Author's note:
So sorry for the late update. BUT I got a new job and it took a while to adjust to the schedule. I'm a proper adult now, dang.
From now on updates every weekend!
-xx-
It was dark, and damp, and it spelled trouble. The fact that they'd walked into it on purpose was another matter entirely. The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling.
"I don't think it was such a good idea to come sneaking through the cellar. If someone hears us, we're trapped."
"Vilkas' plans never fail." Amina said.
Farkas shrugged, a gesture unseen in the darkness. "They sometimes do. But not often. "
"They don't. They just get re-done as he goes along."
"You're starting to sound like my brother."
Amina glared.
"Look like him too, now, eh."
Amina decided not to deem that with an answer, and returned to her crouch. They lay in waiting, ears perked up to hear any signs of struggle. At the first alarmed cry of a Silver Hand, they sprung in action, grinning like fools at each other, reaching for their weapons. As they ran up the stairs they heard the screaming increase, along with a feral howl, and they knew Aela just couldn't resist turning for the sake of increased panic and terror.
Farkas kicked the cellar door down, and the opponents that were facing Vilkas and Aela, a dozen or so, all turned at the sound. Farkas charged and swung his greatsword, striking down three opponents, the blade passing through them and slicing them all clean in halves. Profiting from the distraction, Aela slashed at the ones next to her, and their swords were useless against her berserk rage. She set upon them, biting and clawing, and continued to do so even after they were long dead, splattering everyone with blood and striking terror in the Silver Hand that remained. Meanwhile Amina used her small size to her advantage, and worked in tandem with Farkas and Vilkas. She and Vilkas served as Farkas' rear guard, and he the muscle, taking out the bulk majority of the opponents with sheer brute strength. Amina plunged her scimitar in a man's chest and kicked him off, only to crouch at Farkas' signal, his greatsword passing above her with a blast of wind, slicing the head off her would-be next opponent.
And so they took out all of the Silver Hand…on that floor, at least. Aela had stopped slicing and dicing the corpses on the floor only after Farkas pried her off them, and still she didn't turn back. Amina saw in her eyes a new kind of feral, and for a second she couldn't see Aela anymore, just the wolf. Aela was somewhere lost in grief, in a dark corner, and the wolf had wrapped her in fur and whispers and promises of revenge, and had taken over. Her muzzle and chest was dirty with blood not of her own, and so were her arms up to her elbows, as if she had gone digging in entrails. And by the sound their boots made when they went towards the next set of stairs, she might as well have been. A squelching wet sound that made Amina's stomach turn over.
She turned to look at Vilkas, but his gaze was hard set on their destination. He was still holding Aela's forearm, guiding her while she snapped her teeth at everything that groaned and moved. Sometimes death was not quick, not even with clean slices. Vilkas' keen ears heard a groan in the corner, and releasing Aela, strode towards the source of the sound.
It was a young man barely out of his teen years, soaking in his own blood, and in terrible pain. He only had a stomach wound, but terrible, so that his entrails could clearly be seen, glistening and pulsating, spilling blood on the floor. Vilkas kneeled next to him, and the youth keened in fear, and pain, and hopelessness.
"Stay still, lad." Vilkas whispered, and reached for the young man's head, cradling it in one arm, as you would a newborn's. He moaned, but Vilkas hushed him. "Hush now. I'll be doing you a great mercy."
"No, no, no…" the youth moaned, and tried to move away from Vilkas' grasp, but Vilkas held him still. "Please…" he whispered, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
"Think of home." Vilkas said, and gave the man in his arms a moment, but only one, and then reached with his other hand. The position was incredibly intimate, almost a lover's embrace, and Vilkas held the man tenderly. The youth's hands clawed at Vilkas' arms as he struggled.
"Think of home." He urged again. "Of where your heart lies. It will be over in a minute."
Vilkas snapped his neck. Fast and painless.
Amina gasped, and Vilkas stood up, brushing the blood on his trousers. She felt like screaming, but she knew it had been necessary. An innocent part of her, long dead, left behind somewhere in the past few months, had wanted to let him live. Heroes don't kill their fallen foes, because it's not honourable. In her mind's eye, as a child, the hero would just walk away and let fate decide. The part of her that had more experience however, knew that Vilkas had given him a great mercy. His wound was great, and fatal, and he would have suffered for hours, if not days, until it killed him. Even if someone had found him, nothing could be done, the guts themselves punctured and torn to shreds. There was no hope. And Vilkas had cut short his suffering.
Aela still smiled her wolfish grin, and beckoned them to hurry. Amina suppressed a shiver, and then looked from Farkas, to Vilkas, to Aela. What had made the twins different, as not to embrace this side of them like this? She grabbed Vilkas' bloody hand, and gave it a light squeeze. His eyes met hers, and he just shook his head. But the moment was gone in an instant, and he made his way up the stairs and towards the heart of the Silver Hand's lair.
But the rest of the rooms were oddly empty and silent, save for the draughts old towers often have, which howled and tugged at their hair, slipping through the cracks and making Amina's skin break into goosebumps. She swallowed and held her Thu'um in her throat, she could feel it bubbling with fire and power, and her eyes darted to and fro, alerted by some sixth sense. She felt a growing sense of an unease, as if she was walking into a trap.
Farkas held a hand in front of them and stopped them, sniffing the air. He exchanged a quick look with his brother, and they both paled. Aela started sniffing the air too, and her eyes widened, her face paled, her mouth agape, and she let out a scream that sliced through the air like a knife. Amina turned to her, startled, as Aela started running to the end of the hall, throwing open a door. She then stood in the doorway, trembling and shaking, and collapsed on her knees, letting out another wail. Amina followed and looked over Aela's shoulder.
And felt like screaming herself.
It was Skjor, but only barely. His skin had been flayed open, and you could see the sinewy muscles and tendons that made up his body, that fought in battles and made love. There was blood everywhere, Gods, and the stench, so putrid even she felt it, and that was not Skjor, that was just a bloody shadow. A puppet of flesh. She kept telling herself this, but it was his face that was staring at her, glassy eyed and slack jawed, pinned to the wall with nails.
Vilkas grabbed Aela's shaking shoulders, and turned her away, whispering "Don't look, sister, don't look.", but Aela only sobbed harder.
"They took his heart, they made him a trophy…" she wailed. Amina looked at what was left for Skjor and only then noticed the hole in his chest. She paled, shuddered, and vomited in a corner.
"Gods…" Farkas whispered, horrified.] Vilkas growled, hugging Aela and keeping her from turning her head towards Skjor's carcass. "We will have revenge, sister."
"They took his heart, his heart, how are we going to bury him like this?" she sobbed.
"In fire, like the warrior he was." Vilkas whispered in her hair, and she sobbed harder, and broke from his grasp.
Aela came undone with a howl and ran down the hall and up the stairs, the others following.
And that's when she found him, guarding the door that led to the ramp that led outside past the walls.
He was a wildling, blonde hair long and matted, blue eyes blazing, and scars running down his face, raw and inflamed as if they had been new. He was holding a sword in his trembling hands, and the taste of fear hung heavy in the air, so full Aela could taste it and roll it around with her tongue in her mouth. Good, he should be afraid. He should be terrified. Let his last moments be in fear, like Skjor's.
"Where's your leader?" she growled.
"H-he's gone." He stuttered, and then squared his shoulders and gripped the sword tighter. "And I'm here to stop you."
"WHERE IS HE?! " she screamed in his face.
"HE'S GONE!" he yelled back, his voice trembling.
She lunged at him, but he ducked and rolled over, too quick for her too catch, nimble and fearful.
"WHERE IS THE HEART?! You filthy worm, tell me or I'll rip your fucking throat out!"
"You're crazy, werewolf! What are you talking about?! Filthy crazy beast!"
"He doesn't know…" Farkas said.
"Don't be naïve. He knows." Vilkas growled.
"Know what?!"
"You're Bree's brother!" Amina said, suddenly seeing the resemblance. She straightened up, and held a hand to stop the others from advancing. "Bree asked us to spare you. For her sake, we'll have no quarrel with you if you leave now, and leave us well alone for the rest of your life."
Vilkas growled. "You've not the right to make that decision, Windborn, stand aside."
"I'm taking the right for myself." She stared him down, but Vilkas wouldn't relent. Their glaring contest was interrupted by laughter. The man in front of them was laughing madly, holding his stomach in myrth.
"How quaint, you're trying to train the beasts! My sister's always been too soft hearted and naïve. As if you beasts would step aside from the pleasure of a kill! Alas, my sister's whims don't trump my own will. I've no desire to hit women, so stand aside!"
Amina glared at him. "You're being stupid. Stop giving us your villain's speech, and go find your sister and make a new life for yourselves."
"I can't have a life! Monsters like them took it away! And now I must cleanse the world of them so that my sister may have what I'll never! The least I can do is help Skinner rid the world of you all!"
Farkas lunged and punched him in the jaw, and he fell like a sack of potatoes, dazed.
"Tch." Farkas said. "You're still a kid. Let me show you something." He growled, and grabbed Bree's brother by the back of his shirt, dragging him around while he struggled and kicked at him. Vilkas raised an eyebrow at his brother while Aela growled.
"Stand aside, kid needs to learn a lesson." Farkas said, and gave them a level stare. "Stand down, sister. He doesn't have Skjor's heart, you don't need to rip his out. "
"We don't have time for this, Farkas!"
"The Skinner's long gone, Aela." Vilkas sighed. "No smell, no trace. Let Farkas teach this idiot a lesson", and then, under his breath "And we can slit his throat later."
Farkas just laughed, while Amina was appaled. "We are not going to slit his throat!" she growled at Vilkas, and he just glared at her, one eyebrow raised.
Meanwhile, Farkas dragged Bree's brother to the other end of the hall, and threw him right in a pool of Skjor's blood. He screamed and scrambled, trying to get as far away from the corpse as possible, but Vilkas stopped him, a foot between his shoulder blades. And then, bending over and taking his head in one large hand, he made him stare at it as he struggled, wide-eyed and terrified.
"Look at this. Look at it good. Do you know what this is?"
"No, no, I swear, I don't know anything about this! You beasts probably did it."
Farkas sighed and shook his head, digging his fingers deeper in the man's scalp. "Look at it better. Do you think claws can cut like this? That teeth bite so clean?"
The other man shuddered. "N-no…no, they – they would't – they're heroes, not murderers!"
Vilkas scoffed. "Look at you, past twenty springs and naïve like a newborn babe. What did you think they did to werewolves, kid? Killed us in a humane, painless way? Purged us quietly from the world? Stormed castles were evil wolves kept princesses trapped?" he started laughing. "Guess what, son? Your princess is in another castle. And you're the villains, while The Companions are the heroes. And the rewards we get? This."
"Look at it, kid." Farkas growled. "Look at what they did to him!"
And Bree's brother started sobbing then, whispering no, no, no, all over, as if his world was crumbling in all around him. Amina approached him then, and pulled Farkas off him gently. He still kneeled in a pool of blood, shell-shocked, and she knelt in front of him.
"Look at me." She said, and moved his face from the corpse towards her. "I know it's easier to think it's all black and white. But men can be monsters and monsters can be saints, this I've learned. You need to get over this, tell us where Skinner is, and get back to your sister. Bree NEEDS you. She's scared and alone. You don't NEED this, you hear me?" His head turned again towards the corpse, then towards Aela in her wolf form, but Amina grabbed his face again in both of her hands, and put her forehead against his.
"You don't need your revenge on all werewolves, just like I don't need all revenge on dark elves, just because a dark elf gave me this - " and she traced her face with her hand, over the scar she received a life ago, it seemed, in Bleak Falls. "Tell us where Skinner is, and we'll take you to Whiterun, and from there you can find Bree, and be happy."
He trembled in her hands.
"Do you want to see Bree again?"
He only nodded.
"Tell us where Skinner is."
"F-Faldar's Tooth, near Riften."
"And the fragments of Wuuthrad? Do you know anything about those?"
He shook his head. "I connected them with the middle man, but I – I d-don't know where they are."
"Thank you. What's your name?"
"Brenton."
She smiled at him, then raised her head and looked over his shoulder at Farkas, and nodded once sharply. He hit Brenton with the butt of his sword, and the young man fell in a heap in Amina's arms.
"Okay, so what do we do with him now?" she asked. Vilkas raised an eyebrow, to which she replied: "I only thought of how to convince him. I didn't think further than that."
He just shook his head, grabbed a string of rope, and started tying Brenton up, feet and hands and torso, secure and tight.
"I still want to slit his throat. Filth like him doesn't deserve to live."
"No." Amina said. "As a favour for me, shield-sister, let him live. And I'll owe you a kill."
Aela just glared, incredulous. "Are you serious?"
"For Bree. She was always kind to me, and I never paid her much heed. Kind to all of us. We should repay that kindness."
She thought she could see Farkas getting a little misty eyed, but then he blinked, and it seemed as if it had been a trick the light played in his blue eyes.
They descended down the stairs through another corridor, nearer to the horses they came with.
Aela was carrying Skjor's body wrapped in sheets, and she was dry-eyed now, her face stony and ashen. She had insisted on carrying him, said only she could do it, even when Vilkas offered to do it for her, to keep Skjor's blood from flowing on her and reminding her of what had happened. But Aela had shook her head, and went to Skjor's body and set back all the flayed skin on the exposed muscle, hands trembling, and wrapped Skjor in the sheets herself. She was painted in his blood, and she was taking him home. Gods, she was going to take him home even if it killed her soul doing it.
Farkas was carrying Brenton like a sack of potatoes as if he weighed nothing, silent and lost in memories. He was thinking of Bree, sweet as an apple and elusive as a summer breeze, and of how this one kid ruined it all, ruined the one gentle thing he wanted to cradle close to him without fearing it would break. He felt like smashing his face in, but that would displease Bree. He turned to look at Aela, striken and grieving, and was grateful that his grieving periods had always been short and quiet, spent in dark corners with a mug of ale. Unlike Aela, he mourned and let go. But as he looked at Aela then, he knew that his shield-sister had a hole in her heart, and only death would patch it, when it would come. She clung to things so fiercely that she left claw marks on them. She never learned to let go, but he did. He had to.
Amina was walking next to Vilkas when she heard it. The click and whirl, the tell-tale sign of –
She threw him to the side and jumped in front of him, her back turned to the door, and all she felt was pain, her ears filled with Vilkas' scream of horror. She turned to look at them to say that she was ok, just a scratch really, it's just one of those dam trap doors, but when she tried to open her mouth –
Nothing but blood poured out. She could see his eyes, impossibly wide and blue, and – were his lashes always so long? Why was the world in a blur? Why was everything so quiet? She could feel the blood pump in her ears like the White River. She blinked, and raised her hands to her face. Why was she doing that? She was trembling.
What was going on?
Everything plummeted into darkness.
-xx-
He entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him. The air smelled of the sweet-flowery perfume of healing potions, of poultices and pomades and soothing herbs, of freshly brewed Closed-Eye Root tea….and of her.
He took a sharp intake of breath when he saw her, looking so small and frail between the blankets and pillows, her chest tied tightly with bandages. Her whole torso, he knew, was filled with puncture wounds, from her shoulders to her belly. That blow was meant for him, he thought bitterly.
His throat was tight, and something clawed at his chest as he took in her little form. Gods, had she always been so tiny? Her skin, usually the colour of copper, was now ashen, with great dark circles under her eyes, her hair a dark halo around her head. He closed the distance between them, and caressed her forehead, letting his fingers run through the dark water of her locks, free from their usual braids, so long that they almost touched the floor.
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger. There was no fever, but she still smelled of blood and aches, and he couldn't bear it.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He gingerly grabbed her hand with his other one. Her fingers were cold and clammy, but it helped him see that she was real, she was still there, she was alive. He could feel her heartbeat through their touch, strong and rapid, picking up the pace as he got closer to her.
"Hey." She croaked, and he rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her hands in answer. Her breath smelled of healing potion, but that was good – that meant it had entered her system. It meant it was working. It meant she was alive, and that she was going to stay that way.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better. Still can't get out of bed, but Tilma said I should be able to in a couple of days without being afraid to pull my stitches while the potion does its magic with my innards."
"You silly girl." He whispered, and held her hand tighter, again more ferociously: "You silly, silly girl. Why did you run in front of me? Don't you know my beast blood would've taken care of it? Now you're…"
She laughed. "'tis but a flesh wound, Vilkas. And…I couldn't think, you know." She averted her eyes from him, took her hand from his and turned with her back at him, on her side, letting go of his hands.
"All I could think about was that it was aiming for you, I couldn't…your beast blood never passed my mind, I only knew that from that angle it would've been a fatal wound. And you dying…gutted like a pig, like that. Dying, period…I just…I couldn't take it. I refused to take it. So I jumped in front of you. So what? Are you going to scold me for that, too?"
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she sniffed as his hand touched her shoulder, and she felt his weight on the bed, sitting next to her, his warmth seeping already into her aching back. He cradled the back of her head into his other hand, and turned her towards him, so that he could look at her. His eyes were sad, shadowed by his eyebrows, and there was no frown on his face, just an expression like a question mark, tenderness mixed with surprise.
"Why would you do that? You're Dragonborn, the world needs you."
"Well I don't care about what the world needs, I care about what I need!"
Her heartbeat like a drum in his ears, he could feel her trembling. He could feel himself trembling, because he was sure, she would say it now, and there'd be no running away from it.
"And what I need is you alive and near me. The thought of a world without you…I…" she averted her eyes from him again. "I couldn't bear it.".
She took a deep breath, and continued: "So call me dumb, yell at me, say whatever you like, this is how I feel. And you can have your moods all you want, and push me away, but it's not going to change, alright? I'm a stupid girl, and I'd rather throw away the whole world's fate into another's' hand rather than see you die."
"I…Amina…you…you deserve so much better. I can't…the beast blood. I can't give you what you want. You shouldn't…do things like these anymore." She could feel his hand trembling in hers, and in that moment, she thought he looked so afraid, ready to flee at any moment.
"I never asked anything of you!" she snapped. "I never asked for that kiss, or that dance, and yet you gave it willingly, and then rejected me. I never asked for you to…respond to my feelings, alright? I just wanted to be your friend, that's all I ever wanted, and all I have to give is yours to take, and you don't have a say in that, alright? I would never, ever, ask for more than you can give, but don't ask me to stop caring, as you silently do with your crazy mood swings. As if you could turn me away with a few nasty choice words. I fight dragons, Vilkas, I'm not afraid of you."
Her hands dropped in her lap, and she took a deep breath. "I don't want to be more than your friend if you don't want me to be, Vilkas, but stop pushing me away whenever you think I'm getting too close. Stop letting me in, only to kick me out and close that door behind me the next day. Decide on how you want to treat me, and keep it steady. Stop…stop treating me like you've been. It's not fair to me, and I deserve better."
She then laughed. "I caught a trap door for you, the least you could do is try to spare my feelings." Her chuckle turned to a sob, and she burrowed her head in her hands.
"I'm sorry, Amina. I never meant to hurt you."
"I know." A pause. "I need to rest, Vilkas, so if you could please? We'll talk later."
"Of course."
He closed the door gently behind him, as quiet as he did when he first came in, and let out a great sigh, his heart somewhere in his throat. Back in his room, he punched the wall, and let out a strangled yell of frustration. If it hadn't been for the beast blood, maybe…He shook away the thought from his head. No use lingering on what he couldn't have. Monsters don't get to love. They may be loved, yes, but beasts should stay away from tender things. Oh, but how he yearned for it, he craved it, and yet…
It would be another thing to resist, like turning. If he could refuse the call of the beast blood, he surely could stop himself from hurting her. If he allowed himself to ponder his feelings, see that her whole being called to her, it would be his undoing, their undoing, and he'd find himself one morning with her blood on his hands and her heart in his teeth, he thought, and he couldn't bear it.
He picked away the splinters from his hand thinking he deserved this, but she certainly did not.