Characters: Altmer F!DB, Ghorbash, Kharjo, Blaise, Lucia Kinks: Humor, fluff, marriage, family Relationships: Het, gen Summary: Coming home after several days of adventuring is something the Dragonborn always looks forward to, especially now that she has adopted children. However, the idyllic family life isn’t exactly what greets her when she returns to her once-beautiful manor…
x-x-x-x-x
My face fell the instant my homestead came into view. I slowed my horse as I took in the mess strewn around my manor, spotting broken fence pieces, spoiled food, and even someone’s underwear decorating the front lawn. My animals had scattered around the property, with my cow somehow loitering on the balcony above the master bedroom. Initially, I thought another group of bandits had attacked, and panic shot through my limbs when I heard screaming from inside.
“Kharjo, let’s hurry,” I said to my Khajiit follower as I leaped off my horse and sprinted forward on foot.
I heard him do the same, and I drew my glass sword in one hand as an ice spell appeared in my other. The circlet and enchanted robes I wore glowed in response to my adrenaline. Intent on saving my family from whatever disaster had occurred here, I kicked open the front door and charged through the entry room, only to stumble to a halt when I reached the main hall.
Not only did the entire space look like I had repeatedly Shouted Unrelenting Force with wild abandon, a (rather loud) conflict was indeed taking place. Only, it was not so much outside danger as it was a war between angry family members.
Incensed cries and yells assaulted my ears as I watched my Orsimer husband, Ghorbash, swiftly losing his parental leverage. With one arm, he held our thrashing son, Blaise, upside down in the air while the other tried to soothe our crying daughter, Lucia. My jaw dropped when I realized her sable hair had been hacked into uneven chunks, and Ghorbash was actually shaking Blaise like a tambourine in order to get him to drop the iron dagger still in his hands.
None had noticed my less than subtle entrance, engrossed as they were in their arguing and the children’s general proclamations of hatred for each other. Neither my housecarl nor my steward were anywhere to be found, but my bard, Llewellyn, trudged by, nursing a black eye and a sour expression. I sheathed my sword at my hip and gave Kharjo an apologetic look before extending my palm and sending an ice spike into the wooden dining table.
The chaos ceased at once. Several pairs of eyes locked onto me, and as soon as I opened my mouth to ask what in Oblivion had happened here, I found myself interrupted by my children launching themselves at my waist.
“Mama!”
“Ma!”
“I hate Blaise! He’s terrible! Look what he did to my hair!”
“Lucia started it! She pricked my bum with my own dagger!”
“That’s not true!”
“I can prove it!”
And so, in front of the guest I’d hoped to introduce over supper, my charming son whirled around, bent over, and pulled down his trousers, exposing his arse for all to see.
Chaos at the Hearth [1/?]
Kinks: Humor, fluff, marriage, family
Relationships: Het, gen
Summary: Coming home after several days of adventuring is something the Dragonborn always looks forward to, especially now that she has adopted children. However, the idyllic family life isn’t exactly what greets her when she returns to her once-beautiful manor…
My face fell the instant my homestead came into view. I slowed my horse as I took in the mess strewn around my manor, spotting broken fence pieces, spoiled food, and even someone’s underwear decorating the front lawn. My animals had scattered around the property, with my cow somehow loitering on the balcony above the master bedroom. Initially, I thought another group of bandits had attacked, and panic shot through my limbs when I heard screaming from inside.
“Kharjo, let’s hurry,” I said to my Khajiit follower as I leaped off my horse and sprinted forward on foot.
I heard him do the same, and I drew my glass sword in one hand as an ice spell appeared in my other. The circlet and enchanted robes I wore glowed in response to my adrenaline. Intent on saving my family from whatever disaster had occurred here, I kicked open the front door and charged through the entry room, only to stumble to a halt when I reached the main hall.
Not only did the entire space look like I had repeatedly Shouted Unrelenting Force with wild abandon, a (rather loud) conflict was indeed taking place. Only, it was not so much outside danger as it was a war between angry family members.
Incensed cries and yells assaulted my ears as I watched my Orsimer husband, Ghorbash, swiftly losing his parental leverage. With one arm, he held our thrashing son, Blaise, upside down in the air while the other tried to soothe our crying daughter, Lucia. My jaw dropped when I realized her sable hair had been hacked into uneven chunks, and Ghorbash was actually shaking Blaise like a tambourine in order to get him to drop the iron dagger still in his hands.
None had noticed my less than subtle entrance, engrossed as they were in their arguing and the children’s general proclamations of hatred for each other. Neither my housecarl nor my steward were anywhere to be found, but my bard, Llewellyn, trudged by, nursing a black eye and a sour expression. I sheathed my sword at my hip and gave Kharjo an apologetic look before extending my palm and sending an ice spike into the wooden dining table.
The chaos ceased at once. Several pairs of eyes locked onto me, and as soon as I opened my mouth to ask what in Oblivion had happened here, I found myself interrupted by my children launching themselves at my waist.
“Mama!”
“Ma!”
“I hate Blaise! He’s terrible! Look what he did to my hair!”
“Lucia started it! She pricked my bum with my own dagger!”
“That’s not true!”
“I can prove it!”
And so, in front of the guest I’d hoped to introduce over supper, my charming son whirled around, bent over, and pulled down his trousers, exposing his arse for all to see.