It would be unfair for the Cyrodiil mage should Vilkas invited her for 'The Hunt' as it is, for she had no proper knowledge of her own lineage as a result of her city upbringing. The younger girl hailed from Imperial City , which prompted Njada baptizing her 'city-bred' in mockery, who came to Skyrim in order to join the Mages College in Winterhold. Her plan went awry when she crossed the border as she barely escaped from getting a free shave from an Imperial headsman, burnt into charred remains as dreaded black dragon decided to interrupt rebel execution, flattened under rubble when the said dragon smashed every building utilizing arcane fire rain, and shredded into pieces by a cave bear. In the end she ended up joining the Companions which is equal to Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil, only it reveres its tradition and honor more than the Imperial counterpart.
Although hand-joining conducted in temple of Mara was more popular than the traditional Nord custom, the old ways were preserved in the Companions' custom. Often prospecting couples went on a hunt together in a pair, hunting for a great bounty and bringing the remains as proof of their united endeavor. Official joining in Mara's presence usually comes after that. Jorrvaskr main hall housed countless trophies brought after past hunts: troll skeletons, wolf fur, mammoth tusk, giant bone, and some alien disfigured beings called Chaurus. Obviously, these pairs knew of each others' intention when one invited the others.
Vilkas had no difficulty in considering their hunting material, for no other bounty should be appropriate in courting Dovahkiin aside from dragons themselves. Though ever since the dread black dragon of legend had been defeated, flying lizards were less frequently sighted. Despite that, he had heard news of a certain blue scaled dragon flying around Eastmarch, guarding a certain draconian ruins of sort situated amongst hot springs. The trophy was ready for the taking and the elder wolf was confident with his skills although the Cyrodiil mage might do most of the work with her Shouts. Vilkas had to be honest that he fancied watching the girl spitting out fiery breaths. Last time she did that was when the two were fighting a group of necromancers on a marking stone overlooking Whiterun. Poor sods burned to death. Utilizing Shouts left her extremely thirsty, which was why her leather water skin was always filled to the brim and she'd fill it whenever possible.
Strolling around the mead hall restlessly, oblivious to the fact that residents of the hall were watching the elder wolf, Vilkas considered how should he progress with the invitation. He considered waiting and imparting the knowledge little by little, but at a loss as how to do so without giving away his cause. The elder wolf scratched his head roughly, messing his hair in the process. That's when he felt fingertips tapping his shoulder pads. Even without looking at the proprietor he knew by heart who did such from the pattern of the tap and the gentle force applied. It was the dragonborn herself with a concerned look in her face, her wheat blond hair glittered under morning sunlight breaching through windows. Oh how he wanted to just snatch her away and be done with it but he suppressed such desire and forced himself to abide by the protocol.
"Something wrong? You seemed…well, disoriented could not do justice" the girl said in sincere concerned voice. Her hand was still on Vilkas's furred shoulder pads. A golden ring with slight red enchantment glitter circled around her index finger. The girl was wearing her violet mage robe, embroidery on the poncho showed her interest in Restoration school. She had just come home from Mages College in Winterhold. Apparently her research brought her back to Whiterun hold. Despite having defeated Alduin, she continued her research on dragons and related Word of Power. Dragon Tongue. Should she visit Whiterun, that meant Farengar the court wizard had found a promising lead.
Fighting an urge to hold the slender hand, Vilkas turned around facing his chosen one. Trying to keep his composure in check which was a grand feat itself. The elder wolf crossed his arms and observed the girl's shoulder, sincerely praying to the Gods his face did not give away. "Better worry about yourself, girl. You're wounded yourself". He spoke the truth as the girl was attacked by a pack of wolves on her way down to Whiterun. She was focused in gathering herbs that she didn't realize the attack until too late. The canines suffered her fire wall afterwards. She used her remaining magicka to keep her wound closed and strutted to Whiterun where the local guard hurried and helped her reaching Jorrvaskr.
"I'm fine. The wound's closed. Danica cured it well. She' s a better healer than I am, as you can see" the mage turned around on one leg showing her returning vigor. Violet trappings danced around, following the girl's twirl suit. Braided hair swayed about in the gust her own movement created. Testing Vilkas' patience without realizing it. The guard aiding dragonborn when she returned to Whiterun covered in blood was sensible enough to carry her to Kynareth's temple where Danica Pure-spring heal the sick and wounded daily. The Kynareth priestess acting as local healer worked right away at the gushing wound. With her high understanding of Restoration school and restorative herbs, the healer was able to close Dragonborn's wound quickly. Fortunately some of the herbs the Cyrodiil mage gathered was those of restorative property. The guard then rushed to Jorrvaskr and informed the first Companion he met. Suffice to say, Vilkas was the first one rushing to the temple and found the girl feverish.
"You should stop scaring m…us like that, do you always have to come home wounded?" Vilkas voiced his displeasure at Dovahkiin's manner of homecoming. Always with a wound or two to heal or getting chased by wildlife with her running out of magicka or summoning a large dragon into Dragonsreach. He remembered the court wizard was too ecstatic for his own good until the crimson dragon spat fire at him. Somehow it didn't stop him from returning and chatted up the larger creature. Point was, danger followed the dragonborn. Or perhaps latched itself upon her back.
The girl frowned at Vilkas' accusing words. So much for sympathizing with the snob of a senior, she thought. "Can't be helped now if I am so irresistible" Dovahkiin spoke such jest trying to lighten up the mood, oblivious that she had spoken the truth on Vilkas' part. How he wistfully longed to ravish the ivory lips, savoring the fair skin hidden underneath her violet garb, slender fingers and toes, finding her sensitive parts and…. Vilkas waved away such thought and was glad his wolf armor had knee length fur skirt.
Vilkas cleared his throat and decided to bear with it, he asked then "Are you free sometimes tomorrow? Or whenever"
"Nah… I've got tight schedule if you wanted to include me in hunting parties. My apologies, I know this is busy times with frequent vampire attacks and all, but Farengar keeps me busy with dragon related research. Those beings are flying around Tamriel now so we might want to gather as much information as we could. Come to think of it I might have to visit High Hrothgar if our research goes that way. He'd be thrilled meeting Paarthunax, I'm sure" The girl chucked as she imagining Farengar's face upon meeting the leader of Greybeards. Few know his true identity and fewer even had the chance to meeting the dragon. "If he survives the climb though, last time I was there I almost killed by a tr--- never mind" The girl stopped speaking since Vilkas looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't pleased, again.
"I heard the blades wanted Paarthunax dead, it it true?" Vilkas asked, trying to move the subject to a more pleasant one. He did not know that the leader of Greybeards was a dragon as Dovahkiin neglected from sharing sensitive information. "I'm not sure which is worse, dragons flying about Skyrim or Blades ... stabbing your back"
"Those blistering sods can try if they can. I am not assisting. I respect Paarthunax like a father. " Dovahkiin mused as she playfully twisting braided hair between her fingers, not noticing both Vilkas' pun and his groan for failing. The city-bred mage remembered slapping Delphine's face figuratively using her witty comments and FUSRODAH-ed her out of High Hrothgar. The blond haired girl was not pleased for having to work for her. When the innkeeper in disguise finished her purpose, Dovahkiin finally could bare her heart.
The last straw was Delphine declaring an ultimatum for not aiding Dovahkiin in defeating Alduin should she not kill Parthunaax. The woman was verily foolish through and through for uttering such affront in front of the Greybeards. The four Maester of Voice were displeased, performing their ultimate choir in response. Delphine was thrown out unceremoniously as she rolled down roughly down High Hrothgar stone ladder, while Esbern was treated better for he was fellow elderly. That was the last time Dovahkiin saw the pair. She had spared no time visiting whatever remained of the Blades in Sky Haven Temple as well, though she missed her history discussion with Esbern badly.
She must had delightful moments in High Hrothgar, Vilkas thought before pondering of her so called schedule. There would be no harm in letting her working along with Farengar. The Whiterun court mage had no interest in woman, for he was more interested in researching dragons related matter. His train of thought stopped abruptly as he heard the girl he adored so mentioned a name in her research group. The only name he wished not to hear, not ever.
"…Marcurio will be coming as well, it should be fun"
As she mentioned the blasted mage's name, the devil himself came in Jorrvaskr. Marcurio was a mage for hire domiciling in Riften, he usually stayed in Bee and Barb while waiting for a commission. Their first encounter was not exactly a fine one. A hunting party consisting of Vilkas himself, Athis, and Dovahkiin was assigned for a mission in Riften. A distressed client asked them to recover a family heirloom from a band of thieves hiding in nearby abandoned fortress. Marcurio was hired as he was familiar with local geography. The four of them embarked to the bandit's lair after quick introduction. He quickly proved to be a professional in both conduct and battle prowess, allowing Vilkas to overlook the Imperial's insufferable sass. In the end, the mages ended up blowing the whole fortress using arcane magic, almost burying the whole team alive in the process. Vilkas could still remember he had to dig out rubble and fallen beams for eternity, Athis whimpering besides him whilst the pair of spellcasters sat, laughing despite the severity of their situation.
Oddly enough Dovahkiin and that faulty of a mage became good friends afterwards. Often they'd explore ruins together alongside a Dunmer Mara priest should Vilkas wasn't there to assist her. Jarl Balgruuf willingly employed the two into Farengar's research team for their expertise in magical force. Both in battle prowess and scholarly knowledge.
To Vilkas' dismay, the Imperial mage wore Amulet of Mara round his neck! It was clear who was his intended target, though Dovahkiin made no comment about it but told Marcurio that Farengar had been impatiently waiting for them. She bid her farewells to Vilkas and went on her way with the other mage to Dragonsreach, a rather huge keep where Jarl Balgruuf and his court members reside. The elder wolf went out to training yard and started slashing away innocent training dummies, unleashing rage welling in his heart. Compared to his sheer strength added with anger, no straw dolls could match him. The rest of the Companions dared not approaching him for the rest of the day except for Kodlak.
"Sooo….who's the fortunate man?" Ria elbowed the dragonborn when she sat beside her during dinner later that evening. Njada on her other side was also interested. She joined in the conversation casually. Despite being natural enemies, Njada would not pass such intriguing issue at hand. Normal conversation during meals would be about sword technique, training and outings schedule, sometimes stories about commissions went awry, and less frequent politics in Skyrim. When topics deviate from their general course, it would certainly invite everyone's attention as they abandon common if not duller conversation.
"What fortunate man?" the blonde mage returned, completely oblivious with the implications as she knows nothing about Skyrim marriage custom. That being said, it was clear that Marcurio's endeavor was in vain. Vilkas breathed out in relief. Skjor scowled in dismay knowing Vilkas' attention focused more on the girls' gossiping instead of the increase in vampire attacks in various holds. The balding man looked at the occupier of the seat at his other side, it was Farkas. Conversations was overrated. He left his seat and joined Aela sitting on a bench in a far corner of the hall, plotting their next hunt.
"You've gotta…you don't know?" Njada voiced her surprise loudly that the whole hall's occupant turned their attention to the three girls. She looked apologetically to Skjor, glaring at her viciously. Njada returned her attention to Dovahkiin and continued, "Fine, I'll explain it to your refined head. It's our marriage custom in this province. If you're committed to marriage, you'd wear an amulet of Mara and approach your chosen partner. If they give their consent, then the marriage could be arranged"
"Interesting…and it could be just anyone?" considered the Imperial hailed mage, still failing to put two and two together. Drawing frustrated grunts from her friends.
"Well yes, as long as you did a good deed to impress them. I reckon half of Skyrim would want to court you. You're the Dragonborn after all. With defeating the black dragon who brought upon end of time and other things" Aela joined the conversation in Sjkor's dismay, leaving her seat by the balding man to join less husked company. "It's a harsh life in Skyrim, so spring and summer are very much appreciated, as short as they are"
"…wait you said, Amulet of Mara?" the Cyrodiil mage suddenly realized Marcurio was wearing one earlier in the day. He had been trying to stay in her line of sight and vying for her attention, which was out of his character. Njada and Ria nodded in agreement. Eyes widened in surprise, she continued in high pitched voice "By the Divines, is THAT what it means? No wonder he was so sad when we parted earlier"
"Going after him?. I think he's still staying in town" Aela asked if the fabled dragonborn would clear the misunderstanding with Marcurio, explaining her ignorance in local custom. Vilkas tensed at the question. Please don't chase him, please don’t chase him, he chanted desperately in silence. Farkas noticed his brother's lips moving about but said nothing.
"There is another custom for it" Kodlak suddenly added, raising his mug in the process. Bless the old man, Vilkas thought. "It is also considered a sacred union. Usually done before hand joining in Mara's presence. Unfortunately it is not widely practiced and the wilds are getting more dangerous. Especially with the civil war and dragon business we had...but his tradition is well preserved in the Companions…"
Dovahkiin raised her eyebrow, she had no idea why the topic turned to marriage custom. Before Kodlak could explain the process, Athis butted in the conversation, "So actually it goes like..." but went silent as Vilkas called Dovahkiin's name all of sudden. Everyone turned their attention to him. Aela looked at the elder wolf in expectation, followed with Skjor's disbelief for both knew what was about to come. Whilst Farkas did not quite follow what happened yet. Both Torvar and Athis sat at the edge of their seats, attention undivided despite having local brewery blurring both their sight and thought. There would be no going back, Vilkas thought. To Oblivion with it.
"There's a dragon flying around Eastmarch like it owns the place, care to join me in a dragon hunt?"
The whole hall went silent. Vilkas tightened his grip on his tankard of mead. Waiting for an answer from his beloved. The deed was done. He spoke his invitation despite her lack of understanding in Skyrim customs. He knew it would be unfair, but he won't pass up the chance or risk getting another suitor proposing his subject of affection. Dovahkiin on the other hand, was confused why the rest of Companions were also expecting her answer. It was only a dragon hunt they should be familiar with, she thought, why this one would pique their interest so. Then again none of them could Shout so defeating an overgrown lizard was a grand feat.
"Sure, fine by me. When are we going?" Jorrvaskr's occupants cheered at her answer. Aela and Njada elbowed her sides that she felt ticklish. Farkas grinned as he punched Vilkas' arm while his brother sighed in relief, slumping in his seat and slowly rested his back against the wooden chair. Kodlak tapped the elder wolf's shoulder in fatherly manner. "Uhh…why the ruckus?"
"Actually…" Athis started but ceased from explaining what the Cyrodiil mage did not notice when he felt Vilkas' fiery glare from the other side of the table. No one dared telling Dovahkiin the truth afterwards. The elder wolf beckoned the girl to sit by him and started planning their hunt. Farkas was not being sensible for joining in the discussion until Aela and Skjor dragged him away from the pair. Dinner continued as per usual arrangement afterwards, with Kodlak Whitemane beaming at the prospect of hand joining between a certain unlikely couple.
"So, you're going for a dragon hunt..." Farengar replied when Dovahkiin told him she would be unavailable for the next few days. He considered for a moment and found no objections for his part. After all, his assistant might bring dragon scales and bones for research purposes. Notes on dragon behavior, manners of their flight, hunting, and perhaps mating. Being stuck in Dragonsreach tending to ever worrying Jarl denied him the opportunity of seeing such a grand creature first hand. "Fine by me, as long as you bring some samples to examine. Where was it sighted?"
"Somewhere around Eastmarch. Said it litters around a draconic stone wall, the one with dragon tongue inscribed on it. If it's the very same ruins I explored months ago, then there's nothing new to be gained for I absorbed the knowledge stored within. But this is a curious matter, It seems that these dragons are drawn to such sites. Are they protecting it…or…" then the mage girl remembered she was not there to dally with research for she had enchantments to do. Shaking her head, the Cyrodiil mage reached for a burlap sack containing armor piece and trinkets. Some she bought at hefty price in Windhelm, some looted from unfortunate bandits and thieves unfortunate enough to be in her way.
"Who are you going with?" Marcurio asked her, his amulet of Mara was nowhere to be found. The girl felt a little bit guilty for not knowing, but then she always considered the older mage as an older brother. "I might be able to help"
"Well, Vilkas invited me for the hunt yesterday. If you're interested, you can come with us. The Companions could only deploy the two of us, the rest had their priority elsewhere. Ugh, by Talos... those guys"
Farengar's eyes opened wide as he heard the word 'the two of us', for as a Nord studying the old world he knew of the long forgotten tradition. He quickly realized the city-mage did not know the tradition considering her upbringing. The court mage couldn't blame her for her ignorance. Farengar quickly handed a stack of parchments into Marcurio's hands even before he could accept the offer, "Unfortunately, Marcurio will have to stay, look at these translation material. It has to be done before Sundas, these will give us better understanding of dragon's behavior. Enjoy your hunt, sister Nord"
"What is wrong with you people" the girl cursed as she approached the enchanting table, containing runes inscribed on it. They glimmer as the girl placed the equipments she wanted to enchant along side soul gems she procured from he journey down from Winterhold to Whiterun earlier. Recalling Vilkas' vague info on the dragon having blue scale, she decided on frost resist enchantments among other possibilities. Reds spits fire, greens electrocutes, blues breathe ice. Farengar observed as she added her enchantments onto armor pieces, he nodded acknowledging her growing capability in it.
"Not bad, not many enchanters could achieve such feat. Now let me add mine…" Farengar offered as he mastered the art of enchanting, capable of adding extra effect inside an armament and prolonging its effect in battle. "This is for Vilkas, yes? He should be battling in the front line, I assume? I'll add in more protective spells and a little bit of fire enchantment for the sword over here….done. You two are literally walking fortress when you adorn these gears"
"Should I be wary as of why you're this generous, Farengar? It's unusually like you" Marcurio commented, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow, after putting stacks of parchments a flustered court mage dumped at him earlier onto wooden table serving as his work space.
"I'll explain later, damned Imperial" Farengar returned the comment, reminding himself Marcurio would not know the traditional Nord marriage custom as he was not Skyrim in origin, much like the younger maiden. He tossed some herbs to Marcurio and had him grind them before examining the property. Returning his attention to the oblivious young woman who's about to be proposed, he continued "…and what are you going to do now?When are you departing?"
"Morning, on the morrow. I suppose I could stay and help for the rest of the day"
"Good, spending too much time amongst hired muscle would not broaden your horizon on better issues than swinging swords and bashing shields. Anyway, about the theory you mentioned earlier…In case they are indeed protecting ruins related to their origin then…we should consider conducting thorough research on it. Pray tell, where else have you seen them in Skyrim" Farengar grabbed a feather pen and started making notes on his parchment. Blots of ink dropped on the parchment, he cursed. He preferred his papers neat, without blots of inks marring them. Alas their research was doomed to delays as Jarl Balgruuf entered the room in a good humor with Irileth in tow, he probably heard them talking about 'the Hunt' as he too, started giving advises.
On the other side of Whiterun hold's capital, Vilkas was procuring provision for a week worth of hunt. Although the two will patrol in Windhelm vicinity, there would be no telling if they could even spend the night in Eastmarch's capital after all. They might need to spend the night under stars. Winter was coming and he expected snow storms around the region. He had with him a parchment which contained list of supplies the two might need during their travel. Jerky, bread, apples, rolled beds, firestarter, healing potions, magicka potions, and antidotes. Vilkas grimaced at the prospect of stale bread for a whole week.
Whiterun market was bustling from both local and visiting merchants, offering both local produce and exotic imports. Despite intriguing choices the imported good had, Vilkas was there for produce such as dried meat and fruits he could bring during the course of the hunt. The elder wolf stopped by Anoriath, a wood elf who specialized in hunting local game, bringing fresh cuts of meat to his stall every day and literally supplier to fine establishments and houses in Whiterun. The Bosmer offered Vilkas best cuts from his game, when it was clear the Companion was there as a customer. Anorieth knew the warriors well, famous for their insatiable appetite for meat and mead. Normally it would be Tilma the haggard who seal the deal, although on occasions other members might do in her stead.
"Good for you to visit me today, Vilkas. Look at these beautiful beasts I hunted just this morning. We're talking about games today! No local domesticated beef or poultry! Got myself some fowls and nice rump of veal if you're interested. If you're bored with roasted meal, you can cook some stew instead. Shanks are especially good for these. I know they are tough but if you cook them right, they'll fall of the bone with slightest force...'
"Do you have dried meat at all? We might need to eat on the way. I'm sure you're accustomed to our modus operandi by now." Vilkas interjected Anoriath before he went on, suggesting every recipe in his arsenal. The elf has been a supplier for the Companion for years, and still he'd offer fresh meats instead of dried ones for hunting parties. As much as Vilkas enjoyed cooking, he had no time to spare that day for idle chatter. Or rather no mood for conversation. He had other issues to attend to, such as managing hunting groups and assigning tasks for the rest of the Companions so he could leave with eased mind. Skjor promised filling in the role should the hunt took longer than planned.
Anorieth frowned, knowing who he was facing. The haggler, so the merchants called Vilkas. He had made quite a reputation in the other holds as well. The cunning wolf could half the offered price off merchants with just a glance. The elf shook his head and checked the shelf under his stall, he had made few pounds of dried meat sliced as thin as possible. He took them out and handed as much as the elder wolf wanted. He was astonished with the amount requested, "What game are you hunting? This is extremely too much, don’t you think?"
"A dragon" Vilkas answered honestly, receiving a pouch-ful of jerky and handed amount of septims equivalent for the trade. There was no need to inspect the goods as he had utmost trust towards the bosmer. He never failed delivering the best game there was to the Companions. Aroma of select spices lingered around Anoriath's stall was proof enough.
"My, my...no wonder. My brother had made few well crafted bows if you're interested. I don't think you can rely on your broad sword when fighting a flying dragon, no?" Anoriath leaned his elbows against his stall, bloodied from carcasses he had cut prior. A coy smile formed in his dark visage, suggesting for Vilkas to spend more money at his family's store. "I think he just crafted a very fine ebony bow, a commission for Riften's future Jarl but the brat never come to pick it up. Pretty sure he'd love to sell such craft to others who actually use his bow for greater purpose"
Vilkas pondered for a moment, recalling quite a comedic moment whence Dovahkiin lashed out at a certain young main in Riften's training yard for ordering her to fetch a sword in local smithy which was literally a stone's throw away from the keep. "I think I know who you're talking about. Lazy milk-drinker, that one. I'll consider it, Anoriath....and about that veal shank stew you were talking about..."
"Ha! I know you're coming around!" laughed Anoriath heartily, drawing attention from his market stall neighbor Fralia Grey-Mane. Stealing a glance at the bosmer before continuing her conversation with an equally baffled Ysolda.
The butcher made a good argument. The Companions' blacksmith might excel at crafting high quality armor and weapons, but not at bows which requires finesse and more delicate hands. Vilkas promptly visited Drunken Huntsman which sold hunting supplies for Whiterun hunters. Anoriath's brother welcomed Vilkas when he entered the shop, smell of foreign woods permeated the air around him. Knowing that the companion were hunting a game, he offered the best bow and arrows he could offer.
The two met at Whiterun gate the next morning, as both parties agreed prior. They prepared adequate supplies and equipments they needed for the hunt as only the two of them participating in. Dovahkiin was baffled at the lack of personnel in a dragon hunt. Vilkas would usually slap some more in, but he insisted the two of them were enough. The girl had asked the other Companions, but the rest claimed they had another urgent matter to attend to or pretended to be sick, classic excuse to avoid something they'd rather not involved in. What could be more dire than a dragon's attack, she questioned her friends' priority. Most of them only bid her good hunt and gave sketchy advises.
Winter morning air was dry and crisp, Akatosh granted the pair clear sky for their hunt allowing them to observe the sky better and allowed no hiding place behind the clouds. Despite the cold and dry weather, Vilkas could smell summer scent coming from Dovahkiin. The air around her smelled of dried summer spices giving away her alchemical work the day before. Vilkas had little knowledge of Alchemy but he loved the aroma such work gave to his beloved. Soon enough, the wolf Nord thought. He was in such good humor that he did not realize he was grinning.
The Cyrodiil mage looked at Vilkas spitefully as she was unnerved by her partner's expression at the time, "Your wolfish grin unnerve me"
As soon as she said those words, Vilkas returned to his usual calm visage. He then beckoned the girl to start the hunt. The two went out Whiterun and started covering treks to the direction of Eastmarch. Their journey there was uneventful save for some stray wolves and few inexperienced bandits. Both Vilkas and the mage girl did quick work on both. They had avoided giant's den and used dirt road leading to spring field south of Kynesgrove.
Dovahkiin had been there before when she did a quest for Danica Pure-spring months ago, although that moment felt like a lifetime ago. She had gone to Gildergreen's mother tree and drained some of it's sap in order to revive Whiterun's Gildergreen, or rather waking the tree up as Danica claimed the tree was only sleeping and applying the sap would act as an invigorator. It ended with her fleeing the sanctum in terror as angry spirits attacked her the moment her blade touched Gildergreen.
The air was hot and damp, steam permeating through the air right out of scalding stream. The two walked carefully amongst the springs as not to fall into it. Nords might have good resistance to cold, but they fared worse against heat. Upon ponds with more forgiving temperature were a few locals and hunters dipping, relaxing as they let comfortable warmth envelop their wasted bodies. Each of them stripped, wearing only small clothes to cover their sensitive areas. Some who noticed the pair passing by recognized Vilkas wolf armor, and proceeded to ask what their game was.
Vilkas used this chance to question the hunters, should they have seen a certain blue scaled dragon. Nobody would miss such a legendary creature, on sky or on land "Have you seen a dragon? We received report one flying around here. Blue scales, breathe ice" the elder wolf asked as he approached a rather intoxicated hunter dipping by the edges of the hot spring. Before the intoxicated hunters could answer the question air crippled around them, as they heard a dragon's shrieking through out the air. The pair looked at the sky, and saw blue scaled dragon flying overhead. Causing the witnesses to drop their jaw in awe. The dragon descended right in front of them and readied its frosty breath. Vilkas grinned in glee as his bounty voluntarily came down on him.
Wall of fire rose as the overgrown lizard unleashed snow storm from its jaw, rendering the freezing wind ineffective. Dovahkiin returned its Shout by then, spitting out breath of fire out of her more slender frame. Vilkas drew his broadsword, charging towards the azure beast with a war cry that could match even Tsun's. Warrior of true mettle guarding dragon bone bridge leading towards Sovngarde's Hall of Valor. Hunters and other visitors grabbed their belongings before fleeing the scene. Braver souls tried shooting arrows at the dragon, but Vilkas bellowed at them to leave the vicinity. They took his advice to the word excluding the curses.
The dragon flew away after the Dragonborn breathed fire on it, leaving both Vilkas and Dovahkiin in dismay. The two tried chasing it, alas no land dwellers could do to close the distance between them and sky ruler. In less than a minute, the dragon managed to shake them off and retreated beyond the mountains. Vilkas cursed. Dovahkiin could launch a Sky Rend shout to prevent the overgrown lizard from flying off but alas she was exhausted after the last. She quickly collapsed onto the ground , reaching for her water skin. Popping off the lid and sloshed her throat in one gulp. The girl coughed hard as her throat and insides burned. She had mistaken her water skin for her hip flask where she keep her stock of Black-briar mead.
"Oh by the Divines, how could I mistook metalwork for leather?!" The girl cursed as she threw away her hip flask. Vilkas took it from the dusty ground and tossed it back to the girl. Her visage turned bright red.
"Never should have kept those around with you're being lightweight, girl" Vilkas reprimanded her. He felt guilty the second the mage glared at him, showing her usual 'keep quiet, not your business' angered expression. Seeing her expression, Vilkas realized he leashed out his frustration to the wheat haired maiden. He shouldn't have. The Companions' second adviser proceeded to kneel beside the exhausted mage, offering his hand to assist her "My apologies, I should not have…"
"Don't. You're being creepy. You've been like that since this morning" said Dovahkiin before falling head first to Vilkas' shoulder pads. The two stayed that way for a while. Despite having fights often and not exactly good relationships, the two often spent time together after supper. Whereas they used the empty halls of Jorrvaskr for their nocturnal meet. They were used to sitting in that position with book in hand, saying nothing but read. They'd sometimes discuss things they read and the two were comfortable in that manner. It was like their mockery and jabs exchange during the day were nothing at all.
Vilkas thought that the hunt should not fail whatever happened but with their bounty flew away there's nothing he could do. The ebony maned Nord could not stand the thought returning to Jorrvaskr empty handed, their heads hung low. Dragonborn's golden-wheat hair brushed against his bare neck, the aroma of charred hair and herbs mixed well. We will succeed, the elder wolf thought. Casually pressing his cheek against fields of gold nesting upon his shoulders.
The girl reached for her pocket, taking out her copy of Skyrim map. Countless doodles and notes written upon it in hastily written hand writing, some bordering on illegible scrawls. Behind the parchment was lists of Nordic ruins and stone walls she had found and copies of draconic runes she had found and learnt. Vilkas mused, they should go to Morrowind for a trip someday. Dovahkiin pondered on where the dragon's next destination. She ran her fingers on the map, her head still rested in the crook of Vilkas' neck, staying awake was a grand task already.
She considered for a moment then pointed on a draconic ruins icon she drew on her map. The ruins was nearby, if they decided to cross the mountains. "If my theory is correct, these dragons will litter around draconic ruins guarding them. Since we chased him off this place, it should be moving to the next. Judging from the direction where it went before, it should be going there…" It was Shearpoint by south east of Windhelm. "Not my favorite place in the world. Remember we fought an ancient dragon and a bloody dragon priest at the same time? I hope the bones stay still this time around"
"We should not lose heart then" Vilkas said, his fingers played amongst golden wheat and casually kissed the girl's forehead. An affection he rarely showed to anyone but his brother and the dragonborn. The first time he did that to the girl, her cheeks turned crimson and screaming it was inappropriate. It might be a Cyrodiil custom he did not know.
True enough, the girl mumbled in her sleep, "…what did you do that…for, dumbass" Vilkas did not care of her protests as he once again pressed his lips against her cheek in pure affection.
"I tell you…I tell you, the dragon born comes…" the sound of the local bard singing woke the Dragonborn. Her vision blurry as if she was underwater and her head felt like it was perpetually spinning like dwemer cogwheel. The Cyrodiil mage laid on a bed in an inn somewhere. She expected to wake up on her bed roll somewhere in the middle of nowhere with pesky hangover and even peskier elder wolf smirking at her. Mocking her carelessness as he had always and to be. Probably with grilled rabbit or wolf for dinner…or worse, skeevers. She grimaced at the prospect and rubbed her eyes trying to clear her vision in vain.
The girl blinked then looked at a blurry figure sitting beside her. Knowing who he was, the blonde mage expected triumphant smirk and sarcastic commentary launched at her. To her surprise the man did neither. When the girl's vision cleared, what she saw was concerned face of Vilkas. He realized the girl had woken then but waited for her to recover first and foremost. Dragonborn silently wailed as she shifted her position with her front pressing against the bedding. Her head felt like it was nailed by thousands of needles or pounded by steel hammer. "To Oblivion with those…alcohol" she murmured, her voice muffled as her face buried in the soft pillows.
Vilkas snorted but said nothing nonetheless as he too had his own pressing matter. He had expected for the both of them to be rid of the last barrier that separate the two by that time both physically and mentally. He longed to snake his way to ivory beneath the mages' robes, reveling in the smooth surface and devour the girl whole. He wondered what kind of sound she'd make when… "I'll go get some food for you"
The girl looked at the departing figure before she buried her face back into the pillows. A bard started singing in high pitch seconds after she did so. She remembered the voice then, it was the sorry excuse of a bard staying in Dawnstar. She begrudged the wench as she made a ridiculous attempt in singing 'Ragnar the Red'. The Cyrodiil mage was tempted to soul trap her and send the sorry bard into Soul Cairn for eternity. Cursing and wondering what she was doing in Windhelm instead helping out her father in the port town. She quickly snatched the pillow under her and covered her head and ears. It muffled the horrendous off key singing a little, but not more. The higher the pitch the worse her headache was.
Vilkas returned witnessing the Dragon born trashing about on her bed, grunting and moaning in pain. He wasn't sure he should be sympathizing or laughing at the girl suffering from hangover. Even mythical character could be so human. She is a human, Vilkas reminded himself. The dreadful song ended as abrupt as it began. Vilkas could hear thudding and crashing sound from the tavern upstairs, followed by cheers coming from other guests. He could only imagine some hot blooded locale punched the off-key wench for creating inharmonious melody. The girl went calmer and sighed out in relief, mouth curving into a weak grin knowing a certain poor bard's fate.
As gentler voice resumed singing, permeating the air with her soothing elven voice, Vilkas put their dinner on a wooden table available in their room. They had quite a large suit for a fair price even by Windhelm standard. One double bed in the middle of the room, a large wooden desk and chair on the other end. They even had wardrobe and chest available. Normally the room would go to people who could afford it, but the innkeeper was being generous. The two had been there before on a hunt and got involved into a serial murder case. In the end the two managed to unveil mystery behind the killing and capturing the infamous Butcher himself. Stores and taverns happily offered discount to any Companions member ever since. Local forces also forwarded more requests and commissions when their hands were tied.
Sniffing appetizing aroma, Dovahkiin left her pillowy fortress and devoured her dinner. Local blue cheese and a bowl of fowl soup alongside stale bread. Vilkas dipped his bread into the stew before eating it, denying the existence of such atrocity. The Dragonborn noticed she only get a glass of water instead of mead, while Vilkas enjoyed his ale. She frowned, Vilkas smiled seeing her doing so. She stilled her mouth from jabbing at her hunting partner, knowing she'd only invite sarcastic retort. The Cyrodiil mage looked down at her half empty bowl, spinning her spoon around thick brown broth, fishing for pieces of meat she missed scooping out before. Deliberately avoiding carrots floating about the soup's surface.
Another wooden spoon dipped into her bowl, scooping as much carrot as it allowed before it launched at Dragonborn. Wooden surface pressing against slits of her lips then. Unappetizing orange vegetable formed a small fortress upon wooden crater. Vilkas held the wooden spoon adamantly, clearly telling the intoxicated dragonborn to eat her hatred for carrots without saying a word. She complied then, opening her mouth and letting the elder wolf spoon-fed her. Grimacing from the earthy aroma and overly sweet flavor, the spellcaster swallowed them whole before gulping down her share of water.
"We should be able to finish our hunt tomorrow, if my predictions are correct" she said apologetically, feeling responsible for their dilemma at the moment. Had she used Skyrend instead of spitting fireballs, they'd have their trophy by the end of the day. Seeing his paramour in such a sorry state, he flicked his index finger against the spellcaster's forehead. Leaving a red spot right in the middle. "Ow, what's that for!"
"Don't you mind for letting the dragon escape, we simply didn't hit enough. Let's take it as a lesson and strife for better endeavor tomorrow" said the elder wolf as he refilled Dovahkiin's tankard with water. Adamant in not letting her drink any alcohol. " I have faith in you, we'll find our dragon on the morrow"
"You're awfully optimistic today, should I be wary?" questioned the dragonborn, shifting in her seat for a more comfortable position. Cursing the undeniable fact that she was a lightweight drinker. One sip of any type of alcohol or infused drinks would get her intoxicated in minutes. Vilkas didn't answer but simply smile, letting action spoke for itself. "Fine, be mysterious and an ass"
Another clear day without a speck of cloud which was rare in Skyrim. Good omen given by Akatosh himself. The two started their climb towards Shearpoint. In no time they had found their dragon, still recuperating from its' wounds. The frost dragon sensed the two coming and started flapping it's wings. The Dragonborn made no more mistake as she reserved her shouts for grounding the dragon. She shouted a curse Alduin dreaded so and soon enough the azure dragon ate dirt. Leaving a trail of unearthed soil, crashing against dragon priest's old coffin in the process. Vilkas rushed with his great sword in hand, fiery enchantment's dim glow trailing behind. He quickly aimed for the neck.
He advanced without fear as the dragon once again breathed frost upon him. Wall of light formed in front of the elder wolf then, protecting him from sinister snow storm. Knowing by heart the spellcaster Vilkas grew fond of was the one casting it, his lips curved into a smile. Then it widened into an ear to ear grin in sheer expectation. Skyforge steel buried deep into dragon's flesh, blood gushing out newly opened wound. It didn't take long before the dragon denied from flying within Tamriel skies for all eternity.
"I should apologize" said Vilkas as the two tried salvaging whatever remained from the dead dragon. They managed to salvage few azure scales before flesh burned away, becoming intangible as its soul streamed into the Dragonborn. She was immersed in arcane knowledge she barely registered what her hunting partner just said. It took her a few moments to recover from ecstatic burst of information before her brain was ready to receive another stimulus. "Uh, what? You did not stand in my line of fire. I should be the one apologizing for Shouting at you"
"Oh that's fine. It was a new experience…"
The two shared awkward silence between them. Usually they'd share mockery and jabs yet for some unknown reason Vilkas was being quiet. The girl grew curious as she approached Vilkas, standing right in front of him disregarding private space. She tried looking at Vilkas' eyes then. The taller man tensed as he felt their noses accidentally brushed. "You've been strange since yesterday…fever?" Wheat haired maiden stood on toes, pressing her forehead against Vilkas. By the Divines she smelled of summer, the elder wolf thought. "Nope, nothing. Not any illness I know of and I'm no expert healer"
She unknowingly spoke the truth for Vilkas' part as only cure for the ailing man would be the Dragonborn herself. Vilkas suddenly grabbed the girls' hands right before she could retreat. The girl tensed from the pain and Vilkas loosened his grip, forgetting the dragon born was still a woman, and a mage with no physical constitution nonetheless. They looked at each other then, moments passing slowly, as if they were trapped in eternity. After summoning all courage, Vilkas answered her question, "To tell you the truth, you are the only one who could cure me of this blasted illness"
"Remember what Kodlak said about another courting custom? This whole…dragon hunt is it. A man will ask a woman of his choice and conduct a hunt together, testing each other's valor and courage. It is said that the stronger the bounty it is, the more blessed is their joining. Though usually the other party says its consent at the invitation…I must apologize for making you go through this when you know nothing about our tradition"
Dovahkiin's eyes opened wide in realization, "SO that was this all about?! So this is the Nord marriage custom everyone was talking about" She thought why none of her girl friends told her the truth then, but then again Vilkas probably had something to do with it. Or they simply wanted to keep it a secret to give maximum impact on the occasion. Recalling Farengar and Jarl Balgruuf were being uncharacteristically nice, flooding her with advice despite knowing her battle prowess. "What in the name of Oblivion…"
"It is…I apologize. If you would not give me your consent it will be…" Vilkas decided to let go of the girl's hand. Thinking that he had gone too far. But instead the girl caught his. Her next word turned Vilkas' world upside down.
"I'm…by no means is an ordinary mortal. You know that as you witnessed me absorbing my first dragon soul. I am pouty, have terrible mood swings, will probably bury myself in research and all that... and …and… a bad cook! By the Divines! What am I…I'm not…someone who might suit you well. Would you still have me then?" Vilkas was surprised discovering a new side from his chosen partner for life. Behind her confident academic disposition she was shy and bashful.
The elder wolf smiled, "Is this Cyrodiil custom? Telling significant others their shortcomings?"
"Not…exactly" Clearly the girl had a hard time keeping their eyes in contact. Her lips trembled and her cheeks blossomed bright pink. She was breaking off character but so did the elder wolf. He couldn't keep himself from smiling. It felt good knowing the woman he adored so felt the same way of him. Only she did better in hiding her heart.
"The answer should be obvious, no?" The moment he finished speaking a pair of arms cloaked in violet garment flung around Vilkas' neck, locked behind his nape, pulling him. Vilkas' lips met with the ivory he wanted so bad that Vaermina granted him in a cruel way through his dreams. It was real instead of intangible imaginary kiss they shared. Pressing the other's lips gently, adding little force each time as their kiss deepened. The elder wolf circled his arms around her waist , balancing her standing on toes. There'd be times where they will have to get rid of pesky armor and clothing, but it was enough for them at the time.
There's another pressing matter after all, such as hauling a dragon's skeletal head back to Jorrvaskr.
The Harbinger woke up then, finding no one laying besides him. The other end of his double bed was empty, cold, unoccupied. Groaning, the grayed elder wolf rose. Rubbing his temple, trying to figure out which one was the dream. The first one was. A knock upon his bedroom door, a familiar voice called 'Brother, it's time' . "Yes, I'll be there soon" said the elder wolf towards his twin. Knowing nothing of his plight. One he decided to keep for himself.
The Vampire Lord opened her eyes abruptly, sinister golden orbs saw the dreaded hall of Castle Volkihar. Sighing, silver haired eternal maiden placed her cheek on the back of her hand, cursing for falling asleep upon the throne. An apologetic face in front of her, uttering words stuck within her throat. Instead she said, 'I am the last to go' . "Let me see you off" said the former Whiterun Thane to her best friend. Never once she blamed her.
Cruel dreams. Unforgiving fate. Future denied. Regretful past.
Donning wolf armor, the elder twin appeared in front of the Companions. Ready for a battle remembered for ages to come.
Perpetual silence filled the once bustling hall. No one was there to worship and lick her boots. Waiting for a certain werewolf to come.
"It begins. The finale"
Skyforge mourned that evening, as its pyre shaped no steel the Companions unleashed against their enemy. Instead the ancestral forge was tasked into cremating honored remains of recently deceased Harbinger. He slipped his mortal coil as he slumber, an end none could predict for the well loved figure was laughing alongside new bloods earlier the day he departed. He even tested aspiring whelps in the training ground alongside other Inner Circle members.
The figure laid upon stacks of wood was one very much endeared by many. Those in the Companions respected him. His prowess in battle was not for the doubt, sheer strength as he wielded battleaxe, unwavering voice commanding new bloods and veterans alike during battlers, unshattering valor none could match. None shed a tear for the Harbinger they know and love for he had departed for Sovngarde, wherein his bravery and valor would be celebrated alongside forlorn heroes for time to come. There will be time when the previous Harbinger's valor reduced to mere myth, but within the gilded mead hall his deeds would be sung forever after.
Other masses such as Jarl of Whiterun , officers and other dignitaries as well as acquitances who knew the deseaced gathered around the pyre as well. Serene and respectful of the Companions honoring old tradition, performing the 'flame ceremony' instead of more popular embalment and entombment. A sword in his hands, facing downwards. Wolf armor polished to the best of smith's ability. Peaceful expression upon time consumed visage that looked like he was merely sleeping. Alas such lofty idea invalid as the honorable Nord had long since stopped breathing.
There were those risking treading upon snow covered roads under harsh winter to attend. People who had fought besides the honored one many years before. A mage for hire sans magical artifact researcher, was the first to arrive after hearing the news. Dunmer priest choosing Mara over Azura, clad in dark yellow priest robes. Both stood by the pyre alongside the senior members of the Companions, as per request from the successor. An empty space deliberately shared between them indicating another acquiantance that should be attending. No, they were hoping the said person would come and take the place between them.
None of them spoke in the presence of the deceased, bidding their time as the guests and Companions members alike await the last member to appear before the ceremony could begin. He had gone to Ysgrammor's tomb as part of the ritual, and only the individual reserve the honor of igniting the funeral pyre. The Dunmer Mara priest looked around the host as he recognized a familiar presence. Someone he supported years ago, someone he promised aiding in hand joining should the opportunity arose. He looked at the mage for hire standing beside Whiterun court mage and he nodded solemnly, as the Imperial felt such presence as well. Both respectfully stayed where they stood.
Small figure clad in dark cloak, hood covering most of his head, mingled amongst the crowd without anyone noticing. Few of the children attending looked behind their shoulders and found the ebony cloaked visitor looming over them, but said nothing after he waved at the younger audience cheerfully. As if signaling them that he was not a foe to be feared. Alas none of the older host felt such intimidating presence.
Another figure entered the vicinity, a bigger and battle hardened one instead of visiting locales. A Nord whose visage was splitting image of the deceased approached Skyforge, taking his place in the opening between masses. A torch was in his hands,burning brightly as Skyforge pyre did. Despite having similar appearance, the younger twin had gentler profile compared to the deseaced. A figure equally loved both within and outside the Companions, and the one previous Harbinger chose to be his successor.
'You'd lead them well, brother. Better than I did. Your heart is in the right place'
Farkas remembered the last word his elder twin uttered before he descend into a slumber he never woke up from. Tears had dried from his grey eyes that night as the younger wolf decided to be strong as he addressed the gathering mass, eager to listen to parting words from a mourning brother both in blood and deed. Words were never his forte.
'My brother was a good man' said Farkas, newest Harbinger by the previous one's choice.
'He, alongside Dovahkiin, ended the black dragon that frightened us so. He led a march against vampires. He defended Whiterun from bandits. He was brother first before Harbinger to me. No words could do his deed justice. My loss is your loss. But today do not mourn his mortal flesh but celebrate his joining the ranks of heroes in Sovngarde. May they raise tankards in his name as they sing our beloved's worldly deed'
Flames burned brightly, mixture of bright crimson and sunburst under starry sky. A clear sky impossible to have considering heavy storm descending upon Skyrim central region day prior. One would think it's a blessing from Kynareth himself. Masses and visiting dignitaries turned and left the perimeter soon enough, not before expressing their condolences to a mourning brother. Leaving those closest to the elder wolf lingering by funeral pyre, watchings as his mortal coil fed the flames.
Curiously the figure clad in black robes remained, despite his fellow onlooker had sought warmth in local tavern. Both the Dunmer priest and Imperial mage approached the smaller guest and tapped his shoulders before descending stairs leading to Skyforge. He jilted as warm hands covered his shoulders gently, sincere and relieved smile beaming from the two men, uttering no words as they departed.
Making sure none other was in the vicinity, the younger wolf addressed the mysterious figure. As elusive as she was, he had recognized her right away from how she brought herself. Harbinger's lover, a sister to Farkas,and fabled Dragonborn. Taking off the hood, revealing a face long forgotten. A youthfulvisage of a comely Nord woman, who fought bravely during the world's prophecied end. Proving such words could be broken. 'You said you weren't good with words. I'm honestly touched by your speech'
'I still am, I copied what Aela said when Kodlak died . You haven't changed at all, sister' said the new Harbinger as he observed his long lost sister. Appearance not changing, as if not a day had passed after her last flight off Whiterun right before her untimely disappearance. The only significant change was her hair was silverite instead of wheat blonde. Eyes golden instead of emerald green.
Upon further observation her complexion was extremely pale, color drained from her very flesh. The moment the Nord 'girl' opened her mouth, Farkas noticed sharp fangs amongst white teeth. Revelation dawned upon him then, a fact his brother elected to keep his whole life, the truth about Dovahkiin's disappearance. That she had turned into blood sucking monster the Companions despise.
'Indeed, and I apologize' answered the woman with countenance younger than she was. Her voice did not change either. Only her tone was sadder and heavier compared to the skylark chirping around Jorrvaskr.
'I take it you have spoken with brother?' asked Farkas, knowing the woman Vilkas loved his whole life would capable of sneaking into Companions living quarters undetected. After all many occassions allowed her to utilize her invisibility spell, reversing any disadvantageous situation.
The Nord mage answered, 'Yes, I was there when he passed' her voice broke off, tears started flowing off her golden orbs. Cheeks soon wettened from unstoppable stream. Farkas pulled the shivering figure into an embrace, a gesture reserved for siblings not lovers. The younger wolf loved the Nord woman as a brother would to his sister. She who should have been true sister bound in blood.
'You did not turn him, I am eternally grateful for that' said Farkas after the two broke off and tears dried off the Vampire Lord's face. Both faced the burning pyre then, watching as the wood crumbled into pieces. Flesh and bones turned into ashes. 'Why? You could have…'
The mage spun on one leg, revealing violet mage apprentice robe beneath darker cloak. Took no genius to realize it was the very same attire she wore when the younger twin met her outside Whiterun. Killing giant prowling about local farm for the first time, a chance meeting leading to fast friendship. She let out a sigh then, 'He deserves Sovngarde, brother. Not Coldharbour where I'm bound to'
Sitting by the edge of the Harbinger's bed, the former Whiterun Thane shifted her weight many a times as she was giddy. Both in excitement and worry for she know not what to say the moment the aforementioned Harbinger returned to his quarters. Dovahkiin, who had gone missing decades ago, made a vow to herself that she would not visit Whiterun ever again. Especially sneaking into Jorrvaskr, knowing the best vampire hunter and warriors in the land gathered there. A vow she herself curiously broken that evening. The woman had an inclination for a visit after all the years she spent alone, for a reason unknown even to her.
'By Ysmir!!' cursed familiar voice as the Harbinger entered his assigned quarters, finding a young woman unchanged after many decades passing sitting casually on his bed. He proceeded to close the door leading into Jorrvaskr living quarters, locking the double doors the moment they closed.
Gentle hand knocked the wooden door behind Vilkas then, a muffled concerned voice spoke 'Brother, are you okay?'
'Nothing. Just a rat. ' answered the elder wolf, eyes locked to the mage's. One hand covering her mouth and another placed upon her belly. Her frame bent forward, fighting fiercely against uncouth loud snort. Vilkas pressed his armored back onto the wooden doors, as if afraid his younger would bash through it. Such feat was not impossible for him, being the stronger one of the twin. 'A big one'
'Told you to off that pet skeever of yours, dear brother' commented Farkas before he left the vicinity, truly believing his brother was hunting skeever in his own quarters.
Returning his attention to the visiting woman, Vilkas crossed his arms in defiance as he did in the past whenever the two engaged in a debate none of the Companions but Kodlak Whitemane could break off. Silently grateful for vampiric disease keeping their mortal flesh youthful as he found the old flame of his life pleasing to the eye. No, he loved her still.
Even after what transpired between them, such as Vilkas attempted for her life in previous vampire attack. None of Skyrim denizen cared for politicking within Volkihar's court. All they cared about that they could sleep soundly in their dreaming hour without the fear figures looming over them. Excited at the prospect of burying their bloody fangs into necks. Savoring each droplet of blood of their hapless victim. Even more so finding themselves locked in a cage somewhere they did not recognize, cursing their fate as they slowly turned into mindless slave whose role was merely satisfying their master's whim.
'A big rat indeed' continued Vilkas as he sat beside his paramour, visiting him despite the danger she could pose to herself and perhaps others. 'To what honor I deserve this visit, milady?'
The last ruler of Volkihar vampires stopped laughing then, still clutching cloths covering her front due to pain from unstoppable humor. 'Honestly? I have no idea, all of sudden an urge to visit an old friend overcame me. Should have I said that I wanted to see you badly?'
Vilkas grimaced then, 'Perish the thought woman, such does not suit you at all'
'Thought so' said Dovahkiin as she shrugged. 'You're not one for nostalgia, damned wolf'
'How goes your hunt, sister?' asked the Harbinger.
'Whatever do you mean, brother wolf?'
'Spare me, I've been following your activities around Tamriel.' The elder wolf had ways his predecessors would disapprove to gather information, one he willingly crossed in order to keep tab on opposing forces. Especially a certain elusive vampire lord that escaped previous Companions attack in their own stronghold. Volkihar castle had been vacant ever since, no other would bother visiting nor claiming the master-less keep for themselves. Not even vagabonds and bandits seeking refuge. They prefer risking local guards and mercenaries along the road.
Even before the attack on Volkihar castle Vilkas knew of the truth behind it. Such bloodied feast was not of her court for she made sure the vampires serving under her take only what they need and not a drop more. Few of those not satisfied of such policy broke off contact and hunt on their own. Once again dawning terror upon Imperial northern province. Masses quickly blamed the Volkihars, whom made their presence known during last battle against the doomed Dawnguards. The revered company of warriors were hired to end their presence in Skyrim then. Vilkas had no choice but to comply, duty before one's need. His feelings on the issue mattered not.
The battle between vampire forces and the Companions were grim indeed, as numbers felled upon both side raised into staggering number. The elder wolf himself chased Volkihar's King, or Queen in that case, into their base. Only to find the keep empty save for a giggling girl sitting upon a throne that was clearly crafted for someone bigger than she was. A pair of dread cerberus prowled about her, growling in the Harbinger's presence. He knew then. None of her court member was responsible for the second vampiric outbreak. The absence of her councils was proof enough. Where they went none knew and no contacts Vilkas made managed to track down such lofty company.
Battling the girl, Vilkas disregarded his own affection for the Vampire Lord. Surprisingly bothered not transforming into grotesque form her brethren takes pride in. He needed to battler her, Skyrim needed it. The mass needed a corpse to spat upon, a figure to blame , a black sheep whites would gladly despise. The fight seemed endless despite they merely dance under northern moonlight. In the end it was a stalemate whence blades met each other's throat, yet none of them could bury cold steel into the others. Shadow snatched the girl away then, another presence Vilkas had elected to ignore took her into a flight he could not follow.
Since then he had hunted for the Nord woman, and found trails of her activity across various region in Tamriel. It was not surprising when he found out she was hunting blood suckers alone. 'You're on quite a rampage, young lady. Seems like I missed quite the dance you had with your 'brethren'' . Slight hateful tone surfaced as Vilkas breathed out the word 'brethren' , knowing that the creatures took his beloved away from him. From the warmth he could offer, for a better life she could have led.
'Blame no one, brother. T'is I brought upon myself. I could have declined but I did not. For fear or fascination I could not remember. Would it please you if I said I did not enjoy the embrace at --' her words stopped midway as gloved hands touched her cheeks gently, contrast to strong grip upon battle axe's handle by the day. Forehead met forehead in pure affection. Fleeting moments passed in eternity as the two simply found warmth and comfort in each other's presence. 'It's not like you at all, should I be wary?'
'Decades ago, perhaps. My flames died long ago. Alongside a woman who remained untouched until this day' answered the aged Harbinger, yet to the Nord mage he adored so much, he appeared as he was. Scowling youth disagreeing to whatever a certain new blood with magical prowess would do. Both missed such idyllic days whence they'd bicker in the mead hall above, onlookers long since given up from reciprocating the unlikely pair. Exchanging words that might have wounded the others.
'Perhaps there's good in your visiting, I suppose' said the Harbinger, smiling as he broke off the contact much to Dovahkiin's dismay. Leaving his seat , Vilkas headed for an end table. The younger woman's eyes widened as the man she loved so produced a small box from a hidden compartment hidden beneath the wooden end table. Within a box of modest appearance was a pair of silver rings adorned with amethyst. Her favorite gem of choice. 'Humor me to my first and final selfishness, my fair lady?'
Not wasting the opportunity to jest about, the silver haired vampire answered , 'My oh my, but the great Harbinger surely cannot propose such thought, to a maiden nonetheless! An arch enemy to Skyrim denizen no less! What would people say?' half expecting the elder wolf would chastise her for delivering such a thoughtless banter. The scoff never came though, what she earned was none less than a smile brighter than sun itself. Gentle husked laugh, sincere not in mockery but pleasantness her jest brought.
'Their opinion be damned. All that matters that my affection for you is well deserved, no?'
'You're impossible' answered the woman with younger countenance, cheeks puffed as she pouted. Breaking eye contacts everytime she's annoyed with the elder wolf's attitude. Vilkas found it amusing for such an aged woman could be as childish as she was decades ago. Certainly a welcome change after their last exchange in Castle Volkihar wherein she appeared to accept her death willingly. Eyes devoid of emotion despite her colorful choice of words. Halfway through the fight she rediscovered her will to live and fought bravely, reminding him of the very same figure braving a dark dragon ten times larger and more menacing than a raging werewolf.
Vilkas chuckled as he seat himself beside his long lost subject of affection once again, this time right next to her that their shoulders met. She did not shy away, much to Vilkas' amusement. 'Glad to see your humor returned, girl'
'Returning to 'girl', are we? I'm OLD. In case you forgot. Sanguine Vampirism tends to keep their host fresh' jabbed the vampire lord, completely taken over by the Harbinger's flow at the time.
'To me, you're a 'girl' who can't even maintain their emotion. What did I say about not striking blindly in a battlefield? Or are you put too much confidence in your… vampire blood? You left messy scenes, girl . It's a wonder nobody sent a hunter pursuing you. Not everyone you killed was slouching figure creeping around in a dark cave'
'None of your business, wolf' she retorted. Wondering what happened to the sweet moment they had before, then the revelation dawned on her. Images of angry Companions veteran under Skyrim scarce summer sunlight, scowling and disagreeing, warm backyards of Jorrvaskr wherein everyone trained, sounds of perpetual pounding steel echoing from Skyforge above them. The woman who once revered by all, savior of the world, laughed heartily. Caring not whether anyone could hear them or not. In fact she wouldn’t mind if any of the whelps barging into the room to find their elderly Harbinger was in the presence of a woman decades younger. Silver entwining ring fingers.
Vilkas smiled then, seeing the woman before him returned into her old self albeit slowly. Reaching for her slender right hand, cupped perfectly amongst Vilkas' calloused hand. The Harbinger proceeded in performing an action he should have done long ago. A regret he burdened alone, for delaying his invitation many a times. When he did, the girl had cause to reject his advance despite her obvious affection towards the elder wolf. A figure sitting in the dark corner of mead hall, silently crying. A comely woman looming over him as she repeated apologies many times upon her sleeping lover before sinking her teeth into his neck. Gentle, not passionate. Loving, not base instinct.
Solemnly sliding engraved silver ring upon her ring finger, he then pulled her hand towards his lips. Pale fingers yielded as he kissed them, deliberately lingered longer than appropriate. For nothing could do justice to express his intention towards the Nord turned vampire lord. Dragonborn then did the same on her part. Only she did it shyly and more briefly. How she blushed as Vilkas pressed where she planted her kiss before onto his lips. He realized the eternal girl had been glancing towards his neck, seeking an amulet that was not circling around it.
'You're not wearing it… the amulet of Mara' she commented, pondering what it could meant. Oblivious to Skyrim marriage custom. Once again she looked at Vilkas' grey eyes, golden wheat field instead of emerald forest. 'Isn't she supposed to be witness in all this?'
'She is, don't fret about it. You're getting wrinkles' teased the older man.
'I can't, remember?'
'Yes you do, around here…and here' said Vilkas gleefuly as he traced the Nord mage's smooth cheek towards her pale forehead, relieved that peach hue blossomed amongst pale snow white. Pressing his lips gently upon her crown in pure affection. Not passion. Burying his nose into the girl's silvery white threads, he caught hints of southern summer. Similar scent she had the first time they met, in the very same room they were in. Farkas and Aela dragging her into the quarters when it was Kodlak's, claiming they had found potential new blood.
Snuggled comfortably upon the stronger's man neck, burying her nose into warm skin she longed for. Fighting a primal urge to sink her teeth, sucking out life liquid flowing beneath tanned skin. Noticing her shiver, Vilkas titled his head. Inviting. Yet she did not relent to tempation. 'No. Thank you, but no'
'You're not drinking?' asked the elder wolf in pure amazement, then turning the awkwardness into witty comment 'Oh, so sorry for being an old man. Pretty sure you prefer younger and healthier blood'
'Make it less alcohol inside their blood too, soddin' dumbass' the mage retorted, sparks of lightning appeared about her the moment she's enraged. Once it brought surprise to the members of Companions. After some time they were used to such outburst, if not a certain older twin decided it was a good game coaxing such reaction from her. Soon the spark died out, leaving trails of magicka in the air. Azure orbs floating about mid-air, shining dimly in Harbinger's quarters. 'I live off potions now. I've been fighting the need for drinking blood. It makes me weak I admit, but …'
'You don't want to be the monster that turned you into this' Vilkas finished the sentence when his mage broke off, unable to continue. 'I figured that out, back then you took only a little. I had no trouble at all fighting a dozen bandits the next day. It felt good'
'Oh, Talos' the mage dressed in violet robe snorted. 'Impossible. Insufferable to boot'
Upon the Harbinger's request, the two laid down on the bed. Not to consummate their love as they should had, but simply appreciating their partner's existence. Vilkas was already out of his wolf armor and changed into a more comfortable tunic he normally wear at night. Nights whence they'd sit in the mead hall above, reading books and discussing trivial matter. The two did the same then. Instead of sitting side by side they leaned against each other. Smaller frame above broad chest.
As they read whichever book that caught their fancy, the unlikely pair spoke to each other. Trivial things they thought was beyond them. What happened after they broke off at Castle Volkihar. How the Companions had been doing since she left. What Vilkas have been fighting since the second doom bringer 'died' by his sword. Stories of commissions turned south, some of them downright silly and unbearable. Surviving traitorous Volkihar vampire hunt in Imperial City, methods Vilkas would scoff at but he'd tolerate that evening.
'Speaking of Cyrodiil, are those noble snobs always insufferable? There's this one brat demanding us to capture a dragon alive! From what I gathered from all his crazy talk was he's about to open a circus? Putting dangerous 'exhibits' on show'
'Ah that man, I've met him. I believe he was trying to climb the ladder of nobility by impressing his better. What could move the lazy asses better than unusual spectacle? I might or might not have reffered the Companions to him' said the girl casually as she flipped pages of 'Uncommon Tastes'. A curious choice knowing the Nord mage could not hope to cook edible meal, even with proper instructions.
Vilkas grew silent for the moment, after realizing the implication he growled at the vampire lord. 'You were the refferal? Did you know how much it cost us? It took us three tries before we decided to cancel the whole operation. Torvar almost lost a sword arm by the way, thank you very much!'
'You are very much welcome, dear…and uh, sorry. I didn't think he'd follow through. By the way…about a certain Cheydinhall winemaker. I found him arrested for heinous crime such as dripping virgins blood into his wine to make it more savory, kidnapping young girls from nearby villages and such. I saw your boys did the deed. The Fighter's Guild were furious you know'
'Can't have you murdering people in their sleep, you're not Dark Brotherhood. Oh, you should have been there. We found their last sanctuary and it was glorious. Such den of iniquity went in blazes as we and Imperial soldiers stormed it, torch in hand. Can you believe they had a werewolf in there? Spiders as well I suppose…none was left alive'
Dragonborn's face simply lit in excitement the moment she heard the news. 'That's amazing! Why'd I miss that…'
Their idle chat stopped abruptly as Vilkas yawned, jaws opening into unnatural wideness. Reminding the mage she had werewolf as a reading partner. The elder wolf put aside his book, certain sleepiness apparent in his eyes. Normally he'd found respite hard to come by, but with the warmth covering his upper body it came more naturally. Strong arms circling smaller figure, resting his palm upon her hips.
'Sleepy already? It's not even past midnight' commented the woman in violet robe, shifting her body for a more comfortable position. Still taking her rightful place above the Harbinger's broad chest. Then the palm left her hips, instead it patted her silvery mane gently. Fingers playing around in braided hair, undoing the hairdo.
'You know…you're fine. Even if I'm not there'
Such words surprised the eternal girl as she hastily broke off from the embrace. She loomed over Vilkas' face, hands on each of his wrinkled cheek. Grey conquering once proud ebony. Sparks of life burned brightly in his eyes, despite the gentle gaze her lover had at the time. Once again their foreheads touched, pressed gently against each other. 'No, no, no… don't say that. You're going to live another decade'
'Right, sorry. That was unworthy of me' Vilkas said in a sad tone, regretful for making his lover frightened so. Strong muscled arms captured the smaller back, guiding the vampire lord to lay over him. Lips meeting scarred shoulders. Old scars she recognized from a memory. Necromancers running out of magicka potion running towards her blind spot, aiming for her neck. It would have lopped off her head should the elder wolf did not interfere. He paid it with a huge gashing wound on his shoulder. When inquired upon such atrocity, he'd proudly brag it. 'It's worth it. Defending a helpless girl from a necromancer? What a tale to tell'
Dovahkiin slapped his chest in annoyance then. Wondering how Vilkas knew what she was thinking and she knew he's got zero affinity with magic.
'About your hunt…' said Vilkas as he drifted off, eyelids getting heavier by the moment but he fought it as he knew when dawn arrived his beloved would have taken flight where sunlight could not touch her. '…when will..it be done? Will you come back to me by then?'
'If I do, you'd be the first to know' answered the girl. No matter how old she was, Dovahkiin was always the frail little girl who happened to have been born with a dragon's soul within her. Seeing her lover frowned when she looked up, the vampire hunter continued 'A few remained, but not for long. I know they returned to Skyrim. I'll have their blood soon'
'I pity those who stand in your way' the Harbinger chuckled then, a welcome melody in Dovahkiin's ear. With his conscience drifting further and further away, Vilkas eased his embrace, letting the girl fall to his sides. She reached for fur blanket and covered both of them under it. 'Isn't it too itchy for you?'
'No, I grew accustomed to it. You and your damned Companions are, after all, an acquired taste'
'Good to know. Now, do you still remember my promise back then?'
'When I pinned you down in Castle Volkihar, before I tried to shred you into pieces' the way he said it casually made the girl giggle. Both knew no matter how intense and messy their fights, they would keep no grudge. An unwritten and unsaid agreement between them. The very mutual decision that kept the other whelps and Inner Circle wondering how they could get along.
She remembered huge werewolf looming over her, claws digging into her arms. It hurt but she knew the gentle force behind it would never do more than necessary. The Vampire Lord at the time, given up all reasons to live, embraced the very Death himself. Bracing for one final pain before bloodied claw deliver her into Coldharbour. A promise whispered into her ear.
'I'd cure myself as Kodlak did. I'll lead a host of our finest warrior into Molag Bal's realm. I'll burn his entire world to find you. Take where you belong, place you deserve to be. By my side in Sovngarde'
The girl chuckled then, 'Oh that was the worst proposal ever. Not that men proposed to me before'
'Glad you agreed' Vilkas replied, satisfied that she remembered the promise. A promise that will surely turn into reality in the afterlife. Once he believed they should be together in this life as they'd be separated afterwards, but he changed his mind. They had been separated in their mortal coil. It would be fair should they be reunited in the next life. Knowing that Kodlak Whitemane would smile upon his arrival into the mead hall, hand in hand with Dovahkiin herself, he could descend into peaceful slumber.
'Vilkas?' called his beloved. Vilkas did not answer but turned his head towards where the comely woman laid beside him. Eyes making contact. Bashful shy meeting serene peace. She too was about to fall asleep. She chuckled as fingers trailed upon edge of her lips, wiping dripped saliva. Something never change. 'I love you'
'I love you too' replied Vilkas, struggling to keep his eyes open. He watched her drifted off then. Satisfied with the steady breathing and peaceful expression he had not seen for too long, he too fell asleep. His expression turned serene as his head fell sideways, stubbled cheek touching silvery fields. Scent of southern plains and Dovahkiin's breathing lulled Vilkas into deep slumber.
Host of battle hardened warriors behind him. Fabled Dragonborns standing by his side. The very three who had aided the final battle against Alduin, Eater of the World. Beyond the unworldly dark blue plains were host of demons. Behind them a city cursed so by the ruler of the realm. Shivering Isles seemed to be a better place for a summer vacation. Exact imitation of Imperial City, if not a mockery to its glorious tower. In place of White-Gold was twisted dark as branches and spiked buildings sprouted off from its sides.
Within the accursed city was his beloved, an unwilling hostage of Molag Bal. Alongside other Companions and honorable warriors who died in the hands of vampiric forces. Many joined his cause for they too had their beloved taken away unjustly from going to their rightful place in the afterlife. A brief separation that would about to be broken. Demons sneered at a host smaller in number, overly confident that the two armies would fight in a place advantageous to the dark forces. None of the warriors relented at the sight of equally dark dragons and schythe-armed demons joined the ranks.
Vilkas raised his sword, initiating the start of battle. War cry shook the air, even the dark skies seemed to tremble in fear of the incoming wrathful souls. Strong hand tapped his shoulders as two figures stood by the elder wolf. To his left was Kodlak, smiling gently. Yet the burning flame in his eyes indicated he was looking forward to battle. To his right was younger twin Vilkas loved his whole life and even in the after. The three of them looked at the host of demon serenely. Knowing they'd win a hard won battle.
Visage stoic, yet confident. Vilkas lowered his sword. Sky shattered then, as the culling of Coldharbour began.
Game : Dragon Age Inquisition
Characters : Inquisitor M!Lavellan , Iron Bull
Pairing : Iron Bull/ M! Lavellan - slight NFSW (?) - just tell me if I had to put on filter.
Smooth cotton towel touched ivory skin, lukewarm to a comfortable degree. Gently
rubbing sweat off blushing cheeks. Eyes closed, letting every senses concentrated on such
comforting touch. Despite the other's covered hands, Lavellan could feel the warmth
enveloping both sides of his face. Surprising how such strong arms capable of swinging
two handed battleaxe could produce less lethal and gentler force.
The warmth crept slowly, descending towards slender neck. Crimson on pale complexion
from kisses and bites, neither a mark of possession nor oppression. Passionate loving
made the Qunari did such atrocity upon impeccable ivory. It was rather ticklish when the
towel met bite marks. Gentle, not arousing. But the younger elf couldn't help but quivering
his naked shoulders when the warmth circled around his neck, reaching towards the nape.
Cold trail it left as cold night air brushed moist skin.
The Iron Bull rubbed Lavellan's shoulders next, massaging them gently and was rewarded
with a face of heavenly expression. Mixture of both satisfaction and pure bliss. Sweet moan
escaping peach hued lips. Holding the urge to simply push the smaller figure back on the
sofa, Iron Bull swallowed his saliva. He returned on the task at hand, not before throwing a
shorter dry towel onto Lavellan's silverite head, covering his face. The younger elf pulled it slightly,
that his eyes peeked beyond silver streams and velvet veil.
Drowsy eyes could relent into slumber any second. Slight crimson under sky blue blood
tattoo. Breath slipping through slit between lips, growing steady each passing moment. Lips
curving into an angelic smile, serene and joyful at the same time. Such sight made the Iron
Bull remember a young bride in Val Royeaux, making similar expression as she stepped into
the Chantry, her soon to be spouse beside her. The Iron Bull kissed Lavellan's lips then,
pressing his against the elf's gently many a times, but not deeper. There was no need to,
and both knew it.
'Now, now. Don't make that face or I might have a go at you again. Not that I'd do it without
your permission, obviously' said a gruffed voice in a tone polar opposite to his usual strong
demeanor. Wringing the towel over a washbasin containing warm water. Iron Bull felt
slightly guilty for making the Inquisitor using magic for heating the water. He'd visit the
hold's kitchen himself, but Lavellan was in need of immediate care. The elven mage was not
jesting when he said it was the first for everything. Everything, repeated the Iron Bull in his
'Mind turning around, boss?'
After Lavellan shifted his position, displaying his back, the Qunari proceeded to rub warm
towel against the sweating figure. The figure shuddered and tensed then. Muffled pained
groan escaped his throat.
'Oops, sorry. Too hard?' Inquired the Iron Bull, stopping his work the moment he heard
pained groan. Hands holding wet towel hovering above reddened back.
'..y..yes' replied the elf weakly. His usual high pitched voice turned huskier and heavier. It
could pass as cold symptom, unless someone none the wiser noticed Lavellan's beaming
visage. An expression common after one's first time.
'My bad, forgot the boss is a brittle mage, even for an elf. Commander Helaine would
disapprove' said the huge Qunari jokingly as he renew his effort, with less force than
'Well...sorry about that' replied Lavellan. Didn't take a genius or a blood mage to know he
was pouting. Lips pursed , cheeks puffed, ears reddening as blood rushed into it.
'Just kidding, boss'
'I know, I wouldn't went through your insufferable jokes otherwise' said the feline-like elven
boy in a playful tone, his usual snarky demeanor slowly returning despite being drained. Iron
Bull admitted he enjoyed listening to Lavellan's witty comment on many occasions. Such
came from someone who found cheesy puns delightful.
The elf's slender arms were next. Slight reddish bruise upon his wrist due to Bull tying them
earlier. It wouldn't leave permanent mark as it would soon disappear before dawn. Should it
The Iron Bull went on in a steady pace until he reached the legs, magically ivory despite
Lavellan's nomadic past. The Qunari suspected magical force draining all color from the
younger elf. Wiping off milky white thick liquid off the smaller elf's thigh, stiff as a result
from previous deed. He then left his seat on the couch, kneeling in front of Lavellan before
proceeding to clean the rest of his legs. Hands smaller and smoother than the Qunari's
reached out, stopping him from continuing, 'You don't have to do it, you know. I can...'
'Let me' interjected the former Ben-Hassrath, fully knowing the silver haired elf was too
drained. '...besides, take this as a preparation of what to come. Or a sneak peek of a normal
occurrence in Val Royeaux noble's daily activities'
Lavellan chuckled then, 'Does it involve getting pampered by a Qunari? Creators know I can't
get used to it'
'Normally it'd be their maids or butlers. What, you think those puffed up ignorant peacocks
can don their own fancy dresses? Think again' replied the Iron Bull as he wiped elven feet
gently, '...and you know you deserve getting pampered'.
'Only from you, I suppose. I'm not comfortable with the idea of shems seeing me naked' the
elf nodded off again, this time his head fell quickly so that his lithe frame followed suit. The
Qunari caught the falling figure, preventing Lavellan from falling flat onto stone floor. Head
resting on broad shoulders. 'Why this though?'
'I'll explain next time, when your head's not quite as clouded' answered Lavellan's paramour,
intent in his desicion keeping some facts mystery. 'Let's just say I'm doing this to keep you
grounded, although not as successful as I hoped. No need to feel guilty, this was mostly my
Eyes blinking at alarming rate and head nodding off from time to time, the Qunari was
amazed Lavellan did not fall asleep. Both parties were responsible to his state at the time.
The elf for desiring the bull, and he for complying to such wish. He complied real hard.
'A bit slower and a lot harder' was what he said before the deed was done. Afraid, the
younger elf was, despite his claim otherwise. Initial stroke hurt, but the next ones got better
and better. Each burst was more delightful than the last. Lavellan wanted to tell his partner
how he enjoyed it, 'Bull.. I...'
Iron Bull's chuckles stopped the elf's sentence mid-way , '...don't force yourself. Sleep it off.
Clear your head. Take a good long bath first thing in the morning. Consider if this was good
for you'. Putting away wet towel and the washbasin, bringing a fresh shirt for silver maned
'...is...' said Lavellan weakly as Iron Bull assisted the sleepy elf wear new set of shirt. The
Qunari slipped his arms under the elf's knee and armpits, carrying the slender figure
effortlessly towards the beds. Linen and sheet changed into a fresh one. Deliberately taking
his time as Iron Bull find it amusing that Lavellan innocently flung his arms around the
Qunari's neck and snuggled against it.
'Yes, is. My mistake. Your head is still in the clouds though. You really meant it when you
said this was your first' said the Iron Bull as he gently rest the drained boy onto the bed,
covering his slender body in thick blanket. He proceeded to sit at the edge of the bed
afterwards, lips forming a sly grin. 'Hope I made this a night to remember'
'I'll remember this alright' replied Lavellan, as he shifted in bed. Facing his subject of
affection instead of ceiling. He considered if he should 'cheat' the pain in lower part of his
body using healing magic into a more agreeable degree. It would certainly be a chore to
explain as of why there's bloodstain on the Inquisitor's trousers or why he'd been walking
funny. '...what about you though...was I...'
'Oh, that was a bloody good one, boss. That was not lip service. Had not had this intense for
quite some time' answered the Qunari as he ruffled through Lavellan's silver hair, deflecting
orange hue from candlelight.
'Are you not ...staying?' the drained elf trailed off, eyelids descending slowly but in a steady
pace. It won't be long before Fade would beckon him into the dreadful dream realm wherein
he'd battle his demons.
'Not sure if your bed can hold both of us, boss. You know it's a single bed, right? I'll stay if
you need me to, though' Fingers reaching towards tattooed cheeck, calloused skin trailing
upon the vallaslin. An idle moment that brought a smile onto Lavellan's smile.
He looked at Iron Bull's eyes then, smiling coyly '...and you know this bed went through
'Ha, you got me there!' The Qunari laughed heartily before laying beside Lavellan, casually
slipping himself under velvety blanket. Bed creaking under his massive weight. Right hand
reaching for the elf's hips, gently pulling him into an embrace. One that Lavellan willingly
Morning couldn't have come soon , as the Iron Bull failed to sleep a wink for the rest of the
evening. Spending most of the time watching Lavellan drifting to sleep, cradled safely within
muscled arms. Glad he could provide a brief respite to the Inquisition's icon. No, within the
room Lavellan was merely an elf. A simple mortal elf one could find wandering through
empty plains and forest. One that had been robbed off his idle days within peaceful forest.
The small figure shifted in his sleep as a thread of light fell upon Lavellan's visage. Annoyed
moan escaping his throat, familiar tone whenever someone tried prying off the elf from
sleeping with his Halla. The Iron Bull blocked the ray with his hand, and proceeded to press
his lips against Lavellan's nose bridge. 'Take your time. There's no need to rush. Morning
has not come yet'
Before the elf could protest, Iron Bull pulled the blanket over his head. Blocking sunlight
from reaching the slender elf. As for the head of Bull's Chargers, he had to return to Herald's
Rest before Krem realized he was missing all night. After patting the boy's shoulders gently,
he rose from the bed. Equipping his harness and buckled belt in steady pace, not realizing a
wistful pair of eyes watching.
Lelianna bumped into the Iron Bull as he descended the tower's stairs. Obviously she was
the one in charge waking up the Inquisitor for the day. Either that or she had urgent news for
the leading figure. Sparks in the redhead's eyes showed that she figured out why the Qunari
was in the Herald's private quarters.
'No, let him rest' said the Qunari with a grin before leaving the Nightingale. She too left the
tower with a rare smile curving on her face. Reminded of an awkward morning in a campsite
more than a decade ago.
Current Residence: Roma , I wish...|
Favourite genre of music: classic, anime songs
Favourite style of art: Western, Chibi
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Foobar
Wallpaper of choice: As long as it's not windows original
Favourite cartoon character: Ezio, Naja, Garrus, Vilkas
Personal Quote: SMILE makes the world goes around