled. Faendal huffed his thanks, staring at the ground. He swayed slightly and she caught his shoulder before he could pitch face-first to the ground. "Lets get you home."

He nodded miserably. There was no fight from him as she half-carried him to his house. She had to fish the key out of his pocket- desperately trying to ignore the firm, warm muscle beneath his tunic- and unlock the door.

They staggered inside. Faendal released her and staggered for the water barrel, dropping himself head-first inside. The bubbles rose alarmingly fast beside his head; Danali could hear, faintly, the sound of a scream. Despite herself, she smothered a laugh. When he was done he stepped back, dripping water, running both hands down his face.

"Better?" Danali asked. Faendal tensed then turned, slowly, to face her. His face was flushed and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Danali froze at his approach, his hands cupping her face, mouth lowering to hers- "Faendal?" She whispered. She stepped back and he followed, until her back hit the door and there was no more escape. His eyes slid closed at the first touch of a kiss. Danali groaned aloud, unable to deny the pleasant butterflies in her stomach. Some part of her had wanted this since they met, since they fought their way through the Barrow.

Faendal shuddered against her. One hand slid into her hair, tilting her back. The other curled around her hip and pulled her flush against him. He kissed her again, deeper, until she was dizzy and breathless. He pushed a knee between her legs, his teeth working her neck. Danali's legs gave out; if it weren't for Faendal pressing her against the door, she would have toppled right over. She grabbed his shoulders, steadying herself, and scratched lightly to the tips of his ears. She turned his head and took the point of one in her mouth, sucking lightly.

"Ugh, fuck," Faendal grunted. His voice lowered to a growl. "Yes... just like that... Camilla..."

Like a bucket of ice water, Danali was snapped to attention. Her thoughts sharpened and she cursed herself for getting carried away. He was drunk, she was convenient- no matter how much she might have wanted him, Danali wanted him to want her. "Faendal," she said, pushing at his shoulders. He paused but didn't step back, hot breath fanning over her collarbone. "Stop- please. Stop!"

Faendal stepped back. His eyes wide, his mouth opened and closed with confusion. Horrified realisation sank in next, and Danali held up a hand when he began to speak. She tried to fight the lump in her throat but it was strangling her. Instead, she turned on a heel, flung the door open, and fled into the night.