Chapter Twenty-five--A Fork In The Road
Although it was already late by the time Laurelin and the twins set out, they pushed on several more miles before settling down for a few hours' rest by the riverbank. Farkas took care of the small family of mudcrabs that rose up to challenge them, while Laure and Vilkas shook out their sleeping rolls and staked the horses out where they could graze.
"I can take first watch so you two can get some rest. You probably need it more," offered Farkas when he was done playing with the last of the mudcrabs.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure I wouldn't sleep anyway," Laure replied. "You rest and if I start to feel tired I'll let you know."
Farkas grunted and rolled into his bed, asleep in a few breaths, while Laure and Vilkas munched dried meat and passed a bottle of mead back and forth, content for the moment with watching the progress of the moons across the sky.
Laure let out a long, slow breath, head pillowed on his shoulder. Yesterday had been both exhilarating and disappointing, all in a short period of time. When Alduin had arrived at the Time-Wound to challenge her, she had leapt at the chance to battle him and end the conflict. She was tired of always fighting or training; she was worried about the new trials that were being revealed, and concerned for her family back home in Valenwood. Eventually the Thalmor would bring their enormous resources to bear and trace the Dragonborn to her clan. Finding her actual family would be difficult, if not impossible, unless the Dominion started putting the screws to any Bosmer they could interrogate. She held no illusions as to their chances if enough of the Tree-Sap people held grudges against the woman whose status in Skyrim meant nothing in her homeland.
"Do you want to talk about what you saw in the Elder Scroll yet?" Vilkas finally ventured into the long quiet, wrapping his arm around her and tugging her closer still.
"If I could make any sense of what I saw, but most of it, I don't even have words to describe it all. There was much, but I have no way of knowing what was true and what was . . . was only potential truth. That doesn't make sense. Everything I saw was true at some moment in time. Each choice modifies it a tiny bit. Gods, that makes no sense."
"No, it makes sense. Each moment in time is imbued with a host of possibilities, all waiting for that change, decision, action. With each change, some possibilities become less true to the situation, but are no less applicable in the instant-I see your difficulty in describing what you saw. Time is a strange thing, fluid in the future, set in stone in the past." He popped open another bottle and passed it over, his quicksilver eyes drinking in the colors of the aurora as she tipped the mead to her lips. "It sounds overwhelming to see so much with so little preparation."
"I won't be reading any more of the scroll if I can help it. Too many chances to try to peek and cheat."
"When did you become so cautious?" he snorted in amusement.
"I haven't. I just don't want to ruin everything by tampering, even a little bit. The temptation to try to wrest more knowledge from it is already burning away in my head."
"Perhaps we should find a safe place for the scroll then, lock it away again."
"You mean back in the lock box in Tower Mzark? No, I don't think so. You're right though: putting it out of reach would help. I'll think about where I could lock it up safely."
"So what did you see?" he gently prodded again.
Laure was quiet as she sipped from the bottle. Flashes of the infinite possible futures flashed through her mind, quick as lightning, vivid and powerful enough to shatter her momentary complacency. "Everything," she finally breathed out quietly. "Everything, and nothing, all at once and stretched out for eternity. I saw breathtaking splendor and happiness, darkest loneliness and bitterest grieving. Things that I long for so deeply that I dare not tell you for fear that knowing might alter those possibilities beyond fruition." She passed the bottle his way and listened to the steady beat of his heart, unwilling to say more.
A soft breeze teased cool fingers through their hair and lifted the edges of the cloaks they were wrapped up in, while Vilkas accepted that she wasn't ready to say more, understanding that she was likely just as confused and uncertain as he. "I won't push for more details, but should you ever want to talk about all you saw, I will gladly listen."
"Thank you, love. I can't say I'll ever be ready, but you will be the first to know if ever that day comes." They settled back, heads pillowed on their packs, and watched the heavens spin overhead. The breeze tugged at the grasses and tree limbs, making them sigh and creak softly, a gentle melody that soothed and calmed them both.
Vilkas felt his mind drifting, astride the hazy borders of sleep and waking. "Shall we wake Farkas now?" he asked softly. Laure stirred and mumbled, but just snuggled closer to his warmth. Vilkas smiled and reached over to rouse his twin. "Your turn to watch. Wake us at dawn if we aren't already."
"Sure, dawn," yawned Farkas as he rolled out of his bed. "Rest up." He threw his still-warm bedding over his brother and Laure, went to the river, and splashed water on his face to wake up as the couple fell into a light sleep, tendrils of dream already drifting across their minds.
* * *
The sound of laughing and shrieking drew her like a lodestone. She pushed slowly through the underbrush, head cocked slightly to one side as she drew nearer the sounds she was investigating. At the edge of the forest, she peered into the clearing, gazed hungrily at the scene before her. She had seen this before, miles deep in the bones of the earth and not so long ago, surrounded by clouds and whirling snow. Such a sweet sight, a glimpse given and snatched away again. A small horde of children swarmed over the grassy hillside below, playing an inscrutable game. Bright eyes flashed in amusement, as they taunted and called to each other. So pure and innocent at this age. The antics of the young ones woke a deep fire inside her, both a protective urge and something else.
She leaped from the bushes to join them in their game, but they turned from her in terror and fled. Hurt, angered that they would be afraid, would reject her, she pursued, fury hot and sudden in her heart. How dare they flee from her, she, mightiest of hunters! Heart pounding, salivating, she bounded after the nearest and pounced. The tiny form turned to ash under her claws and sifted to the ground without a sound. Furious, hungry for the chase, maddened beyond reason, she tore across the lawn, tearing clods of moist soil free and flinging them high in her pursuit of the next child. This one too dissolved to ash when she caught it.
Eight heartbreakingly beautiful children dotted the grass, insignificant piles that would soon meld with the soil, all traces disappeared. She swiveled her head to and fro, searching out the last remaining child, still hungry for blood, lust unsated. The last one stood its ground, gazing fearfully up at the beast looming above. Claws extended, she grasped the toddler by its neck, and finally, one who didn't drift away to dust when she touched it. She lifted the child by its waist, claws encircling the small form, and looked it in the eyes.
Clear, silvery gray eyes with a steely ring around the rim of the pupil, flecks of bright blue catching in the sunlight. Realization rang through her like a monstrous gong. His eyes. Or hers, she couldn't tell. Hair the color of sun-bleached wheat stalks just concealed the tips of pointed ears, but that mouth was all his, and there was no mistaking her nose. Shock coursed through her body, an agonizing jolt that registered beyond pain and struck her soul a mortal blow.
While she struggled for balance, the child looked up at her and asked, "Would you allow the beast to destroy the last of us, Mother?"
Laurelin threw her head back and howled in agony as she realized what she had done, what she had destroyed.
* * *
Farkas sat nearby, gazing out into the night, listening and watching for trouble, chewing his lip anxiously. He wasn't worried about any wild animals or bandits happening on them, nor was he concerned that a more serious foe like vampires or a dragon might show up. Nothing so simple as that. He glanced over to where his brother and Laurelin thrashed in their sleep.
He twitched the covers over them again and sat back, once more contemplating waking them from whatever dreams they seemed to be enduring. Once more he decided not to, even though his heart wanted to spare them whatever misery they were experiencing. He knew dreams could be terrible, but sometimes they taught you things, and often changed in nature from bad to good in a short time. He reasoned it would be better to let the dream run its course, and mute the edges softly, rather than jolt them from sleep and leave the raw edges exposed to consciousness.
The big Nord shifted slightly and cursed under his breath, wishing he could do more, while Laure cried out in her sleep, and Vilkas whimpered like a broken thing, tears squeezing past his eyes.
If only he could battle whatever it was with them. Barring that, he would settle for something to hit, hard. Repeatedly. He settled for yet again covering the couple, able to at least protect them from the elements, if little else.
* * *
Mother . . .
Laure fell to her knees and released the little girl, who stood before her and allowed a solemn little smile to unfold across her face. "I have been instructed to tell you, 'The Beast within prevents you from perceiving other possibilities. Hircine wishes to lure you to him, and the instinct of the hunt obscures other choices, thus other outcomes. There are other paths.' It is for you to decide whether you continue to hunt for Hircine, or . . ." the little girl trailed off and raised her hands in a weighing gesture, as if measuring sorrow in one hand, and hope in the other.
"Who?" Laurelin asked finally, being the only question in her addled state that she could find words for. "Who instructed you to tell me this, sweetling?"
"A few nice ladies who want to help, but can't right now," was all the nebulous answer she received.
"Because of the beast blood, aye?" Not that she needed to ask. She felt the truth of it in her bones, aching with fire, weary. The girl nodded and stared with ruthless attention into Laure's eyes.
Laure felt hot tears of shame stinging her eyes as she met the unwavering gaze of the child before her. Her hands reached across the gulf, seeming to stretch on forever before her fingertips brushed a petal-smooth cheek for the space of an entire heartbeat.
All too soon, the girl drew away, leaving Laure's fingers cold and shaking. "I need to go now, but they have one last message for you. The other nice lady said to tell you she blesses those who accept her wisdom and love. Seek her blessings, and perhaps we may meet again."
With that, the child slipped into the circle of Laurelin's arms and wrapped her arms tightly around her neck in a fierce hug. A soft kiss made Laure's cheek tingle, and the girl was gliding away, leaving Laure dumbfounded, speechless, brightening with wonder.
"Blessings from who? Whose favor should I seek?" she called at last as the child skipped lightly away. The girl turned and waved, then moved into the mist that had rolled in over the meadow. Faintly glimpsed through the fog and tree trunks, she watched the girl join hands with two gently glowing figures and disappear.
Hastily Laure scrambled to her feet and followed, still eager for another glimpse, a hint of shining hair, but she drifted through the forest, unable to locate the child, or even a path from the dark gray mist that dropped over her mind. She wandered without body through the fog, and was granted one final vision—her past, kneeling in splintered beams of light next to Vilkas, singing to a tiny sapling.
* * *
Farkas sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, the soothing rush of the river the only sound at this hour of the night. Far off in the east, the sun would soon be lifting his head over the mountains, but just yet, the sky remained black, the moons having set hours ago and the aurora faded. Laure moaned and flung a hand out in her sleep, pleading piteously with an unknown entity. Vilkas tossed and muttered, then settled back, unconsciously pulling Laure to him, where they finally subsided into stillness.
As the sky grew brighter, a cool breeze blew up the river valley, bringing the scent of pines, snowberries, and something sweet and floral, but-Farkas searched for a word that described it, and all he could come up with was fresh, which started to describe the smell but not give a full scope of the lightness and warmth it breathed over him.
Over on their bedroll, his twin and Laure gave soft sighs and seemed to breathe deeper, relax more deeply into each others arms. Farkas sat back and gauged the light in the east. It was nearly dawn; he'd have to wake them soon. He'd let them rest as long as possible before he did, though; they were both weary and in need of every moment of peace they could get. Hard to believe that just two days ago they had been atop the Throat of the World, a place few could claim to have been, battling the World-Eater, which no one else alive could claim to have done! He was just glad he had been able to be there with his best friends. Not too long ago, he'd been at the bottom of a Dwemer ruin, terrified he would remain a cripple for the balance of his life.
The cautious trill of a far off bird eager for a new day slowly swelled and filled the early morning air. Farkas rose from his spot and splashed more cold water on his face, then paced the campsite, bending to gather firewood and tinder. He had enough in short order, and set about heating water, dropped a few rock warbler eggs he'd found into the pot, and started a simple broth. He cleaned the mudcrabs he had crushed the night before and shoved them into the coals to cook, and while that was happening, he carved rough chunks of bread and cheese, the last of their supplies until they got back to Whiterun.
Daylight was brightening the sky noticeably when Vilkas stumbled like a drunk man from the bedroll and made his way behind a boulder to relieve himself. Laure shivered in bed for a moment, then with a muttered, "Shit," staggered the opposite direction to do the same. They washed up in the river and then came back, hunched, silent, with dark circles under their eyes, and crouched near the fire.
The almost haunted expressions on their faces were nearly identical, as was the thoughtful posture they both sat with. To Farkas' eye, they had both turned inward, even though they huddled together, needing to be in contact.
No one spoke a word until Laure abruptly stood, shedding her mate's arm reluctantly. "We really shouldn't tarry any longer, Farkas. How long until breakfast is ready? Can we eat on the road?" She paced in obvious agitation, fingers digging through the tangles of her hair.
"Not long." He looked at his twin, then Laure, seeing what they couldn't. "Look, I know we're in a hurry and all, but we're not doing anyone any favors by killing ourselves with hunger and lack of rest. We're only a short ride from home, and we can take care of all the important stuff once we get there. For now, we take the time to eat a proper breakfast." He looked down at the random bits and pieces pulled together and pressed his lips into a wry smile. "Or at least the hint of one."
Seeing Farkas wasn't about to budge on this, Laurelin threw up her hands and stalked to the riverbank and squatted, long fingers trailing in the bone-numbing chill water.
Vilkas avoided his brother's eyes and didn't let his attention wander from the Bosmer at the water's edge from his sight for very long. They both watched as she rose and faced the dawn, seeming to willfully set aside her mental burdens, and raised her arms, up and out, in welcome, embracing the light as she would a dance partner. A supremely graceful bow followed, and she began her morning forms and stretches. The hiss of her slow exhalations was punctuated here and there by the growing birdsong that swelled as day grew brighter.
Breath, purpose, surrender, strength in flexibility, feet firmly planted to the ground; slowly her thoughts stilled the mad whirling as she flowed through her exercises, breathing the negative out, infusing her spirit with the energy to overcome her obstacles. Breath flowed in, energized her mind and weary body, cleared away the dross and left clarity. There was always hope, one small thing in life that was free, unbound by the rational, unencumbered by circumstance. An uncertain fire that could blaze forth and light the way, if one but had the fortitude to trust in that hope. Hope. Such a strange, simple word for something that could shake the foundations of what was with such magnitude.
As her muscles warmed and her mind released its worry, she became aware that her mate was beside her, also tending his morning ritual. With a simple salute of respect they flowed together, melding into a near dance. Tiny cues and a deep understanding of each other made their intricate movements poetic to watch, as Vilkas lifted Laurelin and she balanced on his shoulders, legs spread into a perfect split, then snapping together and pushing skyward, her shoulders now on his upraised palms, her own pressed together over her heart, trust and confidence in her partner making it possible to flow and slide together with precise harmony.
Farkas kept an eye on breakfast, but he was unable to resist the spectacle of his twin, now flat on his back in the damp sand, and Laure, perched on his upraised feet, her back arched almost in two, arms bent, palms firmly planted in Vilkas'. Vilkas lowered his legs and adjusted his grip, turning his mate over to face him and lowered her, until they both quivered, the tiniest sliver of rosy light flashing between them, lips nearly brushing, toe-to-toe.
Farkas saw the devotion, the heady spark of lust, the warmth of understanding shining in their eyes, and almost felt ashamed of himself for even entertaining the idea of trying to come between them-though he knew they would never view it that way. He could see how much they both surrendered to each other, gave without thought for reward, and tried to be as honest about everything as possible. He knew Laure had hidden many things from them, but she couldn't help but come clean if asked by himself or his brother. As he smiled, watching Vilkas rotate her casually with practiced motions of his hands and feet, she pivoting above him with perfect serenity, he hoped they could continue to . . . to-aww shit, that was a good thought but now I lost it. Too absorbed with the intimate dance done in ever-increasing detail, with greater precision and grace as the light flowed around them.
He could see Laure as the epitome of elven grace, Vilkas a powerful anchor, lean muscled and steady, allowing her to fly above him, each deeply attuned to the other. Well, it ain't talkin' but it's something at least. And pretty, he thought. He pulled breakfast from the fire to cool and stretched a bit himself.
Laurelin tipped herself upright eventually and helped Vilkas rise to his feet. Together they bowed, did a few more poses together, then stood a moment, forehead to forehead.
"So, breakfast is ready if the lovebirds are hungry. I know I am," announced Farkas when they turned toward him at last.
Laure's smile lit her face, and she drew in a deep breath. "Smells great; I'm ready if you are."
They broke their fast, cleaned up the dishes, then saddled the horses. Leaping up, the three of them trotted back up to the road and set out, but it wasn't long before Laure became restless and dismounted Roast. Her mind was as active as her body and kept replaying flashes of her dreams, disturbing and heavy, but infused with a tiny wisp of something . . . promising and delightful. She needed to use pure physical exertion, push her body to its limits before she could still her mind again; sitting on her arse on a horse would never do.
"I'm going to run a bit, try to keep up boys," and with that, she tossed Vilkas the reins and sprinted away at top speed. Vilkas shrugged and kicked his mount into a gallop, Roast following, eager to catch her mistress; and Farkas also followed, though more slowly on his heavy shire mare. Vilkas and Laurelin soon outdistanced him-Laure, fleet as a deer, leaping shrubs and rock formations, and cutting vast bends off the road by angling across country, while Vilkas leaned low over his gelding's neck and urged him into a daring gallop.
"Always the competition with those two," muttered Farkas to himself with a smile. He slowed down and enjoyed the scenery, knowing he'd catch up to them eventually.
He wasn't very surprised when he caught up to them an hour later, facing each other with heaving chests, sweat pouring, swords and shields out as they stalked around each other, eyes locked together.
"Well, it was either going to be this or they'd be naked," he told his horse, who flicked an ear back and bobbed her head, seeming to agree. He dismounted her with a gentle slap to the haunch and let her graze near the other two horses, turning his attention to his brother and Harbinger. His smile widened as he heard their taunting banter.
"You're pretty damned sure of yourself, love. Why so cocky all of a sudden?" the tall Bosmer asked as she feinted toward him with her shield.
"We have fought Alduin and lived. We nearly bested him once and it can be done again! Lady Luck has smiled on me thus far; perhaps she will grant me her favor once more!" pronounced Vilkas in a ringing, amused tone as he deftly turned her strike aside.
"Oh, I very much doubt she would listen to you over me, sexiest of braggarts. I am her instrument in this world. Think you can usurp my place in her favor?" Laure taunted with a quirked smile on her lips. "However, I love a good wager. Terms?"
"No Thu'um, no magic. Blades and skill alone. Farkas judges, best three out of five touches to head or heart-"
"Groin-"
"No, I'm not sure I feel that lucky, dearest-"
"See, backing down already."
"Fine, groin, but if you damage me, you're using the great healing spell, no complaining about having to put on the stupid hood."
"Grand healing, do you mean?"
"Aye, are we of an accord to the terms?"
"Depends on the rewards. What do I get when I whoop you?"
"We can decide that later, you arrogant whelp."
Farkas oohed and stepped clear. "And that seems to be my cue to get out of the way; play nice, you two."
Laure was pinned on the ground under Vilkas, gazing up at him in a curious blend of amusement, lust, and annoyance. It wasn't usual for her to be beaten so soundly. "So is this a good time to discuss those terms, or would you like to wait until we're alone?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him, but he only stared down at her with triumph and something else in his eyes.
"Tell me what you dreamed of last night," he finally said. A simple statement, not a request. His terms of victory. He was suddenly perfectly serious again and not willing to negotiate on this.
"Pardon?" she asked in confusion, her merriment melting away like summer snow. Not sure she was ready to relive that disturbing sequence so soon, she tried to hedge, but one look at his expression made her realize he had a very good reason for asking her such a question. Stalling for time, she asked, "Why is that so valuable all of a sudden? Worth wasting a perfectly good-"
"Because I think the gods, or rather a goddess or two, are trying to get our attention, damn it!" he swore, rolling over so she straddled him, pressed as close to his chest as their armor would allow. His experienced fingers released the straps of her helm, and her pale hair cascaded around them, damp with sweat, shining in the bright light.
"Vilkas, I think you-"
His voice thick with emotion, he lifted her chin so she could not avoid his eyes and whispered, "I'll tell you what I dreamed of last night. I dreamed of beauty that I allowed my beast spirit to snuff. The shame I feel still leaves me with a sick feeling in my gut, even though it was just a dream. I saw, felt a wonder, and knew with certainty that if I heeded the warning I was being given, I could see that beauty brought to life—for real, Laurelin. Listen, I know you dreamed something similar, I can see it your eyes. Mara and Kynareth both spoke to me last night! Tell me what they showed you!"
Laurelin wanted to demure, to deny, she wanted to distract him from this topic; but his earnest, argent gaze captivated her. She licked her dry lips-unaware of how it drew his attention to the re-curved bow shape of her mouth and caused his heart to skip a beat. "I—I hunted and played under the moons, as usual, when I heard children laughing far away . . ." she went on to tell her mate of the details of her dream, while tears leaked from her pale eyes onto the hard spikes of his armor. His hands wove gently through her hair and stroked the tip of her pointed ear soothingly, and still she whispered out the bittersweet details of the visions she had seen. It forced her to really examine what it meant, how much longer she could deny what was being not-so-subtly shown by the Divines. Of course it would have to be them. What I don't understand is Kynareth's interest in all of this. Of course. Someone had been trying to get her attention for a while now.
He captured her lips with his briefly, then asked thoughtfully, "How long have you been having dreams like this?"
She chewed her lip, thinking back. "Since Blackreach, I think. Never so blatant, though, and they faded so quickly I wasn't always sure . . ."
Vilkas nodded. "Aye. Laurelin, I have never in my life had such a thing happen to me. Last night reminded me that as much as I love to run and hunt with you, I think it's time for me, for us, together to cure ourselves. Tell me you see that!"
Oh, it was hard, and yet she knew it shouldn't be. The wiser, more rational part of her knew, craved rest and longed for a slower pace. The beast snarled and howled, reminding her of the freedom of the hunt, powerful and unchallenged. Dangerous. Then on the other hand was the delight offered if she forsook the hunt. Suddenly she realized how very much she wanted to feel those arms around her neck again. To devote the rest of her life to creating, not more death and destruction. Not to mention getting a decent night's sleep from time-to-time.
"You truly want to be cured of the blood?"
He nodded quietly, scratching his stubble in distraction.
"Well, I was a hunter before the blood, and a hunter I will be after. When do you want to cure ourselves?"
"Soon, I feel. But we can delay until you are ready. We'll help each other with our spirit-beasts."
Laurelin in nodded her agreement in turn.
He finally cautiously asked, "And what do you think about the rest of what you—we saw last night?" He had been staring up at her as she pondered, his own mind putting things together, watching her, letting her come to her own conclusions while his own resolve strengthened. "You've told me numerous times that you believe the gods show us paths to tread, and it is up to us to walk them, our choice. Would you turn from the road before you any more than you turned from your role as Dragonborn?"
"That's not fair, using my own words against me!"
"Divines forbid I should cheat the trickster. . . .Tell me, why do we keep dreaming of trees and all these other things? What is the significance of the trees? You have to admit it's not the standard dream of the hunt."
"You're right, but I don't know! I don't worship Kynareth, so I don't know why she's so interested in me." She picked up her fallen helm and examined it minutely.
"Danica told me months ago that the goddess watches you with some attention, that she wants you to live a long, happy life. Perhaps she is no longer content to sit by and observe. And while I'm thinking about it, Paarthurnax said something interesting the other day while you were sleeping. He told me the Daedra are always trying to claim the Dovahkiin, which we knew. But he also said that the Dragonborn can't be bound to Daedric service and realms against their will."
"Say that again?"
"You heard me. So why does a goddess neither of us worship keep showing visions of that sapling? What is the significance?" he asked again.
Her brow crinkled in thought, she began slowly, "Well, some of my family have the tradition of planting a tree together when they choose to mate for life-"
"So all I had to do all this time was plant a tree with you?" He paused then asked with a sly grin, "would that be at all comparable to getting married?"
"Oh fuck me!" her eyes were wide and she sat up to look around, unable to meet his gaze. "No, that can't be. We barely knew each other back then! We didn't do any ceremony; it wasn't intended."
"You're so sure?"
"Yes! No, not really, no. I was interested, but it can't be!" She jumped up and stared accusingly at the sky, as if the goddess herself was expected to come down and explain herself.
Farkas wandered over and took in his brother, lying back on the grass looking smug, then Laure, who was pacing again, muttering to herself. "What's going on? I thought we needed to get back home?"
Vilkas' grin widened. "Laurelin is coming to terms with the idea that we've been somewhat formally joined by a traditional ritual since" -he paused and called over to his mate- "when was the Eldergleam Sanctuary again?"
"Were not! And I forget how long ago that was!"
Farkas sat down heavily, "How? You and I were kind of courting then. That was shortly before Kodlak died."
"I know. I think maybe Kynareth and Mara are just trying to show your brother and me how close we already are to being married. Or whatever, I still don't understand. Damn pushy, these Divines. Let me come to a decision myself, already."
Vilkas leaped to his feet and strode over to Laure, catching her shoulders and spinning her into his arms. "We're already halfway there, my love," he said with a smirk. "Let's make it official in both traditions. We've already planted a tree-"
"It's more complicated than that, lover-"
"-stop interrupting me, lovely. I was saying we can have a ceremony-"
"Vilkas, I think you-ooh!" she was cut off by his lips closing over hers, muffling her protests. He dipped her backward, powerful arms looped around her waist, kissing her softly into pliable delirium. Eventually he lifted her back up, and she clung to him while the world spun back into focus. "Okay," she breathed.
Vilkas peered into her eyes, then dropped to one knee in front of her. "I can think of no greater reward, no honor that could compare to being your husband, Laurelin Vo'Shai. If you would have me, marry me, that we might stand together until the Divines strip the cosmos away around us."
"Why me?" she asked after swallowing several times so her voice didn't break.
He smiled wryly. "You give me a reason to get out of bed every morning. You think I liked having him as my constant companion for all those years?" Vilkas directed a finger past his shoulder where Farkas was sprawled in the grass, using an imaginary crossbow to fire up at a flock of geese flapping overhead.
"I don't know, he's charming enough," Laure mused with a mischievous grin. Vilkas gave her a pained smile in return that she knew meant please, a moment of seriousness? She caught her breath. Here is a path to tread. Do I dare take that first step on it? She exhaled and met his gaze, knowing the only answer she wanted to give. Silver eyes? Or blue? Blonde or raven hair? A cozy house full of laughter, a man who loved her like none other. A fateful fork in the road, but one she would gladly tread.
"Aye, I will marry you, Vilkas."
Astounded, nearly speechless, he smiled and let out his own long-held breath. "Together, you and I. You've made me the luckiest man alive!" He bounded to his feet and swept her up, spinning her around until her laughter pealed out like birdsong.
From off to the side, Farkas called out curiously, "So, what's the punchline?"
"She said yes, brother! Can you believe it?" Vilkas cried over his shoulder.
"Hey, that's wonderful! I guess the joke is on her, yeah?"