AN! This chapter revolves mostly around Vilkas and Farkas- but primarily Vilkas. He is our tritagonist, after all. Call it a filler chapter as Mimzi makes her way back to Fort Dawnguard after learning of the Castle Volkihar. However, character development is important and the rivalry of Vilkas and Farkas will surely be tested this chapter. This subplot will be dealt with here and the brothers past will come back in flashbacks for the reader to see a different perspective on the wolf twins. Growing up with siblings, we all know that we can love each other as much as we can hate each other. Rivalry is the norm, but are the twins able to set this conflict aside so they can pursue their mission and honour their role as Companions?
Chapter 7: A 'Twin Thing'
It was the 23rd of Sun's Dawn, in the year of 4E 170. The reaching snow valleys and glacier fields of Winterhold echoed the agonizing screams of a woman. Deep in the depths of Hob's Fall Cave, a pale Nord woman with long black hair, and silvery eyes, was giving birth on the dusty, cold floor of the cave. A few other women surrounded her and patted her head from the sweat crawling down her cheeks. She continued to wail into the deep echoes of the cave. A set of robed men came into the room. A dark elf man spoke.
"How much longer now? Our deity will become restless…"
A maiden declared, "Very soon… she works hard to expel them…"
The woman wailed again and threw her head back in excruciating pain. In an instant, sharp cries of a newborn were heard. The maiden wrapped the baby in loincloth and hastily passed the baby to the other maiden and tended back to the birthing. The woman still bellowed in anguished screams, then with one last scream, a new cry was heard from another baby. The woman leaned back into the floor dripping in sweat and wheezing of exhaustion. The maidens handed the two wailing infants to the robed men.
"Very good, they will do perfectly," the dark elf man said, he looked to the woman recovering from birth, "You did well, Vrailea, now rest. Your sacrifice will result in the most gracious boon from the Ideal Masters."
The sweated woman breathed heavily, and dimmed a smile, then laid back to her bed of hay. The men carried the wailing newborns down deeper into the cave. They entered a chamber, old and crumbling, yet an altar still remained to the other side. It was lit in candles and placed with herbs, blood, and black soul gems. The dark elf man set the babies at the altar. Their flailing arms and legs kicked as the dark elf looked down to them without a glimpse of warmth. Two other men came to his side, where the maidens who assisted with the birth stood to the doorway. They all raised their arms in unison and began to chant. The babies continued to cry amongst the spell casting.
"Ideal Masters, hear our offer, reveal your power in Mundus. For we deliver the souls of not one, but two souls to your realm. Let their souls sate your hunger. Bestow to us your boon for our favour! We demand our souls to you!" the dark elf man projected loudly.
"Ideal Masters, we demand our souls to you! Ideal Masters, we demand our souls to you! Ideal Masters we demand our souls to you!"
The chanting of the cultists raised higher, as the dark elf man raised a blade to the crying children upon the table. A shimmer of indigo grew to the centre. Suddenly wretched screams came barging into the chamber, halting the dark elf and alarming the cultists. She had blood leeching down her gown and legs. It was the woman who had given birth to the children. She ran into the chamber with unbridled panic.
"We're under attack!"
Immediately the male cultists equipped destruction spells to their hands as one of the women summoned a flame atronach. The babies stayed wailing at the altar. A brigade of Nord men came clamouring into the chamber with steel greatswords and hammers swinging. They were led by a man with golden, braided hair and a long beard. He charged through slashing at the cultists, gutting them mercilessly. The flame atronach threw fire balls towards the men, who swiftly dodged the blows of fire and shot arrows true to the daedra's chest. One of the men in the brigade sprinted to the children atop the altar and cradled them in his arms— desperately seeking a place to safeguard them. The golden-haired man swiped his blade across the dark elf's shoulders— cutting his head clean off. He let out a victorious battle cry with his sword arm raised. The cultists were haplessly demolished by the brigade of staunch Nord warriors in sheer moments. The ritual they were performing failed, and the indigo glow slowly dwindled away.
The golden-haired man in steel armour stood before his brethren and spoke proudly, "I hope every last one of you is endowed in pride and prowess for this glad deed. We've ridden the throes of this rugged, sacred Hold of Skyrim of this wretched necromancer cult. No more will people be stolen in the night. No more will their evil darken our shadows. No more will their filth desecrate the sacred law of Arkay, our Lord of Death and Life. We have honed the call and saved the people of Winterhold from any further damnation. Ysgramor and his followers smile down at us today from Sovngarde's blessed Hall. My brothers and sisters— my fierce friends! I am proud to be a Companion alongside you today! Hail all of you!"
The men raised their swords in honour and bellowed, "Hail, Kodlak!"
"Hail!"
"Hail!"
"Hail!"
Kodlak gloomed at the altar of the necromancers, as his shield brothers and sisters slowly exited the cave. Kodlak was approached by a shield-brother, with two slumbering infants in his arms.
"These are the children, then." Kodlak's eyes wilted at the sight of the innocent newborns sleeping and curled up to each other. "Such disgusting evil— truly repugnant. To think they would impregnate a woman to sacrifice the children to their foul deity; it's comforting these warlocks suffered in their last moments."
The comrade pleaded, "What shall we do, Kodlak? We can't just leave them at an orphanage and hope for the best. These little ones… they lived just in time to be saved. They were born into a world for the sole purpose to die before even experiencing it. I do not want them to live a suffering life."
Kodlak pondered to his shield-brother, "What would you do then, Jergen?"
Jergen looked down at them and curled an enchanted smile. Their cheeks round and rosy with little button noses, swirls of black hair atop of their heads, and small breaths escaping their nostrils as they huddled together. Jergen swelled in tears at his captivating adoration for the infants, "I wish to bring them back to Jorrvaskr, and raise them as our own. These little boys will grow up to be men. Living in our mead hall, they will be the staunchest, most resilient, toughest men we have seen in the Companions, yet. Let's give them a life fit for honourable Nord men such as us."
Kodlak beamed a grin, "I can't think of a deed greater. We will have to consult our Harbinger first in the matter. But yes, I agree."
Kodlak lightly placed his finger donned in a gauntlet and caressed one of the baby's tiny little hands. He continued with a smile, "Let's give them a life full of zest. It is our calling to help those in need, always. We should get to Winterhold very soon. The little ones will be hungry when they awaken. The wet nurses in the Longhouse can help. Come, Jergen."
Jergen stayed holding the children as Kodlak turned his back to him and towards the exit. He stopped and looked back to Jergen, who still stood pondering at the sleeping infants.
Kodlak asked, "My friend, why do you delay?"
Jergen uttered, "I'm sorry… I'm just, thinking of a name for them. They must be given names, no?"
Kodlak grinned brightly, "Yes, of course. What name is befitting to them?"
Jergen thought for a moment and suggested, "I… have always taken a liking to the name… 'Farkas'. A strong Nord name for a lad. But I'm unsure."
Kodlak affirmed gladly, "Farkas is a grand name. It speaks true strength and ferocity."
Jergen nodded and smiled, "Yes, I think so, too. But… what of the brother… I can't think…"
"Vilkas," Kodlak pronounced, "Another title as serious as night but strong as steel. Farkas and Vilkas."
Jergen beamed a grin and looked down to the children in awe, "Vilkas and Farkas. Perfect. These names will echo in our hall's history for lineages to come."
Aela packed her satchel with food and ailments before making her way out Fort Dawnguard, she spread open her map to route the Reach. Isran walked alongside her.
"When you get there, be persistent. She's an odd one, and she'll try to redirect the subject. Do not let her do it. Keep on her till she relents and agrees to come back with you," explained Isran to Aela as they steadied their breath to the stables.
Aela replied sternly, "Of course, I'll hog tie her if need be."
Isran guffawed, "Ha-ha! You may have to. That's what I like to hear."
Vilkas awaited at the doors of the Fort, impatiently listening for Farkas who was late to leave for their journey to find Gunmar. He paced back and forth by the doors until they finally pried open to reveal Farkas with a bitter scowl to his face. He stomped out the keep and kept his scowl to Vilkas, who returned another right back.
Vilkas growled, "Took long enough?"
Farkas grumped, "Clearly not, since I'm still looking at ya," then marched forward ahead of Vilkas.
Vilkas followed his brother earnestly trying to seem amicable, "Listen, these squabbles we've been having. They need to quit, for now, at least. We have to stay focused on the matter at hand."
"I wasn't planning on talking much, anyway," Farkas grumbled, "Let's just find this guy and you won't have to deal with me, anymore."
"Farkas…" Vilkas said, "How could you think I don't want to..."
Farkas halted and turned back to Vilkas coldly, "Because you said it. The night of the raid. You said you despised me. You blame me for your pain. You can't keep on saying those things and think we're gonna be all good at the end of the day. No Vilkas, no more. I'm done with you," Farkas said deeply, his face void of all emotion.
Vilkas said in a shaky voice, "Farkas… I'm your brother."
"No you're not. Maybe once. Now you're just some jerk who thinks because we look alike you can take your baggage out on me. I'm not you, Vilkas. Hate yourself on your own terms. Keep me out of it."
Farkas turned back to the way out of the canyon. Vilkas sighed and pushed down the sadness from Farkas's cold words. He followed his brother out to the groves of The Rift, holding only silence between the two.
They continued through the woods of autumn trees— keeping a distance between themselves as they journeyed towards Honeystrand Cave. The morning brisk as they left the canyon was now a warming dusk as the sun was like a hearth over the gilded tree tops. A day of travelling, yet no words uttered between them. Farkas started to hear rustling in the leaves to the left of the grove.
Farkas muttered to Vilkas, "You see that?"
"What?" asked Vilkas.
"Over there… use your eyes," he pointed up into the grove, where a body shifted down behind a small hilling. The brothers looked at each other in likeminded worry, and trudged through the dead leaves to see who was skulking around in the woods.
As they passed over the hill, there was no one to be seen. Vilkas heard faint shushing coming from behind a thick tree trunk. He looked over to see a man beckoning them by signalling with his hand. Vilkas lightly whacked Farkas's side to get his attention and pointed over to the bearded Nord man. The two brothers ambled to the tree where the man hid.
"Get down!" the man hushed, pointing down to the ground. Vilkas and Farkas crouched and crawled to the man, who wore scaled armour and had a burgundy beard and thick, shoulder length hair.
Vilkas whispered to him, "Are you Gunmar?"
"Aye, that I am. Who's asking?" The man replied.
Farkas hushed, "Why are we hiding?"
"Down that creek," Gunmar spoke softer, "Is a troll… I've been conditioning him for weeks. I don't need you two destroying my progress. Now get out of here!"
Farkas raised a brow, "Conditioning?"
"Taming," Gunmar clarified, "He will be my third tame in the last six months. He's accustomed to my scent, it's now associated to food that I provide for him. But if he smells you two, he will think you are the food I have provided, which will destroy the entire process and I'll have to kill it. So if you two don't want to become troll's dinner, move on."
"We were sent by Isran," Vilkas claimed, "He needs your help."
Gunmar scoffed, "Isran? Needing someone else's help? Never thought I'd hear that. Besides, he's too late. I've moved on. He can handle anything himself— he assured me so! What could he possibly need my help with?"
"Vampires," said Vilkas and Farkas in unison.
Gunmar's eyes widened. He stayed still for a few moments and uttered, "Alright… that might change things. Is this because of what happened in Whiterun?"
Vilkas explained, "Yes… we're the Companions. We were there for the whole attack. Isran is right, they are putting the whole of Skyrim at risk."
"Companions?"Gunmar raised, "If he has you, why does he need me?"
Farkas shrugged and stated, "Well… you train trolls and what not. Figured it could be useful against the bloodsuckers…"
Gunmar quietly explained, keeping his voice low, "He's not wrong there. Trolls get a bad rap. They are wild beasts, much like bears and sabre cats, they'll leave you alone if you do the same for them. But they can be a fearful sight in battle. They have strength and resilience that could shred brigades of men to pieces. I'm the only one in Skyrim that has devised a method to tame them."
Vilkas asked, "So you'll come?"
"No." Gunmar stated, "Not yet. I'm not going to piss away five weeks of my life because Isran came calling, finally. When I tame the beast, we will go. I have earned his trust, but still need to teach him how to obey. So, I cannot."
Farkas groaned aloud, where Vilkas raised, "Is there anyway to speed up the process?"
"Yes, you two leaving me to my work. Now off with you," ordered Gunmar impatiently. He glared at the two men who still stayed to his side with aloof stares. Gunmar relented and groaned, "Ugh. Fine. Go find me a goat or something. Even a deer would work. Bring it back alive. Then we'll see."
The two brothers agreed and left the man to the tree, both in slighted annoyance to now go find a wild animal together on what seemed like a goose chase.
Vilkas muttered, "I guess we're back to hunting. Like the good ol' days hunting rabbits with Vignar, remember?"
Farkas grunted and pinched up his shoulders.
Vilkas noticed this and muttered, "What now?"
Farkas snidely replied, "It wasn't Vignar, it was Jergen. You know… our father?"
Vilkas scoffed, "Of course it wasn't. I remember clearly it was Vignar who got me to shoot an arrow at that rabbit… and Jergen wasn't our father."
Farkas growled back, "Vignar took us bear hunting once when we hit our adolescence. That's it. Jergen took us hunting every day, and yeah, you killed a rabbit our first time and you cried like a girl the entire way home. I remember like it was yesterday."
"How could you remember that?!" Vilkas angrily snapped, "You couldn't even talk!"
"I couldn't talk, but I still had a brain… I'm sure that's news for you," Farkas grumbled, continuing to the road of the Rift.
Vilkas rolled his eyes, "Really, Farkas? Again?"
Farkas stopped and turned to him, "Why you sayin' Jergen wasn't our father? Why is it that I can't bring him up without you treating me like an idiot? He was our father. Kodlak will tell you the same thing."
Vilkas said back, "He wasn't our father. He found us in a cave, brought us home to Jorrvaskr. That's the end of it. Tilma and Kodlak raised us. He ran off to join the war and never came back. He was never our father."
"No, he was never your father. I don't care what you say, he was my pa. War or not; doesn't change it for me."
Vilkas scoffed and made a disgusted glare, "You like to think we were raised as these happy pups. Running around… biting knees. That's what you tell everyone. The townsfolk, the whelps. It's all lies to make yourself feel better of our abandonment. So, you keep to your stories in hopes it'll make you believe anything else but the truth. We're strays, Farkas. The only one who has shown an ounce of love for us is Kodlak, and his strength begins to wane. Soon it'll just be you and me. Your choice to continue to hate me only makes you more alone."
Farkas breathed heavy through his nostrils, he leaned in and growled deeply to his brother, "Stay away from me," he trudged on down the path, with pensive shoulders and an irate gait. Vilkas squeezed at the bridge of his nose, frustrated in his feeble attempts to make up with Farkas. He walked slowly behind, seething in his own failures of controlling his anger and cold words. Vilkas's memories flooded in, far more distinct than ever before.
"I must leave at once, Kodlak… the war grows ill at this time. If I am called to arms, I can't falter. I must heed the call…" Jergen persisted, as Kodlak stared down in sorrow. Jergen continued, "The elves will surely reach Skyrim, and I will fight every breath my lungs can muster to aid our legion troops in preventing it."
The year was 4E 174, and Jergen was leaving to fight in the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion, departing from his role as a Companion for a greater evil. Kodlak muttered, "I understand, Jergen. You don't need to explain. I would join you if not for the whelps. I pray the mists of battle grant you glory, and the horn of the Legion will call you home when the elves kneel. Fight true, my friend." Kodlak gripped Jergen's shoulder firmly and smiled with tears lingering in his eyes.
Jergen fought anguish in his throat and quaked sorrowfully, "You take care of my boys, now."
"Always, my friend," Kodlak gripped Jergen into a tight embrace before releasing. Vilkas looked up from the hard floor, with his brother adjacent to him, playing with their wooden toys and swords. He was entering his fourth winter, and remembered the tears in Jergen's eyes as he knelt down to the two.
"Vilkas…" Jergen smiled and placed his hand to his shoulder, "I'll be leaving for a while. You'll have to take care of your brother while I'm gone."
Vilkas asked, "Where are you going, pa?"
"Papa!" babbled Farkas and hugged his arm.
Jergen grinned, "To bring home freedom, my boys. I promise I will be back soon, it's only for a little while."
Kodlak looked down to the floor sombrely, Vilkas quaked his little voice and uttered, "But… Farkas won't talk to me. I don't want you to go alone. I want to go, too."
"Vilkas…" Jergen said dejectedly.
"Please, Pa. Don't leave," Vilkas clamoured his little hands to Jergen's wrist, tears swelling in his silver eyes. "I don't want you to go. The elves will make you gone. Don't go."
Jergen's eyes wilted at Vilkas, who frantically stayed to his wrist, pleading as he began to weep, "We need you! Please stay!"
"Papa!" peeped Farkas as he began to cry, where Jergen pulled him in and kissed him on the head.
Jergen smiled to Vilkas and gripped his shoulder firmly, looking into Vilkas's eyes as they streamed with tears. Jergen explained, "Now remember you're a strong lad. Your heart is good. You will be alright, I promise. Stay with Farkas, he needs you. He can't talk as well as you can. When he does speak, he will speak to you. You are each other's whole heart. Never forget that Vilkas."
Aela rode on horseback to the Reach Hold for nearly a day of travel. Through the treacherous mountain side she neared the marking of her map. Passed a river were remnants of a Dwemer ruin, with a woman standing at a nearby table, reeling over notes. Aela trotted her horse through the shallow river where mudcrabs scattered as she made way through the sloggy shore. The woman took notice of Aela immediately and clasped her hilt. Aela dismounted her horse and approached the woman.
"You," announced Aela "You Sorine Jurard?"
"Uh. Yes? Who might you be and why do you inquire?" Sorine rejoined, cautiously stepping away from her table.
Aela addressed, "I'm Aela. I'm on orders from Isran. He needs your help."
"Isran?" Sorine bleated, "Wants me?" She thought for a moment then began to shake her head, "No, you must be mistaken. He made it exceedingly clear he had no interest in my help. I find it hard to believe he's changed his mind."
Aela crossed her arms and declared, "Well, he has. I was told not to leave until you agreed to come with me."
"Ha!" Sorine blurted, "Now that sounds like Isran. Well, you can tell him I'm quite happy in my current pursuits. Now if you'll excuse me, I have…" Sorine began to aimlessly look around her campsite— shuffling crates and bags and looking under tables and chairs. She seethed, "Oh no. Oh no! Where is it?!"
"What's your problem?" Aela asked in annoyance.
"My satchel! It's gone! Oh! Those damn mudcrabs! I bet they took it!" Sorine said in anger.
Aela grumbled, "… mudcrabs."
Sorine began to scratch her head anxiously, "Yes! I feel I made it rather clear!"
Aela rejoined, "What's so important about this satchel?"
Sorine continued to look around in distress and began to say, "I had a stash of Dwemer gyros, and I need them for my research. Well… just look around, will you?"
"I'll tell you what…" Aela announced, "I'll find your 'gyros' or whatever they are, and you come with me back to Isran. How about that?"
Sorine pondered the deal for a minute, she relented, "Alright, fine. But only if you find my gyros. If I find them, I get to continue my research without any further distractions. Deal?"
Aela agreed, "Deal."
Vilkas and Farkas kept on through the woods, looking for an animal to bring back to Gunmar. Vilkas hushed and hunched down, signalling for Farkas to do the same. In the far bushes was a deer— grazing on the vegetation and jazbay berries in the bushes. Vilkas stayed as quiet as he could and grabbed his bow. He pulled an arrow gingerly from his quiver and took aim of the deer's hind legs. He breathed deeply as he drew the arrow. He relaxed his shoulders but strained the muscles in his back. He aimed a little to the left to compensate for the southern wind. The deer remained unaware. As he released his breath, he released his arrow. It thunked into the top hind leg of the deer— so when it tried to scramble away it thunked face-first into the ground and flailed. Farkas bolted out the bush, where Vilkas sprinted from the back of the deer. They wrestled the deer down, which kicked its unharmed limbs at the two brothers. It released an ear-splitting yelp as the brothers tied it by the legs.
"This is senseless…" Vilkas struggled to breathe through the frantic flails of the deer.
"You're not gonna start crying again, are you?" Farkas asked, keeping the front of the deer down much easier than Vilkas managed the back legs.
Vilkas spat, "We're torturing this animal, just so it can be tortured even further by a damn troll. There ain't nothing honourable about it."
Farkas shook his head and stated, "We're doing this so we can gain Gunmar's favour for the Dawnguard. There is everything honourable about that. Trolls against vampires? We need every advantage we can get. Now help me pick her up, come on."
The two picked up the doe by the reins tied to the legs and carried her back to Gunmar. The deer yelped repeatedly— its cry echoing through the woodlands. Gunmar came jogging up the hill to where they approached.
"Ysmir's beard, men. I could hear it leagues away! Quickly now, bring it here," Gunmar led them to an opening before the river. The troll was occupied trying to snatch salmon from the other side of the river but was ultimately unsuccessful as the fish slipped from his grasp. Vilkas and Farkas set the deer down close to the shore and sprinted back to Gunmar. The deer continued to yelp. The brothers peaked past the bush to see if the troll was willing to take the offering.
"So, what happens if he eats it?" Farkas asked to Gunmar.
Gunmar glowered a reply, "It's a bit of a… ritual."
Vilkas pondered, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'd rather not get into it," grimaced Gunmar, "Let's… just wait and see."
They could hear distant roars and howls coming closer passed the river, Gunmar emerged from the bush.
"What are you doing?!" Vilkas hissed. Gunmar held his hand up to remain calm.
He stepped to the opening, where Vilkas and Farkas gawked in suspense. They each drew their greatswords and prepared to attack if need be. The troll came knuckle-walking up the hill, it had heard the cries and smelt the blood of the deer. It had tired of trying to catch its supper from the river. It met Gunmar up the hill, who turned to a hunch and began to fake a walk on his knuckles as well. The troll huffed and roared from its maw at Gunmar, but not to scare or threaten, but to assert dominance. It would be the first to eat. The troll thumped over to the deer, which still yelped helplessly. It took a few sniffs and chomped its giant jaw onto the deer's neck, causing the animal to shrill loudly before its neck snapped from the pressure of the bite. Vilkas winced and Farkas grimaced at the dreadful noises the deer made before it finally silenced and died. The troll began to eat savagely as Gunmar slowly approached. It took notice and roared, crashing its fist to the ground. Gunmar began to do the same thing and roared back, kicking the dirt up under his iron boots.
Farkas irked, "What is happening…?"
Vilkas grimaced, "I have no idea."
The troll snarled in response, then ripped the leg with the arrow clean off the dead deer's body. It chucked it at Gunmar and proceeded feeding. Gunmar nervously licked his lips and made short heaving faces as he glanced down at the raw, bleeding deer leg. The troll shot it's three black, beady eyes back up to Gunmar— blood generously dripping from its jagged teeth. It bellowed a roar again and huffed. Gunmar relented and slowly pried a piece of raw flesh off the deer's leg with his teeth; and began to chew. He fought back the urge to retch as the troll watched him intently. He tore off another piece of the deer flesh and its blood began to drip from his own mouth. The troll— satisfied with Gunmar's compliance— went back to feeding into the deer's belly. Vilkas grimaced and dry heaved into his arm at the sight, where Farkas sniggered under his breath.
"He's actually eating it…" Farkas whispered in wheezing laughs. Vilkas rolled his eyes and looked away as the display was far too revolting to watch further. Gunmar allowed the troll to eat a good portion of its meal before moving into the next stage.
Gunmar began to scuffle and howl at the troll, throwing up the dirt off the ground with his boots and pounding his fists. The troll sat lazily near the deer whilst still gnawing a femur bone. The troll observed Gunmar's antics unimpressed. Gunmar then lightly threw a rock at the beast. It startled a little and huffed its nostrils at the Nord, simply rejoining his efforts in seldom annoyance. Gunmar pushed his luck even farther by knuckle-walking over to the troll and nudging it against the arm. The troll immediately flung its large fist back at him, where Gunmar rolled from the strike swiftly.
"This is madness," said Vilkas, shaking his head in disbelief, he added, "This lunatic is going to get himself killed."
The troll roared at Gunmar and charged at him. The dirt under the troll swirled in dust as he plowed over Gunmar; who huddled in a balled position as the troll did so. Vilkas shot up with his greatsword and was quickly grabbed by Farkas.
"Stop! Not yet!" Farkas hissed angrily.
Vilkas hushed back, "You want to watch this man die?!"
Farkas pointed to the troll, "Look!"
The troll began to thud its chest and made high pitch yelps. It excitedly spun in circles as Gunmar slowly picked himself off the ground. He lunged at the troll and again, shoving it back. The troll did the same to him; landing Gunmar back on his behind. The troll made the same fervent yelps and hopped in one place; seeming to wreak some kind of joy from the interaction.
"Is he…" Vilkas muttered in disbelief, "… playing with it?"
Gunmar continued to wrestle the troll, who would nearly always shove him down again, creating glee in the beast. Vilkas and Farkas watched on in amazement— certain that what they were seeing was real. A troll playing with a human. Farkas chuckled in his throat simultaneously with Vilkas. Their shared laughter caught them both off guard, where the two silenced and fell back to stoic expressions.
Aela scoured the stream for a satchel, or anything that could resemble a bag or knapsack. The mudcrabs were usually unfriendly and hot-spirited, but this time they left her alone; likely sensing she was a greater threat. Sorine searched a league behind her and bellowed, "I found it! Ha-ha! I found my bag… oh."
Aela came sprinting to Sorine, who was still and repulsed at what she was seeing. Aela looked down to see a small mudcrab pulling Sorine's bag into a narrow grotto.
"Well, looks like I won't be coming with you after all," gloated Sorine proudly.
Aela huffed, "Then grab it."
Sorine baffled, "I beg your pardon?"
"You found it, so grab it. Then I'll leave you alone," stated Aela.
"That wasn't part of the deal!" Sorine berated irately.
"If you don't, I will. Then you'll have to come with me, or I'm taking that bag instead."
"What could you possibly need a bag of gyros for? Besides extortion!" Sorine asked angrily.
"Don't know," Aela added, "Maybe I'll sell them, or toss them off the side of a bridge. Not sure yet."
Sorine huffed, "Hmph… fine, I'll just grab it…" she went to hunch down to the grotto, but the mudcrabs beady eyes went to her chillingly, and its whole body as still as a statue. Sorine irked and divulged, "I… I can't. I have uh… uh… disturbance with mudcrabs. They are not the most pleasant of creatures, as I'm sure you know."
Aela smirked and knelt down to grab the satchel. The mudcrab clacked it's pinchers to her approach. Aela grabbed the bag and pulled, where the mudcrab persisted and held on.
"Hmph. Let go, you little scavenger," Aela snarled and ripped the bag out of the mudcrabs clasp. It scuttled towards her and pinched its little claws onto her boots— not breaking any material but serving as an annoyance. Aela groaned, "Get lost," she wiggled her foot, but the mudcrab persisted.
"Ugh! Just kill it!" Sorine squawked.
Aela rolled her eyes, "Why would I senselessly kill this creature when it doesn't pose a threat to me or you?"
"Uhh… because it's repulsive!" Sorine snapped in a panicky tone. Aela stayed in thought then gripped in her bag for a piece of bread. She set it down behind the mudcrab, who turned punctually to the piece of food and snatched it with its claws. It scurried back into its grotto, content with the offering of food. Sorine gawked in confusion and disbelief of Aela's compassion towards the scuttling animal. Aela held the satchel of gyros firmly to her chest and glared to Sorine.
Aela grumbled, "Well, what's your answer then? Do you come with me? Or do I take my brand new satchel home?"
Sorine set her hands to her hips and angrily spat, "I cannot believe you are extorting me! I found that satchel, fair and square!"
Aela stated coolly, "Yet, somehow, I hold it. Strange how a deal can go south, right?"
Sorine rambled, "Why does Isran even need me anyway? He made it very clear he didn't, or ever would again! He said some pretty hurtful things to me before I left…"
Aela replied, "Vampires. They attacked Whiterun and from what we are understanding so far, they have been wreaking havoc in Skyrim for a while now. He needs you to help craft weapons to help eliminate the threat."
"Oh, I suppose now he remembers I proposed no less than three different scenarios that involved vampires overrunning the population! Well… what are they up to?" Sorine asked genuinely.
Aela shrugged, "Nothing good, that's all we know so far. They are attacking major cities so clearly; they are up to something with a far more destructive end. So, Isran and I, and the rest of the Companions are concerned."
Sorine chuckled, "Isran is always concerned about something. That's what got us working together in the first place. But still… you Companions being involved; I mean you usually keep out of politics and involvement with other factions— so it must be pretty bad."
"My Harbinger wouldn't have given the order if he wasn't completely convinced of a mass threat. So yeah, it's pretty bad," sternly divulged Aela.
She angrily thought for a moment then relented, "Hmph. Fine. Fine! I'll come with you. Just give me my bag and let me gather the rest of my things. I suppose I can continue my research at Isran's big, abandoned castle he's been so diligently guarding from everyone. I have to admit, I'm a little excited to see what progress he's made with it."
Sorine agreed and trudged back up to the Dwemer ruin remains, Aela smiled in triumph. She sauntered back up to the ruins with Sorine and supervised as she packed her belongings; making sure she wouldn't run off or try to trick her way out of it. Sorine rummaged her things into a bag and handed them to Aela to be secured onto the horse. She mounted over the steed, as Sorine slowly did the same.
"Oh!" gasped Sorine as she sat behind Aela and threw her head back.
"What?" spat Aela.
"It's just…" Sorine made short heaving noises, "…this is going to be a very long, unpleasant ride. I mean do you ever bathe? You smell like a wild hound. Ugh!"
Aela broke out into a hearty cackle and sneered, "Oh sister, that is the smell of a true warrior. Embrace it! Heeyah!" Aela thrashed the reins and her horse sprinted over the shallow river to the other side of the incline. Sorine struggled to hold on as her face grimaced and speed jolted her small frame.
Night began to fall over The Rift, the brothers had impatiently grown tired watching Gunmar toy with the troll. The beast now ignored Gunmar as it continued to feed on the remains of the deer, with Gunmar watching as he sat on the ground, patiently waiting for the next approach.
Vilkas and Farkas sat behind the bush. Farkas lightly began to doze off and awaken in a cycle, as Vilkas laid on his back with his arms up behind his head— staring up at the stars through the rattling leaves. Gunmar stood up from his place and began to wonder away from the troll, his footsteps were made audible to gain the beast's attention. The troll looked from the carcass and snarled. It laid down the piece of bone in its mouth and began to follow Gunmar. He took notice and raised his hand up to the beast.
"Stay," ordered Gunmar.. The troll snarled and continued to follow him, where Gunmar barked, "Stay!" the brothers shot up from their trances and looked over to what was happening. The monster reluctantly huffed and pounded its fists on the ground. It whipped back to the carcass of the animal and continued feeding. Gunmar creeped a smile as he lowered his hand and ambled back to the bushes where Vilkas and Farkas remained, as the troll was oblivious to where he was going or meeting with. Gunmar came from the other side of the bush and hunched down with the brothers. They met him in confused stares.
Gunmar observed in disbelief, "Can't believe you two stayed for all of that. You must really want me to go with you then?"
Vilkas replied in astonishment, "How did you do that? The troll actually listened to you…"
Gunmar explained, "There's bond to be made with trolls. They are primitive versions of us, if anything else. They long for companionship, like many animals. See how I let him be the boss earlier? It's a give and take. What you just saw was a huge leap in my work. It's the first time he's ever listened to the command, but there's still so much more. We will get there. But I feel pretty assured he's ready. Let's get back to Isran… I can return for this beast when I get settled in. We'll need him."
The brothers shared relieved sighs. They finally stood up from the ground and sheathed their swords. The three carried on through the dark woodlands and on their way back to Dayspring Canyon.
"So…" Gunmar announced to the two brothers whilst walking the open roads, "How is that Fort, then? I mean, I'll see it for myself soon enough. But, what do you two think?"
"It's big," croaked Farkas "Don't know another word to describe it."
Vilkas chuckled in his throat, "You can't describe much."
Farkas scowled back at Vilkas, whose smile diminished to a scowl in return. Farkas snarled, "This is Vilkas. There's plenty of words I could use to describe him, as you'll soon figure out for yourself."
Gunmar chuckled aloud, as Vilkas rejoined scornfully, "We're brothers, but couldn't be more different. One you can have an actual intelligent conversation with, the other— well… you'll soon figure out for yourself."
Farkas growled, "Piss off, Vilkas."
"What?" Vilkas asked back, "The man should know, shouldn't he? Save him the frustration first before going in?"
Farkas grabbed Vilkas by the back collar of his armour and shoved him behind him, "You know better than anyone what I do to people who think I'm not smart."
Gunmar interjected amicably, "Boys, please. Let's put our personal troubles behind…"
"What are you going to do, Farkas?" Vilkas interrupted, his teeth gritted and face enraged, "You going to hit me? I dare you."
"You keep flapping your mouth I just might," threatened Farkas, face to face with his brother.
Vilkas chuckled maliciously, "I'm not scared of you. You're big, so one hit, you'll fall like a bag of rocks."
Gunmar barked, "Hey! If I need to split you two up myself, I will," he then turned to a sudden sharp crack of a twig in the brush, as the brothers remained unaware, still scowling at each other.
Farkas bellowed at Vilkas, stepping closer to his face, "Try it then! Go on, do it!!"
"Boys…" Gunmar cautioned, still looking into the shrub.
Vilkas snarled, "Get out of my face."
Farkas abruptly shoved him back and made a dark chuckle, "You're all talk, little man…"
Vilkas shoved him back, "You keep testing me, you'll eat those words, you oaf."
"Enough!" Gunmar shouted at the enraged brothers who had reached their boiling point. Farkas violently grabbed Vilkas by his armour and pulled him in. Vilkas shoved his elbow into Farkas's chest through his grasp.
"Look to the woods! Now, both of you!" Gunmar yelled over the two. Farkas released his grip and looked behind to the woods. He shook and gripped his hilt, where Vilkas's scowl turned to startled terror, and he swiftly pulled out his bow. The darkness of the woods scattered with glowing red eyes that slowly emerged through the grove. Coming into the light of the moons revealed a gaggle of vampires. The brothers drew their greatswords as Gunmar pulled out his war axe.
The vampires grinned maliciously at the three Nord men, who stayed ready with their weapons at their approach. The leader of the gaggle came forth with a fanged grin. "Sorry to interrupt…" the vampire said. Vilkas drew his arrow, ready to release.
"If you fiends know what's good for you… you'll move on," threatened Gunmar.
"That doesn't sound good for us at all, my friend. Far from it. As we are famished," the vampire claimed, his comrades chuckling alongside him.
Vilkas released his arrow and shot right through the eyes of the lead vampire, who toppled back. The rest snarled and hissed in response and charged at them in full force. Gunmar roared a battle cry and thrashed his axe at one's head, then thrashed again at another's chest; both fiends falling to the ground. A drain spell was cast at Farkas who roared and knelt down from the pain. Vilkas timely ran to Farkas and casted his ward spell at the vampire— ceasing the vampire's magic. It hissed and lunged at him. Vilkas kicked it back and drew his sword before swiping it down over the monster. Farkas raggedly stood up at the sight of another vampire beckoning his brother. He let out a blood curdling roar and gripped the vampire by the shoulders and threw him back. Farkas stomped repeatedly to its head.
Gunmar struggled to fend off the vampires pursuing him. There were four before him, and all closing in as his strength waned from persistent throws of his axe. He barked out to them, "Come at me! I'll send you back to your Molag Bal in haste!"
One vampire leapt onto his back and sunk its teeth into Gunmar's shoulder, causing him to bellow in agony. He fell to the ground as more vampires toppled over him with their teeth into his skin. Gunmar continued to yell and thrash at the vampires, but their numbers and strength kept him to the ground of the path. Farkas bolted to Gunmar's defence and kicked vampire's off him, as Vilkas stayed back and shot arrows at the monsters. More vampire's emerged from the shadows. As Gunmar was released from the fanged menace thanks to Farkas and Vilkas's efforts, his stamina was drained from the leeching of his blood. Gunmar stayed withered to the ground in quick pants as Farkas continued to fend the vampires off.
A vampire lunged to Farkas where he thrusted his sword up, picking the legs of the vampire off the ground. It venomously shrieked as it sunk deeper into the blade to Farkas's hilt. He threw it off his blade. Another hopped onto Farkas's back and dug its teeth in, but winced and gagged before Farkas threw him off his back. The vampire lunged away, spitting and wiping away his blood from his mouth.
"Disgusting! I'd know that taste anywhere. You're a damn dog!" the vampire retched in disgust.
"So, you should know I've got fangs too," growled Farkas and leapt to the vampire with his sword up. The vampire tried to scramble away but his leg was punctured by the sword. It yelped and flailed as Farkas ripped the blade out and stabbed it back into the vampire's chest, causing it to gurgle and go still. Vilkas shot two more vampires that emerged from the darkness. Suddenly a force threw him to the ground as a vampire jumped onto him. Vilkas and the vampire rolled down the hill. It stabbed its sword into Vilkas's stomach.
"RAAAGGHH!!!"
Vilkas roared in searing pain. The blade stung deeply into his innards- breaking through the hides along his waist, between the metal plates of his armour.
"NO! VILKAS!"
Farkas screamed and bolted at the beast with his greatsword raised, and ferocity written to his enraged roar. An ice spike was thrown at Farkas as he bolted to his brother, which pierced into his thigh. Farkas flipped forward, smacking his face onto the ground and breaking his nose. Farkas belted a cry and clasped at his thigh. The vampire that summoned the spell leered a smile as it prepared to send another ice spike towards his chest.
Vilkas failingly looked towards the painful screams of his brother and seethed at the approach of vampires preying on him. A suppressed anger built deeper from within Vilkas's core. He released a blood curdling roar and gripped the vampire by its collar— head butting it off him. The two moons glared down harder than they had in weeks. As Vilkas seethed from the wound and to his brother's hardship, days of repented anger built, and an animalistic urge began to take hold.
He suppressed the involuntary urge that began to take hold of him. His body began to writhe, and he curled back onto his stomach with his elbows digging into the dirt. He plowed his head into the ground and wailed as he could begin to feel himself being dragged to the wolf. He fought it back with his own willpower, but it continued to pulse strongly.
'Do not give in. Fight it! You are a Companion, you are a true Nord, you are a good man!!'
He repeated the mantra over and over again as he stayed to the ground in curdling growls.
Suddenly another animalistic roar came from the bushes, the vampires ceased and looked onto the woods in cautious worry. The troll that Gunmar had worked tirelessly to train emerged from the bushes. It was in irate anger and plowed its massive fists into the first vampires it trampled to. It immediately recognized Gunmar and went to his assistance. It ripped the limbs and heads from vampires that beckoned him and plowed them into pulp with his horned fists. The vampires shrilled in fright from the raging beast and began to flee, where the troll pursued them. It leapt at two fleeing vampires and grabbed their heads and ripped them from their shoulders- releasing a bellowing roar through the woods of The Rift which sent warblers flapping away.
As the vampires fled in terror from the beast, Vilkas continued to writhe from the oncoming of his transformation. Gunmar slowly picked himself off the ground and wobbled towards Vilkas. Farkas shot up, gritting his teeth through the pain of the ice spike still pierced into his thigh. He limped to Vilkas quickly.
"Vilkas! … No!" Farkas hollered as he frantically crawled his way to his brother. Farkas went to grab Vilkas's shoulders to calm him, where Vilkas snarled and shoved him back.
"What is happening to him? Was he turned?!" Gunmar gasped, thudding onto his knees as he was still weak from the vampire attack.
"No! Vilkas. Come on, brother, you need to fight it!"
Farkas wrapped his arms around the front of Vilkas's chest, who struggled and fought away Farkas's arms, but he persisted. Farkas gripped tighter around his brother, who still writhed. Vilkas's growls and grunts turned distorted, and more animalistic, his eyes began to shimmer, and hair grew to his neck and face.
"Vilkas… I have you, your brother has you. It's me, Farkas. I'm here," Farkas muttered to his brother, "You have to fight. Don't let it win. You're not the wolf, remember that!"
"By Stendarr's grace… a werewolf…" Gunmar shuddered and slowly backed away from the two brothers. Tears swelled in Farkas's eyes as he tried to contain Vilkas, who slammed his head onto the ground repeatedly, trying to suppress the wolf.
Farkas continued, "You say I have fortitude. You hate me because I can control it. You have fortitude! You are the strongest wolf out of all of us, and you don't give in! Never!"
Vilkas roared in a distorted growl, "RAGH! Get away from me!!"
"No, Vilkas! I'm not leaving you! Stay strong and fight it! I'm not leaving you!" a tear fell from Vilkas's eye. He closed them shut and could see the misty plains once again, he could see the dreaded Lord Hircine approaching from the mist. His hand held out as he beckoned closer.
"It's time, Vilkas. It's time to join the hunt. No more fighting."
Vilkas's tears rolled down his face as he was held at the mercy of Hircine. Farkas stayed to his side, and his call grew louder in Vilkas's head- louder than that of Hircine's pull. The urge to turn into his wolf was overcome by rage against it. In his vision he looked to Hircine, whose animal headdress stayed to Vilkas. He roared at the Daedric Lord.
"NO!"
"Vilkas, wake up," the familiar voice of Skjor thudded Vilkas from sleep. It was the evening of the 1st of Sun's Dawn, in 4E 193. Vilkas awoke in the barracks of Jorrvaskr, with his brother slumbering in the bed behind him. Vilkas rubbed his eyes to Skjor.
"What's going on…?" Vilkas groaned, trying to break from sleep.
"Come with me, whelp. It's your time," said Skjor lowly, "Time for you to reach the ranks of the Circle."
Vilkas gasped, "Really?" he beamed a grin then asked cautiously, "How?"
"Come… it'll all be revealed."
Skjor sat up from his knees and paced out the doors of the barracks. Vilkas shifted from his cot and donned his fur shoes. He wore a loose, buttoned tunic and ragged pants. Vilkas followed Skjor out of the living quarters and through the main hall that lay empty as all the warriors slept. It was no later than three in the morning, and the only life that walked the halls were himself and Skjor. Outside he was greeted to one of the warmer nights in Whiterun. The stars glistened brightly along the horizon and the southern winds blew through his hair. Dancing aurora of red and orange lit the skies which reflected the colour back on Whiterun's cobblestone. He slowly ambled down the steps, where autumn leaves piled by the bottom ridge blew with the wind and up along his legs.
Vilkas followed him out to the courtyard. Skjor stood before the rocks of the hill to the Skyforge. Vilkas slowly approached and asked "What are we doing out here?"
Skjor replied, "All your years here in this hall, whelp, you never knew of the Underforge, did you?" Vilkas returned a baffled glare.
"No… what is it?"
Skjor pressed down on the rock where it lightly shifted, "This."
The rock then slid down into a mechanism from in the ground, revealing a passageway underneath the Skyforge. Vilkas balked in disbelief and anxiously looked around the yard in case anyone could see them.
Vilkas cautioned to Skjor, "Does… does Kodlak know about this?"
He replied, "Yes. But what we are doing now, he doesn't need to know. Your old man has been keeping secrets from you, boy. I'm here to show you the true meaning of a Companion. Step inside." Skjor stepped aside for Vilkas to enter the Underforge first. He hesitatingly wandered inside the keep, where Skjor followed and the stone slab that hid the passage slid back up, closing them inside. Inside was a dimly lit cavern, small and dank. In the centre was a stone fountain (once used as a brazier but now bare) and a budding Aela— his shield-sister, emerged from the shadows. She smiled at Vilkas.
Aela teased, "You ready to join the pack, basket head?"
"Pack? What does she mean?" Vilkas asked to Skjor.
Skjor replied proudly, "Jorrvaskr is the oldest building in Skyrim, but the Underforge was here long before it was. It taps an ancient magic older than men or elves. We've come here tonight to make you stronger, Vilkas. You're already a fiery heart among this distilled rabble. I can't think of no one else more befitting than you for this gift."
Vilkas roared in anger, "Enough with the cloak and dagger! Why am I here?!"
Skjor nodded to Aela, who smirked and began to writhe as her form shifted. Ginger hair sprouted from her skin, and her face evolved into a muzzle as she grew taller and roared into a wolf-like beast with vast, sinewy muscles. Vilkas shot back at the wall in terror. He scrambled to the entrance of the Underforge trying to pry it open.
Skjor groaned as he walked closer to him, "There's no need for that, really. She's not going to attack you. You're among family here."
"What in Ysmir's beard are you?! What is happening?! Get me out of here!" Vilkas cried as he kept to the entrance frantically.
Skjor professed, "We have many names… lycanthropes, skin-walkers, beasts of Hircine. Most commonly known as werewolves. The ranks of the Circle were blessed with the wolf blood many years ago, before you and your brother were even born. It's a gift of immense strength and prowess, making us into the most feared opponents in all the land." Vilkas slowly stepped back from the entrance and cautiously approached Skjor. He shuddered at the sight of Aela in her beast form, she slowly crawled towards the two making sharp snarls.
Skjor began to propose, "You and your brother were raised here. You have fought valiantly as a Companion, and your initiation was only a pale honour to what you truly deserved. You deserve this, Vilkas. Your enemies will cower at your call, the ground will quake under your feet, and the night can be yours for the taking. This is the true calling of a Companion, Vilkas. Will you join us in the hunt, my friend?" Vilkas gawked at the pair in disbelief. His heart began to slow as he stared at Skjor.
"You… want to turn me into a werewolf? And what if I refuse, what then?" asked Vilkas, his eyes wilting at the sight of Aela.
Skjor expressed, "This is an offer— a gift. You can refuse if you wish, but only members of the Circle hone the beast. If you refuse, you will stay a whelp. If you accept, the power of your blood and your ranking will heed the call of any danger. You will join us in the ranks of the Circle. You can be a truly unstoppable force, Vilkas. You're a valiant fighter, and an honourable man. I know you will greet your blood as a true patron of Hircine." He spoke to Vilkas as only a mentor, proposing a gift rather than forcing a disease. Vilkas looked down to the ground and kept patient thought, as Skjor awaited his word in bated breath.
He continued, "Aela and I, we can teach you how to control it. We will be your shepherds through your turning."
Vilkas raised, "This is the reason for your night hunts? You and Kodlak?"
Skjor affirmed, "Yes, we diligently keep it secret. We only reveal our wolf to those who are worthy."
"What of my brother?" Vilkas asked promptly, "Will he be turned?"
Skjor assured, "In due time, yes. He still needs to prove himself. But I know he will succeed as you have, and he will join the pack, as well. Now what do you say? Are you prepared to join your spirit in the beast world?" Vilkas thought deeply, his instinct told him no, yet his heart yearned for the power that was offered to him. He ambitiously smiled and nodded his head.
"Yes… turn me."
Skjor grinned and patted Vilkas's arm with his firm hand, "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. I'm proud of you."
Skjor walked over to the fountain. He rolled up the linen of his sleeves and clasped a dagger, he sliced his wrist vertically which poured blood from the cut. It dripped into the fountain, which left a small puddle. Vilkas balked in disgust and eerily approached closer.
Vilkas irked, "What is this?"
Skjor rolled his sleeve down and clasped the wound tightly, "I will be your forebear. Now… drink."
Vilkas grimaced in disgust, but Skjor kept a sternly serious stare. Vilkas breathed deeply and approached the fountain. He looked up at Aela, still in her beast form, who patiently awaited his compliance. He slowly dipped his fingers into the warm blood, which sent shivers up his spine. He stalled as he raised his blood dipped fingers. His breath began to heighten in panic. Skjor rested his hand gently to Vilkas's shoulders, who looked up in fear.
Skjor said, "You can do this, son. I'm here for you."
Vilkas lips pressed and nodded to Skjor in unwavering trust. He looked back to the crimson along his fingers. Vilkas breathed out quickly, and wrapped his mouth around his fingers, drinking up the blood. It immediately struck a strong, foul taste. Vilkas winced and swallowed it. He heaved and gritted his teeth as a pain shifted in his bones. His head boiled and blood flowed faster than it ever had before. Vilkas flopped down on the floor of the Underforge and convulsed violently. Aela approached in worry, still in beast form but aware of what was happening.
"Stay back! It has to happen!" Skjor yelled at Aela, who whimpered in response, she stared down at Vilkas and panted in whines.
"Have faith, Aela! He's turning! The pain is necessary!"
Vilkas writhed on the floor and arched his back. His fists clenched as his veins were visually thrusting in blood. His eyes shot open to pale white, and hair began to sprout along his body. His growls distorted into animalistic roars, and his spine stretched violently. His arms and legs grew stifle joints. His face emerged into a long muzzle with razor sharp fangs and pointed ears. He released a howl as he planted his hind feet to the floor. Even Aela cowered at the sight of his beast, who towered over her. He looked down at Skjor and Aela. He roared so loud it rattled the bones of the Skyforge, causing dust to throw and rocks to shift. Skjor stepped to Vilkas, he snarled at his approach.
"Vilkas, don't let it control you. I'm here with you," calmed Skjor, his hand held up to Vilkas, "I'm here."
Farkas stayed holding Vilkas into the ground, his breathing slowed and panting ceased. Gunmar awaited with bated breath to Vilkas's woes, unsure of what to do or how to act to this matter.
"I'm here with you…" rasped Farkas, "I'm here. Don't let it control you." Vilkas's breathing slowed to deep inhales and exhales. His eyes pried open and he could feel the cold soil of The Rift under his cheek. Farkas held him firmly, his cheek rested to Vilkas's back. They both stayed breathing for a while. Farkas's breaths were in unison to his brother's. They shared breaths until Farkas could feel Vilkas begin to shudder. His breathing pent up again and exhaled deeply with sharp inhales. Farkas said as tears filled his eyes, "Vilkas…"
Vilkas wept into the floor of the Rift, with his brother still clasped to him, holding him firmly as he cried. Vilkas's voice hoarse he quaked, "You were right… I can't control it. I was jealous of you, Farkas. And I do hate myself because of the curse but nothing made me hate myself more, than me hating you. You're my whole heart, and I couldn't… bear it. I can't and I won't."
Farkas sighed as a hot tear streamed down his dirty cheeks. He lightly released Vilkas, who gently pressed himself up, with Farkas's help. As Vilkas sat up he was scooped into a firm embrace by Farkas. He buried his face into his shoulder as a kindred relief flooded the pair. Vilkas wrapped his arms tight around his brother and clasped his hand to the back of his head. The warm embrace of his brother after days of cold hate, and weeks of distance between the two was a call of home. The two silently cried into each other's shoulders.
Farkas breathed out, "Jergen may have not been our father, but you have always been my brother. We're not strays, Vilkas. We've got each other. I love you… even when I hate you…. I'll always love you."
Gunmar stared on in confusion, but a solace smile; not wanting to intrude the moment they shared. Vilkas then released a painful ache as he released. Farkas gripped Vilkas's shoulders in concern.
"Agh… Damn it… I don't want to ruin the moment, but this is really starting to hurt…" winced Vilkas through his gritted teeth. The cut from the vampire's blade produced blood down his armour.
"Let's get you back to Fort Dawnguard, get you healed up," stated Farkas and slowly helped Vilkas back to his feet. He staggered and panted heavily at the cut but dealt with the pain as he stood straight up and exhaled. Farkas wrapped his arm behind Vilkas to help him walk. He ignored the ice spike cut in his leg, that had now melted but left behind a flesh wound. Farkas looked up to Gunmar who stood slowly from the ground, as well.
"Well… now that we've shared that with you, you still gonna come to the Fort?" Farkas asked to Gunmar, who still stayed in a trance of shock.
Gunmar relented, "I have to admit, I'm not fond of werewolves either. But… seems to me you two are dealing with something you never intended. You're on the right side of it, at least. It's not always black and white, they say."
"Uhh..." Farkas muttered, unsure how to understand what he said, "So you'll… come?"
"Yes."
Gunmar and Vilkas said in unison. Gunmar continued, "I'm saying I'll be understanding. You are good men, and I was worried that your brother couldn't control it. But he has you, and that seems to help. I'm guessing… Isran doesn't know?"
"No," Farkas shook his head.
"Probably for the best. I'd be surprised if he did. He's not as understanding as I am. Best to keep it secret until this vampire menace is dealt with, and now I've seen it for myself they are a problem. So, let's get back to the Fort, and we'll take it from there," instructed Gunmar to the men, who shared relieved sighs that the mission wasn't blown by Vilkas's near transformation.
As they began to limp down the path a roar was heard behind them, and loud thudding. The three looked back to see the troll thudding back to them. Gunmar bolted in front of the brothers, who readied to grab their weapons.
"Stay!" Gunmar bellowed with his arms up at the beast. It halted before him, where he could see something dangling from the troll's maw. It huffed and dropped the head before Gunmar. It was the head of a vampire, which the troll was offering to Gunmar. He began to chortle loudly to the offering and picked up the head of the vampire in gladness.
"That's a good man!" he said to the troll in fervent glee. The troll made excited yelps again and began to spin in circles happily. Gunmar turned to the baffled brothers, "You see this? All my work paid off in one blood-sopped head. He killed those vampires for me. He'll be coming with us."
Vilkas exclaimed, "He'll be what?!"
"Come now, you big oaf!" Gunmar hailed joyously, "You're joining the Dawnguard!"
His troll began to follow him intently down the path, ignoring the brothers. They shared confused looks and shook their heads before carrying on behind the troll and its master. As they continued their trek back to Fort Dawnguard, Vilkas solaced in another memory.
After the night of his first turning, Vilkas stoically wandered to a mirror in the downstairs living quarters. He pried open an ink pot. He lathered the black ink on a cloth, then began to paint it around his eyes. He stared menacingly at himself— fully honing the knowledge of his wolf and newfound prowess. He wiped the blood from last night off his lip. He stared at himself in determination for the next hunt, and now wore war paint as the rest of the Circle. Farkas obliviously walked up behind him and stunned at the sight of his brother's new look.
He queried, "Whoa. You look scary. What you doin that for?"
Vilkas startled at his brother's voice and looked back to him before grumbling, "I'm part of the Circle now. All the greatest warriors behold fearsome war paint."
As Vilkas set down the ink pot, Farkas eagerly picked it back up and grabbed the cloth from Vilkas's hands.
Vilkas asked, "What are you doing?!"
As Farkas spread the same war paint along his eyes, he muttered, "You just said it yourself, all the greatest warriors have war paint."
Vilkas sighed in anguish, "Farkas… you're not part of the Circle yet." Where his brother quickly rejoined as he finished painting the rims of his eyes.
"If you're doing it, I'm doing it, too. I do what you do and go where you go. You're my brother," stated Farkas aloofly as he set the ink pot down on the shelf and threw the rag down. Vilkas's scowl slowly leaned as a charmed smile crept to his face at his brother's words. He patted his brother on the back as Farkas did the same to him.
Vilkas chuckled, "We look fearsome now, don't we?"
His brother nodded fervently with a dopy smile, "Oh yeah. I kinda like it."
The two brothers shared laughs as they continued up to the main hall.
Meanwhile, Serana made way into her quarters at the Castle Volkihar, her old room in shambles and ruin. Her bed broken, her dresses torn to shreds, her toys in pieces. Planters once adorning lively herbs and flowers were wilted and smashed into nothing. She stared at the destruction dejectedly. A looming pain emerged as she entered what was once a sanctuary away from her parents' arguments, and a stead for her heart to heal when she felt only on her own. Harkon slowly emerged behind her, his face unchanging to her sadness.
"Don't worry, my dearest. We can start immediately in repairing these abandoned quarters. It'll be a welcoming sight to see it reformed to its former comfort. When my daughter still sought her father's love," explained Harkon as his hand gently pat down Serana's back. She shuddered at his touch and turned to him with a distraught glare.
"Did you do all of this?" Serana asked defeatedly.
Harkon feigned a startled gaze and then stammered, "You must understand, Serana. When your mother stole you from this castle— you cannot comprehend the great sadness it dealt me, to lose that which I valued most."
"Was that me?" Serana asked in a glare, "Or the Elder Scroll?"
"Serana," hushed Harkon, shaking his head.
"Why do you need it? Why did mother not want you to have it? You both… you never told me anything. I was sealed away without an ounce of understanding on why any of this was happening!"
"Because your mother never cared for you, Serana. She used you as a means to spite me, and fled with you and the Elder Scroll," explained Harkon, his voice unwavering.
"Why do you care about this scroll so much?" She asked, "Mother said it was mine, and mine only. Why should I give it to you?"
"Because…" he chuckled nervously, "I am your father, Serana. A daughter follows her father's word."
"I don't know if you are, anymore…" Serana said as she withdrew from him, "You lied to me. You're lying to me still. Mother told me you were using that scroll for something that would put all of us in danger. Not just the castle… but all vampires. She said you'd hurt me… why would she say that?"
"Your mother has brainwashed you, Serana," glowered Harkon.
"Tell me… the truth!" Her eyes glossed in tears, "This scroll… it's linked to a prophecy. What is it? If you want this scroll… you'll tell me the truth."
Harkon composed himself and stared for a moment at Serana. His eyes curdled her discomfort. He confessed, "This scroll will only lead to the betterment of our kind. Your mother was a disillusioned fool who sought power for herself; using you as a means to an end."
"Really?" She asked suspiciously, "Because she said the exact same thing about you."
"Of course, she did…" Harkon snarled, "I tirelessly pried for the answer to save all vampires. Your mother was overcome with envy. She sought to toil my efforts for this reason, only."
"And what is this answer?"
"Imagine it, Serana…" Harkon grinned, "A world without the sun."
Serana stayed quiet as she awaited his explanation on the metaphor, only for his face to stay still. Serana shivered in place as she realized he spoke literally, "You… you want to take away… the sun?"
Harkon chuckled in his throat, it carried an ominous echo through the shambles of her once bright bedroom, "You speak as if this is folly. That is your mother's voice saying that to you. To think, no longer would we scuttle in the darkness; scrounging for scraps, as heaps of bounty lay just out of our grasp. The citizens of this land cower in the sun, and they come in throes, Serana, throes. We needn't want ever again. Vampires would rise to what we truly deserve— as the world's rulers! The mortal folds would bow to our resolve as we walked this land freely. Under no pain of harrow!"
"By the blood…" Serana gasped in horror, "You… you're serious. Do… do you have any idea what that would cause? Tamriel would destroy all of us!"
"Haha! Oh, Serana. You doubt your own blood despite the torture you endured to receive it? We would crack civilizations into dust with our power. Molag Bal's boon to us has always been true. You are a Daughter of Coldharbour, your blood… is the fibre of our cause," said Harkon as he reached his hand to his daughter's cheek. A single stray tear fell as she shook from his touch. "My dearest Serana, you think I care for the Elder Scroll more than I do for you? Nothing will ever equal in value to you. For you offer so much more than any priceless artifact could bestow to me…"
"You need Auriel's Bow to blot the sun, and special arrows. You… and you need…" Serana shivered and struggled to keep her voice steady, "You need my blood…"
"Serana…" Harkon hushed menacingly where Serana began to cry silently, "A father's love can only ask so much, so I ask you as a vampire… to offer yourself in service to your kind."
Serana wept quietly and asked, "You want to kill me?"
Harkon snapped and ripped his hand away from her, "It's not about wants, Serana! It's about the greater good! You think I wanted any of this? For my wife and child to despise me and flee from their home?! You think I'd want to kill my only child?"
He approached again, as Serana backed into the wall, "You… my daughter, you will be a hero among vampires. Your name will echo for centuries and monasteries will be built to revel your sacrifice for millennia to come! As the Daughter of Coldharbour, who knelt down her own life to serve her fellow vampires. You… will be an end to all means. The saviour of vampires."
"No…" Serana shook her head and cried, "No… I won't let you do this. You're insane."
Harkon began to chuckle darkly, "Well, my dear. As it seems… you do not have a choice. If you do not offer your blood for the betterment of our kind, then I will offer it, and my name will echo as the King of Vampires, who did what was necessary. Even if it meant spilling blood… of my own kin."
"No!" Serana wailed, "Stay away from me!" She threw a bookshelf over Harkon, who smashed it away with his open palm.
"Do not be a fool, Serana…" Harkon huskily said and stomped his way towards her. Serana quickly cast a spell from her palm, and turned invisible. Harkon thrashed along the room irately. Her footsteps could be heard scuttling, yet she was gone as the distorted frame of her invisible body escaped into the dark halls behind him. Harkon roared loudly into the halls as he bolted through them; his red eyes burning in rage.
"You dare disobey your father, Serana! You cannot hold my Elder Scroll, forever! You will offer your blood freely or be hunted for eternity until I spill it myself!"