Author's Note:
Ahhh, I can't believe we're already at chapter 7! This chapter will feature more exploring the Main Quest...but also a lot of Vilkas!
I never noticed that the dragonstone had a working map on the back in-game! I never bothered to look at it, but now that I did in this playthrough I was surprised that it actually had an accurate map and not some dragon scribbles. Ugh I love the attention to detail put into this game!
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She hadn't expected training with the Companions to be this frustrating. While Erik was having a blast trying to woo Carlotta, Amina was getting cuts and bruises to both her body and her self-esteem. Sure, not every training session the Circle offered was a test of her patience, though.
Farkas was oddly soft-spoken while correcting her mistakes, gentle despite his stature, with big purposeful movements and steady gestures. He'd often stop her mid-movement, correcting her footing and pointing out how she could have hurt herself by keeping up that stance. For all the others called him stupid, Amina couldn't understand why. Sure, he spoke in clipped sentences and kept out of important topics, but the more Amina trained with him, the more she realised that perhaps he spoke less because he had no desire to let his opinion known. Was it because he didn't care enough for the topic? Was it because his opinion would've been disregarded regardless? She had no idea.
But she found in Farkas someone whom she enjoyed training with. He seemed genuinely pleased to train her and the other welps, and if she needed extra advice, she would often find him at the Skyforge, gazing at Eorlund Gray-Mane making weapons and polishing armour. She'd just as often find him working on a piece of armour, and when praising his skills, he'd just say that "My work isn't as good as Eorlund's or Adrienne's, but it gives me joy to make it.". He'd ghost his large hands over various pieces of armor, broken or new, and show her all the nooks and crannies that made them work. He showed Amina where they went wrong and right, what their weaknesses were and how to patch up her own armour.
His gentle corrections and encouragements made her weapon skills flourish because he made her want to come back to each training session better than before. She wanted to see him pleased with her efforts, each time having less corrections to make.
Of course, his brother made her feel the same, but in a way that mixed hate and stubbornness together with the desire to prove him wrong once and for all. Vilkas was fast and merciless, a far different affair than his gentle sibling. His words cut and berated, his corrections violent and demonstrative. While Farkas made his point about her poor stance with words, Vilkas just swept her legs from under her, sending her sprawling on the ground, dirty and humiliated. Every mistake hurt and was punished. Keeping her weapon in her hands improperly would earn her it getting smacked away, bruising her fingers painfully. Improper shield usage would earn her shallow cuts and scrapes with Vilkas' own blade. He was relentless in driving her to madness with every training session. She'd swing at him, harder than ever, her eyes wild in anger, with intent to hurt, but he'd just parry it or block it and laugh at her.
He'd yell: "Harder!" and she'd hit harder, only to have it blocked again, and again, and again, to the point where she started to think trying to hit him was an exercise in futility. Yet she'd hit again, more ferocious than ever, a battle cry ripping from her throat.
"Pity I'm not ticklish! Harder, Amina!" he'd yell back, laughing slightly, infuriatingly handsome, his smirk taunting, laughing openly at her. No matter how much she hit him, how she swung, how deep her scimitar embedded itself in his shield, it was never good enough.
He'd push her and push her and taunt her until she'd snap, taunting back with every hit, disrespecting him outright. Vilkas only laughed, thinking that any other whelp would've gotten a smack over the mouth for that, but this one – this one gave back as hard as she took.
"Come on Amina, that didn't even leave a dent in my shield!"
"It's probably made of whatever your heart is made of!" she'd say, and hit again.
"What would you know of my heart?" he'd ask, laughing at her because he knew it infuriated her even more. He had a pleasure in seeing her flush in determination and giving her best.
"Only that if presented to a Hagraven, she'd get scared of it!"
And so it went for hours on end, until she'd collapse in bed full of cuts and bruises, praying to whatever god was listening to get another small fry mission just to get a break.
At least things were going better with her archery training. She still felt like she could choke Vilkas until he shut up, but bows and arrows don't listen well to anger. To shoot well and hit true, you have to clear your mind of distractions, breathe deep, and as you exhale…release and trust.
Aela looked appreciatively at the arrow embedded in the practice target while Amina fidgeted.
"Good. Very good, actually. From what I hear from Vilkas, your sword skills are sloppy, but this…is is actually pretty good. Who taught you?"
She smiled, pleased at the praise. "My father. We used to go deer hunting during the winter when our meat stocks started dwindling. He first let me use a bow when I was 10."
"Well, to be honest there isn't much I can teach you, except do some drills and improve your aim. Your grip is good, your hand steady, your shots on mark. All you need is more practice."
"Well, at least I know one of my combat skills isn't total rubbish…wait, you and Vilkas have been talking about me?"
"We talk about all the welps, pup. If we want to train well-rounded warriors to fit our hall, we have to talk among ourselves. "
"He's awful. I think he's a sadist and takes pleasure from tormenting me."
Aela laughed, something of a smirk on her face, her eyes twinkling dangerously. "Oh, I agree. He likes to torment you more than the other welps, at least."
She lowered her eyes from Amina's own to the gash on the girl's face.
"Speaking of pain, how is that wound coming along?"
Amina reddened. "It's fine. It was too late for the healing potion to heal it fully, so it'll scar. I'm just happy it wasn't my eyes."
"What happened, anyway? You never did tell. Nobody asked, but I am curious if it was by your own stupidity or something more exciting."
If possible, Amina reddened some more. "Half and half. But if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Vilkas!"
Aela laughed. "And why not, pray tell?"
"Are you kidding me? He ribs on me enough while training. I don't want to give him more ammunition to tease me. He still thinks I got in by a fluke."
"You did get in by a fluke. If the old man hadn't seen something in you, you would've been out there door sooner than you could unsheathe your sword."
Amina shrugged. "But I'm here, aren't I? This has to account for something."
"It at least keeps Vilkas from terrorizing the other new whelps."
"Yeah, he's pretty much made it his new purpose in life to harp on me every chance he gets. It's depressing."
"Start getting better with a sword and he won't have anything to harp on you about."
"I'm sure he'll find something afterwards."
Aela grabbed Amina's shoulder. "He's so hard on you because the old man saw potential. I think he's a bit impatient about it showing through."
"That doesn't excuse him treating me like dirt."
Aela scoffed. "Grow a better backbone, then."
She really liked Aela, who was her own kind of beast. Relentless, independent to a fault, always a quip or a retort on her lips. She moved like a cat, slinking from stance to stance, hitting every mark, moving or not. She'd then turn her gaze to Amina, pushing her in the right position, moving her head a bit to the right or to the left. She analyzed every bit of her from the moment she took her bow out to after she shot, her hazel eyes almost predatory, ready to catch any mistake to correct it. This edge left her only when she was in the presence of Skjor, whom she seemed to be the closest to from all the other Circle members and whelps. She'd often see them, early mornings and late in the night, whispering to each other. She'd often catch a fleeting look of tenderness passing over Aela's face when referring to Skjor, or when he was passing by, but it was soon replaced by her usual expression. And Skjor too seemed to reserve patience and gentleness for her that he didn't spare to others. He, aside from Kodlak, did not take the time to train the welps and didn't spar with anyone but Kodlak, but he'd often ask Aela for help with his shooting skills…even though they were nothing short of excellent.
After she made her way back into the whelp's room, she flopped down on the bed, groaning in tiredness. She didn't want to sleep, not yet. Erik had issued an invitation to join him at the Bannered Mare, but she wasn't particularly feeling up to it. Ever since she woke up from her infection-induced fever a week ago, she had the nagging feeling that she had forgotten something very important. It prickled at her brain, but try as she might, she couldn't recall it. She traced the cracks in the cold stone floor below her bed with her finger…wait, stone!
"Stone…that odd stone tablet!" She jolted upright, every bit of tiredness gone from her body. She took her long-travel knapsack, which he hadn't opened since then for whatever reason, and took it out. She stared at it, something stirring inside her, some sort of deeper understanding ebbing in her heart. By sight alone she knew this was important, maybe even had some information on the dragon blight that seemed to have befallen Helgen.
She looked at the window. It was almost twilight, she might still have time to get to the Dragonsreach and talk to the Jarl's mage about the stone. If anyone in this whole city would have knowledge on an arcane object randomly found, they would.
She skipped her way out of Jorrvaskr, waving at Heimskr on the way. He smiled, and his voice seemed to lift higher and louder over the plaza, filling the air with worship. The rest of the Companions and Erik were usually annoyed by his incessant preaching, as the sermon remained the same every day, but Amina found it oddly soothing. He had the courage to shout what others whispered, to talk about what others kept secret, to display what others hid. Every Nord loved Talos, but they had been silenced. However, some things about the Talos-fueled Stormcloak rebellion and what she had read on Talos did not add up…she'd have to ask that know-it-all Vilkas, eventually.
She passed by Erik trying again to talk to Carlotta, swatting the back of his head, making Mila and her mother laugh while Erik mouthed promises of revenge.
"You, me, Bannered Mare in two hours?" she asked. He gave her a thumbs up as she sped away towards Dragonsreach's steps. The stone gave her an odd sense of purpose, and she was ready for a night of revelry to celebrate her sating her curiosity.
As she entered Dragonsreach, she couldn't help but gape in awe at its grandeur. The dragon's skull looking over the whole room unnerved her. It looked down, accusatory, predatory, its eyeless gaze staring straight at her, its gaping maw fixed in a sort of regretful grimace. She'd heard of Numinex, imprisoned, tortured, sad, unable to spread his wings. She knew dragons were a great terror and horrible beings, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity.
Her contemplation was cut short by the Jarl's housecarl, Irileth .
"Who are you and what do you want? The Jarl's busy!" the dunmer woman said, waspishly.
"I'm not here for the Jarl, but for your court mage. I found something in a ruin that might be of interest to him with this whole dragon situation."
"Dragon situation you say? Very well. You may go see Farengar. Mind yourself. I've got my eyes on you. " she replied, eyes narrowing suspiciously towards Amina.
Amina strode towards Farengar's study, but stopped short at the door. He was deep in conversation with someone, and she couldn't find a place to intrude in the conversation without being rude. He and his guest didn't notice her, so she just leaned against the doorframe, waiting for a lull in conversation. In hindsight, it could have been considered eavesdropping, but if his conversation was so secret, he should've told Irileth to not let anyone disturb him. His fault for giving Amina's curiosity wiggle room.
"Finding it was easy, Farengar. Obtaining it? Much harder, and I dare say I still haven't gotten word."
"Not yet? But it has been two weeks!"
"Yes, I am quite aware of that. I'm afraid those dimwits might have ran away with the claw I instructed them to steal and the first part of the payment. I should've known better than to hire street thugs to do work of finesse. 'Find you the dragonstone lady, we will' my ass. "
"Perhaps they lost their lives to the draugr. You'd really ought to choose your hirelings better, friend."
"Actually -" Amina interjected, making both of them swivel their heads toward her. "I sort of…killed them?"
"You what?!" Farengar's guest yelled, looking possibly murderous.
"Ah, well. Someone asked me to retrieve the claw, so I kind of…went into Bleak Fall's Barrow to get it? And I kind of…found your dragonstone in the process?"
"You found the what now?!" the guest asked again. Amina tried to picture their disbelieving face, but the hood was too low to make out anything but the stranger's mouth.
"I found the stone you were talking about." She said again, this time with more confidence. She took it out of her knapsack. "I figured that, with the Helgen attack, it might be of relevance…but I didn't know who to ask about it except the court wizard here in Whiterun. So here I am."
Farengar's guest seemed to be having a silent stroke. The corners of their mouths twitched violently, as if they were silently screaming inside with excitement…or frustration? One couldn't really tell with the hood.
"Thank you for retrieving the tablet for us. Farengar and I will have quite a time deciphering it. "
"I don't think you'll find anything. I went to check out one of the locations marked on the map, the one nearest here. It's nothing but dust, dirt and stone set in a circular pattern. Maybe the foundation of some old structure, but whatever it was, it's long gone. No trap doors, no entrances, and no weaknesses in the stone. Just a big circle of stone set on the ground."
"Mind your own business next time." The visitor quipped waspishly.
Now she was intrigued. What was so important about those stone circles? They say curiosity killed the cat, but she doubted that was true for Companions. Hence why she was grateful that she copied the contents of the tablet before leaving the meadhall.
"You can't really refrain me from being curious, though. And since I got the tablet for you, you might as well tell me what those are. I mean, we wouldn't want me running around the countryside ruining whatever plans you have, right? Satiate my thirst for knowledge and my curiosity, and I promise I'll be out of your hair." Amina continued, a light smirk on her face "And if the answer's good enough, heck, I won't even ask for a reward."
She patted her money pouch, hidden beneath her cuirass. Occasions when her curiosity would trump her love of gold were rare, but that stone really hit something within her.
Farengar must've seen her mind at work, somehow, because he then said:
"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker - perhaps even a scholar? My friend, she retrieved the tablet. I think we owe her at least an explanation alongside our thanks."
The visitor nodded, still looking rather sour. And who could blame them? If the tablet and its secrets had been lost, or fallen in the wrong hands, gods know what could have happened. And their plan couldn't come to fruition as easy. Farengar continued:
"You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But I began to search for information about dragons - where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from? As soon as I started investigating, my associate over here came out of the woodwork, and told me about a stone that is said to contain information on this dragon menace."
"The stone I brought back today."
"You do love pointing out the obvious, do you not? Yes, this particular stone tablet is, apparently, the key to us having enough information to deal with this winged blight. And thanks to you, it's safe within our grasps. Although it would have been equally as safe without you meddling and killing my associate's hirelings."
Amina scoffed, turning towards Farengar's visitor. "Well, no offence, ma'am, sir, whatever you are, you have bad taste in… 'hirelings'. Brutes, the lot. Better out of this world than on it, if you ask me. One of them even left me a little gift to remember him by after I saved his hide from a giant frostbite spider." She the traced her scarring face with her finger, trying not to cringe at the feeling of still healing flesh.
Farengar suppressed a shudder. This is exactly why he didn't like getting his hands dirty. "Yes, well, to continue. Those are dragon burial mounds, from the great Dragon War. If dragons are coming back to Skyrim, there is only one possibility…that they are coming back from the very dead. "
Amina shuddered, paling. "Well…if you need any help, you know who to call."
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Erik greeted her with mead and warm berry pies, her favourite. Meeko was at his feet, wagging his tail. The traitor-dog was now following Erik around more than he did Amina. She sighed. She had been replaced in the pup's heart by the promise of a warm fireplace at Mralki's, probably.
Erik was already a little buzzed, as was custom among 'red-blooded male Nords' as he used to say.
"Hey, cousin! Want to hear a good joke?"
Amina raised her eyebrows, sitting herself at the table. "I'm afraid of how bad it will be, but do tell."
"Why is it so easy to sneak in leather armour?"
"Why?"
"Because it's made of hide!" he responded, collapsing in fits of laughter.
"That was the lamest joke I ever heard in my life."
"So how goes training, cousin?"
"Ugh. Don't remind me. Everything's perfect except for…"
"Vilkas!" Erik exclaimed, standing up so violently Amina was afraid he'd drag the whole table with him. "So glad you could come!"
Amina groaned. She was really looking forward to her evening with Erik, and he had to invite Vilkas…
Vilkas slapped her back, giving her his infuriating smirk-smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Hello there, whelp. Fancy seeing you here!"
"Well, you were invited by my cousin. Who did you expect? Carlotta Valencia?"
Erik sighed, and his eyes took a dreamy shine. "I wish." He broke out of his fantasy."But no matter, Vilkas, glad you could come, friend."
"Friend?! Since when are you two friends?! We've been here for less than a month!"
Erik and Vilkas shrugged and looked at each other. Erik answered: "We've stumbled across each other here a couple of times. And he likes berry pies as much as we do, so I figured that'd be reason enough to befriend him."
"If you didn't talk about Carlotta all day, I'd wonder…"
Vilkas laughed. "Erik fell for my charms and now I get pie. It's a win-win." He said, snatching Amina's pie slice from her.
"Hey! Give that back!"
Vilkas gave her his stupid smirk-smile again, then a laugh at seeing her pout. "Come and get it, whelp."
Amina lunged at him, but he was holding the plate too high. She climbed over him trying to get it back, oddly aware of her hand and knee that rested on his thigh. His body was free from his regular wolf armour, and he felt soft and warm in a way that he never had before. She felt her cheeks burning. Suddenly, one of his hands shot forward and tickled her, making her erupt in laughter. He had thwarted her attempt at her pie, the bastard!
"That's not fair!"
"Fairness doesn't get me pie!"
"Get your own!"
"Oh, but it tastes better if it's stolen from annoying whelps! Now sit back down." Lightning-fast he set the plate down, and grabbed Amina by the waist as if she weighted nothing, setting her back in her place. He then patted her head. "Good whelp."
Amina could've clawed his eyes out, but he was lucky she was too flustered to do anything. She could still feel the places in which he grabbed her, as if his warm hand had left some sort of print on her. She suppressed a shiver running down her spine.
Her plate was set in front of her again. "It's been fun messing with you, but I'll go get my own."
Amina didn't know what possessed her to offer, but she said "Let's share it."
Vilkas raised an eyebrow. "Well," Amina continued "You killed my appetite anyway. But you owe me pie next time."
Vilkas smiled softly at her, and offered her a fork, which was more or less an offering of peace.
She and VIlkas dug in the pie, careful not to clank their forks together or get too close. Vilkas and Erik started having a conversation that jumped from topic to topic, from weaponry and places they visited, to the beautiful but ever elusive Carlotta Valencia, whom Erik adored but Vilkas knew almost nothing about…except the fact that she sold damn good apples. Erik was soon bringing him up to speed about Carlotta's numerous virtues, and Vilkas humoured him by giving him advice on how to get closer to her and Mila.
The evening carried on, the pleasant smell of cinder, mead and merriness floating through the air, relaxing Amina's tension. Mikael, the bard, decided that the atmosphere was too lull, so he began playing a livelier tune. And from that tune sprung a song to dance to, and many of the inn's patrons took to the floor and started dancing. Many of them were inebriated and their dancing could be seen as seizuring, but eh, who was Amina to judge people having fun?
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Wanna dance, whelp?"
"With you? No thanks."
"Aw, you mean to tell me you dance as bad as you fight?"
Amina sneered at him. "I just don't want to dance with –you-."
"Milk-drinker!" Erik called out, drunker than before, giggling like a maid.
Amina glared at him. "I'll prove you how well I dance, you assholes."
She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him in the middle of the inn, where the rest of the dancers were gathered. Erik laughed, and petted Meeko's head. "See bud, I told you they're perfect for each other!". Meeko whined disapprovingly, and Erik scoffed. "Awh, what do you know, you're a dog!"
Her words were better than her resolve though. Vilkas was looking down expectantly at her, and she felt oddly stiff, as if her body was seized by some unknown force. Her cheeks were burning, and she was sure that if the lights were brighter he'd mistake her for some sort of tomato. Snap out of it! She told herself. It's just Vilkas, dumb ass Vilkas, nobody important! Unfortunately for Amina, flaming cheeks don't lie.
Vilkas wrapped an arm around her waist, redirecting her hand to his shoulder. He then bent his head down towards her and whispered. "Calm down whelp, I'm not going to eat you. I don't think you'd taste good anyway."
Annoyance strengthened Amina's resolve, and she started moving the both of them in a semblance of an upbeat dance. "Oh, bite me!"
Vilkas paled for a second, but then concealed it with laughter. "You don't want me to bite you, whelp.". This time, the lights glinted off his abnormally large canines. They shone in the dark, sharp and menacing, as bright as his blue eyes, promising…what? Amina shook herself out of it again. What a silly thing to notice, sharp teeth! Like a wolf's…
Vilkas picked up the pace of their dancing, and calmed himself. She didn't know of the wolf, of course she did not. Just a smartass retort, a biting quip, something acidic to swallow after the pie to get the brain juices flowing. But that was then, and this was now, and he found himself enjoying this, whatever it was, this dance. He'd just wanted to rile her up, but this was pleasant. The flurry of motion, the energy that came with jumping about and twirling and twisting and turning. And the whelp seemed to enjoy herself, at least.
But then, the tune changed, from something that raised to spirits to a soft song, for lovers and for comfort, for slow and long embraces, and Amina and Vilkas found themselves trapped on that dancefloor, neither willing to let go for pride, emboldened by too much mead.
He smiled again, his teeth gleaming in the light.
"What is it Vilkas, scared of some slow dancing? Can't handle some finesse?"
He didn't dignify that with a retort, but instead drew her closer to him. She yelped, stiffening, rigid as a board. He curled his fingers higher on her back, a soothing motion. His other hand came to rest at the nape of her neck, softly grasping the skin there and a few strands of hair. She smelled of grass and blueberries, of honeyed mead, of wheat and fire and cinder, and he felt compelled to hold her closer. Her skin seemed to burn underneath his fingers.
The corners of his mouth curled, and she gave back a shaky smile. It was just him, Amina thought, just Vilkas, nothing to feel nervous about…Infuriating Vilkas, annoying, warm, brilliant Vilkas…She felt her head swim with mixed emotions, all soaking up the mead she had drank. He had obviously drank too much, she thought, to be so friendly. He had no retort to throw at her, and she didn't seemed inclined to poke at him either.
He felt her body flatten against his as she shed away her nervousness and lost herself to dance and song. Her hand dropped to rest on his chest. They moved to the whims of the lute and drum, pliable and soft against each other.
She pressed herself closer to him, seeking more of that warmth she felt earlier. He let himself guided by her heart beat, moving in rhythm with her blood and not the drum. He inhaled deeply, commanded by the mead in his body and the lightness in his head, longing for her scent. He felt something ebbing from her, something timid and unexplored, calling him to her, making him draw her closer, pressing her to his chest.
She looked up at him and she saw her eyes, wide and green, speckled with every colour of a spring's field, her lips parted…he traced her still healing scar with his fingers. It still smelled like blood and pain, and he felt a tremor go through his body. The wolf awoke, enticed by the smell of innocence and blood, by the promise of dominance, and Vilkas had to restrain from crushing her to him, growling in her ear, tasting her desire and her fear…
A growl ripped from his throat, inaudible but to her and him. The song stopped, and Amina broke loose from his grasp, scared by his eyes, looking like a deer caught in a trap. Oh, what a mead-induced mistake this dance was! She looked at him uneasily, unsure whether she had seen gold in is eyes or not, and he felt the need to relieve the tension.
"It seems you are bad enough a dancer as you are a fighter." He joked.
Amina's eyes widened in hurt. Apparently, there wasn't a soft side underneath Vilkas' nasty shell. Just more of his acid. She straightened, the magic gone, her words slurring.
"This dance never happened, as far as I'm concerned. And I'll let you know, you stepped on my toes more than once, you troll."
She stormed out of the inn, slamming the door and leaving Vilkas confused in her wake. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. She hadn't been hurt by any of his remarks before, so what was her issue now? Women!
Mikael started another song, this one dedicated to Carlotta Valencia, 'the fiery widow' that was currently glaring at him, bothered by his attention. Mila was at her side, enjoying some soup, oblivious to the fact that Mikael was currently raving about her mother's…ahem, physical 'virtues'.
Life went on, whether whelps got upset at you or not, it seemed. Vilkas scoffed. And what did he care if that girl got upset or not? He was just toying with her, having some verbal sparring matches to pass the time. Who care if she was over sensitive? He growled again. Fine, he'd do what he wanted and pretend this godsdamned dance never happened. Women!
He looked towards Erik to invite him to have another glass of mead, but he was…where was Erik?! He whipped his head around and saw him storming towards Mikael, a murderous glint in his eyes, fists balled. He lunged at him and punched him right in the face, knocking the bard of his feet. "Don't you talk about Carlotta that way!" Vilkas laughed. Oh, he loved a good brawl!
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Amina stormed into Jorrvaskr, her cheeks aflame and her heart thundering, and made her way towards the whelp's room. Ria and Nadja were gone on a mission, and so she could wallow in her anger all by herself. She undressed quickly, tossing aside the clothes that his scent had clung onto like a parasite, and changed into her night clothes. She threw herself on the bed, huffing and puffing, fluffing her pillow, twisting and turning underneath the covers until she found a comfortable position. Ohhhh, that troll! She felt like she could punch him! But for a brief moment, she had thought she had sensed something within him…a tenderness, a longing, a genuine smile. Something aside from acid and wicked quips. Sure, their verbal banter was fun, but she had wanted to think that underneath that annoying exterior, there might be something more to Vilkas.
She began to be angry at herself. Why would she even think that?! She was here to train, not try and decipher the inner workings of Jorrvarskr's lead troll. Sure, maybe she wanted to befriend him like she did her other trainers, but it seems there was nothing good there for her. Just a verbal challenge. And if he wanted to be that way, fine! She could be nasty too.
She fell into fitful sleep.
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Vilkas was bandaged, sitting on his bed reading a book. The few strips of gauze over his wounded torso didn't do much to conceal him, and Amina stared at him a bit more than she would have. There was a fluttering in her chest urging her to say something, but nothing came to her. She'd forgotten entirely what she was here for.
He looked up at her, a smouldering look that made her weak in the knees. His eyes seemed to shine in the half-darkness of his room, illuminated by candlelight and some inner fire she would probably never understand. They looked almost golden, predatory, like a wolf's ready to pounce on his prey.
Gods, but he was beautiful. She had to get out before she did something stupid.
The tension in the room was unbearable. She felt it weight down on her, from her throat to the pit of her stomach to somewhere deep inside where a fire was starting to burn. Unable to make sense of the heat pooling in her loins, Amina decided to get out of the room and compose herself.
He stopped her right at the door, barring her exit by putting his arms at her sides against the wall. She never noticed the height difference so much as she did then, as she craned her neck towards his face so she wouldn't stare at his chest.
"You came here to tell me something?" he asked, leaning into her, cocking his head to the side.
"Ah…I forgot…what I had to say. So I'll just go."
His eyes bore into hers, and she couldn't help but lick her lips. She could swear that for a brief moment his gaze fluttered to her mouth.
She couldn't bear the proximity, his body heat reaching her, the look in his eyes…the temptation to kiss him. She ducked under his arm and made a beeline for the exit.
Strong arms grabbed her from behind, one across her waist and the other trailing slowly, tortuously from her throat to the dip between her breasts, finally settling on her stomach. She gasped. She could feel his taut body against her back, his breath hot on her skin. He growled low, holding her tight against him. She felt his lips brush against her ear:
"Do you lust after me, whelp?"
She woke up sweaty, with a deep throbbing in her loins. She punched her pillow. "Fuck! This is the last thing I needed!"
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Author's Note: Did you like the dream sequence? Because I loved writing it *giggles*. There will be a dream sequence in the next chapter too, but it won't be sexy and it definitely will not have Vilkas! ( :'( ). The powers up there have taken notice of Amina and are ready to mold her into what she should be!