When the two of them returned to Whiterun one morning the place was abuzz. Aela was running a sparring competition and despite the strain remaining from their journey, they obliged. The ring had been arranged inside Jorrvaskr in front of the table and the fighters watched from rows of benches set to either side who were all shirtless in their breeches or fur kilts depending on their preference. The table of the mead hall had been moved back slightly and saw the spectators watching on shouting their encouragement, drinking meat and eating sweet rolls.
Njada, Ria and Torvar were quickly eliminated, Torvar had already started drinking in celebration of Farkas and Leto's return. Athis (who had beaten Njada) and Leto (who had beaten Ria) rehashed the classic Dunmer-Imperial rivalry with their blood. The humid air smelled of alcohol and death. That red accompanying the scent mixed together on the flood and eventually point Leto decided he was too tired to continue he was knocked onto the ground by Athis, driven from the competition. Leto healed himself, his dark body riddled with purplish bruises sitting beside the eliminated three, finally allowed to break the ban which had been placed on his magic. He healed Ria but Torvar and Njada refused.
Aela then beat Athis in the flurry of their wild red hair. It was a friendly enough affair but tempered with this business of Athis joining the Circle in Leto's mind. When the elf sat next to Leto, he looked very handsome with blood in his teeth and over his sharp grey face. The elf's head remains framed by frizzed orange tresses cascading over his shoulders and collarbones, put out by the sweat and humidity. And Leto felt guilty for not spending more time with him and congratulated him on knocking him on his ass. Athis kissed him playfully, emerging discerningly batlike from the shadows, his glowing eyes and large, tattered ears like wings. Ria pretended not to watch. It became suddenly obvious that the three of them, the elf and imperials, were still apart from the Nords. Athis accepted Leto's restoration spell with a humility innocent of the rivalry between Empire and Great House and sparkled as his spilled blood evaporated, his skin already looked bruised. In the dark of Jorrvaskr, they were both just foreigners coming to corrupt Skyrim with their twisted magic.
But then the twin brothers faced and the air left the room. Firelight played on the blood and sweat atop their white muscles dancing. The meat crashed into meat and the carpets of hair on their chests rippled with each blow, shimmering in the firelight. Farkas, who was clearly tired from their journey, received several vicious punches and was kneed onto the ground by his brother. He spat blood onto his brother's feet and received a kick in response. Rowdy calls resounded from the spectators, Leto stood ready to defend his lover, but the impassioned anger which crossed Vilkas's face quickly dampened and they glared at each other. Vilkas' horrific grey eyes like twin flames reflecting the light. Leto's dragon soul swam in his stomach, and he prepared words of power, before Vilkas abruptly decided to retire putting a pin in the tension of the night. His disqualification meant Aela won by default and the rest of the evening passed quietly with stories of the tomb of Ysgramor. Farkas recovered with a few drinks but Leto wondered if what Vilkas had done stayed kicking around in his head.
As he lay with Farkas in his room later that night, he healed him as he slept.
The melancholia did not depart over the coming days. The beasts inside Vilkas and Aela remained skittish from Farkas' cleansing, Leto sensed. Aela took to the wilds like never before, hunting every night. It seemed every other day she needed a new sword, a new bow and new cloak from it being destroyed in some fight she had with a troublesome group of wild werewolves and hagravens. Vilkas meanwhile retreated into his books and scrolls of his room. He threw himself into the past, holding vigils for Kodlak and Skjor and Ysgramor. Farkas told Leto times his brother was avoiding him but when Leto pushed him on why Farkas couldn't give any reason. Leto had a theory.
When the Circle met, they quarrelled over Athis. Leto felt torn from caring and not caring about this entanglement. He could hardly believe how embroiled he'd become, how it oppressed his heart. He wanted to be free. He was the Dragonborn. He was better than this. And he spoke suddenly a dark question which remained unasked:
"If Athis were to become one of us, would he then be turned?"
The question brought all three of their eyes to him.
"Of course," Aela said. "What sort of question is that? No one joins the Circle any other way."
"But they may remain otherwise?" said Vilkas.
"Aye. If Kodlak had lived, he would have still been Harbinger regardless," Aela said.
"We've no idea what the old man would've done," Vilkas said. "The Circle did not start as beasts, is my understanding. But that changed. It became a group of monsters. Purely."
"Are you implying then, that Farkas shouldn't be a part of us?" Aela said.
"I'm not implying anything. I'm saying what has been the case for centuries. But then you came–" (he spoke of Leto) "–and shouldn't you change everything?"
"No, not really," Leto said.
"But everything has changed. It's undeniable. And it has everything to do with you. You killed the Silver Hand. The elf, whether the elf will even be one of us; this question couldn't even be asked if not for you. You've brought it about. Without you, would Farkas have changed? What say you brother?"
"I dunno…" Farkas said.
"That's all coincidence," Leto said.
"Is there such a thing?" Vilkas asked.
"One would hope so. Besides, Kodlak had already made his choice. All these events led into each other in obvious ways. My part could have been anyone's."
"Maybe, maybe not," said Vilkas. "But it wasn't anyone."
And Aela decided she'd had enough, and put an end to the proceedings not long after that, getting nowhere on the Athis question. There had been no jokes this time, only the unease of a forced family gathering.
Away from the meeting, immersing themselves in Whiterun for some time, the listened to the songs in the Bannered Mare, drinking. Farkas was twitching with anxiety. To sate him, Leto kissed him and said him he would go to see Vilkas.
Leaving into the night, he beast pulled him his dragon's soul grounded him, he spent a good ten minutes trying to convince himself to leave the cold corpses of the market stalls outside the Inn. Since when was he the one to quell domestic tensions? This was why he left his family. It broke his heart a little, and some tears froze on his cheeks.
Leto barged into Vilkas' room, found the man bent over his desk, pouring over maps and diagrams of Skyrim. The images of dragons and the notes Leto had provided on his own methods for killing the creatures, months ago, were all over the room. Vilkas explained about a dragon he'd been hearing reports of in the southwest of Whiterun Hold. The devils had become sparse ever since Leto had killed Alduin, but still on occasion they terrorised the countryside, slaying battalions of Stormcloaks and Imperials and anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire. Leto then suggested that he and the twins all go to kill it.
Leto disliked acting the glue. He was boarding a sinking ship as they were preparing their horses for the journey in the Whiterun stables the following day. Farkas drinking away his hangover with water and head rubs. Still, killing dragons (if they warranted it) remained his duty and his bright idea with the brothers would help with that however painful it may be. If killing a monster didn't settle brotherly discontent nothing less than murder would end this. Aela saw them off, making them each promise they would survive. She didn't say anything to Leto in particular but he felt their farewell carried a knowing tone. Reunite the brothers, she seemed to say but he made no promise to this imagined exchange.
The dragon lay dead and its killers were covered in blood. It's soul filled him in a warm blast of smoke and then bones as a large as a house would forever marked the white and orange slopes of Whiterun Hold. The murder of a dragon had become machinery with all their practice and Vilkas and Leto's strategy. Even eating them lacked the thrill it once had. It was the melancholia, certainly. That didn't just go away. When Vilkas suggested they rest in a nearby cave which he identified at Brittleshin Pass, they went did so under the watchful gaze of Masser and Secunda.
Leto lit fire by speaking to a pile of wood in an abandoned camp beyond the entrance of the earthy cave. Pillars constructed by the Ancient Nords in that semi natural room were been reclaimed by scrub. Moonlight shone in from cracks in the ceiling. Both brothers drank their potions with no complaints, assessing any prangs from the fight. Vilkas, who had already stripped and was cleaning his armour, eyed the Dragonborn. Their equipment off to the side by a ruined column as they sat on the edge of old raised platform in the catacomb's design. Restored in some part to himself, fresh scars were forming over Vilkas' lean body.
"I would like to know the Voice myself," he said.
"I couldn't teach you," Leto said.
"You stumbled into it, I know."
Leto had encountered this Nord resentment before. He didn't really know anything smart to say, so he said otherwise:
"That checks out. I've always led my life that way."
Vilkas grimaced. He never much appreciated other people's jokes, unless they were his brothers.
Speaking of whom, Farkas pretended to be completely obvious to the tension as he prepared their rations. He was probably thinking about how much he loved both of them, Leto imagined flippantly as if Farkas was some dog. He knew it was a cruel thing to think. Really, Farkas was the best of the Companions, he still treated Vilkas kindly after his brother was shafting him. Barely said word to him since they returned. If he had a smarter mind he should have led them. That was the real cruelty.
Once they'd started eating the moment was forgotten. Being in high spirits, they sang awfully while drinking mead. They hung off each other's shoulders warm and sweaty in the cave. Both twins had lost their shirts, in their breeches and books. They encouraged Leto to get just as exposed. Leto laughed and took off his shirt, throwing it in Vilkas' face, who was most tactful. Forgetting about all that had transpired was a brilliant thing. They hadn't killed and ate a dragon, they were brothers, soldiers, lovers. They were hunters for their tribe, for their wives. Life was simple.
But the simplicity of drinking in a frozen wasteland became quickly complex when Farkas announced he needed to piss. The problem was he didn't want to go outside and freeze his dick off. Leto was becoming audacious enough to request he do it in his mouth. And Farkas who chuckled. Vilkas pretended to hide his face, but the details of Leto and Farkas' sex life had never been lost on him. Everyone in the Companions was a freak of some nature, that's what the beast influenced.
Spurred by some passion Farkas kissed Leto and did as he asked, taking his dick out of the gap in his breeches and beginning to pee. Veins protruded the length of his shaft and spread out when he retracted his foreskin. The stream of gold partly vaporised, making clouds of piss waft through the cave around the spear. The world's most diligent chamberpot, Leto opened his mouth, kneeling to catch the pee sloshing down his body. It filled his mouth like a lukewarm tea and he gulped it readily. Both their gazes fixed on him again, there was something even more doglike about Vilkas' face. A scrawny contained spirit behind his grey eyes. Farkas was a large wolf even though physically Vilkas' wasn't much smaller at all, his barely thinner mouth than his brother's. But Vilkas carried himself, whereas Farkas spawled outward; proud and erect.
Not that Vilkas was lacking in erection, for he palmed his own crotch, the black tenting of his breeches. He pulled out his cock, white balls flopping out too, and stroked his length, baring and then hiding his pinkish glans as he did with the veil of his foreskin. The precrum squelched softly in his motion as his pisshole leaked the stinking stuff.
"Hey brother, how's this?" Vilkas said as he began to piss directing his hose to his brother's feet.
"Hey what–?"
"You like pissing on the Dragonborn so much? How'd you like it if someone pissed on you?" Vilkas directed his water up his brother's body, ruining his breeches. Farkas redirects his own piss volley towards his brother, shooting him straight in the face with saltwater, Vilkas coughs and spits laughing before blasting piss harder in his brother's face. Farkas coughs and sputters against his brother's much fresher stronger current as it wets his hair and stubble, amber droplets gathering down his chin and his hairy tits. Farkas begins to run out of pee, spurts tapering from his cock as Leto scrambles below to catch them through the water fight. He is painfully hard. Farkas rinses his hair in the piss laughing, as Vilkas begins to run out of his own stream.
Leto in a spur of madness tackled Farkas between the joviality, still under the dying pee stream of Vilkas. The two of them playfought, Farkas coping half-hearted punches from his lover. Obviously he was much stronger but he allowed Leto to gain the upper hand, tearing his damp breeches and showing his white hairy thighs, his ample butt cheeks. Leto's dick was still covered but Farkas exercises his own power to reveal at least that, pinning Leto down and drawing away the string tying his pants together. Leto's dick trembles with anticipation as he is partly dacked. Farkas captured the entire thing in his big hand amid their competition and kissed his lover's neck.
Their world was interrupted by Vilkas, who shoved his own dick in Leto's face. Emptied of mead pee and ignorant misunderstanding the power games Leto and Farkas played. His cock was similar to Farkas' but smoother veined and slightly bigger. The meat blindsided Leto who complied instinctively, his beast blood submitting to the elder wolf dick. It was strange since Vilkas was not his elder, but the wolves contained with them were their opposites compared to their bodies' ages. Sucking eagerly at the overhang of his Vilkas' foreskin, Leto syphoned what remained of his piss and salty precum.
Farkas growled, and in a flash was hanging off his brother's dick, slathering the shaft in his spit. Leto had to pause, to retreat in awe by what was beginning to transpire. He was almost ready to piss come as Farkas took his place, delicately trailing off Vilkas' foreskin. In the rocking motion of his hair, Farkas' mane of black hair flurried behind him. His grey eyes stared so desperately up to their faces, flicking between Leto and Farkas. Leto rutted into Farkas hand clenching around his cock, the slippery leakage from the pee slit running down the knuckles.
"Look at my brother here, pa. Your son is a slut for dick," Vilkas slurred, grinning at Leto. The eroticism of that moment held his entire body in check. His dragon's soul had to assert itself through his muscles.
"That's how I raised you boys," Leto said tentatively. "...Good boy, Farkas is. Sometimes, he needs dick to survive. Just like your father."
"That's right pa, you better help him out. His pretty mouth's big enough for the whole family."
And Leto didn't need to be invited twice, he raised himself brandishing his cock, right next to Vilkas' to toy with Farkas' face. Vilkas forces his cock down his brother's throat, who's eyes redden with tears, the spit flows out from his lips. His hair is in damp ringlets smelling of piss, the second dick (his so-called 'father's') prodding at the edge of his face.
Farkas coughs up more spit, gagging off his brother cock. He swore, but returned to Vilkas' crotch for more.
"That's right, choke on your brother's dick," said Leto, slapping his meat against Farkas' cheek.
"Switch to your pa's dick, if you need a break," said Vilkas, sliding his dick wet over the length of Farkas' jaw, stepping out of his breeches with his free hand.
And Farkas did switch, taking at once Leto's cock in his warm, wet more, tonging the folds of Leto's foreskin and tickling his hairy balls. Leto thrust in, cradling Farkas damp hair, who stroked him with his hand alongside sucking. Meanwhile Vilkas dragged his balls, like great marbles in their sack, over his brother's face. Farkas watched and sniffed them while he drew along the sensitive edge of Leto's. Leto had to bend and kiss him for sniffing up against his brother, for being such a good boy.
Vilkas began to feed his brother his dick more severely and Leto, jerking his own cock, ordered Vilkas onto the ground as he was fucking his brother's face. Complying, Vilkas's pale butt presented itself in his at he kneeled over Farkas' torso. A layer of ebony hair coated VIlkas' muscular ass cheeks as they flexed getting into his stance. Leto crouched by him and took each slab of meat and parted them, spreading that jungle of dark hair in his white asscrack. His sphincter was drawn and wanting. Vilkas stank of man but not as much as Farkas would. If only he got them both there on their knees and smelled both of their hairy taints.
"Tell me, son. You fuck my boy often? You like to fuck your brother?" He dragged his tongue over Vilkas' asshole, feeling the sphincter twitch with his movements.
Vilkas only cast him a glance, chuckling mockingly.
"You fuck your brother's hole, or perhaps he parks it in this little fucker right here." Leto followed the Vilkas' thrusts into his brother's mouth, the hairy covering of his ass cheeks undulating in dark waves with every pound. Leto sucked at it and stretched the valley of Vilkas' ass crack as best as he could with his fingers, the inviting ring of muscle escaping him and luring him again and again. He sniffed it and rutted against Farkas' thigh. Sticking his tongue as best he could into those warm, pink-white, rectal folds, to taste and drink Vilkas' essences, the rippling globes of his ass closing around his face, expelling whatever airy farts he had barely stores. His asshole rippling and bubbling whenever they came, the strong stench of shit entering Leto's nostrils almost directly. The few flakes of the stuff catching on his tongue like garnish to that incredible expanse of flesh he ate.
Then abruptly Vilkas halted, tensing his anus around Leto's tongue. There was a gasp as Farkas' expelled his brother's cock. Vilkas lifted slightly, from straddling his brother's torso.
"That's it, brother," said Farkas, lifting his head to peer through the gap in Vilkas' thighs, "I want you to fuck me. Both of you. Please. I need it."
"Whatever you want my– my son," Leto smiling at his dumb face as Vilkas' balls pendulumed between their visions.
"Thanks pa."
"On your front then, brother," Vilkas instructed.
Farkas got on his hands and knees, bent over. The hard soles of his feet dirted by the cave. This feminised gesture was incongruous with his masculine body, the rising of the whorls of his black back hair was a delight few took part in. Leto didn't top Farkas as much as Farkas topped him, but it did happen and wherever it did, there was a transgressive thrill to experience. And now? Now they were doing unimaginable things (from Leto's perspective). The strange mechanics of setting Farkas up, of feeling like he did have a fatherly love for them though he was only a decade older, had spilled out of ribaldry. Only there in the casual acceptance of finding space place inside Farkas, alongside Vilkas, could Leto begin to contemplate the fact that this was far beyond his intentions. Him and Farkas had their fun certainly, but Farkas had never mentioned fucking his brother. And yet their fitting together was no revelation to either man. Had he fucked his brother before? Leto imagined that their quest ridding Farkas of the beast was an end the finer parts of their liaison, certainly. But life had a way of being surprising, lingering. That Farkas and Vilkas were involved at some point (perhaps at all points) in their lives, ignited his hope.
As Vilkas drooled into his brother's ass crack, Leto used his fingers to ease the wet into his pale anus. Vilkas' asshole was again smoother than his brother's, that the bumpy coiling sphincter that rested at Farkas' centre, Leto bent to feel the muscles on his tongue, tasting each musky fold of his Farkas' asshole, which in their depths were pink. Farkas did smell more too. The thick black fur hempen-like over his ass, capturing his sweaty stench. Pulling at the edges of Farkas' hole gradually edged him further open, Vilkas impatiently, whining with his beast, swiping his dick over his brother's ass leaving a snail's trail of precum glistening through his ass and back hair. Leto kissed Farkas, telling his son he was doing a good job, that his brother would be inside soon. And when they parted Vilkas had pushed his face up to his brothers and kissed him on the lips. Blinking Leto felt for a moment he was watching someone kissing a mirror, until Vilkas' plied his tongue through the gap in his brother's mouth, piercing the imagined glass.
The hungry kiss made Farkas' clench over Leto's fingers and Leto dreamed of his own twin, dead and abandoned in the Thalmor Embassy. He hated that they never loved each other like this. Impossible wishes that he had only asked filled his heart. And he blinked away his tears, finding a skin of mead by their camp. With the fingers of one of his hands still inside Farkas he drank away pain.
Vilkas stole it away as he passed back behind his brother, tossing the skin aside and it crumpled empty. The air was thick with the smell of honey and ass. Vilkas burped and decided it was time to slot in. His brother's bare cleft before him, his cock replaced Leto's hot fingers. Farkas breathed out at the new entry in his hole. The large rod ran through his channel at a loving pace, Farkas bit his lip as he was liable to do whenever he got penetrated, the pert gestures of his body sang at the rhythm of his brother's force. The pleasurable sting of the anal notching his prostate, each wet slap rippled it through his frame. Leto acted the voyeur, enraptured, until feeling an urge to offered paternal words of encouragement.
"You two boys are such good young men. A father couldn't ask for better. You make me so proud. I love you." He jerked himself off, edging at the peak of his climax while fingering himself. Probably never would be an actual parent.
"You're too nice. Come on pa, get in my ass too. I wanted both of you," Farkas said, with a rarely slyness which invoked his brother.
Leto and Vilkas arranged themselves behind Farkas's prostration. The wall of his flesh anticipated them. Being more dexterous, Leto splayed above Vilkas who was crouching like his did when he was fucking his brother's face. Vilkas slaps both of their asses, leaving a sharp pink mark in Farkas' cheek. Leto is too dark to show more than bruises. Vilkas pushes again into Farkas' twitching asshole which is red from its pounding. The hot flesh is loosened, and Leto makes his way in from above. Space is tight, Farkas moans quietly. But it is Vilkas who is buzzing underneath, his dick sliding firm but slow underneath Leto. Their muscles strained unevenly to hold the shape of their fucking, but Vilkas is moments away from changing anyway. And Leto hold back his face, the call of the beast in him two, wanting to make Farkas' body his. Wanting to turn him back to the way he was and then to tear him apart and shoot and piss all over the gore. The moonlight was too bright in the gaps of the cave ceiling; appearing suddenly as spears of silver across the dark edges of the cave, looping beyond that entrance room.
It was his dragon's soul which steadied him, as he came inside Farkas, falling over his lover and kissing along his back, he started to piss lazily inside Farkas as his dick softened. Farkas tugged at his hand and Leto uttered dovahzul as Vilkas shook under him. His spurts of cum a warm icing to the pee sluicing out from Farkas' asshole. And then Farkas came shuddering, hitting his own face and hair.
Once unloaded Vilkas slumped over Leto and the three of them collapsed into a pile snickering. There was a lethargic wrestle, Leto licked the cum off Farkas' face and Vilkas joined in and their three faces and then tongues mixed together in a family kiss.
Eventually all was done. And they grew colder, away from the soiled earth. Drawing their cloaks over their chilly persons, they assumed the opposite side of the fire. Leto added another log to its dying embers. He was filled with so many questions his Adam's apple ached. Lying beside the brothers, he waited a good five minutes stirring his mind up until the silence broke.
"So what now?" Farkas asked.
"Now we go home," Vilkas said, his words tinged with amusement.
"What about you?" Farkas said.
Vilkas pushed himself into a sitting position. Light languished over his angular, wet body. "Now I suppose, I suppose this proves we can't be apart in this can we? I'm sorry, brother. Truly. There's been so much pain because of all this– I mean me. Because I was selfish. I can't keep pretending anything other than that you were right. The old man was right. The beast must go. It's what's right."
"What's right ?" said Leto and in that moment when their dead grey eyes where on him, he hated himself for he had interrupted them as two.
Vilkas smiled suddenly. "Right for us. We have been this way since we were pups. We have to know ourselves. It's… why I said about being in the Circle and being like us. It is a very important question. To me. I don't know about you brother–" (Farkas shrugged) "–But anyway, as you can imagine we weren't in the Circle as pups but we were beasts. It was difficult, but we had each other."
"We still do," said Farkas.
"Yes, but I need to be done with this beast. For now. I need to know who I am without this thing inside me. In the future will I change back? Who can say?"
And the moonbeams vanished with the shifting of the clouds.