Author's Note: Still playin the game, which is awesome. Dear god I love Bethesda.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
The Milk Drinker's Revenge
By: Lady NeverAfterNon
Farkas paused outside of Belethor's general goods store when he felt the slide of someone's hand on his ass, no doubt heading for his money pouch. A thief. Good. It was never a bad thing to demonstrate to people that the Companions were a force not to be fucked with, and the uncontested badasses of Skyrim. He turned, reaching for the broadsword on his back. The would-be thief was going to be in pieces and didn't even know it. No one took from the Companions and got away with it. A woman in the most mismatched set of armor he'd ever seen was crouched behind him, hands firmly planted on his bottom. A look of intense concentration was on her pretty face. Only, she wasn't exactly picking his pocket. She was feeling him up.
His eyes slid to the Housecarl standing behind her. Lydia had been a resident of Whiterun for as long as Farkas could remember, and if memory served him correctly the Jarl had appointed her in service to the new Thane. Lydia didn't look like she was guarding a noble at the moment. The tall brunette Nord had a hand over her eyes and she was pinching the bridge of her nose. Her expression looked rather pained.
Farkas looked back down at the lady who still had both hands on his backside. That must be the new Thane then. "Uh-"
She looked up at him and shook herself, just seeming to realize that she had both hands on a stranger's posterior. She waved at him. "Hi!"
Lydia let out a faint groan. "Oh god."
Farkas coughed. "Hi-, uh, Miss-?"
"May I present the new Thane of Whiterun." Lydia sounded like she was having teeth pulled.
The woman extended a hand for him to shake, other still firmly clamped to his backside. Farkas shook it, wondering what the hell was wrong with this situation. A thief he could punch, but this- this wasn't in the rule books. What to do?
"Uh." He gestured at her hand. "Could you- ?"
The woman looked down at the offending limb in surprise as though she hadn't realized she was still gooching a random stranger. "Woops. Sorry about that sir. Sometimes it gets away from me."
Farkas didn't know what to do with her. He didn't want to kick her ass. She was very pretty in an odd, mismatched sort of way. Even if she was an Imperial. The red warpaint was a stark contrast to her eyes, and moved in sharp slashes down her throat. Her brown hair hung down to frame her tanned face, braids peeking out of the thick wavy locks, almost asking him to put his fingers in her hair to see if it was as thick and soft as it looked. He squelched that thought promptly. Just because she'd felt him up did not mean it was okay to return the favor. Her pale eyes twinkled at him as though she knew exactly what he'd been thinking, and that it was most definitely okay to return the favor.
He winced. Aela's voice behind cracked across the Whiterun square like a dragon blast. For some reason he felt like he'd been caught red handed with a sweet roll.
The Thane peeked around him and her eyes widened. "Wow that chick has no pants on. Heh, and I can see her boobies."
Lydia let out a faint whimper and Farkas choked on a laugh. That was Aela, not that he'd ever mention it to the Huntress's face. He turned. Aela was striding across the market place with the tough as nails facade firmly in place. The only one to see her softer side was Skjor, and even that was only a rumor. Ria trailed behind Aela like a puppy. Farkas squared his shoulders.
Aela stopped in front of them and her gaze landed on Lydia's errant charge. "You!"
The Thane cocked her head. "Me?"
"You are the coward who stood by when we Companions dispatched the giant."
"My Housecarl said it would be disastrous to my health should I attempt to intervene."
Lydia threw up her hands in exasperation. "And that was the only time you chose to listen to me."
Aela's gaze narrowed. "You certainly had no trouble running up and looting the giant's body when we finished."
"I may have let the gold go to my head and might have taken care of the rest of his fellows after that," the Thane said cheerfully, "I love looting. Can't seem to help myself."
Farkas coughed. She certainly hadn't been looting when she'd felt him up.
"Killed his fellows eh?" Aela said, eyebrow raised.
The Thane nodded sagely. "Yep. I was minding my own business, rifling through their chests, and they must have taken offense to something I said."
"Or it might have been your presence there, my Thane," Lydia muttered.
Aela put her hands on her hips. "Killing giants takes courage. Should you decide that you want to leave the ranks of the milk drinkers and join Skyrim's true heroes, go see Kodlak Whitemane up at Jorrvaskr."
"I think I will," the Thane grinned at him, and Farkas felt distinctly like the mice that he enjoyed pouncing on in the moonlighted plains when he was a wolf, "Lead on!"
Farkas and the rest of his shield brethren led the way back through Whiterun to Jorrvaskr, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the new Thane was checking out his backside. By the time they reached the safety of Jorrvaskr's walls his cheeks were burning pink. Farkas was annoyed with himself. Why was he getting so worked up about some woman's interest? He was certainly no stranger to taking the Bannered Mare's barmaids for a tumble in the sack, so why he was blushing like a first timer was rankling at him. And the butterflies infesting his stomach, don't get him started on the damn butterflies. They had no business in the guts of a Companion.
For some reason he couldn't get her pale eyes out of his head. They shone like moons in her face. And the little crinkles at the corner of her eyes when she grinned like an imp were fucking adorable.
"Kodlak is downstairs," Aela instructed, "Seek him out should you find the stones to join us."
"Right-o." The Thane saluted, then turned to her Housecarl, "You can chill here, I don't think I'm going to be in danger talking to some old dude."
Aela looked like she was going to murder something at 'old dude.'
Lydia sank into the nearest chair with a groan and waved a hand at Tilma. "Only if you don't steal anything, my Thane, so watch your fingers. God I need a drink."
"Aye aye, Sir." The Thane tromped off.
Farkas sank nonchalantly into the chair next to Lydia. He figured now was as good a time as any for some Q&A. He waited until the Housecarl was finished with her meal of grilled leeks and cheese and was nursing her ale before interrogating her about her slightly weird, but very pretty, Thane. The fire was crackling merrily and the wooden table felt familiar underneath his forearms.
"So," he began, "Vilkas is better at talkin', but I gotta ask-"
"Ask what?" Lydia interrupted him, "If you expect me to speak ill of my Thane, you will regret it. I know she's a little odd, but she's good people."
Farkas scratched at the stubble on his chin, perplexed. "I wasn't gonna speak ill of her. Damn I'm bad at this talking stuff. I wanted to know about her, that's all."
Lydia laughed. "Oh is that it? Well, she may be my Thane but she's my best friend." Lydia nursed her ale, staring into the fire. "I thought I would be stuck in Whiterun forever, but then one day she comes waltzing in saying something about a dragon. A dragon, right? Shit's the stuff of legend. Next thing I know she's back, killed one and the body is out twitching by the Western Watchtower. I've followed her from Riften to Solitude, and everywhere in between. It's been fun, I haven't had this much fun since I was a kid. We went through this Dwemer dungeon up North last week. Took us three days to get through and we almost died fighting a Centurion at the end. She Spoke the thing to death; I didn't think get out of that one."
"Spoke?" Farkas was confused. Vilkas had said once that it was possible to talk someone's ear off, but he didn't think that that was what Lydia meant.
Lydia considered him over the rim of her glass. "The Thu'um. She's Dovahkiin, Dragonborn. She kills a dragon, absorbs the soul, and then sees a word of power somewhere and can use it."
"Wow." Farkas was impressed. The Thane was tiny. He couldn't imagine her kicking anything's ass, let alone a dragon.
The emergence of Vilkas and the Thane distracted him from commenting on Lydia's Thane's diminutive stature. Vilkas looked like he'd been forced to chew glass so Farkas took that to mean Kodlak had said yes. He tried not to grin. Somehow the thought that the little Thane might be among them, near him, for a while made his insides oddly warm and fluttery. Damn butterflies.
Farkas and Lydia followed the two out to the training grounds where Vilkas snatched up a shield and sword.
"Come on," he taunted, "You can't hurt me."
The Thane watched him for a moment and then her shoulders slumped. "You're probably right."
Lydia slapped her Thane's shoulder. "Bah. Go get em' tiger."
The Thane dug through her knapsack. "No, no, no not that one. Hmmm. Shit, I don't do this close combat crap. Ugh. Hey Lydia you still got that ebony sword I gave you a while ago?"
"Do you want the poisoned one or the one that sets people on fire?"
The Thane looked at Vilkas. "Fire."
Lydia withdrew a long thin curved black blade from her pack and tossed it. The Thane gave it an experimental swing before turning to Vilkas. "Oki doki, let's do this."
Vilkas charged her and she barely got out of the way in time. The Thane didn't seem in any hurry to hit him. He'd lunge at her and she'd spring away. Farkas crossed his arms over his chest. There was a nip in the air, a breeze that swung down off of the mountains to dance across the plains. The air was chilly, but he was warm. His eyes followed the fight. He knew his brother well enough that he wasn't giving it is all, but he wasn't going easy on her either.
The Thane seemed to sense that as well and she stabbed him across the back of the legs, getting in a lucky hit. Vilkas yelled, flames licking across the back of his pants, and he went down to one knee. He sprang up a second later telling her she wasn't half bad and had some promise, but Farkas grinned. She'd downed his brother. Not many could claim that feat. Vilkas was a fierce fighter.
"Here." Vilkas shoved his sword at her. "Take this to the Skyforge for sharpening."
"You got it. Come Lydia! To the Skyforge! A glorious quest awaits! You got any laundry that needs doing, Sir?" The Thane called after Vilkas' retreating back.
Farkas chuckled. "Don't push to far, lady."
Those pale eyes twinkled at him in merriment before the Thane turned and started up the path to Eorlund Grey-Mane's forge. Farkas watched her go, or more specifically watched her round armor plated ass swing side to side as she walked. He figured he might as well return the favor. The sun was bright but her grey steel plated armor seemed to swallow all light. The armor shaped her lithe figure like a lover's hand. Normally if someone asked him what he preferred in a woman he'd say give him a bar wench in a easily shoved up cotton dress any day, but damn if the Thane wasn't mesmerizing.
He couldn't get her out of his head.
To be continued...