Farkas knocked on the door of the house quickly.
The four of them stopped in Whiterun after they left the cavern with all the witch heads. He still didn't get many things about this. He didn't get why they took the heads – was it the source of power for a witch? Well… maybe. It had the brain, right? They needed the 'source' for those flames and Vilkas didn't even question Aela's action there, so it was probably right.
Aela, Vilkas and Mjoll went back to Jorrvaskr to gather their possessions for the flames. Farkas told Vilkas what to get. They didn't tell him it had to be anything important, so he just told him to get some of his clothes. It was enough, right? If not, maybe a strand of hair would suffice.
Aela had been better now that she was with them. She must have been going crazy dealing with all of this alone. Farkas had no idea if it actually was the company or the fact that she had a clear plan and was nearing her goal now, but she seemed much more… present. It was a good thing. She even smiled once at something Mjoll said, though only briefly.
It was good that they found her. This was all of their problem – all of their fates. She shouldn't have to tackle it alone, no matter how guilty she felt. It was a relief that she didn't resist any help up until now. And that she was even willing to return to Jorrvaskr to get the personal possessions.
In the meantime, he had a different task. To get something that belonged to the pup.
They had no idea where Aeyrin was, so their best option was here – in her house in Whiterun.
The large slur on the side of the house was still visible there for all to see – 'BANDIT WHORE'. It was somewhat faded by now, but anyone could still read it easily and it was the first thing one would notice on the house. The people of Whiterun could be so fucked up. He was glad that Gwendolyn never paid much attention to these things, the rumors and squabbles between the citizens.
She just lived her life on the farm, taking care of the place and enjoying the peace on the plains.
Sometimes he toyed with the idea of staying there with her. Settling down and… maybe giving these adventures a bit of a break for a while.
It was a nice dream. Nothing but peace and contentment for the rest of his life. Maybe starting a family of his own. The Companions were his family now, but he was thinking about it more and more lately. Having some little tykes running around a farm sounded fun. He could teach them to hunt, to fight.
Maybe this would be a step closer to this new dream.
Soon, there would be no werewolf spirit in him.
It was harder for him than it was for Vilkas. He struggled with controlling it in the beginning. And sometimes he still had spots of his memory missing after his transformations. Only tiny ones, but still…
He would be giving up a significant thing. A power most people never even dreamed of.
But he was kind of excited to see what life would be like without it too.
He waited at the threshold for a while before his keen ears heard the footsteps inside. It didn't take long then until the door swung open and the pup's housecarl gave him a surprised look.
"Can I help you?" She raised her brow somewhat warily. It was fair. They'd never even spoken before. Not even a greeting.
"I need something from you. For Aeyrin," Farkas explained. Hopefully she would let him in for that. He didn't want to explain out here on the streets.
"Oh. Uhm… come in then," she nodded and stepped away from the door so as not to block the access.
He walked into the small house and looked around. It was a cozy place. Almost like the farm Gwendolyn was living on. He really wouldn't mind a place like this all for themselves.
"So… did Aeyrin send you for something?" The housecarl asked curiously.
"Not… exactly," he shook his head. "We need something of hers. A personal possession. We might need it soon. We found a way to cure our lycanthropy but we're not sure how to… cure specific people, so we need something of hers so that we can cure her."
The woman's eyes went wide and she gaped at Farkas in astonishment.
What? Did he say something wrong? Why was she looking at him like that?
"Did you just say… Aeyrin's a lycanthrope?!" She gasped in horror.
Oh. She didn't know? Shit…
He did not count on this. None of them did. He was supposed to tell the housecarl exactly why he was there so that she would help. They assumed the woman knew. But why did they assume that? Even if they were close friends, Aeyrin was ashamed of her lycanthropy. She didn't want anything to do with it. Of course she wouldn't go around admitting what she was to everyone.
Fuck. Well… this was done. No taking that back. What now?
"How… how did this happen?" The woman shook her head incredulously. "Was that… was that during that attack by those beasts? Those that killed Amren? Aeyrin chased after them… she said those were werewolves."
"Uhm… yeah. That was then," Farkas nodded. According to Aela, it was Aeyrin who killed Amren and a guard to boot. But the housecarl didn't need to know that. Nor did she need to know the Companions' role in all of this. He had already kind of admitted that they were lycanthropes too, but… the woman was so focused about Aeyrin, maybe she forgot that part. Hopefully.
"Shor's ass, why wouldn't she tell us?" She sighed, shaking her head somberly. A good question. Farkas sure as the Void wished she had.
"I don't know… she wasn't exactly… proud of what happened," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"No… well… she's a Stendarrite. That must have been… ugh," she let out another sigh. "You said you're trying to cure her. So you have a way?"
"Yeah, we found a… ritual that can cure her. We might need something of hers," Farkas confirmed.
"Like what? Should I… try to collect hair from the pillow? Or like a meaningful possession? She takes most of those with her. There is some jewelry here though. But it looks expensive," the housecarl pondered.
"I don't know, actually. If you can get some hair, that might be good," Farkas nodded. Aela said 'a piece of themselves'. Maybe it was literal. Hair was ideal for that, right? And Aeyrin had very long blond hair – it should be easy enough for the housecarl to recognize if there was any to be found around here. "But… I guess some clothes or… it shouldn't have to be expensive or anything."
"I'll take a look. Wait here," she nodded and promptly headed upstairs.
Farkas waited idly for a long while. Nobody else seemed to be in the house. He knew the housecarl lived with the Redguard barmaid from the Mare, but she was clearly not here. Maybe at work. He just idled away the minutes by looking around the house and imagining his life with Gwendolyn.
Hmm… something smelled good. Was she cooking?
He walked into the adjacent room from where the smell was coming from. The pot was boiling there on the fire with some stew inside. And there was a tray of some raw treats ready to be baked next to the oven.
Could he stay for lunch? It all looked great.
There was probably not enough time.
He only stirred the pot for a bit so that it wouldn't burn while the housecarl was looking for Aeyrin's possessions. And a moment later, he heard her footsteps again.
He returned to the large room and awaited her patiently.
"I stirred your lunch so it wouldn't burn," he announced when she descended back down.
"Oh. Thanks. I… I almost forgot with all this…" she shook her head. She still looked caught off guard by everything.
"What did you get?" He asked. She was holding some things bundled in a cloth.
"Well… I got some hair, but it's only a little." She walked over to the large table there and unrolled the cloth. There was a small tangle of long golden hair, but it was really small. Not even a strand, just several individual hairs clearly bundled from cleaning the pillow. It would have to be enough. "And I got uhm… well these stockings looked like something that wouldn't be too valuable to burn," she showed him a pair of white thigh-high stockings with incredibly dirty soles – the kind of dirt that even washing wouldn't fix – and a few holes on the bottom.
"Are you sure those are hers?" Farkas asked to confirm. He couldn't even imagine the pup owning something like this.
"Well they're not mine and they're not Saadia's," the woman shrugged. "They were in Aeyrin's room and I doubt they are Bishop's," she smirked, but her smile fell instantly. "I mean… from before… before we knew who he was and…"
"It's fine. I know they're still together," Farkas interrupted her nervous stammering.
"Oh. Good. Well… there was only stuff that looked expensive, like this fancy pink dress and the jewelry. And her old armor which I'm pretty sure she keeps on purpose, otherwise she would have sold it. And some… undergarments I was really not comfortable giving away," she snorted a little wryly.
"This will do. Thank you," Farkas nodded. He should head out soon. The others might be ready already. They needed Wuuthrad from Jorrvaskr to get into the tomb, according to the legends and Vilkas's knowledge of them. And they needed the possessions from there. But that was it. It should be a quick visit.
He just hoped it didn't really have to be a piece of the person like the hair. He and his brother had plenty of things from their father, but nothing like that, of course.
He deserved to be freed from the Hunting Grounds too.
Many people did. This whole mess made Farkas think a lot about the future of the Companions. How they needed to change their ways. Some seemed content with the gift, or curse. But when three of the five of them regretted it, plus the mess with Aeyrin… well… something was clearly not right.
Things needed to be different. He hoped that they all knew it now.
But he wasn't exactly sure if he even wanted to be around to see it.
…
The journey was long and everyone was getting a little impatient with what was going to happen soon.
On their last night, they camped some distance away from Winterhold and Vilkas and Farkas let their werewolf forms enjoy themselves to the fullest – running, hunting, and enjoying the pleasant cold of the north.
It was a nice send-off. Their wolven selves knew it and Farkas was a little concerned that he would lose control because of that, but none of that happened. Maybe Hircine understood that some of his hunters were not destined to run in his Grounds for eternity.
Or maybe he had no sway over their werewolf spirits. Farkas had no idea how that worked.
The next day, they headed into the tomb at last.
It was time to grant everyone what they deserved – what they wanted in life and afterlife both.
"Look at that," Farkas pointed to a semi-circular wall outside the tomb. The place was eerie. It was a small island in the Sea of Ghosts and there was only that wall there and a barrow leading underground. The wall had all these carvings on it – some strange script. But Farkas actually recognized it. "This is one of the walls that teaches the pup to Shout. We've seen one in Dustman's Cairn. The pup just… stared at it and she wouldn't tell me why. But she explained it to me some months later." He didn't pay much attention to it back then, but once when she was at Jorrvaskr, he got curious about her abilities and she explained this part at least, even though he didn't understand it. This thing didn't glow or drum.
"We should… tell her. We should talk to her after… this," Aela sighed in defeat. She knew that it would be a painful and potentially dangerous conversation, but she was really facing her mistakes with impressive determination.
"We'll look for her when we're done here," Vilkas nodded. "If you want, me and Farkas can…"
"No. I want to talk to her. I have to," Aela shook her head.
"That's brave of you," Mjoll smiled at her softly. "It's not easy to face those we've hurt."
"I'm not sure if it's brave. But it's something that needs to be done, however she reacts," Aela sighed again. "Let's go. The longer we dally, the longer Kodlak is denied his rightful place in Shor's halls."
Without another word, the four of them descended the steps into the barrow. There was a small metal door there down below and it allowed them inside without issues. They had no idea why they needed Wuuthrad but Vilkas was convinced they did.
They entered a hall and their eyes were instantly drawn to the large statue in the center of it. Ysgramor. His hands looked like they were holding something, but there was nothing in the grip. It was quite clear now – the rolled up fists were perfectly made for the handle of Wuuthrad. All around them, braziers lit up the ancient place.
There were two more doors. And while Vilkas instantly went towards the braziers to study them, Mjoll tried out both the exits.
"It's locked," she sighed.
"The braziers look… ordinary. I don't think these are the flames of the curse," Vilkas shook his head right after she said it.
"Well… I guess this is where we use Wuuthrad, right?" Aela looked up at the statue. "You said that the legends say that only those who possess the artifact can enter the halls."
"Right. I guess it's a mechanism then," Vilkas nodded. He wasn't sure what else it would have been anyway. How could a barrow find out they possessed the weapon?
He was the one carrying Wuuthrad and he approached the statue promptly. He would need to climb onto the statue's platform and even then he needed to pull the greataxe very high to be able to slide it in. That sounded… fuck. That thing was heavy.
"Need a hand with that?" Mjoll chuckled at him when she saw his scowl. He wanted this to be some reverent moment, but getting assistance would definitely diminish that. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Mjoll could read his expressions pretty well by now. Why else would she laugh at him?
"Fine," he grumbled. What else was there to do?
Mjoll could just grab the axe's head to support it. Without any force behind it, it would do her no harm with her equipment. After she sold a lot of Aerin's stuff, mostly out of spite, she got herself commissioned a full glass set from the smith in Riften. And the elven metal filling the seams and covering her hands would keep her safe.
Vilkas unsheathed the weapon and leaned it on the ground. Soon, Mjoll approached onto the platform too and she grabbed it right below the head with one hand. When they raised it together a bit, she began supporting the head with the other hand.
They raised the greataxe like this easily and Vilkas positioned it to slide it into Ysgramor's hands. What if someone came here alone? What then?
Maybe nobody should come here alone though. They were supposed to be the Companions. They were supposed to work together in honor and brotherhood.
It had been a while since all of them from the Circle worked together like this. Really together, not with some hidden rivalry beneath it all.
The statue let out a click and soon, one of the doors opened wide. This was their way further in. Vilkas had no idea what awaited them in this place – the legends said that all five hundred original Companions of Ysgramor were buried here. What did it mean though? A five-hundred army of draugr?
He hoped not. But it was possible that this place would hold some obstacles.
They needed to be ready for anything.
…
It was not draugr guarding this place.
It was much worse.
Ghosts appeared in these halls as they passed. The ghosts of Companions of old, from what they'd gathered.
They only encountered two of them so far, but they were formidable warriors. They kept talking about 'intruder in their sacred halls' and they didn't hesitate to draw weapons.
It was disturbing for a lot of reasons.
"Why are they calling us intruders? These are our halls too," Farkas grumbled as he clipped his axes back to his belt after the battle.
"Maybe they're confused. Do you think they'd been here all this time? They don't even have the same armor as us," Aela pondered. She was right. Their armor was a design that none of them recognized. It was a disturbing thought.
"Do you think that it's some sort of… service after we die? Kodlak was so convinced he could get to Sovngarde, but… what if he can only get here? What if that's why they started accepting Hircine instead?" Farkas started to weave theories. That was an even worse thought. But Vilkas quickly shook his head in response.
"I don't think so. You saw how they appeared out of nowhere. They aren't stuck here. Maybe… maybe it's some kind of a service when they get dragged back here when there's intruders in this place. Or maybe it was just in the old days." At least that made sense to him. Vilkas had only ever seen ghosts just… roaming places. He never saw them appear like this. They must have been dragged here from somewhere.
"But we're not intruders," Farkas mumbled under his breath again. Maybe the ghosts just didn't know though. How could they? Would they recognize a Companion? Based on what?
Aela stayed surprisingly quiet after that as she continued to lead the way. She kept looking around, as if searching for more ghosts, but her face was troubled. Or maybe filled with anticipation.
"Maybe it is some service we all have to perform," she said quietly after a while. Then she turned to Vilkas with an oddly hopeful look in her eyes. "Do you think that's possible?"
Oh. Fuck.
She hoped she'd see some familiar faces here. Probably just one though. She likely didn't want to face Kodlak.
But Skjor was another matter.
"I… I really don't know," Vilkas sighed. He didn't want to give her false hope. "We'll know more when we see more of them. But… I don't think it would be possible to be in this kind of bind without knowing." At least he hoped so. He may have known a little more about old legends, about oaths and afterlife than the rest of them, but he was an expert by no means. He just found all the stories of ancient warrior orders and those that earned their place in Shor's halls interesting.
"Right," she only retorted curtly. She probably didn't want to give herself false hope either, but it must have been hard not to. Skjor's death was still fresh for her. And it must have been so painful. Now that Vilkas knew what it was like to feel like that about someone… well… he wasn't exactly in love with Mjoll. Not yet.
Was he?
"Watch out!" Farkas suddenly exclaimed. Three more ghosts formed around them. Right around them. There was no room to charge at them or even unsheathe their weapons in time.
All three of them instantly attacked. But they did not pick their targets fairly. All three of them instantly surrounded Mjoll and used their ethereal weapons against her. She let out a pained gasp as one's sword slashed against her torso, then the other's axe against her back. The last one was already heaving to smash its warhammer at her.
Vilkas's ears began to ring the second she made that sound. His body got alert instantly. He felt the pressure spread through him – the wolf wanted out. He wanted to fight and protect her instantly. But Vilkas knew that the wolf was useless against these things.
Instead, he unsheathed his claymore as fast as he could. Mjoll fell to her knees after the attack, fortunately, since the blow from the hammer missed her just barely that way. Vilkas couldn't let them attack again.
His sword slashed straight through the hammer-wielding ghost. It was a strange adjustment to have the weapon just glide through the form, but this wasn't his first time. A blue light enveloped the ghost and it twisted in a strange spasm. It only took a second before it disappeared, leaving behind a small puddle of ectoplasm. His enchantment absorbing magic was perfect against these things. Everything that held them together here evaporated instantly.
The ghosts turned to him right away, but he never hesitated. He stabbed the second one in a quick motion, getting rid of it promptly, but the third one slashed its axe against his arm. Vilkas's grip on his claymore wavered. A stinging chill spread through his arm, leaving behind only pain. He fucking hated the effects of these ghostly weapons. The armor did shit for him like this.
Fortunately, by the time he managed to grip his sword again, the ghost got enveloped by flames, scrunching up and then only leaving another puddle behind. Farkas managed to recover from the shock himself and he slashed one of his axes against the thing several times in quick succession.
Maybe Vilkas should have thanked him for the save, but he was much more concerned about something else now.
He dropped to his knees instantly, placing his armored hand on Mjoll's cheek and forcing her gaze on him.
"Are you alright?" He knew that more of these ghostly wounds could be deadly. And they left behind magical wounds.
Mjoll nodded slowly along with a soft grunt of pain accompanying the gesture. Shit. She looked really in pain.
"Here, take a potion," he instantly began to search his belt for one.
"I'm fine, just… give me a minute," she smiled at him softly. Of course. She was always 'fine', no matter how wounded she got. He'd seen plenty of this in Mzinchaleft. But it was the kind of stubbornness that he really liked.
He stroked over her cheek a bit before moving his hand around her head to squeeze the nape of her neck reassuringly. Mjoll dipped her head back instantly and leaned into his hand, letting out a barely audible groan. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, as if she was trying to calm the pain and concentrate on his touch instead. Maybe he should have removed his gauntlet. It would have been much more comfortable for her. But she didn't seem to mind.
After a while, she looked back at him and nodded slowly.
"Better. It's easing," she smiled. Well… sure. But they were still gonna be painful. She should take that fucking potion. And they would definitely need a healer after they got out of here. His arm still kinda hurt too.
He did hope that Mjoll would admit to herself if the pain was too much and she would sneak a potion when nobody was looking. That was more her style. There was no point in convincing her now.
"Hmm… they all went after her," Aela interrupted their moment after a while.
"Yeah. Asshole move," Vilkas grumbled. Especially with how they appeared like that.
"You know… those two ghosts before… they didn't talk about 'intruders'. Just one. 'Intruder'," she continued.
Wait… what was she implying?
"Oh. I am an intruder," Mjoll retorted with a palpable strain in her voice. "Maybe they can tell I'm not one of you."
"Bullshit. How could they?" Vilkas scowled. It was not as if they had any identifying factors, aside from their armor. And these ghosts didn't wear the same one.
"I don't know. Maybe they can somehow," Aela shrugged. "Maybe because of the wolf blood. Or… I don't know. Maybe it is the armor. Maybe they'd seen it before when someone before us came here."
"Then… maybe it would be better if I…" Mjoll began to speak, but Vilkas promptly interrupted her.
"No. You're not going back and getting ambushed by these things alone," he shook his head with determination. "Not a chance. We'll go through here together." They'd walked pretty far by now. They could all return with her, but what good would that do to exchange one series of battles for another?
"We'll manage their attacks," Aela nodded. "Just be careful, now that we suspect they might be targeting you."
"I will," Vilkas confirmed. He would be much more vigilant now. He was not sheathing his weapon again.
"I was talking to her," Aela chuckled at him a bit.
"My wolf's just feeling protective, I guess," Mjoll smiled at him affectionately and she leaned in to plant another kiss on his nose with a wink following.
More luck.
Of course he was. As if he would let anything happen to her in this place. He didn't care how capable she was. Ghosts were nasty fuckers, especially those with Companion training.
They would all make it out of her alive. No matter how aggressive those ghosts got.
…
Despite the annoying fact that their armors were now covered with all those webs, the spiders further along were a welcome reprieve from the ghosts.
There had been many of them. They all went after Mjoll.
The three of them protected her as best as they could. They changed formation preemptively, with Farkas leading the way, Mjoll and Vilkas side by side behind him and Aela a bit further back with her bow. They all kept their weapons drawn. They didn't need torches after all – there were more braziers throughout the barrow.
But sometimes the ghosts still surprised them. Mjoll received a few more nasty slashes.
Eventually she did take a potion, but she would need a healer soon. As soon as possible, actually. They would have to head to Dawnstar right away. They didn't have access to the College and the only healers in Winterhold were there. Aela may have had access, but she did mention she got it only in exchange for some… experiments? She was certain the mages would ask for more if they wanted to go back.
Dawnstar was close enough and they had a good relationship with the local court wizard. It was for the best.
Vilkas couldn't help but throw concerned glances at her constantly. He had never seen anyone take this many ghostly wounds. It was concerning. But with the potion in her system, Mjoll was holding herself up pretty well. Her battle skills were not what they usually were though. There was clearly still pain.
They even had to take several hours to rest after a particularly large group of them. All of them were beginning to get exhausted and they all had at least some of those slashes on them.
Later though, the spiders were much easier to dispose of at least.
They'd been wandering this complex for a long time though. There were coffins and sarcophagi everywhere, but it couldn't have been much larger, could it? There were five hundred of those men, not thousands.
Farkas didn't bother cleaning his armor much. He had always been a little squeamish about touching that stuff. He got covered in it when he was small and he hated touching it ever since then.
Instead, he marched right towards the next door.
They were all ready for more battle, but Farkas lowered his axe a bit right when he peered into the chamber.
No spiders? No ghosts?
Farkas didn't say a word as he continued into the chamber and the rest of them immediately followed.
The chamber looked much grander than all the rest. All over the alcoves in the walls where the sarcophagi tended to usually be, there were candles there, one next to another, in rows and rows, all burning brightly. They illuminated a large part of the hall, but the walls in the back were dark.
Was this real? The legends said that flames burned here for every Companion. How did that work? Did the Harbingers come here to light the flame for every new member? Kodlak never mentioned that. But that was a possibility, actually. Maybe that was why he was so concerned about Wuuthrad's safety. It looked like an important tradition.
There were many things Kodlak never mentioned. He hadn't begun to even think of whom he would recommend for the next Harbinger. He was not that old yet. Maybe he had some records that spoke of these things, but Vilkas and Aela were more interested in going through his records of the curse and the cure so far.
These were concerns for another day. It was still hard to believe that Kodlak was gone at all, let alone to start thinking about his… replacement.
This didn't look like some magic ritual, unless the ghosts were the ones to light the candles. But then again, how would they know that new Companions were accepted into the fold? And was it only for the Circle members or for all of them? There were so many candles lit, it had to be all of them, right? Thousands and thousands of candles.
They marched through the hall silently. There were no indications of these candles belonging to someone. Which ones could they use for the ritual for the cure?
But then, after being too preoccupied with all the lights, Aela noted the one different one – a brazier in the center of the room.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "It feels like this is the one to be used, considering we have to burn a whole head. And… it makes sense with the personal possessions, like you said," she nodded at Vilkas.
"Yeah," Vilkas agreed. It did make the most instinctive sense. He had no idea how this would work, but… it was a good idea to try. Worse comes to worst, they had three extra heads. Though wasting any would be tragic, considering the limited number of them.
"You're sure you don't want to do this too, Aela?" Mjoll asked carefully. Aela made it clear before that she didn't want to cure herself. But now when they were so close, it felt appropriate to ask again.
"I'm sure. I can't," Aela shook her head. Sometimes she felt like she might want to, but other times, not at all. She wasn't even sure herself. How was that fair? She who caused so much pain with what she'd done should now get cured when there were people who were desperate for the same? Even if she wanted this with all her heart, she would not deserve this. And she couldn't tear herself away from Skjor just as she couldn't yank him from his afterlife without any indication of him changing his mind. He always wanted to run the Grounds. And she did too. She only wavered now because… because of how careless she got. Because of how easy it became to ignore the wishes of others and to think she knows better.
She didn't know better. She didn't know anything.
Except for the fact that there were now, and would be in the future, those who deserved this a million times more than she ever could.
"You could, if you really…" Mjoll scowled with palpable concern in her eyes, but Aela promptly interrupted her.
"No. I've decided." There was no point in agonizing over this anymore. Her future was out there in Oblivion with Skjor. And she was alright with that. She was happy about it. It was just a little heartbreaking that she wasn't as happy about it as she used to be, but that was true about a lot of things now without Skjor by her side. She just had to get used to that.
"So… who first? Should we start with the pup?" Vilkas asked. He wasn't sure how she was dealing with the transformations, but Kodlak mentioned their recent talk before he died. Vilkas knew Aeyrin was still struggling. And with the current news… well… she needed to be at her best if she was to face the World-Eater himself.
"No. We don't even know how it works yet," Farkas shook his head with determination. "I'll go first."
That was a good point. They shouldn't 'experiment' with someone who wasn't even here. The honorable thing was to test this themselves first.
Aela promptly rummaged around in the sack attached to her pack and pulled out one of the disgusting shriveled heads.
"So… shirt or hair?" Farkas asked first.
"We need to test the shirt. If it works, we can save everyone. But if not…" Vilkas sighed. If not, then their father would be trapped in the Hunting Grounds forever. Even when the fucker who killed him was long dead, there would be no peace for them before they knew their father was in Sovngarde. Ever since he and Farkas began to talk with Kodlak, began to decide to take this step, they just agonized over their father's fate. Maybe he didn't mind. But… what if he did?
They needed to cure themselves, all of them. And then they could reunite once more where they belonged.
Farkas nodded and he grabbed the hagraven's head's hair, taking it from Aela. Then he took out his old worn shirt from his pack.
"So I just… toss it in?" He looked at the items in his hands dubiously.
"I… guess? I don't understand this shit any better than you," Aela shrugged her shoulders.
Farkas looked at Vilkas uncertainly, but after his brother shrugged as well, he was left with no more options. He threw both those items into the brazier and waited, watching them burn.
Nothing happened for a while.
But then, the flames started to turn… redder. Bright red, in fact.
"Oh good! Something's happening!" Aela gasped, but just as the words left her lips, a familiar sight greeted them. A ghost appeared out of nowhere.
But this time, it was no Companion. An enormous spectral wolf, as tall as a human even on all fours, appeared by the brazier. It didn't have the common soft blue tinge to its ethereal form, but it glowed in the exact same color as the flames.
Vilkas stood in front of Mjoll protectively, but the wolf didn't target her. It didn't attack anyone.
It growled at Farkas, sitting there, waiting. Watching.
Farkas recognized it. He felt… strange. The wolf was familiar. Too familiar. He couldn't even comprehend that feeling. He had no idea how he knew. But he knew that this was, in whatever way, him. Or rather the wolven spirit he had struggled to tame in the beginning.
And it was just… waiting. Was he supposed to kill it?
He looked into the wolf's eyes intently. It looked… accusing. It reminded him of the fear when he was still feral and couldn't remember his transformations. It was the same defiant fear in its eyes – the feeling of someone else holding one's life in their hands. And being pissed about it.
He needed to kill it to banish the werewolf from himself, didn't he?
But… this was part of him. Every time he looked at it, he felt a pang of guilt and pain. He overcame so much to tame it. And now he was just going to… get rid of it?
"I… I'm not sure I can," Farkas growled. The way the wolf looked at him... it was painful.
"Maybe it means you should think about it more," Mjoll suggested carefully, but Aela interjected instantly.
"No! You made a good decision. Don't waver now. Remember why you're doing this," she grabbed Farkas's upper arm firmly, squeezing it under his pauldron.
Right. She was right. This was probably supposed to be difficult. Maybe Hircine's trick to keep his beasts from taking this path. Or maybe just the wolf's mind on its own.
Farkas brandished his axes again and the wolf's growl got more intense. And then Farkas charged.
The wolf was quick to attack back, but Farkas was faster. He slashed his axe against his leg promptly. The axe went through, the flames enveloped the leg, but then, suddenly, Farkas felt pain spread through his entire body.
It burned. As if his whole body was on fire. Or something inside. Like his blood.
He dropped to his knee instantly and the wolf lunged at him. Farkas felt the cold sting of the spirit's attack on his chest, though he wasn't sure what happened. His eyes were closed and he couldn't see.
Aela was the first to react. She didn't seem to mind how close she was, she still notched an arrow and shot at the wolf, right after he slashed his paw at Farkas's chest. A green light enveloped the spirit and it suddenly stiffened, unable to move, just as her arrow swished right through it.
Now it was paralyzed. Good.
"Farkas?" Vilkas scowled as he knelt by his brother. "What is it?"
"It… it burns. Fuck," Farkas managed to communicate through gritted teeth. His heart was pounding and sweat was pooling all over his body, under his armor. There was so much tension in his body. It almost felt unbearable. "Kill it." That had to end it. Right?
Mjoll didn't hesitate. Her Grimsever slashed through the immobile wolf's body, once, twice, thrice. And then the form dissolved.
There was no ectoplasm left behind. And just like that, suddenly, the horrible feeling in Farkas eased. It didn't disappear entirely. It felt like it… lingered. But it was definitely tolerable.
And then he saw… things. People on the farms, screaming in terror. Vilkas watching him with concern etched on his face while he thrashed in chains, sometimes in the Underforge, sometimes out there in the open world. Somewhere.
All the things he didn't remember, they were back. It was… unpleasant. But he already knew about them all. It just wasn't exactly easy to see what he had done on the Whiterun outskirts on his first night. Now he couldn't imagine what would have happened if Gwen had been there, before he even got lucky enough to get to know her.
"Farkas?" Vilkas's voice tore him away from his unsettled thoughts.
"I… I'm alright." He was. He just… needed a moment. The pain eased a lot. But he was more bothered by the memories now.
"What happened?" Aela looked at him with palpable fascination in her eyes.
"It hurt when it was… wounded," Farkas sighed. "Or maybe when it was fighting. I don't know. And now I… I remembered those nights I… didn't before."
"I'm sorry, brother," Vilkas lowered his head in understanding. He was there. He knew what Farkas had done. Whenever Farkas asked for details, Vilkas said it was better not to dwell on it. He was right. This was a painful thing to remember. But he accepted it once, he had to accept it again.
They stayed silently there, around the brazier, until Farkas finally stood up on his feet and gave them a grateful and understanding nod. He would likely be bothered by the new memory for a long time. Maybe for the rest of his life. But there was nothing he could do about it now. If nothing else, he made sure he would never have anything to lose control to like that.
"So… you can't transform anymore?" Mjoll asked curiously.
Farkas didn't even have to try. He felt it. He felt an… absence. But it was a calming void, for some reason. A relief. He wondered if it would be the same for his brother. He had been much more attuned to his wolf from the beginning after all. He never had trouble controlling his transformations at all.
"No. It worked," Farkas smiled softly. It was a good decision. He still felt like he needed to make sure though. He pulled off his glove and promptly nicked himself with one of his axes. Then he placed the and closer to the brazier to see. The flames looked ordinary again and there was no trace of the head or his shirt.
His blood was red like it used to be. Like he barely remembered. Like a human.
Vilkas studied the cut as well and then he nodded with a smile.
"There's an obstacle we didn't expect, I guess. But the main thing is that it works. I'll go next."
The ritual repeated itself easily. This time Vilkas tried a lock of his hair, despite Mjoll grumbling about him losing a bit. Apparently she really liked his hair.
The ritual worked just as well like this. They had no idea how the flames knew. Maybe from a scent like a wolf. It was all very strange though.
But soon, another wolf appeared, just as large as the previous one.
They were all ready.
But this one, while still growling, actually walked towards Vilkas calmly. And when it reached him, still growling angrily, it lowered its head in submission, awaiting the blade.
Farkas stared at the scene slack-jawed. How was even this thing, this spirit, leaving so much control to Vilkas? How did he do it when Farkas couldn't?
Vilkas stared at the wolf for a while. It was difficult. He kind of wished that the wolf attacked outright. It would have been easier to kill it.
But Aela was right. This was a good decision they made with a lot of time and contemplation. It was the right one. Of course their wolven spirits would be against it.
"Goodbye. You served me well," Vilkas lowered his head somberly.
"Goodbye," Mjoll's voice rang behind him. She sounded a bit sad, but when he looked back at her, she gave him an encouraging smile. "I'll still have my wolf, fur or not. That's the one that matters."
Right. He was doing this for himself. For himself and his life and future. To be with his father, brother and, maybe, if the fates were kind to them, with the woman he... liked. A lot.
Vilkas gripped his sword tighter and then he delivered the killing blow, chopping its head off. Well, it didn't fall off, of course, but the enchantment seeped all the magic out instantly and the wolf was gone.
There was a very intense feeling all of the sudden. Heat, panic and tension. But it only lasted a second.
And that was that. The feeling persisted a little, but it was barely perceivable.
It almost felt anticlimactic.
"How are you feeling?" Mjoll approached him.
"Good. A little… sad. But good," he smiled at her. It was natural. He had just killed something that's been a very big part of his life for… for almost a decade. That was hard to believe.
Mjoll returned his smile before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. That one was always for reassurance. It did help.
"Well then…" Aela interrupted them, almost impatiently, it seemed. "Can we do Aeyrin now? Please." She was clearly really eager to right this wrong.
"Let's," Vilkas nodded.
Aela didn't hesitate. She grabbed another head and those stockings that were still difficult to believe that they were Aeyrin's. She threw them into the fire promptly, but this time it was instant.
They didn't even have to wait before the flames reddened and a wolf appeared. It barely managed to growl before it lunged. With unexpected fury in its eyes, it went straight at Aela. It sank its fangs into her leg, making her yelp out in pain as the chill enveloped her, but then it let go. Like a feral beast, it turned its attention to the sound behind it – to Vilkas raising his sword, letting its edge drag on the ground stone for a bit as it had been leaning on it before.
The wolf was even faster though. There was so much ferocity in it. And palpable rage. It jumped up at Vilkas and bit and scratched at his arm, the form passing through as it left behind the familiar chilly pain.
Vilkas hissed in pain, but Mjoll and Farkas were already prepared too. Mjoll managed to cleave into the wolf's back with Grimsever while Farkas chopped its tail with both his axes. The form twisted in flames and a frosty fog both.
Vilkas managed to land a blow right after that, even though his arm hurt like the Void. But that one did it.
Aeyrin's wolf disappeared at last. She was cured.
"It's done," Aela let out a relieved sigh.
"Yeah. Fuck. The pup's wolf was aggressive," Vilkas huffed, still fighting through the pain a bit. "It makes sense though. She had no control over it. Not too much at least, from what Kodlak said. She didn't even remember any of the transformations yet. And it's been what… six months by now?"
"That… will be unpleasant," Farkas lowered his head somberly. "All the memories. And… the fight was a bit longer… the pain out of nowhere. Poor pup. Maybe we should have let her know."
"We don't even know where she is. The couriers could take a while to find her too," Vilkas sighed. "And the sooner we do this, the sooner can Kodlak escape the Hunting Grounds. It would have likely not helped to send a word to her."
"It's just good that it's done… undone," Aela nodded somberly. It had been a long time since she felt a little better about doing this to Aeyrin. Not better, just… a little less crappy. At least this mistake could be undone.
But Farkas had a point.
The memories would likely haunt her. She went out of control on them on the first night. She would remember killing those two people in the city. Aela just hoped that that was all of it and that she really spent all the other transformations chained and safe.
This was not the life for someone like Aeyrin. And Aela shouldn't have been so stupid to assume this was the right choice for everyone. She shouldn't have been so fascinated by turning a Stendarrite and she shouldn't have been so confident in this making everyone more powerful. It didn't.
How could anyone be stronger becoming something they hate? Farkas and Vilkas warned her, tried to deter her, but she never listened.
She only understood now. Now that she knew what it was like to hate the very thing she had become.
She could try to repent, she could try to be a better person.
But what she did to Aeyrin… there was no 'becoming better' in it. She didn't even have the option. She was forced to be what she hated. She didn't do it to herself.
Hopefully now, she would be able to move on.
Maybe it was insane, but Aela really wanted to see her. She really wanted her to know how sorry she was. Was it selfish? Was she just easing her own conscience?
She didn't know anymore. But she hoped it might help the both of them.
"We should free Kodlak now," Vilkas interrupted her pondering. "And our father."
Right. There was still more work to be done. More things to repent for.
They had to save their eternity too.