Later on that week found the Circle, apart from Kodlak, seated around one of the corner tables in the mead hall of Jorrvaskr. They were telling stories to one another, stories of specific jobs, of hunts that they had gone on, creatures they had slain, places they had been. Cry was the only one who had actually spent time in Windhelm, she found out, much to her surprise.

This led to a talk about Ulfric Stormcloak, and the war. Aela said she thought it was stupid, politics leading to killing, especially since it was all so unnecessary. She didn't understand why 'idiotic men' couldn't just get together and talk it out, like people.

"They're acting like animals," she said with a roll of her eyes, "and that's coming from me."

Cry thought she had a point, but did not say so aloud. However, the topic of the war had brought the conversation to a halt, and the four of them sat silently for a moment, thinking their own thoughts and drinking whatever it was they had in front of them. Cry gazed into her mug of water, frowning to herself as she considered Ulfric's motives for continuing the war. She would never understand it herself, but she supposed that both he, and the Imperials, thought they were fighting for the right reasons.

She wished that they would see that they were fighting for no reason at all, and that their reasons were causing an unnecessarily large amount of death.

"Ulfric Stormcloak was here in Whiterun once," Vilkas said, breaking the lull that had begun with Aela's comment. "There was a grand parade for him and the troops that he'd brought along. His two generals were there, and one of them had brought his family."

"I remember that," Farkas said, nodding in agreement. "Ulfric and his generals rode at the head of the parade, and a carriage with the family followed behind them." He grinned at his brother. "You loved the younger daughter the second you looked at her, Vilkas."

"I did not," Vilkas replied, his eyes on his empty mug.

"Yes, you did!" Aela interrupted. "I remember it clearly. You forced your way through the crowd of people on the street so that you could get closer to her. You even called her name! And she looked at you, and smiled, and -"

"And he bowed," Cry said, softly.

The three of them looked at her in surprise. "How did you know that?" Vilkas finally asked, his eyes narrowed, and Cry looked up, blinking. She hadn't meant for that to actually be said out loud.

In truth, she remembered that day herself. It had been hot; there hadn't been any clouds in the sky. She and her sister and mother had gone along with her father to Whiterun, when he'd went with Ulfric to visit the jarl at the time. They had ridden in a carriage, like Vilkas had said, and been paraded through Whiterun behind Ulfric, Galmar, and her father, with the Stormcloak procession behind them. Cry remembered feeling a bit ridiculous, that day, high above the people that had come to Whiterun to see the young Jarl of Windhelm in person. They had been treated like royalty, and she had found it strange, and even a bit annoying.

Despite there having been hundreds of people, she hadn't missed the young boy who'd pushed his way through the masses in front of him, to get close to the carriage as it moved down the street. He'd called out to her, somehow knowing her name, and she'd looked over at him. She hadn't planned on smiling, but she had, anyway, and then the boy had bowed to her, as though she really had been royalty.

But then the carriage had moved on, and he'd disappeared back into the crowd, lost to it and to the glare of the sun. But she'd known, even then, that she'd find him again, even in another crowd of hundreds.

And here he was. She had found him.

"I was there that day, too," she said in answer to Vilkas's question. "I saw you, when you made your way to the front of the crowd and bowed. I didn't know it was you, obviously." She smiled at him. "I thought you were a bit ridiculous, bowing to her like that. It wasn't as though she were royalty."

"She may as well have been, riding in that carriage and looking all queen-like," Vilkas muttered, and he reached for a jug in order to refill his mug.

"You loved her!" Farkas taunted, and Vilkas snorted, but, notably, he did not disagree.

"How did you know her name, anyway?" Cry asked, feeling curious, and Vilkas glanced at her, before shrugging one shoulder.

"She was the daughter of the left-hand general of the Stormcloak army," he said. "A lot of people knew her name."

Cry knew that probably made some sense, but she saw no reason for Vilkas to have known it, as a young boy being raised by a group of warriors who held no type of allegiance to anyone. Why would he need to know the names of the generals of the Stormcloak army, let alone the names of their daughters?

And yet, he had. He must have had a reason to learn it. Perhaps so he could call it out to her, as she rode past in a carriage in a parade of Stormcloaks.

Cry smiled again, at the thought. It was a ridiculous notion, but one that made sense, oddly enough. It seemed that Vilkas had loved her, as soon as he saw her, and perhaps even before. She had to wonder how their relationship would be different, currently, if he knew that she had been that girl, the daughter of the general who had smiled at him, who he had bowed too, despite the fact that she wasn't royalty.

Still. He could never know. It wasn't safe, for her, or for him, or even for the Companions. Not while Madanach still lived in the bowels of the Silver Mines in Markarth, no doubt still searching for that daughter, to avenge the lives that had been lost to her blade.

"Cry?" She blinked again, realizing that Farkas had been trying to get her attention. She focused on him. Farkas frowned at her. "Where'd you go?"

"Back to the parade," she said, and she grinned. "It was kind of ridiculous, how much fanfare was surrounding Ulfric. It was probably because everyone was afraid of his newfound powers of the Thu'um."

Farkas rolled his eyes. "I've seen it," he said, meaning her use of the Thu'um in Dustman's Cairn. "It isn't that impressive."

"Hey!" Cry said, offended, but she lowered her voice when Aela looked over at them, an eyebrow lifted. "It's impressive!"

"Sure it is," Farkas said placatingly, and he gave her hand a pat before turning away again.

Cry chuckled to herself, and looked at Vilkas, who was finishing up his second mug. Lowering it to the table, he glanced at her, and their eyes met for the briefest moment. An odd expression she couldn't read went across his face before he turned away.

Cry exhaled. She couldn't believe that it had been him.

In other news, Farkas had (unfortunately) figured out when her birthday was (that day). He had also, apparently, been planning a party for her since he'd found out, and as night fell on Whiterun that evening, the party began in earnest. Bottles of mead and ale were purchased from the Bannered Mare, and a bard that wasn't Mikael (thank the Gods) was invited to play. Somehow, word had spread, and more than just a lute player showed up; by the time the party had gotten into full swing, there was a drum player and a flute player present in the mead hall as well.

Cry, who appreciated a party every now and again, was grateful to Farkas, and to everyone else, who seemed to all be having a fantastic time. She supposed it was because they had an excuse to have more than one drink in an evening, and they were taking full advantage of it.

Torvar and Athis had long since broken a set of chairs, and Njada had knocked over a table, after she had gotten into a brawl with Aela. The huntress had won, which was no surprise to Cry, but Njada had given her a run for her money. Ria, who'd been the one to encourage the fight, moved on to the two male non-Circle members instead, to try and encourage them into a brawl that everyone could bet on instead.

As such, before the party had been going on much longer than an hour, Tilma had had to clean up four shattered plates, and three tankards of mead that had been spilt. Cry watched the festivities occur, smiling slightly, from a bench against the wall near the door leading out into the training yard.

Eventually, Farkas sauntered over and joined her, drunk as high heaven, and smelling like it, too. He first, in a slurred voice, wished her a 'happy bir -' (a burp interrupted him before he could get the word out) - day'. Cry thanked him, grinning, and he settled down on the bench next to her, waving his hand around the mead hall, which was a mess. Cry suddenly thought that maybe Kodlak had the right of it, staying down in the living quarters the way he was.

"You thought we wouldn't find out when your birthday was." Farkas scoffed as he took another drink of ale from the bottle he was holding, which Cry thought was pretty dangerous, especially if he ended up tripping over something. "You're really dumb."

Cry rolled her eyes to herself, good naturedly. She knew Farkas was drunk, which was the only reason she wasn't punching him for calling her dumb, but she didn't know how much longer she could sit next to him, with the way he smelled. Plus, she was feeling pretty light-headed, despite having only drunk one bottle herself, and decided she needed some fresh air.

"Farkas, I appreciate the party, really," she said, standing, "but I'm going to get up and go outside, now."

She did so, and was relieved when Farkas didn't try to stop her. She walked past where the bards were playing their instruments beside a dancing Athis and Torvar. At some point in the evening, they had figured out where the barrels of alcohol were hidden, and they'd dragged them out into the open. Torvar was doing a jig on top of one.

Cry pushed her way out of Jorrvaskr, sighing outwards in relief as cool night air began to chill her heated skin.

She inhaled a breath of the fresh air, eyes closed, then let it out and opened them again. When she'd first stepped out onto the sitting area outside, she hadn't noticed that there was already someone there. Now, however, that her senses weren't clogged with the smell of alcohol, she realized that she was not alone.

"Hi," she greeted after a moment, and Vilkas glanced over his shoulder from where he was leaning against one of the wooden posts supporting the roof of the sitting area.

"Shouldn't you be inside?" he asked, facing forward again.

"I was actually hoping to get away from all of it for a minute," Cry replied, moving forward a few steps. She hadn't seen him since dinner had ended, and apparently it was because he had been hiding outside.

When Vilkas didn't respond to her statement, she gestured over her shoulder. "I can leave you alone to go back to your brooding, if you want," she said.

"My 'brooding'?"

"Isn't that what you're doing, looking out into the distance like that?"

"I suppose so," Vilkas agreed after a moment's thought, and then he glanced back at her again. "You don't need to go. I understand wanting to get away from it for a bit; they can be a lot."

"I've noticed," Cry said with a grin. "Must be why everyone's only allowed one drink at meal times, unless it's water." She moved closer to where he stood, glancing around the empty training yard. "It's nice outside."

"Yes, it is," Vilkas replied. Cry paused at his side, and he gestured towards the sky. "That's mostly what I'm out here for."

Cry raised her gaze upwards, and her grin grew when she took in the changing colors and the stars and the moons. "It's very beautiful," she said. "A good reason to come out here." Vilkas nodded.

"So, how old are you today?" he asked, and Cry scowled at him, playfully.

"That's not really a question you should ask any self-respecting person." Vilkas looked hurt, and she lightened her glare, even going so far as to grin, a little. "I'm twenty three."

"That's not bad," Vilkas said, clearly wondering why the question of a person's age was a sensitive matter, and Cry exhaled, glancing up at the sky again.

"No, you're right," she said, thinking about all the birthdays that she had celebrated on her own, and feeling incredibly grateful that she wasn't alone for this one as well. "It's not."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, gazing up at the sky. Their peaceful companionship was interrupted only when someone threw the door behind them open.

"Where are you going?" someone, and Cry thought it was Athis, shouted from inside.

"I'm jus' proppin' the door open!" Torvar shouted back. "It's hotter than Hammerfell in here!"

Cry and Vilkas both turned around in time to see him shove a chair in the way of the door so it wouldn't close before he disappeared inside again. Once he was gone, the two of them exchanged a look, and began laughing.

"Definitely a lot," Cry said, wiping a few tears off of her cheeks.

Vilkas nodded, chuckling, and then he let out a breath. "I don't understand how a whole group of warriors like them can get drunk so easily."

"Mystery of nature, I guess," Cry said with a shake of her head. The music inside had come to a halt, probably because the bards had decided to take a break. She looked at Vilkas, tilting her head. She had never heard him laugh before, she didn't think, at least not like that. It had been a nice sound, she thought, one that she wished he would grace people with more often.

She was still struggling to comprehend the fact that they had met once before. She didn't exactly remember how old she been, but she thought that she might have been eight or so. Thinking about it, she decided that she had been eight, because she knew Ulfric had been Jarl of Windhelm for two years when her parents had died. And that had been when she was ten.

I think we must have invented love, then, she thought to herself, and grinned. If Aela and Farkas had the right of it, Vilkas had been in love with her, or, at least, the girl she had been, at that point in time. She had changed much since then, mostly due to what had happened in such a short period of time. She had killed, many times, since then, had traveled to Morrowind since then, had… had become a new person since then.

She didn't know if he could love the woman she was, now, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to, either. With what she had to do as Dragonborn, and with how she thought that might end, she didn't think that she had time for love, at least… not immediately.

But, standing here with him, in the light from inside Jorrvaskr, and from the moons and stars in the sky, she thought that, maybe… maybe it would be nice, to have someone, since she hadn't had anyone, not really, in years. She thought that maybe… maybe it would be nice to have a family again.

She glanced at Vilkas once more, and smiled a little. She thought that maybe the Companions could be that family.

The music from the bards began again, reaching them through the open door of Jorrvaskr. It was slower than any of the other songs that they'd been playing, and Cry thought that maybe it was a signal from the bards that the party should begin to wrap up soon. Between her and Vilkas, however, the mood changed to something a little bit different than sober.

Vilkas looked towards Jorrvaskr, too, and then he glanced at her. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he held out his hand to her.

Cry blinked at the proffered hand. "What's this?" she asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"A dance," Vilkas answered. "If you want it." Cry looked suspicious, and he sighed outward, a huff of breath that disturbed a strand of hair that had somehow gotten into his face. "Consider it a birthday gift, if you want."

"The dance is a gift?" Cry asked, placing her hand in his. "Or the fact that you're being nice to me, for once?"

"Hmm." Vilkas pulled her closer to him, and placed her free hand on his shoulder. He then put his on her waist. "Two gifts in one?" he finally suggested. Cry smiled at him.

"Sure," she agreed, and then she allowed Vilkas to begin leading her in a simple two-step.

The dance grew to be more complicated, however, when they discovered that they both were pretty good. Cry laughed more than once as they spun around, sliding to avoid chairs and tables, and she burst into chortles when Vilkas dipped her back at one point.

"Vilkas!" she exclaimed through her laughter, and he grinned, straightening them both back upright. Cry shook her head at him, still giggling, and his expression changed, slightly. She noticed, and fell silent, gazing at him as they spun around one more time, before slowing to a stop.

Neither of them said anything as Vilkas slowly reached up and placed a finger beneath her chin. Cry blinked at him, and he tilted her face upwards, towards his. Then, without thinking about it first, he started to move his closer to hers. Just when Cry could feel his breath on her cheeks, there was a loud crash from inside Jorrvaskr, and the two of them jumped apart.

"Farkas, you idiot!" a voice that was most definitely Aela's shouted. "That was the last of the ale!"

Farkas shouted something indiscernible back, and Cry let out a breath. She glanced at Vilkas, who had his gaze on the ground. He looked over at her, briefly, and seemed ready to say something, but apparently almost immediately changed his mind, because he suddenly rushed away instead, into Jorrvaskr.

Cry remained where she was, and she reached up a hand, pressing it against her cheek. Her face was warm, and she doubted it was because of the dance that the two of them had just shared. Groaning to herself, she sank down into the closest chair, and hung her head in her hands.