Chapter 26: To Confront One's Demons

Despite Vilkas' dismissal, I remained in the training yard as there was simply nobody else to take over management of the accounts in his absence. And, for want of something to keep my mind occupied, I continued training in between keeping track of the Companions' contracts.

When I made myself practise with the short sword, I stuck to the forms Vilkas had drilled into me over the past week. But when I took up my bow again, rather than remain standing still and firing arrows, I challenged myself by walking sideways while I was shooting. I had seen Ria practising in this manner once or twice, and reasoned that it was as like to a moving target as I would get in the courtyard.

My aim was naturally woeful – and without instruction it took a while for my arrows to hit anywhere remotely close to the targets. Progress, as with every other step I had taken toward becoming a better warrior, was slow, but I persisted, confident now that over time I would improve. It seemed that each small success fed and supported the next.

The moment the sun set over the walls of Whiterun, I packed up the accounts book and locked box of gold, tucking them into their recess inside the doors of the mead hall. Jorrvaskr was warm and welcoming but the light felt fleeting; a temporary glow before an inevitable sorrow. Vignar and Athis sat around the feasting table, discussing their day without a trace of bleakness.

So, they didn't know. I supposed nobody but the Circle, and myself, knew yet.

I crept back to the verandah, unobserved, and made for Breezehome. It was time to get ready to face Mikael, and my first official contract with the Companions. True, I had not been assigned the task by one of the Circle, but deep within my racing heart, I knew this job had been made for me. The personal gratification I would gain by facing Mikael in this capacity made me thrum with certainty, and if I could manage it, I might prevent him from harassing the other women of Whiterun entirely. The vivid anticipation worked wonders to overshadow the black guilt pooled in the pit of my stomach over Skjor's death.

As I was home earlier than usual, my entrance startled Lydia.

"Oh!" she blinked, sitting up straighter over a cauldron, stirring something that smelled divine. Her expression eased; she placed her ladle in the pot and rose to greet me. "This is a nice surprise! Welcome home – did they let you off early today?"

I hugged her, tighter than I had meant to, but I was so pleased to see her. "Sort of," I mumbled, withdrawing. "There's a contract, and I mean to fulfil it before my night duties begin."

"I see. What kind of contract?" Lydia feigned lightness, betraying her instant suspicion. Taking a small step back, she looked me up and down.

I cast her an imploring look. "You don't need to worry," I insisted quietly, giving way to the melancholy. There was no point in hiding it from her; it was too consuming. "One of the members of the Circle died. He was - on a job. We found out today."

Lydia's wariness dissolved, and her hand touched my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry. Were you close?"

I shook my head regretfully, but didn't want to explain any further. To explain would dredge up the whole uncomfortable mess of what had passed between Skjor and I.

"Even so," she added quietly as her hand fell back to her side. "Companions are a very close-knit group. I'm sorry for your loss. Will you be returning after this - contract?" she redirected our discussion.

I nodded shallowly. "I'll be gone most of the night," I stepped past her, intent on getting on with the task at hand. "Once the job is done, I'll return to Jorrvaskr to be with my shield-siblings. I want to be there, in case they need me tonight," I added; my sorrow at the possibility that I might not be wanted leeched into my words.

"Of course," Lydia turned back to the hearth as I passed her, and took up the ladle again. "It's a shame you'll miss dinner; this is shaping up to be a nice stew."

"It smells delicious," I called back from the bottom of the stairs. "Could you save me some?"

"I don't know," Lydia drawled with mock uncertainty. "I'm not sure it'll last 'til morning."

I smiled briefly, ascending the stairs at a run. I knew Lydia well enough now to bet there would be a little clay pot of stew awaiting me when I returned home.

I chucked off my training gear and cleaned myself, taking time to plan what I would wear for my first contract while I washed. I had no armour, other than the Legion leathers that I hadn't worn since Kodlak's initial warning. Wearing it would likely get me laughed at, anyway; I was representing the Companions, not the Legion. The Jarl still hadn't summoned me to retrieve the armour commissioned on my appointment as Thane either, so I had to assume that it was being made in one of the bigger cities. Given the war effort, I doubted it would be a priority for whichever smith had taken the job.

Lydia's armour was far too large for me – and of course, asking if I could borrow it would only worry her. In fact, if I prepared myself for anything reminiscent of battle, she would likely not let me leave the house without her, which in this situation, wouldn't do.

Rolling my eyes, I towelled myself down and yanked open my top drawer. There was nothing for it. I would need to leave the house at a bard, or Lydia would be concerned.

So I dressed for performance, slipping into a straight, pale blue dress made of wool and throwing a thicker, sleeveless tunic of a warm, tanned hue over the top that sank to my hips. I adjusted the laces at the sides of the tunic, pulling them tight, and had the thought that it looked a little bit like a stylised cuirass. Pleased with my selection, for it would give me the impression of a warrior, I accessorised with my Legion arm guards and sword belt, and as an afterthought, sheathed the dagger I had used in Bleak Falls Barrow in the latter. I wore my softer boots, so that my Legion boots could air out after the day's efforts, and sat on the edge of my bed to work on my hair. I drew the curls up high onto my head, then braided it sideways, drawing the long plait to rest naturally, and comfortably, over my shoulder.

I was ready; my hands were no longer busy. I placed both on the edge of my bed and took a moment to compose myself. I breathed calming breaths, staring at the wooden floorboards.

I can do this, I assured. I am a Companion.

I could carry out this simple task in their, and Gwendolyn's, names.

You must remain vague, I reminded myself as I stood and gathered my lute, slinging the strap over my shoulder and adjusting it until it fell comfortably. He should have nobody but you to blame for whatever happens.

I nodded, ready as I would ever be, and said goodbye to Lydia, making at once for the Bannered Mare before I could talk myself out of going.

–

When I had stepped into the Mare weeks earlier during my futile attempt to borrow Mikael's lute, it had been relatively empty. Now that the sun had set, it seemed a wholly different place.

I stopped in the entrance and took in the scene; my cheeks warmed as hot air and the sweet smell of mead flooded me.

The Mare was buzzing with activity. The large, square hearth roared in the centre of the room, competing with the roar of laughter and conversation from the patrons clogging every available seat. Where there were no seats available, they stood, leaning against walls or furniture, or each other. Hulda and her two waitresses had merry looks plastered on their faces, but they were forced – clearly run off their feet taking orders and delivering mugs of drink and small baskets of simple fare – roasted beef, leeks and baked potatoes – to their customers.

A strain of song drifted over the rowdy rabble; I turned my attention toward it, and glared. That had sounded suspiciously like Ragnar the Red. How fitting that the loathsome man would be playing such an equally loathsome tune.

I made my way toward the song and spied Mikael around a few heads once I was about half way across the room. He was sitting on one of the long benches in the far corner, facing the middle of the room. He, and most of the patrons in his vicinity, were watching a pair of old men with flushed cheeks and red noses who'd linked arms and were dancing a merry jig to Mikael's song.

The sight was rather amusing. I settled on the outskirts of the jolly crowd, and let the old fellows finish their twirl.

As Mikael played the final bars, the men fell into uproarious laughter, over what exactly I could not tell (perhaps nothing; they seemed very drunk). Several of the onlookers laughed too, and some even clapped, and cheered, and then the crowd dispersed.

I focussed on Mikael. Either he had not noticed me, or he had and was pretending he didn't care I was there. The blonde Nord seemed completely at ease with his graceful lute cradled before him as he shook his head and laughed at the old men.

Belatedly, I applauded the performance myself, but kept my eyes on Mikael; intent on making him look at me. Once a path cleared, I continued clapping; slow and purposeful, as I took the last steps to place me in front of the bard.

It had the desired effect; Mikael turned toward me. He smiled widely; his leering dark-brown eyes unashamedly raked up and down.

"I was wondering when you would come back," he commented warmly, patting a space on the bench seat beside him. "Come, let's be friends again, Celeste. Why did you stay away so long?"

I repressed a shudder and remained standing, unwilling to be intimidated or baited; I was going to control this conversation. "I've been busy," I reached into my dress pocket, extracted a gold coin, and extended it for him to accept. It was time to exact the performance I had prepared.

He glanced at my hand, ignoring my offering as his easy gaze rose to meet mine again; unfazed. "So I've heard," he mused, sitting back as he began to pluck out an instrumental number on his lute. "Companion, Thane and Dragonborn," he whistled pointedly. "Managed to wind some powerful men around that little finger of yours, haven't you?" he added cheekily.

"That's right," I replied evenly; my expression flat, ignoring the flash of burning indignation that rippled through me. Determined to curb my emotions, I raised my hand higher, the coin still within, and urged him to take it.

Mikael shrugged and stopped playing to reach out; the pads of his fingers brushed the underside of my forearm intimately as he accepted the coin, then closed his hand around my wrist. "Don't feel like talking, hmm? All right, Lady Dragonborn, let's play it your way," he raised an eyebrow, smirking as he withdrew to pocket the coin. "Your gold is as good as anybody else's. What would you hear?"

I looked him up and down and resisted the urge to scrub childishly at my wrist with my other hand. "Your word," I met his eyes.

"I don't know that one," he admitted with a half-laugh.

"I don't doubt it," I replied swiftly, still quiet. "Lecherous skeevers tend to have trouble locating the shreds of decency," I added in a low voice, pouring what little menace I possessed into my words. "Yet still, Mikael, I choose to ask it of you now. My colleagues would not have been so merciful with you."

His look darkened for a heartbeat, then relaxed, and he huffed a laugh. "All right, I'll bite. 'My word'?" he drawled.

"Yes," I confirmed steadily. "It's time for you to stop playing games with the women of Whiterun. I'm here to ensure it."

Mikael paused; he stared as though trying to gauge whether I was serious. Then he burst out laughing.

I had expected he would laugh at me, so I waited patiently for him to calm down. After several minutes of chortling, I raised an eyebrow and enquired, as though he had not laughed at all; "Do you swear to me that you will cease your dishonourable activities?"

"What if I don't?" Mikael's voice bore avid amusement; his eyes glinted with glee, as though our exchange excited him. "You'll slap me again?" he stood, letting his lute down onto the bench seat. "The challenge is part of the fun. Didn't I tell you so," his tone became a hushed, amorous lilt, "when we were at the college together, after we kissed under the courtyard archway while King Olaf's effigy burned? I like it when you fight me," he half-smiled as he closed the space between us. "Go on," he angled his chin, tempting. "Hit me again."

It took every fibre of will I possessed to stay my hand as his form loomed above me. Despite his amusement, in his eyes I caught darkness and I knew this was what had reached Gwendolyn; this was who she feared. The man who took every refusal as a dare.

"I paid you for a song, bard," I murmured, willing him to retreat and squashing my instinct to step back or flee. I had counted on him attempting to intimidate me, but thinking about him doing it and having him in my face were two separate things. I swallowed, and pushed down the fear. I could use the adrenaline, though, in what I would have to do next.

"Pay me all you like," he raised a hand slowly, faltering to cast a quick glance around to determine the Mare's patrons weren't interested in our exchange. He must have been satisfied by what he saw; I couldn't tell, for my back was to the room.

I remained motionless, but watched his movements; if he believed he had the upper hand, it would make his descent even sweeter.

"You couldn't know," slowly, he closed his hand around my braid; tangled his fingers between the woven strands. It may have seemed a romantic gesture to anyone fleetingly observing us. "My skills are considered a gift to the pathetic women of this paltry town," he hissed.

Only I felt the weight of his impassioned wrath as he angled his wrist down suddenly; his grip on my hair tightened as he held my head still and forced me to keep eyes on him.

My heart raced, but I made myself lift an eyebrow and ignored the sharp tug to my scalp. He wanted me to be mad, or scared, or both, and I would not give him the satisfaction of either this time.

"This is your final warning, Mikael," I deadpaned. "Release me and swear you will give up your despicable womanising. You are a grown man, for Shor's sake," I narrowed my eyes in disgust.

His grasp on my hair tightened as he twisted his wrist a little. "Finally, we get to the point," he stepped into my space, pressing his body against mine as he wound his free hand around my waist. It would have appeared a hug to anyone beyond us, but his intentions were clear; he had enclosed one of my arms, restraining it. "I am a grown man," he whispered into my ear. "And you, you insatiable creature, are lucky that I have wanted you since I laid eyes on you," he laughed softly against my neck.

I remained as a statue, wondering that nobody else in the pub seemed to take any notice of the resident bard and the Dragonborn, but the world seemed consumed by its own revelries. Of course they weren't interested in our embrace, I realised hurriedly; it was well known that I was a bard; any who saw us would assume we had been acquainted during our time at the college together. After all, I had approached him.

It was time to end to this; I shifted against him, trying to bring my hands between us so I could push him away and deliver my message.

"Yes, Celeste, fight me again," he moaned under my ear; his breath hot on my neck. The arm around my waist tightened; his hand drifted lower to grasp my behind, pulling me hard against him. He leaned back to press his forehead to mine; the thrill in his eyes was plain as the bulge in his pants throbbed against my hip, and I thought I might be sick there and then.

"That's all you will give me? Oh, but wait. I see how it is," he smiled knowingly. "First, you want me to eschew my wicked ways?" he pouted mockingly. "You precious girl. You really don't know how to drive a bargain with a man, do you? I'll tell you what," he posed.

"Silence, Mikael," I warned, knowing what was coming. "Don't say it."

"Stay with me," he said it anyway, releasing my hair as he brought a hand up to cup my cheek. His eyes flashed as he tilted his head toward me, his intention to kiss me plain. "It would take a woman of your calibre to keep a man of mine satisfied, Celeste. Give yourself to me, and I won't need to even look at another woman again."

Mikael's lips were an inch from mine and descending; I stared at the pink, bulbous flesh and finally allowed all of my fury and indignation to surface, wrapping a single word around my tongue before he broached the gap.

"FUS."

Propelled by the thu'um, Mikael flew back from me, slammed into the wall and crashed down onto a table. Mugs and tankards scattered and several patrons sitting nearby startled back, crying out in alarm, before they, and every other person in the Bannered Mare, turned toward me in wary disbelief and shock.

I ignored them and stepped forward slowly, my burning gaze seeing only Mikael. My blood boiled through my veins, hot and glowing, swelling in my chest with so much brightness that I felt it might burst.

The pathetic bard groaned, clutching at his stomach, and tried to rise.

"Not so fast," I still sounded calm enough, though my hand shook when I grabbed his shirt by the collar, twisted the material in my fist and dragged him off the table.

He was brought down to the floor, and crashed to his knees before me.

As he cried out I let go of his shirt and grasped his chin hard in one hand, turning his head until he looked up to me.

"You psychotic whore," he groaned, glaring with disdain.

My free hand fell to my dagger; I withdrew it swiftly and held it to Mikael's neck before I had even realised I had done it.

The bard stilled, his eyes bulging and straining to look down at the knife at his throat without moving his head.

"What's wrong, Mikael? I tried to be nice," I spoke through a shudder of adrenaline, suddenly aware that every patron was now my audience. "You wouldn't listen. Now, you will listen to me. You will stop pursuing and threatening the women of Whiterun. From this moment, I am your adjudicator, and your actions are accountable to me," I raised my voice, though I maintained only Mikael's gaze. "Should I hear you have reverted to your old ways, I will come for you."

"And you'll what," he hissed through clenched teeth, still defiant. "Throw me against the wall again? Slap me on the hand?" he spat; no mean feat, given that he had to remain virtually motionless against the blade hovering over his larynx.

I laughed at him openly, tossing my head back as I did. "No, Mikael," I told him once I had calmed down enough to speak. "That was just a warning," I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Should you fail to heed my warning, you'll be able to reach all of those high notes once I'm done with you."

It actually took him several seconds to realise what that implied. His eyes widened the moment he did, and he shot another glance, more warily, toward the dagger at his neck.

"Okay, Celeste," he conceded in the tone of a man trying to soothe a frantic beast. "That's enough. I told you before, we'll play it your way."

My amusement peaked as I withdrew the blade and sheathed it. "Finally, we understand one another. Keep the coin," I turned dismissively, halting to make eye contact with several of the silent, agog Bannered Mare customers.

When nobody said or did anything, I bowed to the room, but not in the traditional manner of a bard. It was a gallant sweep, reminiscent of the knights and heroes of old.

"As my witnesses," I addressed the room, "I would ask that you spread the word to your mothers, sisters and daughters. Let it be known that Mikael shall no longer trouble them. Let them know that the Companions will ensure he keeps his hands to himself."

And still, silence met my words, but I couldn't understand why. Were they afraid of me? In awe of what I had done?

Perhaps. I smiled politely and quit the pub.

Once the door had closed behind me I gasped in a deep breath of cold, fresh air, revelling in my success and quaking at the terror coursing through me as I realised all I had said and done. I had not anticipated the confrontation to play out nearly so dramatically. I wanted to laugh out loud; to sing my victory to the skies and dance across the cobbles all the way to Jorrvaskr.

When I lowered my gaze to the marketplace, I barely contained a startle; several civilians, and several Whiterun guards, stood before me; staring and silent, just as those in the pub had been. Two nearby stall holders were closer together, whispering to one another and casting me wary glances.

Their regard dulled my euphoria, and I ducked my head, descending the stairs at a run.

"Lady Dragonborn, is everything all right?" one of the guards fumbled hurriedly.

"It's fine – I'm fine," I called swiftly. "Everything's fine. Just a – misunderstanding," I evaded.

People in the square began to go about their business again, though I sensed several of the guards were trailing after me.

"Do you need any assistance?" another called out in a thick Nord accent.

I quickened my pace. "No, thank you," I called over my shoulder, hurrying toward the steps that lead to the Gildergreen. "The issue has been resolved. You may return to your posts."

"Did you do that?" a voice before me questioned hurriedly; the easily recognisable drawl of Vilkas.

My brows knitted as I raised my eyes to see him standing on the top step. He was clad in his usual steel armour, similar to Kodlak's with the little wolf centred across his collarbone, with a large, mostly-empty pack on his back and an enormous great sword sheathed at his hip. His face showed no trace of expression; all business, but his eyes were weighed down by regret. I had the notion that he blamed himself for what had befallen his shield-brother, and wished that he was staying in Whiterun a little longer so I might help to ease him on that matter, as I had resolved myself earlier this afternoon. It was nobody's fault but Aela and Skjor's.

But he was clearly on his way out of town, and there was simply no time to talk.

"Oh – hullo, Vilkas. You're still in Whiterun?" I asked pointlessly, blinking in surprise. My glee extinguished.

"I was just leaving," his mouth curled down at one corner. "Don't change the subject. What happened in the Mare? Did you just use the thu'um on somebody?"

I held my chin up high. "Yes. It was an intimidation job," I explained calmly. Would he think it wrong that I had assigned myself a job? Surely not, given the outcome. "My target cornered me, so I did what had to be done," I added with a resolved nod.

"Who was he?" he sounded even more cautious than before.

"Mikael, the bard," I supplied. "A contract arrived against him late this morning. Given my history with him, I took the liberty to fill it," I added openly, make of my statement what he would.

A flash of what may have been actual surprise flitted over Vilkas' features. It was gone in a second, his stern expression back in place so fast that I wondered if I had imagined it.

"You are certain you intimidated him sufficiently?" he queried.

Again, I nodded. "He knows what will happen if he doesn't heed the warning I gave him."

After a weighty pause, Vilkas sighed and cast his eyes to the skies above. "All right, then," he drawled. "You brought no dishonour to the Companions, and you haven't managed to get yourself arrested, so this is a win. Make sure you mark it complete, and collect your gold."

"Oh – right. The gold," I blinked. I had forgotten that I would be paid.

Vilkas regarded me warily. "You did take the gold from the client when-"

"Yes! Yes, of course," I waved my hand dismissively.

"Because we are not a charity, Celeste," he added insistently. "There are expenses-"

"I know," I asserted, nodding for clarity. "I collected five hundred gold from the customer."

Vilkas nodded approvingly, shifting his feet. "Good. Your cut is-"

"One-fifty, I know," I supplied. Suddenly I wondered if he was stalling his own departure, but immediately shrugged the feeling off as ridiculous. He had wanted to leave for the Glenmoril coven the moment he and Kodlak had confirmed their whereabouts. Perhaps he was merely anxious about leaving me in charge of the Companions' accounts. "Vilkas," I stepped closer, my tone placating. "I will take care of it," I promised. "And, I don't plan on assigning myself contracts on a regular basis," I tried for a small smile, despite knowing he was in no mood to return it. "This particular job simply roused me into action."

He frowned. "That's not all it roused," he motioned toward my hair.

I glanced down; my braid was disheveled with strands poking out of it every which way. "Oh..." I hurriedly unbraided. No wonder the guards had asked if I needed any help.

Vilkas hesitated, and after I had loosened the curls and tossed the dark mass back over my shoulders, he asked in a quiet growl; "Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head resolutely, and made sure I maintained my smile. He truly hadn't, despite his hideous efforts to frighten me, and what little I had endured had been worth it when I had shouted him into the wall.

"Okay," Vilkas shook his head, at himself it seemed, and huffed a joyless laugh. "I'll take your word for it. I had better go," he motioned beyond me, toward the gates leading out of Whiterun.

"Good luck," I grasped his shoulder. He flinched, and I frowned, letting my hand fall; relieved that I had not tried to hug him earlier after all. "Are you certain that I can't come with you?" I posed delicately. His grief and guilt over Skjor had clearly taken a major toll on his already tenuous calm.

He rolled his shoulders as though he still felt the ghost of my hand, and shook his head. "Keep an eye on Kodlak for me."

"Of course."

"And Farkas. Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid."

"I'll try," I laughed a little.

He stepped past and I turned to watch him descend to the market square. After a couple of steps, he turned back again. "And, take care of yourself."

I nodded, sending him a smile that felt too sad. "You too, shield-brother."

He turned away and proceeded, this time without looking back. Once he had turned onto the road that lead past Breezehome and Warmaiden's, I turned back to my own path, and headed to Jorrvaskr.

A couple of steps later I cursed and stilled, staring up at the great upturned ship as I realised I could have asked Vilkas, if I'd been thinking straight, whether or not the Companions in the mead hall even wanted me tonight.

You are a Companion, too, I reminded myself, and resolved to continue on.

–

The weight of solemnity hit me the moment I stepped inside Somebody had broken the news to the others.

A few of the Companions looked up when the door clicked closed behind me; one or two met me with sad, automatic sorts of smiles, while others just looked back down to their meals or meads with shocked, yet somehow blank expressions.

Kodlak sat to one side of the table with Aela and Farkas, talking in a low voice to the brother. All three had noticed my entrance, but the men had gone back to their discussion almost at once, both too grim to be welcoming. Aela merely turned her eyes back to the table, as though she hadn't seen me; it seemed she couldn't muster the will to be angry about my arrival.

With a sigh, I slipped my lute onto the floor and then myself into a vacant chair, beside Ria. I would ask Kodlak if he wanted me to play when he and Farkas were no longer conversing, for I didn't want to interrupt them.

As I assembled a modest dinner of grilled fish and baked sweet potatoes, as I didn't feel much like eating, Ria leaned toward me.

"You missed the announcement, but – you know already, don't you?" she asked quietly, touching my forearm gently.

I nodded. "Yes. I was here when they arrived home."

Ria sat back, glancing into her tankard. "I should've known something was wrong when I saw you alone in the yard, but I was too full of myself after my success with the bloody bear," she grumbled the last.

Taking up a knife and fork, I cut a portion of fish and speared it. "You couldn't have known."

Ria assented with a sound and took a swig from her drink.

I took some of my meal, not really tasting it, and asked Ria once I'd swallowed; "When did Kodlak tell everybody? I would have been here sooner, but I had a job."

Ria glanced at me, somewhat confused, doubtless at the word job. "Not long ago. Just before Vilkas left," she turned in her seat so she nearly faced me, her brown eyes widening. "Do you know where he's going?" she asked, still quietly, but now with a trace of concern. "He wouldn't tell me. Said it was a job for Kodlak, and that was all I needed to know."

And that only made her more suspicious, Vilkas, I thought wryly, though I responded with a half-shrug. "Perhaps it's something to do with Skjor?" I posed, for it wasn't exactly a lie; Skjor had been a werewolf, and Vilkas was venturing out for their sakes.

"You're probably right," she accepted and turned back, contemplative. "He did leave very suddenly. I wonder how long he'll be gone?"

I cast Ria a sideways glance. She seemed more fixated on Vilkas' departure than Skjor's death. Looking over the young warrior, her eyes trained on her drink, I wondered what exactly it was that clutched at her heart?

"Who can say?" I mused, considering her in this new light.

Her frown deepened, and she spoke as though I had not. "And why did he go out on his own? I wish he had taken one of us with him."

While she pondered, I suppressed my smile and told myself I was being ridiculous. Perhaps she was trying to concentrate on anything but Skjor's death. "Maybe he assumed everybody else had contracts? I'm not sure. Did you ask him?"

She nodded in a distracted manner and took another small sip from her tankard. I caught a whiff of it this time; honeyed mead. "I offered to watch his back, but he said it was out of the question."

That's a familiar story, I mused.

Ria bore it well, but it was plain she was bitterly disappointed.

I placed a consoling hand on her arm. "He'll be fine. You know what Vilkas is like," I encouraged.

Again, she nodded, turning and giving me a half-smile that didn't do much to mask her distress. "Yeah, you're right. He's always been a bit of a lone wolf, hasn't he?"

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, but couldn't mask the smile that formed in its wake. "That sounds about right."

Ria raised her eyes to the roof and sighed a long, weighty exhale, sinking back into her chair. I withdrew my hand, and continued with my meal.

"So, this is a horrible business about Skjor, isn't it?" she asked me in a shaking voice, after a pause.

"It is," I agreed with a sigh, uncertain of what else to add, for I didn't know how much Kodlak had explained to them, and I knew nothing of the exact circumstances myself, having missed the announcement.

"And poor Aela," she added, in an even quieter whisper.

I wasn't positive of what she referred to; perhaps merely that she would feel the brunt of his death, as they had been lovers, though Ria's tone suggested there was more to her sympathy. I simply agreed with a silent nod.

Chair legs scraped against the flagstones, and we all turned toward the sound.

Kodlak rose. He looked utterly conquered, full of grief and remorse, and my heart went out to him. If the mead hall did not want my music tonight, perhaps I could play for him, in an attempt to appease his conscience.

He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, and shook his head as he reconsidered. After a pause, he began; "Companions, now that we are all gathered and fed, I have a few words to offer in remembrance of our fallen shield-brother," he turned his silvery eyes up, casting them out to every one of us seated silently around him. His eyes rested on me in turn; the warmth I usually saw there was muted, and a sober gravity had replaced it.

"Skjor was a great warrior, and a loyal Companion. In his youth he fought for the Empire in the Great War. Many of you will not know this, but Skjor did not approach me, wishing to join our ranks, as most of you did. I found him many years ago at a border inn, offering himself as a common sellsword. His bearing intrigued me; he did not seem to mind whether he worked or not, as though he was there simply because he believed it was all he was able to do.

"But I saw something in him, that he did not at the time. I recruited him," Kodlak placed his hands on the table, glancing up with more resolve as he uttered a small chuckle. "Not as simple a task as it sounds, I can assure you."

A titter of amusement followed from those gathered around the table. I remained quiet, and watchful; I had not known Skjor in the way the others had. I glanced to Farkas and Aela. Farkas chuckled with the rest, but Aela stared at the table, still expressionless.

"He was pleased to find a home and family amongst the Companions, and we have had the honour of calling him brother for many years. Though," Kodlak surmised, reaching forward and taking up a tankard, "not quite long enough for my liking," he added softly.

There was a scuffle of movement around me; I checked hastily to see that the others were collecting their own mugs. I reached forward to take up one of the empty tankards on the table before me, and quickly tipped a bit of mead from an open bottle into it.

"To Skjor," Kodlak intoned; his tankard already raised. "Our brother, teacher and friend. May his soul attain all he desires and more, in the afterlife."

"To Skjor," the toast was returned by all, then we drank.

Kodlak sat. The Companions fell back into discussions with one another, their tones more subdued than any previous night I had spent in their company. But the air felt lighter; the Harbinger's words had cast off some of the hovering oppression.

I couldn't take my eyes off Aela. Still she merely stared, motionless, at a point on the table before her this entire time. Her eyes were blank; her face was blank. Did she even realise where she was?

Kodlak leaned toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and Aela startled out of her reverie. She turned slowly to face him as she watched him speak. She nodded slowly, once, and rose, then sauntered from the feasting table, making for the stairs to the living quarters.

A force within me – perhaps guilt, perhaps courage, or perhaps some mixture of the two – made me stand and go after her. I could feel Kodlak's eyes on me as I passed him, but as he didn't caution or stop me, I continued on, uncertain of what I would say when I caught up to her, but feeling as though I simply must.

"Aela?" I closed the living area doors behind me with a dull 'click'. The warrior woman was several steps ahead of me, making for the side hallway to her room.

She froze at the sound of my voice, and I froze at her reaction as my heart skipped a beat. She was going to kill you, or turn you, my inner voice panicked. What are you doing?

I made myself remain as I was, breathing deeply in an effort to calm my racing heart and suppress the intrinsic terror.

At length, she glanced at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed, but I could see no trace of the livid judgement I had seen upon other such glares. "What is it?" she asked dully.

I took a step toward her, clasping my hands in front of me so I wouldn't fidget, and frowned. "I'm sorry about what happened," I told her simply.

"You're sorry?"

"I am," I repeated swiftly, nodding for emphasis, maintaining Aela's shimmery green gaze stoically. "Even though I know you won't believe me. And that's fine. If I were you, I wouldn't believe me either. I just...wanted to say it."

After another pause, she turned fully to face me. "Why are you here?" she asked with some exasperation.

I wasn't certain if she meant why now, or why at all. "Because you are my shield-sister," I told her squarely.

Her mouth curled into an ironic semblance of a smile. "After everything Skjor and I put you through?" she said with a hint of disdain.

I nodded, wondering at her reply. Had Kodlak spoken to her about what had happened between us, as he had promised he would, despite her being already weighed down by the loss of her shield-brother and partner?

She shook her head, and took her own step closer. "Then you are a fool," she barked sternly, her eyes finally flashing wildly. "An utter fool, as the Dragonborn!" she reprimanded, throwing her hands up in annoyance. "You're going to lead Skyrim to its grave, expecting others to have your back as you sing your pathetic plea to the dragons in the hope that they'll play nicely," she snapped. "And when you fail to tame those beasts, more will die as payment for your naïve negligence."

There was no answer I could give to change her; she would believe of me what she would and was not in a mindset to be reasoned with. I bore her rant, maintaining my controlled exterior as I let her words wash over me, knowing, hoping within my heart that what she said would be untrue. While music calmed the Circle's inner wolves, I didn't believe the same could be said for a dragon. That was why I had come to the Companions and joined them, after all - to learn the strength I would need to be able to fight them.

And once I left, I was bound for the Greybeards. I expected nobody to follow me to High Hrothgar, and as for what happened after that? Well. I would see where I stood, after I learned what I needed to know.

"Don't look at me like that," Aela snarled, her eyes darkening further. "I do not want your pity."

"This isn't pity," I found my voice and sighed. "And I've said what I came to say."

"Then it's time you were going," she nodded pointedly to the door that led back up. "Your enraptured pups await," she grumbled.

She turned away but I hesitated, furrowing my brows at her response. "Do you never allow yourself a moment to be calm, or at peace?" I asked her, before I had thought it through. "Tonight of all nights-"

"Leave," she gnashed, not even bothering to turn back this time.

Defeated, I left her to her isolation. I had tried, and I had to take heart in knowing that I had managed to have a conversation with Aela. While she had insulted and raved at me, she had neither threatened nor tried to cast me out of Jorrvaskr. It was a start to what I hoped would be reconciliation between us.