Hi, guys! This is my first Skyrim story ever and my first M fic that I've done in quite some time! I adore Skyrim, and I adore the Wolf Brothers (as I like to call them in my mind), so I had to write about them and their relationships with my two characters, Morregon Sidhe the Breton Mage and Seleema Dajiin the Redguard Warrior.

A small amount of background will serve to keep the story from being too confusing. Basically, the way it works in my mind (their story, that is) goes like this: Seleema was a Redguard bodyguard for the Breton noble who Morregon is distantly related to and also worked for. The nobleman got involved in some shady business that came back to bite him in the butt, and long story short, both girls found themselves on the road with no place to go. They wind up in Skyrim, like what happens in the game, but from there it goes into my head-cannon story. Seleema becomes the Dragonborn and does all that important stuff, and meanwhile, Morregon does all the extra side-quest stuff. They're both important in different ways. I hope that clarifies things. I could have done separate stories for each character, but I didn't want either of the brothers to be lonely… that would be sad. So the result is this.

As the rating states, this story is rated M for Mature, and it is rated this way because of SEX. If you have a problem with this, you don't have to read it. If you DO have a problem with this and read it anyway… then you're just silly.

I do not own Skyrim or any characters therein, except for Sel and Morrie.

The Split in the Road

Vilkas knew Morregon was leaving. It was obvious that she was tired of trying to prove herself to the Companions over and over. Unlike Seleema, who had garnered the respect of the Companions almost immediately, Morregon was suspect from the beginning. Also unlike Seleema, whose prowess with the blade was impressive even by Vilkas' standards, Morregon's skills lay not in martial strength, but in pure magical talent. And she was very talented. Vilkas was no expert in magic himself; most people able to use it either stayed in courts of jarls where they were kept safe and respected, or they went to Winterhold, to the Mage College.

He had never cared before about mages. He didn't have to see how people treated them himself as none lived in Whiterun save for the one that served the jarl. Then when Morregon came along, he had seen it himself, even participated in it unknowingly. After all, she hadn't used blades, bows, axes, or even staves, which might have been somewhat acceptable. Instead, when they asked to see an example of her skills, her hands lit up with flames and lightning, her green eyes bright with sparks of magic. Farkas had sneered in disgust and Skjor had just laughed. Vilkas has been tempted to ask her what in the name of the Divines did she think she was doing, but her face had turned bright red from the taunting laughter and she had launched her magic at him. He had barely been able to block her fireballs and eventually had to resort to ducking and dodging- not his forte at all. The Companions who had only moments before been scornful of the idea of a mage in their ranks had stood in shock, and finally begrudgingly consented that perhaps there was something useful to having a 'fire-twirler' (as Skjor had mockingly called it) in the ranks.

Aela had been indifferent for the most part, and the younger members treated both Morregon and Seleema with detached disdain as new members to the band. Kodlak had been the most welcoming out of all of them. He had been especially kindly towards Morregon, knowing that she must have had a hard time with his followers.

"It's been too long since we've had a sorcerer among us," he said, smiling gently at her. "You're a welcome addition." Morregon had appreciated his kind words, but they had rung hollow as the rest of them continually plagued her.

Seleema was eventually admired by the other Champion initiates, and respected by those in the inner circle. Her skill with two handed weapons matched Farkas' and Vilkas' as well, which was pretty good considering they'd been at it all their lives. But, then again, she was a Redguard, so they shouldn't have been surprised.

Vilkas also shouldn't have been surprised when Farkas began to see her as more than a Shield-Sister. The Redguard woman wasn't unattractive by any means. Her dark skin, blue eyes and strange tattoos made her a unique sight among the Nords of Whiterun. Despite her strength and choice of weapon, she was remarkably graceful and quite intelligent too. As Vilkas thought about it, she was in fact, quite lovely. She just wasn't what he wanted. She was a little too dark for his tastes, a little too aggressive, a little too… well, hard. Vilkas had a difficult time admitting it even to himself because he thought it made him appear weak, but after growing up and living with toughened warriors who spent their days training, eating and drinking, men and women alike, he started to appreciate women who were more delicate, who didn't spend their days pummeling things to death. That wasn't to say he liked spindly, weak willed and submissive women. He just enjoyed women who didn't wake up to small sounds in the night worrying that it was an assassin.

Seleema was very sweet. Honest, kind, dependable, and she treated everyone with respect until she got annoyed with them. Then she'd smack them upside the head. Farkas appreciated the words of encouragement she had for him, and over time Vilkas couldn't help but notice that the compliments turned from swordsmanship to things like his courage, and his loyalty, and his eyes. That one had made Farkas blush ever so slightly, and made Vilkas gag.

But Morregon was different. No matter how well she did her assigned tasks, she rarely received any recognition, and it was always from Seleema or Kodlak, and eventually from Farkas. But instead of giving up and moving on, she took harder assignments, larger assignments, sometimes coming back from them with injuries that couldn't possibly have been as minor as she claimed they were. And so Seleema asked Vilkas to start going with her, despite her friend's protestation.

Vilkas hadn't been too happy about it at first either; he had better things to do than watch some new whelp stumble around, getting herself hurt. But Morregan didn't get herself hurt. Not only did she prove to be capable in a fight, she was quick on her feet and even faster with her mind- and mouth. More than once, her snarky comments made the hardened warrior's mouth turn up at the corners in amusement. It was a rare feat, and one that she didn't seem to realize she had accomplished. He often wondered how such a small thing could be so damned good at killing. She was no warrior; her delicate frame betrayed her Breton blood, and (although it wasn't something he said openly to others) for her to abandon her magical gifts would have been a waste.

Eventually, he wasn't sure when, he started to look forward to their journeys together. They were never as simple as they sounded at the beginning. They were being constantly side-tracked, with Morregan wanting to go here and there and Oh, look at this! and Hey! Vilkas, come see! being constantly shouted to him as the mage went wandering off in all different directions. More than once he had had to go and pull her out from a hole, or carry her to a soft patch of grass to see if her ankle was sprained. But she was funny, witty, sarcastic, flamboyant, and although he was about as talkative as a tree at times, she was always friendly towards him.

After a while, Vilkas just had to throw his hands up and admit defeat; she was going to be his friend and make him like her no matter what. He might as well get used to the idea. Soon he started packing his things up whenever she wanted to go off on an adventure without her even asking if he wanted to come. He didn't really know he was in trouble until one day when they were in some middle-of-nowhere town and he had lost track of her (again). He had finally decided to resort to asking people if they had seen her.

"She has remarkably green eyes," he would say. "Soft brown hair, usually back in a braid, green tattoos across her face like this," and here he would move his fingers over his own face to show where they were, "and she laughs a lot." He caught himself speaking this way to a guard and realized that his voice changed as he talked about her. It got softer. Vilkas stopped talking, lost in his own thoughts, and then angrily exclaimed "SHIT!" This was a bad sign.

The guard just patted his shoulder sympathetically. "We all catch it at some point," he said.

It only got worse from then on. He began to notice everything about Morregon. The way she looked when she was thinking, the way she pulled back her long bangs and hair into a braid, how she would sing as she cooked, the way she would smile at him when he said something nice to her. Vilkas also noticed how she seemed to cave into herself when someone said something hurtful, how the normally talkative woman would remain silent in the presence of the other Companions. He hated it when she was that kind of quiet- not the quiet that came to her at the end of a long day of traveling or accomplishing things, when she would sigh contentedly and lie back, enjoying the lethargic feeling flowing into her limbs, but quiet as though she didn't think that anyone would hear or listen to her.

The final straw, as the metaphor went, happened the night that they had Turned Seleema. She had been unanimously chosen to be included into the Circle, although Vilkas had suggested they also bring Morregon in as well. Farkas had agreed since she was Seleema and Vilkas' friend, and his as well, but he had ultimately bowed to the refusal of Skjor and Aela, not wanting to anger them overmuch. Vilkas had eventually shut up as well, although his anger stewed under the surface and they could all see it. So Seleema had been changed, and her werewolf form was beautiful in its fearsomeness. But of course, she hadn't been able to control herself at that point and had gone tearing through the town, giving those who were awake at that hour heart attacks.

But Morregon had seen, Divines have mercy, and she knew, she knew the moment she saw the werewolf and the Companions chasing after it. She helped them chase Seleema down and she learned the truth, and then asked "Why haven't I been brought into the circle? Have I not done enough? Have I not fought enough? I have done more than she has done," and here she pointed at the unconscious and changing figure of Seleema, "and yet you ignore me! All of you!"

They had no answer for her.

The next day, Vilkas had gone to her little corner in the living area of Jorrvaskr to see all her belongings gone. He stared down at the empty cot and then walked stiffly to Kodlak's small antechamber, slumping down in the spare chair while the elderly man stared at him sympathetically. "Morregon came to speak to me earlier to tell me she was leaving."

Vilkas gave no sign that he heard him. Kodlak continued just the same. "It is a hard world for a mage. The Thalmor have given them a bad reputation. Not to mention the Oblivion fiasco…" Still Vilkas said nothing. Kodlak sighed. "Seleema is upset about it. I could hear the two of them getting into one of their shouting matches from here. But she was determined… What a spine she has."

No response. Finally, Kodlak rolled his eyes and then reached across the table to slap the side of Vilkas' face. The younger man jerked in his seat and stared at Kodlak with shock and fury. No one had reprimanded him like that since he was a boy. "Stop acting like a sulking child," snapped Kodlak, "and go do something about this. If you want her to stay, tell her so. Although," he said thoughtfully, "at this point it may be too late. You've all pushed her to her limits."

The black-haired warrior snarled, his wolf's blood rising momentarily before he shoved it back down again. Without another word, he stood up and left the room. He didn't need to say goodbye to Kodlak. The man knew where he was going.

Morregon had never stayed much at Jorrvaskr, due partially to the unfriendly vibes she was continually receiving, and partially because it just wasn't a good place for a mage to practice her craft. Although Seleema had technically been given the title of Thane of Whiterun after dispatching the dragon and taking his soul, she had given the house to her friend to use as she wished. Lydia, the housecarl, spent half her time in Jorrvaskr with Seleema and spent the rest doing whatever she wanted, so Morregon had Breezehome to herself. With these thoughts in mind, he rushed for the door to Jorrvaskr, intent on tracking her down and demanding an explanation.

She has to be there. She can't be gone already. She can't have left. But what if she has? Vilkas had to stop for a moment, suddenly feeling sick. Then he straightened, the beast blood boiling up, leaving one resounding thought in his mind: If she's left, then by the gods, I'll find her and drag her back.

It was not a question: It was a fact. It was simply the way it was going to be. MINE, his wolf side hissed. MINE. Vilkas vaguely recalled Kodlak once mentioning how wolves mated for life, and their kind was no different once they found someone they truly wanted. He had hated the idea at the time, having to resort to one woman for the rest of his life. But now, he didn't care. Now he couldn't imagine any other.

Vilkas strode down the streets of Whiterun, ignoring everyone and everything in his path until got to the entrance of the home that Morregon had made for herself. Then he threw the door open and slammed it shut once he was on the inside.

"Vilkas? What the hell?"

And there she was, standing on the wooden stairs, looking livid, wearing a pair of simple cotton breeches and shirt, her hair damp and down from just having washed it. For all intents and purposes, she looked like someone preparing for sleep. But Vilkas couldn't be fooled. He saw the tear-paths on her cheeks, saw how her eyes were red and swollen. He gave one low, feral growl, and Morregon's eyes widened as she took a defensive step back on the stairs. But Vilkas moved faster. He was as close to being in wolf-form without shedding his human appearance as he could be, and he could move damn fast as a wolf.

The mage gave a small scream of fear as he descended upon her, and he knew what she was thinking: that he was going to tear her to shreds and she was just going to die right there. Instead, she found herself falling back onto the stairs with Vilkas looming over her, his larger, stronger frame covering her small one. He was inches away from her, his hands on either side of her head and his legs straddling hers, but he wasn't touching her with so much as a hair. And yet she felt like the only possible way for him to be even closer would be for him to actually…

"You're leaving," he said slowly, his voice sounding harsh to even his ears.

She gulped nervously, her beautiful green eyes reflecting the fright she felt at that moment. "Yes."

He was completely silent for a while, and so was she. Neither of them moved, her from terror, and him from… something else. Suddenly Morregon noticed the tiniest tremors wracking his body. He was shaking, ever so slightly, but all over. His head hung down so she couldn't see into his face, and she cautiously lifted a hand to move his hair away from his eyes.

"Why?" he whispered brokenly to her, and he lifted his face so that Morregon could see the pain etched into his features. "Why are you leaving?"

"Oh, Vilkas," she said softly. Bringing her hand up to cup his cheek, she stroked his skin gently with her thumb and looked sadly into his eyes. "You know why."

"Don't go."

"I can't stay here, Vilkas. I'm miserable."

"I can make you happy." And he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers in a fierce and possessive kiss. Morregon stiffed momentarily from surprise and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, returning the kiss. He leaned into her, managing to move his arms around her back so that they were laying on the stairs, completely absorbed in each other.

Morregon squirmed under him a little, making a sound of discomfort. "Vilkas, your armor. It's chaffing."

He said nothing, but moved his arms down her back, over her butt and to her thighs. With one movement, he rocked back onto his heels and pulled her up with him, so that he was standing on the stairs while holding her up. She gave a squeak of surprise as he began to lift her and wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly for support. Without a moment's hesitation, Vilkas carried her upstairs, glancing into the first room on the left and then moving to the master bedroom (or what could only pass as one in such a small house).

Kicking the doors shut behind him, he let her fall to the bed, and then crawled over her, kissing her hard again before moving to kiss and nuzzle her neck. Morregon gave a moan and reached up to Vilkas' shoulders, then threading her fingers through his hair and arching up into him. Suddenly he pulled back, and Morregon was treated to the sight of his eyes turning from a rich brown to a golden yellow. Morregon felt her own eyes widen again in surprise as Vilkas sat back and pulled his gauntlets off. She reached up to him but he gave a low growl and pulled a small dagger out from his boot, quickly slicing through her jerkin. She made a sound of protest, but what was left of the clothing was pulled off her and tossed to the floor, soon to be followed by her breeches as Vilkas impatiently yanked them off her. She was wearing nothing underneath, having planned to go to sleep shortly before the man stripping her had shown up.

She gave an annoyed huff. "You could have asked you know."

"Too much effort," he replied, and then he grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms above her head firmly but gently. He stopped moving for a moment, and Morregon couldn't help but blush as his eyes swept over her naked form leisurely and appreciatively. "You're beautiful," he said finally, and his tone was almost worshipful. Before she could respond, he lowered his head to her breasts, licking along the sensitive skin. She moaned beneath him, and his eyes gold eyes turned molten as the bestial urge to claim her, take her began to grow stronger within him. Allowing himself to give into it a small bit, he began to lightly nip along her breasts, moving slowly to her nipples until he took them in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the buds and sucking at them before going back to nibbling around them. Morregon writhed under him as he alternated back and forth, groaning and whimpering as he continued his ministrations. She barely registered his free hand moving down between her legs until she felt him slipping his fingers inside her.

With a loud gasp, she bucked her hips up against his hand. "Vilkas!" she cried out, arching up, trying to free her wrists to touch him, kiss him, do something to drive him as wild as he was driving her. But he held tightly to her hands, his fingers pumping into her quickly as he searched out the spot that would make her scream for him. He found it quickly, and she threw her head back and gave a ragged moan, whimpering his name as he continued. "Vi… Vil… ka… aaaAAA!" His name turned into a scream suddenly as curled his fingers within her, moving harder against the sweet spot he had found. Vilkas kept up his assault on her breasts while he moved his hand against her, relishing every gasp, every moan, every cry of pleasure. He pulled his head away to kiss her once more, hard on the lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back greedily, as the two of them fought for dominance with their tongues and lips until he drew away, returning back to the rest of her skin.

She was incoherent now, not knowing what she was saying and not caring either as she thrashed about, feeling herself drawing closer to the edge. Morregon could feel it building up within her, like a giant wave about to crash down any moment. Vilkas was merciless, moving his hand faster, harder, deeper, his tongue and mouth tracing a burning trail over her mouth, neck and breasts. "Vilkas, please!" she begged. "I need to… I want…"

"I know," he murmured against her neck as he pressed his lips against the one, lone freckle on her collarbone. "I know." He loved every sound she made, knowing it was for him, and each cry of ecstasy sang through him, etching themselves in his ears and mind. He kept up the pace as she drew closer and closer, staying as quiet as he could so as to just revel in the sounds of the woman beneath him.

He could feel her start to tense up one last time, and he kissed her softly and said "I love you," before he flicked his fingers against her most sensitive area.

Morregon had opened her mouth to say "Oh, Vilkas, I love you, too," but as the orgasm smashed into her, flooding every sense and nerve in her body, all she could do was scream his name over and over as she lost all control and her vision was clouded with stars.

She lay there panting and oblivious to the world around her as Vilkas pulled away and licked his fingers clean before starting to pull off his armor. Managing to summon some semblance of strength, she pulled herself up to the headboard slightly to try to focus on his movements as he unhooked buckles and undid straps and dropped his armor on the floor next to his gauntlets and boots. He glanced up from his work as she made an appreciative sound and smirked as he saw her eyes rake over his body and lick her lips.

When he was finally as naked as she was, he climbed back over her, gently pulling her under him and running his fingers slowly over the skin of her shoulders. Their eyes caught each other and the raw emotion and adoration reflected in Vilkas' eyes made something in Morregon's heart clench tight. "I love you, Vilkas," she said raggedly, managing to say then what she couldn't earlier.

He smiled at her, running his knuckles over her cheek softly and nuzzled her nose with his, showing that he knew and understood. Now that her hands were free, she wrapped them around him, running her hands over his back and sides and arms. Her fingers traced ancient battle scars and she looked up at him with soft, sad eyes as she imagined the pain he had been in with each wound that had left its mark upon his body. The look left him weak; no one had ever turned their eyes on him in such a way, and she took the moment to flip their positions so that he was beneath her. He offered little resistance and as she began to kiss and lick at every wound, he gave a grunt and all thoughts of taking back his dominant position fled from his mind. He let his head fall back and just shivered and groaned as she explored him slowly, moving down his chest until-

Vilkas' eyes shot open as she licked along his length, his muscles tensing. With a loud growl, the wolf inside him sprang back to the surface, refreshed from its momentary lapse, and he grabbed her and rolled her under him again, penetrating her with one smooth movement.

She didn't cry out this time but gasped loudly, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and grasping his hair in her hands. He set a pace, steady and hard, but gaining speed and angle. Morregon moved her hips with him, encouraging him with her voice, her hands, her sounds of pleasure and then-

Vilkas' arched his back, a cry ripped from his throat as Morregon's hands sparkled with magic and made their ways across his body, sending waves of pleasure through him. Lifting a leg higher up along his waist, he thrusted into her harder, making her groan.

They moved together as one, their groans and sighs echoing through the room. The few candles in the room burned down low, letting the light from the magic in Morregon's hands illuminate her lover's skin as he moved within her, one of his hands grasping hers tightly as her fingers clenched and unclenched around his in time with his thrusts.

The two of them could feel their climaxes drawing closer and their sounds grew in volume and strength along with it. The power from Morregon intensified and soon both their bodies were glowing, shinning out in the darkness, but neither of them noticed or cared, keeping their gazes on each other as they moaned and panted, whispering "So close, almost, more, more, yes," and then-

The screams of total rapture tore through Morregon completely, and for a moment it was as though the moon was shining in the room. Vilkas came soon after, thrusting into her just a few more times until he too came crying out her name, digging his fingers almost painfully into her hips.

Both of them lapsed into almost total unconsciousness, their limbs still tangled together until their breathing evened out and they could see clearly. Or at least as clearly as they could in the relative darkness. Vilkas rolled to his side groaning softy. "Divines, woman, how did you learn that damned magic trick?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Didn't like it?"

"It was amazing. If I'd have known mages could do things like that, I wouldn't have touched any woman that wasn't one before."

"Well…" Morregon stretched a little, yawning. "Actually, it's not all mages. It's something that only people with mer blood can do."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Elf blood?"

Morregon shifted closer to him, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arm around her and explained. "Most of us Bretons are descended directly from half-elves years ago. The Altmer took human slaves to their beds and either impregnated or became pregnant by them, and their half-breed children reproduced among themselves. So…" she gestured vaguely in the air, the final vestiges of the glow flashing before disappearing from her skin.

"So elves can do that? Without even trying?"

"Any elf and elf descendant with enough magic in their blood can glow while making love, yes."

"Always?" he asked her.

She yawned and he grinned as she snuggled against him, letting him pull the blankets over her. "For me, no. I have to…" she yawned again. "I have to completely let go with my partner. Trust them completely and… love them."

He kissed her forhead. "I love you also."

She let out a contented sigh as she began to drift off. But he couldn't let her fall asleep without knowing first. "You're still leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

Morregon opened her eyes. "I'll spend the day with you, if you like. But I should be with my own."

He was silent for a few minutes, trying to keep his heart from breaking within his chest. "Where are you going?"

"Winterhold Mage's College."

Vilkas felt a rush of relief. While the college wasn't exactly next door, it wasn't in Cyrodiil, like he had been afraid of. "Will you come back?"

She was quiet for a minute and then took his hand and kissed it. "I'll come back when I deserve you."

He remained quiet as she curled up against him. He was wondering what she meant by that, and also how she couldn't see that he was the one that didn't deserve her.

It was alright though. Their roads were diverging now, although it wasn't what he wanted, but splits in the roads were just different ways to the same destination. They'd end up at the end together.

I was going to do a couple chapters with Farkas and Seleema, and then another with Vilkas. Not sure when it'll be updated though. I have other commitments elsewhere in Storyland. However, I promise I'll finish it. Don't worry about that.

Like I said, this was my first lemon in quite some time. Hopefully I did it justice and it turn out god-awful. Even if it wasn't the best you've ever read, I do hope that it was nonetheless enjoyable. Reviews are greatly appreciated!