Chapter 7: Scars
Vilkas slumped in a chair outside Kodlak's room. The old man had taken to bed, heartsore at Skjor's death, and Vilkas had taken it upon himself to stay with Kodlak, to make sure that the old man did not follow his Shield-brother.
The fool should not have taken on the Silver Hand alone, Vilkas thought in anger, distracted again by Aela's keening wail. Upon returning from Gallows Rock, Aela had locked herself in her room, howling in anger and disbelief, refusing to relinquish Skjor's remains. Aela had been wasting away for a week, refusing to speak to the others, allowing the rotting aroma of Skjor's corpse to permeate every corner of Jorrvaskr. The Circle is breaking, realised Vilkas, and we need a leader to keep the Companions on track.
Vilkas grimaced, straightening in his chair. What we really need is a meeting of the Circle, he thought, closing his eyes in an attempt to scent Farkas and Almerin without the distraction of Skjor's pungent odour.
Farkas was detectable almost instantly, his familiar earth, mead, and steel scent centred in his room. Satisfied at having pinpointed his brother, Vilkas turned his attention to Almerin, thinking of her distinctive scent of leather, snow, and smoke.
And located her instantly, in Farkas' room. Not surprising, Vilkas thought bitterly. Almerin and Farkas had grown closer after Dustman's Cairn, falling in with an easy familiarity that made Vilkas' gut twist upon itself.
Vilkas inhaled another breath, savouring Almerin's scent. Leather, snow, smoke…and something odd niggled at his consciousness, something that wasn't quite right. Vilkas tilted his head, confused. Was Farkas…panting?
Vilkas' eyes flew open.
Almerin was in Farkas' room. With Farkas. And Farkas was panting.
It took all of Vilkas' self-control to keep his howl of anguish inside his head.
He knew she was mine, Vilkas seethed, before checking himself abruptly. Taking deep breaths, Vilkas clenched and unclenched his fists, willing himself to calm down.
There is no way that anyone can couple while Skjor rots away in this mead hall, Vilkas thought to himself grimly.
But grief makes people turn to each other for comfort, taunted Hircine.
The bed is not creaking in typical Farkas fashion. He's clearly not sleeping with her, snarled Vilkas internally.
She's on her knees then, taking your brother's cock between her full lips, mocked Hircine.
Vilkas' chest burned with an emotion he could not identify.
As if his feet were no longer under his control, Vilkas found himself being propelled towards his brother's room. He skulked in the passageway between their rooms, heart thumping erratically within his chest.
"Vilkas get in here, I can hear you growling outside the door!" laughed Farkas.
I - what?
Confused, Vilkas sidled into his brother's room.
Farkas was panting on his bed, pupils dilated, with a small smile playing on his face. Almerin stood on the opposite side of the room, hand stretched towards Farkas. And…a spider was dancing on her outstretched hand?
Farkas darted a look at Vilkas, before focussing on the spider again.
"Almerin said that I need to face my fears in a controlled way, brother! She magicked that one up so that I could get used to the sight of them! Almerin said we can try putting it on my hand next!" Farkas blustered, his smile deepening. Almerin's eyes – warm for once – sparkled as she returned Farkas' smile.
"Oh of course, if Almerin said so, it must be right," scoffed Vilkas unthinkingly.
Almerin's face grew cold as she swung around to face Vilkas.
"A word, Vilkas. In your room, perhaps?"
Vilkas dipped his head in a sarcastic bow as he stood to the side of Farkas' doors, gesturing for Almerin to walk through to his room. He ignored Farkas' sigh, instead watching Almerin imperiously stride past him and into his room. Like a damned queen, he thought angrily as she surveyed his strewn books with a curl of her lips.
"Close the doors behind you, Vilkas."
Close the doors behind you, Vilkas, he mimicked internally in falsetto, wincing at his childishness even as he did exactly as she had ordered. Turning to face her, he mentally prepared himself for a shrill scolding about his attitude.
"Why do you treat your brother so poorly, Vilkas?" Almerin asked coolly as she leaned against his bookshelf.
Vilkas spluttered.
"I have sworn my life to protecting my brother," he growled, suddenly furious.
Almerin shrugged. "You do him a disservice by coddling him," she stated. "He should have seen a healer about his fear of spiders years ago. He has the makings of a strong warrior, but you hold him back from his true potential. And why in blazes have you not allowed him to learn how to take down a sabre?"
Vilkas blanched.
Dark, always dark. Huddling with Farkas kept the cold away, but when they took him, the cold would bite his bones and steal his breath. And he could feel every one of his brothers' screams, felt a bit of himself slipping away each time Farkas returned more confused and quieter than he had been before.
Vilkas realised that he had been staring into mid-air yet again.
"Farkas and I have been through far more than you can imagine," Vilkas managed through gritted teeth. "If we decide together that he should not be exposed to sabres, it is hardly your concern."
"It is my concern if a fellow Circle-member cannot pull their weight," retorted Almerin. "I'm going to take Farkas on a hunt -"
Vilkas lunged forward, pinning Almerin to his bookshelf.
"He must not come into contact with a sabre cat," Vilkas hissed, face inches away from hers. So close I could taste her if I wanted to.
Almerin's eyes flared at his touch, her elegant hands reflexively pushing at his shoulders.
"Um, sorry, Almerin?"
Vilkas swung around, glaring at Ria.
"S-s-sorry to interrupt," Ria mumbled, looking down at the floor. "It's just…I think Vignar is not doing too well. And he already used your rune while you were away."
Vilkas glanced reflexively at the ceiling in the direction of Vignar's room. The last thing we need is another death, he thought agitatedly.
Almerin bent her head to look past him, eyes trained on Ria. "You did well to warn me," she murmured, before brushing past Vilkas. "We were done here, anyway."
Vilkas stared after her.
I will never be done with you.
-x-
Almerin almost ran to the main level of Jorrvaskr, heart still racing from being trapped, yet again, by Vilkas. I should ask Serana why women seem so fond of being pinned by their men, Almerin thought, conscious only of her instantaneous panic, the way that her mind had formed four separate escape routes before Vilkas had even opened his mouth. It was the way she had been trained to think, the goal of a healer to always have a backup plan or two. Small comforts, thought Almerin, hyper-aware of her need to deal with Vilkas, one way or another.
Approaching Vignar's room, Almerin focussed her hearing on the old man's heart. Ria has some Restoration instincts, Almerin thought, as she noted the unusually long time it was taking for Vignar's lower heart to recover after taking a beat. Another heart episode is imminent. Almerin flexed her fingers, preparing to keep two Lightning Bolts primed in her hands.
You're being watched, Rin.
Almerin's healing instincts warred with her will to dominate the Companions. Either I give up my control over life and death, or I give up my control of those who would challenge my authority.
Almerin entered Vignar's room, watching analytically as Vignar's eyes fluttered shut, heart racing out of control.
Save him!
Cement your control, you weakling.
Save him!
You're going to let him die later, anyway.
He will die by my will, or not at all, thought Almerin decisively.
Almerin lunged towards Vignar, administering two Lightning Bolts in alternation with pushing on his chest.
"Come on!" Almerin roared after the seventh set of Lightning Bolts. Vignar's body was growing cool, breast bone long since broken by the force of her pushes on his chest. But Almerin would not let him pass, draining a stamina potion before recommencing her chest thrusts.
"He's lost," muttered Brill from the corner of the room, cheeks damp.
"No," Almerin snarled, giving up on the shock spells as she realised that Vignar's heart was no longer beating. She threw herself into pushing at Vignar's chest, tears leaking from her eyes.
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, pulling her away from Vignar. Almerin struggled feebly, drained from her exertions.
"You can't save everyone, Almerin," rumbled Vilkas, tightening his hold on her.
Almerin paled, eyes widening.
Papa? Wake up Papa, it's not funny anymore. Papa? Papa! The priest was not wearing a calm face anymore. Why aren't you doing something to help him? Save him! What can I do to help him? Please! No, it's just him and me. I look after him, I've always looked after him, so I can help! Papa? Papa!
Almerin screamed.
-x-
Vilkas clutched Almerin to his chest, pulling her out of Vignar's room. The woman was trembling and mumbling to herself, damp hair falling limply across her face. Vilkas sat Almerin down gently by the fire and poured her some mead to settle her nerves. As he returned to Almerin, Vilkas saw that she had curled herself up into a little ball, clasping her knees to her chest and staring into the flames.
"I couldn't save him," she was muttering, and Vilkas' heart twinged with pain.
Dropping to the floor next to her, Vilkas awkwardly thrust the mead at her. Almerin ignored the goblet, beginning to rock backwards and forwards, tears staining her cheeks. Vilkas found his arms around her again, murmuring the first words that came into his mind.
"Whenever the necromancers took Farkas, I beat at the cage bars until my hands bled. I thought that if I gave him my food, I could save him from whatever they were doing to him. I thought I could give him more strength. And I blamed myself, every time I took a crust for myself and he seemed to get weaker. It took Jergen months to convince me that I couldn't have done anything to cure the Witbane that they had given Farkas, that I had done the best I could. We did the best we could, Almerin. We did the best we could.
Vilkas repeated the sentence like a mantra, until Aela's footfall startled him into looking up.
Aela's eyes widened as she took in Almerin's state.
"We need to arrange for a priest of Arkay," stated Vilkas with a pointed look. "For both of them, Aela."
Aela took a shuddering breath, before nodding curtly and swinging open the doors to Jorrvaskr.
"Look after her, Shield-brother," Aela murmured, before disappearing into the night.
Vilkas started at the gust of cold air that blew in from Whiterun. He looked down at Almerin, who had stilled beneath his arms, and flinched back from her hostile stare, hastily disentangling himself from her.
Almerin straightened, lips set in a thin line.
"Almerin," he tried, arms feeling cold from her loss.
"Don't, Vilkas," she hissed, darting out of Jorrvaskr.
Vilkas watched as the night swallowed Almerin. She will not evade me this time, he thought to himself as he prepared to track her, inhaling sharply through his nose to chase her scent.
Leather, snow and smoke… and suddenly, Vilkas realised what his subconscious had been trying to tell him, what was wrong with her scent.
She didn't smell like a werewolf.
-x-
A/N: Thanks so much for your feedback for the last chapter. This one was a very personal chapter, and I hope I have adequately conveyed how horrific it is to lose a patient.