My Random Skyrim Stories

Drinking Contest

(Vilkas x Female Breton Dragonborn, from Farkas's perspective)

It was relatively late in the evening, and Farkas was enjoying a rare moment of peace at Jorrvaskr while he cleaned his armor before going to bed. Most of the whelps were away on jobs, and only Vilkas and the new Harbinger were still in the hall... and they weren't likely to come bother him...

...or so he thought...

"Hey Farkas?" The Harbinger's voice suddenly pulled him from his work as she sheepishly poked her head in his doorway, "I um... I kind of need your help..."

Farkas looked up from cleaning his armor in surprise. Ysara was the last person he was expecting to see that evening... or at least she was the last person he was expecting to see conscious...

Farkas had turned in for the night shortly after Ysara had challenged Vilkas to a drinking contest... he'd honestly been expecting to hear his brother stumbling drunk down the stairs carrying the passed out Harbinger to bed... definitely not for the Breton warrior to be showing up at his door looking practically sober...

"Wha'd'ya need?" He asked in confusion.

"Um... well..." she paused, twisting her dark braid over her shoulder nervously, "Vilkas is drunk... and..."

Farkas's eyebrows rose in surprise. There was no way this little woman had out-drank his brother...

"I... I didn't mean to... to get him that drunk," she added quickly, "I expected him to quit a lot sooner, but he..."

"He's stubborn," Farkas nodded getting to his feet.

"Especially when he's drunk," Ysara agreed with a grimace.

Now Farkas wished he'd stuck around to see their contest... he just couldn't make sense of how Ysara could have beaten Vilkas in a drinking contest.

She was honorable and fought well— Farkas thought she was entirely worthy of being Harbinger, she could best him in a fight and he knew it— but she was puny.

When Farkas had first seen her and her housecarl after news of the Dragonborn had reached Jorrvaskr, he'd at first thought Lydia was the hero of legend, and the little Breton was her traveling companion— a healer or something. Ysara barely stood tall enough to come up to his collarbone.

Farkas had since learned that what the woman lacked in size and strength she made up for with speed and precision... but speed and precision wouldn't win her a drinking contest... especially not against a Nord like Vilkas...

Farkas followed her up the stairs, curious to see what he'd find...

And sure enough, Vilkas was drunk. He was slumped in his chair at least mostly passed out with a scowl on his face.

Farkas surveyed the bottles on the table, the ones in front of Vilkas and the ones in front of the Harbinger's chair... he could only conclude that the little woman had, in fact, somehow drank all of that ale without feeling it.

"How in Oblivion?" He mumbled, looking back to Ysara in disbelief.

"Dragonborn constitution," she shrugged with a sheepish grimace.

Vilkas seemed to startle awake then.

"Where'd you go?" He asked with a bit of a slur to his voice as his eyes fell back on Ysara.

"I got Farkas to help you get downstairs," she replied quietly, "I told you, you should be done."

"And I told you, true Nords never back down," he declared, "I can handle another."

"You can't even handle standing up!" Ysara countered in exasperation. "I'm done! I'm not going to let you drink yourself to death in a friendly competition!"

"If you're giving in, then admit I won," Vilkas demanded stubbornly.

"Pfff..." Ysara rolled her eyes, "I could say whatever you want because you won't remember it in the morning!"

"I'm fine!" Vilkas snapped.

"Oh yeah? Then get up and come at me!" Ysara challenged.

Vilkas grumbled irritably as he tried to get to his feet. He pitched too far forwards and Farkas had to jump forward to catch him.

Ysara gave him a grateful, relieved looking smile at that.

"Come on, brother," Farkas shook his head, as he helped Vilkas stand, "she beat ya."

Vilkas looked like he wanted to protest, but he couldn't even keep himself upright on his own. He tried to take another step toward Ysara, but just ended up stumbling back into Farkas with a defeated sounding grumble. He reeked of ale and his eyes were bloodshot. Farkas just hoped he'd be able to sleep it off without being too sick.

"You should know better than to drink like that now that we don't have the beast blood," he scolded calmly as he hauled Vilkas toward the stairs.

Vilkas's only response was a belch and another incoherent grumble, but at least he quit struggling. He seemed resigned to simply accept Farkas's help as they made their way down the stairs and toward their rooms.

"Do you know what color the Harbinger's eyes are, brother?" Vilkas slurred once they reached their shared little hallway.

"Uh..." Farkas tried to remember, "brown?"

"They're hazel," Vilkas replied with a drunken smile. "Brown with a ring of green... the green is more visible when she's out in the sunlight."

"Uh, ok," Farkas nodded as he shouldered Vilkas's door open.

"Like a forest," Vilkas mumbled, "brown and green... and beautiful and dangerous..."

"Mmhmm," Farkas replied, wondering what this had to do with anything.

He set Vilkas on his bed as gently as he could (which wasn't very) and pulled off his boots. Thank the gods he wasn't still wearing his armor.

"Do you think she knows she's the most beautiful woman in Skyrim?" Vilkas murmured as he fell back in his pillow.

Farkas raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd known for a while now that Vilkas was a bit sweet on Ysara, but he hadn't expected him to admit it.

Then a small sound caught his ears and Farkas glanced over his shoulder to see Ysara standing in the hallway, staring into the room, looking surprised and a little dumbfounded.

"Don'know," he chuckled turning back to Vilkas, "you should tell her."

"She probably knows," Vilkas slurred, "probably has dozens of suitors... lining up to try and win her attention..."

"Uh..." Farkas looked back out the door to Ysara who now had both hands over her mouth and had turned several shades darker.

"I'd fight them all for her..." Vilkas mumbled against his pillow, "even the Jarls..."

"Alright then," Farkas nodded, "when you're sober, you should tell her that too."

Vilkas murmured something unintelligible that was probably an agreement.

Farkas chuckled as he patted Vilkas heartily on the back and then made sure he was on his side so he wouldn't choke if he got sick in his sleep.

Ysara was still standing in the hall with her hands in front of her face as he stepped out and closed the door.

"Farkas... wh-what do I do now?" She asked with wide eyes as she gestured toward Vilkas's door.

Farkas smirked, "let him down gently, yeah?"

"N-no," she shook her head quickly, "I mean... I... I don't want to let him down... I—"

"Then invite me to the wedding!" Farkas laughed as he clapped the flustered little woman on the shoulder before sauntering back to his own room.

He was definitely going to tease both of them about this for years to come.