Author's Note:
Wow, how incredible. I cannot thank you guys enough for giving my first Elder Scrolls story a chance. Chapter one had over a hundred views in less than a week! That's so amazing! Words can't express how grateful I am to all of my readers.
I don't want to bog down the chapter, so the usual credits are down at the bottom :) Enjoy chapter two!
Just outside of Whiterun's city limits, Lisara sat cross-legged atop her deer-skin bedroll. The illumination from the dying campfire painted dark shades of orange and yellow on her skin, and the slight heat was comforting in the cooler temperatures of the night. If she breathed in deeply enough, the smoky scent of the dwindling fire intermingled with the earthy scent of the field around her. It soothed her, much to her surprise. She'd never been overly fond of nature but there was something about the rawness of Skyrim's environment that appealed to her. This was the world as the Gods had deemed it and whatever the reason may be, she was happy to be where she was at the moment.
She'd left the Sanctuary early that morning and it had taken her nearly the entire day to reach the plains just outside of Whiterun. People tended to be less mistrustful when the sun was shining so she'd chosen to make camp for the night, then ride up to the front gate the next morning. Of course, she was there for ill purposes, but the job would go easier if the guards weren't immediately suspicious of her.
It was past sunset already and part of her nightly ritual before she went to sleep was to meditate on her actions from the day. As her mind wandered, her arms were balanced on her thighs, palms facing upwards and her pointer finger and thumb formed a circle. She sat there, unmoving and lost in her thoughts for nearly an hour.
Once she was finished with her routine, she let out a deep, even sigh and uncurled from her position. Leaning over, she scooped dirt onto the flames and put the fire out, subsequently climbing into her bedroll and lifting the cover over herself. She shifted onto her side after folding her cloak into a makeshift pillow, placing her dagger securely underneath. As per her routine, she focused on relaxing each individual muscle in her body and not long after, the darkness of sleep overtook her. However, her rest did not go undisturbed.
Her imagination had been running wild all day while she'd been on the road. Every possible scenario of how she could fulfill her contract had wandered through her mind: from slitting his throat, which was by far her favorite method of ending another's life—the action had always seemed so intimate to her; to poisoning him, which was incredibly easy to pull off; to perhaps making it look like an accident. The reactions of those who were in the vicinity when the individual died were her favorite. People were amusing when frightened.
Visuals of his eyes—even though Lisara had no idea what he looked like—turning glassy and losing their glow, becoming empty, lifeless, flitted through her thoughts. It was that sight that excited her the most. It was true confirmation that she'd done her job and carried out the Night Mother's wishes. The part of the contract that most intrigued Lisara though, was the fact that her target was a Companion. She'd never killed a Companion. Whoever he was…even just his name intrigued her. It sounded strong, sure, very much a Nord. He would make quite the trophy, this Vilkas.
Halfway through the night, her dreams shifted from plotting Vilkas' early demise to a reflection of her past. Though she actively avoided thinking of her conquests when she was awake, her subconscious seemed to always have other plans.
She was back at Beitild's house with Babette standing by the front door, waving her in, her fangs peeking out from underneath her small, childish lips.
Silently, both in her memories and in this dream sequence, she made her way through the dark house. In her memory, she'd been crouching, reaching out tentatively for surfaces she could crash into that would reveal her location. In her dream, she floated through the abode as if she had lived there herself—though her her posture was stiff, her hands hanging by her sides.
When she drifted into the room where Beitild slept she saw her past self, crouching over the other woman's still body, her dagger poised at her throat, glinting in the moonlight. Though she knew how this particular situation ended, her dream self reached out, as if to stop her past self from doing what she knew had to be done.
"No, wait!" she cried out, her voice thin and airy. It was useless however, as she watched the sharpened blade slide across the thin flesh of Beitild's throat, a trail of crimson following the tip.
Her past self turned then, her eyes crazed with bloodlust, and met her dream self's eyes. A smile spread across her past self's face, warping her expression from the emptiness Lisara knew she'd originally felt in that moment, to something more akin to a sort of twisted glee, a morbid pleasure at ending another's life. A flash of fear spiked through her at seeing her own face so inhuman, so unnatural...
"No!" Lisara gasped as she shot straight up in her bedroll.
A light but bleak breeze blew past, causing her to shiver violently. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, the moisture beading on her brow and pooling in the groove of skin on the back of her neck. Her fingers were clenched, her fists resting in her lap. Though she tried to calm her racing heart, her chest continued to rise and fall with the rapid breaths she took.
Lisara raised her hands and buried her face in them as she felt the world closing in on her, alone in the plains surrounding Whiterun. These...memories haunted her every single night and no matter how well she avoided her past during her waking hours, she could not escape her dreams.
After what felt like eons, her breathing slowed and she wiped the salty wetness from her cheeks—she refused to acknowledge that she'd been crying. Glancing up to the east, she saw the hint of brightness peeking up over the mountain range just beyond Eastmarch. The rays of light tinged the sky with gold which faded into a soft periwinkle, before darkening to a cobalt closer to the west. Sunrise was her favorite time of day for this exact reason. The Gods were merciful in the fact that they gifted the lowly forms of life on Tamriel with stunning moments of beauty like this one.
With a sigh, she stood and rolled up her bedroll, tying it to Shadowmere's saddle. The thought of bathing passed through her mind briefly before she dismissed it and shrugged, jumping up and swinging her leg over the stallion's body. There would be plenty of time for luxury later. For now, she had an appointment with a certain Companion.
Pulling on the reins, she swung Shadowmere around and nudged his side with her thigh, prompting him to gallop off to the north. Small houses with thatched roofs began to spring up on the plains the closer she got to the city. Eventually, Shadowmere's hooves resounded on wood as they passed over a small stream, entering the outpost just before the incline that led to the gates of Whiterun.
She slowed him to a trot and they weaved between members of the guard who milled about, who nodded to her as she passed. They rose up towards the gate and when she finally arrived, one of the guards who flanked the entrance approached her with his hand held out, indicating that she should stop.
When she acquiesced to his silent request, he said, "I'm very sorry ma'am, but you'll have to dismount here and walk on foot. We will return your steed to the stables for safe keeping."
She sighed under her breath at the inconvenience before dismounting and untying her pack and her bedroll from the saddle, swinging them over her shoulder. After an affectionate goodbye pat to Shadowmere's snout, she handed the reins to the guard and his counterpart pushed open the door for her. The entrance gate was massive and she'd wondered how they'd let her in when she'd ridden up the incline, but now that she could see that a smaller entrance had been inlaid into the wood, she rolled her eyes at herself.
Of course they're not going to open the gate every time someone arrives, you nitwit, she chided herself. Though she'd lived in Skyrim for years, she'd never been able to completely shake the naivety that had followed her from High Rock.
Lisara passed through the open door, her boots scuffling on the cobblestone streets. She had been planning on trying to blend in as much as possible but that thought disappeared from her mind as she raised her head and gazed around the city, marveling at how clean the streets were and the intricate architecture of the homes. Though the residences she'd passed in the plains outside the city had thatched roofs, these most certainly did not. The wooden eaves had detailed patterns and images carved into them and the roofs were lined with scalloped tiles in varying shades of nature, from a mossy green to a warm terracotta brown. They towered above her; some were two or three stories tall.
She clamped her mouth shut when she realized that she'd been gaping like a fish. Embarrassed at her reaction, she shifted her pack and swiftly walked down the main street towards what appeared to be a marketplace, off on the other end of town. Markets were the perfect place to gather information, as merchants were more often than not willing to gossip about all the inner workings of their fine cities. Of course, inns were a fount of information as well but she had no intention of staying there this time around.
Just ahead of her before the marketplace sat a massive white tree, its branches filled with coral and blush colored leaves. She passed underneath its wide-reaching arms, her head tilted back so she could look towards the very top of its height. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. Granted, she knew living in a cavern under the surface didn't warrant breathtaking sights like these but if it weren't for her profession, she thought she might have enjoyed living in Whiterun.
After crossing a small stone bridge that arched over an easy flowing creek, she climbed the small incline that led to the marketplace. Townsfolk surrounded the fountain at its center, chatting with each other about aimless topics, swept up in the peace and quiet they were lucky enough to enjoy.
A food stand, with various fruits and vegetables as its wares, stood off to Lisara's left and it was there that she wandered now. The woman who stood beside the stand was not a Nord, which surprised Lisara; her height was considerably shorter than most of the other women that were about and her medium length tresses were a muted brown, not blonde. Her ochre eyes were shrewd but not unkind and as Lisara approached, the other woman met her gaze when she realized that Lisara was a potential customer.
"Hello! Can I interest you in any of my fine produce?" the woman greeted.
"No, thank you. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the Companions?" Lisara inquired.
Recognition lit up the woman's eyes and she leaned against the stand when she replied. "Ah, seeking to join their ranks? Jorrvaskr is just up this staircase, in the Wind District. You can't miss it—biggest building up there."
"Thank you," Lisara said before she ambled past the woman and headed up the stone steps that led out of the marketplace.
When she reached the next landing, she glanced to her left and didn't see any buildings that particularly stood out. Her gaze swung to the right next and her eyes widened when she noticed the large hall that stood just above another flight of steps. The merchant hadn't been lying when she'd said that it would be hard to miss. The building was the length of nearly two or three houses and had what appeared to be an upside down ship's hull for a roof.
"What in all of Tamriel...Nords are bizarre," she muttered under her breath.
Quickly scaling the steps in front of her, she huffed when she realized that there was another small flight that led up to the hall's enormous main doors. It's no wonder Nords have such muscular legs. There are stairs everywhere, she thought.
Finally, she stood just in front of the doors that marked the entrance to the hall. She pressed her hand against them, noticing in passing the golden patterns that traced across their wooden surfaces, and pushed one open, causing it to creak loudly in protest.
The sounds of a crackling fire paired with raucous laughter reached her ears when she stepped into the hall. There were multiple people seated at a long wooden table in the center of the recessed area, obviously sharing a rather joyful meal together. The wooden door slammed shut behind her and everyone turned around to see who had walked into their midst.
No one said a word and Lisara could swear one could hear a pin drop in the thick silence that filled the room. Fed up with the less than warm welcome, she cleared her throat in annoyance and that prompted a mountain of a man to rise from the table, his steps thudding against the stone floor as he traipsed over to her.
The closer he got, the more Lisara leaned away from his intimidating presence. He came to a stop just in front of her, towering over her slight frame and a wide smile spread across his face. In a booming, rich voice, he yelled, "Welcome to Jorrvaskr, friend! I'm Farkas! What can we do for ya?"
"I uh, I'd like to join the Companions," Lisara explained in a tiny voice. When she realized how feeble she sounded, she nearly kicked herself.
"Great! We always love to have good, strong people join us! But uh...can you even fight? You're so tiny, I'm not sure I believe that you could lift a sword!" he guffawed.
Lisara's eyes narrowed and the side of her nose tweaked. "I can handle myself just fine."
"Even better then! Kodlak's the one you wanna talk to about joining. He's downstairs at the end of the hall! Nice to meet you...er…" Farkas trailed off.
"Lisara," she replied as she began to walk away from him.
"Pretty name. Nice to meet you Lisara! As a Companion, we consider each other as family so I hope I get to call you shield-sister soon!" Farkas bellowed before waving and returning to the table.
The conversation picked back up as if he'd never spoken to her and slowly, she turned around and continued walking towards the staircase. Family, huh? I suppose this is just another group of people I have to deal with calling me that.
As she descended, the light from the main area faded, causing her steps to slow as she neared the bottom. A small, closed door was in front of her and she pushed it open hesitantly, peeking her head around the edge. It looked like she was now in some sort of living quarters; there were wooden tables and separate sitting areas strewn about down the long hallway. Other closed doors were periodically placed along the wall and she assumed they led to private bedrooms.
Lisara walked into the room and turned to her right, passing by a Dunmer who nodded politely at her as she wandered by. Returning the gesture, she made her way to the opposite end, where she could hear two men speaking about something she didn't quite understand. One of the men had a voice that sounded weathered by age. It was rough, and the tone he used implied that he was in a position of authority, in comparison to the other man.
The other voice though, the one belonging to the younger individual...it was a lovely baritone. His words were accented with the lilting cadence that many Nords had though at the moment, his words were tinged with irritation. He seemed to be arguing with the older gentleman—no, perhaps only making a point.
When Lisara was nearly to the room at the end of the hall, she purposefully stomped so that the enchantment on her boots wouldn't mask the sound of her steps. When the men heard her approaching, they ceased their conversation and turned to look at the door.
The man on the right was likely the owner of the raspy voice, for his hair was as white as the snow atop the Throat of the World. His eyes were keen and his gaze traced her from head to toe, gauging her perceptively. Though he was obviously older in age, time had not weathered his strength. Even from the doorway, Lisara could see that his muscles strained the leather wrappings around his biceps.
On the other side of the table the two men were sitting at, was the owner of the other voice—the warmer, velvety, deep voice. His expression was gruff, his full lips turned down in a scowl, masked the slightest bit by his chestnut stubble. His arms were crossed over his chest and though his build was slighter than the older man, he was nowhere near lesser toned.
What stopped Lisara in her tracks though were his crystalline eyes—they were lighter than any that she'd ever seen; the palest blue that could only be likened to ice. The wine-colored war paint that lined his eyes made them appear even brighter and she found that she couldn't look away. A faint niggling at the back of her mind made her question if she'd ever met this man before, as he looked vaguely familiar.
When her inspection of his appearance crossed over into impolite territory, his scowl intensified and he prompted, "Well? What do you want?"
Lisara shook her head in apology as the white-haired man reprimanded the brunet man. "Come now, Vilkas. That's no way to greet a guest in Jorrvaskr. How may we help you, lass?"
That's Vilkas? she marveled. A great trophy indeed.
"I spoke to Farkas upstairs and he told me to speak to Kodlak? I wish to join the Companions," she explained.
"Aye, I am Kodlak," the older man clarified. "Yes, perhaps. You have a certain strength of spirit," he mused.
At that, Vilkas turned towards Kodlak, his eyes wide in surprise. "Master, you're not actually thinking of letting this...girl join, are you?"
The corner of Kodlak's mouth twitched in amusement. "I shouldn't have to remind you Vilkas that we also have Aela, Njada and Ria in our ranks, hm? Besides, we have plenty of empty beds in Jorrvaskr."
"That is different. They are warriors. This runt has likely never held a blade in her life," Vilkas rebutted.
Lisara scoffed at Vilkas' inaccurate assessment of her. "Just because I'm not freakishly tall like you Nords doesn't mean I cannot hold my own in battle."
Kodlak chuckled. "She has fire. I like that. Vilkas, why don't you take her out to the yard and test her mettle then? See how she does for herself."
Vilkas, clearly displeased with his new task, grunted in response and from between clenched teeth said, "Aye."
He rose then and though he was just a touch shorter than Farkas, he was still taller than Lisara by at least over half a foot. When he brushed past her, he grazed her shoulder and her foot shot out, catching herself as she stumbled. Miffed, she let out a grunt as well, and trailed after his retreating form as she followed him back through the living hall, up the stairs, and through the doors opposite the ones she'd entered from.
They were now in the 'yard', as Kodlak had referred to it, on the back side of Jorrvaskr. Vilkas continued on into the small stone clearing, past the covered seating area that was just outside the doors. He came to a stop in the center and drew his longsword from the sheath at his side, beckoning for Lisara to join him before he picked up a shield that had been lying on the ground.
When she stood across the way from him, he fell into a defensive stance, his sword held in his right hand and his shield on his left. "Arm yourself," he instructed.
She crouched and removed her daggers from their holders on the outside of her thighs. His expression lightened when he saw her weapons of choice and she smiled to herself at his newfound arrogance—that was how she won against larger, stronger opponents. They always assumed that because she was so slight and didn't use a sword that was nearly as tall as her, that she'd be an easy victory. A grin teased at the corners of Lisara's lips—Vilkas was in for a surprise.
Out of nowhere, Vilkas rushed forward with a deafening battle cry, closing the space between them. His arm raised his sword above his head, the muscles in his bicep bulging as he brought the heavy weapon down towards her skull. Pushing off on the balls of her feet, she deftly rolled to the side and slightly past him, slashing at the side of his leg and breaking through his leather armor. When he attempted to retaliate by shoving his shield arm towards her face, she rolled again and ended up behind his hulking frame.
The thought of ending his life here and now flashed through her mind but she knew she couldn't. For starters, it would be horrendously obvious. His fellow Companions would race out to the yard, see his dying breath and with her disappearance, would know exactly who the culprit was. No, she'd follow through with this silly test of theirs and follow him back to his bedroom tonight. There, she'd finish the job.
Before Vilkas could turn around, she hopped up onto his back, wrapping her legs around his wide waist. At the unexpected contact, he froze and she placed the cold edge of her dagger against the side of his neck, right against his jugular. He held his breath, unsure of her next move and with a quiet laugh, she whispered into his ear, "Got you. I think that means I win."
He hummed in irritation and begrudgingly admitted that she was right. "So it appears. Not bad, though. Next time it won't be so easy. Would you get off me now, woman?"
She chuckled under her breath in response and jumped off, sheathing her daggers. He did the same with his sword before tossing his shield aside. When he faced her again, the corner of his lips curled up. "I'm impressed. One, you drew blood and I can't remember the last time someone other than my brother managed to do that. Two, you're very fast on your feet. You're more skilled than I originally thought."
"I did tell you that I could hold my own," she replied, placing her hand on her hip.
"Indeed, you did. Come, let us report back to Kodlak," he said as he walked back towards Jorrvaskr.
"Then I passed?" she asked.
"With a win like that, it'd be a shame to turn you away. So yes, you passed."
"Is that a compliment, Vilkas?" she teased.
Vilkas snorted as he pushed through the doors that led into the main hall.
Lisara smiled at his back. With such an aloof personality, she doubted that Vilkas praised anyone often, if ever. The fact that she'd managed to squeeze a compliment from him pleased her. She rarely let any of her targets see who'd been the cause of her demise. Vilkas was a decent warrior. Perhaps he deserved that honor tonight.
The duo trekked back through the hall and down to Kodlak's quarters, where the older man waited for their return, perusing a book at the same table he'd sat at before. When they walked through his doorway, he glanced up and stood to meet them.
"Well? How did it go?" Kodlak asked as he turned to Vilkas.
"She passed," he admitted.
"I'd like to add that I passed 'rather impressively', as Vilkas said," Lisara added.
Kodlak chortled and faced Lisara. "Is that so? Well, if that is the case then I gladly welcome you to the Companions, shield-sister. Vilkas, will you show her where she'll be staying?"
Vilkas ambled back out of the room without a word and after nodding to Kodlak, Lisara followed after him. She studied the back of his head as he led the way. His dark, chestnut-colored hair ended just above his shoulders and in fact, it was nearly the same length as Farkas', though Vilkas' appeared to be thicker and slightly shorter. His shoulders were broad but where Farkas was large in mass, Vilkas was more lean, more tone. A saber cat to Farkas' giant. Now that she sat there and compared the two men, she realized that they were far more similar in appearance than she'd originally thought.
Brothers, perhaps? she wondered. Vilkas had mentioned his brother earlier, in the yard.
If they were brothers, she wondered if Farkas would miss his brother once he was dead. Many family members mourned the loss of their loved ones, but there were others who were actually the instigators of their sibling's demise. She wondered which one Farkas was. He'd seemed far too jovial and...kind...to be the requestor of the contract. If that was how he was all the time then yes, he probably would miss Vilkas.
Halfway down the hall, Vilkas veered right and halted in front of a set of double doors that were opposite from each other. He gestured to the one on Lisara's right and said, "These are the women's quarters. You'll be staying here with the other female Companions."
Lisara brushed past him and stepped into the room, noting the many beds lined up against each side, along the walls. If she slept here tonight, it meant that she'd need to sneak past at least three other bodies. It was a good thing she had enchanted armor and was exceptional at her trade.
Vilkas' voice called out to her from the hallway. "If you need anything, my room and my brother's room are just across the hall."
Gods, could he make this any easier for me? she mused.
"Thank you," she said after she turned back around to face him.
He nodded and disappeared around the corner. Lisara sighed and set down her pack, choosing the only available bed which happened to be closest to the exit—Convenient, she thought.
She sank down onto the quilt that had been draped across her mattress and laid down, crossing her legs at the ankle. Folding her arms across her stomach, she slipped into her meditative state and allowed herself to ruminate over the events of the day. As she thought of their sparring match outside only a few minutes ago, she realized with surprise that she'd laughed when she'd won.
Sure, she scoffed in amusement here and there and occasionally, she'd let out a dark chuckle but she couldn't remember the last time she'd honestly laughed. She'd enjoyed their seemingly playful banter after the fight and an uneasy feeling coursed through her at how comfortable she already felt around Vilkas.
No matter. It only serves to guide my blade a little easier, she thought, as if to convince herself that it was true.
She had hours to waste until nightfall so she decided to roll over and close her eyes, pulling her hood further down her face to block out the light from the hall. Only a few minutes passed before she'd fallen asleep.
When Lisara woke some time later, the door to the sleeping quarters had been closed and the room was pitch black. The sounds of other people breathing deeply in their slumber surrounded her and she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she lifted her pack from the floor and slowly placed her arm through the strap, moving slowly in an attempt to avoid making excess noise. With careful steps, she reached her hands out in front of her to feel for the door. Once her fingers touched gnarled wood, she pushed it open centimeter by centimeter, so that the hinges wouldn't creak. After she was safely out in the darkened hallway, she softly shut the door behind her and turned to face the opposite end of the area, where Vilkas had said he and his brother's rooms were.
She crept over to the corner, peeking around to the left and then the right, to ensure that the coast was clear. They'd left one torch burning to illuminate the path, likely so that people didn't stumble as they returned to their beds for the night. The little amount of light caused the various shadows to stretch far longer than the actual objects were, casting an eerie aura about the place. After setting her pack against the wall, she channeled Invisibility and clenched her fist until she felt the appropriate amount of Magicka coursing through her. Quickly, she threw her hand up into the air, then stared in awe at her fingers as she was slowly able to see through them to the stone that lined the floor beneath her feet.
Once she was sure that no one could spot her, even if they walked right past her, she slinked through the open hallway and over to the other side, where a set of wooden double doors sat opposite each other. She cursed under her breath when she realized that she didn't know which room was Vilkas'.
It was then that a man's voice floated through the air, drifting around the corner to reach Lisara's ears. A feminine giggle followed shortly after and Lisara swore again, ducking into the far corner at the end of the hallway and pressing herself against the wall. Though she knew they couldn't see her, if one of them bumped into her, it'd be over before it even begun. She'd rather not leave a trail of bodies in her wake.
A mammoth of a man rounded the corner, the torch light shining on his chocolate-brown hair, his arm wrapped around a female's waist. Their heads were close and the woman had her fingers entwined in his long locks. When they pulled apart, Lisara nearly gasped at the sight.
Vilkas?! No...he's more muscular than Vilkas. That must be Farkas. So they are brothers. Twins most likely, if I could mistake Farkas for Vilkas that easily. How did I not see that before?
Farkas and his lady friend paused in front of the door to Lisara's left. The burlier brother fumbled with the knob until the woman giggled again and opened it for him, dragging him inside by the hand. After they slammed the door shut, her giggles quickly turned to loud, exaggerated moans and Lisara rolled her eyes.
Honestly, some of the company men keep. Well, now I know which room is Vilkas'.
Crouching low, Lisara sidled up to the door on her right, turning the knob lightly to test it. When it stopped abruptly, indicating that it was locked, she pulled a lock pick out of her braid and inserted the tip into the keyhole. A thump sounded from down the hall and Lisara's left hand darted to the hilt of the dagger on her thigh as she turned to face the hallway. When no one appeared and no other sounds followed, she let out a relieved sigh and turned back to the lock.
She wiggled the pick, listening for the telltale sound of a tumbler clicking into place. It took a few tries but after a couple of minutes, the sound of victory met her ears and she grinned, reaching up to turn the knob successfully this time. The door opened slightly and she pushed it a little farther, squeezing in through the small opening before she shut the door softly behind her.
Vilkas' room was as black as the Void and Lisara rolled her eyes at the inconvenience. Why couldn't he leave a candle burning, like most people? After casting Night Eye, she gave herself a few seconds to adjust to the nearly black and white night vision. Her gaze swept around the room and she spotted the end post of what she assumed was the bed, just behind a privacy screen to the back left of the bedroom.
With silent steps, she crept over to it, straightening as she got closer. Vilkas was lying on his back, his forearm draped over his eyes. The thick, fur pelt that he used as a blanket was wrapped around his waist, leaving his torso exposed. One of his bare muscular legs was sticking out to the side, his foot dangling over the edge of the mattress.
Lisara tilted her head, admiring the view. Though he was slighter in comparison to Farkas, he was definitely not weaker—she had evidence of that now. She could clearly see the main vein running down his bicep, leading down through his forearm to the top of his hand. His pectorals were incredibly defined, as were his abs. A light dusting of fine hair was scattered across his chest, running down his abdomen and thickening just before it disappeared underneath the blanket.
She blushed when she realized where that train of thought was headed and swiftly pulled her dagger from its sheath, climbing onto the bed carefully so as not to wake him. She lifted her leg and went to swing it over his body so that she could straddle him and pin him in place effectively, should he thrash in his final moments. The second her knee returned to the mattress, Vilkas shifted slightly, moving his arm back down to his side and she froze, waiting for him to settle again before she sighed in relief. It was risky to be this physically close to a target and she knew that, but she couldn't help herself from wanting to feel his strong body underneath her legs.
His hair was laying across his face, blocking his features from view and as if she were unable to control her actions, she reached out and brushed the soft strands aside, marveling at his handsome face. Even with his eyes closed, the war paint around them amplified his features, making him appear more mysterious. It was a shame to remove such beauty from the world but alas, a contract is a contract and he was worth quite the pretty septim. Gently, she placed her blade at his throat once more, mirroring her action from their sparring match that morning.
Her giggles surrounded them as she chased her brother through the forest, weaving in and out of the colossal pines that towered above them. He was so close—her outstretched fingertips nearly grazed the back of his shirt the last time she'd reached for him. He stumbled then, tripping over an upended root, and she grasped his collar as he fell.
"Tag! I got you, Elias!" she exclaimed, her voice high with exuberance.
He rolled over and pulled her down to tickle her mercilessly as he chuckled. Her brother smiled then and his young features relaxed, the corner of his lips turning upwards. The sun reflected onto his pale blue eyes, so light they were nearly the color of the early morning sky.
"So you did! Not bad, not bad. Next time it won't be so easy though."
Lisara gasped at the unexpected image of her brother's face flashing unbidden through her mind, as she finally realized why she'd felt so at ease around Vilkas earlier. His personality was exactly like her brother's. Quiet, astute, sarcastic but still playful at times, Elias had been her rock, her source of strength. When he'd left, her world had been shattered and she'd never recovered, her personality changing for good once she'd retreated into her shell. When she and Vilkas had bantered back and forth, it had reminded her, though subconsciously, of a time long past—a person she no longer was.
Her hand shook at the revelation, tears welling up in her eyes. She was angry. Angry at Vilkas for pulling memories to the surface of a person she'd fought so hard to forget, angry at her brother for leaving her behind to survive on her own against the onslaught of their father. Angry at the world, at her situation, at everything it seemed. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears to disappear as she tried to regain her composure.
What she didn't see, due to her eyes being shut, was that Vilkas had opened his eyes. When he felt the dagger at this throat, he knew immediately who it was that loomed above him. He took the opportunity that her emotional distress allowed him and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, yanking the blade away from his neck. His other arm wound around her waist—much like how Lisara had seen Farkas do to the wench that had disappeared into his room—pulling her weight to the side so that he could roll on top of her, their positions reversed.
When Lisara realized what had happened and that she was now the one who was at his mercy, she began to buck her hips, trying to push Vilkas off. He quickly clamped his hand over her mouth and lowered his pelvis into hers, pinning her in place. A wave of arousal swept through her lower abdomen as she realized that Vilkas slept in the nude, before she remembered why he was using his hips to keep her from moving, at which the feeling quickly passed.
He spoke then, his voice rough from his abrupt awakening as he demanded, "Mind telling me what in Talos' name you're doing in my room, let alone my bed?"
A/N: Many thanks to Nightlain and StarryNight101 for beta-reading.
Thank you to lissa regan 6 (FFN hates the dots in your name), Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant, and Emily Evelan for the reviews. If you enjoyed the chapter, I always appreciate hearing my readers' thoughts.
Thank you to all of you who favorited and followed this story, when we were only one chapter into things. I know it can be hard to gauge stories from the beginning and it means so much to me that you all enjoyed it enough to put your faith in me for future chapters. There were quite a few of you, so I won't thank you individually here (as I did respond by PM to each and every one of you) but know that I appreciate you so much!
See you next chapter!