The Bride & The Other Brother
Chapter 26
Ulfric Stormcloak raised a sandy blond brow at Vilkas. "I came as fast as I could, cousin. As soon as Aela gave me your letter."
Cousin? Letter? Faye thought, bewildered, lifting her head to stare up at Vilkas, searching the sharp lines of his darkly handsome face, but the Harbinger kept his cool gaze locked on Ulfric.
"You took your sweet time, as always," Vilkas muttered in response.
"This does not concern you, King Killer," the Emperor spat spitefully at the blonde Nord, his face turning red with his anger. "Why don't you go back to that frozen wasteland you call a city?"
Ulfric's hazel eyes flashed, his attractive face framed with shoulder-length sandy blonde locks. "I'm afraid it does, Titus. Whatever crimes you believe this woman to have committed in Cyrodiil means nothing here," the Jarl stated forcefully with a sharpness that Faye'd only heard Vilkas possess.
"I rule this kingdom. All of Tamriel. That includes Skyrim," the Emperor retorted, filled with a terrible aggravation and incense at the many interferences to his vengeance. "I am your lord and you will bow to my will! You will all bow to me!"
"We bow to no one," the Jarl uttered harshly, his hazel eyes shining with a terrible light. "Skyrim is a free nation."
"Skyrim is mine!" The Emperor shrieked with a sinister look. "What I want is done at the snap of my fingers, and what I want is that girl's death!"
"She is a citizen of Skyrim, and Skyrim protects its own," Ulfric stated authoritatively.
The Emperor's face was purple now, his body vibrating with the strength of his rage, and in one swift moment, his temper snapped along with his sanity, the need for revenge too great that he could see nothing but red. "I WILL KILL YOU ALL!" The elderly man bellowed, a glitter of madness in his icy blue eyes. "STARTING WITH HER!"
The Dragonborn met the Emperor's eyes, feeling anger so sharp and slicing it seemed to eat its way out of her. "Go to the devil." She didn't know where her courage was coming from, but if she was going to die, it wouldn't be without a fight. "Better yet, let me be the one to introduce you to him."
The Emperor laughed evilly at her words, feeling no true threat from such a small person dispute her title as Dragonborn. "You want to fight against me, little girl?" The older man asked with haughty arrogance. "If you insist on this foolish last stand, so be it," he hissed. "General Tullius, I want these traitors arrested and hanged. Starting with that bitch!" The elderly man bellowed with rancor, his face becoming mottled with rage, pointing at Faye. General Tullius and chief lieutenant Legate Rikke looked at each other warily before drawing their weapons.
Cold fear gripped Faye's stomach, not for her own life, but for Vilkas'. She didn't have any weapons and she wore no armor, only her sky-blue mage robes and scarlet cloak. The Dragonborn's mind raced as she thought of a plan. She couldn't unleash a Shout, it would kill the Emperor and would seal their fate to the gallows. No, she had to stay alive and get the elderly man to somehow see reason. The Breton was ripped from her thoughts when Legate Rikke came at her. The Nord woman's longsword sliced through the air, coming down fast. Vilkas drew Dragonbane and pushed Faye out of the blade's path. The Breton rolled sideways, hopping to her feet a good distance away from the raven-haired Nord.
Vilkas took a step toward Faye, but Tullius' sword came slashing down at the Harbinger, drawing his attention. While the two men fought, Legate charged at the Breton. Faye spun to her right, the Nord woman's sword slicing into nothing but air. With nimble fingers, Faye lifted the dagger easily from the other woman's belt without her even noticing and quickly put distance between them.
"They are attacking the Emperor! ATTACK!" The blonde Imperial officer who had arrested Faye and Vilkas at the High Hrothgar monastery shouted behind them and the Imperial army charged at the Stormcloaks.
Ulfric drew his blade and let loose a Battle Cry as he charged toward the quickly approaching Imperial soldiers, his Stormcloaks behind him, their blades anxious for the taste of Imperial blood. Ulfric thrust his sword at the blonde Imperial officer who had issued the order to attack, ducked right, and brought his sword up, stabbing the blonde officer in the side. He felt the blade go through flesh and hit bone, saw the blonde Imperial's look of shock before he crumbled, and the Jarl pulled out his sword, allowing the Imperial's blood to drip on the grass at his feet before he spun to his right, sword cutting through armor. He spun back to check one sword with his own before whirling away from a second, the tip of his sword slicing across an exposed Imperial neck before becoming embedded in the ribcage of another. All around him Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers ran their blades into one another, blood and corpses soon began filling the field of battle.
Tullius moved swiftly, slashing his sword down at Vilkas, but the Nord easily deflect it. The Imperial was barely able to get his sword up to block the Nord's downward swing. Their blades clashed and the general could feel the burn in his wrist as he held steady and pressed against the Harbinger's sword, trying to overpower him. Vilkas' effortlessly shoved his sword against the other man's weapon before bringing his booted foot up to smash into the Imperial's chest, tossing him onto his back. The general knocked the Nord's swing away with his sword as he scrambled to his feet.
Faye brought her dagger up, swiping Legate's descending sword out of harm's way. The Nord thrust and Faye parried, almost losing her footing on something slippery. Legate used her sword to swipe at the Dragonborn, but the petite Breton ducked under her sword, and spun and thrust, cutting the Nord's arm and drawing blood. The Nord woman swore and came at the petite Breton, but she was angry and Faye easily evaded. The Dragonborn spun and the tip of her dagger came up, slicing across the Nord woman's chest. Legate hissed as her skin split and blood began to soak into her heavy armor.
Ice blue orbs remained fixed and focused on the Dragonborn as she parried and blocked his chief lieutenant's lunges and strikes. She was stronger than he initially thought, the Emperor admitted reluctantly to himself as he watched the small girl fight back with a fire in her jade eyes. While the two women fought, the Breton's back became exposed to him. Seeing the opportunity to strike while her back was turned, the Emperor slowly drew a poisoned dagger hidden in his robes, the blade glinting off the fading light of day. "I'll just have to do it myself," he whispered under his breath as he crept stealthily behind the blonde.
Vilkas bared his teeth at Tullius, growling fiercely. With lightning speed, Vilkas charged at the Imperial. General Tullius jumped to the side, just barely dodging Vilkas' sweeping sword. Tullius swung his sword low, the point of his sword slashing across the Harbinger's calf, warm blood trailing down his leg inside of his armor. Vilkas spun, his sword swiping away Tullius' before his fist came forward, crashing into the General's cheek. The Imperial's head snapped to the side as he stumbled back, blood trickling from his nose down into his mouth.
Before Tullius could collect himself, Vilkas punched the general in the gut, causing him to double over. Vilkas lifted the man's face, drawing back his fist. With devastating force, his fist collided with Tullius' nose. Bones crunched, blood spurted, and the general bellowed in pain as he was sent flying backwards into the grass. The Imperial struggled to get to his knees, but stopped when the sharp point of Vilkas' sword pressed into his Adam's apple as the raven-haired Nord towered over him.
"Yield," Vilkas' deep voice rumbled, sharp and uncompromising, unaware of the treachery of a madman that was going on behind him.
Legate thrust her sword, and Faye easily parried, though her wrist twinged in protest. Legate feigned left, her right arm swinging into a wide arc, bringing her sword around toward the other woman's neck. Faye dropped into a low spin and punched her left heel into the Nord woman's gut. Legate took a step back and the Breton pivoted, slicing her other leg up into a swift arc as she slammed down into the side of the Nord's knee. Legate buckled, pain slashing up her leg and into her hip. Faye didn't hesitate. She twisted, smacking her shin against the other woman's calf. Legate thrust forward, striking with her sword, but Faye sidestepped, feeling the whoosh of the blade tickle the skin of her throat.
Faye feigned left, moved right, and sliced across Legate's midsection, opening a gash. The Nord woman looked down at her torn armor, at the blood spilling from the wound, and Faye used the distraction to swing her foot upward, straight into Legate's chin, sending the woman stumbling backward. Faye adjusted her grip on the hilt of her blade, completely unaware of the poisoned dagger being raised between the Emperor's hands high above his head, aimed right between her shoulder blades. Faye's heart stopped, her whole body stilling as she heard the soft whistle of a blade as it came descending upon her.
"I wouldn't do that were I you," came a very familiar drawl in a husky brogue.
With her blood roaring in her ears, Faye spun around to find the Emperor standing directly behind her, the dagger in his hands stilled in mid-air, moments away from slashing into her. Faye stepped back from him, out of his reach, her eyes searching for the source of the voice, but they couldn't find him anywhere.
"Show yourself," the Emperor demanded haughtily as he slowly lowered his weapon, forgetting the Dragonborn for a moment and trying to find the source of this new threat. "No man of honor skulks in the shadows."
"Glad I'm no man of honor then," came a roguish chuckle.
The Emperor sucked in a sharp breath when a sword's blade pressed against his throat and a male body appeared at his back. "You are about to die, Emperor. Beg for your life if you must. I will enjoy slitting your throat," Brynjolf purred in the Emperor's ear as his invisibility potion faded away, his brawny form covered head-to-toe in skin-tight Nightingale Armor.
Legate Rikke stepped toward the Guild Master with her longsword poised for attack, but Brynjolf clucked his tongue at her while he tapped his Nightingale Blade against the Emperor's throat in a playful manner. "Nuh uh uh, sweet miss," Brynjolf murmured in a sultry voice to Legate Rikke causing her to freeze. "That's quite closeness enough, I think."
"Halt!" General Tullius ordered to the Imperial army behind him as he dropped his sword to the ground and slowly got to his feet. Vilkas slowly lowered his sword from the general's neck.
"Halt!" Ulfric ordered as well, holding up his fist high in the air, the Stormcloaks behind him stilling their weapons. The two armies paused in their fighting, all looking to the creature that was covered from head to toe in black armor holding a blade to the Emperor's neck.
"It's good to see you," Faye uttered to the thief with a grateful smile.
She couldn't see Brynjolf's face for his hood and mask covered everything but his eyes, but the Nord turned his head toward her, his pale green eyes meeting hers with a measure of slyness. "It's good for you to see me too, lass."
Her eyes rolled. "Arrogant as ever, I see."
The corners of his light green eyes crinkled with that irreverent charm he had in abundance. "Did you expect me to change, lass?"
The smile she bestowed on him lit a match within him that hurt as much as it brightened. "Never."
"If you do not release me, fiend, my men will kill you for your treachery," the Emperor grumbled to the man pressing the blade against his neck.
"I think not, my lord," Brynjolf replied sardonically as his sword lightly pierced the Emperor's skin, drawing blood. "They will have to catch me first."
Faye's emerald eyes flashed as they shifted to the Emperor. "This vengeance of yours is folly. Will you truly give your own life trying to take mine? The lives of your men? The lives of all the people of Tamriel? All for something I never did?"
"I deserve justice for the murder of my wife and child!"
"You will not find justice in taking the Dragonborn's life," Vilkas replied as he came to stand beside Faye, in front of the Emperor.
"You are defeated," Brynjolf murmured in the Emperor's ear. "Let the lass go."
"No," Vilkas uttered sharply. "That's not good enough. I don't want him to simply let her go. I want him to swear that he will never come after her again. I want him to remove the bounty on Faye's head to ensure that no one else will ever come after her."
The Emperor's blue eyes glittered with ice. "No."
Vilkas folded his arms, expression tight and severe. "If you don't, then your throat will be slit and your men slaughtered by Stormcloaks, all for vengeance that you will not get. Is that what you want?"
The Emperor looked away, a muscle working in his jaw, his silence saying everything.
"So, what will it be, Emperor?" The Harbinger asked coolly, the gleam of impending victory in his silver eyes and tipping up the corners of his lips.
"Yes, do tell," Brynjolf purred, his blade caressing the Emperor's neck.
Faye scarcely dared breathe as she awaited the Emperor's decision.
After what felt like an eternity, the Emperor finally muttered, "Faye Ashhart shall be absolved of all her mother's crimes. I will withdraw the bounty on her head and make the death of the Deathstalker public knowledge."
Vilkas leaned toward the Emperor, his face as hard as flint, his voice an animalistic growl. "Think hard on that vow Emperor, for I will hold you to it. Break it… and no Imperial legion, papal army, nor the gods themselves will be able to protect you from me." Vilkas' dark face relaxed into a malicious smile. "I promise you, not even death will be able to save you from me."
The Emperor paled markedly, his mouth clamping shut so hard Vilkas heard his teeth clack. "You have my word, snowback."
"Lovely," Brynjolf stated merrily as he withdrew his sword from the Emperor's neck, his pale green eyes dancing mischievously. The Guild Master moved to stand in front of the Emperor and sketched a mocking bow. "Now that that's settled, you can be on your merry little way, old man."
"Yes. Get out of Skyrim, Titus," Ulfric spoke up as he sheathed his sword. "Show us Nords the true meaning of haste."
They watched the Emperor march away with General Tullius and chief lieutenant Legate Rikke at his sides, both limping from the injuries they sustained. The Emperor mounted his white horse before snapping the reins and kicking the horse's sides, sending him into a gallop as he retreated with his army behind him.
As soon as the Emperor and his Imperial army were out of sight, Brynjolf pulled back his hood to reveal his rust-colored hair, then pulled down his mask. Brynjolf stood languidly as he watched the sun set on the horizon, the Emperor and his army disappearing into it. The Guild Master breathed in the fresh air as he stood lazily with his Nightingale Blades crossed casually behind his neck.
"Thank you, Brynjolf, for what you did," Faye murmured softly.
Brynjolf turned to face her, his eyes turning away from the sunset to land on the pretty girl standing in front of him, her face more lovely than any twilight. "Of course, sweetheart." Faye watched the thief's face break into a lazy, winning smile. "I knew you'd be in trouble. You always seem to be getting into trouble," he observed, laughter lacing his tone.
"It seems to be riding on my back," she groused, frowning.
"That it does, lass. That it does," he drawled in his heavy brogue with a disarming smile, dripping with charm. "You're trouble with a capital T, sweetheart." His roguishness astounded her. Brynjolf had always been able to switch from lethal killer to charming rogue at will.
She raised a slender blonde eyebrow. "Haven't I always?"
He laughed, the sound rich and warm as he sheathed his Nightingale blades. "Yes. And you're looking as pretty as ever, lass," Brynjolf drawled silkily with his customary disarming frankness and beguiling smile as his eyes boldly raked over her.
"Yes. Thank you for showing up when you did, thief. Though, I think we would have been fine without you." Vilkas' voice was low, yet his anger was evident in the controlled tone, in the way he was looking at the other man. Faye noticed that Vilkas' eyes were narrowed on Brynjolf, and when they shook hands, both hands turned white. Faye shook her head. Men.
"I have something for you, lass," Brynjolf stated then, crossing one foot over the other at the ankle. "Something I think you'll need when you fight that dragon."
Her heart lurched as she remembered that she still had a Nordic god to fight. "I'll accept any help you can offer."
His head turned to the side, pale green eyes landing on the setting sun. "Not here though, I'm afraid. What I have to give you concerns a… delicate matter."
Faye knew immediately what he was talking about. It was a Nightingale matter. One he could not share in front of the Companions, especially the Harbinger. It was not his secret to reveal. "Alright. Where do you want to talk?"
"Faye…" Vilkas said sternly, giving her a reproachful look.
"It'll just be a moment," Faye assured Vilkas in a soft voice with a gentle touch of her hand on his arm. "It'll give you time to speak with your cousin."
For a moment there was a flicker of unease in Vilkas' cool silver eyes. She smiled up at him then with that smile that was like a breath of spring, the one that never ceased to steal his breath away and he found he could not deny her anything she wished. Vilkas nodded, almost against his will, reluctant to let her go with the thief, afraid she wouldn't be coming back. It was an irrational fear, he knew, though a fear he felt nonetheless.
Brynjolf watched the exchange between the two and a sharp pain lanced through him at the smile she gave the raven-haired Nord.
She'd never smiled at him like that.
Not wanting anyone to see the dark emotions coursing through him, especially not Faye, Brynjolf pulled that mantle of flippant charm down around him. "Don't worry, Harbinger. I'll take good care of her in your absence," he said impishly with a wink.
Vilkas was silent, save for a deep, predatory growl that resonated from deep inside his chest – a low and ferocious sound of warning as his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Brynjolf gave a sly smile to the Harbinger as he took Faye's hand and guided her passed the other Nord toward his horse that was tied up by the Khajiit caravan just outside of the city. Faye immediately ripped her hand free of the thief's and walked swiftly in front of him with her chin held high. Vilkas watched them go with tight eyes before moving to speak with Ulfric.
"He's an angry one, isn't he?" Brynjolf drawled lazily as he pulled alongside the Dragonborn, walking beside her with loping grace and a lofty tilt to his head. "He should relax more. Be more carefree."
"What? Like you?" she retorted, not looking at him.
"Aye. Like me." A deep chuckle met her ear as he leaned into her. "I recall you loving my roguish ways once, lass." The way he said the nickname sounded like a caress.
Faye shot him a reproving glance. "We all can't be scoundrels like you, Brynjolf."
"Scoundrel, you say?" A bold smile flagrantly teased his lips, challenging her with its brazen arrogance. "Why, you say the sweetest things, lass." He ran a hand over the back of her neck, massaging the muscles and skin as they approached his horse.
The Breton smacked his hand away and when they reached his horse she turned to him. "You said you had something for me?"
"Straight to business then, is it?" Brynjolf put his hand to his heart as if wounded. "And here I thought you enjoyed my company, lass."
"I do, but I have a destiny to face that is becoming overdue."
Brynjolf sighed. "Very well. I have armor and weapons for you. Ones you will find most intriguing." The redheaded Nord dug through his pack and pulled out a set of Nightingale armor.
"Brynjolf…" Faye whispered as she took the ebony leather into her hands, running a hand reverently over it. But then she lifted her head and pushed the light armor back into his hands. "I can't take this."
The Nord pushed the armor back at her. "Yes, you can. You need the best to fight that dragon of yours, and this armor is the best light armor there is."
She eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Take it, lass." Faye clutched the armor to her chest. "You could change here, lass," Brynjolf offered with a crooked grin. "I won't peek. I promise."
Faye rolled her eyes. He was incorrigibly shameless. "Yeah right," she grumbled before spotting Ri'saad the Khajiit trader approaching his tent. "Brynjolf, do you mind if I borrow a few septims for hairpins? I promise I'll pay you back."
"Sure thing, lass," Brynjolf replied as he dug into his pocket and handed her the money.
Faye bought a few hairpins from Ri-saad before going behind a tree to change. The sun had just set and the darkness that the night provided was adequate protection for her nakedness. She changed quickly into the light armor admiring the feel and look of it on her. Faye then quickly braided her long blonde hair into three plaits before twisting them on top of her head in a bun and pinning them into place with the hairpins. The young Breton woman stepped out behind the tree wearing the skin-tight, black leather armor bearing an insignia that resembled a nightbird cradling the moon in its wings. Her hood was back and she held her mask in her hand as she approached Brynjolf.
The redhead's pale green orbs glinted roguishly as they roamed appreciatively over her body in the Nightingale armor. "You're stunning, lass. You would've made a fine Nightingale." A dashing smile eased across his face. "And I must confess, I like having something of mine on your body."
Faye bit her lip as an uneasiness settled over her. She didn't want to give him the wrong impression. "Brynjolf…" she started in a sober tone as she came to stand in front of him.
"I know, lass," he whispered with a small, doleful smile. "I know."
Unable to hide his melancholy at the fact that she would never be his, Brynjolf quickly turned his back on her to face his horse and remove the weapons he brought for her. Faye stared in awe as she took the Nightingale bow, ebony arrows, Nightingale blade, and four ebony daggers from his outstretched hands. "Brynjolf…" she murmured softly as she took the weapons in her hands, turning them over. "I… I don't know…" her voice caught on the words suddenly lodged in her throat. She'd never had weapons like this before, or armor this exquisite. Her eyes lifted to fix on his, appreciation gleaming in her mossy-green irises.
Brynjolf's heart clenched at the grateful tears brimming in her large, doe-eyes. Unable to do anything else, he reached out and ran his fingers down her cheekbone. "Your welcome, lass."
Faye looked down and hastily dropped two of the ebony daggers into her boots before securing the other two. She sheathed the Nightingale blade at her hip before strapping the Nightingale bow and ebony arrows to her back. Once she was finished, she turned her head and watched the wind rustle the Guild Master's auburn hair, a speculative gleam entering her eyes. "You lied to me."
"Did I?" The thief affected a look of confusion. "I do that so much in my line of work. You'll have to be more specific, lass."
A flicker of ice glinted in the depths of her gaze. "You said Vilkas was married to Aela."
"Lied is a very broad term, lass," Brynjolf responded while rubbing his jaw, guilt and remorse surfacing in his pale green eyes.
Faye could feel her temper beginning to simmer. "What would you call it, then?"
"Massaged, lass," he replied uncomfortably. "I massaged the true." Faye stared at him, first blankly and then with ire at his answer. "They were together once, as I recall," Brynjolf added in an attempt to defend himself.
"You lied," she choked out, hurt lacing her tone. "Why?"
Brynjolf hesitated, obviously searching for words, his expression uncharacteristically sober. "Because when it comes to you, bonny lass…" he murmured, pausing to tuck an errant strand of sunflower hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. "…I'll always want more when it comes to you," he finished smoothly in that deep, silky brogue of his as his fingers skimmed down her jaw.
Faye's eyes widened as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, eyes dropping to her mouth. There was both purpose and devilment in his eyes as he leaned into her.
Was… was he going to kiss her?!
The Breton was just about to introduce his face to her palm when an animalistic growl emanated from behind her that sounded like it was a threat and warning at the same time.
Brynjolf paused in his descent to her lips, eyes lifting to something over her shoulder. He flashed a wicked smirk over her shoulder before stepping back from her, letting his fingers trail down the side of her neck as he did so before shoving his hands in his pockets, wicked grin still in place. Faye was about to give him a piece of her mind, and maybe singe his eyebrows with a flick of her wrist for good measure, when the thief uttered gently, "Don't be mad at me, lass." He shrugged nonchalantly with that smirk of his, though the dismal expression he wore said he was anything but indifferent. "I had to give it one last shot."
Her ire dissipated then and she offered him a small, sad smile before a corded arm curled possessively around her waist and she felt the searing heat of a hard male body at her back along with the scent of pine needles and spice.
"Best curb your lust, thief, before I curb it for you." Vilkas' voice was nothing more than a mere rumble of sound as he curled his fingers into her hipbone, his silver stare already an unsettling onyx.
The Guild Master tsked. "So possessive." Pale green orbs slanted to her, holding more than a hint of mockery in their cunning depths. "Are you really into that kind of thing, lass? I always thought of you as more of a free spirit," Brynjolf murmured, flashing that familiar charming grin.
Vilkas clenched his teeth so hard Faye thought his jaw might snap. "I thought I told you to stay away from her."
Brynjolf's smirk widened into an impish grin. "Can I help it if the woman's irresistible?"
Vilkas leveled Brynjolf with a hard glare. "Last we met, I told you to keep your distance from now on, thief." The Harbinger's cold expression matched the deadly chill in his voice. "Need I remind you of what would happen if you didn't?"
Brynjolf's hands went casually behind his head, roguish smirk back in place. "Ahh, yes. You would… what was it, again? Oh yes, 'separate my head from the rest of my pitiful body'," Brynjolf answered, charismatic as ever under Vilkas' deadly gaze.
Vilkas' jaw knotted and his eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw working violently. "Shall I show you how I am a man of my word?" His voice was low and overflowing with dark promise.
"I do believe my boot is shaking a little there at the toe," the thief jeered, mocking, taunting, and then mocking again.
Vilkas' steel gaze impaled the thief on what Faye could only assume was a spike of some sort as he took a step toward the other man, his shoulders bunched with suppressed rage.
Unable to stand the heavy fog of testosterone in the air for another second, Faye stepped between them, giving both men a reproachful glance before turning her full attention to the Guild Master. "Thank you, Brynjolf, for the weapons and armor. You have no idea how much they mean to me."
The thief's gaze focused on her, his expression softening from the provoking mockery that had held his expression moments before. "Anything for you, lass." He cupped her cheek, the tenderness of his touch and the look of longing he wore tore at her heart. "Kick that dragon's arse back to Oblivion for me," he murmured silkily in that heavy brogue of his.
"I will," she promised softly.
"Good." The pining gaze he gave her made her heart ache, and she had to bite her lip. "Because I can't have this world be emptied of a diamond like you, lass."
"No harm will come to her," Vilkas swore gravely behind them.
Brynjolf's pale green eyes flickered to the Harbinger and honed in on him. "I'll hold you to that, lad." His expression and voice were uncharacteristically hard with a razor sharp edge to them, but in an instant it was replaced with his usual charm. He slowly eased his hand away from her cheek, letting his fingers linger until the last possible second before slipping away entirely, a flicker of something entering his eyes as his skin left hers. "I should return to Riften," he murmured, his expression strangely guarded. "Those thieves of mine are lost without me." He forced a smile, though it didn't meet his eyes, which oddly appeared glassy. "If you're ever in my city, lass, be sure to look me up. A visit from you will always be welcome."
Without waiting for a response from her, Brynjolf pulled his mask on and then hood before turning and mounting his horse. Without looking back, he cracked the reins and dug his heels into the horse's sides and took off across the open field toward Riften.
Faye wrapped her arms around herself as she watched the Guild Master disappear into the night, feeling terrible and guilty for the pain she'd undoubtedly caused him. Moments later, she felt Vilkas come to stand beside her, the heat of his body reaching out to her. She turned her head and met his gaze under the moonlight.
The towering Nord gave the petite Breton a long, level look. "Do you still love him?" Vilkas' silver gaze was anything but cool, and seethed with emotion.
She pointedly held his fiery gaze. "No," she answered swiftly, honestly, without hesitation. "I don't love him anymore. But I care about him as a friend."
Faye turned her gaze up to the moon as it peeked out behind the clouds hovering in the dark sky. After a long and painful silence that seemed to suck up all the air, the Breton murmured, "What did your cousin say?"
"Ulfric is returning to Windhelm with his Stormcloaks. Our deal has been made."
She looked at him then. "What deal?"
Vilkas exhaled heavily as he rubbed his jaw. "If we slay Alduin, then upon our return I will join the Stormcloaks as a general. That is the deal I have made with my cousin for his help in protecting you and guaranteeing your freedom."
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly. "You promised to go to war? Without me?"
"Aye."
Her blonde eyebrows scrunched and her lips pursed. "Think again, wolf boy," she said stiffly. "If you think for one second that you are joining a civil war without me, then you are gravely mistaken."
"The hell you will," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, his eyes tight and his darkly chiseled features implacable, showing no willingness to compromise.
"You can't stop me," she retorted stubbornly.
Vilkas regarded her evenly, but his eyes were anything but calm, they were like silver storm clouds. "Would you like to test that theory, small girl?"
"Do you really want to try and stop me from being with you?" The Dragonborn's voice was low and belligerent, her whole body shifting into a slightly more aggressive posture.
They stood staring at one another while a brittle and heavy silence engulfed the space between them. Finally, the Nord relented and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Shor's blood, woman! Can't you do what your told for once in your damn life!" Vilkas exclaimed in agitation. "I don't want you fighting in a war! I couldn't bear it if something happened to you because of a deal I made!"
The blonde placed her hands on her hips. "And can't you just accept the fact that you're not going anywhere without me?" she declared, her tone impassioned and her determination fierce.
Vilkas cursed and swore, his mouth spewing such profanities that could make anyone turn crimson. "You are a real piece of work, you know that?" he uttered, speaking in a tightly controlled voice that belied his vexation.
"Yes, but I'm your piece of work," she replied with saccharine sweetness and teasing eyes, a tiny lift in the corner of her mouth.
His lean features softened with tenderness as his piercing, heavy-lashed gaze landed on her while strands of onyx hair fell over his eyes. "That you are, small girl. That you are." Vilkas gently took her small, heart-shaped face in his large hands. He slowly lowered his head, until all she could focus on were his silver eyes, blazing at her with masculine intent. She tilted her face up and his lips brushed her mouth like velvet, then his mouth hardened, slanting and seeking hers hungrily. Before they could get lost in the kiss, his lips left hers to let his mouth drag along the line of her throat. "Are you ready to face Alduin?" His teeth scraped along the side of her neck.
She shivered at the feel of his mouth on her throat, but her stomach knotted into ropes at his words as an unsettling nervousness gripped her. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"Then let us say goodbye to the others." His lips pressed tenderly to the pulse in her throat. "It may be our last time to do so."
Faye swallowed the large lump that had formed in her throat at his words and allowed him to take her hand and guide her back to the Companions standing outside the city gates, waiting for them. They each said their goodbyes to their Companion family with hugs of affection and warm words. Inga gave Faye the large sack she brought that contained a change of clothes for Vilkas and Faye as well as food and potions. Faye put her blue mage robes, scarlet cloak, Nightingale mask and hood inside the sack before drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling, "DUR NEH VIIR!"
A grey-green dragon with extremely weathered wings, greatly decayed flesh, and scales that dripped and oozed appeared before her on the ground, the stars in the sky illuminated behind him. "Durnehviir, thank you for coming forth from the Soul Cairn. I need your help."
"Anything, Qahnaarin," the dragon answered, yellowish drool dripping from his mouth.
"Alduin has returned to Sovngarde. His portal to Sovngarde is located in the ancient dragon temple of Skuldafn, high in the Jerall Mountains. The only way to reach it is on the back of a dragon. I need you to take me and my Companion there."
The dragon nodded and lowered himself to the ground, one wing outstretched for them to climb up on. Faye allowed Vilkas to settle her on the back of the dragon with the sack and weapons in her lap before he vaulted up behind her. The massive beast let out a small gush of flames loose and charged forward. Faye gripped the dragon's sides, urging the dragon forward and into the air. The huge beast leapt upwards, its giant wings carrying it up into the air.
As the dragon took to the night sky, Faye felt a hard arm close around her, yanking her backward against hard masculine contours. She became keenly aware of the powerful chest pressed against her back that offered support and comfort, of the steel-muscled thighs nestled around hers. She felt his male reaction to her closeness… a slight stiffening, a definite swelling, a subtle heat flowing between them. Her own body felt hot and excited. Faye's heart began thudding as his body heat enveloped her along with his musky male scent of pine and fire. It filled her with a tingling awareness, deliciously wanton. Feeling the hot, coiled tension within her, Faye groaned internally. Sweet Mara help her this was going to be a long trip.
As they soared through the air, Faye suddenly remembered what she had felt when she'd pressed her healing hands to Inga's pregnant belly. The Breton turned and looked around Vilkas' shoulder to the Nord woman standing on the ground below her. "Oh, Inga…" Faye yelled down with a sly smile.
"Yeah?" Inga shouted back, wary of the Breton's mischievous expression.
"The reason why you're so fat is because you're having triplets!"
"WHAT!?"
"More pups!"
Both Inga and Farkas exclaimed at the same time, though Inga was bewildered while Farkas was ecstatic.
Faye threw her head back and laughed as she and Vilkas glided away into the darkness on the back of Durnehviir, the sound of Farkas' joyous laughter filling the air as he spun his dazed and speechless wife around with joy.