Vilkas pulled away from Valentina, only to meet his brother's cold, hard stare. His gut twisted around itself as his brain scrambled to find the right words. This is not what it seems. Give us a chance to explain. All hollow excuses, especially when his twin's iciness chilled him.

"Farkas, we—" Valentina started.

"I don't wanna hear it. It doesn't matter," Farkas said.

"It does matter," Vilkas insisted. "Especially since—"

"I said I don't wanna hear it," Farkas cut in once more, his voice sharper than a shard of ice. "I might be stupid, but I get what's going on."

Valentina stood up, and Vilkas took her hand in his, giving it a hard squeeze. Their gazes met. There is no point talking to him right now, he wanted to tell her. His brother was shutting down, unwilling to listen. Farkas needed his space. The bard squeezed his hand. She was still determined to approach his brother. He sighed and followed her.

"Farkas, I understand you're hurt, and I'm sorry," Valentina said.

"Hurt? This isn't anything to me, remember? You said so yourself in Winterhold."

Valentina frowned. "I've said and done a lot of hurtful things. If you let me explain—"

"You had your chance. Lots of 'em. I'm done. Stay on tour with her Vil. Not like you two think of anyone but yourselves, anyway."

Simultaneous shame, fury, and guilt burned inside of Vilkas. Maybe he shouldn't have been as close as he was to Valentina, but nothing happened between them, not in the way Farkas imagined. Besides, he never promised he wouldn't tell Valentina about his feelings. All he advised Farkas to do was collect his thoughts and speak to them when he was ready.

Vilkas grabbed Farkas by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Enough, brother. You have every right to be angry, but if you'd allow us the chance to explain, we could—"

"I'm. Not. Interested," Farkas hissed, fists clenched. Vilkas sensed his brother's seething rage. If he wanted to repair their relationship, he needed to back off. Letting go of his Farkas' shoulder, Vilkas didn't say another word. Instead, he let him walk away, knowing that he would catch up to him again soon… or that's what he hoped.

"Wait! Farkas! I—" Valentina started chasing after him, but Vilkas held her back.

"Let him go," Vilkas warned.

"Vilkas! Please!" Valentina begged, wriggling in his grasp.

"He is too angry right now, and you are still recovering."

"Damn my recovery! It means nothing without him, too!"

"Valentina, listen to me," Vilkas ordered, gripping both of her shoulders. She looked up at him, not quite pacified, but willing to hear him.

"My brother won't wander far," Vilkas reassured her, perhaps also reassuring himself. "Neither of you is in the right place to have a productive conversation. Let's go back to Nurelion's store. We can warm up and discuss our next step."

They linked their hands together and returned to The White Phial. Holding her hand and having her close to him felt right, yet his brother's insult still taunted him. You promised him you wouldn't jeopardize your relationship. You saw how hurt he was, and you still almost acted on your desires. Was being with Valentina selfish given their circumstances? Should he still be as close to her as he was?

He ceased his pondering once they crossed the store's threshold, the warmth greeting them like a dear friend. Truth be told, Vilkas hadn't realized how chilly it was outside, likely because of his natural resistance to frost. Still, he hoped Valentina hadn't gotten too cold. She said nothing during their walk, which concerned him. She has as much on your mind as you do, if not more.

Quintus noticed when they walked in, beaming at both of them.

"Ah. You're back. I take it you two had a good walk?" he asked.

When Valentina didn't reply, Vilkas answered, "Fine. A bit cold out, though nothing to complain about."

"I was just about to prepare supper for the five of us—"

"Four," Vilkas corrected, and Quintus knit his brows. "My brother won't be joining us tonight. In fact, don't worry about us. Tend to yourself and the elf. Valentina and I have a few matters to discuss."

Quintus' bubbly demeanor sobered, so Vilkas clarified, "There's been no further danger. We have our own issues we need to resolve. But I appreciate the gesture.

"As do I," Valentina mumbled.

"I understand. If you change your mind about joining us for supper, just tell me and I'll make extra."

With that, Vilkas and Valentina returned to the privacy of Quintus' room. They owed the lad and Nurelion a good deal. Nurelion never mentioned anything about compensation, and neither did Quintus. Before they would leave for Riften, Vilkas would make sure they somehow repaid their debt. But there would be time for that later. He had bigger concerns, like the bard who looked like she was ready to crawl back into bed.

"Sickness?" he asked.

She grimaced. "Sickness, though not the physical type. Our encounter with Farkas… I'm sorry. I never wanted to ruin your relationship with your brother."

Vilkas wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her into his chest. "You didn't ruin it. I did. I should have realized how our conversation might have looked."

Valentina tensed in his arms. "Do you regret it?"

Despite his strained relationship with his brother, he answered, "No."

He turned her around so she faced him. Though the bard put on a brave face, Vilkas saw the fear in her eyes, as if she braced herself for rejection. Opening up to him hadn't been easy. If it was anything like when he confided in her back in Winterhold, she probably felt raw, exposed. The last thing he wanted was for her to doubt her decision.

"I don't regret telling you how I feel, but I regret hurting my brother."

She pressed her hand to his chest. "I shouldn't have put either of you in this position. Believe me, I wanted to avoid this, and yet…"

"We both did. Unfortunately, the Divines had other plans. That doesn't mean this is hopeless."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked.

"I do," he answered, yet the doubts still niggled at him. Though he wanted to believe that he could still get through to his brother, he had scarcely seen Farkas so angry. His anger tells me he still cares. If he didn't, he would be indifferent.

"I would try talking to him myself, but I doubt he'd take my word for anything."

Vilkas ran a hand through her hair, twining a curl in his fingers. "Let me approach him first. I'll see if I can persuade him to put his anger aside for the sake of getting the lute back."

"That is, if he wants to stay with us."

"Aye. If."

Valentina grew quiet again. If she and Farkas parted ways, there was little guarantee they would meet again. The bard recognized that. Vilkas hoped Farkas did too. He couldn't promise that his brother wouldn't return to Whiterun. The only thing he was certain of was that Farkas would regret not saying goodbye.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"What?"

"Tell him I want to see him before he leaves. There's… there's something I need to tell him. Something I should have told him when we first met."

Vilkas suspected this had something to do with Sorrand's claims. That was the bard's business with his brother, so all he did was assent. "I can do that. In the meantime, let's see to us eating. I can cook something for—"

Valentina chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the heat rising to his cheeks.

"Wait, what was that for?" Vilkas asked.

"You're sweet, but I know where your thoughts are. I'll ask Quintus if he can prepare an extra plate, or I can cook something for myself. Go find your brother."

Vilkas quirked a brow. "You can cook?"

"Yes. Very well, in fact. My mother taught me everything she knows."

An image of her burning down The White Phial popped into his head. She must have noticed his disbelief, because she pouted. "Just because you've never seen it, it doesn't mean it isn't true."

Vilkas snorted. "I'll require proof."

"Eventually, yes. For now, your brother is a priority."

He stopped short of kissing her goodbye, his guilt rooting him in place. Sighing, he pulled away from her. When he expected to find hurt, he found that there was a sad smile on her face. She understood and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

"Good luck, and stay safe."

"I will," he promised, and went off to search for Farkas.

For as long as he could remember, everyone claimed Vilkas was different from his twin. Farkas was the sweet twin, and Vilkas was the moody one. So many people considered them opposites. Yet, for all their differences, they were more alike than anyone realized. That's how Vilkas knew where he would find his brother.

He exited the city gates, his keen senses taking in his surroundings. The guards were too bored to pay him any mind, and no one was at the stables. He continued along the path, into the woods. To most men and mer, it was a quiet night, but the silence didn't fool him. Vilkas' beast blood picked up on every trace of life, from the birds nestled in the branches to the wolves prowling, searching for prey. He was about to join them.

The familiar and pleasurable pain of his muscles stretching took over. It had been too long since he shifted. With everything that had happened since Dawnstar, there hadn't been enough time to indulge those instincts. Now the blood greeted him as a long-lost friend, bringing with it a long-needed reprieve. Though he itched to give into the beast's urge to roam, he tempered himself. His priority was Farkas.

He honed in on his brother's scent, tracking it to a nearby thicket. Sure enough, he found his twin, with a metallic odor of blood wafting around him. But Farkas' turmoil wouldn't be sated with simple prey. What he needed was a challenge, something to release his visceral rage. If Farkas didn't purge himself of his anger, it would fester like an open wound until he was infected, something Vilkas was all too familiar with. But Vilkas wouldn't let his brother expel his hurt without a fight.

He lunged at Farkas, almost catching his brother off-guard. Almost. Farkas was larger than him in his beast form, and it took tremendous effort to knock him over. He didn't have Farkas' strength, but he had the advantage of being a little smaller and lither. Vilkas went in for another lunge soon after, and, by some stroke of luck, toppled him over.

Vilkas quickly had Farkas pinned down with all his strength. Farkas snarled, trying to break free from Vilkas' grasp. It amazed him that Farkas still wriggled underneath his force. Most of his opponents would be trapped in place, surrendering like prey. Not only was his brother a formidable opponent, but he was stronger than Vilkas could ever be. He wouldn't be able to keep Farkas down for too long.

"Are you ready to talk about this?" Vilkas asked.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it," Farkas snarled. He thrashed about, almost wrenching free from Vilkas' grasp. Vilkas tightened his grip, keeping Farkas locked in place.

"She wants to talk to you," Vilkas insisted.

"No… point…" Farkas stammered out, still struggling underneath Vilkas' grasp. "She'll lie."

Vilkas' arms started aching and trembling under the strain. Unsure of how much longer he could hold on to his brother, he tried again. "That isn't true!"

"Easy… for you...to say. She… chose you."

"No!" Vilkas exclaimed, hearing the strain in his own voice.

Vilkas felt his brother's rage reaching a boiling point. It was a losing battle. Farkas' anger would bolster his strength. No matter how much Vilkas tried to keep his grip firm, it was only a matter of seconds before Farkas overpowered him. Instead of delaying the inevitable, Vilkas said, "She… chose… us!"

Something between a howl and a growl came out of Farkas as he escaped from Vilkas' grasp. Farkas gave Vilkas a stare that blurred the line between animalistic rage and hurt. He wasn't sure why he let his brother grab him by the scruff of his throat and toss him against the tree. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe he understood Farkas needed the release. The impact of his back smashing into the bark hurt, yet it didn't sting as much as his brother's pain.

"Us?" Farkas growled. "There is no 'us!' I saw her with you today."

"It's… not what it looks like," Vilkas sputtered, still trying to recover.

"How? Why does everyone think I'm so godsdamned stupid? Is it because I'm too nice, or because I'm fucking dumb?"

"Farkas…"

"What is wrong with me, Vilkas?"

Underneath all of Farkas' anger and hurt was a genuine plea. Those wretched words shattered Vilkas. There was nothing wrong with his twin, and he was far from dumb. Farkas might have never read A Brief History of the Empire or indulged in poetry, but he was smart in the way that mattered most; he saw the best in others, and Vilkas envied him for it. But his twin couldn't see that. The insecurities he barely kept contained after Sheogorath's realm rose to the surface, threatening to destroy the little composure Farkas had left. Vilkas wouldn't—couldn't—allow it to happen.

Vilkas pushed through the radiating pain in his back and gathered his strength. "There's nothing wrong with you. And somewhere deep inside of you, you know that, just as much as you know that Valentina cares."

"Then why, Vil? If Val cares… if Isalla cared… why?"

"Valentina and Isalla aren't the same. They're different, and so are their situations. You may never understand why Isalla was bored or why she wanted something more exciting. That isn't the case with Valentina. She's willing to talk to you."

"But you two…" Farkas started.

Vilkas eyed his brother and said, "What you saw earlier today is not what it looks like. Valentina and I made our feelings for each other known, but she wants to do the same with you. You are equally important to her, and whether or not you want to admit it, that pebble in Sheogorath's realm is proof."

The feral edge in Farkas' golden eyes dissipated, replaced with hesitance. Vilkas didn't expect to win his brother over so easily. In fact, he understood him all too well. How the roles have reversed, he mused. Vilkas wouldn't credit himself for being as compassionate; that was Farkas' speciality. Nonetheless, if he convinced Farkas to reconsider his stance, that was already a success.

"How am I supposed to believe her now?" his brother whispered.

"Open your heart up to her once more. You'll be able to tell whether she's sincere. If there's anyone who sees Valentina for who she is, it's you."

When Farkas eyed him doubtfully, Vilkas added, "Do not cling onto your insecurities and lose the chance to be with the woman you care about. I nearly did, and I don't want you making the same mistake."

"I still need some time to think it over," Farkas said.

"You can take your time," Vilkas said, yet he didn't complete the thought. Time was a precious commodity. Neither of them could gauge how much longer Valentina had.

As if realizing it too, Farkas winced. "Not that much time. I'll figure it out."

"Good. And… I'm sorry. I never intended to hurt you."

The deep laughter that emerged from Farkas surprised him. "After the way I hauled your ass against a tree? I bet you are."

Vilkas snorted. "Shift back so we can discuss this as men."

Once they both transformed, they walked back to Windhelm. Though it was quiet between them, it wasn't as awkward as Vilkas expected. Vilkas wasn't naïve enough to assume that sparring solved their problems. What it did was release some tension, and possibly give Farkas some much-needed time to cool off. All Vilkas hoped for was that this gave him some perspective.

Right before they reached the city gates, Farkas stopped in his tracks, Vilkas stopping beside him. The exhaustion he had seen on his brother's face earlier that day was still present. If anything, it worsened, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. While the beast blood provided release, it had its taxing moments. Top that with the physical, mental, and emotional strain of the last few days, and it was enough to burn anyone out.

"Farkas?"

"I know you're sorry, Vil, and I don't want to lose you over this," Farkas admitted.

A burden lifted off of Vilkas' chest, and even without the benefit of a healing potion or salve, he regained some of his strength. One lingering question remained in his mind, shattering that temporary peacefulness. Was Farkas going to offer him an ultimatum?

"Neither do I. I… I care about Valentina a lot, but if it hurts you…" Vilkas couldn't get the words out. On principle, he would do anything for his brother, who had been the only person to have his back throughout his entire life. If Farkas wanted him to end his relationship with Valentina, he would honor that. He wouldn't be able to be so callous about it, not when the idea of disengaging from her triggered something visceral inside of him.

"No," Farkas answered. "I'd never ask you to do that, and I don't want you to either. We never said you couldn't start something with Val. It's obvious you care about each other. I'm never going to come between that. No matter what happens, you need to stick together."

"You're thinking of leaving?"

"If I were smart, I would. For everything she's done… am I stupid for not wanting to?"

Vilkas decided to poke at his brother a bit. He'll thank me later. Vilkas shook his head gravely and said, "Enough with calling yourself stupid. You're not. You're a good Companion who wants to see his job through, which is admirable. It's an honorable act, putting your personal feelings aside and focusing on the task at hand."

Farkas tensed next to him, and Vilkas held back a grin. Farkas mumbled some half-hearted agreement and resumed walking. Vilkas struck a nerve. Let him simmer on that for a bit. His brother needed to remember that, underneath all his anger, he cared about Valentina. She deserved at least a chance to explain herself, and for Farkas to continue or end the relationship in good conscience. You had better thank me for this bard, Vilkas thought.

"For what it's worth, she wanted to talk to you before you left… well, if you left," Vilkas said.

"She won't have to because I'm not. End of story."

There were things that Vilkas left unsaid between them. Make sure it isn't too late. If you think your regrets with Isalla were bad, those with Valentina will be even worse. He could push his brother to reconsider, but Farkas needed to come to that realization on his own.

They walked back to Nurelion's store in silence, and as they got closer to the alchemy store, Farkas said, "I should have said something earlier, but I found something out about our thief. That's why I wanted to find you and Val and then… uh, yeah. I don't want to overload her, but she should know if she's up to it."

"She was calm when I left. I imagine it should be easy talking to her."

As he was about to twist the knob, someone screamed, "This is a load of godsdamn horker shit!

So much for Valentina being calm. Vilkas flung the door open, finding the bard clutching onto a letter. Quintus looked as though he wasn't sure whether he should hug Valentina or run in the opposite direction. And Nurelion, as always, stood behind his counter, perpetually scowling.

"Valentina, settle down, please," Quintus pleaded.

"Settle down? My oldest friend is rotting in a prison in Winterhold and you want me to settle down?" she shrieked, waving the letter around.

"Well, you better do something apart from screaming! You're giving me a headache," Nurelion bellyached.

"Oh, I'm going to do something alright!"

"What happened?" Vilkas asked.

The bard handed him the letter. "See for yourself."

To Valentina or the Companions accompanying her,

I've tried to send this letter out for days, but only managed to get J'zargo to give it to a courier now. I'm unsure if this warning is too late, but someone stole Sheogorath's Kiss at the college. At first, the guards and the college didn't find any evidence to incriminate anyone. Suddenly, there's been new "evidence" pointing to me. Please trust me when I tell you I would never do anything to hurt you, regardless of my friendship with Sorrand.

I am of the firm belief that someone was trying to stop me from finding out more about the jarl's prophecy. Truth be told, there wasn't much to uncover. Jarl Idgrod showed all the signs of having divine visions. More than that, a vision from the Divines never proves false. It always occurs in one way or another.

Valentina, if you are alive, all I can tell you is to not give up on your search. There must be a loophole that exists. Old books and knowledge don't always provide the answers we seek. Sometimes, the truth involves a bit of clever thinking and a new perspective. If there is anyone who can do that, it's you.

Please stay safe. Companions, if anything has happened to her, please send word.

Best always,

Onmund

Though Vilkas understood that Valentina was devastated at Onmund getting arrested, that wasn't what concerned him. Onmund not finding anything about divine prophecies concerned him more. Or rather, what he discovered wasn't promising. Without the lute and no way of changing the course of events, Valentina's death was as good as a given. It wasn't a surprise so much as another nail in the coffin. You realized as soon as we lost the lute that it stopped being a question of 'if' but 'when.'

Valentina, perceptive as ever, said, "I don't care about Jarl Idgrod's vision right now. We can tackle that later. Onmund doesn't deserve to rot in a cell. You need to tell me what's happening with the lute. If we can get it back, we can get him out."

"Uh, with the way things are right now? Probably not," Farkas said.

"Wait. Did someone steal it after all?"

"We've got a lot to catch up on."

Nurelion and Quintus gave them their privacy—well, Quintus gave them their privacy. Nurelion didn't want to hear "anymore of their yammering" and retired for the evening.

They took that opportunity to fill her in on everything that had occured since she was poisoned. Vilkas confirmed Valentina's suspicions that someone stole the lute, which she handled with grave acceptance. That changed when he told her about the evidence incriminating Sorrand and Onmund. She bared her teeth in a contemptuous grin, her eyes gleaming like the edge of a blade.

"Fine. That makes sense so far. What else do you know?" she prodded.

"We got something else to work with. Sorrand's story about someone in the kitchen? It's probably true. I spoke to Elda. During the evening, a dark elf kept talking to her. He said a bunch of things to her, trying to get a reduced rate for a room. But one thing stood out to her. Don't, uh, quote me on this exactly, but it was along the lines of, 'I have the coin, but I'll come into more soon enough. Then we can continue this conversation.' Something like that. They were trying to distract Elda. Would have given someone enough time to poison Val's tea," Farkas explained.

"Hmm. I find it interesting how Sorrand mentioned that whoever was in his room was thinking of selling the lute for a pretty Septim, and, on the same night, we have a Dunmer talking about getting more gold," Vilkas observed.

"A bit too much of a coincidence," Valentina agreed.

"I also snooped around the stables. Someone says they might have seen a Dunmer heading south on horseback."

"Straight to Riften." A harsh laugh escaped her. "It's just as I suspected. My assailant hired the Thieves Guild."

"How are you so certain?" Vilkas asked, but his stomach clenched. Valentina was onto something.

"A petty thief wouldn't have gone for the lute. You checked my room, right? You saw what was in there. They had the chance to steal gold, not to mention my jewelry and clothes, all of which seem more valuable. They were certainly on a job, and I would bet it paid well for them to be discreet. Hence, the Thieves Guild's involvement. That leads me to another point: our suspect. We narrowed it down to Sorrand, Aia, and Maven. Vilkas, you met with Sorrand. Is there any reason to suspect he's behind any of this?"

"No. Someone must have framed him and Onmund," Vilkas said.

"I'm sure of it. Sorrand can be insufferable, but he's not a murderer. He didn't even know I would be in Windhelm. If he kept such close tabs, he wouldn't have been so surprised." Valentina scrunched her nose. "He might be bitter, but he's an honest man. Let's not even get started on poor Onmund. That leaves us with Maven and Aia, both who have the wealth and the resources to pay for the guild. Soon enough, we should be able to determine if Maven is our culprit."

It sounded reasonable enough at first, but something alarmed Vilkas. As if mirroring his thoughts, Farkas' brow furrowed. "Did you wanna confront Maven?"

"Not right away," Valentina assured them, but that still didn't ease Vilkas' anxiety. "I imagine the lute is on its way to Riften if it isn't already there. The guild will want to make sure it's the correct lute by checking that it matches their client's description. I can at least stall for a bit, but it may not stop them from getting it to their client."

"How are you planning on stalling them?" Vilkas asked.

"With a better offer than their employer will give them," Valentina answered.

Farkas glanced at her. "Val, you're not Maven or Aia. How are you going to pull that off?"

"I have a plan. It involves impressing Jarl Ulfric, a hefty amount of Septims, and a well-penned letter. The first thing I need to work on is the letter."

Vilkas grabbed parchment and a quill for her.

"Make it count," he told her.

Valentina stared at the blank parchment, biting her lip. His gaze and Farkas' met. They still weren't sure of her entire history with the guild. If this was too difficult for her, one of them should take over. Seconds later, she muttered something under her breath and began writing. Her hands moved quickly on the page, so much so that Vilkas blinked and missed when she finished completing the letter. Once she gave it a quick look, she slid it to Vilkas and Farkas.

B.

I hoped I would avoid penning this letter, but it seems our paths have crossed again, though not in the way you've expected. You may be unaware, but I am this year's Court Tour bard. The lute your people stole is mine, and I want it back. And yes, I am sure this is the guild and not a bored bandit. It was too fine of a job not to belong to the best, and I haven't seen a room so untouched since the Heist of '89—which, might I remind you, you all wouldn't have been able to pull off without my theatrics.

Of course, I would be foolish if I thought I could get my lute back without proper compensation. I'm aware the guild is still facing some hard times. Whoever offered you this job must have given you enough gold to keep the guild afloat for a while. I can double that offer, potentially triple it. The tour has made me wealthier than I ever anticipated. Where else would I funnel my money if not to you, uncle? Would you not take such an offer from your almost-niece?

I will, however, make one tiny request: do not mention this to R. He's done enough for me as it is. If you can, I implore you to keep this between you, me, and M. If you agree to these terms, send word soon. I will arrive in Riften in a few days to sort out the details.

Do give my best to M. I have no doubt my arrival will thrill him to no end.

Yours truly,

Valentina

Vilkas reeled at the letter, but he had one pressing question, among others.

"Valentina, how much gold do you think they want?" Vilkas asked.

Valentina shrugged. "I would say about forty thousand Septims."

"Forty thousand?" Vilkas hissed.

"All the gold we got from Jarl Idgrod won't cover that," Farkas said.

"Which is why we'll get it from Ulfric."

"From Ulfric?" he and Farkas asked at the same time.

A catlike grin spread on Valentina's face. "Ulfric wanted to meet me because he's curious. He wants to figure out what type of woman, what type of Imperial woman, no less, would dare to call a jarl a bastard. If he was truly offended, he wouldn't allow me to step foot in Windhelm."

"Okay, but that doesn't mean he'll throw gold at you," Farkas said.

"I don't expect that from him. But I have a way of getting him to part with his Septims. I have a little wager for our Jarl about my abilities. If he feels I've done a good enough job, he'll reward me. Perhaps he'll even grant me a favor and release Sorrand, possibly Onmund, if I'm lucky. If there's anything people can say about Ulfric, it's that he's a man of his word. If not…" Valentina shrugged. "I'll have to find another way."

"And say that both of us let you go ahead with it and you fail, what then? Have you considered what comes afterwards?" Vilkas asked.

"Yes," Valentina answered, but Vilkas detected a hint of hesitance in her voice.

"This isn't just the question of embarrassing yourself in front of Ulfric. You already upset Skald and didn't earn his approval. If you upset Ulfric, you'd have two jarls that disapprove of you, one of them being the important Stormcloak jarl. Once we leave Windhelm, you still have to perform in Riften."

"Where there's a Stormcloak jarl," Valentina finished. Though she sounded determined, he heard the hint of fear in her voice. But she went on. "I still want to succeed on this tour. I've committed to it, and I'm determined. Understand that in order to do that, as well as save my life, we'll need to take risks."

"Yeah, but those risks can put your safety at stake," Farkas noted.

"My life is at stake whether or not I act against this person. We've stayed on the sidelines for too long, allowing them to make their moves and play their wicked games. I can't allow it to continue. If we're going to get anywhere with our search for answers, we can't be passive. We need to act. I need to act."

Although he and Farkas tried everything they could to protect her, the mastermind behind her suffering slipped through the cracks and hurt her. While Vilkas would never forgive himself for his negligence, he was just as unforgiving towards Valentina's assailant. If he discovered who they were, he wouldn't be merciful. They nearly killed her. Valentina hit the nail on the head. They needed to take steps towards bringing them down, and Vilkas knew the first step was getting the lute back.

"Then do what you need to with Ulfric," Vilkas said, and Valentina's eyebrows shot up. "You're right. We need to take risks, and one of them is getting that lute back. I suspect that lute belongs to Sheogorath and Sanguine, or at the very least, it has some connection to Sheogorath."

When Farkas and Valentina both flashed him inquisitive looks, he briefly recounted the tale from Myths of Sheogorath, and continued making his point. "I don't believe in coincidences, especially not with daedric princes. It's one thing if whoever is behind this is unaware of the lute's power, but if they find out..."

The words remained unsaid between them: regardless of whether Maven or Aia had the lute in their hands, it put Valentina in a dangerous position.

"So, if you believe our best chance at getting the Septims we need for the Thieves Guild is through Ulfric, then do so. But I have two conditions moving forward, and I'm sure my brother will agree."

"Go on."

"If this little wager with Ulfric does not work, we come up with an alternative, together. An honest alternative."

"And the second term?"

"You need to tend to yourself. Neither of us can control everything, but we can take precautions. Each time you lose sleep or skip a meal, you allow your assailant to get to you. If you want to prove to them that you are stronger than they are, you show them you're well."

"Vil's got the right idea. It doesn't mean that you can't or shouldn't be worried. That's normal. Still, you need to keep your health in check. It'll make our jobs easier."

Vilkas spotted the hurt on Valentina's face. To anyone listening, his twin's statement might have sounded mundane, but Vilkas knew better than that. This was Farkas' way of putting that distance between him and the bard. Valentina sensed that, giving Farkas a respectful nod as she answered, "I wouldn't want to do anything to risk your security or trouble you further, Companion."

"You agree to those terms?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Great. Hand me the letter. I'm sure I'll find a courier at the inn."

The corner of Valentina's lips twitched downwards as she handed Farkas the letter, while his twin remained impassive. Watching the pair interacting as though they were little more than employer and employee was… disconcerting. Vilkas remembered that not so long ago, the two were flirting like lovesick teenagers in Morthal. He might have been jealous then, but it was better than the frigid exchange that unfolded in front of him.

"Is there anything else we need to talk about?" Farkas inquired. No one had anything else to add. Farkas, shrugging, concluded, "Guess there isn't anything else for me to do here. We'll get this out as soon as we can. The quicker we can slow down the guild, the better."

"I agree. If you'd like to retire for the night, you may," Valentina said.

"Thanks. We'll meet up again tomorrow. Night you two. Stay safe. If there's anything, come get me at the inn."

"Likewise," Valentina said, and Farkas exited without fanfare.

Valentina then made her way back to Quintus' room, and Vilkas trailed after her.

"Valentina?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you…"

Are you well? It was such a trite question to ask. The list of things that went wrong continued to grow. Onmund's letter, the theft, the poison, Farkas' coldness, it all piled up. Topped with the lingering effects of Sheogorath's realm, it seemed impossible for her to be well. The bard was stronger than he ever gave her credit for, but how much more would she be able to bear? And if she cracked, what would that mean?

"No, I'm not, and I won't pretend otherwise," she said.

Despite that, she didn't curse, yell, or cry. She was calm. Eerily calm. He knew that her tranquility sometimes masked her rage, or that a storm was brewing right beneath the surface. Yet one look at her told him that wasn't the case.

"You're wondering why I haven't kicked up a storm, aren't you?" she asked.

"Well, now that you mention it…"

She laughed, a small, sad, and hollow sound, then laid a hand on his chest. "I don't have the energy right now, and it's not like it would do any good. If I'm going to stop whoever is behind this, I need to be at my best. And then… maybe then I can sort everything else out."

"Possibly sooner," he whispered, not expecting Valentina to hear him.

"From your mouth to the gods' ears… or not."

They both snickered, the sound surprisingly bitter. The truth was devastatingly simple: the gods wouldn't help them. They had turned a deaf ear to every other prayer so far, leaving them with little more than an ill-fated prophecy and a lute. What else could they do but laugh at their predicament?

"Divines or not, I need to keep my head on straight. It's the only way I'll get out of this mess."

"Impossible. Your head's always been a little crooked," he teased, tapping her forehead. He was rewarded with a snort.

"It's part of my charm."

Vilkas tucked a stray lock of Valentina's hair behind her ear. "It is. And it's part of how we'll figure this together."

"Together?" she asked.

"Together," he promised.

She beamed at him. Seeing her so content sent his heart soaring. This is what he wanted for her. Not the endless agony of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go terribly wrong. He wanted her to get what she wanted so long ago when she sought his help: to make her dreams a reality.

Vilkas came to a crucial decision that night. Before he slept, he made one last prayer to the Divines. If they had to listen to any of his prayers, he hoped it was this one. Let her live, and grant me the strength to do whatever it takes to ensure that happens.