The next morning

Cyréne tried not to fidget as Eorlund slowly buckled the straps of her almost complete wolf armor. The quality was flawless, but she was itching to get to War Maiden's and adjust the fit. Eorlund, however, wouldn't hear of it, so here she stood waiting impatiently for the legendary smith to do something she could do herself in half the time. Finally he finished marking the adjustments and she carefully shrugged off the armor and stretched her arms above her head with a sigh.

From behind her, a muscled arm slid around her waist, and she jumped nearly knocking Eorlund's tools into disarray. Her view of the old man's glare was quickly and mercifully blocked out by a large bunch of Dragon's Tongue flowers tied together with a satin ribbon.

"To remind you of your favorite part of me," Kalv whispered seductively in her ear.

"Thank you," Cyrene mumbled, trying to ignore the tingle that ran down her spine as he pulled her flush against his chest.

"My pleasure," he said smoothly. His breath caressed her neck as he planted a quick kiss there. "Can I interest you in a ride?"

Cyréne's face flamed red and she stiffened and didn't answer. He did not just say that!

Kalv's laughter rumbled around her after a moment. "I meant a ride on horseback." He said lowly.

"Yes, I'd like that," she managed, after a second wave of embarrassment. "Do I have time to change clothes?"

"Of course," he said, still amused.

Cyréne untangled herself from his grasp and started down the steps of Skyforge, flowers in hand. "I won't be long. How are we riding?"

Kalv followed her. "I have two horses waiting, but I'd be happy to have you ride with me."

Cyréne nodded. Kalv fell into step beside her and in a few moments he was holding open the door of Jorrvaskrr for her.

"Oh good, dear, you found her," Tilma said with a smile.

The mead hall was buzzing with activity as preparations for the night's celebration were being made. Cyréne left Kalv leaning against a wooden pillar with his arms crossed and hurried downstairs to her bed. She laid the bouquet on her pillow and searched through the clothes she'd yet to pack. If she'd been in any mood to smile she would have, when her hands ran across an outfit at the bottom of the pile. She held it up for a moment before setting it aside, only to come back to it and consider it again. With a shrug she unfolded it. She wiggled into the fitted black suede leggings and matching boots, before pulling the low cut, long sleeve tunic over her head. She smiled at the feel of the fine gray-purple silk against her skin and smoothed the tunic down. It fell just to mid-thigh. Feeling better than she had in a while, she fastened the black brushed leather corset and adjusted the arm straps before pulling the wide belt tight and lacing on matching bracers. She secured a knee length cloak behind her shoulders and dug in the chest by her bed for her favorite weapon – which none of the Companions had ever seen. Smiling with pride as she felt the familiar comfort of the double enchantment, she secured the daedric dagger to her belt. Free yourself from one little secret and suddenly you're free as a bird with all of them, huh?

"What do you think?" Cyréne asked Torvar as he entered the whelp room.

Torvar regarded her in buzzed interest for a moment before slurring, "Cyréne? S'that you?"

"Uh, yeah."

He shook his head and peered at her. "Whatever Vilkas is doing – I'd do it for you twice."

"Alright," she said, slightly uncomfortable, "thanks, I guess."

When she entered the mead hall she found Kalv with an armful of decorations, dutifully following Tilma about the room. She watched for a moment as Kalv teased the old woman and Tilma laughed and swatted his arm. He was clad in light leather trousers and boots, with an armored leather vest over a white tunic. She smiled, taking in the handsome hero.

"There you are, dear" Tilma said when she noticed Cyréne, "and doesn't she look lovely?"

"She does," Kalv agreed easily.

Tilma winked at Cyréne and, taking back her decorations, shooed the couple out of the door.

"You do look beautiful," Kalv said when they were outside.

"Thank you," she said, smiling briefly.

"I hear you're getting a promotion," Kalv said as they made their way through town.

"Yes."

"Tilma invited me to the party. I'd like to come, if you'll allow me."

"Of course."

They passed a group of guards, who were looking in their direction with interest. Kalv placed a hand on the small of Cyréne's back and sent a scowl their way.

"Um, is this inappropriate?" she asked lowly, not missing his cue to the guards.

"Is what?"

She gestured at herself, "My clothing."

"Of course not, why?"

"I feel as if people are staring at me."

"That's because you're beautiful, not inappropriate."

Cyréne fidgeted nervously with her bodice and Kalv kept his eyes from wandering to the slight peek of her cleavage with monumental effort.

"Is that a daedric dagger attached to your belt?" he asked, changing the subject.

"It is," she said, pleased that he noticed. "I smithed it myself, and enchanted it."

"That is impressive" he said genuinely, "Perhaps you'll allow me a closer look at it later?"

"Sure."

"Are you apprenticing with Eorlund then?"

"No!" Cyréne snorted. "The two of us don't really get along that well, and I honestly don't think he'd touch a daedra heart with a great sword, much less allow one to besmirch his holy Skyforge. The Companions don't even know I smith – or enchant." Shut up, Cyréne! Why are you spilling your guts to this guy?

"Really?" he said in surprise, "Skills like that would surely be appreciated. I'd be happy to pay you to enchant some things for me, if you're interested – and if you are truly skilled at it."

Cyréne stopped in front of War Maiden's and unsheathed the dagger, then handed it to him carefully. "Don't cut yourself."

"I've never seen this enchantment," Kalv said, puzzled. "I can see the chill rising off of it, so it clearly imparts some sort of frost damage . . . but that doesn't seem exactly right. It has some sort of weird pull to it"

Cyréne nodded at him. "Now I'm impressed. You're more correct than you know. It's double enchanted to cause frost damage and absorb health."

Kalv looked up at her and then back down to the dagger. "That's amazing! I didn't know that was even possible." He handed it carefully back to her as they began walking again.

"Kalv, what is it that you want from me, exactly?" she asked, as they passed through the main gate.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Well," She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "what I mean, to put it bluntly, is that I'd assumed you'd already gotten what you wanted, so I'm a bit surprised to see you."

Kalv shot her a sideways glance. "Are you disappointed to see me?"

"No! I mean . . . no, just confused, I guess."

"Well, Sweetroll, you made it abundantly clear the other night that you were not inclined toward casual flings."

"I did?"

Kalv chuckled. "Yes, you did. We actually have several outings planned after this one."

"Oh," she said in surprise, "I . . . do not remember that part of our evening, I'm sorry."

"You were quite adorably insistent about it."

"Oh dear," she said, smiling sheepishly.

"That's what I've been waiting for, that smile."

He tilted her chin up and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Cyréne's eyes widened and she blinked up at him, lost for a moment in his light green eyes.

He offered her his arm and they walked in silence the rest of the way to the stables. Cyréne's eyes lit up as they approached, and a few moments later she was reaching up to stroke the nose of a large buff-colored stallion. Kalv motioned for the stable master to take the other horse away and handed Cyréne an apple.

"This is Frost," Kalv said proudly.

"He's beautiful!" Cyréne breathed. "Yes, you are," she cooed at the horse, "You're such a handsome boy. Would you like an apple?"

Frost's ears twitched and he nickered at her before carefully taking the apple from her hand and lowering his head into her arms."

"Well," Kalv grumbled, "you're never that nice to me, Traitor."

"He'll carry us both?" Cyréne asked.

"Easily, are you ready?'

She nodded and stepped back. Kalv swung into the saddle and reached down, pulling her up behind him. "Comfortable?"

"Yes"

"Hold on, then."

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Kalv guided Frost out of the stable yard and reached down to secure Cyréne's arms around him, before allowing the impatient stallion to run. Cyréne laid her head against Kalv's back and closed her eyes, letting the troubles of the last day slip out of her mind as they sped across the tundra in the sunshine.

Too soon, they slowed to a walk and the events of the last day rushed back into Cyréne's consciousness. Kalv noticed her slight sigh against his back.

"You don't seem very excited for someone who is about to receive one of the greatest honors in Skyrim. Is something wrong?"

"I'm going to miss this weather," she murmured, not really paying attention, "I hate Winterhold."

"Are you traveling there soon?" he asked, stopping Frost and reaching back to help her dismount.

Cyréne accepted his arm and soon found her feet on the ground. "I leave tomorrow," she said unhappily.

"Tomorrow?" he said, surprised. "When will you be back?"

Cyréne watched him slide effortlessly from the saddle and hugged her arms about her. "I don't know, really."

"At least give me an estimate," he said and turned to retrieve something from his saddle bag, "One week? Two?"

"A couple of months, at least."

Kalv jerked around in surprise and Cyréne, to her horror, flinched away from him and raised a hand in front of her face as if to block a blow. His eyes narrowed and she turned away, mortified.

"I'm sorry," she said with forced lightness. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

Kalv stood behind her weighing his words carefully. "I don't hit women" he said quietly. "Unless it's in battle, and even then," he admitted, "I usually make Lydia do it."

Oh gods! Cyréne thought I am absolutely ruining this.

Kalv took a step toward her and carefully wrapped one arm around her from behind, and then the other. "What's wrong, Cyréne? I know we haven't known each other long, but you seem like a different person from the woman I woke up with yesterday."

"That's because a lot happened yesterday," she said softly.

"Such as. . ."

Well I was slapped around and called a whore, which was unpleasant.

Kalv spun her in his arms. His voice was sharp and low. "Who called you that? Who HIT you?"

Cyréne's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh gods" she whispered in horror "Did I say that out loud?"

"Who did this?" he demanded.

Cyréne shook her head. "I'm sorry! I can't believe I . . . it's not what you think, please, forget it."

"Look at me," he said softly.

When she obliged he continued. "Did someone strike you and/or call you . . . that word?"

"Yes, Kalv, but—"

"Then it is what I think, and I won't allow it. Who – was – it?"

Cyréne snorted. "You won't allow it?"

"That's right. I won't allow it."

"Kalv, I don't belong to you," she said, shrugging free of his arms, "and I'm not a helpless child that needs your protection."

He looked down at her patiently. "I understand that, Cyréne, but never-the-less—"

"And just what, are you going to do about it, exactly?" she said, irritated.

"That depends on who I will be doing it to. Now, who was it?"

Cyréne crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "It was Tilma," she lied.

"Well then," Kalv said briskly, "we should get back immediately."

"Why?"

"Because, I have, just huge amounts of decorations to tear down."

Cyréne grinned, "You're not serious."

He extended his hand, "Right now, young lady. I have wreaths to shred, flowers to step on. . ."

Cyréne shook her head and smiled. She approached him and pressed the briefest kiss against his lips before backing away. Unclasping her cloak, she spread it on the ground amidst the tall grass and then sat down. She reached behind her back and began unfastening her corset.

Kalv watched her, unmoving, until she was down to only her smalls. She crossed her legs and leaned back on her elbows with only her golden tresses covering her bare breasts. He looked around for a moment.

"What?" he asked finally, "should my response be to this?"

"You should be distracted from your current mission," she said, with a sly smile.

"Done." he answered. "Then what?"

"You should join me."

He smirked. "Move your hair," he dared.

Cyréne smiled at him for a moment, gathering her courage, and then closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and shook out her long locks. When she opened her eyes again, he was down to his boots and closing in on her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He lowered himself over her. His amulet of Talos swung between them.

"You really are a naughty little minx aren't you?" he teased between hungry kisses.

"Only when I'm around you," she answered.

"Well then, we must spend more time together." He nipped at her ear and then drew back slightly, brow quirked. "Did I just feel the tingle of a spell, Sweet?"

"Invisibility."

"Ah, so not too naughty, then," he grinned.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Not at all . . . I don't want Frost getting an eyeful."

"What?" she laughed.

"I saw the way you fed him that apple," he whispered accusingly. "He's probably already planning to throw me to my death so that he can become your horse."

"You're crazy" she giggled.

"Crazy for you my naughty, naughty, little naked Sweetroll."

It was late afternoon when they returned. Kalv escorted Cyrene to Jorrvaskr and plucked a piece of grass from her hair, before he opened the door for her.

"You tell Tilma that her decorations will live to see another day," he whispered, "but just this once."

"You'll be here tonight?" she asked.

Kalv smiled down at her and kissed her on the nose. "I wouldn't miss it".

"Bring Lydia, if she'd like to come, please."

"Only if you promise to give me two kisses for every one you give to her."

"Three," she promised.

"I'll see you tonight."

Vilkas woke with a pounding headache and a barmaid on each side. He blinked groggily and untangled himself from the sleeping women with some effort. His brother was waiting for him outside of the inn, expressionless. They didn't speak as they headed for Whiterun.

After an hour or so on the road, Farkas spoke. "Feel better, now?"

"No."

"I heard what she did."

"And?" Vilkas said tiredly.

"I heard what you did too."

"And?"

"And, you're both wrong. You belong together."

Vilkas didn't answer.

"And," Farkas continued, "I'm supposed to keep you out of trouble, so don't start any."

"Fine."