(I actually wrote this as one of my first stories and saved it on Notebook - however I was reminded yesterday reading another blog that it's a story I still have to tell, and now seems a decent enough time. Besides, it means I don't have to do a bunch of writing today. Happy hols!)
I can laugh about it now – I was so clueless then, and I should have known Aela was plotting, but at the time I didn’t understand. Bless her and praise my sister for doing what I could not!
Vilkas and I made our weary way back to Jorrvaskr’s halls. By then we were both rather tired of travelling and more than happy to be home. Home…yes, I suppose Jorrvaskr was more home than anywhere at that point, and still feels that way even now. Even when the rain pours through the vents in the roof, or we were having to buy more furniture from various brawls, when Tilma died (and servant or not, we honoured her at the Skyforge – she had been one of us) and was replaced by one of her family, it was always home. My time at Skyforge will come, too, and even if a wish could take me to Valenwood now, I wouldn’t take it. Skyrim is home.
I stored away the charcoal rubbing and the journal – I needed a few days recovery before I’d be able to continue on in any event, I was bone weary – when Vilkas rapped his knuckles on my door. He gestured to the table just outside my rooms, the table he and Kodlak had been sitting at when I first came to the mead-hall. ”I’ve had Tilma carve some meat and bring down some mead. And you have a story to tell.”
I sighed. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten – what did I expect, really? And so, much to my discomfort, I had to admit to Vilkas my rather dubious background of thievery and bandit-work. I admitted I was still working with the guild in Skyrim. He didn’t approve, I could see that much – and that wounded me – but when I told him about Mercer’s treachery, his face went dark and he slammed his mug down upon the table so hard he chipped the surface.
“…this was why you came back to work here, and when Kodlak gave you the task,” Vilkas said with a voice edging into anger. ”I cannot believe I – you were mortally wounded!”
“Well not mortally, but I healed quickly – had the beast blood to thank for that at least,” I said, though I marvelled at Vilkas’ fury; he was pacing and cursing under his breath, a gleam in his ice-blue eyes edging into gold.
“And so it is this milk-drinking dog you’re following, then, eh?” Vilkas said as he rounded on me, his hands upon his hips. ”Right, well then once we find him – “
“I find him, Vilkas,” I said quietly, pushing my plate away from me and giving the Nord as level a look as I was able. ”I will not have you following me into this.”
“You have no right to refuse me – “
“You have no right to demand to follow,” I insisted, somewhat bitterly. ”You’re lethal, Vilkas, I do not doubt it, but you are not a good sneak. I am. You cannot come. I don’t understand you – you barely tolerate me; why does it matter to you anyway?”
I couldn’t understand where his fury was coming from, but it was there in full measure as he leaned on the table and glared at me with eyes that were more and more like a wolf’s with each breath. ”Think you so?” he whispered, and I stared at him, unable to say anything further. I was arguing with Vilkas – the last man I wanted to fight with – but there it was.
I thought for sure we’d be shouting for another hour, but something in Vilkas’ face crumbled and gave in. The rage flowed out of him, and he blinked – ice-blue eyes once more. Still, I said nothing…what could I say?
Wordlessly, Vilkas pushed away from the table and strode out. My humour that way was grim; but to stay busy meant I didn’t have to think.
That was the day I sealed up the Underforge. No more of the Companions would embrace the beast-blood from henceforth by my counsel. Even in this, Aela agreed. She would run with Hircine when her wyrd was played out, but she conceded the point that no more of the Companions would sink to the levels of such a doom. ”Better to train for that,” I counselled. To Farkas I continued to allow him to train the younger rabble, and new recruits of well – of which we had a few. No more drunken brawls, though we feasted and raised a flagon in honour of our honoured dead before each meal, and ate and talked together. No more fist-fights with commoners or intimidation tactics; we stuck to rescues or battling rogues or escaped convicts.
“What happened today?” Farkas asked, his brow furrowed. ”Vilkas stormed out with a face like a winter storm.”
I shook my head, grimacing – my heart felt like a stone inside my chest. I doubt I could have said a word without weeping, anyway. Keep busy…had to keep busy. I realised of course I loved the man, but what hope was there? Nord and Bosmer, Dovahkiin and Companion. We were worlds apart, and so we’d remain. It was just the way, and I was resigned to it.
***********
“Harbinger, I’ve something for you, if I can have a moment of your time?”
Aela had come down to my quarters. I looked up from the chair as the Huntress beamed at me from the doorway.
“What is it, sister?” I still wasn’t used to being addressed as an elder. While I expected to be listened to – and Aela certainly obeyed me with more attentiveness than she had ever done with any other Companion before – I just couldn’t bear being placed on a pedestal in the Companion’s halls. I got enough of that as Dragonborn.
With a proud smile, Aela presented me with an elaborate necklace. It was lovely, with the sigil of Mara scribed into a centre stone teardrop. Even though I wasn’t a devotee of Mara, I was touched.
“Aela, that looks as if it cost a fortune! I do not know what to say; thank you.”
“Well the coin is flowing well in the Companion’s coffers, so I can spare it. I knew you’d like it! Here, allow me.” She draped it round my neck and clasped it for me, arranging it deftly with her calloused fingers round my throat. ”There, don’t you look a sight! It sets off your gold skin perfectly. You should wear it all day.”
“It’s too fine to wear with my training leathers, I’m in need of a sauna bath.” I admit I felt like a dressed up pig’s ear with such a beautiful trinket round my throat. Maybe the whole Nord mentality was rubbing off on me; going “native” indeed. Aela however would hear none of it.
“Oh stop, if you can’t relax now and again and dress up properly, what’s the point? Besides, it’s not so unusual; you’ve seen the amulet around now and again, surely?”
It was true – I had seen both men and women with amulets from time to time. I assumed it was just a custom of Skyrim and had left it at that. I believe it was this idea which truly swayed me – to be presented with something just like other Nords made me feel I had finally been accepted as one of the Companions, Harbinger title or not.
“You should wear it all day. All day, I insist! You can take it off later, but for today, please, keep it on.”
And so I did…and that one day proved one of the most awkward days I can remember. Everywhere I went, I felt as if I was being sized up. Males who never looked twice at me appraised me and complimented me on my white hair, my prowess as a hunter and on other more personal (and not very realistic) qualities. They offered to buy me mead, they boasted of their deeds. Farkas’ eyes went as big as septims, and his face split into a huge grin, but he said nothing further. Even Njara, of all people, was following me around like a pup trying to secure my time and attention, which only resulted in a quarrel with Farkas that ended in blows and me fining them both for fighting inside the mead-hall. I was utterly baffled, and decided all of Whiterun had gone completely mad on autumn mead. I escaped to do some hunting – mostly for peace and quiet – and returned to Jorrvaskr just as the sun was setting.
Jorrvaskr was deserted. This was a rare thing and at first had me on my guard, but as I brought the elk down to the pantry, Tilma told me Aela had organised a tourney-hunt for all the Companions, and there was no one about but myself. She glanced at the amulet round my neck with a knowing, mysterious smile – to be truthful I had almost forgotten I was still wearing it. ”I’ll roast a haunch of this elk for you, and fetch you a flagon of mead before I take my old bones to bed. Why not eat outside in the evening air, Harbinger? The moons are lovely this evening, and just the thing.”
“Just the thing for what?” I asked, but she was gone already, humming softly under her breath. I shrugged and headed out to the rear courtyard to sit on one of the benches, my chin in my hands.
“Harbinger.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at Vilkas’ voice. The man could move so quietly even in full plate, and I cursed myself inwardly for my lack of attention. He was gazing down at me, awkwardly holding a plate of food and a jug of mead in his hands, dark eyes gleaming in his tattooed face. Vilkas was both the last person and the only person I wanted to see, and I was grateful for the twilight as it hid my expression before I could get it back under control.
“Tilma said to bring you this,” he murmured gruffly in his Nord lilt as he nodded toward the food in his hands. Damn his voice! The old ache again, but I shoved it aside and sighed – the hunt must have returned, I thought. No time to mope, and I didn’t know what to say to the man anyway. I sat up, giving Vilkas a wan smile. ”Yes, Vilkas, thank you.”
“About…our quarrel – ” It wasn’t anything I wanted to discuss – we hadn’t spoken to one another for days, but he didn’t continue. Frowning, I looked up at the man. Vilkas had taken a step towards me, but now he was frozen in place as if he had been turned to stone. He was staring at me, but not a word could he say. I couldn’t think what had gotten into the man; the transformation was so bizarre as he shuffled his feet and went from aloof fire-hearted shield-brother to half-stammering nervous man.
“Y-you’re wearing an amulet of Mara. I thought you…well…that’s surprising.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as if preparing himself to enter a nest of enemies. And then marvel of marvels, his whole demeanour relaxed and changed, and he smiled at me – that smile! I don’t think I had ever seen him smile like that before. It was like a blow, and again I was grateful for the darkness, beast-blood or no. I only hoped I didn’t smell as desperate for his company as I felt.
To my amazement he gestured to the space next to me, his voice warmer than I’d ever heard before. “May I sit? I have done the rounds and we have all night. We could…you know…talk.”
So this madness had managed to get into Vilkas as well! Granted, I didn’t mind so much with him. Actually, I didn’t mind at all. Fiery, handsome Vilkas; he seemed to utterly lost, stammering over his words and taking a pull from the bottle of mead to give him courage. We shared our evening repast, passing the jug to one another. He told me stories and anecdotes of the Companions line – he hadn’t lied, he did know as many stories as Vignar, and he did remember them all as well. I listened, laughed, sighed and was enthralled with each story as Vilkas was a good storyteller. But mostly, it was Vilkas and I was Dreema – just as I needed to be.
The night grew colder, and though I didn’t want to move into the hall – the night was a beautiful one – I still loathed the cold, and I shivered. With a moment’s hesitation, Vilkas shook out his fur-lined cloak upon his shoulders. He didn’t wrap it round me as I had expected, but instead shuffled closer and enfolded us both round in the folds of cloth and fur, with my head against his shoulder. I didn’t protest – gods forbid! – but I looked up at him to scan his face a moment, the same old thoughts running through my head to make excuses: he was drunk, or bewitched. Maybe he had lost a bet. Or I was dreaming. It had to be a cruel joke – it couldn’t have been more cruel if so, as this was all I’d wanted for months.
And it only got worse…or better. Haltingly, Vilkas murmured against my hair a gentle declaration I never thought he’d say – how he had gone from distrust, to respect, to admiration, to love. He had struggled and warred with himself – I was Dragonborn, he was a sell-sword; Bosmer and Nord, Harbinger and Shieldwhelp – how could he imagine himself worthy? Round and round between duty and the pull of his heart, the same as I had done. For this reason he would go silent before as he didn’t know what to say, and he hadn’t wished to overstep his bounds. He had done every stupid move I had done, and yet had been unable to reconcile it with words.
“The day Kodlak was killed, and I roared my hurt at you, then dragged you along with me for murder and vengeance…and then saw you kill that dragon with no help at all from me…” Vilkas trailed off and went silent for several moments, then sighed again. ”I didn’t forgive myself for it. I couldn’t even go down into the halls with you, though I would have died for you and still would, maybe more than ever. I had shamed you, and I’m not one for words, but deeds. I had no idea you had your own battles beyond these halls, going where I could not protect or defend you. So I became angry, like a fool. I just…couldn’t think of a way to make it right.”
I stared at Vilkas. ”That fight you had with your brother when I came back from the cairn – “
“I could tell he was very fond of you,” Vilkas said reluctantly. “He swore his oath like a marriage-bond, and it cut me like a silver-blade with each word. I didn’t understand why myself – and Farkas, simple-brained Farkas told me I wanted your heart for myself. I couldn’t even give him an answer, which confirmed it. I didn’t believe it, refused to, but he spent so much time with you…I just believed I had lost you.”
“It’s not like that,” I said hastily, feeling a fool. So that had been it…of course that had been it. ”He’s a good man, and a best friend, but that’s really all.”
“I know, I know that now. Here you are, wearing an amulet – he told me you had one on, and at first I didn’t believe him. But, there it is,” Vilkas murmured as he reached up to brush his fingers over the necklace I wore – I had actually forgotten I was wearing it. “An amulet of Mara, and so now I know I have a chance. I thought someone else claimed you, but now…I would do so myself, and stand at your side until the Divines come for us, and perhaps beyond that if you’ll have me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I just looked up into Vilkas’ scarred, rugged, hopeful face. He was serious; he truly was serious. I could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, and smell the truth on him. I barely dared to breathe, as if I was afraid a sudden movement would scare him off. Eventually I realised I had been quiet for too long and the hopeful look he wore was wavering. Giddily, I chuckled and brushed my fingers through his black hair, nuzzling his grizzled jaw, though I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Oh by the Nine, woman, you had better say yes, after all the work I’ve done!”
We both jumped, and Vilkas cursed, reaching back for his blade before he stayed his hand. Trust the mead and the wind to the south to keep us from scenting Aela as she slipped out of the shadows, looking incredibly pleased with herself as she surveyed the most gormless couple who has ever walked the earth.
“Aela! What are you playing at?” I admonished her, turning slightly in Vilkas’s arms, though I was loathe to lose the warmth of his arm or his cloak. “I swear the whole day since I’ve worn this necklace I feel as if I’m a haunch of meat hung in a cave full of bears!”
Vilkas looked between us both, my befuddlement echoed on his features. “Well that’s to be expected when you wear an amulet of Mara! I’m just glad I was the one you chose.”
“Of course you’re the one I chose, Vilkas, there’s been no one else, I just had no idea you felt the same way.”
Vilkas blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly – his mind was quick, even with mead, and he was putting it all together while I still floundered in the dark. He glared sharply at Aela, his voice edged with ice as his face flushed. “Aela, she has -no- idea what an amulet means, does she?”
Aela burst out laughing, slapping her sides with her hands, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. ”No, brother, she doesn’t! But it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
“You insufferable stealth-stalker! I’ll have your hair out by the roots!” Vilkas’ temper flared full and strong, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Will someone tell me what this is about?” I interjected, shooting Vilkas a look and settling my back against his chest, more to hold him back than anything else. He went stonily silent, but at least he didn’t get up and charge, and Aela just grinned, raising a hand in acquiescence.
“In Skyrim, life is too hard to play at long courtships that take a year or more,” she explained. “One has to strike when the iron is hot! When you are ready for marriage, you put on an amulet, and then everyone knows you are available. Then it’s just a matter of choosing the one you like most. It’s an open invitation.”
“You mean to tell me I have been…parading…yes, parading! About Whiterun with this advert around my neck all this time?” I asked icily, this time it was my turn for my voice to rise, and Vilkas’ arm went round my waist.
“Mmmhm,” Aela responded, her eyes glittering. “And Vilkas would have kept his mouth shut about his feelings for you till the Doomsday until you put the damned trinket on. You’ve been mooning about him for ages now, it’s no secret, and Tilda confirmed it. By the gods, you were both so hopeless I had to take matters into my own hands! And before you both splutter indignantly like a centurion running out of steam, look! You’re happy, you’ve achieved the goal, and there’s nothing to worry about. If anything you should be thanking me – although for a moment I did think Farkas was going to get in before you, Vilkas so well done!”
“Not if I had any say about it,” Vilkas said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, almost a growl.
“He’s too busy nursing the bruises he got from Njada today,” Aela sniffed dismissively. ”I imagine those two will be together in a fortnight at this rate, she can punch as hard as he can, if not harder. At any rate, I’ve cleared our holdings of prying eyes – “
“Except for yours,” Vilkas muttered.
” – and I’ll be off to hunt now,” Aela added smoothly. “So I’ll leave you two to make marriage plans. I’d suggest a few days’ recovery for the rest of the Companions; they drank their own weight in mead and you’ll want them sober for the wedding!”
She gave us a wink and a wave, and off she went again, leaving Vilkas and I looking at each other rather sheepishly. He cleared his throat and shifted somewhat uncomfortably. “I’m going to shave off her fur one of these days, I swear.”
“Nevermind,” I replied, fingering the amulet at my throat. My initial horror and embarrassment was fading. After all, she’d been right – I couldn’t have said it outright, and neither could he. It put the day’s antics into a completely different light however, and I chuckled and shook me head. With a shrug, I removed the amulet and coiled the pendant into my hand. Vilkas watched, his voice hesitant and his brow furrowed.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No,” I said, turning back to Vilkas – brave, strong Vilkas – and rested my head against his shoulder again. “But it’s served its purpose, just as that maddening woman said. And I have what I want now.”
Vilkas sighed with relief, wrapped his cloak round us both once more and nuzzled my cheek with his rough jaw. “Well. Together, then?”
“Together.”
And that is how we travelled to Riften, side by side, accompanied by Companions in various stages of sobriety. I wore my Thieves’ Guild leathers, and Eorlund repaired and polished Vilkas’ armour till it gleamed. What I thought would be a small ceremony of a few friends suddenly became an event; I suppose I should have expected that – I was still Dragonborn to Skyrim. The Temple was packed with well-wishers: Ralof came quietly to Riften with his sister, every single beggar I ever gave a coin to stood at either side, Aela came to grin smugly at the back, Farkas and Njada also (and true enough, they married a month after we did). Even Brinjolf, Delvin, Karliah and Vex made an appearance, and though she’d deny it, I saw Vex wiping her eyes. In the Temple before such a large group, Vilkas shook almost too much to put the ring on my finger and I kept waiting to forget a vital phrase or otherwise panic in some stupid way, but we managed, and done was done. Presents arrived from miles around, and the Jarl of Whiterun gave us the keys of our first home to live in. The whole day passed in a whirl of toast-drinking, gift-giving and the startling realisation that I was not merely tolerated, but loved.
I’ll not bore you with the rest – get married yourself and you’ll know all you need to know! But I’ll tell you what I do remember, even now. I still remember his voice in my ear, I still remember his words on our wedding eve. ”No Dragonborn here…no Harbinger, no Bosmer. You are just my wife, and I am just your husband. That’s all. The doom and wyrd of the world can wait for one night. This is ours.”
And so it was.
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