Chapter Eight- I Could Have Worded That Better
During the last two weeks, Laurelin and Farkas had gone out on several small local jobs, often taking Torvar with them, in an attempt to keep busy. When they were at home, Laure introduced the big man to the routine of exercises she and Vilkas had adopted up on the heights of High Hrothgar.
Farkas took to it with ease, enjoying the closeness and camaraderie that came with the practice. When they needed more strenuous exercise, they strapped on armor and practiced with blades. He was still training her, bringing her skills to a honed sharpness. Although she was a dynamic fighter, she was the first to admit she needed to improve in many areas.
Bickering amiably back and forth one day, Farkas reminded her, "You should practice with your greatsword more this week. Last time we sparred I had your back in seconds. "
"I will, but that ugly thing just isn't my style, brother."
"Make it your style then, and don't tell me it's too big. You're bigger now, stronger too. Shouldn't be a problem. Vilkas has been going light on you, and it won't do you any favors in the end."
"I always feel off balance with it, no matter how much I train. As soon as I swing the damned thing, I'm ready to fall over!"
"Balance is important, but you know that. Maybe we just need to get you a lighter two-handed weapon. Glass is pretty light."
"Perhaps, but it all feels the same when I'm wobbling around. I'll shop around for something suitable, I guess." Thinking about glass greatswords made her think about Vilkas. Laurelin bit back the worry that was threatening to overtake her. He was still in The Reach with Ria, and the reports coming back from that region were not comforting. The Forsworn were particularly active this year, raiding settlements that had been ignored for years, swarming through the stony hills in huge numbers, abducting people for inscrutable reasons. They were only supposed to have been gone a week, and now as the second week drew to a close, panic was seeping into the Dragonborn's mind.
Her mate was a very capable fighter, smart and intuitive. But her mate was not perfect, and she hoped he hadn't been caught up in something he wasn't prepared to handle. The urge to go hunting for her lover was strong, but she still had faith he would return.
Sighing, she blew out a long breath. "So I thought I would practice with the scimitars I took out of that cave the other day, I've never fought with curved swords before, I wonder how different it is."
Farkas snorted. "It's just not natural. Who fights with curved swords? Crazy people do, that's who."
"Do I not meet some requirement of crazy?"
"No, I'm sure you'll be great with them. I think you're just that kind of insane." His steely gaze left hers and flitted over her shoulder. She turned to see what had caught his attention. A young courier was hesitantly edging up to the two Companions, satchel in hand, wearing nothing but a hat, loincloth, and boots.
"I have a letter for the Harbinger, your eyes only."
Laurelin held out her hand and tried not smile too much. The poor lad must be freezing.
"Why are you naked?" Farkas was blunt as always but not unconcerned. He just didn't usually think to reword or filter himself. Tact was not always foremost on his mind.
The courier clutched his letter bag tighter, as his gaze flew back and forth between the mer and giant of a man. "I was attacked out on the road, the vile menaces took my clothes. All I managed to escape with was this satchel."
"Well, you were fortunate to escape with your life as well," responded Laure as she turned the missive over in her hands. "You wouldn't be the first person mugged for your boots. You're not even the first naked courier I've seen. Sit down and have a bite to eat, I'll see about finding you some clothing."
"I should really be going-more messages to deliver you see."
"Sit, I won't take no for an answer. I don't bite, but he does..." Farkas snickered and passed a mug of mead the courier's way. Looking undecided, the man finally sat and sipped the proffered drink.
Laure broke the seal on her letter and read, a thoughtful expression settling quickly over her face, though Farkas could feel her relief. "He's alive; he just got caught up in some other related business, so he should be home within the next few days. That is a relief. So shall we see about finding some clothes for this poor fellow?"
Farkas mumbled a general agreement, hoisting his bulk from the bench. "Yeah, there should be some clothes downstairs. I'll go check. Glad we don't have to hunt my brother down after all. You should get to practicing, Laure."
"I'll get to it. You just find something warm for our friend here." She turned her eery, pale gaze the courier's way, and he shifted his satchel over his lap a little, trying for modesty, not knowing she couldn't care less whether he was clothed or not while he sat there. "Where are you going next in such a hurry that you don't have time to wait for proper clothes? By the way, you never answered; have you eaten?" She piled a plate full of fruit, cheese, bread and a heaping portion of Tilma's delicious venison stew, ignoring his half-hearted protests.
The man finally set to gratefully, face a mask of pleasure as he sampled the fare. Clearing his throat after a few bites, he replied, "I have one letter bound for Windhelm and another for Ivarstead. After that I will have return messages I imagine, so it'll be back to Markarth, most probably."
"I see. How long ago were you hired to deliver my letter?"
"The day before yesterday. I left immediately; he paid me extra to get it to you by today, you see." He seemed vaguely proud to have made it in spite of his misfortune on the road. "Thank you for your kindness. I don't have coin any more to purchase new clothing; my purse was in my pants."
"So you were robbed of your coin as well? Wait here; I'll be right back." She strode into Jorrvaskr and returned moments later with Farkas following. The big Nord man set a pile of folded clothing near the courier and dropped back down on the bench. Laure for her part set a small pouch of gold in front of the courier, and then another, and another. The couriers jaw dropped as he eyed the three purses.
"Each purse has a few hundred gold; that should compensate you for what was lost and hopefully a bit more. Thank you for bringing this letter to me. It came from someone I dearly needed to know was alive, and you brought it to me in spite of your trouble."
"Just doing my duty, Harbinger. You have my own thanks once more." He pulled the top pair of trousers toward him before Laure stepped away to let him dress.
"Not at all. When you are dressed, I would like very much if you could show us the the general location of where you were attacked."
"It was not far from the Broken Fang. A mile or so west of it. There were two of them, an Orsimer and a Nord. I can only imagine they must have been desperate to take my clothes. I guess the letters weren't important enough." He talked as he tried clothes on, quickly finding things that would suit until he made it to a shop.
"I must say I'm glad they didn't have interest in them." She exchanged meaningful glances with Farkas. When the smiling courier was ready to leave, she bade him farewell and then lifted her brow in silent question to her hulking shield-brother.
"Oh yeah, I agree. Let me get my gear. We should probably check and make sure the vampires haven't moved back into the Broken Fang while we're out that far." He ducked inside and came back out moments later, pack thrown over his shoulder, a sweet-roll wedged into his mouth. "Leshgo," he slurred around the pastry. Laure turned from where she was examining the heft of the twin scimitars she intended to master.
"About time, I'd say," she sniped playfully, sheathing her new blades with a flourish and a smile.
"So, Laure, you haven't talked to Vilkas about, uh, stuff yet have you?" ventured Farkas once they were out on the tundra. They trotted side by side over the rolling, damp grass
Laure knew what he meant by "stuff" but would rather have danced around the topic. "No, I haven't. I suppose I should, though. Oh, don't give me that look." She knew he was giving her the little frown, complete with forehead crinkle. That, combined with the sad look in his brilliant eyes, and Laure couldn't help but relent. She was such a sap sometimes. "You're right, I'll tell him! Just stop lecturing me like that!" She grinned and skipped ahead a pace, then turned to stare him in face, solemnly asking, "What do you think he will say?"
"I dunno. He loves you, Laurelin. But he has no respect for thieves. Says there is no honor in taking what isn't ours."
"While that may be true, we loot people we kill almost every day, Farkas. Some would say we steal their lives, which is worse. How do you-do we-rationalize that? Where is the honor in stealing anyone's most valuable possession-life?"
"Laure, how can you talk like that? We fight the people who go out just killing and hurting other people. Those are the people we kill, and sure, we loot their shit. But they were people who lived off other people and hurt everyone. You know how it is."
"Indeed, I do. The fact is we never know the whole story when we deal with bandits, necromancers, vampires, thieves. There is always more. We can only understand what we have seen and experienced. We don't know why people do things, yet we are constantly forced to act and react without full knowledge. How do we know we are right to end a person's life?"
"Usually when they attack first is a good sign," retorted Farkas irritably.
Head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, Laure laughed, "That sums it up nicely, truth be told. I won't ever fault a person for fighting to keep their life, nor the lives of their loved ones. Back to the original topic though, how angry do you think he'll be to find out about my associates?"
"Are you really a thief, Laure?"
"Aye, I am. Not only am I a rotten, thieving scoundrel, I am the Guild Master. For what it's worth."
"You're what? All I've ever seen you do is give."
"I am the Thieves Guild Master, Farkas. I run it-well, I did—with lots of help. Mostly I've turned it over to the others these days; I just can't be there. And if I want anyone to trust me as the Dragonborn, well, I can't be too closely associated with the Guild. I'm already on rotten ice for being a mer."
"So you must be a really good thief, huh? Want to try to steal something from me? Just to see if you can?"
Laure slapped his chest with her open palm. "There, you can have your heart back!"
Farkas reeled back in mock pain, clutching his chest. "Aaah, I can feel again! Why? Take it back, I don't want it anymore!"
Laure pounced on him, "See, try to do the right thing..." His arms folded tightly around her and his solid bulk cushioned them as they hit the ground with a small thump. She laid her head on his broad chest, listening to his breath and heart for a few moments.
"He'll be upset, but I don't think he'll be able to stay mad. He adores you like none other. Just be honest with him, and leave the rest for time to sort out." Her shield-brother's deep voice rumbled pleasantly in her ear. Eventually Farkas rolled them over and they lay side by side quietly thinking in the grass a moment longer before they decided to get back on the road.
A mile or so down the road, both Laure and Farkas caught the first whiff of vampire. Although it was broad daylight, the two of them circled the craggy spire of rock with caution. Broken Fang cave was a longstanding hideout for the bloodsuckers, and its relative proximity to the road made it a dangerous area for common travelers.
They were able to sniff out a handful of separate scents from the cave. Without words, they decided to come back later with reinforcements. They trotted on, slinking through the brush now, near the area the courier had been accosted by a couple of bandits. Two keen noses sniffed the air, soon locating a pair of scents.
Patiently, Farkas and Laure stalked through the folded hills and meadows, surveying the small camp from afar. Two men lounged about the squalid camp, bickering sporadically then lapsing into sullen silence. From the looks of it, these were most likely the men who had assaulted the courier, but Laure wanted to be sure.
While she and Farkas were laying flat in the grass, a small doe wandered near the camp, grabbing the attention of the two men. They scurried to shoot the deer, yet their wild shots simply scared their prey off, and the two men set to bickering once more, this time not settling down in volume.
"Idiot! You should have held your shot until it was closer!"
"At least I had my shot lined up. You were fumbling like a child with a toy bow!" The argument escalated from there; and within seconds, they were drawing blades on each other, circling and issuing threats and taunts. Blades met with a clash that echoed loudly about the small clearing.
Laure and Farkas watched from a safe distance, bemused and at the same time horrified. They had known there was a chance they would need to kill a few bandits, but hadn't counted on their quarry doing the job for them. Within a fairly short amount of time, both men fell gasping and bleeding to the ground, still feebly trying to stab each other one last time.
Laure couldn't take it any longer and rose to one knee, took aim with her bow and finished both men. There was no sport, nor glory to such an end, but she just couldn't sit and spectate any longer while they flailed at each other. She turned to see Farkas hoisting himself up, a glum expression on his face.
"Well, that's done. What say we get back to town and round up reinforcements to clear out some bloodsuckers?" She shouldered her bow, looking east toward home. She wished she and Farkas were a bit more prepared; she was eager to finish the vampires in Broken Fang cave while she was out this far. But she knew it would be wiser to come back with more blades. Two werewolves is more than enough to take out a few vampires and their thralls...
Farkas said over his shoulder, "Your right, we could. Vilkas would be pissed, though. Too bad he's not back yet. We could really tear into 'em!" They loped a wide circle around the vampire lair with the lowering sun at their backs.
Laure stood on the front steps of Jorrvaskr, eyes closed. Her mind was roaming far, her senses and thoughts cast wide, searching for a hint of her returning lover. Her patience was rewarded finally; a flash of light far away at the edges of her inner sight. Soon it was rushing toward her, still far, but hurrying now. It was almost like she could hear his voice already. I've missed you...I'm hurrying...I'm on my way...soon.
Laure turned her head and opened her eyes, meeting Farkas' bright gaze. "I got it covered here. Go. Don't break a leg, though." She was already halfway down the stairs, then skipping around the Gildergreen, which was now blooming in riotous profusion.
"Be back soon, brother!" she called back as she slipped around the scrum of people that had formed on the top of the steps leading to the Plains district. Moments later she was leaping atop Roast, bareback, nudging the mare into a swift gallop. They flew the first mile down the road, but then Laure eased off and let Roast pick her own pace, which turned out to be a quick ground-eating trot that pleased Laure as well. Soon she could smell him, near and yet still a few miles off.
Unerringly they raced toward each other, crossing hills, cutting off a loop of the road to streak toward their lovers' arms. With a jingle of the harnesses and triumphant whoops, they finally met. Vilkas turned his horse to the side, let her sidle up next to him. His strong arms opened and she leaned over, let him scoop her from the back of her horse and cradle her across his lap. She buried her nose under his chin and breathed in his smoke and pine and blood scent, eyes closed blissfully.
His fingers tightened in her short hair, lifted her face to cover it with kisses. Lips finally meeting with a sigh of relief. "Good to see you again, my love."
"Aye, very good." She didn't realize her fingers were already plucking at the buckles to his armor, but the sound of another horse approaching, and Ria's cheerful greeting pulled her attention to the surrounding world again.
"You know he's done nothing but pine and ramble on about you for the last two weeks, right? What did you do to him?" the cute brunette wanted to know.
"Do you really want to know that, shield-sister?" Laure retorted with an arched eyebrow and broad, suggestive grin. Vilkas smirked over his mate's shoulder, furthering Ria's sudden wish to retract the question.
"Ah, no. Come to think of it, I don't want to know. Gross." She turned away with a little grin of her own. She trotted her horse slowly up the hill, while Vilkas maneuvered Laure around so she sat astride his gelding in front of him. She leaned back against him, nuzzling whatever part of him she could reach, while Roast followed behind, ears pricked toward home and a trough of sweet hay.
The four remaining members of the Inner Circle of the Companions spread out, eying the cave mouth. Four hearts pounded out a rapid, steady beat. Bright early-morning sun shone through the scattered rain clouds that had drenched the plain the night before. It failed to penetrate far into the crack opening into Broken Fang cave. Swords drawn and ready, they slipped quietly forward, the light of Dawnbreaker shattering the darkness.
An hour later they emerged again, bloodied, panting and tired, yet all alive. The first three had been laughably easy to slay, having only been weak thralls to the vampires. The vampires themselves however had proven tougher. Yet tough was a relative term when speaking of four werewolves, armed and alert, on the hunt.
Laure sifted through a pile of loot taken from the cave. A long ebony sword with intricate scrolling inlaid in bright metal caught her eye. It's gleaming dark length had an attractive curve that appealed to her sense of beauty. The only thing preventing her from claiming it was the fact that it was a greatsword, more suited to Vilkas' or Farkas' fighting style.
Farkas, however, was content with his Skyforge steel, while Vilkas was still enjoying his glittering glass two-hander. Aela had no interest in a blade so large and heavy, which left it to Laurelin to claim. She hefted it in her palms, felt it's solid weight, slid one hand down length, and tested its balance. Perfect in spite of the weight.
"No excuses with this one, love. I expect to see you out training every day," remarked her mate.
"Every day I'm not off fighting dragons, you mean?" she teased while sheathing the dark sword. She was starting to amass quite a collection of swords by now."Well, we should get back to the horses if we want to get home by din-"
A huge, dark shadow passed overhead, dipping into the bright nooks and flitting by in an instant. All four jumped to their feet, bows drawn, heads tipped to the sky. A great roar shook the air, silencing the bird and insect song.
"Shit, is that thing big!" breathed Farkas, his usual unflappable calm ripped away by the sudden appearance of a dragon.
"Aye, it's big, but it has it's weak points. Eyes, wings, mouth, inner joints. We've discussed this enough; mind the tail, keep moving, don't bunch up." The enormous beast circled over again, ignoring the arrows that were being shot its way. Its fanged maw opened and fire roiled out, washing over the damp grass and incinerating it in a blink. Companions dove out of the way, cursing from the scant cover of the rocks. As soon as it flapped away, they emerged again, peppering it with barbed shafts.
This one didn't want to land, Laure decided. It hovered, circled, dove and then climbed back into the sky on broad wings. She and Aela focused on shooting as many holes into the leathery wings as they could. Their efforts paid off more quickly than anticipated when a great rip appeared in one wing, and the dragon spiraled to the ground, tumbling awkwardly. Farkas and Vilkas both rushed in before the dust had settled, swords flashing. Laure and Aela dropped their bows near their packs and drew swords, edging into the melee.
Farkas and Vilkas were shouting back and forth to each other, coordinating attacks, pulling back, rushing in. The dragon, for his part, was lashing about with his tail, snapping furiously at the twins, still breathing torrents of fire periodically.
The Companions rushed in and out of range, carving with blades, cursing the toughness of its hide, shouting encouragement back and forth. Laure answered the dragon's Shouts of fire with her own when she could and pummeled it with the fury of all three words of her Unrelenting Force.
The dragon lurched forward on its wingtips, snapping at Aela, who had been buffeted by the tail seconds before and was struggling to her feet. Blood streamed across her lacerated cheek and shoulder, smearing her green warpaint. Farkas spun between her and the dragon, sword high, and chopped down, smashing into its nose with enough force to drive its chin into the dirt. Aela regained her balance and lashed out with her own dripping blade, smiling grim thanks to her shield-brother.
Slashing, chopping, spinning, and ducking continuously, the four warriors battled the beast. Skilled as they all were, it came as no surprise to them when the it fell to the ground dead and began burning. Aela and Farkas had heard the stories, but this was the first time they had been present to see Laure absorbing the soul.
Farkas' eyes were round, breath coming in heaving pants while the light streamed around him. Aela paced a few moments, watching it all pour into Laure without a word. When the last glimmer of the soul had disappeared, they all began taking stock of injuries. Damages were not as bad as they could have been, although every one was exhausted and bloodied, slightly burned to boot. They sifted through the remains and came up with some gold and gems.
Farkas turned over a few small bones that had dropped free, tried bending a large scale that had flaked away, and gave a small grunt of approval at its toughness. "We could probably make some amazing armor out of some of this stuff; those scales are hard!" he observed a moment later. "We would need more than what's here, though."
Laure nodded. She hadn't really thought about making something out of the remains; she had always been too preoccupied to give it much consideration. She continued her task of carefully cleaning the gore from Aela's face wound, while she thought of the possibilities. "I want to use a touch of healing on you, sister; otherwise that wound may fester." Aela scowled but let the elf use her healing magics to knit the wound closed. She had to admit it was quick and didn't hurt anymore, but the weird itching of magic lingered.
Laure turned her attention to the twins, but they had sustained relatively minor injuries that they were content to drink potions for.
"Well, shall we try this again? Our horses probably took off during the dragon fight, so we should get walking." Vilkas grabbed his pack and shouldered it, looking around the battlefield once more. Soon all four of them were swiftly crossing the tundra, packs heavy with loot, recounting the excitement of the battle just won. Now if they could just get home before supper, they would be able to clean up and lift a mug or ten while telling the tale of their adventure to the whelps. Luck was with them one more time and they discovered the horses right where they had left them.
Vilkas watched Laurelin from nearby. She was laughing and drinking with the rest of them, but he could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. She glanced his way and flicked her eyes to the door. He shrugged and nodded, tipping his mug back to drain it in a long gulp.
She stood up and began saying her goodbyes, claiming exhaustion after the busy day. They ribbed her affectionately about being an old woman needing her rest, which she easily agreed was true. Farkas raised his mug in farewell, and turned back to the whelps, who wanted to hear the story again. She and Vilkas met at the front doors, pushing through and into the night.
They paused under the fragrant blooms of the Gildergreen tree, Laure feeling the warmth and vitality flowing through it now, tingling under her fingertips.
"It's recovering beautifully, love. You did a wonderful job bringing it back to life. I have many fond memories of things that happened under its branches, and it was sad to see it decline. You gave Whiterun a little happiness and pride back by restoring it. Thank you." He lifted her chin and softly kissed her nose, then drifted to her lips, pulling her lean body in to fit her to him. Long moments he stood embracing her, fists coiled into her hair, then sliding down her back, feeling her spine, then back up again to trace her jaw.
They drifted a few moments on a cloud of blossom scented kisses, until a passing guard remarked, "No lollygaggin'," and moved on with a smirk. Vilkas led her around the tree and they meandered their way toward Breezehome arm in arm. He opened the door for her and they kicked off boots and dropped packs in a pile on the floor. They heard Lydia humming quietly to herself up in her room, but she was learning that unless her Thane called her, the mer usually just wanted to quietly eat or read, sometimes both, neither of which she needed help with. The house was too small to constantly be hovering in each other's company.
Pouring drinks for the two of them, Vilkas sat next to Laure near the fire and stretched his long legs toward it, handing her a mug as he did. She smiled and accepted her drink, staring thoughtfully into the fire. She sipped and popped to her feet, wandered the house a few moments, put a few things away, and then returned to the fire. Upstairs, Lydia could be heard turning in for the night.
Finally Laurelin sank down next to Vilkas and drew a deep breath, exhaling through puffed cheeks. She sipped her mead again, gazing into the fire once more.
"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he encouraged. She grinned weakly at him and tossed back the rest of her drink, setting the cup down on the floor.
"Not really sure how to say this, and you already know what I'm going to say-at least I think you do-but here goes." She winced slightly as she continued, biting her lip. "I wish I was more drunk. Not what I meant to say. I'm a thief. Have been for years. I have to tell you; it's been too long already..." she rambled on until Vilkas hushed her.
"I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't already know. You are correct, I did already know, or rather, have suspicions. From the start, actually."
"Why let me into the Companions, then?" she asked quietly.
"The old man liked what he saw in you, that's why. Because in spite of your old hobby, nothing ever went missing in the mead hall. Because you proved yourself to be a worthy Companion. Why did you wait so long to tell me? Why tell me now?" His brow furrowed over his silver eyes, bright amidst the black paint he wore today.
"Because I didn't want this ugly secret between us any longer. Before we were involved, it wasn't necessary for you to know, and it is information that might put you in danger. Now we have this bond, and I can't hide this thing about myself from the man I love. The mammoth in the corner was getting out of hand, and you deserve to know the truth. There is more, though. It wasn't just a hobby. I am a very good thief, I worked my ass to get where I am now-"
"And that is?"
"I'm the head of the Thieves Guild." He snorted softly, clearly not believing her latest claim, until he saw her still meeting his gaze, a hint of pride lifting her chin.
"How long?"
"Several years now. The old leader was a bastard and caused too many problems. A few associates and I managed to get rid of him, later he betrayed us all. Then they chose me to take over. Gods only know why, but they did. Since then we've grown wealthy and powerful again. Are you mad at me?"
"Of course I'm mad! You didn't lie to me directly, but Laurelin, it's been months. I'm upset, aye; why wait so long?"
Laure ran her palm up the back of her neck, ruffling her short hair. "How should I have brought it up? 'By the way, lover, I'm the best damn thieving spy you've met, but don't worry. I don't steal from those who have less than I do, so your safe'? Or how about, 'We only steal from rich arseholes who deserve to be robbed.' You like that one?"
He held up his hand, "Enough. You had your reasons, and I'm sure they seemed like a good idea at the time. I can't pretend to understand why, nor that I approve. You are a capable hunter and provider. Why would you need to pick pockets?"
"I didn't do it because I 'needed' to. I did it because of the challenge, the thrill, the game. Actually, I'm a mediocre pickpocket at best. Locks and espionage are my forte. There's nothing like teasing a lock open and making copies of things that were never meant to see the light of day. Or planting information..." She trailed off, noting the dark look he leveled her way.
"We should continue this conversation tomorrow. For now I have plenty to think about. I think...I'm going for a walk." His voice was calm, his response more placid than she would have thought. His tone and words were calm, but his scent revealed his anger, tightly controlled.
"Do you wish to be alone?"
"No, but I think some time and space will help me more than company right now. Get some rest, love. I'll be back shortly." He draped a cloak over his shoulders and slipped out the door. Laure sat and stared at the door long after it closed.
Vilkas turned west and left Whiterun through the front gate. His heavy steps carried him toward the river, its mellow, rushing song calling him closer. He walked slowly, lost in thought as he considered everything she told him this evening, everything she hadn't yet voiced. He had wondered many times about her involvement with the thieves in Riften. What other secrets did she keep?
Part of him was furious that she had hidden all the facts for so long, that she didn't seem remorseful at all, not the tiniest bit ashamed of her recent profession. Why would the gods choose a thief to embody the salvation of the world?
A large shadow paced quietly next to him, but its appearance didn't surprise him. He'd expected this one. They continued down to the bridge together, neither one speaking out loud. They stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaning over the low stone wall, one lost in thought, one wanting to help.
"You wanna talk about it?" Farkas finally asked.
"Nope." Farkas shrugged and leaned against the wall, arms folded across his massive chest. Vilkas wandered in circles, gazing at the stars, fingers laced behind his head. His circles brought him to the end of the bridge, down to the bank where he and the woman he loved had stared at the stars, before he admitted his feelings to himself even. He had been aware of her somewhat shady past even then. It hadn't stopped him from caring for her. But he had thought she was only a former thief. He had never anticipated she was the leader of the verminous Guild.
But how could his Laurelin, who was one of the sunniest, most honest and caring people he had known, be a rotten thief? It didn't make sense. Why would she stoop so low?
"Do you think it really matters, Farkas?"
"What, her being a thief? Naw, we know who she is in her heart, better than most. What more do you need to know?"
"Farkas, it goes deeper than her just taking the occasional trinket. It doesn't bother you that she is the leader of the Guild of thieves we are supposed to hunt down and bring to justice? Years we've spent trying to get our blades to the throat of the Guild, and the fucking Master her self prances in and we accept her into our ranks with open arms and make her the bloody Harbinger!" Vilkas calmed himself with an effort.
"What's the problem? Nothing comes up missing; she's not stealing anything now, least not that I've seen. I don't think her heart is in thieving anymore. Plus, she told me not long ago that they deal in information more than um, goods. Says it brings in more gold and less blood is spilled over paper than gold; but then she laughed a little and rolled her eyes, so I don't know what she really meant."
"She was being sarcastic, brother. Information is almost always more valuable than gold, and it can be harder to detect its theft. Make no mistake, blood is spilled every second out of desire for revealed secrets."
"So what now? Does this really change anything?"
"It changes nothing, brother. I'm trying to work some things out in my head is all, and it doesn't help that all I can think about is hurrying back to her! Part of me feels deceived, but I know she didn't lie... she just-she never revealed the whole truth, which hurts almost as much."
"Want to hit something? It's been a while since we've had a good match. I promise not to hit you as hard as last time since you're being all mopey." The big man raised his huge fists, making a few playful jabs at his brother. Vilkas deftly pushed the blows to the side and returned one of his own. Farkas smiled and danced to the side. "That's more like it."
They sparred for a while, Vilkas letting his frustrations out, Farkas absorbing his brother's ire in his usual level-headed manner. Vilkas ducked a swing from his brother, grunting out as he did, "Why didn't she just tell me sooner? I thought she trusts me."
"Some things you don't just blurt out, brother. Even I know that. We didn't exactly come right out and tell her about the blood, did we? I'm sure if you had asked outright, she would have been more-oof, good one there!-she would have told you sooner. If she didn't trust you, she never would have said anything at all."
Vilkas dropped his curled fists, a pained expression on his face."You are correct, we hid what we are from her, but for us it's a matter of survival. Silver Hand, Vigilants of Stendarr, assassins, they would all love to take us out. We have to keep that secret."
"So what makes us different from her? She told us precisely what we needed to know at the time. The rest she kept to herself same as us. You think she doesn't have enemies and people who would love to bury her? Plus it isn't just herself she's protecting, all of her old friends rely on her keeping quiet as well." The big man lowered his fists and rested them on his hips as he stared down at his older brother.
"Vilkas, are you more upset that she's a thief or that she waited so long to tell us?"
"She didn't wait as long to tell you, did she? It's both, I want her to be honest with me, feel like she can tell me anything-"
"You've only been together a few months now. She doesn't know everything about you, and you are still getting to know her. She has what, two hundred or more years of experience. Learning everything about her isn't going to happen overnight. And let's face it, you have a temper. I wouldn't want to tell you I was a thief."
"I guess it would be easier to reconcile if the Guild was part of her past, but I don't think she will ever turn from it completely. What am I supposed to do with that, Farkas?"
"Talk with her. Don't yell. Other than that, I dunno. She loves you, I know that much, and you love her. You two need to work it out. How much does it matter what she did or who she is to other people? You two have a link; don't sever it for something so small."
"I have no intentions of severing our bond. I couldn't even if I wanted to. If only it was such a small thing as you make out," groused Vilkas, scowling at his boots
"So you gonna talk to her, or should I finish mashing you to a pulp?"
"Enough mashing, I'll go back home and talk with her. You're an arsehole you know."
"What did I do?"
"Nothing, you just defended her the whole time when I was looking for a little brotherly support." Vilkas let a faint smile soften his face.
Farkas slung a heavy arm over his twin's shoulder, "I just don't want you to scare her off. I love her too." They turned and headed back into the city, quiet again.
Laurelin stood up when she heard his quiet steps approaching. He came in a moment later, nodding over his shoulder to Farkas, who rumbled a quiet, "Good night."
He met her eyes and closed the door behind him. Smiling a bit nervously, Laure announced to her mate, "I'm ready to tell you all of the story, if you'll hear it."
Vilkas smiled warmly and opened his arms, which she gladly stepped into. "Of course. I'll pour."