Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Thirty-Four

It didn't take long for news to travel through Skyrim. Whether by courier, carriage driver, or townspeople gossip, word passed through the province faster than lightning through a stormy sky. Within days, people began pouring into the city in hopes of seeing the Dragonborn, returned to her people.

As much as I hated to disappoint people, I didn't care for the idea of public appearances in the midst of war. I didn't care for the idea of public appearances ever, if I were being honest. The people of Whiterun no longer treated me with a reverence they normally reserved for deities. However, the rest of the world would trample over one another just for a chance to see my face. I hated it, had always hated it. Even after the many years of being cornered by the raging masses, I wanted my quiet life.

It was all I dreamed about in the peaceful times.

I sat in bed one morning, reading over correspondences from my soldiers in the east, while my husband curled against my side. His head rested on my stomach, his arms wrapped around my waist. His breaths came in a deep, even rhythm, and even though he slept, his grip on me never loosened. The poor man had hardly let go of me since I had returned from my captivity. Not that I cared, since I enjoyed the affection. It just made going to war meetings difficult when my husband refused to release me.

While I stroked his hair, Vilkas's breathing lost its steady rhythm, and instead he took one deep breath in. "Already awake?" He sat up a little, wiping his eyes, before collapsing on top of me. His chin propped against my chest, and he smiled up at me. I shook my head and continued to run my fingers through his tangled hair.

"No rest for the weary, I'm afraid, my love," I said as I set the letters down on the nightstand. "I'm just trying to pass time until I can meet with Marina about our strategy to take back the land that was once Morthal. We need to free those citizens soon, don't we?"

He scoffed in my face, and I wrinkled my nose at his nasty breath. "Already trying to leave again?"

I shoved his head away from my face. "Dear gods, that mead you had last night did not age well in your breath. Do something about that before you try talking to me again. Chew on some mint or something."

He harrumphed and rolled off the bed. "Fine, fine. Don't change the subject. I know I can't forbid you from going anywhere, but as your husband, and as a man who made a promise to stay with you, always, you know that I'll have to travel with you."

Readjusting on the bed, I rolled my eyes and pulled my hair back from my face. "Vilkas, you can't be serious about that. Someone has to stay here and watch the children."

"Let Farkas and Tyra do it. You know Tyra is more than happy to, and the twins don't need much supervision anymore. They're pretty responsible now."

"Jergen tried running with scissors only yesterday."

He stopped looking through the dresser and fixed me with a sheepish look. "Right. That... builds character?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "It runs the risk of putting an eye out, and it proves my point. Tyra is only days away from delivering her baby. She's in no condition to chase her own children around, much less your rambunctious offspring."

Thin lips quirked into a bemused smirk. "My rambunctious offspring? Oh, no. That spark of rebellion and thirst for danger comes from you. Who's the one who has a literal dragon's soul instead of a human one?"

"Faaz nah, Vilkas."

"Dovahzhul? You haven't spoken that in quite some time."

"I have to my dovah brethren. I don't waste it on people who don't understand me, unless I'm irate with that person."

Laying a hand to his chest in mock offense, Vilkas used his free hand to toss a balled-up pair of socks at me. "You're irate with me? Why? What did I do to you?"

I caught the socks and threw them right back. "You breathed in my face with your day-old mead breath."

Now he rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, don't get your undergarments in a twist. I'm looking for that box of mint leaves you keep hidden somewhere." After just a little more searching, he found the small tin of dried mint leaves and set one on his tongue. He waltzed back to the bed, seeming to be pleased with himself, before flopping down on top of me again. I let out a grunt and tried to push him off, but Vilkas wrapped his arms around me.

"Are you... trying to crush me?!" I made an attempt to wedge my knees under his chest, but it amounted to nothing. He had me effectively pinned down. "Off!"

"I don't feel like getting off of you, lovely wife. Especially after you asked if I'm trying to crush you. Are you implying that I'm getting fat?"

"I'm not... implying! You are getting soft around the middle!" Then, I stopped struggling and fixed him with a look. I even poked a finger into his side, right where the hard line of muscle hid just under a new, soft layer. "Your age is catching up to you."

I expected him to jump up in a rush and turn sullen. I expected him to sit at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, and a scowl on his face. That was what he normally did when I made quips about his age. I didn't expect him to push me deeper into the bed and attack my lips with his, his fingers intertwining with mine and the ends of his hair falling to tickle my cheeks.

But that's exactly what he did.

"You know, I've enjoyed this," he said when he finally pulled away. When he exhaled, I could smell the mint on his breath. A welcome change from just a minute ago. "Having you home, every night and morning. Not having to wake up and wonder where you've gone before you could say goodbye. It reminds me of a simpler time." His smile dropped, and with it, his whole expression. "Before this godsforsaken war."

"The war won't last forever, and you know that." I combed my fingers through his hair, fingers coming to trace across his jaw for a moment. His stubble poked at my fingertips, and I smiled a little. "It can't last forever. I still want more babies."

He dropped his head and shook it. A breathy laugh made his shoulders quiver, and his hands came to my face. "Oh, Ylva. You're not letting the baby talk go anywhere, are you?"

"What can I say? Seeing Tyra close to delivering her child makes me wish I was expecting, too. The excitement, the preparation, the—"

"Cravings, the mood swings, the misery when you'd wake up in the night and say 'Oh, Vilkas, please rub my ankles. They're sore and I can't sleep until they stop aching.' The complaining about your hips always hurting and never sleeping because you 'can't sleep on your back.'"

For that, I slapped him. Lightly, of course, but it proved my point. "Bastard."

"You abuse me, woman." Even as he held his cheek, he smiled at me. "Guess that's what I get for marrying a dragon."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way."

"Damn right."

I pulled him back down to the bed and kissed him. The meeting with Marina could wait. I had more important matters to attend to.

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Translation:

Faaz nah: "damn you."