The trip home to Whiterun was uneventful. Kalv sent Lydia a day early to prepare Breezehome, so he and Cyréne had the time to themselves. Cyréne was glad to be seated in front of Kalv in the saddle. She'd briefly mentioned to him the arrow she'd taken to the shoulder and the rage in his eyes both frightened and mesmerized her.
He'd been so furious he hadn't even asked questions, he'd just crushed her to him for several long moments and then leaned down to kiss her. Now, she sat sideways in front of him, wrapped in a bear pelt, reading aloud from a research tome about Blackreach. Apollo and Janus trotted along beside them in the weak sunshine.
Kalv listened with half an ear and kept his head on a swivel, alert for threats. That someone would dare to attack her – his woman, was an insult. He glanced down at her blonde head and pulled her closer to him. He was beginning to feel like a dragon guarding his treasure. The fact that said treasure had a life of her own and was a member of the Companions frustrated him. He wanted to lock her away somewhere for safe keeping, and have her all to himself. Kalv frowned and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, cursing his inner dragon.
Cyréne wasn't some object to covet and keep, he reminded himself. He gave himself a mental shake – she was bringing out a side of him he didn't recognize – possessive and heavy-handed. He thought back to their argument a few nights previous and swallowed a sense of shame and regret. He hadn't waited for her permission – they both knew it, but she'd chosen to ignore it. He kissed the top of her head and swore to himself that he'd make it up to her. Cyréne sighed and looked up at him. He did what he always wanted to do when she looked at him, which was kiss her.
She smiled. "This book is so boring. Do you want to tell me about everything that's happened since you found out you were Dragonborn?"
He nodded. "I do want to tell you. I think you may be one of the only people who can understand it all."
"I'll try to." She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the chin before snuggling back into the pelt.
"Well," he started, "I was trying to cross the border into Skyrim when I was caught in an Imperial ambush. . ."
On a hill a few hundred yards away, another conversation was going on.
"Is that her?" the first warrior questioned.
"Yes," said the witness, nervously, "that's the one – and she has those spectral wolves with her, just like I told you."
"She's a mage," a second warrior commented. "Perhaps, she was just curious about the creature. You did say that our fallen comrades shot at the carriage she was riding in."
"She's also a Companion, a circle member," their superior reminded them. "And, if she's saved the creature, he most likely told her how he came to be. She's dangerous."
"I don't think she's infected," the witness said slowly. "She didn't have any reaction to the silver in that arrow that I could tell."
"Who else was with her?" one of them questioned.
"I didn't get a view of the other woman, except that she was dressed as an assassin. And the mercenary was with her – he looked like he'd been completely healed. The mage didn't attack until she was cornered."
The ranking warrior stroked his beard. "That's interesting. I want to meet this woman in person – perhaps she'll see reason."
The first warrior grunted. "Unlikely, although I wouldn't mind taking a turn making her see it."
Three of them laughed. The witness shook his head. "The man she's with now is the Dragonborn."
"Looks like he's claimed her," the second warrior observed, "or has a mind to."
Their superior's eyes narrowed. "Yes, it would seem that way. Proceed with caution, but lay plans to bring her to me. Don't miss an opportunity to move, if it presents itself."
Brand's head snapped up in the training yard as the breeze carried a scent to him. Honey and fresh apple and . . . Cyréne!
"Cyréne's home," he told Farkas with a grin before loping out of the yard.
She was just passing War Maiden's when he caught sight of her. "Cyréne!" he called, jogging toward her.
Her face lit up and she made a move to run toward him. A hand on her arm stilled her and he saw her bite back a frown before looking up at the man that had to be the Dragonborn. Brand pretended not to notice him and swung her into a spinning hug when he reached her.
"Cyréne! I'm so glad you're home!"
"Brand!" she laughed. "How are you my friend? I'm glad to be back!"
He set her on her feet and held a hand out to the blonde Nord standing behind her. "You must be Kalv," he said smoothly. "Cyréne speaks highly of you. I'm Brand."
Kalv shook his hand a bit more firmly than necessary. "Brand? Cyréne hasn't mentioned you."
Brand gave him an appraising look, but said nothing, before turning back to Cyréne. "The Harbinger awaits you."
Cyréne looked at Kalv hopefully and he smiled down at her, kicking himself for being such an ass. "Go on, Sweetroll, I'll see you later tonight for dinner." He relieved her of her belongings and carried them into Breezehome, closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door closed she felt a thrill of freedom run through her and made a beeline for War Maiden's. "Did my stuff come in?" she asked Adrianne.
"Hello, to you too," Adrianne said, "and yes, it's over there."
"Thank the gods!" Cyréne stepped into the back room and pulled on form-fitting dark leather pants and a short tunic. She strapped her daedric dagger to her thigh and secured her coin purse to her belt. "I'm so glad to be out of those damn robes," she spat as she reappeared with a full pack on her back.
Brand's eyebrows rose. "A definite improvement," he observed as they left the shop. "But why - as if I have to ask - were you wearing something you didn't want to in the first place?"
Cyréne rolled her eyes. "So that I'd look like a sweet little Sweetroll, obviously," she said in mild annoyance
Brand snorted. "Well, whatever floats his boat I guess, but your ass looks way better in those pants than it did in those mage clothes."
Cyréne swatted him, before sticking out a hip and looking down over her shoulder. "It does, doesn't it?" she said with a grin.
Within a few days the Dragonborn was called away on various pieces of business and Cyréne was able to fully relax among her shield-siblings, at least the few of them that were home. She was delighted to learn that Brand was doing well and that he favored a shield and blade. They spent every day for a week locked in hours of intense sparring, never failing to draw an appreciative audience.
Brand was good, and he had her in height, weight and reach, but Cyréne's mastery was clear. She hadn't spent time training anyone since she was in the legion and she was surprised how much she'd missed it.
"What's your mastery?" she panted one afternoon as their session was winding down.
"Hand to hand combat," he ground out, as he moved to parry her thrust.
Cyréne grinned. "Brand! Why haven't you been training me, then?"
He smirked. "I'm enjoying learning, but I'll be glad to show you what I know."
A moment later they regarded each other weaponless. "Is there anything in particular you're interested in learning first?" Brand asked, all business now.
Cyréne decided she liked this side of him, even before they started. "Yes," she said with a worried frown. "I want you to show me what to do in a . . . worst case scenario, from a female perspective, anyway."
Brand nodded. "I think I know what you're getting at, but elaborate."
"Alright," she said slowly, "my opponent it much larger and heavier than I am, and he's managed to disarm me, even of spells."
"Does he have you on the ground?" Brand asked calmly.
"Yes," she said, "and he's choking me."
Brand motioned to the ground. "On your back - I can show you."
Cyréne settle on the ground and Brand heard her heartbeat flutter. "Has something happened, Cyréne?" he murmured.
She shook her head. "No, not recently – I was attacked once when I first came to Skyrim. Someone helped me before the man could hurt me too badly, but it's always in the back of my mind that I was helpless. I don't like that feeling."
He nodded. "Okay, even if an opponent gets you down like this, you still have room for defense and to get favorable positioning so let's start there. Sit up for a second."
She sat up and Brand leaned down with his hands at her neck and then quickly pushed her down to the ground. Her knees came up as she started to struggle.
"Good," he said. "What you're doing with your knees is good. Try to keep them on the outside of my legs, as against your instinct as that may seem. You want to bring them close to my chest – keep me reaching as far as you can and keep my weight off of your neck."
He tightened the grip on her neck and pressed her into the ground. Cyréne clawed frantically at his face but she couldn't reach.
"Okay, now you're starting to make mistakes," he said. "You're arching your back and reaching for me. All that does is give me free leverage and wear you out."
"I don't know what to do," she said slightly panicked.
"It's okay; I'm going to tell you. I would let you be on top," he said with a smirk, "but it's easier this way."
She rolled her eyes and he laughed. "Alright, your goal now is to gain control of the situation. Instead of clawing at me, trap my arms on your chest. Cross your hands over your chest so that your forearms are resting on mine. Ok, now you're going to apply pressure however you can, with your elbows or forearms . . . good, see how that brought me down lower and distributed the weight that was concentrated at your neck?"
She nodded and he continued. "Alright, make sure you keep my arms trapped. It's time to use your legs. You're going to use the cutting edge of your heel and strike me hard on the outside of my thigh – NOT YET!" he evaded her kick and rolled his eyes. "You don't know what to do and it will only piss me off and make it harder for you to surprise me!" Brand eyed her suspiciously before continuing, "As I was saying, that hard strike will cause me to jerk to that side. When I do, you're going to move quickly – head to the left, hips to the right and bring up both your legs so that they're on my right side. Now don't actually kick me that hard, I'll play along, I promise, ready?"
"I'm not sure, but—" Cyréne gave him a muted kick to the thigh and he flinched in that direction. She twisted as hard as she could and Brand gave her some room to slide under him, when she managed to get both legs to one side he released her.
"Good, now switch positions and I'll show you what to do from there."
A moment later she was sure she had him pinned. Suddenly he jerked under her. She felt him shift and tried to adjust only to find his right leg hooking her neck and head and rolling her onto her back. The next thing she knew he had total control of her left arm and was maintaining pressure on neck with the back of his boot. He released her and she looked up at him in frustration. "I'll never be able to do that."
"You will – it just takes practice, and that's not an easy move. How about we start with something simpler?"
She nodded. He started unbuckling his armored breastplate and motioned for her to do the same. When they were down to regular clothes they started again.
This time Brand started on the ground. He spread out on his back and slapped his rock hard stomach. "Have a seat, Honey. This time you can start with a tactical advantage."
Cyréne raised an eyebrow in his direction and hesitated.
"You're the one who wanted to start on the ground," he said with a grin. "It's not my fault."
She sighed and straddled his stomach, looking down at him. She felt a slight tingle when he shifted underneath her and her eyes narrowed at his twitching lips. "Not a word," she growled.
"You have the advantage here," he said. "Do you think you can maintain it?"
An hour later they were making some real progress and the moves were getting faster and more realistic, so much so that Skjor and Aela stopped in their tracks when they wandered back in from a job. Aela's hand went to her dagger.
Cyréne was flat on her back with Brand straddling her torso. "You little bitch," he snarled lowly, "I'm going to enjoy this." His hands moved toward her waistband.
Cyréne grabbed his shirt with both hands and jerked him close causing him to plant his hands on either side of her. She hooked his left arm from the inside around the outside with her right one and hooked his left ankle with her right foot.
"Above the elbow" Brand coached.
She adjusted the hook on his arm and then drew her own elbow in, bending his and bringing him closer and exposing his side. Her strike was harder than she meant for it to be at his side and caught him high in the ribs. She pushed with all of her strength, rolling him to the right side.
"Fuck that hurt! Keep my arm hooked, and apply pressure," he wheezed.
She kept his arm hooked and struggled to kneel and then stand while maintaining pressure with her knee. Finally he nodded and she dropped his arm. He growled and rubbed his rib cage. She helped him to his feet and he pulled his shirt up to reveal a blossoming bruise. She'd just started healing it when, Aela spoke from behind her.
"You two are well-suited to be shield-siblings. Perhaps Kodlak should pair the two of you for Brand's trial."
Brand looked down at Cyréne and Cyréne looked over at the huntress. "Especially if it would keep you here longer," Aela continued. "You're needed here."
Cyréne nodded. "I would like that."
"Me too," Brand agreed. "The training has been invaluable."
Skjor looked between the three of them and shrugged. "I'll think about it. It may be best for one of the others to observe him. We'll see."
Skjor and Aela walked inside and Brand and Cyréne were left staring at each other.
"Dinner?" he said.
She grinned. "Bath first, but round everyone up and let's meet at the Mare. I'm ready to celebrate being home."