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Moon, Chapter 1: Modeling

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By all accounts, this was wrong.
All wrong.
He was a high-ranking member of the Companions, a member of the Circle itself. An officer of one of the most revered organizations in all of Skyrim. He didn't have time for romance. And, if he did, it would be with a strong Nord woman well-versed on the fields of battle, someone he could fight back to back with. Not...this. Not her.
But none of these thoughts comforted him when he saw her there. They only resonated and strengthened the one true thought screaming in his mind.
This is wrong. This is all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

***

He hadn't even noticed the shop going up, and by all accounts, he should have. It's not every day that a new building is erected in Whiterun. It's not as though they have a lot of space, and what few houses they do have are crammed together like fish in a fisherman's net. Although, he thought, it wasn't exactly like it was out in front near the gates or Jorrvaskr itself, either. Because of the aforementioned lack of space, the new building went right in the Southeastern corner of the city, in an area hard to advertise.
So that was probably why he ran into her that day. Likely, she had been out trying to find a willing victim.
"Excuse me! Oh...excuse me....sir...?" A small, tanned hand caught his, oh so gently.
He nearly jumped, despite the woman's gentility. He had been deep in thought about the battle he had just come back from, how, for some reason, even though all the odds were against him, everything went remarkably in his favor. So when he looked down- and it was fairly far down- he was probably a little more taken aback than usual with the sight before him, a lot more taken aback with what the sight did to his heart rate, and extremely taken back with the way he felt his wolf stir inside of  him at her presence.
"Ah, I'm sorry." The woman let go of his hand, blushing a little. She was so small, standing maybe at around 5'2, and her skin was fair. She was an Imperial, with long, straight chestnut brown hair and the deepest, most innocent blue eyes he'd ever seen. Her cheeks and nosed were dusted with light freckles, and her cheekbones were high and striking. Her lips were average, or maybe a little thinner than they should be- but he belatedly wondered why he was even looking at her lips in the first place. The outfit that the girl she was wearing, though he supposed was probably 'in fashion', clearly regulated her as a commoner, someone with no fighting skill whatsoever, and therefore, no one he'd be interested in. Right?
"It's just," She continued, her voice soft, but in no way deterred, "I was hoping you might have a moment to help me with something...please?"
Ah, now this...he relaxed. This was clearly something he knew how to handle. "Cutpurse steal your things, miss?" He asked, now confident...well, confident enough until she looked up at him through her eyelashes and stole his breath with her simple innocence. The look of someone who'd never done battle a day in her life. Never spilled a drop of blood. Never hurt a fly.
"...No," She said, and dropped her gaze, "...But if you're too busy..."
"No," He said hurriedly, even though he was inwardly cursing himself. Of course he was too busy. He didn't have time for this. They were expecting a full report back at Jorrvaskr. "What do you need?"
"Good!" She did a complete 180- inwardly, he had to wonder if she 'played' him somehow, with how quickly she did an emotional turn-around....or maybe that's just normal civilian female behavior- and took his hand, pulling him towards the new building that had just been erected.
He is surprised at her determination and allows himself to be pulled towards the building. "...Uh," He says, "I'm not much of a carpenter,"
"No, I know," She said brightly. "You're a Companion."
"Right," He says, wondering how she could possibly know that. "...So...a skeever problem, or...?"
"Nope! I killed all those last night."
He couldn't tell if she was joking, or not.
"Now, the frostbite spiders on the other hand..."
Despite himself, he froze. Spiders? Of all the things to be asked to handle, of all the things a beautiful maiden could ask of him to do...great, well, there went his chances at ever impressing this strange Imperial woman. ….Not that he needed to impress her, anyway.
"...I'm only kidding."
He looked down at her. "...What?"
"I said I was only kidding, it's just...you looked worried."
"I was not worried," He says stubbornly, "I could kill a frostbite spider with one arm behind my back."
She smiled innocently at him again, and his frown falters. "I know," She says, "I thought you were maybe worried for my sake."
Well, that was a first. To have his dignity saved by a stranger.
"Anyway!" She let go of his hand, and unlocked the building- he could see now that it's some kind of shop.
"I just need you for a few afternoons, I'd of course compensate you for your time..."
The sign displayed indicated that it was a tailoring shop. "Celestial Cloths."  What could she possibly want with him in this sort of place? "...Do you need me to...reach some things off the top shelf?" He asks, in bewilderment. Of course, as usual, he doesn't think before he says this, and so...
"No," She said, puffing her cheeks out, looking offended.
"Oh, geeze. I didn't mean..."
"I have a perfectly good stool, thanks very much. And besides. I had my shelves special ordered to be my height. Had this place built from the ground up. Nothing I can't reach."
"Oh, well that's..." Something he never had to worry about.
"Smart," She said, a little smugly. "I know." She turned her back to him and entered the shop- which is filled to the brim with various fabrics, and outfits of all kinds hung up. The very fanciest – and most expensive- dresses were on displayed on mannequins. They seemed to be fashions from all over Tamriel – in fact, they were. Each province was separated into its own section. Of course, there were a few missing, but, "The rest of the provincial clothing is the second floor. But see....doesn't this look bare to you? Like it's missing something?"
Actually it didn't. But what did he know about clothes? "Um...?"
"I don't have any men's clothes," She said secretively, in hushed tones.
He stepped inside finally, shutting the door behind him. "So you don't," He said, still unsure what this had to do with him. "But it's not like we....hey." Before he had even realized she was gone, she had come back with a roll of measuring tape, and a scary-looking cushion device that held a lot of pins. "...What're you going to do with that?"
She giggled softly.
"...Why are you laughing? Are you...." His thoughts raced. Maybe she was a witch! That would explain her weird charm, these strange devices, the fact that she pulled him into a place no one would ever look for him. "Are you a witch?! Is this some kind of set up?" He starts to reach for his axe.
But the stricken look on her face stopped him from reaching it. "...No," She said timidly, "...I'm just an Imperial." Her gaze turned to his axe, and she looked frigthened.
He started to feel horrid, cursing himself for scaring her, and lowered his hand down away from his weapon. And then she added-
"Though I see how you could make the mistake..."
She burst into laughter...and after a second, he did too. "...That's a pretty good one. What's your name, Imperial?"
"Ah," She said, a soft grin coming to rest upon her face. "Celestiana. I know. It's long. You can call me whatever you like. I've gotten Celeste, or Ana, or even...Tia, once."
"I'll come up with something," He promised, rolling the name around in his head. What a strange name. "My name's Farkas."
"...Well then, Farkas," She says, "I would really love it if you would be the model for my male line of Nord clothing in Skyrim. I don't have good measurements for the way Nord men are built, and so I really need..."
"...A model. Wait." He held up his hand. "I'm a warrior. I don't put on fancy clothes and go frolicking around like some sissy milk-drinker."
"...Well, I was going to include in our terms...a vow of secrecy."
"Secrecy?"
"Well," She said, "You can't have people thinking you're a sissy milk-drinker. And I can't have people knowing I didn't come prepared with a men's section. I've managed to acquire standard measurements and clothes for every other race's males, except for the Nords....so...please...it'll be our little secret, and I'll pay you."
And then she pouted.
And then he was a goner.
"Like I could say no to that," He said grumpily, and tried to ignore his wounded dignity as best he could.
She grinned, and they began.

---
It actually wasn't too bad. She paid him about 50 septims an hour to stand there and let her put clothes on him and pin them up. She also asked him his opinion, on occasion, on the outfits (from a male's point of view, FOR a male's point of view, she'd say). ...He would never admit this to anyone, but it was actually nice, getting out of the armor a few times a week. And there was something about this Imperial, this...Celeste, that made her so pleasant to listen to. Not that they didn't have an even-sided conversation most of the time. But sometimes, he found himself just asking random questions, that he knew would lead to a very long explanation, just so he could listen. The carefree way with which she spoke, the innocence of her stories- untainted. Free. Pure. She had been sheltered somewhere, and he wanted to revel in that idea. That there was still someone out there like this, untainted by the rage and hate of war. As much as he loved battle, as much as he felt at home with a big axe and a pile of dead enemies at his feet, he sometimes needed to be reminded of the people he was fighting for. People like Celeste.
"Where's your family?"
"Oh," She said, "One secund." Her words were muffled by the pins in her mouth- he knew they would be, but despite himself he found himself doing it on purpose, giving her difficulty, just to see the way she handled it: she never faltered even for a second, and spoke only when her mouth was free of the pins. "My parents were scholars, honestly," She said, with a sigh, "And so they wanted me to be. Don't get me wrong. I love a good book just as much as they do. But I couldn't stand to be stifled up in some rusty tower or library somewhere, pouring over the collected 305th translation of Sir Boring the Twenty-Second. I just love to go out and do, you know? Make things, craft with my hands. Sew. Draw, design. Take walks, see the wildlife, smell the flowers. They weren't too happy about my tailoring at first, but then they saw how happy this made me. I had a very successful shop in the Capital, and everything was going great."
"So why are you here?"
She stops momentarily....then continues. "Well, they died," She said, matter-of-factly. "And there was nothing left for me there anymore. So I decided, why not travel, see the world? And the cheapest place to come was Whiterun. Maybe if I make enough money, I can open shops in other capitals, too, and just split my time between them."
"I'm sorry to hear about your parents..."
"It's alright. They were old, they lived long lives."
He desperately changed the subject – even though it ended up being to his detriment. "It's not safe for you to travel alone anyway," He said, a little taken aback that she'd even said so in the first place. "A tiny little thing like y—OW!"
"Sorry," She said, in a tone that indicated she wasn't actually sorry at all. "I guess this is a pretty dangerous job, modeling. But I thought a big, strong Nord like you could handle a little pinprick that would send a poor thing like me running for cover."
He grunted, now a little grumpy at the woman's actions. But he got the point. It didn't change the fact, however, that the idea of a woman-or anyone, even- traveling alone without the skill or knowledge to protect from bandits, or giants, or, lately-
"Didn't you know that dragons are on the loose?" -was completely crazy. Maybe she didn't know about the dragons, but that didn't excuse...
"Yes," She said, "I saw one."
"And still you want to travel by yourself?" He asked incredulously.
"I never said I'd be by myself. What do you care, anyway? I'm sure you have plenty of other ways to make money than to stand here day after day chatting about danger with an absent-minded tailor."
"Of course I care. Some people..." He sighs. "Some people don't think I'm smart. They get my fist. But you, I like. You treat me with respect and kindness, and not like some big, dumb idiot."
"I'm sure the 50 septims an hour doesn't hurt," she says, and laughs a little.
"You caught me," He says, "Who else would pay me 50 septims just to talk to them a few hours a week?"
"A lonely woman desperate for attention, like me," She says,
"A big dumb mercenary like me," He challenges.
And then it got creative.
"M'aiq the Liar." She retorted, and they both laughed.
"The Steward of Markarth."
"Olvara."
"That guy that never stops screaming about Talos, over in front of Dragonsreach."
"Oh, man, that guy is annoying!" She says, groaning. "I don't even know his name."
"No one does, just that he's annoying," Farkas said. "And imagine, I have to live directly behind that."
"Just make more noise than him. Have really loud, raucous sex, or something?"
"That breaks every single code of conduct we have. Besides..."
"Besides, what?"
There was a pause, a long, awkward silence. Then, he finally said, "...Besides. Sometimes people go out and listen to him."
"Really? Man....I don't care whether you believe or don't, the shouting really gets annoying. I wonder if they do it just to get him to stop yelling for a while."

And so it went.

Though it took him a very long time to catch on - she called upon him just about every day she could, and took her sweet time getting outfits ready- he started to suspect she was drawing this whole 'modeling' thing out. She should have had them done much quicker than  she did, but he supposed, looking back on it, he was happy to be with her anyway, and that's why he didn't bring it up.. Inside, he didn't care if the work never got done. Maybe he even preferred it didn't.
He could just spend the rest of his life, he felt, sometimes, sitting in that shop and talking with her while she worked. Watching the way the sunlight played across her face. Hearing her talk about crops grown in her homeland, and strange and exotic things she'd seen. Books she'd read. Nobles she'd worked for. He'd never before met a person that could just refresh him with her very presence. It was almost...akin to the way he felt changing under a full moon. Almost.
But one day...
"...I've got bad news, Farkas," She said, opening her door after he knocked...she looked so crestfallen, he immediately assumed the worst.
"What? What's the matter?" His mind raced, coming up with new worries that would have never crossed his mind. "Your...your husband found out? You've gone bankrupt? You're out of materials? All your pins broke? Wait...you hurt your hands..."
Celeste took one look at him...and then burst into laughter. As soon as she saw the hurt look on his face, though, she took his hands, looking up at him.
"Farkas," She said, "I don't have a husband."
That made him a little too happy, his inner wolf wagging its tail.
"And I suppose it's not necessarily bad news. It just means you'll have to quit your day job."
"Oh...you're done with the outfits!"
She nodded.
That did make him a little sad...but, he squeezed her hands gently. "Well, it makes sense. It's been...what, about a month? Surely you've got a mountain of them by now. And, I'll bet, with the amount of work you put into them, you'll sell out in no time." He grinned a little hesitantly, knowing he wasn't a very good liar.
"...Ah," She blushes softly, and looks away.
"What?" He asks, resisting the urge to turn her face back to him.
"...I suppose I ought to confess."
"Confess what?"
"Well...I enjoyed talking to you so much...that some of the outfits....as soon as you were gone, I'd undo them so I'd have to do it all over the next time I saw you."
He doesn't know what to say to that. He had started to suspect it, but proclaiming his knowledge seemed...inappropriate. After all, then it would indicate that he was okay with that, which might...no. He wouldn't go there. "...But that's counter-productive," He said, finally.
"I suppose...but...I have enough money to pay my own bills for a year if I like. I mostly just do this because I like it." She finally looked back at him, though a faint blush was still on her cheeks.
This time, he does let go of one of her hands. "Wait," He says, "You've got something.." He brings up his palm to cup her face, wiping at the blush on her cheeks with his thumb. "...I can't get it off."
"Hey," She says, "You cut that out." She blushes more, stepping away from him...and hurriedly rubs at her face in a much more frenzied manner than he had, as if wanting to wipe the blush away.
"You know," He said, clearly amused, "It doesn't actually work like that."
"Be quiet," She says grumpily, "You big dumb warrior."
He bursts into laughter. "Maybe I'm a big dumb warrior, and you're a silly wimpy noble, but I'm not the one who's blushing."
"We'll see about that."
"Is that a challenge?" He asked, a little bewildered. The way she had said it really had sounded like....
"Yes!" She lowered her hands, glaring at him. She wore such an expression of determination that Farkas was actually impressed. "By Talos, I will make you blush someday, and you'll rue the day you crossed me!"
She looked so serious, and so adorable, that he couldn't help but break into a grin. "You are so adorable," He said, unable to help himself, and just laughed when she closed the door in his face.
"Wait!" He said, still laughing. "I never got to see the finished product!"
"And you won't! Go away!"
This time he did, still laughing. What a woman.
I only own Celestiana! Bethesda made and owns everyone else. Lucky bastards. : P <3

Chapter 2: [link]

Also available on fanfiction.net here:
[link]

I always wondered this. What if Farkas fell for a mere shopkeeper...an Imperial at that...

Anyway, I am loving this story and have a lot of followers on ff.net, so it ought to be updated fairly quickly.

***AS A WARNING, there will be sexual scenes in FUTURE CHAPTERS. Each chapter will be preceded with a warning and marked for mature content.***

Constructive criticism welcome. :)
© 2011 - 2024 Mekano-san
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WraythSkitzifrenik's avatar
Interesting start. I'm intrigued!