Chapter Text
Ysolda POV:
"It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?". My Khajiit bride has never looked more radiant. The blue jacket she's wearing over her red undershirt is the nicest I've ever seen her wear, and she's wearing enough jewelry she'd drown if someone pushed her into deep enough water. Besides the fine jacket and shirt, her pants and hat are made of similar silk and fur to pull the full outfit together.
Usually, she'd be dressed in her heaviest plate with a war hammer slung over her back. It was all I could do to convince her she wouldn't be attacked at her own wedding. Unsurprisingly, she didn't budge completely and is wearing chainmail underneath her fine wedding clothes and has a dagger dangling from her hip. I don't mind in the slightest. All that's important is that she's marrying me. I promised myself to her a year ago, but her journeys always took her far and wide. When I got the letter from Riften to come as soon as possible I was convinced it was to inspect her corpse and confirm to the guards it was indeed the Dovahkiin who had died and not some other Khajiit.
Instead, I found the woman waiting atop her destrier outside the gates, waiting for me. We'd spent close to a month planning our wedding as we relaxed in a house she owned and gotten to know each other all over again. I was one of the few people blessed to finally see the paranoid warrior without a helm atop her head. Her long, flowing fur is as gorgeous as freshly fallen snow without a single speck of color to mar the beauty. Only her deep, dark blue eyes could compare to the gorgeousness of her fur. Aside from a deep notch in her left ear, she was as perfect as any Khajiit had ever been. In part thanks to the fact she's never without her armor.
An archer's arrow had taken the notch out of her ear years and years ago and forever spooked her into a metal shell for protection. She even wore it on the way to the wedding and refused to take it off until she checked the area and assured herself there were no assassins hiding in the rafters. Her beautiful face and soul are mine and mine alone. Even the shabby priest who's marrying us isn't given the sight of her full face because she's partially turned towards me to hear my answer. Without a doubt in my heart, I pledge myself to the woman I love.
"I do. Now and forever.". I'm rewarded with a quick peck of a kiss on the nose before the priest continues with his droning speech.
"Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?". She offers me a smile sweet enough to hurt my teeth.
"I do. Now and forever.". I'm kissing her as hard as I can and don't hear anything else the priest has to say to us. She picks me up in her arms and spins me around until I'm dizzy and begging to be put down. Kisses beyond count follow as the priest and priestess of Mara come forth to prepare for our feast. Normally, friends and family would attend to us and come forth to wish us well. The Khajiit left her family in Elsweyr and hasn't been able to get in contact with the caravan she was born and raised in. I'd offered to wait until she found them again to marry, but she ultimately decided to marry and just renew our vows should we find her caravan one day.
My own mother and father are long gone and my brothers no longer live in Skyrim. I'd offered to invite some acquaintances and shopkeepers who were friendly enough; sadly, my new wife's paranoia hadn't allowed it. In all honesty, it's a miracle she married me. The first time we made love she kept her helm on and wouldn't take off the rest of her armor until I was naked and proved I had no weapons on me. It was only after multiple conversations and a few times making love she agreed to take her helm off. She was nervous and jumpy the entire night, but once she woke up and found she wasn't dead she decided I was worthy of her trust. She asked me to marry her a few days later with an Amulet of Mara around her neck.
Now, my dreams have come true. The Khajiit is my wife and we're having a feast prepared for us to celebrate our good fortune. Soon enough, the Dovahkiin will carry me back to her house and we'll spend the night consummating our marriage until we're sore. Tomorrow, the Khajiit has promised she'll take me back to Whiterun with stops at Windhelm and Falkreath to drink and dance and celebrate our marriage. The Dovahkiin is a thane in all holds and the jarls will celebrate her marriage wherever she goes. Even Jarl Maven offered, begrudgingly, to throw a feast in our honor and have singers and entertainers from all over the hold to come to help us celebrate. Thankfully, my wife declined the invitation on the basis of hating Maven and not trusting her.
Even being in the same city as Maven has been enough to make my love tighten her helm and look over her shoulder on walks. My wife promised as soon as we wake tomorrow we'll break our fast on eggs and ride out at the first light of dawn. I can't wait to be on the open road sitting behind my lover with our entire future ahead of us. For now, though, I'm excited about the feast. The Khajiit told the followers of Mara exactly what to cook, how much to cook, and what drinks to serve with what courses. Even with her oversight, the amount of food and drinks laid before us look like enough to feed an army rather than a newly married couple.
The feast is filled with grand dishes only the Dovahkiin could afford: roasted beef sauteed with onions, garlic, and peppers; a whole suckling piglet basted with bacon drippings and beer; a few small ducklings stuffed full of saffron and oranges; a freshly caught salmon smothered in butter and with sliced lemons dotting its skin; a few baskets filled to the brim with clams, oysters, mullocks and small crabs all covered in a fine sprinkling of pepper and salt; a pot of warm, buttery potato soup with bits of leeks and carrots added to it; and a vegetable stir-fry to give us a lighter dish to choose from.
My wife also made sure to have some less "fine" dishes added to the feast. Horse meat roasted black, tomato soup with no seasoning, and a roasted haunch of dog all clutter around the table. Beer, mead, wine, and every alcoholic drink imaginable line the table, surrounding the food. Of course, my wife has been thoughtful to those who will come after us and has ordered a few jugs of milk placed about. Once we're done, my wife gave the temple leave to give whatever we don't eat to the poor, homeless, and hungry of the city. Even now, a few people are milling around in the market while they wait for us to be off so they can have their free dinner. Still, it's just me and my wife right now and that's all that matters. The Khajiit gladly takes her seat and patiently waits for me to take my place beside her.
We spend the next hours taking small bites of whatever dish catches our attention, kissing between servings, and drinking enough beer and mead to drown a horse. My love pulls me onto her lap during the seafood course and from there the kisses become more common than food. A hearty blush is creeping up her face beneath her fur, and I can feel my own face flushing as well. We're well past sunset and most of the dishes have bites taken out of them. The only foods spared from our appetites are the dog and horse which are standard fares in Skyrim. My wife waves a priest over and mumbles about the dessert course. Strawberries cooked in hippocras and laying on a bed cream are the end of a perfect meal.
Once we're done with our dessert, we stay seated and share more kisses and hushed whispers as the priests and priestesses work on clearing away the table and bringing our scraps to the beggars outside. I'm the first to suggest heading back to the Khajiit's home, but my wife is the one who practically tosses me in her rush to stand up. She's donning her helmet and I'm straightening my dress when an uninvited guest shoves his way through the doors.
The man is a Nord of common stature dressed in dark, hide armor missing a helm, and a sword isn't in his empty scabbard on his hip. His dark hair is streaked with grey and the lines around his eyes show he's not in his prime. Even unarmed and older than her, my love still makes sure her helm is secured before going to greet him. The two speak in hushed tones where I can't hear them, and the Khajiit tosses a look over her shoulder every few sentences. Finally, the man departs and the Khajiit returns to me. Any merriment has fled from her face as she takes her helm off.
"That was Hemming, Jarl Black-Briar's son. He says she sends for me.". A whine passes my lips as I tug on her shirt. My wife offers me a soft smile as she brings a hand of mine to her face and kisses the back of it.
"I promise I'll be back before the sun is up. All she wants is for me to track down a vampire who attacked a citizen. The beast is dripping blood behind him and a dozen guards are already in pursuit. I'll bring Maven his head on the way back to you.". She slides a key into the palm of my hand. I sigh and give her one last kiss. She disappears out the door and I take a few minutes to thank the priests before following her lead. Dozens of people are gnawing on our leftovers as I pass them in the streets. A brief cheer draws my attention.
My wife is riding her pitch-black destrier through the streets with her finely shined armor gleaming in the moonlight. The beast bites and tosses his head at anyone who gets too close, and my wife uses that to her advantage to push through the crowd. Still, she draws her hammer and swings it around to raise another cheer from them as she trots through the gates and out into the wilderness. My heart yearns for her even as I turn my feet to return to our modest home. The dark, cold home seems even more unwelcoming without my lover beside me. I whisper a silent prayer as I climb into bed.
Let her return to me soon. Gods, please, let her return to me. If you give me nothing else in my entire life, at least give me that. I don't care what happens, just let her come back to me safely and let our love continue.