A rowdy herd of people sat crowded around the table, precariously waving flagons of mead. Little spits of drink sprayed over the throng. Ariella sat wedged so tightly between the twins, Vilkas and Farkas, she felt their bulging biceps were about to pop her out.
Raising her voice above the general din, she asked "What's happened around here since K -" Ariella stopped as the atmosphere immediately tensed. "...since I left?"
Vilkas transiently ran a hand across his eyes, but forced a smile as he answered "Skjor was made Harbinger." He gestured towards the battle-battered Nord, who gave a noncommittal jerk of his head in the elf's direction. She shifted awkwardly in her cramped space, trying hard not to brush against the skin of either of the two men.
"Congratulations." Ariella's mouth turned up only slightly. To be honest, the scarred veteran of the Great War frightened her more than she cared to admit. Skjor, however, gave the first real smile that she'd ever seen on his beaten face, which made her warm a little inside.
Everyone was eager to hear the tale of Ariella's life after the Companions. They had probably envisioned some heroic journey into another afterlife, facing some ill-forgotten evil and purging the land of its malice. Or else some wild and epic adventure across uncharted waters, to a land rarely trodden – rather like the Nerevarine's rumoured journey to Akavir.
However, as Farkas lifted her onto the table, while the others shouted "Speech, speech!" she felt her tale really wasn't what they hoped for. But these people could be trusted...their welcome of her with open arms proved that.
And so she told them...
Silence had fallen when she ended her story. Njada and Ria were gawping, open mouthed, not realising their tankards were steadily cascading ale into their laps. Vilkas was staring into the fire, a harsh line creasing his forehead. Someone - judging by the slightly gruff tone, it was Farkas - gave a throaty cough, which stirred everyone back to their senses.
Aela tentatively spoke. "So Kodlak has been avenged?"
A faint murmur rippled across the assembly, sounds of disquiet tumbling from every mouth. But the Nord woman rose to her feet.
"Are you going to quake at every mention of his name? Kodlak! We shouldn't fear to speak of him! He was a great man and a wonderful leader. I really don't think this is how he would have liked to go." She gave a chuckle. "In fact, I'd be damned if he wanted anything other than for us to honour a tradition upheld since the time of Ysgramor himself – let us raise a mug! For Kodlak!"
The laugh of appreciation that followed drowned out the noise of the whispers. Ariella proudly lifted her flagon high into the air. A sea of foam rolled from every angle as they all raised their tankards as one. "Kodlak!" The cry rang out.
After the heavy gulping had subsided, and they were all even lighter-headed than before, the wood elf jumped down from her podium, beaming as she said "Yes, Kodlak has been avenged! And let Sovngarde hear of it, for they have a hero in their midst!"
The quiet fell once again. Her grin faded as the swarm of faces before her fell. Vilkas was the only one who moved: he got to his feet and, grabbing her by the elbow, steered her away from the shaken mass.
"What? What did I say?" Ariella asked, glancing back over at Aela and Skjor, both of whom had appearances completely devoid of emotion.
Vilkas sighed deeply. "You know what we are, Ari. You know of our curse. The thing that bars us from Sovngarde – it bars Kodlak, too."
She felt something hot prick her eyes as she remembered. Looking into the creased countenance above her, she saw it, beneath his hard features – the face of the wolf. "I forgot." She whispered.
"I realised." He turned to the rest of the Companions. "I believe it's time we wrapped this party up...we actually need to be able to work in the morning."
A grumble resonated between the walls of Jorrvaskr, mingling with the loud scraping of chairs and the slurping of the last dregs of mead. Once they had departed, Ariella let out a groan. Vilkas, who lingered behind, gave a small smile. "Don't worry – they were all so drunk, they'll forget about it by tomorrow."
Ariella rubbed her palm against her eyes. "Thanks for...all of this." She gestured vaguely around. "I hope I didn't ruin the party."
"Nonsense. It's your party! It's for you to ruin it however you want!"
"And then for poor Tilma to tidy up afterwards!" She jokingly jabbed him in the arm. The pain intended for him deflected back on her finger as it collided with his heavy armour. He raised a thick eyebrow, laughing. "Damn you." She cursed, flexing the aching joints.
"Damn me, huh? What're you going to do about it?" Before she could move, he plucked her from the ground and flung her over his shoulder as easily as if she were a rag doll.
"Hey!" She yelled, hammering her fists against his back as the blood rushed to her head. All that happened was a dull twang as her knuckles hit the metal. Her legs flailed, but Vilkas nonchalantly sauntered down the stairs, ignoring her writhing muscles.
He only let go of her when they reached her old bed, where he threw her carelessly against the mattress. As she made to get up and shout at him, he pressed a finger to his lips, jerking his head to where the others lay sound asleep. Grinning broadly, he shoved her back against the bed and ran off.
She lay down against the sheets, listening to the clanking of his armour slowly dying away. Torvar's snores filled the room. A smile stretched across her face. She was finally home.
The horse cantered across the shadowed plains, barely noticing the extra weight on her back – the elf seemed to be light as a feather. The Nord man just hoped that it wouldn't buck them off before they got back to Riften – stolen horses had a habit of doing that. The elf stirred slightly, her head no longer lolling against her shoulder but snapping upright. She sat frozen in the same position, never even turning to lay eyes on her saviour.
"I have a job that needs doing, but I need another pair of hands." The Nord's mouth was curled into a slight smirk. As the candle illuminated the amber eyes beneath the hood, he saw them widen. A laugh burst from his mouth as what the strange elf thought crossed his mind.
His body beside hers as she lay bleeding...
His mouth on hers, pressed against the wall of the Honningbrew Meadery...
His arms around her in the mouth of the tent, before the crackling fire...
His lips touching hers briefly in the forsaken cell...
His hair falling from the black hood as she looked out over her captors...
His body slamming into hers as the foes fell before them...
His face, inches from hers, as the last thread between them was cut.
"Do you think she's having a fit?"
Ariella awoke, the sheets around her soaked in sweat. She pushed her drenched hair from her forehead, giving a start as she saw several faces looming over her.
Vilkas pushed her gently back down as she made to sit up. "Easy, Ari."
"What...what happened?" She asked, though she feared she knew the answer.
"You were screaming." Athis was standing a little way away from her, looking nauseous.
"It wasn't just screaming." Vilkas muttered, his face darkening. "You were...yelling."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Well...you yelled. A lot."
Ariella refrained from rolling her eyes. "What did I say?"
"It was some name, I think. Sounded a bit like Bernjolf...or Bryndolf."
The elf jolted upright, throwing the covers off herself. Her eyes locked with Vilkas'. "Come with me." She whispered.
"Hang on!" He panted, trying to catch her up as she sprinted out the room, up the stairs, and out of Jorrvaskr itself. As he threw open the doors, he found her stood outside, slumped against a post. As her head lifted up to look at him, he saw tears slipping from her lamp-like eyes. "There was something I didn't tell you."
"What was it?" He stepped towards her cautiously.
She passed a hand quickly across her cheek, wiping away the tell-tale streaks. "I told you about Brynjolf...he was the one who found me."
"And the one who turned you over." Vilkas spat.
"I don't know that. I just...I blamed him because it was easiest." Her voice was thick and shuddering. "But, for a while now, I've had..." she trailed off, mumbling towards her hands, which were wringing together.
"You've had what?" He prompted, tilting her head up to look at him.
"I...I was in love with him. I mean, I think I was! I...I don't know..."
His shoulders rolled back as he stretched himself up to his full height. "And do you still love him?"
"No! I...I don't think so."
His grey eyes bore into her amber ones, noticing them break away occasionally. "Why didn't you mention this before?"
"Because I've learnt I can't trust anyone anymore."
"Anyone? Anyone? The Companions were here for you. When have we – when have I – ever abandoned you?"
"Do you forget what you did, Vilkas?" She moved slightly closer to him, a flicker of sadness passing her face.
"How could I?" He gritted his teeth, staring down at the elf who barely reached his chin. "You think it doesn't torture me every day?"
Ariella didn't reply, moving her hands to her bodice and slowly raising the leather from her stomach. Vilkas turned away sharply as he saw the cuts slashed across her pale skin.
"Hey." She rested a hand against his cheek, turning his face back to hers. "It's okay. I don't blame you. Maybe if I hadn't been stupid enough to fall in l-"
The rest of her sentence was drowned as he pulled her into a crushing kiss. As his steel arms closed around her, his mouth enfolding hers in its familiar way, she couldn't help but smile as she realised she was back where she wanted to be.
"Bryn, maybe you should go and find some girl...it's been, what, a month?" Delvin asked hesitantly, looking over at the newly instated Guild Master.
"No girl in their right mind would want to come down into this shit-hole." Brynjolf glared around at the place he had once thought of as home.
"Then find one that's not in their right mind!"