Just a little something I thought of today. Time for some Companion-badassery really.
You can probably tell be the tone of the story that I'm going through dark times. I hope this story will cheer me up a bit, and, of course, entertain all of you.
As always, comments are appreciated!
Rated T for now just to be safe, might change later.
It had been raining for weeks.
Thunder echoed in the distance as the seemingly never-ending storm darkened the skies.
Vilkas tended the flames of the hearth-fire in Windstad Manor, trying to keep the house warm despite the icy cold outside trying to sneak into the building. The roof of the master bedroom was leaking, but Vilkas lacked the necessary timber to fix the damage, and since he gave the steward and the housecarl leave there was nobody to supply him with the things he required.
He added more wood to the dying flames and tried not to think of her. The way she was. The way they were.
Instead he shook his head and stretched his limbs. This was his life now, and it would possibly be for good.
As he was about to go upstairs, a loud knock on the door, easily mistaken for thunder, startled the Companion out of his thoughts and back into reality. Who would seek them out in such weather?
He made sure his broadsword was securely strapped to his back as he approached the entrance hall. His thoughts ran wild. This was bound to be either trouble or bad news.
As he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of a young, hooded man. A Nord in mages-robes it seemed, wet to the bones. They appraised each other for a few moments ere the stranger nodded in greeting and introduced himself.
"Forgive my unannounced visit. I am Onmund, Novice of the College of Winterhold, and I have urgent business with the Dovahkiin." He looked past Vilkas into the warm and cozy hallway, but the large Nord had no intention of inviting the stranger in.
"The Dragonborn is not here" he said, as so often these last months.
Onmund just frowned. "Are you certain?" Vilkas growled in response. "I would have noticed if she was here, don't you think? Now state your business and begone, or just leave. Either is fine with me."
Onmund took a step back and held up his hands defensively. "I am sorry, I meant no offense. It is just... Nobody seems to have seen or heard of her in ages. However, there are some urgent matters only the Dragonborn can see to. If you see her... when you see her, will you please let her know her presence is required at the college as soon as possible?"
Vilkas just nodded, not really paying attention to the mage. "Of course."
Without a further word, he slammed the door shut, leaving the bewildered other man outside in the cold.
He heard himself repeat the same old lie over and over and over again. He chose Windstad Manor because he thought it to be safe from prying eyes, hoping to find some peace and quiet, to offer the Dovahkiin the rest she deserved. But somehow they always found them.
The stairs screamed under his heavy footsteps as he made his way towards his beloved. The woman he swore to protect, and the whole reason his world was upside down.
She looked so small and forlorn in the double bed, mostly hidden under the blankets. As he gently removed a wild strand of hair from her face he noticed how much weight she had lost, her cheekbones now so prominent in her pale face.
Vilkas sighed in frustration. He fed her the best he could, but with her barely ever being awake, and never conscious, it was a struggle. He wondered how much longer it would take before her body shut down and ended her misery... his misery...
He shook his head in disgust. He should not even entertain such thoughts. No, he would save her, he would find out what happened to her and he would bring her back. She would wake up, he kept telling himself.
But how could he save her when he was stuck here, minding her and keeping the eyes of Tamriel away from her?
Nobody was supposed to see her like this. Helpless. Dying.
He sat at the edge of the bed and let his eyes wander over the face of the young Imperial woman.
Several months ago she returned to Jorrvaskr. Uninjured, but changed. Her smiles were gone, her eyes had lost their light. At night she would scream. Nightmares would not allow her to rest. He or his brother would hurry over to her room to check on her, night after night. It was about a fortnight later when he first saw it. The black spots in her eyes as she woke up. At first he thought he was hallucinating, but they returned and got worse with every waking night.
She refused to speak to them, to tell them what had happened to her. Only that nobody should see her like this, that was her only command.
And one night, the screams ceased. She did not wake up. And when Vilkas thought she would finally wake, as she sat up straight in bed and opened her eyes, he was greeted with blackness. She would scream incoherent things, speak in a tongue he never heard, and would never react to anything that was happening in the real world.
They had lost her.
And he had never told her what she meant to him. As he did now, night after night, whenever he held her, begging her to come back to him, to let him see her beautiful eyes one more time, only for her to tell him she did not love him... he would gladly hear it, if only she came back to them.
So he took her as far away from the cities as he could under the cloak of night, hiding her like a criminal his victim, and he brought her here. The land provided all they needed. There was plenty of fish, vegetables grew in the garden, the house even had a kitchen. He could look after her until the others found out what was wrong.
Aela and Farkas. The only ones who knew in what state their beloved Harbinger was.
And yet, as days became weeks and weeks turned into months, they found nothing.
And as the rain continued to fall over Skyrim, Vilkas remained by her side, praying and begging, offering every Daedric Prince whatever they would ask of him, if only they gave her back.