The plains around the city was turning yellow, matching the buildings inside of the city. The strange scent of chilly, unturned earth seemed to fill the air. The guardsmen left the front gate of the city wide open for travelers and locals to come in and out of the city as they please. It was evening now, and people were settling down for an evening meal.

Valleri felt some relief as her eyes landed on the skyline of Whiterun, set in three layers with the pointed roof of Dragonsreach towering above the rest of the city. Smoke rose from chimneys as people drove away the nighttime chill from their homes. Summer was ending and the city would have to prepare soon for the upcoming winter.

Whiterun hadn't changed much since they left. It was still the same old city Valleri remembered.

Her eyes drifted from the street in front of her to Vilkas at her side. The Nord was wearing a slight grin. His grasp on her hand only tightened as they walked up the street to the Gildegreen tree in the plaza. The familiar sight of the Jorrvaskr loomed above them.

Vilkas exchanged a tired glance with Valleri, "Your family is very nice and all, but…"

"Nice to be home?"

"You have no idea." Vilkas gave Valleri's hand another light squeeze as he looked up at the mead hall. Sighing, Valleri turned when she heard someone coming up behind them. Immediately, she felt her shoulder droop when she recognized the newcomer.

"I didn't realize you two would be back already," Marcel droned on as he stopped behind Vilkas and Valleri. The Nord groaned when he came face to face with their friend. Any excitement he felt previously vanished within a few seconds. "Well, don't look too pleased with yourself, Vilkas."

"Don't worry about it," Vilkas mumbled. HE looked the Breton up and down, pausing when he noticed the bow and quiver strapped to his back. "Where've you been?"

Biting his lip, Marcel gestured to Jorrvaskr with annoyance. "Avoiding noisy people."

"What?"

"Well, go look for yourself. That dolt Torvar finally won a fight or bet or something equally stupid against Athis, and the whole hall went up in hysterics. It's as though we just crowned a new emperor. Fucking lunatics"

Valleri gulped nervously, "Wonderful." Her eyes darted between Marcel and Jorrvaskr's front door. "So you're just leaving until it cools over?"

"Listen, I may apparently be a Companion now, but that doesn't mean I have to take part in the festivities."

"That's on you, I guess." Valleri watched as Marcel adjusted the bow on his back and walked off toward the front gate. She lost sight of him in only a few moments. Looking back to Vilkas, she sighed. The Nord was much less enthused about going inside. She gave his arm a tug before climbing up. "Come on. Marcel's prone to complaining. It probably won't be that bad."

Vilkas tilted his head as he frowned. Valleri tugged his arm again. Finally, he relented and followed her up. They both heard the din inside the closer they ambled to the door. Valleri felt her stomach drop the moment they opened the door.

Noise poured out as Valleri and Vilkas stared at the scene in front of them. Many of the companions — Ria, Athis, Aela, and Torvar among others — were caught in various amounts of inebriation as mead, ale, and food flowed freely. Someone was playing a lute and singing off key in the back. Each note was filled with more bravado than the last, making Vilkas cringe as the noise reached a crescendo. Torvar, who was standing on the table, finally turned his head and yelled as he noticed the two newcomers.

"They're back!"

Valleri mouthed a curse as she spared one last glance to Vilkas before several drunk Companions rushed at them. They all talked and yelled at the same time, and Valleri found herself quickly overwhelmed. In moments, she was separated from Vilkas and dragged into the party.

"You're back! How was Anvil?"

"Can I get you a drink?"

"I heard your brother got married. Was it that Redguard who was here a few months ago?"

"How was Cyrodiil?"

"You guys were gone for so long; we were about to replace Vilkas."

"Did you get a drink already?"

"I thought you weren't a part of the Companions any more. Are you still gonna live here?"

Question after question bombarded Valleri. She struggled to answer as the exhaustion of her trip back home only became more exacerbated. The Imperial scanned the room for Vilkas. There was no sign of the choppy haired Nord. Valleri's chest tightened as the party goers cornered her in.

…

Hours later, Vilkas finally broke free from the chaos upstairs and made his way to his old bunk room. Valleri was already sprawled out on the bed, eye closed. Her chest rose and fell with each breath as she could finally rest.

He paused in the doorway, and Valleri turned her head to look at him. "You're finally back."

"That was awful," Vilkas murmured half to himself. He took off his shirt and climbed into the bed, while Valleri scooted closer to the wall to make room. She rested her forehead on his chest as she closed her eyes again.

"Marcel did warn us."

"That he did." Wrapping an arm over her shoulder, Vilkas let out an exhausted sigh. "I hoped our first day back wouldn't have been so…"

"Overwhelming?"

"Yep. They just asked so many questions. They joked about replacing me."

Valleri chuckled, "They told me that too." She paused for a moment before her tone turned serious, "They wanted to know if I was still allowed to live here since I'm not a Companion anymore."

The Nord thought for a moment. They had a point.

"We should move out."

"Wait up a moment," Valleri stammered as her eyes snapped open.

"We should get our own place. I mean, there's got to be a place for sale in Whiterun. I can still do my work here, then you can get a setup for your translations and archaeology stuff. Plus, we won't be living with ten other people."

Humming lightly, Valleri's eyes closed for a last time. Her lips curled into a slight smile. "You make a compelling argument, Companion."

"So yes to moving in together?"

"Yeah."