A/N: The only note I can think of is to tell people who are unfamiliar with Elder Scrolls lore that Sovngarde is the equivalent of Heaven for Nords. And…pretty sure that's it. If you have any other questions, just let me know. Also, the lines of dialogue during the funeral in italics are spoken in unison. Reviews are appreciated! :) Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut.
Disclaimer: The funeral ceremony belongs to Bethesda, as does everything else Skyrim related. A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to George R. R. Martin.
Rating: M for minor language and a brief sexual reference.
"Before the ancient flame,"
"We grieve."
"At this loss,"
"We weep."
"For the fallen,"
"We shout."
"And for ourselves,"
"We take our leave."
Arya glanced over at Gendry where he stood alone apart from the Companions then refocused on Eorlund's pyre when Farkas placed his torch beneath it. The flames grew as they enveloped the old Nord's body and lapped eagerly at the pyre as the smoke started to rise. She hoped the blacksmith's apprentice knew that they had performed the same ceremony for Kodlak White-Mane upon his death; Eorlund was held in just as high esteem as the much beloved former Harbinger had been.
Looking over at Vilkas, she murmured quietly beside his ear. "I'm going to go talk to Waters. If the Silver Hand had something to do with this, he would know." Squeezing his hand, she left her spot by his side to join the young Imperial.
"Were you there when he died?"
Gendry shook his head.
"And why not?" She tried to make the question seem casual, but a hint of accusation crept into her voice.
"I...I was no longer working. I heard the news from a friend of mine."
"And did this friend tell you how he died?"
He shook his head again and cast an uneasy look over her shoulder toward where her fellow Companions stood.
Arya glanced back to see Vilkas staring in their direction and she continued. "They say it was in his sleep. Just like that. A perfectly healthy man, by all accounts. Did he perhaps tell you of some ailment from which he suffered that he failed to mention to any of us?"
"No. But, he wasn't young anymore. Perhaps the Gods just thought it was his time to join Kodlak and the rest in Sovngarde."
"Or perhaps there's more to it? Did you ever wonder for even a second if there was anyone who might want the 'old man' dead?"
Gendry backed away from her suspicious stare and put up his hands. "I don't know any more than you do, Arya! And I may not be a Companion, but I loved him as much as any of you. He was a good man, and I'm grieving too."
There may be a shred of truth to his words. Even if the Silver Hand was behind his death, perhaps Gendry wasn't involved.
"Of course. I'm sorry, it's just...like you said, he was a good man. And he'll be missed. I suppose his death is only making me paranoid. Forgive me, Gendry Waters. I didn't mean to offend you."
Although she tried to say it as her sister would've, proper and polite, she knew the words sounded flat and false. Bidding him farewell, she walked back over to where Vilkas was waiting and sighed.
"He says he knows nothing. I'm not sure if I believe him, but I don't think he was directly responsible." When Vilkas frowned, she placed a hand on his arm and smiled. "What do you say we go down and take out our anger with swords, shall we?"
Her lover smiled slightly and nodded. "Aye. You always have much to learn." He shot one last glance at the Imperial bastard before following Arya down the steps to Jorrvaskr when she tugged on his hand.
When they arrived at the far end of the training yard, they each drew their sword and Arya got into a defensive position, watching Vilkas as he looked at her from beneath furrowed brows.
"Arya, I know you just want answers, but, try to be careful. One day, you'll ask too many questions and wind up getting yourself into trouble."
Their steel flashed in the sunlight and when Arya spun around to her right, they met with a clang and a shower of sparks.
"Vilkas, how many times do I have to tell you not to worry about me? You treat me like a child sometimes!"
Her lover frowned and parried her offensive strike. "Arya...you are a child."
She bristled angrily and drove him back toward the stone wall behind him. "I've been a grown woman for years now, Vilkas."
He eyed her for a moment then shrugged and took the offense. "Perhaps physically."
"Well, I'm not innocent either. If you want innocence and naïvety, just look at my sister Sansa. She always believed in knights and songs. I'm a true Stark, Vilkas. We can hold our own." Using her superior agility, she dodged a blow from his sword and landed the tip of hers in the break in his armor beneath his arm. "You're dead."
He was silent for a moment as she withdrew her blade and turned to face him again. "Do you ever think your brother worries? That he's ever afraid?"
Arya blocked the strike aimed at her head and spun around to end up behind Vilkas. She snorted. "Who does he have to fear? Don't say the Legion; that's just laughable."
Vilkas shook his head and landed a cut just below her ear. "You're dead." When she frowned, he answered her question. "His own soldiers. Do you ever wonder why they call themselves the Stormcloaks?"
"Well..." Arya leapt nimbly around his swinging sword and took a step back when the two weapons crashed together. "Because Ulfric was the one who killed High King Torygg. But Robb is the one out fighting the battles and bringing them to victory. Stormcloak does nothing but sit on his fat ass and drink mead." Ducking to avoid Vilkas' attack, she added, "You know it's true."
Vilkas shrugged and slammed his sword against her arm then smacked her on the back of the head with the flat of his blade. "I had heard that he's gotten a bit chubby."
Arya couldn't help but laugh and she looked into his pale blue eyes as she countered a series of strokes. "Just don't worry so much about looking after me that you get yourself into trouble, alright?" She grinned and let her eyes wander down the length of his body. "Believe it or not, I'm actually quite fond of you."
Vilkas snorted and rolled his eyes, turning to attack the young Nord woman with renewed vigor. As he lifted his claymore, Arya rammed her shoulder into his chest and drove him backwards, disarming him in the process. When he fell heavily against one of the straw training dummies, she pulled the dagger from her belt and held it to his throat.
"You're dead."
He stared at her for a moment then sighed in defeat and raised his hands. "Alright, I surrender."
Arya laughed. "You can't surrender, I already killed you!" She grinned. "I thought you were supposed to be the one teaching me," she added teasingly.
"Since when have you cared about what's supposed to happen?" Vilkas countered. "I have a feeling you weren't supposed to sneak into my room and slip beneath my sheets as bare as your name day, yet you still did it."
Smirking, Arya nodded and withdrew her dagger, sliding it back into its proper place. "Yes I did. And I didn't hear you complaining." She kissed him and pulled away when he sighed heavily.
"Arry...I know you don't want to hear this, but...Jed would let us go to Winterhold if you wanted so we could—"
Arya stepped back and turned away, running a hand back through her hair. "Vilkas, I've told you that I don't want to get married."
Her fellow Companion moved toward her again and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I know you have, but...you've never told me why. I love you, so why can't we just...stop hiding? Arya, I want to be with you."
She refused to turn when he kissed her neck and she chewed on her bottom lip. "We're not hiding, Vilkas. Most everyone knows about us."
"In the Companions, yes, but you could probably walk out to the Bannered Mare and the innkeeper wouldn't know. I don't understand why you don't want this."
"Vilkas, it's not that I don't want to, it's just...I'm not ready."
"Ready for what? You've already given me your maidenhead. What else is there to give up?"
She squirmed out of his arms and paced a few steps. "My life! Vilkas, I'm only fifteen."
He frowned. "Some girls are married before their thirteenth name day. Besides, you were just telling me that you're not a child."
"And I'm not! But I have a lot of my life left to live. I don't want to stop now and get married. I don't want to live in a nice little house and have children that I'll need to raise. I don't want to sit at home for the rest of my life to be a perfect wife. That's my sister's dream, and I always hated her for it!"
Vilkas gave her an exasperated look. "But you wouldn't have to give up your life. You can still be a Companion. Look at Aela. And Jed will be a father soon, but he's not stepping down as Harbinger. A ring and a ceremony won't change any of that."
Arya turned back to face him and balled her hands into fists. "But it would, Vilkas! That's what I'm saying! I'm not ready for any sort of commitment!" She realized a second too late what she had said and tried to speak as Vilkas' expression hardened. Oh Gods, what have I done?
"So it's me you're not sure about."
"Gods, Vilkas, no. That's not what I meant—" She tried to reach out toward him, but he wrenched away from her grasp and took a few steps back.
"No, that's what it is isn't it? Divines, I must be blind. You know, you've never told me you loved me. Not once in all the time we've been together. Never." He laughed bitterly and pushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead in a familiar gesture of frustration.
Arya stepped toward him and shook her head. "No, Vilkas, that's not it. I swear it's not."
"You know what, Arya? Just stop. I get it now. I just...I need time to think about...you. And me. Us. Everything." He sighed and turned away, then shook his head and started walking off.
Watching him go, Arya felt her heart stop for a moment and she called out after him. "I'll see you tonight!"
He hesitated for a moment but didn't turn around, calling back over his shoulder. "I wouldn't count on it."
When Vilkas hadn't been back at Jorrvaskr after she'd gone hunting, and searching for him, Arya had retired early to his chambers and there she remained, staring up at the ceiling.
He still hadn't returned after several hours and she was beginning to worry. Usually, he'd show up in the early hours of the morning, having lost track of time as he hunted or trained with one of the new recruits.
She half expected, half hoped that he would walk in, climb in under the covers with her, accept her apology and spend the rest of the night making love to her while she told him, loudly and repeatedly, just how much he meant to her. But he didn't.
After another half hour of waiting, she tossed off the furs that covered her, swung her legs over the side of the bed and exhaled heavily, pushing back her tousled hair.
Gods, please, just let him come back. I didn't mean what I said. I really do love him.
Pulling on a pair of ragged trousers and one of Vilkas' tunics that had been discarded on the floor a few nights earlier, she got up and opened the door, walking barefoot through the dark and silent halls of Jorrvaskr.
She was about to open the door to the mead hall when it flew open to reveal a flustered and breathless Torvar.
"Torvar...what's wrong?"
The Nord man bent over and put his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. "It's...Vilkas..."
Arya's heart leapt to her throat. Divines, no.
"He's been...caught. By the Silver Hand."