You folks have been so very patient, here's an extra long chapter! It was a bit of struggle to start. My solution was to switch POV entirely. It really loosened up the mental flow and allowed me to address the physical aspects of our scene. As much fun as it is to wander through the world relying on everything but sight, some things are best described through that sense. I hope you enjoy it.
He didn't like this. Not a bit. The four mages were toeing the end of their strength, no matter their blustering. He'd dealt with mages in the past—mostly as enemies—but he knew the look of a depleted mage and they had it. He couldn't very well compare the strength of their spells given when he'd gotten into the burial chamber, but that wasn't the only way to judge a mage's stamina. He saw the pallor that set on their skin, the subtle shake in their hands, the straight exhaustion in their stances. He didn't need Deanne's gratitude to know they wouldn't have lasted much longer on their own. By Vilkas's account, they would need a full day of recovery before pressing forward.
But he knew that look in their eyes and the scent of their excitement. They were the qualities of the young and stupid after they'd gotten the taste of glory or treasure or whatever it was that set their heart racing on a job. The sort of look that had them raring for the next fight, the next enemy, the next shot at what they sought. And he couldn't even blame it on the fact they were magic-users, as he could tell Aela was grousing to herself back there. No, he'd seen this look on too many young warriors not to recognize it. And too often, it was right before they got themselves killed.
There was no way this ruin would stay clear. Not if the rest of the place was any indication. It always got worse. With their luck, the next chamber would be even more heavily guarded. And here he was, about to lead a bunch of depleted magic-wielding whelps into it with no prep. Well it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to play nursemaid to a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears pups. Though he usually had a few more swords to work with.
"Alright, listen up." He needed to set precedent now while he had the chance. "I'll take the lead," Vilkas said, then motioned to the Nord and Khajiit. "You two behind me. Keep out of range of my blade. No one wants that impact. You're support. Let me take the brunt of whatever comes." He closed in on the Khajiit, glaring down at the cat. "You get in front of me, I'll lay you out myself."
Vilkas saw the arrogance bubbling up, a need to challenge regardless of the merit of the call. But the fight had taken enough out of them, so the Khajiit settled and his eyes dropped. Satisfied, Vilkas turned away. Whispered behind him, he heard, "He's better at that than you."
"J'Zargo, I swear to Shor—"
Vilkas moved on. "Brelyna, keep Deanne with you, behind them. Anything attacks, you pull back."
Brelyna looped her arm around Deanne's in a practiced motion. "Not a problem. I'm better at a distance anyway."
"Good. Keep with Aela, then. She'll take the rear, cover our flank and provide ranged support as needed." He looked to his shield-sister for confirmation only to see her glaring daggers at Deanne. He sharpened his voice. "Aela."
She whipped her glare around to him. "Flank and cover. I heard you."
"Our flank," he clarified pointedly. He didn't need her trying to skirt the enemy and leaving their rear vulnerable. Especially not with Deanne there. There was enough risk going forward with amateur fighters without chancing more. Her jaw set, but she didn't challenge. This arrangement wasn't new—Vilkas on point, Aela at the rear—but she held more against magic-users than he did.
"And Fang?" Deanne asked softly.
Aela's glare redouble. Vilkas eyed the enormous wolf familiar seated contentedly at Deanne's side. The creature had been following the conversation, but his ears regularly ticked back toward the Huntress. Vilkas couldn't fault the beast for that, given he was tracking her, too.
Vilkas shifted his gaze to Deanne. "He's guarded you well so far?"
"Very well," she replied, sinking her hand into the wolf's scruff.
Vilkas felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Then keep him with you. And I mean right with you."
Truth was, he wanted her back up in a secure part of the ruin before the rest of them took another step forward. But he could see that argument going nowhere. She had the same resolution as the rest of them, and he wasn't going to go back on what he'd said before. Vilkas exhaled, setting his shoulders and securing his blade in hand. "Let's get on with this then."
The next room was unimpressive: another hallway with thankfully empty burial alcoves. Vilkas cautiously extended his senses, feeling the pressure in his skull but picking up no immediate scent of decomposition. These were the worst of times for him: when the Blood in him was useful. He could feel himself and the beast set on the same goal. It was too easy to forget that he didn't want anything to do with it. Especially when it seemed to keep Deanne's scent ever in focus. It made the warrior worry that, one day, that shared purpose wouldn't end once they were out danger and he'd be right back where he started before learning what a curse this was.
Senses forward.
One more room. That was the agreement. Except…dammit, he could feel it now, too. This tingling in the air that set him on edge. Powerful magic, just ahead. Vilkas didn't even attempt to turn them back.
Vilkas held them at that last door, opening it cautiously while the mages practically clustered at his back. The next chamber was large and open, the air stale. The level they were on dropped away to a lower floor about thirty feet ahead. Vilkas could just see a table below where a helmed draugr sat, listless on its throne. And beyond that... "I'd say we've found what you were looking for," he said softly.
For starters, it was huge. A sphere at least three horse lengths in diameter, glowing with patterns and some kind of writing Vilkas couldn't make out at this distance. The surface was a jigsaw of pieces, and the glow underneath was like something itching to get out. And it was floating—hovering several feet up in the air, rotating in place and giving off this gyration of sound that twisted Vilkas's stomach twist and ground into his ears. Oh yeah. That was it. Whatever the Void 'it' was.
But the priority was the draugr, and Vilkas trained his senses on the areas he couldn't see. But even with the beast, he could barely hear over the magic orb. And the scent of the long dead was so old it was impossible to pick out individuals. But Vilkas would bet there were coffins or alcoves lining the walls, and that their inhabitants would be inclined to move once they knew the room had new arrivals.
Vilkas shut the door and turned back to the others, coming to a two-fold decision. "Alright, you all know the battle plan. Let me get down to that lower level first. Check things out. Anything attacks, try not to roast me." And the other part – "Deanne, you're staying here. Keep Fang with you. We'll come back once it's all clear."
He saw her take a breath to argue—then release with a sigh. "Alright."
Her goal, his way. Vilkas was holding to his promise, she'd hold to hers.
He watched her settle against the wall with her familiar beside her before Vilkas addressed the rest. "Everyone ready?" He would have liked a bit less enthusiasm in their answer, but fine. "Then let's go."
They crept in, trying to keep as quiet as possible, the thrum of the orb ever in their ears and its magic prickling on their skin. Vilkas led the way against the wall, hoping that if he had a hard time hearing, so did everything still in here. They just needed to go unnoticed long enough for him to get full stock of the room. Yeah, four coffins on the walls. Chances were, all occupied. Then that one at the table. Not too bad, if they were the quality they'd encountered thus far.
By hand signals, he directed Aela and Brelyna to the other side of this level, overlooking the chamber while affording another angle. Once they were in position, Vilkas beckoned to the other two and made his way down the stair.
The draugr stirred when he was about halfway down. Typical.
Vilkas didn't hesitate. He leapt the remaining distance and struck out at the corpse rising from the table. He missed, his blade ricocheting off the chair as the draugr rose and stepped away. Vilkas used the seat as a step and pursued, using the height to bring his weapon up and down in a savage strike. The draugr met the blow with a gauntlet and without staggering. Dammit, a deathlord!
There was a roar from the orb and a torrent of energy leapt up around it making Vilkas's bones vibrate. Coffin lids shifted and fell open, the draugr on the walls waking and drawing forth their weapons to attack. Behind and above him, Vilkas heard the mages start firing off spells. Shor, let the two at his back still be on the stair, because Vilkas had his hands full with this one in the helm.
The deathlord had drawn its own blade and successfully parried the Companion's strikes, although it became clear soon enough that it wasn't primarily a swordsman. Vilkas traded blows until he found an opening. He deflected a side-swipe at an angle, letting the other sword slide over his own, the metals grating each other until the draugr's slid past. The unexpected release gave Vilkas the chance to wind up and swing full tilt for the draugr's now exposed midsection. His fresh blade parted the ancient chainmail and met flesh—that held its form like ebony.
Vilkas spent an unwise instant in surprise. All the draugr needed. The next blow sent Vilkas reeling back. The Companion recovered just in time to see the corpse draw blazing fire to its hand and hurl it forward. A Ward appeared in front of him, saving Vilkas from roasting alive, the heat breaking apart and racing past him on all sides. Vilkas didn't look for who had saved his life and went on the offensive with a roar.
He kept aware of his surroundings, enemies and allies. The mages and Aela felled the other draugr while Vilkas engaged the one with the helm. He tried to keep the bastard angled so the others could strike without Vilkas in the way. And it worked. Spells and arrows rained down once the other draugr were dealt with. Vilkas got within the draugr's guard several times. But nothing fucking worked! The arrows pinged off the same as Vilkas's blows did. Fire, ice and lightening parted over its body like water over a stone. The bastard was impervious to everything.
Vilkas had encountered these spells before. Iron-skin or something. They only lasted so long and Vilkas usually depended on keeping the caster off balance until the spell wore off and he could kill them. But the draugr just kept going like it was nothing, flaunting itself rather than fighting.
At a point, the draugr stopped playing. It drove Vilkas back with a powerful lightning strike that the warrior had to lurch sideways to avoid. The next cast was for the two mages on this level. Vilkas glimpsed a Ward leap up just in time to shatter beneath the maelstrom of fire and both mages went flying. The next was aimed for the women above. An inferno engulfed the entire shelf, loud enough to drown out their screams.
He hated when he was fucking right!
Vilkas had seconds to come up with a strategy to retreat. Seconds to find a way out before they were all—
Deanne was on the stair.
Deanne was coming down the stair with her familiar! No!
His intent turned from retreat to distraction. The warrior threw himself at the draugr hard. Loud. Desperate. Anything to keep its attention away from the woman entering the fray.
Too rash, too reckless. He didn't even have a proper stance when he met the draugr's reply and Vilkas's sword went flying from his hands. Shit!
Next thing he knew, the draugr's hand was around his throat. Vilkas struggled, but no amount of thrashing could loose those fingers. The corpse's grotesque, grinning teeth parted, ancient decaying lungs compressing to expel this noxious air and laughter as it throttled the life out of him. In desperation, Vilkas reached for the wolf, willing to let it loose if only to buy more time against this thing that he couldn't strike.
The draugr sent a surge through Vilkas and he felt the wolf slip from his grasp. What? How? He didn't even think that was possible!
The world swam, but Vilkas refused to give up, scrambling for whatever he had left. He had…to give her time… 'Deanne. For Deanne.' Vilkas pawed for his belt, dragged his last weapon from its sheath and drove it up into the draugr's ribcage.
The blade sank deep.
Couldn't tell who was more surprised: Vilkas or the draugr. But it was clear enough who recovered first. Vilkas twisted his blade and yanked the bastard's abdomen open. The draugr bellowed in pain, dropping its enemy and lurched away. An act Vilkas assisted with a full-body kick to the pelvis.
The draugr went staggering back, clutching at itself in shock. A fireball went sailing in from over Vilkas's shoulder to strike the thing while it struggled. Vilkas didn't look for where the flame was coming from, or who fired the lightning bolt that followed. He spotted his great-sword and rushed for it. By the time he had it in hand, the draugr was on the ground, the attacks against it at last having an effect: the decaying flesh charring and blackening, arrow shafts sinking deep and staying. The creature collapsed and no longer moved, but this was no time to take chances. Vilkas strode over, kicking its helm loose, then raised his weapon high and brought it down across the exposed neck, sending the head rolling across the floor.
'Void take you, cursed thing.'
Vilkas forced himself to stay aware, the Blood in him scouring the rest of the chamber for threats and reestablish its connection with—Deanne!
She was standing alone before the orb, head raised, un-seeing eyes fixed on it and hands outstretched. The current of magic around the orb now warped to wrap around her as well, her face a twist of concentration and pain.
"Deanne!" Vilkas dashed the distance, reaching for her. But when he touched the swirl of magic, a rush of power surged through him, searing his skin. Vilkas yanked back before his arm could be reduced to ash. What was this? The man stared between the orb and Deanne, feeling the unbreachable barrier trapping her within and Vilkas beyond. What in Oblivion was this thing?
"Deanne! Deanne!" She didn't respond. Could she hear him? 'Shor, please.' "Deanne, whatever you're doing, stop!"
Her head ticked toward him. Vilkas held his breath, completely out of his depth where magic was concerned. Helpless. He could only watch, terrified, desperately hopeful she had it in her to hear and act.
Wait. Yes, it was fading. The currents of magic wrapping around the two began to fade, drawing back into the orb. Deanne listed forward as if being pulled with it. Vilkas held, watching, torn, still afraid to reach out lest either of them be destroyed by what she was handling. He might know shit about magic, but the risks of making a mistake with something so powerful were obvious.
"Deanne," he whispered, shifting around in front of her in case she fell. When she came loose she staggered straight into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around it as he took her weight. "Thank the Gods!" Vilkas breathed, pulling her to him. He seized onto the feel of her in his arms. Thanks the Gods, she was alright.
It was hard to tear his senses away. But there might still be risk in the room. Vilkas gave it a necessary survey, not loosening his hold. Draugr dead. Onmund and J'Zargo were staggering over toward the orb. And on the level above? "Aela! Brelyna!"
A beat of silence, then the Huntress was heard to curse. "Get off me!" The Dunmeri squeaked and Aela's head surged into view.
"You two alright?"
Aela shot him a sharp glare. "Fine. And you're fondling the female, so I'll assume it's done."
Vilkas didn't rise to the bait. "Aye. That was the last of them."
"Dibella's tits, it had better be," she spat. More coarse language. Wasn't he the one supposed to be keeping his temper in check?
Brelyna circled the Huntress and came trotting down the stairs—still intact after the battle but holding a healing spell to her shoulder—to join the mages now gathered at the orb. "So this is it," the Dunmer marveled.
"Yes, it is…" The Khajiit stalled. "What is it?"
"Don't know. Doesn't look Nordic or Atmoran, though," the Nord mage offered. "Brelyna, do the markings look familiar to you?"
They were fresh out of a furious battle and already positing on their find. Mages.
In the meantime, Brelyna shook her head. "No. I don't even recognize the letters. If they are letters. Deanne, you were doing…something with it. What is this thing?"
Deanne turned in Vilkas's arms, but stayed settled against him, answering blearily, "I…I felt the draugr connected with it. He was using it to protect himself. But when I reached out to it…" She hesitated. "It looked at me…and it felt like I was everywhere at once. I don't know what it is." She shivered and sank back into him.
Vilkas could tell she was done with this adventure and all in sundry. And frankly, so was he. The objective had been reached. Time to go. "Fine then. We've found your magic…thing. It's time we got up and told the rest of your folk what's down here."
"Wait," the Khajiit insisted. "What did the blind mage do? Tell J'Zargo. If she is going, he wishes to investigate further."
The Nord mage scowled. "Shor's bones, J'Zargo. Do you really want to be messing with something this powerful? We don't need another Midden repeat."
Deanne stirred from her nest in Vilkas's arms. "J'Zargo please, leave it be." Strangely enough, the argument paused. "Whatever this is, it's unimaginably powerful. When it looked at me…" She swallowed but continued. "I could have been winked out of existence. I don't know why I wasn't. Please. Just leave it be. At least until the magisters have taken a look first."
The Khajiit actually subsided, although he was huffy about it. "Fine. J'Zargo will 'leave it be'."
Brelyna executed an intense eye-roll. "Why do you want so badly to go back to the College in a tinderbox"
At this point, Vilkas was happy to tune out the bickering. He leaned down over Deanne's ear. "You want to get out of here?"
She nodded, her cheek pressed against his chest plate. "Yes, please. That orb is…very loud."
Yeah, he could tell. It pounded in his ears and his bones. If Deanne was sensitive to magic like she said, she must be feeling it even more. "Come on." Vilkas reached down and swept her feet up off the ground, carrying her bridal-style toward the stairs while the other mages argued.
He hadn't gone more than a few steps when a new set of footsteps reached his ears. The old bearded magister, Tolfdir, hustled into view on the upper floor. "What is this?"
Vilkas suppressed a scowl and kept his mouth shut. Took him long enough.
Just like that, the apprentices' bickering ceased. "Magister Tolfdir," Brelyna greeted him with forced brightness. "We—uh…didn't expect you to get down here so quickly."
The old man descended the stairs half-intent upon the apprentices and half on the magic orb, "What are you doing down here? And what have you found? Going off on your own. Did you hear none of our words on safety? I've never seen anything like it. Such strange markings. What were you thinking?"
Vilkas retreated as the magister descended with questions spilling from his lips. Deanne had been through enough. Whatever lecture and questioning the magister was about to deal out, the other apprentices could handle. Once the magister was off the stair, Vilkas could skirt around him and head up—
Aela still stood on the upper level, overlooking the chamber, her glare focused on the woman in Vilkas's arms. Something about that look warned that that wasn't such a good choice.
A whiff of growing things reached his nose and Vilkas pinpointed the source as a door behind the floating, glowing orb. It was a risk. But the ancient Nords tended to stop setting defenses at their treasure room. And with the nattering magister advancing on the group and Aela blocking the way out—
Throwing the apprentices under the cart, Vilkas swept back around and made for the unfamiliar door.
Vilkas eased it open with a shoulder and took a deliberate sniff of the inside. Moss, grass and damp. And no sign of undead. So he entered, taking care not to bump Deanne into anything. Her familiar slipped in before the door could close all the way, and the relentless roar of the orb was cut off.
About now she realized they'd moved. "Vilkas? Where are we going?"
"Just finding somewhere to rest. Without going through your chaperone." The single separation from other folk and Vilkas felt his Blood settle, though the focus on Deanne's scent and heartbeat remained. Again, Vilkas had to focus forward before he sank into those sensations close at hand.
The room was mostly empty. There were no floor slabs in here. The dirt was bare and now overgrown with grass and ferns. There was a decorative wall on the far side with gouges in the stone, but the room was largely plain. It had probably been a growing area for something. At least until the end, when someone had decided it would be the perfect place to hide a treasure chest. Too close to 'the end' to even finish, it looked like. The chest—one of the big ones—was barely half buried, the shovels dropped partway through hiding it. Worth investigating. But later. Right now, the greenery were more inviting than the potential for treasure.
Vilkas carried Deanne in and set her down amidst the fronds and began a complete overview of her person. He wanted to make sure she hadn't been hurt in the fight or by that orb thing. Though, really, it was more about touching her. Making sure that he could. What had happened in there, being so close and yet unable to reach her, separated by that thin yet insurmountable obstacle…
Finding no damage, the warrior sat down and pulled her against him, wary of his armor and how she still drooped. He'd never felt so helpless. And he wasn't even talking about the draugr. No matter the enemy or the circumstance, there was always somethinghe could do: retreat, advance, maneuver, wait. Something. But then he'd never encountered magic like that before. What good was he against something like that? He could handle just about anything he could meet with his blade and his arm. But magic? That was work for a mage. A title that, even Vilkas couldn't deny, belonged to Deanne.
Not that that helped with the way his gut churned at the thought of her doing it.
The man breathed out over her crown. "I don't know if I can do that again, little one." She made a sound and curled inward, ducking away from his sight. "No, that's not—"
He wasn't demanding anything. Yes, he hated that she'd been in danger. But if she hadn't done what she had—whatever she had—when she did, then he'd be dead. Maybe all of them. Battle was his skill. And magic was hers. And never the twain would meet. This wasn't him forbidding her doing it. It was more him hating that she'd had to.
Deanne whimpered and squirmed. He felt her tremble beneath his arms and realized her reaction wasn't to do with him. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Her hands rose to lock over her ears, her face contorted in pain. "Loud. Too loud. Hurts!"
Vilkas looked to the door, now closed and muffling the sound of the orb on the other side. Was it still affecting her? He had to get her further away.
Vilkas swept Deanne up in his arms and made for the other side of the room, away from the door. Deanne immediately cried out and began thrashing, trying to get free of his hold. Vilkas tripped over the neglected shovel in his haste, staggering and just managing not to crash them into the scratched up wall. She went rigid, head thrown back, eyes peeled wide, gasping for air like there was none.
And all Vilkas could do was stare on. Helpless. Useless.
"Help!" he bellowed, holding tight as she seized and shook violently in his arms. "HELP!"
XXX
Too loud. Too loud. Not like the Augur and not like the orb, but it drowned out the world just the same. A chanting that sounded from somewhere inside her head. A hundred thousand voices shouting from an eon away, too loud to block out, too distant to understand. It rang through her, down into her very core, reaching every part of her being and leaving her nowhere to escape. She was swept up, unable to do anything as it consumed her from the inside out.
It left her feeling cold and stiff, chilled solid, unable to move or think. All she knew was the frigid ice that brought the world to stillness with its touch, that left all unmoving in its wake. The cold that burrowed into flesh and marrow. That froze the body. She felt it. Had felt it. The night on the mountain with Vilkas so long ago. She felt it all again, drawn up by the deafening chant and thrown in her face. The memory of the chill that went deep and the body that would not move, the authority of snow and ice.
Somewhere outside her prison there were voices. Hands and magic touched her that she couldn't feel, voices spoke that she couldn't make out beyond the chant in her mind. A chant that seemed to be receding. The world swam back to her. She was pinned to a surface and jostled. No more talking. Deanne dragged herself back to awareness from under the voices which were falling to whispers in the dark.
Full awareness only returned when a blast of frigid air enveloped her. Deanne flinched away, the memory of the terrible ice too fresh, and words broke free of her mouth. "No! No, not that! Not again! No!"
Vilkas shifted his grip, trying to hold her still and readjust the cloak to cover her. "Easy. It's alright. We're taking you back to the College."
She squirmed and begged, "Please don't take me out there. Please!" He tried to keep his grip against her struggle, but she wouldn't stop. Not the cold. Not again.
Vilkas fell to a crouch and grasped her face in one hand, pressing them cheek to cheek. She felt the warmth of his breath on her ear as he whispered, "It's going to be okay. I promise I'll keep you safe. But we need to get you back to the College. Trust me, alright?"
A chilly trail charted down her cheek, tears frozen by the wind. "Don't leave me out there."
"Not ever," he promised, his fingertips curling in her hair. Deanne pressed into him, trembling. The feeling of being frozen solid still echoing in the depths of her mind. "I swear."
It took all of Deanne's strength to nod.
Just like that she was up in his arms again. Not how he'd carried her during their first travel, but she preferred it this way: being held to his chest rather than perched on his back. Before, so soon after the bandits, she wouldn't have been able to handle being held this way, even by him. Now it was exactly what she needed.
There was a rapid ascent, wood creaking and thudding beneath two sets of feet, then the crunch of stone and snow. Vilkas and someone else? Deanne didn't have it in her to figure out their identity. It was all she could do not to think about the cold and ice and the sensation of freezing to death—
She focused on Vilkas's grip, his steps, the movement of his body as he carried her away from Saarthal. Her anchor in the storm.
XXX
Vilkas paced back and forth in the courtyard. What he wouldn't give for a training dummy about now. Or something he could hit. But the College of Winterhold wasn't exactly equipped for the warrior types.
The Altmer had driven Vilkas out of Deanne's chamber when that Restoration expert had showed up. Restoration expert, not healer. What was the difference? Wasn't Restoration magic healing magic? He'd made the mistake of asking that one out loud and the magister had gone off on a tirade about her studies. The Altmer had been quick to separate them, sending Vilkas outside where his 'fretting' wouldn't distract them.
And why did she have to tell him she wasn't a healer anyway? Like he wasn't worried enough as it was. First Deanne rushing into a losing battle-zone, does Shor-knew-what with some powerful magical thing, and then a seizure after all seemed well. The fact she seemed completely fine by the time they pounded on the gate to the College was beside the point. If that 'Restoration expert' couldn't figure out what was wrong, then she damned well ought to pick a different field of study.
Vilkas turned to the side and pressed his forehead to the stone wall there. The conversation with their Arch-mage hadn't helped, either.
"Please don't tell me another one of the apprentices has been incinerated. I have enough to deal with right now."
Vilkas hadn't known what was worse: the first words out of this supposed maser-wizard's mouth, or the world-weary tone in which they were uttered.
"I've got a message from Saarthal. They found some…orb thing. Tolfdir said you ought to go have a look at it. As soon as possible." No time to be polite. Not if it kept him from being nearby when they finished checking Deanne over.
"I…see. I trust Tolfdir will provide more…specific explanation."
If the warrior hadn't been so eager to get back to Deanne he might have punched him, consequences be damned. Mages! Not all mages. Just these damned, arrogant milk-drinkers who played with so much power they felt they could treat important, dangerous circumstances like they were boring. The group could have been killed and their Arch-mage had the gall to sound bored?!
Didn't matter. Vilkas had delivered Tolfdir's message and could get back to Deanne's chamber to check on her. Another squall from the females, another ousting and door in his face. In the end, it was too much to stand impotent in the hallway with is senses locked onto Deanne through the door and Vilkas came out here to make tracks in the snow.
She had to be alright. He needed her to be alright.
A banging on the front gate brought Vilkas's attention around. He walked into view to see Aela on the other side with two travel packs on the ground. He went over and let her in—still couldn't figure out how this gate worked.
"What's this for?"
Aela dropped one of the packs at his feet with more disinterest than was necessary. "Ready to leave when you are," she answered. When he didn't budge or reach for the pack, she pressed, "You said you were staying for the female to go to that ruin for their research. Well she went, and now she's back. Let's get out of here."
Vilkas shot a scowl at his shield-sister. She couldn't possibly be this stupid or cruel. "Not until I know she's alright."
The Huntress snapped around to stare at him. "Am I hearing this? You're still hung up on her? After what we saw?"
"She couldn't have known about the draugr or the orb. She did what she had to do, and it worked—"
"The wolf spirit, ice-brain!" she snapped. "How can you even touch her seeing what she's done to it? To one of our own?"
Vilkas's scowl darkened. "Not one of my own."
Aela scoffed, the old conflict coming up between them. "See the Blood as you want. Call it a curse, if you and the old man hate it so much. But you can't deny that the Wolves of Hircine are kin to us. And to see one of them bound and relegated to a pet…" She spat on the cobbles, dirtying the doorstep of the place Deanne called home. "The sooner we leave here, the better."
Vilkas glanced up the walk toward the door to Deanne's Hall. "After I know she's alright."
"By the Void, what has she done to you?"
Turning to look, he found her staring as though Aela had come to some horrific realization. And Vilkas realized she'd meant it as more than just an expression. "She hasn't 'done' anything."
"Bullshit!" Aela spat. "This is the female who managed to subdue one of Hircine's wolves to her bidding. And we both saw what she did to that orb, without preparation, while the rest of them are still scrambling with what it even is. And you have never been this serious over a female before."
"Which should tell you something," Vilkas countered.
Aela's face twisted. "Exactly my point. How long have you known her? You've spent—what?—two weeks with her? A bit more over a year ago? And suddenly you're ready to drop everything to serve her? Do you see what you're doing? Do you even know what she's capable of? How do you know she hasn't spelled you?"
Vilkas whipped around on her. "She hasn't spelled me!"
"How would you even know?" she threw back.
Vilkas got right up in Aela's face. "You ask me if I know what she's capable of. She is not capable of that. I know. My decisions are my own, no matter what you think. And I am not leaving here until I know Deanne is going to be alright without me. If you've got a problem with that, then leave. I told you I didn't need a keeper. I'll get back to Jorrvaskr in my own time, with or without you."
They stared each other down, giving no ground. There was no spell here, no matter what Aela said. Maybe bewitchment was possible. Maybe Deanne even knew how to do it. But she wasn't mentally capable of doing that to a person. Vilkas knew that for sure.
The Companions held their stare-down for a long while until Aela blinked and snorted in contempt. "Kodlak is the one calling you back to Jorrvaskr. I'm just the messenger. Do what you want. But you know as well as I do that, even if this is all you, there's no way this thing you're doing could last." She turned on him and snatched up her pack from where it lay. Vilkas let her go, keeping his mouth shut as the Huntress walked out the College gates and slammed hem shut behind her.
Vilkas turned and put his back to the wall, crossing his arms and locking them in place. He wasn't spelled. His Blood's focus on her presence was his concern manifest, nothing more. And the wolf spirit…
Alright, he hadn't expected that. Seeing the beast there and so obviously comfortable in its role had been a shock. But it wasn't related. Deliberately, anyway. Vilkas had explained to Deanne about him taking a beast into himself when he took the Blood. But he hadn't said anything about Hircine or Oblivion. She couldn't possibly know that her familiar was related in any way to the Beast Blood. Could she?
No. Absolutely not. She'd have said something. She didn't know. He hadn't told her enough for her to know. And it had nothing to do with the accusations Aela was throwing around. Nothing at all.
The Altmer magister found him there a long time later. Her first glance was to his face, and her second to the pack on the ground. "Going somewhere, warrior?"
Vilkas bit down on a retort about her minding her own business, and asked instead, "How is she?"
The womer accepted the change in subject gracefully. "Fine. Whatever happened in Saarthal left no lasting impact we can detect. I expect we'll learn more once the College has had time to study the artifact itself. In the meantime, she's asked for you."
The man nodded and unshackled himself from the wall. He took a step toward the Hall, then belatedly reached to retrieve his pack. The magister watched his every move.
"Have you settled on your intentions yet?"
"…No," he ground out.
A pair of golden eyes appraised him closely. Vilkas half expected her to make a demand. Or a threat. Or some kind of warning. But the reply was much softer. "Do not hurt her."
He spent long enough in surprise that she took her leave, heading for the main College. Vilkas looked after her for a few heartbeats before making his way back to Deanne's Hall.
When he reached her room Deanne was settled in bed. Her scent and heartbeat told of ease. The stuffed comforter was pulled up to her waist, a heap of pillows propped between her and the headboard, and her fur spread out over her lap. She looked adorable in all that soft bedding. What he wouldn't give to curl up in there with her—
"—relegated to a pet—"
He flinched as Aela's words struck out at him. That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all!
Shoving the thoughts away, he knocked gently on the doorframe to announce himself. "Hey. How're you doing?"
The smile she gave him made Vilkas's heart swell up. "Fine. I told you I was."
"Yeah. You did," he admitted, setting his pack down at the door and going to sit on the side of her bed. "But better safe than sorry. You scared me back there, little one."
She grasped handfuls of the fur, casting her eyes down. "I know. And I'm sorry. For scaring you. And insisting. But not for doing it. I had to. If I hadn't—"
Vilkas reached out and removed the fur from her grasp, replacing the material with his own hands. "I know," he repeated back to her.
He turned her hands over and massaged her palms with her thumbs, watching the fingers curl and uncurl as he worked the flesh and tendons. Such little things to hold back the sort of power in that orb. Maybe what he said hadn't been the whole truth. Vilkas did know her: Deanne the woman. But Deanne the mage? If he had to be honest then…no, he didn't know what she was capable of. And Shor's bones, he didn't even have the time to find out.
"I gotta go," he admitted. Her hands tensed under his but weren't pulled away, though her scent stung a bit.
"Back to Whiterun?"
"Mm-hm." Vilkas shifted his grip, flattening his hands out and covering her palms with his, fingers extended over the pulse-points in her wrists. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. "Don't know how long it'll be before I can come back."
Deanne bobbed her head and he smelled the salty tang of her sorrow before the tears ever escaped her eyes. They'd both known it was coming. Not so strangely, that didn't make it any easier.
"What if I came with you?" she asked abruptly. Almost immediately, she clapped her mouth shut and turned away, like she hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Vilkas chuckled and brought her hands up to kiss her wrists, gently, firmly, one after the other. "Tempting." She had no idea how tempting. "Maybe next time, eh? Since you're still recovering."
Deanne frowned, but didn't argue. "Colette said it was the excitement." She reached up to touch the mass of pillows at her back. "But that didn't keep them from treating me like I might fall apart again at any moment."
Vilkas chuckled, imagining the two magisters bundling her into bed like hens. "We know you're stronger than that, don't we?"
An attractive blush shaded her cheeks as her eyes tilted away again.
It hadn't been the excitement. No one could tell him anything but that her collapse had to do with that orb. Gods, what had she done to it? What was she capable of? He wanted to know. To understand. But there just wasn't time right now.
Vilkas kissed her wrists again, drawing in her scent, knowing it might be the last time for a long time he'd be able to do either. "I'll come back as soon as I can. Then we'll talk about you coming to Whiterun. I want to show it to you."
He made to rise but Deanne seized his hands before he could. "Wait!" But when he halted, attention fully on her, she faltered, going silent, nervous fingers still holding him in place. "I-I…Since you're leaving…Could we—I mean, I'd like to…If you would…" Vilkas watched her tongue flick out, wetting her lips, and caught a breath of rich desire.
Bad idea. With where they were: alone in her bedchamber. With where she was: nestled in bedding. With how she looked: willing, delectable. How she sounded, smelled, felt—
But how long would it be before he had another chance for this?
Void take it!
He surged to her, pressing Deanne down into the bedding and claiming her mouth without preamble. This kiss had none of the sweetness they'd shared before. This was all ferocity and need, with some desperation given the dark loom of the days ahead. The soft mattress gave way beneath his urgency, sinking them both down into it. Vilkas plied her lips apart and delved inside, tasting, taking. Anything and everything he could get.
Some part of his mind pulled ineffectively on his collar, arguing he shouldn't be doing this. Not so much, so fast, without her permission.
That was until Deanne wrapped her arms around his neck and met him stroke for stroke, tilting her mouth to his, seeking to tie their tongues together. Vilkas's mind flipped on its head. The rush of her response was indescribable. It did things to him he had never experienced before. And with the mattress beneath them…
How easy would it be to shift sideways and cover her with his body? Delve into the blankets and find the sweet flesh beneath her hems? Search out the buckles of his armor and shuck it all, then give her exactly what she couldn't know she was begging for? Be her first? Now.
It was like dragging a hound off a kill to get them separate. It didn't help at all how she looked at their parting: dazed and flushed, breathing heavily with her lips swollen from his assault. Gods, what would she look like after a long session of love-making? Or the morning after, the tangle of her hair spread out on the pillows and wrapped around his arms, the imprint of the blankets on her cheeks? Perhaps even a bit of drool where she'd spent the night draped over his chest and close to his heart.
He needed to know what that looked like. What it felt like. Needed to know everything about her. But there just wasn't time now.
Vilkas stood before he could falter in his resolve. A last sweep of fingers over her cheeks and he stepped away, no matter how much his beast howled for him to stay. Which decided him. Their first time—her first time—would not be with an animal.
"I'll come back," he promised, backing to the door and pawing clumsily for his pack. "I swear that."
Deanne struggled up from where he'd laid her out. "Vilkas…Stay safe."
He gazed at her, nestled in the bedding, still showing evidence of his attentions. Gods, this was an image he would remember. "I will. And you."
They clung to the moment, by sight and presence, until another instant would see him stay at her side.
The blast of cold wind was welcome when he stepped outside. No one was present to hold him up in the courtyard or the gate. He made it down the path to the mainland and onto solid ground without human or mer interaction, though he fought his beast every step of the way.
But the call of Jorrvaskr and the Harbinger was great enough to catch his focus, responsibility rearing its head. Deanne called up new impulses and possibilities. Things he needed to think about. He'd be back, that was certain. But the Companions needed him, too, and he would answer.
Vilkas took the main road out of Winterhold. Over the first rise, he came on Aela loitering on a stone. The Huntress stood up when he drew near and they continued down the road together. Neither addressed the fact she'd waited on him. Had she thought he wouldn't keep his word? That he'd draw out his departure or put it off entirely? Didn't matter. They were on their way now. It was a long way to Whiterun, and neither of them were talkers. He'd have plenty of time to think.
Fhew! Made it. I figured Vilkas leaving was the best spot to leave this chapter. And! After a year and a half, I decided it was a good place to leave the first section of the Mind's Eye. Yeah, this one's going the way of the Wolf of Cyrodiil. I'll be splitting it into multiple books to bring it all down into manageable chunks, both for reading and writing purposes.
You all have waited so long for this update. I'll start up the next Book soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for reading!