Wow, a new chapter!
This should explain a thing or two. We are almost done :D and it only took me 1 year to write that! Lol...
As always, Reviews are really really appreciated.
For now, this is the non-beta-ed version. Have fun!
Night hung over Jorrvaskr like a black cloak. No sounds were to be heard, no stars illuminated the sky, there was nothing but an eerie silence that seemed to swallow the home of the Companions.
Inside the mead hall, people were mourning. Farkas did not react when spoken to. How the others had managed to bring him back to Whiterun at all was bexond Kodlak, but he was glad that at least one of the boys, whom he loved like his own sons, had returned safely.
All the Companions, as well as their guest, had gathered to remember the friend and brother they had lost. Well, all except for Torvar, who had been drunk bexond recognition on the early afternoon and passed out before the search party even arrived.
For once nobody sang, laughed, or fought in the ancient mead hall. Everyone mourned Vilkas, each in their own way, in companionable silence. Occasionally a sob escaped Mahri's lips, together with an expression of sorrow or even guild, as she had been the reason Vilkas was up at the Skyforge in the first place.
Both Ria and Athis tried to calm her down and ease the poor girl's conscience as she was hardly to blame for their shield-brother's end.
Nobody noticed Skjor leave the mead hall.
A few torches were burning in the courtyard of Jorrvaskr. The embers of the Skyforge illuminated the sky in the distance, but for the normal eye there was nothing else to be seen. Normal ears heard nothing but the licking flames, normal noses only smelt the smoke created by the torches. But to Skjor, the man who waited beside the Underforge was as clear as day. He gave the Companion a nod and entered the secret hideout of the werewolves, closely followed by Skjor.
Once the heavy portal behind them has closed, the leather-clad man turned around and appraised his opposite like a long lost son would his father, or a former student his mentor, or a Companion his shield-brother.
"Arnbjorn" Skjor finally greeted, distaste obvious in his voice.
"Skjor, it's been a while, old man."
"Not nearly long enough" The warrior replied. The assassin just chuckled.
"Why are you here, boy?" The younger man gave his former friend a wolfish smile.
"I am sure you already know. Otherwise you would not have left Jorrvaskr, or followed me to the Underforge. You'd have your blade at my throat by now."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "That can still be arranged."
Arnbjorn crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't you want to ask me why I smell of Vilkas's blood?"
"I think I already know the answer. You are only alive because I think the boy might be as well."
The blond man gave a small nod. "You are correct. He still lives."
"Why would you help him?" The assassin frowned. "Aren't you going to ask me why I faked his death?" the surprise in his voice was obvious.
"The only logical answer is that someone is after the boy's life. It is not the brothehood, as your presence here prooves, so that leaves only one person in Jorrvaskr."
Arnbjorn nodded and smiled approvingly. "Not bad, old man, not bad."
"Now answer my question."
"An associate of mine was recently captured by a group of bounty hunters. She was tortured, she was raped, and about to be killed, when a werewolf appeared out of nowhere and slaughtered her captors. In the heat of the moment, she got away. Said werewolf lost a trinket, that luckily I was able to identify. Now my partner in crime thinks she owes Vilkas her life, and wants to repay him. Sadly, I owe her my life as well, so she made me help her."
Skjor frowned, and Arnbjorn shrugged in reply.
"She saved me from a clown with a butter knife. Don't ask."
"I won't" was the short answer.
"So why don't we take the girl out?" the older man asked.
"My partner thinks her influence over certain members of Jorrvaskr might have reached a dangerous level. I don't know much about magic, but I still think if you value your family's life, we should be cautious."
"We are warriors" Skjor barked. "A pair of pretty eyes isn't enough to kill us."
Arnbjorn glared back at the Companion. "Really? Then why don't you just go in and tell Farkas that his little girlfriend had tried to kill his brother? How do you think he will react?"
Skjor though about it for a moment, and had to agree that the boy's behaviour in the presence of the redhead had been very unusual. The traitor might be on to something here.
"So what do we do?"
"First we need to find out who she is working for, and how much they know. My partner is on to that now. For the next step, we will need your help."
Skjor nodded. Anything for the Companions.
Farkas woke up feeling numb. His eyes stung from the tears he had shed, his head felt like an anvil that was being treated with a hammer, but most of all his heart was bleeding. Vilkas would not come back, he knew that, but he did not know how to continue with his life from here. The only thing that reminded him that he was still alive was the naked young woman that was sleeping beside him, her head resting on his broad chest. Her breath was tickling him, and a wave of affection hit him. He would make it through this, with her help. They both had lost all the people they loved, and together they would survive.
He entangled his hand in her red mane and gave her a long, comforting hug. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she gave him a warm, loving smile.
"Good morning" her voice sounded sultry, still heavy with sleep, and it pulled at Farkas's heart. "Good morning" he replied. She gave gim a sleepy smile. "It's good to have you back. I thought I had lost you." She wrapped her arm around his torso and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. "You almost had" he replied honestly.
"I couldn't bear it if I lost you too" she said. "I've lost everything else... I don't know what I'd do..." her voice was shaky and her grip on him tightened. Farkas knew the feeling of loss and emptiness. There was a hole in his heart that he knew could never be filled, but if he could give the girl any comfort, he would. He knew she would try to do the same for him.
"You won't lose me" he promised.
Vilkas was sore. The stabwound hab been treated, and his wolf blood did the rest, but the pain remained for now. His heart was racing as he considered all the possible implications of the information he had just received. How did he not notice? And how did he, who prided himself on his wit, fall for such a simple trick?
The answer made his head ache. Because he had been too confident, he had let a young woman deceive him. He had allowed it to hapen, consciously ignoring the alarm bells that went off more than once. And now he needed the help of an assassin and a traitor to save his family. To save his brother.
When he found out that Arnbjorn was involved, he was less than thrilled, but beggars can't be choosers and at this moment, Vilkas was in no position to reject offered help. Maybe things would be easier now that his head was clear and he had his ring back, still, he did not know how much influence the girl already had on his brother. Every moment he spent in her presence could be fatal. They needed to act, and soon.
He was sitting in what was revealed to him to be Whiterun's Hall of the Dead. A fitting place, considering the circumstances.
Arnbjorn had brought him a set of dark brotherhood armour, since his own had been used by the former Companion to lead the others onto a wrong trace. Vilkas was uncomfortable and felt almost like a traitor, knowing what would have to come next, but it was inevitable. He would do whatever needed to be done for his brother.
The dunmer girl, who had introduced herself as Linwen, had disappeared some time ago. Vilkas knew he would have to wait for information before he acted. The wolf inside urged him to attack, but he knew better. He would wait, and he would be patient. The risks were just too great for him to jeopardize their plans, and possibly Farkas's life.
Finally the tomb opened, and a wave of fresh air and the scent of wolf hit Vilkas's sensitive nose. Arnbjorn greeted his former shield-brother with a nod.
"All is set into motion. Let's get this done with tonight, I can't wait to leave this shithole of a town."
Vilkas agreed wholeheartedly.
"Have you seen my brother?" He asked the blond man, who shook his head in reply. "No, but Skjor promised to keep an eye, or at least an ear, on him."
Vilkas was not happy about this answer, but it was better than nothing. There was hardly anyone whom he'd entrust his brother's life rather than Skjor.
"And what now?"
"We wait for Linwen. Let's hope she's got some good news for us."
With these words spoken, the blond man laid down on a nearby bedroll and closed his eyes. He'd need all his energy in a few hours. Vilkas sighed and decided to stare at the door until the elfling came back.