The cold of Skyrim was something Hierophant was never going to get used to; she had been there fourteen years and still the bitter wind caught her by surprise. She carried a cloak constantly now, stuffed down in her pack beneath potions and herbs, but there were always moments where she stood shivering in the wind and aching for the Gold Coast of Cyrodiil.
The night after she'd returned to Whiterun - the night after she'd crawled through a dungeon with Farkas and watched him turn from man to beast and back again- she was sat outside of Jorrvaskr, staring at the sky. The lights of the stars never failed to make her feel small. But she valued that. Having been locked up in the dark of a Stormcloak dungeon, she appreciated the vast expanse of sky whenever she could.
"You're shivering."
Hierophant glanced away from the sky. Vilkas had stepped out onto the back porch, wearing his usual heavy armour and clutching a plate and tankard that seemed to be his supper.
She realised he was right. She had not brought her pack outside, all her worldly possessions were stuffed beneath her bed. She should go in, warm her bones by the fire and fall into bed with a belly full of warm mead.
But the sky was beautiful and she had learnt to ignore the cold.
"I'll be fine." She answered with a faint smile in his direction. In the dim light of the red sky he was composed of contrasts and edges; the cut of his square jaw against the smooth curve of his cheekbones, the dark war paint against his pale eyes. He was unfairly handsome - she had come to that realisation the first time she'd looked at him and that had never changed, no matter how short he was with her. In another life, she might have tried her luck with him.
Not so, in the life she had. So she turned back to the red sky and curled up smaller on the step, trying to savour what little warmth she had left.
"What are you doing out here?"
It wasn't like Vilkas to be so talkative. She suspected it was just because he was annoyed not to have the porch to himself so late at night.
"I'm looking at the sky."
He came towards her, sitting at the table nearest the steps. "The sky?"
"It's beautiful."
He glanced up at the swirling mass of stars and red light and hummed. "Hardly seems worth freezing to death over. It'll still be there if you go get a cloak and come back."
She glanced over her shoulder at him and her lips curled into a smirk. "Worried about me catching a cold?"
He stared at her, expression shifting from surprise to a scowl before he looked down at his supper. "You can hardly go out and work if you're sick."
Hierophant looked away, biting back a laugh He could be strangely endearing at times, when he wasn't purposefully being short with her.
"How come you're having your supper out here?" She asked after a beat of silence. "Seems it'll just make your food go cold quicker."
"Usually I can get some peace and quiet out here."
"Hey, you started this conversation." She smirked over her shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at her and she blamed the curl of colour on his cheeks as the red of the sky reflected, since it seemed impossible that he could be blushing. As far as Hierophant knew from her few weeks in the Companions he only operated in scowls and grimaces.
They were both silent for a time; Hierophant marvelling at the bright light of the endless sky stretching above her and Vilkas quietly eating his food and trying to ignore the way his gaze was drawn towards her. It was hard to ignore her though; illuminated in the soft amber haze of starlight she looked almost otherworldly.
"Farkas told me about what happened the other day." He said eventually.
Ah. Hierophant stiffened. She had wondered when this was going to come up. She'd reassured Farkas she wouldn't say anything about seeing him change but apparently that was not enough. Aela had already cornered her to warm her that 'no true Companion would reveal their Shield-Brother's secret' and after that she had just been waiting for Vilkas to do the same.
"It's an interesting trick he has." Hierophant said lightly, hoping that might be the end of it, that Vilkas might see she had no interest in talking about it and take that as reassurance she would tell nobody about it.
Apparently not. Vilkas pushed to his feet and came to stand just behind her. "You cannot tell anyone. I won't let you turn him in to the Jarl."
She had to crane her neck at an awkward angle to look up at him. "I wouldn't do that to Farkas, I like him too much." She glanced away with a wry smile. "And besides, even if I did want to, who do you think the Jarl would believe? The word of the honoured Circle of the Companions or the nobody with a face like a Draugr?"
"I...suppose you have a point." He agreed reluctantly then paused, shifting in place slightly. "You don't have a face like a Draugr."
She smiled to herself. She didn't really think she looked like the undead but decided not to tell Vilkas that, lest he think she wasn't appreciative of his words. It was just self-deprecating humour, nothing more, a trick to overcome the truth that half her face was irreversibly scarred. "Thank you."
When he didn't move away immediately she figured he had something more to say to her on the matter. "Aela already threatened me, but if you have a brotherly speech prepared to warn me against outing Farkas then feel free to make it anyway."
"Uh, no. That's not...That's alright." Vilkas turned away for a moment, picking up his plate and tankard before sitting a few inches away from her on the step. "I wanted...Farkas said that when he got you out of the trap you seemed more scared at being locked up than you did of him."
Hierophant shifted uncomfortably. Farkas had commented at the time that she didn't seem afraid of him being a werewolf. She had laughed, called him a big puppy and pretended to scratch him behind the ear. He'd laughed at that, perhaps relieved she wasn't scared of him after all. In turn, she thought he'd missed how badly her hands were shaking, how afraid she had been to be shut up in a cage.
Apparently not. Shame on her for not giving Farkas more credit, it seemed. "Perhaps I was. Why do you care?" She words came out sharper than she originally intended and she scowled at her own severity. It was not his fault she had been trapped. It was not his fault being trapped summoned terrible memories; of the endless dark punctuated solely by those that sought to do her harm.
Vilkas shrugged and fussed with his food; a loaf of bread that he tore a chunk off to dip in his stew-filled-tankard. "I don't care." He said. "But if you're scared of caves we can try and make sure you don't get jobs where you have to go into them on your own."
Hierophant's look of annoyance shifted to one of surprise. "I...Really?"
"Aye," He placed a piece of bread in his mouth and chewed slowly before replying. "We're all afraid of something, after all. Farkas is afraid of spiders."
She spluttered with surprised laughter at the thought of Farkas, so strong and seemingly invincible, being afraid of something as mundane as spiders. She clamped a hand over her mouth to smother her giggles and his lips tugged up into a grin. It was the first time he had ever heard her laugh. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile.
"So," she asked when her laughter had subsided. "What are you afraid of?"
His smile slipped away and he shrugged, going back to eating his supper. A bad question, it seemed. Just when she had gotten him smiling.
"I'm not scared of caves." She said in a feeble attempt to change the subject.
"Not scared of freezing to death either, it seems." Vilkas muttered.
She knew he was right; the cold had seeped into her bones now and her hands were starting to tremble uncontrollably. "I like to live dangerously." She joked as she began to rub her hands on her thighs for warmth.
A sensible person would go inside and warm themselves. But Hierophant had never been one for sense - and this was the first civil conversation she'd had with Vilkas since joining the Companions. She didn't want to cut it short just because she was a little cold. Or, a lot cold.
Vilkas rolled his eyes and held his tankard out.
"I'm not hungry." She said, confused by the gesture.
He frowned at her. "It's warm."
Oh. She took the tankard off him and immediately the warmth bloomed in her fingertips. "Thanks." She breathed, all but hugging the tankard to her chest. "Though I suppose I should probably go inside rather than steal your supper for hand-warming."
He shrugged and cast his gaze up at the sky. "If you're determined to freeze just to look at the sky I can at least be sensible and make sure your fingers don't fall off. You'd struggle to swing a sword if they did."
Hierophant smirked down at the tankard. "I suppose I would."
Strange, it was the first time since meeting that she had felt anything but quiet disdain for Vilkas, who had shown nothing but contempt for her. Perhaps he was to be like Skyrim's cold, catching her by surprise with moments of softness.
She glanced at his profile, his quiet contemplation in the face of the stars, and decided she did not mind that. Some surprises were nicer than others, after all. And she'd take Vilkas and his moments of softness over Skyrim's bitter winds every time.
