Author's note: Back to our regular schedule of updates as of this month! I'm officially out of the trial period at my job and have settled into a nice routine :) Chapters 19 - 21 have already been written, all I need to do is wait a few days between them to post them ;)

"We cannot wait while Amina recovers. It's not her fight, anyway." Aela said, pacing back and forth from one end of the room to the other.

Vilkas nodded. "I agree."

"What about the kid?" Farkas asked, pointing a meaty thumb at the cellar in which Brenton was trapped.

"We can't free him before we get Skinner. For all his cheek and naivete, it could be a ruse. Amina's little speech might've hit him hard then, but changes of heart are easy for scaredy cats like him." Vilkas answered.

Kodlak nodded. "'Tis true. The lad seems sincere, if fearful, but we cannot risk it. Skinner needs to die for his atrocities, and we need to cut the Silver Hand right at the head, and recover the fragments. However, this begs the question – how?"

"What do you mean how?" Farkas asked. "We storm in, take the fragments, kill the bad guy. Seems like an easy job to me. There'll just be a lot of them."

It was not as simple as he had predicted, but Farkas felt a sniff of hope and metal on the wind the night they rode towards Faldar's Tooth, and he felt at peace. Soon, it would be all over – the fragments would be back where they belong, and Bree would be happy. Far away from him, but ultimately, happy. He gave his breast pocket a pat, to remind himself that her handkerchief was still there, folded neatly. She had given him it one day to wipe the grime of the forge off his hands, and told him to keep it. Now it was near his heart, freshly washed, waiting to return to its owner. Farkas sighed – perhaps the handkerchief might never make its way back home, with the way things had gone.

He turned to Aela, who was looking hard at the horizon, at the peak of Faldar's Tooth tower, not usually seen by normal eyes from that distance. He put a hand on her shoulder, and squeeze.

"Soon, sister."

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Soon. And then we will give Skjor a proper funeral."

They stopped their horses into the thicket, and sent them away with a pat on the back. They hit in the bushes, the three of them, and observed the surroundings. Aela could make out the gleam of archers' bows and quivers in the moonlight.

"Ten archers on top, two at the gates. Any suggestions, brother?" she asked Vilkas.

"Farkas, you'll take out the two men by the gates, but only after me and Aela dispatch the archers. Sister, you climb the left battlement, while I will climb the right. You take five, I take the other five – silently, one by one. They're spaced a couple of paces apart, it should be fairly easy to not attract attention to ourselves."

"You'll give the usual sign?" Farkas asked, and his twin nodded.

And then they were off, running through the bushes and tall grass, circling the tower with Farkas waiting patiently, watching them intently for any sign of trouble. A slight rain started, and this pleased him – the pitter-patter of water would hide the sound of their breaths and footsteps. He dared a smile when he heard thunder in the distance and the storm started proper – normal ears would not hear sneaking around with such a rainstorm muffling everything around.

Vilkas, on the other hand, was cursing his wretched luck, which was, in that moment, both good and bad. He, like his brother, appreciated the rain for its noise, yet damned it all to hell for making the stones of the walls wet and unsure. Twice his fingers slipped and he almost fell, and twice he had to regain his footing and try not to yelp during the half-fall. But he finally reached the top, and started stalking in the shadows.

Two of the archers were in conversation, complaining about the lack of visibility, and yelling over the sound of the storm. With a wicked smile, Vilkas grabbed their heads and smashed them against each other, knocking them out cold. He slit their throats and stepped over them. The other two received similar treatment, but the last would not go so easily…

"Stop right there, Companion scum!" the archer yelled, and Vilkas smirked.

"Oh? And what are you going to do, Silver Hand?" he taunted, and then closed the space between the man and himself in the blink of an eye, and grabbed both bow and arrow, making the archer lose his balance. He tossed the weapon aside, and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. With his free hand he motioned Farkas to take out the two men by the gate.

"Help!" the Silver Hand yelled.

"In this storm no one can hear you scream, friend."

And then he threw him over the ledge.

He turned towards Aela's side of the battlements, and caught the smell of blood on the wind, then saw her stalking towards him, a wicked smile on her face.

"What happened to 'stealth means scurrying around like rats', brother?"

Vilkas cringed. "Different enemies require different measures. I am honourable, not stupid."

"I'm just messing with you Vilkas. I am in good spirits tonight."

"So it seems. Let's go greet Farkas by the main gate. Careful not to break your neck on the way down."

The trio entered the main door like they owned the place, with Aela at the front. Aela transformed into a werewolf at the first step over the thresold, with Vilkas and Farkas flanking her, swords drawn. Lightning struck, and the Silver Hand could see their silhouettes and nothing more, dangerous and terrible. And it was over in just a few seconds. The Companions quickly dispatched with iron and claw whatever Silver Hands were in the chambers they passed, cleaving their way into the heart of the tower, paving their path with blood and screams. By the time they reached the very bowels of Faldar's Tooth, Silver Hand were fleeing left and right, tripping over their own feet trying to get away. Aela swatted at one or two for good measure, but she let them run – no time for chasing after cowards, after all.

They found Skinner waiting patiently for them, an armada of Silver Hand flanking him. He smirked at them, but Vilkas could taste his fear, heavy and sour on the wind that came through the open window.

"Good evening, Companions. Here to avenge your fallen comrade, I presume?"

Aela just growled. "No time for talk, bastard!"

"Of course, beasts don't care much for talking do they?" and then, turning towards his fellows: "Boys, you may leave. This is between me and these esteemed…gentlemen…and, lady, if I'm correct? Very hard to figure out under all that fur."

The Companions stared, at a loss for words; their hands, however, were still at the ready on their swords. Vilkas tensed. There was something wrong, he could sense it.

"B-but boss…?"

"Now, now, lads. Run along. I presume," he asked the Companions "you will avoid showing how beastly you are by slaying my companions, who have so gently let their weapons lay, and will let them go, yes?"

"What are you playing at, Skinner?" Vilkas asked, a growl low in his throat.

Skinner sat in his chair, crossing his legs, and then his arms over the barrel of his chest. "Despite what some may say, I know when I'm outnumbered. And I do not wish my fellows to get slaughtered for nothing. I usually send them to their deaths with a purpose or another, but senseless bloodshed? I leave that to the beasts."

A look passed between Farkas and Vilkas, and it was understood: the hunt for the stragglers would come later.

"So why all alone, Skinner?" Aela asked. "So much bravado, are you compensating for something, little man?"

"You see, darling lady, I'd rather die than tell you where your precious fragments of Wuuthrad are. As for your friend's heart?"

Aela lunged at him then, and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up in the air. "What did you do with it, bastard?!"

Skinner then smiled, and Farkas felt a shudder pass through him.

"I ate it."

Aela froze, unbelieving, but then spat. "That's just too storybook evil. Tell me the truth!"

"No, it's true. A bit chewy, perhaps, but delicious nonetheless. And now," he said, and grabbed Aela's wrist, squeezing until she started whining, pain coursing through her arm so much that she let go of his throat. He kept his hold tight and twisted her arm until she was on her knees in front of him. In the blink of an eye, a silver blade was at her throat.

"And now, now, friends, swords back in their sheaths, please."

"What manner of sorcery is this?!" Vilkas asked.

"You see, that's the thing with determination, my furry friends. You find yourself an enemy, and you do what you can to best your enemy. And I've lost too many of my own to not consider every option I could so that I'd be able to wipe every last one of you from the face of Tamriel. Yes, I ate his heart, and now I have every bit of his strength without the curse in my veins."

He turned to Aela then and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. "See, bitch, what kind of monster you werewolves turned me into?! But I guess…", and turned to look to the brothers: "I guess you must be a monster to fight monsters."

Vilkas made to step forward.

"Not one more inch, friend, or lady-wolf here gets it."

Aela then look at him, and after at the twins, and something unspoken passed between the three Companions.

Her claws raked on his face in the blink of an eye as she struggled to get away from his grip. His knife managed to graze her neck, just barely, before she got away, kicking him in the stomach. He bent over, half-wheezing half-laughing, the blade falling and clattering to the floor. Vilkas stepped on the knife just before Skinner could reach it, and met his stare.

"Fine, friends, I get it. I'm outnumbered. I give up."

"Just like that?" Farkas asked.

"Just like that. I'm a sadist, not a moron. But mark my words," he said while Aela grabbed him by the back of his neck to hold him in place, Vilkas' blade at his throat, "ideas don't die, beasts. I may die, and the man after me, and maybe the next one too, but the Silver Hand will never die. And there will come a day when we'll have all your beastly heads mounted on our walls as trophies. And the night will be safe and quiet, and children will sleep soundly at night knowing that we vanquished the monsters that plagued their dreams and ate away at their villages."

"You think you're living in some fairy-tale, Skinner, and that you're the hero?"

"I may be no hero, but I'm no villain either! How many innocents must die before we finally manage to purge your kind from this world?"

"You think we don't know the truth? That your precious Silver Hand is nothing more than a splinter from the Companions? The rebels, the rejects, the drama queens? Tch," Vilkas spat "You ran away and now you're justifying your cruelty by calling us beasts? You're despicable."

"And you think one invalidates the other, mongrel? You are as stupid as you look it seems!"

"What did we ever do to you?!" Farkas asked, and then Aela yanked Skinner's head away and growled in his ear: "What did Skjor ever do to you?!"

"Killed my wife."

Aela's grip faltered. "He would never…"

"Wouldn't he? How many men and women have you killed just trying to sneak into my tower? You seem so surprised…didn't it occur to you all those people were someone's son or daughter, someone's spouse, brother, daughter?"

Silence fell as all three stared.

"Yes, yes, your precious werewolf friend killed my wife. And didn't even blink, went right through to cleaving the rest of my comrades alongside her, and took delight in it. So it was personal. So I made sure it was his heart I ate, and I made sure to rip it out of his chest while he was still alive."

Aela snarked. A snap.

His body fell down, limp, neck crooked.

"This changes nothing." Aela growled. "Nothing!"

"We're not stupid, Aela." Farkas whispered, and stepping towards her, he put a hand on her shoulder. "We know everyone we kill has a family. It's not like we'll judge Skjor for it. Skinner is…was…crazy."

Vilkas scoffed. "If we'd have every person whose kin we killed because they were breaking the law breathing down our necks, we'd have a tempest at our collar every hour of the day. Now come, let's get away from this filth, our job his done."

"What about this whole eating hearts thing, brother?"

"I'll research it more when we get back home."

"I'm not going." Aela said.

"And pray tell, why not, shield-sister?"

A wicked smile spread across her face, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. "I am going hunting tonight. There are still Silver Hand left, fragments to recover, and he so conveniently has a map on the wall to look at to find out where they all are."

Farkas grunted, and then : "Do you need me to come with you?"

"No, shield-br-"

"Take him, Aela. Last time one of us went alone…"

Aela glared at Vilkas, and for a moment a chill ran down his spine. "Don't you dare use this against me. But very well…"

"We can deal with any stragglers left. We've cut off the head, now all they can do is twitch around a bit more before falling dead." Farkas said, smiling at his brother. "You worry too much."

Vilkas threw his hands in the air. "Someone in here has to."

-xx-

Amina sat up, cringing as she felt the stiches pull at her skin. She gingerly lifted the bandage, and was surprised at what she saw. By her estimate, only a week had passed, but wounds that should've taken months to properly heal were already mending together. What was once slashed skin and barely held together muscle was now just scratches and bruises, and only the deepest of wounds were still held with Tilma's medicinal twine. The skin looked new and fresh like a newborn babe's, not sick at all, and when she went and touched it it almost burned her fingers, scorching hot, as if something was bubbling below its surface. She sighed – perhaps a new effect of being Dragonborn? Not that she'd complain about this most convenient perk…

She got out of bed and clothed herself slowly, deliberately, trying to postpone the inevitable moment when she'd go outside and face the world. The window was wide open, and a sweet breeze came through, ruffling her hair.

It was too beautiful a day for a funeral.

Jorvaskrr was grim and somber, unlike the weather outside. Everyone was dressed simply, without adornments, and even the hall itself was stripped of its decorations. The mirrors had been covered by Tilma with linens, and the smell of incense hung heavy in the air.

They gathered in the hall, all of the Companions, and Aela seemed to stand out among them in her grief. They went together up the stairs to the Skyforge, and everything around them seemed so happy and alive just to spite them.

Aela was at the front of the procession, Kodlak on one side and Farkas on the other, holding her shoulders. She seemed to lean on both men for comfort. When she saw the funeral pyre, she stopped in her tracks, but then Farkas put a hand between her shoulder blades, and motioned her forward. She turned to look at him, and Farkas nodded to her, something unspoken passing between them. Then Kodlak whispered something in her ear, and she squared her shoulders and strode forward, leaving them all behind, a new determination blossoming inside her.

"I could never understand their language." Vilkas commented, leaning over to whisper to Amina.

"Farkas and Aela's, you mean?"

He nodded. "He's told me that she cries, often. She's never truly cried in front of anyone but him. I think he's the only one that truly knows her grief."

"She's a very private person."

"I wish I just knew how to…comfort her. She's falling apart."

"She'll pull herself together. I think trying to comfort her right now would just insult her, shield-brother." A pause. "I miss him too, you know, even if I've known him for so little compared to the rest of you. I get out in the yard and expect to see him out training, or I go down the hall and something reminds me of him and I remember he's not here and it…just leaves a hole in my heart."

"He had that spot in the yard that was his favorite, that one in the shade…"

"Where he used to take naps during the high hours of the afternoon, and he said the sound sword hitting sword lulled him to sleep…"

"I miss training the whelps with him. He was good fun, his dry wit scared them out of their breeches most of the time."

Amina grabbed Vilkas's shoulder, and he put his hand over hers.

"Everyone will miss him." She whispered, and turned towards the forge.

Skjor's body went in flames, the pyre bright, the smoke thick and heavy.

Aela stood still, as close to the fire as she could without touching it, even as the others went back to the hall.

-xx-

"There's a letter for you, shield-sister." Aela said while entering the room, and Amina stood up from the bed, bleary-eyed and barely conscious.

"What time is it?"

"Five."

"In the morning?! Dear gods, you're not human, how can you be up so early?"

Aela smirked, and opened her mouth to say that no, she was not human indeed, but Amina put up her hand: "-don't answer that, it's too early for smart quips. A letter, you said?"

"Courier just brought it in." Aela sat on her bed and handed her the letter.

"Dear Amina," Amina started reading "Are you in the mood for an elven party? I heard their wine is so potent it can make you see dragons out of thin air. Meet me at the inn to talk more. –D."

"Your friend from Riverwood? I'm not sure if this is the best way to write a letter about a covert operation, or if it's as subtle as a bag of bricks through a temple window."

Amina looked at Aela and burst into a fit of giggles. "It is rather heavy-handed, no?" A pause. "Say, shield-sister, will you join me?"

"Would you not rather have Vilkas and Farkas?"

"Who said I'm not bringing them anyway? I'd love to have you by my side, as well."

A cloud passed over Aela's face. "I'd love to, shield-sister, but it's been just a month and I…I have matters to attend to. I cannot go around the countryside."

"Well, it will probably take a week or so to prepare the trip…so just sleep on it, alright? You need to get more sunlight, and less moonlight. And terrifying a few elves instead of Silver Hand will make for a nice change of pace."

Aela smiled bitterly. "Perhaps. Go back to bed, Amina, it's early still and Vilkas might not come to wake you up for training for a few hours more yet."

"But still - "

"I don't need your pity, godsdamnit!" Aela snarled.

Amina put her hands up. "I know, sister. It's not pity. I just want to see you…well."

"I'd like to see how well you'd fare when someone close to you died. Go back to sleep, you're a child yet. Best you stay that way." Aela said through gritted teeth, and stormed out of the room.

Amina huffed, rubbed her eyes in frustration and collapsed back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Outside, the birds were obnoxiously loud. She stuffed her face in the pillow and groaned.

Up next: Amina is as subtle as a bull in a china shop, the twins crash a party, and Delphine gets more than she bargained for.