I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, nor do I own Vilkas. I own only Cry, and I am party to the love between her and the Companion who claims the part of narrator in this one-shot.

Vilkas hasn't slept fully through the night since Cry had left Jorrvaskr. (Takes place during An Assassin's Changes)

A Good Night's Sleep

Vilkas blinks his eyes open. Something had disturbed his sleep, but it had been something he was unconsciously aware of, so not a sound or a smell. It was something else, something… familiar.

He tenses a bit, an automatic response he'd come to every time he felt something was wrong, even after just waking up from a fitful sleep.

Sleep had evaded him as a ritual since Cry had left during the night almost a fortnight prior. Since then, Vilkas had tried moving back to his old room, to see if it was possible that he just couldn't sleep in the Harbinger's room without her there. It helped, but only a bit.

His eyes open and shut against the darkness again, still unaccustomed to not being able to see without light. One of the capabilities of a werewolf that he'd gotten used too, and was now realizing he had taken for granted. Not that he wanted it back, of course. Not being a werewolf was also a gift that he was taking for granted, not fully appreciating.

Perhaps it was because Cry was gone.

Vilkas allows himself to relax. Whatever unconscious thing he'd felt before seemed to be gone. There was no need to worry, nothing to get excited about. He needed sleep; there was a trek in store for him the following day, to retrieve a stolen something or other from a group of bandits near the Reach.

He lets his eyes close. As he begins to doze off once more, the feeling returns. This time, he sits upright, feeling more frustrated than anything. What was he feeling, and why was it bothering him so much?

He blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness of his old room. When his vision doesn't clear as quickly as he wants it too, he lets out a grunt and presses his fists into his eyes to move the process along a bit. When he lowers his hands, he sees stars for a few seconds, but they fade away and he peers around the still unclear room, trying to discern any unnatural shapes within the darkness.

Instead, he is hit by a scent, and an extremely familiar, heartbreaking scent at that. A scent he'd always be able to smell, even without the nose of a werewolf.

Vilkas closes his eyes and inhales deeply, relishing in the smell of sweet rolls and mountain flowers that had suddenly entered his senses. He can almost taste it, it was so clear. He can feel her, too. If only he could see her…

His eyes open when the smell doesn't go away, as he'd thought it would. This time, it is obvious that there is an unusual form in the shadows of his room. Vilkas frowns and peers in its direction, the smell and the dreadfully familiar feelings of touch and taste overwhelming him.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

Vilkas's heart skids to a halt at the familiar sound, one that was like music to his ears, and one that often was music, when the source it belonged to decided to sing, which was more often than not. The singing had gotten on his nerves once upon a time, but when she'd left, he'd realized he'd gotten used to it, and that he missed it.

Was it possible he was going to get it back?

He blinks, again, and then, quietly, dares to speak her name out loud, as an inquiry, almost a prayer: "Cry?"

There's movement in the darkness, and then she was there, standing a few inches away from the edge of his bed, her arms crossed over her chest, as though she felt uncomfortable. Vilkas can see her clearly, now, and it leaves him dumbfounded. She can't actually be here, can she?

"Hi," she whispers, gazing at him. "I'm home."

Vilkas lets out a noise similar to a sob, as close to one as he could get, at least, and reaches outwards with both arms. He succeeds in wrapping them around her waist, and pulls her to him, closing the distance she'd left. Cry goes willingly, practically falling apart in his grasp, and she sat on the edge of the bed, releasing a soft sob of her own as Vilkas hugs her against him, his face pressed into her hair.

"You're real," he whispers. "I cannot believe that you are real."

Cry swallows against more tears and returns the hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his back and hiding her face in his chest.

"I'm real," she says to him, just as quietly. "I promise you I'm real, and I'm not leaving again."

"Cry, I… I'm so sorry -"

"Shh." She cuts him off with a quick shushing, and shifts so that she can see him. She raises one hand to his face and runs her fingers through his hair, gazing at all of his features. After a moment, she lets out a soft laugh. "You really do want me here," she says, sounding amazed.

"I was lost without you," Vilkas answers without hesitating. "I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat… could scarcely breath." He meets her eyes, and uses one hand to cup her cheek. "Please… don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't," Cry promises. "Not in a thousand years. Not even a thousand eras." She rests her forehead against his. "I'm sorry for not telling you who I was before. It was a stupid mistake."

"I don't care who you were," Vilkas starts, running his thumb across her cheek. "What matters is who you are, and that you're here, now, with me." He leans forward and kisses her. Cry lets out a quiet hum in response, and Vilkas grins through the kiss before pulling back. "And that I can do that."

"So you're not angry?" Cry asks him, blinking.

"No, love," Vilkas replies, shaking his head. "I might have been, but not any longer. I love you, and nothing will change that. Not your past, and nothing you will do in the future." Cry blinks at him, and Vilkas gently brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Tell me what you're thinking," he whispers.

"I'm thinking…" Cry offers him a small smile, and a light laugh. "I'm thinking that I should tell you about Sovngarde, and about… everything that happened when I left you the first time."

"No," Vilkas says immediately. "Not now."

"No," Cry agrees. "Not now."

Together, on an unspoken agreement, they rise from Vilkas's bed and walk down the hall to get to the Harbinger's rooms, their rooms. Vilkas helps Cry get undressed, and then watches as she sits down on the edge of the bed, passing her hand across the blanket.

Vilkas smiles to himself when the corner of Cry's mouth raises. She was happy to be home, and he was happy to have her home.

Cry glances in his direction. "Come to bed, husband," she invites, shifting so that she can slip under the blanket herself.

Vilkas wastes no time in going around the bed to his own side, and he lays down beside her. Gladness rushes through him when Cry instinctively curls up into a ball again his chest, and he slides his arms around her. Vilkas couldn't even begin to describe how ecstatic he was that she was in his arms once again, safe and sound.

"Vilkas," she begins after a few minutes of silence. It startles him; he'd been certain she'd fallen asleep.

"Yes, love?" he queries.

"I think I need to go visit Markarth," Cry says.

Vilkas hums. "Haven't checked in in a while?" he guesses.

Cry was the Thane of every Hold in Skyrim. She had to visit each Hold at least once a month. Vilkas had no doubt she'd been avoiding Markarth on purpose. Cry hated the Reach.

"Do you think Farkas will come with me?" she asks him.

"I'm sure," Vilkas responds. "Of course, you always have the choice of asking me, too."

"Hmm." Cry mumbles something, but it is discernible. Vilkas doesn't ask her to clarify. Instead, he presses a kiss against her shoulder and tightens his grip around her.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," he murmurs, and then lets his eyes drift shut.

For the first time in a fortnight, both Cry and Vilkas sleep deeply.

This clearly takes place during An Assassin's Changes, the night Cry returns home to Jorrvaskr after Hainin convinces her to.

Uh... it's written in present tense because when I wrote this I was playing with present tense, and I learned that I hate present tense and will forever use past tense.