Chapter 2

Tirdas and Middas passed in eerie normality. Ria griped about her training, Aela obsessed over the glory of the hunt, and Torvar drank himself into Oblivion—all of them oblivious to their Harbinger's impending doom. Vilkas had always been a solitary fellow, but for once he felt the urge to tell someone else, the urge to share the burden and concern. He mostly wanted to tell Farkas, as he and Farkas rarely kept anything from each other, but he knew that if Alba wasn't telling anyone else, there must be a reason. He trusted her judgment as Harbinger.

Alba also seemed able to continue on with life as usual. Although it was clear she was preparing for a long journey, she gave no indication that her next quest would be particularly dangerous, no indication that she might never see her shield-brothers and sisters again. If she noticed Vilkas's eyes following her throughout the week, it didn't show.

It was maddening. Vilkas wanted to do something. He should be able to help his Harbinger, but there was nothing he could do. The need to act grew and grew throughout the week, and by the evening of Turdas all the built-up energy left Vilkas pacing up and down the main hallway in the living quarters. He knew Alba was already in the Harbinger's quarters. He knew if he went to sleep now, she might be gone by the time he woke up. He didn't know what he was going to do or say, but he wanted to talk to her at least one more time before she left.

Eventually, the nervous energy pent up inside Vilkas became too much, and he marched to the Harbinger's door and barged right in. The Harbinger looked up from where she was crouched on the floor, strapping a heavy-laden knapsack closed. She was wearing her mask and hood, and was fully armored in her strange, pale elven armor. She rose to her feet upon Vilkas's entrance.

"Vilkas? What is it?"

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes..." she said, tone rising in question.

"Do you still wish to kiss a man before you leave?"

Vilkas couldn't see Alba's expression through the mask, but he could almost feel every muscle in her body freeze up. A moment passed that felt like an eternity.

"...I can't say it's at the top of my list of priorities…" the Harbinger said cautiously.

"But you still wish it. If you could, I mean," Vilkas said.

The Harbinger's shoulders lost a small amount of their tension, and she sighed.

"I mean, yes, I suppose I still would like to know what a kiss feels like before I die."

"Ok," having not decided quite what he was going to say next even as he opened his mouth. "I can do it."

Alba let out a strangled sound, as if she were choking on her own tongue.

"What?" she finally spat out.

"This is something you want. There is an obvious, efficient solution."

"Vilkas, you don't have to fall on your sword for me-"

"-It's fine. I want to do something to help my Harbinger, and this would be simple. If you would prefer someone else I can speak with Farkas, or Torvar, or Athi-"

"-No!" she said, taking several hurried steps towards Vilkas and holding her hands out as if to hold him back, "No, I really don't want anyone else to know about this. It's bad enough that you know."

"Then… I'll be leaving then," Vilkas said already cursing himself by each of the nine divines.

What had he been thinking? At first it had truly seemed like a… logical, cool-headed solution. He wanted to do something to help Alba, but there was almost nothing he could do. Then his brain had latched onto this idea, and it was actually within his ability to make happen. Why not offer?

Because, he told himself, no one on all of Tamriel would think this was a good idea, you insufferable dolt.

Vilkas turned to leave, moving as quickly as his stiff armor would allow him, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Wait."

Vilkas's heart stopped, and he turned back towards the Harbinger, startled for a moment by how close the demonic mask appeared to his face.

"Yes?"

Alba sighed and released Vilkas's shoulder, taking a step back and removing her mask. She let her hood fall back from her hair as well, and her brown hair fell to her shoulders, curling slightly. Dark circles made a home under her eyes and worry lines creased her olive skin. She looked so young, so careworn, and so, so tired.

"Ok. I'll accept your help."

An invisible weight lifted from Vilkas's chest, but he didn't let his relief show on his face. He moved further into the room, away from the door, and Alba followed suit.

"Alright then," Vilkas said, eyeing Alba's expectant face cautiously.

He stood awkwardly in front of Alba for a long moment, debating whether he should just swoop in an kiss her, or if there should be some sort of build up. He knew what he would do if he were trying to woo the girl, but that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to accomplish. After rapidly flipping through a handful of options, he decided on the only not-stupid one, nodding his head as he made up his mind. He'd treat this just like training. Teaching was something he enjoyed; something he was good at. This couldn't be that different, right?

"Well, before we start I need to know what I am working with. You said you've never kissed a man. Do you mean you've never kissed at all, or you've never kissed passionately?"

Alba's cheeks flushed at the question.

"I meant exactly what I said," she muttered, eyes turned towards the corner of the room.

"Uh, ahem. OK, nothing wrong with that. How… old are you?"

Alba shut her eyes tightly, as if it pained her to answer

"I've seen thirty summers."

Vilkas nodded his head, pleased that his estimate had been close.

"And what has so far prevented you?" he asked, forging ahead despite her obvious discomfort. In Vilkas's experience, a student's discomfort was only intensified if the teacher fell victim to it as well.

Alba swallowed thickly before looking up and meeting Vilkas's eyes. Her brown eyes were plain in color, but they demanded his attention.

"I grew up in Northern Cyrodiil, in a small but prosperous town. My family was very wealthy, mostly due to their close connections to the Thalmor. My parents were also extremely conservative, and raised me in a very… proper and sheltered lifestyle.

"My parents were killed during the Great War for their relations with the Thalmor, but I was spared, and after the Concordat was signed the Thalmor sent a steward to take care of me. That steward continued to raise me in that same constricting manner."

This was the most Vilkas had ever heard about Alba's life before she'd come to Skyrim, and it was nothing like he'd expected.

"How did you end up in Skyrim?"

A faraway look graced Alba's features, and she grimaced.

"The steward—her name was Erdis—she watched over me until I was twenty years old, when she decided I would marry a man from another wealthy Thalmor-allied Imperial family. The Thalmor wanted to make sure the investment they put into my family didn't go to waste, see. Anyway, the man they wanted me to marry was easily twenty years my senior and a boar, so I ran away."

"And then nearly ten years later made your way to Skyrim?"

Alba nodded.

"Yes, I found work as a tutor for a family near the border, and worked there for several years. Eventually, one of the sons of the family… propositioned me. I refused him, he had me fired, and I had difficulty finding work after that. The family that had employed me had many connections, and told people not to hire me. That was when I decided to go to Skyrim."

"You still had ten years of relative freedom. Did you not meet anyone you liked?"

"I met people I liked, but… My parents and Erdis taught me to never speak to men outside of very specific circumstances. That kind of training was difficult to overcome. And the longer I went without learning how to… to express interest in someone, the harder it felt like to start. Frankly speaking, I was afraid, and didn't know what to do."

"It's difficult to imagine you afraid of anything," Vilkas said, the image of her seamlessly decapitating a hagraven rising unbidden to his mind.

Alba smiled wryly.

"That's because of this," she said, gesturing to the mask she still held in her hand.

"What do you mean?"

Alba held the Dragon Priest mask out in front of her and studied it for a long moment.

"When I wear this, I am not Alba. I am the Dragonborn. That makes everything I have to do so much easier. That's why I almost never take it off."

Vilkas supposed that made sense. Back when he still used the beast blood on occasion, he'd found it easier to do certain things as a wolf than as a man. It had helped to almost think of his wolf as a separate being altogether.

"Why take it off now?" he asked.

Alba set the mask down on the table and fiddled nervously with her fingers.

"Alba still exists. Every once in a while it's good to remember that."

"Of course. Well, it's never too late to learn something," Vilkas said, deciding it was about time to get to the point.

He took a step towards her, so only three handwidths separated them. Alba looked up at him, her eyes widening so he could almost see white around her entire iris. She stiffened noticeably, and Vilkas could see her throat working as she swallowed nervously. Vilkas placed both hands on her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting manner, although his callused hands hadn't really done much comforting in many years.

"No need to feel nervous," he said quietly, feeling a little self-conscious himself at his soft words. "I'm going to lean forward and kiss you. You can put your hands on my chest, or my shoulders, or around my waist. Or you can just leave them at your side."

Alba's chin dipped in the slightest of nods, but she did not break eye contact. Vilkas moved his hands to cup Alba's face, then leaned forward and closed his eyes. Alba's piercing gaze made the whole experience feel heavy and awkward, but with his eyes closed he could pretend this was all normal.

His nose came into contact with hers, and he tilted his head slightly, continuing forward until he felt her lips on his. Alba's palms landed on Vilkas's chest, though her nervously shaking hands felt unsteady in their placement. Her lips felt soft and welcoming, despite her clear uncertainty, and Vilkas allowed himself to enjoy the feeling for several seconds before pulling away.

Vilkas opened his eyes and moved his hands back to Alba's shoulders. He looked down to judge her reaction, almost afraid of what he might find, but Alba seemed… normal. She had a slightly distant look in her eyes, but she didn't seem displeased. She didn't seem particularly pleased, either, which stung Vilkas's pride a bit.

"Well, there you have it," Vilkas said, feeling foolish.

"That was… nice," Alba said distractedly, her hands still resting on Vilkas's chest.

Vilkas's eyebrow twitched, but he held himself back from saying anything in response. He stepped away from Alba, extricating himself from her arms, and took a deep breath.

"I know you need to sleep for your journey tomorrow," he said, already backing towards the door.

"Of course. And… thank you Vilkas." Alba said, reaching towards the table for her mask.

Vilkas frowned at the sight, not wanting her to go back to being the Dragonborn quite yet. He moved back into the room, resting a hand on Alba's shoulder before she could don the mask again.

"Anything for a shield-sister. The Divines will be with you in your battle. You will succeed."

Alba bobbed her head, perhaps to hide the mistiness in her eyes, and smiled in gratitude.

"I hope so. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Vilkas returned to his chambers, hoping fervently that that would not be the last time he saw his Harbinger.

The first day after Alba left, Vilkas waited until nighttime, then snuck out to the shrine of Talos with a small bag of coin. He'd picked a time when he knew Heimskr would be asleep, and few townsfolk would be about. Vilkas had never been a particularly devout person, but it seemed like if Talos was ever going to bless anyone, it would be the Dragonborn. He left the bag of coins at Talos' feet and ducked his head for a moment, murmuring a short but fervent prayer under his breath. When he snuck back into his room and buried himself under his furs, he felt a bit foolish, but he also felt a bit more hopeful.

The second day after Alba left, Vilkas made Ria cry during a practice session. He also snapped so badly at Farkas that his thick-skinned brother demanded that Vilkas cancel all of his training sessions until he got ahold of himself.

On the third day, Vilkas apologized to Ria and Farkas. He also found the Amulet of Mara he'd picked up in the Harbinger's quarters and started wearing it under his tunic, hoping that the goddess' blessings might help calm him down. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed like it worked.

On the fourth day, Vilkas threw himself into his training to try and drive away the feelings of helplessness and despair that seemed to dog his every step. More than once his mind drifted to that damned letter he knew lay tucked in Alba's end table, naming him the next Harbinger. For the first time since becoming pure, he wished for the beast blood, if only because transforming would keep his darker thoughts away. It would keep any human thoughts away.

On the fifth day, she came back, though Vilkas didn't know until the sixth day. She came back in the middle of the night, and Vilkas didn't see her until he came up to the main hall for breakfast. He knew that she'd probably just faced Alduin the World-Eater, but there she sat in her chair, as calm and collected as ever, inscrutable behind her mask.

Njada asked the Harbinger about her latest excursion, but the Dragonborn was typically vague and evasive. She didn't acknowledge Vilkas in any way, and he tried to follow her lead, paying her no particular attention. It was difficult to do.

After breakfast, he ran into her on his way to train Ria outside. She silently nodded her head in greeting.

"Harbinger. You've returned," he said.

"Indeed."

Vilkas resisted the urge to purse his lips, unsatisfied as he was with their reunion. So this was how things were going to be, apparently. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Vilkas turned away from the Harbinger and marched out of Jorrvaskr, determined not to let the frustration of his unmet expectations show.

The Harbinger and Vilkas more or less ignored each other for the next few days. Vilkas kept waiting for her to approach him—he'd thought that perhaps she hadn't wanted to talk openly about her confrontation of Alduin in front of the others—but for weeks that never happened. Vilkas hardly spoke with the Harbinger at all until about a month after her return, when they went to clear an old fort of bandits for the Jarl.

For half a day they walked in silence. The journey mirrored many similar quests before the Harbinger's departure for High Hrothgar, but the heavy weight that filled the space between them was miles away from their previous companionship.

By sunset they were still a several-hour walk away from the fort. The Harbinger turned off the main road onto a dirt path that years of experience in his homeland told Vilkas led to a small hunting lodge. She didn't say anything to Vilkas, and Vilkas followed after her wordlessly. The Dragonborn knocked loudly on the lodge door, and when no response was forthcoming, she let herself into the little shack.

Following the Harbinger's example, Vilkas unrolled his sleeping pad onto the rough floor of the lodge and removed his armor, leaving him in his coarse undershirt and trousers. He dug through his knapsack for the cheese and bread he'd packed earlier, then sat on his bedroll to enjoy his food. The Harbinger didn't eat—just sat on her own bedroll in her light armor and stared ahead of her. Maybe she was meditating. Maybe she was sleeping. It was hard to tell through the mask.

"Harbinger," Vilkas asked, attempting to make his voice strong and authoritative.

The eerie mask slowly turned towards him, the umber eyes peeking out of the eyeslits the only evidence of humanity visible.

"Yes?"

"You returned from facing Alduin. So you defeated him?"

The mask turned to the travel bag she kept by her bedroll, and she rummaged around in it for a bit before answering.

"Yes."

Triumph welled within Vilkas, followed rapidly by confusion. If his Harbinger's primary responsibility as Dragonborn had been dispensed with, why was she still acting like the weight of all of Tamriel rested on her shoulders?

"And your quest is now complete?"

"No."

Vilkas's confusion only grew.

"I do not understand. If you defeated the World-Eater what more is there to do?"

"Don't concern yourself with it. It's no business of the Companions anyway."

"But-"

"Vilkas, I'm going to sleep now."

They fought through the bandit camp the next day in sullen but efficient silence. The trip back to Whiterun was painful, and with each step Vilkas asked himself what had led to this tension.

It wasn't as if he and the Harbinger had always been best friends. On the contrary, when she had first arrived at Jorrvaskr as a simple warrior, he had doubted her dedication and ability. He'd seen many an adventurer arrive at Jorrvaskr with visions of glory and mead—all the enthusiasm in the world for the laurels but no interest in the hard work required to earn them. Very soon after she moved into Jorrvaskr, however, it became abundantly apparent that the newest Companion was something special. Any remaining gruffness in Vilkas's treatment of the new blood had been a result of his natural temper and not any personal judgment of her as an individual.

Over time grudging respect turned to well-earned devotion, and soon the Harbinger occupied the same level of significance as Farkas and Kodlack in his mind. He had gone to her instead of Farkas to make himself pure, for Hircine's sake! He didn't think she fully realized how important she was to him, and to be honest Vilkas probably preferred it that way.

Then, the night before the Harbinger left for High Hrothgar happened, and Vilkas honestly did not know if it had changed nothing or everything. Vilkas had taken that night and put it into a steel safe in the back of his mind, refusing to touch it. He wouldn't let himself think on the matter, because if that night had changed everything, he had no idea on Nirn what to do, and if it had meant nothing—well that was even worse.

As the cold marshes of the Hjaalmarch gave way to the more fertile tundra of Whiterun hold, Vilkas's relentlessly logical mind turned the problem over and over in his head, and he concluded that two incidents had most likely precipitated the change in his and the Harbinger's relationship: the Dragonborn's confrontation with Alduin and the kiss they'd shared. Vilkas wasn't narcissistic enough to think a simple kiss might weigh more heavily on the Harbinger's mind than potentially world-ending conflict, so his best guess was that the first issue was likely the main problem, while the second issue was a complicating secondary concern.

This conclusion didn't help much. Whatever had happened at the Throat of the World, the Harbinger seemed unwilling to talk about it. And as for the second issue, well, Vilkas wasn't willing or able to parse that particular mystery. The lack of clear solutions meant that by the time they reached the outskirts of Whiterun, he was in a particularly foul mood.

Whatever the issue, Vilkas couldn't help unless Alba talked to him. Trying to resolve a problem that was unspoken was like boxing with spirits, and Vilkas did not have the patience for that kind of nonsense. Warriors did not avoid their problems. They got drunk and fought it out, just as Ysgramor intended.

Just outside of the city walls, Vilkas stopped walking. It took the Harbinger a few moments to notice, but once she did she turned around and crossed her arms expectantly, waiting with a healthy distance between them.

"Harbinger. Why will you not speak with me?"

"Have I ever been talkative?"

"More so than this. We've been walking together for almost two fulls days, and you haven't spoken more than three sentences to me."

The Harbinger leaned heavily onto one hip and let out a deep sigh.

"I don't know what you expect from me. I have nothing to talk about," she said.

Vilkas scoffed.

"I never took you for a liar," he said coldly.

Finally a small amount of emotion became visible in the Harbinger's bearing, and her hands balled into tight fists. Hope rose in Vilkas's chest and mingled with the anger already there. He was finally seeing bits of Alba shine through her ironclad defenses.

"I am being honest, Vilkas. I don't have time to deal with your imaginary demons"

Vilkas rolled his eyes, but was undaunted. He could see the chinks in her armor forming.

"Alba," he said, and she flinched at the name. "I understand if you've decided to shut me out that there's nothing I can do about it. But know that I don't like it. Alba talked to me. You told me yourself that sometimes it's good to remember that Alba exists."

"I cannot afford to be Alba right now, ok?" she said, her voice low and intense. "I cannot afford her existence; cannot afford her fears, her joys, her pains, her friends, her insecurities. None of it."

With that, the Harbinger turned on her heel and marched through the city gates. Vilkas could do nothing but follow after her.

REVIEW RESPONSES:

Constipated Genius: I'm not sure how much of a slow burn the story will be, considering it's only five chapters, but I think it does have a slow burn vibe. I'm glad you like Alba's quirks, and so glad you're enjoying the story! I also think to be fair to Vilkas that they're both kind of dummies. And thank you for pointing out the typo, I've fixed it now.

Guest 1: I'm glad you like that Alba is strong and vulnerable. Most people are both! And maybe this is a spoiler to say, but I only really write happy endings haha

Guest 2: Love the "pretty good for fanfiction" praise, haha. But honestly, thank you for reviewing, and I do have plenty of other works to read if you're interested. Also, there are three more chapters coming of this story! i hope you catch them all.

Nina: Here's the second part! I will be updating every other day. Five chapters in total. They're in my heart too!

Sonia: I like Vilkas too. It's weird how attached I got to him considering how little dialogue he has in the game haha.