There's new stuff in this chapter.

Cry heard Vilkas before she saw him, and turned to see her husband burst out of the trees, his face flooded with worry. He ran over to where she was still standing beside Farkas, completely naked, and scooped her up in a hug. "I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed, setting her back down.

She shook her head and gestured to Farkas, who was lying on the ground. "He had a bit of a problem, but Aela and I took care of it." She grinned at him. "Forget you were missing your clothes, love?"

Vilkas glanced down at himself, and his cheeks grew very red. Slowly, he covered his valuables and shrugged. "Maybe I did."

Cry laughed and crouched beside Farkas once more. Vilkas joined her, and he touched his brother's cheek. Farkas stirred and blinked open one eye, saw they were both naked, and squeezed it shut again. "What kind of nightmare am I having?" he muttered to himself.

This earned a laugh from Vilkas, and Cry glanced at him. "What's happened with Hircine?"

Before Vilkas could tell her, Kodlak and Tenla appeared, carrying a beaten down Hircine between them. Together, they tossed him into a cell that was barely larger than he was. Kodlak kicked closed the door and put a padlock on it before pointing towards Vilkas and herself. "Cure them."

"Suck my manhood, Kodlak Whitemane," the Daedra croaked.

"I wouldn't even if you had one, Daedra," Kodlak told him. He kicked the cage. "Do it."

Weakly, Hircine raised his hand and waved it. A sudden light burst apart from Vilkas and Cry both, causing them to stumble. Two giant wolves stood before them, but before they had a chance to attack, a few ghost Companions appeared to kill them. As they took off fighting, Aela appeared with two sets of robes and handed one to each of them.

"Thank you, Aela," Cry said. The huntress merely bowed her head and retreated to stand beside Skjor's dead body. Vilkas saw it and his shoulders slumped.

"Still a wolf even in his second death," he sighed.

Cry bowed her head, and then glanced over at the cage that Hircine had been put in. He was glaring out through the bars in her direction. She left Vilkas's side and walked over to it. His eyes burned.

"Come to gloat?" he snarled, and she smiled complacently in response.

"Not at all," she said. "I'm just here to keep a promise I made to myself a long time ago."

"Oh, and what might that be?" Hircine asked, turning into a wolf as he did so. Cry tilted her head at him, and then turned her attention towards his tail, which was hanging out of the cage.

"Yol!" Immediately, a burst of flame flew from her mouth and lit the end of Hircine's tail on fire. He howled and shifted back into his human form, rear end smoking.

Cry smirked to herself and stood up again, glancing towards Vilkas. He was shaking his head, but his eyes were glittering in amusement.

Kodlak motioned to the cage with a hand. Four Companions approached and lifted it.

"Take him to my tent, and make sure he gets a few silver chains strapped around his arms and legs," the old Harbinger ordered. "I'll come to see him in a moment."

"You'll be mine one day, Cry Silverworthy!" Hircine called to her as loudly as he could. "I will have your dragon, and it'll be serving me!"

Cry ignored him, and soon he was out of earshot. Kodlak approached her and Vilkas with a smile. She grinned at him herself and bowed.

"Thank you, Harbinger," she said, rising. "For everything."

"No, Cry," Kodlak corrected. "Thank you for understanding which side was the right side. I know how power can make a person feel, but you remained clear-headed throughout all of this. Stay strong, Shield-Sister."

With a nod to Vilkas, Kodlak turned and strolled back over to Tenla, who dipped her head to them both and followed Kodlak away from the clearing. Once they were gone, it was only the four Companions left. Aela bent down and touched Skjor's fur once more before standing and walking over to them again.

"Are you all right?" Cry asked her. Aela nodded.

"We'd had our goodbyes already."

Cry bowed her head in acceptance and glanced at Vilkas. Her husband was looking at her already, and he grinned at her.

"Y'know, we just won the war," he told her.

"Damn right we won!" she agreed with a chuckle. Not waiting for another word, she grabbed the front of his robe and gave him a deep kiss. It was meant to be a joking kiss, and not one that was supposed to be taken further, but Gods be good, it was nice to kiss him again.

Vilkas's arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him, and she let go of the robe, her hands latching around his neck. It was the first kiss they had ever shared as two humans, and, if she wasn't mistaken, it was even better than when they had been two wolves.

They only broke apart when Aela cleared her throat, and Cry pulled back. They both glanced over towards Aela to see her gesturing to Farkas, who had lifted his head and was blinking at them through blurry gray eyes.

"Did I kill 'em all?" the Companion asked, his voice thick, almost like he was drunk.

All three of the other Circle members laughed, and Cry nodded. "Yes, Farkas, you killed all of 'em."

"Good," Farkas mumbled, and his head fell back against the ground, eyes closing. His body disappeared from the clearing, and Cry knew he would be waking up back in Jorrvaskr.

"We'd best return, too," she said to the others. Aela nodded and backed away from them, closing her own eyes. She drifted off as well, leaving Vilkas and Cry alone. Cry lifted her eyes to his, and he blinked at her. "On the count of three?" she asked.

"Sure," he agreed, reaching out to take her hand.

Cry accepted his hand in her own. "One."

Vilkas pulled her closer to him. "Two."

Cry squeezed his hand with hers. "Three."

They woke up to the sound of Farkas hollering for a bottle of mead.

Cry crossed the mead hall slowly, taking it all in. She'd been stuck in the Hunting Grounds for almost a week, Farkas had told her. She hadn't realized it had been that long, since there was no day or night in the forest.

Needless to say, the pile of correspondence in her quarters had piled up. It was odd, how all her housecarls seemed to sense something was wrong, and had sent her letters of worry as such. Thankfully, she hadn't been gone so long that her replies seemed late, and so she doubted she'd have anything to worry about regarding Iona or maybe even Valdimar coming to make sure she was still alive.

Her housecarls liked to communicate with one another as well. She had a feeling they discussed how ridiculous she was.

She should consider making a trip around Skyrim, visiting all of her homes and spending some time with each housecarl. She hadn't seen any of them in quite some time. It would be nice to stop by the Bards College as well, see how her friends there were faring.

"Harbinger!" She heard Torvar, and glanced over at him. The Nord was sitting on one of the benches, and he waved his hand at her. She walked over to him, and Torvar said, "When are we going to go to the Bannered Mare again? I like drinking with everybody there, because then I have someone to carry me home."

Cry smiled. "I'm sure we can head down there soon enough. We just have to reorganize ourselves after all the chaos we've been having."

"I get it," Torvar agreed. "But we will go soon?"

"Of course," Cry replied. She turned and walked towards the big table, spotting Farkas and Vilkas sitting together near the end opposite from where she was standing. Normally, she would head over to sit with them, but she saw Aela sitting alone at one of the smaller tables in the corner. She went over to her and sat down in the empty chair, grabbing a bottle of mead along the way.

Aela glanced at her as she sat down, but didn't say anything. Instead, she took a long drink from the tankard she was gripping in one hand. Cry leaned back against her chair, waiting. She knew Aela would talk eventually, if she didn't leave the table first.

After several minutes, Aela let out a breath and turned to her. "Harbinger," she began, but Cry gave her a look, and the huntress's shoulders slumped. "Cry... I'm troubled."

"Yes, I can see that," Cry responded. "And I'm assuming it's a problem you can't fix?"

"No," Aela sighed. She bowed her head over her tankard. "It's about Skjor."

Cry closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "You wish he had been able come back with us." She opened one eye and saw Aela nod. Cry exhaled, and opened both eyes."Aela, I know you don't want to hear this, but Skjor is dead. He died almost a year ago."

"He wasn't dead in the Hunting Grounds!" Aela snapped. Cry merely looked at her, and she turned away. "I'm sorry. I just thought that… maybe since he was still there in a sense… he would be able to wake up, too."

"Skjor wouldn't have been able to wake up even if he hadn't been killed in the battle," Cry told her. "His body wasn't his anymore. He was just a ghost, who was unfortunately trapped in the Hunting Grounds."

Aela closed her eyes and took another drink. When she had finished all her ale, she set the tankard down on the table rested her elbows on her knees. Resting her chin in her hand, she glanced at Cry. "Where do you think he went?"

Cry didn't have an answer for her. Aela understood this and stood up, heading towards the living quarters with sagging shoulders. Cry watched her go with a sigh. Aela didn't have any way to cope with losing Skjor a second time. The first time, she had been able to focus all her emotions and pain into killing the Silver Hand. This time, there was no way to gain retribution.

Cry was about to stand when Farkas plopped down in Aela's vacant chair. He glanced sideways at her. "Problem?"

Cry lifted her shoulders in a shrug and took a swig of mead straight from the bottle. "Nothing that we can fix. What's going on?"

"Earlier this week, remember when you called me down to the living quarters to ask me if I had seen Vilkas?" Cry nodded, and Farkas went on. "Well, before that, I was in the training yard, and someone came over to talk to me about joining the Companions."

Cry raised her eyebrow. "Really?" Farkas nodded. "What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Farkas replied. "She said she had business to take care of in Whiterun."

"What did she look like?" Cry asked. "Perhaps she's still here."

Farkas thought about it for a moment. "Well, she was red-haired, and had pretty gray eyes." He glanced at her. "She looked a little like you, but not really. The same nose, I think."

Cry's heart had started to slow. "Did she say what her name was?" she managed after a moment.

Farkas shook his head. "No, she didn't." He narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter with you? You look a little green."

Cry took a slow breath and swallowed. "Nothing. I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Farkas said. He poked her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Before Cry could answer, Vignar Gray-Mane entered Jorrvaskr, his eyebrows furrowed. He glanced around and spotted Cry sitting at the table. He walked over to her and passed her the parchment he was holding. Cry took it and read the words slowly, and then reread them. When she had gone over the letter twice, she lifted her eyes to Vignar.

"The Stormcloaks are marching on Whiterun?"

"That's what it says," Vignar replied. "Apparently, Balgruuf returned Ulfric's axe."

"Hey!" Farkas broke in. "That woman I was telling you about, she had an axe!" His brow furrowed. "She did look towards Dragonsreach when we were talking. Do you think she was Ulfric's messenger?"

"It's too much of a coincidence for her to not have been," agreed Vignar. He took the paper from Cry and folded it over. "It's time, Harbinger."

"Time?" Cry asked, not really listening.

"Time to decide whether the Companions will fight or not," Vignar told her. "You know that I don't agree with the leadership of the Empire. They need to get out of Skyrim, for good. Ulfric is the true High King."

"And you know that Kodlak never wanted to join in the war," Farkas reminded him before Cry could speak. "He said that we should just let the two sides fight it out, that it wouldn't affect the Companions."

Cry let out a breath. She understood where Kodlak had been coming from. The Companions didn't need to fight the war, because it wasn't theirs to fight. However, that was Kodlak. She wasn't Kodlak.

She glanced up at Vignar. "Can't we… convince them to hold off? Just for a few days more? I have… I have something to discuss with a few people, before I can make any decisions."

"I don't think that the battle will be held off just for you, Harbinger," Vignar said slowly, "but I suppose I could… do my best."

"Thank you, Vignar," Cry said gratefully. "It's imperative that I speak with these people before the battle occurs."

The old man nodded, and then went off to his room to write a letter. Cry glanced at Farkas, who was gazing at her in confusion.

"Who do you need to talk to?" he asked.

"My sister, and Ulfric Stormcloak's second in command," Cry responded, stepping around him to join Vignar in his room and help with the letter. Before she could, however, Farkas caught her arm and turned her back around.

"You have a sister?" he demanded, forgetting all about the Stormcloaks and the impending battle. "What's her name?"

"Faisley," Cry replied, pulling her arm away. "Her name is Faisley." She glanced towards Vignar's room, and then back at him. "When you see Vilkas again, tell him that I need to speak with him."

Farkas nodded, unable to do anything more, and watched Cry disappear into Vignar's room. He then sank down into a chair at the mead hall table, cradling his head in his hands. Where did Cry get a sister?

Vilkas reemerged from the living quarters with a book, and Farkas made his way over to him. "Cry wants to see you," he said.

"About what?"

"The Stormcloaks are marching on Whiterun, and Cry has a sister," Farkas mumbled, starting past him towards the living quarters. Vilkas watched him go, brow furrowed, and then he turned his attention towards the mead hall. Cry poked her head out of Vignar's room across the way, and she motioned for him to join her.

"You told Farkas about Faisley?" he asked when he'd reached her.

"Yes, and I need you to settle into your most diplomatic form," Cry responded. "We need to try to talk some sense into Jarl Balgruuf and the head of the Stormcloak battalion."

"You don't want this battle to happen?" Vilkas guessed, and Cry shook her head.

"Not at all, but I can't… I can't just fight for the Imperials."

"Because of your sister." Cry nodded, and Vilkas considered it for a moment. "And… if diplomacy doesn't work? What then?"

Cry let out a breath. "Familiar honor encourages me to fight for the Stormcloaks, but… Whiterun is my home." She gave him a look of pure desperation. "I don't think I'll be able to choose between them, Vilkas."

He reached out and pulled her to him in a comforting hug. "Don't fret," he said gently. "You'll do what's best; you always do."

I wish that were true, Cry thought helplessly, burying her face against his chest.