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“Farkas…”
“Yes, Athy?”
The autumnal leaves of The Rift crunched beneath their boots. The air was brisk, as it typically was in Skyrim’s climate — especially with winter encroaching. Farkas donned his fur-lined steel armor, whereas Athimae had his typical bronze armor, layered with torn leather beneath. It was an odd choice that she had not chosen to wear anything warmer, but they had the cold resistance of a Nord.
The Bosmer and Nord couple were on their way back to Riften’s Bee and Barb after a job well done. They had retrieved the heirloom mace as requested, but didn’t want to head straight back to Whiterun just yet. With their fits soaked in the blood of bandits, they marched along the stony road, heads held high.
“Mmm, I have a question for you,” Athimae chirped.
“What is it?”
“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”
The question from his partner stopped Farkas in his tracks. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly behind a curtain of long, jet black hair. “Uh, what brought this about?” He dared to ask. Honestly, he was a bit afraid of what she might say.
The Wood Elf shrugged. “I was just thinking. That’s all,” he said as he, too, stopped walking. He even turned to face Farkas, freckled face beaming all the while.
“Well, I don’t know why I wouldn’t,” Farkas truthfully declared. “You are one of the best things to happen to me. Even if you became a worm.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you, Farky,” Athimae cooed. They got on their toes to reach up and kiss their partner, only to be stopped by a large hand in their face.
“What?” She grumbled, now pouting.
“What kind of worm would you be?” Farkas asked, left eyebrow now raised.
“...Huh?” She cocked her head. Why would that matter?
“I need to know if you’re like…a cute caterpillar or a foul little mealworm before I can kiss you,” he said in a very earnest tone.
Athimae threw his hands in the air. “You’re kidding me, right?”
The Nord warrior shook his head.
“...Are caterpillars even worms?”
“Dunno.”
“Then why’d you even mention them?” He stomped his foot decisively on the ground.
“Just in case. Had to cover all my bases.”
“There’s all kinds of worms. Like tapeworms—”
“Ew.” Farkas recoiled with a grimace on his bearded, dirty face. “I hope you’re not a tapeworm, Athy.”
“Well shit, Farkas, you have to give me a moment to think!” She brought her hand to her chin, squinting at the red leaves beneath their feet. “Think you kinda gave me a bias, though…” He ended up grumbling to himself.
“I can wait,” he said, turning his head to the surrounding birch trees.
The Bosmer tapped their foot and hummed to himself. Her ears wiggled as she thought as hard as he could manage (which was not very hard at all) about what type of worm he would be. Definitely not a tapeworm, because tapeworms were gross and Farkas especially hated them. Not a mealworm, either. And caterpillars were out of the running.
Now that he thought about it, most worms were kind of gross, in a way.
“Ah!” Athimae perked up and smiled wide at their partner. “I’d be an earthworm!”
Farkas looked back at her, now returning her smile. “Well, I’d kiss an earthworm any day.”
Before she could jump to kiss the taller man, she found herself scooped up in his burly arms — bridal style — and brought directly to his face. Athimae’s chestnut face went flush immediately, now a whimpering mess before the brawny wolf twin.
Farkas chuckled. “What are you so scared of?” He nuzzled their cheek and planted a big kiss on their forehead.
The kiss was returned in an instant, his lips meeting Farkas’s roughly. When he pulled away, the two shared a hearty laugh. Athimae hopped down out of his grasp and started back on the road to Riften.
“Are ya comin’?”
“Of course, honey. Of course.”
Needless to say, Farkas was happy to have someone as silly and bubbly as Athimae in his life. Maybe one of these days, he’d finally propose to them.
Maybe.