random stories

Ralof x Reader - Burning Passion

!!Major Angst!!

Killing, murder, spousal abuse

-

You could remember, a long time ago, back when you and Ralof still spoke.

You could remember when the two of you joked over bottles of mead.

You could remember loving him.

-

Meeting Ralof was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to you. You met him in, probably, the worst way ever. I mean, the both of you were almost executed. But in the end, when choosing between Hadvar and Ralof, you inevitably chose the latter.

This mistake could have been the worst one you could ever commit, in your entire life.

But maybe, I should let you see for yourself just how fucked up it was.

It all started six years ago, when Helgen still stood.

-

The chitter chatter before your death, seemed to be the least of your problems at the time, but as you made your way to Riverwood along with Ralof, you dwelled on what they said. What could have been.

You wondered if Ulfric had even made it out alive. Ralof seemed to put him on such a high pedestal.

He chatted with you, like nothing had even happened. Like dozens of people hadn't just been burned alive.

And maybe, in Skyrim, it wasn't so irregular.

-

You joined Ulfric's forces along with Ralof. The two of you stuck together, thick as thieves.

When an offer for money in Riften had caught your eye, you and Ralof parted ways.

For awhile, you were fooling around all over Skyrim stealing left and right. To quote Mercer, you had a knack for it. Until you found out the bastard had been stealing from the guild, and was the source of their little curse. You quickly took him down, interrupting his plans to steal the Left Eye of the Falmer and get away with it.

The guild applauded you, and they wanted you to be their guild leader.

You denied, offering the position to Brynjolf, who you found rather attractive, to say the least.

But anytime you thought about asking him for a drink, the thought of Ralof popped into your mind.

You tried to avoid him, only going to Windhelm when specifically summoned.

In that time, you started a family, adopting the unfortunate kids you found on the streets. You built a home for them, a place where they could stay warm. You told them the place was for them and you would supply them with anything they wanted.

You were pretty happy, but felt you were missing something else. Specifically Ralof.

On a summon to Windhelm, you caught sight of Ralof wandering around the trade center. You bit your lip and called out for him.

He turned his head with a smile, and from then is where everything went south.

Catching up turned into getting drinks, which turned into making conversation, which led to ordering more drinks and getting so drunk, you both woke up in a stupor.

You could remember the smile on his face as he wished you a good morning from under the covers.

And you could remember smiling back.

-

When you had made love to one another more than once, Ralof proposed the idea of getting married. You, immediately, tried to shut the idea down, but he persisted.

Over the course of many moons, Ralof proposed. Each time you denied him, but the nights always ended in love.

You enjoyed those sweet moments that were nothing but sharing warmth in such a cold world.

Ralof proposed to you one final time, and you gave in.

The two of you married, and for awhile, hardly anything changed.

-

"Ralof," you smiled, coming home from a long hunt. The blond smiled at you, bringing you in for a hug. Your children rushed to see you, welcoming you home. You greeted all three, and told them to play outside for a bit.

Making love seemed ... dull, this time. It had puzzled you for a little too long. When you were puzzled, you often locked yourself into work and hunting, hardly at the table for dinner.

Ralof noticed quickly, and offered to take over hunting for a while. You hadn't been thinking properly, and agreed.

In the end, Ralof pushed you from the position of provider, to consumer.

The household depended on Ralof, and you had little time to yourself. You became busy with the children, and maintaining the house per Ralof's taste. Ralof stopped loving you. Stopped greeting you. He constantly demanded things that he could very well do himself.

You were angry, and you were right to be. How could he take it away from you like that?

Furious, you tried to bring the problem to him. He shut you down and pushed you away, saying the kitchen was calling your name.

Enraged now, you shoved him out of his chair and attacked him. You punched and jabbed his face, ribs, and neck. You heard a snap.

You had broken his neck.

Ralof, your husband, was dead.

It was after night, and your children were in the city with a friend. You knew no one was home.

Carefully, you picked Ralof up and grabbed a spade on your way out of the house. You threw his lifeless body to the ground, digging a shallow grave for him.

As you shoveled the dirt back onto him, you muttered, "Fucking bastard."

-

You told the kids that Ralof left at some point in the night. You claimed you didn't even know he left.

Your story checked out when the guards came asking.

For awhile, you let the whole thing settle, and you collected the gold after a month of him missing. Everyone believed him to be dead. You grieved for him to keep up your act, when in reality, you smiled behind the hand clasped over your mouth.

Ralof had made a mistake to cross the god damn Dragonborn.

And he paid the price.

You returned to your work with no change, taking down imperials as swiftly as you used to before Ralof put you into an early retirement.

You were happy again.

And for the first time, you were happy to not have a lover.

Until you really started looking at Brynjolf again.