Farkas is usually a man of few words. But when he feels the need to set things straight, he's not easily dismissed. Not even by his crankier twin. After weeks of holding his silence, he's going to say his piece – and there's nowhere for Vilkas to go. Merrin deserves an apology.

Farkas & Vilkas Jergenson. Platonic, familial. NSFW due to language.

Perseverance

The second his ass hit the cart bench, Vilkas told the driver to move. The palominos started pulling them down the road, and Farkas couldn't help himself; he twisted on the bench to look back at Merrin.

The smell of her was still in his nose – warm and sweet, like spiced honey. When she turned around suddenly and looked at him, his heart gave a leap in his chest. He waved, and when she waved back, it made him grin.

He didn't stop until a rock cut broke his view, and then he sighed as he sat back with a thud.

His brother was staring at him hard, when he looked over.

'If we're late to the job, it's on you, Farkas.' He was crabby, and annoyed. Nothing new, for early morning. Farkas raised a hand for peace, and nodded.

'Alright. I'm sure it'll be fine.'

'Tch.' Vilkas rolled his eyes, and scowled.

'It'd be better if we'd left on time.'

'Weather seems good, though,' he said lightly. 'We'll make fine time, if it holds.'

Vilkas glanced up with a sigh, and then shook his head.

'Yeah,' he muttered. 'I guess. I'm gonna read for a while.'

'You do that, Vil.'

They both settled back. His brother pulled a heavy-looking book of Waughin Jarth from his rucksack, and found his page right away. Farkas knew he memorized the page numbers.

They rode in silence, with the loudest sounds being the birds in the brush and the wheels on the road.

It was a pretty morning, with a pink and gold sunrise and little blue and yellow flowers waving in the breeze beside the road. For a while he just sat back and watched, and thought of nothing at all.

At some point though, he went back to thinking of her.

Merrin. With her long wet braid pressed against his cheek. The way she looked at him, when he asked if she would come back. The sound of her laugh.

He liked that she laughed easy, and often. He could listen to it forever.

That thought jolted him, and he sat up a little straighter on the board as the field in front of him came back. Shit. Shaking his head, he looked over at Vilkas, and felt himself frown.

He knew his twin wasn't just mad about the time. It was him talking to Merrin, too. Vilkas didn't approve of their friendship. Now he liked it even less.

But it was unfair. Merrin was great, and he never even gave her a chance.

As he watched the plains roll by, it occurred to him that maybe it didn't have to stay that way. He sat there, chewing on the thought.

It'd be a quieter ride, if he just let Vilkas read. He loved his brother, but for all his smarts, Ysgramor himself hadn't been so pig-headed. He'd put gold on it.

But the thought wouldn't leave him be, and it wasn't much longer before he made up his mind.

There was plenty of time for quiet later.

They'd been riding along in silence a good while longer, when he spoke.

'She isn't what you think, y'know.'

'What?' Right away his brother was annoyed again, and he scowled at Farkas over-top of his book, looking confused. 'Who?'

'Merrin,' he said calmly. He didn't bat an eye when Vilkas scoffed.

'Farkas...what are you on about?'

'You've been unfair to her, brother. I'm not the only one who thinks so.'

Vilkas' scowl deepened, and his stubbled jaw tightened as he glared at him.

'Farkas, I don't really care what the others think. Do we really have to do this? Or can we just get to Solitude?'

Farkas stared at him evenly for a second, searching the familiar face. Then he nodded.

'We can get there.'

'Good.' His twin huffed, and shook his head as he looked back at his book. Roughly turned the page.

Farkas eyed him steadily as the wagon creaked under them. He knew Vilkas felt him staring, from the way his shoulders hunched. But a second before he snapped his head back up, Farkas turned his own to look out at the fields. From the corner of his eye he could see Vilkas glaring, but he just ignored it; he knew his twin wouldn't say anything if he didn't. And he was right. Vilkas muttered a curse under his breath as Farkas watched the world go by, and jerked his book up to bury his nose in it.

The driver started whistling a few seconds later. No doubt, to break up the tension. Farkas knew most folks weren't too easy, round his brother...or him, when he was quiet. It'd gotten worse after they took the blood. He recognized the tune to 'Blind Old Dog', and almost laughed before he joined in, whistling a few bars as a sign of goodwill. The salty old driver turned to smile at him.

'It's a good song, eh?'

'Helps pass the time.'

He gave his brother a full half hour, before speaking again.

'Kodlak agrees with me, y'know.'

Vilkas gusted a sharp sigh as he plunked the book into his lap, and fixed him with a glower.

'You're not gonna let me read, are you?' he growled. Farkas leaned forward on the bench.

'Why don't you wanna talk about it?'

'Because it's ridiculous,' he shot back.

'I think it's important,' Farkas said calmly.

'Good for you.'

'You're always snarky, when you know you've done wrong.'

He lifted a brow, and Vilkas glared at him hard with his upper lip curled. What he might do next was anyone's guess, but Farkas had a hunch. And the hunch was right; after a long beat of tense silence, Vilkas hissed out an angry breath, and pinched his scrunched-up nose bridge.

'What do you want from me, Farkas? If I talk about it now, will you let it go?'

He ignored the second half of the question, and propped his elbows on his knees.

'I want you to apologize to Merrin.'

The words went over about like he expected; Vilkas let go of his nose and spluttered in outrage.

'You what?' he snarled.

'I think you should apologize.'

'For what?' Vilkas all but shouted, and the horses snorted nervously ahead. 'Not liking her? I didn't realize that was a crime!'

'How can you say that when you don't know her?' He countered quietly. But Vilkas shook his head.

'I know enough,' snapped, and his eyes flashed with anger.

'Why's it matter so much to you, anyway? You trying to bed her or something?'

Farkas' heart skipped a beat, and his mouth snapped shut. He felt a tiny flame of anger at the words, but then he snuffed it. It would do no good. Instead he leaned back, slinging one arm over the cart-rail, and fixed his brother with a disapproving stare.

'Come on. Not everything's about sex, Vil. You should know that.'

Vilkas backed down at that, but just a little.

'Then what? I don't preach at you for bullshit,' he growled, and threw the book back into his rucksack.

'Are you trying for sainthood?'

If he didn't know Vilkas was serious, he would laugh. Instead he sighed and shook his head.

'Actually, you do preach. To all of us. And you're being an asshole.'

It was always rare for him to cut over Vilkas, instead of letting his twin talk. But he did it, now. Vilkas started to say something, and Farkas talked over him.

'You've picked fights with her. Grabbed her. Tried to get her kicked out. Name me one thing that she's done really wrong. One thing. And I don't wanna hear about your wrist.'

In the fuming silence that followed, Farkas spared a quick glance at the driver. The man had his shoulders up and head down, eyes straight ahead. Pretending like he couldn't hear the squabble right behind him. When Vilkas piped back up, he sounded triumphant.

'She ran off to go play hero, and didn't say shit to anyone.'

'She saved Thorald's life,' Farkas countered. 'And only just. If she'd waited around much longer, he woulda been dead. When she got back, it was you who almost—'

But he caught himself before he said more, and the unspoken truth sat stinking between them. A glimmer of shame flashed in Vilkas' eyes, and Farkas felt a pang of regret. It was true, but it was still a low blow. Vilkas gnashed his teeth.

'She had you fight a dragon with no armor! It was stupid and reckless!'

'I made that choice myself,' he shot back, a bit offended. 'She didn't have me do anything. And I would do it again!'

'She's mouthy,' Vilkas finally shouted, and threw his hands in the air. 'Thinks she knows everything!'

Farkas stared at him, and snorted, disbelieving.

'This coming from you?'

'Oh!' His twin's eyes went wide, and his face twisted in a snarl. 'I see! Alright. I'm done. You're being a prick.'

'No.' Farkas' voiced raised a little, but it didn't waver.

'You're being a prick, Vil. Because you know I'm right.'

Vilkas flipped him a rude hand gesture and cursed, spitting over the side of the cart. Then he snatched up his book and cracked it open, eyes burning a hole through a random page, not moving.

Farkas knew he wouldn't say another word, until he wanted to; Vilkas was king of the silent treatment. So he took a slow breath in, and then an even slower one out, and crossed his arms. To his left, the driver had his shoulders nearly touching his ears, and they were red as tomatoes. Resigned to wait, he stared out at the forest far ahead, counting treetops fuzzy with distance. He spent a few minutes like that, with the silence unbroken save for nature, and wheels.

Then he casually started whistling 'Five Far Stars'. Across from him, he heard Vilkas grumble and huff.

They stopped for the night beside a crumbling ruin, just off the road and in the trees. The driver unhitched his horses, and grabbed the basics from the carriage. A stretch of the legs and a long piss later, Farkas was doing the same.

'...Can I get a hand with this?'

The words were so low even he barely caught them. When Farkas looked down from the carriage, Vilkas was standing in the dirt, sour-faced. He was holding a camp hammock in one hand, a length of rope in the other, and even in the semi-darkness, he could see red ears. It was a sight Farkas was familiar with. It wasn't the longest he'd ever waited – far from it.

He gave his brother an easy nod. 'Yeah. 'Course you can.' The carriage rocked as he jumped to the ground, and they walked in heavy silence to the copse of trees they'd be using.

Hammock stringing was easy work, and a couple minutes later they were left with nothing else to do. Then there came the awkward staring, and shuffling of feet. The driver was starting a fire to their right, and the jumping orange flame lit up Vilkas' face. It had gone from sour to uncomfortable.

'Farkas.' His twin said it quietly, so the driver wouldn't hear.

'Yeah?'

'I was being a prick, before. I'm sorry.' The words were stilted, but sincere. And when Farkas reached out a hand, Vilkas reached out and slapped the palm with his own, the way they'd done since they were pups.

'It's okay, Vil.' Farkas sighed. 'But I'm not the one you need to make right with. Not really.'

Vilkas grimaced. '...I know.'

'Why do you hate her like this?'

'I don't hate her,' Vilkas muttered, and raked a hand through his hair.

'I just don't like her. Or trust her.'

Maybe you're too much alike. But he didn't say the words out loud. It wasn't easy for his twin to give an olive branch. He wouldn't waste this one.

'Why not?'

'I don't know.' Vilkas blew a frustrated breath.

'She doesn't listen. She's...cocky.'

'You're too hard on her, Vil.'

'And you're too soft. That's the other reason. I worry about you, Farkas.'

The whelps saw Vilkas as hard and cold. And sometimes, he was. But not at his core. Love had threaded itself into his tone, soft and quiet. Farkas heard it, and smiled in the dim light.

'Like you always do. Too much, sometimes.'

Vilkas snorted. 'Always will.'

'You don't have to worry 'bout Merrin, Vilkas. She's a good one.' He took a step closer to his brother, and clapped him gently on the back, reassuring.

'You'll see it for yourself, if you give her a chance.'

'So you say.' But all the hard edges had gone from his voice, and Vilkas sighed, looking much calmer.

'I'll apologize. I make no other promises.'

Farkas felt his heart lift in his chest, and he grinned at his brother as he nodded.

'That's all I ask.'

I had fun with this one. It was an interesting change, to write a piece from the perspective of someone who knows Vilkas well. It's funny how twins are so different sometimes, no? I'd love to hear what you think! I welcome all kinds of feedback.