A/N: Hello folks! I'm back after being gone for a bit! Life got in the way, and I had a writer's block. But I'm back now :) Without further ado, please enjoy Chapter 25.
The next day was one of the most difficult days of the entire tour. It started the morning after Valentina took the antidote. Just as Vilkas was about to exit Quintus' room to get himself and Valentina some food, he heard groaning. She awoke clutching her belly, and the rest was a blur. Vilkas watched as she retched out all the contents in her stomach. By the time she finished with the first bout, the room reeked of acid, and it only grew worse. The bard spent the rest of the day heaving, with scant pauses in between episodes. He and Farkas did everything to get her to eat or drink something when she wasn't clutching her chamber pot, but their efforts were in vain.
Vilkas' worry worsened when he realized the bard was running a fever that evening. "It's the antidote," Nurelion explained. "An extreme poison will cause an extreme purge. Monitor her tonight." He and Farkas both tended to the bard, each taking shifts. Somewhere in the middle of the night, Farkas persuaded her to drink some water, and the bard finally rested. Although it should have relieved him, Vilkas still kept an eye on her as she slept, worried she would stop breathing. A weight lifted off his chest when she woke up the next morning. Despite his exhaustion, his relief kept him going, and tending to her every need.
Things calmed down after that terrible night. Valentina's fever lowered, and the vomiting stopped. All that remained was her fatigue. Quintus assured them that this was normal and prompted them to wake her up from time to time to make sure she had some sort of sustenance. Though Valentina bellyached about being woken up, at least she could keep down what little food he and Farkas offered.
The third day went much of the same manner, with Valentina only taking small bites of food. Quintus once again eased their worries by reminding them that things should be better the next day. Except they weren't.
On the fourth day, Vilkas overheard a conversation between Farkas and Valentina as he was about to eat breakfast. Normally, Vilkas would have paid it no mind, but with his enhanced hearing and how close he was to Quintus' room, he listened.
"Val, you've gotta eat more than this," he heard his brother plead.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not hungry," she snapped.
Her attitude stunned Vilkas. The bard never responded to Farkas so harshly. He expected Farkas to rebuke or reply to her behavior. Instead, he let out a dejected sound. "I get it. Your stomach's probably not settled, but not eating something's gonna make it worse."
"I don't care, Farkas. Leave it be."
"You're not doing well," Farkas said, the mixture of irritation and worry seeping through his otherwise gentle tone. "I'm not leaving you alone right now."
"Farkas, that's an order."
"You don't get to…" A deep sigh slipped out from his brother. "Would this be easier if it was Vilkas?"
"Farkas, just… take the tray, would you?"
"You… Fine."
Vilkas spotted Farkas as he exited Quintus' room, holding a tray with a plate full of untouched rice and potatoes. His brother had Mara's patience. Tending to Valentina had been no easy task throughout the last few days. It had been physically and emotionally taxing, yet there was an extra layer for Farkas. He remained insecure about his relationship with the bard. As much as Farkas doubted her feelings towards him, he still took care of her. Though his twin wouldn't say anything, Vilkas imagined this was yet another blow to his ego.
Farkas approached the shop's counter, where Nurelion was nose-deep in a book.
"So, she still won't eat?" Nurelion asked, not bothering to look up.
"No, but I think her stomach is still upset."
"Then she should be eating."
"I've been trying to get her to eat for the last hour."
"Then she's being stubborn."
"She's not stubborn," Farkas protested. "She's just not doing too well and—"
Nurelion snapped his book closed, eying Farkas. "My boy, your girl can eat at this point. She's just refusing to, for whatever reason."
"But why would she—"
"Does it look like I know? Ask her."
Vilkas tapped his brother on the shoulder. Farkas spun around, startled by Vilkas' presence. The poor man was exhausted. Then again, Vilkas wasn't in much better shape. Despite taking shifts throughout the night, they had both spent their nights tossing and turning from worry. It was taking a toll on both of them. If Valentina didn't recover soon, their well-being would worsen. And if that happens, our guard will be down. We won't be able to protect her. Then… He didn't allow himself to finish the thought.
"Do you want me to try talking to her?" Vilkas asked.
"Yeah… that would be better. After all…" Farkas lowered his eyes, leaving the words unsaid between them. She likes you more than me.
"Don't go there."
"Well, one of you should talk sense into her. She's wasting perfectly good food, and we're not making that much gold here," Nurelion grumbled. Vilkas shot the Altmer a surly glance, which the old mer paid no mind.
Vilkas grabbed the tray and entered Quintus' room, only to find Valentina upright in bed. Though she was nowhere near as pallid as she was a few days ago, her skin hadn't regained its usual glow. No matter how much sleep she got, her eyes were still rimmed with dark circles. In spite of her fatigue, her green eyes focused on him, sharp as ever. An unexpected sense of relief took over him as a knot in his stomach unfurled. She wasn't healed yet, but the antidote was working, and she was with him.
There was so much he wanted to tell her, yet the only thing he could come up with was, "Good morning." Good morning? Aren't you supposed to be eloquent?
"Good morning," she answered.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"I'll take that as an improvement," he said, laying the tray in front of her.
She scowled at him. "I'm not hungry."
"So I've heard, but I don't believe you."
Her gaze darkened. "Really? Do you want to see what this rice looks like when it comes out of me in chunks?"
"Vomit doesn't faze me, Valentina. You know that."
"Well, I care about not vomiting a good deal, especially since I've been the one whose stomach has been crawling out of her throat. I'll pass on the rice and potatoes, Companion. Besides," she scrunched her nose. "Everything is cold now."
So, she was going to be stubborn, was she? Not to be outsmarted, Vilkas replied, "You're right. I can make some hot porridge if you'd prefer."
"I'm not hungry, Vilkas."
"You mean a nice, warm bowl of porridge wouldn't make you happy right about now?" he prodded, and a flash of doubt passed over her face. "I can make it myself. No need to—"
"Will you stop that?" she demanded.
"Stop what?" he asked.
"You and Farkas both. Just stop it. I can't handle it anymore."
"If you don't want to eat—"
"It's not about the fucking food, Vilkas! I can't handle both of you looking at me the way you have! It's getting on my damn nerves!"
His blood boiled. Like what, Valentina? With care? With affection? All the stress bubbled over. He and Farkas lost sleep over her, risked their lives for her, and this was her thank you? Everything inside of him wanted to snap, but something held him back, a small voice at the back of his mind anchoring him in the midst of his rage. You've seen her for who she is time and time again. Ask the right questions.
"How do I look at you?" he asked.
"Like I'll break at any moment."
Vilkas was stunned. Was that how she interpreted their care? When he didn't answer, she grew more belligerent. "Well, go on. Tell me I'm wrong."
"You are wrong. Right now, I see you're not well. That's fine. You're recovering from the poison—"
"It's not about me fucking vomiting all over the place! Godsdamn it! I…" She hugged her knees, resting her head on them. "I can't handle this. I can't."
Vilkas was reminded of the small girl who curled up into a ball when he and Farkas approached her. Valentina, reverting to a childlike state, believed she caused her mother's death. She had been so afraid then, just as she was now. The bard was right. This wasn't about the food or him tending to her while she was sick, not truly. It was only part of the issue, not the crux of it. When Vilkas tried to settle a hand on her shoulder, she flinched. It stung, but not as much as the fear present in her eyes.
"Days ago, you would have never tended to me the way you are now," she whispered, not really staring at him. "This is why I didn't say anything about Riften. I knew it would change things. I knew you'd view me as fucked up."
Something she said the night she got poisoned returned to him. "There are some parts of myself I find harder to share. I've never wanted anyone to view me as broken or fragile, especially not him." Regardless of how mismatched they were, Valentina cared about Sorrand at some point. She worried that showing her vulnerability would make him think less of her, so she said nothing. Things were different with him and Farkas. They witnessed her ugliest corners and her deepest fears, and now she was flailing like a trapped dog with its belly exposed. He needed to diffuse the situation, but he wasn't sure how.
He tried interjecting, yet she continued, her voice rising. "And maybe I am. That's why Sheogorath got into my head so easily, wasn't it? Because I do fucked up things to people just because I want to take care of myself. The old woman was right about me. She's always been right about me."
"Valentina, she's not right," he protested.
"How is she not right? Look at the way I hurt you! Look at the way I hurt Farkas! Is there a single relationship in my life I haven't fucked up in some capacity? Is it any wonder someone wants me dead? And they nearly… they nearly… They will… in Riften…" Valentina started trembling, and so did her voice. "I need… I need you to get out."
"No," Vilkas answered. He wouldn't leave her alone while she was panicking.
"That's an order, Companion," she growled. "I need to be alone… I need to think… I need…"
A frail hand clamped over Vilkas' shoulder. He spun around to find Nurelion, whose golden eyes shot him a warning. "Listen to her, boy. Give her some space. And you, girl. Take this." The elf handed Valentina a potion.
"I don't want to sleep," she protested. "I just need to—"
"This won't put you to sleep," Nurelion assured her. "It will ease your nerves. The Companion and I will give you space. We won't be too far away. And if we don't get to you first, fetch Quintus. Gods know the boy can use more to do."
"Fine, now go."
Vilkas left reluctantly. As he and Nurelion made their way to the hearth, he heard Valentina's soft sobs. The pain swelled in his chest as her crying grew softer and softer. Her pride wouldn't let her weep loudly. She wanted to suffer through this alone, and it tore at Vilkas. Even as he sat near the fire, her crying downstairs still echoed in his ears. It serves you right. You couldn't use your enhanced senses to save her, so you should use them to remind yourself of the damage your inattentiveness caused.
Nurelion handed Vilkas a cup of something warm. "Here. You may be watching over her, but you should mind your own needs as well. It has some purple mountain flowers, which are always good for stamina."
If Valentina was herself, he could picture her making a joke about all the ways his stamina could benefit from that potion. He wished he could chuckle, but it made him feel worse. I never imagined the day would come where I would want all her teasing and taunting.
"Where did my brother go?" Vilkas asked.
Nurelion shrugged. "Eh, I told him to keep busy for a bit. From what I understood, he wants to start investigating who poisoned your girl. Grumbled something about being useful somewhere."
Vilkas took a sip of his tea, trying to find some comfort in its warmth. Farkas was smart. They needed to gather information. As much as he hated to admit it, any chance they had of catching Valentina's culprit in Windhelm was gone. Nursing the bard back to health had taken too much time. The only thing they could hope for was that someone remembered something useful. Still, his brother hadn't been in the best state earlier, and he doubted that had changed. All Vilkas could do was hope his brother kept his guard up.
"You and your brother care for the bard a lot," Nurelion observed.
"Aye."
"Then you need to understand this is a sensitive time for her." Nurelion gave Vilkas the closest thing he had to a sympathetic smile. Well, it wasn't quite a smile. More like a grimace, but that was Nurelion's perpetual state. "The recovery isn't just physical, but mental as well. Neither you nor your brother have told me what occurred in Sheogorath's realm, but I can imagine the daedric prince used all her insecurities and trauma against her. Can you picture what it's like to have someone toy with your mind, boy?"
He understood that all too well. Painful memories resurfaced, but he closed his eyes, willing for them to retreat. If anyone understood Valentina, it was him. Even then, he couldn't fully grasp her pain. To experience death so closely and realize that it would happen again… he shook his head without meaning to.
When Vilkas didn't answer, Nurelion made it a point to add, "I also don't believe your troubles with Sheogorath are over. The girl kept muttering something in her sleep, something disconcerting."
Deep discomfort settled in Vilkas' mind. He agreed this wouldn't be the end of their dealings with the Daedra. Still, Vilkas found the courage to ask, "What did she say?"
"She mentioned something about a lute several times. It seemed… pertinent, given whose realm you were in. Have you ever read Myths of Sheogorath?"
"No," Vilkas lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He and Farkas had a lot of information to sift through in little time. All the titles blended into one, with a few notable exceptions.
"The book has several myths about the daedric prince, but there's one that strikes me as uncanny. Some say that Sheogorath introduced mortals to music. He tore a woman apart and created instruments from her body. Tendons for lutes, skull and arm bones for drums, and the rest of her bones for flutes. Gruesome tale."
Vilkas shuddered, yet the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. If Sheogorath had such a strong connection to music, then an enchanted instrument belonging to him wasn't impossible. He recalled Sheogorath's odd words before they left his realm. "But the good news is that your bard already has her prize. And she didn't even need to play to win it." Valentina and Sheogorath could have conjured any other lute while they were in the barren garden, but they didn't. The one that one was present was their lute, glowing as the bard played it.
He wasn't just convinced that the lute was some powerful instrument crafted by the Sheogorath alone. The lute could tap into desire, which wasn't all Sheogorath, but Sanguine. The instrument was the perfect merging of Sheogorath's madness and Sanguine's lust, and nothing would convince Vilkas otherwise.
"You need to be careful. I don't know what your bard has gone through before this, but it can't be good if someone wants her dead. You add a daedra into the mix, and you get pure chaos," Nurelion warned.
"That's what I'm afraid of. More chaos," Vilkas admitted. "She's already gone through enough. I can't take seeing her suffer anymore, and I know whoever is behind this won't stop until she drops dead at their feet."
He closed his eyes as he slunk back into his chair. Vilkas wished he could guarantee her safety, but whoever was inflicting this upon Valentina was always a few steps ahead of them.
"You can only do so much, boy," Nurelion said, his tone surprisingly kind.
"Logically, I understand that, yet I still feel as though I failed her," Vilkas confessed.
Nurelion let out a harsh laugh. "Because your failure doesn't only feel professional. You're both personally invested in her well-being. Again, you haven't disclosed the ins and outs of your situation, but I can tell you that the next few weeks will be challenging. She will need both of you, not just as Companions but as companions. For now, I'd like to make a suggestion."
"What is it?"
"Take an hour to yourself. I'll tend to the bard."
Vilkas hesitated. He didn't like leaving Valentina alone. Wait. She wouldn't be alone. Nurelion and Quintus would be with her. And… no. Nurelion and Quintus weren't warriors. How would they deal with a threat? Could they even defend themselves? Enough. An hour alone won't hurt her. But what if it did?
"Is that wise?" Vilkas questioned.
"Yes. Don't mistake me soft, boy. I can hold my own. Now, off with you."
When he didn't budge, Nurelion shook his head. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for her. The only way you'll help her is by helping yourself."
Vilkas couldn't argue. If Farkas was taking care of the investigation, Vilkas could afford to clear his mind for a bit. Though he could still come up with hundreds and thousands of reasons he couldn't step away from Valentina, his feet led him out of The White Phial and back into Windhelm.
...
Minutes later, Vilkas was deeply displeased with this whole idea of "relaxing." After being locked in the White Phial for days, the sounds of the city assaulted his ears, overwhelming his senses. He headed towards the marketplace, picking up every silly conversation and sound, giving him a headache. Don't forget the old mer's advice. Unwind. For her.
Willing himself to relax, he breathed in the various scents of the marketplace, from the fresh produce at the stalls, to the strong odor of iron and steel burning at the forge. A small grin wormed its way onto his face. If he didn't know any better, he would believe he was in Whiterun. A tiny part of him ached for that normalcy, for the days he could lower his guard, enjoy a pint at the tavern, and bed a woman of his choice. A pair of green eyes came to mind. Not just any woman of his choice. Her.
As he walked past various stalls, a golden glimmer caught his attention. Vilkas had no desire to buy jewelry to begin with. Why bother owning it when you can sell it? Still, his gaze couldn't help but wander to a delicate golden necklace with an emerald pendant. It would bring out the color of her eyes, he thought.
"Can I help you with anything?" the woman at the stall asked.
"I'm just browsing," Vilkas explained.
The woman gave him a grin. "Did you have someone special in mind?"
He did, didn't he? Vilkas imagined himself bringing Valentina to this stall. He pictured the way her eyes would light up at the sight of such fine pieces. Then, inevitably, she would try haggling. When that wouldn't work, she would try to grab her five-finger discount, and they would be banned from the marketplace in no time. Though really, he wouldn't let her get that far. No, he'd buy her what she wanted.
"Days ago, you would have never tended to me the way you are now."
"Uh, sir?" the shopkeeper called out.
Vilkas snapped out of his musing. Right. He was still staring at the necklace. "I ah, forgive me. I was distracted. There is someone I have in mind, but the timing isn't right."
"I understand. Well, come again soon."
Vilkas nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, and walked away from the stall, thinking of Valentina's accusation. In one way, she was right. Days ago, he would have never treated or acted so tenderly around her. She might have been speaking through her fear earlier, but Vilkas admitted to himself that she hit a nerve.
Vilkas was never one for romance; that was Farkas' specialty. A part of him had always envied his twin. Farkas had his fun with women, but he was able to connect with them. It was no surprise that his brother had more relationships than he did… not that Vilkas had any to show. That wasn't who Vilkas was.
No woman ever got close to his heart, not until Valentina. They understood each other. He wouldn't allow her to think that he was only doing this because she wasn't well. It was more. Not only that, but he'd make it clear how he wanted to support her. Perhaps Farkas wasn't willing to talk to her, but he was. Not as his employer, not as the Court Tour bard, but the woman he cared about.
Relaxing be damned. He needed to set things right with her.
His feet guided him back to Nurelion's store. I have to tell her what I feel. No wait. Maybe he should talk to her about the lute first. With everything that had happened, neither he nor Farkas had the chance to tell her everything they learned. Forget about the lute for now. There will be time when Farkas comes back. He yanked open the door of The White Phial and crashed into someone.
"Oof!"
Vilkas quickly regained his composure, ready to chide whoever ran into him. All his bite subsided when he saw a familiar head of dark curly hair on the ground. She didn't protest as he scrambled to help her back up.
"I'm so sorry I didn't see you. I was lost in my thoughts. Did that hurt?" he asked.
She let out a pathetic laugh. "No more than anything else that's happened."
Make sure she isn't lying. He laid his hands on her arms and took in the sight of her. She didn't seem any worse off than before, though he would be able to tell if she was hurt when she walked. It was also the first time he noticed she was wearing a dark coat.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"I wanted to stretch my legs for a bit and…" Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of red. "I was hoping you hadn't gone too far. I wanted to talk to you. So, ah, would you accompany me for a walk?"
Vilkas arched a brow at her. "Are you sure you're up to that?"
Valentina gave him a tiny grin. "I should be. Nurelion suggested it. It won't take us too long either. Just enough time to get some fresh air."
He gave her a once over. She didn't appear as ill as before. The fresh air would do her some good and speed along her recovery. It also gave him another chance to be alone with her and resume their conversation.
He reached out to offer her his arm, but stopped himself. Valentina hadn't indicated what the nature of their conversation was, and he didn't want to make any assumptions. Instead, he nodded, and said, "Let's go, then."
"Have fun, you two," Quintus quipped from behind the counter. "Try not to stay out too late."
Valentina looked over her shoulder and snorted. "Don't you worry about him. I'll get him back in one piece."
That earned her a chuckle from both of them, and the warmth swelled in Vilkas' chest. He missed her humor.
With that, the two of them exited Nurelion's store. He eyed Valentina as she was walking, assessing if she had been injured from the fall. Her movements weren't as graceful as before, and she was walking a bit slower. Not that he was complaining. She was out walking, and not sick in bed. Was it also possible she looked somewhat better?
Unprompted, Valentina said, "I ate something a little while ago. Nurelion made me some porridge and insisted I eat it. He convinced me… more like threatened me, but I guess I can't complain."
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.
"The nausea subsided and so did the burning. For now, Nurelion suggests sticking to bread, soups, rice, and potatoes. I'll try reincorporating richer food in the coming days."
"And your fatigue?"
"Still there, though nowhere near as bad as before. If I'm better tomorrow, I'd like to practice again."
"That isn't a bad idea."
"No. You don't want to deal with me when I'm stir crazy, either. I can't handle not doing anything… being so passive and—oh!" Someone brushed past Valentina, nearly bumping into her. Vilkas instinctively brought his hand to her lower back, ushering her away from any potential threats. Someone brushing up against her in a crowd is not a threat, Vilkas.
"Come now. There's a lovely spot near the city gates. We can sit and talk there."
Valentina nodded, so they made their way towards the main gate, away from the bustling of the city. It would be quieter, but close enough to a crowd to have witnesses around in case trouble arose.
"Are you still doing well?" Vilkas asked.
"I am," she assured him. "If I'm unwell, I'll say something. But for now, I think it's important we discuss a few things… like my outburst this morning. I owe both you and Farkas an apology, but I wanted to start with you. You both saved my life, and I haven't made anything easy on you. If I've seemed ungrateful, please forgive me. That wasn't my intention."
"Then what was?" he prodded, moving closer to her.
"I never wanted you and Farkas seeing me the way I was in Sheogorath's realm," she admitted. "I must be weak to youathetic. And all those times you said I was manipulative… I proved you right, didn't I?"
Once upon a time, he would have firmly maintained that stance, yet the truth wasn't so simple. Valentina was capable of manipulating, lying, and scheming her way to get what she wanted. However, underneath those tactics wasn't maliciousness. This was a woman who fought to survive using whatever means possible. When she was honest in her intentions, she was unstoppable.
"You're a scheming and cunning woman, but those things don't take away from who you really are. You're intelligent and you're strong-willed, and Sheogorath's realm proved that to me again. You're more than I have given you credit for." When she didn't answer, he pressed. "Valentina, I mean that. You aren't weak, and I don't see you as fragile. I care about you, and you happened to be unwell. What else was I supposed to do? Leave you to suffer?"
"You shouldn't have to go through this for me. It's not fair with everything and…"
He brought her small face in his hands and whispered, "The only thing that's unfair is how much time I wasted being angry at you. Please believe me when I tell you that I don't think of you as pathetic or weak."
"Do you truly think so highly of me now?" she asked, as if still unsure.
"Aye. I mean it."
"Then… then I need to be honest." Her shoulders slumped a little. "I am genuinely afraid to go to Riften. No matter how far I've come, Riften haunts me. It's everything I hate about myself. My experiences with Sheogorath reminded me of that."
"Are you afraid you'll return to old behaviors?"
"Yes, to an extent." She laid her hands on his, twining their fingers together. "There are things you didn't experience… some things Sheogorath put me through alone. Sometimes, a voice would whisper in my ear. It alternated between taunting me and tempting me." Tears started rolling down her cheeks. "Vilkas, he used everything he could think of to get to me. All my worst impulses. The worst part? I thought…" her voice hitched. "I thought I would cave."
"Valentina…"
"I need to say it. Please. Even if you think I'm weak and disgusting afterwards because gods know I do."
Vilkas braced himself. "How bad was it?"
Valentina trembled. "Everything he said… he… he said I could kill the old lady if I went to Riften. That I wanted to kill her. That I've always wanted to see her suffer the way I did, and worse. The things he conjured in front of my eyes… I… I did want her to hurt… but… it was too much. I couldn't handle it, but he insisted I wanted it. He found out about the tour… he said I'm no better than whoever is targeting me… I'd kill someone too."
"That isn't true," Vilkas whispered.
A shaky laugh escaped from her lips. "I want to believe it isn't, Vilkas. But I almost caved when he offered me the chance to make me the best at my craft. All I had to do was surrender." Her eyes darkened. "I could resist his words, but then he showed me. He showed me the lute and… and my fingers never moved so deftly. I played a storm in all its beauty and chaos. Nothing ever felt so sublime."
"But you didn't give in."
"No, I didn't."
He didn't realize they were sitting so close together, not until he realized her breath mingled with his. His chiding inner voice spun every reason that he shouldn't be this close to her. She was vulnerable, she needed him to be professional, the timing wasn't right, all of it. But they were all hollow thoughts.
"I'm more scared than I've ever been. Without the lute, I feel helpless, like I'm playing a losing game. Riften terrifies me. With each night that passes, I'm worried that I'm closer and closer to…"
The sentence died on her lips.
"I know," he whispered.
"I don't disgust you, do I?"
"No," he reassured her. "Our situations were different, but we have our similarities. I can't tell you that I never thought of slaughtering those necromancers. We want to hurt those who hurt us. But it's not only that. I don't want you to misunderstand me when I say this, but I've seen you at your best and your worst. I know who you are, the way you know who I am. We understand each other. You were able to resist Sheogorath. So, you don't disgust me, Valentina. You impress me." It's one of the many reasons I care about you, he wanted to say, but his voice caught in his throat.
The tears continued to stream down her face, and Vilkas gathered her into his arms. She buried herself into his chest as if she had done it hundreds of times before. Running his hands through her hair, he whispered soothing words. He let her shed all the tears she had been too prideful to shed since Morthal. All her insecurities, her fears, and her darkest parts, he accepted them all. He accepted her.
Minutes later she squeaked, "Vilkas?"
"Hmm?"
"This isn't how I wanted the conversation to happen."
He tilted her chin up, so she was facing him. "What do you mean?"
A shaky laugh escaped her lips. "There's so much I've been meaning to tell you since we returned and… I don't want you to think I lost my nerve. The old mer would have my head if he discovered I chickened out."
"Nurelion?" Vilkas questioned.
"We might have, ahem, shared some words."
"Valentina."
"It wasn't that bad. The old mer's concerned he won't live to see his research come to fruition. Of course, he lamented about the shortness of life...at the ripe age of 359." She looked straight at Vilkas, green eyes sharper and brighter than he had seen in a while. "I wanted to drag him out of my room by whatever hair he has left."
Vilkas snorted, and Valentina chuckled before he continued, "I might have used a few choice words, but that's neither here nor there."
"And he didn't kick you out?"
She shrugged. "Oh no. He called me a spoiled brat pulling a tantrum, told me I was being ungrateful towards you and Farkas after everything you had done for me, and to get my stubborn head out of my ass. Still… I can't fault him.
It turned out he was right about a few things. He reminded me that whatever time I have left, whether it's minutes, hours, days, or weeks, is valuable. If there's no telling when my assailant will finally pick me off, it's important to make that time count. I thought he was only talking about the tour at first, but he got me thinking about other things too. So, there's something else I need to tell you."
Vilkas wasn't sure why he could hear his heart drumming in his ears, or why it seemed like the winter chill turned warm. It wasn't as if he didn't know what she felt about him. All the proof he needed was in Sheogorath's last task. By Ysmir, she told him all the way back in Morthal, and he was too stubborn to believe her at the time. But he hadn't been ready then, not really. He clung onto his fear about their connection not being genuine. Those doubts vanished somewhere along the way, and he was ready to listen to her.
"When I… uh… first met you… I… ahh… why is this so complicated?" she whined.
"Need some help?" he offered, smirking.
She laughed nervously. "No, no. I want to believe that somewhere throughout my weeks at the Bards College, I learned to express myself." She pinched the bridge of her nose, still laughing. "What a shame. I can write a stupid song in an instant, yet I can't tell you how I feel about you. Gods. Is this why I can't write love songs?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing." She inhaled and exhaled. I never noticed how adorable she is when she's flustered. He was sure he had seen rabbits look less nervous at the prospect of being eaten by a wolf. It was refreshing to see her off-kilter, for a change. It also serves her right for all the times I was exasperated.
Vilkas made the sensible decision not to mention that, instead choosing to encourage her. "It doesn't have to be complicated."
"No, but I still want to say this the right way. I didn't communicate well in Morthal when I should have, and we could have all avoided so much needless heartbreak."
At that moment, he saw the woman he admired. She spoke softly, yet her words carried all the conviction he needed to hear. "I hope if you took anything away from Sheogorath's realm, it's that I care about you and Farkas. Not as friends, not professionally, but as the men that I have feelings for. This isn't a question of caring about one of you more or less. My feelings are equal, but different. So, Vilkas, I meant what I said in Morthal. I like you." She gave him a coy grin. "A little more than like, but I don't want your head getting too big."
"Gods forbid you can confess your feelings to me without adding one barb," he said, but there was no sting. No. It was exactly what he wanted to hear from her, maybe even better. He leaned his head against hers and asked, "Do you remember what I told you before my brother and I confronted Sheogorath?"
"Vaguely. Some things… some things are fuzzy."
"I told you I didn't care about the lute bringing us to this point. I care about you too."
"I know you do," she said, sighing. "It makes me so happy, but… is this fair towards you? Are you sure? Things are so uncertain right now, and we don't know what the future holds with…"
He pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shush now. I'm aware that so many things seem uncertain, but I'm certain about this."
She cupped his cheeks in her small hands. "We don't know if that's days, weeks, or minutes, or—"
"Whatever it is, I'll take it," he reassured her, his voice cracking.
"Don't you start crying because I'm going to be a mess too."
But it was too late. The tears flowed from her, and he hadn't realized he was crying until she wiped the tears away from his cheeks.
"At least we're not crying because we're angry at each other," Vilkas teased, and they both laughed.
"It's a nice change, but I promise I'll still annoy you."
"I expect nothing less."
He gazed down at her lips. The sexual tension in the air was thick between them. If he just moved another bit, he would capture her mouth in his and taste her the way he had been craving. Valentina wasn't shy either; the woman didn't waste time getting what she wanted, and it was clear that she wanted the same thing he did. He could feel the heat of her gaze on him, but also, that slight hesitance.
"I wish we could," she whispered, as though she had read his thoughts.
"But we both know there's another matter to resolve first," Vilkas said, trying to keep his composure.
"Once we solve that, we'll get back to this. Farkas needs to hear it from me too."
"Aye. For now, let's not flaunt this in front of him. I can tell him we've spoken and that he needs to do the same with you."
"That sounds like a plan."
The moment should have ended there, but Vilkas couldn't resist brushing his lips against hers. It was nothing more than a promise of a kiss, a hint of what could be. Something hummed inside of him, urging him to go further, to let loose, and take her the way he wanted to. Her lips felt so good on his, so soft and sweet, but he sensed her restraint. Not here, and not like this, a small voice told him. Pull away from her. There will be more time for this when…
"Oh," he heard someone say, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He would know that voice anywhere.
Farkas.
