"You've been coming to meet a lady in armor this whole time?"
"Aye," Vilkas rolled his eyes. "Thought you would have liked it, makes me more protected."
Farkas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not to meet a lady! You have to approach that completely differently. How are you supposed to accidentally brush against each other when you are wrapped in metal?"
"Didn't you say she could open armor like a clam?"
"Well...yes."
"Does it matter, then?"
"Of course it does! She might even feel more comfortable around you. You show her you're vulnerable, she will open up too."
She did seem to be more comfortable in the evenings, when I had no armor. Or maybe it's just stupid hogwash. Ah. I'm not even sure how things are going to go.
But she came for me. For the second time now.
Oh gods. She must think I'm absolutely incapable.
"I'll be around. You leave the heavy gear here. Also, bring her an extra cloak. I get the feeling she doesn't get to keep clothes when she changes body shape."
XXX
"This looks like a nice place to have a drink," Farkas plopped on a rock. "How far was the spot?"
"Running distance," Vilkas grumbled.
"Sure thing. You go on, then. I'll be here."
"Piss drunk?"
"Yep."
"Reassuring. Have fun," Vilkas patted Farkas on the shoulder and continued walking. As he was leaving, Farkas noticed a crow watching him from a tree. A normal black one.
"Well, I hope that means the lady of the hour is around," he mumbled as he opened one of the bottles he had brought. This was an attempt - berry wine with a tinge of mushroom. Time to see if it was a good one.
XXX
Vilkas arrived at the pool. The area seemed empty, so he sat down and made himself comfortable in his favourite spot.
His eyes landed on the water.
His shoulders tensed. But...it was just water, no? At least as long as Mori wasn't doing magic in it. He reached out, fingers hovering above the surface for a moment.
When his skin touched the water...nothing happened.
It was wet. Refreshingly cool. Normal water.
He pulled his hand back, shaking the droplets off. He lifted his head, wanting to look for something to amuse himself with.
Mori was standing a small distance away from him, cloaked in her leopard form.
He didn't hear her come.
"You came," he breathed out, a smile appearing on his face.
She looked at her paws.
"Mori, please," he reached out, then stopped himself. "I'm sorry. Can we...can we talk?"
She seemed reluctant, her tail swiping from side to side.
"Please. I wish...I wish to mend it between us, if you would like that as well." After the tiniest, fearful nod, he continued. "I wish to hear your thoughts, too. It can't be just me."
She didn't move.
Give her space. Show her it's safe. Time to open up.
"I will start, then. I'm sorry I made you feel...unwanted? I never wished for that. What you've shown me...scared me. I wasn't prepared. It felt like falling in freezing water when you don't know how to swim. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. I will try to be more understanding." He took a deep breath. "But Mori. It would have been less scary had you told me about it first. I can't keep wandering blindly. I don't know anything about...magic, Reach rituals, spirits or other existences. I'm just a run-of-the-mill Nord man. I am willing to learn. But I need you to guide me."
Mori remained still.
Damnit. I'm messing it up more, aren't I?
"You don't have to talk. Not today. But someday. I will wait as long as you need."
She looked him in the eyes for the first time. His heartbeat quickened. He missed looking into those black depths so badly.
Gods, those eyes are going to be the death of me. Why do I feel...this? Just from looking?
He smiled and leaned back. "Want to enjoy the sun together while it lasts?"
The tail whipped from side to side again. She walked over, but just when he was expecting her to lie down next to him, she gave a low throaty rumble and continued walking. When he tried to turn after her, she swung her tail again, right in his face to stop him.
"Mori?"
The steps stopped right behind him. It was quiet, but Vilkas felt...something. A shift in the air.
Did she...?
"I'm sorry I scared you," a soft, barely audible voice came from behind his back. "Don't look, please."
His heart skipped a beat.
"I won't. Not until you want me to."
He remembered what Farkas had said. He did have an extra cloak in his satchel, but...
He shook his own off of his shoulders and put it to the side. "Are you cold? You can have my cloak."
She was quiet for a moment. Then the grass rustled. In his peripheral vision, Vilkas could see a small, sunkissed hand reach for the cloth. Little golden freckles speckled the top of her hand, much less than what Yvaine had, but still present.
His hands fidgeted.
I want to touch that hand. I want to take it and kiss it. And I want it to touch me. Oh gods.
He forced himself to stay still.
The cloth rustled for a bit, then the sound stopped. "So you don't hate me?"
"No."
A sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I didn't...I wanted to show you...to share with you...my world."
"Does it feel like that every time?"
"More intense for me."
"How do you deal with it?"
"I...don't know. It has always been there. It is a part of me. I do not remember a time when I didn't do these rituals."
"Why?"
"Because...that's what we do." Her voice started growing steadier and more audible. Vilkas realised that before, in her crow form, she had indeed been mimicking her own voice.
It feels like a caress.
"But...do you enjoy doing it?"
A pause. "I do. When I can do it as I wish, not as Orgoch wished."
This Orgoch again. The eldest sister, was it? I'm not sure I like the sound of her.
"So...what is it? The feeling?"
"Connection to the world. The whole of it. It opens up for a brief moment when I give back." The cloth rustled. "Or when I call upon it for aid." He felt the lightest touch on his back, just a fleeting brush of fingers. Before he could even shiver in delight, the whole palm pressed against him, right in between his shoulder blades.
"How are your injuries?"
"I have been coughing for a few days," he mustered all his willpower to keep a steady voice. "But it's gone. My throat was bruised for a while. Now, I'm as good as new." He took a breath to calm down. "Did you really rip a man's heart out?"
"I had to," she sounded defensive.
"Don't misunderstand, I'm not judging. I think it's impressive."
The pressure on his back slightly increased. "Do you really?"
"Mhm."
Was there a playful spark in her voice just now? I want to hear it more. I want her to show me her power.
"Most are just scared."
"I grew up a warrior. Of course I am impressed by prowess. Power. Ferocity. Control over your abilities."
The hand crept up, the cloth of his cloak rustling as she drew nearer. The fingers wrapped around his shoulder. Claws of considerable size grew out, gently pulling at the cloth of his shirt. "Are you sure you won't be scared? You won't regret? I don't...I can't not be me."
Shivers ran down his spine. Different from cold. Different from fear. These felt...tingly. It made him yearn for more.
"Do you want to harm me?"
"No."
"Then I see no reason to regret. I won't shun you, Mori." He chuckled. "I think if I didn't want a connection with you, I would have never come back after you were on top of me, claws out."
He got a wave of shyness from behind his back. He couldn't help but allow himself a smug grin. He leaned back a little, lowering his voice: "Do you know how long I've been searching for my leopard?"
A slight pat landed on his other shoulder. For some reason, he felt sure it was shy indignation, but not a negative one. He decided to press some more. "All those years. Ever since you saved my life for the first time. And now I've found you."
"Stop," her voice turned squeaky. "You're making me want to change into a cat and hide under a bush."
He laughed. "Alright, I will stop. Don't leave, please."
She scoffed. The hand slid back from his shoulder, resting in between his shoulder blades once more, claws retracted.
"I didn't save you back then," she spoke out after a moment of silence. "Orgoch did. I couldn't control any other aspect of magic at that time."
"You killed the hag, no?"
"...I did."
"And for some reason, I get the feeling that this Orgoch of yours wouldn't lift a finger for me on her own?"
"...she wouldn't."
"You saved me, then." He gave her some time to digest it. "Why did you do it?"
"There has been enough death on that day," she whispered. "I prefer not to kill, if avoidable. And you and the other one did us a favour by luring the hag out." She grew quiet, but the fingers on his back were clearly fidgeting. "I may have...found you interesting, too."
Now I want to know why. But I think I shouldn't push too hard. There will be plenty of opportunities to ask.
"I'm glad to hear it."
They sat in silence, growing more comfortable over time. Mori started tapping unknown rhythms on his back, humming quietly.
"Can we talk more next time?"
"If you promise not to look."
"I said I won't until you want me to. I promise."
"We can talk, then."
XXX
"So did you kiss?"
"What? No!"
"Why on Nirn...you are a hopeless one, brother," Farkas took a swig of mead.
Vilkas picked the half full bottle of wine. "I guess this one didn't work."
"Nope. But don't think you can just change the topic like that! What happened? Did she show up? She must have, since you stayed for so long."
"She did," Vilkas twirled the bottle in his hands. "We talked."
"Talked? Just that? Did you at least see her breasts? Legs?"
"No! Stop that!"
"What happened, then?" Farkas followed after Vilkas, walking back down the road they had taken up.
"All is good, I can come see her next time. She agreed to talk with me more."
"So you can at least look at her."
The prolonged silence made Farkas groan. "You...you are an absolute moron."
Vilkas snapped. "I'm not going to force her to show herself when she's uncomfortable with it! Let me have a bond with her the way it suits the both of us, not you!"
Farkas shrugged. "At least now you admit you want a bond."
"You're unbelievable."
XXX
After they returned, Farkas disappeared with Deidre and another Companion. "Good riddance," Vilkas mumbled to himself half-heartedly.
He had dinner, then went to his room to read.
When he realised he had been reading the same page for about twenty minutes, he closed the book and put it on the table. As much as he loathed to admit it, Farkas' comments made him think. Or rather, fantasize. He had never found himself thinking about...feminine shapes...before in his life.
Farkas didn't waste any time, the moment they matured enough for him to grow interested he began chasing after girls, and later boys too. Vilkas just...wasn't interested. He thought that was, just like their size and personality, a rather weird-mannered joke from nature, splitting characteristics between the two of them like that.
But now he found himself thinking about her smile, the curve of her neck, shoulders, the movements of her arms, if her hair fell over her figure like a waterfall...how nice it would be to hold her hips and touch her back. And...all the unmentionables too.
Ysmir's beard, I can't even think without feeling strange.
He could feel a start of an uncomfortable pressure in his unmentionables.
He sighed. Some cold water will do me good. And then sleep.
XXX
Vilkas woke up early. He remembered dreaming, but not exactly what about...it left him feeling restless. The usual morning stiffness also felt...different. He couldn't really say how. But different.
As he slowly became more aware, he realised he pulled his cloak under his head sometime during the night. He had left it put over the chair's back. It was the one he lent Mori...
It smells like a forest in winter.
His mind wandered to Mori's hand resting on his back. Shivers ran down his spine, making him smile.
Stop. You need to pull yourself together, there are whelps who need training.
He got out of bed. Sighing unhappily, he prepared for the day, making sure there was nothing to criticize once he went out.
In the end, he couldn't resist grabbing the cloak filled with Mori's scent.
XXX
"You're surprisingly cold in demeanor," Farkas leaned over to him. "You've been for the past two weeks. I would have expected you to be hot and bothered."
I am. At night. But I'm not telling you.
"I have work to do," Vilkas pointed towards the whelps.
"You always do," Farkas grumbled. "You should relax a little."
"And do what? It's not like-" Vilkas stopped himself, coughing to hide the abrupt end of a sentence.
Farkas gave him a look. Then he withdrew, still pointing that look at him.
Vilkas swore under his breath, then called in for the attention of all the whelps. "Time to spar!"
XXX
Vilkas and Farkas were sitting on the steps leading to Jorrvaskr together, watching the evening crowds.
"Do you think anyone will get initiated anytime soon?" Farkas wondered.
"Helgi, probably."
"I have my eye on a few others, too."
"I noticed. They're good, aye. But I still think Helgi will get there first. She's just a tad obsessed."
"You really left an impression on her the first day," Farkas slapped Vilkas on the back.
"Maybe. But don't forget that we both spent a lot of time teaching all of them. That's why they call us both chief."
"True, true. Hey, wait, is that-?"
"Nevras?"
"Yea. It is, right? It's an elf, flashy and a redhead. Coming straight for Jorrvaskr." Farkas narrowed his eyes. "Who's that with him, though?"
"Guess we'll learn soon," Vilkas commented. "He noticed us."
Nevras waved at them from the bottom, then turned to help the other person up the stairs. It was a young woman, probably a Nord, small, chubby in stature and walking with a cane. She wore her golden hair in a simple braid, as simple as her non-adorned dark blue dress.
She clearly struggled coming up.
When the two of them made it up, Nevras grinned at the twins. "Greetings, my brawny friends. May we join you for a moment?"
"Plenty of space to sit," Farkas tapped the stairs. "Who's that with you, Nevras?"
"Ah." The elf helped the young woman, mostly still a girl, sit down. "My good friend, Siga."
"A pleasure," she gave them a smile even through clear exhaustion.
"These two fine gentlemen are Vilkas and Farkas."
"The twins you told me about?"
"The one and the same. We've come as per your request," Nevras turned his golden gaze to Vilkas.
"About Wuuthrad?"
"Yes. Siga here," he patted her shoulder, "is somewhat of an expert. Due to...family circumstances...she spent a lot of time studying old Nord history."
"I might have a location of one fragment," she said, all professional. "I will give you the location I've pinpointed, but on one occasion - I want to look for the fragment too."
Farkas arched an eyebrow. "With a cane?"
"I can take care of myself well enough, I know how to navigate the world with my deficiencies," she turned to look him in the eyes. Hers were blue. Cold and hard as steel reflecting the sky. She was staring him down, a commanding aura rising all around her.
"What's a deficence?" Farkas refused to look away.
"Deficiency," Vilkas sighed. "A shortcoming, let's say." He got up, dusting himself. "Let's go talk to Kodlak."
XXX
"To understand correctly, all you are asking for this information is an escort and the right to any unenchanted items to be found?" Kodlak looked at Siga and Nevras over his intertwined fingers.
"Yes," Siga nodded. She took the lead with elegant nonchalance the moment they sat down with Kodlak. Nevras was sitting to the side, preoccupied with looking around, absolutely uninterested in the discussion.
Or so it seemed.
Vilkas wouldn't believe that nosy bastard wasn't noting everything down in his head.
"May I ask why?"
"I have been studying our history fervently. I simply wish to investigate the site myself, and if the shard indeed is there, to see it too."
"Well, then we need to send our best with you. How many warriors will you need?"
"Just them," Siga pointed to the twins. "If they're as good as Nev had said."
Kodlak arched an eyebrow at Vilkas, approving look in his eyes. He turned back to Siga. "Could you share the details now, my lady?"
"Nev?"
The elf reached to the floor and plopped a leather satchel on the table. He opened it and pulled a bundle out. After he moved notes to the side and rolled a very precisely detailed map of the Rift out on the table, Siga pointed towards a spot.
"Mount Trolhetta?" Vilkas read the name.
"Our predecessors have been given the shards found there," Kodlak commented. "You've seen them in the hall."
"Not all of them," Siga interrupted. "I dug through some old records, the copies and even the originals from the second era. I firmly believe one shard disappeared upon transition to Whiterun and was sealed at the mountain. Someone was terrified of the remaining necromantic energies and took the shard in an attempt to prevent the dead from rising again."
"Wouldn't it be dangerous to remove, then?"
Nevras joined in: "The mountain had been cleared. If anything, only errant undead will rise, nothing as bad as a horde of them. Sinmur is completely gone. Besides, even if there are any runes left, they are centuries old. The power in them would be weakened considerably, the structure eroded, the spells cracked..."
"Are you sure you only want two warriors?"
"They are all we need to retrieve the shard, yes," Siga nodded, resolute. "Sometimes it is better to quickly slip in with a small group."
"Sage words. Well then. You can leave as soo-"
"In two weeks," Vilkas cut in.
Farkas made a funny face, which he quickly hid with his hand.
Kodlak's eyes jumped between the twins, but in the end, he decided to give in. "In two weeks, then."
"Thank you, Harbinger," Siga made a grateful gesture.
"It is I who ought to thank you, lady Siga," Kodlak nodded. "Farkas, show them to the Bannered Mare."
Vilkas remained seated, knowing Kodlak wanted a word with him. Strangely enough, it wasn't about his previous demand. "I'm convinced that the good lady is none other than Siga Stormcloak."
Vilkas tensed. "The niece?"
"The one and the same. Her coming of age ceremony had happened earlier this year. After that, no news. From her present company, I believe she chose to relocate to Winterhold rather than go with one of the arranged marriages in store for her. Don't go through Eastmarch."
"Understood."
"The elf is a watchful protector, but make sure to be extra careful. She needs to remain unharmed. As much as it officially seems they are not interested in her, we can't afford political trouble on our hands."
XXX
"Is she...?" Deirdre leaned closer to Vilkas, whispering.
"Aye. Don't mention it," he answered. All of them were at the Bannered Mare, enjoying a free evening.
"I would have thought she would change her name, at least," Deirdre shrugged.
Siga gave them a side look from the other side of the table, but decided not to comment. She probably didn't hear, as much as she noticed them whispering, given how loud Farkas has been. He and Siga had engaged in a battle of drinking.
So far she was holding up quite well.
Nevras plopped down on Vilkas' other side. "He's gonna lose." He started bouncing his leg. "Did you read those diaries master Tolfdir had given you?"
"No."
"Why not?" Nevras stretched, then threw his braid over his shoulder.
"That's none of your business, Nevras."
"Stingy as ever. Ah well. Are you a Companion too?" he turned to Deirdre. "You don't look like one."
Deirdre reached her hand out. "Deirdre, the steward of Jorrvaskr."
Nevras arched an eyebrow, but then leaned down and kissed the hand. "Nevras Mora of House Telvanni."
"That would explain the lack of manners," she gave him a sweet smile.
"I don't lack manners, it's just that you Nords can't appreciate the subtlety of Telvanni culture," Nevras grinned right back.
"I didn't know murder was considered culture."
"Isn't that something our peoples share, actually? It's just that we are more artistic about it."
Vilkas pulled back, feeling under fire, even if none of it was aimed at him. Soon he slid away completely, letting the mage and the steward dish it out without his presence.
A quick look towards Farkas and Siga gave truth to Nevras' previous words - while the small lady looked completely unaffected, regal as ever even, Farkas was starting to show the first signs of drunkenness.
Vilkas slipped out, unnoticed.
He stopped by the little herb garden Arcadia had cultivated by her shop. Breathing the cool night air in, he looked up.
I really don't want to go for the shard. I will miss meetings with Mori.
But I can't let my desires overpower me again. Last time I almost died. He touched his throat. He could still feel the constricting grip from time to time. And the dreams...
Farkas likes to pretend he's responsible, but he has returned beaten bloody many times too. And I know he's having nightmares. We both have been. Ever since...
No. Don't go there.
He sighed, wondering what it would be like to have a normal childhood.
XXX
Two weeks later
Vilkas laid down. He picked a nice sunny spot by the pool, as the morning chill remained in the other areas.
He closed his eyes, sure that Mori would notice once she came. While he was resting, various thoughts flashed through his mind.
Nevras had joined their training lessons, beating the everloving crap out of most recruits. And him and Farkas. As much as it was satisfying to win in a spar with him, the bruises weren't worth it, not before a mission.
The grass somewhere behind him rustled softly. Soon a shadow fell over him and a hand covered his eyes with tenderness.
"My eyes were closed."
"I know."
Vilkas smiled. He could almost hear the smug smirk in her words. "Are you just looking for an excuse to touch me?"
"Maybe."
"You don't need an excuse, you know."
"It's less scary this way," her weight shifted as she sat down.
"You can have my cloak again if you're cold," Vilkas lifted the cloth he had left folded on his chest.
The hand lifted from his face. Some more movement followed, accompanied by hair falling on him and tickling his skin. He maintained his calm, even though it cost him quite the effort.
It smells like pine needles in winter.
She sat back, tossing the hair away and throwing the cloak around her shoulders. Her hands cupped his cheeks. "May I?"
"Mhm."
She started gently tracing the lines of his face, jawline, ears. Then her fingers slid into his hair. That...was a completely new sensation.
"I brought you a gift," she said. Vilkas almost missed it because of how invested he got in all the surging feelings.
"Hm? A gift for me?"
"You always brought something for me. I wanted to bestow a gift too." She took a deep breath. "It...it is not much. But...I noticed you lost your bow. So I brought mine. Can you sit?"
But then you will stop...
He pulled himself up, eyes still closed.
"You can open your eyes. Here, take it," a hand slid around him, moving something through the grass.
He opened his eyes and looked to the side. What he saw was the most peculiar bow he ever encountered. In type it was similar enough to the one he had been using, but...
The wood was gnarly. The tiniest bit greenish at the ends, like ancient trees. At the tips, tiny branches sprouted, sporting a leaf or two, vibrantly green and very obviously alive.
He picked it, grasping it at the leather bound handle. It fit nicely into his hand, the leather smoothened by usage. He felt a reaction to his touch, a slightly tingly sensation spreading through his hand. Almost as if the bow was feeling him out.
"What wood is this?"
"Spriggan wood. Freely given by the matron of a juniper grove deep in the Reach," she leaned against him, grabbing at his shoulder. "As long as you carry it, it will help you heal. Nothing like my magic, but...it is helpful."
Not much? NOT MUCH?! A bow that boosts healing as long as it is carried?!
"Won't you miss it, though?"
"I can make a new one," she leaned her forehead against his back. "Besides, I have fangs and claws to protect myself with."
He put the bow down and, deciding to be bold, covered her hand with his. She startled a little, tensing the fingers, but relaxed just as fast.
"It is a most thoughtful gift, thank you."
"I also brought my arrows for you," she chipped up after a while. "I made them out of hagraven claws. They won't break and will cut through armor as well."
She slid a quiver with a movable lid forward. The quiver itself was a masterful creation, engraved with typical Reach swirls and decorated with a single spotted white feather by the top.
"Is the feather yours?"
"...yes."
He touched it. "I will cherish it. What did you turn into?"
"A snowy owl."
Her other hand began sneaking down his side. Unfortunately, that was the spot of one of the larger bruises. He winced.
Mori immediately withdrew. "Are you hurt?"
"Just bruises from training. It's alright."
"It's not! Let me-"
"Mori," he sighed and took the hand she placed on the painful spot again into his. "I won't be able to come to the next, let's say two, meetings."
She stopped fretting. "Where are you headed?" her voice turned sad.
"We're escorting someone to the Rift, to look for...well, in short a piece of an artefact that is important to the Companions. I'm catching up with the rest of the group in Riverwood after meeting you here."
She was quiet for a while.
"All the more reason to let me heal you, then," she grouched.
"It's nothing, really. No reason to waste your magic. Farkas told me you were tired after-"
"This is not wasting," she interrupted. "And there's a difference between forcing the heart to start beating again and soothing a little bruise!"
Vilkas didn't answer for a while.
"Will you caress my face again if I let you do that?"
"...yes."
XXX
And we meet the future Last Dragonborn, Siga Stormcloak. She's not a major figure for this story, but if I do end up writing the Winterhold one waiting in line in my head, she'll star an important role there. Yes, she's the niece of THAT Stormcloak, and she doesn't like it one bit.