Author's note:
Thank you all for the lovely reviews! They keep me writing 3
Told you the next update was going to be soon! This chapter features a cameo from another one of my Skyrim characters, my thief, Tuiwen. Very small and insignificant to the story, but I'm thinking of adding such cameos to this story with others of my characters, if possible (for example). Just to amuse myself, yknow.
Inspiration for the wedding dance was Bear McReary – Druid Dance. Beautiful song, I recommend you listen to it and weep.
She let hair down, a dark waterfall let loose upon her shoulders and down to her waist, and made small braids on the sides, which she adorned with small white flowers and feathers. She perfumed herself with lavender water and stained her lips with berries, and twirled around the room once in delight. She had forgotten how nice it was to be just a little bit girly, from time to time. She giggled, feeling very young again. She pressed her dress against her body and did a few dance moves, swirling and twirling about. Gods, she loved weddings!
She then put it on, a green thing of cotton with a corset embroidered with flowers, and she set off downstairs to meet with the others. But the wolf brothers weren't there.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" she asked the owner of the inn, Keerava, "There were two men earlier here. Tall, dark haired, blue eyes. Do you happen to know where they went?"
"Ahh," the Argonian answered. "Yes. A scuffle in the main market just outside. They should be there still."
"Thank you!" Amina said, and tossed Keerava a coin in gratitude as she went out the door in a flurry of hair and skirts. Keerava exchanged a look and a smile with her bethroded, and they both shook their heads in amusement.
Indeed, she found Farkas and Vilkas in the market, arguing with a tall red-haired man and a tiny wood elf woman who smiled like she was the cat that caught the canary. She said something to Vilkas, and he snarled at her, only to be held back by Farkas, who seemed entirely uncaring.
"What's going on here?" Amina asked, stalking towards them.
"Oh my, yet another Companion. How cute." The wood elf smirked at her, making her already sharp features seem even sharper. Her ears twitched, and she approached Amina. "Say, darling, are these two brutes your friends?"
"They're my shield-brothers, and if you've pissed them off, you've pissed off me." Amina growled at them woman, getting in her face.
The elf turned to her companion, laughing: "Heard that, Bryn?" She flicked her eyes back to Vilkas, leering at him. "So dangerous." Then to Amina: "Darl, who do you think you're going to fight in that pretty dress of yours, eh?"
"I can still punch you. And if you think I'll save my modesty instead of kicking you in the face, you've got another thing coming. Now tell me, what's your problem?"
"Okay, that's enough with the cat fight, Tiuwen." Her companion said. "Let me handle this, because you're absolutely shite at defusing a situation and I'm not about to have Maven on my ass because you can't lay down the rules for outsiders."
"You'd love to have Maven on your ass, Bryn, from what I've heard…she likes them young, and she knows how to handle them too."
Brynjolf glared at her. "Shut up."
She put up her hands in defeat, and blew a kiss towards Farkas and Vilkas. "Toodles, handsomes." And to Amina: "See you another time, poppet. You've got some fire in you, gotta give you that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to plunder and nobles to ruin. Ta-ta!".
"Alright, lads…and lass. Companions. Whatever you want to call yourselves. As Tiuwen rudely put it, Riften is Thieve's Guild territory."
Vilkas growled. "I don't care whose territory it is, you don't get to steal from innocent people and get away with it, rat."
Brynjolf nodded, a small smile on his face. "Yes, yes, I get that, but we don't steal from the common folk, friend. The beggars are our eyes and ears, the vendors our allies, the urchins are under our protection, etcetera, etcetera. We are a band of honest thieves, gentlemen."
Amina snorted.
"That's an oxymoron." Vilkas said.
"Listen, lad, lemme put it this way: you go against us, you go against Riften. You think the Jarl's going to care? We got her in our pocket. The Black Briars control everything, and we're their men. You go against us, you have the whole of Riften on your ass. We're not doing petty thievery here."
"You're soon going to tell me your thieving is noble and that you're serving some greater purpose?"
"Nah, even I don't have that much bullshit in me, friend. All I'm saying is: if we've got the uniform, we're not stealing from the common folk. If you find someone stealing whose not one of ours, or we're outside of Riften, 's all fair game. But here, we're the kings and queens, if you're up to feeling dramatic. So stay put or Maven'll land your ass in jail and let you rot there."
Vilkas made to lunge at the man, but Farkas stopped him.
"Vilkas, leave it." Amina said. "If what he says is true, then they're untouchable."
"Fine." Vilkas growled. "But I'm watching you, thief."
Brynjolf laughed, and bowed to him. "You flatter me, Companion. Now, off you go. Heard there was a wedding in town…and by the looks of you, all decked prettily, you're running late, eh?"
"Shit, he's right!" Amina said, and grabbed the twins' hands, tugging. "Leave the petty thievery alone, Carlotta's going to kill us if we're late!". The boys shuddered, and let themselves be dragged towards the Temple of Mara, but not without glaring at Brynjolf while he merrily waved at them. If looks could kill, Brynjolf would've been spontaneously combusting.
"Somehow I think this isn't the last we'll see of those two…" Amina grumbled.
"Why?" Farkas asked.
"Call it a gut feeling. Now hurry up, or Carlotta's going to have our hide!"
Luckily, they were not all that late. They sat in the pews, Amina squished between the two brothers. She could still feel Vilkas' anger at not being able to deal with the earlier injustice, washing over her in waves as if it were an actual physical force. His hand was trembling, so she put hers over his and willed it to stop. She turned to him and shook her head.
"Let it go, Vilkas. Today's a day for merriment."
"You're right, but still…"
"It's upsetting to see we don't have any power here in the face of those thieves, I know. But let's not ruin the wedding by being angry, alright?"
He nodded, and turned towards the altar, were the priest was fake coughing loudly, trying to get everyone's attention.
Erik had a smile on his face a mile long, and he positively radiated with nervous energy as he held Carlotta's hands. She was resplendent, in a white peasant's dress and with a crown of tundra cotton on her head, like a halo.
"It was Mara that first gave birth to all creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned how to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all."
Erik's eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and Carlotta was already sniffling, her hands trembling in Erik's, smiling.
"We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey fourth together in this life, and the next, in prosperity and in poverty, in joy and in hardship. Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"
They both answered 'I do', and then Erik took Carlotta's face in his hands and kissed her gently. Then turning to the attendance, and grabbing Mila in his arms, setting her on his shoulders, he yelled: "Now friends, let's feast and be merry! It's not every day I get married after all, eh?"
The wedding party moved to the back courtyard of the temple, adorned with paper lanters and flowers, a garden in itself with a center cleared out, all grass, for the dancers to use. They drank mead, and Vilkas took a large jug for himself, ready to soothe his nerves. Amina sat next to him, and he couldn't help but to move his gaze to her hair, wild as he'd never seen it, and the soft column of her throat, were he could see and hear her pulse and a bead of sweat making its way down on the way to her cleavage. She turned to him and gave him a blinding smile, and ran off to Erik to congratulate him.
Maramal, the priest, then stood up and made silence. The party moved on the grass – everyone knew what followed.
A drum started beating, and other instruments followed suit, and then the priests started singing, and their voices didn't sound human. It was Starsong, the invocation of the Constellations, as it was done for each marriage and each start of a season, and it was like the music of sirens, eerie and high on the wind.
With the bride and groom in the center, apart from the others, everyone held hands and surrounded them. They started dancing to the beat of the drum as dusk settled, nightfall guiding their steps as they traced the movements every nord child is taught, the Dance of the Stars, done every spring and fall to call forth prosperity and rain. Their footwork followed the rise and fall of the constellations, and they weaved in and out of each other, moving as one. If one could look from above, they could see that their movements were like an ever-moving Nordic knot, rippling and pulsing with their hearts and their laughter.
Vilkas could hear their heartbeats as one in sync with their footsteps, like a band of drums. He didn't know if his ears pounded with the footwork or the blood in their veins, and he could smell the sweet perfume of sweat and vegetation, of crushed grass and spilled mead, Amina's skin drenched in lavender and the white flowers in her hair as she spun in and out of his arms and into the next dancer's, and he followed her movements with his eyes and he couldn't look away. The lights blinked in and out of his area of sight as he moved, leaving behind streaks like starfall and embers in his eyes, and she was a moving flame that edged in and out, from arms to arms, and no matter who he danced with he still looked at her over their shoulders.
The Star Dance broke out, the knot untied, and Amina somehow found her way in his arms as they started dancing again, this time in pairs mimicking the stars yet again, two by two. He held her tight then, as if she might slip away like the candlelight put out by the breezes of the dance, and he spun her round and round and picked her up and set her down to the rhythm of that drum, of the flute, maybe her heartbeat, maybe his, and she smiled down at him, and he could feel her body through her dress, warm and pliant, and he was intoxicated with her scent, with the shining of the stars, with the music.
In that moment, he felt as if he were part of something larger than himself, as if all the dancers were all one, and everything was hazy yet vivid, like a dream, or perhaps like a fever.
--x-
Amina nursed her hangover over a mug of tea. She sat down and offered another to Vilkas, who took it with a small groan. Weddings always ended up in too much mead. Dear gods, his head pounded. It felt like a drum. He certainly felt like a vampire when he hissed at the sunlight streaming through the windows, blinding him and making his headache even more of a bother than it already was. It definitely hadn't been a good idea continuing the wedding party in the Bannered Mare after a three days' horse ride back from Riften. Thank the gods at least that they were back in Jorvaskrr. Better be hungover in your own territory.
"Where's Bree?" Farkas asked, taking his place at the table and already digging in and eating. Vilkas looked positively green even looking at the food, while piling eggs and sausage into a plate for Amina – " Good for the hangover." he supplied, forcing her to take a bite, while not following the advice himself. He felt like he'd vomit the moment he touched anything. How much mead had there been, anyway? He hadn't been this drunk ever since he had been a young lad.
"Visiting her brother, he's staying at the Huntsman. Very nice lad, let me tell you. Perfect picture of a proper Nord man. She showed me a drawing she did of him a while back."
Vilkas smirked. "Why, Tilma, if I didn't know better I'd think you have a crush."
Tilma blushed. "I may be old, but I can still appreciate beauty." She waved her hand dismissively. "Bree should be back by nightfall. Hasn't she told you?" she asked, turning to Farkas.
Farkas shrugged. "I'm not her keeper." The whelps all sniggered, and Aela quipped: "Oh, but she'd love you to be, brother." She winked at him, and Farkas blushed.
In that moment, the doors flung open, and Bree ran in, looking as if she had been chased by death itself all the way from the Huntsman to Jorvaskrr. Her otherwise rosy cheeks were pale, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost, her hands trembling, her hair frizzed out in nervousness. Farkas got up from the table and in two steps was next to her, reaching out –
"Don't touch me!" she yelled, and reeled back, almost hitting the wall. Farkas' face was a mask of hurt and surprise, and he tried reaching for her again –
"I said, don't…don't touch me, please, just. Just don't!"
"Bree, are you alright? Did someone hurt you?" He growled. "If anyone hurt you, I'll - "
"No one hurt me, Farkas." She answered, her voice trembling. "I need to go speak to Kodlak, that is all."
Aela stood up, and grabbed Bree's arm. "What's so important that you need to tell Kodlak but can't tell us? Stop trembling, let us help."
"No!" she cried, and snatched her arm from the woman's grasp, scratching herself in Aela's nails in the process, leaving behind three red marks. She looked at them terrified, as if Aela was carrying some sort of contagious disease and those scratches were a death sentence. Her eyes were wide, rabbit-like, her face drawn out and pale.
"I'm sorry." She whispered to Farkas. "I need to see Kodlak! I must!" she ran off then, in a flurry of skirts, and Farkas was left confused and dazed, worried and afraid for her, because that had been so out of character.
Aela pat his shoulder gently, and he turned to her, his expression like that of a puppy that had just been kicked.
"We'll find out what happened soon enough, brother. Don't worry."
"Yes, but - "
"Bree's a big girl. She can take care of herself."
"Yes, but - "
Vilkas then interrupted: "Brother, go up to the Skyforge, work on some armour, calm down, and I'll call you back when we find what happened to Bree."
Farkas nodded, still pale faced, and Amina watched him go. "What just happened?"
Aela crossed her arms. "We'll find out soon enough, but this isn't good." Leaning in, she whispered in Skjor's ear: "Did you smell the fear on her? Her heartbeat was erratic. This isn't good. She was, is, terrified. Possibly of us."
"You don't think…?" he whispered back.
Aela shrugged, her brows furrowing. "If she did, and she is so afraid of us, then why come back? It doesn't make any sense."
Bree knocked on Kodlak's door with trembling hands. Truly, she didn't want to be in an enclosed space with him, but she had no choice. For the love she'd had for all of them, for the way they made her feel like home, for sweet Farkas and for everyone else, she had to do this. Gods, but how was she going to? She felt bile rise in her throat, and not only at the thought of saying what she was about to say, but also at the fact of how one simple fact had changed her whole world and tossed her back into her old life, reminded her of old terrors. She knew she'd have nightmares tonight, and she had not had those for the past few years…
"What's wrong, lass?" Kodlak smiled at her pleasantly, but it slid off his face the moment he caught a whiff of her scent. The poor girl was terrified, and reeked of fear and nervousness, and her whole body language screamed that she wanted to flee. But he saw a stubborn determination in her eyes, behind all that terror.
"I don't have much time." She began, wringing her hands nervously. She took a deep breath, feeling close to bursting into tears. "I know what you are." When Kodlak made to speak, she put up a hand, and he was surprised at the firmness of the gesture, so unlike her gentle ways. "Please, let me finish. It's complicated, and I'd like to get it over with and just…get out of here. There's an ambush planned on the Companions in the following month. Someone…somehow…found out the Circle has a job there, and they're planning to strike."
Another deep breath, and tears slid down her face without her wanting them to. "It's my brother, he…it's very complicated. He's a Silver Hand, and…he…he's a werewolf. It's his way to atone, I think. I don't know. We…when we were young, one night a werewolf attacked our home. It just…" a deep, shuddering breath, half a sob, and she continued "…it killed our parents, and he was going for me too, but then my brother stepped in and…he got bitten, and all I can remember was that he stabbed the beast and then they were both in a pool of blood, and I didn't know whose blood it was, probably both, and, Gods…" She started sobbing in earnest then, dropping down into a chair. Kodlak made to comfort her, but she stopped him.
"Don't touch me! Please. Just…let me finish." She buried her head in her hands, and her body shook with sobs. "It's all my fault! I didn't know you were what you are, and in his letters he never mentioned it when I told him I got hired here! We talked, you know, like brothers do, and I often told him what was going on in here, and I think he found out what he needed from my letters!" She continued, furious: "He used my position to get information on you!"
"I'm so sorry, lass, I-"
"Please, just, don't. I'm quite aware that not all werewolves are the same, you or the other Companions weren't the ones that killed my parents – this is why I'm telling you this. I love you all dearly, I've come to care for you while I've worked here, but that doesn't change the fact that I am terrified of you now. I am scared, Harbinger, so scared. And I can't change that."
She pulled out a note from her skirt pocket, and handed it to him, hands shaking. "Here is all the information you need. When they'll strike, how many…my brother told me everything…he thought I'd be happy about it." A sob. "I would've rather not known anything."
"If there's anything I can do to help, lass, just let me know. Thank you for this. I can understand how hard it is, to turn your back to family."
"He's still my brother, my twin. My better half. Please. If you come across him, spare him. If you kill everyone else, I don't care, just spare my brother. He has a claw mark on his face and looks like me, you'll know him!"
"He's trying to get us all killed, lass."
"Please, Harbinger! For all the good I've done here and all the care I've put into this place and its people, do me this favour. I can't – he's my twin. I can't see a world without him."
Kodlak sighed. "What will you have us do with him, then? He knows about us, we can't have him run around."
"You're a wise man, you'll figure something out. Please!" she begged, and dropped to her knees in front of him, sobbing, pleading. "I saved you by telling you this, you owe me! A life for a life! Spare my brother like I spared you!"
-x-
"She didn't even say goodbye…" Farkas whispered, looking at his hands in his lap. Vilkas started rubbing his shoulder gently, comforting him.
"It's maybe best if she didn't."
"But I wanted to say goodbye."
Aela shook her head. "She was terrified, Farkas. Would you have liked having your last memory of her as her being deathly afraid of you?"
"…no."
Skjor growled. "Nevermind the girl!" He slapped a hand on the table. "We need to figure out what to do with this Silver Hand menace."
"We strike first." Aela said "Get to them before they get to us, and raze them off the earth for good."
Skjor nodded, but Kodlak shook his head. "No. We need a better plan than this. They are like roaches, lads. We wipe out one nest, and then the rest come flooding in. No, we have to be cautious."
"So we strike the head." Vilkas interjected. "Leave them without leadership, and they'll scatter around for a few months until they find a new chief. Until they do, they'll probably fight among themselves, and with a few well-timed strikes we could end them."
"We should first find out all their hideouts, though. Possibly hire scouts and see what they're like, too." Amina suggested. "And see what kind of weaponry they use – if it's silver, we're all screwed."
Skjor looked at her appreciatively. "Maybe we were right in letting you into the Circle, eh?"
Amina preened under his praise and smiled with all her teeth. It was an almost feral grin, and it made Skjor and Aela exchange a glance full of meaning. Vilkas looked at them and was instantly wary of what they had in mind, and, shifting his gaze towards Amina, he had the sudden urge to take her far away from the two of them. It reeked of plotting, and it wasn't only about the Silver Hand. He knew the day would come soon when she'd have to be…properly initiated into the Circle, but he had hoped that day would be later than sooner, perhaps never. If it were by him, the beast blood would never touch her…in any form.
"I also have some information that might be important, considering the circumstances." Kodlak interjected. "Apparently the Silver Hand have a fragment of Wuuthrad."
"Ysgramor's axe?" Amina asked. "Whatever do they want to do with it?"
Kodlak sighed, then smiled. "Sometimes I forget you've not been with us for long, and are not as knowledgeable of our history."
"That is to say," Skjor said, "you are woefully ignorant and I'm disappointed you didn't look it up. How are you expected to work within the Circle if you don't know the very basics about our enemies?"
Amina bristled under the criticism, and was about to apologise, or shoot back an angry retort, Vilkas wasn't sure, when he stepped in for her:
"She perused mostly my personal library when she started educating herself. Given that there's no written history on the Silver Hand, she would have no way of knowing save for asking."
"She should've asked." Aela snipped.
"Perhaps. But it was of no immediate concern."
Skjor sneered. "They get attacked in the middle of a ruin and it was of no immediate concern?"
"Enough." Kodlak said, while Amina silently fumed with impotent rage at being scolded, "We have plenty of time to argue later. For now, let me explain the Silver Hand to her. Better later than never, if I do say so myself." He sighed, and continued:
"The Silver Hand have been around ever since I was a boy, a fresh whelp still, the Harbringer of then's favourite, his new protégé. Back then, the Companions had been much bigger, partly because there was no civil war to steal away young men and send them to their deaths for petty politics. At that time, the beast blood was offered more freely, as well as membership within the Circle. But one young man disputed the need for the beast blood, and called it out on its ugly origins and demeaning nature. He said there was no room for Daedra in the halls of Ysgramor, and while I do tend to agree with him….Nonetheless. He rallied up half of the then Companions, exposed the Circle, and raised up arms against them before fleeing when they saw the lot of them were no match for the Circle and the still loyal whelps, who did not care in the least for the beast blood coursing through Jorvaskrr's halls. Different times, then…less fear of magic, less fear of the Daedra, even though the Oblivion Crisis had been only a century and a half before."
In that moment he looked every bit his age, the lines on his face seemingly deeper, his eyes sad and drooping. He looked almost defeated. "They came after us, many times after. They stole pieces of Wuuthrad or bribed our sources to find them before we did. They discovered silver was the beast's bane, and used it on all their weaponry. At first, they had been only a rival faction who sought to undermine us at every turn. There was still honour. They were not werewolf hunters, then. They just wanted the Companions to be as it was before the beast blood, as impossible a feat as that was. But then their first leader died, that first boy who had rebelled years ago…and it all went to hell. They lost their purpose and turned into nothing more than werewolf hunters, barbarians and miscreants. Their reputation plummeted. They no longer received jobs, so they had to feed on fear and panic to get their gold. They started hunting us in earnest. But they still yet look for the pieces of Wuuthrad, thinking it their legacy."
Vilkas nodded. "We should've known an attack was imminent. They have been awfully quiet for the past year."
Aela scoffed. "No doubt trying to find new ways how to kill us, the cowards. They know they could never take us in a real fight. So they planted a spy."
Farkas stood up suddenly and growled at Aela, the hair on his arms standing on edge. "Bree is NOT a spy."
"She might as well have been, for how loose her tongue was." Skjor said.
"She had no way of knowing her brother was with them! She's innocent!" Farkas bristled.
"Still defending her after she tossed you like a dirty rag when she found out about your beast blood, brother?" Aela asked, smiling almost ferally. "Good dog. She's trained you well."
"Don't you dare-" Vilkas growled. His brother's face paled, and Aela made to continue, when Skjor placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head, effectively shutting her up.
"We shouldn't be fighting among ourselves," Kodlak said "They've weakened us as it is."
Farkas sat down then, and slumped into his chair, letting out a heavy sigh and looking out the window, past the line of bushes and at Gildergreen, where he often sat with Bree when she took a break. She said she liked the peacefulness, that it reminded her of home. Why had he never bothered to ask why she had left home? Why was he always so lug-headed, taking things at face value? Why did he never bother to pry into her life when she told him she had a brother? He just took her words and smiled dumbly, and looked at her eyes and the way her hair flowed in the wind, and never bothered to ask a question. What a fool he had been. Maybe he could've spared her some pain, maybe he could've-
His train of thought was interrupted by Amina and Vilkas's hands on his forearms, one on each, and his sadness was mildly replaced with amusement at noticing that they had chosen the exact same way to comfort him. He leaned into their touch, and allowed their pity to wash over him, like a bandage over a still fresh wound. It was good to feel cared for.
"What do we do now, Master?" Vilkas asked, an edge to his voice.
"We must recover Wuuthrad. It is our legacy."
"We have to wipe them out." Aela supplied. "They're only going to become more and more relentless, and I'm sick of sitting here like prey. We should all lunge at their throats, warrior's code be damned."
"Aela." Kodlak warned.
"What? We have been given a –gift-. And yet, we do nothing with it but prance around in the moonlight, for fear of peasants and bandits seeing us and running with the secret." She scoffed, and then smirked, her eyes hard. "But they can't run when we've already eaten their hearts."
Amina felt mildly disgusted, but she had expected it. Aela always had a feral quality to her, a desire to take matters more in her own hands, or as it was, claws. Her sadism was not…surprising. But it still made her stomach clench at the thought of the Companions resorting to such base methods.
"That isn't honorable." She said, and Kodlak looked at her surprised, but did not make to stop her. "The werewolves aren't Companions, the Companions just happen to be werewolves. You're not animals, and you shouldn't solve this like animals. Your powers give you an edge, yes, but you shouldn't…it's not right. It's beneath you."
Aela growled and stalked towards her, getting in her face, hissing: "So you think this is a curse, too?"
"No. Nothing of the sort, sister. It's…a tactical advantage." She fumbled with her words, trying to remember the way Vilkas sometimes put things, ever the diplomat, trying to mimic his approach. "But tactical advantages shouldn't be used for whole battles. Okay, sure, you wipe out one Silver Blood cell just with claws and teeth, and then what? Then word spreads and the next one knows what to expect, and by then it will be too late to turn back and get another working strategy."
Aela's sneered fell of her face, and she sat back down. "Fine. But I still don't like this."
Kodlak looked at Amina with an appraising eye, and Amina knew she was being sized up. Again. She didn't know what for. She was being given a break from this whole Dragonborn business just to fall into Companions' politics. She realized that her willingness to speak up had bought her more than Aela's ire, but she didn't quite know what exactly. Nobody had told her adventuring was more about navigating social situations that battles, godsdamnit.
"It is decided then," Kodlak sighed "We retrieve the fragment of Wuuthrad from the location given by Bree's brother. Then we'll see what's to be done next."
"What of her brother?" Farkas asked. "She wanted him spared, right?"
"Don't be a fool." Skjor said "Of course we won't spare the little milkdrinker. He tried to have us all killed. I expected you to want his blood, the way he made his sister cry."
"I do. I just…if she wanted him spared, then, we could do that, right? How much can one person hurt us? We're the Companions, right?"
Kodlak regarded him with a level stare. "One person talking to her brother, innocently, was almost our end, Farkas. Don't let personal feelings clout your judgment."
"But that would just prove him he's right, that all werewolves are animals, and that he was right in stealing information from Bree, one letter at a time, and using her for a 'greater purpose'. Can't we just…believe for the best, for once?" Amina said.
Skjor stared at her hard. "Windborn, are you daft? This isn't a charity, this is a life and death situation. We had a leak, and someone used that. He is completely of a mind to end us. You're a fool for thinking otherwise."
"I agree." Kodlak added.
"But you promised her! You told me you promised her! It's nothing honorable to break a warrrior's promise."
"You're being naïve, lass." Kodlak said, and stared directly into her eyes. "Promises mean nothing when breaking them means the safety of your charges. You'd do well to remember that. Everyone here agrees with me, except for Farkas, which is understandable…This is not up to discussion. We do not spare the boy just because his sister pleaded for us to, not when it means he will come back and hunt us once more, through whatever means."
Amina pursed her lips, and said nothing. Vilkas could almost hear the cogs in her brain turn, and he did not like that one bit.
At the end of the meeting, Amina was still ruminating furiously. Her thoughts were interrupted by Skjor, who took her aside.
"You're naïve, Windborn, but you have guts. I can appreciate that. Listen," he whispered, his eyes moving side to side to see who was near them "meet me at the bottom of the Skyforge's steps at nightfall. Me and Aela have something to talk about with you."
On the other side of the room, Aela approached Farkas: "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, brother. I did not mean to hurt. You know how I am...""
-x-
"I'm glad you came. It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. A bit rough around the edges, a tad too naïve, yes, but you have potentials. Lots of it."
"Thanks…I guess? But I reckon you didn't call me here to shower me with praise."
Skjor smirked, and pressed a part of the Underforge's wall, revealing a secret door that lead deep into the belly of the hill the Skyforge was on. She followed him down a tunnel carved in the rock, long and winding, and it seemed they had been travelling forever until they reached the light at the end of it.
And at the end, Aela was waiting for them. She was large, but not as large as Farkas, more feral looking though, with spiky rust-coloured fur that seemed to have no order to it at all, and sharp claws that glinted in the light of Skjor's torch.
"Aela? Why are you in your beast form?" she asked, and turned to Skjor, one eyebrow raised. Her hands suddenly felt clammy, her heart in her throat, as the door closed behind them. This was either going to get very good, or very bad. Not that she didn't trust Aela and Skjor, she did, but intuition told her she was probably going to be faced with some sort of hard decision that she absolutely had no experience navigating out of. She hated being cornered.
"She's agreed to be your forebear."
"Skjor, I don't understand, what's going on?"
"You are due more honour that a ceremony and feasting. It's time you truly became a part of the Circle. Time you embraced your legacy as one of us. Kodlak may be off trying to get rid of our gift, but as you said…it's a tactical advantage."
Skjor smiled at her then, all teeth and pointy canines, his features obscured by the shadows. She almost didn't recognize him.
"He thinks we've been cursed, but we've been blessed. How can something that gives us this much power be a curse? Generations and generations of Companions have accepted and loved the gift of Hircine. Will you do the same? Will you join us in the hunting grounds, for great honour and glory?"
"Join the pack." Aela said, her voice two-layered, as if she and the wolf were speaking at the same time. She smiled, or at least tried to, but it looked out of place on her beast form's face. "Share in the beast blood, and you'll gain more power and freedom than you'll ever imagine."
But she didn't want those, Amina thought. She had enough power as it is as the fabled "Dragonborn", and she didn't think bowing to a Daedra lord was equal to freedom. How to refuse without making them upset at her? She didn't want the beast blood…
"Listen, brother…sister…I appreciate this, but I cannot." At Aela's growl, Amina out up one hand: "Please, let me explain. I think it not a curse nor a blessing, but I cannot. I'm Dragonborn – my soul is not…my own. I can't give it away like that to a Deadra before I know what the gods have in store for me. I have to deal with what this means, and do…whatever I'm meant to do, before even considering such a decision."
"How can we trust you if you keep yourself apart from this? If you're unwilling to share what we've all shared, for generations now?"
"I would think the fact that I've stuck with you so far and never told anyone of the beast blood is enough for you to trust me."
"So Kodlak has set you off the path too…so busy he's been with finding a 'cure' that he's forgotten this is part of us. In it's in our blood and in our halls, and now you are trying to break from it by not following tradition! Has he poisoned you against us like he did Vilkas and Farkas?!"
"Don't be a dumbass, Skjor. I've said my reasons. Kodlak's are his own. And Vilkas and Farkas would die for you both, you know that. You're treating a disagreement as if it's"
"When you look at me, sister, what makes you so afraid that you don't want to join our family?" Aela asked.
"I am not afraid!" Amina bristled. "But in case you've not noticed, I already have my soul pledged to one overlord. Would you have me break it in pieces to give to every Daedra?! Meridia's already staked her claim and has me as her champion, Kinareth has declared me under her guidance and protection, Akatosh has cursed me with whatever purpose, and worst of all, I eat the souls of dragons. Tell me, what do you want me to do? So many gods have staked claims on my being, would you want me to give myself away to yet another? Cherry on top, that'd be. Imagine me, dying, and all these beings squabbling at the dinner table over who gets to have me as their chewtoy in my afterlife."
She took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her eyes, her hands trembling. "At least Kodlak gets to still dream of Sovngarde while finding his cure. Me? I don't even know if they'll let me die properly." She then turned to glare at Aela. "So don't you dare call me afraid of the beast blood, when I have so many other things on my plate to be terrified of! Being a werewolf would be the least of my worries!"
Aela then turned back into her human form, and looked at Amina's trembling form. She exchanged a look with Skjor, and nodding at each other, he told Amina:
"Perhaps we've acted with haste. It's been a hard week, and maybe we've…not thought this through."
"We didn't consider your special situation, sister." Aela added, and put a hand on Amina's shaking shoulder.
"I know, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I guess it's easy to forget, especially in the past few months. I wonder what Delphine's up to…"
"You've been brave, sister. You've fought so many dragons in these past months. We're sorry we didn't consider that perhaps this has been hard for you. But you should be honoured, not afraid."
"I know."
"Stop being a milkdrinker."
Amina laughed. "I will."
Skjor snorted. "Distracted by tears. Very well. But this conversation is not over. We had planned to go raid a Silver Hand lair for your initiation, the three of us. But since you refused, me and Aela will go on our own."
"I should still join you."
"No. We're going…hunting." Skjor's grin was downright feral.
Amina returned to the whelp's room and laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling. How things had changed in such a short time. She could still remember Erik saving her from getting killed by the bandits they fought as if it were yesterday. The clumsy attacks, the rawness, the way she swung her sword that hurt more than helped, all fueled by just guts and the desire for adventure. And then, that dragon attacked, and nothing was the same. Godsdamnit, she still hadn't told her parents. What could she tell them? Kyne, but she missed them. Her hair was getting longer and longer, and despite her two visits, she hadn't had the time to ask her mother to cut it, as she had always done ever since she could remember.
She fell asleep.
It seemed like just a moment had passed, when she felt herself shaken awake. She shot up, wide-eyed, only to see Aela in front of her. Her hair was matted with dirt, her hands bloody up to the elbows, and her whole face was covered in scratches and bruises. The white of her eyes was bright in the dim candlelight, and Amina could see tear stain tracks across the smudges on her face.
Aela brought a shaky finger to her lips and shushed Amina, then started dragging her out from the halls and up the stairs, then out into the courtyard, where she finally collapsed on the stairs, trembling. She hugged herself and brought her knees to her chest.
"Gods, Aela, what happened to you?"
"They got Skjor! They almost got me, but I managed to run away."
"We have to go save him. I'll go gea-"
"No! No…it's…it's too late. Their leader is called Skinner, and when he caught Skjor he…immediately set to work." A sob broke from her. "He saved me for last. Just my luck." Her voice broke then, and she started sobbing in earnest. She then turned to Amina, her eyes burning:
" We had planned to have you with us tonight!" she screamed, baring her teeth. "That's what got us in trouble! You made us go alone!"
"Aela, I - "
Aela collapsed in a heap again on the stairs. "No, sorry…I…I shouldn't blame you. It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault but those pieces of shit's!"
Both women turned around at the sound of footsteps. Vilkas and Farkas stood in their doorway.
"What's going on?" Farkas asked, and then his twin continued: "Aela, what in Oblivion happened to you?"
Aela once more broke down into sobs, shaking. Farkas ran to her and took her by the shoulders, while Vilkas was too shocked by how out of character that was. Aela let herself cry into Farkas' chest while he soothingly stroked her hair, holding her gingerly, as if she might break, whispering "There, there…" as if she were a child.
"She and Skjor raided a Silver Hand hideout," Amina supplied, "and they were caught. Skjor…didn't make it."
Vilkas paled. "No…" he whispered. "It can't be. Skjor's one of our strongest."
From Farkas' arms, Aela's sobs got only louder. Vilkas turned to Farkas: "Brother, get her into a warm bed and give her a Calming Draught. She needs to rest…after all that she must've seen."
Farkas nodded and took Aela away, and Vilkas sighed, running his hands through his hair, and sat down on the stairs, his head buried in his hands. Amina sat next to him, looping an arm around his shoulder. They sat like that, under the night sky, for what seemed like half a life, until Vilkas spoke up, his voice strained:
"Skjor didn't deserve this. Those bastards are getting more and more crazed, bolder and bolder."
Amina nodded. "He was a good man. Jorvaskrr won't be the same without him."
"We need to tell Kodlak."
"In the morning, Vilkas. There's no use waking him up now, when we can't plan anything."
He nodded, and swallowed hard, and Amina could see that his eyes shone with unshed tears. She rubbed his shoulder.
"Come on big guy, let's go to sleep. It's no use staying out."
"I won't be able to fall asleep. It's not like I sleep well most of the time anyway." He sighed, and turned to look at her, his face open and vulnerable in a way that she'd rarely seen it. "I'll stay and watch the stars. Join me?"
She offered him a sad smile, and took his hand in hers. "Of course."
They laid down on the grass of the training grounds, shoulder to shoulder. Vilkas turned to Amina, lit only by the starlight, and he felt a little less lonely. She turned to him, her hazel eyes brilliant, shadowed by thick lashes.
"Were you close to Skjor, Vilkas?"
"After Jergen left, me and Farkas turned to Skjor for guidance. We were men, of course, but we felt the need to fill that void. He was our friend, and our leader. We looked up to him as we would Kodlak, despite our…ideological differences. He was extraordinary. We're warriors, yes, but you never get used to people close to you dying."
"He and Aela were very close…I think she'll grieve for a very long time."
"Aye. Rumor was that they were lovers, but Aela and Skjor never told us, and we never asked."
She turned on her side then, to fully face him, and he swallowed hard when he saw the swell of her small breasts through her nightgown. She looked like a boy in armour, but in a woman's dress Vilkas was suddenly reminded that Amina was anything but a boy. He banished the thoughts from his head. A man just died. It was incredibly inappropriate.
"I'm sorry I didn't get to know him more." A pause, and he saw something flash in her eyes – guilt?
"Maybe it's my fault." She continued.
"Why would it be your fault?"
"They had offered me the beast blood, and they wanted my initiation to be in that lair. They'd planned the attack for three werewolves, not one. Maybe that was their undoing, maybe if I had been there…"
"That's stupid, so banish the thought. Aela and Skjor are seasoned warriors, in and out of beast form, and if anything, they would have been worse with you there. The first turning is never easy. You are easily overwhelmed by the new smells, the new sights, the new things your body can do. You are clumsy and unthinking, ruled by baser instincts, until you learn how to control them and bring lucidity to wrestle down the beast into submission. That is why so many feral werewolves are a danger to society – they have no one to teach them on how to do that, so they retain the wilderness of the first turning into all subsequent ones. And they lose a bit of themselves with each transformation." He frowned. "It was stupid on their part to raid a lair all on their own, three or two people none withstanding. But it's no use now, Skjor's gone, Aela's inconsolable and we're…"
"Incomplete."
"Yes."
He sniffed, and Amina saw tears flowing from his eyes, silently. Save for that first intake of breath, you'd never know he was crying. Amina interlaced their fingers, and asked:
"What constellations do you see tonight, Vilkas?"
And he smiled, grateful for her obvious way of trying to steer his thoughts away from his grief, and started mapping out the sky with his finger, whispering to her all the many names that danced across the night.
Author's note: Next chapter coming in just a few days! I'm feeling very inspired, and well, I know EXACTLY what I want to happen in the next 2 chapters. Lots of drama of course, because I love conflict more than anything.