They walked down the mountain, hand in hand. From time to time Vilkas would reach up and touch his throat.
"Is it bad? That I-" Mori started asking nervously.
"No, no," Vilkas waved his hands dismissively. "I...uh...liked it. A lot," his ears reddened, "but I can't help thinking about Farkas bothering me about it."
Mori stopped walking. "Maybe I could heal them?"
"...I don't want them gone. Don't worry about it, I can deal with him," he chuckled.
"Well, how about," Mori reached up and unwrapped her scarf, "I give you a little gift?"
"That's yours, I can't accept it. Besides, won't you be cold?"
"I won't. I told you, I'm used to Reach winters," Mori smiled and threw the scarf around him, adjusting it to cover what needed covering. "And I get to decide what to do with my things."
The scarf smells like her.
Vilkas couldn't refuse anymore. He let her finish, then grabbed her hand again. "Thank you," he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. An adorable blush spread on her freckled face, which made warmth spill in his chest.
"I also have this old thing," Mori pulled a pelt made into a shawl from her little satchel. She put it on.
"Is that wrothgarian leopard pelt?"
"Yes," she smiled. "Apparently why I can use the form freely is because our father was closely tied to them, and this is the only item of his mother left with us."
Vilkas ran his hand across her shoulders. "Your fur feels nicer. So...do you know anything? About your parents?"
"I have very vague memories of mother," Mori looked up at the sky. "I don't really...remember her. I just...never got to know her, really. I mostly know what Orgoch had told me - all three of us look mostly like her. Just the eye colors differ because of our powers. Her eyes were supposed to be red."
"Red?"
"It happens among Reachmen," she shrugged. "I saw three other people with red eyes during our travels. And about father, well, I've never met him, and neither did Orgoch. What I think is - mother just wanted to make the legend into reality, picked a man to conceive us with and then found out she's not cut out to be a mother, so she abandoned us."
"Why not just stop at one daughter, if she didn't want to raise children?"
"Because the ritual would kill you," Mori's voice lowered. "You can't just stop it. You have to finish it. Three daughters, seven years between each of them, or your life."
"How...do you make sure you get daughters?"
"Witch magic," Mori shrugged. "The ritual takes care of it. There is a marked man, a witch and three daughters. You perform spells before every intended...intercourse...to ensure daughters. And you do that on specific days. Orgoch was born at the beginning of spring. I was born at the height of summer. Yvaine was born during a blizzard in deep winter."
"You know how to perform the ritual?"
"I do," she looked away. He squeezed her shoulder.
"It didn't turn all bad, did it? Now you have Bjorn and Falco."
"And you," she smiled, even if the smile was melancholic still.
"And me," his hand slipped down, settling on her hip. He had to lean sideways and lower himself a bit to reach, but it was worth it.
XXX
"I can smell some birds in there," Vilkas, eyes turned red, was looking over a patch of tall dry grasses.
"That is correct," Mori nodded, pleased.
"Let's meet up by that rock over the stream in the distance," Vilkas pointed out. "You can dig some more roots while I hunt," he grinned, impish sparks in his eyes, "since you missed so many already."
"Shush you! You were distracting me, so I overlooked them!"
"On purpose," he winked. He slid his bow off of his shoulder and went to look for the birds.
XXX
They could have spent the night in a small inn in Plainswatch, a fortified settlement belonging to one of the thanes, watching over the border with the Pale.
But they decided to stay out and have absolute privacy.
Mori didn't carry her specialised tent with her anymore, but Vilkas' gear and her skill in looking for shelter made up for a comfortable camping spot.
They fell asleep while kissing, curled into each other.
XXX
"What now?" Vilkas asked as they stopped at the foot of the path leading up to Whiterun gates. The sun was setting and soon the gates would be closed.
"I don't want to part yet..."
"Neither do I."
"Well...I can sleep somewhere. As a crow on a branch or a cat in your bed. Let's go."
The guards recognised Vilkas right away and gave them no trouble. As they passed, he could see one of them hiding a smile in her hand.
Great, there's going to be gossip circulating in an hour.
He sighed.
"What is it?" Mori looked up, squeezing his hand.
"Nothing serious. I just wish the local gossipers would keep to themselves. Let's go have some food? The stalls will be open for quite a while still."
They strolled through the marketplace. Mori wanted to try steamed crab legs and roasted fish. Vilkas added a piece of fried cheese for himself and some coal baked potatoes for good measure.
When they were halfway done with the food, Farkas and Deirdre appeared in the thinning crowd. His head turned to them as if led by a string and a blinding smile spread across his face.
He beelined for them, waving his hand energetically. Deirdre followed, shaking her head.
"Hey, Mori," he plopped down on the bench next to Vilkas and smacked his back. "They finally let you out of Lakeview, huh?"
Deirdre sat down as well and turned a curious gaze Mori's way. "Lakeview? Are you the elder witch?"
"Well, yes," Mori's eyes darted around.
"The giant cat, right? I often saw you and your sister around there," Deirdre gave a warm smile. "Pleasure to finally meet you in person," she reached her hand out.
Mori smiled shyly, accepting the handshake. "You should come sometime. Yvaine keeps talking about you. She made some new things she wanted to show off."
"Certainly. So you are the mysterious lady our stone-faced Companion has melted for, hm?" she winked, throwing a look Vilkas' way as she withdrew.
"Why is everyone obsessed with my personal affairs?" Vilkas groaned, leaning back on the bench.
"People are bored. They like to yap," Farkas shrugged. "By what we do, we cause a stir every now and then, so they like to talk about us."
"And you enjoy it," Vilkas grumbled.
"Of course I do."
"There were quite a few hopeful individuals," Deirdre chuckled into her hand. "Now all of those hopes lie shattered. New interest needs to be found - naturally, who is the one to steal the notorious small twin."
"Did no one come up with anything better than 'the big twin' and 'the small twin'?"
"It's descriptive and clear," Farkas grinned and ruffled Vilkas' hair. "But now seriously, be on the lookout for Aela. She was none too pleased. I don't think Skjor could take it if she suffered eye-pecking."
Mori giggled. "Maybe just itchy teeth? That is my favourite curse."
"So you DO go around and curse people?"
"Only if they make me angry," Mori hid behind Vilkas' shoulder, but kept peeking a little so her eyes were visible.
"Good to know."
"Indeed," Deirdre nodded. Her gaze jumped between Mori and Vilkas. "Say, what are your plans now? I kind of get the feeling you won't be too eager to spend your time together in Jorrvaskr."
"Haven't really thought of that," Vilkas avoided her gaze.
"How about," Deirdre leaned over Farkas, "I lend you my house? We were on our way to Olaf and Sigrid's. We for sure won't be needing it till at least noon tomorrow."
"And what's in it for you?" Vilkas narrowed his eyes at her. Deirdre was, overall, a good natured person, but she rarely did things without a goal in mind.
"Having friendly relations with the Lakeview ladies proves beneficial," she smiled. "Also, I want a dessert. I'm sure you'd love to make something for our good lady, so leave a bit for me."
"And me!" Farkas piped up.
"We just ate," Vilkas made a dismissive gesture. "How about having lunch together tomorrow instead?"
"Do you have juniper berries?" Mori brightened up. "And Reach peppercorns?"
"Peppercorns, yes, berries, sadly, I don't have available," Deirdre shook her head. "Let's just say my cooking skills are lacking."
"Can we get some stuff?" Mori's eyes filled with excitement, jumping between the three of them.
Three sets of eyebrows rose. Deirdre was the first to react. "Why not? Buy things, keep note of how much you paid and let's split later. Heck, if the food is good, I'll pay for all of it, deal?" she chuckled.
Mori grinned, her canines sharpening just a little more than they ought to. "Deal!" she reached out.
Deirdre grabbed her hand and shook it. "Deal! I'll be looking forward to lunch, then." She let go, got up and patted Farkas on the shoulder. "Let's go, big man, we have buddies to meet. Oh, right," she reached into her satchel and pulled a key out. "This is my spare. You know where the house is," she handed the key to Vilkas. "Bye!"
Farkas winked at them, then, while leaving, shot a look Vilkas' way.
Vilkas rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what that look meant.
Tough luck, I'm not telling you a thing.
He took Mori's hand. "Want to go look around for ingredients?"
XXX
Deirdre's house was a small, but comfortable building just below the cliff Jorrvaskr stood on.
"Is she not living in the hall because of the..." Mori asked after Vilkas unlocked the door.
"Aye. I had to convince Skjor and that was one of his conditions."
"Why is Skjor so important?" Mori frowned. They went to the kitchen and pantry to unload what they had bought earlier. "I thought you didn't have leaders."
"No, no leaders really, but..." Vilkas scratched his head. "It's complicated. For me personally, it's the fact that I grew up with him ordering me around and I was constantly afraid he would kill me or Farkas."
"But he can't do that anymore."
"No..."
"But it's hard to get rid of the idea, hm?" Mori nodded.
"Aye...and he IS respected for his skill."
"Are you?"
"I think so."
"Good," she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the jaw. "Now if only you could start respecting yourself."
He was about to protest, but the look she gave him made him pause. Well...she's right, isn't she? The morning a few days ago speaks for itself...
And the whole window between getting the Blood and now...
He shook his head. Better not think about it.
Mori was now exploring the kitchen. A curious smile graced her lips and sparks of joy ignited in her eyes. Vilkas leaned against a wall and just looked at her.
"Like what you see?" she threw a look over her shoulder after a while.
"You look gorgeous in green."
Her smile became teasing. "I was wondering, though," she walked over, swaying her hips, and put her hand on his chest, "how would it look if I wore black and we matched. Maybe amber jewelry too? I need to look for some," she encircled his neck with a finger. "Or quartz? Hawk Eye? O! I know. Moonstone would make your eyes shine even more."
"Jewelry is not very good for me," he kept his voice steady even though, yet again, heat flushed into his cheeks. She's enjoying making me blush, isn't she. "Gets in the way when fighting. What if I broke it?"
"You accepted the hag stone."
"It stays under armor."
"Well...how about...if I bring a fitting piece of moonstone, could Eorlund put it in your sword's pommel?"
"Maybe? I don't know anything about smithing." He put his hands on her waist. "What's gotten into you?"
"I want to see you shine bright. And I like sparkly things. Don't judge me."
He chuckled. "I'm not."
"Also, if you have gifts from me, we can be together in spirit, even if our bodies are apart."
"Well then," he gently pulled her away from him, "you need some gifts for yourself. I wasn't really sure what you'd appreciate," he reached into a pocket, "but I noticed you looking at Siga's comb."
He pulled a simple wooden comb out. It was rather crude, but functional.
"Ah...it's not the best. But...I wanted to make one for you myself."
She snatched it, her eyes widening in wonder. She turned it this way and that, smelled it and ran it down her hair. "It's perfect!"
She jumped up, wrapping herself around him. Vilkas had to take a step back to regain balance.
While he was putting his arms around her, she kissed him. "It's the best gift, thank you!"
"Better than chocolate?"
"Yes, you made it yourself," she kissed him again. "But what was that about chocolate?"
XXX
Later, as they lay in bed, naked, Mori was nibbling at a small piece of the finest nordic chocolate. Vilkas let his hand slide up and down her hip, marvelling at the curve.
Laughing, they were spinning stories about possible futures, discussing food and sharing happy memories from childhood.
Life was good.
XXX
Deirdre and Farkas returned sooner than expected. When the door swung open, Vilkas and Mori were sharing a dance of plates and knives in Deirdre's kitchen.
"Oho, work is in full swing!" Deirdre dropped on a chair as she surveyed all the preparations. There were cut meats, a marinade, vegetables and potatoes, soup bubbling above the firepit...
"Do I smell honey?" Farkas closed the door and immediately made his way to the kitchen.
Vilkas shot him a warning look, his eyes sliding to Deirdre.
Mori popped up from behind a counter. "You do! The meat is marinated in honey and juniper berries." A grin spread across her face. "Honey, juniper berries and a special Reach spice mix."
Vilkas ran his hand down her back while reaching for a bowl on the counter. "There's also honey cake," he slid his hand from her hip and then grabbed the bowl with batter.
"What about here?" Deirdre, curiosity piqued, pointed at the pot hung above the firepit.
"Root soup."
"I hope not with beetroot."
"What is that?" Mori tilted her head.
"Don't learn," Deirdre shuddered. "It tastes like dirt."
"We used the juices to paint fake wounds on each other when we played," Farkas perked up.
"Aw, that's cute!" Deirdre giggled.
"Tilma was not too happy about that," Vilkas commented. The dough was now to his satisfaction, so he set it aside to rest.
"I don't mind the taste," Farkas shrugged. "All vegetables are not great, but I still have to eat them."
"So what roots are in there?"
"Wild mountain roots," Mori winked. "And maybe some other things. Nothing strange."
XXX
"Nothing strange, hm?" Deirdre shot a look at Mori. She was holding a spoon in hand, looking embarrassed.
Mori, seeming all too small sitting in her chair, had a smug cat-like smile on her face. The twins' faces were frozen in shock.
Farkas' eyes darted between the soup and Deirdre a few times. He took a spoon and had a taste.
"Ysmir's beard!" his eyes widened. "How did you make vegetables taste this good? Is it witch magic?"
"No magic," Mori fluttered her eyelashes.
Deirdre had already emptied quite the portion of her bowl. "I don't think I recognize many of the tastes. Is this something not usually eaten out of Reach?"
"Probably," Mori shrugged. "I only know the names we gave them, I have no idea if your people call the plants something else."
"No, these are not eaten around here," Vilkas commented. "I looked at what you picked. I know of some of them, but never heard of them related to cooking."
"What then?"
"Animal feed, mostly," he enjoyed a spoonful of soup with regal elegance. "Let's just say digging these out is usually not worth it if you can't morph your fingers for it."
"Every tribe in the Reach has their own variations of this soup," Mori shrugged. "It's the kids' job to dig the roots out while they play or hunt for small animals. Usually the recipe is a closely guarded secret."
"Is this yours, then?" Deirdre was about halfway done. Farkas had ladled more soup into his bowl.
"Yes," Mori beamed. "I like to add some herbs that need preparation before they can be eaten."
"Need preparation? As in removing poison?"
"Not always. But some."
"Did you ever make deathbell tea?" Deirdre narrowed her eyes at Mori.
"No, it's too much work and I don't like the taste. Yvaine does, though."
"Isn't that deadly?" Vilkas arched an eyebrow.
"It is," Mori touched his thigh under the table. "You can remove the poison through a rather lengthy process."
"Is there anything deadly in the food?" Farkas perked up. "I hear some of the worst things taste the best."
"No, not this time, it takes too long-"
"Can you teach me to remove the poison?" he leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
"Um-"
"I'm always looking for new things to try in brewing," Farkas noted the rise of nervousness in Mori's stance and withdrew back to his seat.
"Maybe try safer things first, like Blessed Thistle? Those grow everywhere, no one picks them around here," Mori relaxed her shoulders. "There are also all sorts of lichens you could apply. Maybe yellowthorn? Morning frost moss is good for chewing, too...oh, have you tried spruce or pine needles? I know some tribes pride themselves on alcohol made from those."
"Uh...huh. I have no idea how those things look." Farkas' pleading eyes darted between Mori and Vilkas.
Vilkas sighed. "I'll gather them for you..."
Farkas beamed.
"But," Vilkas raised an index finger, "you will stop bothering me with...personal questions."
His tone didn't leave anyone guessing what type of questions he meant.
Farkas' expression fell.
Deirdre burst out laughing.
XXX
"I am definitely paying for the food," Deirdre laughed when Vilkas tried to refuse her offer. "Remember? I said I would if it was good, and by Kynareth, you two have delivered."
In the end he accepted.
She shot him a sly look. "How about I offer my house more often, hm? Will there always be a treat in it for me?"
"Won't that bother you?"
"You two don't meet that often," Deirdre shrugged. "Don't ask me how I know, it's a trade secret. I have plenty of places to visit overnight. And," she glanced at Mori, seated on the kitchen table, looking curiously at all the kitchen appliances, "at least that stove will come to use. The previous owner liked cooking, but ever since I got the place, it's been wasting away."
"You really want the food, huh," Vilkas smiled a little.
"Yes I do," she grinned. "I never would have thought Reach cuisine could be such a treat."
"Not all of it," Mori called out from the other end of the room. "Except for the soup, these are not daily foods."
"All things have their good and bad sides," Deirdre winked.
Mori shrugged. "True." She looked at Vilkas. "Sounds like a good deal to me, don't you think?"
XXX
After some more bantering, all four of them set out to Jorrvaskr. Deirdre hooked her hand on Farkas' arm elegantly, while Vilkas and Mori just held hands.
Gentle breeze ran through Whiterun, reminding them of the inevitable parting.
She and Vilkas fell behind Deirdre and Farkas, chatting happily. Mori sighed, squeezing Vilkas' hand.
"What is it?"
"I don't want to go."
"I don't want you to go either."
"How much does a house cost around here?" Mori spoke up after a while of silence. "I...have only a little knowledge about such things."
"Depends. What are you thinking?" Vilkas looked at her curiously.
"Well..." she fidgeted. Vilkas shortened his stride to not make her stumble. "I was thinking...maybe if I could get a house, I could spend two weeks here, two weeks in Lakeview and mix my wandering tendencies in between? I really liked...spending time with you comfortably like that..."
"I will ask around," Vilkas bent to kiss the top of her head. "I liked it too."
"O my, you really are completely different with our lady present," Deirdre giggled from the top of the stairs leading to the Temple square.
Vilkas grumbled something, shooting a look Deirdre's way over Mori's head.
She patted his side. "It's alright to be soft sometimes," she whispered up.
His demeanor immediately shifted to tender. "You sound unsure, though," he caressed her back as they ascended the steps.
"I have only started allowing myself recently," she peeped, her fingers fidgeting on his side. "And...it is alright. It is good. There was no softness in the world Orgoch ruled, and it was terrible. I enjoy the softness in my life. But sometimes it is hard to...ease into it."
"True," Vilkas admitted under his breath.
As they entered the Temple square, Mori froze. "What happened to the tree?"
Vilkas looked up. "A lightning bolt hit it. On the night...on that night."
"Oh..." Mori understood. He meant the night the twins and Erika got promised to the Hunter.
Farkas grew fidgety. "Can we hurry up? I don't want to run into-"
"Imelda?" Vilkas frowned, turning his attention towards the temple.
Farkas groaned.
Tension rose in both twins. Mori gave a questioning look to Deirdre. The taller woman hushed her voice. "Don't let the shrew know how she affects you. Don't worry, boys, your ladies are here."
Oh. So it really is her.
Mori's eyes narrowed. The black haired woman stopped by the tree, but she clearly wanted to go harass the brothers. The sight of Deirdre seemed to deter her, though.
Imelda's eyes locked onto Mori. The witch tilted her head, unblinking. As they walked, slowly enough for her to be comfortable, she wrapped her arm around Vilkas', putting special emphasis on the way her fingers curled around his forearm.
She stared into Imelda's eyes the whole time.
He's mine.
As if he heard her thoughts, Vilkas bent to give her another head kiss, as tender as he could be.
Mori turned away from Imelda, a happy smile brightening her face.
Without paying any more attention to the woman, they continued their walk to Jorrvaskr. Mori bade a reluctant farewell to all of them before entering the area itself, watching them disappear into the hall with gloom filling her heart.
She turned once the door of the hall fell closed. To lighten her sorrow, she turned her attention to the forlorn tree.
The branches lay bare, differently than just from winter's slumber. When she tuned in, she could feel its desolation all the way up here. It...seeped through the whole area, reaching as far as the forge up in Jorrvaskr.
So the places are connected...interesting.
Several hawks sat among the branches of the tree. They too bore a connection to it, albeit fainter than the forge did.
Mori walked down the stairs. The Imelda woman was still lurking around, pretending to tend to the square.
Mori ignored her and headed straight for the tree itself.
The hawks noticed her. She could feel their apprehension, but also curiosity. She called out to them to soothe their worries.
One of the birds called back.
As it did, it dropped down, landing on a gnarled root next to Mori. Soon, others followed.
"You-"
"Hush," Mori didn't even turn around to look at Imelda. "I don't have time for you." She reached out, caressing the bark softly.
Something, or rather its echo, reacted to her touch.
Mori pressed her hand fully to the bark. The echo of a presence grew louder, if only a tad. The hawk who first reacted to her call made several small noises. It hopped closer to her, stopping as close to her as it could. It tilted its head this way and that, then bobbed it up and down several times.
"I know, I know," Mori soothed in Reachspeech. She scratched the hawk under the beak.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder.
The hawks screeched in unison, all of them jumping into the air. Their wings flapping frantically, they screamed and screamed, attacking the person with their talons.
More bird calls rose from the Temple's garden. A whole flock of various birds, calling, screeching and chirping, came flying in a massive wave of chaos.
They successfully chased the person, probably Imelda, away. Once her presence withdrew, Mori turned her focus back to the tree. As she tuned in, the sensations from the outer world slowly faded away.
She felt the roots reaching deep into the mountain. Life was hiding there, faint and ailing. The branches, sticking out to the sky, echoed hollowly.
It is its own entity.
Dedicated to the goddess, yes, but not a part of her.
I don't particularly like gods...
It needs my help.
Mori slowly opened her eyes. Eerie silence filled the square. Silence...and expectations.
She let her hand fall down to her side. Somehow, she had a sneaky suspicion she wouldn't like what she saw once she turned around.
Looking up revealed all of the birds seated on the barren branches. The ones who couldn't fit in the branches perched on roots and benches, some even sat on the ground.
All of them had their beady eyes trained on her.
Mori sighed. "I will help as much as I can, don't worry," she grumbled at them in Reachspeech.
Content with that promise, the birds started bobbing their heads. Soon all of them took to the sky, returning to their day. Only the hawks stayed, perching in the branches.
Mori gathered her courage to turn around.
As expected, a quiet crowd was watching her. Just as she decided to ignore everyone and walk away, a tall woman in priestess robes approached her. After her, two others followed - Imelda with her hair messy from the hawks' talons and a smaller woman almost melding into the background.
Must be the head priestess and her apprentices.
Mori forced her displeasure down. She needed to learn the most about the tree to help it, and the tree itself was not in a condition to share.
But...later. Later I will have words. They hurt Vilkas.
She watched them approach, unblinking. I love how the simplest detail as not blinking for a while makes everyone uncertain. Though maybe it works only with eyes like mine or Yvaine's.
She tilted her head to the side like a bird once the priestesses stopped by her. The hawks above mirrored her move.
"Greetings, child," the head priestess' eyes darted between Mori and the hawks above. "I am Danica Pure-Spring, the caretaker of the Temple of Kynareth. Might I ask your name?"