Brynjar awoke to the cool winds of Whiterun hold. He was still in the saddle, surprisingly, and Ciri was on foot.
"Ah, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake, huh?" She teased.
Brynjar managed a weak grin. "Yeah, but the real beauty has been awake and walking this whole time," He could already sense the incoming eye-roll. Instead he was answered with a question.
"Is this that Whiterun city you were talking about? With the keep on the hill, and all that?"
Brynjar looked around at the surrounding farms and at the stables where he'd bought horses many times from. "Yep this is it. Home sweet home." He hopped down from horse as they approached the city stables.
"Dragonborn! Welcome back!" The stable-hand greeted him, taking the reins from Ciri.
"Thank you, sir! We'll continue on foot," Brynjar responded. He noticed Ciri was distracted by something.
"Hey, are those…walking cats? This place is much stranger than I originally thought."
Brynjar turned to where the Khajiit caravan had made camp. "You mean the Khajiit? Yes they may look like walking cats, but don't say that to their faces. Like cats they're very stealthy and you'll end up all the poorer for it."
The two of them walked on past the drawbridge when Brynjar noticed that the walls were being rebuilt. Preparing for war, he thought. A few of the guards saluted him as they walked past.
"Well it seems you really are quite the hero," Ciri commented.
"Mhm. Several years ago there was a civil war raging in Skyrim. I fought beside these men and women against the Stormcloaks, the rebels," Brynjar pushed open the gates to the city. "Ladies first," He grinned as Ciri rolled her eyes again. The city was bustling as they walked through: Adrienne hammering away on a dagger, the din of masons and workers moving stone, merchants haggling at their stalls, and the laughter of playing children. Several citizens acknowledged them and went on by their business. Ciri beamed with excitement.
"Well, this is quite the city isn't it? It's no Novigrad, but it's still something."
Brynjar chuckled. He walked up to one of the houses and pulled out a key. "This is Breezehome, my house here in Whiterun. Right now my housecarl, Lydia is taking care of it, so don't get the wrong idea about us."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Brynjar pushed open the door to reveal a small cozy kitchen and a couple of chairs surrounding a pot over a fire. A woman in steel armor hurried down the steps.
"Who's there?" she asked before seeing the Dragonborn. "Ah, my Thane. Welcome home. I see you have a guest?" Lydia gave Brynjar a warm hug before acknowledging Ciri.
"That I do. Ciri, this is Lydia, my housecarl and faithful companion. Lydia, this is Ciri, a…good friend of mine. Ladies, I'm going to get changed, get acquainted, I'll be back soon." Brynjar disappeared up the stairs, leaving Lydia and Ciri around the fire.
Lydia sat next to Ciri. "So… you two… just friends?"
Ciri rummaged through the cabinet for food. She made herself a makeshift sandwich from cheese and dry bread. "Mhm, yes. Just friends. Why do you ask?"
Lydia grinned smugly. "No reason. It's just that…well, Bryn hasn't looked at anyone like that since…well, in a long time."
"And what way are you talking about?"
"You really don't know? Brynjar doesn't take his relationships lightly. Whenever he falls for someone, he always gets this look. I call it 'Mara's Eyes'. It means he'll do anything to win you over…and anything to keep you."
Ciri's eyebrows raised. Over the past two weeks, she'd noticed Brynjar giving her looks from time to time, but she hadn't thought much of it. Sure he was handsome and charismatic, and certainly powerful, but Ciri wasn't sure if he was her type. She wanted more time to decide. Brynjar interrupted her train of thought.
"Alright! All ready now," Brynjar said as he stretched into his light Dawnguard armor. "Ciri, we're going to meet a couple of friends of mine. Lydia, you coming?"
Lydia groaned. "Oh, I don't think so. Last time I drank with the Companions, I could hardly stand the next morning. No thank you, I'll stay here."
Brynjar shrugged. "Suit yourself. Come on Ciri, think you'll like the Companions a lot." The pair walked out the house and into the busy streets. Several merchants tried to hassle and bargain with them. A beggar came up begging, and Brynjar tossed him two septims.
"So, what's the story behind the Companions?"
Brynjar smiled, getting ready to go into storytelling mode. "When Ysgramor and his sons first settled Skyrim, they brought Five Hundred Companions with them, all renowned and battle-hardened warriors. When they found Whiterun, they built a mead hall and training grounds around the Skyforge. Ever since then, the Companions reside here in Jorrvaskr, respected warriors with fierce reputations, who take coin in exchange for their labor. Kinda like that Witcher's guild you talk about."
"Sounds interesting," Ciri said. As they approached a building with an upside down ship for a roof, smells of roasting meat and sweet desserts wafted from it. Sounds of shouting and punches being thrown could be heard before they ever opened the doors.
They opened the doors into a long hall with long tables covered in mead, ale, and various foods. A dark elf and a Nord woman were fist-fighting in the corner.
Brynjar laughed. "That's Athis and Njada, they're always fighting," Brynjar spotted Farkas at the table cheering. He went and placed a hand on his shoulder. "My money's on Njada."
Farkas' face lit up in recognition. "Harbinger! Good to see you here!" He stood and firmly shook Brynjar's hand. "See you brought a guest with you?"
Ciri stepped forward to shake Farkas' hand. She noticed that he smelled a bit like a wet dog. "I'm Ciri, it's a pleasure."
"Farkas, Companion and Vilkas' brother, as most know me. Nice sword, by the way. New to Skyrim, are you?"
"I am. Very new."
"Well it's good to meet you and welcome to Whiterun, Ciri," Farkas turned to Brynjar, who was busy munching on a boiled crème treat. "Aela and Vilkas are in the courtyard, they'll wanna see you I'm sure."
"Thanks. And it's good seeing you again Farkas."
"You too, Harbinger."
Brynjar turned to Ciri. "Aela and Vilkas are both senior members of the Companions. They've been here even longer than I have. Together the four of us make up the Circle, senior members of the Companions. I've gotta feeling that you'll really like Aela." The two went out into the courtyard, where the sun was setting. Aela was standing against a pole, watching Vilkas and an Orc spar. Without even turning around, she knew he was there.
"Harbinger. It's been awhile," she said, still not turning around. "Welcome back."
"So glad you're happy to see me," Brynjar said with sarcasm. "Will you at least welcome my guest?"
Aela turned around to see Ciri. Ciri registered her sultry armor. She found that it was a bit impractical, but it suit her well. Her breasts were one hell of a distraction tactic. Not to mention the intimidating war paint across her face.
"So lemme guess, you're another one of Brynjar's girls, hmm?" Aela asked, clearly pissed for no apparent reason.
Ciri frowned. "Um no, I don't belong to anyone. I'm traveling with him because I don't know this land, and no other reason." Brynjar gave Ciri a hurt look.
Aela moved closer. "I think it's clear you're new here, because you know nothing about his reputation with women. Otherwise you wouldn't be seen traveling with him."
Brynjar stepped in quickly. "Aela, don't you think you're giving Ciri here the wrong impression? I thought that we-,"
"Whatever you thought, it was wrong and I don't care what it was." Aela stormed off before Brynjar could respond.
"What's she got her panties all in a twist about?" Ciri asked, puzzled. Brynjar shrugged and raced off behind her.
The man who had been sparring approached her. "What a mess, am I right? I'm Vilkas by the way. Welcome to Jorrvaskr. Ciri, right?" He asked, extending his hand to her.
"Yes, I'm Ciri. A pleasure. That was…definitely a tad strange," Ciri sat down at one of the tables outside and opened a bottle of ale. "What exactly was that about?"
"Ooo, that's a complicated one. Lemme get a drink first," Vilkas grabbed himself some ale and plate of cheese and bread to share. "Aela and Brynjar…well they have a history. As in, they shared a bed for a while, history."
Ciri frowned. She felt a slight pang of jealousy knowing that Brynjar had been with her. "Ah-ha, I see."
"Yeah. They were together for a while, sometime after the Civil war. They were close, spent a lot of time together…hunted together. But Brynjar couldn't sit still very long and set off on his own pursuits, most of them far away from Whiterun. He…I think he made something come out in Aela, something no one thought was there. She wanted to settle with him, maybe even have children someday. But the Harbinger didn't necessarily want the same, so they split. Aela's been somewhat bitter about it since and now she sees you with him…I'd even say she's jealous."
Ciri chuckled. "Oh no, it's nothing like that. We're just friends, nothing more."
"Mhm. For now you are, but even I can tell he wants you. He's never looked at anyone that way, not even Aela."
"Hmm, right." Ciri sat in deep thought about what she'd heard for a moment until she felt her sword being drawn from its sheath on her back. "What the-," She turned to see a very large Orc twirling her sword.
"Ho-ho, this is damned good steel!" growled the Orc. "This isn't from the Skyforge is it? This is ten times better than anything a forge-wife could make!" The Orc admired the blade, ignoring Ciri's protests.
Vilkas chuckled. "Ciri, this is Vrag Dur-Shurd, an Orc and newer member of the Companions."
Vrag smiled, showing his sharp tusks. "That's right. Such a fine sword must have an even finer owner. I think I'd like to put that to the test,"
Ciri smiled, taking her sword back. "Challenge accepted." The two moved to the center of the courtyard, taking their places. Vrag wielded a steel greatsword, comparable to those the Wild Hunt fought with. He charged at Ciri yelling, but Ciri swiftly parried the blow, then nimbly pirouetted. Vilkas' attention from the match was stolen by Brynjar's return.
"Harbinger."
"Vilkas. I see Ciri's already making friends."
"Yeah, just not with Aela, that's clear."
Brynjar sighed. "Yeah, she's still a bit upset but she'll come around," Brynjar observed the match closely, watching Ciri's footwork and Vrag's rather slow strikes. "Excellent strikes, Vrag! You'll be able to slice butter at that rate!" Brynjar teased. Vrag got distracted and stepped, allowing Ciri to sweep in and end the match with her sword at the back of his neck. Brynjar and a few onlookers cheered, a couple exchanging coins. "Food's ready!" One member shouted. Everyone outside came into the hall where the tables were piled with roasted venison steaks, beef, grilled and steamed vegetables, smoked fish, sweet rolls and boiled cream treats, and of course, lots of mead and ale. Ciri found Brynjar in the midst of the crowd.
"Hey, nice moves back there. Really showed him," Brynjar complimented her while digging into a steak.
"Thanks. Look, I talked to Vilkas about you and Aela. Is all that true? Is that why she lashed out at me?"
Brynjar frowned and sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. About a year or so ago, we agreed to let bygones be bygones, but…I guess old habits die hard." Brynjar smiled at Ciri and then she saw it. What Lydia and Vilkas were talking about: admiration, respect, love…lust. She smiled back, not quite knowing how to react.
"To the Harbinger! To his valiant return to Whiterun and his glorious adventures!" Vrag shouted out and the whole hall cheered and raised their mugs. The hall erupted in the loud sounds of eating, laughing, and the retelling of the stories of yore. Ciri was listening intently to a Nord named Torvar tell the tale of a battle during the Civil War.
"… I swear to the divines so many heads rolled that day. Blood practically watered the streets of Whiterun, so much every crack in the road had blood spilling out of it. And the screams of dying men and women, and the smell of burning flesh, it was enough to drive a man mad. But I'm a Nord, and I'm made of tougher stuff."
Ciri drunk with Vrag as well, telling him about her adventures with Geralt.
"Sounds like a great guy. I'll have to meet him one day, and we'll see if he's as strong as me." Vrag boasted drunkenly.
Ciri laughed. "We'll see one day, hopefully." She spotted Aela in a corner, sullenly drinking and listening to stories blown completely out of proportion. Aela nodded to Ciri, her way of a silent apology. Ciri searched for Brynjar, instead finding a slightly drunk Farkas.
"Farkas, have you seen Brynjar anywhere?" She asked, having to yell over the din.
"Hmm? Oh yeah, why don't you check in the quarters downstairs? His is the biggest room at the end of the hall."
Ciri nodded and managed to push her way through the crowd to Jorrvaskr's quarters. The quarters were eerily quiet compared to the rowdiness of the feast. Ciri found Brynjar exactly where Farkas said, drinking ale and sitting in a chair.
"Hope you didn't think you could leave me with those drunks and get away with it, did you?" Ciri smiled and sat on the edge of bed. The alcohol was definitely getting to her now.
"No, because I figured you'd come find me when you figured it out." Brynjar stood and came towards her.
"Figured what out?"
"That I'm in love with you Ciri. I know we've only known each other for a short time, but you've made me feel something I've never felt before. I felt it the first time I saw you, dirty and exhausted. And I feel it now, stronger than ever."
Ciri was taken aback. "I-I don't, I'm not sure what to say,"
Brynjar kneeled in front of her. "You don't need to say anything." He leaned in close kissed Ciri deeply. Ciri forgot everything in that moment as Brynjar's lips met hers. She ran her hand through his hair, and the other over his chest. Brynjar moved from her lips and down to her neck. They quickly fumbled to remove their clothing. Brynjar pushed her back onto the bed, still kissing and massaging her breasts. The noise from the upstairs feast covered up the noises made by Brynjar and Ciri all night long.