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Chapter Text

     Jorrvaskr was full of laughter and mirth. The Companions sang and shouted while they consumed their mead and ale. Even Kodlak Whitemane had joined the feast, and his booming laugh echoed throughout the hall. Only one wolf was missing. Vilkas had retired early, for he had grown bored of the celebrations. He was glad for their most recent victory over the Silver Hand, but he did not feel it was worth a feast. So instead he went alone down to the belly of Jorrvaskr where he swung his door shut and peeled off his armor. Once he had gotten the last piece free, he stripped down completely and plopped himself onto his bed happy to be alone. He enjoyed the solitude.

     As he lay sprawled on his bed, his hands began to wander. The soft furs caressed his back while his fingers ran themselves along his chest and stomach. His right hand found his swelling cock and gingerly began to tease it. He lightly ran his fingertips along his length while a half dozen fantasies floated through his mind. None of them were satisfying at the moment. He thought of Maledi, the last woman he had bedded. His manhood wilted a little at the thought of her. Woman were all well and good, but most were too delicate for his taste. Her even more so. The wolf tried and failed to think of a good woman before he was forced to admit that he was yearning for a man. He had experimented some when he was a whelp, but had only ever had one true encounter with another lad. A young hunter named Gunjar.

     Though Vilkas had enjoyed his time with the lad the memories weren’t as enticing as he had hoped. They had both been young and shy. Their roll in the sheets had been gentle, tender even. Gunjar had been lanky and thin similar to Vilkas at that age. They were fond memories, but he had no desire for young men. Vilkas wanted more. He wanted a real man who wasn’t afraid to be rough. A man who would throw his weight around and wasn’t afraid to leave bruises. A fighter. A warrior like himself. Or Farkas. The wolf started at the thought freeing his cock from his grip. He swore to himself. It wasn’t the first time his brother had invaded his thoughts. Farkas was tall with the heavy broad build that Vilkas had always wanted. He thought about how his brother looked in battle. The intensity with which he fought. The ferocity behind every swing of his giant two-handed sword. Vilkas pictured his brother training outback. His brows scrunched in concentration, and his silver eyes focused and deadly. His shirt off, and sweat running down his broad back and chest. His muscles pulling and bulging with each swing of his sword. Vilkas’ cock sprang back to life, and he swore again.

     He tried to pretend that he hated it. He knew he should probably take a cold bath, and leave these despicable thoughts locked away and ignored. It’s what he always did when he thought of his brother. However, now that he was completely alone in the sleeping quarters, he felt braver than normal. He didn’t want to keep lying to himself. He yearned for his brother. His aching manhood proved it. Vilkas guiltily returned his hand to his swollen member while his other went back to exploring his body. Alone and safe in his room, he finally allowed these forbidden thoughts to play out in his head. He imagined his hand was his brothers. It would be just as calloused and strong. He gripped his cock harder and started rubbing with vigor. A moan slipped passed his lips. A sound broke through his fantasy.

     The wolf froze cock still in hand. He wasn’t sure what he had just heard. A knock? A door closing? Something falling off a table perhaps? There was a loud thud above, followed by muted shouts. Vilkas rolled his eyes. No doubt is was Athis and Njada fighting again while the rest goaded them on. There was another thump and more cheering. Skjor and Aela would be betting on the victor. Farkas would be taunting and throwing insults. At least the wolf knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. He went back to his administrations. He had seen Farkas naked so many times in his life that the image easily returned. He wondered what kind of kisser his brother was, and what he would taste like. He imagined Farkas pressing him down with his powerful hands and nibbling on his throat. The wolf’s own hands caressing every inch of his twin.

     “Oh gods.” He whispered while he fucked his hand ruthlessly. His other hand had been gripping his ass cheek, but now it was inching farther down. Vilkas rolled to his side drawing a knee toward his chest. His fingers eagerly rubbed his entrance. He teased himself, drawing out another moan, before slipping a finger inside. One quickly became two. He worked himself for a bit, and then added a third. He groaned. “Fuck yes.”

     The position was a little awkward, but he didn’t care. He pretended it was Farkas. Wished it was his brother’s cock inside him, and not his own damned fingers. Still, he could feel himself peeking as his brother’s image urged him on. “Oh, fuck me!” He swore none to quietly. A soft moan replied from the other side of his door.

     “Ahhhhh!” Vilkas squealed immediately popping his fingers free and releasing his manhood. His silver eyes locked on to the now obvious cracked open door and the shadow just outside it. The shadow bolted, but Vilkas was faster. He ripped open his door and saw his brother’s giant back fly into the room across the hall before the door slammed shut. “Farkas?” Vilkas blurted, his voice both horrified and disbelieving. Farkas was just………

     The wolf stood there gasping for air while his mind raced. After a moment’s hesitation he grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around his waist, crossed the hall, and scrambled inside Farkas’ room. Vilkas took it all in at once. Farkas was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. His eyes downcast. His face flushed with shame and embarrassment. Farkas’ trousers were open and not quiet pulled up all the way. His manhood had been hastily shoved back inside. “You were watching me?” Vilkas said dumbfounded. His mind was running in circles. He couldn’t grasp what he had just seen.

     Farkas jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He looked up at Vilkas. His eyes wide with fear and horror. “Vilkas!” He sputtered, his breathing just as fast and erratic as the wolf’s. “I um…...I was looking for you and……… umm….” He trailed off as his face somehow grew even redder. He dropped his head back down into his hands in shame. His long thick fingers dug into his dark locks. “I’m sorry.” He muttered. Vilkas noticed the hair on Farkas’ arms were standing on end.

     Vilkas took a few hesitant steps toward his brother. Farkas was rightly horrified and afraid, but the wolf was simply bewildered. His brother didn’t know what he did. That they had both been masturbating to each other. In all of his wildest imaginings, he had never expected his brother would share his feelings. He had never held hope that Farkas would want him. The wolf didn’t know what to do with this realization, but the sight of his brother practically shaking with fear broke his heart.

    “It’s ok.” He said soothingly.

     He saw Farkas flinch, his eyes blinking wildly as his mind tried to comprehend what he had just heard. Vilkas knew his brother wasn’t dumb like everyone said he was. He simply wasn’t good with words, and he didn’t always understand people. Farkas hesitantly looked up at Vilkas palms still pressed into the sides of this forehead. His deep voice infused with confusion. “You’re not mad?”

     Vilkas knew he should have been, but he couldn’t be mad at his brother when he shared the same sin. He took a few more steps so he was standing right before his twin. He gently pulled one of Farkas’ hands away so he could see him better. He was suddenly well aware of just how close his cock was to his brother's face. It bobbed beneath the blanket, and he prayed that Farkas didn’t notice.

     “No, I’m not mad.” He said. Vilkas could see his brother growing more confused. Vilkas had always had a quick temper. One that had grown wilder after he gained his wolfblood. He needed to tell Farkas. He had a right to know. His throat was suddenly dry. “Farkas I was…...” The wolf swallowed the lump in his throat and let out a defeated sigh. His shoulders drooped. He dropped his brother’s hand and stepped back. It was his turn to look away. “I was thinking of you.” He breathed the words out so quietly that he didn’t expect Farkas to hear. The weight that enshrouded him was crushing. It felt way too hot in the room. He needed to escape. “Goodnight.” He muttered and started to turn away.

     Farkas sprang forth from the bed. He grabbed Vilkas by the elbows so tight that the wolf thought they might break. His brother pushed him backward making him stumble until his back slammed into the door. He grunted, but it was cut off as his brother’s lips crashed into his own. The kiss was rough and full of pent up wanting. Vilkas let go of the blanket and clutched his brother’s shirt afraid that he might pull away. Afraid that this might be a delusion if not for the feel of his brother’s hips beneath the cloth. His blanket crumpled to the floor and Farkas pressed himself up against Vilkas’ nude body. His brother was a hand taller and heavier built than Vilkas, and Farkas used that to his advantage. His twin leaned on him effectively trapping him. It only made the wolf yearn for more. Farkas pressed his tongue against his brother’s lips greedily demanding more. Vilkas was more than willing to oblige parting his lips and deepening the kiss. He savored every sensation of his brother’s dry cracked lips on his. Their soft warm tongues gliding around each other. He wanted to touch his brother. He wanted to run his hands along his back and clutch at his shoulders, but he couldn’t. Farkas’ fingers were like a wolf’s jaws around his elbows. He was completely under his brother’s control, and it sent a thrill down his spine and up his throbbing cock. He was keenly aware of Farkas’ own hard member pressed against his belly only separated by his loose trousers. Farkas released his brothers lips to nip and suck on his jaw and neck. Vilkas panted and groaned. When his brother made his way to his pulse a shiver ran through the wolf.

     “Brother, stop.” He wheezed. He didn’t want Farkas to stop, but he couldn’t allow his brother to go down such a prohibited road. Farkas paused as if he wasn’t sure what he had just heard. His silver eyes locked on to his and they flashed with lust. Farkas looked at Vilkas like he was an untouched feast waiting to be devoured. Vilkas felt like he was. A feast he desperately wanted Farkas to indulge in. The wolf watched as those hungry eyes turned back to confusion. He steeled himself and said. “We can’t. We can’t do this.”

     Farkas let go of his brother’s arms, but he stayed pressed up against him. His deep voice resonated through Vilkas’ chest. "Why?"

     “We’re brothers Farkas. Twins! It’s wrong in so many ways. And if anyone heard us, we would be booted out of the companions. Out of Whiterun. We would lose everything. I can’t risk you going through that.” Even as he spoke, he couldn’t hide his desire or his remorse. For the first time in his life he wished that they were only shield brothers so they could be together without fear.

     “But you want this, and I do too.” Farkas said pleading and stroking his arms. “Let me please you.”

     Vilkas growled. “Don’t argue Farkas. We can’t. It’s wrong.”

     “Says who?”

     “Everyone ice brains!” Vilkas regretted the insult as soon as it left his lips, but his frustration mixed with his desire were making him angry. “Men. Elves. All of Nirn and the gods to boot!”

     Farkas glared at his brother. He kissed Vilkas again and bit his lower lip. “I don’t care. Damn them all.”

     Vilkas was surprised by his normally shy brother’s boldness. He wasn’t sure if Farkas really understood the danger they could face, but he relented none the less. Quiet frankly he was tired of fighting his desires. Tired of hiding his want every day of every year. Tired of pretending that he didn’t want his brother to fuck him like a rampant troll. Had they not deserved a moment of happiness? Fuck it! Were already damned to Oblivion.

     He gave Farkas a wicked smile and rewarded him with a passionate kiss. He gave in to his inner most desire. This cardinal sin. Their passion turned to desperation as they explored each other. Vilkas struggled with the ties on his brother’s shirt and resorted to yanking them apart. He tore the shirt apart in his haste to touch Farkas’ skin. His brother nibbled again at his throat drawing a moan from Vilkas. The wolf ran his fingers through his brother’s long hair before grabbing a fist full of it and pulled. Farkas merely grunted and continued his trail of kisses. He ran his lips over Vilkas’ collarbone his stubble scratching across his chest. Down his brother went kissing his chest and stopping to suck on a nipple. Vilkas watched his brother with heavy lids and an ever growing want. Farkas slid onto his knees kissing all the way down the wolf’s abs. His brother ran his tongue along the V of his hip bones. He shivered with anticipation and pleasure. Farkas wrapped his large hand around his brother’s length and ever so gently kissed his tip. Vilkas swore. His cock was so hard it ached. He wanted this so bad that his tip was dribbling. Farkas smiled up at Vilkas triumphantly. His silver eyes dancing and GLOATING as he reveled in the power he had over his twin. Farkas ever so slowly drew the full length of him into his mouth drawing a long moan from Vilkas.His teasing turned into a steady rhythm as he sucked Vilkas’ cock. The wolf clutched at his brother’s skull as his twin extracted every last curse and moan from him. He felt his brother’s fingers find his center.

     “Oh Farkas” He whimpered. His brother moaned at the sound of his name. The wolf couldn’t take it anymore. His brothers soft tongue running up and down his shaft. His fingers thrusting in his core. It felt so good. And it wasn’t enough. He bucked, thrusting his cock down Farkas’ warm throat. His brother gagged unable to take all of his length. “Gods Farkas, your throat feels so good. You like sucking my cock, don’t you?”

     Farkas responded with another moan. Vilkas noticed that his brother had freed his own cock and was stroking himself.

     “Fuck!” Vilkas growled between clenched jaws as his thrusts became more erratic. He could no longer control himself as he came close to peeking. He was at the mercy of his long pent up desires, and he violently fucked his brother’s throat. Farkas let his jaw go slack and took as much as he could while still fingering Vilkas’ ass. With a final thrust the wolf shot his load down his twin’s throat. His brother gagged but swallowed all of Vilkas’ seed. Vilkas hissed and whimpered through his panting as his brother milked him dry.

     The wolf noticed that his fingernails were digging into Farkas skull enough to make it bleed. He felt suddenly bashful and released his brother’s head. His fingers were cramped from holding that grip. “Sorry Farkas. I don’t know what came over me.”

     Farkas chuckled stepping up from the ground. His whole face swam with ecstasy. “Nothing’s came on you yet.”

     His brother pulled him away from the door and kissed him deeply. Vilkas returned it greedily. He ran his hand along his brother’s stomach, and then grabbed his rigid cock. He was happy to note that his brother was not as long or girthy as he. It pleased him immensely to finally be bigger than his brother in some way. The wolf nibbled on his brother’s ear and then down his neck. He bit Farkas’ shoulder and played with his cock timidly. Farkas gave a pleasured growl while his hands ran along Vilkas’ tight ass. Vilkas knelt down to give Farkas his own release, but his brother had other ideas.

     Farkas snarled something fierce and wild and threw Vilkas to the floor. He yelped with surprise. His twin was already behind him lapping at his center with his tongue. His fingers exploring deeper. He felt Farkas stop and spread his cheeks. It was the only warning he had before his brother hilted himself.

     “Ahhhhh. Ahhhhh!” Vilkas shouted. Farkas hadn’t even come close to working him open, and it had been years since his encounter with Gunjar. He was far from prepared for the impaling he just received. Farkas didn’t notice. He was too far gone in his want and lust. He pulled mostly out and slammed in again with a grunt. His fingers dug into his hips, and all Vilkas could do was endure his brother’s desperation for release.

     “You’re so tight.” Farkas sputtered the words without thought as he pounded Vilkas hard. Farkas leaned over him trying to go deeper and pressed a hand into his shoulder blades. Vilkas’ face rubbed against the rug, and he bit his knuckle to suppress a wail. Farkas was too pent up with need to last very long. His thrusts were ruthless and Vilkas feared he would be pounded through the floor. That wasn’t to say he was without enjoyment. He had wanted a real man, and Farkas was more than willing to provide. He was a dominating lover. His normal shyness wiped away by his demand for satisfaction. If Vilkas hadn’t just come he knew he would have already orgasmed from the way Farkas submitted him. His brother pressed and rubbed against his walls, and he could feel the heat from his brothers cock as it drew along his entrance. It left Vilkas in a state of euphoria, and he urged his brother on.

     “Fuck me Farkas!” The wolf begged.

     “Vilkas!” Farkas rumbled and came with several hard thrusts. His twin shot his seed deep inside him. His hole pulsed in rhythm with his brother’s cock. Farkas sank to the floor pushing him the rest of the way down. They curled up on the floor together his brother’s deflating member still in his ass.

     Vilkas knew he should be horrified by what they had just done, but he wasn’t. He was content. Happy to be in his brother’s warm embrace. Farkas nuzzled his shoulder fondly and occasionally planted a kiss. It was a while before either one of them spoke.

     “Vilkas?” Farkas asked. “We can’t do this again, can we?”

     The wolf sighed. “No brother. We better not. You can never breath a word of this to anyone. Not even me. You understand?”

     He could feel Farkas nod his head. “I won’t say a word. I promise.”

     Above them the revelry continued on. The rest of the Companions oblivious to the atrocity that took place below them. For the first time since he became a werewolf, Vilkas felt happy. In the safety of his brother’s room, tucked into his brother’s tight embrace, he was content. To his surprise the wolf within him was finally quiet. For a time.

Chapter Text

     Three days. Three days since Farkas and Vilkas had stumbled upon their mutual feelings. Three days since they had lay together. Three days…….and Vilkas’ ass still hurt. By the gods it burned! Farkas had made him bleed in his haste. The wolf feared he was still not walking right. It made him paranoid. His shame of what had transpired only adding to his anxiety. He felt like they could all see. He was convinced Skjor was suspicious.  

     The morning after the twins had fucked, Vilkas had walked by the older warrior. He heard Skjor sniff the air in his wake. Shit! I smell like Farkas and sex! A nervous chill ran up the wolf’s spine, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Skjor shake his head and go about his day. Once he was out of sight Vilkas bolted to Farkas’ room. The brothers raided Farkas’ stash of mead and ale opening bottles and even a cask to smother the scent with alcohol. Only after they smelled like slovenly drunkards did they dare to show their faces.

Farkas still hasn’t spoken to me since. Farkas was outright avoiding him. A rift had appeared between the twins, and Vilkas hadn’t the faintest idea how to cross it. His own awkwardness made him shy away from the precipice and avoid his brother in turn.

      “Vilkas!” Aela shouted.   

     The wolf nearly jumped out of his seat. He glowered at the huntress. “What?”

     They were all eating in the main hall. Aela was sitting next to Skjor with an amused smile spread wide on her slender war-painted face. “The chicken is already plucked.”

      Vilkas looked down. He had been mindlessly picking at the chicken quarter leaving a pile of shredded meat on his plate. He scowled at Aela dropping the remains of his food. He pushed back his chair with a screech and wiped his greasy hands on his sides. He glanced at Farkas who was sitting on the other side of the fire from him. They made eye contact, and Vilkas quickly looked away. He grumbled under breath and headed outside.

      Vilkas stepped outside and took a deep breath of the cool midday air. The wolf closed his eyes, and an image of his brother appeared. Farkas on his knees with his lips wrapped around his cock. He felt himself swell at the thought and shook the image from his mind, not for the first time. He spent a good portion of his time outside meditating or helping Ria train in the yard, mainly because Farkas hid within Jorrvaskr. When his brother did appear out onto the patio, Vilkas would go back inside to read or speak with Kodlak. They were never outside together. Never on the same level in Jorrvaskr unless they were sleeping. If they did a job, they were sure to always take someone else as their shield sibling. A week went by with the twins barely acknowledging each other’s existence.

     Worse still were the dreams. Almost nightly Vilkas dreamt of Farkas. Twice the wolf had come in his sleep. A feat he hadn’t dealt with since his youth. Once he woke himself to his own moans. He resorted to rutting against his furs. He swam through images of his twin, and with the soft pelts gliding along him, he easily found release. He growled. Vilkas wasn’t swimming through thoughts of Farkas. He was drowning in them! Not a night went by where he wasn’t tempted to barge into his brother’s room and ride him like a desperate whore.

      The rest of the companions noticed the change in the twins. The whelps knew better than to say anything, but the Circle wouldn’t shut up about it. Aela was ruthless. She kept teasing them every chance she got. Kodlak kept pressing Vilkas to speak with his brother since neither of them wanted to talk to him about what was bothering them. Skjor simply said. “I don’t know what you two are fighting about, but get over it already. Stop acting like pups, and sort it out with fists if need be. Shit's getting annoying.”

      Four more days went by before Kodlak called the twins to his room. The grizzled old warrior asked tiredly. “All right you two, enough is enough. What is going on?”

      Farkas just sat there studying the floor between his feet. Vilkas couldn’t sit still. He felt like a child who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He didn’t want to be this close to Farkas. He feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Feared that Kodlak could see them stained by their sin. Vilkas was ashamed of what they did even as he yearned for more. He worried that Kodlak could sense that. Or smell it. Gods new he could smell the unease emanating off the twins. Damn werewolf noses. He realized he was rapping his fingers on the table. He stopped, and his knee started bouncing.

      Farkas remained silent so finally Vilkas muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

      “Fair enough.” Kodlak said. “Your business is your own. However, I suggest you two put it behind you on your way to Volthiem.”

      “What?” Farkas questioned.

      “What’s at the towers?” Vilkas asked at the same time.  The twins looked at each other and then quickly away. Vilkas grumbled under his breath, and Farkas returned to memorizing the lines in the floorboards.

      Kodlak studied them, but remained silent about their behavior, choosing to answer their questions instead. “A group of bandits have taken over the towers. They’re demanding tolls from travelers, and murdering those who won’t or can’t pay. I need them dealt with.”

      “Well then send Aela and Skjor.” Vilkas snapped. “Or let me take one of the whelps. Athis perhaps.”

      “I’m asking you and Farkas.” Kodlak asserted.

      “And if I refuse?” Vilkas growled. His words came out with more venom then he had planned, but he’d be damned if he took it back. He didn’t like being pushed into a corner, and he sure as hell didn’t like everyone getting into his problems. It was making him angry. His wolf responded to it. He could feel it rustling just beneath the skin waiting for Vilkas to lose his calm so it could spring forth. He took an extra second to close his eyes and breath as he shoved the wolf back into the depths. He hoped it was fast enough that they didn’t notice. Kodlak had his own problems and Farkas……. At this point Farkas would only make things worse.

      Kodlak went on. “Jarl Balgruff personally asked me to see to the matter. He doesn’t want to send troops that close to Eastmarch for fear that the empire will think him choosing to side with Ulfric. I gave him my word Vilkas, and I’m not going to ask anyone else.” Kodlak took a pause until both the twins were focused on him. “You two can put your squabble aside, or you can tarnish my honor as well as the rest of the companions’.”

      Vilkas glared at Kodlak. He had the utmost respect for the Harbinger, but by the god’s he was livid. His anger got the better of him, and he stood to loom over the old man. He never got a chance to retaliate.

      Farkas pulled at his sleeve surprising him and snapping his attention over to his twin. “C’mon.” Farkas said. “Let’s get this done.”

      “…. Fine.” Vilkas snarled. He followed his brother down the hall. His wolf paced with eager energy waiting for a time to pounce.

      They were on the road less than an hour later. The journey to the Valthiem Towers was tense. The twins barely spoke. When they did it was about how best to handle the bandits, or the weather. It was early in the season. The snows were mostly melted in the tundra, but it still froze most nights. There weren’t a lot of travelers on the roads yet. Vilkas could see why the Jarl wanted the problem dealt with now before trade started up again. They reached the towers shortly before sunset.

      Valthiem Towers was an old keep situated on the border of Whiterun and Eastmarch. One tower squatted between the White River and the road. Another sprouted out of the mountainside on the far bank. A bridge spanned the water connecting the towers a good hundred feet above the river. A small fire was crackling near the entrance to the tower. A Redguard woman stood over it tending to a cooking pot while she scanned the road. She watched the twins with a calculating gaze taking in their clean armor and lack of travel gear. Vilkas studied the towers. There was a large figure walking along the bridge, and two other bandits on the tops of either tower. Archers most likely. It was impossible to know how many more bandits were inside. They would have to be careful.

      As the twins neared the fire the Redguard approached them. “Hold it!” She yelled. “This here’s a toll road see? Yer gonna have to hand over two hundred gold if you want to use our road.”

      “Two hundred gold? Road made out of Stalhrim?” Vilkas asked satirically.

      “I don’t think so.” Farkas growled. He was already moving toward the Redguard pulling his giant two-handed sword free from his back. The Redguard drew an iron sword and charged. She was smaller and more agile than Farkas. The Redguard danced around him getting a few swings in, but she was no match for the well trained warrior. He batted her blows aside like swatting at a fly. Her movements were also predictable. She weaved under a swing and popped up in front of Farkas as he brought the blade up over his shoulder and back down. His sword cut through her furs and dug into where her neck met her torso. The heavy blow would have gone deeper into her collar bone had the force not sent her crumpling to the ground.

      During the half minute it took Farkas to fight the bandit, Vilkas had been standing ready by the tower’s entrance. The others inside heard the commotion, and as a Nord rushed out of the tower, the wolf bashed him with his shield. The Nord stumbled back and Vilkas took his head clean from his shoulders before the fool could comprehend what had happened. Idiot wasn’t even wearing a helmet. A second Nord rushed out of the tower, jumped over the spasming corpse, and swung wildly at Vilkas. The twins quickly disposed of him.

      The brother’s entered the tower together making sure to guard each other’s backs as they checked every corner for enemies. They stepped out onto a shoddily built wooden stairway, that was precariously slapped onto the side of the tower, where the original stonework had crumbled centuries prior. The man Vilkas had spotted on the bridge earlier was still there. He was wearing full steal plate including a helmet, however, it had ornamental wings that swooped up on either side of the forehead. He freed a menacing orcish battleaxe from his back and waited for the twins to approach. It was a smart tactic as the narrow bridge would force them to cross single file.

      They split up. Farkas barreled into the top of the tower while Vilkas went to meet the man on the bridge. He noted two archers on the far bank, one on the top of the second tower and the other out on the cliffs. They had their bows drawn, but thankfully they didn’t dare loose any arrows with their mate on the bridge. As the wolf neared, all he could see of the man’s features were his deep blue eyes peering out from the helmet.

      The bandit laughed. His voice held a sneer. “Wolf armor? I’ve always wanted to fight a companion. This will be fun.”

      “Not for you.” Vilkas growled as he got close enough for the bandit to attack. Vilkas was at a slight disadvantage since the battleaxe had more reach. He blocked several attacks with his shield, and slowly pushed the bandit further back toward the second tower. The bandit got past the sheild and struck Vilkas along his torso. His armor dented, and he jumped back with a growl. A throbbing pain spread along his right side. “Fuck!”

      Once they were too close to the tower for the archer on top to hit him, Vilkas made his move. The bandit swung low trying to catch Vilkas’ legs. He skipped back then brought his shield up to catch one of the ornamental wings on the helmet. He pulled, jerking the man down. The bandit staggered, and tried to free himself. Vilkas tripped the Nord with his sword. The man yelped and then screamed when he fell off the bridge. His shrieks abruptly stopped as he hit the water below, and his armor pulled him down beneath the surface.

      Vilkas heard someone behind him and spun around to see Farkas running full sprint toward him as the archers loosed arrows. The wolf scrambled into the tower to get out of his brother’s way. Luckily there was no one in the bottom level. They split up again to take care of the archers. Vilkas went up the tower and disposed of a bandit in a dining area. Above that was a half caved in bedroom. He went up to the room and found the archer who was still standing on the wooden overhang on the highest part of the tower. She was a Breton with wild brown locks and an overly exposed lithe frame. She released a series of arrows at him, and he was forced back down the stairs. Shore’s bones! Bitch, actually knows how to use her bow!

     He pulled his hunting knife out from his belt, counted to three, and then peered up into the bedroom with his shield covering most of his face. He barely brought his shield up over his head before an arrow buried itself in the wood. The wolf threw his knife and ducked back down the stairs.

      “AHHH! Fuck….iiiing whooore!” The Breton swore.

      The wolf popped up into the room again. The woman was leaning on a support beam holding her abdomen where the knife had sunk itself into her liver. She drew a dagger as Vilkas approached and forced herself into a fighting stance. He could smell the fear pulsing off of her. She hid it well behind a scowl as she panted through clenched crooked teeth. He stopped on the stairs just out of reach and watched her. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there with walnut and silver gazes scrutinizing each other. It ended when her face scrunched up in pain, and she let out a groan. She leaned back onto the post, and sank to the floor.

      The Breton looked past Vilkas and took in the painted hues of the setting sun. She tried and failed to blink back tears. “Make is quick.” She mumbled.

      Vilkas responded with only a nod. He took her dagger from her loose grip and jammed it between her ribs to meet her heart. He gently laid her down. “May Stendarr give you mercy.” He said gruffly.

      A sourness fell over him as she died. He hated it when they gave up. It wasn’t a good death. It was a mercy kill. It spoiled his victory and left him feeling dirty. He went back down to the bedroom starring at nothing. It didn’t help that a part of him had enjoyed it. Basked in her fear and her acceptance of death. He knew it was his wolf leeching into him. His wolf loved it when his prey feared him. When his prey acknowledged his power and accepted the inevitable. Damn it. She wasn’t prey. The wolf was always tearing bits of his soul and mind away. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of his thoughts were his own. Perhaps they were all his thoughts, and the wolf simply brought out the worst in him. The beast was a part of him after all.

      “Brother.” A gruff tired voice said below.

      Vilkas started and then silently berated himself. Getting lost in his thoughts when he wasn’t certain all the bandits had been dealt with, was an idiotic move. “I’m up here.” Vilkas replied. “They all dead out there?”

      “Aye. You alright?” Farkas asked.

      “Aye.”

      Vilkas heard Farkas rummaging around the dining area. Now that the adrenalin was gone, he felt dead tired. He pulled off his helmet and shivered as the cool air touched his sweaty face and neck. He could feel his hair squished down on his scalp and sticking to his face. He unbelted his sword and leaned it against a wall. He let his shield slip from his arm falling to the ground with a thunk. The wolf planted himself on the floor with a wince. That damned orcish battleaxe hadn’t just dented his armor. It had managed to cut into it. Thankfully it didn’t make it through the padding beneath, but it still hurt like hell.

      Farkas emerged from below looking like a god of vengeance. His tall heavy build was even more mountainous from Vilkas’ seat on the floor. His helmet was tucked under an arm, and his hair was pasted to the sides of his neck. His sharp jaw set and glistening with sweat. His grey eyes deadlier than steel. The black war paint around his eyes was smeared down his face like black blood. His pure masculine frame only grew larger as he approached Vilkas. Even the way he walked emanated power and self-assurance. Vilkas was both highly aroused and slightly intimidated. Farkas gave him a smug grin. Even that was menacing.

      “Here.” Farkas said.

      It was then that Vilkas realized his brother was holding two bottles of mead in his giant paw like hands. Only after he was grabbing the bottle offered to him did he see all the blood streaming down Farkas’ left arm. The mead slipped out of the wolf’s fingers as he grabbed Farkas by the wrist.

      “You’re hurt.” Vilkas stated.

     “Just a scratch.”

     “That’s a lot of blood for a scratch.” Vilkas replied tersely. He rose to his feet and grimaced as the dent in his armor pressed against his stomach. He had no doubt a large bruise was forming.

     “You’re hurt too.” Farkas accused.

     “I’m not bleeding.” Vilkas retorted. “There’s bound to be a health potion around here somewhere. Wait here”

      Vilkas went downstairs to hunt for supplies to clean the wound. He found two buckets of clean water, and tucked in a corner behind several bottles of skooma was a health potion. He returned upstairs. Farkas was digging around the nightstand by the bed.

     “Find anything useful?” Vilkas asked.

     “Only if you count Dibellian oil as useful.” Farkas mused as he set a half empty bottle down on the stand.

     Vilkas’ felt his face flush as impure thoughts of him and Farkas rose to the surface. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He hoped his brother didn’t notice. The wolf’s husky voice betrayed him. “Let’s get a look at that wound.”

     The wolf helped his brother out of his cuirass despite Farkas’ protests and sat him on the bed. He gave his twin the health potion, and Farkas chugged it with a grimace. He chased it down with the rest of his mead. Vilkas shredded a shirt he unearthed in a drawer and dipped a strip of it in a bucket. Farkas didn’t object as Vilkas squatted in front of him and carefully cleaned his brother’s wound. A long gash started just above his elbow and cut across the sensitive skin in the crook of his arm before stopping on his forearm. Luckily it wasn’t deep.

     As Vilkas cleaned all the blood off his twin, he couldn’t help but feel the solid muscles beneath the surface. He was kneeling in front of Farkas. His brother’s knee was between his legs and it brushed against his lower thigh. Vilkas could smell his own arousal. It was like a cloud around him. He struggled to ignore his rock hard member as it strained achingly against his pants. Once he finished cleaning the wound, he carefully wrapped it with the remaining cloth. He was securing the end of the wrap when Farkas’ leather infused musk started to give off a tangy lust. The change was sudden, and Vilkas guessed that his brother had picked up his scent. He groaned and dropped his head onto Farkas’ knee. Gods, I want him so much.

     “You ok?” Farkas asked concerned.

      He laid a hand over Vilkas’ head and the wolf sighed. It was such an innocent and caring gesture. How long had it been since they simply touched? Vilkas hadn’t realized how much he needed that. How much he missed it. Farkas combed his fingers through the wolf’s hair, and then his hand settled on his neck. His thumb dug circles into the skin relieving some of the tension there.

     Vilkas knew the longer he was silent the more worried his brother would become, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He didn’t want to break the contact. The wolf breathed deep basking in the aroma of their mutual desires. It took more effort that he thought to lift his head and shatter the repose.

     “I’m alright brother.” Vilkas wheezed past the stone in his throat. Farkas’ eyes were bright with longing; It made Vilkas’ heart race. Farkas poked his tongue out between his lips and wet them drawing the wolf’s attention. Gods I want those lips again. To taste him. To feel his stubble scratching against my face. Farkas ran his hand down to cup his jaw, and the wolf leaned into it even as guilt washed over him. He was so hard that it was painful.

     “Vilkas.” Farkas breathed hoarsely. The wolf’s name sounded almost like a moan on his brother’s lips and the raw desire in Farkas’ deep voice set him off.

     Vilkas clambered onto Farkas’ lap straddling him as he seized those cracked soft lips. Farkas wrapped his arms around Vilkas and pulled him against his chest. Vilkas yanked off his gauntlets tossing them blindly. He ran his hands over Farkas’ broad back, his shoulders, his neck, any skin he could reach. His fingers tingled as he traced those rippling muscles. Farkas pressed his tongue against Vilkas' lips demanding a deeper kiss. He lightly bit his brother’s lip when Vilkas didn’t immediately respond. The wolf moaned and gave in to his brother. Farkas tasted like sweet mead and bitter potion. Their tongues danced together, and Vilkas savored the feel of soft warm flesh gliding along each other. Farkas began pulling at the clasps and ties of Vilkas’ armor. He broke the kiss to nibble at the wolf’s jaw and suck on his neck.

     “Oh fuck!” Vilkas cried as he rutted against his brother’s lap. He was sure Farkas was equally hard, but the leather and fabric of their pants along with the faulds of his armor kept him from feeling anything. All he could focus on was his cock demanding to be free from this armor that was suddenly stifling hot and in the gods damn way!

     Farkas broke all contact as the last piece of steal came free, and he pulled the padding beneath up over Vilkas’ head. The cold air blasted the wolf’s back and slapped him into reality. His pounding heart and puffing chest constricted and ached. Farkas tried to pull him back into his arms. Vilkas pushed him away.

     “Stop. Stop. Stop.” He gasped as he rolled off Farkas’ lap. Vilkas laid on the bed with an arm over his face as he tried to calm himself. His guilt was crushing. His fear all consuming. He was too ashamed to look at Farkas. He still answered the unspoken question that hung in the air. “I can’t put you in danger again.”

     “Were in danger every time we fight.” Farkas said.

     Vilkas marveled at how calm his brother was. Farkas was so certain and uncaring. He doubted Farkas understood how wrong this situation was, or how dangerous it could be. “That’s different. I’m not the one fighting you.”

     Farkas pulled Vilkas’ arm away from his face and leaned over him. “What are you afraid of?”

     Vilkas wanted to lie and tell Farkas he wasn’t afraid even as his scent betrayed him. He wanted to keep Farkas free from the burdens of their sin. Instead he answered truthfully. “If I force you into this, and then something happens to you...”

     He was cut off by a rumbling chuckle deep in Farkas’ chest. “You haven’t forced me into anything.”

     “Farkas, if I hadn’t followed you into your room. If I hadn’t admitted nnnngghhhhh……” Vilkas whined as Farkas took a handful of his hair and pulled exposing his throat to his twin’s waiting lips.

     Farkas ran his tongue across the wolf’s neck. Vilkas shivered. His brother’s teeth lightly scraped across his pulse. He occasionally nibbled on it as he spoke. His voice was dripping with desire. “Are you forcing me to do this?”

     “N…. No.” Vilkas admitted. Farkas rewarded him by sucking on his pulse. He moaned again loud enough to fill the tower. His awareness compressed down to Farkas. All he could focus on were the pleasures Farkas was creating, and the noises he was extracting. Vilkas wasn’t even sure what part of his brother’s skin he was currently digging his fingers into. Not that he cared, so long as Farkas didn’t stop touching him. He begged, though he hadn’t a clue what he was asking for. “Farkas please.”

     Farkas continued to suck his throat and chuckled. He felt his brother’s lips curve up into a smirk. When he spoke, it was deep and dark, almost sinister. “Begging now. I thought you were forcing me.”

     Vilkas’ voice hitched in his throat as he muttered some kind of reply. What were we talking about? He pushed the thought away. He no longer cared. He just wanted more of Farkas. His brother rolled on top of him. He freed his throat to kiss and nibble along his jaw and ear. The skin on his neck pounded along with his pulse and prickled pleasantly. Vilkas whined. He wanted more. His fear and shame dissolving under his brother’s touch. He squirmed under Farkas and whimpered pathetically as he began pulling at his brother’s belt. Farkas pulled his hair harder in warning. Vilkas stopped and Farkas awarded him with a kiss that he took greedily.

     Farkas ran his hands down his brother’s sides taking care to avoid the large, deep red splotch to the right of his bellybutton where the axe had impacted. His hand went around the bruising skin and down to roll over his ass. Another hand glided over his hip and rubbed the solid bulge in his leathers. Vilkas tilted his hips up to press into his brother’s hand. I need these fucking clothes off now! Vilkas was desperate for release, but his brother seemed content in his arduously slow torture. The wolf moaned. “Farkas.”

     His brother planted one paw on his chest holding him in place while the other continued to massage his bulge. Farkas made a descending pattern of kisses across his chest and belly as he spoke softly. “Patience. No one will find us here. We have all night.”

     He descended further, kissing Vilkas’ hips, his inner thighs, and then gently pressed his lips on the bulging leathers. Vilkas groaned squeezing his eyes shut as his hands dug into the blankets. Farkas tugged at the ties of Vilkas trousers. Once the knots were free, he pulled the front of the wolf’s pants down. His cock sprang free fully engorged and leaking precum. He fervently waited for Farkas to wrap his lips around him.

     Farkas left him bobbing expectantly in the cold. His breathing faltered. He glanced down confused and frustrated. Farkas continued his decent though he didn’t remove Vilkas’ trousers along the way. He kissed his brother’s inner thighs again and then the side of a knee as he slowly left the bed. He pulled the wolf’s boots off and then left him there. Vilkas groaned annoyed as his cock started to flag in the cold. It was dark now. Only the stars and moons provided light, but it was more than enough. A passing thought noted that it would probably frost over.

     Vilkas watched his brother intently. Farkas yanked off his boots and then walked around the bed to collect the oil off the nightstand. The sight of the oil struck a chord in the wolf as his brother’s intent became starkly clear. He knew they shouldn’t have sex again. He also knew that he wouldn’t back out either. Vilkas wanted this. Needed this. He had willingly leapt into this pot of warming water, and no matter how much it boiled he would never jump out again, so long as Farkas stoked the fire.

     Farkas spoke drawing Vilkas further into his spell. “Come here.”

     The wolf wiggled out of his clothes and scrambled across the bed. He helped Farkas loosen the ties of his trousers to free his own manhood. Vilkas took it in hand and gently began stroking his brother. Farkas groaned as he stepped out of his pants and then ran his hands through the wolf’s mane. Vilkas took his time to admire his brother’s cock. He hadn’t gotten time to appreciate it before. It was only slightly thinner than his own, and a couple inches shorter. It stood straight and true where as Vilkas’ had a slight upward curve to it. Farkas’ head was squatter and fatter. It glistened with precum.

     He leaned forward and licked the underside of his brother’s head, up to the slit, and around. Farkas swore softly, and his cock swelled in his hand. Vilkas licked him again, up and around, before wrapping his lips over the head and drawing his brother into his mouth. He sucked lightly on the tip and softly stroked him. He reached down and cupped his twin’s balls rolling them gently in his fingers. Farkas growled and thrust into his face before he managed to still himself. “Fuck Vilkas. You’re so good.”

     Vilkas drew his brother in further and hummed with pleasure. He withdrew slowly and pumped his brother. He drew him back into his mouth until Farkas was hitting the back of his throat. He was more than happy to torment Farkas with his own slow pace. It served him right. His brother wouldn’t let him. The wolf gasped almost chocking on the cock in his mouth as cold liquid suddenly dripped onto his lower back and slid down his crack. Then Farkas’ fingers were kneading his cheeks and pulling them apart to let the oil slide down to his entrance. One of his brother’s long thick fingers found his center and rubbed around it. Vilkas groaned and worked his twin faster.

     “Turn around.” Farkas ordered.

     Vilkas obeyed releasing his brother. He spun around and planted himself on his elbows. Farkas pulled him closer to the edge of the bed. He massaged and squeezed Vilkas’ ass. The wolf yelped as he felt his brother’s hot tongue run up the underside of his balls to his core. He pressed at his entrance and then disappeared only to retrace his trail from balls to furl. Farkas lapped and pushed around his core until the muscles relaxed. The tip of his tongue slipped through his entrance and Vilkas whined low in his throat. Vilkas reached down to stroke himself. “Oh, gods Farkas. That feels so fucking good.”

     Farkas leaned over Vilkas, and he moaned again as he felt his brother's throbbing cock rest between his cheeks. He stroked himself harder, and then Farkas’ iron grip was pulling his hand free from his cock. Farkas growled into his ear. “Don’t touch yourself. I don’t want you to come yet.”

     Vilkas snarled frustrated. He wanted Farkas inside him already. But he couldn’t disobey. It left him perplexed. Vilkas was the one that gave orders and shy Farkas obeyed. Yet here they were with their roles reversed. Again. Farkas assured and commanding while Vilkas willingly complied. He knew he enjoyed rough sex, but he never thought that being submitted would be such a turn on. He had relished in it last time when Farkas had shoved him to the floor and took what he wanted.

     His brother applied more oil before one of his fingers started rubbing around Vilkas’ entrance. Farkas pressed his finger in slowly, and then back out to rub him some more. The wolf made a noise between a gasp and a whine as he rolled his hips trying to get his brother to go deeper. Rub. Press. Delve. Release. An eternity went by before Farkas finally added a second finger. Vilkas was gasping for air. Every fiber of his being was alight. “Fuck, Farkas. Please fuck me!”

     “Soon. I wasn’t good to you last time. I don't want to hurt you again.” Farkas' voice was strained and hot. He made sure his fingers were sliding into him smoothly before a third was added.

     The wolf wondered for a moment if that’s why Farkas had been avoiding him this whole time. Because he had dry fucked Vilkas and made him bleed. The thought melted away as Farkas drove his thick digits into him faster. Vilkas cried out. “Oh gods!’

     His brother extracted his fingers and then the wolf felt it. Farkas’ glorious cock slick with oil and precum pushing against his furl. Farkas clamped onto Vilkas' hip steadying him as he slowly pressed into that tight heat. Vilkas moaned as his furl latched onto his brother’s head. Farkas didn’t move as the ring of muscles squeezed and relaxed. Once his entance gave in, his twin pulled out just a fraction and sank back in. He delved a little further each time as Vilkas opened up to him.

     The wolf was sucking in desperate gulps of air. The heat of his brother’s cock, the feeling of it sliding along his walls, and the pressure it was building was too much. His hand reached for his own member. He squeezed his eyes shut and stopped himself from touching it. Farkas growled and swore as he fully sheathed himself. Vilkas was so damn close to coming it was painful. He knew that if Farkas hadn’t paused he would’ve already spilled himself all over the blankets. Farkas waited until his furl stopped clenching around his cock before he pulled out and drove back in. His fingers dug into Vilkas’ hips. He built up a steady rhythm as he glided in and out of his brother’s hole. Farkas groaned. It sounded desperate. He growled through his teeth. “Vilkas you feel so good. So tight.”

     Vilkas cried out at the sound of his name on his brother's lips. He grabbed his cock. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He got a few strokes in before Farkas stopped him. He pulled Vilkas up against him wrapping one arm around his sternum as he drove deep into his core. His arm pressed lightly against his bruise. It sent a jolt of pain through Vilkas that was quickly followed by a surge of pleasure. The wolf whimpered. His brother's reached up to lightly grasp Vilkas’ throat.

      “I told you not to touch yourself.” He snarled as he pinched his fingers into his neck.

     Vilkas barely heard him through the rushing in his ears. It was supposed to be a warning, but the restricted air flow only fueled his fire. He sputtered. “Oh gods. Harder!”

     “Is that how you like it?’ Farkas breathed into his ear.

     Vilkas couldn’t answer. His mind was a muddled mess as that velvety hard cock pushed and slid along that spot inside him that was so tantalizing sweet. Farkas holding him tightly and fucking him roughly mixed with the limited air sent Vilkas stumbling over the edge. He came hard shooting his seed over the blankets.

     “Fuck!” Farkas shouted as his core latch onto his cock and spasmed around it. His thrusts intensified slamming into Vilkas as his brother chased his release. The wolf cried out as his sensitive cock waved in the cold air. His vision was narrowing and spots flashed in the tunnel. Farkas unconsciously squeezed Vilkas tighter as his orgasm took him. His fingers clenched around his throat cutting off his air completely. Farkas emptied himself deep inside his core. His thrusts slowed as he milked himself and then stopped completely with a shiver. Vilkas tapped on the arm whose hand was still digging into his windpipe.

     “Oh shit.” Farkas swore as he released Vilkas.

     The wolf gasped and collapsed onto the bed. He whimpered as Farkas’ cock slipped out of him on the way down. He thought he could hear Farkas apologizing, but his mind was still swirling. He was sure he blacked out for a moment for suddenly Farkas was wiping him down. The coolness of the damp rag felt nice on his furl which was now winking with an angry heat.

     “Vilkas?” Farkas said distressed. “Are you okay?”

     The bed sank as Farkas crawled onto it. He rubbed Vilkas’ back and rested his head on his shoulder. Vilkas rolled onto his side and scooted toward his brother. He said sleepily. “Keep fucking me like that and I will be. “

     Farkas chuckled. He cuddled up to him and ran a finger in idle patterns across his abs and chest. He blanketed Vilkas’ shoulder with little kisses. He whispered softly. “I love seeing you like this.”

     “Like what?” Vilkas asked.

     “Relaxed. Happy.”

     Vilkas heard the reply, but he didn’t register it for he was already asleep.

     Vilkas kept his eyes clamped shut in the hope that maybe he could drift back to sleep. He knew it was a false hope, but he tried none the less. He hadn’t had a full night sleep since he gained his beast blood ten years ago. It was part of the curse that the entire Circle struggled with though Vilkas appeared to suffer with it more than the rest. His beast blood seemed so much more restless and wild than the others. His wolf was a constant battle for control. It pulled at him every moment of his waking mind. Even now he could feel it shifting and nipping at him. He could easily let go and the wolf would devour him. Force him to shift to his beast form to run, hunt, and be free. Why do I alone struggle with my wolf?

     He gave up trying to fall back asleep. Instead he starred out past his feet to gaze at the starry night. The tower’s roof had collapsed long ago. A slanted makeshift one had been set up in its place, but it only covered the sleeping area. The other half of the room was exposed.

     The brothers had rolled in their sleep so Farkas’ immense back was to Vilkas. He carefully slid his arm out from under his brother’s head. Farkas shifted and then started snoring louder than he had been. Vilkas pulled his hand to his chest while working blood back to his tingling fingers. His other arm was still draped around his brother. He began caressing Farkas’ stomach that was only slightly less defined in his relaxed sleep. Gods if only I had his body……. He started dwelling on the sex they had had a few hours prior.

     He was once again awash with exhilaration and shame. It’s my fucking youth all over again. He thought about the first time Tilma had caught him jerking himself. She had torn off her slipper and beat him with it. She said it would make him go blind. That touching himself was a sure way to Oblivion. Honorable Companions didn’t touch themselves. Once she had finished her lecture, she had pulled him by the ear to scrub out pots and pans in the kitchen. She said if he had energy to be vile then he had energy to clean!

     Here I am not blind and damned to Oblivion anyway. Not a single threat or beating ever kept him from masturbating. It just made him craftier, and also guilty every time he finished. The wolf knew that this new relationship with Farkas would be the same, except they could never get caught. They were risking a lot, but it felt like more than simple physical release. He loved his brother and loved sharing all of himself with him. He could relax around Farkas. He wondered if his twin felt the same.

     Vilkas huffed at himself. Thinking about his brother had gotten him aroused again. It didn’t help that the twins were still nude. His swelling cock was pressed firmly up along his brother’s crack. Vilkas slowly moved his hips gliding himself up along his brother’s cheeks. The soft flesh sent a pulse of pleasure through him. He didn’t want to wake up Farkas, but he didn’t want to stop. Instead he pressed himself even closer to his twin.

     The wolf hadn’t had his brother yet. He tried to imagine how Farkas would take his cock. He didn’t even know if Farkas would want to be taken. It didn’t seem like it had ever occurred to Farkas that that was an option.

     “You’re hopeless.” Farkas grumbled with a yawn.

      Vilkas smiled and planted a kiss on his brother’s back. “I would say insatiable.”

     “What does that mean?”

     “It means that I can’t get enough of you. That no matter how many times we do this I’ll always want more.” Vilkas paused to push himself up and nip at Farkas’ earlobe. “Besides I was thinking this time I could please you instead.”

     The wolf felt Farkas go tense. When he didn’t reply Vilkas pulled away and asked. “Brother? Do you want me to stop?”

     Farkas was hesitant. “No. It’s just…I've never…...”

     Vilkas leaned up on an elbow to pier over his brother’s shoulder. “Farkas……...Have you never slept with a man before?”

     The wolf knew his brother hadn’t been a virgin, but he hadn’t stopped to consider that Farkas might not have been as willing to experiment as he. Gods what have I drug him into?

     “Oh, plenty of times. I’ve just never......done it like that.” Farkas responded bashfully.

     Good. Wait! what? “Plenty? How many lovers have you had?” Vilkas cringed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

     Farkas just shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know. Never kept count.”

     “You can’t count them in your head?” Vilkas stuttered. He didn’t want this conversation to continue, but he struggled to accept that Farkas had far more experience than him. He couldn’t keep his damn thoughts in.

     “Twelve. I guess. Probably more.” Farkas said unphased. “I was drunk a few times too, so I don’t really remember.”

     Vilkas’ jaw dropped. He felt like he had just been punched in the face. He fumbled to say something. Anything. Instead he clamped him mouth shut and rolled over. He didn’t want to continue the conversation let alone think about Farkas with others. So what if Farkas has had more lovers than me? It’s not a competition. I’m not jealous! Farkas leaned up against Vilkas and rested his hand on the wolf’s softening member. Vilkas could feel his brother’s hard cock pressing against his legs.

     “I’m sorry that put you off.” Farkas said.

     “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Vilkas grumbled.

     Farkas lightly stroked Vilkas’ cock as he breathed hot and heavy on his neck. “Too bad. Cause I really wanted to fuck you again.”

     Vilkas manhood rose from the dead. “Please, yes.”

     Farkas pulled him onto his back and settled himself on top of Vilkas. “Good. Cause this time I want to watch you come.”

     Vilkas moaned and his brother leaned down to capture his lips. The wolf drank him in. Farkas growled and held him roughly. Possessively. He moved his knees forcing Vilkas to open his legs so he could nestle between them. He moaned as Farkas’ hard cock slid along his. Farkas grasped both their members in one of his giant hands and began stroking. It was an odd feeling to have another cock pressed against his own. Farkas worked them together. Vilkas moaned and swelled even more as Farkas’ heat and velvety skin pressed against him.

     The wolf reached up and ran his hands through Farkas’ dark locks. He pulled his brother back down seeking his lips once more. They stayed like for some time. Locked together intimately. Savoring the diminishing time they had together. When their lips finally pulled apart Vilkas’ heart was racing. Farkas’ eyes glowed silver in the starlight. Vilkas couldn’t help but marvel at his brother. He wondered if it was narcissistic of him to be enraptured by the face that looked so much like his own. But it wasn’t his. Farkas’ nose was a little wider. His jaw more defined and his chin softer. His brows thicker along with the crease between them whenever he gazed at something intently. All he could see was Farkas.

     His brother stopped stroking them and kissed Vilkas’ forehead before he crawled out of the bed. Vilkas shivered in the cold. Without his twin’s heat the room was downright freezing. The wolf could see his breath. He watched Farkas root around the floor. Vilkas whined.

     Farkas snickered. “So impatient.”

     He returned to the bed with the bottle of oil. Farkas was quick to spread Vilkas' legs and apply oil to his fingers before rubbing his core. Vilkas groaned and scrunched his eyes shut. The oil was freezing and he was still a little sore from earlier. Farkas pushed one of his thick digits into his entrance and twisted it around inside him. Vilkas let out a wail that sounded thunderous in the still night. Farkas quickly added a second.

     “Look at me.” Farkas ordered.

     Vilkas obeyed. Farkas' silver gaze captured him. His brother's mouth was open slightly and his quick breathing was a gale. Farkas poured some of the dwindling oil onto Vilkas’ member.

     “Ahhhh fuck Farkas.” The wolf yelped as the cold oil ran down his tip. Farkas pulled his fingers free from the wolf’s furl, and the shock of the frigid oil was replaced by those hot fingers. Vilkas cried out again at the sudden changes of temperature across his sensitive tip. Farkas rubbed his head and then around to get his whole cock slick. He was still watching Vilkas watch him. It was more intimate than Vilkas would have guessed. He assumed it was a turn on for Farkas judging by the intense lust in his silver eyes that grew as they watched each other.

     “You’re not gonna come early this time.” Farkas said. Vilkas wasn’t sure if it was a statement, a warning, or a threat.

     Luckily, he didn’t have to reply because Farkas went back to opening up his core. He plunged two fingers into him and Vilkas was moaning too much to speak. He looked at his brother through heavy lids not knowing what to do except lay there and be taken. It was then that he remembered he had hands. Hands that were just balling up the blankets on either side of him. Vilkas reached down and grabbed his cheeks pulling them apart to give his brother easier access. He begged. “Farkas please fuck me again.”

     For once Farkas obliged. He pushed Vilkas’ legs up onto his shoulders, and then he was slathering his cock and Vilkas’ ass with the rest of the oil. They moaned together as Farkas nudged at his furl, and he opened up to engulf his brother's cock. Farkas pulled out a fraction and then delved in a little deeper. Vilkas whimpered. He was more tender than he realized, and his center pulsed and fumed at being impaled again. Farkas seemed to sense it for his thrusts were gentle and slow. He fully hilted himself with a growl. He pulled out and softly delved back in. Eventually the aching pain was replaced by pleasure as his brother’s warm cock massaged his walls.

     “Fuck Farkas. Harder. Fuck me harder.” Vilkas pleaded.

     Farkas lifted Vilkas’ hips with one hand forcing them to tilt upward so he could drive in deeper. His brother pounded into him. His legs smacking against Vilkas' ass while his cock waved in the air and slapped against his stomach. Farkas grabbed the flailing member and began stroking him with fervor. Vilkas was in a euphoria created by his twin. He saw stars as his brother stroked him in time with his thrusts. He still wanted more.

     “Gods Farkas. Please!” He was beyond coherent sentences. Beyond comprehending what he was even saying. Beyong caring if all of Skyrim heard his howling. Vilkas was keenly aware of Farkas leaning over him and gripping his throat again.

     His face was red and he kissed Vilkas roughly. He growled through his clenched teeth. “You like me fucking you?”

     “Oh fuck yes.” Vilkas mewled.

     “You like it when I do this?” Farkas dug his fingers into his neck restricting his air.

     Vilkas moaned. “FuuuuuUUUCK! Yes! I…. I’m gonna....”

     Farkas pumped him faster. Drove into him harder and rubbed against that little packet of nerves inside him. “Come for me.”

     Vilkas came harder than he ever had before. He spilled across his chest, stomach, and dribbled more over Farkas’ hand. His brother quickly leapt after his own orgasm. His whole body taut as he released his seed into Vilkas’ core. Farkas was quick to let go of his throat. The wolf hissed as his brother pulled his cock from his center. His furl pulsed and swelled. He unfolded himself as Farkas leaned onto his elbows and hovered over him.

     His eyes danced fully satisfied with himself as he grinned at Vilkas. He scooted downward and proceeded to lick all of Vilkas’ cum from his stomach. “Your gross.” Vilkas said playfully.

     Once he was done, Farkas held his jaw and kissed Vilkas hungrily. “and you smell.” He retorted.

     Farkas fell onto the bed next to Vilkas exposing him more to the freezing night. The cold air felt nice on his tender and abused entrance. He could feel Farkas' cum sliding out of him. “We really should clean ourselves.” He said.

     “It’s not our bed. Besides we’re gonna have to wash in the morning anyway.” Farkas replied as he pulled the blankets out from under them and tucked them in. Vilkas agreed and burrowed himself further into the blankets. His wolf was quiet once more, and sleep easily found him.

Chapter Text

     Vilkas weaved around his brother’s blade as it slashed through the air a breath away from his shoulder. He grinned dipping under another blow and rapping his brother on the legs. Farkas swore. The wolf taunted him through heavy breaths. “You’re getting slow brother. Tired already?”

     Farkas glowered at him. His broad chest swelled with every haggard breath. His silver eyes were penetrating. His muscles shone in the daylight under a sheen of sweat. He rolled his massive shoulders as he paced, walking off the pain. It took all of Vilkas’ willpower not to openly admire his brother. They did have an audience after all. He couldn’t help but be excited at the sight before him. Farkas was the embodiment of strength and courage. Shor himself would be cautious to challenge his brother to a fight. Gods I love seeing him like this. Confident. Deadly. POWERFUL. SEXY! And it was all directed at him. Vilkas wanted nothing more than to run up to his brother and ride him right there in the yard. Their nights in the underforge came to mind.

The carved out cave under the Skyforge had poor ventilation and reeked of decades worth of smells. Blood, sex, sweat, earth, metal, leather, and the musk of Companions from long past. The stench of werewolf was strong enough that even normal man and mer could detect it though they often said it smelt of wet dog. It was perfect so long as they kept their moments few so as not to overpower the other scents. Vilkas accepted that. Though he still wanted to have Farkas every time he saw him, he was willing to wait. His lust didn’t feel so wrong anymore, and he found himself not craving Farkas so fiercely now that this unreachable affair had been obtained. Damn it! Focus!

     His twin seemed to sense the wolf’s distraction and charged with a flurry of blows. Vilkas back peddled parrying the strikes and bidding his time. The brothers had sparred all their lives and Vilkas knew every step and swing his brother would make. Farkas swung his dulled blade and the wolf deflected it to the side before his own practice sword slammed into his twin’s back.

     “Ahh, Fuck!” Farkas shouted. He pounced with a growl trying to catch Vilkas. The wolf had already moved on. He side stepped as Farkas turned, and the wolf punched him in the face.

     “Predictable as always.” Vilkas grinned smugly.

     His brother swung with a roar. Vilkas barely dodged the blow that surley would have broken a few ribs. Vilkas dug his fist into Farkas’ stomach shoving all the air from his brother’s lungs. Farkas doubled over and the wolf slammed his sword into his twin’s back sending him crashing to the ground. He lay there stunned and gasping for air. He rolled onto his back with a groan. Vilkas pressed his sword to his neck the tip digging slightly into his pulse point. The wolf’s silver gaze held a hint of lust as he leered down at him. “I win.”

     Farkas growled. “If it were real blades I would have killed you twice over.”

     Vilkas was helping Farkas off the ground when Skjor came out from Jorrvaskr with Njada Stonearm in tow. The Redguard was a fierce fighter and a terrible bitch. Vilkas liker her. The rest of the whelps didn’t much care for her, but then again, the whelps didn’t much care for him either. Njada was limping behind Skjor. Her right calf was bleeding through a lick layer of bandages.

      Skjor barked at the brothers. “You’re supposed to be teaching these whelps how to fight, not showing off.”

     Skjor approached them and Vilkas nodded at the Redguard. “What’d she do?”

     “Njada decided to take on a whole pack of wolves by herself. Luckily, they were right outside the city, and the guards came to her rescue.” Skjor gave Vilkas a pat on the back with an amused smile on the old warrior’s thin lips. “At least she didn’t try to take on a camp full of giants like some other whelps I knew.”

     Vilkas rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

     “Never.”

     “We were twelve and stupid.” Vilkas retorted.

     “And only one thing’s changed. Songs will be sung of your valiant and desperate retreat.” Skjor’s laugh was always raspy and short. If a waterfall could laugh, Vilkas was sure it would sound like Skjor.

     Athis, and Ria were sitting at one of the tables while watching the brothers spar. Torvar was there as well, but he was busy nursing another hangover. Athis spoke up, the Dark Elf’s red eyes glinted like rubies. “I want to hear this. You tried to kill giants when you were twelve?”

     Skjor laughed again. “The twins haven’t told you? They snuck out one early morning and scampered off to Bleakwind Basin. Farkas, why did you two sneak out?”

     Vilkas returned his practice sword to a rack and grabbed a bottle of ale off the table. The balding Companion wrapped his arm around the wolf’s shoulder an evil grin on his face. Vilkas couldn’t hide his embarrassment as Farkas answered. “Vilkas wanted to pet a mammoth.”

     The whelps burst out laughing and Vilkas sneered at Skjor shoving the man away. “Like I said, we were twelve and stupid.”

     Skjor continued with a teasing tone. “We found them several hours later running for their lives with a hoard of giants on their tails. You should have seen the panic on Vilkas’ face as Farkas out ran him.”

     Farkas beamed. “Big bad wolf used to be a scaredy cat.”

     Vilkas turned on them. “It wasn’t a hoard of giants. It was TWO! And they wouldn't have found us if Farkas’ dumb ass didn’t try to stand on a branch that couldn’t support his FAT ASS WEIGHT!”

     The mirth died. Farkas' playful smile shifted to frown hurt by the insult. Skjor started to say something, but Vilkas stalked away. Guilt settled in his stomach as he left the yard. He made his way to the city walls where he could rest his elbows on the stone and be alone. He gazed up at the Throat of The World shining like a beacon in the warm spring sun. He let out a frustrated sigh.

     Vilkas was still at war with his wolf. It had been surprisingly docile each time Farkas claimed him, but the beast always returned more unyielding than before. The wolf had always latched on to Vilkas’ temper. Now any little irritation brought rage and battle. It yearned for freedom and gnawed at his willpower. The desire to transform and feed was so strong.

     So strong.

     Drinking seemed to help slightly, but he dared not get drunk for fear the wolf could easily break through his inebriated mind. The wolf wanted action, blood, and prey. Vilkas meditated, breathed, trained, and sparred, but these normal methods were no longer working.

     An hour or so passed when Skjor came to stand beside the wolf. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

     “I’m fine.” Vilkas muttered.

     “Don’t lie to me.”

    Vilkas chewed on his thoughts before he dropped his voice and said. “I'm losing control. What happens if I turn feral?”

     “That won’t happen.” Skjor affirmed. He didn’t need to ask what Vilkas was speaking of.

     Vilkas waved off his words. “Easy for you to say. You and Aela can control yourselves. You revel in your beast.”

     “Aye I enjoy the gift given to us. I’m sure if you stopped fighting this gift and indulged in it, you wouldn’t be struggling now.”

     “How can I? How can you? Where is the honor in slaughtering people?” Vilkas’ hushed words became a whisper. “How can you stand feeding on them?”

     Skjor was silent for a moment as a Whiterun guard walked the walls. He nodded to the companions and Skjor returned the gesture. The seasoned warrior answered once the guard was far out of earshot. “I have no qualms about killing brigands and bandits, and you, Vilkas, are a trained and hardened warrior. It’s always slaughter when you kill. Don’t forget that these outlaws would gladly steal, rape, and murder for the mere joy of it. They feed off innocence, and I have no qualms feeding on them. Don’t doubt yourself, and if you ever decide to indulge, you're always welcome to join Aela and I on a hunt.”

     Skjor patted Vilkas on the back. He started for Jorrvaskr but paused to say. “Wolf, you can’t tame a beast by denying it its nature."

     It was afternoon when Vilkas returned to Jorrvaskr. He sought out his brother with no luck. He asked Skjor. “Where’s Farkas?”

     “He went with Aela and Ria. Apparently, there’s a giant wondering around Pelagius’ farm.”  Skjor replied.

     “Ria shouldn’t have gone. She still plants herself.”

     “Stop worrying. They won’t let her get herself killed.”

     Vilkas grunted in response and entered the living quarters. His skin was still crawling as the wolf continued to taunt him. He needed to speak to Kodlak though he hated bothering the old man with his problems. Kodlak was weak. The rot was clearly draining him more these days. His cheeks had hollowed behind his swirling war paint, and he could no longer walk too far without getting winded. The Harbinger was clearly frustrated with his frail body. It was a terrible affliction to befall a warrior. Vilkas felt for him. He didn’t want to worry the man with his own struggles, but he didn’t know who else to turn to.

He feared what would happen should he transform. He couldn’t give in as Skjor suggested. As the years have gone on his beast blood had grown stronger. More often than not he would have gaps in his memory. He would wake up in the wilds not knowing how long he had been as a werewolf or what he had done. He could have killed dozens with no recollection of it. No way of knowing if he had butchered innocence in that time. Skjor had shrugged it off, but Vilkas feared he truly was turning feral.

     “Enter.” Kodlak said after Vilkas rapped on the door to the Harbingers study. The old man gave him a worn smile as the wolf entered. “Ah Vilkas. Come in. I was wanting to speak with you.”

     Kodlak sat at a small table at the far corner of the large study. He had a book in his hand, but set it down as Vilkas took a seat across from him.

     “What about?” Vilkas asked. The Harbinger studied him with his calculating steal gaze. His body might be failing, but the man’s mind was sharper than ever.

     “You haven’t been sleeping.” Kodlak proclaimed.

     “Is it that obvious?”

     “It is to me. What troubles you?”

     Vilkas leaned forward resting his arms on his knees. “My wolf. What else? I haven’t transformed in almost two years, but I still hear the call of the blood.”

     “We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome.”

     “But I can’t!” Vilkas barked. He stood from his chair no longer able to sit still. He paced while he ranted.  “No matter what I do, it won’t stop trying to break free. Even now the desire to change is unbearable.”

     “Relax.” Kodlak murmured. “Focus on your breathing.”

     “I have been breathing!” Vilkas snapped. “That’s all I’ve been doing is breathing and meditating and fucking training! It doesn’t work! Nothing works! I want to turn and tear everyone to pieces!”

     “Shhhhh. Vilkas look at me. You are stronger than any beast. Far stronger than a mere wolf. It won't consume you.”

     Kodlak’s soothing tone brought Vilkas back to himself. He hurriedly sat back down and clutched his knees while he tried to calm his pounding heart. I was just growling at Kodlak! Literally snarling at the old man with his lip twitching upward to reveal canines that were now throbbing painfully. Shore’s bones! Did I really almost transform without trying? And with the door open for all to see? It’s not supposed to be like this!

     “Everyone else can control their wolf. You only change when you call on the beast blood. Why can’t I?” Vilkas challenged. He was expecting the Harbinger to look at him with worry or pity. Instead Kodlak just starred at his book with remorse.

     “I should never have allowed you boys to be turned.” Kodlak said anguished.

     “You have no blame. I made my choice willingly, and you’re not my forbearer.”

     “I wonder if I should have been. You’ve always had a hot temper, and so did Arnbjorn. I should have seen this coming.” Kodlak insisted. “The wolf feeds off your fire, Vilkas. You tend to be more irritable when you’re idle, and you need strength to transform. Meditating is probably the opposite of what you need.”

     “You’re saying I should fight more?”

     “I’m saying you need to exert yourself. Tell me, when is it easiest to control your wolf?”

     “When I’m uhm.” Vilkas cleared his throat and held his fist to his face hoping to hide a blush that he couldn’t stave off. He immediately thought of Farkas and hurriedly buried the thought. “After I’ve bedded a lass.”

     It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. His wolf was quieter after sex, but no one had completely staved it off like Farkas did. Kodlak chuckled and it brought back some needed warmth to his pale skin. His laughing eyes barely visible behind merry made wrinkles. “Well then problem solved. Go down to the Bannered Mare, have some fun, and wear yourself out. If you can’t find a woman you can always run around the walls until you collapse. Or we can dunk you in the spring. Maybe that will cool your temper.”

     “I’m glad you find amusement in this old man.” Vilkas grumbled. “Now if you’re done. Why did you want to talk to me?”

     “Fret all you want wolf, but I was being serious.” Kodlak stroked his long white beard. “I’m close to finding a cure. The Glenmoril Witches created this pack, and they can undo it. I’m certain of it.”

     “How does that help? The ancient Companions killed them all after they discovered their deception.”  

     “I believe that some survived. I have no solid proof, but I found a rumor that the forsworn had sheltered some of them.”

     “And where did this rumor come from?”

     “Typical hear say, from the Reach, but I believe it to be true. I will find them wolf, and when I do, I will free myself of this curse. Free us all. Can I count on you to join me?”

     “You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don’t know if the rest will go along quite so easily.”

     “Leave that to me.” Kodlak said.

     Vilkas stayed for a while enjoying the quiet of the study while he mulled over Kodlak’s advice. He wasn’t sure the old man's idea would work, but he was desperate enough to try. Kodlak broke the silence. “A stranger comes to our hall.”

     Vilkas glanced up to see a Breton strutting down the hallway towards them. He was tall for a Breton, and his studded armor was well worn and dirty from travel. It hung on his shoulders slightly too big for him. Oddly, the man wore a fur scarf wrapped like a hood. Two short swords were strapped to his waist. The Breton didn’t bother to stop at the door. He smiled happily at Vilkas and strode right up to them. The wolf glowered at the man. The Breton’s smile faltered, much to Vilkas’ satisfaction, but the man turned to Kodlak unperturbed. The wolf noted that the Breton’s eyes were two different colors. His right was green while his left was hazel with specks of gold.

     “I would like to join the companions.” Said the Breton. His light voice carried through the room. It was a voice used to being heard.

     Vilkas drowned the voice with a deep roaring laughter. The Breton recoiled clearly offended. The man was athletic to be sure, but his corded muscles only looked large because they were attached to his thin frame. He’s the size of my leg! Vilkas only stopped his chortling when his side started aching. “You think you can be a companion?”

     The Breton starred at Vilkas as if he had sprouted antlers. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The man’s arm was covered with a flowing red tattoo reminiscent of waves that swirled from knuckles to shoulder. His voice held a note of disbelief. “You TOLD me to join.”

     Vilkas started laughing again, but Kodlak silenced him. “You dishonor yourself.” He then said to the Breton. “I am Kodlak Whitemane. This is Vilkas. What’s your name boy?”

     He answered Kodlak while still watching Vilkas suspiciously. “Bran, uh, Master.”

     “I’m no one’s master. Here, let me have a look at you.”

     Bran stepped closer to the Harbinger and unwound his hood. Bran couldn’t have been much older than Ria, and the milk drinker hadn’t a scar on him. He was quite tan. He had sandy blonde hair that was far longer on the top where it swept forward and stuck out in a disheveled mess. He had a short unkept beard. Vilkas silently sniffed the air. Bran’s musk smelled like the undergrowth of a forest like moss, fern and soil. Whether that was his natural scent or him just being in the woods recently, Vilkas couldn’t tell.  

     “When’s the last time you’ve had a real meal boy? Or bathed?” Kodlak asked.

     Bran gave the Harbinger a sheepish grin revealing mostly straight white teeth. Bran ran a hand through his hair which only made it spike up in more directions. “Honestly. It’s been a while. I haven’t had an actual meal since I left Cyrodiil. I suppose my last bath was when I took an unplanned dip in some lake thanks to a troll.”

     “Care to elaborate?” Vilkas inquired.

     “Bloody thing charged me. I admit I didn’t expect it to be so fast and it grabbed hold of my shirt and tossed me off a cliff.”

     “And what brought you to Skyrim?’ Kodlak asked.

     “Curiosity mostly. Cyrodiil was too boring, and the people fearful. I wanted excitement. Adventure, however, if I had known this Stormcloak ‘rebellion' was a full-blown civil war I would’ve stayed in Cyrodiil.”

     “You don’t like battle, boy?”

     “It’s not the fighting that bothers me. It’s the bloody politicians behind it.”

     Kodlak combed his fingers through his beard. “Hmm, yes. Perhaps a certain strength of spirit.”

     “You’re not truly considering accepting him?” Vilkas sneered. He eyed the Breton again. “Even if he can fight, he’s clearly not a warrior. Besides I’ve never heard of this outsider.”

     “What matters is their heart.”

     “And their arm.” Vilkas scoffed.

     “Of course. How are you in battle boy?”

     “I can handle myself.” Bran said.

     “That may be so. For now, I welcome you as a guest to these halls. Eat and rest. Vilkas will test your arm in the morning.”

     “Thank you, sir.” Bran said, his whole body sagging with relief. Kodlak excused them both from his study. Bran watched Vilkas curiously like a lynx eyeing a wolf. Even being tall for his race, the Breton barely reached the nord’s collarbone. Bran chewed on his tongue as he looked up at Vilkas. “There were a lot of Nords in Cyrodiil, but you Skyrim Nords are from a different stock.”

      Vilkas huffed and stalked down the hall with the Breton swaggering along beside him. The wolf was relieved to run into Farkas. “Farkas brother. How was the fight?”

     Bran gawked at the twins as they clasped arms and patted each other’s backs. Farkas was beaming with excitement his eyes flashing silver. His face and hair were sweaty, and his scent was strong with pride and triumph. He’s always so damn hot after battle.

     “You should have been there. It put up a good fight.” Farkas exclaimed. He paused when he noticed Bran. The Breton barely reached the middle of Farkas’ sternum, and he had to crane his neck to look at the giant Nord. Farkas beamed brighter. “You came! Bran, right? You should have seen him fight Vilkas. He came running out of nowhere. He was fast. He ran right under the giant dodging kicks while he sliced with his swords.”

     “This twig helped you kill the giant?” Vilkas questioned.

     “Yeah! He helped us bring it down a lot faster.” Farkas said.

     “Wait! So, you’re the one I spoke to outside the city?” Bran said pointing to Farkas. “Are you twins?”

     “Is that not obvious twiggy?” Vilkas said.

     Bran scowled at the wolf. “Don’t call me twiggy. Though I guess that is a stupid question. You do look exactly the same.”

     Farkas leaned on Vilkas and ruffled his hair. “Nah, Vilkas is prettier.”

     Bran chewed on his tongue; his mischievous lips slightly parted as he eyed the twins. Whatever he was thinking he kept to himself. The wolf shoved Farkas roughly and said. “Farkas, Bran is staying for the night. Why don’t you show him around?”

     Bran smiled warmly at Farkas who blushed and stammered. Vilkas knew how shy Farkas was and thoroughly enjoyed watching him itch. He left them in the hall and he overheard Bran say. “No offense, but your brother is a bit of an arse.”

     Farkas laughed. “Don’t let him get to you. He hates everyone, but if you prove yourself, he’ll respect you.”

     By the end of the day Vilkas regretted leaving Bran with Farkas. The Breton spent all of his time plastered to his twin. Farkas spent most of that time flustered and sputtering over his words, however by the end of the day he was all smiles. Farkas showed Bran everything his silver eyes landed on from the Skyforge to Wuuthrad, and introduced the twig to everyone at least twice. Bran seemed to enjoy the attention. He treated Farkas like a puppy, and Farkas treated him like a new toy. When it was time for supper, they sat beside each other while the Breton told a ridiculous story about escaping a dragon. As if dragons still exist! The only time Bran stopped talking was just long enough to stuff his face, and by the gods could that small man eat! He seemed to enjoy making Farkas flush and spoke to him warmly.

     Vilkas fumed. He raged and scowled as he watched them. Vilkas knew he was jealous, and he hadn’t a right to be. Even if he had, Bran didn’t do anything provocative, and yet everything about him screamed seducer. Those mismatched eyes that scanned everyone like a lynx searching for prey. The way he strutted like a man who knew he was attractive.

Some time before supper the Breton had bathed. He had shaved off his beard as well as the back and sides of his hair. It made him look even younger. He had the diamond shaped face and high cheekbones of an elf with the heavy brows and square chin of a man. His features were soft enough to be almost feminine, and yet hard enough to portray his masculinity. He was too boyish for Vilkas, but he could see how others might be drawn to him. Ria certainly was judging by the way she blushed every time the twig noticed her. Which was rarely. He was focused solely on Farkas, and Vilkas hated it.

     He was grateful Skjor and Aela had dismissed themselves early, and Kodlak had eaten in his study. His scent probably wrapped the whole hall in a covetous fog. Vilkas left once his wolf became dangerous. His jealousy bringing it to the bars in his mind where the beast gnawed them bloody. He tossed and turned unable to sleep at all.

     It was late into the night when there was a soft tap on his door. “Vilkas?” Farkas breathed. “You awake?”

     Vilkas crept out of bed and cracked his door open. He grumbled. “What do you want?”

     “Let me in.”

     The wolf contemplated slamming the door in his brother’s face and telling him to shove off. Part of him was still angry, but the other part was curious. He opened the door and quietly closed it behind Farkas. His brother strode in with a candle, and he set it on the table lighting the room with a warm glow. As soon as his hands were free, Farkas transformed into a being of raw power and desire. It took him two strides to cross the room, and hover over Vilkas. The wolf was already ensnared by him. His hands were on the door on either side of Vilkas’ head, and their faces were almost touching. Farkas wore only a pair of shorts. Vilkas was nude. He was instantly aroused. His heart was already pounding and his mouth dry. Farkas studied every mar and dimple on him before murmuring. “You’re sexy when you’re jealous.”

    Vilkas struggled to find words, but before he could think of any Farkas was stealing his lips. Vilkas grabbed the back of his brother’s neck and pulled himself closer. He savored the feeling of their lips clasped together. He ran his fingers along Farkas’ rigid abs and settled his hand on the patch of hair on his brother’s chest. He pushed Farkas away and rasped. “Have you lost your mind?”

     “I couldn’t wait any longer.” Farkas breathed. “Don’t worry. I won’t do more than that. Not here anyway.”

     “Then what do you want?”   

     “We should sneak out.”

     Vilkas couldn’t stop himself from getting hard as he thought about the last time they were in the underforge. Farkas had him shoved up against the stone basin holding one of his legs up as he thrust into him. The cold stone digging into his ribs had not been pleasant as he leaned over gripping the sides of the bowl. He had ignored it and encouraged Farkas to fuck him harder. Vilkas’ tight furl had become more supple and by the gods it felt so damn amazing every time his brother’s cock slid along it. Farkas could obviously see his swelling member, and his brother rocked his hips causing his own hard cock to slide along his through the fabric. Vilkas choked on a moan and said. “We can’t. It’s only been a few days.”

     “We’ll go somewhere else.”

     Vilkas slumped against the door crossing his arms. “Go where? Skulk behind a house and fuck in a bush?” Farkas replied with a dirty smirk and a gleam in his eye. “Farkas, no. Tomorrow we can find an excuse to go anywhere in Skyrim. We can be gone as long as we want. Until then, go to bed.”

     Farkas looked like he might object, and the selfish part of Vilkas hoped he would. Gods new he wouldn’t have the willpower or desire to stop him if Farkas pressed. The candle light sprawled across the side of Farkas’ face magnifying his features and making him look dark and brooding. Vilkas grew harder at the sight. His brother noticed. Vilkas scowled at him.

     With a dejected sigh, Farkas retrieved his candle. Vilkas stepped away from the door to let his brother pass. Farkas ensnared his lips once more. Vilkas hummed into the kiss. His brother nipped his lip and after a languid gaze he left the room. The wolf let out a quiet groan and blindly found his bed. He crumpled onto it landing on his belly.

     He was happy that Farkas had come to soothe his jealously, but it had been replaced ten-fold with lust. His lips still tingled while his mind replayed their nights together for the hundredth time. With a growl he grasped his cock and stroked himself. He thought of Farkas taking them both in one of his large hands pumping them together. His brother’s cock had been scorching against his and so incredibly soft. Vilkas whined. He popped his free fingers into his mouth wishing it was Farkas’ cock instead. He sucked and slathered them before he curled his knee up and brought those fingers to his core.

     He ran circles around his furl teasing himself like his brother does. He slid a finger in thrusting shallowly before adding a second. His hand on his cock quickened its pace, and Vilkas moaned into his pillow. His muffled words were hushed and frantic. “Fuck me Farkas. Fuck me hard.”

     He thrust up into his hand while he worked his fingers deeper into his core. It felt so good when Farkas clutched him to his chest. How his cock slid along his furl and pressed up inside him. The pressure. The heat. His hands pinning him down. Pulling his hair. Farkas’ fingers clasping his throat. His cock pounding inside him rubbing against that spot! He remembered his brother’s words in Valtheim, heavy and commanding. “Come for me.”  

     Vilkas hurriedly rolled onto his back and came across his stomach. He whined and groaned as he stroked himself until he was too sensitive for it to be pleasurable. His core was still tightly clinging to his fingers, and he hissed as he worked them free. He felt around the floor searching for his linen shirt. Once he found it, he mopped himself up and discarded it back to the floor. He rolled onto his side cradling his pillow. He still wasn’t tired. He WAS still horny. Damn you Farkas. I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.

     Vilkas clambered out of bed well before dawn. He felt around in the darkness searching for his dresser where he dug up a pair of trousers. He took a moment to stretch reaching for the ceiling and then down to his toes. He lazily made his way to the kitchen where Tilma was struggling to light a fire.

     “You’re up awfully early dear.” She said over her shoulder.

     “How did you know I was here?”

     “I know everything that goes on in these halls.” She stated flashing him her motherly smile. Tilma the Haggard had been old since Vilkas was young, but she was becoming more haggard as of late. Vilkas couldn’t help but worry about her. She was the closest thing Farkas and him had to a mother. He didn’t like picturing a Jorrvaskr without her. He gently took the fire striker from her small wrinkled hands. With a quick flick he sent sparks flying onto the tinder which quickly ignited.

     She thanked him and complained about her rickety bones. Vilkas listened patiently while he did her bidding, and she drabbled on about tidings both new and ancient. Would he fetch the eggs? Could he put on water? That good for nothing Mikael was back to harassing Carlotta. Vilkas promised to handle it. Again. He searched for the salt that was on the counter in front of her. What a sweet dearie he was. Always so helpful. Did he remember that time Farkas saved a cat stuck in the Gildergreen and he had to save Farkas? He did. Surely that hadn’t been twenty years ago already. It was. Would he mind kneading the doe for her? Her arthritic fingers weren’t what they used to be. He would be happy to. She thanked him again. What brave handsome men the twins had grown up to be. “I’m so proud of you boys.”

     Vilkas’ scowling exterior shattered replaced with heart felt gratitude. Her words were a balm on his stressed mind. He enjoyed moments like these. The simple tasks of daily life that were often over looked yet so vital to existence. He savored this time when his wolf was still and the world slept. Vilkas continued to help Tilma start breakfast until Brill awoke and took his place. After which he fetched himself boots and a cloak and sat on the back patio to watch the sunrise.

     It was late morning when the twig finally ventured outside with Farkas in tow. He wore soft leather pants that clung to him with a flowing tunic tucked into his belt. Bran blinked doe eyed in the bright light. Vilkas had already been working with the whelps for hours. Torvar was sitting at the table nursing several welts. Ria was currently standing before Vilkas and Athis desperately trying to dodge all their attacks. She was still trying to plant herself.

     “You ready twiggy?” Vilkas asked. Ria took her chance to lunge at the wolf. Athis was on her in a second rapping his sword across her wrist. She yelped and jumped back. Vilkas gestured them to stop.

     The Breton frowned at him. “Stop calling me twiggy.”

     Vilkas shrugged and strolled toward him. “Suit yourself new blood.” He pointed at a row of racks full of weapons with his sword. “Those are blunted and used for training. Don’t ever let me find a real weapon there.”

     Vilkas grabbed a plain wooden shield that had been leaning against a rack. “The old man said to have a look at you, so let’s do this. Arm yourself.”

     “Why can’t Farkas test me?”

     “I’m the Master of Arms. Farkas isn’t.”

     Bran sized up Vilkas eyeing his sword and shield before he studied the weapons on the rack. He settled on two short swords. He tested the grips and gave them a swing before following Vilkas down to the yard. Everyone else settled down to watch.

     “I want to see your form. I won’t hurt you. Much. But I want you to try to hit me as hard as you can. As far as your concerned this is a real fight, and your life depends on it.” Vilkas said as he bent his knees and readied his sword. Bran looked doubtful. “Don’t worry, I can take it.”

     Bran lowered himself and lifted his swords up in an unfamiliar stance. Vilkas expected the Breton to charge in full zeal like most youthful prospects, but instead Bran simply walked while he watched Vilkas carefully. His green and hazel eyes were locked onto him. Judging. Anticipating. Waiting to see if Vilkas would strike first. The wolf was pleased as he circled in turn. Good. He’s cautious. Bran lashed out like a viper. His swords flashed in a series of quick slashes. Each blow scraped along Vilkas’ shield and he scowled at the Breton. The wolf surged forward and the twig skipped back.

     “Don’t aim at my shield. Hit me!” Vilkas shouted. He swung at Bran’s legs and the Breton leapt away swinging a sword up to keep Vilkas at bay. The wolf batted the blow aside with his shield and rapped the twig hard on his back with the flat of his blade. Bran stumbled with a yelp though to his credit he remained on his feet. He whirled around and hissed at Vilkas. The wolf grinned. The Breton kicked a rock up at Vilkas who easily dodged it. Bran was right behind the rock roaring as he slashed at Vilkas. He twirled to the side letting the twig’s moments pull him past before the wolf stuck his foot out and sent the Breton crashing to the ground.

     Bran rolled bouncing back to his feet and slashing his blades around himself. It was obvious he was used to slashing swords like scimitars. Not once had he tried to pierce Vilkas. The wolf had to admit that the man was light on his feet and he was used to fighting outnumbered. He was nimble resorting to speed and agility since he lacked bulk. The Breton gulped up air. Vilkas had barely broken a sweat. “Tired already new blood?”

     “The air. Is thin.” He puffed.

     Shit. Vilkas hadn’t considered that Bran might not be acclimated yet. He couldn’t afford to risk the man fainting. Damn. I was actually having fun. He asked. “How long have you been in Skyrim?”

     “A few weeks.” Bran panted.

     He lunged at Vilkas slashing quick while he tried to dance around him. Vilkas caught the blows with his shield and parried another that came in from the side. The wolf howled as a blunted blade suddenly smacked his calf and drew across it. He hopped away only nursing the leg for a single step before he parried another blow and slammed his shield into the Breton. Bran was tossed through the air and landed hard on his back. Bran groaned and slowly pulled himself to his knees.

     The whelps gaped at Bran and Ria exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. He got a hit on Vilkas."

     “That’s impressive.” Athis admitted.

     “Pfft. I could take him.” Njada muttered.

     "Vilkas or the new blood?" Athis asked.

     "I'll take them both on, and you too grey skin."

     Vilkas offered Bran his hand and the twig took it once his mind stopped reeling. Vilkas pulled him to his feet and patted him on the shoulder. “Not bad. You might just make it.”

Chapter Text

     A storm had raged through the plains with all the ferocity of Ysgramor and his Companions. Thunder had rolled throughout the land like a giant beast never pausing to take a breath. A few lightning strikes had been close enough to make Jorrvaskr shudder. Even in the bowels of the mead hall, Vilkas could hear the crashing of the downpour. All evening the sky threw its tantrum and the wolf silently raged with it because the storm was threatening to ruin his plans. No one could sleep through a tempest like that, say possibly Torvar, and Vilkas needed the Companions to sleep. It was late into the night before the squall had decided to move on and still the wolf waited impatiently in his room for another hour or so before daring to venture forth.

     He slunk through the hall with only a pair of trousers on and a dimmed lantern in hand. He was no sneak, but Jorrvaskr had been his home for over twenty years; He knew every spot the floorboards would squeak, and with practiced ease he avoided them all. He grabbed a light cloak off a peg on the wall and draped it over himself before heading out the back. A smattering of fluffy clouds briskly swept across the sky, but down near the ground all was still and silent. Secunda shone brightly between the clouds while Masser had vanished behind the mountains. The air was refreshing and the strong scent of rain was bliss to the wolf’s nose. The cold damp stone felt nice on his bare feet. Normally Vilkas would have sat at the patio and basked in the solitude, but not tonight. Something more enticing was luring him away.

     Even with the help of the lantern Vilkas struggled to find the entrance to the Underforge. The stone door blended in with the rest of the cracks in the rocks, and even though he had been there a dozen times before he always seemed to misjudge the exact spot the entrance hid. He pushed along the rocks till a part finally gave with a low quiet scraping and the door slid open. The wolf slipped inside.

     He was expecting the old stale air, but the sudden change still slapped him in the face. He left the door open ever so slightly to encourage a breeze to find its way through the depths and out the secret exit that used to lead to an old tower. The watchtower had crumbled ages ago and it now served as an easy way out of the city for the werewolves. It was a path Skjor and Aela used often enough that their scent was more powerful than any other. He had heard them leave Jorrvaskr to hunt. They wouldn’t be back till morning at the earliest, and they would not return to the Underforge. He ventured deeper into the cave.

     There was no denying the Underforge had power; whether the magics had always been present or had lingered from eras worth of rituals was anyone’s guess. Even in the shadow of night a white light emanated from holes within the rocks basking the cave in a haunting glow. Once, Vilkas had thought those lights came from the forge or the sun, but no heat ever accompanied the strange lights and they shone whether it be day or night.

     Farkas was not there, so Vilkas set his lantern on an outcrop and busied himself by pacing around the giant basin in the center of the cave. His wolf crept out of the shadows in his mind to lay along the bars of its prison. It didn’t bite nor claw at the restraints, but simply pressed against them enough that Vilkas couldn’t ignore it. His wolf always seemed energized to be at its birthplace. The Underforge was a slew of mixed emotions for him, and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the place.

     Before he could wander into memories he didn’t want to think about, Farkas appeared. His hair was disheveled and he looked tired, like he had just woken. Vilkas felt a twinge of guilt. “You didn’t need to come if you would rather sleep.”

     Farkas huffed gruffly, but his eyes shimmered with desire. He approached Vilkas with a self-assured gait that his twin normally only had in battle. He loved the sight. Loved how his brother was so confident and bold when they were alone. It was a side of his twin rarely seen and only freely shared with Vilkas.

      “I can sleep later.” Farkas said.

     His twin grabbed the back of the wolf’s neck and leaned down to capture a kiss. Vilkas rested his hands on his brother’s hips and returned the kiss with vigor. He parted his lips seeking more and his brother obliged. Their tongues twirled around one another, tasting, exploring, and remembering each other’s touch. Farkas was fully clothed, boots and all, and Vilkas slipped his hands under his brother’s tunic. His fingers ghosted across those glorious solid abs and his brother shivered. He pushed the tunic up trying to get his twin to take it off. Farkas ignored him. His brother continued his languid kiss, the hand on the back of his neck preventing the wolf from breaking the contact. Vilkas whined into his brother’s mouth. Farkas chuckled and released his lips. His breath hot and heavy as he muttered. “Always so impatient.”

     Vilkas took the chance to pull his twin’s shirt off as he retorted. “If we did it your way, we would be here all week.”

     Farkas grinned wickedly. “What’s wrong with that?”

     Vilkas undid the clasp of his cloak letting it drop to the ground. Farkas began to kiss and nibble along the wolf’s jawline. Vilkas replied. “Because I want you to do more than kiss me.”

     “What do you want?” Farkas breathed.

     The lust in his gravelly voice sent a wave of heat straight to Vilkas’ groin. He moaned clinging to his brother’s back while Farkas peppered his neck and jaw with kisses. They had been together enough that they had learned what each other liked. Farkas enjoyed hearing and seeing the pleasure he created. He enjoyed knowing he was satisfying Vilkas while the wolf simply loved being claimed and controlled. He loved feeling his brother’s weight and power over him. There was a freedom in that. In giving up his dominance he also lost his worries. Somewhere in that exchange of authority his wolf would vanish. Farkas would toss it into whatever depths that only he could. His twin sensed that Vilkas’ mind had wondered. He grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled. The slight pain snapped his attention back to his brother. The wolf moaned again as Farkas sucked on his pulse and drug his teeth across his larynx. His lips trailed lower to bite the sensitive flesh between his neck and collarbone. Vilkas wished his brother would bite him harder, but he knew they couldn’t risk leaving marks in such an exposed area.

     “What do you want?” Farkas repeated.

     “Whatever you want. Just…. Nnnghh, just take me.”

     Farkas forced Vilkas back until he felt the cold stone slab pressing against his calves and he sat. He expected his twin to clamber on top of him. Farkas stood there admiring him while he chewed on his lip and undid his trousers. He pulled his cock free from its confinement and Vilkas took it in his mouth hungrily. Farkas swore softly and massaged his fingers through the wolf’s locks. Vilkas looked up at his brother remembering that that’s what he liked. Farkas groaned and sucked his lower lip back into his mouth. Up and down he went along his brother’s shaft with his hand following closely behind his mouth. He took extra time to play with the tip swirling his tongue along it and over the slit before descending back down. He thought about sucking on his balls as Farkas often did to him, but dismissed the thought. Farkas was quite a bit hairier than him, and the thought of a hairy sack in his mouth was anything but a turn on. Farkas grunted and pulled rather hard on the wolf’s hair. Vilkas moaned as he returned his gaze to his twin’s and his thoughts withered away. He cupped his brother’s balls rolling them in his hand. Farkas muttered. “Gods, that feels good.”

     Farkas thrust down his throat and it took Vilkas all he had to hold his gag reflex at bay. Once his brother’s cock was slathered and fully hard, Farkas pulled himself free. He kicked off his boots and stepped out of the trousers that had been hung up on his ankles. He leaned down resting his fists on either side of Vilkas and kissed him deep and rough. Farkas murmured quietly. “I forgot the oil.”

     Vilkas wrapped his arms around Farkas trying to pull him down, but his twin wouldn’t budge. Vilkas murmured. “I don’t care.”

     “Someone’s needy.”

     “Damn it Farkas. Why do you always insist on tormenting me? Get down here!”

     “Keep demanding and you’ll wait longer.” Farkas threatened though he quickly undid the ties on Vilkas’ trousers. The wolf laid back on the stone and lifted his hips as his brother pulled off his pants. Then Farkas was on him. His body was a blaze compared to the cold stone beneath him and Vilkas gasped as he felt his brother’s rigid cock slide up against his own. Farkas gripped his wrists tight and drew Vilkas’ arms up above his head. His brother’s silver eyes explored every inch of him and the lust shining through them grew as he drank in the sight.

     Vilkas begged. “Please fuck me.”

     “I like it when you beg.” Farkas growled as he settled his knees on either side of Vilkas. He thrust his cock up along the wolf’s shaft and slowly back down.

     Vilkas squirmed under his brother. Farkas tightened his grip on his wrists digging his fingers into the flesh enough to be painful. When his brother thrust up along him again, he cried out pitifully. Vilkas was trapped beneath his twin’s powerful grip and broad heavy body. His twin’s velvety hard cock gliding along his own felt amazing. He knew his brother was purposefully sending him into a frenzy. Farkas reveled in bringing him to the edge and holding him there to teeter on the precipice.

     “Fuck Farkas! Please! I want you inside me. Please!” Vilkas pleaded.

     His brother swore. He placed both of Vilkas’ wrists in one of his giant paws so he could run his scraggy nails down the wolf’s chest. Vilkas leaned up into that ache that was so damn good, and he groaned loud and filthy. He could feel himself already leaking. Farkas chuckled happily and said. “Wouldn’t you rather this lasted longer.”

     Farkas gently brought his fingers back over the reddening scratches and ever so gently settled those fingers on Vilkas’ throat. He swallowed. His face grew warm with anticipation as he waited for Farkas to tighten his grip. Instead he felt his brother’s cock slide up against his again. It took him by surprise and he shivered, scrunching his eyes shut. He mumbled. “If you keep doing this I’m going to cum before you even take me.”

     Farkas bit the wolf’s lip before kissing him gently. He released Vilkas to trail his hands and lips down his body leaving light marks in his wake. He made sure not to break the skin, but Vilkas would need to keep his shirt on for a few days. Vilkas groaned as his brother’s tongue found his cock. His brother lapped at his slit, and then glided down his member and over his balls. He gently drew one into his mouth sucking slightly and humming around it. Vilkas sucked in a breath through his teeth as his whole body froze. Farkas let his ball pop free just before the aching became truly painful and then drew in the other.

     The wolf clawed at the stone unable to do little else as a rush of pleasure coursed through him. Farkas freed his sack running his tongue along it once more as he gently moved it up out of the way. He spread Vilkas wide, then that wonderful tongue was probing at his core. It lapped at his furl, swirling around it before delving within.

     “Ahhh fuck!” Vilkas cried and thrust blindly into the air. Farkas pressed a hand into his belly holding him still as he continued his administrations. The wolf glanced down briefly, but all he could see was Farkas’ hair. He quickly clamped his eyes shut again. There was a pause and then the wolf felt a slick finger pressing into his core. It probed shallowly while Farkas continued to lick and spit around it. Vilkas moaned when that finger delved deeper and swirled around his center. A second finger was added and they explored deeper still. Vilkas reached for his cock, but stopped himself. Farkas didn’t like it when he touched himself. His brother was meticulous in his work making sure the wolf’s center was thoroughly slick and ready to be taken. Farkas’ long thick fingers found that bulb within his core. His twin pressed and massaged it causing the pressure in Vilkas pelvis to build even more. The wolf tried to warn his brother that he was going to cum, but words were lost to him. All that came out was an incoherent whimpering as the buildup ruptured, and his orgasm coursed through him.

     He threw his head back as his whole body went taught, and his heart pounded in his ears. It felt like a tsunami; One continuous wave of bliss that washed over him. He spilt his load all over the hand on his belly and down his cock while his core clung to Farkas’ fingers. By the time the pleasure subsided, the wolf was left trembling and gasping for air. His head and chest were flushed and his mind was floating. He glanced down to see Farkas staring at him with needy dilated eyes while he panted though parted lips.

     Farkas growled. “That was fucking hot.”

     The wolf responded with only a groan. Farkas carefully removed his fingers from Vilkas’ core and wiped the cum on the back of his hand onto his cock. Then Farkas was pushing the wolf’s legs toward his chest while he grabbed an ankle and pressed that cock against his furl. His core resisted at first, but Vilkas forced himself to relax. His furl surrendered and swallowed his brother’s squat head. He mewled as his brother’s member slid into him till Farkas was fully sheathed.

     “Oh Farkas.” Vilkas groaned. Farkas rocked only pulling out slightly and then carefully sank back in. His pace was slow and gentle until he was gliding through Vilkas’ center with ease. The wolf begged. “Please fuck me harder!”

     Farkas grunted and increased his speed. The sounds of flesh slapping against each other filled the Underforge. Vilkas basked in the feeling of his brother’s cock sliding along his walls, pressing against that bundle of nerves, but he wanted more. Farkas was barely touching him. He grabbed his twin’s arm and dug his fingers in as he pleaded. “Choke me!”

     Farkas extracted himself from Vilkas’ core and lifted him up so he was resting all of his weight on his shoulders. With his ass high up in the air, his brother stepped onto the platform and sank himself back down into that gaping hole. Vilkas gasped as the new position allowed Farkas to go deeper.

     Farkas’ voice was practically infernal.  “You want me to choke you?”

     “Fuck yes.”

     “Beg.”

     “Ahhh gods!” Vilkas wailed. Just the sound of his brother’s demand was enough to reignite that glorious pleasure deep in his core. With Farkas’ added weight shoving him into the stone, the pleasure made grimace on his twin’s face, and the submissive position he had put in, sent him into a pool of bliss. He begged. “Please, choke me. Fuck me hard Farkas! Please!”

     Farkas reached down to seize the wolf’s throat. Vilkas groaned as those fingers pressed into his neck. His brother quickened his pace driving into him hard. Farkas muttered. “Vilkas you feel so good.”

     Vilkas was euphoric. He saw stars as his brother choked and fucked him. Farkas’ thrusts became more erratic, and he let go of  Vilkas’ throat to cling to his legs. Farkas growled as he came. He shot his seed into Vilkas’ core and milked himself with small thrusts. Vilkas was not hard, yet he was racked with another orgasm. The noises he made were almost inhuman, something between a yelp and a sob. A slight dribble was all that made it out of his flaccid cock, yet the orgasm itself was overwhelming. It coursed through him like a lightning bolting searching for ground before finding contact and bursting forth with a blinding flash and roaring thunder. Farkas extracted himself from Vilkas’ winking furl while the wolf lay on the stone slab in a daze.

     It wasn’t until Farkas was pulling him into a hug that he came back to reality. They were both sweaty and the Underforge was stuffier than ever. Vilkas didn’t care. He let his brother cradle him against his chest. Farkas had always been a cuddler. The wolf mumbled. “That……”

     “That was good.” Farkas rumbled.

     “Yeah.” Vilkas affirmed as he sniffed the air.

     Only powerful emotions made it into one’s musk and the brothers’ odors carried dozens. Besides lust; pride, satisfaction and love exuded from Farkas. Vilkas was happy to be able to share that message with his brother without Farkas having to struggle with the right words. His own scent was mostly wonder. He had never had more than one orgasm before. He thought that had been a blessing only given to women. His entire body felt spent, and he wasn’t even sure if his legs could support his weight.

     Farkas kissed his head. “You ok?”

     Vilkas chuckled. “More than ok. That was damn incredible.”

     He pulled himself out of his brother’s embrace. Farkas sulked. Vilkas held his cheeks and kissed him before hoisting himself onto his feet. “Sorry, but we need to go. I doubt sunrise is far off, and we need to bath.”

     Farkas sighed. “I know. I just wish we didn’t have to.”

     The brothers dressed and quietly made their way to the bathing pools at the bottom of Dragonsreach only to undress and wade into the frigid water. Farkas may have forgotten the oil, but Vilkas had remembered the soap. He lathered himself with the honey and lye bar before handing it to his brother. A guard gave them a curious glance as he made his rounds up to the keep but didn’t bother to question them. The Companion’s work often had them leaving or returning to the city at odd hours so it wasn’t that strange of a sight to find the twins there. They still bathed quickly and whenever the guard’s back was to them, the brothers would give each other a sniff to check if any scents lingered. After they were done, they hurried back to Jorrvaskr. Vilkas collapsed into his bed and slept better than he had in years.

     Vilkas awoke to a soft knock on his door. Tilma’s gentle voice was almost inaudible through the heavy wood. “Vilkas dear, are you in there?”

     The wolf scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and murmured. “Yeah. Is something wrong?”

     He flung his blankets off and swung his feet off the bed just as Tilma took the liberty of inviting herself into his room. He cursed, quickly pulling the blankets over his waist. “Damn it, woman! I’m not decent!”

     Tilma gave him a look that could stop a charging sabre cat. She set a tray piled with food on his desk while she scolded him. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me boy. You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen before. I used to bath you!”

     “I’m not a child! I’m near thirty for Shor’s sake.” He retorted.

     “I don’t care how old you are. Keep using that voice with me, and I’ll still take a spoon to you. Mark my words!” Tilma threatened shaking a bony gnarled finger at the wolf.

     Vilkas clamped his mouth shut. His arms and fingers curled into themselves as if the limbs remembered the feel of Tilma’s punishments. He didn’t dare challenge her further for she never gave an idle threat. Barely a month had gone by since the last time she rapped his knuckles with her mighty utensil for trying to steal a pastry before supper.

     “Sorry.” He grumbled.

     The old woman shuffled up to him and said in her sweet soft voice. “I got worried once you missed breakfast. You never sleep in so late. Are you ill?”

     She placed the back of one of her small hands across his forehead. He could feel the swollen joints along with the bones in her hand. She’s gotten so frail and thin these last few years. Vilkas huffed and pulled away. He said. “The storm kept me up. I didn’t go to sleep till late.”

     One of Tilma’s thinning eyebrows shot up to meet the wrinkles in her forehead. “Really? What happened here?”

     The wolf glanced down to see the long welts Farkas had drawn across his torso and a smattering of love bites along his abs. He had completely forgotten about them. God’s damn it all! He sputtered out a lie. “Uh. Well. Um…. There was…… a dog! In the market district yesterday. Damn thing jumped on me.”

      “You were with a girl last night, weren’t you?” Tilma the Haggard’s lips stretched into nothing as she smiled. Vilkas’ face bloomed red as she continued her accusations. “It’s about time you found yourself a new girl. Are you treating the dear well? No need to be bashful. What’s her name? Does she live here? Are you finally going to have some pups of your own? I do miss having little ones around.”

     Vilkas buried his face in his hands as the old woman rambled. Once she started talking about pups panic ensued. His voice was almost shrill as he begged. “Tilma PLEASE! Stop!”

     He could only imagine the horror on his face. Tilma smiled warmly, and her normally tired eyes gleamed brightly. “Fine, I’ll stop pestering you, but you better not break her heart like you did with Adrianne.”

     With that Tilma left while humming to herself. Vilkas groaned resting his arms on his knees as he sank into himself. That was NOT what he expected to wake up to. “Shor’s bones. Fuck me to Oblivion and back!”

     He smirked to himself. Farkas had already done that.

     It was midday before Vilkas gained enough courage to leave his room. He rushed by Tilma who was singing to herself in the kitchen. Once he made it to the yard he sighed with relief. A cold breeze was blowing from the East and the wolf was glad he chose to wear a heavy tunic even if for different reasons. Surprisingly Kodlak was sitting on the patio watching the whelps train. Athis was desperately trying to break past Njada’s shield while Farkas was training with Bran. Again. Vilkas sneered at the sight.

     Ria was chatting with Kodlak and she waved Vilkas over. He took a seat next to her and the Imperial scooted closer to him. She grabbed his arm and gazed up at him eagerly. “So, when do we get to go out on our next mission?”  

     Vilkas was always a little put off by the Imperial. Sometimes Ria seemed to be downright terrified of him and other times she treated him like her best friend. Now she looked up at him as if she wanted something from him. He hadn’t a clue what. He replied with an awkward smile while he pulled his arm free and ruffled her brown hair. “I haven’t gotten word of any trouble lately. If you’re wanting work you might have to go looking for it. Actually, when was the last time you’ve left the City?”

     Ria swiped his hand off her head and rolled her eyes at him. She ran her fingers through her hair and replied. “Not since you came with me to clear out those bears. Vilkas I was wondering……….”

     The wolf had stopped listening to the imperial. His attention was fully on the damn twig who Farkas sent crashing to the ground. Vilkas would have laughed had he not been certain that the damn Breton intentionally got in the way. Farkas’ face was painted with concern as he helped the man up. Bran rested a hand on Farkas’ arm and said something. It made Farkas blush. Vilkas clawed at the armrests of his chair. That damned Breton had barely been with the Companions a month, and he had already fucked half of Whiterun. The man had no decency and those seductive eyes had been on Farkas more as of late. Get your filthy hands off my brother!

     "Vilkas?" 

     The wolf started. Ria was pouting at him. “You weren’t even listening were you?” She accused.

     “Sorry,” Vilkas muttered. “I have a lot on my mind.”

     “Indeed.” Kodlak agreed. He peered at Vilkas curiously before his thoughtful light eyes turned to his brother and Twiggy. “Wolf, what do you think of Bran?”

     “I thought I already made that abundantly clear.” He growled.

     “You did.” Kodlak acknowledged. He glanced back at Vilkas clearly pleased with whatever answer he had discovered within that ever thinking mind of his. “No matter. I have an important job for you.”

     “I’m going too!” Ria exclaimed.

     Kodlak chuckled. “Sorry lass, but no you’re not. This matter is a little too advanced for you.”

     “What is it?” Vilkas asked.

     “I received a missive from a man named Varnius Junius. He is a resident of Dragon Bridge. Apparently there have been strange happenings around Wolfskull Cave. He has brought the matter to Jarl Elisif, but she has not addressed the matter. He is asking us to look into it on behalf of the citizens of Dragon Bridge. They’re willing to pay quite handsomely for our troubles.”

     Vilkas leaned back into his chair and absently scratched at the scruff of his jaw. “Wolfskull Cave. Now that’s a bad omen.”

     “Aye.” Kodlak agreed.

     “What kind of strange happenings exactly?”

     “Strange noises, unnatural lights, and a few people have gone missing.”

     “It’s probably just wolves, or a sabre cat. This last winter was rather harsh. They could be starving and attacking anything that moves.”

     “What about the lights?” Ria asked.

     It was Kodlak who answered. “Probably just a trick of the eye. People are scared and patches of unmelt snow can reflect light in unexpected ways. Vilkas is probably right to assume beasts are the real culprit.”

     “If it’s just wild animals, then why can’t I go?” Ria demanded.

     “Because.” Vilkas said. “Wolfskull cave is in Haafingar, which means it could also be Forsworn. Not to mention we have to travel Raiders Road and you struggle to handle two opponents let alone a half dozen.”

     Ria pouted. “There’s no guarantee we would run into bandits. Besides, I would have the Big Bad Wolf with me.”

     “Now that the snows have cleared and trade has started, the road to Solitude will be full of merchants with fuller pockets. There WILL be bandits, that’s why we’ve dubbed it Raiders Road.” Kodlak explained.

     A thought came to Vilkas. “I’ll go, but Farkas will have to come with me.” We could be gone for a couple weeks if we wanted too without anyone getting concerned. Vilkas had to fight down a grin. Weeks alone with Farkas was beyond enticing.

     “Agreed.” Kodlak said as a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “And take Bran as well. It’s past time to see how he fares in a real battle.”

     Vilkas snarled. He wanted to refuse, but he knew objecting to extra help would be suspicious. “Njada would be a better choice. I don’t want an untried sword arm at my back on such a long trek, and she does well against multiple opponents.”

     “Vilkas please, just test the lad.”

     “I said no!” Vilkas snapped. 

     “Ria, would you mind excusing Vilkas and I for a moment?” The Harbinger asked kindly. The little Imperial seemed eager to leave the fuming Vilkas. Kodlak waited until she was out of earshot before asking. “How are you supposed to untangle your feelings about the lad if you don’t spend more time with him?”

     “What in Oblivion are you talking about, old man?”

     Kodlak gave him a blank look as if he felt Vilkas were being intentionally difficult. “Your upwind of me wolf. I can smell your jealousy.”

     Vilkas went white. He felt his stomach sink to his feet as fear washed through him so strongly that he shuddered. The wolf acted without thought shoving himself away from the table and out of the chair as he scrambled to get away from the old werewolf and his damn nose. PLEASE don’t let him smell my fear!  

     He only made it a few strides toward Jorrvaskr when he heard Kodlak say quietly. “Wolf, forgive my intrusion. I didn't mean to anger you. I simply wish to see you at peace with yourself.”

     Vilkas stopped in his tracks as the Harbinger’s words sank in. He rubbed his face with both hands before interlocking his fingers and rested his chin on his thumbs. He thinks I’m still angry? Oh, Thank you blessed Akatosh! Vilkas took a few seconds to control his breathing and to absorb Kodlak’s words. He thinks I’m jealous….of Farkas? The wolf would have burst out laughing except he was still trying to calm his pounding heart. He thinks I want Twiggy to myself. It was so absurd. Vilkas being attracted to Bran. As if! But he couldn’t deny it. Not without Kodlak realizing the truth. Not without putting Farkas in danger.

     “Fine.” Vilkas resigned himself to the inevitable. “I’ll take the whelp.”

Chapter Text

          "Do you ever stop talking?" Vilkas muttered. 

          The three Companions had only left Whiterun four hours ago and Bran was already annoying Vilkas to no end. This is going to be a long trip……. Surely the man would have to stop talking and take a breath eventually?

          Farkas rolled his eyes and smiled at Bran. "Don't mind Vilkas. So what happened after the pirates spotted you?" 

          Bran grinned. "The only thing we could do. We sailed into the storm praying that Kynereth would watch over us."

          "Cowards." Vilkas huffed. "You should have fought the pirates instead of running with your tails between your legs." 

          Bran glared at Vilkas, clearly offended. "A small group of sailors with a few guards wouldn't have been able to take on a galleon full of seasoned pirates!" 

          "They could have if it was a Nord vessel." Vilkas remarked.

          Bran's thin eyebrows pressed against his mismatched eyes. He huffed. "Have you even sailed before, wolf? Besides, the tactic worked. We survived the storm and lost the brigands." 

          "Cowards often survive, Twiggy." Vilkas replied. 

          "Stop calling me that! What do you have against me? I haven't done anything to you." Bran barked as he stared daggers at the wolf.

          Vilkas scoffed. "A twig like you doesn't belong in the Companions." 

          Bran huffed, his back somehow going even straighter. He was a graceful rider. It was clear he had experience on horseback. He stared straight ahead as if Vilkas were no longer worthy of his gaze. "Luckily for all of us, you don't get to decide who can join the Companions." 

          "Both of you be nice." Farkas said from the otherside of Bran. His twin made the horse beneath him look like a pony while Bran looked like a child. The contrast in their size was striking. 

          Bran leaned out of his saddle and whispered something to Farkas who blushed and sank his head in like a tortoise. Vilkas sneered while his fingers angrily wrapped themselves in the reigns. He barked at the Breton. "You want to be a Companion, Twiggy? Then be useful and go scout ahead." 

          The whelp retorted. "What happened to no one ordering the Companions around?" 

          Vilkas pulled his horse closer to Bran whose own horse tried to shy away. Vilkas grabbed the Twig by the collar and all but yanked him out of the saddle. The whelp yelped. Vilkas growled at him. "You're only coming with us so I can test you. Which means I'm in charge and you WILL do as I say!" 

          Vilkas dropped him back into the saddle. Bran let out a little 'oof' and rubbed his chest. He  glared at Vilkas but didn't say anything as he urged his horse on ahead. 

          Farkas watched the smaller man before he scowled at Vilkas. "Why are you so mean to him?" 

          "I don't like the way he looks at you." 

          "Like what?" 

           Vilkas let out a puff of air that shimmered in the morning cold before evaporating. "Like nothing." 

          "You don't need to be jealous." Farkas said softly even as his gaze flickered to the Twig. 

          Vilkas growled. "I was just tired of his ridiculous stories." 

          "I like his stories." Farkas grinned as he scratched at his dark beard. 

          "You would." The wolf scoffed. There was a heavy silence that followed. Vilkas glanced over to his twin to find Farkas peering down at his hands solemnly. He swore to himself and moved his horse a little closer to his brother's. "Farkas, I didn't mean it in a bad way." 

          When Farkas didn't reply, Vilkas muttered an apology and turned to watch the scenery. The tundra was a patchwork of white snow and green shoots. The sun shone brightly, but did little to warm the crisp spring air. A herd of elk roamed the plains in the distance. Birds fluttered about nabbing building supplies for their nests while others trilled love songs. The uncomfortable silence slowly faded into a peaceful quiet as the brothers traveled. 

          Eventually Farkas' deep baritone broke the serenity. "Bran stopped." 

          Vilkas looked up to see the Twig on the top of a hill. As the twins grew closer, the wolf could make out the whelps face which held a look of awe. His mismatched eyes were lost in the distance while his unhinged jaw tried to smile. 

          Once they neared, Bran whooped with excitement and all his pent up words spilled forth. "Look! Mammoths! I've never seen mammoths before. I thought the stories about them were exaggerated, but look at how BIG they are. Have you ever seen anything so majestic?" 

          Vilkas’ brooding exterior broke as he laughed at the twig’s reaction. Farkas beamed in amusement as he looked down at Bran fondly and said. "We see mammoths all the time. Sometimes they get close enough to Whiterun to spot them from the walls." 

          Vilkas said, still chuckling. "Wait till we get closer Twiggy. The very ground shakes as they walk." 

           Bran asked. "Is it safe to get closer? Won't they charge us?" 

           Vilkas  shook his head. "Mammoths are fairly peaceful. If we don't bother them, they won't bother us. That being said make sure to keep an eye out for giants."

          Bran pressed his lips together. "Giants?" 

          "They heard the Mammoths. Like we do with sheep." Farkas explained. 

          The rest of the day was relatively boring. Bran gawked at the mammoths as the three men passed by. He didn't stop talking about them even after the men had stopped to make camp. Vilkas eventually learned how to tune the annoyance out. Bran tried once to speak with Vilkas who glared until the twig gave up with a sigh. 

          On the third day of travel they pushed the horses hard and made it to Rorikstead before nightfall. They were all relieved to be able to sleep in a bed that night...

          "What do you mean you only have one room?" Vilkas fumed. 

          The innkeep wiped down the mug in his hand with his apron. If he was concerned about the wolf’s fury, he didn't show it. The man said simply. "Did I stutter, companion? The inns are always full after the spring melt. Take it or beat it." 

          Vilkas grumbled. Farkas came up beside him and planted a paw on his shoulder. "It's alright. I'll sleep in the stable." 

          "No." Vilkas growled. "You can have the bed. I'll take the floor, and Twiggy can sleep with the horses." 

          Bran huffed with his hands on his hips like a scolding mother. "Bollocks! Farkas and I can both have the bed, and you can have the floor." 

          "Not a chance in Oblivion!" Vilkas snapped. 

          Farkas blushed at the proposal. He hoisted their saddlebags over his shoulders and headed for the room. He said. "I don't care who sleeps where. You two figure it out." 

          They both watched Farkas leave before Bran piped up. "If you feel that strongly about it Vilkas….. I can always share the bed with you." 

          "I would rather share my bed with a rabid ogre." Vilkas remarked. 

          Bran chuckled. "Oh so you prefer lovers that are big, violent, and smelly? Makes sense  actually." 

          Vilkas swiped at the whelp, but he dodged before the wolf could grab his collar. He laughed again and winked at Vilkas before vanishing into the crowd. The wolf growled to himself. It seemed the longer they traveled together the less Bran was fearing him. I should turn and tear his belly open. See if he wants to share a bed then!

          The wolf gasped at the thought. The innkeep turned a brow to Vilkas who quickly grabbed a bottle of mead and made his way to a table. He flopped down into a chair and peered at the bottle. Is that truly how I feel? Or was that the wolf’s influence? Gods! I don't even know anymore.  

          His wolf had seemed little more than a distant annoyance during the journey, but now it pulled at him. He gripped the bottle tightly and took a swig of the sweet mead. The desire to turn was palpable. There before him was an entire feast. Men and elves of every race were gathered before him drinking, laughing, swapping stories, and otherwise oblivious to the predator in their midst. Most of them were unarmed and drunk. It would be so easy. They were practically begging to be his prey. He could gorge for days.

          Vilkas shook his head hard enough to send his locks whipping. He ran a hand over his face. I'm turning into a monster. He scrambled up from his seat leaving the mead on the table barely touched and practically ran to the room. He slammed the door startling Farkas in the process. 

          The wolf clamped his eyes shut as he tried to calm his breathing. Farkas was across the room in an instant. He grabbed Vilkas' shaking hands and asked. "What's wrong?" 

          Vilkas didn't respond. He didn't want to burden Farkas or make him worry. He sighed and rested his head on Farkas' shoulder. He felt his brother’s arms wrap around his back. 

          He let Farkas pull him into a hug. He asked again. "What's wrong?" 

          Vilkas mumbled. "Nothing you need to worry about, brother. I just can't think right now." 

          Farkas held him tighter while his finger and thumb dug little circles in his neck. He whispered, his low voice vibrated through Vilkas' chest. "Is this about your wolf?" 

          He nodded. Vilkas didn't know how much Farkas knew about his struggles with his wolf blood. He had never spoken to his twin about it, but Farkas had been there the last time Vilkas had turned. He had seen the wolf groggy and confused as he had struggled to remember what had happened. How much has Farkas pieced together?  

          "Come on. Let's get you to bed." Farkas said. 

          Vilkas murmured into his brother's shoulder. "I'm not tired." 

          Farkas ignored his protests. He led Vilkas to the bed where he removed his boots and armor. He ordered the wolf to lay down and he complied, worming his way under the blankets where he watched Farkas. His brother locked the door and shoved the heavy saddlebags in front of it for good measure. "There." He said softly. "You don't have to worry about anyone, especially Bran." 

          Vilkas let out a small chuckle. He watched longingly as Farkas removed his outer layers and crawled into the bed in just a shirt. The bed was barely big enough for the both of them and it creaked under the weight. 

          Farkas pulled him flush against his warm body. His hand glided across his side and settled on his hip. Vilkas' voice hitched and he let out a quiet breathy moan. His twin chuckled and planted a dozen light kisses across his shoulders. 

          Vilkas reached behind him to dig his hand into his brother’s hair. He breathed. "Farkas, please." 

         "Always needy." Farkas growled as he nipped Vilkas' ear. 

          The wolf moaned again this time louder. They both froze. Vilkas growled angry with himself. "We better not. There's too many ears on the other side of that door." 

          "Sleep. We can have fun another time." Farkas soothed. He continued his gentle kisses and soft touches. His administrations slowly drove away the wolf and all the thoughts haunting Vilkas. It didn’t take long for his twin's soothing touches to lull him gently to sleep. 

          Vilkas awoke to the feel of Farkas' hard cock pressed against his back. His brother's arm was draped over his waist and his breath warmed his ear. The wolf let out a quiet groan. Gods. I'll never stop wanting him. It was probably several hours till dawn judging by the Inn's silence. Vilkas huffed as his member began to swell. He knew they couldn't risk having sex surrounded by an Inn full of people, but that didn't stop the longing. 

          He tried to think of something to distract him, which was impossible to do with a cock warming his lower back. Farkas let out a soft moan and smacked his lips. His hand tightened its grip on Vilkas' waist. I wonder if he's dreaming about us…..

          The wolf huffed as desire pooled in his groin. He carefully slipped his trousers down past his ass as he scooched up a little. His twin's cock settled pleasantly in his cheeks. God's I want you inside me. Vilkas reached down and grabbed himself firmly. He started stroking as he pressed his ass harder against Farkas. 

          His brother's fingers dug into his hip trying to hold him still. Farkas breathed. "Damn you Vilkas. You're torturing both of us."

          The wolf let out a hushed whine as he began stroking himself with more vigor. His calloused hand pulled and scratched his sensitive head bringing both pleasure and a twinge of discomfort. He whispered harshly. "Your hard cock was torturing me first!" 

          Farkas tilted his hips, pressing his cock firmly against Vilkas and sliding it along his crevice. The wolf groaned. Farkas snaked his arm under Vilkas and clamped his hand firmly over his brother's mouth. His other hand glided over the wolf’s hip and took possession of Vilkas' cock. 

          Farkas whispered hot and heavy. "If you want me to fuck you, then you do exactly as I say." 

Oh fuck yes! Vilkas squirmed and whined. Farkas clung to him tighter and growled in his ear. "Shhhhhh! Quiet. If you get too loud it's over. Got it?" 

          Vilkas nodded. His brother jammed a knee between his thighs. The wolf lifted his leg with his arm while his other hand gripped the wrist over his mouth. He felt Farkas' solid member butting up against his furl. It pressed gently, not enough to slide within, but just enough to rub along it. Vilkas clamped his eyes shut as he struggled to stay quiet. 

          "Good." Farkas praised. He lightly bit his twin's neck, and Vilkas let out a small squeak. He gripped the wolf's cock a little more firmly and worked it in long slow strokes. "You're cock is mine. You are not allowed to touch it. You are not going to cum until I tell you to. And when you're done you are going to suck all of your cream off my hand." 

          Vilkas' voice hitched. He nodded again as he desperately pressed his ass against his brother. A small moan sat in his throat. He wanted to beg. He wanted to watch as Farkas stroked him, but his brother held him in place with his iron grip. The slow strokes started pumping a little faster as his twin's giant hand shortened his strokes to focus on his head. His hand was warm. And rough. And fucking perfect! Fuck me. I’m going to come already!

          Farkas seemed to sense his twin’s impending orgasm for he suddenly released his cock. His hand disappeared behind Vilkas' hair and then dipped down to run spit slick fingers along his center. Vilkas moaned again as he puffed through his nose. Farkas pressed his hand tighter against his brother's mouth. The wolf swallowed hard and willed himself quiet. Farkas was quick with his work, slathering Vilkas' rim and only fingering him a little before his broad head was forcing its way into the wolf's core. 

          Vilkas groaned as his ass swallowed his twin's cock, inch by slow inch. Fuck Farkas, you feel so good. You always feel so fucking good. The heat from his brother's cock warmed his furl as it slid along his walls.

         Farkas hissed in his ear. "Oh fuck." 

         A filthy moan bounced around in Vilkas' throat as his brother carefully worked him open. His brother's cock sheathed itself while his hand roamed across his abs and lightly clawed his stomach. Vilkas squeezed his eyes shut even harder as he fought to not cry out. 

          Farkas ran his tongue along his brother's neck and breathed. "Fuck Vilkas. You're being so good." 

          He gave Vilkas a solid thrust. The bed creaked loudly. The two men froze, their hearts leaping out of their chests. Farkas swore softly. "Shore's bones." 

          Farkas grabbed hold of Vilkas' leg and shoved it back down. He wrapped his own leg over his brother's holding him in place as his hand took hold of the wolf’s cock. With his own member still buried in Vilkas' core, he began stroking his brother earnestly. 

          Vilkas gasped. At least he tried to, but with Farkas' hand in the way he ended up choking on nothing. His brother quietly spit on his hand again and returned it to Vilkas' shaft. His strokes were shallow and quick as he twisted his hand around the tip. 

          The wolf tried in vain to thrust into that hand, but Farkas held him firm. His twin pressed his face against Vilkas' hair. "I want you to come for me, Vilkas. I want you to come all over my hand." 

          Oh fuck! Vilkas came. A desperate sob reverberated through Vilkas throat as his furl clamped onto Farkas' cock. His brother's hand cupped his head as Vilkas shot his seed into his  fingers and palm. 

           Farkas kissed below his twin's ear and lightly sucked the delicate skin. "I love seeing you like this. I love doing this to you." 

           Vilkas moaned again and then groaned as Farkas carefully pulled his cock free. Once Vilkas got his breathing under control, his brother released his mouth, and leaned up on an elbow. He brought his slick hand up to the wolf's lips. 

           Vilkas whispered. "What about you?" 

           "Look at me." Farkas ordered. 

           Vilkas turned to look up at Farkas. There was a fire burning in his silver eyes. Vilkas held his brother's wrist as he slowly drew those slick fingers into his mouth. He wasn't particularly fond of tasting cum, especially his own, but Farkas seemed mesmerized by the sight. His brother's lips parted as he watched the wolf suck on his fingers, and his chest rose and fell in heavy silent breaths. 

          Once Vilkas had lapped up every drop, Farkas grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately. The wolf leaned into the kiss as their tongues warred with each other. Farkas broke the kiss and whispered. "You don't need to worry about me. I got what I wanted." 

The second time Vilkas awoke it was to Farkas leaning over him and gently kissing his forehead. He groaned and blindly grabbed his brother's tunic to pulled him down. Farkas chuckled. He let himself be pulled until there lips met for a soft delicate kiss. Vilkas hummed and pulled harder. Farkas smiled against his brother's lips before rolling ontop of the wolf. Their long languid kisses grew frantic.

          “I think…..we need to ditch the whelp and nnnnnghh…find a hovel somewhere…….where you can ravage me for weeks on ennnnnn…..mmmmmm.” Vilkas huffed quietly between his desperate kisses. Farkas pressed down on him, his fingers entwined in Vilkas’ hair as he eagerly seized his tongue. 

          “Sounds great…..but what…..about our job?” Farkas asked. 

          Vilkas sighed and pushed on his brother’s chest. Farkas broke the kiss and lifted himself a little higher on his elbows. The wolf sulked a little. “You’re right. Duty calls.”

          He leaned up to lock lips once more with Farkas. His brother hummed happily against him and smiled as they exchanged a few more kisses. The bed groaned as his twin rose from the bed. Vilkas untangled his trousers, which had been wrapped around an ankle all night, and yanked them back on. He washed his hair and pits in a wash basin before following Farkas lead and donning his armor. 

          The first thing Vilkas saw as the brothers stepped out of the room was Bran sitting in a corner with a wood elf on his lap. She was all smiles and giggles as the whelp whispered in her long slender ear. Vilkas rolled his eyes. Why am I not surprised?  

          Bran didn’t notice the companions until they were standing before the table. “Ah.” He said. “I was wondering when you two would finally get out of bed. You know the sun has already risen? This here is the lovely Mia.” 

          He stroked her cheek with a finger and gave her a gentle kiss. Mia didn’t even give the twins a glance. She hummed into the kiss and replied. “It’s Mianeiros.” 

          Bran chuckled. “Darling, give me a thousand years and I wouldn’t be able to pronounce that.” 

          She smirked sinfully. Her large purple eyes shone like gems. “I don’t believe that at all. You have quite the talented tongue.” 

          Bran hummed in turn. He stuck the tip of his tongue out between his teeth playfully. “I did wrap it around you rather well, didn’t I?” 

          Vilkas grabbed the elf by the shoulder and pulled her off the twig. “All right, that’s enough. Time to go Twiggy.” 

          The wood elf squealed as Vilkas pulled her before she let out a melodic laugh. “Twiggy? What a cute nickname.” 

           Bran pouted. His face burned red as he crossed his arms and glared up at Vilkas. “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you? And aren’t you going to want breakfast before we leave?”

          “No, and I’m not hungry.” Vilkas replied dryly. 

          A couple hours outside of Rorikstead, the rolling tundra gave way to steep rocky hills. On the bottom of one such hill the three men ran into a Khajiit caravan. The catmen stalked about flicking their tails as they tried to convince the companions to buy some of their wares. Bran was enraptured by all their bizarre baubles. Farkas was guarded yet curious. Vilkas was simply annoyed for the waste of time. He eventually resorted to stealing Bran’s reins from him and led the horse away from the purring merchants. 

          “Be cautious friends.” One of the Khajiit guards warned. “There is a large bandit camp along the river an hour north of here. They are well fortified and won't let you cross for free.” 

          “How far off the road is their camp?” Vilkas asked.

          The Khajiit sneered. “They are ON the road.”

          The wolf flicked the guard a septim. “Thanks for the warning.”

          The cat purred a thanks before continuing on with the rest of the caravan. Bran watched them leave glumly before his green and hazel eyes looked up to Vilkas. “So what are we going to do about the bandits?”

          Vilkas scratched at his four day old scruff. “It depends on how fortified they actually are.”

          “We're honorbound to help.” Farkas piped in.

          “No we’re not. We’re getting paid to clear out a cave, not a group of cutthroats. If we can take them out then we do. If we can’t then we don’t risk it. If people have a problem with that, they can go complain to their soldiers who would rather fight each other than do THEIR duty of patrolling the roads.” 

          True to the Khajiit’s word, an hour up the road the companions stopped a few kilometers from the bandit camp. The outlaws were well entrenched, and they stood on their wooden battlements watching the three men watch them.

          “There’s at least twelve of them.” Bran piped up. 

          “Aye.” Farkas agreed. “And probably more we cant see.” 

          They both turned to Vilkas and the twig asked. “So fearless leader, what do we do?”

          Vilkas huffed, but he didn’t reply. His brows were scrunched together as he weighed their options. His horse stamped its foot impatiently. “It’s safe to assume there’s at least twenty.”

          “That’s about seven to one.” Twiggy remarked.

          Vilkas sighed and leaned back in his saddle. “It’s better if we stay out of sight and go around.”

          “That’ll add a day to our trip.” Farkas said.

          Bran chewed on his tongue before saying. “Why don’t we just pay their toll and be on our way?”

          “That’s assuming we have enough septims to cover the toll. There’s only three of us and a lot of them, and our horses and gear are worth more than all our gold combined. They might see it as an easy win.”

          “The two of us can take them.”  Farkas said. He stared at Vilkas intently. The wolf knew what his brother meant. That they could turn and attack them as werewolves. He shook his head as the thought brought his wolf front and center in his mind. The beast paced and pressed on its confines begging him to release it. He suddenly had the overwhelming desire to shift as  his beast blood called to him. 

         Vilkas closed his eyes and took a methodic breath. He dismounted grumbling to himself. He was angry Farkas would even suggest a thing. They had promised Kodlak that they wouldn’t turn anymore, and Vilkas was terrified what his wolf would do. He stormed off the road, his boots squelching in the soggy earth. 

          “Where are you going?” Bran asked. 

          “I have to piss.” Vilkas muttered. 

He found a scraggy bush and surveyed the landscape as he relieved himself. In the distance he could see two mammoths roaming along with a giant. Vilkas returned to the other men as the beginning of an idea sketched in his mind.

           “Twiggy.” He said looking up at the Breton on his horse. “It’s time you put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Chapter Text

          "He didn't tell you what the plan was did he?" Bran asked as he led Farkas down the road to the bandits' camp. 

          "No." Farkas replied. The man's light grey eyes were focussed on the archers walking along the rope bridge above the gate.

          Bran rolled his eyes. "I should have expected as much. The bloody twit." 

          Farkas pulled his attention away from the bandits to look at Bran curiously. He even cocked his head to the side like a puppy. "What does that mean?" 

          Bran smiled warmly. He's so adorable. "What does what mean? A twit?" Farkas nodded so the Breton answered. "A twit is  an idiot." 

          Farkas frowned. "I know Vilkas can be a jerk, but he's not an idiot." 

          "Well he's acting like one. He should have told us more than 'keep them distracted' before hopping off his horse and scampering away." 

          "You sound scared." Farkas accused. 

           "I prefer, wary. Can you really tell me you aren't? Given the fact that we're going to have archers pointing arrows at us while we wait for your brother's plan?" 

          Farkas merely shrugged. Bran was beyond grateful to have the man by his side as they approached the camp. A Nord with long stringy brown hair shouted at them as he drew his bow and pointed it at Farkas. "Halt!" 

          The two men stopped their horses. Bran quickly scanned the gate and wooden parapet. The bandits stood on a bridge above the gate. All three of the archers were aimed at Farkas. Bran felt a twinge of annoyance. I'm a threat as well! 

          "You want to go through the gate, It's three hundred septims." The highway man shouted. He glowered down at them. "Where's the other one?" 

          Farkas glared daggers at the bandits. His eyes glowed silver from behind his black war paint while the bottom of his helmet accented his jaw. It was a fearsome sight. Bran placed a hand on the larger man's arm and whispered. "Let me do all the talking." 

          Bran brandished his best smile to the scoundrels. "Greetings good sir. A fine day for travel isn't it, but what do you mean by 'the other one?'" 

          The greasy haired Nord sneered. "Don't play dumb with me, Breton. There was three of yas when I first saw yas. Now there's two. Where's the other one?" 

          Bran glanced at Farkas feigning confusion. He scratched the back of his head and said hesitantly. "I assure you, it's just us." 

          "Then why do you have three horses?" Another Nord asked. This one was a blond woman with several missing teeth. She had a large scar cutting deep into her left  cheek. 

          "This last one is our pack horse, my good lady." Bran answered as he gestured to Vilkas' horse whose reins were tied to Farkas' saddle.

          "I ain't no good lady." She yelled.

          Bran smirked and gave her a wink. "Oh I bet you could be quite good." 

          Farkas who had been a silent emotionless mountain drew up an eyebrow as he glanced at Bran dubiously. The woman turned her bow to Bran and laughed mockingly. "I'm good at putting arrows in between a skeever's eyes." 

          Alright. A miscalculation. You could hurry your bloody arse up now Vilkas! He gave her a slight bow. "My apologies if I offended you, miss. That was not my intention." 

          "Enough talk!" The brown haired Nord shouted. "Pay the toll, or we'll take the septims from your corpses." 

          "Of course we'll pay the toll." Bran assured. "But how am I to pay if you don't open the gate? Shall I toss the three hundred septims up to you?" 

          "It's six hundred now." The Nord retorted. 

          "Six! Why double it?" 

          "Cause I don't like you, Breton." The Nord spat. 

          "Do you take me for the Jarl of Whiterun?" Bran scoffed. "Only a fool would carry that much on them." 

          The Nord grinned as if he expected that answer. "Then we'll take your horses. All three of em." 

          Bran gave an insulted laugh. "A good horse is worth a thousand septims….." 

          The Nord cut him off before the Breton could finish. "Enough chatting! Your horses or your life." 

          "Take the damn horses, just open the gate already." Farkas boomed. 

          The stringy haired nord beamed a smile. "Smart man Companion. Open the gates!" 

          Bran and Farkas shared a worried glance as they dismounted. Where the hell is Vilkas? They led the horses through the gate. On the other side were several rows of spiked barricades with what appeared to be the building supplies for more fortifications. To Bran's right on top of a small hill was a wooden wall with the roof of a shack peering out from above.

          The brown haired Nord who Bran was assuming to be the leader made his way down the bridge. Farkas grabbed Bran by the shoulder and yanked him back to him. He took the reins from the Breton and whispered to him. "Stay close." 

          "I'm guessing you're his bodyguard Companion?" The leader said as he held his hand out. "How much is this boy paying you?" 

          Bran couldn't help but reach for his blades. Farkas squeezed his shoulder tighter as he stared down the other Nord. If he was concerned by the brigands surrounding him with drawn weapons he didn't show it. His courage helped ease Bran's growing worry. 

          "What's it to you?" Farkas asked as he released Bran and stepped forward to hand off the horses. 

          The leader grabbed the reins and passed them to an Orc. Several bandits started rifling through the bags. Bran started to protest, but Farkas stopped him with a gesture. 

          The leader smirked. "Everyone knows the legendary Companions of Jorrvaskr. I know we could kill ya, but I would lose several men doing so and I don't want that. So how about a deal. You go back to Whiterun, I'll even give ya your horse back, and you leave the runt here." 

          Farkas pulled his massive war axe from his back and sneered at the Bandit. "No." 

          Bran drew his swords and hastily looked around. Their enemies had the high ground and they were severely outnumbered. He placed his back to Farkas'. He swallowed. This is worse than that damn ambush in the Alik'r Desert!  

          Bran looked up at the two archers whose arrows were pointed at him. He felt Farkas growl as it rolled through his chest. He swore that the very earth trembled at the Companions might. The rumble grew reverberating through his legs until it turned into a rolling thunder. A screeching blast trumpeted the air. Then another; Followed by the bellow of a human roar only deeper. Louder. 

          "Giant!" Someone shouted. 

BOOM! 

          The ground shook, throwing the archers off balance. Their arrows flew into the dirt several feet away. 

BOOM! 

          Two mammoths burst through the wooden wall trampling everything in their paths. A giant stood behind them swinging its massive club in a wide arc into the belly of a bandit. The blow sent the bandit sailing through the air for several meters before smacking into a boulder. The horses screamed and bolted. The bandits scattered like skeevers. One of the mammoths trampled the greasy haired Nord. His head bursting open with a squelching 'pop'.

          Farkas snatched the stunned Bran by the arm and tossed him under the bridge by the gate. Bran's back hit the stone outcrop and it jolted him back to his senses. He shouted over the din. "We have to get out of here!" 

          "No, we find Vilkas." Farkas yelled back. He grimaced as a mammoth gored a man with a tusk and tossed him high into the air. Bran's jaw fell open at the sight. 

          The launched man's screams came to a sudden stop as he hit the earth. Bran licked his lips. He wasn't sure if the trembling in his limbs was from the mammoths or himself. He could hear the smashing of wood and bones as the giant attacked. Bran shrieked. "There's a difference between being courageous and stupid. I'm not going out there to be trampled to death!" 

          "Bran. Bran, look at me." Farkas ordered. The giant man ran a hand through Bran's sandy hair and cupped his cheek. The Breton locked gazes with the Companion whose determination and touch grounded him. Farkas' voice was filled with certainty. It eased some of his fear. "We're not going to die. I promise." 

          They waited until the mammoths were busy with a small group of the bandits before slipping out from under the bridge. They ran up the slope to what was left of the bandits camp. The giant stood in the center stomping down a tent into a pile of kindling. The creature spotted Farkas and Bran. It screamed at them and charged, the bones strapped to its waist and around its neck clacked together as it sprinted. Farkas dove out of the way, but Bran simply side stepped under the giant's legs. He held his swords out slashing both of the giant's calves. 

          It roared more in anger than pain as the slashes weren't deep. The giant's hide was thick. It spun around it's club aimed at Bran. The Breton dove back between the creature's legs. It bent down searching for the small man. Farkas gave a battle cry and the giant looked back up just as the man's massive war axe swung into the giant's forehead. It recoiled with a scream. The embedded axe was ripped from Farkas’ grasp. The giant dropped it's club as it tore the weapon out of its face and flung it. Blood rushed out from between the giant's fingers to rain down upon the ground. The giant thrashed about blindly, and Bran slashed at the creature's ankle severing its tendon. The Breton leapt out of the way as the giant almost fell on top of him. Farkas started toward the giant when a bandit approached. The Companion searched for a weapon finding only the giant’s club. The bandit laughed, clearly thinking himself victorious until Farkas hoisted the great weapon over his shoulder and slammed it into the bandit’s sternum. Bran jammed his sword into the giant's neck and slit open its artery. 

          Bran ran to Farkas when he suddenly felt something smack into his calf. His foot touched the earth and a searing pain exploded from his leg. He stumbled and fell as something got caught on his other foot. A wail escaped him as the pain in his calf grew. He glanced down to see an arrow sticking through his left leg.

          A mammoth trumpeted; It was charging straight toward him. 

          Dibella's bloody fucking tits! Bran scrambled to his feet, the pain in his leg suddenly gone as he tried to hobble out of the beast’s path. The mammoth lowered its head, its huge arching tusks aimed at him. The ground shook violently as the beast neared. Bran slipped. His swords struck the earth as he fell and were torn from his hands. His face went white as a sheet. This is not how I thought I would die.  

          A figure soared over the fallen Breton and landed between him and the oncoming beast. Vilkas stood in its path brandishing his sword and shield. The Wolf bellowed a challenge as the mammoth reached him. The beast swung its head. Vilkas caught the mammoth's tusk under his shield and was hoisted into the air. The mammoth tilted its head at the added weight and veered away from Bran. It trumpeted and rumbled as it shook its head trying to throw the man hanging from its tusk. 

          Vilkas pierced the animal's eye with his sword. The mammoth screamed, it's cries washing out the wolf's as the man continued to thrust his sword into it. The mammoth rumbled and collapsed. Vilkas crashed to the ground with it. He unhooked himself from the mammoth's tusk and clambered on top of the beast's head. He plunged his sword once more into it, putting the majestic creature out of its misery. 

          Vilkas hopped down and stood to his full height. His broad chest rose and fell in waves as he sucked in air. His blade was coated crimson and he swung it, sending the blood arching through the air. He looked like a being from legend, as if the God of War had returned to Nirn.

          Vilkas’ shoulder length hair clung to his face. His helmet was missing and blood poured down the right side of his face from a gash above his brow. The wound didn't seem to bother him in the least. Vilkas held a satisfied grin and he hollered victoriously. He had the same grey eyes as his twin, yet where Farkas' gleamed like warm silver, Vilkas' were frigid. Even in the heat of battle they were calculating and hard like cold steel. He moved with the confident swagger of a top predator. 

          Bran had wondered why everyone called him Wolf. Now he knew. Vilkas knelt in front of Bran and looked him over. The Breton wetted his lips and said in disbelief. "Vilkas, you just took on a mammoth single handedly. For me." 

          Vilkas laughed. It was such a light and rich sound coming from such a dark and intimidating man. "I wasn't going to stand there and let you die."  

          A noise tugged Bran away from the Wolf's intense gaze. Farkas was several feet away dispatching the last of the bandits. The other mammoth was nowhere to be seen. Bran surveyed the destruction around them.

          The mammoths had decimated most of the fortifications the bandits had built. Wood and bodies littered the camp. One of the tents had landed in a fire and had ignited. Luckily the wet soil had kept it from doing little more than smolder. Bran couldn’t stop gaping at the carnage around him. He asked Vilkas. “Was this your intended plan?”

          The Wolf slipped his arm out of his shield as he replied. “My plan was for you and Farkas to gallop away as the giant and mammoths took care of the bandits. Why weren’t you two on horseback? Did you want all the glory for yourselves?”

          “The bandits got greedy.” Farkas said as he came over to them. His lips pressed together as he observed the arrow jutting through Bran’s calf. He nodded to it. “That needs to come out.” 

          “Really?” Bran retorted sarcastically. “I thought I would keep it as a souvenir.” 

          Vilkas took Bran’s ankle in hand with more gentleness then the Breton would have ever expected from the arse. He still winced as the Wolf lifted his leg and ordered Bran to lay down. “It’s not that bad. The arrow went through your muscle. You’ll be fine.” 

          Bran leaned back on his elbows when Farkas squatted down next to him and asked. “What’s your favorite food?”

          Bran huffed. “Why, are you wanting to buy me dinner? Is this really the time for AHHHHHH!” He screamed as Vilkas quickly broke the end of the arrow and pulled the shaft through. “Fucking hell! Warn me the next time you do that!”

          Vilkas smirked. “Oh? Are you planning on taking more arrows Twiggy?”

          The Breton groaned both in anger and pain. Vilkas pulled up Bran’s pant leg and pressed his hands against the wounds to stem the bleeding. He ordered Farkas to find something to wrap the leg with, but Bran shoved Vilkas’ hands away. The Wolf started to growl a reply, but cursed instead as the Breton’s hands lit up in a healing spell. Vilkas glared at him with disgust and  spat out. “You’re a mage.” 

          “Not a bloody good one.” Bran hissed from behind gritted teeth as he carefully laid his hands over the holes in his leg. “My father got me a tutor, but I never really paid attention. I can only heal wounds I can see and I’m so slow at conjuring anything that it’s not worth the trouble.” 

          “Magic is for cowards.” Vilkas grumbled. 

          “Tell that to the Thalmor.” Bran quipped. Once his leg knitted itself back together he let out a tired sigh. He turned to Vilkas whose head wound was still bleeding. Bran reached a hand out. “Let me heal that.”

          Vilkas snatched Bran’s wrist and glared at him. “Not a chance.” 

          Bran rolled his eyes. “Have it your way Wolf.” 

          He got unsteadily to his feet and rolled his eyes again as Vilkas did the same. The man closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nose. He was clearly lightheaded. The Wolf ran a hand down his face. Bran muttered. “Stubborn arse.” 

          Vilkas snickered at the comment. Farkas went to his twin and grabbed the Wolf’s jaw. Vilkas started to pull away, but his brother grabbed his shoulder. He held him firmly as Farkas inspected the gash. Vilkas muttered. “I’m fine brother.” 

          Bran studied them intently. It was obvious to anyone that the brothers were close, as twins often were, but he hadn’t seen this side of them before. The brothers were often playful with each other, jeering and taunting as they sparred or gambled together, but they never showed a softness toward each other. It was a nice surprise, especially from Vilkas. Bran smiled warmly. What do you know? Vilkas has a caring side after all.  

          A breeze sailed past the group and Vilkas shivered. Farkas asserted. “No, you’re not. And why are you soaking wet.” 

          Vilkas leaned into the touch slightly before he noticed Bran watching. The Wolf shoved his brother back. He vexed. “I had to dive into the river to escape the stampede.”

          “Where’s your helmet?” Farkas asked.

          “In the bottom of the fucking river.” Vilkas growled. He looked paler than normal. “We’ll camp here for the night. Farkas, go see if you can find the horses. Bran, can get a fire going and I’ll…”

          “You’ll get some rest.” Farkas ordered. 

          “Damn it, I’m fine! Stop fussing over me.” Vilkas snapped. 

          Farkas ignored the Wolf’s protests. He grabbed his brother by the elbow and asked Bran. "Can you walk?" 

          Bran grinned. "Don't worry Farkas, I'll find the horses, and you can take care of the mule." 

          Farkas guffawed. Vilkas merely grumbled under his breath. He was leaning on Farkas though Bran doubted the Wolf realized it. The Breton snatched his swords from the ground and left the twins. 

          He returned after dusk to find the brothers holed up in the cabin. Vilkas' head had been bandaged and he was sound asleep in the only bed. Farkas sat on a stool in front of the fireplace. All the tension in his shoulders eased as he saw Bran enter the cabin. He said softly. "I was getting worried." 

          "Sorry." Bran replied just as softly. He took a seat beside Farkas. "I only found the two horses who were tied together. I gave up the search once it got dark." 

          "At least we have our supplies." Farkas replied. He had a small bowl in hand, and after sipping some up, he passed the bowl to Bran. "Want some?" 

          The Breton took the bowl offered to him, but he eyed it's contents suspiciously. "What is it?" 

          "Mammoth stew." 

          "Ah, I've been told several times that that's a delicacy here, yet I admit the thought of eating a mammoth is…… well it turns my stomach." 

          "Are you saying the thought of my cooking makes you sick?" Farkas questioned. 

          Bran waved a hand back and forth innocently. "No. No, of course not. Don't give me those sad puppy eyes." He vexed. Bran quickly took a sip of the stew. To his surprise it tasted somehow familiar. It's like something between bison and venison. He smiled at Farkas. "You know this is the first time I've ever been bribed by pouting. It's surprisingly effective." 

          Farkas chuckled softly. "What are you usually bribed with?" 

          Bran tapped a finger against his lips before  saying devilishly. "Sex." 

          "Wow. You must get bribed a lot." Farkas said with the utmost seriousness. 

          The Breton recoiled feeling insulted before he noticed Farkas struggling to hold back a smile. Bran punched him in the arm. "You arsehole!" 

          Farkas burst out laughing and held his elbow up as Bran made to punch him again. Behind them Vilkas groaned and rolled onto his back. The two men quieted and Bran asked. "How's the Big Bad Wolf?" 

          Farkas scratched at his skull. "I don't think it's serious, but it's always hard to tell with Vilkas. He doesn't like people taking care of him so he pretends he's fine when he's not." 

          "Let me guess the stubborn arse sees needing help as a weakness?" Bran asked. 

          Farkas shrugged. He grabbed a piece of kindling and poked at the fire. He said sadly. "He didn't use to be like that." 

          "A stubborn arse?" 

          Farkas nodded. "He's always had a short temper, but he wasn't mean. That changed when…...Well when Arnbjorn left." 

          "And whose this Arnbjorn?" 

          Farkas sighed. "He was a member of The Circle, and the Master of Arms before Vilkas. Him and my brother were close. He got really upset when Arnbjorn was kicked out." 

          Bran pressed his lips together as his forehead scrunched up. "You weren't upset to see him thrown out?" 

          "No, he always scared me when I was a pup. He had this look in his eyes that gave me a bad feeling." 

          Bran leaned a little closer to the man. Those normally warm eyes stared into the fire with so much sorrow that Bran thought surely the Aedra would weep. He reached up and tucked some of Farkas' hair out of his face. The Companion’s sad gaze turned to him and Bran asked. "Then tell me sweetheart why you look so glum?" 

          Farkas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His words were barely a whisper. "Because I miss my brother." He balled his hands into fists and returned his attention to the fire, speaking to it softly. "I see him sometimes, when we're alone, the man Vilkas used to be. But most of the time I feel like I barely know him at all." 

          Bran didn't know how to respond to such a revelation. He couldn't imagine what that must feel like to have lived your whole life with someone, and to suddenly see them as a stranger. He's mourning his twin. Does he see it as losing part of himself? It felt wrong to ask so he simply sat and offered what silent companionship he could. 

          After what felt like eons Farkas sighed again and muttered. "You should get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." 

          Bran nodded. "Right." He set the bowl on the floor before rising and whispering. "Goodnight." 

          "Goodnight, Szerető." 

Chapter Text

          Vilkas raced through the underbrush so swiftly that he felt as if he were flying. His paws barely touched the ground as he weaved through the evergreens. He was close. He lolled his tongue out happily. The scent of fear was strong enough that he could taste it. It sent a thrill through him. 

          The underbrush cleared, revealing a small meadow within the dark never-ending forest. Before him ran a man. Vilkas roared and the Nord screamed. I have you! Vilkas gained on the man with every stride and then lunged with jaws open and fangs glistening. The Nord looked back at the beast in terror. He had a wound above his right brow with shoulder length brown locks and eyes of steel.

          Vilkas bolted up from the bed with a yelp. The room spun and he groaned, clutching at his bandaged forehead. It was a dream…… Gods it felt so real. He rubbed the sweat from his face. I have enough problems sleeping as is thanks to this damn wolf. I don't need it haunting my dreams! 

         "You okay?" Farkas rumbled quietly. 

          Vilkas searched through the dim light to find Farkas leaning in the doorway of the cabin. His muscled arms were crossed over his broad chest. His axe rested against the wall beside him. Vilkas sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He said. "Just a bad dream. Were you up all night?" 

          "Bran took second watch." Farkas replied. 

          Vilkas rubbed the back of his neck and muttered. "And you took the first and last. Why didn't you wake me." 

          "You needed rest." 

          "And you don't?" 

          Farkas shrugged. "I doubt I would have slept anyway. What were you dreaming about?" 

          Vilkas glanced at Twiggy. He was curled up on a bedroll in front of the fire. His mouth was open and he breathed loudly as a stream of spit slowly pooled on the arm beneath him. Vilkas envied the Breton’s ability to sleep so soundly. The Wolf stretched before pushing himself off the bed and over to Farkas before answering his question. "I dreamt I was hunting." 

          "What were you hunting?" His brother asked. 

          Vilkas sighed. He didn't want to tell him, but neither did he want to lie. Farkas placed a hand on Vilkas' neck and examined the bandage. The Wolf leaned into the touch enjoying the warmth. It would worry him. He said softly. "Nothing. I'm fine, Farkas." 

          His twin didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but he didn't press it. Farkas pushed off the doorframe. "We should get ready to leave." 

          Farkas woke up Bran and worked on breakfast while Vilkas checked on their supplies. He scowled when he saw they only had two horses. Farkas and I will have to take turns riding. Fucking wonderful. 

          The rest of the journey to Wolfskull cave was uneventful and slow. With one of the Companions always being on foot, it took four grueling days to reach Dragon’s Bridge as the road crept up the mountains. The only good thing coming from the slow progress was that it gave time for Vilkas's head wound to heal. Once they arrived at Dragon’s Bridge, they met up with Varnius Junius, the man who had reached out to Kodlak. He was a lanky Imperial, with a long face and red beard and hair. He laid out a map with the location of the cave and the next day the Companions set off on foot. 

          "Why can't we take the horses?" Bran whined. Again. "This pack is killing my shoulders. 

          "You want me to carry it?" Farkas offered. 

          "Enough!" Vilkas barked over his shoulder. "I won't risk losing the horses to animals or Forsworn while we're in the cave. And Farkas, don't. Twiggy needs to carry his own weight." 

          Bran groaned. He certainly still had enough energy to talk. "What's the history of this cave anyway? Everyone seems to be afraid of it." 

          The wolf took a deep breath. Farkas replied. "It's named after the wolf queen." 

          Vilkas explained. "Potema was queen of Solitude over five hundred years ago. She was a necromancer and..."

          "Yes, I know who queen Potema is." Bran remarked. "I learned history." 

          "Who are you exactly?" Vilkas asked as he looked back at the Breton. "You can read, write, you know history, your father got you a private magic tutor. You're a noble aren't you?" 

          Bran scoffed. "Hardly, though my bloody family seem to think they are. My father is a wealthy merchant and I'll have you know that education is more important in High Rock than it is here. In fact, being able to read, write, and wield magic is quite common." 

          "Why did you leave?" Farkas asked. 

          Bran pressed his lips together and shifted the weight on his shoulders. "My father and I tend to have a lot of disagreements.  Let's just leave it at that." 

          "You ran away from home." Vilkas accused. 

          Bran started. His mismatched doe eyes went wide before he slowly nodded. "I suppose technically I did, but I never saw it that way. I like to think I chose a life of adventure over a life of misery." 

          "Why misery?" Farkas questioned. 

          "Can we please talk about something else?" Bran asked, turning up his small narrow nose. 

          "Since when do you not like talking about yourself?" Vilkas mused. 

          Bran shoved his thumbs under his pack. "I'm more than happy to speak of my adventures after I left High Rock, but no, I do not wish to speak of my home or my childhood." 

          "If I hear anymore of your 'adventures' on this trip I might just toss you into the Karth." Vilkas threatened. 

          Bran laughed and gave a sly smile. "Farkas, did I ever tell you of the time I came upon a whole village who had mysteriously turned invisible?" 

          Farkas' eyes lit up. "Really?" 

          "Truly. And several nearby skeevers as well….." 

          Vilkas tried to tune out the twig. God's it never ends! 

          It took another two days of hiking up the Haafingar Mountains for the men to reach the cave nestled in a snowbank along the side of the road. The three men stopped a few meters away to study it. There were several sets of footprints leading to the cave, enough that the snow had been packed down. Humans. Shit.

          "What are you thinking?" Farkas whispered. 

          "I'm thinking the chances of it being Forsworn is far more likely now." Vilkas replied just as quietly. 

          "There's something moving around the entrance." Bran piped up. 

          "Aye." Vilkas said. "Can't tell what it is through all the brush. Let's go find out." 

          The Companions left the majority of their supplies tied up in a tree. "You don't want to fight when you're weighed down, and this way the bears and sabrecats can't get to it." Vilkas explained to a confused Bran. 

          Once the provisions were secured, Vilkas dawned his shield. He felt exposed without his helmet, but it couldn't be helped. The men ventured further up the road until the trees parted revealing the entrance to the cave. A reanimated skeleton guarded it. The creature spotted them and stopped, its glowing eye sockets bore into them as it smacked its ancient axe against its shield in a warning. 

          Vilkas laid his hand on the back of Bran's neck and gave the breton a little push. "Alright, Twiggy, let's see what you're made of." 

          He expected the man to protest, but to his credit the twig simply nodded and trudged through the snow toward the skeleton. Vilkas followed close behind should the whelp need assistance while Farkas went off to his right. 

          As Bran approached the skeleton, it charged him, or at least it tried to on it's awkward bow-legged gait. The skeleton slashed at the twig. He ducked under the blow and swung his swords at the ribcage. The blades skittered across the bones to no effect. The skeleton ignored the scraping and bashed Bran back with it's shield. 

          Vilkas yelled at Twiggy. "Slashes aren't going to do anything. You have to break the spell." 

          "And how in bloody blazes do I do that?" Bran called back after he regained his footing.  

          "Like this!" Farkas boomed as he popped out from behind a hemlock and smashed his axe into the skeleton's back. The spell holding the skeleton together shattered as bones flew in all directions. The legs wobbled before collapsing to the ground. 

         Bran skipped out of the way of a humerus. Part of the spine was caught on Farkas's axe and he held it down with a foot and rocked his axe trying to free it. He smiled at the Twig. Bran grinned up at him and chuckled. "I'm not sure I have the strength for that." 

          Vilkas growled. "Damn it Farkas. How am I supposed to test the whelp if you barge in. Besides, how do you not know how to break a spell Twiggy?" 

          Bran scoffed. "As I said before, my conjuration is beyond lacking." He studied the remains while chewing on his tongue. "Is this the work of Forsworn?" 

          Vilkas scratched at his weeks old beard. "It's possible. It could also be one of Potema's left over spells. Or we could be dealing with necromancers. We won't know till we get down there." The wolf glanced at his brother. Farkas had gone completely void of emotion, but Vilkas could see all the tension in his brother's shoulders and set jaw. Vilkas squeezed his twin's arm. "Come on. We have work to do." 

          The three men descended into the cave. The smell of death, mildew, and ash was potent and it made Vilkas's stomach churn. How many died here by the wolf queen's hand that this smell still lingers? Vilkas took the lead alongside Bran while Farkas loomed behind. The cave was lit and had obvious signs of digging. Pickaxes and carts full of debri lined the tunnel. The Companions moved quietly as they cautiously descended further down into the depths. 

          "Why would forsworn want to dig up a cave?" Bran whispered. 

          Vilkas tightened his grip on his sword and replied just as quietly. "Who fucking knows. Now hush." 

          The sparsely lit cave narrowed down into a tunnel from which the sounds of footsteps echoed. The Companions paused as the echoes grew louder and a pair of pale glowing eyes bobbed toward them. A Draugr emerged from the shadows, its grey skin pulled tight along its sunken frame. This time Bran didn't need encouragement. He rushed toward the undead creature slashing away at its brittle tendons and mummified skin. He quickly hacked down the Draugr, to which Vilkas was begrudgingly impressed. 

          Deeper into the depths of the foreboding cavern they went, until they heard low voices resonating through the newly excavated tunnel. The trio slowed and Twiggy blessedly went quiet. Vilkas took the lead as a fire's glow began to warm the walls of the tunnel. The men carefully approached the voices.

          Vilkas stopped and looked back to find Bran right behind him with Farkas in the rear. His twin had a hand on the back of the twig’s neck. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Vilkas swore he saw his brother's thumb drawing small soothing circles into the Breton’s skin. 

          A spike of jealousy shot through Vilkas. His wolf responded, launching itself at the mental cage. The wolf sneered and a small growl escaped him. Twiggy took a step back huddling closer to Farkas as a look of unease krept across his face. He looked up at Vilkas with a question in his eyes. The wolf took a breath and swallowed hard. He wrestled his jealousy back down. Focus. I can't lose control, especially here. 

Using his sword, the Wolf pointed to the left. Farkas lifted up four fingers and Vilkas nodded in agreement. The companions lined themselves up on the wall of the cave and scooched down to the opening revealing a new cavern. On the other side of the cave were remnants of an ancient tower. Vilkas took a breath and counted to three.

          The wolf surged forward, silently rushing out of the tunnel toward the voices. Sitting on a couple of logs around a campfire were four figures in black robes, two human men, a human woman, and a male high elf. The Altmer was facing the Companions and he shouted as he bolted to his feet. The other three did the same, but Vilkas was already bearing down on them. He thrust his sword through the back of the man closest to him. The Altmer cast a stream of fire at the wolf. 

          Vilkas ducked behind his shield and the spell crashed into it, sending fire spilling around him and licking his hair. He growled as the heat warmed the shield and threatened to burn his arm. He hopped over the log running to the Altmer, trusting that Twiggy and Farkas would protect his back. The Altmer retreated away from Vilkas to group up with the female mage all while casting a continuous blaze from his hands. The wolf swore as the heat became too much to handle and he backed away from the barrage of flames.

          Farkas had lopped off the head of the other male mage with a single swing of his massive axe and continued on toward the woman with Bran close behind. Her hands glowed purple and before her the air twisted and warped in a dim purple light as a portal opened up. A deadra stepped forth into Nirn and lumbered straight toward Farkas and the whelp. The wolf had little time to worry about them as the high elf hurled a fireball at him. He ducked behind his shield. 

          "Vilkas!" Bran shouted. The wolf glanced over his shoulder not wanting to take his eyes off his enemy, but to his horror the man he had just skewered had risen back to his feet; A spell crackled and glowed in the thrall's hands. Vilkas flung himself away from the man. 

          Lightning sprang from the undead's palms and struck Vilkas's back. The spell zapped his steel armor, skittered across the metal, and through his skin as it flowed down into the ground. His body tingled with fire and his muscles twitched and went taught under the electicities command. A scream was pulled from his throat as the spell burned through him.

          The Altmer grinned smugly as he formed another fireball. On the far side of the cave Farkas was still battling the Deadra. The woman hid behind the Altmer while she gulped down a potion. The high elf released his spell. The fireball was at least twice the size of the previous one and the fire growled as if flew toward Vilkas. The wolf fought to regain control of his limbs, but the undead's lightning still nailed him in place. 

          Bran popped up in front of Vilkas, his hands held out as if to catch the blaze. The air warped and shifted before them like liquid glass as the fireball smashed into Twiggy's ward and rolled into itself as it dissipated. The ward shattered and Bran spun around Vilkas, his movements as light as a dancer. The wolf assumed the twig to have made another ward for he was suddenly free from the lightning spell. He lunged forward with an enraged roar, his eyes locked onto the Altmer's, seeking to kill. 

          The high elf sneered at the charging wolf not even hesitating as he yanked his fellow necromancer out from behind him and tossed her into Vilkas's path. She shrieked, but Vilkas merely used his shield to swat her away like the irritating fly she was. He had already chosen his prey, and it was not the woman.

          Fear finally glimmered in the Altmer's golden eyes as he stood trapped against the cave wall. He pulled a dagger from his robes as his left hand gleamed with another spell. It was a final desperate attempt for survival; One that both he and the wolf knew to be futile. And the wolf reveled in it. Vilkas pounced, slicing open the Altmer's wrist. The spell he had been trying to form sizzled away as he cried out. The scream was short lived as Vilkas jammed his blade up into the elf's liver. The wolf panted with a gleeful grin. The smell of fresh blood reached his nose and left him salivating. You're mine. I will tear open your chest and feed on your liver!

          The high elf tried feebly to stab Vilkas with his dagger. The wolf merely shoved the elf off his sword and let him fall in a heap to bleed out on the ground. The man that the high elf reanimated with his twisted magic, groaned as he turned to ash, dying with his master. Vilkas froze as he stared down at the mer before him. He fought with his wolf desperately trying to shove away the thoughts that were infecting his mind like a disease. He licked his lips and with a growl forced himself to turn away. There has to be more prey.

          There wasn't. Bran had finished off the woman with several slashes of his swords while the daedra lay dead at Farkas's feet. Vilkas growled and shook his head as he tried to wipe away the wolf's thoughts. Twiggy sighed heavily and sank onto one of the logs. He pulled off his helmet and dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. "I don't suppose either of you thought to bring magic potions." 

          "No." Vilkas replied. He pointed to the woman with his sword. "She did." 

          Bran grimaced. "I'm not about to drink any potion a necromancer concocted." 

          "Are you alright?" Farkas asked Twiggy. He went to the Breton and kneeled beside him. His lips were pressed with concern as he ran a hand through Bran's hair. 

          Twiggy blushed and smiled fondly at Farkas. "I'm just a little drained is all. Nothing worth worrying about sweetheart." 

          SWEETHEART!? 

          "Are you two done?" Vilkas snarled. He rubbed his mouth, his teeth suddenly aching. He tore his jealousy fueled glare off the Breton before the desire to sink his canines into him became too much to control. He gestured at the ancient heavy door within the newly excavated tower. "Because if you haven't noticed we still have work to do. These necromancer's dug up this tower for a reason. We need to find out why." 

          "Right." Bran replied only slightly embarrassed. Farkas merely nodded and stood, but his eyes kept darting between Vilkas's and the ground. The wolf spun around not wanting them to see his own internal struggle.

          His wolf was taunting him to shift, like a bottle of skooma sitting before an addict just begging to be taken. He rubbed his jaw trying in vain to subside the pulsing in his teeth that was beginning to fuel a headache. Vilkas angrily shoved the door open and stomped inside not wanting Twiggy or his brother to see his hair standing on end. Not wanting them to see that he was afraid.

          Through the door was a short hallway that had collapsed into a sinkhole. A rope ladder descended into the pit and on the other side was yet another excavated tunnel. The Companions followed it dread seeping into Vilkas's stomach the further they ventured. Why go through all this trouble? 

          "You hear that?" Farkas whispered. 

          Vilkas paused, his ears straining as he picked up the sounds of voices. The tunnel itself seemed to press down on them as they walked. The smattering of light and pungent smell of mildew and death only added to the growing boulder in the wolf's stomach. The faint voices morphed into a rhythmic chant, but the echoes of the tunnel kept him from making out the words until a single voice leapt out of the din…..

"Wolf queen. Hear our words and awaken." 

          The tunnel opened up into a massive cavern and Vilkas's lips parted in awe at the sight of a Fortress standing ominously within the cave. Wolfskull cave wasn't a secret lair, it was an entire underground castle with several towers and fortifications. 

"We summon thee." 

          Two twin towers jutted up above the rest and at the top of one was a glowing humanoid figure floating above the stone. Purple spiraling magics whirled about the entire cave creating an angry wind as it spiraled up to the figure and enveloped it.

"We summon Potema." 

          "By Ysgrammor." Vilkas breathed as the chant wormed its way inside to strengthen his dread. "This can't be." 

"Long have you slept the dreamers sleep of death, no longer. Hear us Wolf Queen!" 

          Vilkas whirled around to face the others. "We have to stop them!" 

          "Just the three of us?" Bran questioned. 

          "There's no time to get help. If they bring her back there's no telling the horrors that could be unleashed." Vilkas warned. 

"We summon thee!" 

          Bran seemed afraid, but he set his jaw and gripped his swords tight. "Right." 

"We summon Potema!" 

          Vilkas looked over to his brother and swore again. Farkas stood seemingly paralyzed. A scowl was chiseled into his thick brow and tight lips. He stared mindlessly at the purple light, his eyes wide with horror, and his breath quick and shallow. The wolf clutched the top of his brother's chest plate and gave him a little shake. "Farkas." 

          His brother’s distant eyes focussed onto him as Farkas took a deep breath. He growled as his hands gripped his axe with white tightened knuckles. "I'm not going back on that table." 

          "Damn it Farkas, we don't have time for this!" Vilkas asserted. It pained him to hear his brother's words, but they had to stop the ritual. His twin looked away seemingly not believing what Vilkas said. The wolf moved his hand up from the chest plate to grip the back of Farkas's neck forcing him to return his gaze. The wolf's words were gentler yet heavy. "I will never let that happen." 

           "Farkas?" Bran hesitantly asked. Vilkas cursed. He had almost forgotten about the twig. He silenced him with a gesture.

"We summon thee!"  

          Farkas's hands were trembling. Vilkas took several methodic breaths hoping to influence his brother to do the same. "Listen to me, Farkas. I need you to focus. What happened to us as pups is child's play compared to what could happen to other innocent people if Potema returns to the world. We HAVE to stop them! I can't fight them on my own. I need you!" 

           Vilkas's plee seemed to pull his brother from his stupor. He tugged Farkas's arm and the three of them raced down the road toward the fortress, the path leading them downward. They rounded a bend and a young Bosmer woman was sitting near the edge of the path staring up at the ritual. She started at the sound of the Companions barreling down the road. She spun to face them, her hand flashing purple. Vilkas flung himself at the little elf shoving her off the ledge to land on her back at the bottom of the path. Farkas roared behind him and Vilkas barely scrambled out of the way as his twin leapt off the ledge after the necromancer. He held his axe over his head and as he landed over her he brought his weapon down through her skull. The woman died instantly, but Farkas kept hacking away, sending blood splattering across his arms and helmet. Vilkas ran to his brother pulling him away from the corpse. "She's dead." 

          "And they can't bring her back." Farkas growled. The fear in his silver eyes had turned into a crazed rage. He shoved Vilkas away. He took the lead thundering down the path as he spat. "I'm not going back on that table!" 

"Yes! Return me to this realm!"

          A chill swept through Vilkas as Potema's voice fell upon the mortal plane for the first time in centuries. Stendarr's mercy. 

          Farkas was a charging bull. Several necromancers and dozens of draugr blocked their way up through the fortress. They were all trampled under Farkas's rage. Vilkas was forced to lag behind as Bran couldn’t keep up with his brother's long legged sprint. 

"As our voices summon you the blood of innocence binds you Wolf Queen."

          Vilkas shouted at Farkas to slow, but he surged further up the stairs. 

"Summoned with words. Bound by blood." 

          They came upon an archway with a necromancer slinging lightning and ice down upon them. Farkas continued on, mindless of his safety, forcing Vilkas and Twiggy to do the same. 

"You fools! You can not bind me to your wills." 

          Through the archway were two draugr. Farkas threw himself at the undead. Vilkas pushed Bran toward the fight while he bolted up the stairs leading to the archway. The necromancer greeted him by summoning an ice atronach. Vilkas dodged around the lumbering column of living ice and charged the necromancer shoving him off the archway to fall to his death causing the atronach to zap out of reality. 

"Summoned by words. Bound by blood." 

"You ants don't have the power to bind ME!" 

          The path led them inside the keep, into a tower, up a rubble filled staircase where the roof had collapsed, and up onto the top of the fortress where the twin towers waited. The swirling magic made the very air buzz and waft as it spiraled up to the top of the tower. Several figures shadowed by the light stood before the glowing magic pool of energy in the shape of a woman. All the magic pooled into that being. Potema. 

          The chanting faltered. The magically imbued voice spoke. "Something's wrong. There is an intruder." 

          Along the roof several necromancers lay dead, killed by Farkas's hand. Vilkas saw him leaning on the wall next to the open doorway of the tower waiting for Vilkas and Bran. He was clutching his left forearm. 

          "Just a burn." Farkas muttered when he saw Vilkas's worried eyes.

          Vilkas nodded and peaked into the tower. It was empty but light and sound pooled down from the top. The magics light bouncing off the grey stone gave the tower a sickly and ominous glow. "Shores bones! Well……. They know we're here. Charging up to the top will be a death sentence." 

          He glanced down at Twiggy who was leaning on him and sucking in gales of air. The wolf asked him. "How long can you keep a ward up?" 

          Bran looked up at Vilkas critically before his hazel and green eyes scanned the tower. He frowned as he gazed up at the light. He licked his lips. His answer was slow and brimming with uncertainty. "I…..don't know. Not long. But my wards are weak. One spell and it'll break and who knows how many mages are up there." 

"Kill the intruder!" 

          The wolf snarled. "Behind me both of you." Vilkas sheathed his sword and pulled off his shield to hold it in front of him with both hands. "We go up together. Stay behind my shield. As soon as we get to the top you two break off and kill anything up there. Stay low and be quick." 

          "Bloody hell. We're going to die for the greater good and we won't even be remembered for it." Bran muttered as he hunkered behind the wolf. 

          Farkas dropped a paw onto Vilkas's shoulder. "I'll kill them all." 

          They rushed into the tower veering right as they bolted up the stairs. Vilkas only made it four steps before a slew of fireballs whizzed at them. A ward sprang to life on their exposed left side only to splinter apart as one of the fireballs struck it. Bran flung up another ward even as he scrambled to keep up with the twins. Farkas had a hand on the top of Vilkas's shield helping him to support against the onslaught of spells. 

          They reached the top of the stairs and Vilkas gasped. He saw the light too late as he stepped on the rune spell waiting for them. It exploded. Fire erupted from the spell surrounding the Companions in a column of heat and light. The wolf's ears rang as he was thrown aside by the spell. His shield was torn from his hands and he slammed into a giant altar. The wolf crumpled to the ground with a grunt. Get up…….you have to get up. He peeled his eyes open and saw blurry black robes swishing toward him. His vision was narrowing; His body refused to respond to his commands…...Get...up.

          An unnatural chill suddenly struck him, so cold and uncomfortable as it seeped into his very core clutching his heart with piercing needles. Vilkas knew this feeling. He had felt it before in his youth when he and Farkas had been in a necromancer's clutches. A soul trap spell. No!

          Vilkas's eyes sprang open. He saw only a glimpse of the man standing over him with a gleeful sadistic grin before he snatched the necromancer by the foot and pulled him off his feet. The lightning spell in the man's hand shot into the ceiling as he fell to the ground. Vilkas rolled away and sprang to his feet pulling his sword out of its sheath as he stabbed another necromancer in the heart before she could react.

          He whirled away from her and lobbed off the head of the man he had tripped. A fireball whizzed toward him and Vilkas leapt over part of the altar to take cover. He peaked over the black dias and saw Bran slashing a Dunmer to ribbons with his short swords. Passed him, on the other side of the circular altar from Vilkas, was an old hag. Her hands were thrown back and she seemed paralyzed while struggling to hold together the ritual's magics. A single Breton girl stood near the ritual master and thrust a column of ice at Bran. She held a desperate fearful grimace as the ice washed across the ground and clung to Twiggy's legs. He tried to pull up a ward but his magic fizzled out. Bran shivered as he snarled at the other Breton and fought through the spell. 

          Both the necromancers were focused on Twiggy. With a growl, Vilkas held his sword back over his shoulder like a spear and launched it. His sword whizzed through the glowing Potema atop the altar and straight through the heart of the ritual master only stopping because the cross guard caught on her ribs. The ritual master gasped as the sword implanted itself, the spell and light cut away from her like a snake without a head. The humanoid pool of light above the altar rolled into a flickering ball before the purple and white lights wormed upward and vanished out of a hole in the ceiling. 

          "No!" The Breton necromancer shrieked. She had been growing an ice spike to hurl at Twiggy, but turned to shoot it at Vilkas. He ducked behind the altar, the ice sailing harmlessly over him. The wolf popped up just in time to see the whelp slash open her throat.

           It was over. They won……but Vilkas and Bran were the only two left standing. 

          "Farkas?" The wolf breathed as a fear colder than any spell squeezed his heart. He scrambled back over the altar desperately scanning the blood slick stone strewn with bodies and the remnants of spells. He found his twin lying on the ground near the stairs on his stomach. And he wasn't moving.

Chapter Text

          "Farkas!" Vilkas screamed as he raced to his brother. He fell to his knees rolling Farkas onto his lap and clinging to him. "Gods no! Please no!" 

          Farkas's nose and lips were badly burned as well as most of his neck and forearms. His breathing was shallow, but most concerning was the strong scent of his twin's blood. Vilkas quickly checked him over and found a deep wound in his left armpit. The wolf tore off his cloak and stuffed it under Farkas's arm, pressing it tight. He cursed at the dimming light which made it hard to tell if he was stemming the bleeding. Vilkas pulled off his twin's helmet and ran a quivering hand through his hair. He whispered. "You'll be okay…...you'll be okay." 

          Time seemed to stop as Vilkas sat there rocking his twin in an effort to soothe his own nerves. As the minutes passed by and Farkas continued to breathe; continued to live, Vilkas calmed. Slightly.

          “Vilkas.” A soothing and wary voice called to him. 

          The wolf blinked several times as he realized Bran was kneeling before him. The Breton was watching him as one would eye a bear that had suddenly wandered into their path. Stendarr’s mercy. I’m growling at him. Vilkas took a deep breath and tried to force his heart to slow its panicked pounding. He looked around and was met with darkness. The only light came from the flickering candles that circled the top of the altar. They had burned down to nubs threatening to wink out at the slightest breeze. 

          Bran wetted his lips and reached a tentative hand out to Vilkas. He pleaded. “Please. Let me heal him.”

          The wolf bristled and glared at the hand resting on his arm before turning his steel gaze to Twiggy's. He wanted to shove the whelp away and threaten him with death should he ever touch him again, but he didn't. Because he had to admit that Bran could help Farkas, and for his brother Vilkas would do anything. 

          He closed his eyes and nodded. Twiggy let out a breath he had been holding before scooting closer to Farkas. He asked quietly. "Can you help me get his armor off so I can get a better look?" 

          Vilkas nodded again. He drug Farkas toward the altar and into the dim glowing lights. He and Twiggy quickly worked to unclasp all the buckles and pulled off the armour, gambeson, and tunic. Bran washed the wound with the water from his waterskin before his hands began to glow with the tell tale golden light of a restoration spell. Nothing happened at first and then the wound slowly began to knit itself together leaving behind soft new skin. Bran's long gentle fingers made their way to Farkas's face settling on his cheek as he healed the burns there before moving on to his neck and arms. Bran’s spell lit up the three Companions. 

          Twiggy had bags under his eyes and a large lump on his cheek. His leathers were scorched as were his scraggly beard and hair. His right sleeve was drenched in blood, though the wolf doubted it was too serious since the man was using his arm just fine. A small smile pulled at Bran's lips as Farkas’s injuries disappeared beneath his touch. The wolf looked away but still mumbled, "Thank you." 

          Twiggy chuckled. "Why, Wolf, that almost sounded sincere." 

          Vilkas rolled his eyes. He gestured at Bran's arm. "Did you heal that?" 

          "No.” Bran replied as his magic winked out plunging them back into near darkness. He sighed heavily. “At this point I couldn't heal a papercut. I know my spells weren't much, but I've used more magic today than I have in years." 

          "Your spells just saved my brother's life." 

          "Still think magic is only for cowards?" 

          Vilkas didn't reply mainly because he didn't have an answer. Instead he said tiredly. “We need to find a safe place to rest.” 

          “I’ll look around.” Bran said as he slowly rose to his feet. 

            Vilkas almost protested, but they both knew that he wouldn’t leave his unconscious twin under Bran’s protection. The wolf gently laid Farkas on the floor and rooted around till he found his shield by the stairs and his sword still buried in the old hag’s sternum. He yanked it free and cleaned it with her robes. He felt far safer just by being armed once more. He looked around, finally taking in the full scene around him. 

           The air was cool and occasional wisps of wind blew down from the darkness above. It must be night already. Not far behind the ritual master’s corpse was a drawbridge that pierced the void above. Bran piped up. “What do you think is over there?” 

          “Hopefully a backdoor.” Vilkas replied as he pulled the lever on the battlements, sending the drawbridge crashing down with a loud squeaking rumble that echoed through the chasm. “Be careful.”

          Bran nodded. He drew one of his swords before disappearing into the void with the tallest of the sagging candles. Vilkas returned to stand guard over Farkas. It was hard to judge time as he sat next to his brother waiting for Twiggy. He wasn't certain how long he waited, but he could feel himself getting more tired. Only his anxiety kept him alert. The necromancers scattered around them added to his unease. He kept expecting one of them to rise back up to attack them. 

          "Wolf." Bran said, his normal light voice sounding incredibly loud as it broke through the silence. A glowing blue light drew the wolf's eye. He stood to get a better look, his sword and shield held tightly. 

          The twig’s head popped into existence floating on its own next to a glowing bobbing light a dozen meters away. Vilkas snarled wondering what illusion magic was warping his mind before he deduced that Bran was in the other tower poking his head through the stairwell. 

          Bran stepped out onto the tower roof. A staff with the glowing orb atop it was in his hand and he used it as a walking stick. Twiggy had bags under his eyes and he yawned as he weaved around the bodies and blood to the twins. 

          Vilkas asked. "Did you find anything in the other tower?" 

          "Only the staff." Twiggy replied. "There's a tunnel at the bottom that drops down into another, but it was too high of a ledge for me to climb back up so I didn't go any further." 

          "Sounds like a good place to rest then." Vilkas grunted as he grabbed his brother's arm and leg and wrestled him onto his shoulders. Bran gathered Farkas's armour into his arms and led the wolf down the spiraling stairs. Halfway down the steps Vilkas's legs started shaking from the effort of carrying his larger twin. He grumbled "Farkas, you heavy fat fuck, you owe me for this." 

          The bottom of the tower was barren save for a few scraggly bushes that looked like they had died decades ago. Vilkas knelt, setting Farkas down as gently as he could before sinking down to the ground to rest against the wall. Bran dumped his brother's armour on the floor. "How the hell does he fight with that much bloody steel weighing him down." 

          Vilkas chuckled tiredly. Bran pulled off his swords and set them next to himself as he sank to the floor. He laid the staff across his lap and closed his eyes taking a methodic breath as he held the wound on his arm. The wolf ordered more harshly than he intended. "Come here." 

          "Is this the part where you threaten me not to tell anyone that you're capable of being nice?" Twiggy mused.

          "Just come here." 

          Bran huffed, but slid across the floor till he was before Vilkas. The wolf grabbed his right arm and tugged to get him to scoot closer. "Let me see." 

           "Trying to get me out of my armour now?" Bran questioned with a mischievous grin. His eyes were seductive and the gold specks in his left eye shone abnormally bright in the blue light of the staff. Vilkas stared blankly at the twig till he began to squirm under the gaze. Twiggy clicked his tongue and grumbled. "You're no fun."

          How the hell do you still have energy to flirt? Vilkas made quick work of the laces on Bran's armor, pulling off his pauldrons followed by the whelp's leather vest. As the wolf helped him out of his heavy linen shirt, Twiggy shivered. "Bloody hell it's cold in here." 

          "I'll be quick." Vilkas replied as he inspected the wound on Bran's arm. One of the necromancers managed to get a dagger under Twiggy's pauldron. The puncture was small but deep. He tore off the bottom of Bran's shirt, much to Twiggy's irritation, and used it to wrap the injury.  

          It was the first time Vilkas had ever seen Twiggy with his shirt off and his curious eyes wandered. Bran was tall and thin with long corded muscles. His red tattoo stood out against his flawless tanned skin. The crimson swirling waves started on his hand, and spiralled all the way up across his right arm. The waves spread along his shoulder blade and encased the black outline of a heart with two letters inside. Vilkas asked. "Whose C.R.?" 

          Bran flinched. His answer was quick and filled with venom. "A dead bitch if I ever see her again." 

          It was the exact opposite reaction from what Vilkas had been expecting. A plethora of emotions seethed out of the whelp. Anger, fear, disgust, hatred, shame, and self loathing seeped forth like a miasma. The emotions were so powerful that the wolf could taste them; so convoluted that it left his head hurting. He hurried through the task of wrapping Bran's arm so he could get away from the onslaught of smells. 

          Vilkas apologized. "Sorry. I shouldn't have pried." 

          "No harm done." Bran said with a shrug, unaware that the wolf could smell the truth. Twiggy shivered again and Vilkas passed him his shirt. 

          "You should get yourself a cloak." Vilkas said. 

           "They get in the way when I fight." Twiggy replied.

          The wolf unclasped his cloak and patted the ground between himself and Farkas. He was decidedly not looking at Twiggy as he muttered. "Cmon. Farkas and I can keep you warm." 

          "Oh I bet you can." Bran quipped. Vilkas glanced at the Breton who was biting his lip as he looked Vilkas up and down. 

          The wolf growled. "Don't make me regret this." 

          "You always have a stick up your arse." Twiggy scoffed as he leaned the staff against the wall and curled up next to Farkas. "Would it kill you to relax and have some fun?" 

          No but it might kill you . Vilkas thought as the sight of Twiggy curled up against his twin made his stomach churn. He glared at the whelp even as he scooted closer and draped his cloak over Bran and across his lap. The twig extinguished the spell on the staff plunging them into darkness. 

          The wolf couldn't say how long he kept vigil within the void before exhaustion pulled him to a restless sleep. His dreams were filled with old memories. Of him and Farkas bound to a stone altar under the light of the full moons. 

          When Vilkas woke it was to the sound of hushed voices, but he was warm and still tired.  

          "......hovering over you like a gargoyle. It was almost cute. He even started being somewhat civil."

          "He used to be like that all the time."

          "So you've said. Now he's usually as grouchy as a bear after winter."

          Vilkas let out a small moan and clung to the warmth his arm was wrapped around. His fingers traced the chest that was far too small, soft, and hairless to be his brother's.

          "Looks like the bear has you trapped, Szerető ." 

          "It's a shame really. For such an arsehole he sure is snuggly."

          Vilkas cracked his eyes open. Farkas sat leaning against the wall with his arms on his knees in almost the exact position Vilkas had been in most of the night. The staff shone bright from the crook of his elbow and the light danced within his amused eyes.

          The wolf was cuddled up with Twiggy beneath his cloak. He had the whelp's back pulled tight against him with their legs tangled together. Twiggy twisted around and looked up at Vilkas. He winked and said. "Good morning handsome. Sleep well?" 

          Vilkas sneered at the whelp and shoved him. Hard. Bran cried out clutching at the wound on his arm. "You fucking wanker!" 

          The staff whizzed through the air and rapped the wolf across the ribs. Hard. He hissed and held his side as he glared at Farkas. His brother just muttered. "Be nice." 

          Bran groaned and slid closer to Farkas. He glared at the wolf. "Would it kill you to not be such a dickhead?" 

          "It might." Vilkas growled as he hefted himself up off the ground. Twiggy scoffed and rolled his eyes as he muttered a string of curses the wolf had never heard before. Vilkas stretched. "Shore's bones, I'm getting too old to sleep on the ground and in my armour." 

          "You probably wouldn't be so stiff if you pulled that stick out your arse." 

          "Watch it Twiggy." Vilkas warned. 

          "Oh please." Bran huffed. "I've known you long enough now to know when you're dangerous." 

          Vilkas crossed his arms. "What in Oblivion does that mean?"  

          Twiggy pulled himself off the floor and busied himself by tearing off his blood soaked sleeve. "When you're serious about drawing blood you get this wildness in your eyes, and you start acting less like a person and more like a rabid wolf."

           Vilkas paled. "I see." 

          He glanced at his brother who was drawing patterns in the dirt with the base of the staff. Is it really that obvious? Does Farkas know? He didn't like the thought that others could see his struggle, but he had to admit that it was probably obvious. Especially recently. 

          He quickly changed the subject. "Farkas, how are you feeling?" 

          "Fine." He replied. "Though I could go for a strong ale." 

          Vilkas offered a hand to his brother and helped hoist him off the ground. "I agree. Let's get the hell out of this cave." 

          They ventured down the tunnel with Vilkas once again in the lead. When they reached the ledge Bran had spoken of, Vilkas dropped down into the cavern. He took the staff from Farkas and left them in the dark at the top of the ledge while he scouted. It didn't take him long to realize that the tunnel dropped into the path near the entrance. 

          When he returned to his brother and Twiggy, he found Farkas blushing and Bran biting his lip. He growled low in his throat but didn't say anything. They made their way out of the cave and down to where they left their packs hanging in the trees. Thankfully their supplies, though frozen solid, were untouched. They shouldered their packs, and Vilkas had Bran scout ahead. Farkas sulked though he smiled as he watched the Breton walk ahead. 

          "What do you see in him?" Vilkas asked. 

          Farkas blushed again. "I like his stories, and he makes me laugh." 

          Vilkas lifted a brow. "Is that all?" 

          "He's also sexy and has a nice ass." Vilkas shook his head and his brother quickly added. "Don't worry, yours is nicer." 

          It was Vilkas's turn to have rosy cheeks. He growled trying to hide a smile that was threatening to bust through his facade. Farkas noticed and chuckled. He leaned a little closer to his brother and said softly. "You don't need to be jealous. You can have me whenever you want." 

          "It's not jealousy." Vilkas lied. "If you want to fuck him then fuck him. I just don't want you getting your heart broken again. Especially over someone who doesn't deserve it." 

          "You judge him too hard." Farkas said. 

          Vilkas growled with annoyance. "He's been with us for what? Three months? How many of those nights has he actually slept within Jorrvaskr?" Farkas didn't answer so Vilkas continued. "Twiggy is a whore, and he takes pride in it. He's not someone who will be faithful." 

          "I got it." Farkas said curtly.

          Vilkas ran a hand down his face with a sigh. He was irritated and could smell that Farkas was just as frustrated. They silently agreed to drop the subject. Farkas moved ahead to walk with Twiggy and after some time Vilkas reluctantly joined them.

          Spring had done little to ease the winter's hold this far up and the cold was taking its toll on Twiggy. Farkas kept hovering by him, concern settling in the Nord's hooded eyes. Once Bran stopped complaining was when Vilkas begrudgingly gave up his cloak. 

           "Are you worrying about me, Vilkas?" Bran chimed. 

          "That I would never hear the end of it from Kodlak should I let you freeze to death? Yes." Vilkas growled as he quickly clipped the clasp over Bran's leathers. His heavy wolf fur cloak hung off the Breton and drug on the ground. Vilkas huffed to himself. If Farkas's blood hasn't already ruined it, the mud and slush certainly will. This would have been such a better trip had it just been Farkas and I. 

          It was nearing sundown by the time the Companions found the main road leading down to Dragon's Bridge. Vilkas found a relatively flat spot to make camp for the night that wasn't too far off the road with a mountain creek nearby. Farkas and Bran cleared the underbrush and gathered up all the dry pinecones and twigs for kindling. Vilkas left them to search for firewood.

          It took the wolf a while to find wood that wasn't damp from all the snowmelt and fog. Not that he minded. The forest was peaceful. Birds fluttered to their nests to settle down for the night while a fox searched for any last minute meals. Somewhere in the brush a bobcat chirped an alarm though Vilkas never did see it and a flurry of bats began their evening races for insects. The smell of ferns, fungus, and earth was all encompassing and would have been pleasant had the scent not reminded him of Twiggy. Even still, Vilkas enjoyed his rare moment of peace. 

          Until he returned to camp to find Farkas and Bran sitting on a log with their lips locked and tongues sparring. Farkas was cupping the whelps face with both hands; Twiggy had a hand on his chest. A loaf of bread that sat near the fire to warm was toasted to charcoal. 

          Vilkas dropped the pile of firewood. The clunking of the wood startling both of them and drawing their lips apart. Bran bit his lip and smiled at the wolf sheepishly. Farkas met Vilkas's gaze with a challenge. I don't have the right to be jealous. I just told Farkas to fuck him if he wanted. He glanced at the loaf of burnt bread then back up to Farkas with a sneer. "That better not go to waste."

          "It won't." Farkas replied flatly. 

          The rest of the evening dragged on in an uncomfortable silence. At Least it did for Vilkas. Bran had cut through the awkward tension with another of his tales. Farkas listened enraptured while Vilkas scowled, crossed his arms, and sank into himself. 

          He hated how Bran so openly flirted with his twin. Hated that Farkas kissed him. Hated how the Breton would find any excuse to put his hands on his brother.

          More than anything, he hated that HE couldn't. He wanted to hold Farkas wherever he damned well pleased. To kiss him. To cuddle with him. To show the world how much he loved his twin…...but he couldn't. Because society said their love was wrong. Because gods knew what might happen to them if their secret was ever told . I wonder which sin people would hate more, us being werewolves or us fucking. 

          Vilkas's anger and bitterness slowly disintegrated into shame and sadness. It wasn't Bran's fault that he could do what the wolf couldn't, yet he resented him all the same. He finally laid on his bedroll to try to sleep while Farkas and Bran talked and laughed well into the night. 

          When Vilkas did finally sleep his wolf was waiting for him and it filled his dreams with blood. He awoke with a start after one particularly violent dream involving him chasing down a family one by one. 

          "What's wrong?" Farkas asked from his spot on the log. 

            Vilkas sat up while he took slow methodical breaths and rubbed his eyes. His reply was short. "Nothing." 

          Farkas pressed his lips together and frowned. He glanced over to Twiggy who slept as soundly as a babe and then back to his twin. He lifted himself off the log with a stretch before extending a hand out. "Cmon." 

           Vilkas looked up at him curiously before taking his brother's arm and pulled himself off the ground. Farkas nodded toward the treeline and started walking. The wolf's steel gaze flicked to the whelp and then back to his brother before following. 

          "Where are we going?" He asked once he caught up to Farkas. 

         His twin shrugged. Farkas chewed on his lip as if he wanted to say something yet was afraid to. The crescent moons drew his eye and Farkas said as he gazed upon them. "You used to tell me everything. What changed?" 

          "That hasn't changed, brother." Vilkas replied. 

          "Then tell me what's wrong." 

          Vilkas hesitated and scratched at his beard. "Nothing." 

          He expected Farkas to get mad at him. He should have known better. Instead his brother wrapped his arms around Vilkas and pulled his back flush against his chest. They stood there in silence as Farkas lay his chin on his shoulder and held him. 

          Once some of Vilkas's tension and worry melted away, his brother said. "You know I'm bad with words. I don't know how to explain stuff like you do. I've always liked how you talk for both of us so I don't have to. And I love how you used to tell me everything you were thinking even if it was dumb. Like when we were little and you asked me 'why don't color's have taste?'" Farkas chuckled warmly. "You spent the whole day telling me what different tastes colors should have." 

          Vilkas couldn't help but smile. He had forgotten about that. "Gods Farkas. That was a long ass time ago." 

          Farkas squeezed him tighter and his deep voice wavered. "I miss it. I don't know what I did to make you angry, and to not want to talk with me anymore. But I'm sorry." 

          "Farkas….." He breathed. His brother’s words stung. The sorrow and regret stemming from Farkas's musk only fueled his own shame. He spun around still in his brother's arms and reached up to cup Farkas's jaw. He spoke firmly, wanting to make sure his brother believed him. "You didn't do anything wrong. I promise you. I just don't think about stuff like that anymore." 

          "Then what do you think about?" Farkas asked gently. 

          Vilkas sighed and dropped his hands. He tried to step away from his brother, but Farkas refused to let him go. His brother’s pleading eyes glimmered like quicksilver in the moonlight. The wolf looked away, but gave in to his brother. He spoke to Farkas's chest. "Does your wolf ever…...influence you?" 

          "No?" Farkas replied uncertainly. 

          "Have you ever been fighting and then suddenly you have this overwhelming desire to turn and kill?" 

          "Yes." 

          "What do you do when that happens?" Vilkas breathed. 

          Farkas shrugged. "I just ignore it." 

          "If only it were that easy." Vilkas scoffed. He laid his forehead on Farkas's chest and his brother hugged him tighter. Vilkas returned the gesture burying his head in his brother's chest and clinging to him. He spat out angry and acrimonious. "My wolf is always taunting me brother. Always! It's all I can think about. It spills into my feelings, my thoughts, my fucking dreams! And……..sometimes I don't know who's in control…...it scares me." 

          Farkas continued to tighten his grip as the wolf spoke until the hug was almost crushing. Vilkas returned the embrace just as tightly relieved and grateful that his brother was there. 

          "How long have you felt like that?" Farkas asked. 

         His musk was heavy with worry and it made Vilkas regret telling his brother about his struggle. He debated whether he should continue. The secret is already out. No point trying to keep it hidden now. He muttered. "Since the beginning, but, it's gotten worse over time." 

          Farkas released his tight hold to look down at Vilkas solemnly. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help." 

          "You do help." Vilkas replied with a soft smile. "Immeasurably." 

          Farkas leaned down and kissed Vilkas gently. The wolf responded by wrapping his arms around his brother's neck and returned the kiss fervently. He parted his lips silently begging his twin for more, and Farkas gave it to him. Their tongues explored each other as their scents grew heated. 

          Farkas's hands roamed across Vilkas's back and grabbed his ass tightly. He pulled the wolf against him and whispered in his ear. "I'm going to take you. Right here. Right now." 

          Heat raced through Vilkas straight down to his groin. His brother planted a kiss on his neck. Vilkas revelled in the sensations before his senses returned and he pushed his brother's arms away. He spun around and tried to ignore his growing girth. 

          Vilkas hissed. "That's not a good idea. What if someone sees us? What if Twiggy wakes up?" 

          Farkas snagged him and pulled him back against his chest. He chuckled softly. "Bran sleeps like the dead. Now let me do all the worrying." 

          Vilkas stood there as rigid as a monolith. He wanted to give in to Farkas, but he felt exposed. It was too risky. Farkas snaked a hand under his shirt, his fingers gliding across his abs. He lightly sucked on the wolf’s neck and whispered again. "Trust me." 

          Vilkas took an unsteady breath. "I…..I do." 

          "Good." Farkas's voice was growing more heated. He still held onto Vilkas and he slowly guided him forward till the wolf was staring at a giant spruce. Farkas growled low and powerful as he commanded. "Then put your hands on that tree and don't move them." 

          Vilkas swallowed. He hesitated only for a moment before he reached out and laid his palms on the ancient tree. The bark was rough, thick and cracked, much like Farkas's hands. His brother grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled exposing Vilkas's throat to his waiting lips. 

          Just like that his worries and struggles vanished. Farkas was in control now, and he trusted his brother to keep them safe. All Vilkas had to do was obey, and by the gods did he love this!

          The wolf groaned as his brother nibbled on the side of his neck. Farkas's hands roamed over his swelling cock and around to grip his ass. He thrust slightly, rubbing his own rigid member up between Vilkas's cheeks. Farkas moved his brother's hands up higher along the trunk till Vilkas was resting his forearms above his head.

          "Good." Farkas bit his ear and growled into it. "You want this cock?" 

          "Oh fuck yes." Vilkas breathed. 

          "Then you're going to be quiet." Farkas ordered. "And you're going to beg." 

          Vilkas groaned. Farkas's words by themselves were stoking the fire in his core, let alone his hands which were now undoing the laces of his trousers. He begged softly. "Please fuck me Farkas. I want to feel you inside me." 

          Farkas's warm breath washed across his neck as his breathing quickened. He pulled Vilkas's laces free and shoved down his pants. Farkas gripped his cock and slowly stroked it. Vilkas swore again. 

          He looked down but his shirt was hanging out preventing him from watching. He wanted to reach down and bundle it up, but he couldn't. Farkas said he couldn't move his hands, so he wouldn't. 

          "Please fuck me." Vilkas begged again.

          "Not yet." Farkas rumbled as he let go of Vilkas's cock and returned to roaming his hands all along his body. His fingers migrated up his abs and scratched their way down his back. The wolf groaned resting his forehead against the spruce as the slight pain flooded him with pleasure. Farkas made his way down onto his knees. He massaged Vilkas's ass, his fingers occasionally delving between, to tease his furl. Without warning he bit his left butt cheek. Hard. 

          Vilkas gasped, but clamped his mouth shut before a wail found its way out. Farkas chuckled and peppered the bite with kisses as he mumbled. "I've missed touching you."

          The wolf tried to think of a clever response, but all he could focus on was the pleasant yet painful pulsing of his ass. His brother had never done such a thing before. He was normally hesitant to hurt him so Vilkas urged him on. "Farkas that feels so good!" 

          Farkas's lips explored to his other cheek where he sucked on it till surely a sizable mark was left. Farkas growled. "You have such a nice ass." 

          Vilkas panted while basking in the scent of their mutual lust. Once Farkas was satisfied with his work, he ran his tongue down and between to gently glide across Vilkas's hole. The wolf tilted his hips trying to give his brother easier access as he breathed. "Oh Farkas." 

          Farkas's soft tongue pressed and swirled around his furl for what felt like hours before finally one of his thick fingers delved within. Vilkas moaned quietly as Farkas's finger, slick with spit, slid along his walls and back out to rub around his center. 

          The sounds Farkas was drawing out of the wolf fueled him on. His brother sank a second finger into his core while his tongue continued to slather his furl. By the time a third finger was added, Vilkas was biting his knuckle to try to keep quiet. It felt so incredibly good the way his brother pressed, rubbed and prodded his hole and he wanted nothing more than to shout that fact out to the heavens. Instead he whispered. "Fuck yes Farkas. Yes!" 

          He stood there helplessly under Farkas's mercy as his solid cock begged to be played with. He groaned. "Please take me." 

          Farkas released his core and his tongue disappeared. He stood while running a hand up Vilkas's back to grip the back of his neck tightly. He promised. "Oh I'm going to." 

          Vilkas groaned again. Farkas pushed him down till the wolf had his ass leaning out for the world to see. He slid his hands along the bark of the tree and rested his cheek on them. A desperate, needy whimper escaped him as Farkas's long hard cock slid into him. Inch by slow inch he pressed until their hips were flush against each other. 

          Farkas growled low and deep. "You like me inside you?" 

          "Fuck yes." Vilkas replied. 

          "Show me." 

          Vilkas moved, rocking his hips forward till his brother's head was almost free and then letting it sink back in. Farkas sucked a lip into his mouth as he watched Vilkas. He lightly slapped the bruising bite mark on his ass. Vilkas bit his knuckle and swore. Farkas thrusted into that heat before he stilled himself. The wolf moaned again as he begged. "Play with my cock? Please?" 

          "Not yet." Farkas said. 

          Vilkas huffed as he continued to ride his twin. He wanted more. He wanted release, but Farkas was denying it to him. He pressed his fingers hard against the tree as he tried to slide his brother's cock against that spot that always drove him wild. 

          Farkas stopped him and pulled his cock free. Vilkas hissed with frustration only to groan as his brother sank back in. The wolf craned his neck to look over his shoulder. His twin was watching as he kept popping his cock free; watching as he opened Vilkas's hole. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his lips were parted, and sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. Farkas hilted himself and Vilkas bit a knuckle and wailed. He continued to beg, quiet yet needy, hoping to send Farkas into a frenzy. It worked.

          "Oh fuck yes." Farkas growled as he began thrusting into Vilkas at a quick steady pace. 

          Farkas grabbed his twin's cock and began stroking it in painfully slow strokes. The head of Farkas's cock found that spot within Vilkas's core. That spot that built up pressure within him and felt so Gods damn amazing! He could feel the build up behind his balls as Farkas fucked him. 

          "Farkas. I'm cumming." Vilkas breathed. 

          His twin picked up speed, their skin slapping together as he thrust deep into him. Farkas's hand stroked his cock in shallow quick strokes. The heat of Farkas's hand, the way it rubbed and squeezed his head, the feel of his cock as it slid along his furl and pressed against his walls…….. Gods it feels so fucking GOOD! 

          Vilkas balls tensed, and then all that pressure was released. He panted and groaned as he came. His seed shot onto the tree, the brush, the ground, everywhere, as Farkas continued to stroke him. His legs were shaking as his brother slammed into him. 

          Farkas snarled as his own orgasm took hold and he unloaded in Vilkas's core. His face was flushed and he clung to Vilkas's waist as his thrusts slowed. He ran a hand up the wolf's back as he said softly. "Shore's bones you're always so good Vilkas." 

          The wolf didn't respond. Instead he sank to his knees whimpering as his brother's cock slipped out on the way down. Farkas knelt down beside him. He planted a gentle kiss to the side of his head. Amusement seeped through his voice as he said. "You can let go now." 

          Vilkas hadn't realized that his hands were still pressed against the spruce as he was still waiting for Farkas's permission. He sighed, letting go of the tree as his brother pulled him into his arms. He mumbled into Farkas's chest. "I love you so much." 

          Farkas tensed, seemingly surprised by Vilkas's words. He supposed it was a fitting reaction since the wolf hadn't said them in years. He didn't feel the need too, not when his scent said it for him. Farkas hugged him tighter. He sounded grateful as he replied. "I love you too." 

          A deep gratitude began to imbue Farkas's musk. The scent surprised the wolf and he rubbed his brother's arm and asked. "What is it?" 

          "I've just missed you so much." Farkas breathed. 

          Vilkas laughed. "It's only been a week."

          When Farkas didn't reply he couldn't help but feel like he missed something. He leaned down and kissed his twin's arm. "As much as I would love to stay like this, there's a pinecone jabbing my ass." 

          Farkas laughed. "I thought you liked having your ass jabbed." 

          "Only when it's you." Vilkas said. 

          The brothers cleaned up and made their way back to camp in peaceful silence. It was late enough into the night that even the forest had gone to sleep. The trees were still and all was silent. The moons had crept past their zenith leaving the forest floor in near darkness. The twins picked through the underbrush carefully, relying more on their sense of smell and hearing until they could make out the dim glow of the campfire.

          Vilkas was relieved to see Twiggy still asleep. The Breton hadn't even moved. Farkas patted the wolf on the back and laid down on his bedroll while Vilkas took his watch. The fire had dwindled in their absence so he stirred up the coals and threw in another log. He sat down on a stump only to squirm.

          Farkas had left quite the painful marks on his cheeks. It would take a few days before he could sit comfortably again. He caught Farkas watching him. His brother held an arrogant smug smile, his eyes dancing with satisfaction. 

Chapter Text

"50 Septims? I thought we'd be 'heavily compensated.'" Bran scoffed as Vilkas plopped his share of the reward into his outstretched hand. "We stopped one of history's worst necr-"

"Hush." Vilkas' paw rushed up to cover the Breton's mouth. The Nord glanced around. His rich voice dropped lower as he whispered. "Not another word about the she wolf. We don't need folks panicking."

Twiggy shoved away the wolf's hand. "Did you not tell them what happened?"

"Of course I did. We killed the necromancers who were abducting people." 

"But-" 

"Enough!" Vilkas snapped. "We are Companions twig. We fight for honor. These people have been squeezed of enough coin for this damn war effort. I won't demand more than they can give." 

Bran blinked several times at the wolf, like he hadn't considered how the people of Dragons Bridge were struggling. The Breton looked around taking in the sight of the stern-faced villagers going about their business with lips pressed tight and heavy footfalls. Their clothes, well worn and patched, hung off them with the tell tale sign of a harsh hungry winter. They contrasted starkly with the steel clad soldiers stationed in the town. If you could even call them soldiers. 

The Emperor's elite security force, the Penitus Oculatus, were more like lazy thugs. They sucked the villagers dry of resources and sent the goods either to the real soldiers fighting the war or back to Cyrodiil. Few were Nords and Vilkas doubted that any of them had homes or family in Skyrim. They certainly didn't care about the people. 

The villagers gave the soldiers a wide berth and would scowl at them as they passed. Vilkas found himself doing the same. All these so-called soldiers and none of THEM could bother to investigate the cave after people had gone missing.  

"Honor won't fill our bellies." Bran muttered. The wolf didn't see him roll his eyes, but he was sure the twig had. 

"We'll get our due, Twiggy. Now stop complaining." Vilkas lay a hand on the back of Bran's neck and lightly shoved him toward the Inn. 

When they got there, Farkas was outside strapping the saddlebags onto the horses. He glanced up when they neared, his silver eyes settled on Twiggy and scanned every inch of the Breton. The intensity with which they burned and the small pleased smile tugging at his lips caused a mass of jealousy to bubble up within Vilkas. 

It was the same way that Farkas would look at him when they were alone. How DARE he look at Twiggy like that. Vilkas's wolf leapt forth from the shadows and attacked the bars of its prison. The reaction was so strong that it made the hair on his arms stand on end. He swallowed hard and moved away from the whelp lest he strangle him right there in the streets. 

Vilkas went to his horse and quickly (and a little roughly) checked the straps making sure everything was secured. The horse snorted and shied away from him. He patted the mare's neck trying to calm both her and himself. He spoke harshly while making sure to avoid looking at his brother. "No luck finding another horse?" 

Farkas sighed, his voice grim. "No. The soldiers took them all." 

Vilkas grumbled. "Of course they did." 

"We could give me all the saddlebags and you and Bran can share the saddle. It'll be faster." Farkas said flatly. 

Bran eyed the brothers. "We're leaving already? Can we not take a few days rest? We've more than earned it and I'd at least like a health potion for my arm." 

Vilkas ignored the whelp. "With both our horses being overloaded? No it wouldn't." 

"Bran doesn't weigh that much. And we are getting low on supplies anyway. The horses can handle it." 

"Do I not have a say in this?" Bran huffed as he crossed his arms. "Cause I don't want to ride all the way back to Whiterun on a horse's arse while having to stare at another one.

Farkas cocked his head confused before his eyes lit up and he burst out laughing. Vilkas merely grumbled as he untied his saddlebags and passed them to Farkas who secured them to his own. He swung up into the saddle and squirmed as he struggled to find a comfortable seat. The bruises on his ass hadn't gone away yet and everytime he sat all he could think about was him against that tree while Farkas fucked him. He glanced at his brother. Farkas had his back to him but the wolf could see him watching out the corner of his eye, a small proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Vilkas tried in vain to brush the memory from his mind and decidedly wasn't looking at Twiggy as he reached out a hand. "Cmon. I want to get to Solitude before the Festival of Fools." 

"Wait. Why are we going to Solitude?" 

"To get our due." Vilkas growled.

Bran rolled his eyes and pulled himself up behind Vilkas. He hesitantly held the wolf around the waste as the horse was urged forward. "And what is the Festival of Fools?" 

"I believe in High Rock they call it Jester's Day." 

Bran wiggled with delight. "You Nords actually celebrate a fun holiday? I love Jester's Day! I used to get in so much trouble. Do you have a contest to pick the King of Fools? I imagine you would win that yearly." 

"I won a couple times." Farkas proclaimed proudly as his horse trotted up to them and he sat a little straighter in the saddle. 

Bran chuckled. "Most people aren't proud of that sweetheart." 

"I'm not most people." Farkas grinned.

"No you most certainly aren't." Bran hummed. 

Vilkas tuned them out as best he could. He was afraid of what he might do should he continue to listen to their flirting. Instead he focussed on the road ahead of them and the scant scenery that he could pick out through the thick fog. 

The closer they got to the capital the larger the crowd of travelers. Fur traders coming down from the mountains, farmers bringing their first harvest to market, merchants preparing to invest, and a whole slew of caravans, Khajiit and otherwise.

 Early into the second day a cohort of Imperial soldiers marched down from Solitude. Everyone else quickly crammed onto the sides of the steep road to make way for the soldiers. Unlike the Penitus Oculatus, these men were mostly nords. Brother's and sister's of Skyrim who were fighting to protect their land from the ambitious and war hungry Ulfric. This war is getting serious. But it's just shield siblings fighting each other for the sake of greed. There's no honor in this. 

Vilkas, still clad in the wolf armor of the Companions, drew the occasional eye. Even a child would instantly know who and what he was. He sat up straighter in his saddle wanting to make sure he represented the Companions honorably. Every now and then a soldier would call out to him.

"Hail Companion!" 

"Honor to you Companion." 

The wolf nodded in response to the greetings. He watched the line of soldiers pass with reverence knowing full well that many of them would not live to see next winter.

"How do you do that?" Twiggy asked as he elbowed through the crowd. The twig had abandoned Vilkas the moment they had decided to travel alongside a Khajiit caravan. It was the first the wolf had seen of him since and the Breton had bits of fur and feathers braided into his short hair making him look slightly like a forsworn. "You've barely said a word and yet you emanate…..lordliness. If I didn't know better I'd think you were a Jarl." 

"I'm no lord." The wolf scoffed. 

"Well you certainly look the part. Positively dashing." 

Vilkas glared down at the twig as Bran openly admired every inch of him. The Breton's mismatched eyes moved up through his lashes to lock with the wolf's. The little lynx nibbled on his lower lip and gave a little hum. Vilkas shifted in the saddle.

 "Vilkas are you…….flustered?" Twiggy chuckled. The wolf's face started to feel warm. "By the eight! You're blushing!" 

Vilkas kicked his horse into a trot and away from that blasted Breton. No one had ever looked at him quite like that before. Not even Farkas. In that gaze he could see Twiggy undressing him and playing out a whole damn fantasy. The wolf pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged the space between his eyes. Damn it. He's been trying to get a reaction out of me since we left Whiterun and I just fucking gave it to him. He's never going to let up now. 

It took them another two days to reach the outskirts of Solitude. The occasional farm or mill gave way to lavish manors followed by homesteads which turned into squatter houses crammed together between narrow streets and alleys. The trees gave way and in the distance Solitude ruptured from the earth in all its glory. 

A massive sea arch rose above the land arcing over the bay where the Karth met the sea. Sitting upon the natural wonder sprouted the main part of the city shimmering in the midday sun and glowing in the water's reflection. The city twisted along the arch and slithered down the mountain to wrap around the bay and estuary. Though they were well outside the city proper traders had already set up shop along the road to hawk their wares. The crowd that had continued to grow was now a sea of barely moving bodies. Even the horses were jostled and pushed as Vilkas carefully picked his way through the mass toward the gates. 

Farkas had given him the reins to his horse which Vilkas tied to his saddlehorn to prevent them from getting separated. Twiggy had reluctantly taken his place behind Vilkas only to amuse himself by pestering the wolf. He flirted with Farkas of course, loud enough that the crowd around them could hear while messing with Vilkas's hair. 

The twig's thin fingers were quite gentle as he delicately combed them through the wolf's mane. Several times Vilkas shook his head and pulled away from the whelp with a growled threat. Once he refocused on their path those blasted hands would return to his locks and he forced himself to not lean into the touch. 

At the base of the mountain the road split and the majority of the crowd jostled their way down to the docks and the market district. Vilkas sighed in relief as he steered the horses left and up through the first gatehouse. He passed his brother's reins back to him and Farkas gave him an amused grin. "Is Bran finally growing on you?" 

The wolf growled. "He's growing into a pain in my ass." 

"He almost has you moaning." Farkas chuckled, his eyes bright with affection while his scent held the slightest fragrance of lust. 

His twin's want stirred up his own arousal before Farkas's words hit him. Twiggy had stopped combing his hair and had been expertly massaging Vilkas's neck. He had melted under the touch letting some of his anxiety pour out with it. He instantly tensed and shouldered the damn Breton off of him. He snarled over his shoulder. "Touch me again and I'll break your fingers." 

Twiggy huffed. "Well that was work wasted." 

Vilkas had hoped to arrive before the slew of travelers in hopes of getting a room in a decent Inn, but they ended up reaching the city on Fool’s Day. All the reputable Inn's were full and they were forced to rent rooms at The Winking Skeever, an old run down shithole right by the city's main gates. It was better than a place by the docks, but Vilkas still eyed all the other patrons with suspicion. He grumbled as he pocketed his key and gave the other two theirs. "Don't leave anything valuable in your room." 

"If you don't have at least one thing stolen from you, is it even a good inn?" Bran chuckled. 

"They have good music and better ale." Farkas emphasized as if that's all that mattered. 

Vilkas shook his head and chuckled. He patted Farkas on the back. "If you start any drunken brawls I'm not helping you out of it." 

"You always say that." Farkas grinned as they found a small unoccupied table away from the fire.

A wench approached them smiling widely and took their orders once Vilkas managed to get the whelp to stop flirting. Once she returned with their drinks, Vilkas took a swig of his mead. "Tomorrow I'm going to speak with the steward and then send word out to Kodlak. Farkas, I want you to find us another horse and you……" Vilkas trailed off as he looked at Twiggy. He didn't want the Breton with him, but he most certainly didn't want him with Farkas. "......you'll come with me." 

"To the Blue Palace?" The whelp sounded horrified. "You really think me being around nobility is a good idea? Let me go with Farkas. I'm fantastic at bartering." 

"No and deal with it." Vilkas said gruffly. Bran huffed. Farkas simply nodded though his eyes flitted over to Vilkas more than once. A tension started to rise at the table, but it was quickly quenched as the wench returned with a tray piled with food. The three dug into their meal with gustow. 

The beds might have been cheap, but the food was fantastic and the drink even better. The table was crowded with freshly caught salmon, horker steak with fried leeks, fresh baked bread, buttery carrots, boiled potatoes, lamb stew, mudcrab legs, several sweet rolls, and an entire apple pie that Vilkas greedily devoured all of. While they ate Bran regaled the other patrons with the stories of their journey and for once the wolf didn't mind the whelp’s tale. Boasting about their battles was part of being a Companion after all. He leaned back with a satisfied sigh and tried not to puff up his chest too much when Bran told of how Vilkas saved him from the mammoth. Once the tales were told and the people started to disperse the whelp became obviously pouty at no longer being the center of attention.

He tapped his hands on the table bored before exclaiming. "I have a good idea. Let's play a game."

"No." Vilkas growled though it lacked the normal bite.

"What kind of game?" Farkas asked. 

"It's simple. You just say something you've never done before and if the others have, then they have to drink." Twiggy explained. 

"Sounds dumb." Vilkas said. 

"Sorry Wolf, you've been out voted." Bran said with a smile. "I'll go first. Never have I ever drank skooma." 

Bran looked between the unmoving twins. He lifted a brow. "Well, go on. If you've done it, drink." 

Farkas gave his brother a pointed glare. 

"Fine." Vilkas sighed and drank. 

Twiggy laughed. "Color me impressed. Maybe you're not as boring as I thought you were." 

Vilkas grumbled. "It was only once and the shit was awful." 

"Alright then Wolf, your turn." Twiggy said. 

Vilkas sighed again and grumbled. "Alright. I've never slept with two people at once." 

Bran and Farkas drank. 

Vilkas gawked at his brother. "Farkas, you know you don't count yourself?" 

"I know." 

"Man after my own heart." Twiggy quipped as he winked at Farkas.

"My turn." Farkas took another swig of his ale and slammed his mug on the table. "Never have I ever had sex with a woman." 

"You're lying." Vilkas accused. 

Farkas shook his head. "No I'm not." 

"Have you forgotten about your dear Reyla, brother? The girl who broke your heart when she left you to join the stormcloaks?" 

Farkas was quiet for a moment before he mumbled with a blush. "His name was Ralof." 

And I had been worried that he had never been with a man before…… .Vilkas was troubled that Farkas felt the need to lie to him. He wanted to talk to him about it, but not in front of Bran. He asked instead. "So never?" 

"I tried once, but….it….didn't work out." Farkas muttered as his gaze fell to the table. 

Bran patted his arm. "Don't fret sweetheart. Women aren't for everyone." 

Vilkas took a drink and Twiggy did the same. 

"Never have I ever sailed in the Sea of Ghosts." Bran said. 

"Do you mean a sailor or just a passenger?" Vilkas asked. 

"Are you trying to find a loophole since you're losing?" Bran questioned. 

"I'm not losing, we've both drunk twice." 

"That means you're losing." Farkas piped in as he took a giant swig. "and I'm winning."

Vilkas glared at Farkas and pointed to Bran. "Don't drink yet. He hasn't answered."

Farkas shrugged. "We've both been to Solstheim so drink." 

They went around the table for several more rounds until Bran turned into a giggling slurring mess and Farkas a loud gesturing chatterbox. Vilkas found himself sitting quietly with a small smile firmly settled on his face. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he let himself drink so much. Surprisingly his wolf was somewhat still as if the alcohol made it difficult to grab hold of Vilkas.

When it was his turn again he struggled to think of an answer and Twiggy was quick to gripe at him for it. He smiled smugly. "I've never slept with THREE people at once."

"Dear Akatosh. Well Vilkas figured out how to win." Twiggy chuckled as he drank his rum. 

"How many people have you slept with at once?" Farkas asked. 

Bran chewed on his cheek before slurring. "Five. I guess. There was a girl there that I didn't do anything with, but she was part of our group so I suppose she counts." 

"Well I've heard enough." Vilkas said as he sucked down the rest of his mead.

"What's the matter? Afraid you might enjoy the thought of me getting ravaged?" Twiggy asked while gazing at Vilkas intently from over his mug. Farkas was red from his neck to his ears though that could have been the alcohol. Twiggy noticed and giggled as he said. "Farkas seems to." 

Vilkas surprised himself by laughing. "I guess I'm too drunk for you to annoy me." 

"So if I ask Farkas to dance you won't skewer me?" 

"By all means." Vilkas replied as he waved down a wench to refill his mug.

Farkas mumbled about not knowing how to dance, but Bran soon had him on his feet and over to the music. Vilkas watched laughing to himself as Farkas stumbled about completely off beat. Twiggy grabbed his hands and swung their arms back and forth with the lively tune as he showed Farkas a few steps. Vilkas found himself smiling as his brother’s brow furrowed in concentration and Bran's lit up with fond amusement. 

From over the wolf's shoulder the raspy voice of an Argonian spoke. "Now there's a sight I never thought I would see. A Companion dancing with a pirate." 

Vilkas laughed loud enough to be heard over the din and turned to the lizard who sat tucked away in a small alcove. The Argonian had dark green scales that shimmered blue in the light and two horns sprouting back from his skull. The wolf asked. "Care to elaborate?" 

"The Breton." The Argonian said simply.

Vilkas picked at a sweetroll and snickered. "Bran is many things, but the little whelp is no pirate." 

The Argonian leaned forward cupping his own mug as he grinned wide revealing his long pointed teeth. "You've clearly never sailed the Abecean Sea. Ever since Hammerfell succeeded from the empire the southern oceans have been awash with pirates. The most feared of them all is Rhianie Blackheart. A ruthless cold killer whose cruelty is only outshined by her vanity.  So feared is she that her crew often tattoo her sigil on their arms and just the sight of it causes merchant ships to surrender and give up their wares." 

The Argonian stopped to take a sip of his drink and then bobbed his head toward the dancing Bran. "That boy might not look the part, but her mark is on his hand." 

"As amusing as this has been." The wolf said as he watched the Breton. His steel gaze following the billowing tunic and settling on Twiggy's right hand where the beginning of his tattoo poked out. Vilkas grunted as he threw back his head and emptied the rest of his mug. "I'm out of mead." 

The Argonian shook his head. "Blackheart once captured an imperial vessel and when the authorities refused to pay her ransom the Captain personally doused the crew in chum and nailed them to the masts. The ship was found weeks later. The crew had been pecked to death by gulls who left nothing behind but their sun bleached bones. I wouldn't trust him if I were you." 

There was a tense and deathly stillness to the wolf as he turned his cold stare to the Argonian. He growled low and menacing in his throat. "I've done worse." 

The lizard was taken aback, either by the wolf's words or his deadly steel gaze. He grinned at the Argonian before making his way outside. The streets were still abuzz with festivities. He had hoped for some quiet, but there was no solitude to be had in Solitude. He leaned on the stone wall of the inn and breathed deep trying to clear his head. Bran, a pirate. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!

The wolf unsteadily made his way around to the back of the Inn. Gods. I don't remember the last time I let myself get this drunk. He groaned and found a bush to relieve himself. Vilkas closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders when a sudden sound drew his attention. 

Bran popped out from around the corner swaying precariously as he walked. His speech was so slurred that the wolf could barely make out the words. "Farkas! There you are. Have you seen Farkas?" 

 Vilkas chuckled. "He was with you."

"He left to get more ale and then he lost me to get more ale." 

Vilkas chuckled and begrudgingly admitted to himself that the whelp was both cute and amusing when drunk. The Breton's face was flushed and a small grin was stuck to his lips. His eyes wandered down to where Vilkas was tying up his trousers. "Oh? Are you wanting some fun?" 

"You are such a whore." Vilkas mumbled. Twiggy giggled and staggered over to the wolf. He leaned heavily on him and Vilkas sighed, wrapping an arm around the Breton to help support him. "You are very drunk." 

"I am." Bran grinned up at Vilkas and the wolf wondered what part the Breton was agreeing to. Twiggy bit his bottom lip. "I was really hoping to convince Farkas to join me in my room. I want to see how well he uses his cock. I bet he has a nice one." 

"He does."

"I guess you would know." 

"I do." Vilkas froze. What the fuck am I saying? His mind cleared just enough for him to realize three things. That thinking of Farkas and his cock was making him hard, that he needed to shut the fuck up, and that Twiggy had slipped his hand in the wolf's trousers and was softly stroking him. 

"The gods certainly blessed you didn't they? I bet Farkas's cock is just as big. I want to taste it. Let me taste it daddy." Twiggy hummed as he lowered himself down and pulled Vilkas's cock free. 

The wolf sneered. He knew the little whore didn't care about his brother. He just wanted another play thing. I need to stop this. Farkas is going to be heartbroken. You don't deserve him. I don't deserve him. Why am I just standing here? Oh gods that feels so good! Vilkas moaned as Bran wrapped his lips around his head and drew his cock in until it hit the back of the twig's throat. 

Twiggy hummed around him as he stroked his shaft with both hands. He popped his cock free and licked his lips. He gazed up at Vilkas through his long lashes, his mismatched eyes sultry and devilish before he descended upon Vilkas's cock swallowing it down to the hilt. The wolf panted and clutched Bran's head. "Oh fuck!" 

The twig held himself there, his nose buried in Vilkas's pubes as he made little choking noises. The wolf was in awe that the little Breton could swallow all of his length when not even Farkas had managed that. With a gasp, Bran pulled back his eyes watering, and the wolf whined at the loss of that soft all encompassing heat. Twiggy gripped Vilkas's cock a little tighter while his other spit slick hand cupped his balls rolling them with his long fingers. His hands were  calloused but still softer than his twin's. Those long fingers crawled up behind his balls to rub at the skin behind them. 

It was a weird place to play with and Vilkas ignored it instead focusing on the sight of his own cock dipping in and out of those incredibly soft lips; that is until those same fingers pressed into a certain little spot that Vilkas thought could only be reached through his hole. A jolt of surprise and pleasure struck him. He let out a low groan using the wall of the inn for support lest he sag to the ground. He dug his fingers into Bran's hair and thrust in tandem with the Breton's bobbing head. "Oh fuck yes." 

The whelp moaned and slowly drew the cock from his mouth licking around the head as he gazed up at Vilkas. "You like this daddy?" 

"It feels good." 

"I want your cum. Please, daddy, let me have it." Bran begged as he pressed his fingers against that spot and massaged it in deep little circles. He stroked the wolf's cock vigorously and drew it back into his mouth, sucking loudly as he frantically worked him. 

"Fuck!" Vilkas cursed. He gripped Twiggy's hair tighter as he thrust wildly into that massaging heat. The pressure within him quickly rose and as Bran dug his fingers into that spot, the pressure ruptured. Vilkas cupped the back of the twigs head as he came. The wave of pleasure sent a shiver through him as he unloaded every drop through those red wanting lips. 

Twiggy moaned loud and filthy as he waited for Vilkas to finish and then resumed his rhythm. The wolf hissed and pulled away freeing himself from that lusting heat and those incredibly talented fingers. Bran looked up at him, clearly pleased with himself as he held Vilkas's cream in his mouth and played with it. He ran his tongue through it with his mouth partly open before swallowing it all with a hum and a smack of his lips. 

The sight disgusted Vilkas. The realization of what he had just allowed to happen disgusted him more. He felt dirty, like he had just betrayed Farkas. He forcefully shoved his cock back in his trousers and quickly tied them up. He glared at Twiggy but he wasn't really sure if he was mad at the whelp or himself. The anger grew nonetheless, stirring up his wolf. 

Twiggy drunkenly smiled up at him, his eyes still heavy. He pressed a hand into Vilkas stomach as he rose to his feet, slurred something the wolf couldn't understand, and then took two steps before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed face first into the ground. Vilkas sneered and made his way back into the inn leaving the passed out twig to sleep it off in the piss covered bushes. 

Chapter Text

Farkas dug his fingers further into Vilkas's hair and pulled. He whispered. "Slower." 

Vilkas groaned around his brother's cock and slowed his pace. Farkas pulled again and he looked up to his twin, watching Farkas watch him. His lips crawled up his brother's length before Vilkas let it pop free. He swallowed, drawing Farkas's gaze down to his throat. 

"You're always so good for me." Farkas whispered as he sank further down the wall. His shoulders were barely off the floor by this point, not that he seemed to care as he watched Vilkas with slightly parted lips and eyes so focused that the wolf wondered if Farkas could see his soul. Vilkas grinned as he lightly ran his fingers up his brother's shaft and gently squeezed his head. 

Farkas moaned softly and Vilkas returned his lips to his brother's delicious cock. Farkas moaned again. "Let me taste it daddy…….

Vilkas woke up with a start. He dug his fingers into his eyes and swore. He was used to having dreams of his twin, but to hear Bran's words in his sleep left a sour taste in his mouth. He threw the blankets off himself and swung his legs off the bed. He sat there for quite some time as the memories of the previous night pieced themselves together. "I let him suck me off. What the fuck was I thinking?" 

Vilkas massaged the space between his eyebrows. He clearly remembered feeling disgusted with himself and the feeling returned like a slimy slug crawling across his neck. He shuddered. Why did I let that happen? I don't like him, neither his figure nor his annoying attitude.

The dimmest of light shined through his room's small window telling him that the sun was just starting to rise. He grabbed his clothes from the floor and descended the stairs of the inn to the common room. The innkeeper's son was just starting to light the fire. A few patrons were passed out on the floor. Surprisingly, Vilkas could smell his brother, and he followed the scent till he found him sitting at the bar sipping some tea and picking at a small plate of ham and eggs. 

Vilkas took the seat beside Farkas. "You're not normally up so early unless we're on the road." 

"I couldn't sleep." Farkas muttered. He stabbed at a piece of ham frowning at it like the food had offended him. "Have you seen Bran? He wasn't in his room." 

It took everything Vilkas had to stay calm so his scent wouldn't radiate guilt. He stole a piece of ham from his twin's plate. "I haven't seen Twiggy since last night." 

"He disappeared after we stopped dancing." 

"Knowing him he ended up in someone else's room." 

"Probably." Farkas mumbled. He sighed and he smelled disappointed. 

It made Vilkas angry and in turn more guilty. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I don't know what you're expecting from the whelp, but he's not going to change for you." 

"That's not..." Farkas shouldered Vilkas away. He mumbled. "Forget it." 

Vilkas started to reply before the stench of piss, earth, and alcohol drew his attention. The twins both looked behind them to see Bran shuffling through the inn. The whelps hair was an utter mess. His shirt was dirty and stained and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked a little pale, and he had a bruise on his forehead from where his face had found the ground. Vilkas laughed. He couldn't help himself.

Farkas glared at the wolf before asking the twig. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I wish I knew." Bran mumbled. He crawled onto the stool next to Farkas, crossed his arms over the counter, and dropped his head onto them. "I must have had one hell of a night. I woke up in the piss bushes." 

"You don't remember?" Farkas asked. 

"Sadly no." Twiggy groaned. "Dibella's tits I feel manky." 

"Like what?" Vilkas asked. 

"Like shite." The whelp whimpered. "Now shut up. My head is killing me." 

Vilkas chuckled again feeling quite relieved that Bran didn't remember what had happened. He grinned. "Well, consider your blessing Twiggy. You can stay here and recover while we take care of the errands." 

"How kind." Bran groaned sarcastically. 

The twins conversed about the errands that needed to be done, but Bran hardly paid attention. He was too busy keeping up his act lest Vilkas realize he had been deluded. That's not to say that the Breton didn't have a hangover, because stendarr's mercy he certainly did, but it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. I'm so tired of this bastard bossing Farkas and I around. 

Farkas started rubbing Bran's back and he relaxed under the man's touch. It still fascinated him just how different the twins were. On the surface they seemed very much the same both in appearance and personality. Yet once you broke past their guard they couldn't be more different. 

Bran didn't once take his head off the table until Vilkas finished his meal and left the inn. As soon as the wolf was out the door Bran leaned back and stretched. "Thank Akatosh. I was starting to think the arse would never leave." 

Farkas glanced over at him confused by the sudden change in the Breton. He looked at the door and then back at Bran before he laughed. "You were pretending? Why?" 

"Cause I'm tired of Vilkas lording over me. I don't want to go to the Blue Palace. And I certainly don't want to spend the day with him. He's intentionally trying to keep us separated and I don't like it. We're grown men. We can do as we please." 

"He's just jealous." Farkas chuckled.

"Jealous? Of what?" Bran lifted a brow. 

Farkas didn't answer. He just frowned and went back to mutilating his food. Bran watched him perplexed. Is he right? Is Vilkas being an arse because I'm not giving him attention? Surely not……..right? 

"You need a bath." Farkas said suddenly. 

His words pulled Bran out of his thoughts. He looked down at himself. "Yes. I really do. But I'll worry about that after my headache goes away." 

"You smell awful." Farkas replied curtly. “And you’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

 “Alright sweetheart. I’ll ask the innkeep to run a bath.” Bran replied yet to his surprise Farkas was already waving over the innkeep and demanded a bath. 

The innkeep took one look at Bran and muttered. “Gladly.”

The bathing room was little more than a closet with a wash tub, but the water was steamy hot and the towels soft and clean. A stool sat near the bath presenting a plain bar of lye. I should count my blessings. At least they have soap here. Bran thanked Farkas, but the man followed him into the room and locked the door behind himself. He stared up at Farkas wondering what the man's intentions were until he started pulling up Bran’s shirt. 

He lifted his arms letting Farkas help him. "Want me out of my clothes do you?" 

Farkas dropped the shirt on the floor. "I didn't think you would want to bathe with them on." 

"Oh? Do you intend to bathe me?" 

"Yes." Farkas said as he untied Bran’s trousers. Bran scoffed and the Nord asked. "Do you want me to leave?" 

"Not at all, but I'm not a child. I do know how to bathe." 

Farkas's head tilted a little. His brows scrunched into that utmost serious and confused look that was always so damn adorable. Despite being tired and hungover, Bran still managed to give his most seducing gaze as he nibbled on his lower lip. Farkas combed Bran’s hair back and said softly. "I don't think you're a child. I'm helping because I want to."

Bran grinned up at the nord as he played with the ties of the man's tunic. "Oh? And exactly how much of me are you wanting to touch?" 

Farkas grunted, but Bran was certain he could see the lust growing in the man's eyes. "I'd love to show you…..after you no longer reek of piss and vomit." 

Bran laughed sheepishly. "Right." 

Farkas finished helping him out of his clothes. Bran stood unabashedly before the man and grinned as he ambled over to the tub. He stepped into the water as slowly as possible and exaggerated his movements to make sure Farkas had ample time to see everything he had to offer. 

Bran sank into the piping hot water resting his head on the edge of the wooden tub. He was pleased to see that the nord's eyes were pinned to him. The intensity with which he gazed was a look Bran was beyond familiar with. He wants me a lot. This is going to be fun. Farkas cleared his throat and looked away as a blush crept up his cheeks. The nord came back to his senses and plucked the soap and rag off the stool so he could sit with Bran's head between his knees. He dipped the rag in the water working up a lather before bringing it to Bran's neck. 

A hum escaped the Breton as he laid his head on Farkas’s knee and watched him. His expression was both soft and serious. His large hands were incredibly gentle as he washed his neck and chest. When the nord caught him staring he smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. 

The man's touch was delicate yet meticulous as he worked. He left no spot unwashed even making sure to get behind Bran's ears and in between his fingers. The breton didn't think the man was actually going to bathe him nor did he expect to enjoy the pampering. Farkas drew the rag up Bran's arm, careful of the scab from where the necromancer had stabbed him, and settled on his shoulder where he lightly messaged.

"You must have loved them dearly." His voice was low and warm without a hint of lust which once again surprised Bran. I was certain he was interested. Why go through all this trouble if you don’t want me?

"Hmmm?" Bran peeked an eye open. He saw Farkas looking at his tattoo and the old familiar pain returned. Bran swallowed the stone forming in his throat and mumbled. "I don't want to talk about it. Please?" 

Farkas paused and his quicksilver eyes shimmered with concern. Bran could only assume the man felt him tense up, or perhaps the pain managed to seep into his voice; for suddenly the nord sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around Bran. 

He sat there in shock as a wave of emotions started to swell within him. Bran breathed. "Sweetheart, your shirt will get wet." 

"I don't care." 

Bran wasn't used to the open affection, at least not without buying it. But for the man to freely give it to him, and apparently not want anything in return? It was bizarre, and he didn't know how to react to it. So he shied away from it. "Can I ask you something personal instead?" 

Farkas kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear. "You can ask me anything you want." 

Gods, what is it like to live a life so honest and open? Farkas my dear how are you so pure at your age? Bran cleared his throat feeling somewhat guilty. "When we were fighting those necromancers you seemed afraid and honestly, panicked. Why?" 

He expected Farkas to pull away, or atleast tense up in turn. Instead he merely closed his eyes and took a single deep breath through his nose. His words held no finesse or guile as he answered honestly. "They scare me. More than anything else in this world." 

Bran reached up and held one of the arms still wrapped around his shoulders. "You kept saying you weren't going back on a table?" 

Farkas worked his lip between his teeth. "When Vilkas and I were very small, we were kidnapped by necromancers. Twins have special magic powers or something. They wanted to use it. Vilkas says he remembers them walking us bound through the woods. But the first thing I remember is my hands and legs tied tight to a stone table with Vilkas tied next to me. The full moons were shining over us and we were surrounded by people in black. I couldn't see their faces." 

Farkas let out a quivered tight breath and Bran wondered if he should tell him to stop. His voice was still calm and one of his hands roamed gently across Bran's chest. "Two people stood over us. They were chanting and each held a dagger over our hearts with a dark glowing crystal in their other hand. I was too scared to move. Vilkas was screaming and tugging at the ropes. I remember thinking that at least my brother was with me. At least I wouldn't die alone." 

"That's bloody awful." Bran reached up to cup the back of Farkas's neck. "How did you survive?" 

He smiled at Bran and leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. Bran returned the kiss, gentle and soothing. He hummed enjoying the sweet caress until the nord pulled away. Farkas said. "Our father saved us." 

"You're father? You've never mentioned him before." 

"I don't remember him much. His name was Jergen. After he saved us, he brought us to Jorrvaskr and then left a week later. He never came back." 

"What about your mother?" 

"I don't remember her." Farkas shrugged.

"Why did he take you to the Companions instead of your home?" 

"I don't know. But it doesn't matter. Jorrvaskr is home now." 

"So you grew up as a Companion?" 

"Mhhmm." Farkas hummed and released Bran who sulked until the man poured some water through his hair and began lathering his scalp. His hands massaged up the stubble on the sides of his head and through the hair on top as he asked. "What about your family? You didn't want to talk about them before. Do you not like them?" 

"It's safer to say they don't like me." Bran scoffed. "I was always getting in trouble. To say my father wasn't happy with my behavior is an understatement. As he saw it I was always on the verge of ruining our family name." 

"And what were you doing to ruin the name?" Farkas chuckled. 

"Oh the usual. Gambled, befriended the low lives, and spent far too much time and money at the prostitutes guildhouse." 

Farkas paused. "The what?" 

Bran smirked. "It's exactly as it sounds, sweetheart. A guild for whores, and I spent every waking moment there learning all I could of the Dibellan arts." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Farkas made Bran sit up and then tilted his head back to wash the soap out of his hair. 

"I would be happy to teach you what I learned." Bran mused. 

"I don't need a teacher. I know what to do." 

"There's always room to learn. Besides there's more to sex then just cumming." 

Farkas frowned. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bran's cheek. "Is it okay if I touch you?" 

"Darling you're already touching…….Oh." Bran could do nothing but stare. No one had ever asked for permission before. It made him feel suddenly shy. Farkas knelt behind him with his hand sitting on his stomach as he patiently waited for consent. Bran sat up a little more and tried to remain playful despite how perplexed he felt. "You can touch me as thoroughly as you want. Whenever you want." 

"Look at me." Farkas whispered. 

Bran swiveled, sending water sloshing about the tub. He started to ask a question, but the words dried up in his throat from the heat of Farkas's gaze. It was wanting yet not lustful. Powerful yet not forceful. Intensive yet not demanding. His shimmering silver eyes drew Bran to him. Beckoning him forward as surely as a siren's song until their lips met in a sweet gentle kiss. 

A powerful arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him against the side of the tub. Bran ran a hand up Farkas's neck wanting to be closer to the man while the kiss continued its delicate dance. Their lips cupped eachother's only to break apart so they could renew the sensation. Occasionally their tongues would flick out to each other to lightly caress, but never intruding in the other's mouth. 

Bran was so caught up in the intimacy of the kiss that he barely even noticed the rag cleaning between his thighs. Farkas ran the cloth around his cock and down to his balls, careful yet not lingering. Once he was done washing him, Farkas's hand retreated just as discreetly as it had arrived.

Farkas's lips released Bran's and he smiled sweet, soft, and perhaps a little somber. "There's more to pleasure than just sex." 

Bran was left breathless. His whole neck and face were flushed. Farkas moved away from him to the other side of the tub and silently started cleaning his legs and feet. Bran chewed on his cheek and tried not to get annoyed. The mixed signals were both confusing and frustrating. Is he really just going to bathe me and that's it? Is he too shy to be the instigator? But he asked to touch me? 

He could still feel Farkas's lips against his own. The nord was giving him just the appetizer when Bran wanted all ten courses and every single dessert. He rested his elbows over the side of the tub and watched as Farkas pulled his foot up to clean the sole. The man showed no sign of arousal at all. 

"I thought you wanted to fuck me." Bran blurted out. 

Farkas continued his work. "I do. But you don’t." 

“Oh I most certainly do.”

“You did, but now you sme….hmmm.” Farkas paused and chewed on his lip. He spoke to the water. "I don't know what to call it. Just…. You're upset." 

"Because you're teasing me." 

"I wasn't trying to tease." Farkas's brow furrowed and he pressed his lips together as he struggled to explain what he was observing and thinking. "You were upset before that."  

"If I am, it's because I don't know what you want from me." Bran hissed.

Farkas's gaze snapped up to Bran's. He sighed and gently set Bran's foot in the water before dropping the rag. If it were anyone else Bran would have said they were angry. But Farkas just seemed sad. He scooted over to him and laid a hand on his cheek. He planted a kiss in the center of Bran’s forehead.

"I want to help you feel good, Szerető. Both here." His hand moved down to his heart. "And here." 

With that Farkas left. Bran watched him go feeling more flummoxed than he could ever recall. He didn't know what to say. He was used to people taking what they wanted from him no matter how he might feel about it. Yet the more he flaunted in front of Farkas the more the man seemed to pull back. Even when Bran's cock was in his hand he didn't do anything. And despite his touch all the Breton could think of was the kiss given to him.

Bran sat there until the water started getting cold and he rolled out of the tub. He dried himself off roughly as he continued to mull over what had happened. There's more to pleasure than just sex. Well no bloody shite! But that's the pleasure that I happen to like the best! 

He finished drying himself and marched out of the bath. He left his clothes behind, they were stained and ruined anyway. He walked down the hall to his room completely nude and unbothered by it. He dug through his saddlebag finding his last tunic and slipped it on before plopping onto the bed. Only then did he notice the cup of tea on his nightstand with a note that said -for your hangover.

Bran sat up and watched the steam wafting up from the cup. His hangover was already mostly gone, but he still took a tentative sip. Afterall, it would be a travesty to waste tea. It was jasmine mixed with ginger, honey, and a little cream. It was delicious and perfect and he wondered how Farkas managed to get his hands on it. Jasmine tea was expensive even in High Rock. Bran greedily sipped on it till the tea was gone. He yawned and sank back into the bed feeling clean, warm, and completely relaxed. He wanted to stay mad at Farkas but he simply couldn't. Not when the man was doting on him like a prince. Bran quickly fell asleep to the thoughts of Farkas's soft touches. 

It didn't take Vilkas long to eat breakfast and then leave for the Blue Palace. He was eager to get away from Bran, but for all his effort he couldn't get away from the image of the twig on his knees. His lips had been so red as he sucked on Vilkas and his soft, wanting moans were pure music. 

Why the fuck am I still thinking about that? Vilkas stopped dead in his tracks which earned him a few stares, but for the most part everyone was too busy in their celebrations to notice the Companion. Despite the early morning vendors were already hawking wares. Children were running around causing mischief and pulling pranks. 

One little boy dared to throw a stale pie at Vilkas. He easily dodged it and the dessert smashed against a wall. He glared at the boy who had already dipped through an alley with his friends. The wolf was angry at first, but then he chuckled as memories of his youth surged up from the depths. He continued on to the Palace while reminiscing of simpler times when he and Farkas would take part in the pranks. 

Once he reached the Palace grounds, it took Vilkas nearly twenty minutes to persuade the guards to let him inside. Despite wearing his wolf armor, they didn't trust his word, he had no appointment, and he refused to tell them what his urgent news was. Once they finally let him through the doors, (he had to give up his sword which he despised) he was escorted down the hall. The wolf wasn't anticipating a fight but he still played out how he would handle the guards should they provoke him. Unlike his, their armor was flawless, their uniforms were pressed and clean. Vilkas wondered if the two guards had ever been in a real fight. I could easily take them both. I could be gnawing on their bones before they realized what happened. 

The short hall ended in a large brightly lit room from which matching staircases curved up to the throne room. The guards made Vilkas wait at the bottom of the stairs until the court was dismissed and Falk Firebeard informed of his presence. They left him waiting till near noon. Vilkas was certain he would have fallen asleep if not for his wolf's antagonizing. 

About fucking time. Gods I hate politicians. Vilkas was led up the stairs and away from the glistening empty throne. On the sides of the room were several tables occupied by a smattering of lords, ladies, thanes, and other people of importance who Vilkas gave absolutely no shits about.

 Falk Firebeard was among the lot. The steward was barely shorter than Vilkas with emerald eyes and short hair as red as his namesake. His beard was neatly trimmed and he was dressed in a simple yet elegant gambeson. Vilkas had to begrudgingly admit that the man was attractive even if he was a Steward. Falk smiled at Vilkas and offered his hand. "Greetings Companion. Forgive me, I feel as if we've met before yet your name evades me." 

The wolf clasped Falk's forearm, but he didn't have it in him to fake a smile. "Yes my lord, we met a few years back when I came here with Kodlak. I'm Vilkas, a member of the Circle of the Companions and I don't much care for being treated with such…" Vilkas paused, deciding at the last minute to choose his words a little more carefully for the sake of the Companions honor. He glanced at his guards. "....suspicion. Dark are the times when a Companion isn't trusted." 

"We trusted a Jarl and the high king wound up dead." Falk said grimly though he did wave away the guards. "But Kodlak speaks highly of you, and I trust the Harbinger. So what brings you to Solitude Vilkas?" 

"Necromancers in wolfskull cave were trying to summon and bind Potema." Vilkas said flatly. 

Falk's pale face grew paler. "Potema herself? Please tell me you stopped them." 

"Aye, my brother and I interrupted the ritual and slew them all." 

"A resurrected Potema….. I shudder at the thought." Falk did indeed shudder and rubbed the back of his neck. "You've done a great service for the realm. How could we possibly repay you?" 

"You could start with coin." Vilkas crossed his arms. "And a pigeon to carry a letter for me to Jorrvaskr." 

"I see you're not a man for mincing words." Falk scratched at his beard and though he sounded annoyed there was a hint of amusement in his green eyes. 

"I don't have time to play games." Vilkas huffed. "Besides, there is no honor in hiding your true intent." 

"Perhaps you're right, though that kind of thinking could cause you trouble here." 

"Good thing I want to leave as soon as possible." 

"Fair enough." Falk chuckled. "Alright Vilkas. You shall have your coin and message. Anything else?" 

"Yes, the next time someone comes to you telling of strange noises and people disappearing…..listen." 

A knock on the door awoke Bran. He groaned and pulled the pillow over his face. "Piss off!" 

The door opened and Farkas's deep voice followed the heavy footsteps. "Feeling better?" 

Bran muttered from under the pillow. "Incredibly so, but I was hoping to sleep the rest of the day." 

The bed creaked as Farkas sat on the edge and pulled the pillow off Bran. He chuckled. "That's a shame. I was hoping you would go to the festival with me." 

"I thought the festival was yesterday?" 

"It started yesterday but it lasts all week." Farkas set the pillow aside and cupped Bran's cheek, caressing it with a thumb. "Vilkas is going to want to leave tomorrow morning so today is the only day we can enjoy it." 

"We could always refuse and spend the rest of the week here." 

Farkas grinned. "We could. But Vilkas has all our gold to pay for the rooms. And would you really want to make my brother mad?" 

"I already make your brother mad. How much angrier can the big bad wolf get?" 

"You don't want to know." 

Bran hummed. "Maybe I don't, but there is something I want. Something even more enticing than festivities or being a pain in your brother's arse." 

"And what is that?" Farkas asked, looking genuinely curious. 

Bran chuckled. He had been dreaming of Farkas’s touches when the man awoke him. He used the nords arm to haul himself up from the bed and quickly straddled the man's lap. He wrapped his arms around Farkas's neck and rolled his hips as he rested his forehead against the Nord's. He whispered. "I want you." 

Farkas's mouth parted as he sucked in a soft yet heavy breath. His silver eyes, shimmering with want, closed as he breathed deep. For a moment Bran wondered if Farkas was smelling him. He dismissed the silly thought and wiggled his hips fully abusing the fact that he was only wearing a shirt and Farkas clearly knew that. The nord laid his hands on Bran's waist obviously avoiding the bare skin calling to him. His voice was gravelly as he breathed. "Are you certain this is what you want?" 

Bran rolled his hips again sliding his hard cock up along the Nord's. Farkas scrunched his eyes shut and groaned. He squeezed Bran's waist a little tighter as his own cock bobbed against the fabric of his trousers. The Breton grinned and let out a little giggle pleased by how the man was responding to him. 

He peppered Farkas's forehead with kisses and trailed down to his ear where he sucked just below it. Bran hummed as sultry as he could. "I promise you it is. Please take me daddy." 

Farkas growled as he rose to his feet and seized Bran's lips. The Breton yelped not expecting to be hoisted into the air nor the fiery kiss that quenched his cry and left him breathless. He wrapped his legs around the nord and held the sides of his face as he greedily took every kiss Farkas gave him. Bran whined when the man moved on from his lips to kiss his jaw and suck on his neck. He looked down and saw that Farkas was holding him with one hand and untying his laces with the other. 

Bran scoffed. "Show off." 

Farkas chuckled, sending a warm breath to ghost over the Breton's neck. "I'm not showing off yet." 

"Oh this is definitely a show, daddy. And I want to see all of it." 

"So do I." Farkas moaned before returning his lips to Bran's neck. 

Bran groaned and ran his hands through Farkas's hair. He savored the sensation of the nords kisses that roamed across his skin. His tongue lapped at the tendon on the side of Bran's neck and was quickly followed by those cracked plump lips. The stubble on his face scratched along his skin leaving it tingling in his wake. 

Farkas readjusted his hold on Bran as he got his trousers undone and hastily shoved them down. Whether he sat or tripped on his pants the Breton couldn't say; all he knew was that they were suddenly back on the bed and he was now hovering over Farkas while stealing his mouth with his own. 

Bran moaned into the frenzied kiss as their tongues waltzed together. He searched for the hem of Farkas's shirt and once he finally wadded the fabric up enough to find it, he slipped his hands underneath. He had been expecting the hard taught abs, but the solid feel of them still sent another surge of desire to his core. Bran would have believed he was touching marble if not for the heat radiating off of the nord. 

He broke the kiss and tugged on Farkas's shirt. The man hastily sat up enough for Bran to get the top off and then sank back to the mattress. He tried to pull the Breton down with him, but he refused. Bran watched the question form in the man's hungry eyes. He smiled and hummed. "Give me a moment. I want to enjoy this." 

Farkas returned the smile with a smirk of his own. He leaned up on his elbows and lifted his chin proudly. Bran had only ever seen Farkas look so confident in the heat of battle. It was odd to see his shyness disappear, but it was just as arousing. Bran bit his bottom lip and hummed as he took in the sight of the man beneath him. 

Despite his large frame there wasn't an ounce of fat to be found on the man. Farkas was pure muscle from his broad shoulders and chest to his toes. Bran ran his hands across the nords hairy chest and followed the denser patch that trailed down to his nave. He lightly ran his fingers back up over every ridge and ripple chiseled out of Farkas, who moaned at the touch. Bran rewarded the reaction with a warm hum. 

Farkas had several scars on him including a rather nasty looking one that ran up his left hip and stopped just shy of his sternum. He made a mental note to ask him about it later before moving on to admire the rest of him. "You have a body that could make the gods jealous. You know that?" 

"Does that mean you like what you see?" Farkas asked. His voice was deeper than normal and dripping with lust. 

Bran scooched down a little so he was no longer sitting on Farkas's cock. It rose up tall, straight and girthy with a fat squat head and two veins crawling along the shaft. Bran poked his tongue out and sucked in his bottom lip as he grinned. "I very much do." 

Bran glanced back up at Farkas and let out a quiet gasp. The intensity and desire in the Nord's eyes was more intoxicating than any drug. So focused on Bran was he, that he doubted a dragon could tear Farkas's gaze away. The Breton gently rested his fingertips on Farkas's cock and slid them lightly down the shaft and back up to his head. He mused. "You like watching don't you? That's your turn on." 

Farkas swallowed. "Yes." 

Bran leaned down and opened his mouth. He moved to lick up Farkas's shaft but stopped just short of making contact. The Nord's breath hitched and the cock bobbed expecting the contact. When none was made he trembled. Farkas balled his hands into fists and hissed. 

Bran asked. "What else do you like?" 

"I like listening too." 

Bran kissed Farkas's head and then slowly wrapped his lips around it to lightly suck before descending further. Farkas groaned as Bran opened up his throat and swallowed the cock to the hilt. When he came back up for air Bran purred. "You want me to talk dirty and watch me suck on your cock daddy?" 

"I'd rather suck on yours." 

"I thought you like watching?" 

"I do, but what turns me on even more than that is knowing you're enjoying yourself. Nothing's hotter than getting my partner off." 

"That might take you a while. I can last quite a long time." 

"Good." Farkas growled. "Cause so can I. Now come here." 

The demand surprised Bran. He almost protested preferring to be in charge himself until Farkas grabbed his arm and pulled him up till Bran was straddling the man's chest. His large hand seized the Breton's cock before his mouth descended on it like a viper striking at its prey. 

"Oh gods." Bran gasped as he dug his hand into Farkas's hair to steady himself. Oh fuck. How long has it been since I got head? He pushed the thought away. Instead Bran focused on the god of a man pleasuring him. He quickly realized that Farkas took his fucking seriously. His eyes were still locked onto him as he drew all of Bran into his mouth and hummed around him. 

Bran thrust into the silky heat. "Fuck yeah daddy. Suck me good." 

Farkas moaned but tightened his grip on Bran's hip holding him still as he worked. The man took his time, his head slowly bobbing as he sucked on Bran and ran his tongue along his shaft. It was clear he wasn't simply trying to get Bran fully hard. Farkas was enjoying himself and making sure the Breton was just as satisfied. 

Which of course only turned Bran on more. His cock quickly became fully engorged and he groaned as his head slid along the top of Farkas's pallette and bumped against his throat. "Yes, daddy. Just like that." 

Farkas groaned and pulled Bran closer to him as his large hands kneaded the breton's ass. Bran pulled off his tunic and continued to praise Farkas as he massaged his hands through the Nord's scalp. Even as Farkas's fingers crept toward his crack and started teasing his furl, all Bran could focus on was the sight of his cock dipping in and out Farkas's wanting mouth. 

The pleasure and pressure within Bran was quickly building. One of Farkas's thick digits pressed enough against his furl that it slipped inside and Bran groaned, holding tight to Farkas's hair as he panted. "Fuck yes Farkas. Oh gods you are way too good at this." 

The nord popped his cock free and grinned as he continued to stroke it. His finger lingered on his rim. Only dipping inside shallowly before withdrawing to rub along his furl. Bran took the opportunity to snag his oil off the nightstand. He popped the cork and started to pour some onto his fingers when Farkas chuckled. "Were you planning this?" 

"No, but I'm always prepared." Bran purred as he worked the oil along his rim before applying more to his hand. He leaned back and began stroking Farkas, getting his cock ready for him. "Though I'll admit that I have fantasized about you." 

Farkas's eyes lit up more which Bran didn't even know was possible. He growled. "What was I doing?" 

I was imagining you and Vilkas taking turns fucking me, but perhaps I shouldn't admit that. Bran scooched back a little and rubbed Farkas's cock against his entrance. The nord's hands slid down along Bran's thighs as he laid back to let the breton do as he pleased. Bran said softly. "I was picturing you on a chair while I sat on your lap kissing every inch of your chest before sitting on your cock and riding you until you came." 

"Oh fuck." Farkas breathed as he watched Bran intently. "Did you cum on me?" 

"Is that what you want?" Bran asked coyly. 

"Yes." 

"Then I will." Bran promised as he held Farkas's cock firmly and pressed it harder against his furl till the Nord’s squat head sank within. They both moaned. The pressure within Bran was instant. It had been some time since he took a cock of Farkas’s size. He slowly lowered himself enjoying the sensation of Farkas’s heat radiating into him. He applied a little more oil to his hand and slicked up the girthy member before recorking the oil and tossing the vial onto the bed. 

He sank himself lower and Farkas breathed. “Oh fuck you feel good.”

Farkas kneaded Bran’s ass before pulling his cheeks apart and gently thrust upward to slide fully into the breton. Bran pined as he sat flush against Farkas. He leaned forward, stealing the man’s lips as he rolled his hips. Farkas moaned into the kiss and easily lifted the breton a little so he could lightly thrust up into him. Bran muled. “Oh yes. Fuck daddy your cock is so big and hard for me. Fuck yes. Give it to me.” 

Farkas clutched his ass tighter and with a growl he thrust up into him with more force. His eyes were pinned to Bran as he drank in the Breton's every word and whimper. As Bran’s core opened up to the man he began to ride up and down helping the nord go deeper. His cock slid and delved in long slow strokes sending a slow repetitive heat to roll through Bran’s center. He leaned forward more till he was almost laying on Farkas’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. Despite their caresses, despite his cock sinking deep into him, Bran didn’t feel close enough. He wanted more of Farkas. The man had a supernatural sense, for he seemed to somehow know what Bran wanted. Farkas cupped his neck and pulled the Breton too him to devour his lips. 

Bran took them possesively before throwing his head back as Farkas’s cock thrust into him in just a way to send a spike of pleasure rushing through him. “Yes. Oh fuck yes, daddy. Fuck me just like that. Gods it feels so. Fucking. Good!” 

“Fuck Bran.” Farkas groaned as he held him tighter and gave him exactly what he wanted. 

His lips descended down Bran’s jaw and he buried his head into the Breton’s neck. His teeth grazed along his pulse before his lips took hold to suck on it. Bran gasped as he rolled his hips in time with the man’s thrusts. They stayed that way for sometime until the heat between them left both of their chests sheening with sweat. 

Bran reluctantly pulled away for as good as it felt he didn’t want to cum yet. He leaned all the way back till his hands were resting on either side of Farkas’s legs, and the man’s chest was between his feet. Farkas sat up a little and watched as Bran lowered himself onto his cock and back up again. The nord’s eyes went dark as he was given a full view of his cock slipping into Bran's center and gliding back out. His lips were parted but he sucked in air through his clenched teeth. The sight only further fueled Bran’s own desire. “You like watching your cock sink into my ass?’

“Fuck yes.” Farkas didn't once look away. 

“Does my little ass feel good daddy?”

“Oh gods yes!”

Bran moaned. “Mmmmm. Fuck yeah daddy. I want you to cum in me. Please cum in me daddy.” 

“Fuck!” Farkas shouted as he surged forward and pulled Bran to him. He easily held the breton as he quickly repositioned them till Bran was pressed to the bed with Farkas looming over him. He thrust into Bran deep and powerful and the breton gasped. The nord seized Bran’s cock and began stroking it with fervor. Sweat beaded from his forehead and his chest bloomed red as he fucked and stroked Bran. His face was scrunched into a snarl and he growled. It was obvious he was holding himself back. His hand quickened its pace as he tried to send the breton over the edge first. 

Bran wanted to do the same. To try to hold off as long as possible but by god Farkas knew how to fuck. His cock kept bumping up against his bud adding to the pressure with every stroke. His hand softly yet swiftly stroked, causing the pleasure to build up from both outward and deep within. Farkas growled his voice deep, rough, and demanding. “Cum for me.”

Bran couldn’t hold back anymore. He did as he was commanded and came hard with a haggard whimper. His seed sprang out of him to bead across his chest and over his stomach. The pleasure coursed through him as strong and powerful as Farkas’s desperate thrusts. The sight of the breton quivering as the orgasm coursed through him brought the nord tumbling over his own edge. His fingers clasped onto Bran’s hair as he grunted and growled. Bran swore he could feel Farkas’s cock pulsing as the man came. 

They both panted in the wake of their ecstasy. Farkas loosened his grip on Bran's hair and leaned forward to kiss him avidly. Bran hummed into the kiss as he cupped the Nord's cheek. When the kiss slowly pulled away the Breton chuckled. "It appears I broke my promise." 

"What was that?" Farkas whisper growled as he continued to softly kiss Bran's face. 

"You forgot already sweetheart? I promised to cum on you. Instead I got all over ME."

"That's okay." Farkas grinned before scooching down and kissed Bran's chest. He ran his hands down the Breton's side as he examined the aftermath painted along him. Farkas made sure Bran was watching him before he leaned down and ran his tongue along his stomach, lapping up all the cream. 

Bran started to chuckle. "That actually tickles somewhat." 

Farkas grinned. "Oh really?" 

"Don't you dare. I will set your hair on fire." Bran threatened. 

"I thought you didn't know destruction magic." 

"I know how to use a torch." Bran replied and then grinned. "And you most certainly know how to use yours. You were very good." 

"So were you." 

Farkas stole his lips again and Bran let himself get whisked away by the kiss. He pulled Farkas down to him clutching the man's broad shoulders as they lazily exchanged kisses. They both seemed loath to pull themselves apart. Bran said. "We should do this again sometime." 

"Give me five minutes." Farkas said. 

"Tempting. But honestly I'm not certain I could handle another round. You're not small by any means and I'm a little sore." 

Farkas hummed and kissed him one more time before pulling himself up. "I'll get us cleaned up." 

After Vilkas had left the Palace he took a moment to enjoy the festival. He found several stalls selling various treats. Pies and cakes, cookies and danishes, honey treats and sweet rolls. Vilkas picked out the ones he knew he wouldn't find in Whiterun including two raspberry danishes. He had planned to give one to Farkas but it was so delicious he couldn't help but eat them both. When he had his fill the wolf bought a hefty meat pie for his brother and started back to the Inn. Farkas will like this more than the Danish anyway……… I guess I'll get something for the twig too.

He hadn't the faintest idea what to get the whelp. Twiggy usually gobbled up whatever was in front of him. Vilkas perused for a while before settling on a strawberry tart figuring if the whelp didn't want it he would just eat it himself. 

He weaved through the crowd and back to the inn. The Winking Skeever was almost peaceful. Most of the patrons were out enjoying the holiday. Farkas and Twiggy were sitting by the fire chatting. Farkas looked up at him and then froze. And just like that Vilkas knew.

Farkas didn't tense up. Didn't look shocked or happy or guilty. Didn't say a word. He just stared like a wolf watching another strange wolf, waiting to see what would happen. Vilkas slowed his pace and stalked over to the table while chewing on his anger. I knew he would fuck him if they were left alone! But I don't have a right to be angry. I told him it was okay. 

Vilkas knew the wave of smells would hit him, but it did little to help as the scent of their mixed musks flowed around him. Their lust and mutual satisfaction left a sour tang in the back of his mouth. He snarled as he stopped at the table and stiffly set the treats down. "Here."

Bran jumped a little as though he didn't notice Vilkas approach. Farkas looked down at the pie and then up at his twin. Either the gesture or the wolf's musk seething with anger and jealousy made Farkas's own give off guilt. He still didn't say anything. 

Twiggy on the other hand perked up at the tart. "What's this? Vilkas being sweet. Are you feeling well?" The whelp looked up at Vilkas, his eyes turning some what sultry. "You know strawberry is an aphrodisiac."

Vilkas couldn't handle it. He snapped at Farkas. "This is what you want? This unashamed little whore who will flirt with me right infront of you! Who will probably go fuck someone else the moment your back is turned!" 

He had to clamp his mouth shut before he shouted what he really wanted to say. Farkas clearly smelt his hurt as he started studying the table. Am I not good enough for you? 

With a growl Vilkas left. He had become accustomed to his teeth aching whenever he grew angry and the wolf gnashing and clawing at his mind in an effort to break free. But this time was different. Worse. His hands felt searing like he had plunged them into a fire. His nails pulsed! He kept clenching and unclenching his hands as he marched. Vilkas kept looking down expecting to see claws sprouting from them. His brisk walk turned into a steady trot which evolved into a full sprint as Vilkas fled the city.

 He could feel himself slipping. Feel the wolf shoving him aside. There was a snarl on his face that he couldn't get rid of. His muscles were aching. His BONES were throbbing! As soon as Vilkas bolted out the last gate he shot himself straight into the forest. A wave of pain pulsed through him. 

"No!" Vilkas shouted as the pain brought him to his knees. He clawed at the soft soil as a whimper escaped him. "I won't turn. I am in control!" 

 He roared as he felt himself starting to shift. Vilkas desperately yanked at the ties of his armor trying to get it off before the wolf snapped them. His hands were trembling and fur was already sprouting out of his skin as he got the last pieces of metal free and quickly wiggled out of his clothes. 

Vilkas sank to his elbows as another wave of pain bombarded him. He screamed and clamped his eyes shut trying to stop the pain fueled tears. He desperately tried to push the wolf away, but the beast refused to relent. It squeezed through the bars of its cage and began mauling at Vilkas's mind. 

The pain was too much. The desire to kill too strong. Vilkas succumbed to the wolf's will. He threw back his head and roared as his body morphed into the beast, and his mind became consumed by a single purpose. One goal. One desire. One NEED.

 To hunt. 

Chapter Text

A light breeze fluttered over the tips of the ancient pines causing them to gently dance and sway under the moonlight. The clear night air held a chill as was often the case high up in the Haafingar Mountains. Masser and Secunda, the remnants of Lorkhan, glowed bright against the darkness of the void. Beneath the light of the Trickster God's sundered corpse was an elk frantically trying not to share Lorkhan's fate. The majestic beast, with large branching antlers and light footed leaps, bleated in fear as it bounded through the thick woods. 

With every step of its cloven hooves the desperate elk pushed harder. Faster. It's very life dependent on speed and agility. It swerved around trees, bounded over logs, and crashed through brambles, leaving a panic induced piss trail in its wake. Its lungs burned as it sucked in air determined to keep running. 

THUD!

The elk screamed as the black predator leapt over a knoll and slammed into its prey. They both fell to the ground in a heap of fur and flying limbs. The elk twisted and kicked trying to scramble back to its feet. It swung its massive antlers into the creature's face aiming to kill; aiming to escape! The beast growled and grabbed the antlers with its giant claws and pinned the elk to the ground. The prey kicked harder, refusing to give up and die. This pleased the predator. It was a good hunt. The massive beast could only be seen as a giant shadow against the sky. A shadow with glowing golden eyes and glistening pearly fangs. 

The werewolf clamped down on the elk's throat, its dagger-like canines easily sank into the supple flesh that popped open like a pimple sending the fresh tang of warm blood to spill over the beast's tongue and jaws. The taste only fueled the werewolf's frenzy. It clamped down harder, cutting off the elk's cries and with it the sweet breath of life. The prey only fought harder, wildly kicking and trying to pull itself to its feet. But the wolf was too strong. It was larger than any predator the elk had ever known. 

Larger and stronger than even a bear. The werewolf simply laid on the elk using its immense body weight to keep its prey in place. It dug its claws into the elk's exposed abdomen and split open its belly as easily as a sword could. The prey's struggles started to slow as the pain, blood loss, and shock took hold. Its internal organs pressed against the gashes and at the slightest movement they spilt forth to the ground. With a growl the werewolf shook its head and tore out the elk's throat. The predator threw its head back and gobbled it down. 

The prey's flailing finally came to an end, as with a last shiver, its eyes rolled into its head, and death claimed it. The forest stilled as the hunt ended. It was as if the trees themselves were afraid of drawing the werewolf's ire. The only sound left to be heard was the smacking and squelching of the wolf’s jaws as it feasted. The werewolf happily gulped down the liver and lungs before jamming its whole head into the cavity to nab the heart leaving the beast's face stained red. Once it slurped down the organs, the wolf plucked out the fur and started digging into the sirloin.

Warm. Salty. Tangy. Tender. Delicious! The werewolf sank his jaws into the flank of the elk and with a single tug, ripped off another ribbon of meat. He chewed once and then swallowed it down. A fox had found the buffet and dared to get closer to nip at the intestines that had been thrown aside. The wolf ignored it. The scavengers can have the shit-filled bowels. 

He clutched the elk's hind leg and twisted, ripping it off at the hip so he could easily reach the rest of the meat. He peeled the skin back further with his front teeth and tore into the soft succulent flesh. The werewolf swallowed the meat down and licked the blood dripping off his jowls. He yawned.

He was starting to feel sleepy. He was still full from his earlier hunts and as much as he wanted to finish his meal, he just couldn't. The wolf dropped the leg and sat back on his haunches. He started licking the blood on his hands and claws. So good. So rich and sweet. It's a shame my pack couldn't join me. They should be here. Farkas should be here. ………Where is Farkas? 

The werewolf stared at his hands. His hands…..that had slight pads on them, long bloodied claws, and dense black fur. Vilkas croaked, his voice deeper and rougher than normal. "Ysgrammor’s beard! When did I change?"

He looked around, his ears swiveling and nose twitching as he tried to get his bearings. Pieces of foggy memories fluttered about his mind. That's right. We were in Solitude. He looked down at the meal he had been consuming. The dead elk lay gaped open on the ground before him with its tongue lolling out. The fox edged closer and swiped the leg before bolting off with its spoil. 

Vilkas snarled with disgust yet at the same time he was grateful that he had been feasting on an animal and not any man or mer. Until he picked up the scent of mortal blood coating his fur. Stendarr's mercy, I killed someone….. He tried to remember what happened. His head started to pound and any memories he might have had as a wolf escaped him. 

With a groan he rose to his feet and sniffed out his trail, retracing his steps through the forest. Please tell me it's only been a few hours. Why can't I remember? Why can't I control myself? It's not supposed to be this way! 

He started thinking of the last time he had shifted. He had done so intentionally with Farkas, Sjkor, and Aela by his side. They had been hunting a mammoth until Vilkas had changed course and headed toward a fort overrun by bandits. The pack had slew them all, and the others didn't seem bothered by Vilkas's sudden change in plans. But he never told them that he didn't make that choice. That there was a gap in his memory. That he had been running by their sides and suddenly he was ripping through a man's face with his teeth. 

Now I don't remember any of it…… A chill swept through him causing his hackles to raise. Skjor and Kodlak are wrong. I AM going feral. What happens if next time I don't come back? 

Vilkas tried to push the fear away, but he couldn't. It lingered over him like an executioner's axe. As he continued following his trail a scent started to waft through the night's breeze. Blood. The same blood that covered his face and arms. It smelled like a Breton. 

The fear sank lower into Vilkas and he could feel the axe settling against his neck. He panted with horror. Is it Bran? Dear gods don't tell me I……His paws moved on their own accord as he sank to all fours and bounded after the scent. 

He hated the whelp, but despite the dark fantasies that plagued his mind, he didn't want Bran to die. Especially by his own hand. He's not a bad man. He doesn't deserve to be killed and consumed! 

As he ran a pulsing fatigue suddenly struck him. The beast's hold was slipping. He would shift soon unless he gave Hircine another sacrifice. Unless he continued the hunt. Vilkas growled. He was done doing Hircine’s bidding.

He came across the Breton. What was left of him. The body had been torn apart and mostly eaten. His face was clawed beyond recognition and his clothes shredded to ribbons. Vilkas thrust his nose to the ground and sniffed. It was hard to determine the Breton's musk. Twiggy smelled like rich soil but the ground was torn up. The blood saturated into the earth which gave off that very scent! The wolf searched for the Breton’s right arm, but when he found it all that remained was bone. He couldn't quite make out the color of his hair in the dim light but it was slightly longer. He didn't think it was Twiggy, but he wasn't certain that it wasn't.

The fatigue slammed into Vilkas like an avalanche. He whined as his skin began to crawl like a thousand maggots squirming beneath the surface. It itched and ached as his body shrank, taking with it what little strength he had left. The headache began to throb across his whole scalp. He sank to the ground, naked, cold, and alone, but fully himself for the first time in months. The wolf retreated into his mind where it lay down to sleep full and content.

Vilkas closed his eyes and curled into a ball, covering his face as the intense migraine took its course. Hours went by and still Vilkas lay there helpless and weak. Slowly the pain started to recede and he was able to sit up. His head was still pounding but at least now the dim light of the moons weren't giving him a lobotomy. I deserve this pain. I did this. I murdered this man.

Shame, and revulsion sank into Vilkas's already nauseated stomach. He leaned forward and vomited onto the ground. Even after his stomach was empty he continued to dry heave till his arms trembled and tears threatened to spill down his face. He wiped his eyes. Damn it man. Get a hold of yourself! His hands balled into tight fists as his remorse slowly turned into self loathing. I'm turning into a monster. 

He couldn't stand to be surrounded by the remains of the man he had slaughtered. He forced himself off the ground and continued on the little animal trail his wolf had roamed along. He picked through the forest carefully, but the rough stones, sticks and pinecones were taking a toll on his feet. 

The forest was still and a light fog crept through to enshroud everything. The only sound to be heard was his breathing and the trickling of a mountain stream. Vilkas followed the sound and once he found the stream, he quickly sank into it where he used his nails to scrub the blood off himself. Even after the water had left him numb he continued to scrape his skin raw. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't wash away the filth that stained his soul. 

A voice, distant yet solid, rolled through the trees. The wolf was too deep in his self hatred to hear it at first. It wasn't until it was combined with the smell of leather that Vilkas sprang to his feet. He would know that musk anywhere. Brother! The soft thump of hoofbeats rolled through the fog. Vilkas left the stream behind and delved after the sound.

"Farkas!" He tried to shout but his throat was raw and his voice hoarse. He knew his twin was following his scent and he didn't want Farkas to find the body. He wasn't sure he would be able to face his brother should that be the case.

The hoofbeats slowed and his twin shouted. "Vilkas!" 

The wolf had to pick through the brush carefully lest a branch or bramble catch on things that he would much rather leave unscathed. He called out. "I'm here." 

He heard the horse snort and then Farkas materialized out of the fog. His brows were knitted together in worry and a determined frown was planted on his face. He wasn't wearing his war paint around his eyes which somehow made them look both larger and smaller. 

Farkas didn't even bother stopping the horse before he slid off the beast and rushed up to Vilkas. He grabbed the wolf by the shoulders checking him over for any injuries. Vilkas grabbed Farkas by his shirt and asked frantically. "Where's Bran?" 

Farkas was visibly confused about the question, and he sounded slightly guarded. "Why?" 

"Where. Is. He?" Vilkas demanded.

"At the inn. Probably still asleep." Farkas replied slowly. "Why?"  

A wave of tension melted out of Vilkas's shoulders, and he yanked his twin into a hug. Farkas started, but then he wrapped his strong arms around the wolf and held him tight. Farkas whispered. "When I woke up and you were still gone I got worried." 

Vilkas didn't answer. He just buried his face in his brother's neck as a wave of emotions tore through him. He was back where he belonged. Safe and warm in Farkas's arms. The one place in the world where his wolf couldn't touch him. He squeezed Farkas harder and breathed deep. The lingering smell of Bran and sex tickled his nose. 

He expected himself to feel jealous, but he was simply grateful that he hadn't murdered the whelp. Farkas began rubbing his arms and only then did he realize how cold he was. His brother mumbled. "What happened? Why are you wet?"

"I uhmmm." He almost cracked and told Farkas what he had done, but he found his lips pressing shut. Farkas looked and smelled so worried. If he told his twin it would only make it worse for him. Instead Vilkas started burying his feelings deep in the parts of himself where his now sleeping wolf lingered. He swallowed hard and firmly placed a mental barrier between himself and Farkas. There's nothing either of us can do. There's no reason for him to have to suffer with me. 

"I slipped and fell in a creek. " Vilkas lied. 

Farkas replied slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. "I found your clothes. Why did you break your promise to Kodlak?" 

Vilkas sneered and further buried his feelings. "I needed to let loose." 

Farkas didn't seem convinced, but neither did he push the issue. His brother fetched his horse and pulled Vilkas's clothes out of his saddle bags. Once the wolf was dressed, Farkas grabbed his horse's reins and walked with Vilkas as they slowly picked their way down the mountains. 

Vilkas's mind felt clearer than it had in ages, but his body was achy, sore, and his terrible headache persisted. He was weak and it must have shown, for Farkas hovered close to him. At some point his twin had reached for the wolf's hand. He took it without thought, interlacing his fingers as he did so. They walked in silent companionship until they reached the main road and were forced to let eachother go.

It was early morning when the brother's made their way back to Solitude. Even so early in the day there were still a few people on the roads and the guards didn't pay the brother's any mind. Farkas insisted that they stay another day at the inn so Vilkas could rest, but he refused. He could no longer stand Solitude and its red wolf sigil. He felt like his blood covered wolf was taunting him everywhere he looked, reminding him of what he had just done. 

Instead he had Farkas wake Bran and they were back on the road within the hour. Their journey home was relatively peaceful. Only once did they stumble upon a small group of bandits who tried to mug them. The three Companions easily killed them all and continued on their way. Their biggest hurdle turned out to be Farkas's new horse. 

The stallion had a mountain of spirit. The cremello was large even for a Skyrim breed making him far too big for Twiggy. They all agreed that Farkas would take the stallion and the twig would get Sorlif Crowchaser while Vilkas kept Queen Alfsigr. 

The cremello was still green and Farkas named the beast Tsun, which was fitting since the stallion had tried to throw Farkas more than once. His brother handled the horse with ease, patiently correcting Tsun while building the stallion's trust and confidence. Twiggy chuckled watching Farkas work the horse around a large puddle until Tsun felt brave enough to walk through it. Bran hummed."Is there any man you can't tame?" 

Farkas smirked. "No." 

Vilkas rolled his eyes. Twiggy's comments were still annoying, but they weren't bringing his wrath to a boil. He was still jealous of course, but for the time being he was doing well keeping his wolf solidly caged. It left him in a far better mood than normal. Plus Farkas does know how to tame men. A small smile pulled at his lips and he quickly turned his head to hide it. 

"So why is Sorlif called Crowchaser?" Twiggy asked as he patted the black mare. 

"It's pretty self explanatory." Vilkas replied. "When she was a foal she loved chasing crows. And Ally here has always been a diva." 

Queen Alfsigr snorted as if to emphasize the wolf's words. He chuckled. Twiggy grinned. "Are you feeling well Wolf? You seem down right chipper!" 

"Just happy to be heading home." Vilkas replied. Though he didn't show it, the words stung a bit. It hurt knowing they could see the difference. It hurt more knowing the reprieve was temporary. After a day his strength would return, his wolf would awaken, and he would be able to transform again. His wolf's influence would slowly start to pull on him till surely the thin threads of his humanity would snap. I'm a murderer. I'm not worthy of being a Companion. I've already lost my honor. How long until I lose my mind? 

Farkas and Twiggy continued chatting, completely oblivious to Vilkas's dark thoughts. The wolf found himself watching and listening to his brother, studying the way his cheeks would lightly dimple when he smiled, and the creases that appeared at the corner of his eyes when he was intently focused. The way his low voice would vibrate through his chest as he spoke. Vilkas envied him. 

He used to be jealous of Farkas's bigger build and perhaps he still was, but now he found himself more and more envious of Farkas's relaxed nature. I wish I was more like you brother. Perhaps then I could keep this damn beast at heel. 

With the lack of interference, good weather, and all three of them having horses again, they made it to Whiterun in just over a week. As they led the horses into the stable there was a tension that melted out of the Companions. Once the horses were taken care of, Farkas swung their supplies over his shoulders and headed up to the gates. 

Vilkas followed at a leisurely pace and to his surprise Twiggy hung back to walk with him. The wolf eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want?" 

The twig smirked. "What? Am I not allowed to walk with you?" 

"Why would you want to?" 

"Oh come now Wolf, there are times when I enjoy your company." Bran snickered. "Seldom I'll admit, but sometimes." 

"And what makes you think I enjoy YOUR company?" Vilkas growled, but there wasn't any bite to his words. 

"Well I did have you blushing brighter than a bride at one point. And if you weren't willing to talk, your bloody long legs could easily leave me behind." 

Vilkas blinked. He hadn't thought about that, but the whelp was right. He had slowed his pace so Twiggy could keep up with him as they walked up the hill to the city gate. He would never admit that of course. He just replied with a grunt. 

Twiggy chuckled again as if he could read Vilkas's mind. "I think you don't like letting people in. So you keep that facade of the big bad wolf to keep people distant." 

"You know damn straight that it's not a facade." 

"I know that sometimes it most definitely is." Twiggy poked Vilkas's arm with a finger. He looked up at the wolf with a grin, his mismatched eyes bright and playful. Vilkas glared at him but he couldn't hold back the small smile that tugged at his cheek. Twiggy saw it and laughed. "See." 

Vilkas just rolled his eyes. As they passed through the main gates, he was surprised by how many people were within Whiterun's walls. He gently held Twiggy by the back of his neck and guided him through the crowd so they wouldn't get seperated. Whiterun was the trading capital of Skyrim, yet even still, the city was full to bursting. Many of the faces that looked back at him weren't that of devious grinned merchants. They were tell tale farmers. Lost families with their children. Refugees……..

Twiggy noticed it as well and after a quick inquiry they learned there had been a battle. Falkreath had been taken by the Stormcloaks. Ulfric now controlled Falkreath Hold and it cut the Imperials off from Cyrodiil. It was a bold move, and like the refugees Ulfric would no doubt turn his eyes on Whiterun. 

Vilkas and Twiggy picked through the packed streets until they passed through the second gate into the Wind District. It appeared the refugees were being mostly kept in the lower city though a few could be seen around the houses. As they reached the Gildergreen Vilkas spotted a little girl huddled near the tree alone. Her clothes were dirty, her hair a tangled nest, and her cheeks had trails from her dried up tears. She was begging the locals for food and coin as they passed by. 

They all ignored her. Instant anger welled up within him, enough that his wolf stirred. It's one thing for an adult to end up begging on the streets, but a child? Why has the Jarl's people not seen to her needs? Vilkas left Twiggy in his wake as he approached the young girl. When she saw him she shrank back a little and he took a knee hoping he would seem less intimidating at her level. He gave her a smile and said softly. "Hello, my name is Vilkas. What's yours?" 

The girl sank further into herself and took a small step back. She glanced around searching for help. He could only imagine how scary he must look in the eyes of a small girl. He thought about wiping the black war paint off his eyes but knew that it would just smudge across his face if he tried. 

"I won't hurt you. Promise." Vilkas pointed to the wolf head on the top of his chest plate. "You see this? You know what it means?"  

The girl ever so slightly shook her head, still too scared to speak. The wolf said gently. "This means I'm a Companion. My job is to protect people. You've heard of the Companions?" 

"Y-yes." She answered shyly. "Papa used to tell me stories." 

"Where is your papa?" 

"He…..He." The little girl started to tear up and her lips quivered as she sobbed. "He's dead. They're both dead. I don't know what to do!" 

Vilkas's heart ached. The girl started digging her fists into her eyes as she cried. He laid a hand on the girl's shoulder and gently pushed her hands away from her eyes. "I lost my parents too when I was around your age. I know it's scary without them, but I'm going to make sure you're taken care of okay?" 

Her shoulders shook as she continued to cry. She nodded. Vilkas asked again. "What's your name, Šuniukas? 

"Lucia." She huffed past her tears.

"Well Lucia, do you see that big stone eagle and that old longhouse next to it?" Vilkas asked as he pointed to the skyforge glowing in the midday light. Lucia slowed her crying and followed his pointing before she mumbled a yes. He smiled. "That is my home along with my shield siblings. There's no safer place in all of Skyrim. Would you like to come inside with me? I'll get you some warm food and a nice comfy bed to sleep in. How does that sound?" 

Lucia hesitated as she looked up at Jorrvaskr and back to Vilkas. As if on cue her little stomach growled. He could see the glimmer of hope past the fear in her deep blue eyes. "Brenuin said I can't go up there."

"Brenuin doesn't make the rules, and he doesn't live there. But I do, and I say it's okay." 

"O-okay." Lucia said softly.

Vilkas smiled again and offered his hand to the little girl. She tentatively took it and the wolf stood to lead her up the stairs to Jorrvaskr. He didn't see Twiggy silently following while watching him with a fond smile. 

As soon as Vilkas stepped into Jorrvaskr he was greeted with a slew of familiar smells and sounds. He sighed as the rest of the tension he had carried on the road finally left him. He was home, their job was done, and his wolf was quiet. He couldn't have asked for a better blessing. 

"Vilkas!" Athis shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "We were wondering when you lot would come back. It's been far too quiet without your barking. Oh…..hello?" 

The dark elf had been walking to Vilkas to offer the wolf a hug, but stopped when he spotted Lucia. When the girl noticed several of the Companions looking at her she grabbed Vilkas's leg and huddled behind him. He patted the girl's light brown hair trying to soothe her fears. 

Skjor was sitting on a bench polishing a sword. He grinned at Vilkas. "Is that the unknown beast that was plaguing Dragon's Bridge?" 

Vilkas chuckled softly and tried to coax Lucia further into the hall. When she wouldn't budge he picked the girl up and despite her small size she clung to him with a death grip. He huffed. "No, this is the Jarl not doing his job. I'm assuming Kodlak is downstairs?" 

"Aye." Skjor smirked at Twiggy. "How was the trip? Hopefully the whelp didn't cause too much trouble." 

"I caused exactly enough trouble." Twiggy chuckled and gave Vilkas a wink. "And all the best kind." 

The wolf just rolled his eyes. "It was…..interesting. I'll tell you about it later." 

"Course." Skjor nodded.

Twiggy was all too excited to speak to the others about their trip. He and the other whelp's sat at the long tables as the Breton flew into the story. Vilkas left them behind and descended into Jorrvaskr's lower level. He readjusted Lucia so she wasn't clutching his neck so tightly. "I know most of us are big and loud, but I swear to you, Šuniukas no one here will hurt you." 

"You have lots of swords." She said as she finally peeked her head out of his neck and looked around. 

"Yes, and lots of other weapons too. We're warriors. We need them." 

"To protect people?" 

"That's right." Vilkas chuckled. He reached the end of the hall and knocked on the door to the Harbinger’s study despite it being open. The moment the girl spotted the Harbinger she instantly buried her face back into his neck.

Kodlak was writing in his journal. He looked up at the knock and smiled at Vilkas and Lucia. "Welcome back wolf. Who's your little friend?" 

"This here is Lucia." Vilkas replied as he sat in a chair against the wall with Lucia on his lap. "I found her begging on the streets. She WAS afraid of me." 

"How awful. What happened to her parents?" 

"Dead." 

Kodlak pressed his lips together and then said gently to the girl. "Hello, sweetheart. Can I see your face or are you going to keep hiding in Vilkas's arms?" 

After a little coaxing from Vilkas, Lucia pulled away and looked over at Kodlak with her big blue eyes. The Harbinger said softly. "Look at that. There is a little girl there after all. Tell me dear, do you have any other family? Any grandparents or aunts and uncles?" 

Lucia nodded. "My aunt and uncle." 

"Do you know where they are?" 

"They’re home." Lucia squeaked before the little girl started crying again. 

"It's alright Šuniukas, don't cry." Vilkas soothed. 

"Let her cry. She's clearly been through a lot." Kodlak said grimly. "Why aren't you home with them, child?" 

"They kicked me out when mama died." Lucia said, her voice getting smaller with every word. "They said I wasn't good for anything." 

A growl left Vilkas and he held her a little tighter. How could someone just abandon their own kin, a CHILD, out on the streets? Especially after her parents died? Kodlak obviously thought the same for his lips pressed into a thin line and his brow furrowed enough to hide his eyes. "I will speak to Balgruuf about this. In the meantime she can help Tilma in the kitchens." 

Lucia perked up a little at that. "I know how to make bread. I used to help mama make it." 

Kodlak smiled at her. "That's the spirit. I know Tilma would be delighted for the help. She could certainly use it."

Vilkas nodded. Tilma was the backbone of the Companions, but despite her lack of protests, she was obviously struggling more lately. The reminder of how frail she was becoming just added to his anxiety. 

Kodlak must have read the wolf's mind, for he said. "You're going to worry yourself to an early grave. Tilma is well, wolf. There is no need for concern. Now, tell me, how was your adventure?" 

Vilkas handed Kodlak the septims he received from Falk Firebeard and gave him a quick recap of their journey. The Harbinger's face lit up at the tale and in that moment Vilkas could see the old Kodlak. The man who raised him. The strong capable warrior who sought glory and honor before the rot took it away. 

The Harbinger laughed and smacked his leg. "Now that must have been a hell of a battle! I wish I could have seen you hanging off that mammoth's tusk as you slew it." 

Vilkas grinned proudly. "You should have seen the look on those bandits' faces as Farkas chased after them weilding a giant's club." 

"Farkas is practically a giant himself. That is far more believable than you saving Bran." 

The wolf was quiet for a moment. "Twiggy……He saved Farkas's life." 

"Truly?" Kodlak breathed as if he couldn't possibly believe such a thing. 

"He's a mage." 

"That's not surprising. He is a Breton." 

Vilkas nodded and delved into the story of their encounter within Wolfskull Cave. He didn't want to linger on the thoughts, so told the tale simply and swiftly. Kodlak listened intently as he combed his fingers through his beard. When Vilkas was done the Harbinger leaned back in his chair. "Necromancers trying to summon Potema. That is a horror no one could have seen. The fact that you three survived is a miracle." 

"We got lucky." Vilkas agreed. His throat tightened at the memory of Farkas lying lifeless on the cold stone. He cleared his throat. "If Twiggy hadn't been there, Farkas…"

He couldn't get himself to finish the thought. Kodlak hummed. "I'm glad I urged you to take the boy. But enough of that. Don't dwell on what could have happened. Celebrate what did. Now, how did your wolf fare in all this?" 

Vilkas was surprised that he would ask such a question in front of Lucia. That was until he glanced down to see the little girl sound asleep. He smiled and repositioned her so her head was resting back against his neck and not on his armor. The girl didn't even stir. Poor thing.

He had planned on telling the Harbinger that he had turned against his will, but he once again found himself pressing his lips shut. Kodlak might appear stoic and unmovable, but it was clear how much weight was already resting on the man's shoulders. Have those wrinkles always been so prominent and I just haven't noticed before? He sighed. "Same as always. Some days are worse than others." 

Kodlak saw straight through him. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Vilkas huffed. The old man usually didn't press and it only made him more certain that Kodlak was stressing. He ground his teeth and the annoyance caused his wolf to awaken. He tried to push it away, but the beast was already back at its prodding. "I……I broke my promise. I'm sorry." 

"That's unlike you." 

"I know." Vilkas hissed defensively. "I thought it would help. I'm doing the best I can." 

"It's alright. I'm not angry with you."

"You're not?" 

"Vilkas." The Harbinger spoke delicately. "I know your struggles, but I can never know what it feels like for you. My wolf is easily tamed. Your's is clearly not. I can not blame you for doing what you felt was needed. Did it work at least?" 

"No." Vilkas rumbled as he looked away. He couldn't stop the feeling of guilt and shame from flowing up as he thought about what he had done. He hoped that if the Harbinger smelled it, he would assume it was because he broke his promise to him. 

Kodlak continued stroking his beard while trying to peer into Vilkas's mind. The wolf refused to tell the old man the rest. It was his burden to bear. His alone. 

"Go get some rest wolf, you've more than earned it. We can speak again later if you wish." Kodlak said seemingly satisfied with whatever conclusions he had come to. Vilkas thanked him and stood when the Harbinger chuckled. "Fatherhood suits you." 

"Very funny, old man." Vilkas grumbled. 

The Harbinger just laughed louder as the wolf retreated back down the hall. He went directly to the kitchen in search of Tilma.

"Vilkas my boy! I was wondering when you would come home. And who is this little one? Have you been hiding things from me now?" Tilma flew into her typical chattering and before he could explain Lucia's situation, the old woman had already taken the girl from him, waking her up in the process, sat her at a table, and was setting food in front of her. Lucia stared at the growing pile of food in a daze, and looked up to Vilkas in a silent question. He just nodded his head as Tilma continued to talk all while piling more onto her plate. Lucia dug into it ravenously enough to make Twiggy proud.

Vilkas left the girl in Tilma’s care and headed to his room. He found his door open and stopped at the threshold when he found Farkas sitting at his desk waiting for him. The wolf huffed, feeling suddenly tired. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk." 

"No. We don't." Vilkas stepped through the doorway and gestured to the open space for his brother to leave. 

Farkas had changed out of his armor and he ran a hand through his greasy locks as he sighed. He still had his black war paint around his eyes making his quicksilver gaze glimmer in stark contrast. Farkas rose slowly as his eyes pinned him in place. His wolf growled at the power his twin had over Vilkas, but it slinked away from his mind as Farkas drew closer. 

His brother laid a hand on the door and pressed it shut while leaning close to Vilkas. Close enough to kiss. He licked his lips as he wondered if that's what Farkas's intent was. It made him think of their first kiss. When he had been shoved up against Farkas's door as his brother greedily took him. He was in a similar position now. His back pressed against the wall as Farkas hovered over him with his forearm on the door. He swallowed as his lust started to rise causing his cock to rise with it. His twin closed his eyes for a moment, clearly taking in the scent of Vilkas's want. 

The smells of the road still clung to them both, but brooding above it was the smell of Farkas's sweat. His leather infused musk caressed Vilkas's senses causing his obvious want to grow more. Farkas was keenly aware of the effect he had on his brother, but Vilkas's lust was ignored. Farkas gently pinched his twin's chin and whispered sadly. "Why do you keep lying to me?" 

"I'm not." He answered automatically. 

Farkas sneered. "Except you lied when you said you didn't care if I slept with Bran." 

That certainly killed Vilkas's desire as he pictured the two of them fucking. It also reminded him of the Twig drunkenly sucking his cock. He expected a wave of anger and shame to well up, but instead Vilkas felt himself growing cold. He grabbed Farkas's wrist and pulled his hand off his chin as he said flatly. "If you knew that then why did you still do it?" 

His brother pulled his hand free and grabbed the top of Vilkas's chestplate as he pleaded. "Damn it Vilkas. I'm not going to play these word games. If you keep hiding from me and lying to me, how am I supposed to trust you?" 

You can't. The thought stung and Vilkas looked away but didn't say anything. Farkas pressed. "Please. Just talk to me." 

"Get out."

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" 

"Get. Out." Vilkas growled.

Farkas dropped his arms and took a step back. He just stared at Vilkas looking as lost as Lucia had. The wolf couldn't stand the sight. He slipped away from the wall and kept his back to his brother as he started angrily pulling at his armor's buckles. The scent of heartbreak filled Farkas's wake as he silently left.

Chapter Text

"Haa!" Ria shouted as she lunged forward, thrusting the sword up toward Vilkas's ribs. 

The wolf swatted the blade aside with his own as he pivoted and quickly snatched her arm with his other hand. He twisted her wrist and with a yelp she dropped her blade. Vilkas grinned as he yanked her closer to him. He pressed his dulled blade against her throat. "Dead again." 

Ria pouted and pulled her hand away rubbing her wrist. She said as she plucked her sword off the ground. "You said you weren't going to grapple." 

"Your enemies will often lie." Vilkas smirked. "Don't trust them to do anything, but try to kill you." 

"You're my shield brother. I'm supposed to be able to trust you with my life." 

"Not when we're sparring." Vilkas wiped some of the sweat off his forehead and started heading toward the patio. 

"Never turn your back on the enemy!" Ria shouted as she charged.

The wolf merely sidestepped and her momentum sent her stumbling past him. He grabbed her wrist yet again yanking her against his chest. He held her sword arm tight and returned his own blade to her throat. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "You shouldn't have announced yourself." 

"Ummm." The little Imperial's words dried up as she looked up at Vilkas. Her face was a stark crimson and she wetted her lips smearing her red war paint as she did so. She held her breath and he wondered what she was thinking. Until her lilac scent started to grow tangy with- lust?

Ria's back was pressed against his bare chest and he had both her arms trapped beneath his own as if he were cradling her. She tilted her head and looked up at him with searching hazel eyes, surprised and hopeful. 

Shore's bones, she thinks I'm flirting with her. Vilkas released the girl and took a step back. He cleared his throat. "I…..think that's enough training for now. Go get yourself some water." 

"Oh. Right." Ria let out the breath she had been holding and made her way up the steps a little stiffly with her back firmly to Vilkas. 

The wolf just shook his head. "Alright Twiggy, it's your turn." 

Bran was sitting at the table whispering quietly to Farkas. They had matching smiles and were leaning against each other completely lost in their own little world. 

Vilkas stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly before barking. "Oi! Twiggy. Get down here and earn your keep!" 

The shout jolted the twig into reality and he glanced over at Vilkas with an annoyed huff. "I already earned my keep saving your arse from necromancers." 

"So you've been saying all week, but you already spent those earnings." Vilkas said as he made his way over to the practice equipment. He set his sword on the rack and plucked up an axe and shield. He grinned. "You'll fight me one way or another. I suggest you arm yourself before I start swinging." 

With a grumble and an eye roll, the twig peeled himself away from Farkas and down the steps to the yard. His twin watched the whelp with a slight sulk. His quicksilver gaze slowly moved from Bran's ass to settle for a moment on Vilkas. Farkas's face was unreadable, but those eyes scanned every inch of him taking in his dirty trousers, bare glistening chest, and broad shoulders. Vilkas rolled his neck as he tried to not get too worked up at the thought of Farkas watching him. 

When their eyes met, Vilkas felt a flutter in his chest. He could see Farkas's silver eyes grow dark and wanting. It forced the wolf to look away lest his own desires grow a little too prominent. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He was still angry with his twin. They were still not talking, but knowing that Farkas was getting turned on by the sight of him helped. A little. 

Vilkas turned his attention back to the whelp. Twiggy reached for the swords he usually practiced with, but Vilkas shoved the axe and shield into his arms. "You'll be using these." 

Twiggy floundered with the equipment. He glared at Vilkas with the same disdain a lynx would give a dog. "I adore how there's no leader among the Companions, yet you insist on bossing me around every chance you get." 

"If you want to refuse then by all means leave." Vilkas said dryly as he slipped the shield onto Bran's arm and tightened the strap. "But as long as you eat the food within Jorrvaskr and sleep under her hull you will work toward upholding the Companions way of life. And that includes honing your skills as a warrior." 

"And why can't I use the swords? I've never wielded an axe a day in my life." 

"Because there will be times when you end up in a bad situation, and you will need to use whatever weapon you can find. You should know how to use them."

"And I suppose you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart? And not because you're trying to separate me from your brother?" Bran hissed quietly. 

Vilkas just ran his tongue across his teeth while trying not to get too annoyed. "Have you forgotten I'm the Master of Arms? It's my duty to train the whelps. What is your duty Twiggy? What are you aspiring for as a Companion?" 

Twiggy started, like he hadn't considered what a future as a Companion would actually mean. He glanced over at Farkas with a frown and chewed on his cheek. He wiggled the shield on his arm, almost looking like a fledgling trying to fly. "It feels loose." 

"It's not. You want it tight enough to be secure but loose enough that you can still pull your arm free if need be." Vilkas studied the twig critically as the Breton took his stance. "Bend your knees more. Good. Now, an axe is not a sword." 

"Really? I never would have guessed." 

Vilkas quickly snatched another axe off the rack and whacked Twiggy across the calf. The other whelps snickered as they watched. The Breton yelped, but Vilkas just continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted while walking to the center of the yard. "Axes are not as agile and have a shorter reach. However they are typically stronger and can cut through armor far better than a sword. They also make excellent hooks, they pair nicely with a shield, and they are far cheaper than a sword." 

"Why does that matter? Are you hoping to start up a merchant's guild?" 

Vilkas whipped around to smack Twiggy on the arm, but the whelp blocked the blow with his shield. He made a little "oof" before sticking his tongue out at the wolf. Vilkas rolled his eyes but he couldn't help but smirk. At least he's a fast learner. "It matters because it means you are far more likely to run into an enemy with an axe than a sword. Now quit asking questions and come at me." 

"Wait. You're not going to show me any forms?" 

"I don't need to." 

"But-

Vilkas rushed him, forcing the twig to stop doubting himself and react. Bran skipped away from Vilkas while his shield hung on his arm by his side, completely forgotten about. The wolf dove in as Twiggy underestimated his reach and his swing missed the nord entirely. Vilkas brought his own axe up and struck the Breton in the chest with the flattened spike.

Twiggy stumbled back with a grunt. Njada shouted at him from the table. "What are you doing? Your shield isn't jewelry. Use it." 

Vilkas laughed as the twig snarled at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he retook his stance and held his shield before him. Is he embarrassed? 

Athis and Ria had taken a seat on the steps and were watching with critical eyes. The dark elf added. "Don't hold it out so far. Keep it close." 

"I got it!" Twiggy snapped shooting the other whelps a quick snarl.

Vilkas just grinned. Well well. He is embarrassed. That's almost cute.

The twig turned his attention back to Vilkas, his eyes focussed and calculating as he slowly started to circle. He flinched, faking a thrust. The wolf didn't fall for it. Bran frowned, his long straight brows scrunched together as he waited to see what Vilkas would do. 

The wolf goaded him. "What are you waiting for Twiggy? Are you afraid of messing up in front of the other whelps?" 

"Don't be absurd. I'm not going to attack first when I don't even know how to use this bloody thing." 

"Axes are more top heavy, but I think you would be surprised how much you already know if you would actually use the damn thing." 

As soon as the last syllable left Vilkas's lips, the twig charged. It took him by surprise and only his reflexes kept him from taking an axe to his arm. He dodged, grabbed Twiggy's wrist with his free hand, stepped in close and brought his own axe up to the side of his head. He gently tapped the breton's temple. The wolf grinned. "Dead, but good effort." 

They sparred for over an hour. Vilkas corrected the twigs' mistakes with harsh words and harsher welts. The Breton was a mass of bruises yet he was still determined to land a blow on the wolf. Which Vilkas begrudgingly admitted was admirable though he would never admit that out loud. Nor would he admit that he was actually enjoying himself. Twiggy's confidence only grew as he soaked in the wolf's advice and rang it back out on him. Unlike the other whelps he wasn't afraid to put everything he had into his swings. Vilkas worked up quite a sweat dodging blows and more than once he had caught both his twin and Twiggy admiring the sight.

He had been teaching the whelps all morning and he was starting to slow. Twiggy took advantage of it. With a sudden burst of speed he unleashed a series of blows that the wolf was forced to backpedal from. 

"Good job, Bran." Farkas's rich voice rolled over the yard. "Keep him on his toes." 

You're cheering HIM on? Vilkas's lip quivered up into a snarl. He glared at Farkas, the cold silver of his eyes growing more frigid than the sea of ghosts.  Farkas ignored him. The wolf didn't notice Twiggy watching him until the whelp whispered in disbelief. "Farkas is right. You are jealous." 

He shoved the whelp away which only made the Breton laugh. The little lynx cooed softly enough that none of the others could hear. "Well if you want me daddy…….Cum and take me." 

Vilkas bristled. He loomed over the whelp till he stopped his strutting purrs. Oh, I'll be happy to take you. You wouldn't be much of a meal but you're a perfect snack. Vilkas closed his eyes and shook his head. His wolf had been slipping into his mind far easier since he had turned. He didn't know if those thoughts were his and it sent a chill down his spine.

Twiggy clearly noticed Vilkas's distraction. He drove his shield straight into the center of the wolf’s chest. Vilkas stumbled back. The Breton swung his axe. "Got you!" 

Vilkas reacted on instinct. He grabbed the top of Twiggy's shield and pushed down, but he was too slow. The axe head slammed into his side and drug up across his bare skin. Had the weapon had a reel edge it would have split him open. Instead it left his skin red and raw with the promise of a nice bruise. It still hurt and Vilkas let out a surprised howl even as he regained his footing and shoved Twiggy to the ground. The whelp dropped the axe and caught Vilkas's arm as he fell, dragging him to the ground with him. 

The twig landed flat on his back. Vilkas landed on top of him with the whelp firmly between his knees. They looked at each other in shocked silence before the little lynx chuckled. He purred as his eyes grew sultry. "You got me. Though I'll admit I didn't think you would take me up on the offer, especially in front of everyone." 

Vilkas barely heard the words for he was too focused on a slight smell clinging to Twiggy. The scent of Farkas and his lust. The sweet aroma from which pooled out his brother's desire and satisfaction. It was intoxicating and all Vilkas wanted to do was bury his face in Bran's neck and breathe in the scent. 

Laughing is what finally pulled the wolf out of his growing desires. The whelps who had been watching were bent over in fits of laughter. Farkas on the other hand had grown still as his eyes grew dark and hungry. 

Between his brother's scent and his lusting gaze, Vilkas was struggling to not get aroused. He pushed himself up and sneered down at Twiggy. The Breton bit his bottom lip and rolled his hips brushing his cock up along Vilkas's own. The whelp giggled. "My my. Someone's excited at the thought." 

Vilkas snarled. He was embarrassed by having been taken down in front of the whelps. He was incredibly frustrated by the enticing scent of his brother's sex that he wasn't supposed to indulge in. And looming over it all was the intense desire to shift and rip out Bran's throat. His eyes migrated down to Twiggy's neck. It would be so easy.

His fist curled into a tight ball and with a huff he swung at the Breton. Panic blazed on Twiggy's face. In the last second, Vilkas leaned to the side punching the shield instead. He pushed himself up off the ground, stalking away as angry as a caged beast. 

Bran pulled his arm free of the shield and scrambled up from the ground. "I don't understand you. Every time I start to think that I've made headway with you, you start being a bloody twat." 

"Fuck off.' He mumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his wrist and stalked back toward Jorrvaskr. The other whelps quickly scrambled out of his way. He glanced at his brother. Farkas just frowned and shook his head. 

Vilkas spent the rest of the day holed up in his room reading volume one of the Wolf Queen. Atleast, that's what he was trying to do, but his mind kept wandering back to the gaze Farkas had held. The lust in his eyes had been obvious. 

He imagined Farkas slowly rising from his spot at the table, his penetrating silver stare never once wavering. In his mind's eye, his brother stalked over to him slowly and purposefully, untying his trousers along the way. He stopped before Vilkas, his intentions unmistakable as he dug his fingers into the wolf's hair and pulled. 

Vilkas groaned and dropped his head onto the back of the chair. He set the book down on his desk and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to rid the images he had conjured. But he couldn't. I'm never going to read this book. I can't concentrate….. Fuck it.  

He loosened the ties of his trousers and shoved his hand inside. He began running his fingers down along his shaft and back up over his head. With a quiet groan, Vilkas shoved his pants down and firmly took his cock in hand. He ran his thumb up and around his tip, over his slit, and lightly squeezed. He wanted to stroke himself quick and rough, but he didn't because that's not how Farkas would do it. 

His brother always took his time. Farkas enjoyed dulling out the pleasure in small doses, letting it build up and up until it all came crashing down in a wave of pure destructive bliss. So Vilkas played with himself as his twin would. Gently teasing and massaging himself in small light strokes. He closed his eyes and imagined Farkas laying over him gripping his hair roughly as he pleasured gently. His breath ghosting across his ear as he watched the grimace induced gratification on the wolf's face. 

"Fuck yes. Please give it to me." Vilkas whispered to himself. He knew how much Farkas loved listening to him beg and how much he loved giving that power to him. 

He paused to spit on his hand before returning it to his fully solid member. He lifted his hips up, slowly thrusting his cock up into his slick calloused fist. His other hand explored under his shirt running across his firm abs where Farkas would leave his little love bites. He ventured up over his chest squeezing his nipple before  his fingers curled and clawed their way back down. He groaned and leaned into that slight ache. He lightly pressed the bruise Twiggy had left on his side. He shivered as the pain pulsed with pleasure. His hand moved on, gliding over his thigh and down to cup his balls. He rolled them in his fingers pulling them gently as he started to work his cock with more fervor. 

Farkas would be demanding he watch so he forced his eyes open and watched himself fuck his hand. He loved the way it felt. The slight friction, the heat, the way his cock slipped in and out from between his fingers, only he pictured Farkas's lips instead, lustfully taking him until he was touching the back of his brother’s throat with his tip. Vilkas swallowed hard as he tried to stay quiet. "Please take me. Please fuck me." 

He spread his knees as his fingers worked their way down behind his balls where he remembered Bran playing with the skin there. Twiggy had pressed a knuckle up into him, sending a spark of pleasure Vilkas had only felt before from the inside. He massaged his own fingers there trying to reproduce that bliss while imaging Farkas's cock pressing inside him.

He pictured that squat head rubbing up along his hole, teasing his furl while watching it wink open in anticipation. Farkas would take his time even in this. He would press slowly, letting Vilkas's body adjust to him before delving inside. He always fucked gently at first as he slowly opened up Vilkas's core that always left them both moaning and clutching at eachother. Then he would start his rhythm powerful and long as he fucked Vilkas hard. Just like how I like it. Yes Farkas! Fuck me just like that. 

He would claw at Vilkas's back. Slap his ass hard. Pull his hair. Pin his wrists. Cling to him enough to leave bruises until that painful ecstasy surged through Vilkas and he couldn't stop himself from cumming. The wolf whimpered. "Oh gods yes, please." 

He increased his strokes fucking his hand vigorously. He finally found that spot Bran had played with. He pressed his thumb up against it groaning loudly. Vilkas could feel himself peeking as he pictured Farkas sinking his cock deep into him. He rubbed his fingers against his furl while massaging his taint with his thumb. He could see Farkas staring down at him and demanding. "That's it. Let me see you cum." 

Vilkas did as his dreamt brother ordered as the orgasm flashed through him. He came with several quivering thrusts, shooting his seed all over his tunic and hand. He gulped down air as the pleasure crashed through him and continued to stroke himself despite the sensitivity. Once he finally stilled he sagged into the chair all but sliding to the floor and he regained his breath. 

He gingerly peeled off his shirt and used it to wipe the cream off his fingers. Farkas would want him to lick them clean if he didn't do it himself. But he wasn't here, and the fantasy was over. Vilkas dropped the shirt on the floor. He kept contemplating going into Farkas's room and throwing himself at his twin. 

The only thing that held him back was Twiggy. The little lynx had all but moved into Farkas's room. He had slept there ever since their return from Solitude. A fact that he was well aware of as their moans could be heard every damn night. I wonder if Skjor or Aela would switch rooms with me. He dismissed the thought knowing full well they would refuse and then tease him about it. I suppose I should count my blessings. At Least I don't share a wall with them. Poor Kodlak. 

Vilkas dug out a clean tunic from his dresser and made his way to the kitchen in search of food. Inside he found Lucia pouring a glaze over some baked sweet rolls while Tilma hovered. The little girl beamed a smile as Vilkas ventured in and she proclaimed proudly. "Look! I made sweet rolls!" 

He couldn't help but smile back. "Did you now? Can I be the first one to try them?" 

"No." 

"No?" 

"Grandma said you only get one if you eat your supper, and you haven't eaten supper." 

"Grandma?" Vilkas lifted brow and glanced at Tilma. 

The old woman gently held the girl's shoulders and gave her a little hug. "That's right. The Jarl agreed not to send her to the orphanage. Lucia is part of the family now." 

"I see." Vilkas replied. He was glad to hear that's what Kodlak and Balgruuf had agreed upon since the wolf had discovered her aunt and uncle slain. He shuddered at the memory. Whoever had murdered them had slaughtered even the livestock. He would have thought a werewolf had done it if not for the bodies having been left uneaten. The nearby guards claimed it was the work of a crazed jester. The madman had had an altercation with the family days prior and had been arrested only to escape. Vilkas doubted the story. What kind of gleeman could unleash such devastation, even a mad one? 

"Well Šuniukas, I'm glad to hear you're staying." Vilkas said as he reached for a sweet roll. 

Lucia slapped his hand away. "No dessert till after supper." 

Tilma laughed as she helped the child clean up the sticky glaze that had ended up all over the table. "I've taught the pup well." 

Vilkas almost scolded the girl until Tilma started laughing and praising her. Lucia giggled and the wolf smiled both amused and happy. He reached over and ruffled the girl's hair earning himself a glare from her. "I'm assuming this means supper is ready." 

"Ready? It's probably cold by now." Tilma answered. "Did you not hear the call to eat?" 

"Guess not." He shrugged and headed upstairs. 

The main hall was warm and welcoming if slightly on the empty side. Kodlak was missing, which wasn’t really surprising, but so was Farkas and Twiggy. They probably wolfed down their food so they could get back to fucking. The thought soured his mood a bit as he plated himself some cold venison and potatoes, and he grumpily took a seat away from the rest of the Companions. Aela was the first one to notice him. She lifted a brow. “I know that look. Someone is in a grouchy mood.”

“He’s always in a grouchy mood.” Torvar slurred. 

“Watch yourself.” Njada said. “He might just take his grouchiness out on you.” 

Torvar took a long swig on his ale and proudly proclaimed as he punched the air. “Let him try. I’ll give you the ole one two.”

“Will you know?” Vilkas growled and simply stared at the drunk. “Want to try that?”

“I don't want to embarrass you in front of everyone like Bran did this morning. One throttling is enough for a day right?” 

Vilkas chewed on his anger trying and failing to keep his wolf from getting stirred. He snarled. “If you’re too much of a coward to back your words with fists then I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

“Ha! I can’t even keep my mouth shut when I’m sober.”

Aela huffed. “You're never sober.” 

Skjor said to Torvar while looking at Vilkas. “Our pile of firewood could use some stocking. Get too it pup.” 

“Now?” The nord asked. “But it's dark out.” 

“Now.” Skjor demanded. 

Tovar patted Athis on the shoulder as he stood. “One day, when you and I are on the Circle, we can change the way things are run around here.”

“I don’t think that's how the Circle works.” The dark elf replied. 

“They're lording it over us all the time though.” 

“Young warriors are smart to listen to older ones. They've lived.” 

“But Athis.” Ria piped up. “Aren't you older than the twins?”

“Aye, but they've been Companions longer.” 

“All in good time.” Aela hinted. 

Vilkas didn't say anything. They had had several conversations about elevating Athis to the Circle. Kodlak and Vilkas wanted to wait till they broke the curse. Aela and Skjor wanted to make him a werewolf. Farkas had refused to be the tie breaker so the decision was left in a state of contention. The conversation started to lul as Torvar marched outside to chop wood. It was Aela who broke the silence. “Vilkas brother. Why don’t you come join us in a game of cards? We haven’t gambled in a while and I miss taking your septims.” 

Skjor chuckled. “That sounds like a swell idea.” 

Vilkas almost refused but the whelps added their voices to the begging. He scooted around to the other table, taking Torvar’s place between Athis and Skjor, while Aela pulled out a deck of cards. They spent the rest of the night gambling and laughing while swapping stories. Vilkas’s grouchiness started to fade. Things felt almost normal. He was surrounded by his shield siblings with good food and a warm fire. Yet, he still felt alone, and he slowly realized it was because Farkas wasn’t there beside him. It left an ache in his chest that he couldn’t shake. His twin left a void that no one else could fill. He found himself constantly glancing toward the stairwell. He wanted to go down there and see his brother. If only to satiate his loneliness for even a moment. 

That night his dreams were ominous. Filled with wolves chasing him while he searched for Farkas. He found his brother eight as the wolves descended on him. The beasts clamped their jaws onto his arms and legs dragging him to the ground. He reached out to his twin screaming his name as the wolves drug him back. Farkas just gazed at him blankly as if he were a stranger before turning his back on him and disappeared into the darkness. 

Vilkas woke in a pool of sweat. His limbs were aching as if the wolves had been real. He spent the rest of the night clutching his pillow to his chest wishing it was Farkas he was holding. He knew the distance between them was his own doing, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Not without telling his brother what his wolf was doing to him. He could already picture the look on his face. The anxiousness and worry. Farkas would hover over him afraid of what might happen should he not be near to push the beast back. Vilkas shook his head, washing the images away. I can at least talk to him. I owe him that and it gives me a chance to see him without Twiggy around. 

That thought encouraged him out of bed. He lazily threw on a pair of light trousers and crossed the tiny hallway. Vilkas rapped a knuckle on his brother's door. "Farkas. Do you have a moment?" 

The door opened sending a wave of Farkas's musk wisping out into the hallway and the strong scent of sex with it. Twiggy stood there as bare as the day he was born. He scanned Vilkas's chest and smirked once their eyes met. "I'm afraid your brother isn't here." 

Anger settled in the wolf's stomach even as the scent of his brother’s lust caused his own to pool in his groin. It was such an intoxicating smell and strong enough that he could practically taste it. He wanted to sit on Farkas's bed and swim in the scent as he played with himself. He wanted to wring Twiggy's neck. He wanted to turn. The desires clashed within him and the ensuing confusion left him speechless. 

Twiggy bit his lip and looked up at Vilkas through his lashes. "Enjoying the view?" 

"Where is he?" Vilkas breathed. 

The lynx lifted a brow. "He's not here. Farkas just left with Skjor and Njada to go after some bandits. No one told you?" 

Of course. That's just my luck. Vilkas closed his eyes and sighed. Which was a mistake. The smell of his brother’s want tickled his senses, teasing him with what he was missing. Tormenting him with everything that he wanted that was being given to another man. 

"Did you really come here looking for Farkas?" Twiggy mused. 

Vilkas growled. "I certainly didn't come here for you." 

"You could come for me." Bran's mismatched eyes were sultry as he ran his tongue over his top lip. 

Vilkas rolled his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t fathom what Farkas saw in the whelp. He wasn't faithful. He wasn't honorable. He was just a toy. Yet his brother was down right smitten. It left him feeling bitter. 

"Well daddy, are you just going to stand there with the door open?" Bran asked. 

Only then did Vilkas realize the lynx had his fingers hooked into his pants. His knuckles were pressed against the wolf's bare skin and lightly tugged trying to urge him into the room. Vilkas let himself get pulled inside swinging the door shut behind him. 

Twiggy giggled as he ran his hand along the outside of Vilkas's trousers and cupped his cock. He cooed. "Admit it. You've been wanting me for a while now." 

I want Farkas. He didn't say anything. He was too busy breathing in his brother's lust which permeated the room. Farkas and Bran had fucked recently. He doubted it had been more than an hour prior. It just made him more frustrated. His brother was probably just outside the city and Twiggy was already moving on to someone else. 

If this is what Farkas wants then this is what he deserves. He thought angrily as Twiggy leaned up on his toes and tried to kiss him. Vilkas pushed him back and growled. "Down." 

"Yes daddy." He cooed as he dropped to his knees and expertly plucked open Vilkas's trousers while massaging his cock through the fabric. "That turns you on doesn't it? Ordering me on my knees and sucking on your cock." 

"Yes." Vilkas mumbled. He was resentful, even as part of him was enticed at how easily the whelp submitted to him. They should all submit to me……. Except Farkas. 

He kept soaking in the scent of his brother. He missed him so much. Even as his feelings warred with each other, images of Farkas flashed through his mind. It was his twin he wanted to see on his knees. 

Twiggy pulled out Vilkas's member and wrapped his lips around his head, yet all he could see was Farkas there instead. Vilkas moaned as the twig took him into his mouth. He dug his fingers into Twiggy's hair as he watched. He had to give it to the Breton, he knew how to use those lips of his. 

He lightly sucked on Vilkas's cock as he rolled his tongue over his tip. He pumped his shaft with both hands before descending all the way to swallow him to the hilt. Vilkas moaned. 

Twiggy let his member pop free and worked the slick saliva around. "My gods daddy. You're so nice and big." 

Vilkas grunted in response as he watched those red wanting lips glide over him. He thrust lightly with the strokes of the twigs hands. His mouth was so warm and slick paired with that magical tongue of his, Twiggy quickly had Vilkas hard and ready. He let the cock pop free again and started to say something, but Vilkas grabbed his hair tighter and growled. "Don't stop." 

He thrust back into that warmth holding the whelp still as he fucked his throat. Vilkas didn't want to listen to whatever dirty talk the Breton planned. It was ruining his visions of Farkas. He leaned his head back basking in his brother's scent. It was better than any drug. Farkas please. I want you so badly. Oh fuck that feels good. 

He didn't stop delving down into that slick warmth until Twiggy started tapping his stomach. The whelp gasped and wiped at the tears building in his eyes. "Sorry, daddy. You're not easy to take." 

You are. Vilkas thought riled yet lustfully. He wasn't certain why he was doing this, but he knew he wasn't going to stop till he was satisfied. A trickling thought warned that he was making a mistake. He brushed it aside as he pulled Bran to his feet and pressed his stomach against the wall. 

Twiggy giggled and hummed. "Someone's in a hurry. How long have you thought about this?" 

Vilkas buried his face into the crook of Bran's neck where Farkas' scent was strong. Vilkas nibbled on his vein, tracing the path his brother had taken, breathing in his musk and lust. He mumbled. "A while." 

"Good thing I'm already ready for you." He hummed as he pressed his little ass up against Vilkas's groin. The wolf wrapped an arm around the whelp's torso holding him tight lest the smell of his brother be taken away. 

He rubbed his cock against his furl. It was so warm, soft, slightly swollen from recent use, and already slick and wanting. The scent of Farkas and cum flowed up from there. It only made him harder, his cock dribbling at just the thought of his twin. "Oh fuck." 

He reached down to steady himself as he pressed his head against Twiggy's rim. It was certainly tight but not as much as he was expecting. He had never been with an experienced bottom and was surprised by how easily that ass opened up to him. He moaned as his entire length slid into that warmth. 

Twiggy gasped. "Holy shit. Daddy, you're so deep.” 

The little breton’s ass clung to his cock with a slick pressure that felt so fucking good. Vilkas quickly started to pick up his pace thrusting swiftly into that enveloping warmth, goaded on by his brother's scent and the need for release. Twiggy moaned and clutched the arm wrapped around his chest. "Oh fuck yes daddy. Give it to me. Fuck my little ass. Nggggh fuck yes." 

Vilkas never once took his face out of Bran's neck. The leather infused musk of his brother urged him on more than Twiggy. As amazing as his ass felt, as much as he enjoyed plunging his cock deep into that slick friction, he also wanted to be taken. To feel Farkas inside him. This would feel even better if he were here right now. I wish you were choking me right now. Please Farkas. Please! 

"MMMMM Faaauck." He barely stopped himself from calling out his twins name as he got close to peeking. He worked himself even faster, fucking Twiggy the way he wanted to be fucked. Chasing his own release as the pressure built within him. 

The twig had an arm against the wall pillowing his head as he reached down to stroke himself with the other. "Yes daddy. Yes! Give me that big daddy dick." 

Vilkas trembled as the orgasm rushed through him and he released his seed with several hard thrusts. He clung to Bran tightly as he pulsed deep inside him. He groaned, breathing heavily as he started to pull out. "Gods."

"Wait, don't." Twiggy pleaded as he frantically stroked himself. "Please don't stop. I'm close." 

Vilkas was instantly disgusted with himself. He felt like he had just violated Farkas, Twiggy, and himself. Was he really so desperate for Farkas that he would fuck his leftovers? Was he lying to himself and he actually wanted Bran? Was he just trying to get back at his brother? Was he simply satisfying his urges? It could be any or all. The only thing he was certain of was that he had just had sex in his brother's room with a different man. It was dirty and wrong. He pushed himself away from Twiggy, groaning as his over stimulated cock pulled free of his furl. The little lynx's hole swelled and pulsed as some of his cream slid out. 

The breton let out a surprised and slightly pained gasp as the girthy member was pulled free. He stopped his stroking and looked over his shoulder bewildered as he panted. He waited to see if Vilkas was going to do something else. The wolf just gazed back at him with a disgusted snarl. Twiggy scoffed. "You're going to fuck me like that and not even finish me?" 

"I'm done touching filth." The wolf leaned over the Breton and loudly sniffed. "You reek." 

It was clear Vilkas's words stung him. Twiggy huffed back with all the sass he could muster. "And yet you were still so turned on you came almost instantly. Unless of course you always struggle to last?" 

He wanted to punch the whelp even as he knew he deserved the insult. Vilkas yanked up his trousers aggressively tying them. Being in his brother's room felt wrong. HE felt wrong. The scent of his own musk and lust mixed in suddenly smelled foul. Vilkas muttered. "I don't know what I hate more. You, for betraying my brother the second his feet left these halls, or me, for being involved in it." 

"Betraying Farkas? Oh please. We're just having fun. It's not like we're in love." 

Vilkas snatched Twiggy by the hair dragging him close. The whelp let out a little shriek. The wolf's lips quivered into a snarl. "You are not that dumb to act so blind. My brother is enamored with you. If you break his heart, I'll tear out yours." 

Vilkas could see the fear growing in the breton's eyes and he reveled in it. It was right for his prey to fear him. He licked his lips completely fixated by the sight. I shouldn't be mounting my prey. I should be consuming him. It was his aching teeth that jolted the wolf to his senses. He swallowed hard as he fought back his wolf's desire. He was still tightly clinging to Bran's hair. He tried to let go, but he couldn't. It was like his wolf was controlling his hand. He grimaced and strained as his fingers slowly uncurled and released their hold. He shoved Twiggy onto the bed and stalked away. 

As soon as Vilkas was back in his room he slid to the floor, his hands shaking. Did any of that really just happen? Why did I do that? What the fuck was I thinking? He ran his hands tight through his hair. Am I really that spiteful or is my wolf influencing that too? He didn't know anymore. He didn't know where his thoughts and feelings ended and the wolf's started. He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to do…..how do I make this stop?" 

Chapter Text

Bran sat low in the tub, the water lapping at the little divot between his bottom lip and chin. He sulked as he tried to process what had occurred barely an hour prior. He rubbed his scalp not for the first time. Vilkas had pulled so hard he was surprised he still had hair. “Bloody twat. Bloody fucking bellend. Dickhead. Arsehole. Knob. Cunt. There isn't a good enough fucking curse to describe how much of a bloody prick he is!" 

He slapped the water sending little droplets flying with his annoyance. "I can not believe I had sex with that nonce. And I actually thought he would like me more. Dibella’s tits! What in oblivion was I thinking?” 

He sat up a little and sighed. There had been a moment there where Vilkas had been down right tender. He was holding him gently, nuzzling his neck and peppering him with kisses. His teeth scraping across his skin and nibbling on his ear. Bran had thought in that moment that things would get better. That Vilkas would invite him passed that wall of hate he erected between himself and the world. 

Instead the arse had catapulted him straight into that damn wall. It was beyond aggravating. Vilkas was hot one moment and cold the next. He didn’t know how the wolf truly felt about him and it was affecting his time with Farkas. He was tired of walking on tiptoes everytime they were together and Vilkas was around. He was tired of trying to befriend the arse for Farkas’s sake. Tired of a little ball forming in his gut and rattling around because he didn't know which Vilkas to expect. Bran slapped the water again. If he wants to act like a troll then fine. I'm done!

He begrudgingly pulled himself out of the tub. The water was starting to get cold and his hands were all pruny. The bath only made him feel slightly better. It was nice having all the grime and sweat off of him. He told himself he didn’t take a bath just because Vilkas said he reeked! 

He dried himself off with a large fluffy towel and wrapped it around his waist. Bran shuffled down the hall to the whelp’s room where he still kept his clothes. Ria was sitting on her bed reading. Torvar was lying on his, with his pillow covering his face, no doubt dealing with morning withdrawals. Bran smiled at Ria as he entered and then let his towel slide to the floor as he flicked open the unlocked clasp on his chest. He fished out a light tan tunic and soft buckskin trousers.

Ria laid her book in her lap, her thumb holding her place. "You still keep your clothes in here?" 

"Where else would I keep them?" Bran replied as he pulled on his pants. He was happy to see that Ria no longer blushed at seeing him nude. He had flirted with her a little when he first arrived and she had been obviously taken with him. But Ria was young and rather inexperienced and he wanted nothing to do with that.

The Imperial snickered. "In Farkas's room. Where you basically live at this point."

"I'm not going to take over his room." 

"Aren't you? He's not even here and you're still sleeping in there."

"That's because it's nice and quiet. Torvar snores louder than a horker." 

Torvar mumbled an inaudible protest. Ria giggled. "Oh and Farkas doesn't snore?" 

"Believe it or not, but he doesn't." Bran pulled on his tunic and made a mental note to buy some more clothes. Tilma had thrown out most of his long sleeved tunics since they were stained or worn from his travels. He wasn't too fond of short sleeves, but he wasn't about to complain about her executive decisions. He had quickly learned that Tilma was the true ruler of Jorrvaskr. Anyone who would dare complain of her would find five angry Companions bearing down on them. 

Bran snapped the chest shut and flopped onto his bed on his belly. Which was a mistake. The beds for the whelps weren't nearly as plush as Farkas's. He grimaced. "And his bed is nicer though to be honest sometimes its hard to sleep with how restless he is. He's always tossing about. He probably wakes up at a pin drop." 

Ria shrugged. "All of the Circle are light sleepers. I wouldn't be surprised if it's part of the training. " 

"Really? And how do you know that? Slept with them all?"  

Torvar chortled. Ria stuck her tongue out at Bran and clapped back. "I'm not you. I've gone on quests with all of them at least once. Including Kodlak." 

"Really?" Bran propped himself up on his elbow. "Kodlak doesn't seem the adventurous sort." 

"Not anymore." Ria sighed softly. "If only you had come to us a year ago. You would have met a different Kodlak." 

"What happened?" 

"He's got the rot." Torvar slid his pillow onto the floor and pushed himself up enough to grab a bottle of ale off his nightstand. He popped the cork with his teeth, spitting it to the floor and took a swig. "The two of us went to the Pale to help a little village who kept being attacked by Falmer. We spent four days rooting around in their tunnels killing everything and anything just fine. And then the moment we popped out of the ground, BAM! I get jumped by a sabrecat. That damn furball clamped its fangs down on my helmet and slammed me into a snowbank. How I got out of that without a scratch I'll never know. Kodlak stuck it with his sword and the cat dropped me and pounced on him. All I could see was a clawing and biting white blur roaring louder than an avalanche. Kodlak killed it of course, but not before a claw nicked his arm." 

Torvar took another swig of his ale and sat up with a bitter sneer. He crossed his legs and balanced the bottle on a knee. "We didn't think anything of it. Kodlak has had far worse scrapes from things scarier than that kitten. We wrapped him up and started back to the village, but the gods were against us that day. We got stuck in a blizzard. Had to hunker down for almost a week before it broke and we could make it back. By the time we made it to the village it was too late. The Harbinger was sick. The rot already rooted deep enough into him that no alchemists or mages could cure him. It's been slowly eating away at him ever since." 

"He doesn't act sick." Bran replied as he processed Torvar’s story. "I've never heard of the rot. Is it like brain rot?" 

"Similar." Ria answered. "But your body withers instead of your mind. Kodlak used to be a lot stronger. Now just walking to Dragonsreach leaves him winded." 

"He's lost a lot of weight." Torvar sadly nodded. "Mostly muscle." 

Bran was shocked. Kodlak was such a mountain of a man, he couldn't picture him larger than he already was. "I had no idea." 

"He doesn't like talking about it." Ria said. "But you can see how much it weighs on him." 

"That's why he holds himself up in his room." Tovar added. "It's a shame. I miss watching him pummel Vilkas." 

Ria laughed. "Aye. I loved watching them spar. Kodlak’s the only one I've ever seen able to outmatch the wolf. The way they battled was beautiful. They're both so graceful and powerful. Like watching a thunderstorm." 

Torvar snorted. "You just like looking at Vilkas with his shirt off." 

Ria glared at Torvar and threw her pillow at him. She said defensively though there was an obvious flush to her cheeks. "I like watching him fight. That's it." 

"Ria dear?" Bran mused. He'd recognize the look on her face anywhere. "Do you have a crush on the big bad wolf?" 

"No!" She barked far too quickly as her face bloomed redder. 

Bran giggled. "It's okay to admit it. Trust me I know how attractive he is. If only he wasn't such a dickhead." 

"Don't let him get to ya. Vilkas is a hard ass to almost everyone." Tovar said as he tossed Ria's pillow back to her. "But he's always been nice to Lil Ria here." 

"Enough from both of you or I'll gut you in the yard myself!" The Imperial threatened. 

Torvar and Bran just laughed. The breton spent the rest of the day with the other two whelps, simply teasing, laughing, and talking. It was nice to be able to spend a day just lazily lying about while he listened to their stories and learned more about the other Companions. It was peaceful and it reminded Bran of his time spent with his little sister before he left home. It made him feel…..something. If it were anyone else he would say it made him homesick, and though he certainly missed his little sister he most definitely didn't miss the rest of his family. Maybe it was nostalgia he was feeling, or perhaps it was just nice to be in a space where he felt safe. Whatever it was, it made him happy.

When Bran woke the next morning he found himself curled around Farkas's pillow while cocooned in a sea of soft furs. They smelled like the nord. With a groan he unwrapped himself from the pillow, refusing to admit that he was missing the man.  He stretched out on the bed and debated if he should actually get up or go back to sleep. In the end his stomach made up his mind for him.

As Bran made his way to the kitchen he could hear Lucia giggling from inside. "I told you I would win again." 

He smiled and stepped through the threshold only to stop dead. Vilkas was in the kitchen with her. The nord smiled warmly and mused. "You're a clever thing aren't you? And you make a swell little wolf Šuniukas." 

He was sitting at the table by the fireplace where Tilma usually made her breads and pastries. Across from him was Lucia sitting on her knees in a chair leaning on her arms with her cinnamon hair falling over a board game between the two of them. As soon as Bran came into view the seasoned warrior's steel eyes flicked over to him. His toothy smile wavered, and for the slightest of a moment, Bran could have sworn he seemed remorseful. The look vanished as fast as it had arrived, and the wolf returned his attention to the little girl.

Bran debated whether or not he should go into the kitchen. He really didn't want to be around Vilkas after yesterday, but he had already been spotted and ignored. I'm a Companion as well aren't I? I can sit in the kitchen if I want and he can deal with it. He's the one being a bloody areshole so why should I starve? But his feet didn't move. He stood as planted as the Gildergreen while that all too common anxiety grew in his stomach as familiar as a hound curled up before a fireplace. His stomach growled as the promise of food tickled his nose and it overrode his fear stricken feet. He tried to ignore Vilkas as best he could as the Breton passed by their table to root around the pantry.

He couldn't stop the hair on his neck from raising as he turned his back to the man. He felt like he was being watched but told himself he was being silly. Vilkas was busy playing a game with Lucia, and surely the brute would be nice with the little girl around, right?  

But he was being watched. By a pair of bright blue eyes attached to a dimple cheeked heart shaped face. Lucia exclaimed happily. "Bran! Do you want to play with us?" 

"Me? Oh well I…." The breton replied while studying Vilkas’s reaction. The man kept his expressionless mask firmly in place. Whatever he was thinking only the Aedra could guess, but his shoulders weren't tense like when he was angry. Bran dared a smile. "What are you playing?" 

"We're playing Wolf and Sheep." Lucia proclaimed proudly. "I'm the wolf! And I've been eating all of Vilkas's sheep." 

Bran snagged himself some cheese and a few honey treats. "Don't you mean Fox and Geese?" 

"There's no foxes in these halls." Vilkas replied. His voice was rich and warm instead of its normal cold growling. It helped Bran relax some. Vilkas was obviously in a good mood. 

"Of course. I should have guessed." Bran chuckled and took a seat next to Lucia. "I'll just watch until I'm done eating okay?" 

"Okay." The little girl beamed. "But don't eat too much. We're making horker stew for dinner." 

Vilkas said. "Oh that won't be ready for several hours Šuniukas." 

"Where's Tilma?" Bran asked. 

"She was feeling under the weather. So Lucia and I took over so she could get some rest." 

"That's right! And I'm going to make the stew so good that grandma will feel better." Lucia gave a big smile and took the little wolf carving, jumping it over a sheep. 

Vilkas laughed. "We can certainly hope." 

The nord peered over the cross shaped board game stroking his chin as if studying his next move carefully. He slid a sheep out of danger but it left an opening for Lucia. Bran doubted that was a mistake. Vilkas was letting the little girl win. It was sweet and it left Bran wondering if this was the same man who had been so rough with him the day prior.

He continued to watch the pair as he ate. Though he sat closer to Lucia, he was between the two with his plate between himself and Vilkas. The man kept eyeing the honey treats, his fingers slowly edging closer to the plate like a cat stalking a skeever until one suddenly appeared in his hand when Bran wasn't looking. The breton wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't seeing it himself. Taking over kitchen duties for Tilma. Playing with Lucia. Smiling and laughing. Stealing sugary treats like a child. The wolf was being downright adorable. Did the twins switch bodies? Am I hallucinating? 

Vilkas and Lucia played several rounds. Bran noticed a pattern. If she was thoughtful with her moves, there always seemed to be a sheep in a position to get eaten, but if she moved about the board carefree Vilkas would use his woolen army to back her into a corner. The wolf held an amused smile for most of the game. The softness that he was showing was a lovely change.  The lack of hard edges made him look even more like Farkas and it helped Bran relax somewhat though a nagging thought loomed over him. Is it just me? Does Vilkas hate me that much?

After another game Lucia giggled and smiled with pride. "I win!" 

"Good job, Šuniukas." Vilkas chuckled. 

"It's Bran's turn!" Lucia beamed. She scooched off the chair adjusting her plum colored dress and patted the seat. "Your wolf gets to eat all of Vilkas's sheep." 

Vilkas and Bran both started, looking at each other with surprise before turning back to the little girl. Bran tried to protest but he quickly learned that there was no arguing with the seven year old. Not unless he wanted to deal with a crying child and an angered Vilkas. So there he was suddenly sitting across from him while trying not to shift in his seat every second. The wolf refused to look at him as he reset the board. 

Lucia hopped over to Vilkas and pointed at one of the sheep. She whispered loudly. "Move that one." 

Vilkas chuckled and whispered back. "Okay." 

"No, not there." Lucia huffed and climbed up onto the man's lap. Vilkas leaned back in his chair, going stiff as the dead as the little girl settled herself and moved the sheep to where she wanted it. "Here." 

Vilkas watched the girl confounded about the situation he just found himself in. She crossed her arms and leaned on the table, clearly planning on remaining in her new seat. Bran snickered. The wolf glared at him which only made the breton's chortling develop into a full belly quivering laugh. He couldn't help himself. He mused as he moved his piece forward. "Well if Lucia is helping you, then I certainly don't stand a chance." 

Bran failed to stifle his giggles. Simple yet sweet revenge. I'm going to massacre these sheep! Every turn Vilkas made was dictated by the little girl. It would be an easy win. So he thought. 

Vilkas would move and ask her if that was a good spot. Lucia would pretend to think about it and give her verdict. Several times she had Vilkas move the sheep into a position where they could be eaten in a turn or two. But every time Bran went to exploit it, the nord would clear his throat and glare at him with so much menace that he would sigh and let the opportunity die. The message was clear. This was Lucia's game and she was going to win. 

Bran had never seen this side of Vilkas. It was endearing. He was incredibly patient with the girl as she bossed him around. During the second round the Breton realized that the wolf was giving the girl the same lesson as before. If she studied the board and thought about her move Bran was not allowed to attack the sheep, if she didn't then he could. He doubted Lucia was actually thinking about her moves being as young as she was. The way she held her finger to her chin, emulating Vilkas, while she decided was all pretend. But the wolf rewarded the behavior anyway. 

It was similar to how Vilkas trained the whelps in the yard, albeit far less aggressively. After another round and another win for Lucia, she started getting restless. The wolf asked. "Do you want to play something else?" 

The girl just shrugged. With a grin, Vilkas dug his fingers into the girl's armpit. She burst into a fit of laughter. "Stop. Stoooooop!" 

She rolled off the grinning wolf's lap and rocked on the balls of her feet. "Is the stew done yet?" 

"Not yet." Vilkas smirked and ruffled her hair. 

Lucia grabbed his wrist, her hands as tiny as a mouse's compared to his as she tugged on his arm. "But it's been forever! Can we look?" 

"Alright. We can look, Šuniukas." Vilkas chuckled. He let the girl pull him out of the chair and over to the pot hanging in the hearth. 

Bran simply crossed his arms on the table and watched. I would have never thought Vilkas would be good with children. He could almost forget what an arse the nord was. Almost. "Vilkas. What does Šuniukas mean?" 

He replied over his shoulder. "It's ancient nordic. It means pup." 

"Why do I get the feeling you were called that all the time?" 

The wolf laughed. "Kodlak called us that for years. Even after Farkas and I joined the Circle." 

"And when did everyone start calling you wolf?"

"I'm not sure." Vilkas hoisted Lucia up onto a stool and helped her stir the stew. "I think it was Arnbjorn who started that." 

"It's fitting." Bran couldn't help but think of the pet name Farkas had given him. "Do you know what Szerető means?"

Vilkas paused and his back and shoulders started to tense. The wolf glanced over his shoulder and Bran could see all the warmth drain from those striking silver eyes into the cold deadly steel he had grown to know all too well. He sneered, his lip twitching up into a snarl unwittingly. It was in such contrast from how Vilkas had just been acting, that the Breton pondered once again if it was the same person. It reminded him of what Farkas had once said. 'That's not him. That's not my brother.' He couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with him. But what could possibly explain the sudden shifts in his attitude? Bran hadn't a clue.

Vilkas suddenly shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The snarl disappeared and he sighed. "It can be translated a couple different ways. Lover. Or….my heart." 

Bran blinked. I couldn't have heard that right? Right? He laughed. "What? No that can't possibly……" 

Vilkas's glare silenced him. He sat there dumbfounded. Farkas had been calling him that for weeks. "You're wrong." Bran blurted out. Farkas is a sweetheart, but there's no way he thinks of me that way. He doesn't even know me! No, we've just been having fun. He glared right back at the wolf and repeated stubbornly. "You're wrong." 

The wolf helped the little girl off the stool and growled softly. "Lucia. Stay here." 

He stalked over to Bran, who shrank down in his chair already regretting his words. He wanted to run but was trapped in his seat with Vilkas's long legs already putting himself between Bran and the door. The wolf snatched him by the arm hauling him out of the chair as easily as he had lifted the girl. Vilkas drug him out of the kitchen, his fingers digging so hard into the breton's bicep as to leave bruises. Bran pulled back and dug his bare heels into the floorboards. Not that it did any good. "Let go of me you ofe!" 

Vilkas only squeezed tighter and as soon as they were out of Lucia's sight, he loomed over him so close that his hot breath washed over his forehead. "Let me make myself clear. I was not exaggerating when I said I would tear out your heart if you hurt my brother. And how do you think he's going to feel once he finds out you betrayed him?" 

Bran sneered, still trying to pull his arm free. "Why would you fuck me if you knew it would hurt your brother?" 

"To teach him a lesson."

Bran couldn't believe what he was hearing. He saw first hand how protective Vilkas was of Farkas. Would he really be so cruel to his own twin? Bran was appalled. "No wonder Farkas has such a large heart. He must have stolen yours in the womb." 

The hate pooling out of Vilkas was all but tangible. He kept licking his teeth like a wild beast waiting for its turn to feed. His fingers clawed into Bran's arm. His eyes were frigid and wild; practically inhuman. "I'm going to enjoy feas-" 

"What's this?" Kodlak’s voice rolled down the hall and drew the wolf's attention. The Harbinger approached them slowly as one would a strange dog. 

Vilkas's downturned brows rose in surprise as the little rage fueled dots that were his pupils suddenly blew open in horror. He released Bran. He looked at Kodlak, to Bran, and back again. His chest rose and fell as he swallowed quick ragged breaths. He scowled. "I…nothing." 

It took Bran exactly two seconds to register that he was free. He shoved the arse as hard as he could and slipped away from him. He walked backwards, past the Harbinger, and down the hall, not feeling safe putting his back to Vilkas. "Stay away from me. I don't want anything to do with you. Not quests. Not games and definitely not training!" 

"Bran." Kodlak called after him. 

"Leave me alone!" As soon as he was done yelling, he all but ran to Farkas's room. He slammed the door shut rubbing his arm as he crawled onto the bed. Vilkas's grip had been crushing and his arm pulsed. Bran shivered and pulled Farkas's pillow to his chest and curled his knees up behind it. He dropped his head into the goose down pillow and sniffed. "Damn it, don't cry." 

The tears threatened to disobey. For as much as he didn't want to think about it, Vilkas reminded him of HER. It scared him. He clung to the pillow tighter as memories he kept trying to run from pounced on him. Bran sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried not to get sucked into the darkness within his own mind. "Please don't." 

He failed. 

He was trapped within Vaermina's realm for hours. His fears and memories consumed him so completely that he could smell the salty spray of the waves against the keel. Feel the rough deck scratching his bare feet and the smooth gold pressing against his neck. He could see the blood splattered throughout the tent and Kiaona's corpse staring back at him, cold and lifeless. He could hear HER calling to him. "Pet…pet…… pet….. Bran!" 

Bran shrieked and pulled away from the hands clutching his shoulders. He tried to scramble away, but his back bumped against the headboard. He was trapped. Again. Bran thrashed wildly trying to escape from whoever was attacking him. "Get away!" 

"It's okay. It's okay. Bran, it's me. It's Farkas." 

The breton panted as the words slowly wormed past the pounding of his racing heart and he stopped fighting. The visions of his past wisped away like tendrils of smoke as Farkas came into focus. Bran bawled. "Don't do that! Don't ever do that!"

"I'm sorry." Farkas whispered, perplexed and concerned. He gently reached out and held Bran's cheeks using his thumbs to wipe away some of the tears. "What happened? What's wrong?" 

"Everything!" Bran shouted. He tossed the pillow aside and vaulted into Farkas's arms not even caring that he thumped his head against the man's armor. He squeezed Farkas as tight as he could hoping that it would stop his trembling. The nord crawled further onto the bed and nestled Bran between his legs. 

He rested his cheek on top of Bran's head and gently ran his fingers up and down his spine. "I got you Szerető. I got you." 

Farkas continued his soft reassurances and soothing touches until Bran's trembling stopped. Only after his ear started to go numb pressed against the nord's chestplate, did he drag himself out of Farkas's gentle embrace. He rubbed his face with his arm and mumbled. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." 

"That doesn't matter." Farkas ran a hand through Bran's hair and kissed his forehead. "What happened?" 

The question made him shiver. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to talk about it. Just the idea threatened to renew his crying. He'd rather deal with the problem at hand and not the demons lurking in the deepest caverns of his mind. He choked on a sob. "Your brother is the bloody worst." 

A slew of emotions passed over Farkas's face all at once. His eyes pooled with sadness. Brows scrunched down in anger. Lips curled up in a pained grimace. His voice rumbled with a resolved heartache. "Why? What did he do?" 

"He……I…" Bran couldn't get himself to finish what he wanted to say. He could see it now. The love that Farkas had for him. He felt like a complete numpty for not noticing sooner. Great. Now what do I do? He didn't want to hurt Farkas, but neither did he want to keep secrets from him. Bran chewed on his cheek. Vilkas had pushed him into a corner as surely as his sheep had. Bran sighed out his nose. "You were wrong. He wasn't jealous and he made it abundantly clear that he despises me." 

"Did he do this?" Farkas asked as he lightly ran a finger over Bran's left arm. There were clear bruises that couldn't be misinterpreted as anything other than what they were. A hand, with darker spots where Vilkas's fingertips had dug into the muscle. 

"It's fine." Bran mumbled. 

"No it's not, and I'll take care of it." Farkas promised.

"Sweetheart please. I don't want to make him angrier. He got his point across, and I'll just avoid him. Everyone is happy." 

"You can't avoid him forever." 

"I can bloody try." Bran said with a sobbed induced laugh.

"He can't think that hurting you is okay." 

Bran begged. "Farkas. Please, just let it go." 

"Why?" The nord paused and then asked sadly. "Are you afraid of him?" 

"Yes. Well, sometimes. Usually? It depends on his mood, which is more unpredictable than Sheogorath." 

Farkas sighed. "I'm sorry." 

Bran grabbed the man's cheeks and planted a long chaste kiss on his lips. He needed to stop talking about it. He didn't want to face it. He didn't want Farkas to get involved. He just needed it to go away even if that meant forcibly changing the subject. "Enough of this. Let's get you comfortable. How was your little excursion?" 

The breton rose up onto his knees and started unbuckling his lover's chestplate. Farkas finally broke a smile, but he still seemed loath to change the topic. "It was too easy. Those bandits didn't stand a chance. The fools had a blind man guarding their hideout." 

Bran chuckled. "Well then they deserved to feel the pointy end of your sword." 

"I didn't do much. Njada took care of most of them. She’s really coming into her own." Farkas sat still and let Bran remove his armor piece by piece.  

The breton left a few kisses in his wake and paused for a moment to suck on his neck. Farkas hummed. Bran put his teeth behind it, sucking harder before letting go to admire the purple mark he left behind. He pulled off Farkas's gambeson next and then his tunic. He nibbled on his lower lip as he ran his hands over the nord's bare chest. He would never tire of the sight. Of how hard his body was beneath the soft surface. "Lay down. On your stomach." 

"Why?" 

Bran again, cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply. Farkas returned the gesture, opening his lips and flicking his tongue out in search of his lover's. A moan escaped the Breton as their tongues explored and tasted each other. The tension he had been holding finally started to melt away. It was a relief to have Farkas back. To have that warmth, gentleness, and safety at his fingertips. He could lose himself to it forever. 

It was hard to pull away. Once he did he smiled and pressed his forehead against the Nord's and asked. "Please?" 

Farkas kissed him back and slowly lowered himself onto the bed. He crossed his arms to pillow his head while watching Bran fondly out the corner of his eye. The Breton hummed and ran his hands up Farkas's back. He loved watching those muscles roll and bulge over his shoulder blades as he moved. He loved the feel of them even if they were tight from battle.

He slid a leg over Farkas's arse to nestle his lower back snuggly between Bran's knees. Farkas mused. "Enjoying yourself?" 

"Yes. And admiring the view." Bran hummed as he pressed his palms into Farkas's back on either side of his spine. He pressed lightly into him and slid his hands all the way up to his shoulders. 

"I'm glad you like it mmmmmmm." Farkas groaned and melted under the touch. Bran smiled and leaned down to plant a light kiss in the center of his back before using his thumbs to knead the man's neck. 

Farkas was particularly stiff along the top of his shoulders and the base of his neck. Bran spent a good amount of time slowly working out all the tension there. The nord's eyes fluttered closed. The breton smiled fondly, convinced the man had fallen asleep until Farkas mumbled. "You're way too good at this." 

"That sounds like a complaint." 

"It is. I should be doing this to you." 

Bran hummed again and scootched back a little as he worked his way down to Farkas's lower back. "Nonsense. You are constantly relaxing me and giving me pleasure. It's my turn." 

"But I get the feeling the last few days were harder for you." Farkas continued to protest and shifted as if he were going to get up. 

"Stop." Bran could practically see all his muscles tensing back up. "We are not talking about that, and you are not going to fuss over me and ruin all my work. Now help me get these off." 

The breton slid his hands over Farkas's hips and around to pick at the ties of his trousers. The nord murmured. "Why? Is there something else you want?" 

"Always. But right now I plan on massaging every inch of you which I don't want to do through your clothes. Plus I love seeing your round bubbly arse and I want to touch it." 

Farkas chuckled and lifted his arse in the air enough that Bran could slide his trousers down. He peeled them off completely and flopped back onto the Nord's legs earning himself a grunt from Farkas. Bran laid his cheek on one of Farkas's arse cheeks while grabbing a handful of the other and shaking it.

 "That's better." He dug his fingers in small circles into the plump muscle. "You know I could play with your arse for once. Make you really relax." 

"Not a chance." Farkas hummed.

"Just a little?" Bran asked meekly. "I could have you reeling with just a finger." 

"You're not getting anywhere near my ass." Farkas asserted. 

"Not getting near?" Bran licked his left cheek and loudly slapped the right one. "Sweetheart. I can't possibly get any closer." 

"What happened to giving me a massage?" 

Bran sighed. "You're right. I got distracted by your beautiful arse and my dirty thoughts. Perhaps you should punish me for it?" 

"I thought you didn't like rough sex?" He propped himself on his elbows and looked back at Bran. 

The breton moaned and sucked hard on Farkas's arse cheek before answering. "Can you not punish me gently? I thought you were good at that." 

"You know how good I am." Farkas said defensively. Bran giggled. He loved getting the nord riled up. 

He lightly bit Farkas's cheek and then sulked as the man twisted around onto his back. That was until he was left face to face with his glorious cock. Farkas wasn't even hard and yet the size of him was formidable. Bran hummed as he wrapped a hand around the base of his dick and poked his tongue out to lightly graze the slit. Farkas swore and his cock bobbed in response.

"Do I?" Bran teased. "I suppose you'll have to remind me after I'm done massaging your cock." 

Farkas only grunted in response. He reached down and splayed his hand on the back of Bran's head as the breton pulled his cock into his mouth. He ran the tip up against his palate and lightly sucked on it. Bran watched as the nord’s eyes grew hot and hungry. The way Farkas responded to him was always intoxicating. The deep rumblings in his chest as he groaned. His light caresses and powerful thrusts. His lips greedily consuming him. Just the thought was making Bran hard. 

He descended further until his nose was buried into Farkas's curls. He could feel the man's cock swelling between his lips. Bran held himself there with his lover's dick down his throat until he was forced to come up for air. He gasped and wiped away the string of spit connecting the two. He worked the saliva up and down his shaft squeezing a little harder as the cock rose up to its full length. He moaned. "Fuck daddy. Your cock tastes so good." 

"So does your ass. Come here." Farkas growled. 

"Or what?" Bran mused. He giggled devilishly and slapped the dick against his tongue. He hummed loudly as he bobbed up and down and the vibrations and heat of his mouth made Farkas shiver. 

Farkas moaned softly, but his eyes glimmered with a small speck of annoyance at not being obeyed. He reached up and tugged lightly on his hair. Bran groaned. "Ahhh." 

He pulled away and quickly spun around, hoping Farkas was too busy pulling his trousers down to notice his reaction. His head was still a little sore from Vilkas's hold. Did that really only happen yesterday? He tried to shake the thought away, but then Farkas rolled the pants below Bran's rump, buried his face in Bran's arse, and sent the memory flying. Bran gasped as that talented tongue lapped and pressed against his core. 

"Oh fuck yes daddy." Bran whined as Farkas spread his cheeks and swirled his tongue around his entrance before poking at the center.

The breton pulled the cock back into his mouth and lightly stroked the shaft with his hand as he clamped his lips around the tip suckling the head. Farkas's pleasured groans only fueled his desire as he descended all the way, opening his throat so he could take all of it, his tongue licking at the vein. He kept his pace slow as he worked to draw out every possible sound Farkas could make. His hand glided down the pulsing member to gently tug on his sack. The nord dropped his head back and moaned low and long as he lightly thrust up into Bran's soft wanting lips. 

"I've missed this little hole of yours." Farkas growled. He spit on Bran's furl before sinking a finger inside and popping the second knuckle in and out of him. 

"By the gods." Bran cursed, sinking down onto his elbows as Farkas fingered him. "You want to sink your fat cock into my little hole, don't you daddy?" 

"Oh yeah." Farkas breathed through his teeth. He carefully added a second finger and gently splayed them as he worked the hole open. "I don't know if you deserve it. You're not being good." 

Bran whined and pressed his ass up into those long thick fingers. "Please daddy. Please fuck me." 

"You want this daddy dick?" Farkas's voice dripped with the same desire as the precum dribbling out his cock. He curled his fingers slightly and ran them up along that little packet of nerves. 

"Oh fuck!" Bran mewled with a tremble. "Yes daddy. Yes. Please!"

Bran knew it would work. Farkas could never resist the begging. The nord pulled his fingers free and slapped Bran's ass. "Show me." 

Farkas helped Bran crawl the rest of the way out of his trousers and then peeled off his tunic. As soon as the clothes were stripped from him, Bran slid forward till he was squatting over the nord's waist. He kept his back to him so Farkas could get the full view as he gripped his cock and slowly lowered himself onto it. Bran groaned as he pressed Farkas's head against his furl and it slowly opened up to him.

The pressure was instant as the girthy cock pushed against his walls. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the Nord's size. He could feel Farkas all the way to his sternum. He had had cocks longer, some thicker, but never one as endowed with both. I think Vilkas was bigger. Bran forcefully shoved the thought away. He would not think about that. Not now.

Farkas laid a hand on Bran's back, as he sat flush on Farkas's cock, drawing idle soothing patterns with the pads of his fingers. A silent reassuring gesture for him to let his core relax and to go at his own pace. 

Even in this Farkas was selfless, caring more for his partner's pleasure than his own. Vilkas was right about one thing. Bran didn't deserve Farkas. He wasn't sure any mortal could be worthy of the man, but that wasn't going to stop him from enjoying the goods Farkas was more than willing to give. 

Bran lifted himself only slightly, letting Farkas's length draw out just a little before sinking back in. A puff of air escaped him and he closed his eyes and savored the sensation. It was the heat that always got to him. Farkas's warm cock made warmer deep within him and then sliding out to pulse that heat along his rim. It felt so good. He heard Farkas suck his bottom lip into his mouth as he watched Bran ride him. 

The breton planned to drag out the sex as long as he could so he forced himself to go as slow as possible. It was a game between the two to see who could last longer. Who could hold themselves on the edge of ecstasy before the other pushed them off. Farkas usually won, but sometimes Bran could get him to spill first and that small chance kept him trying. 

"Oh gods yes." Bran groaned as Farkas rocked his hips up to meet with Bran's descent. He leaned forward a little more, clinging to Farkas's legs for support as he increased his rhythm. "Fuck daddy your cock feels so good." 

Farkas moaned deep and wanting. He gripped the bottom of Bran's arse gently guiding him down as he watched himself sink into that soft tight heat. The breton lightly drug his nails up along Farkas's inner thighs before reaching between to cup the man's balls, rolling them and tugging gently. Farkas let out a breath and squeezed the breton's ass a little tighter. "Oh Bran." 

Bran paused his rhythm for a moment as he could feel his own pleasure already building within him. He gripped his own cock and pressed a finger and thumb into his length just under his head. He took a single breath, forcing his orgasm back before returning his attention back to Farkas. He worked his thumb behind Farkas's sack and pressed into the skin there massaging the nerves there in light little strokes. 

"Ah fuck!" Farkas bucked with a growl and sat up pulling Bran's back against his chest, wrapping a powerful arm around him, forcibly pulling the Breton out of reach of his taint. Farkas held them still as he teetered on the edge of his own release. 

Bran whined softly. "I want you to see you come apart." 

Farkas's dry chapped lips pressed into Bran's spine. He ran his lips up to his neck, his hot rapid breaths warming Bran's skin before his teeth grazed the tendon along his neck. Farkas panted out a small laugh. "You first. Now turn around." 

Bran did as he was commanded and expertly twisted around with Farkas's cock still buried in his arse. As soon as he was within reach Farkas's lips were stealing his own, tongue invading his mouth, taking him possessively. Bran kissed him back just as desperately, not even caring at how sloppy it was. He wrapped his arms around the nord's neck holding him tight. Bran whined between the kisses. "Please daddy give it to me. Please." 

Farkas rolled. Bran yelped but the sound was lost as Farkas muffled it with his mouth. His thrusts were slow yet powerful as he let some of his weight push Bran into the mattress. The breton wrapped his legs around him urging him on while he clung to Farkas's back. His nails dug into the nord as his cock pressed up against Bran's own nub of nerves and slid back down only to rub it some more. 

Bran lamented his pleasure to the heavens. "Oh fuck yes! Just like that. Fuck me just like that. Ooooohhhh fuck me daddy I'm coming!" 

Bran gave in to his pleasure. He wormed a hand down his stomach to stroke himself as the bliss coiled tightly in his gut. He barely got two strokes in before the coil burst and a full bodied trembling orgasm coursed through him. He quivered as he came and his furl tightened around Farkas's cock pulsing in time with his pounding heart. He shot his seed across his chest and even managed to paint his chin. 

Farkas drank in the sight like a man dying of thirst. He groaned as Bran clenched around him and cried out his pleasure for all to hear. The feel of Bran's heat pulsing around him and the sight of his pleasure was the key to unlocking Farkas's own release. His thrusts grew more frantic as he once again reached the edge of ecstasy. 

"Give it to me daddy. I want to taste it. Let me taste it, please." Bran cooed. 

"Ah fuck!" Farkas barked. He pulled his cock free from Bran's hole who whined a little at the loss of heat and pressure only to be fueled by excitement as Farkas crawled over him while vigorously stroking himself. Bran opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out staring up at the nord as sultry as he could. 

Farkas clutched the top of the headboard as his orgasm struck him. His whole body tensed as he shot strings of cum all over Bran's cheek, chin, and mouth. The breton groaned leaning forward to suck up the last bits of seed dribbling out. He moaned loud and filthy as he stroked and sucked Farkas's cock. The nord shivered.

Bran slowly pulled the dick from his mouth and ran it along his face spreading the seed around before sucking on it some more. Farkas watched him transfixed. Bran hummed. "You taste like me." 

"You're such a filthy boy." Farkas growled low and quiet. He ran his fingers through Bran's hair yet his quicksilver gaze was still firmly planted on Bran's lips and his cock delving between them. 

With another shiver Farkas pulled himself out of reach of those plump red lips. Bran gave his lover a wicked grin and giggled. "You like it when I'm filthy." 

"I like it when you're like this." Farkas whispered. 

"Like what? Hot, sweaty, relaxed and blissfully satisfied?" 

"Mhmm." Farkas nodded as his legs slid down the inside of Bran's and he lowered himself onto his elbows. He pinched Bran's chin, his eyes scanning and memorizing his every feature before kissing him deeply. 

Bran moaned into the kiss and returned it lazily. Their tongues just barely skimmed across each other as their lips played. Eventually Farkas's lips broke away to kiss along his jaw and slowly started lapping up the mess he made on Bran's face. He slowly worked his way down to clean up the breton's seed as well. Bran closed his eyes and hummed softly as he relaxed into the gentle closeness. 

He expected Farkas to stop once he had finished licking up their mess, but he didn't. He continued peppering Bran's chest and stomach with light kisses as his warm hands explored every inch of him. They didn't fuck again that night even though Bran thoroughly wanted to. Farkas would suck him off whenever he grew hard, but he mainly focused on consuming every part of him with his lips. Caressing every exposed piece of him that could be reached. Bran's body felt alive. His mind felt spent. It was too much; It wasn't enough. His skin tingled as Farkas worshiped his body with lips and teeth. He felt like he was falling into a trans as every muscle in his body fell limp and relaxed. Bran let himself be swept away in the gentle sensations till all of his fears and memories were drowned beneath the pleasure. 

Chapter Text

It felt like Wuuthrad was buried in Vilkas's skull. His teeth and temples wouldn't stop aching and with every pulse of pain Ysgrammor’s mighty axe dug a little deeper. He snarled and shoved the pain into the same cage where his wolf paced, not that he could fully ignore the headache or the damn beast that was causing it. 

Njada thrust her sword toward Vilkas's armpit. The sword flashed as it caught the sun's rays and sent them piercing into the wolf's eyes. He grimaced and swept low relying on his training and instincts. Her sword sailed harmlessly over him as he hooked his axe around her calf and pulled hard. With a shout Njada fell, her back slamming hard into the packed earth of the yard. 

"Damn it!" She puffed. "I was sure I had you this time." 

"That's what you said last time." Vilkas puffed out past his panting. He went over to help the whelp up. Njada was breathing just as heavily and the vein running up her neck thrummed with her thumping heart. Vilkas wanted to sink his teeth into it. To tear it open. To taste the salty iron blood across his tongue. To see and feel the life ebb out of her. 

He quickly yanked the woman back to her feet and released her wrist. Each step away from her was a challenge. He couldn't ignore his wolf around the whelps. The Circle smelled like werewolves. They were his brethren. His pack. The whelps smelled like prey. It was hard for him to focus on fighting when all he wanted was to turn. The yearning to shift was more powerful than any drug. It lingered over his shoulder. Whispering. Taunting. Caressing. Tempting. So, so tempting.

Vilkas sparred all morning, till his arms felt like jelly and he could barely stand. It was all in an attempt to wear down his wolf. As he hauled himself over to the racks to return his equipment he knew it didn't work. The thoughts lingered. The wolf continued salivating poison. With a sigh he walked right past Twiggy and his twin, not trusting himself to give them a passing glance as he made his way inside to wash up. 

After dawning a pair of dark brown trousers and a plain white tunic, Vilkas sat at a small table in the corner of the hall picking at his slices of ham. He was lost in his thoughts when Aela's flawless face suddenly took up most of his vision. Her long reddish brown locks tumbled down to his lap as her striking ice white eyes captured his own. Her musk pooled over him, the delicate scent of pine and mountain flowers was almost overwhelmed with the smell of her concern. It made Vilkas flinch. She asked softly. "What's wrong with you?" 

"Why do you think there's something wrong with me?" He tried to sound normal, but he wasn't certain he remembered what that sounded like. 

"Well for one, I've been calling to you for the last five minutes while you've been glowering at your food. For another, Skjor and I have started up a game of cards and you didn't even give us a second glance. Are you I'll brother?" 

"I'm just tired." Vilkas muttered. They were the most honest words he had spoken in weeks. He WAS tired. Tired of everyone worrying about him. Tired of seeing Twiggy on his brother's arm. Tired of using his hand because Farkas didn't want him anymore. Tired of his wolf influencing him. Tired of having to battle it every damn moment he was awake. Tired of faking he was alright when he wasn't! 

The truth lingered on his tongue so tantalizingly close to escape that he took a breath so it could all spill forth at once. Aela waited patiently as if she sensed he wanted to say more. No doubt she smelled the emotions flicking into his musk. Frustration, jealousy, hurt…….fear. 

Aela slid an arm over his shoulders and leaned on him a bit. The weight was comforting, like a heavy blanket. Her voice was soft as she encouraged him."Care to add to that?" 

Vilkas let the breath out and worried the truth into his bottom lip where he picked it apart and swallowed it. "No." 

"Fine, but I insist you join us for at least one round." She chuckled and tugged on him. "You've been brooding too much, and I need your help taking all of Skjor’s gold."

Vilkas didn't have it in him to laugh, but he did break a smile. He let himself be pulled from his seat to take his usual spot on the corner to Skjor’s left. The veteran warrior shuffled the cards and said as he dealt them out. "Bout time you got your ass over here. What's wrong wolf? Lost too many septims? Thinking about giving in?" 

"Never." Vilkas took his cards and though he continued his usual banter with the duo, his heart wasn't in it. He was too distracted with the wolf gnawing on his brain. He barely noticed as one by one the rest of the Companions joined in. Not even the escalating laughing and teasing could pull him out of his inner strife. He replied when spoken too, but mostly he tried to act normal, feel normal, while shoving away the temptation to turn. Is it too much to ask to have just a single day of peace? A single afternoon? He wanted to scream. 

It was the smell of leather and soil that finally pulled his attention away from his wolf. He looked up right as Farkas and Twiggy approached the table. His twin looked so much larger from Vilkas's vantage point. His broad shoulders drawing a line to his shadowed jaw which was almost a perfect ninety degree angle thanks to the way the firelight licked his face. He was wearing his war paint making his eyes look even more deep set and starkly silver. Despite his unadorned green tunic and tan trousers he looked regal. Powerful. His brother eyed him with a frown. A tension sat in Farkas's shoulders as he pointedly stared at him while settling his arm over Twiggy's shoulders. 

Despite the animosity, a wave of desire rushed through Vilkas and settled in his groin. He felt himself starting to swell. Damn it. I dont need anything else to fight off! Vilkas's fingers clamped onto his cards. Of course the only spot left at the table was beside him. The twins almost always sat together. The other companions were probably just being considerate, leaving the chair on the corner to Vilkas's left open for Farkas, but it was the last thing he wanted. Farkas's anger only caused his own to grow. As Twiggy happily took the seat next to Farkas, Vilkas's jealousy steamed up like a kettle over the fire. 

Farkas scootched his chair in, bumping his knee into Vilkas's. The wolf growled. "Watch it, ice brains." 

Farkas glared back before shaking his head and pointedly ignored Vilkas. The wolf thought about asking to switch places but knew that would just make things awkward for everyone else. So he kept his gaze on his cards and finished the hand in silence. 

They started a new round with Ria and Torvar folding right from the start. When they got to Twiggy he grinned and increased the bet. In the next round he purred. "If the rest of you are smart, you would fold." 

"You're bluffing." Skjor accused. 

Twiggy just continued grinning and slid his stack of coins into the center of the table. Aela set her cards down. "He's not bluffing. I'm done."

"Where's your daring spirit?" Athis asked Aela. 

"Gone with most of my septims." She replied. 

Vilkas glanced at Skjor and gave a slight nod. The grizzled man returned a smirk. The wolf added his coin to the pot. "Skjor’s right. He's bluffing." 

Farkas sighed and folded his cards. "I hate this game." 

"That's just cause everyone can read you like a book." Skjor teased as he added his winnings to the bet. 

Farkas sulked and Bran rested his head on the man's shoulder and mused. "Don't worry sweetheart. I love turning your pages." 

"Do you have to turn everything sexual?" Vilkas growled.

"Of course not, but it's exceedingly fun too." 

"Dirty fucking whore." Vilkas muttered under his breath though he made sure it was loud enough for all to hear. Farkas glared at him. Vilkas sneered right back daring his brother to challenge it. Farkas worked his jaw but didn't say anything. You can't. You know I'm right.

Bran just rolled his eyes while the rest of the Companions ignored the tension between the brothers. Skjor revealed his hand first and Vilkas cursed. He laid his cards on the table. The wolf had straight eagles but Skjor had a full house. They both looked up at Twiggy. 

"I win." The breton said smugly as he sprawled his cards down for all to see. He had a straight flush.  

"Well I be damned." Skjor said, sounding somewhat impressed. 

"I told you." Aela grinned. "I can always spot a bluff." 

"You probably cheated." Vilkas spat. 

Twiggy scoffed. "That's uncalled for. I've never cheated." 

"I know for a fact that you have." Vilkas retorted. 

Twiggy started and glared at Vilkas with sheer disgust, but he was smart enough not to refute it. Because he ALSO knew the wolf was right. Instead the Breton hissed. "Why are you always such an arse to me? I've done nothing to you." 

"You've done plenty." Vilkas growled as his wolf bled into his anger.

Aela miffed. "Relax wolf. It's just a game." 

Farkas breathed through his clenched teeth. "Apologize." 

"What?" Vilkas asked. It was rare for his brother to stand up to him. It caught him off guard. 

Farkas balled a hand into a fist while his eyes grew as dark as a thunder cloud. He growled low and quiet yet the power behind his words sent them reverberating through the hall. "I'm tired of you being a dick to Bran. Apologize." 

"No." 

"Farkas, it's okay." Bran piped in meekly. 

Farkas's eyes burned lightning, never once breaking from his twin's. He slammed his fist on the table hard enough to cause his scant septims to hop. "No it's not." 

Skjor snagged Vilkas by the back of the collar like he was trying to hold back a lunging dog. The grizzled warrior leaned forward as if to place himself between the brothers. "Hey now. I don't need all my gold getting mixed up. If you two have a problem you want to sort out, then take it away from the table." 

"Well, BROTHER." Vilkas spat the word out like a curse. "Do you have a problem?" 

Farkas lunged across the corner of the table, flipping it with his hip, and sending dishes, food, septims, and cards flying. He snagged Vilkas by the front of his shirt. The wolf ripped the hand off himself as he stood and shoved his brother back.

Skjor let him go and slid his chair away from the twins. He shouted. "For the love of Mara! What did I just fucking say?" 

The twins ignored him. Farkas leapt forward again in an attempt to tackle Vilkas. The wolf tried to skip to the side but tripped on his chair and fell to the floor. Farkas was on him in an instant. He punched him, but Vilkas blocked it with his arm and kneed him in the stomach. His brother only grunted and punched him again. Vilkas roared and wiggled enough that he could shove Farkas's hip with his knee and roll him. He punched Farkas in the ribs and growled. "He's just using you. Get that through your thick skull." 

"No he's not." Farkas hissed back as he punched Vilkas in the shoulder and pulled him into a headlock. Vilkas twisted and pulled while punching Farkas in the side. His brother grabbed his forearm and pulled, causing Vilkas to fall flush against him.

"He's not good enough for you." Vilkas snarled as he pushed against his brother and somehow ended up back on his back still trapped in the headlock.

Farkas's words rumbled through his spine and his free fist pummeled the wolf's kidney. "You're just being a jealous asshole!" 

Vilkas kept punching his twin's arm before trying to squeeze out of the hold. "You are so blind! Why do you defend the little shit!" 

"Because I love him!" Farkas shouted.

"What!" Vilkas shrieked. He already knew how Farkas felt, but hearing his twin admit it sent a dagger straight to his heart. "You're a fucking idiot!" 

The wolf elbowed his brother in the gut and finally managed to slip out of the headlock. He whirled around face red and fuming as he punched Farkas solidly in the mouth. "He doesn't feel the same." 

His twin shoved him off and scurried to his feet. Vilkas snatched his shirt, but was just pulled up with his brother. Farkas yelled. "You don't know that!" 

He knocked the wolf's hands off him and shoved him as he wiped blood off his busted lip. Farkas huffed angrily but took a step back, already done with their spat. Vilkas wasn't. His wolf wanted more blood. It oozed into his emotions and for once he didn't fight it because Vilkas also wanted blood. He hit Farkas in the ribs and when his brother tried to block the blow his other fist dug straight into his cheek. The wolf's lips curled up into a snarl while a little voice tempted him to shift. You'll be stronger if you turn. We'll tear him to pieces! You want to. I want to!  

He yelled back. "Well he certainly didn't give a rat's ass about you when I fucked him!" 

The entire expanse of Jorrvaskr went silent. The shock engulfed the mead hall like a suffocating miasma. Not even the fire crackled or spat. Farkas's face contorted as the five stages of grief crossed over it and as acceptance settled in, revenge came out. 

"Aaaaaaaaahhhh!" Farkas roared. He tackled the wolf to the ground; For the first time in Vilkas's life he felt the full force of Farkas's fist as it flew into his face. 

Punch.

Pain exploded across his left cheek.

Punch.

He tasted blood.

Punch.

He saw stars. 

Punch.

There was an audible snap in his nose. 

PUNCH!

His vision went black. 

Vilkas came to just moments later. The room shifted as he moved making him nauseous while his entire face pulsed. He could feel his cheek swelling already. Blood poured out of his nose. Athis and Ria helped him off the floor while Aela, Skjor, Torvar, and Njada were all struggling to hold back his twin. 

Farkas's face and neck burned red as he seethed. His pupils were mere dots surrounded by hot silver brimming with fury while a bitter malice pooled out of his musk. Vilkas had never seen his brother in such a rage. It was terrifying. 

"Let go!" His twin thundered. He got his arm free from Skjor’s hold and elbowed the grizzled warrior back. Farkas surged forward dragging the other three Companions with him. "You selfish, heartless, BASTARD! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" 

Skjor grabbed Farkas in a chokehold and shouted. "That is enough!" 

Farkas ignored him. Vilkas pushed Ria behind himself. He was in no shape to fight that was for damn certain, but he wasn't about to back down. 

A booming voice echoed through the hall. "What the fuck is going on?" 

Everyone turned to the source, stunned to hear Kodlak curse. Vilkas had never heard such language from the Harbinger before. Not once. It made the entire hall feel wrong like everything and everyone was coming undone. 

Kodlak scanned every inch of Vilkas, then Farkas. The Harbinger’s lips pressed into a thin line as he crossed his arms. The wolf had seen Kodlak angry and disappointed with the twins before. He had seen him surprised and worried, but never had he looked at the two of them with sheer disgust. He stared at them as if they were the most revolting things he had ever laid eyes on, and the wolf couldn't take it. 

Vilkas shoved Athis aside and quickly stumbled his way out to the yard. Everything kept moving in disorienting ways while lights still flashed in his vision. He was incredibly light headed which only made his retreat more difficult. 

Farkas screamed at him. "Don't run away! Face me coward!"  

Even after the wolf made it outside, he could still hear his brother's wrath. Vilkas ventured further into the yard to get away from Farkas's voice. He sat where the underforge met with the city walls. He gently held the back of his hand up to his broken nose. He sniffed and pain stabbed upward and shot straight between his eyes. 

He grimaced. "Fuck you Farkas. Fuck you!" 

He pulled his shirt off gingerly holding it to his face and leaned his head back against the stone. He huffed as he tried to calm himself. You want that little whore then fine. See if I care when he leaves you. Have fun being alone!

Vilkas sat there brooding until he heard a pair of boots heading toward him. He opened his eyes or at least tried to. His left cheek was so swollen that his eye was nothing more than a slit with lashes. Skjor stood before him with his hands on his hips. The old warrior sighed. "Well that was a hell of a show." 

"Fuck off." Vilkas muttered. 

"Nah, I think you've fucked enough for all of us." Skjor lowered himself onto his haunches and pulled Vilkas's shirt away to get a better look at him. "Damn, he really did a number on you didn't he? You're nose is broken." 

"No shit!" 

"I'm glad. What the fuck were you thinking wolf? Farkas is clearly head over heels for the whelp, why interfere?" 

"It's none of your business. Fuck off." Vilkas growled. He squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. The pulsing pain only made his headache worse. The sound of his own voice was painful. Everything involving his face was fucking painful!

Skjor replied flatly. "If you didn't want anyone digging through your dirty laundry then you shouldn't have aired it in the middle of the fucking hall." 

"That little shit doesn't deserve him." 

"That's for Farkas to decide." 

Vilkas snapped. "I'm not just going to sit here and watch that twig use my brother and then break his heart!"

"Look." Skjor said as he settled himself on the ground next to him. "I get why you tend to make decisions for him. Gods know how many times Farkas was taken advantage of as a whelp. But this isn't something you can choose for him, wolf. If you want to help your brother then stay out of the fucking way and what happens, happens. And when the little shit does leave, you two can hash it out in the yard while you tell him I told you so." 

"Then you agree with me." Vilkas mumbled as he returned the shirt to his face. Thankfully his nose was bleeding less but that didn't mean much when the rest of his face was just as bruised and bloody. The inside of his cheek had been sliced open by a tooth and the taste of blood wouldn't go away. Thankfully his wolf was gone. It had slinked away after Vilkas had his ass handed to him. It seemed Farkas had more than one method for getting the beast to leave. 

"Yeah. I do." Skjor ran a hand over his scalp. "Give him five, maybe ten years, Bran could make a good Companion. But as things stand now he's too busy following the wrong head. He's only stayed this long BECAUSE of Farkas. But you will always be here and your brother will always be your brother. Are you really going to let a toy destroy your relationship?" 

Skjor waited for a response, but when Vilkas didn't give him one the old warrior sighed and hefted himself to his feet. "Fine, wolf. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself. But atleast get a healer from the temple to look you over. It's obvious Farkas broke more than just your nose." 

"He's already ruined our relationship." Vilkas grumbled to himself once Skjor had disappeared back inside Jorrvaskr. Farkas doesn't want me anymore. He made his choice and it wasn't me. That realization hurt worse than any punch Farkas could throw. It left a seed of resentment deep in his gut. Enmity sprouted from that seed; its roots feeding off of Vilkas's bitter jealousy. It grew inside him until it unfolded its angry leaves and hateful flowers. It was an ugly thing, twisted and thorny and it wrapped around the wolf till those flowers filled with a poisonous nectar that fed him lies. Farkas......hates me.

Chapter Text

What. Just. Happened? Bran stood in the middle of the mead hall in shock.

The other companions seemed just as stricken. Everyone was silent as they started cleaning up the bits of food and dishes that had been flung aside during the twin's fight. Farkas kept glaring at the backdoor while his chest rose and fell in loud angry gulps. He clenched and unclenched his bruised fists. Kodlak whispered something to Farkas, but the nord didn't react to the Harbinger at all. 

Instead he turned those seething eyes onto Bran. He felt like a rabbit that had just been snatched up by the ears to wiggle about helplessly at the mercy of a raging predator. Farkas's words, though quiet, boiled forth from his quivering lips. "You slept with Vilkas?" 

"I…….uhm." Bran struggled to get any more words out. He shrank further into himself and mumbled. "I'm sorry." 

Farkas just closed his eyes and took a single loud breath before turning his back on Bran. He watched the nord disappear down the stairs until Kodlak thrust a finger at him and said sternly. "You. Come with me. Now." 

The Harbinger didn't wait to see if he would be obeyed. He spun on his heel and stalked back toward Jorrvaskr's belly. Bran glanced at the other Companions as he hastily followed. Aela was glaring at him with so much menace that he worried he was going to be the next one to get his face punched in. The rest of the Companions were decisively ignoring him. 

Bran blankly stared at Kodlak’s back as the Harbinger marched down the hall. There was a loud 'BAM' ahead of them as Farkas slammed his door shut. Well I do believe I ruined things in record time. He already knew what was going to happen. The Harbinger would tell him he was no longer welcome and Farkas's reaction clearly shared the same sentiment. I should have known I would fuck this up as well. At least I haven't gotten them killed. I suppose I should count that as a blessing.

As soon as he reached the Harbinger’s study Kodlak ordered. "Sit." 

Bran sat. He felt like a child again after his father caught him at the whore house. Kodlak took his usual spot at the little table by his bedroom. He sucked on his teeth and though his voice was as calm as ever there was the obvious tone of anger mixed within. "Is this a game to you? Do you enjoy pitting the twins against each other?" 

 "Of course not. I thought that if I……." His words dried up as he realized he was going to sound like a bloody twat. I had thought Vilkas was jealous. Even Farkas had told me that. So I gave the dickhead what he wanted in hope that it would ease the hostility. But it clearly didn't. I'm a fucking idiot.

Kodlak waited expectantly. "You thought?" 

"It doesn't matter." Bran mumbled. "I was wrong." 

The Harbinger tented his fingertips on the table. "Let me make this clear. The twins are like sons to me. I have known them practically all their lives. I've seen them scrap and fight since they were pups. But I have NEVER seen them at each other's throats like that. And I will do everything in my power to ensure I never see it again. Is that understood?" 

"Yes sir." Bran breathed. 

"Good." Kodlak nodded. "Now I suggest you leave Vilkas be, until he's had a chance to cool off. And then think of a way to apologize to Farkas before you knock on his door." 

"You're not kicking me out?" 

"Even if I wanted to, that's not within my power." 

"Why wouldn't you want to?" Bran struggled to hold himself together. If the Harbinger had chosen to yell at him he would have been able to handle it, but for him to show compassion, even now, it left him in turmoil. 

Kodlak sensed it and further dug his way under Bran's guard……by chuckling. "If we kicked out every whelp who's ever done something dishonorable these halls would be empty. You are young yet Bran, and you are lost. You need to decide what it is that you want, and what kind of man you want to be." 

This had to be a trick of some sort. Bran couldn't understand why Kodlak would simply let him go with just a scolding. There was no punishment? No threat? No ultimatum? It went against all comprehension. Bran snapped. He couldn't help himself. "Don't presume to know me, old man." 

Yet despite his hostility Kodlak's anger sank further beneath the surface, locked away like water beneath the icy calm of a glacier. "I know you ran away from home, and you've been running from your problems ever since. Don't run away from this. It will hurt more than just you." 

"You don't know me. Stop acting like you care!" Bran shouted as he stood. He chewed on his cheek trying hard to keep himself from crying. 

The more he yelled the softer Kodlak’s expression became. The Harbinger wasn't  angry anymore. If anything he seemed hurt. "Of course I care." 

Bran wasn't willing to listen. He marched straight out of the study, slamming the door shut on his way out. This is a trick of some sort . I don't deserve to be here anymore. It was difficult finding the whelp's room let alone his chest when everything kept blurring. He wiped at his face. He would cry later. He ripped through his scant possessions till he found his travel sack on the bottom and carelessly stuffed everything into it. He muttered to himself oblivious to the four pairs of eyes watching him. 

"One twin isn't good enough? You need them both?" Ria's tone was soft as always but Bran couldn't tell if it was badgering or venomous. 

"Piss off." Bran barked without a hint of strain. How he managed that he hadn't a clue. 

"So the old man asked you to leave did he?" Athis asked. "That's a shame." 

He didn't ask me to leave. But he should have. It's what I deserve. Bran finished stuffing his sack and slung it on his shoulder. 

"It's gonna be boring without you around." Tovar added. The drunk clapped Bran on the back. "Take care of yourself." 

Bran whirled around and shoved him. "Don't touch me!" 

He was done with it. Done with people touching him when he didn't want them to. Done with people pretending to care. Done with trying to find a place to be happy when he would undoubtedly just fuck it up again.

Bran's feet led him out of Jorrvaskr and down the steps to the Gildergreen. He glanced up at the ancient tree and its bare lifeless branches. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and kept walking. I'm not running. I'm just facing reality. If I'm not here, the twins won't have a reason to fight, and I won't be able to make it worse.

He stalked all the way down to the stable and started saddling Sorlif Crowchaser. She was a gentle mare and though he hadn't a clue where he was going he knew he could rely on her to take him there. Bran sniffed and had to pause as the tears brimming in his eyes was making it hard to see the bloody buckle he was trying to shove the strap through. 

He wiped his eyes with an arm again and continued on. He finished saddling her and double checked that the straps weren't too loose or tight. She wasn't his horse. Sorlif belonged to the Companions, but no one batted an eye as he led her out of the stall.

I guess I'll just add horse stealing to my list of faults. Thinking about being a Companion was a joke. I'm not strong, or honorable, or capable like the rest of them. I'm just a fuck up who keeps ruining everything. Vilkas is right. I'm not good enough for Farkas. 

"We're are you going?" 

Bran jumped. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't seen Farkas standing right infront of him till the man spoke. Farkas looked like shit. There was a sizable knot on this left temple and the white of his right eye was bloody. His gaze was pleading and distressed. His busted bottom lip made it look like he was pouting. There was heartache in his voice as he asked again. "Where are you going?" 

"Why did you follow me?" Bran tried to scoff but his voice broke. "You being here is just going to make this harder." 

"Why?" 

"Because goodbyes are the bloody worst!" Bran wheezed past the stone in his throat. 

"Goodbye?" Farkas looked over Sorlif and back to Bran before stepping closer to the Breton. "Traveling through Skyrim without supplies is a death sentence. When are you coming back?" 

"Don't be daft! I'm not coming back." 

Farkas looked like he had been stabbed. His deep voice was barely a whisper. "Stay. Please." 

The pain in the nords voice broke Bran. His barely contained tears rushed out and he had to force his voice past the sobs. "How can you possibly stand here and BEG me to stay after everything I've done? Look at what happened in there. Look at you! You and Vilkas tried to kill each other because of me." 

"I said that in anger. I would never kill Vilkas." 

"Don't act like you aren't still angry at him. At me!" 

"Yes I'm angry with you, but that doesnt mean I want you to leave." 

There is was again. Bran couldn't fathom it. Why would the Companions want him to stay? Where was the benefit for them? He wanted to ask, but it was like his mouth forgot how to form words. He just stared at the ground wishing Farkas wasn't in the way while he gritted his teeth and tried to compose himself.

Farkas squeezed Bran's shoulder and gently lifted his chin forcing Bran to look him in the eye. Farkas's silver gaze was searching and determined. "You fucked him just to make him happy. THAT is why I'm angry. You are not a toy. You are not a thing to be used. Don't ever give yourself away unless it's what YOU want. Not to anyone; not even me. Promise me that." 

That made it impossible for him to stop crying. Farkas's words dug straight into his chest and he didn't know how to handle it. It stirred up all of the memories he kept trying to run from; for as much as he hated to admit it, Kodlak and Farkas were right. He did keep objectifying himself and he did keep running from his problems and fears. But those very flaws had become his identity. How could he just stop? 

Farkas gently used his thumb to wipe away the Breton's tears, and then guided Bran into his embrace. The reins slipped from his hand as he wrapped his arms around Farkas's immense back and snuggled into his warm chest as he mumbled. "I'm sorry." 

He felt the nords lips curl into a smile as they pressed into the top of his head. Farkas held him gently as he whispered. "It's alright Szerető." 

"No it's not." Bran felt as pathetic as he sounded.

"It is. As long as you're willing to stay." 

"I don't deserve you." 

Farkas squeezed Bran a little tighter before pulling back. "Why don't we finish this somewhere private?" 

The whelp glanced around taking in the stablehands, travelers, and townsfolk going about their business along the stable and main road. Several people were curiously watching them as they passed. Bran laughed and wiped at his eyes with his palms. "Right. I have to go all the way back up to the bloody Wind District looking like this. What was I thinking?" 

Farkas left Sorlif to the stablehands and started guiding Bran back up to the city gate. His hand resting against the breton's back was a surprising comfort. The nord chuckled. "Don't worry. If anyone says anything I'll be happy to punch their face in too." 

Bran smirked but it withered away as Farkas's hand fell from his back. He took his lover's hand and squeezed it wanting to hold on to the security Farkas was offering. As they weaved back through the city Bran started to think that maybe everything would be okay. Until he remembered that there was another twin he had to face. Dread started to pool in his stomach. "What do we do about Vilkas?" 

"Nothing." 

"Nothing?" 

"I can't forgive him right now." Farkas actually sneered. Coupled with the anger lingering in his eyes made him look very much like his twin. "My brother doesn't want to talk so he will get to listen to my fists. He can't just use you as a tool to hurt me, and then think he can get away with it." 

Several questions nagged at Bran, but he held them until they made it back to Farkas's room. He felt incredibly awkward walking back into Jorrvaskr but thankfully the mead hall was empty save Brill. It seemed everyone had turned in early for the evening. They quietly followed suit, still holding hands, as they descended down into the mead hall's heart and into Farkas's room. 

Bran always found the space a little odd though fitting for the nord. The old storage room turned bedroom had a full sized table crammed into one corner and a counter that Farkas had turned into a small bar. He was a bit of a connoisseur, having several different brands of both mead and ale lined up on the shelves with a miniature cask resting on the bar. He even had some decent brandy until Bran had gotten a hold of it. 

Once inside, Bran sat on top of Farkas's little bar and swung his legs with nervous energy. "You're made it sound like you wouldn't have cared if I slept with Vilkas under different circumstances. You realize that right?" 

Farkas eased himself onto his bed with a sigh that turned into a groan. "I don't care who you fuck. As long as it's what you want." 

"How can you be okay with that and then say the things you said up there?" Bran scoffed. Farkas cocked his head and played with his busted lip with his tongue. Bran busied himself by picking at his fingernails. He didn't want to say it. The word felt like a curse. "How can you be okay with me having sex with someone else and also claim to love me?"  

"Because I don't love you for the sex." Farkas sighed and the look that he gave was akin to frustration as if Bran were intentionally being dense. "You have wants that I can never satisfy. I don't like women, and I will never bottom for you. It would be selfish of me to expect you to give that all up." 

Farkas is far too kind and selfless for me. Bran almost pointed out that Vilkas was neither a woman nor a bottom but decided it best to just accept what the man was saying. Farkas closed his eyes and took another quiet methodic breath. Bran recognized the look.

"Fuck me. Speaking of selfish. I'm being a selfish twat. You're hurting." Bran slid off the bar to stand before Farkas as he checked him over. He urged the nord to lift his arms so he could help him out of his tunic. "Let me see." 

"I've had worse." 

"That doesn't mean you have to endure it. This is my fault. The least I can do is heal you." 

Farkas let him pull off his tunic and Bran winced at the sight. He had bruises everywhere though most tended to congregate along his left side and arm. His ribs there were already a deep purple. Bran reached out, his hand starting to glow with his healing magic. Farkas grabbed his wrist, pulling the hand to his face where he gently kissed the knuckles while gazing up at Bran through his thick lashes. "You're not the one who was throwing punches." 

"That doesn't mean I didn't start it." Bran asserted stubbornly. 

"I started that fight and I'll gladly start it again. Vilkas will learn a little respect." His voice rumbled angrily in his chest.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but you don't need to fight my battles." Bran twisted his fingers and healed the busted lip cupping them. Farkas pressed his lips together and jerked back a little to escape the tingling of the magic. 

"Vilkas crossed a line." Farkas sucked his lip back into his teeth to feel the soft healed flesh with his tongue. "I'll make sure he doesn't cross it again." 

"And what line is that?" Bran hummed as he moved up to the knot on Farkas's temple. Bruises and welts were easy enough to heal. It was the first thing his tutor taught him, yet as the swelling in the temple eased, Bran was already starting to feel tired. This is what I get for being spiteful. I should have paid attention. He knew he was using more magic than needed, but he couldn't get the spell to work without it. 

"You are not a tool and you shouldn't let others use you like you are." Farkas sat stiffly yet let himself be fussed over. He said firmly. "And you shouldn't treat yourself like you are." 

"I would never." Bran dismissed the concern. That was one part of the conversation he didn't want to bring up again. He lifted Farkas's elbow giving himself easier access to the bruises along the man's torso. "I'm surprised your ribs aren't broken." 

"Don't change the subject." 

"What subject? I've been focussed on you this whole time." 

"Bran." 

"I can't heal injuries I can't see. I'm sorry." The breton lightly placed his hand over Farkas's ribs.

"Bran." 

"But with these nasty bruises gone hopefully it will feel a little better." 

"Stop." Farkas gripped the breton's hips pulling him between his knees. Bran finally gave in letting his magic wither away as he looked down at those concerned puppy eyes. "Bran, promise me you won't sleep with anyone unless it's what you want." 

"This again?" Bran tried to sound exasperated but his voice cracked. He took a second to collect himself and tried again. "How are you so certain that I didn't want to sleep with him?" 

"Did you?" 

"Well I……" The lie shriveled up on his tongue. Even sitting, the man was barely shorter than Bran. The crown of Farkas's head reached his neck as he waited expectantly. Those beautiful silver eyes digging into his soul were impossible to lie to. Bran ran his fingers through his hair before answering with a sigh. "I don't know." 

"If you don't know then the answer is no. Promise me. Please." Farkas's voice was soft but no less resonating. He ran his fingers up Bran's sides. The caresses  were gentle and nurturing, touches that were meant to ease Bran's stress while trying to pull out the promise. When no answer was given those warm powerful hands returned to rest on his hips as Farkas asked. "Why is this so hard for you?" 

"Dibella's tits. Don't ask me that. I'm going to start crying again." Bran backed away trying to escape. He expected Farkas to hold him tighter. To force him to talk about the things he couldn't. He should have known better. Farkas let him go. The moment he was free Bran found himself pacing. He thought about leaving again. He was tempted to, his feet pulled him toward the door more than once only to pace past it and around again. 

"You can cry in front of me. I won't think less of you." 

"I don't want to think about it!" Bran paused long enough to snap at the nord. Farkas didn't react to the anger. He sat much the same way Kodlak had, calm and sad. Maybe even a little worried.

"Okay. What do you want?" His voice was little more than a whisper.

Bran almost didn't hear it passed his thundering storm of emotions. Bran's answer was a line he had told himself for so long that his lips formed it without thought. "What I want doesn't matter." 

"It matters to me. YOU matter to me." 

Bran scrunched his eyes shut and crossed his arms. His emotions were once again thoroughly stirred. His tears would not be denied freedom. He stopped dead in his tracks as a wave of hurt washed through him. These damn rough and tumble fearless nords are breaking me with kindness! How in oblivion did this happen? You're supposed to be mad at me. It's what I deserve! His voice warbled. "If you were smart you would push me away. Bad things happen to people who love me. I might as well be cursed." 

"I'm not afraid of curses and I've never been smart." 

Bran laughed and scrubbed at his eyes. "Damn it all, don't get me upset and then make me laugh. I'm flustered enough." 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Fine. You want to know what I want? I want you to pepper me with kisses and tell me it's going to be okay while I curl into a little ball feeling sorry for myself." 

"Then why are you standing over there?" 

"Because you're mad at me." 

"The only thing I'm mad at is you trying to punish yourself. Come here." 

Bran hesitated. It didn't feel right, like he was being given a reward he hadn't won. I am punishing myself aren't I? The truth of Farkas's words were biting and he struggled to accept it. Farkas lifted his covers beckoning the breton. He approached cautiously, stalking forward like a lynx expecting a trap. When he reached the bed he paused to give Farkas another searching glance. The nord lifted the covers a little more but Bran still felt unworthy. Instead he just sat feeling uncomfortable with himself. 

Farkas wrapped an arm around Bran and kissed his shoulder leaning forward, guiding him to lie on the bed. When his back was flush against the sheets, Farkas pulled his legs onto his lap and started unlacing his boots. "Tell me about these old lovers of yours." 

"I've had dozens of lovers. You want to know about them all?" 

"Just the ones who mattered to you. You said you're cursed? What happened to them?" Farkas pulled off Bran's boots and then popped off his own. He slid up the bed running a hand up Bran's side as he went. 

As the nord dug under the blankets, Bran rolled onto his side so he could curl into Farkas's chest once he was done tucking them in. He was a little surprised by Farkas's question. He had never been asked that before. No one had ever cared. He busied himself by drawing patterns on the bed as he thought.

"Only two come to mind. Alamayth was the first man I had ever been with. He's a Breton. Not as tall as me but well muscled and the most beautiful honey hair. He was a whore. I think I was more infatuated with him rather than in love, but at the time I didn't understand the difference. I was too young to be in the whore house, but anyone will turn a blind eye given enough coin. That was until my father found me.'' Bran sniffed. 

Farkas pulled the blankets over them and then mirrored Bran, laying on his side so they could face each other. He traced Bran's spine with a finger as he listened. Bran chewed on his cheek before continuing. "He had caught me there probably a dozen times before, but he had yet to see me in the act. He didn't know I was fond of men. I had a moment of gleeful spite seeing the look on my father's face as he got a full view of Alamayth's cock buried in my arse while I was fucking another whore. It was glorious. Until my father had them drug out into the street and flogged to an inch of their lives. I never saw Alamayth again though I was told he scrapes a living as a farm hand." 

"He didn't go back to whoring?" 

"He's lucky to be alive. I wasn't exaggerating when I said he was whipped to an inch of his life. He's scarred. Disfigured. Not to mention I was only seventeen and he was well into his twenties. I'm just grateful my father was too embarrassed to have him brought before the court and thrown into prison." 

"And your other lover?" 

"She was……she….."  A dagger twisted in his heart. "She was murdered just to send me a message. And that's as willing as I am to talk about that." 

"What message?" 

"Please don't ask. It hurts too much."  Bran pressed his forehead against Farkas's chest. He expected to start crying again, but he didn't. He had no tears left.

"Is this her?" Farkas asked as his fingers skimmed up and over Bran's shoulder to trace the heart hidden beneath his shirt.

"No." Bran croaked past the knot wrapped around his voice. 

"Who is it?"

"No one I want to remember."

"Then why did you get it?" Farkas asked. 

"I didn't have a choice in the matter." Bran whispered. He hugged him tight hoping the heat that always radiated off the nord would burn away the memories. 

Farkas stiffened and though Bran couldn't see his face, he could easily picture the shocked confusion. "The whole thing?" 

"Yes sweetheart. The whole bloody thing." Bran pressed himself tighter against Farkas as if the man were his security blanket. I suppose he is. Farkas was kind enough not to ask anymore questions. He just held Bran gently, kissed him sweetly, his hands caressing lightly, and slowly eased them both into a deep yet fitful sleep. 

Chapter Text

Bran's laugh filled the expanse of Jorrvaskr. It was a warm light hearted sound. One that Vilkas hated beyond measure. He glared at Twiggy while playing fantasies in his head of letting his wolf take over to devour the Breton. Farkas caught him scowling and frowned. The brother's stared at each other as a wave of resentment and anger pooled around them. The stench of their growing hostility was palpable. One that the entire circle could smell though they didn't acknowledge it. 

Twiggy's mirth withered as he watched Farkas's expression change. He glanced over his shoulder to see Vilkas brooding in the shadows. Bran's large doe eyes had the courtesy to look guilty as he quickly turned away. He began to fidget and whispered something in Farkas's ear. 

His twin replied, but Vilkas couldn't make out the words, just the sound of his brother's deep bass as it wafted low through the hall. Not once did he break eye contact with Vilkas. It turned into a game of wills. One that the wolf refused to lose. The chasm between the twin's only widened as they glowered at one another. Bran whispered again and gave Vilkas a quick glance before he slid out of his chair and tugged on Farkas's arm. His twin was hesitant, but then he sighed and let Bran guide him away effectively forfeiting the challenge. 

The wolf smiled smugly to himself as Twiggy and his brother went outside. That's right. Go outside and play with your toy. I don't need you……..I don't want you. 

Once the duo was gone Vilkas rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and neck. His jaw and teeth were pulsing, but he had become so accustomed to it that he barely noticed. He dug his fingers into the armrests of the chair as he threw his head back and breathed deep. His wolf seemed to be reveling in the hostility. His anger kept melding with his wolf's desire to hunt. It was making it exceedingly difficult to separate the two. The wolf clawed and chewed at its prison constantly, preventing Vilkas from sleeping at all. The bars within its mental cage were beginning to buckle, and he feared what might happen should the wolf break free. It was his biggest concern, though far from the only one. 

Tilma was still sick. She kept claiming to be on the mends and had returned to her duties, yet she had a persistent cough that Vilkas swore was getting worse. He had seen Tilma whether worse sickness before, but he worried none the less. A worry that just added to the already crushing weight between his fight with Farkas, his wolf's will, and the very real possibility of war on their doorstep. It was all too much.  Everything was crashing down on top of him while he sat silently stewing in it all. A good hour went by and still Vilkas sat. Silent and alone. The other companions avoided him, either his scent or his gaze kept them at bay. Usually Aela was full of snarky comments when the brothers fought, but even she chose to ignore the two. 

He hates me. I'm alone and he hates me……and it's all my fault. Vilkas clawed at the armrests trying in vain to keep the loneliness and anger at bay. A sliver of wood scraped off the armrest and jammed itself under his fingernail. "Shor's fucking Bones!"  He yanked the sliver out and slammed his fist on the armrest . 

Vilkas shoved himself out of the chair and stormed out the mead hall. He couldn't sit still anymore. He couldn't keep agonizing over his thoughts. Something was going to give, and he had a sinking suspicion that that something would be his humanity. I have to fix this. 

He plodded out onto the back patio. It was mid summer. The morning was warm and welcoming in stark contrast to the storm raging within Vilkas. Bran and Farkas were sparring in the yard, but their movements were slow and powerless. There was no drive behind their blows; just something to keep them busy as they talked. Farkas's eyes were dull and his shoulders seemed to droop. His frowning lips barely moved as he spoke. It was a sad depressing sight compared to the normal confident swagger he held in battle. He looked…….defeated, and that caused a pool of anguish to well up within Vilkas. 

"Farkas." Vilkas was hesitant. His brother's name tasted sour as if he didn't deserve to speak it. 

The sorrow in Farkas's eyes was replaced tenfold with rage as he stopped the sparring to glare at the wolf. His voice was bitter as he spat out. "What?" 

Twiggy took several steps back as Vilkas approached. He watched the twins apprehensively, waiting to see if the wolves would fight once more. Vilkas wetted his lips and forced himself to speak despite the tension and turmoil that boiled within their scents. "We need to talk." 

Farkas growled. "You had plenty of chances to talk. You didn't want to." 

He tried to shove past Vilkas, but the wolf grabbed his arms and stepped in front of him. Farkas yanked himself free and tried to gut Vilkas with the blunted sword. The wolf jumped to the side, but grabbed his twin's arms again as he regained his footing. He snarled and struggled to stamp down his own anger. "Damn it Farkas. I don't want to fight you." 

"Well too damn bad because I really want to break your nose again." Farkas fumed. He ripped his hands free and swung the sword at Vilkas's face. He ducked under the blow. His twin dropped the sword and flung himself at the wolf. Farkas grabbed him by the collar and roared as he slammed Vilkas's back into the stone foundation of the skyforge. 

The wolf let out a gasp as the impact rattled his back. He slammed his palms into his brother's wrist to try to free himself, but it didn't work. Farkas was too strong. 

"Damn it Farkas. Just listen for one damn minute!" Vilkas growled as he battled both his wolf and his twin. His entire skull was pulsing like it was trapped in a vice.

His brother responded by bringing his face closer to him and growled at him. His eyes seethed with anger even as his musk radiated hurt. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks. Months!”

“So listen to me now.”

"You listen! Do you care about Bran at all? Do you even like him?" Farkas yelled, his whole face blooming with anger. His eyes glistened. 

The wolf started. He tried to mutter a reply, but he wasn't even sure of the answer himself. He looked away feeling too ashamed to face his brother’s vengeance. 

Farkas answered for him. "You slept with him just so you could be right. You don't care about him at all. You just wanted to hurt me!" 

"Your little twig approached ME! Why am I getting all the blame?" Vilkas shouted back as his own anger slipped through his grasp. 

Farkas pressed his fist into the wolf's chest as he roared. "He's not my brother!" 

"I warned you that he would break your heart!"

"YOU BROKE MY HEART! YOU!" Angry bitter tears escaped Farkas's anguished fueled eyes. His scent rolled over them heavy as smoke. Hurt. Anger. Grief……..Betrayal. It left Vilkas's chest aching and he hoped that his twin could smell his regret and shame. Farkas sniffed and released the wolf to rub at his eyes. He whispered. "Why?" 

"I…….." Vilkas started to reply as he reached out to cup his brother's cheek only stopping himself as he remembered where they were. He glanced over to Twiggy whose scared mismatched eyes darted from one twin to the next. His knees were slightly bent as if he were debating running to fetch the other Companions. "....can't say it. Not here." 

Farkas scoffed and took a step back. He mumbled, resentment still in his voice. "Of course you can’t.”

“Farkas. Brother, I know I haven’t been open with you. I was just trying to protect you.”

"From what?" 

"Me and this damn wolf that won't stop chewing on my brain." Vilkas scrunched his eyes shut and tried to will away the wolf who continued to press against its ever weakening cage.

Farkas tilted his head confused before he grasped what Vilkas was implying and his eyes widened. It was the only surprise he showed. He mumbled. "Fine. I'll meet you tonight." 

Vilkas didn't need to ask where. He nodded. "Thank you.......and...I'm sorry." 

Farkas shoved him against the stone again and swiftly punched him in the gut. Vilkas doubled over as all his air was ejected from his lungs. Farkas stalked away growling over his shoulder. "I haven't forgiven you." 

Vilkas spent the rest of the day in his room though it did little to ease the stress. He mulled over what he wanted to say and played out conversations in his head that only fueled his anxiety. His wolf of course, reveled in the turmoil. It paced along the bars, teeth bared and salivating. It clawed at him, and taunted him with the promises of power and freedom……..and Vilkas wanted nothing more than to give in. 

To let the wolf consume him and free himself from all this pain and strife. The aching in his teeth migrated up his jaw, pulsed behind his ears, and sent tendrils of pain throbbing across his skull. By the time night finally arrived the wolf’s entire body was sore. His skin itched, his fingernails throbbed, and his muscles burned; He knew he was losing control. He needed Farkas. 

He quickly made his way inside the Underforge and busied himself by pacing around the basin. His wolf seemed downright giddy to be at its birthplace and it only intensified the desire to transform. Vilkas's fingers curled into claws as he stalked about while his lips quivered up into a snarl; not that he noticed. I have to hunt. I have to. I NEED to! 

"Why are you sweating?" A voice asked. 

Vilkas lunged at the sound snarling and snapping like a rabid beast only pausing once Farkas's scent passed over him. Farkas jumped, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon. His eyes wide with shock only to be buried with worry. He was by his twin's side in an instant.

The wolf snarled through aching gritted teeth. "I hate him. I hate him because he stole you from me. Because he can show the world what you mean to him and I can't! Because you chose him over me! Because you don't want me anymore!" 

Vilkas's whole body trembled. He roared as a wave of pain pulsed through him. His wolf sank its teeth into his mind, thrashing and clawing. He could feel it taking control, forcing him to turn. He clutched the stone basin and slid onto his knees unable to hold his own weight. He squeezed his eyes shut as he wheezed. "I can't stop it!" 

"Vilkas!" His brother called out as he pulled him into his embrace. He cradled Vilkas's head and hugged him tight. The wolf fought him. It tried to break free of Farkas's hold, but his brother ignored the nails tearing into his arms and held him tighter. He pressed his cheek against Vilkas's ear and said. "You're going to be okay, Vilkas."

"I don't want to turn!" Vilkas wailed as his muscles tensed and he convulsed. 

"Then stop." 

Another wave of pain pulsed through him. It felt like his skin was tearing open. He growled. "I can't……" 

"You can Vilkas. You would have turned already if you couldn't. " 

His soothing tones slowly brought Vilkas back from the brink. He could still feel the wolf mauling him, and yet somehow it's hold had weakened. It was like Farkas had a chain around the beast and had yanked it off Vilkas. He whimpered as the throbbing in his bones began to settle. He buried his face into his brother’s chest and let his scent wash over him. He muttered between ragged breaths. "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to lose you." 

"You won't lose me." 

"I already have." 

"No you haven't." Farkas rubbed his back as he whispered softly. "No one can take me away from you. The only thing keeping me away from you, was you." 

Farkas leaned down and kissed the side of his head. Vilkas snuggled deeper into Farkas's embrace and further away from the wolf's appetite. He sighed as his twin's caressing kisses helped ease his headache. Farkas's lips roamed across his cheek and then a hand was pinching his chin, drawing him up to envelope those lips with his own. 

The kiss was soft, tender, and unexpected. Vilkas hesitantly kissed him back. Their lips lingered, lightly brushing each other before before pulling apart to start again. The kisses grew as Vilkas poured his desire and frustration into it. Farkas surged forward to deepen the kiss. His hand slid up his neck and tangled itself in Vilkas's hair while the other ran down to rest on his heart. 

Farkas was all he could sense. His touch. His smell. His warmth. His taste. They were in a bubble all their own and everything else simply melted away. His wolf was gone; his brother once again effortlessly flinging it into the shadows. 

By the time Farkas pulled away, Vilkas's lips were tingling from the touch. He stared up at his twin, hopeful and longing. Farkas breathed. "Feel better?" 

Vilkas replied by leaning up for another kiss. He had missed this terribly and now that he was back in Farkas's arms he never wanted to leave again. Their kissing grew desperate and Vilkas pushed his twin back and squirmed around until he was straddling him. He slipped his hands under Farkas's shirt wanting to feel his solid body before it could be taken away.

Vilkas moved on from his brother's lips to suck on the sensitive skin below his ear. Farkas's voice was deep and gravily as he breathed. "Tell me what you want." 

"I want you." Vilkas growled as he pulled his shirt off and resumed his love bites all across Farkas's jaw and neck. 

"Here in the dirt?" Farkas questioned though his voice was just as heated as Vilkas's own. 

The wolf tugged his twins shirt off and ran his hands up those glorious taut abs that he had missed so much. His lips explored further downward trailing over his collarbone, running across his chest, diving down to kiss every single ab he saw till he had sunk all the way down to kiss just above Farkas's trousers. He looked back up at his brother, his pleading desperate gaze locking onto Farkas's own pools of desire.

"Now." He said as his hand massaged the bulging fabric. "Please Farkas. I want to feel you inside me." 

Farkas' voice hitched as he groaned. "Oh fuck." 

He quickly helped Vilkas to untie his trousers and pull his swelling manhood free. Vilkas took it hungrily into his mouth as Farkas swore again and sank his hands through his brother's hair. Vilkas worked his twin's shaft in long yet quick strokes as he drew as much into his mouth as he could. He hummed around his brother's girth using his tongue to get him nice and slick. Once Farkas was fully hard he slowed his pace to play with his head. He gently sucked the tip before his tongue swirled around the slit and then down. 

Farkas lightly pulled his brother's hair as he breathed. "Gods Vilkas." 

Vilkas moaned. He glanced up to see Farkas lying against the basin. His eyes were blown out as he watched him and his lips were parted and hungry. The sight only fueled him further as he returned his attention to his brother's cock. 

"Come here." Farkas ordered and tugged Vilkas's arm. The wolf scooted over, guided by his twin's thick fingers as they slid down over his back and grabbed a handful of his ass. 

Farkas's hand slipped under his trousers and crept down burrowing toward his crevice. The wolf quickly unlaced his trousers giving his brother easier access. He groaned loud and filthy as Farkas pressed and rubbed his hole. Vilkas hummed around his twin's cock as he swallowed every inch. 

Farkas groaned, his deep voice reverberating all the way down through Vilkas's tongue. "That feels so good." 

"Dibella's tits!"

Fear swept over Vilkas, so strong and cold as it passed through him that his whole body trembled. The wolf seized Twiggy by the throat and slammed him into the wall. He couldn't recall crossing the cave. One moment he was on all fours sucking his brother’s cock. The next, the whelp was in his grasp dangling several inches off the ground.

"Wait! Stop!" Bran wheezed as he clutched at Vilkas's wrist. The wolf squeezed harder and the Breton gaped at him as his air was cut off. 

"You're dead." Vilkas hissed. 

"Let him go." Farkas commanded.

"No!" Vilkas snarled. Farkas was in danger, and he would eradicate the threat. "He saw us!" 

Twiggy clawed and kicked at him desperately trying to free himself. His efforts only goaded Vilkas into squeezing even tighter. Bran's face was turning purple. Vilkas's snarl twitched upward into a crazed grin. He liked it when his prey fought till the bitter end. Liked watching their fear stricken faces slowly go slack. Farkas grabbed Vilkas and wrenched him off Twiggy. The whelp collapsed to the ground gasping and coughing. The wolf roared. He shoved his brother away and lunged for his prey. Farkas caught him around the waist and pulled him away from Twiggy. Bran clambered onto his feet and fled out of the Underforge.

The wolf howled. "No! He's getting away. I have to kill him. He's mine!"

He needs to die. I need to hunt. Just a few seconds of pain and then I can kill him. I need to kill him. I NEED TO! A burst of pain passed through Vilkas.

Pulse .

His jaw pounded as his teeth started to thicken and elongate till he could no longer close his mouth. A haggard scream was pulled from his throat. His steel gaze burned gold.

Pulse .  

His face elongated into a muzzle, black coarse fur squeezed out his skin, his legs stretched, and his fingernails were forced out by thick black claws.

Pulse . Pulse .  

He let out an agonized wail as a tail dug its way out the bottom of his spine.  

Pulse. Pulse! PULSE!  

His screaming quickly turned into a triumphant howl as his wolf smashed through the collapsing barrier in his mind and seized control. He tossed the pitiful human thoughts aside and flung his brother across the den. He was finally free, and it was time to feast!

Chapter Text

Bran raced out of the cavern as fast as his panicked feet would allow. His throat burned with every breath but the pain was as distant as the Summerset Isles. The sounds of his coughing were smothered beneath the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears. His frantic feet fumbled beneath him and he fell to his knees. He was struggling to breath, but even that went unnoticed. He was completely assumed by one thought. Run. Bran scrambled back to his feet running forward, somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was away from that enraged nord. 

Bran didn’t remember crashing through the doors of Jorrvaskr. He barely remembered slipping on the stairs and tumbling down to land in a heap in front of the whelps' room. He DID remember hearing voices awoken by the commotion, but then he was off again running to an unknown destination. 

He just needed to escape, to flee from Vilkas whose image was cauterized into his mind. The man had been snarling at him like an animal while his steely rage filled eyes burned with all the malice of Mehrunes Dagon himself. He could still feel his calloused hand crushing his throat. Could still see the delighted crazed grin on his face.

When Bran could finally think with a small amount of intellect, he hadn’t a clue where he was other than on a floor in a corner. He had pulled something over the top of himself, presumably a blanket. It was childish and cowardly hiding in a corner, but he didn’t care. He could hear voices outside of the room he hid in and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. Bran trembled at every sound until one stood out, and it made him bristle. It was the sound of boots on the floorboards, and they were heading toward him. 

Bran stifled a whimper and clutched his knees tight as his heart threatened to smash through his chest. The heavy footfalls entered the room. They grew softer, cautious even, as they slowly approached him. He found me. No, no, no, NO, NO!  

The safe warm darkness Bran had buried himself in ruptured as the blanket was pulled away. All the Breton could do was let out a startled squeak, like the defenseless rabbit he was, as Vilkas loomed over him. He told himself to scream, but no sound came out. He told himself to run, but he was frozen. He didn't even blink. Bran could feel Vilkas's hand on his neck again, squeezing until surely his skull would pop free. There was no escape this time.

"Szerető ……" Farkas called out to him gently. He slowly sank onto his haunches and Vilkas's enraged features melted beneath the sorrowful and concerned face of his lover. 

“He almost……” Bran tried to speak but the words brought fire. He squeezed his eyes shut trying in vain to stop the tears that were cascading down his cheeks.

“Shhh. Don’t speak.” Farkas cupped his face ever so carefully and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. He gently lifted Bran’s chin checking his neck which surely had an array of bruises. The Breton was always surprised at just how delicate his touches could be. He's as gentle and strong as a mammoth. When he opened his mismatched eyes again Farkas’ silver gaze was looking down on him. Guilt, regret, and anger warred with each other in those eyes. His hands migrated to Bran’s shoulders where they gently squeezed until the trembling stopped. 

“I will NEVER let him hurt you again.” Farkas promised.

Bran threw himself into Farkas' chest. The nord wrapped his arms around him, cutting the Breton off from the world, and Bran wished he could stay like that forever. Farkas gently stroked his back before scooping him up into his arms. Only then was Bran able to take in his surroundings. 

He was in Farkas's room. When he was too afraid to think this is where instinct brought him. Here in Farkas's room, in the man's arms, this is where he felt safe and where he wanted to be..... Stendarr's mercy. Am I in love with him? 

Farkas carried him to the bed. Another coughing fit scorched Bran's throat. He tried to apologize, but Farkas shushed him once again. He carefully set Bran on the bed, wrapping him in the soft furs. The nord told him not to move then disappeared out the door. Bran trembled. 

As soon as Farkas left his fear returned. He clung to the furs tightly as if it could somehow protect him from Vilkas's wrath. Farkas returned a moment later with a health potion in hand. He delicately pressed the large vial into Bran's palm. 

"Drink. As much as you can." Farkas's tone was soft and worried. He watched Bran closely while his hands worked to sooth the Breton who slowly brought the vial to his lips. He swallowed fire. Bran groaned and whimpered as the pain renewed his tears. He forced himself to keep drinking until the pain became too great. 

Farkas took the half empty vial away and then his powerful arms were cradling Bran. His voice wavered as he whispered in Bran's ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

He wanted to tell Farkas it wasn't his fault. That he didn't blame him, but he didn’t dare try to speak again. Instead he pulled at Farkas' tunic until the man scooched further onto the bed. He pulled Bran onto his lap and held him until his gentle rocking slowly extinguished his fear. Some sembalence of sleep took over the Breton as he nestled into Farkas. 

The safe and warm isolation didn't last long. A pounding at the door stirred Bran. Skjor’s raspy voice followed the banging. "Farkas! Get your ass up. We have a problem." 

Bran peeked an eye open. He was lying between Farkas's legs with his head on the Nord's chest. The man's powerful warm arms cradled him while gentle fingers combed through his hair. Bran groaned and hugged Farkas as tight as he could. 

Farkas hummed warmly. Bran whispered. "That's nice." 

"How are you feeling?" Farkas asked. 

Skjor banged louder on the door before opening it and poking his head through. The grizzled warrior gave the duo his usual annoyed blank stare. He said flatly. "Now. It's important." 

Farkas sighed. "I'll be right there." 

Skjor disappeared leaving the door open behind him. Bran tried to speak in a normal tone, but it came out as a painful croak. He grimaced and whispered. "Please don't go." 

Farkas kissed the top of his head before slipping out from under Bran. He laced his fingers through the Breton’s and lightly kissed a knuckle. "I won't be long, Szerető." 

Bran squeezed his hand. He couldn't stop his voice from quivering. "And what if he comes in here while you're gone?" 

"Vilkas isn't here, and he won't be back tonight." It was obvious that the question pained Farkas. His brows scrunched together yet his eyes were sad. He cupped Bran's cheek. "I swear to you, he will never lay his hands on you again." 

Bran hesitantly let him go. He believed Farkas, but his words did little to ease the anxiety that settled in his stomach. Farkas kissed his forehead and left the room. He made sure to lock the door behind him. Bran smiled warmly. It'll be okay. Farkas will keep me safe. It'll be okay........

He curled up around Farkas's pillow and dozed lightly as his exhaustion warred with his anxiety. It felt like an eternity passed though it probably wasn't more than an hour before the door unlocked and Farkas stepped through. Kodlak was right behind him and Bran sat up as the Harbinger took a seat by the bed. 

Kodlak silently studied Bran. His blue-grey eyes dug into his soul. The Breton looked away ashamed of what the old man might find there. Kodlak leaned back in the chair and asked. "How are you feeling boy?" 

Bran glanced up at Farkas who was standing as stiff as stone behind Kodlak. He looked worried as he scrutinized the wall. Bran whispered. "It hurts….. but I'll live." 

"Mind telling me what happened?" 

Farkas closed his eyes and took a steady silent breath. A slight gasp left Bran as he suddenly remembered what had initiated Vilkas's attack. It felt unreal and he wondered for a moment if it had been a dream. He swallowed and received a pulsing reminder that it had been very real. 

"Uhhhh." Bran muttered. He returned his attention to Kodlak while trying to think of some vague lie that would appease the Harbinger. "I don't really remember. They were... fighting and umm……." 

"You decided to get in the middle of it." Kodlak finished for him. "And what made you think that would end well for you?" 

"I just didn't want them to keep fighting because of me." Bran whispered softly. Which was mostly true. That was the thought that had driven him to seek them out in the first place. He glanced back up at Farkas who seemed both shocked and grateful that Bran had skipped over the truth.

The old man hummed. "I have a suggestion. Stop interfering." 

Bran rasped. "Yes sir." 

"We'll speak more later. For now, I'll let you get some rest." Kodlak groaned as he got to his feet. He rested a paw on Farkas's shoulder and patted his arm. "I'll handle Vilkas." 

Farkas pressed his lips together, but didn't reply. After Kodlak left he quietly closed and relocked the door. He stood facing the it, his hands slowly sliding off the dark oak. He spoke to the floorboards. "You know what you saw." 

"I do." Bran agreed. "And as much as I'd like to discuss it, talking hurts…and I just want you to hold me." 

Some of the tension melted out of Farkas's shoulders. Yet the fact that some remained troubled Bran. The man approached the bed cautiously as if he expected a trap. He carefully lowered himself onto the edge, his voice sounding both disbelieving and hopeful. "It doesn't bother you?" 

In truth Bran had yet to process what he saw and the events afterward; he didn't want to. At least not now. He slid his hand across the soft furs and locked his fingers with Farkas's. His voice was almost inaudible. "No." 

He lightly squeezed his lover's hand and gave it a tug. Farkas finally responded. He rolled onto his side, pulled Bran into his arms, and held him tight. Farkas peppered him with gentle kisses across his shoulder and face. His soothing touches easing Bran to sleep.

He didn't wake again till morning. Farkas was gone, but a small platter of food had taken his place. A bowl of oatmeal topped with a soft boiled egg sat next to a smaller bowl of cottage cheese and apple preserve. A cup of tea and another health potion loomed behind. It was all food that could be easily swallowed and Bran couldn't help but smile.  He sat up. He wasn't hungry, but he forced himself to eat. He didn't want Farkas's kind gesture to go to waste, and the man always seemed to know exactly what he needed. He ate hesitantly, but luckily the potion from the night before had done its job. His throat still hurt, but it was much more bearable. After the first few bites his stomach growled, and he dug into the meal with more gusto. By the time he finished his breakfast and sucked down the new potion he was feeling much more himself. 

He set the platter on the nightstand and burrowed back into the furs. While he waited for Farkas to return, he began to think about everything that had happened during the night. He had had a clear view of Vilkas on his knees humming lustfully with his lips firmly drawing Farkas's cock down his throat; He still couldn't believe it. It wasn't even because they were twins. He was struggling to believe it because Vilkas had been the one giving pleasure. That dickhead only cares about himself. He only ever does what satisfies him……He must really enjoy sucking cock. 

Bran smirked. It makes so much sense now. Vilkas was never jealous of Farkas. He was jealous of me. Gods if I had known those two were intimate I never would have gotten myself mixed up in their affair. 

But it was too late for that. Bran was forced to admit that he truly was in love with Farkas, and he didn't want to give him up. Neither would he ask Farkas to choose. He doubted he would be able to and it would be wrong to make him. I suppose I'm just as selfish as the wolf, but the three of us have already fucked eachother, why not just…….continue? Be honest about it? At least with each other? Dibella's tits! Like Vilkas would ever agree to that!

Bran shuddered. After last night he wasn’t sure he would feel comfortable having sex with Vilkas again. The way he had looked at him while he was strangling him was an image he would never forget. In that moment the wolf had truly looked like an animal. His teeth were bared, his lips quivering, his eyes were nothing more than raging pools of death. The man is completely insane or…….

"Possessed." Bran breathed as he sat up. His mind started racing. "He couldn't be. Could he?" 

Maybe the necromancers had put something inside him? But then why didn't it manifest when he was a child? And why didn’t Farkas become possessed? No, that can’t be right. 

He knew he was missing something, but he wouldn't be able to figure it out till he spoke with Farkas. He leaned back against the headboard as his mind played an endless loop of questions and theories. 

The sound of the door being unlocked pulled Bran from his thoughts. He looked up just as Farkas stepped inside. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. Bran doubted he had slept at all. As soon as the door was closed Farkas sighed. There were several deep scratches across both his forearms and an array of bruises. Bran berated himself for not noticing sooner. He had been so caught up with his own fear and pain that he hadn't even checked to see if Farkas had been hurt. Bran whispered flatly. "He did that to you." 

"I've had worse." Farkas mumbled as he rubbed an eye with a knuckle. "How are you feeling?" 

"Much better, luv."

Farkas slowly sat on the bed, the mattress sinking a little under his weight. He lifted Bran’s chin and checked on the bruising before his hand wrapped around the back of Bran's neck. Farkas kissed his forehead. "I'm glad Szerető." 

Bran smiled weakly but found himself staring again at the bruises on Farkas's arm. He took Farkas's hand to study the injuries and occasionally glanced up to see Farkas's reaction. His shimmering silver eyes were dull. Lifeless. Heartbroken. It was in stark contrast to the smile on his lips. It only made the Breton more concerned. Bran shifted, feeling uneasy. That's how I would look after she was done with me. She left bruises on my arms too……

A horrible question dug its way into his thoughts. He asked carefully. "Farkas? Has Vilkas ever forced anything on you?" 

Farkas tilted his head to the side as he always did whenever he didn't understand something. It was adorable to see, but Bran was too worried to enjoy it. He licked his lips and tried again. "What I saw you and Vilkas doing last night……..Are you a….willing participant?" 

"Of course I am." His heartbroken eyes blazed into angry quicksilver. His words were firm as he yanked a hand away to point at him. "Don't EVER imply something like that about my brother again. He would never. He's a good man." 

"Clearly." Bran scoffed. 

Farkas's brows scrunched together. His hand balled into a fist. "How Vilkas was acting. That's not him." 

"Luv," Bran soothed. "You always say that. I understand that he is your twin and you love him dearly. But you can't keep defending his abusive behavior." 

"It's not his fault!" Farkas snapped. 

"Oh? Then whose fault is it? Whose forcing the dickhead?" 

Farkas hesitated like he wanted to explain but it was too painful for him to say it. He snarled. "I can't talk about it." 

"So there is something wrong with him?"

"It's not my secret to tell. Please just trust me when I say that that wasn't Vilkas. That's not my brother." 

"Okay." Bran whispered. He cupped Farkas's cheek bringing the man's eyes back to him. He leaned up and gave his lover a soft kiss. Farkas relaxed a little more. The Breton decided to let the topic wither. He tried to hold back a cheeky smile as he broke the kiss and said. "So does Vilkas actually bottom for you, or is it only oral?" 

Red blossomed from Farkas's neck and disappeared up his hairline. Bran gasped and laughed as the man sank into himself like a turtle. He exclaimed. "By the eight! He does! You’ve fucked him. Gods that is a sight I would pay anything to see. The arses arse bent over and ga-" 

Farkas pressed a hand into Bran's chest pushing him against the headboard as his other paw clamped tight around his mouth. Bran let out a squeak before the look on his lover's face silenced him. Farkas's eyes were wide with horror. His lips slightly parted as he took long slow breaths through his teeth as if he were trying to keep himself from panicking. 

He breathed. "Not so loud." 

Bran nodded and Farkas let him go. The twig whispered. "Sorry." 

Farkas was still as stiff as the dead. Shame coated his voice. "I know it's wrong."

"Oh luv." Bran wormed his way out of the blankets and knelt on the bed beside Farkas. He hugged Farkas's arm. "You know when I used to go to the brothel there were these two whores who were the most popular in the whole city. Their names were Margaret and Marjorie. They were both stunning women. Lithe frames, large pouting lips, and well rounded bosoms that begged to be kneaded. But the reason they were so popular is because they were twins." 

Farkas had his head thrown up to the ceiling, eyes closed, but looked down at Bran baffled by the revelation. The breton smiled at him and continued. "Men and women from around the entire province would flock to the whore house for a chance to be with the twins. Because as much as society might deny it, plenty of people love fucking twins and watching twins fuck eachother. So though it certainly was a surprise finding you two, sweetheart, it's more common than you might think." 

Bran could see Farkas's mind working as he mulled over his words. A single eyebrow crawled up to his hairline and the tiniest hint of a smile pulled at his lips. "Did you ever pay for the twins?" 

"Several times, and sometimes Alamayth would join as well." Bran laughed. "Honestly the only thing I'm upset about is that I didn't get to watch you two finish."  

"I'll keep that in mind." Farkas chuckled and leaned in to give Bran a soft kiss. 

"Oh?" Bran broke the kiss and grinned devilishly. "Are you planning a threesome? Because if you are, I might have a few suggestions." 

Farkas turned red all over again. Bran slid onto his lap and ran his hands up through his hair.  Farkas stammered. “I-I-I uhhh don't think…… Vilkas would like that idea.”

Bran smiled down at him and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. He mused. “You didn't say that YOU don’t like the idea.” 

“I wouldn’t be against it.” Farkas whispered shyly. 

“Your face is telling me that you rather enjoy the idea.” Bran peppered the nord’s chin and jaw with kisses. “Let me guess. You would want both of us on our knees playing with your cock till you came on our faces.”

“That’s not how I pictured it.”

“But you HAVE pictured it. Tell me, how long have you been thinking about the three of us?”

Farkas started returning the kisses. He cupped the back of Bran’s head and growled hungrily. “Since I found out you and Vilkas had sex.”

“I thought you were angry about that.”

“I was only mad because of why you did it.” 

“Even though I went behind your back?’

“No.” Farkas pulled back. His eyes were soft yet serious as he traced the underside of Bran’s chin with a finger. “I'm okay with you going elsewhere. I don’t care who you share your bed with, Szerető, as long as you keep coming back to me.”

“I promise. I will always come back to you.” Bran said the words before he processed them. He surprised himself as the promise settled in his chest. He meant it. He held the nord’s face and kissed him deeply, passionately, as he tried to will his love into the kiss so that Farkas might know how he felt. The man breathed deep and surged forward to return the kiss with just as much fervor as if he truly did sense what Bran was feeling. 

Farkas broke the kiss for only a moment and growled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my luv.” Bran was convinced that somehow the kiss tasted sweeter. 

Chapter Text

Blood. That's all Vilkas could sense. It was dried and cracked on his skin. Up his nose and coating his mouth. It was cemented in his hair. Bits of bone and flesh were jammed between his teeth and wedged under his fingernails.

Shreds of memory flashed through his throbbing head. Every bone and muscle ached as if he had been pummeled by a giant. It was an all too familiar feeling. One that told him he had transformed. 

Vilkas peeled his eyes open and the scene before him swirled about as his thrumming eyes tried to focus. His stomach clenched and he swallowed hard. He groaned. He was completely nude lying on his side on a large cold stone slab. The whisper of a distant breeze was the only sound to be heard. His eyes finally focussed and he realized he was inside an ancient nordic ruin. The room was lit by several candles and Vilkas had no way of knowing if his wolf had killed whoever had lit them. He started to pull himself off the ground.

A torrent of agony exploded out of his right shoulder and raced along his back and neck. Vilkas cried out, but his raw throat produced only a raspy wail. He lay there whimpering till the pain finally settled into a thrum that he could tolerate. He slowly reached over his shoulder. 

An arrow was embedded in his back. Most of the shaft had broken off. Any movement made the arrowhead scrape against his shoulder blade. He didn’t dare pull it out. It was unlikely he could get a good grip on it, and he had no way to dress the wound. 

Instead he clutched his right arm to his side trying to keep the arrow as still as possible as he forced himself to his knees. His stomach rolled, and this time he couldn’t keep it at bay. He leaned onto an elbow and spewed up everything the wolf had eaten. Blood and bone. Fur, fabric and flesh. Metal and meat. Even after his stomach was empty Vilkas continued to dry heave until he was left trembling and gasping. There was a stone altar before him, and he used it for support as he struggled to his feet.

The room was small and littered with casks and urns. Most of the urns were broken. A few of the casks were unsettlingly open. I wouldn’t be able to fight off a skeever right now, let alone a damn draugr. The room had a closed door and two passageways one of which was barred shut. Any memory of which path led back out eluded him. After a minute of uncertainty he chose the tunnel that the slight breeze was stemming from. The slight incline might as well have been the Throat of the World to his leaden limbs. 

His whole body hurt. Every muscle burned. Every bone throbbed. Above it all, his head and shoulder pulsed as lakes of torture along a river of pain. Pain is good. It means I’m still alive. I can endure it. I WILL endure it. At the end of the passage stood a set of iron doors slightly ajar with blazing sunlight streaming through. The light made his head pulse even more, but he ignored it as best he could as he slipped back into the living world. 

The tomb was embedded in the side of a mountain. Before the wolf was a sloping meadow leading down to a shallow river gorge. Beyond that was another mountain towering into the sky. These peaks were unfamiliar to him with no other landmarks to be had. Vilkas was lost. 

Farkas will track me down. I just have to stay alive till then. Let's see. I’m lost, exhausted, wounded, weaponless and unable to use my right arm. I have no food, no shelter except a draugr infested crypt and I’m completely fucking nude. 

His anxiety soared. Fucking wonderful. Where are the positives? I’m alive and I have a source of water………. "FUCKING WONDERFUL."

Vilkas lumbered down to the river to drink and rinse out the flavor in his mouth. A mudcrab chittered and blew bubbles at him but otherwise left him alone. He rinsed some of the blood off his face and torso. He tried to wash off his arms, but was greeted with a blast of pain. He could move his right hand, but that didn’t help much when his arm hung uselessly at his side. I'll be picked off by a bear or sabrecat before the nights out if I don't find shelter. The wolf scanned the riverbanks. 

All he could see down the river were more ruins. Upstream was a shack squatting on the river’s edge several kilometers away. Vilkas evaluated his choices. Downstream usually led to civilization but there was no telling how long that would take. His silver gaze returned to the single weathered hut. Best case scenario, it was a respite for hunters and trappers with someone there who would be willing to help. Worse case scenario it was home to a crazed necromancer who would sacrifice him in some twisted ritual. That was unlikely……..but it WAS possible……

Fuck it. 

It took Vilkas a couple hours to reach the hut. He had been watching it closely during his trek and hadn’t seen a soul. The sun had dipped behind the high mountains and the breeze along the river had turned crisp. Even with his nordic blood, the wolf was starting to feel the cold. He did his best to ignore it but every shiver brought piercing fire. He followed a bend around the river and the flood bank blocked the shack from view. As he drew near a smell on the wind made Vilkas’ blood run cold. 

It was the pungent aroma of a powerful werewolf that had left its mark; A challenge mixed with pride and garnished with the scent of the wolf’s victim. My scent. My victim. Vilkas stood rooted to the soft soil. He was afraid of what he would see around the bend. Afraid of what the smells were telling him. He would rather face a horde of daedra than turn that corner. He steeled himself. He owed it to the woman whose blood still lingered in the air. He rounded the bend.

There was a deck jutting out in front of the shack painted in rusted brown blood. Half of the door had been clawed and splintered leaving it hanging on one hinge. The remains of the woman littered the deck with only her scent left to mark her gender. Bits of shredded fabric accented the scene. Her skull had been popped clean from her shoulders and was sitting several feet away where two vultures were arguing over what remained of her mauled face. Mudcrabs picked clean the bones that hadn’t already been stripped bare. Several ravens were perched on her pelvis digging their beaks into the small spaces. A femur lay nearby cracked open with the marrow sucked out. 

          Vilkas bent over a rock and emptied his stomach once more. Gods! How many more did I slaughter? He was covered head to toe in blood and most of hers was spewed across the deck. There HAD been more. He had no way of knowing how long he had been a wolf. It could have been hours or weeks. It all depended on how much the wolf had fed. How well HE had fed. Guilt fueled tears brimmed in his loathing steel eyes. Vilkas approached the cabin cautiously. Shamefully. Fearfully.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” He rasped. Only the vultures and crows replied. Their caws echoing down the gorge to merge with the crashing of the waters. A snapped bow and an iron war axe were among the carnage. Vilkas took the axe, gripping it tightly in his left hand. The feel of a weapon was soothing though it did little to ease his crippling guilt. He tentatively made his way inside the hut. 

It was spotless beside the destruction around the entrance. The small shack was lightly furnished. A bed was crammed into a corner across from a small fireplace with an empty pot hovering over the cold coals. A small dresser, a cabinet, and some barrels sat wearily on the floor. Several jars of spices were lined on a shelf next to a packed row of ale. Vilkas set the axe on the dresser and snatched a bottle off the shelf. He tore the cork out with his teeth and chugged. He was halfway through his second bottle when his stomach reminded him that it was empty and already upset. He ignored it and sucked down the rest of the bottle. He knew it wouldn’t take much for his head to start swimming on an empty stomach. He was counting on it. 

He dug through the drawers and cupboards. There was sparsely any clothing, but luckily he found a pair of soft leather trousers that he could just barely squeeze into. A fur lined cloak hung on a hook and he slung it over his shoulder and buried his hands in the fur. It was already quite dark in the cabin so Vilkas didn’t even try to start a fire. Instead he sat on the bed drinking ale until it dulled the pain both physical and mental. Once he was thoroughly sloshed, he slipped under the fur blankets and fell into a fitful sleep bombarded by visions of gnashing teeth and screams of terror. The wolf woke several times throughout the night where he would simply drink more ale till it lulled him back to the void. 

It was a cold foggy day and Vilkas wasn’t sure how long he stayed dozing before the need to piss forced him out of bed. Once he was up he very quickly found himself retching into a bucket. A dozen blacksmiths hammered away at his skull while that blasted arrow rooted around in his shoulder blade. He made his way down to the river for a drink and subsequently relieved himself. It was on his way back up the deck that he noted the scavengers had mopped up the rest of the woman’s remains. 

Vilkas was culpable and no amount of guilt or self loathing could change that fact. Now there were no remains left to burn or bury. No journal or trinket with her name on it. No way to inform loved ones or attone. He hurriedly pushed the thoughts aside. She was dead. He was not. If he wanted it to stay that way then he had to focus on staying alive until Farkas and the other companions tracked him down. He returned to the shack and worked on getting a fire lit. The fog left everything damp and it took him several hours and a good amount of kindling to strike up a flame. It still hurt like blazes to move his right arm and everything was slow going because of it. The barrels were stocked with a variety of vegetables so he hauled up some water for a stew. Carrots, potatoes, leeks, tomatoes and several cloves of garlic were all tossed into the pot whole. Damn the cutting. I’ll boil the damn things to mush. He found some dried fish in a jar and added it to the pot. 

By early afternoon the fog had been burned away and the sun shone warmly into the little river gorge. Vilkas was too anxious to enjoy the change. He was feeling worse by the hour. The skin around the arrow was swollen and burned like the fires of the Deadlands while the deep puncture throbbed and ached. It was impossible to completely ignore. He wasn’t sure how long he would have before it would fester. Signs of infection were already sprouting. 

He sat down on the bed to eat his concoction while he mulled over what to do. He guessed he could make it another two days at most before he was too weak to travel, but if he left it would be harder for Farkas to track him. His wolf scent left one hell of a trail to follow, but his human scent was far weaker. Plus the strong scent of a powerful werewolf would keep other predators at bay. He knew the best thing to do when lost was to stay put, but what if they never found him? 

…….. What if they’re not looking for me? Vilkas remembered Bran catching the brothers together, and he vaguely recalled trying to kill him. After that……..nothing. He didn’t know if Bran saw him turn and if he did? Would he tell the authorities? Would he tell the rest of the circle about the twins? Would they even believe him? If they did, what would that mean for Farkas? That was assuming that Vilkas hadn't torn through the city leaving a trail of death in his wake. He could have an entire mob out hunting for him. The wolf tried to shake away the thoughts, but they lingered over him like a shroud. 

I swear by all the gods of Aetherius and Oblivion if anything happens to Farkas I will tear Bran to pieces and torment his soul in any afterlife!  A passing thought reminded him that this entire situation was his fault. That if Farkas were in danger it was because of his actions. His guilt was overwhelming and he spent the rest of the night trying to meditate while unshed tears rose and receded like the tides. 

The next day, Vilkas knew he was in serious trouble the moment he woke. He had a fever and his upper back was hot and pulsing. The whole right side of his back and shoulder was swollen giving him a slight hunchback. He could feel something oozing out the wound, but he could no longer reach it to see if it was blood or puss. It was starting to smell. He was out of time. He needed to leave now while he still had enough energy to travel. 

There wasn’t much to prepare. He could only take what he could carry in one hand. He had found a travel pack under the bed and filled it with a waterskin, the fire starter, the rest of the dried fish, and a stale loaf of bread. He had to wrap his feet in rags since the only pair of shoes he found were too small for him. The whole process was slow and it was already noon by the time Vilkas set off with only the pack and axe in hand. The wolf fur cloak hung precariously on his left shoulder. It kept wanting to slide off and after about an hour Vilkas let it. He didn’t have the energy to fight with it, and it wasn’t doing much to keep him warm anyway. 

He had chosen to follow an overgrown path heading south further up the river. He hoped it was a path leading to a road but it could have just as easily been an animal trail. Vilkas had to rest often. His fever was slight, but it was still draining him. He kept shivering which in turn caused his wound to burn back to life. The trail led him up a gently sloping hill. By the time he crested the damn thing it was already nearing sunset. I should have left earlier. He hadn’t expected the infection to drain him so quickly. 

The fever was getting worse, and he had broken out in a cold sweat. He already regretted leaving the shack. He didn’t have it in him to start a fire. He was certain it wasn’t going to be that cold of a night, but it would still feel freezing to him. Vilkas found a shallow hollow that he stuffed with grass and burrowed into it. He didn’t slumber long, though this time it wasn’t his wolf to blame. 

Vilkas usually enjoyed pain. It always sent a thrill coursing through him. It was a turn on. An adrenaline rush. But this? This was torture well beyond the point of pleasure. His back hurt so damn bad. He kept thinking it couldn’t get any worse and then he would shiver. The arrow would rub against the bone of his shoulder blade. The wolf would cry out going stiff as a board. All he could do was wait and whimper as the pain raced through him. How the hell is it hurting even more? Stendarr show me mercy. Please just make it stop! Vilkas’s night was a long cycle of exhaustion and sickness dragging him to sleep only to be reawaked from the cold or the pain. 

It was early morning when Vilkas woke up again. The sun had yet to peek above the horizon leaving everything in a pale gray light. The wolf knew he needed to get up. He had to keep moving, but he was so damn tired. He was covered in sweat while his feet were numb from the cold. I need to get up or this hole is going to be my grave. Vilkas sat up. He wasn’t in a hurry to meet Hircine. He dug through his bag and pulled out the stale bread. Eating was the last thing he wanted to do, but he forced himself. Sheer determination was the only thing that drew Vilkas to his feet.

The path he had been following pittered out so the wolf followed the river until it forked. It was in this moment that Vilkas found his bearings, and it left him with even more dread. The gorge had opened up into a valley and in the distance across from the river the wolf was certain he could make out a road. He had to be somewhere near the borders of Hjaalmarch and Haafingar which meant this was the river Hjaal. The road beyond was the road to Solitude. Raiders Road. 

Vilkas sank down onto a rock, the pack and axe slipped out of his hand. Dragon’s Bridge was days away. Rorikstead was even further. He was far more likely to run into bandits on the road than honest travelers. He sat on that rock feeling defeated. He stared at the ground blankley; His eyes draining of all hope. I never thought I would die like this. He fought back his tears though he wasn’t sure why. Pride perhaps. I deserve this . Vilkas looked up at the snow peaked mountains glistening in the sun while he thought about Farkas. I failed you brother. I'm sorry. He closed his eyes to reminisce on his fondest memories until darkness took him.

A howl broke through the silence. The call was close enough that Vilkas felt it in his chest. He cracked his eyes open. I'm still alive? He glanced around but couldn't see much since he was lying on his stomach on the ground. He didn't have the energy to sit up. That was a werewolf howl. Please be Farkas. Vilkas could do nothing but lay there as the sounds of the werewolf grew closer and finally appeared in his line of sight.  He couldn’t smell it since he was up wind, but he would know that brown and red wolf anywhere. 

Aela! She bounded up to him on all fours and gently nuzzled him. She sniffed him up and down before pointing her long nose to Aetherius and howled. Vilkas reached out to her, and Aela cradled him, helping him to sit up and letting him dig his hands into her warm fur. She was so blessedly warm! He had never been so happy to see his shield sister and this time he couldn’t stop the relieved tears from sliding down his cheeks. 

“Took you long enough.” He mumbled into her neck. 

Aela was nuzzling him and licking his face. Vilkas blinked himself awake. He didn't recall falling asleep, or Skjor arriving, yet the grizzled warrior was squating next to him.

“You look like shit.” Skjor stated. 

The wolf didn’t take the bait. He was too damn tired to banter. He wheezed. “Just get this damn arrow out of my back.” 

“Vilkas stay awake.” Aela suddenly commanded.

He blinked back into consciousness. Vilkas was aware enough to hear her words, but he was too weak to follow the order. He felt like he wasn’t in his own body. That he was watching things happen through someone else's eyes. He vaguely recalled Skjor pulling him to his feet before he was drifting once more along the edge of the void. 

“This is bad.” Aela remarked. 

“Vilkas you bastard. You’re not going to die on us after all the shit we went through to find your sorry ass.” Skjor’s harsh words were contradicted by the distress in his voice. It made the wolf worry. The feeling quickly passed.

He could clearly see himself slung over Skjor’s shoulders. Aela fluttered about scouting ahead of the old warrior then checking on Vilkas before returning her watchful gaze to the road. He could hear them bickering clear as day even as the sounds seemed to draw away from him. Then the wolf realized that he no longer felt the arrow piercing him. He didn’t feel anything except the sensation of floating further and further away.

Chapter Text

Am I a coward? Bran had to admit that he had learned a lot about himself since joining the Companions, and not all of it pleasant. He grew up learning how to fight, but the duels in the streets of Camlorn were far different than a real life threatening battle. Even in Hammerfell, he only ever fought when he was defending himself. He had never sought out danger. Now as a Companion he was required to walk straight into peril. He wasn't sure he had it in him.  He had thought that the fear would fade over time, but anxiety sat in stomach like the unwanted guest it was. His only reassurance was Farkas riding beside him. 

"Do you think we'll run into those werewolves?" Bran tried to sound curious instead of nervous. He wasn't certain he succeeded. 

"No." Farkas replied off-handedly as he scanned the horizons. 

"And if we do?" Bran readjusted himself and settled back into the saddle. They had been riding all morning, but it wasn't saddle soreness making the breton squirm. 

Farkas sighed and finally turned his tired eyes to Bran. He brought Strun closer so the horses were almost shoulder to shoulder. "We're Companions. We can handle a few werewolves." 

"I'm sure the guards thought the same thing." Bran mumbled to himself as Farkas went back to scrutinizing the tundra. 

The nord looked gallant as ever with his wolf armor glistening in the morning sun as he rode his palomino steed. The bottom of his helmet sharpened his jaw while his eyes were shadowed in the black warpaint. It was both a threatening and commanding sight. Bran wondered not for the first time how difficult would it be to fuck on a horse. The animal probably wouldn't enjoy it, but it would certainly be memorable. 

Bran sighed. He already knew he wouldn't get any of that splendid cock on this trip. Farkas was still too twisted up with anxiety. It was obvious he wasn't scanning the distance for danger. He was searching for Vilkas. 

The brute was still missing. Five days had passed since the dickhead had tried to strangle Bran. Kynareth's priestess had repaired the damage to Bran's vocal cords, but he could still feel Vilkas's hand crushing him whenever he closed his eyes. It wouldn't have bothered Bran in the slightest if the arse had been one of those werewolves victims. Good riddance, I'd say!

Yet as much as Bran hated Vilkas, he couldn't bear the way his disappearance was affecting Farkas. It was unsettling watching his lover sink into himself. Growing ever distant. Barely eating. Sleeping even less than usual which Bran hadn't even thought possible. 

It was Kodlak’s idea to send the two of them out on a quest. Bran had protested. "If going after Vilkas is a bad idea, how is delving into an ancient ruin better?" 

Kodlak had only responded with. "Trust me. I know my boys." 

You really don't. Bran had thought at the time though he now saw the wisdom of Kodlak’s decision. The quest had given Farkas a task. He was a man of action who now had a purpose. He would see it done despite the obvious desire to seek out his brother. 

They made camp that night on top of a small hill. Despite being a day's journey from Whiterun, the capital could still be seen glowing like a golden beacon in the distance. Above them the crescent moons glided through an entourage of sparkling stars. The night was cool, but warm enough that the Companions let the fire die after supper was done. Bran marveled at just how bright the night was without the fires glow. He could see for miles, the tundra glowing silver against the crisp black shadows.

Farkas sat himself on a large mossy stone gazing out over the open tundra. He busied himself by rolling his helmet between his hands. "Get some rest Szerető. I'll take first watch." 

"Nonsense." Bran had been sitting on their bedrolls which were laid out together by the fire, but hopped up as Farkas spoke. He slipped behind the rock and draped his arms over the nord’s shoulders which were even broader with his pauldrons on. "You haven't slept in days luv. You need to rest before we get to Dustman’s Cairn. You can't fight exhausted." 

Surprisingly Farkas chuckled. "I'm used to it." 

The silence that followed was energized by all of the nord’s built up anxiety. Bran swore he could see it radiating off of him. His expert fingers found their way to Farkas's neck where they began their task of digging some of the stress out. Bran sighed and repeated the same line that he had been telling Farkas for days. "Vilkas is alright. Skjor and Aela have probably already found him and are giving him the biggest scolding of his life." 

"Yeah." Farkas breathed. 

Bran chewed on his cheek, trying his best not to get aggravated by the stone tight tension in Farkas's neck that refused to yield to him. He tried to think of something else he could do or say to help get his lover's mind off his missing twin. Yet as the silence crept back over them he accepted that it was an impossible task. "Tell me about him." 

"What?" 

"You're always going on about how Vilkas isn't the dickhead he seems to be. So tell me about him." 

Farkas pressed his lips together as he thought. His quicksilver eyes caught the silver starlight till they glowed. "The first thing Vilkas ever killed was a skeever. He cried after he slew it." 

"I find that hard to believe." Bran replied. He leaned forward putting some of his weight into Farkas's neck as he drew his thumbs up along either side of his vertebrae. Despite all his efforts the nord’s muscles refused to relax. If anything the man was getting even more tense. 

"It was our first real job for the Companions. We had to exterminate a bunch of skeevers that infested some poor ladies cellar. When Vilkas protested Arnbjorn said they were just rat's and made fun of him till he finally slew them." Farkas sighed and held his helmet to his chest, cradling it as if his cherished memories lay within. He said wistfully. "I miss the man he used to be before Arnbjorn changed him." 

"You've said as much before. How did he change him exactly?" Bran gave up trying to massage the granite out of Farkas’ neck. Instead he ran his fingers through the man’s hair picking apart the many tangles along the way. 

Farkas started, clearly surprised by the question. He nibbled on his thumb; A new habit he had picked up in the last few days. "He just did. Arnbjorn was brutal and cruel. But all Vilkas saw was a brave and fearless warrior who was the first one into battle, and wouldn't stop till everyone in his path was slain. Vilkas wanted to be just like him." 

"Sounds like he succeeded then." Bran muttered. 

Farkas leaned back against Bran's chest and tilted his head up to him. There was pain and sorrow glistening in his quicksilver gaze. "What my brother did to you was wrong, and I know it's wrong for me to make excuses for him. But Vilkas attacked you for me. He’s always trying to protect me. Even when I don't need him to.”

“Admirable I suppose. But I'm not certain that’s healthy.”

“That's who he is. Vilkas will always protect the people he loves. Like when we were pups, and we found Adrianne crying behind her house. Vilkas went and picked a bunch of flowers for her and hugged her till she stopped crying. When we found out it was because Thorald had been making fun of her, Vilkas found him, punched him, and then drug him over to her. Made him apologize. His brother came to his rescue so of course I had to help too. I know Vilkas could have taken them both, but I couldn’t let him fight alone.” Farkas smiled and made a small sound in his throat that was almost a chuckle. 

He continued softly. “Vilkas is a defender. Arnbjorn was the first one in a fight because he wanted to be the first one to kill. Vilkas is the first one in a fight because he would rather see himself in danger than anyone else. That's the one thing about him that’s still the same. He will always protect the people he cares for. No matter the cost. That is my brother. That is MY Vilkas….. I just wish you could have seen him before…..before he buried his heart so deep that even he can't find it.” 

Farkas closed his eyes, willing his anguish into the same pit where Vilkas had his heart entombed. Bran slid onto the rock so he could cuddle up to the nord despite how uncomfortable it was with both of them still being in their armor.

“Your Vilkas hmmm? Tell me, how long have the two of you been lovers?” Bran expected Farkas to blush, but he didn't. He still squirmed a little, clearly uncomfortable talking about his dark secret so the Breton continued. “Let me guess. You were curious teenagers who agreed to practice kissing with each other and eventually your practice sessions turned into a thorough examination.” 

Farkas did blush then. He let his helmet fall to the ground between his legs and draped an arm over Bran's shoulders. “No, but I would have kissed him then if he had offered. I thought wanting men was wrong let alone wanting my brother. So I kept it all to myself. When Vilkas first told me that he felt the same I didn't believe him. But he was standing in my room half naked and sm…..uhhh.” 

Bran patted the nord’s chestplate. “You don’t have to get embarrassed luv. He was half naked and what?” 

“I don't know. I just…..took him before I could lose my nerve. Before he could change his mind. I felt terrible afterwards. I didn’t think Vilkas would ever talk to me again. But I was wrong.” 

Bran asked again. “How long ago was that?” 

“Not long. A few months before you got here.” Farkas whispered. 

“Really?” Bran sat up. “Well that explains a lot.”

“It does?”

The breton chuckled. “Why of course. Had the two of you even established your boundaries before I showed up?”

“I guess not.” 

“Which is why Vilkas is so jealous. Clearly he thought the two of you were in a closed relationship while you didn't.” 

Farkas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm so stupid.” 

“No, sweetheart. It makes sense that you didn’t talk since you were trying to keep your relationship hidden.” Bran reached up and held Farkas’s cheek gently guiding the nord into a kiss. “I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable around Vilkas, but when he does come back, the three of us desperately need to have a chat.” 

Farkas grunted an agreement before exchanging the kiss for a deeper one. Bran took it happily. He wrapped a hand around Farkas’s neck to draw him closer before sliding onto the man’s lap. Farkas hummed into the needy kiss drawing his hands up along Bran's thighs. The breton groaned. 

"Don't make noises like that." Farkas wheezed before seizing Bran's lips all over again. The nord's kisses were more forceful than normal fueled by his stress and frustration. Bran didn't protest. If that was what Farkas needed to soothe his anxiety he would oblige. 

Bran giggled. "Why not?" 

"Because, it drives me wild." 

"What if that's what I want?" Bran broke the kiss to press his face against Farkas's ear. He groaned loud and long before whispering. "Give it to me daddy." 

"Fuck!" Farkas growled. He seized Bran by his hair pulling him away from his face so he could plunge his tongue inside. Bran gasped both from the sting of his hair being pulled and from Farkas's sudden roughness. The nord’s other hand clung to his arse tightly enough that Bran was certain his cheek would get bruised. He caressed Farkas's tongue with his own while ignoring the slight unease in his stomach. 

Farkas had never reacted quite like this before, but Bran had asked for it. He sure as hell wasn't going to back out now. He expertly undid the buckles on Farkas's breastplate. Bran hadn't a clue how the nord could get into all these different pieces of metal, but he was a master of getting him out. As soon as the pauldrons were off, Farkas tore himself from Bran's lips just long enough for his cuirass to be lifted over his head. 

The nord followed suit removing Bran of his leathers leaving him in just his flowy tunic and Farkas in his gambeson. With a growl he buried his face in Bran's neck to nip and suck on his tendon. 

"Fuck yes daddy." Bran cooed as he threw his head back giving Farkas better access.

The nord wrapped his arms around Bran and stood carrying the breton over to their bed rolls. Bran laced his legs around Farkas's waist and kept them there even after his back was pressed into the soft buckskin. He pressed his heels into Farkas's arse trying to coerce the man into grinding against him. Farkas did so though there were still too many layers of clothing for him to feel much. 

As if reading his thoughts, the nord yanked off his gambeson before leaning onto Bran to claim him once more. His kisses were frantic. Possessive. Desperate. He held onto Bran firmly like he might suddenly disappear if he didn't. Farkas' hand pressed into Bran's wrists bringing them above his head, clamping them in place with his powerful grasp while the other dug its way between their bodies to root out the hem of his tunic.

Farkas was normally gentle with Bran. There were times when he was demanding or even a little forceful; but not like this. It's just his frayed nerves.

Bran clamped his eyes shut and was instantly bombarded with images of a small delicate hand pressing him to the bed, long yellow painted nails clawing at his chest and back. Of a golden collar yanking and pulling demanding him to obey. Of that damn ruby dagger always toying against his skin threatening to maim should he not please yet never willing to give him the stinging release of death. Those crazed copper eyes looming over him, as terrifying and sadistic as they were beautiful. 

Bran shuddered, but told himself it was only because of Farkas's tongue lapping against his neck as he drew the skin lightly between his teeth. Get a hold of yourself. It's just Farkas. It'll be okay . The nord sucked on his neck, putting hit teeth into it, clearly wanting to leave a mark, but as he took a breath he paused. The breton waited for the scratching of his chapped lips and stubble to appear elsewhere, but when they didn't he peeled his eyes open. 

Farkas still lay on top of him, partly naked and haloed by the stars. Half his face was bathed in soft silver light while the other side brooded in shadow. He looked confused and his voice that had growled so deeply in lust before was now soft with concern. "Are you okay?" 

Bram mused. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"You're as stiff as a board." 

"Sweetheart that tends to happen when you're touching me." 

"I don't mean your cock." Farkas huffed.

"I was just startled is all. It's no fuss." Bran tried not to squirm as he was still trapped in Farkas's grasp. Those haunting memories were still floating in his head like a thin layer of oil skimming on the surface. 

Farkas for all the talk of his dimwittedness immediately spotted the source of Bran's unease. "I'm being too rough with you." 

He released Bran's arms and leaned onto his elbow so his chest was against the Breton’s side instead of weighing down on him. Farkas traced Bran's face with his knuckles. "I'm sorry." 

"I wasn't complaining." 

"But you weren't enjoying yourself." 

"I was just distracted." Bran tried teasing, but he wasn't certain he succeeded. He was already starting to feel guilty for ruining the moment. "I started this. I wasn't going to back out." 

Farkas slid his hand up under Bran's shirt. The touch was a gentle caress aimed to soothe rather than arouse. "Why not?" 

"I'm not an ass." Bran scoffed. "I'm not going to leave you hanging with blue balls." 

Farkas froze. He seemed confounded and disgusted by Bran's answer. The breton just lay there feeling like he had done something wrong but not knowing what. Farkas nibbled on his lip and sighed. He extracted his hand from under Bran's tunic, pointedly pulling the fabric down to cover his skin before threading his fingers through the bretons own. He settled their interlocked hands on Bran's heart. 

Farkas's baritone whisper was powerful. "Szerető. I need you to promise me that if you are ever feeling uncomfortable, that if you ever want me to stop, you will tell me. I don't care if we are already in the middle of sex. I don't care if you only need a moment or if you want to stop altogether. TELL ME. And I promise you, I swear to you, I will stop. I won't be angry or upset with you. I don't want to do anything that makes you feel unsafe or uneasy. Promise me. Please?" 

It took Bran a moment to find his voice behind the boulder lodged in his throat. He only managed a meek whisper. "I promise." 

"Thank you." Farkas peppered Bran's shoulder in delicate kisses and held him gently. "If it makes you feel better, I was also struggling." 

"I know luv." Bran squeezed Farkas's hand. "I was trying to give you a distraction." 

"You know I don't enjoy sex if you're not also enjoying it." 

"Don't misunderstand. I always enjoy your cock, it's just…..I.." Bran sighed as that all too familiar pain pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe. He rolled onto his side so he could snuggle into Farkas's warm chest. "I was reminded of things I'd rather forget." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"I really don't. I just want it to go away." 

Farkas lifted the edge of the bed rolls and coaxed Bran inside. Once the breton was snuggled up inside, Farkas kissed his hair before resting his forehead against Bran's. "I'm sorry, Szerető, but it will never go away. I wish I could say that it will, but no matter how hard you try, you will never forget."

"You don't know that." Bran muttered. 

"I do. I don't really know what you've been through Bran, but I know what it's like to have shitty memories that haunt you." 

Bran thought about Wolfskull cave and Farkas's fear of necromancers. He couldn't fathom how terrifying it would have been for a child's first memories to be that of their impending death. "Have you ever seen it? Like you're still there?" 

"I used to, but I've learned to cope."

"How?" 

"With help. By talking to Vilkas and Kodlak." 

"No!" Bran's voice cracked as a wave of emotions swept up to the surface and threatened to spill out as tears. He huffed, trying to will himself calm. 

Farkas's fingers painted Bran's back with small soothing circles. He whispered. "Szerető, you can't let it go if you keep it trapped inside?" 

"That sounds like something Kodlak would say." Bran scoffed, or maybe he laughed. He was too worked up to discern what emotions were slipping out. 

"That is something Kodlak said and it worked for me." 

"Stop." Bran breathed. "Please." 

Farkas blinked like he hadn't expected his promise to be used in that context. Not that it stopped him from keeping his word. He nodded before giving Bran one final kiss on the shoulder. "Okay." 

As simply as that all of Bran's turmoil receded back into the depths. He knew Farkas was right. He would never heal when the wound was festering. It needed to be cut open so all the gunk and puss could be released. Only then could it be cleaned and healed. But Bran wasn't ready to face that pain and he was eternally grateful for Farkas to accept that. His willingness to stop was like a balm on the wound. It wouldn't heal it, but at least it could help dull the pain. 

The nord pulled himself off the bedroll and fetched his gambeson. Bran was expecting the fear to leech back onto him, but it didn't. True he would still prefer to be snuggled with his man, but he still felt safe knowing Farkas wouldn’t leave him. He watched as the nord redressed himself before he chuckled. "Well that was entirely for not wasn't it? You're still determined to keep first watch." 

"There's no point in you doing it when I'm not going to sleep anyway." Farkas said as he tightened the straps of his gambeson before piecing his armor back together. 

"If you insist then. Goodnight sweetheart." Bran conceded. It was obvious Farkas wasn't going to yield. He can be as stubborn as his brother at times. He grabbed the inner lining of the bedroll and wadded it in his hands before resting his chin on top. "I……I love you." 

Bran still felt uncomfortable saying those words. They sounded like a curse coming from his lips. The smile that spread across Farkas's face was anything but. Some of the warmth returned to his sad eyes and his face practically glowed as if the fire were still burning. "I love you. Sleep well Szerető." 

Except now I'm not going to be able to sleep either. So the Breton thought, but sleep as always came easily to him. He welcomed the reprieve from consciousness where cursed memories and thoughts were vanquished; where Bran could forget he even existed. 

A sea of evergreens. A vast dark endless forest of spruce, fur, and hemlock. Vilkas felt like he had been meandering through the trees for ages, yet time didn't seem to pass. It was night…..atleast it seemed like night with the dim light that looked like moonlight, but he swore it hadnt moved in all the time he had been searching. Vilkas hadn't a clue where he was. He didn't remember entering the woods or even when he had started walking. 

The forest itself was ominous. Not even the slightest breeze touched the trees nor were there any sounds of life. No owls hooted. No bats screeched. No trolls or sabrecats prowled. The only noise came from Vilkas's boots on the soft moss covered earth and the sound of his breathing. The silence was practically unbearable.

“Farkas!” Vilkas called out. His voice was heavy and echoed through the baleful silence. He looked around feeling more uneasy with each passing step. Farkas has to be here. He wouldn’t leave me alone.  Before him the trees finally parted, revealing a small clearing from which only grass grew. It was adorned by a single boulder on the other side from which a small dirt embankment was starting to build upon it. Vilkas stepped out into the clearing and the underbrush near the boulder started to sway and rustle. The sudden sound and movement made him jump. “Farkas?”

From the depths of the forest stepped out a massive wolf with fur as black as the void. Its golden eyes glowed in the dim moonlight. It stood at the otherside of the meadow proud, regal, and deadly. A top predator in peak condition. It stared down at Vilkas, for the wolf was larger than he, and fear gripped him as the creature lifted its lips in a snarl. The wolf seemed familiar somehow though Vilkas knew not why. More wolves appeared behind the first. They were smaller than the black beast yet still dwarfed the nord. A brown and red wolf was the first to enter the clearing. She was thinner and lighter than the others and she began to circle Vilkas. An eager anticipation shone bright in her gold eyes and she lowered her head in a challenge as she slowly circled. 

“Aela!” Vilkas exclaimed. He reached for her and she snapped at him barely missing his fingers. She continued her circling as she growled and licked her teeth. “Aela, it’s me. Vilkas!”

A second wolf entered the clearing. He was gray and wizened with a muzzle long gone white. He joined Aela, circling Vilkas as they seemingly waited for something. Skjor……. Why do they not recognize me? What are they waiting for? Another wolf emerged from the forest, this one as white as a ghost. Kodlak? The wolves kept glancing at the black beast, waiting for his signal. It felt wrong. Vilkas turned back to the black wolf who sat on his haunches staring down at him. Who is this wolf leading the companions instead of Kodlak?

“Alright you brute. What are you waiting for?” Vilkas challenged. A fifth wolf appeared, this one slightly smaller than the black beast. He was brown with streaks of black upon his face and back. He sat next to the alpha.

“Brother! Thank the gods I found you!” Vilkas shouted, but the brown wolf ignored him.

“Foolish child! I gave you a mighty gift and you spurned it. The audacity!” The words radiated out from the forest in an all encompassing voice that emerged from every fern, tree and rock. It was as if the very forest, the very air was speaking. So loud and encompassing was the sudden voice against the silence that Vilkas yelped. He clutched his chest certain that for a moment his soul had left his body.

A hand emerged from the shadows, strong, veiny, and callused, and gently rested upon the Alpha’s head. Except instead of the black wolf a mighty werewolf was in its place. The beast was larger than a troll yet the hand scratching at his ear was not diminutive. The beast parted its dagger like teeth to loll its tongue out happily and stared up at its master adoringly as it stepped into the moonlight. The being was bare chested wearing only a skirt with tassets and greaved sandals. Gripped firmly in his right hand was a wicked multi spiked spear. His face was hidden within the skull of an elk with wide branching antlers so long that the tips melded into the night sky. The longer Vilkas gawked the larger the being seemed to grow. It was Alrabeg. The Hunter. One of the aspects of….

“Hircine.” Vilkas breathed. 

“Indeed.” The Deadric Prince spoke yet the words coalesced from above and below Vilkas. “And you, my child, who once held such potential, are not worthy of this blessing."

Hircine looked down at the black werewolf stroking its head fondly. The creature’s gold gaze pierced into Vilkas’s soul. THAT is the beast that lives inside me? 

The Prince continued. “I was tempted to put you out of your misery myself, but alas another hunter took up the task." 

Vilkas swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as the weight of the Prince's words settled in his stomach. This is the Hunting Grounds……..Ysgrammor’s beard! I'm in Oblivion…..but that means…I DIED?

Vilkas's chest felt heavy as he struggled to breath. "No. I can't be dead. This is a dream. This isn't real!" 

The god laughed. "Deny all you want mortal, but I have collected your soul. Now you shall pay for rejecting my blessings. A new hunt is about to begin…..” 

Alrabeg pointed his spear, the Spear of Bitter Mercy if legends were to be believed, at Vilkas. “And I have chosen the hare.”

Vilkas went cold as all of the werewolves raised their hackles and readied to pounce. He found himself slowly walking backward. This can't be real. I can't be dead! The werewolves let him step out of their circle unchallenged as they waited presumably for Hircine’s command. 

They’re my shield siblings. They wouldn’t turn against me. As if on cue Farkas leapt down to join the others, his mouth open and salivating as he let out a growl. The Alpha sat back on his haunches, his lips parting into a wicked grin. The black wolf was all too familiar, but it was unsettling to see it for himself instead of just feeling it within his mind. The Alpha’s gaze never wavered as it studied. Anticipated. Waited for the moment to strike. No these aren't my Companions. These are just Hircine’s hounds.

“Flee while you can, mortal.” Alrabeg commanded. “You will not be given another chance for escape.” 

The Alpha lunged with jaws open and teeth glistening. Vilkas leapt out of the way barely dodging the beast. The rest of the werewolves descended, their jaws gnashing. 

Vilkas ran. 

Chapter Text

"Szerető……Bran wake up. We need to get ready to leave." 

"Piss off." Bran mumbled, still half asleep. He rolled onto his other side and away from the voice. If it's almost time to leave, that means you didn't take your watch, you nunce!

Bran bolted up. It was morning. The sun was already threatening to burst out from behind the mountains. Farkas had started the fire and already had some bread and ham warming beside it. Their saddlebags were gone. After a quick look around the breton found them already on the horse's. They were both saddled and presumably ready to go. All that was left were the bedrolls and the two Companions. 

"Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Bran huffed. "You were up all night again weren't you?" 

He didn't know why he bothered asking. Farkas had smeared his warpaint from rubbing his eyes though the dark bags beneath helped obscure that fact. The nord yawned and shook his head, his drooping eyelids obscuring some of the redness. "There's no point in both of us being tired." 

Bran wanted to protest, but he knew the argument would be pointless. He couldn't force Farkas to sleep. He certainly couldn't blame him for being worried. Farkas yawned again and sat back on his rock with his shield and helmet on the ground beside him.

It was strange seeing Farkas with a shield. More than once Bran had an instance thinking that his bastard brother had appeared only for Farkas’s face to emerge. Vilkas. You better be back at Jorrvaskr when we return. 

He wanted to reassure his lover, but he didn't want to sound ungenuine either. Farkas was blankly staring at the fire while he gnawed on what was left of the nail on his thumb. He had worn it down to the point that it was bleeding. Bran slithered out of the bedroll and hastily threw on his boots before going to kneel before Farkas. He took his lover's hand in hopes of preserving whatever was left of the nord’s nails. "Sweetheart, if there is anyone who can survive the wilds of Skyrim without his sword or previsions, it's your brother. Besides, what's to say he's not currently in a village somewhere that needed help and he felt honor bound to do so?"  

Farkas smiled sadly. He seemed grateful for Bran's attempt to soothe his worry, but it obviously failed. His lips parted, but the words turned into a hopeless sigh. He stared at their joined hands, his jaw working as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Vilkas is not okay. I can feel it. I know it sounds crazy, but something's wrong. He needs me, and I DON'T KNOW where he is." 

Bran wondered if the necromancers from Farkas’s youth were right. That some sort of magical tie bound the twins together. Bran kissed his lover's hand in an effort to offer at least some sliver of comfort. "We don't have to listen to Kodlak, right? If you want to go search for Vilkas we can. It's not like this piece of Wuuthrad is going anywhere." 

Farkas's gaze followed the road and settled on the distant horizon toward Rorikstead. "I want to, but his trail would be cold by now. He could be anywhere." 

"Then trust that Aela and Skjor will find him." 

"Yeah……" Farkas pulled his hand away so he could press his knuckles into the space between his brows. He shook his head. "We should get going." 

"Okay." Bran replied quietly. 

They ate their meager breakfast in the saddle. Bran doubted Farkas tasted his food at all. The way he tore off chunks of bread and brought it to his lips was as automatic and lifeless as a dwemer automaton. Bran tried to distract Farkas with a story, but he wasn't sure if the nord was listening. After about an hour he gave up. They rode the rest of the way to Dustman’s Cairn in silence. 

It was midday when they arrived. Dustman’s Cairn was embedded into a knoll a little ways off the road. Bran wouldn't have known there was anything there if not for the stone pillars surrounding the circular stairway leading down into the Cairn. 

They had no way of hiding the horse's so they simply left them to graze by the Cairn and hoped no passerby would abduct them. They slung their packs with a few days worth of provisions on their backs and donned their weapons. Bran asked as they made their way down the steps into the moss covered stone depths. "Why did you decide to go with a mace and shield instead of your pillar of a sword?" 

Farkas rolled his shoulders. His deep voice reverberated through the large pit that made up the entrance. It sounded powerful, hiding any hint of weariness. Their arrival seemed to have revitalized Farkas. His self assured battle stance was a greatly missed sight. "Because we will be underground in narrow passageways. It's hard to swing a sword that's longer than the room you're fighting in. A shield just makes it that much harder for enemies to reach us." 

"And the mace?" 

Farkas grinned. Bran felt a flutter of joy in his stomach or perhaps trepidation. The grin was down right malicious. "Simple. I swing it and things die." 

"If a mace is so easy to use why don't you use them all the time?" Bran asked as he opened the door to Dustman’s Cairn. He was greeted with the smell of old rotten air and pressed his nose into his shoulder. "Bloody hell." 

"I can't cut off heads or torsos with a mace." 

"Oh please. Like you've actually cut someone's torso in half." Bran scoffed. 

"You calling me a liar?" Farkas lifted a brow. 

"Never sweetheart." 

With a determined frown, Farkas pulled the mace from the loop on his belt and headed inside. Bran followed close behind. 

The first thing the Breton noticed was the lit torches. He was surprised by that till he remembered Vilkas teaching him about Draugr. "Even in death, Draugr serve and protect their masters. They burn incense, light torches, give offerings, and even polish dragon word walls. They have given themselves completely to their masters and by doing so will fight mercilessly. They will never yield nor flee." 

The air was alive with mildew and fresh soil. That's odd. Do draugr till? They ventured down a short hallway where a small room rested at the end. The first thing Bran noticed were the sarcophagi embedded into the walls that had been forced open and their contents spilled onto the floor. Luckily the draugr that once occupied them didn't seem to be reanimated. In the center of the room sat an ancient stone table where several chests, urns and other treasures had been placed. Piles of dirt, shovels, and wheelbarrows littered the rest of the room. 

“Someone's been digging here… and recently.” Farkas growled. 

“Maybe the scholar sent an expedition?” Bran asked. 

“Perhaps. Tread lightly.” Farkas replied as he stepped over the draugr and into the next hallway. 

The tunnel ventured further down into the earth. The only sounds were that of their boots and the occasional grating of Farkas's armor clinking together as he walked. The tunnel led them to a room that could only be called a burial chamber. It was a maze filled with row after row of draugr resting in niches carved into the walls. They were packed tight from floor to ceiling like bunks on a ship. As they wound their way through the room Bran felt his hair rise on his neck. He kept glancing behind him worried that one of the draugr would wake at any moment.

None stirred. It seemed the ones still capable of reanimation had already been dealt with for their bodies littered the floor while their stench rose up to choke them. Bran wondered. “If the scholar already had the draugr taken care of, why couldn't he just take Wuuthrad and drop it off at Jorrvaskr?” 

Farkas shrugged. “Who knows. Kodlak asked us to come, so I'm here. I don’t see the point in questioning him.” 

“I'm not questioning Kodlak. I'm questioning this scholar.” 

“Kodlak thinks the information is solid. That's all that matters.” 

“That’s not what I was getting at.” Bran said. 

“Then say what you mean.” Farkas replied as they reached the end of the corpse room and made their way into another short hallway that led them down a short flight of stairs and into an open room partly caved in. 

“I dont know.” The breton scoffed. “This just feels wrong. Like we're being set up.” 

Farkas laughed. “By a scholar?” 

Whatever the room's original purpose was impossible to tell. It was largely empty with a few stone tables and an alchemy station tucked into the corners. Ahead the passageway was barred shut. Beside it an alcove sat nestled into the wall from where a lever sat on an outcrop. 

“Let's have a look around.” Farkas tucked his mace back into its loop and started scanning a table. 

“I'm just saying it feels strange not having ran into anyone or anything yet.” Bran asserted. He stepped up to the alcove and reached for the lever. 

“Don't!" Farkas shouted the same moment Bran yanked on the lever. With a solid 'clunk!' A gate crashed down behind them sealing the two into the alcove. Bran blinked. He flashed an embarrassed smile and went to push the lever back. 

It didn't budge. 

Bran's green and hazel eyes left the stuck lever to the solid iron bars trapping them and then settled on Farkas's annoyed scowl. The nord chewed in his lip. “Now look what you got us into.” 

The breton let go of the lever and said impishly. “Well this is a flawed design plan innit?” 

"Let me see." Farkas studied the lever critically before pushing and pulling on it. He pulled off his shield and pressed it against the lever before forcefully shoving into it. The top of the lever snapped. It shot into the wall, ricocheted off the stone, and smacked straight into the metal bars. The sound of metal clanging against metal resounded throughout the room like a badly smelted bell. Farkas stared at the broken shaft and muttered. "Well shit." 

Bran rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Well before we start panicking let's have a gander, yes?" 

"A what?" 

"A look around.”

Farkas sighed. “That's what I said before you started touching things.”

“Maybe we can find another release or something to get it unstuck." 

"Why would they put two releases in the same room?" 

"Why would they put a lever in an alcove that seals you into it?" Bran quipped. 

"To set a trap……." Farkas whispered. “You were right.” 

Bran went to reply but the nord threw up his hand to shush him. 

The breton swore once again that Farkas was sniffing the air as he looked around, but the desire to question it was quickly smothered by the tell-tale sound of boots running up the tunnel; The same tunnel that had been barred but was now conveniently open. 

"But why and who?" Bran asked. 

A group seven strong, five men and two women, rushed into the room. Bran would have guessed them to be bandits with their steel armor and longbows except all of their swords shimmered silver. Several had what looked like wolf skulls adorning their helmets except they were far too large to be any type of wolf. Werewolf hunters? 

"Shit." Farkas breathed. He quickly scanned the cell before taking off his shield and dumping it in Bran's arms. "Keep it centered, and don't drop it." 

Bran didn't have time to protest or ask questions. He certainly started too until he saw four of the hunters drawing their bows all aimed at him and Farkas. He pulled one of his swords from its sheath and held the shield to his heart as he tried to remember everything Vilkas had taught him about shields. The arse would love this. I told you so Twiggy! He didn't understand why Farkas was hiding somewhere behind him, but he trusted his lover to have a plan. 

"It's time to die, dog." Spat one of the nords wearing a werewolf skull. 

Bran clung to the shield and backed up toward the corner. He brandished the only weapon that had any hope of freeing them in this situation. His smile. "Gentlemen. My ladies. There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding. We're Companions on a quest to find a piece of Wuuthrad." 

They ignored him. The Imperial woman boasted. "Killing you will make an excellent story." 

"None of you will be alive to tell it!" Farkas growled. 

The orc shouted at the others and pointed his sword at the cell. "Kill the bastard before he turns!" 

They loosed their arrows. Bran ducked behind the shield grunting as several arrows smacked into it. Farkas cried out. Damn it Farkas! Why did you give me your shield?

His cry was quickly drowned out by a roar. The sound erupted from behind Bran so loudly that his ears rang. The wild call buried into his soul and wrapped him in a cold cloak of sheer terror. A few of the hunters dropped their weapons and fled. Before Bran could process what was happening, the iron grate was thrust back into the ceiling and a brown blur bounded past him. 

The beast tore into the mercenaries ripping apart their armor like cloth. Bran was completely forgotten which he would have been grateful for if fear hadn't planted him in place.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at until the beast had already slaughtered two of the archers and sent the orc sailing into a wall. The last hunter standing who hadn't fled down the tunnel leapt in front of the beast and thrust his silver sword. The beast backhanded the hunter. The blow was so powerful that it snapped his neck and he collapsed. 

The creature leapt after the orc who was still trying to pick himself off the floor. Long glistening canines sank into his elbow crushing through the armor with a single crunch. The beast pulled, its large neck muscles flexing beneath shaggy brown fur as it tore the orc's arm free from his torso. Long curved claws batted the orc, like a kitten bopping a ball, shredding the steel armor as easily as a disgruntled Jarl ripping up parchment. 

The orc's screams filled the room and rattled around Bran's brain adding to the terror that he didn't think could possibly grow. He told himself to look away. To flee before the beast turned on him. Bran couldn't move. It was like he was trapped in his own body. All he could do was watch helplessly as the beast opened up the orc's chest cavity. With a loud squelch the monster tore out the orc's heart, swallowing it in a single gulp. It licked its jowls and then turned to settle its burning gold gaze onto Bran. 

The beast had the torso of a man's except it was twice as large as Farkas's and covered with dark brown fur, almost black in the dim light. Its giant clawed hands were bigger than Bran's head and dripped with blood. Large fluffy ears swiveled back and forth listening for sounds. Canines longer than Bran's fingers glistened white and red beneath the wolfish grin. It was obvious what the creature was. A werewolf. 

Yet Bran couldn't comprehend it. He denied the beast before him even as it leaned forward and slowly approached him on all fours. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be real because that would mean that that THING was Farkas and that was impossible! 

But Farkas was no longer behind him. His armor was scattered on the ground around him twisted and bent with snapped buckles and ties. His mace was lying on the ground. This isn't real. Farkas wouldn't leave his weapon abandoned. Bran held Farkas’s shield before him and slowly tried to back away from the creature. He clung to his sword, pointing it at the beast despite how much it trembled in his grip. I need to get away and find Farkas! 

The beast growled and barked as it stalked closer. Bran kept backing away until his back bumped into the wall and jolted his body back to life. He couldn't just stand there cowering. He would have to act if he wanted to live! With a scream, he slashed at the beast. The werewolf jumped back and the Breton took his chance. He threw himself at the beast smashing its muzzle in with Farkas's shield before dropping it to bolt back up the stairs. He barely made it to the top before he felt the werewolf's claws plucking at his arm. 

Bran whirled around swinging blindly. The beast howled as the sword slashed open his forearm. Bran struck again aiming to gut the werewolf, but it pounced, throwing Bran to the ground. The back of his helmet slammed into the old cobblestone and his sword was ripped from his grasp. His helmet protected his skull from being smashed open but it still jarred his senses. He groaned. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the beast was already on top of him holding him down by a single paw. Bran screamed. "Farkas!" 

The werewolf continued to growl and bark, sending waves of hot air over Bran's face, choking him with its blood infused breath. The breton desperately reached for his sword, knowing it to be futile but unwilling to just lay back and die. The werewolf pushed the blade far out of reach and Bran couldn't help but wonder what the beast was waiting for. It was just kneeling there pressing its paw into his chest as it stared at him. Bran counted five whole breaths, in and out, and still it didn't move. 

It just growled and barked at him; A sound so deep and gravely that he could feel it in his back. As the seconds passed the noises coalesced into something tangible. They weren't just vicious growls. The werewolf was speaking! "It's okay. Bran, it's me! I'm not going to hurt you." 

Bran rejected the words and continued his hopeless struggle. "No. No. This isn't real! You're not Farkas!" 

"Szerető." The werewolf replied gently, or at least as gently as a giant daedric imbued man beast could. "It IS me.” 

The nickname made Bran pause. No one else would call him that. I've had stranger dreams before. This CAN'T be real!

The beast let out a low growl that Bran assumed was supposed to be a whisper. “I would never hurt you. I swear it." 

"I…….I don't understand." Bran stammered. His heart was still pounding, his mind half frantic, but he couldn't deny that the werewolf would have already eaten him if it had wanted to. 

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way." The werewolf leaned back on his haunches and licked the blood streaming from his nose. He shook his head causing his mane to roll back and forth across his shoulders. "Fuck. You got me good." 

Bran debated whether or not he could worm his knife out of his pocket to stab the paw still securing him to the ground. He watched the werewolf carefully looking for traces of his lover. He found none. Farkas’s quicksilver eyes were gone, replaced by a deep gold. There were black markings beneath his eyes similar to his warpaint, but there were more markings cutting through his fur. FUR! And a TAIL! The clawed hand holding him in place had paw pads on it. How could this terrifying beast be his tender Farkas? "You're……A werewolf? You've been this whole time?" 

“That and longer.” The beast replied. “I'm going to let you go now. I'm going to back away and you're not going to attack me again. Okay?” 

The panic and shock was starting to fade. Slightly. Bran nodded and glanced at the arm holding him in place. There was a large gash on Farkas's forearm and his fur was soaked in blood. "Sorry." 

"I probably would have had the same reaction." Farkas did as he said, backing away to the wall and sat on his haunches. 

The Breton shoved himself off the ground and scooted further away to the other wall though it didn't feel nearly like enough space. He felt a little better being on his feet again, but he was still struggling to grasp this sudden realization. He watched Farkas cautiously as the beast began licking the wound on his forearm. Bran picked up his sword, never once taking his eye off the werewolf. “I'm still not sure I believe this. I've been with you plenty of times under the full moons and you've never turned before!” 

“We're special. We only turn at will.”  

“We?” 

Farkas hesitated, his ears swiveled flat. He looked like a dog that had just gotten in trouble. “All of the Circle are werewolves.” 

Bran laughed. How is that both surprising and not? 

Before he could ask anymore questions, Farkas stood. The Breton's heart was instantly back in his throat pounding to the point of choking. The werewolf turned tail and trotted back down the stairs. Bran slowly followed. He told himself it was a dumb decision. Which it bloody is! But he was resolute in knowing that Farkas wouldn't hurt him. If that creature was really his lover then he was safe. 

As soon as they were back in the chamber where they had been trapped, the werewolf sank his claws into another hunter's chest and started tearing. Bran yelped. “Stop!”

Farkas paused. “Szerető……I ruined my armor. I need to stay like this until the danger is over. I can't do that unless I keep giving offerings to Hircine.” 

“And how do you do that exactly?” 

“By consuming the hearts of my prey.” 

Bran felt nauseous by just the thought. “Then don't keep fighting. We can go back to Whiterun. This is more than what we signed up for as is.” 

“So the Silver Hand can take the piece of Wuuthrad? Never. We have a duty to retrieve it.”

“If it's even down here!” 

“We still have to try.” Farkas chuffed. His voice grew slightly softer. “I understand if this is too much for you Szerető. It's okay if you want to wait outside.” 

“No.” Bran sneered at the thought. “I won't leave you here to fight alone.” 

The werewolf grinned. “And that is why you deserve to be a Companion.” 

Farkas returned to his meal. Bran looked away and tried to will the sounds from his mind. When the beast was finished he ordered Bran to take his shield and the two continued on deeper into the Cairn. Bran trailed behind by several meters still debating whether he should just leave. 

The next room was mostly empty save for a few draugr that had apparently been awakened by the Silver Hands screams as they retreated. Farkas made easy work of them. He simply pounced and crushed their skulls destroying the reanimation magic with it. The next chamber was larger with a flight of stairs going up to a second level. Two of the hunters waited for them at the top of the stairs. They loosed their arrows. Farkas roared and they both shivered and turned to flee.  

In a single leap, Farkas landed on the second story and quickly chased after. Bran could do nothing but watch as the beast's wagging tail disappeared. He hurried up the stairs following the sounds of the roaring and screaming. At the top he found Farkas disemboweling a dark elf on the far side of the room. Near Bran peeking over a sarcophagus was the Imperial. Her bow pointed at Farkas's back.  

“Behind!” Bran shouted and rushed toward her. 

The Imperial started and quickly turned her arrow at Bran, releasing it as she rose to her feet. He blocked the arrow with his shield and struck at her legs. She hopped back when suddenly the elf Farkas had been feasting on slammed into her. With a shriek she fell off the overhang. There was a sickening crunch as she landed. 

Bran just stared at the werewolf flabbergasted. Farkas had flung a full sized elf across the room like tossing a ball. His might was terrifying and Bran was still finding it hard to believe that this wild beast was truly Farkas. He kept expecting it to turn on him. They continued their descent with the breton still trailing behind. 

He did little more than warn the werewolf whenever he saw a threat the beast had missed. But he found he needn't worry for draugr and mortal alike easily fell before the creature. Occasionally Farkas would tear them apart and gorge on their hearts but otherwise he killed and moved on. He didn't seem to savor the killing for which Bran was grateful. Farkas only killed because he had too. Whether werewolf or not, that aspect of him was unshakable. 

Bran was starting to wonder if they would ever reach the end of the Cairn let alone the end of the killing. There had to have been nearly 20 of the Silver Hand in total. Bran had his suspicions as to why they were out in force but he saved his questions for later. After nearly an hour prowling through the coffin lined tunnels, they reached a room filled with dead draugr that ended at a locked door. Bran started scrounging for the key but Farkas simply charged the door and slammed his shoulder into it. The door cracked and splintered. The werewolf clawed and shoved against it until the door buckled beneath the assault. 

On the other side was a small tunnel infested with skeevers. Bran inferred. “Hopefully this means an end to all those damn werewolf hunters.”

“Which means we need to be quick. We have maybe an hour before I’ll turn back.” Farkas growled. “I won't be able to fight after that.”

“Sweetheart, I have every faith that you can still fight without your armor. You’ll just have to be a little careful is all.”

“It's not just that. I'll be too tired. This form is draining.” 

Bran dared to reach out to the beast and pet his shoulder. He was incredibly warm and his fur was softer than he expected if a little wiry. “Then let's get this over with.” 

Past the skeevers the hallway had collapsed almost completely, turning the cairn into more of a cave. Deeper within was a room with only a few pillars remaining and completely infested with frostbite spiders. Bran had heard they were larger in Skyrim than in High Rock but it still surprised him to see spiders as big as bears. He recoiled which luckily led him to accidentally dodging a spray of venom one had shot at him. “I fucking hate spiders!”

Farkas roared. The spiders didn't cower beneath the sound, but they still seemed deafened by the noise. He pounced and while they were distracted with the werewolf Bran rushed up behind them and started slashing. Once they were dead he hastily backed away from the mass of legs that kept jittering even though many were no longer attached. Bran squirmed and rubbed his arms, his whole body suddenly feeling itchy. 

The werewolf made a strange growling noise that took the breton a moment to recognize as laughter. Bran huffed. “What's so funny.”

“Afraid of spiders?” Farkas asked. 

Bran squirmed again. “It's not fear, its repulsion. They’re disgusting creatures with far too many legs!” 

Their assumptions turned out to be right. They didn't run into any more of the Silver Hand. There were a few draugr patrolling the old caved in tunnels, but surprisingly the battles seemed to be over. They still moved quickly but it was a nice reprieve. Water had found its way into the ancient passages filling the air with the scent of mold. They picked their way through carefully until they reached what had to be the inner sanctum. 

The room was preserved rather well. It even had an ancient chandelier still hanging from the ceiling. The temple was three tiered. The lower level housed a row of nooks each with a single coffin standing proudly inside. The second tier was an open space leading up to a single sarcophagus. At the top an altar stood proudly before a dragon word wall. It was both beautiful and ominous. A testament to the ancient Nords’ craftsmanship and the power of the Dragon Cult. 

“I'm fairly certain that if Wuuthrad isn't here then we've come all this way for nothing.” Bran quipped. 

Farkas nodded his head. His ears swiveled about as he sniffed the air. “Let's have a look around. And this time don't touch anything!” 

“Agreed.” 

There wasn't much to investigate for Bran sure as hell wasn't going to pry open any of the sarcophagi. He meandered his way up the steps looking in the dim light for any piece of metal that could potentially be an ancient axe. He reached the word wall. It was a curved stone wall adorned with spiraling etchings and the giant head of an eagle on top. He studied the dragon writing carved into the center wondering what the ancient script said. It feels almost alive. There’s still magic here. Bran gently ran his fingertips along the letters. They were warm to the touch. The words pulled at him with a magic he had never felt before. He quickly backed away. He knew better than to interact with unknown magics. 

“This is it.” Farkas barked from behind him.

The breton spun around to see the werewolf standing before the altar staring at a piece of iron with a side that had a clear weapons edge on it. This ‘fragment’ was as big as the breton’s chest. The other splintered end was adorned with an elongated wailing face. Bran lifted a brow. “How charming.”

Farkas scooped the piece into his palms. 

Crack. Thud!

Crack. Thud!

Crack. Thud!!

The sarcophagi lining the walls suddenly started to open. Every single one of them birthing a draugr back into the world. Their eyes glowed an eerie bluish white while their ancient joints creaked and cracked as they came back to life. They brandished swords, axes, and maces. Shields and bows. An entire platoon of undead soldiers marched towards them. 

“I touch things and get us trapped. You touch things and unleash a fucking undead army!” Bran muttered. 

“We stand a chance as long as we dont let them encircle us.” Farkas growled. 

Bran gladly backed away from the horde until he could feel the magic of the Word Wall caressing his back. He yanked the shield from his arm and pulled free his other sword. He could already hear Vilkas scolding him in his mind's eye. To his surprise he found himself wishing the arse were here. 

Farkas picked up the shield and flung it like a flying disk where it embedded itself on the chest of a draugr. The force of the impact sent it crashing back into another. With a roar Farkas leapt into the horde. 

“What in the bloody blazes are you doing?” Bran shouted. “You just said not to let them surround us!” 

Bran rushed after Farkas striking at a draugr before it could impale the werewolf's back with an axe. The breton swiped at its legs severing the dry rope like sinew. The draugr stumbled and Bran thrust his sword into its neck all while blocking another draugr with his other blade. 

Farkas continued to barrel through the mass of undead, sending them flying or crushing them beneath him. He tore heads from bodies with his teeth and ripped open cavities with a few quick swipes of his claws. Bran followed behind dancing through the beast's wake disposing of the draugr that were spared from Farkas's wrath. Bran swung and slashed till his arms felt leaden and his legs quivered from exertion and still more undead kept coming. 

There was a small room on a second story that Bran hadn't seen at first and from there even more draugr appeared. They fired arrows at the Companions. Several struck Farkas but the werewolf seemed unperturbed. It seemed the arrows couldn't get through his fur and thick hide for he easily shook them off. He leapt up to the second story and with a howl batted the archers to the ground floor where Bran quickly beheaded them. 

Farkas wailed. 

“Farkas?” Bran shouted. He looked up to see the werewolf doubled over in pain. And then he started to shrink. Farkas fell to all fours as his fur sluffed off of him and his muzzle sank back into his face. He collapsed. 

“Farkas!” Bran shrieked and bolted for the stairs. 

“Fus Roh Dah!”

Bran felt the weight of the magic before he heard it. Mainly because it slammed into him and launched him into the air. He gasped as his face kissed the wall and he crumpled to the ground. The magic left his skin tingling or perhaps that was because the room was spinning and his face was pulsing. His nose guard had protected his nose from getting broken but it had caved in and sliced open the tip of it. 

The sound of creaking boots standing over him broke through the ringing in Bran's ears. He rolled and gasped again as the last remaining draugr stood over him. The pale gray undead loomed over him with an axe lifted up high, readying to bring the blade down on Bran's torso. 

The Breton rolled out of the way and hacked his sword into the draugr’s leg like a machete. The weapon lodged into the bone but the draugr didn't react to it at all. It simply hefted its axe back over its shoulder and brought it down on Bran again. He rolled and pushed himself to his feet quickly hopping back from the undead. 

The draugr charged after him only to trip over the sword still lodged in its leg. Bran took the chance to search for his other sword that had been torn from his hand when the draugr’s magic struck him. The damn undead nord was back on its feet before he found it. The draugr stepped on the sword dislodging it from its leg and bolted after Bran. He was forced to use the first weapon he could find, an ancient war axe. 

The draugr inhaled before bellowing. “Fus Roh Dah!” 

Bran felt the magic building and this time when it struck him, he jumped with it, sailing over the sarcophagus in the center of the room before rolling on the ground and springing back to his feet. The draugr charged and swung his giant axe. Bran side stepped and ducked beneath the swing. He grabbed the draugr by the wrist pulling the undead in close as he brought his own axe down. The weapon slammed into the draugr’s skull with a ‘Chunk!’ splitting its head in half like a piece of dry wood. The draugr collapsed, its glowing eyes fading to reveal empty sockets. 

Bran could feel the magic fade from the undead yet he still hacked its skull free just to be on the safe side. He panted and dropped the axe to the floor. I don't think I could lift a bloody feather. The breton looked around, anxiety keeping him from believing that the battle was finally over. 

“Farkas?” Bran shouted. 

“I'm here.” The nord wheezed. 

Bran slogged up the stairs, his legs burning with every step. He found Farkas on the floor. The man was resting his shoulders against a pillar while clutching his forearm. He was completely nude and drenched in sweat and blood. The breton didn't care. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Farkas was alive and not a vicious monster. Everything was right in the world. 

Bran yanked off his helmet and fell to his knees beside Farkas wrapping the man in a tight hug. “Don't scare me like that!” 

“I'm sorry.” Farkas said as he held Bran's arm. 

The breton laughed. “Why is it every time we go somewhere you end up unconscious bleeding out on the floor and I have to save you?” 

“I'm not unconscious yet.” Farkas replied. “But I'm fucking exhausted. That was a hell of a battle, Szerető. I’m sorry I wasn't there for the end.” 

“Don't be sorry. We only got this far because of you.” 

“But I wanted the glory.” 

Bran pulled off a glove and started healing the gash he had drawn across Farkas’s arm. “Don't worry. When I tell the story I'll be sure to give you the finishing blow.”

“No. That would sully our honor.” 

“You Companions and your bloody honor.” Bran muttered as he finished healing the nord.

“What makes you think you're not one of us?”

Bran hesitated. “I’m too tired for weighty topics and we still have to get out of this blasted place.”

“There should be a back door. These old Ruins usually have one.” Farkas breathed. “Here. Help me up.” 

Bran offered his arm and helped Farkas back to his feet although he almost ended up on the floor for his effort. “Sweetheart I love my giant nord daddy, but do you have to be so heavy?”

Farkas just replied with a soft laugh. He continued to lean on Bran. The breton had no doubt that it was the only way the man could stay on his feet, but the little twink was struggling to support his own weight let alone someone else's. He slipped out from under Farkas’s arm and helped him to sit on the edge of a sarcophagus. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I'm just tired.” Farkas replied. “It's been a while since I last turned. It took more out of me than I thought it would.”

“Sit tight.” Brain said. He made his way back to the center of the chamber searching through the rotten bodies till he found the piece of Wuuthrad. The damn thing weighed several pounds. Bran hefted it into his pack before retrieving his swords. Once he found them both he tried to extract the shield Farkas had flung out of the draugr’s torso. It was securely wedged into the ribs and after a little tugging, he gave up. He snatched the ancient battle axe from the last draugr and used it as a walking stick as he made his way back to Farkas. He passed the axe to the nord. “Are you wanting clothes?”

“I ain't wearing no clothes off a draugr’s back and the hunters are too far.” Farkas grunted as he rose to his feet using the axe for support. “I have spare clothes in my saddlebags.” 

“Yes. Well. Lets just hope the horses are still there.” Bran bit his lip as Farkas started walking. “At least the view is lovely.”

One of the sarcophagi had fallen over after being freed from its contents, to reveal a small carved out tunnel. They followed it until they reached an old stone door with a lever beside it. Bran huffed. “I'm sick of levers. If something pops out behind this damn door I’m just going to stand here and let it eat me.” 

“Nothing’s eating you today unless it's me.” Farkas retorted and pulled the lever. 

Bran smirked. “Are you trying to tell me something daddy?”

The door scraped open dumping the two Companions into the room where all the dirt and treasures had been piled into. The entrance was only a few meters away. Thank gods for that!

“I want to.” Farkas sighed. “But I’m fucking exhausted.” 

“I know love.” 

Bran left Farkas down in the pit leading into the Cairn while he went to look for the horses. Blessedly they hadn’t wandered too far off from where they had been left. Bran led the beasts back to the Cairn before freeing them of the saddlebags. He shoved the bags into the pit with a foot before following them down the stairs. “As much as I don't want to be near this place, we should probably just camp here. We’ll be sheltered from the wind. Not to mention it's going to be dark soon anyway.”

Farkas was slumped onto the old cobblestone against the wall. He chuckled already half asleep. “I wasn't planning on going anywhere.” 

Bran dug through Farkas’s bags till he found his extra clothes. He tossed them to Farkas. “Did you not pack an extra cloak?”

“Why? It's not cold.” Farkas replied as he pulled on his trousers.

“I wish I had your northern blood. It's bloody freezing.” Bran watching Farkas. “Don't you want to clean up first?”

“I don't care.” 

Bran tisked. He grabbed a rag and poured some water from his water skin onto it before quickly kneeling before Farkas. He said as he started wiping the nord down. “I'm not going to let you sit here drenched in other people’s blood. Now hold still.” 

“I’d rather get the taste out of my mouth.” 

“Farkas.” Bran paused debating whether now was the right time to ask his question. The nord looked up at him waiting patiently. “It was Vilkas who attacked the watchtower, wasn't it?” 

It was an obvious answer. The tower was attacked the same night Vilkas had tried to kill Bran. The image of the man’s face came back to mind. His half crazed gaze. The way he snarled at Bran. It was a horrifying realization that Vilkas had been planning on turning so he could tear him apart. He shuddered remembering when the nord had promised to do just that. This whole time the arse was threatening to sacrifice me to Hircine. He felt dumb for not having put the pieces together that Vilkas was a werewolf. Then again who would ever think for a second that the Companions were Daedra worshippers? Even one like Vilkas?

“Vilkas has never been the same since he gained the beast blood. He said he was struggling to control it, but….. I guess I didn't understand what he meant. Our blood is special. We are always in control. We don’t turn unless we want to and when we do we have full control of what happens. We’re still……us…but… It was his wolf that killed those people. Not him. Vilkas isn't a murderer.” 

Bran continued to mop up the grime from Farkas. He healed any wounds he found hiding beneath. He refrained from pointing out that Vilkas had almost murdered him. Farkas scrunched his eyes shut and pressed his lips together, obviously fighting back tears.

“Oh love.” Bran wrapped his arms around the nord and cradled him to his chest. “They’ll find him.”

“I'm not worried that Skjor and Aela won't find him." Farkas nuzzled his face into Bran’s stomach and cupped his side. "I'm scared that when they do it wont be him.” 

Bran just held him, softly running his hands through the nord's hair as Farkas released his tears. Farkas mumbled through his quivering breaths. "I don't know what I'd do if he's gone." 

Chapter Text

Bran was deep in sleep when he heard a voice calling his name. He thought it was part of a dream until a hand started gently shaking him. The breton stirred blinking away the sleep. “Farkas? Is something wrong?” 

“No Szerető. But I thought you might want to see this.” Farkas said softly. He was still laying halfway on Bran's lap with an arm wrapped around his waist. He made a very warm blanket and the breton was slightly annoyed about being shaken from a lovely sleep. 

“Can't it wait till woah…………” Bran's words and annoyance evaporated as he gazed up at the sky in wonder. Lights of vivid greens, pastel blues, and rich purples softly danced in swaying lines across the sky. The colors would blurr and soften in one section only to create new patterns in another. So bright were the lights that they bathed the earth in a soft turquoise. It was the most beautiful and mesmerizing thing he had ever seen. 

He had heard of the dancing northern lights. But he had never seen them for himself. Bran had thought such tales were over embellished. He was wrong. He couldn't take his eyes off them as the lights continued to flow and sway. Cascading down toward Nirn with little tendrils like a painter's brush; A bright almost yellow green stroke that faded into a soft green as it went up and then blue toward the end high into the sky where it faded into Aetherius. Bran murmured completely awestruck. “That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. It's so beautiful.” 

Farkas chuckled softly. “The lights aren't always this bright and active. They must like you.” 

“I'm flattered.” Bran chuckled. “And thank you for waking me.” 

“Thank you.” Farkas replied as he gave Bran a soft hug. 

“For what?”

Farkas leaned up and gave Bran a tender kiss. “For being here for me.”

Bran hummed into the kiss. “Of course.” 

They continued to kiss each other slowly and methodically, savoring each other’s closeness and the sensation of their lips cupping. Bran poked his tongue out seeking for more. Farkas gave it to him, parting his own lips so their tongues could dance as the lights danced. The breton leaned down a little more forcefully and pressed his hand into the nord’s jaw. A small moan escaped him and he whispered. “I want you.”

“Do you now?” Farkas hummed low and playful.

Bran groaned into the kiss and a little jolt of happiness buzzed through him. He was relieved and grateful just knowing some of Farkas’s anguish had been satiated. His hand made its way down to Farkas’s bare chest where he pushed the nord off his lap yet chased after those lips, refusing to let the kiss be broken. Bran pushed him to the ground before slipping a leg over the man to straddle him. He squeezed his knees to either side of the nord and pressed his growing girth against Farkas’s stomach. Bran whined. “Please.”

“I don't know if you deserve it.” Farkas growled though his large calloused hands were already working to free Bran of his leathers. “Will you be a good boy?” 

“I’m always good for you Daddy.” Bran huffed. 

Farkas growled in response and squeezed the breton's ass. “Show me.”

Bran moaned again. He released Farkas’s lips so he could trail kisses over his cheek and down his jaw. Farkas let out a soft lustful sigh and lazily pulled off a single bracer off Bran. The message was clear. If they were going to fuck than it was going to be slow. Not that the breton minded. He would gladly ride Farkas’s cock the rest of the night and well into the morning if that's what the nord wanted. Bran’s lips found his lover’s neck and he clamped down sucking hard. Farkas groaned. The breton glided his fingers down the man’s chest and stomach savoring the feel of his solid build while making sure to leave Farkas’s neck covered in love marks. His fingers traced back up till they found a nipple. Bran gave it a squeeze before gently rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger. His lips trailed down to replace his fingers capturing the bud, sucking lightly before running his tongue around it. Farkas groaned loudly. He rewarded Bran’s work by removing the other bracer and ordered. “Nghh. Get those boots off now.”

“Yes Daddy.” Bran breathed. He leaned back to sit between Farkas’s legs and loosened his laces just enough to yank off his boots. 

“Good boy.” Farkas praised. “Now take it all off.”

Bran stood, still between the man’s legs, and slowly started undressing. He made sure to put on a show, knowing that's what Farkas wanted. He watched Farkas watch him as he slowly pulled off all his gear while rolling his hips. He bit his lip feigning shyness as he played with his shirt pulling it up a little to reveal his stomach before letting it fall back down. Farkas’s eyes were stuck to him, hot and wanting. It sent a little jolt of excitement straight to his groin. He finally pulled off his tunic and flung it with a giggle leaving him in nothing but his pants. Bran was more than pleased to see Farkas’s cock outlining his trousers as the breton began running his hands down his own sides. 

“You’re so fucking sexy.” Farkas mumbled. “Play with yourself.” 

Bran groaned and ran his fingertips slowly down the center of his chest, passed his belly button, and slipped them into his pants. He didn’t touch himself. Just left his hand there teasing Farkas. “Is that what you want? Wouldn't YOU rather play with me?” 

Farkas had pillowed his head with an arm while his other hand was gripping his cock through the fabric. He growled. “What I want is to stretch open that ass of yours. But you don't deserve it yet.” 

“You’re being mean to me daddy.” Bran pouted somewhat playfully. As much as he enjoyed the way Farkas was watching him, he didn’t like how far away he was. He wanted to be touching his man!

Farkas tore his eyes away from Bran’s hands and fixed them to the breton’s own. His normal warm quicksilver gaze was down right molten. There was a threat held in his voice as he rumbled. “And you’re not listening.” 

Bran shivered whether from the slight chill or Farkas’s intensity he couldn’t say. He stepped out of his pants while softly gripping himself. He slowly ran his fingers over his growing member, hand over hand and let out a moan. He spit on his fingers and returned them to his cock stroking slightly harder as he swelled fully, enjoying the sensation of his hands and the feel of the veins in his cock pulsing. He groaned both from his pleasure and in anticipation of the pleasures to come.

“Oh yeah.” Farkas whispered. He pulled out his own dick letting his trousers sit just under his balls and he squeezed himself hard. No doubt trying to keep his own excitement from spilling over so soon. The sight of Farkas's cock just fueled Bran's want. 

The breton had never been displeased with his own length. He was relatively average in both length and girth with a cut head that Alamayth had once described as a ‘perfectly rounded hat’ But compared to Farkas, Bran was down right small. The man was at least eight inches with a squat head nestled in its foreskin. And by the gods was the man THICK. Farkas ran a finger round and round his nipple while he nibbled his bottom lip. His voice was low and husky. “Look how fucking hard you are. You want daddy to fuck you dirty dont you?”

“Fuck yes.” Bran pleaded as he reached down to tug at his sack trying to pull himself away from the precipice of his release. “Daddy please. I want you to fuck my little ass until I’m cumming all over you.” 

Farkas growled. “Then get that ass over here so I can taste it.” 

Oh thank fuck! Bran spun around and dropped his ass in front of Farkas’s face, not even caring when his knees hit the cobblestone. Farkas waved his cock in Bran’s face who eagerly placed his hand over Farkas’s and wrapped the man’s tip with his lips. He hummed around the member as he lapped at the precum beading the man’s slit. 

Farkas lightly slapped Bran’s ass. And then again. Presumably watching it jiggle before he lightly kneaded it. “Fuck that feels good. Go on. Take all of it.”

Bran took a quick breath before opening his throat to swallow all of Farkas’s length until his nose was touching the man’s sack. He held himself there and moaned so his voice could vibrate around the cock. Farkas groaned and lifted his hips up trying to thrust further into the slick warmth. 

Bran inched his fingers down to cup Farkas's balls. He rolled them in his fingers gently as the nord fucked his throat. Farkas panted. “Oh fuck, Bran.” 

The breton came up for air with a gasp. He pumped the shaft in long slow strokes making sure it was thoroughly coated with his spit while giving the man’s balls a light pull. “Gods I love your cock.” 

Farkas yanked Bran back so he could engulf the breton's hole with his tongue. Bran groaned and dropped his head onto Farkas's stomach while still stroking his daddies long thick cock. Farkas buried his face into the breton's ass and started lapping. He splayed his tongue against his furl. It swirled, teased, and tickled before pressing against the little ring of muscle to pry within. Bran wanted to go back to sucking on the man’s cock but he couldn't reach it with his mouth unless Farkas sat up which he clearly wasn't willing to do. All Bran could do was stroke him while Farkas kept lapping at his center both tickling and tantalizing. He whined when the nord spat on his hole and pressed the tip of his finger in. “Oh fuck!” 

Farkas slowly thrust his finger in only to the first knuckle. He teased Bran's furl lightly tugging as the ring of muscle held him before sinking the digit in deeper. He spat on the hole again pressing his finger deeper still before curling it slightly on the way out. Bran mewled. Farkas massaged his little hole open before adding another finger. He started stroking Bran’s engorged cock and growled. “You’re so good for daddy.” 

Bran gulped in air between his pleasure induced whines. Farkas had already found that little packet of nerves hidden in his core that sent pulses of pleasure coursing through him and left his balls aching. Farkas pressed his fingers along it with every slow deliberate thrust. Bran cupped Farkas's balls, rolling them in his fingers and gently tugging them down. The breton nipped Farkas’s stomach before groaning. “Fuck. You're way too good at this daddy.” 

Farkas pulled him back a little further, his fingers still buried in his hole before suddenly swaddling the breton’s cock with his mouth. Bran cried out in pure pleasure as he sank between those soft lips. Farkas moaned and sucked on his head, encouraging him to thrust into the blissful heat. 

Bran could feel his balls tightening. Feel the pressure already building. He stroked Farkas faster and tried to will himself still lest he lose himself. It had been a while since he had gotten Farkas be the first to cum and he was damn determined to win this little game of theirs. 

Bran groaned and nipped Farkas’s stomach, drawing the skin between his teeth to twin with the marks left on the nord’s neck. His fingers explored behind the nord's sack and started stroking his taint. He pressed firmly, running his two fingers up from his hole to the underside of his balls. Farkas moaned loudly around Bran's member as his toes curled. 

The breton just massaged harder and stroked faster as he begged. “Please daddy. Give it to me. Let me taste you.” 

His begging did the trick but so did Farkas's fingers and tongue. They orgasmed together. Bran let out a wail and a shudder as his walls contracted  around the nords thick fingers and he spilt his seed in Farkas's mouth. The nord probably choked on it for he suddenly threw his head back and cried out as he shot his own cum all over Bran's cheek and chin.

The breton sank onto Farkas's chest. He began scraping the cum off his cheek with a single finger and wiped it on the nord’s cock. He said breathlessly. “I thought you were going to stretch me open daddy.”

“I'm not done with you.” Farkas's deep voice rumbled inside the little hollow, sounding almost menacing as it rolled along the ground. Bran looked back at him. The man's silver eyes were liquid fire, burning with the blue tint of the aurora. The turquoise light bathed him with a soft otherworldly glow that contrasted starkly with the shadows in his deep set eyes and sturdy nose. His tone left no room for arguing as he ordered. “Get the oil.” 

The breton pushed himself off his lover. Farkas lightly slapped his ass on the way up and Bran hummed. He chuckled to himself. He was happy to see Farkas happy. He didn't need to dig for the vial of oil. He had a pocket in his saddle bags dedicated to it. He pulled the vial out and quietly thanked Dibella and her followers for all their teachings. 

He stalked back over to Farkas while lightly running his fingers along his own shaft and teased his head. Farkas's gaze was pinned to him once again. It made his heart flutter. Bran had fucked dozens of people; Men, woman, mer, and everything in between but never had any of them had the reaction Farkas had. It made Bran feel special. He poured some of the oil into his hand before squatting back on top of the nord with his arse in Farkas's face.

“Well hello there.” Farkas mused. He ran his large calloused hands up along Bran's thighs and started kneading his little round ass. 

The breton passed him the oil and then ran his slick fingers down Farkas's length. He leaned down to suck on the nord's inner thigh and hummed. “Hello indeed.” 

Bran moaned as Farkas poured some oil down his crack. His fingers quickly followed to rub the oil around his furl and pressed lightly against it. Farkas sank a finger in then pulled back out to scoop at more oil before sinking in all over again. Bran had been nipping at the tendon in the crook of Farkas's groin but released it with a groan. The nord added a second finger splaying them as he lightly thrust. 

Farkas rumbled. “Gods I love playing with this little hole.” 

Bran mewled and tightened his grip on Farkas shaft admiring the way the skin stretched and bunched under his touch. Farkas hadn't fully softened after his release and his squat head was already rising back up to attention. The breton gently twisted his fist around the head. Farkas's cocked bobbed in his hand before the nord rolled his hips to slide up through his slick fingers. 

Heat pooled in Bran's groin as Farkas curled his fingers and ran them along his nub of nerves nestled in his core. He added a third finger, slick, thick, and fucking perfect as he massaged his furl open. Bran moaned and pressed his ass back wanting to feel those fingers slide even deeper. He loved and hated how slow Farkas was going. The nord was already pushing him back to the edge and he still hadn't gotten penetrated yet! 

Bran panted and rode those fingers desperately. “Daddy please! FUCK. ME!” 

Farkas withdrew his fingers and there was a pause. Bran waited with baited breath worried that Farkas would choose to punish him instead for being so demanding. The nord squeezed Bran's ass tight and said quiet and husky. “Go on then. Sit on that cock.” 

Bran didn't need to be told twice. He hopped up into a squat holding on to Farkas's leg for support. His other hand grasped Farkas's length, firmly holding it against his furl as he lowered himself. Bran relaxed and his hole readily swallowed up the squat fat head. He whispered quietly “Ooohhhh fuck.” 

The pressure was instant and Bran panted as he continued down slowly swaddling Farkas's member. Farkas sucked in a breath and ran his hand up and down the ridges of Bran's spine, encouraging the breton to go at his own pace. Bran was expecting the feeling of fullness as he sat slowly onto Farkas but it still amazed him just how DEEP he delved. He could feel it in his stomach. 

The breton repositioned himself letting his weight fall forward onto the balls of his feet. He pulled himself up, only and inch or so, and then slid back down. Another groan resonated in his throat as he focused on the warmth pulling and pushing his rim. 

Farkas made a sound. Something primal between a grunt and a wail. His voice rumbled as deep in his chest as his cock was inside Bran. “Oh yeah that's it. Look at how good you take daddy's dick. Go on. Take all of it.”

Bran was slightly confused by the order. He was already sitting flush with the nord. Surely there wasn't any length left to take! Not that he was about to argue. He rose up until he felt Farkas's head close to popping free before sinking back down at a torturously slow pace. Farkas cupped his arse spreading his cheeks apart guiding him down as he planted his feet on the ground and rolled his hips up to meet with that heat. Bran gasped clutching Farkas's knee as he indeed delved even fucking deeper. He hissed while trying to ignore the slight pinch he felt deep inside. He whimpered. “Holy fuck daddy.” 

Farkas just kept growling. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck yeah.” 

He let his hips fall and Bran quivered feeling like he could breathe again. The breton clung to Farkas's knees steadying himself as he rose back up and then down again rolling into a steady rhythm. 

“You're so good.” Farkas hummed. 

Bran pushed his ass back a little trying to splay himself open knowing how much Farkas liked to watch. The man's girth alone pressed again his bundle and every time his head poked down it massaged that spot even more. Bran could do little more than pant and groan as he built up a sweat. Words were lost to him as the pleasures building in his core consumed all thought. 

He was close to peaking when Farkas squeezed his waist hard, stilling them both. Farkas was just as breathless as he whispered. “Turn around.” 

Bran carefully pulled himself free, his gaping hole winking and swelling. He spun around and hummed happily to himself. Farkas's whole upper chest and face was flushed. He glistened with a sheen of sweat and his eyes were glazed over in ecstacy. Bran drank in the sight. Gods I love seeing him fucked out like this.

He sank back down onto Farkas's dribbling dick and then sprawled out on top of him, admiring his handy work from earlier. The love marks had turned a deep purple as deep as wine on his flushed neck. There would be no hiding them to which Bran was unashamedly smug. Farkas sat up weaving his fingers into the long patch of hair on top of Bran's hair and gently pulled back, forcing Bran to lift his chin and proffer up his neck to the Nord's waiting lips. 

Farkas clamped down on the Breton's pulse, sucking hard and breathing deep. Bran mewled into the man's ear. He wrapped his legs around Farkas's immense back and brought his arms up under his to cup the back of the man's shoulders. Farkas still had a hand gripping his hair while the other supported his back, gentle despite the power flexing in his arms. His warmth radiated into him as the man's breath wafted across his neck, hot and heavy. Farkas's scruff was almost long enough to be called a beard and it scratched up along Bran's neck, pleasantly so. Farkas nibbled along his chin and jaw before snatching his lips. The nord's tongue pilfering his mouth. Bran was completely enveloped by Farkas; Inside and out. 

He leaned back down forcing Bran to unhook his legs but the breton refused to release his hold on Farkas's shoulders. The nord held him just as tightly drawing Bran back to the ground with him as he thrust shallowly up into him. The little Breton didn't need more encouragement, he happily lifted himself a little so Farkas could sink into him with more force. Bran was unaware of the primitive sounds Farkas was hammering out of him as the nord quickly built up speed. Oh blessed Dibella!

If Dibella was the patron of love and passion then the man lying below him was her counterpart. The goddess of femininity held nothing compared to this God of masculinity. This God who could wield his sword as skillfully in the sheets as he did on the battlefield. His power only tempered by his passion. Gentle but no less ferocious as he claimed Bran with every stroke and kiss. 

The tension coiled into Bran's core curling tighter with every deliberate touch Farkas made. He could feel the man's strength with every thrust and hear his every desire in each quivering breath. Bran clung to his shoulders tightly lest his arms slip from their building sweat and ruin the pleasure. Farkas nuzzled into Bran's neck to draw the sensitive skin into his lips. His rough hands moved down to grip the breton's hips squeezing them tight. The nord growled. “God's Bran.” 

The breton mewled. The pleasure in Farkas's voice shoved him even closer to the edge, coiling his own pleasure even tighter. The breton mewled. “Fuck. Daddy I'm close!” 

“Fuck. Yes.” Farkas sputtered. He threw his head back and held Bran even tighter as he lifted his hips thrusting hard and quick into Bran's core. Unable to hold out any longer, Bran grabbed his own cock and started stroking. He pressed his other hand into Farkas's chest as they both chased their release. 

Bran begged. “Oh gods Farkas cum in my ass. Please daddy!” 

“Oh fuck!” Farkas shouted. He took two more powerful strokes before burying himself in that heat as he came. The nord whimpered, his toes digging into the stone as he milked himself. Farkas groaned and his whole body shivered.

Bran could feel Farkas's cock pulsing deep inside him and it was the key needed to unlock his own desires. He stroked himself harder, his breath ragged as he cried out. “Fuck! I'm cumming.”

Farkas stole Bran's cock stroking his head vigorously with his large warm hand. “Oh yeah cum for me. Cum for daddy.” 

The tension and pleasure coiling up tightly within the breton exploded. With a wail his seed sprang out to paint Farkas’s stomach and chest. Bran quivered as the orgasm consumed him. His core pulsing as it massaged the partially softened cock still buried in him. He threw his head back with a gasp trying to ride out the bliss as long as possible. Farkas held Bran's cock to his stomach, enveloping it in his warmth. Bran slid forward hissing as Farkas slipped out of him yet still moaning as he came down from his release; thrusting lightly up between Farkas's stomach and hand enjoying the warmth and slickness from their sweat and his seed. 

“Oh fuck.” Farkas sighed. He pillowed his head with the hand that wasn't covered in jizz and watched Bran with eyes half lidded. “Come here.” 

Bran was still panting and as the sweat began to evaporate in the night's chill he was starting to get quite cold, particularly his feet. He happily laid back on Farkas, seeking his warmth and grateful that the man's hand was still protecting his now overstimulated cock from the cold. 

He combed his fingers up through Farkas’s hair and gave his man a lazy kiss. The nord hummed into it. Farkas was clearly spent, more so than usual. His eyes fluttered trying to stay open as he whispered. “I love you so much.” 

Bran grinned as the words hugged his heart. “I love you too.” 

Farkas rolled them onto their sides. “I'll get us cleaned up.” 

“No. I'll do it.” Bran quickly sat up pressing his hand into Farkas's chest. The nord's brows pinched together, clearly unhappy with the breton's insistence but too tired to really object. Bran kissed him, soft and sweet. “You've done enough luv. Get some rest.” 

Bran dug a cloth out of his bags and snagged a waterskin, wishing he could heat the water yet he didn't have the energy to build a fire. He quickly cleaned himself up. Bran hastily threw on his extra pair of tight linen black pants and a white long sleeved tunic before profering his bedroll under an arm and snatching another cloth. He had wanted to tend to Farkas first but he was fucking freezing. In the end it didn’t matter. Farkas who was already sound asleep. He didn't even stir as Bran wetted the cloth and started wiping him down. 

Bran was exceedingly grateful for that. Farkas had needed a good rest for quite a while now, and he was glad to have given the man the relaxation he needed to do so. 

He unrolled his bed roll, draping it over the nord before slipping beneath it and nuzzling into Farkas's warm back. 

As always, Farkas was the first to wake. He had already gotten a fire started and had Bran’s clothes and armor from last night picked up before kissing the breton awake. Bran hummed into the kiss. “Good morning sweetheart.” 

“Good morning Szerető.” 

The first thing the Breton noticed was the color that had blessedly returned to Farkas's face. Oddly he was wearing a blue gambeson. His skyforge steel mace was securely belted to his waist and his shield was slung across his back. Bran sat up and scootched over to the fire while asking. “Where did that gambeson come from?” 

“Off one of the hunters. It was the only thing I could find that fit and wasn't covered in blood or piss.” Farkas squatted down beside him. He sniffed at his chest. “Still stinks though.” 

Bran glanced at the heavy door leading into the Cairn. “You went back in there? By yourself?” 

“We already killed everything. Besides, I'm not going anywhere exposed and unarmed if I can help it.” Farkas shrugged. “Here.” 

He tore off a chunk of bread that sat warming by the fire and proffered it to Bran. The breton gladly took it along with the chunk of cheese that was offered afterward. The bread was stale. The cheese was softer than it should have been. Bran still gobbled it up and chased it down with a swig from his waterskin. 

While he was eating, Farkas sat on the first step of the stairs, a little polished tin mirror in hand. In his lap sat a little ivory container and a small vial filled with a canary yellow liquid that Bran assumed to be oil. Farkas poured a few drops of the liquid into the container and stirred it up with his forefinger. He brought that same finger, now coated black, to his eye and started carefully applying his war paint. 

He drew his finger up over his eyelid first and then swooped around to the underside before pressing lightly around his tear duct. Occasionally Farkas would dip his finger back into the paint as he worked outward almost to his eyebrow and then down over the bottom of his socket. 

Bran had finished his breakfast before Farkas had finished his first eye but continued to watch silently. That was until Farkas moved on to the other eye and Bran could no longer contain his curiosity. “Why do you wear that?” 

“It makes me look scarier.” Farkas moved the mirror away from his face and glowered at Bran, clearly trying to give his best scary face. 

The black contrasted heavily with his light gray eyes. It muffled the little blue that was there giving them the shimmery quicksilver look that Bran loved so much. And it WAS incredibly intimidating. Until Bran stuck his tongue out at him and Farkas laughed. 

“Yes, I'm quivering in my boots.” Bran teased.

“You're not wearing your boots.” 

“Semantics.” Bran huffed. “Do you think it will make me look scarier?” 

“Your boots?” 

“Yes, my boots. I reason they're more intimidating on the battlefield than if I had my toes wiggling about.” Bran said in all seriousness. Farkas just paused and looked at him blankly. Bran chuckled and went over to sit on the step beside his man. “I meant your warpaint.” 

“Oh.” Farkas chuckled. “That's kind of the whole point. Why? You want me to do you next?” 

“I was merely curious, but why not? Do you mind?” 

“Not at all.”

Bran grinned and said playfully. “Make me look scary, daddy.” 

Farkas guffawed. He turned toward Bran and dropped the little mirror in his lap. “All I have is black. Hold still and close your eyes.” 

Bran did as he was told. Farkas gently pinched his chin, lifting his head a little before lightly drawing his finger across Bran's left eyelid. After a few dabs and strokes, Farkas said. “Open your eyes and look up.” 

The breton did so. Farkas was nibbling on his lip as he worked. His face was surprisingly relaxed as he skimmed his finger along Bran's bottom eyelid. He held a small smile and his eyes darted back and forth as he painted. Bran mused. “You're enjoying this.” 

“I always enjoy touching you.” 

Once he was done with his left eye Bran expected him to move to the other. Instead Farkas dipped another finger in the paint and started drawing both fingers down over the breton's cheek, across his jaw, and down his neck where he finally stopped by his larynx. He applied the paint over again, presumably darkening it, before starting the whole process again on the other side. First his right eye and then down to his neck. When he finally leaned back to admire his work his first two fingers and thumb were completely coated. He rubbed them together as he studied. He brought his thumb up to Bran's bottom lip and drew a single line down the center. His own lip popped free of his teeth as he grinned. “Perfect.”

“We both know this paint on my lip is going to end up smeared all over you by the end of the day.” Bran smirked. 

Farkas chuckled. “Once it dries, it doesn't smudge very easily. Unless you get all sweaty.” 

“So my statement still stands.” Bran grabbed the mirror. He had to hold it at arms length and tilt it around to see his whole face. It had felt like Farkas drew a straight line down, but it actually curved slightly and ended in a point halfway down his neck reminiscent of a saber cat's claw. “Why do I suddenly look like an elf?”

“Because it's making your high cheekbones stand out.” Farkas said.

Bran hummed an agreement. “You know I was joking about it making me look more intimidating but I think it actually does.” 

“Good. I did my job right.” 

“You're quite the artist.” 

Farkas smiled. “Thank you.” 

Farkas wiped his fingers on his gambeson and collected the mirror from Bran. The two cleaned up their scant camp before putting out the fire and hopping in the saddle. Bran was eager to leave Dustman’s Cairn and Farkas was clearly eager to return home. 

Luckily the trip was safe if not swift. The main road was swarmed with soldiers, traders, and refugees. Many were seeking Whiterun's safety behind its ancient white walls. Just as many were fleeing, worried that Ulfric's war would strike there next. All the while pickpockets littered throughout the masses swiping anything that could be easily pilfered. 

The Companions decided to cross the tundra instead.  It was a nice reprieve and beautiful in the midsummer. Everything was a vibrant green and the wildlife was plentiful. Unfortunately the ground was partly melted making trudging through it a nightmare. Bran wasn't certain it had made the trip faster, but at least they didn't need to keep an eye on their possessions.  

As they neared the stables, Farkas’s worried anticipation grew. He hastily passed off Tsun to the nearest stable hand and hefted his saddlebags over his shoulder. Even Tsun seemed surprised that Farkas didn't tend to him. The horse snorted and stamped his hoof as Farkas set off. Bran quickly did the same making sure to graciously tip the stable hand as he passed his reins. Tsun glared at the poor boy, the stallion ears lying flat.  

“Don't worry. He doesn't usually bite.“ Bran said, patting the steeds neck before darting after Farkas. When he had, he still needed to jog to keep up with Farkas’s swift gait. When they reached Jorrvaskr, Farkas thrust the doors open. He took three steps inside before abruptly stopping. The mead hall was too quiet.  

Vignar sat at the end of the U shaped table spouting out a story no one was listening to. Njada sat at the other end sharpening a sword. Ria and Torvar sat in the middle with Brill quietly chatting over a plate of mud crab legs. Athis was in a corner reading. They all looked up as the two entered and Jorrvaskr went silent. 

It was Athis who answered the obvious question. “They're still not back.” 

Farkas closed his eyes, taking in a single deep breath as his lips pressed into a thin line.  He clenched and unclenched his fists over and over. Bran rested a hand on his back.  “Sweetheart?” 

Farkas let the breath out, his voice a quivering whisper. “I have to talk to Kodlak.” 

He dropped his saddlebags right there in the middle of the hall and quietly headed for Jorrvaskr’s belly. He shuffled his feet, walking like he was burdened with the weight of the world and every step might crush him. Bran just watched him leave. His heart ached for Farkas. They were creeping up on two weeks since Vilkas had disappeared. The chances of Skjor and Aela finding him at all, alive or not, were dwindling; along with Farkas’s hope. 

Vilkas hadn't a clue how long he had been fleeing. The disorienting forest made it impossible to tell. He could have been running in circles or in a straight line. It could have been minutes or several lifetimes. Other than that single clearing nothing ever changed. The trees never broke. There was no hill, creek or bramble. Nothing but an endless array of pines rising high into the night sky… and the endless howls of the beasts chasing him. 

The dozens if not hundreds of werewolves. 

Vilkas dared to glance back. He couldn't see any, but he knew they were there. He thought about climbing a tree so he could rest out of reach. He dismissed the idea. He would be trapped if he did that. The beasts would keep him stuck until Alrabeg appeared to finish the hunt. So he kept running. His legs and chest burned from the exertion but he couldn't stop. He would be dead if he did. I'm already dead. What will happen if they catch me? Will I cease to exist? Will I continue to be conscious as they feast on my organs? 

Occasionally Hircine’s voice would roll through the forest as loud and commanding as a storm. "You could have been leading this hunt, but now you are nothing more than prey." 

The voice permeated every inch of the realm drowning out the wolves howls, preventing him from guessing where the beasts might be. Without his wolf senses, Vilkas couldn't smell the pack. He was oblivious to the trap set for him until he ran right into it. 

A werewolf sprang out of the darkness in front of him. Vilkas yelped and slipped on the mossy earth. The fall saved him. The beast soared over him allowing Vilkas to scramble to his feet and leap aside as the wolf spun around and snapped at him. Vilkas snagged a branch off the ground and swung it at the werewolf who just latched onto it with a growl. The rest of the pack ascended on the scene. Vilkas kicked the wolf in the face before finding an escape path and he was off again running through the trees. 

The howls and Hircine’s laughter followed him. "You make a fine hare for my wolves, but you cannot run forever little coward." 

The insult stung and Vilkas stopped in his tracks with a scowl. He felt like a fool. I've been playing right into his hand! Hircine was the huntsman. A sportsman. He reveled in the chase and by Ysgrammor’s beard Vilkas couldn't keep giving it to him. If he wanted to escape this hell he would have to stop acting like prey. He had to hunt. Had to fight. Had to face Hircine! I am a Companion ! Companions don't run in the face of danger.

“I’m not a coward!” He shouted to the Deadric Prince even as fear gripped him. Vilkas lifted his sword, a passing thought curious as to where it came from. He stood tall in his full plate armor. The wolf emblazoned on his chest piece shone in defiance. Alrabeg appeared before him and held his spear out to direct the wolves. Vilkas pointed his sword at Hircine in a direct challenge to the spear that pointed at him. "Send a hundred wolves. A thousand! I will not flee. I will slay them all!" 

Hircine laughed and the ground rumbled in unison with him. "We shall see." 

Chapter Text

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” Vilkas roared as he brought his axe down onto the werewolf’s neck severing its spine. The werewolf collapsed only for another to take its place. There was always another. 

His arms and legs had been burning from exhaustion for so long that they were beginning to go numb. But he couldn’t stop. He was surrounded by dead werewolves. They had started to pile up against the trees until Vilkas backed away lest he get blocked in by a wall of corpses. Now he had an arcing trail in his wake. A trail of dead werewolves as long and expansive as the forest. It’s never going to end is it?  

Three more werewolves burst forth from the shadows as mere blurs of white, silver, and gray. The white wolf lunged, its maw gaping wide. Vilkas held his spear up letting the werewolf’s momentum skewer itself through the skull. He pivoted using the dying wolf as a shield against the gray and brought his sword down to stab the silver beast in the eye. 

The silver werewolf yelped yet still managed to clamp its teeth down on Vilkas's left forearm and pulled him from his feet. Vilkas ripped his dagger out of the beast's eye and stabbed it again. Before he could free himself the gray werewolf descended, clamping onto his leg and tearing into his armor with its claws. 

Vilkas kept stabbing the wolf latched onto his arm trying to get it to let go while kicking at the gray werewolf that was clawing his thigh. The silver wolf's hold finally loosened but the gray beast sank its canines deeper into Vilkas’s greave and shook him. 

Vilkas screamed as the teeth and claws shredded through his armor and found skin. He smashed the beast in the face with his mace and brought it back down to crush its hand. The werewolf yowled and let go of Vilkas. He sat up and slashed its throat with his sword. Vilkas pushed himself to his feet wiping the blood and sweat from his face as he panted. 

It wasn’t the first time the wolves had caught him. Wasn’t the first time he was wounded. He was covered in scrapes, scratches and punctures. He would have died from his wounds if not exhaustion ten times over had he not already been dead. But no matter how many injuries, no matter how much blood was lost, there was always more to be endured; and the more determined Vilkas was to endure it. 

His legs trembled, threatening to give out even as he stood tall and bellowed out a challenge. “Is this the best you got Alrabeg? You send your hounds for me, but where are you? Mighty Hunter? My ass! Face me if you dare!”

Vilkas laughed, a delirious and crazed sound, and kicked the silver werewolf. Only a madman or a fool would challenge a Deadric Prince, especially in their own plane of existence, but Vilkas had long passed the point of giving a shit. He took his axe and swung it into the werewolf's silver side, chopping away till the chest cavity was opened. Crimson smeared across the shimmering coat. It's a shame to ruin such a pretty pelt. Would make a nice cloak. He pulled out the silver beast's heart and thrust it into the air. 

“The only Mighty Hunter I see is me!” He flung the heart into the shadows.

Silence. 

Is it finally over?

The forest shuddered with the call of an unfathomable amount of werewolves. The chorus of howls rose evermore until they became deafening. Vilkas winced. He wanted to drop his sword and cover his ears lest the sound rupture them but he refused to release his weapon. Refused to cower. The werewolves came out of the forest in every direction, their eyes burning in the darkness only to materialize around him. Thousands of werewolves he had slain and yet thousands more surrounded him howling their threatening song. 

Vilkas stared at them defiantly. He had goaded a Daedric Prince and Hircine had responded. The message was clear. Vilkas's battle was futile. It didn't matter. He would go down fighting. 

The howling began to recede only for Hircine’s laughter to take its place. The werewolves parted as Alrabeg approached. He towered above Vilkas. The nord's head barely reached the god’s torso. His elk skull blocked out the moon and left his antlers glowing in the silver light. Beside the Prince was the black werewolf. The only true opponent Vilkas had. The only one he had wanted to slay. It gazed back at him hungrily. 

Alrabeg slammed the butt of his spear on the ground and studied the carnage around them. His face was hidden by the skull and yet his eyes glowed a dark crimson and bore into Vilkas's soul. “I admit you have impressed me with your tenacity, mortal. You make a fine hunter. I will grant you a boon.” 

“Send me back.” 

Hircine laughed, the trees swayed with his mirth. “That is more than a boon. Why should I do that?"

“Because if you don't I will never stop hunting you.” Vilkas growled. He glared at the elk skull and gripped his sword tighter. He couldn't see the Prince's face and yet somehow he knew, Hircine was smiling. 

“Perhaps I have underestimated you.” The Daedric Prince lifted his spear and thrust it at Vilkas who lifted his shield to block the blow. The spear went straight through the metal like paper, pierced Vilkas's heart, and sprouted out his back. He gasped as a torrent of pain and shock overwhelmed his senses. He grabbed the spear with the intent of pulling it away from Hircine but he could barely get his fingers to grip the shaft. 

Alrabeg ripped the spear free and Vilkas fell to his knees. He could feel his damaged heart spasming as it tried to beat yet was unable to. He clung to his chest with flimsy fingers as he quickly bled out. The black werewolf sauntered up to him with a grin. Vilkas found himself growing cold.  He scowled at the werewolf as he collapsed onto his back. This beast was the cause of all his turmoil and now it stood over him gloating as he died for the second time. It can't end like this!

A voice spoke but he knew not if it was Alrabeg or the wolf. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.” 

A groan escaped Vilkas's lips as he tried to sit up. A wave of pain coursed through his back and neck but he pushed past it. He would go down fighting even if it meant sitting up to punch the bastard in the snout.

“Easy there wolf. Lie still.” A soft feminine voice spoke from beside Vilkas. 

He turned toward the sound confused. Was someone talking to the werewolf or him? It certainly didn't sound like Alrabeg. Is someone else here? He blinked several times trying to get his damn eyes to focus on the blurry figure beside him. The figure shifted and the scent of mountain flowers mixed with that of pine. Vilkas spoke, his voice hoarse. “Aela?” 

“I'm here brother.” A hand, gentle yet firm, pressed him back down. Only then did he realize he was lying on a bed buried in several layers of blankets and furs. The dim silver light had been replaced by the warm glow of a lantern. He was no longer cold. 

Vilkas rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. They finally started to focus. Aela was lying in the bed next to him. Her green warpaint had been washed from her fair slender face while her copper locks sat loosely upon her shoulders. Skjor was seemingly asleep on the floor by the door. They had packs sitting on a rickety old table pressed up against plain tired timber. Wherever they were wasn't Jorrvaskr. It sure as shit wasn't the hunting grounds either. Is this real? Hircine sent me back?

It didn't feel real. He looked about the room again searching for the gloating werewolf. It wasn't there. 

“I’m alive?” Vilkas warily sank his head back into the pillow beneath him. He tried to move his right arm, but a sling was holding it to his chest. Long strips of linen criss crossed his upper chest, down around his right shoulder, and then up under his pit and over the top part of his arm.

“Thankfully.” Aela replied as she brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. “There was a moment there where I thought we had lost you.” 

“Don’t do that shit again.” Skjor demanded as he sat up and stretched. “I spent atleast an hour trying to figure out how the fuck I was supposed to tell Farkas that we let you die.”

Vilkas swallowed trying to work some well needed moisture into his parched throat. He tried to sit up again only to be held back down by Aela. She scolded him. “Stop it. You’ll start bleeding again.” 

"What happened?" Vilkas asked?

“You tell us.” Skjor said. 

“I was being chased by werewolves…..and Hircine, he…” Vilkas frowned. That didn’t sound right. He remembered the hunting grounds as clear as glass, and yet his weapons kept changing, his armor repairing, and the wolves forever chasing. It felt so real. Now he was unsure. He mumbled. “Was that really just a dream?” 

Aela pushed herself off her elbow and sat cross legged on the bed. “You had an intense fever, brother. You were obviously hallucinating.” 

“Why were you in Haafingar? What were you doing?” Skjor asked. He glared at Vilkas, his bad eye somehow judging him more intently than the one that worked. 

“Haafingar?” Vilkas looked back at him lost. Skjor was asking him to remember something before an eternity. He traced his bandages with a finger and replied honestly. “I don't know.” 

“What do you mean you dont know?” Skjor demanded.

Vilkas pressed his fingers into his eyes again. He had just woken and yet a headache was already threatening to attack him. “I don't remember.” 

Skjor and Aela gave each other a glance before his shield sister went back to combing his hair with her fingers. She said softly. “Get some rest Wolf. I'm sure it’ll come back to you with time.” 

“Can I have something to drink?” Vilkas rasped. 

“Yeah.” Skjor picked himself off the floor with a groan. He kicked his bedroll out of the door's way and mumbled on his way out. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Aela finally let Vilkas sit up. Only then did he realize how drained he was. He felt weaker than a newborn fawn. He ached and felt sticky from the dried sweat that clung to him. He smelled as awful as he felt. He asked Aela. “Where are we?”

“In an Inn in Rorikstead.”

“How long have we been here?” 

Aela replied as if she were remarking about the weather though she smelled concerned. “Three days. You were unconscious for two of them and delirious for the third. Your fever finally broke late last night. We found you face down in a field in the middle of fucking nowhere wearing nothing but an arrow that had lodged itself between your scapula and your ribs. Honestly I’m surprised it didn’t pierce your lung. I didn't think the herbalist would be able to dig it out.”

“Wait.” Vilkas said feeling even more confused than before. “You found me? You mean we weren’t traveling together?”

“No. It seems you…...” Aela paused, she licked her lips as she chose her words carefully. “Decided to go HUNTING, alone.”

“What?!” Vilkas balked and instantly regretted it. A stabbing pain pulsed across his back. He gripped his shoulder with the hand that wasn't trapped in a sling. He finished with a hiss. “No. I wouldn't do that.” 

“Vilkas.” Aela silenced him with the sternness in her voice. She squeezed his knee and asserted. “You did.” 

Skjor returned with a cup of tea, but Vilkas no longer cared about the dry itchiness in his throat. He knew she wouldn't lie to him, yet he couldn't believe what she said. Aela asked softly. “You truly remember nothing?” 

He could only look at her hopeless and lost. A chill swept through him as dread settled in. 

“We should leave this conversation till we get home.” Skjor interjected as he handed Vilkas the mug. “For now you need to focus on getting better. How do you feel?” 

“Like shit.” Vilkas mumbled. He clung to the mug enjoying the heat radiating through his hands. He sipped the tea and grimaced. A foul bitter taste coated his mouth. “What the hell is this?” 

Skjor shrugged. “Some shit that's supposed to help with the pain. Just drink it.” 

Vilkas studied the two Companions wondering if this was some sort of prank. He took another sip and then set the cup on the nightstand. “I'd rather deal with the pain.” 

Aela chuckled. “I've missed your bull headed ass.” 

Vilkas had stubbornly tried to get up hours after he woke, but all he accomplished was sinking back into Aela's arms. His legs refused to support him. Aela scolded him. “You haven’t eaten in gods know how long and you've been very fucking sick. What did you expect, Wolf?” 

Vilkas chewed on his lip frustrated. His wolf had devoured his strength and his illness had gobbled up the leftovers. He laid back into the bed with a pout. He hated being helpless. Hated having to be taken care of. Hated feeling like a burden. His only relief was in knowing that he was too weak to transform. He could barely even feel his wolf tucked away deep inside. Slumbering peacefully in the far reaches of his mind. 

After he accepted that he would remain bed bound, the herbalist came in to check on him. She was a high elf of all things with long glossy bronze hair, golden skin, and large eyes that gleamed like amethysts. Her slim slanted brows and small upturned nose made it look like she was staring down at everyone, which she was, being a good head taller than Farkas. However her smile was warm and she smelled like sea grass.

She glided straight over to Vilkas, and with no introduction, she snatched his face between her long slender hands and peered down at him. Her voice was soft and light and her words had a little trill at the end like she was trying to summon birds to her. “If you're awake, then more than likely the worst is behind you.” 

She ran the back of her hand across his forehead and cheek before leaning down to stare intently into his eyes. Her nose was almost touching his. “You’re no longer burning as hot as the Dead Lands. That's a good sign. I see you didn't drink your tea. Are you not in pain?” 

“Not enough to drink that swill.” Vilkas muttered. He pulled his head back feeling uncomfortable with this stranger touching him, herbalist or not. She tsked and planted a hand on her hip.

“You soldier types are all the same.” She plucked the mug off the nightstand and held it in front of him. “Drink.” 

Vilkas scowled at her. “Who the hell are you exactly?” 

“The woman who saved your life. You're welcome.” She wiggled the mug. “The name is Celaeneth and trust me you're going to want this in your system before I redress your bandages.” 

Vilkas took the mug gingerly and mumbled. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You’re the one making yourself suffer.”

Aela helped Vilkas sit up enough to chug the god awful tea. He grimaced and passed the mug back to Celaeneth. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.” Celaeneth knelt down so she wasn’t standing over Vilkas and said softly. “I’ve seen far too many stubborn warriors try to endure their ailments just to save their pride. Don’t be one of them. It will just end up making both of our lives more difficult. Let me help you.”

Vilkas nodded. “Okay.” 

The high elf smiled again and set the mug back on the nightstand as she stood. Aela scrunched her brows together and stared at Vilkas like he was some unknown animal she just discovered. He asked her. “What?” 

Skjor answered. “Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Vilkas?”

Aela grabbed Vilkas’s face and peered down at him. “You just willingly accepted help from a stranger.” She put the back of her hand on his forehead and looked up at Celaeneth. “Have you cast a spell on him?” 

“And you’re not being a dick.” Skjor added. 

Vilkas pushed Aela’s hands off him and mumbled. “I'm too tired.” 

Celaeneth rolled her eyes at Aela and miffed. “As adorable as you and your man are, I have a patient to tend to. Now get off the bed!” 

Skjor snorted and Aela barked out a laugh. “My man? He wishes!” 

Vilkas felt himself flush. Aela had made quick work smothering any ideas of the two of them when Vilkas was still early into puberty. He found himself suddenly fixated with the bed post as he muttered. “She's my shield sister.” 

Celaeneth was gentle and patient as she pushed off the blankets and helped Vilkas swing his legs off the bed before guiding him up into a sit. Vilkas sighed. It was nice to sit up, but just that act alone was exhausting. He couldn't remember the last time had gotten sick, let alone so thoroughly. The altmer untied the cloth holding his arm to his chest and without thought Vilkas tried to stretch his now free limb. A deep pain exploded out of his upper back and pulsed across his shoulders and up his neck.

Vilkas wailed. He clung to his knees whimpering as the angry pulsing slithered around him before curling up achingly into his shoulder blade. The high elf chimed. “And that's why you should have drank your tea earlier. Now hold still.” 

Celaeneth carefully unwound his bandages. Vilkas had bled through them causing them to stick to his skin. She carefully peeled them off. It still fucking hurt. Vilkas sat as motionless as possible breathing heavily through his nose as the herbalist cleaned his wound. She applied some sort of mixture onto it. It was shockingly cold at first and made his shoulder go numb. It smelled surprisingly like nightshade.

“What is that?” Vilkas asked.  

“A mixture of rock warbler egg and Imp stool with a very small dose of nightshade oil. Celaeneth answered. She started wrapping him back up with clean strips of linen. “And before you panic, no, it won't poison you. The nightshade helps with pain but will also make you drowsy. I suggest taking advantage of that and sleep as much as you can. The body heals faster with rest.” 

“You’re a high elf. Can't you just heal it?” Vilkas certainly didn’t want her using magic on him, but he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t.

Celaeneth huffed. Her reply sounded scripted like she had been asked that same question dozens of times before. “Just because I can wield magic doesn’t mean I have the desire to learn how and yes I know that's not a normal thing for an altmer to say. ”

“I didn’t mean to offend. I was just curious.” Vilkas replied. Her answer reminded him of Twiggy and his story of not wanting to learn magic. He could picture the little breton making snarky comments at Vilkas’s expense. The image shifted. He saw Twiggy pressed against a wall, his face purple and lips blue as he clawed at Vilkas’s wrist. His eyes so wide with terror that Vilkas could clearly see the gold flecks shimmering in his hazel iris. Ysgrammir’s beard! I really did that. I tried to kill him. The memory settled heavily in his chest. The wolf let out a shaky breath as he tried and failed to remember what had led up to that moment. 

“Are you alright?” Celaeneth asked.

Vilkas snapped out of the thought. He shook his head. “Yeah it's just…..”

“Still in pain?”

Vilkas gladly took the excuse and mumbled. “Yes.”

“Hopefully for not much longer. Once I’m certain the infection is gone, I’ll sew you back up and the lot of you can be on your way.” She tied the last of the bandage securely around the top of his bicep. 

“Thank you.” Vilkas said.

Celaeneth replied warmly. “You’re welcome.”

She checked on him periodically while he was held up in bed, bored yet afraid to move. Whenever tea was sent to him, Vilkas made sure to drink it straight away. After two days he was allowed to get up and Celaeneth finally sewed up his back and instructed him to take it easy. “No fighting, Companion.” She said, “Until you can move your arm without any pain.” 

They stayed in Rorikstead for close to a week. Skjor had to scour through the wares of passing merchants for clothes that would fit Vilkas while Aela replenished their food rations. Vilkas wasn't allowed to help until he had gotten several meals in him and didn't get light headed every time he stood up. Yet despite all that time and the crowd of prey around them, Vilkas barely felt his wolf. 

Even after he felt strong enough to travel, his wolf still slept. It was a strange feeling being able to think clearly and he savored every moment of it. Skjor insisted on hiring a wagon to take them back to Whiterun. Vilkas didn't protest. He climbed into the back of the wagon and rode in silence absorbing this newfound semblance of peace. 

“Someone seems to be in a good mood.” Aela mused as she rode in the back of the wagon with him. 

“Just happy to be going home.” He replied. 

“Yeah.” Skjor agreed from his spot on the bench next to the driver. “Next time don't go hunting without me. I don't want to have to carry you back to civilization again.” 

“Yeah.” Vilkas mumbled. 

His memory came back to him in little segments. But they weren't in order. He remembered wandering around the wilds naked, cold, and sickly. He also remembered arguing with Farkas in the yard until his brother punched him and stalked off. Vilkas watched the open tundra and the occasional grove of trees pass them by as he slowly sowed his memories together, weaving them like a knitted blanket. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he was left with a giant hole in the center. 

A shiver went through him as he recalled WHY he had tried to kill Bran. Where is he now? Where is Farkas? He was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he would find upon their return to Whiterun. He couldn't fathom Farkas not being the one to find him unless something was wrong. 

When he did work up the courage to ask Skjor about it, he refused to answer. The old Companion only replied with. “This isn't the time or place. We'll talk when we get home.” 

Yet the closer they got to Whiterun the more nervous Aela and Skjor seemed. There were hints of worry in their scent. Uneasiness in their eyes. It made Vilkas’s stomach twist itself up into a thick bramble. 

One night as they sat around the fire, Skjor and Aela joked and drank with the wagon driver, a fellow nord who was balding enough to make Skjor's locks seem thick and luscious, while Vilkas was somber. He used the excuse that he was still weary from his sickness, but in truth he was too worried to partake in the chatting. He desperately wanted to know what they weren't telling him. Did Bran tell them what he saw? Did they find the woman's shack? He stared at his hands in disgust as he pictured them still coated in her blood. 

He desperately tried to remember what had happened after he turned, but all he gained for his efforts was disturbing the slumbering beast. It brushed against its confines, making its presence known. Reminding Vilkas that he could turn if he wanted to. That he was strong enough. That if he just gave in he could hunt and feast…..and forget. Vilkas shoved the damn temptations as far into himself as he could, grateful that at least he could do that. For now. 

They arrived home early in the afternoon the next day. Skjor paid the wagoner handsomely and the three Companions made the trek up the steep road to the city's main gates. Vilkas was as glad to be home as he was dreading it. He was looking forward to changing out of the clothes Skjor had bought. They were slightly too small and the red plaid made him look like a farmer. Yet he worried about what Twiggy had told Kodlak. Vilkas had several reasons to feel a noose around his neck, and it tightened with every step closer to Jorrvaskr. It didn't help that Aela and Skjor smelled just as nervous. They walked on either side of him like two guards escorting a prisoner. 

They reached the ancient longboat and Skjor pushed the old pine door open holding it for Vilkas and Aela. The wolf stepped inside and was greeted with the familiar scents of Jorrvaskr; the mellow scent of old timber, the metallic tang of blade oil, weapons and armor, the bitterness of leather and sweat, the warm fire with the savory sweetness of elk roasting and Tilma's freshly baked bread, and the mingled musks of all who lived within. Home. 

A familiar laugh echoed throughout the old longboat. A deep rolling sound that warmed Vilkas's heart as much as it froze it. Farkas sat at the table by the fire playing dice with the whelps. A grin spread on his face as he chuckled. His arm rested on the back of Twiggy's chair while the breton leaned into him. Beneath Farkas's grin along the bottom of his jawline and all the way down his neck were love marks of varying stages of healing. 

They all turned at the sound of the door creaking open; the brother's eyes met. The warm silver crashed into the cold steel. Farkas burst from his chair, almost tripping over himself as he ran to the wolf. “Vilkas!” 

Farkas slammed into his brother with a crushing hug. It caused his shoulder to erupt with a stabbing pain, but it paled in comparison to the dagger that was just shoved deep into Vilkas’s heart. He winced and didn't hug his brother back. Twiggy's scent was all over his twin. It was almost as strong as Farkas's own musk. Vilkas could barely whisper the words past the bewildered tightness in his throat. “You've been here?” 

Farkas pulled back a little, his smile wavering. He looked and smelled confused which twisted the dagger further and fueled Vilkas's anger. He spat out venom. Quiet but no less potent. “I almost died and you've been here? Playing dice and fucking your TOY?” 

“I was so worried.” Farkas said.

“Then why weren't you looking for me?” Vilkas growled. “I needed you.”

“Kodlak said-” 

“I don't give a shit what Kodlak said!” Vilkas shouted. “If it was you out there the fucking GODS wouldn't have been able to stop me from looking for you.” 

“Vilkas I-” 

The wolf refused to listen to any excuses. He shoved Farkas. “Get away from me!” 

Farkas had the audacity to act like he was the one who was just stabbed in the heart. Vilkas quickly stormed past him lest the others smell the anguish brimming within him. He headed for his room. His strife had pulled his wolf front and center encouraging the beast to look for weak spots in Vilkas armor.  

Torvar broke the stunned silence. “Well the peace and quiet was nice while it lasted.” 

“Shut up.” Njada sneered. 

Everything I endured in the wilds, everything I had withstood against Hircine had been for Farkas. It was the only driving force that kept me alive. That kept me fighting…….. and he had spent that whole time sitting around Jorrvaskr with Twiggy!?  

Vilkas growled angry and hurt. His chest tightened so much it was hard to breathe. He wished he hadn't come home at all! Why did I ask Hircine to send me back? I'd rather be torn apart by werewolves!

The wolf barely made it halfway down the underbelly when a strong hand grabbed his left shoulder pulling him back. Vilkas whirled around with a snarl ready to bite. Skjor didn’t flinch, but he settled a hand on the hilt of his sword. His response was jarring. Only then did Vilkas feel the aching in his teeth. Not this already.

Skjor starred down Vilkas despite being slightly shorter. “That was uncalled for?” 

Vilkas growled. “Fuck. Off.”

“No. We need to talk. Now.” 

“About what?” Vilkas asked. 

There was a challenge in Skjor’s eye. “About what you are conveniently forgetting.” 

“Wolf!” The Harbinger shouted from where his head poked out of his study. He pushed his door open and shuffled toward them. 

Vilkas pulled away from Skjor and went to meet the Harbinger so Kodlak wouldn't have to walk as far. He gently embraced the old man. “Gods I missed you.”

Kodlak returned the hug with more fervor though he lessened his hold when felt the stitches. “Thank Stendarr you've returned. I was beginning to fear the worst.” 

“How long was I gone?” 

“You don't know?” Kodlak became instantly somber. His piercing blue gaze seeing everything from Vilkas's full beard and pale face to the way he was babying his right arm. “You look thin. What happened?” 

“I was wounded.” Vilkas answered vaguely. He was both afraid and ashamed to tell Kodlak what he remembered.

“How?” Kodlak’s brows furrowed and it made his gaze more calculating. 

Vilkas hesitated before answering honestly. “I….. wish I knew.” 

Kodlak was grim. He looked over Vilkas’s shoulder and said to Skjor. “Gather the circle.” 

Skjor nodded and retreated back up the hall. Vilkas waited till he heard the door leading to the top open and close before saying. “Kodlak, please, what is all of this about?” 

Kodlak sighed and squeezed Vilkas's arm. “Vilkas, my boy. You’ve been missing for three weeks.” 

“Three weeks?!” Vilkas balked. How long was I in Hircine’s realm?.....How long was I a wolf?

“Aye. A lot has happened.” He pulled Vilkas around and nudged the wolf down Skjor’s path. “Come. The circle will answer your questions.” 

Vilkas was torn between wanting answers and wanting to bathe and shave. Yet the strange behavior of his shield siblings convinced him to keep following Kodlak. So down the hall he went, back up the stairs. 

The whelps glanced at them curiously but knew better than to ask about Circle business. Bran's mismatched doe eyes found Vilkas's and the breton visibly flinched. There was obvious fear in his eyes before he sunk into his seat to try to hide behind Njada. A part of Vilkas was pained by Bran's fear and another part of him was glad for it. He knew it was because one was his feelings and one his wolf's but he couldn't fathom which was which. 

For as much as he wanted to assume the wolf to be glad to see its prey cower it could just as easily be pained that his prey had escaped. Though Vilkas felt guilty for hurting the breton, he didn’t regret the decision he had made. He had been trying to keep Farkas safe. And he knew that if it meant protecting his brother, he would do it again. Without hesitation.

As they went out to the yard toward the Underforge, Kodlak began leaning on him. It only added to Vilkas's growing horde of anxiety. The Harbinger looked tired; worse, he smelled afraid. 

Kodlak paused at the hidden door which was already ajar. Vilkas could smell his brethren waiting within. Vilkas wetted his lips. “Are you alright?” 

“As well I can be.” Kodlak sighed. He paused, seemingly wanting to say more before deciding otherwise. He pushed the door open. “Come.” 

He followed Kodlak inside. The Underforge was only mildly darker than the setting sun. The wolf glanced at the other Companions as more dread pooled in his gut. Farkas refused to look at him. He just silently shuffled his weight from one foot to the other looking like a beat dog. Vilkas berated himself. Skjor's right. I'm being unfair all over again. I shouldn't have yelled at him. 

When Kodlak and Vilkas made it into the center of the Underforge, Skjor closed the door and stood before it like a sentinel. Kodlak leaned against the basin for support clearly winded from the short journey, but everyone including the Harbinger stubbornly ignored that. Vilkas found himself once again being distracted by his wolf that had started pressing against him the moment he set foot inside. 

He could picture himself the night he had been born into the pack. Picture the times him and Farkas had fucked. Picture himself holding Bran off the ground squeezing his neck till his hand cramped. He felt like all of his sins were laid out on the floor in front of them and based on how he stood alone bearing all their gazes, they were already judging him. 

“Vilkas.” Kodlak stood tall with all the commanding presence one would expect from a Harbinger of the Companions. He was his old self again, a mountain of a man whose very presence demanded respect. It put Vilkas somewhat at ease to see once again the man who raised him until Kodlak sternly proclaimed. “The Circle accuses you of murder. What say you?” 

Chapter Text

Vilkas’s world crashed down on top of him. He had feared they had found out about him and Farkas but what they were accusing him of was far worse. His mind instantly went to the breton he had killed outside Solitude and the woman in the cabin. But they wouldn’t have known about either of them. He recalled waking up in the ancient tomb covered in blood. He knew he had had many victims fall to his werewolf yet he knew not whom. Obviously the Circle did. Vilkas stood before them tall and solemnly ready to accept whatever punishment they felt necessary. He had no doubt he was guilty. “Who did I kill?”

“You don't know?” Kodlak asked.

“I don't remember.” Vilkas breathed out the truth.

“Let's start with what you DO remember.”

“I……tried to kill Bran.”

“Yes. After he found you in here arguing with Farkas. What happened after that?” 

Vilkas froze. That's not what had happened. Is that Twiggy's lie or Farkas’s? He looked to his brother but the second their eyes met Farkas turned to study the basin behind Kodlak. Vilkas shook his head, frustrated and overwhelmed. He couldn't think! “I….. I turned.” 

“And then what?” Kodlak demanded.

The wolf didnt know how to answer. Kodlak wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than the truth. But Vilkas was afraid to speak the truth. How could he share it when he was too afraid to face it himself? 

Kodlak’s voice was stern and powerful. He spoke with all the righteous might of Stendarr. “Listen to me. It is extremely important that you are honest in this moment. Whether or not you remain a Companion depends on it.” 

“Stendarr's mercy.” Vilkas murmured. He could feel his chest growing tight all over again. They were threatening to disown him as they had with Aarnbjorn. Or perhaps they would turn him over to the Jarl to hang. He wasn't certain which fate would be worse. His hands started shaking as he faced the Harbinger. 

“Vilkas.” Kodlak demanded again. “What did you do after you turned?”

“Gods damn it all, I don’t know!” Vilkas yelled. “Just tell me!”

It was Skjor who answered. “After you disappeared, a werewolf attacked the northern watchtower. Six guards were stationed there. All six were killed and eaten. Aela and I went out to investigate. It was your scent at the watchtower, and we followed the trail west until we lost your scent at the river Karth. We found you the next day covered in blood and with a broken arrow in your back. Ring any bells?” 

“No.” Admitting the truth was painful. Vilkas had swallowed it like a fish swallowing a hook. He let it fester within him for too long and now they were extracting it one painful centimeter at a time. No doubt tearing bits of his insides out with it. “I didn’t want to turn. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t….. I remember trying to kill Bran and then suddenly I was waking up in an old tomb and not a damn glimmer of an idea of how I got there.” 

Aela and Skjor both looked doubtful, but Kodlak and Farkas both seemed horrified. The Harbinger asked. “And when you broke your oath in Solitude?”

Vilkas had forgotten he had admitted that to the old man. His hands balled into fists and he held them behind his back. They were stained with the blood of innocence and he couldn’t bear to look at them. “That also wasn't deliberate. My wolf it’s….. Stronger than me. I could feel it forcing me to change so I ran from the city before I…..I woke up hours later still as a werewolf eating an elk.”

Vilkas took a wavering breath. “I killed a man out there. I don't remember it, but I know I did. I could smell his blood on me as surely as Aela and Skjor smelled my scent at the watchtower.”

“Do you recognize this?” Aela asked, holding her fist out. 

Vilkas offered his hand and the huntress dropped an arrowhead into his palm. It was recurvatured steel with a corner notched base, and a fluted cross section. Both edges were beveled. Vilkas recognized it easily. “Skyforge steel. Eorlund’s work.”

Aela said. “That was the arrow the herbalist dug out of your shoulder.” 

Vilkas turned as pale as the haunting lights dotting the ceiling. Eorlund rarely made arrowheads. He only supplied them for the Companions and the Whiterun guards. Vilkas croaked. “You already knew the answer. Why bother asking me?” 

Kodlak replied. “Wolf, swear to me that you remembering nothing and turning against your will is the truth.”

“What does it matter? That doesn't change the fact that I killed them!” 

“It changes everything.” Kodlak insisted. 

Vilkas threw the arrowhead. “It doesn't take their blood off my hands!” 

“Vilkas!” Kodlak bellowed. “Answer me! Is it the truth or not?”

“It….Yes.” Vilkas felt his wolf chewing on his anger. He pushed the beast back only to be racked with guilt. He whispered. “I swear to you everything I've said is true.” 

Skjor called out, his raspy voice loud compared to Vilkas's softness. “How does the Circle plead?” 

One by one they all answered. Aela dismissively, Skjor relieved, Kodlak mournful, and Farkas just a whisper. “Not guilty.” 

“The Circle finds you innocent.” Kodlak said faintly. The Harbinger smelled anguished of all things. 

Vilkas was rattled to his core. He glared at them all and snarled. “How can you all say that? I just admitted guilt!”

“No.” Kodlak affirmed. “You are not the beast that lives inside you. These killings were Hircine’s doing. Not yours.”

"Don't tell me that it wasn't me!" Vilkas roared as his eyes burned with all the pent up guilt and self hatred. He pointed at his lips as he shouted. "I’m STILL picking their flesh out of my teeth!" 

As soon as he finished shouting the weight of his sins crushed him. He stumbled back as the realization took his legs out from under him and he sat hard on the stone outcrop. The rest of the Circle watched him with mixed expressions from pity and empathy on Skjor and Aela's part, to regret and anguish from Kodlak and Farkas. Their faces started to blur as the despair consumed him. All Vilkas could do was try to fight back the tears as his fists clenched and unclenched. He tried to speak, but what could possibly be said? The weight squeezed his lungs making it hard to breathe. He sneered as a sob forced its way past his quivering lips and shattered his composure.

Vilkas sank into himself digging his shaking hands into his hair as the tears spilt forth. Eight people. I MURDERED and CONSUMED eight people! What have I done to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?! He sat there quivering and pathetic as he tried to stop crying. He wished Farkas would come hold him. His twin seemed distressed by the breakdown, but Farkas just stood there.

"And you two have the audacity to wonder why I want to cure us." Kodlak spoke softly, though his words were heated. 

Skjor clapped back. "This didn't start happening till he stopped hunting with us." 

"It was his oath to you." Aela agreed. "He wasn't like this before." 

Farkas growled. "You're wrong. It's been slowly getting worse from the start." 

"If he spent more time as a werewolf he would be able to control it. I'd make sure of it." Skjor asserted while ignoring what Farkas had said.

"Stop dancing around the word and just say it. FERAL." Vilkas pushed his tears back enough to glare up at them. "I'm going feral. We all know it. What will you do when one day I turn and I don't come back?" 

They all quieted with somber faces as Vilkas threw the facts at them. He knew they didn't want to accept it because they cared for him. But Vilkas couldn't hide it anymore. Not when innocent people were paying the price. He WAS turning feral and he feared that the next time he turned would be his last. That his wolf would consume him entirely, and Vilkas the man would be no more.

Farkas's brows shot up to the stone ceiling while his lips parted. It made Vilkas pause. That moment of shock, as Farkas processed what Vilkas had said. The realization that his twin was becoming a monster. Farkas looked at Vilkas like he might not ever see him again. It was too painful to watch, and the wolf glanced down at the ground lest his tears return.

“We also have another problem.” Kodlak pressed at his forehead as if massaging a headache. “The Silver Hand heard of the attack. They’ve been snooping around the hold for weeks now. Farkas had a confrontation with them that made it obvious we are their main suspect.”

"Of course we are. They already know we're werewolves." Skjor grumbled. "Why wouldn't we be the first suspects?" 

Vilkas started. "What kind of confrontation?" 

Kodlak leaned back against the basin and stroked his beard. "While you three were gone, a scholar arrived with a location for a piece of Wuuthrad. I sent Farkas and Bran to retrieve it. It was a trap. The Silver Hand was waiting inside." 

Farkas piped in. “So I turned in front of Bran and killed them all.”

Vilkas sat in horror. "Twiggy knows we're werewolves?" 

“The fucking runt knows?” Skjor asked at the same time.

"I didn't have a choice." Farkas explained. "There were too many and we were trapped. We would have been slaughtered had I not turned." 

Kodlak said. "I've already spoken with the boy. I trust Bran's discretion." 

"Until he gets drunk." Aela huffed. 

Farkas said somewhat harshly. "You can trust him."

"He went behind your back and fucked your brother." Aela said flatly. "He's shown his character." 

"Not to mention he's a pirate." Skjor interjected. 

"I'm not certain about that." Kodlak replied. 

Skjor doubled down. "Come now Kodlak. You know as well as I that he was a pirate on the Crimson Tide. No one else would be dumb enough to get a tattoo like that." 

Farkas grabbed Skjor by the arm and growled in his face. "Don't accuse him of such things. Bran is innocent." 

Skjor's good eye glared right back. He gave Farkas a little shove. "Watch yourself pup. I'll be happy to put you in your place." 

"Think ice brains." Aela sighed. "Why else would he have that tattoo? For fun?" 

Vilkas snarled. "Leave my brother alone."

Farkas seemed surprised that Vilkas stood up for him. His gaze landed on the wolf and filled with silver pools of pain and heartache. They read each other's faces. Why didn't you tell me? 

Because I was ashamed. Farkas just shook his head and with a scowl he silently left the Underforge. 

"That is enough out of all of you." Kodlak demanded as he watched Farkas leave. "Skjor, you should be the last to judge someone based on their past. Bran is a Companion and will be treated as such. Besides, we have more pressing matters. I will not lose Vilkas to this curse." 

"Well, while you're wasting time digging in your books, old man, we still have the current problem of dealing with the Silver Hand." 

"Who are you calling old?" Aela asked as she raised a brow to Skjor. The warrior just snickered. 

Kodlak gave Skjor a pointed look, clearly annoyed. "Let the Silver Hand be. After they've had their fill sniffing around, they'll leave. We're more likely to cause problems for ourselves if we intervene. And NO HUNTING until they’re gone. Now unless there’s anything else you wish to discuss, I will take my leave."

Vilkas continued to sit glumly with his elbows on his knees. The Harbinger ruffled Vilkas's hair like he used to when he was a boy. It drew his attention and he looked up to see Kodlak smiling down at him. It was a pained smile, and matched the despair pooling behind his somber eyes. It was a look a parent would give after finding out their child was dying. A look that was afraid to hope, yet hoped all the same. The Harbinger’s hand lingered on the back of Vilkas's head. Normally he would have lashed out at being treated like a child, but not this time. It was a comfort, and Vilkas was grateful for it.

“I am proud of the man you've grown to be. You have a good heart. Don't let this curse break it.” Kodlak said softly. Vilkas didn’t believe the Harbinger’s words for a second, but he didn't bother disputing it. He tried and failed to fake a smile. Kodlak returned the gesture with a smile that was just as pitiful. “Try to get some rest.”

As Kodlak left the Underforge Skjor crossed his arms and sighed. "You've gotten to know Bran better than us. Do you trust him?" 

"No." Vilkas said roughly as he wiped at his eyes and stood. "But Twiggy isn't my concern right now. I have more pressing matters. Like not turning into a mindless beast." 

Skjor sighed again. "Wolf, you're one of the most stubborn asses I've ever known and a damn fine warrior. You honestly believe that you can't control the beast blood?" 

Vilkas growled and said on his way out. "I wouldn't have slaughtered eight people if I could." 

"It was six." Aela corrected. 

Vilkas stopped at the door and said over his shoulder. "Were you not listening? I killed six guards plus I ate a breton in solitude, and a woman out in the wilds. And those are just the people I know of. You're both fools if you believe they're the only ones." 

Vilkas’s feet felt leaden as he dragged himself back inside Jorrvaskr. The whelps it seemed had finished their game of dice. Njada and Ria sat by the fire quietly chatting with Brill. Torvar was passed out slumped over a table. Athis sat in a lone chair by the back doors with a book in hand. Bran was gone. 

Athis chirped. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I feel like a ghost.” Vilkas murmured. His words rang true as he descended down the stairs. He did feel like a phantom of himself. Like a shell. He had been cracked open but it was his wolf that had spilled out. Now he struggled to put himself back together even though he knew he couldn’t. It was as hopeless as trying to reassemble a crushed walnut.

His husk idly wandered into the tiny washroom where he drew a bath. He went through the motions of washing and shaving without really knowing what he was doing. His mind was elsewhere and nowhere. Like walking through a fog. He scrubbed at his skin even after his whole body was red and raw. He choked on a sob. He could still see the blood on his hands and arms. He could still feel it sticking to him, marking him as a murderer. He scrubbed harder. 

Vilkas eventually gave up trying to get clean. His body started walking again going all the way to his room on its own accord where it changed into a pair of baggy light brown trousers and a soft pine green tunic. He sat on his bed not really knowing what else to do. He felt empty save for the ever gnawing presence of his wolf. Vilkas fell back onto his pillow and just silently waited for the beast to inevitably consume him. This time sleep claimed him first.

After a few hours of restless sleep, periodically interrupted with night terrors, Vilkas crawled out of his bed. His gurgling stomach coaxed him into the kitchen. He dug through the pantry until he found the stash of cookies Tilma always tried to hide from him. The wolf pulled the jar down and sat near the dead fire eating snickerdoodles while brooding in the dark. 

His face and eyes were puffy and hot, betraying the fact that he had been crying again. The fact that he had broken down in front of the Circle left him feeling like a lesser man. It was pathetic. HE was pathetic. Kodlak telling him he was proud of him felt like a sick joke. How could he possibly say such a thing moments after putting him on trial for murder? If I was stronger my wolf wouldn't bother me so. That's why I'm turning feral. I'm weak.

The glimmering glow of a lantern moving through the hall pulled him from his thoughts. Vilkas sighed. He didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment. He especially didn't want whoever it was to see him in his current state, but neither did he have the energy to make a break for the door. The light grew until Twiggy popped into the kitchen. He wore only a long sleeved white tunic that hung down to his knees. His sandy blonde hair was sticking straight up while dark bags hung beneath his mismatched eyes. It appeared the wolf wasn't the only one having difficulty sleeping. 

Vilkas paused as he watched Twiggy shuffle over to the fireplace and set the lantern on the floor as he stirred up the coals and started building a fire. Vilkas had yet to ask his brother of how their 'revelation' was handled. He couldn't help but be afraid. Bran knew. The damn twig knew ALL of his secrets! He didn't like the thought of Twiggy having that much power over him. 

The breton was right next to the wolf yet he clearly hadn't spotted him. A musky leather smell clung to Bran. It was Farkas’s scent. No doubt it was his shirt Bran was wearing. Vilkas breathed in the scent, finding it calming. Twiggy got the fire crackling back to life and rose to his feet with a stretch and a yawn. He started to swivel around before he finally spotted Vilkas sitting beside him and he froze with a small gasp. The wolf watched as those hazel and green eyes widened and a small tremble raced through the twig. A strong smell of fear erupted out of the whelp so swiftly that it made Vilkas flinch. 

Twiggy's reaction to him just added to his already crushing guilt. It hurt knowing how much Bran feared him, and that it was justified. He knows better than anyone the monster I'm becoming. He wetted his lips and tried to think of how best to apologize, but Twiggy quickly stammered. "Sorry. I didn't know you were here." 

He quickly spun about to flee, but Vilkas snatched his wrist. "Wait." 

Twiggy yelped and yanked his arm away from Vilkas. He held his hand to his chest like the wolf might tear it off otherwise. He swallowed and it drew the wolf's eye to his throat. The image of Bran’s face purple and wide eyed came back to him. No doubt the breton could also see the wolf’s hand on his throat. Vilkas slowly pulled away and rested his hands flat on the table where Bran could see them. He asked softly. "Can we talk? Please?" 

The twig's fear forced him toward the chair opposite of the wolf before he steeled himself and stopped. He refused to look at Vilkas as he hissed quietly. "I don't feel safe being alone with you. If you want to talk then talk to Farkas. He's been worried sick about you and the first thing you did was yell at him." 

"You're right." Vilkas admitted. He looked down at his hands that were still stained red as he marinated in his pool of guilt. "You're often right. I've been cruel and unfair to him. To both of you. I let my fear control me, and I let my……wolf control me." 

Vilkas clamped his eyes shut as he felt them starting to get wet again. A cold wave went over him leaving his hair standing on end. He took a slow breath as he forced his tears back. It was terrifying to have his fears and secrets laid bare at Twiggy's feet. He wasn't even sure why he admitted them to the man, but he refused to take it back. It was the truth. A truth he needed to stop hiding. 

He looked up at the Breton to see Twiggy staring at him as if a second head had sprouted from his shoulders. Bran just stood there idly rubbing the red waves on his hand that he still clutched to his chest. The tattoo that spiraled all the way up his arm and wrapped around his shoulder to surround the black heart on his shoulder blade.

A heart with two letters etched inside. CR. Vilkas thought about what Skjor and Kodlak had said, and the story the Argonian in Solitude had shared. CR inside a Black heart…… "Captain Rhianie Blackheart. That's what your tattoo stands for." 

A breath slipped past Twiggy's lips before they tightened shut and he stopped breathing. His musk began to seethe with the same hate, fear, and disgust that Vilkas had smelled months earlier deep inside Wolfskull Ruins. His mismatched eyes pooled with shame and self loathing. It was like looking in a mirror; strange, that this twig who he resented and was jealous of just might understand him in a way no one else could. 

The shock started to wear off and Twiggy found his voice. "…….Yes." 

His lips parted as if he were going to say more, but then they quivered shut. Twiggy crossed his arms and rubbed them as if he were cold. He glanced at the fire, back to Vilkas, and then to the empty chair across from him. The twig chewed on his cheek and then to the wolf's surprise, he slowly took the seat across from him. Twiggy tugged on his sleeve before his fingers started nervously tapping on the table. "It seems we both have a demon dictating our lives."

Vilkas wasn't expecting Twiggy to open up, especially after what he initially said. It left the wolf just sitting there not knowing what to say. He still had the jar of cookies sitting in his lap and without thought he had gone back to nibbling on them. The sweet little comfort food slightly pushed away some of the nerves in his stomach. Twiggy watched him with a glimmer of curiosity. 

Even when he was afraid the little Breton couldn't help but be curious and it brought a small bit of amusement to the wolf. Vilkas fished another cookie out of the jar and offered it to Twiggy. He took it but just busied himself by flipping the snickerdoodle round and round as he asked softly. "How long has your demon been shadowing you?" 

Vilkas had to think for a moment. "I was seventeen, so ten years now." 

"Truly?" 

"Why do you sound surprised?" Vilkas asked. 

"Because of the poetic irony. I was also seventeen when my demon captured me." 

"She captured you?" A cookie stopped halfway to Vilkas's mouth as he looked at Bran in shock. "Pirates only take prisoners if they can ransom them, otherwise it would be a waste of resources keeping them alive."

Twiggy started and then gave a small forced laugh despite the clear lack of joy. "Yes, well, my father is wealthy though I am worth less than nothing to him. He was more than happy to let the pirates kill me. Unfortunately I had already made the mistake of catering to her ego. I didn't find out she was a pirate till after we had ……slept together." 

"I'm surprised you don't spend every waking moment boasting that you fucked a legendary pirate captain." There was clear doubt in Vilkas's voice. 

"Yes, well….." He trailed off and dropped his cookie on the table to dig his nails into his palms. He looked back at the fire and chewed on his tongue. "Let's just say it didn't stay pleasant for long."  

Vilkas didn't pry. He certainly wanted to, especially since the clues Twiggy sprinkled led him to a dark conclusion that angered him enough to rile his wolf. Despite his desire for answers he wasn't about to force more out of the twig. It would just push him back into his shell. Instead Vilkas said nothing. The two sat for a time mulling over their own thoughts and demons. That was until Twiggy started mumbling.

Bran was staring at the fire wide eyed yet unseeing as unnoticed tears started to skim down his cheeks. His hands were trembling despite the fact that his fingers were still dug into his palms enough that they were starting to bleed. His breaths were quick, shallow, and erratic while sheer terror oozed out of his musk. He was slowly starting to curl into himself. He mumbled the same two words over and over like a mantra. "Please don't. Please don't. Please don't……." 

"Twiggy?" The wolf reached out to take the bretons hand, but stopped short. 

Kodlak had told him before of waking nightmares. Men and Mer who had gone through such horrors that their minds couldn't escape it. That some reminder would pull them back to their darkest moments and away from the present. Vilkas had seen Farkas and Skjor go through such moments, but that had been years ago. He never thought he would encounter such a situation again, especially not with Bran. 

"Hey. You're okay." Vilkas said as gently and warmly as he could. He tried to remember everything the Harbinger had told him to do to help pull someone back to reality. "It's Vilkas. You're safe. It's just you and me inside Jorrvaskr's kitchen. There's no one else here. No one is hurting you. You're safe. Twiggy? Can you hear me?" 

Bran paused his mantra. He replied with a little squeak and breathed. "Y….yes."

"Take a deep breath….." Vilkas took a loud slow breath with him as he guided the Breton back to the real world. "Good. Now let it out slowly and look around. Tell me what you see." 

Twiggy sucked in a ragged breath as he searched the room still wide eyed but now focussed. "I…..see the fire." 

"What else?" 

"You?" 

"That's right. Just me. No one else is here. You're safe." Vilkas nodded. "What do you smell? What do you feel?" 

"Ummm." Bran whispered. He took a long quivering breath. He unclenched his hands and ran them along the table. "A table that badly needs to be sanded….. and I smell your sweaty arse." 

Vilkas chuckled knowing full well that the jab was Bran's attempt to feel normal. He asked. "Feel better?" 

Bran took another breath and glanced about the room as if he expected pirates to emerge from the shadows. "Not really." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"I want……I want Farkas." Twiggy muttered. His voice still warbled a little and he shrank back as if afraid Vilkas would be angered by his words. 

"Okay." The wolf replied softly. He set the cookie jar on the table and slid out of his seat. He plucked the lantern off the floor and looked back at the whelp who hadn't moved. He nodded toward the door. 

Twiggy slowly rose and shuffled after Vilkas. As they walked down the hall he scooted ever closer to the wolf until he wrapped his arm around Vilkas's like it was his presence alone protecting Bran from the darkness. He could only imagine what the pirates must have done to him that Twiggy would feel safer clinging to a man who had recently tried to kill him. 

When they reached Farkas's room, the Breton simply opened the door and pulled them both through. A couple candles were lit on the nightstand giving the bed a small warm glow. Farkas was awake sitting on his bed wearing nothing but his underpants. His elbow rested on a bent knee while he stared at the ceiling. His brows furrowed as the two entered. When he saw Bran's red tear stained face, he started scooting off the bed and growled at Vilkas. "What did you do?" 

The accusation made Vilkas’s chest ache. It hurt so much that that was Farkas's first assumption. Another reaction that was justified. It made him realize that he wasn't turning into a monster. He already was one. A monster who had split apart their relationship so thoroughly that he doubted it could ever be saved. There was too much pain; too much untrust and resentment.

Bran rushed forward and buried himself in Farkas's waiting arms. He whimpered. "It wasn't him." 

Farkas cradled him and kissed his hair while still glaring at Vilkas. It was clear he didn't believe Bran, and the wolf didn't want to see the whelp in his brother's arms. Where he himself wanted to be. Where he was no longer invited because of his own actions. 

He turned to leave, but was stopped by Twiggy's voice. "Vilkas." 

He paused. "Yes?" 

Bran gave Farkas a tight squeeze before he twisted around and nestled himself between Farkas's legs. "Thank you." 

“For what?”

“For what you just did. In the kitchen.”

“Oh. It was nothing.”

“It wasn't.” Twiggy mumbled. He wiped at his eyes with the side of his hand and looked over his shoulder at Farkas before asking. “Do you still want to talk?” 

"Now's not a good time." Vilkas replied.

Whatever had been haunting Bran was apparently vanquished by Farkas’s presence. Vilkas missed that. How easily his brother could cast aside his wolf. Vilkas was arguably the better swordsman but clearly Farkas was the one with an unshakable will. 

The wolf beat away his jealousy as Bran replied. "Will there ever be a good time? At least now we don't have to worry about anyone else walking in on us. " 

Vilkas nodded. He didn't want to talk anymore, but he knew the twig was right. He silently asked Farkas for permission to stay in his room. His brother sucked in a breath through his nose. He apparently didn't want to talk either, but after glaring at Vilkas some more he slowly mumbled. “Fine.” 

The wolf stiffly closed the door. He set the lantern on the little bar and then stood with his back to it. Farkas wrapped his arms around Bran and pulled the breton's back against his chest. As he watched Vilkas his scowl grew more heated like he was staring down a bandit. It was a clear message that said, You touch him and I will hurt you. Farkas had never looked at him like he was a threat. It was hard to endure it, and he would have left had Bran not started speaking.

"Since neither of you clearly want to break the ice I suppose I will." Bran said though he hesitated. "I'm not certain where to start so I'll just state the obvious. Vilkas……you've been made aware that I know about the Circle being werewolves." 

"Aye?" Vilkas felt himself stiffen as he raised his guard. 

"Farkas told me that before I…..found you two in the underforge you had been losing control……." He looked up at Farkas before licking his lips and continuing. "When you tried to kill me…....was that you or…the werewolf?" 

The question left Vilkas blankly staring at the whelp. He wasn't expecting it, let alone an answer to it.

"I….." Vilkas worked his jaw as the words stuck in his throat like a wad of dough. It was difficult enough to be honest with his brother and the Circle, but to open up even more to Twiggy? About this? Vilkas would rather chew on glass. "Both? I think. I don't know." 

He sighed and crossed his arms. He spoke to the floor. "The wolf has its own will. Its own desires and thoughts, but they've become so entangled with my own that I often can't tell them apart…. I keep telling myself that I would kill you if I had to but now that thought sickens me. The entire time I had you against the wall….. my wolf wanted to turn and feed on you….I know I was afraid and you were a threat….. but I don't know if i would have gone through with it if…..if it wasn't tempting me." 

Bran was clearly uneasy. “Is it tempting you now?” 

“Always.” The twins said in unison. Vilkas added. “Some days it's worse than others.”

"I see." Bran replied. There was a long silence. Vilkas glanced up to see both of them watching him. He scrunched his eyes closed and let out a breath. He was afraid they could see the blood staining his skin. Finally Twiggy said softly. "Vilkas, if it's any consolation...You and Farkas's romance. You don't need to worry about me telling anyone. If I'm being honest, I found it rather arousing." 

"You…….." Vilkas frowned. He couldn't possibly have heard him correctly. 

Twiggy blushed and bit his bottom lip. "I would have happily enjoyed the show had I not been so surprised." 

"I should have known. You dirty little whore." Vilkas mumbled without knowing what he was even saying. His mind was reeling. 

Twiggy wasn't a threat. 

Bran hadn't told anyone what he saw. His words weren't a consolation at all! Shor's Bones…..that means I panicked and lost control for nothing. If I had just trusted Farkas and listened, maybe then I wouldn't have turned. I wouldn't have killed those guards in the watchtower or that woman in the wilds. I wouldn't have died and spent an eternity battling Hircine’s hounds! None of this would have happened! 

Vilkas started laughing though he didn't know why. He certainly didn't feel like laughing, but now that he started he couldn't stop. He covered his mouth hoping it would help stop his giggling. Farkas and Bran shared a worried glance and the looks of concern only made him feel worse. His eyes grew hot as his laughs morphed into a breathy sob that opened the way for an anguished wail. 

He had told himself that despite his actions at least his intentions had been good. He had lost control and murdered, but it was only because he had been trying to keep Farkas safe. But now that small comfort was gone. There had been no danger. There was no justification for the innocent blood he had spilled. He had violated his honor and the Companions way of life….. For nothing. 

He dug his fingers into his eyes as the grief and torment devoured him. The weight was too much to bear. He would have collapsed to the floor had Farkas not caught him. Vilkas had given in so completely to his anguish that he didn't notice as his twin pulled him into his arms and held him tight. Farkas's scent washed over the wolf, but even that couldn't take away the shame, and horror of what he had become. His twin sat on the floor and rocked him as all of Vilkas's emotional turmoil rushed out of him. 

"Vilkas." Farkas cooed softly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner how much you were struggling?" 

"I didn't want to burden you." Vilkas croaked.

"Not burden me?" Farkas sounded angry and bewildered. "You are my brother. I love you and you are suffering. Let me fucking worry. Let me help you." 

Vilkas only clung to him tighter as he cried away months worth of stress and strife. Farkas held him just as tightly while whispering soft reassurances and occasionally kissing his shoulder. They stayed that way long after every ounce of misery was poured out of the wolf. 

Chapter Text

The twins clung to each other long after Vilkas's tears were spent. Farkas had slid them across the floor onto his rug so they could sit a little more comfortably and Farkas could rest his back against his bed frame. Other than that, they didn't move. Vilkas was grateful for the companionship. He nuzzled his face into Farkas's neck where his leather infused scent was strong. It was a small comfort to be back in his brother's arms. He dozed lightly as Farkas ran his fingers through his hair. He felt exhausted and empty after his cry, but even now he couldn't sleep. Vilkas whispered softly. "I'm scared." 

“Me too.” Farkas rested his cheek against his twin's forehead and squeezed him tighter. The hug was crushing, and he savored every second of it. Farkas mumbled. "I was afraid you had died." 

"I think I did." Vilkas breathed. 

Farkas froze. “What do you mean?” 

Vilkas slid down so he could rest his head on Farkas's chest and looked up at his brother. The candles on the nightstand had gone out while the one in the lantern had melted down to the bottom. It flickered threatening to plunge them into darkness. The small light warmed Farkas's forehead and softened the hard edges of his nose and jaw. Vilkas wanted nothing more than to pull Farkas down and kiss him. He didn’t dare try. Instead he savored their closeness. His twin's arms were still holding him close and Vilkas tentatively interlaced his fingers with Farkas's. This small amount of affection already given would have to be enough. 

His brother gave his hand a reassuring squeeze while Vilkas told him everything that had happened after he woke up in the ancient ruins. He was as honest as possible, not leaving out any detail that he remembered, from his time in the little cabin to his battles with the werewolves. He felt Farkas tremble when Vilkas recalled the sensation of dying. How he could hear Skjor and Aela bickering even though he was unconscious. How he saw himself slung over Skjor’s shoulders and the strange sensation of floating. Of being pulled away from Nirn; and again the feeling of dying as Alrabeg skewered him. Of feeling cold as his blood, warm and thick, quickly oozed out of him.

Vilkas scrunched his eyes closed feeling pathetic all over again. “I was very sick. It was probably all a fever dream. But it felt as real to me as you are now. I don't know if my body actually died, but I do know my soul was in the Hunting Grounds. I got a clear look of what my fate will be if we can't find a cure.” 

As Vilkas was recanting his tale, Farkas’s grip around his chest slowly grew tighter. When the wolf was done Farkas squeezed his hand and growled. “How dare you die without me.” 

Vilkas thought surely his brother was joking until he smelled the anger pooling in his musk. It was potent enough that it left a sour taste on Vilkas's tongue. “It wasn't like I intended to.” 

“Swear to me you won't do it again.” 

“What?” Vilkas looked up at Farkas confused. He was talking nonsense. “Brother, I can't make a promise like that.” 

Farkas scowled. He grabbed Vilkas and shoved him the rest of the way to the floor. The anger boiling into his musk was powerful enough to be nauseating. He loomed over Vilkas pinning his elbows to the rug as he growled menacingly. “You will NOT leave me again. We came into this world together and we're leaving this world together. You WILL promise me this!” 

“Farkas.” Vilkas said gently. He had always thought himself to be the possessive one, yet clearly that was a trait they shared. “That’s a beautiful thought, but we can't predict how our lives will end. I won't swear an oath to you that I don't know I can keep.” 

Farkas's grip was painful as he squeezed Vilkas's arms. His short scraggy nails dug into the sensitive flesh of his elbows. Farkas asserted. “You will.” 

“Or what?” The wolf challenged. “What will you do?” 

Of course Vilkas was turned on. How could he not be? Farkas's scowl was both afraid and menacing. Betrayed yet vindictive. The power in his demand was undeniable. Vilkas had hurt Farkas, and by the bruising grip pressing him to the floor, he assumed his twin wanted to hurt him in turn. To make him suffer as he had made Farkas suffer. To punish him the way he should be. The way he deserved. That's certainly what Vilkas wanted. 

The wolf held his breath while he waited and hoped for more. Should I moan? Say something? Kiss him? He didn't want to risk Farkas pulling away. Instead Vilkas just stared into those quicksilver eyes yearning for his brother to do something. He could feel his face flushing while his cock swelled with hope. He assumed his musk to be completely flooding the room with his desire if his brother's flaring nostrils were any clue. Vilkas didn't know if he was asking or telling as he whispered. “Punish me.” 

Farkas's lips crashed into his own. Vilkas let out a moaned gasp, completely taken off guard, and Farkas took the opportunity to invade his mouth with his tongue. Claiming him. Consuming him. 

The anger in Farkas's musk was no less strong, but it started to emanate lust as he devoured his twin. Vilkas hurriedly kissed him back. He leaned up into his brother desperately clinging to the harsh kisses bestowed upon him, afraid that they would be taken away.

“I am so mad at you.” Farkas breathed between his rough kissing.  

“Show me.” Vilkas pleaded. 

Farkas released an arm only to dig his hand into Vilkas's mane, gripping his hair tight! Holding his head in place as he unleashed his wrathful lust. He pulled his lips away and licked Vilkas's flavor off of them as he spat out. “You don't deserve this.” 

“I don't.” Vilkas agreed breathlessly. Farkas descended on him again. He released Vilkas’s other arm just long enough to work his way on top of his twin. Farkas pressed his weight down on him as he nuzzled Vilkas's jaw out of the way and clamped down hard on his neck. His strong grip never once left the wolf's mane. It clung ever tighter forcing Vilkas to crane his neck back exposing his neck to his brother's will.

Farkas sucked on his pulse with a moan before spitting it back out declaring. “I'm going to make you pay.” 

“Gods.” Vilkas whined. “Please.” 

Farkas shoved his hand down to his brother’s trousers. He yanked on them, quickly trying to undo the ties one handed. There was an audible tear as the knot was ripped apart, but neither of the brothers gave a damn. Farkas yanked open the trousers and jammed his hand inside to grip Vilkas's solid cock. 

The wolf let out a loud moan that Farkas muffled with his mouth. He swallowed Vilkas's sounds and rewarded them with a small deep hum of his own. He ordered softly. “Quiet.”

Vilkas barely heard the command as his entire focus was on his brother's large calloused hand gripping his girth. He had almost forgotten how warm and rough his brother's hand was. It simply held him, not stroking or rubbing yet it was the best fucking sensation Vilkas had ever felt. He rolled his hips pressing himself tighter against his brother's grip. 

Farkas stroked him light and soft, barely caressing him as he ran his thumb over his tip and slid back down only to repeat it. Vilkas wrapped his arms around Farkas's shoulders and mewled. “Oh Farkas.” 

His brother leaned down to claim the wolf's lips once more. Gobbling up his pleasured cries as he pumped Vilkas's cock. Farkas released his hair only for that hand to slide down his face and gently pinch his neck. Vilkas instantly flushed, a rush of pleasure settling in his gut as his brother lightly squeezed. Farkas's eyes were still blazing. Anger and lust boiled within the hot quicksilver like a pool of lava. Vilkas swallowed. 

“Turn over.” Farkas ordered. Vilkas twisted around. As he did so his brother tucked his hands in the top of Vilkas's pants and folded them down exposing his ass. Vilkas stayed on his knees but Farkas had other ideas. He planted one of his giant paws in between Vilkas's shoulders and pushed him back to the floor. The wolf groaned into the rug as the mostly healed wound in his back was tugged. A deep pain pulsed through his right shoulder. It wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been, but it didn't bring any pleasure with it. 

Vilkas pressed his forehead against the back of his hand and hissed. Farkas either didn't notice or didn't care as he leaned his weight firmly between Vilkas's shoulders when suddenly the pads of Farkas's fingers were planted on his furl; the pain in the wolf's back was instantly forgotten. His brother massaged his entrance and Vilkas mewled. “Gods yes! Please fuck me.” 

Farkas's fingers disappeared and there was a loud slap as he smacked Vilkas's ass hard. The wolf gasped. Farkas had never hit him that hard. At least not during sex. The sting sent a wave of pleasure straight to his core and then another as Farkas slapped his other cheek just as harshly. His arm slid across Vilkas's shoulders up to pin his neck against the rug. He shoved Vilkas's shirt up to run his hand up across his back. He paused when he felt the stitches in the wolf's right shoulder. He lightly caressed what would undoubtedly be a nasty scar before ignoring the area entirely. 

“Nggggggghhhhh.” Vilkas hummed. His back was alight and tingling from the gentle carrasses. Farkas curled his fingers and clawed his way back down. The wolf choked on a wail. It hurt so fucking good! He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing harshly through his nose. His twin kept jumping between being tender and brutal. Vilkas hadn't a clue what to expect next. It was making him go wild. 

His twin leaned down to clamp his teeth into the center of Vilkas's back. Sucking hard. Marking him as HIS. Once he was satisfied with his work he moved down leaving a meandering trail of love marks down Vilkas's back to his ass. Farkas kneaded his rump while leaving a sizable mark on either cheek before slapping each one for good measure. Farkas's breath was hot and wonton as he demanded. “Give me your hands.” 

Vilkas pulled his arm from under his forehead and offered it to his brother. Farkas snatched his wrist and pinned it against Vilkas's lower back, and then the other, trapping them both in one of his powerful hands. Farkas returned his forearm to the back of Vilkas's neck pressing him roughly against the scratchy rug holding him down like a prisoner. Vilkas's cock was solid and it pressed uncomfortably against the rug.

Vilkas started as oil, cold and slick, was dribbled across his ass. Of course his brother would have Dibellian Oil in his room, but Vilkas hadn't a clue when or where he plucked it from. The thought was flung aside as Farkas's fingers found his furl to press and rub against it. Vilkas moaned low in his throat and whispered. “Oh gods.”

Farkas pressed his middle finger into Vilkas's core pushing it all the way in and twisted it before slowly pulling it back out. He teased and tugged Vilkas's rim before sinking that long thick digit back in. Vilkas panted. He wanted to yell! He wanted to shout out his pleasured wails to Aetherius, but he wouldn't, couldn't, disobey his brother's order. Farkas had freed his wrists and Vilkas was tempted to move them. To grab himself if nothing more than to protect his sensitive head from the rough scratchy rug. But Farkas had placed the wolf's hands behind his back and didn't give any instruction whether or not Vilkas was allowed to move them. So he left them there and resorted to balling his hands into fists as Farkas fucked him that godly finger.

His brother added a second digit to his core and began thrusting faster. His normal slow and careful administrations were replaced with impetuous desire. Farkas splayed his fingers working Vilkas's entrance open. He focussed on getting it slick and ready, not even trying to play with the little bundle of nerves hidden within. For once Farkas was prioritizing his own wants and desires over his brother's and Vilkas loved every moment of it! 

His fingers slid out of Vilkas's core. Farkas yanked his pants off and planted his legs on the outside of his twin's. His own member was hard and slick with oil as he nestled it in between Vilkas's cheeks.

The wolf had turned his head to the side which had left him pinned even harder beneath his brother's arm. Any more pressure against his neck and he was certain it would snap. His face was on fire yet he felt it flush even more as Farkas settled against him. His brother's warm solid cock threatening to take him at any second was a sensation he never thought he would feel again. It only turned him on more. His own dick still trapped against the rug was leaking and his balls ached. 

Farkas gripped himself, lining his member up against Vilkas's furl before pressing hard against it. Vilkas moaned as he relaxed his rim and his brother's head slid within. He mewled. “Oh fuck. Oh gods yes.” 

Farkas slid in a little further and Vilkas practically spilled himself right then. Just feeling his brother's warmth and girth inside him again was beyond orgasmic. Farkas pulled out just a fraction and then hilted himself, punching all the air out of Vilkas. 

The wolf groaned. He had nearly forgotten how deep his brother could go. How wide and gaping he would stretch him. Farkas pressed himself hard trying to force every millimeter of his length into Vilkas's heat. He grabbed his twins wrists again, squeezing them tight as he sank his weight against him. 

“I've missed seeing you like this.” Farkas growled softly. “I've missed taking you.” 

Vilkas replied with a quiet whine. “Me to.” 

Farkas slammed his length back into Vilkas core, fucking his brother without remorse. He dropped his weight onto the wolf's back and snaked both his arms around Vilkas neck, holding him in a headlock. He growled angry and lustful. “You took this away from me. Don't do it again.” 

Vilkas groaned wishing his brother would squeeze his neck tighter. He wheezed. “I won't. I promise.” 

“Fuck you feel so fucking good.” Farkas growled hot and heavy into Vilkas ear. The wolf just layed there panting and moaning as quietly as he could while his brother pressed and pulled against his walls and furl. 

Farkas picked up his pace, bringing with it the loud smack of skin slapping against skin. It was more than loud enough to be heard outside the room and that worried thought tugged at Vilkas; Until his brother's head slid along that spot inside him and any thought became consumed by pleasure. Vilkas sputtered. “Fuck yes. Harder!” 

Farkas tightened his grip around Vilkas's neck and just the slight pressure constricting his air coupled with his submitted position sent him over the edge. His twin stretching him open and massaging his core fucking him for all he was worth made Vilkas cum hard. He whimpered, his fingers digging into Farkas's stomach as his seed pooled on the rug. 

“Gods Vilkas!” Farkas growled as his pace grew quick and shallow. He grunted and groaned as he released himself deep into his brother's heat. Vilkas shivered coming down from his orgasm right as Farkas reached his. He laid there in a daze feeling achy and entirely spent. His body pulsed with a pleasant pain from all the bruises, scratches, and love marks left behind by his brother's punishment. 

Farkas dropped his head onto his arms sending hot waves of air down Vilkas's back as he panted. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat and the wolf was now scorching hot, but he wasn't about to ask his brother to get off him. Farkas still had him in a headlock and his arms were sore from being trapped behind his back under Farkas’s weight. Vilkas loved it. He dozed, feeling half asleep and completely satisfied.

With a groan Farkas released his brother and extracted his cock from Vilkas's core. The wolf pouted but all it got him a small pat on the ass. He watched his brother clean himself off before reluctantly pulling himself up onto his knees and elbows. His arms were stiff so he grabbed onto the edge of Farkas's bed to stretch them out. He sat up to stretch his arms up over his head and froze. 

Sitting on the bed with arms wrapped around a pillow tucked into his lap was Twiggy. He had his mouth pushed into the down pillow with rose flushed cheeks and aroused eyes peeking out. His musk was heavy with want. He clung tighter to the pillow as the wolf's gaze settled on him. Vilkas could see the fear wavering in his mismatched eyes. Could smell it pushing past his lust infused scent. Could hear it when the tiniest of gasps squeaked past the breton's lips. Neither of them moved, but as the tension began to build Twiggy attempted to break it. “I was going to give you two some privacy, but you were blocking the door……” 

The wolf bristled, silencing the whelp with his frozen furry. The twig hadn't made a sound in hours. Vilkas had completely forgotten he was in the room. I can't believe he saw me like that. I can't believe I didn't smell him. He had just let Twiggy see the very sin he had tried to kill the whelp over. 

The beast, so calm and placid after being submitted by Farkas, stepped out of the shadows to further fuel Vilkas's anger. The urge to change slowly worked over Vilkas like the smallest of whispers being carried on the wind. Kill him. Farkas placed his hand on Vilkas's head. The beast fled.

Farkas sat on the bed with Twiggy behind him. Vilkas was still on his knees next to him. His twin's deep voice was soft but strong. “It's okay.” 

He combed his fingers through Vilkas's mane like he were trying to calm an agitated hound. Vilkas huffed because despite wanting to be annoyed the damn gesture worked. It's not Twiggy's fault I forgot about him and of course Farkas wouldn't care if he watched. 

Vilkas finally tore his gaze from the Twig and he looked up at his brother. Farkas grinned and patted his head again. Fuck me if Im not helplessly obsequious to his will. Farkas praised him and Vilkas's heart fluttered. “Good. Now let's get you cleaned up.” 

“No!” Vilkas yelped. Somehow the thought of Twiggy watching Farkas clean him was even worse than him seeing Vilkas get taken. The wolf stiffly got to his feet  pulling up his pants in the process. He tried to gain some sort of composure now that Farkas's spell was broken. “No. I should go.” 

“You don't have to.” Farkas replied. 

Vilkas just put a hand up to silence his twin and unceremoniously left. He heard Twiggy whisper behind him. “I have a few suggestions for next time….” 

Next time!?!

“There's not going to be a next time.” Vilkas grumbled. He wasn't at all surprised the lynx was happy to watch. He had probably gotten himself off watching and hid it under the pillow! 

The wolf crossed the small side hall to his room where he let his pants fall to the floor. He pulled out a clean shirt and used it to clean himself up. His ass hurt inside and out. His furl was hot and swollen while his cheeks pulsed from Farkas's spankings. He had no doubt they were bruised. It's gonna hurt to sit for a week. Despite the pleasant pain Farkas left him with, the wolf was too flustered to attempt to sleep. 

He felt so…… exposed. Uncomfortable with the knowledge that Twiggy had seen him so submissive. So WILLING and EAGER to do anything his brother demanded of him. It wasn't meant for anyone else to see. 

Vilkas growled to himself as he wrestled on a clean pair of trousers and left his room. He needed to go sit outside and think. Let the cool air calm his agitation.

He rounded the corner into the stairwell and crashed into another Companion. Vilkas instinctively grabbed the person in front of him to steady them both.

A small pair of hands shoved him. “Watch it!” 

“Sorry, Aela.”  Vilkas said. 

“Wolf. You startled me.” Aela stated. It was as close to an apology the shield maiden was capable of. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“Yes.” Vilkas lied. In truth his back was pulsing worse than it had in days. I hope Farkas didn't accidentally make it worse by pinning me the way he did…….. worth it though.

“Good.” Aela smelled uncomfortable and Vilkas was about to go around her when she said softly. “Wolf, I'm going to say this once, and then we can both pretend this conversation never happened.” 

“Okay?” 

“I'm glad you and Farkas have clearly reconciled. Gods know we needed the peace, but I do not need to know that you decided to share the whelp. So for everything that is true and honorable I don't EVER want to SMELL the three of you again!” 

“We didn't……. I didn't……” Vilkas clamped his mouth shut as an embarrassed heat rushed past the love marks on his neck and engulfed his face. Of course Twiggy's scent was on him. He had been living in Farkas's room for months. That's probably why I didn't notice him either. But he couldn’t deny having fucked him while also smelling like his twin and sex! Aela threw her head back and cackled at him. Somehow Vilkas's face got even hotter. He spun around and all but ran to the washroom. 

An hour later Vilkas still sat in the tub cold, stunned, and pruney. I can't believe I was so stupid! I know better than to walk around Jorrvaskr after fucking Farkas. 

His thoughts circled like an ouroboros. He had been caught and yet….. He hadn't been caught. Thanks to Twiggy. “Why am I even considering this?” 

“It's a fool idea.” Vilkas grumbled. He didn't care one bit if all of Whiterun thought him sharing the whelp with his twin. In reality they would be sharing Farkas and that was something Vilkas just couldn't do. “We basically already are. Just not at the same time. Farkas would probably like it.” 

He doubted Twiggy would be any more keen to the idea than he was himself. Just the thought of letting Twiggy touch Farkas while they fucked was stirring up his jealousy. Of course there was also the problem of his beast wanting to devour the breton every chance it got. But it always yields to Farkas……

Vilkas easily pictured Bran on his knees, lips plump and red from sucking his cock. He couldn't deny he had enjoyed seeing him like that when the whelp had sucked him off in Solitude. But the idea of having to watch Bran please his brother. Seeing his hands all over him. Or worse. Having to watch Farkas fuck him. Having to watch as his brother got off inside someone else. He completely despised it……..but it was a perfect cover to give him everything he wanted. He could have Farkas and no one would suspect unless they actually walked in on them. 

Vilkas sighed and the thoughts came full circle again. “Why am I even considering this?”

Chapter Text

“Ten.Eleven…….Twel.v..e……. Thir……” Vilkas huffed and with a growl finished pulling himself up toward the awning over the patio. His chin barely made it over the wood. “.....Thirteen.”

He let his hands slip off the beam and bounced on his ankles as he landed. Vilkas planted his hands on his hips and tilted his head back as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck me I’m out of shape.” 

“That was pathetic.” Skjor said standing beside him. “You can do more than that. Get back up there!” 

“When's the last time you've done chin touches old man?” Vilkas demanded. 

“Doesn't matter. I know I can do more than thirteen.” 

“Well then let's go.” Vilkas challenged. 

Skjor grinned and rolled his neck. He jumped up, grabbed a beam, and tucked up his knees. “Let's go wolf. Unlike you, I'll even keep my armor on.” 

Vilkas grabbed his beam and the two Companions started pulling themselves up in unison, calling out the numbers along the way. “....Fifteen. Sixteen…..” 

One more. 

“Seventeen.” 

One more!

“Eighteen. Aaaaah!” Vilkas dropped off the wooden beam and clutched at his right shoulder. His back muscles clenched and spasmed as the recurring pain stabbed him. The pain was electric, and it left his neck and arm feeling tight and tingling. “Stendarr's mercy!” 

Skjor ignored the wolf's wail and continued his chin touches. The rest of the Companions all paused to look at Vilkas before hesitantly going back to their business. Farkas started toward his brother but paused when Vilkas scowled at him. Skjor got to twenty-five before dropping off. The old warrior studied Vilkas. “Still not getting any better huh?” 

Vilkas waited till the pain subsided and gingerly rolled his shoulders before answering. “I keep thinking it's better and then I just move in a weird way and it flares up again.” 

“Have you been back to thr healers?” 

“Not since they took my stitches out.” Vilkas answered. He grabbed a towel off a table and wiped the sweat from his face and bare chest. He pointedly ignored Ria who kept glancing at him every time she thought he wasn't noticing. 

“You should go wolf.” Skjor suggested. “It wouldn't hurt. And we need you back in form so you can get back to training the whelps.” 

“You're probably right.” Vilkas begrudgingly agreed. 

“And how's your other situation going?” Skjor crossed his arms and studied the wolf with his good eye.

“That's none of your damn business.” Vilkas sneered. He wadded the towel into a ball and tossed it at Skjor. It unraveled halfway to him and landed harmlessly on the ground. 

It had been almost two weeks since he had returned home and the Circle had all been treating him differently since. His problem. Situation. Circumstance. Curse. It didn't matter what they called it. They all watched him like a magical rune waiting to explode. Vilkas couldn't blame them but it was exactly what he had been dreading. 

Skjor nailed the point home deeper. “It will be my business if you lose it.”

“You being pushy doesn't help!” Vilkas growled. He closed his eyes and took a breath trying to prevent the wolf from latching on to his annoyance. He rolled his shoulder again and muttered before going back inside. “Just leave me alone.” 

Vilkas stepped inside Jorrvaskr and stood there for a second while his eyes adjusted to the dim light and his wolf retreated back to its corner in his mind. Thankfully the mead hall was quiet with most everyone outside in the yard training or just enjoying the late summer warmth. He spotted Brill cleaning out the large firepit in the center of the hall. Vilkas went over to him. “Got another shovel?” 

“Aye, but surely you have more important matters.” Brill replied. 

“This firepit needs to stay clean or the whole meadhall could burn down. I'd argue not much is more important.” 

“In that case the other shovel's outside by the skyforge.” Brill said gratefully. 

Vilkas returned a moment later and helped Brill shovel up the ash into sacks to be given to farmers for fertilizer. He was careful to go slow lest the finer ash end up in the air. It was important busy work that Vilkas found rather cathartic. The repetition was meditative and he found both himself and his wolf being lulled into a soothing calm. His beast laid down into a ball and leaned against its cage. It wasn't enough pressure that Vilkas was struggling with it; just enough that he couldn't completely ignore it. It was the closest he could get to peace nowadays. 

Brill was content in their silence. He had never been much of a talker and his soft calm voice was often drowned out by the Companions loud and proud ones. The silence was only occasionally broken by idle chatter. Brill commented on the war. How Ulfric was mobilizing his men. More were gathering along his borders in Eastmarch and Falkreath. A clear preparation for a march. The most obvious target would be Whiterun. But would Ulfric dare? Attacking Skyrims breadbasket would surely make the Imperials take Ulfric's rebellion more seriously. 

“That's probably what he wants.” Vilkas said. 

“Aye.” The small nord replied. Brill was the same height as Twiggy with a light frame and a head almost as bare as Skjor's. Though he was no warrior, he had served Vignar and in consequence the Companions for decades. He smelled agitated as he said quietly. “Vignar has been receiving and sending messages to the stormcloaks.”

Vilkas dropped his shovel and a small plume of ash accosted his face. He coughed and backed away from the torrent of fine ash that stung his eyes. He wiped his face with an arm and looked back at Brill in complete disbelief. “He what?! You can't be serious?” 

Brill continued on softly. “I am, and I worry what Vignar might be planning.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ever since the Stormcloaks took Falkreath, Vignar has been in touch with Ulfric directly. I haven't read the messages, but he's asked me on more than one occasion to deliver them to Ulfric's hands alone.” 

Vilkas was dumbfounded. “I don't doubt your words, but I find that hard to believe. Vignar might be retired but he's still a Companion. He knows we don't take sides in politics.” 

“True……But his family are advent supporters of the Stormcloaks. Even Eorlund.” 

“Have you told Kodlak about this?” 

“Not about him messaging Ulfric. I was going to but I thought better of it after that little stunt you pulled. Why did you decide to wander off in the middle of the night anyway?” Brill asked, sounding accusatory. “The Circle was acting like a turned bee hive they were so upset.” 

Vilkas hadn't expected to be asked that question. The Circle knew. The whelps knew better than to ask. At a loss he simply said. “That's personal.”

Brill looked down his nose at Vilkas. “Well whatever it was you were doing I hope you know it took a big toll out of Kodlak. He hides it well, but he was sick with worry. He's lost even more weight. I don't know how much more his body can take.” 

“I…… didn't know.” A stone started forming in the wolf's stomach. 

“Maybe it's because it's my duty to watch ol’ Vignar so I see more than you lot. But I'm serious, Wolf, you should spend a little more time with the Harbinger.” Brill picked up Vilkas's shovel. “Thanks for the help. It's much appreciated.” 

Vilkas nodded and went straight to the Harbinger’s study. He rapped a knuckle on the doorframe despite the door being open. Kodlak was in his usual spot, sitting by the little table by his bedroom door, writing in his journal. He looked up at the knocking and slowly closed the book. He smiled. “Wolf. Come in.” 

Vilkas took the seat adjacent to Kodlak where he could see down the hall. He leaned his elbows on his legs and studied Kodlak. He felt like a complete idiot for not noticing before what Brill pointed out. Hiding behind Kodlak’s white beard was a pair of sunken cheeks. His armor looked too big and too heavy for him. His glacier blue eyes were worn and tired. He looked depleted like a well long run dry.

Kodlak studied him in turn, his intellectual mind as sharp as ever. “What's wrong? You're looking at me like you expect me to keel over.” 

“I……” That's exactly what I'm worried about. Vilkas sighed and dropped his head. “I'm sorry. I should have-” 

“Wait.” Kodlak commanded. For all his appearances of frailty his voice was still strong. “Close the door.” 

Vilkas did as he was told and then continued. “I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. I didn't want to burden you with my problems or make you worry, but in the end I just made everything worse. I'm sorry I lost control and ran off.” 

Kodlak set his journal on the little table and leaned an elbow on top of it. “Don't. Yes I would have preferred you were more open with me. But know this Wolf. I would worry about you whether or not you had this curse inflicted on you. As I do for everyone who lives in this hall. The last thing you need to be doing is apologizing for something outside of your control.” 

Vilkas's hands clenched his knees. “Damn it, let me atone for what I did!” 

“Vilkas!” Kodlak sounded vexed. “Do not put this extra burden on your shoulders. You have enough strife to deal with as is. I don't know why the beast blood affects you the way it does, but you are merely a conduit for the curse. Not the source. Not the cause. As for keeping the truth from me…” 

Kodlak leaned forward and gripped the wolf's shoulder. “You are forgiven.” 

“Don't burden myself.” Vilkas scoffed. “That's easier said than done.” 

“It always is.” Kodlak patted Vilkas's arm and then said. “So tell me now. How is the curse faring? Do you know what triggers it?” 

“Fine? I think. Even now I can feel it tempting me. Like a drug. Sometimes I don't even notice it until my teeth are aching and my hands are already starting to sprout claws. If I get angry it's just…….. THERE. Suddenly…… and I can't differentiate it from myself. It terrifies the living hell outta me.” Vilkas leaned back into his seat. He felt slightly better opening up to Kodlak. 

“I can't imagine what that must feel like.” The Harbinger said. “This curse is truly terrible. I'm sorry you felt the need to deal with this struggle alone.” 

“I wasn't alone. I have Farkas. Though I tried to keep it from him as well.” 

“Hopefully you can be free of it soon.”

Vilkas started. “You've learned something?” 

“I have indeed.” Kodlak piped up and smiled. “I believe I have finally learned how to undo this curse.”

“How?” 

“The Glenmoril Witches magics is what binds us to our wolves and it's also what can undo it. Of course they would never willingly free us, but I have learned of a ritual that could extract their foul powers by force.” Kodlak's gaze carried more than words ever could. “It won't be easy.” 

“It doesn't matter!” Vilkas surprised himself by just how desperate he sounded. “I'll do it.”

Kodlak scratched at his beard. “We would need a couple of things to perform the ritual. A place of significance to the curse. A fire. And a Glenmoril Witch. From what I've gathered the witch doesn't need to be alive. We just need a part of them. I doubt a finger would have enough of their magic but say, their heads. Throw them into the fire and the wolf's spirit will be drawn out.”

“So all we have to do is find the witches?” Vilkas asked. 

“Steady Wolf.” Kodlak said. “I don't want you to get your hopes too high too soon. We also need a place of significance to the curse, and it needs to be somewhere sacred that also has power.” 

“That's easy.” Vilkas insisted. “The Underforge.” 

“Yes, that was my first thought too. However after the wolf is drawn from its host we would still need to sever its tie to said host.” Kodlak said.

“How do you do that?” 

“That, I'm not entirely clear on. All this information has come from a contact I have at the University in Cyrodiil. He got the information from an old book that had to be translated from ancient Cyrodiilic. He said the curse will resist being drawn from the host. I'm fairly certain that means we would have to fight the beast. Make it submit to our will. There isn't enough space in the underforge for a battle. Or worse if it somehow got out.” 

“So where else?” Vilkas let his hope fade as quickly as it had sprouted. If he had to make his wolf submit to him then he had already failed.

Kodlak clearly understood what Vilkas was thinking. “Don't sound so discouraged. We will face your beast together. This I promise you…… There is another place of power and significance to the Companions where we can lift the curse…… Ysgrammor’s Tomb.” 

“But that would require Wuuthrad. We have yet to find all the pieces of it let alone reforge it.” 

“Aye.” Kodlak agreed. “But we are close and that is why I have been searching for it in earnest. Farkas and Bran brought back a piece of the axe while you were gone. Let this knowledge give you strength, Wolf. This curse will not hold you forever. You will be free of it, and now you will have one more Companion to help since Bran has inadvertently learned of this.” 

“I don't think that's a good idea.” 

Kodlak lifted a brow? “Why not?” 

“To be blunt. I don't trust him.” Vilkas growled. 

“Why is that?” Kodlak challenged. “You said yourself that he fought bravely and fiercely at Wolfskull Ruins. He had your back. Saved Farkas's life. He hasn't peeped a word about our Lycanthropy. Other than the debacle between the three of you. What else has he done to be untrustworthy?” 

“He…… well he…..” Vilkas sat there searching his knuckles for an answer. Other than sleeping around, what had he done? If him fucking Farkas wasn't such a trigger why else would I hate him?  

He didn't have an answer. Kodlak gave a knowing grin. “Exactly.” 

After his talk with Kodlak. Vilkas spent the rest of the day in his room contemplating everything they had talked about. He came out later that evening to dine in the great mead hall and for the evening everything was normal. Njada challenged everyone to an arm wrestle. Athis confused them all with his riddles. Ria started up a drunken tune that the Companions shouted into the rafters. Torvar……. drank.

Kodlak and Vignar shared ancient Companion History. Skjor told of his adventures in Hammerfell while Aela made fun of them all and gave hunting advice. Twiggy teased, jeered, and flirted. Farkas happily accepted being the butt of most of the jokes. He let his knee fall open so that his thigh was touching Vilkas' hidden under the table. It was a small gesture yet it spoke volumes. Vilkas absorbed it all. The biggest blessing of all was his wolf seemingly placated. He had missed simply existing with his family. 

Once all of dinner was on the table, Tilma and Lucia joined them. The small child skipped happily toward the tables holding a small pie. She shouted. “Papa, Papa! Look what I made!” 

Vilkas laughed and looked over at Kodlak. “Papa, huh?” 

Kodlak replied with a sly smile. “Oh that's not directed at me Wolf.” 

Lucia ran up to Vilkas and placed the little pie in front of him. She beamed up at him. “Grandma said it's your favorite. I made it allllll by myself!” 

Wait. I'M PAPA? He just stared at the girl completely lost. What? How? Why me? The entire hall erupted into laughter. Skjor said. “Welcome to fatherhood.” 

Vilkas sneered at him. Lucia wilted a little clearly thinking the look was for her. She asked quietly. “Do you not like it?” 

Vilkas patted her hair trying to soothe the girl. “Šuniukas. I love it. It's very thoughtful.” 

“Grandma said cherries are your favorite.” She said holding out a fork. 

“Well. Favorite pie.” Vilkas said, taking the fork. The miniature pie had been made in a tart shell with what Vilkas assumed to be leftover pie dough based on the other pies Tilma brought out on a platter. Vilkas took a bite of the dessert and was accosted by sugar. He was so shocked he grimaced but quickly turned it into a smile. “Mmmmm. Absolutely delicious.” 

The other Companions' laughter could have been heard all the way to Valenwood. He took another bite, having to force it down. Even for his love of sweets the sugar was simply too much. Vilkas scooched back and picked the little nord up into his lap. He passed her the fork. “Thank you Šuniukas but I am already full. Here. You can have it.” 

Lucia pouted. “But I made it for you Papa!” 

“I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow we can make your favorite pie.” 

“Promise?” Lucia's pout turned serious. 

Vilkas couldn't help but laugh. He pinched her nose. “I promise.” 

“Okay!” The girl exclaimed and launched the fork into the pie, taking a giant bite that left just as much filling on her cheeks as in her mouth. 

“Smaller bites.” Vilkas said off handedly. 

“So…..”Skjor said smugly. “Your Papa wolf now?”

“Shut it!” Vilkas growled. 

Aela planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “Gonna send us all to bed?” 

“He has to make sure we've all washed up first.” Athis chimed. 

Njada grinned. “Hair and teeth brushed.”

Bran said. “And tuck us all in.” 

“Don't forget to give us all a cup of warm milk.” Torvar slurred.

“And we need a bedtime story.” Ria snickered.

Vilkas groaned. 

Lucia paused and looked up at him. “Oh can you tell us a story Papa? Please?” 

“I uh….” Vilkas rubbed at the knot in the back of his neck while the rest of the Companions snickered at him and waited for his reply. “Actually. Yes I will tell you a story. About the day I went from whelp to Companion…..”

Vilkas took a moment while he gathered his thoughts and the rest of the Companions settled in. Lucia nestled herself into his lap. “It was late into winter. So much so that the sun only peaked above the horizon for an hour or so before sinking us back into darkness. Snow fell in thick, silent sheets as Kodlak and I trudged through the northern wilderness. Each breath crystallized in the frigid air.

“Word had come by raven: a great snow bear, maddened and unnatural, had descended from the glaciers, tearing through livestock and battering down doors. No ordinary beast, they said. Eyes glowing, breath steaming.

“We had faced monsters before of course, raiders, trolls, draugr, but none like this. The letter from the Jarl of Winterhold blamed the mages. That they cast a spell that could twist beasts into avatars of rage. I doubted their words, but unease still seeped into my bones. Kodlak told me to trust in my skill and my steel.

“We reached Winterhold by dusk. The city was silent, buried in snow drifts, shutters barred. Only one soul greeted us. The Steward. He pointed toward the forest edge. ‘It appears most nights. Attacks anything that moves.’ Kodlak simply nodded and we set off again, guided by broken trees and bloody trails. The prints we found were unlike anything we had seen before. They looked more like a wolf's than a bear's but they were massive. Far larger than any wolf should be.

“For two days we tried to track it but the snows kept covering any trails we found. We would wait on the outskirts of the city,  but we never saw the creature. Never heard it. On the third day the beast found us.

“It came at us in a clearing like a white blur, nearly the size of a cottage. Its mouth, a stream of foam and yellowed teeth. I sidestepped the charge. My sword bit deep into its flank, but the beast didn’t slow. It was faster than it should’ve been, smarter, its rage wild yet calculated. As if it knew why we had come. We had feared it was a werewolf. Luckily it wasn't. Just an abnormally large wolf that was clearly infected with rabies.

“It continued its charge. Heading straight for Kodlak, crashing over snow-covered roots and branches. Kodlak stood his ground. The beast’s eyes glowed with a wild, unnatural light. This was no ordinary animal, but one driven by something deeper. Something wrong. With a bellow of his own, Kodlak raised his axe and stepped into the charge.

“He rolled aside at the last moment, the wolf's teeth snapping the air where he had stood. Kodlak came up swinging, his axe grazing the beast’s thick shoulder. It roared in fury, wheeling around with startling speed. Again and again, we struck and dodged, each movement measured, each breath sharp in the frozen air. Snow flew beneath our feet as we circled and danced with the beast. A dance given by duty, and received with madness.

“Finally, with a burst of strength, I landed a clean blow into its chest that sent the wolf staggering. It faltered, its breath coming in heavy gasps. I didn’t move, watching as the creature slowed, its rage giving way to exhaustion. When it finally collapsed into the snow, I went down with it. At the time it was the hardest battle I had ever faced. 

“The beast's blood had gotten on my gauntlets and had frozen them to my sword. We drug the beast back to Winterhold the next day. The villagers emerged slowly, faces pale. Eyes bright with fright. I think they feared the bear had returned and we were dead. But as we materialized out of the snow swept winds they all rushed toward us whooping and singing. 

“They were as shocked as we were at seeing the giant wolf. They insisted it was the mages fault but to this day I'm not certain. We stayed in Winterhold for a week, feasting like Kings. The Jarl had had the wolf skinned and its pelt turned into a cloak that he gifted to me. Once we returned home Kodlak welcomed me into the fold as a Companion.” 

“I remember.” Skjor piped up. “Kodlak stopped calling you Šuniukas after that.” 

“That's quite the tale. Why have you never told it before?” Athis asked. 

Vilkas just shrugged. 

“That beast was unnaturally large.” Kodlak said. “Never seen anything like it since. I still don't think the college was involved.”

“I think I've heard enough boasting for one night.” Aela said with a stretch. “G'night.” 

Lucia had fallen asleep during the tale so Vilkas carefully scooped the girl into his arms. He made his way to Tilma's room where Lucia's pallet was waiting and carefully tucked her into bed. He hadn't the faintest idea why she had chosen him as a father figure but the new role felt heavy and uncomfortable on his shoulders. 

When he went back into the hall Farkas and Bran were on their way down. Farkas gave his brother a small smile and asked. “How's your back?” 

“Better for now.” Vilkas sighed.

“You might need to suck it up and see the healers.” Bran said. “If it flares up during a fight it could end badly.” 

“No shit.” Vilkas sneered. Farkas glared at him. Vilkas shook his head. He didn't know when the wolf had appeared to interfere with his emotions, but he could clearly feel it now. He did his best to ignore it. “That was uncalled for. I'm sorry.” 

“It's okay wolf.” Twiggy said. “If you weren't being an ass I would think something was wrong with you.” 

Vilkas tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a scoff. Skjor suddenly pushed past the three, heading to his room. He paused and muttered to them. “I don't want to see, hear, or smell whatever the hell the three of you are up to.” 

Farkas tilted his head as Skjor marched down the hall. “What is he talking about?” 

Vilkas groaned. “Something Aela must have told him. I've been putting off telling you. Cmon.” 

Vilkas tugged on his brother's arm, leading the two to Farkas's room. Once inside Twiggy went straight to the bed and curled up on it like a cat. Vilkas went to his brother's bar and poured himself a mug of ale. Farkas positioned himself between the two and crossed his arms. The distrust was obvious and it cut Vilkas deep. He had already started filling in the chasm between them, but there was still a long way to go. 

“The last time we were…. intimate.” Vilkas took a long drought of the bitter ale before saying. He glanced at Twiggy, still feeling uncomfortable discussing such things around him. “Aela caught me.”

“And you're just now telling me.” Farkas sounded horrified.

Vilkas put his hand up. “It's okay. She assumed that we're sharing Twiggy.”

The whelp burst out laughing. Vilkas sneered and took another swig of the ale. “I'm glad you find this amusing.”

“No.” Twiggy giggled. “It's the irony. A couple months ago I would have thought that was a good idea.” 

“I think it's a great idea.” Farkas grinned. His silver eyes were molten as they gazed upon Vilkas and then slid over to drink in Bran. Farkas was clearly playing out the scenario in his head. Vilkas glared back at him and refilled his mug. 

The wolf sighed again. “Look. We all know I'm a selfish bastard. I don't want to share you with anyone. I'm already uncomfortable with the fact that Twiggy knows every damn secret I have. And now you want me to let him watch?” 

“No.” Farkas said as he sauntered over to his brother looking like a predator ready to pounce. He snagged a fist full of Vilkas’s hair and pulled his head back. The wolf gasped. Farkas loomed over him, his lips mere inches from his face as he growled. “I want him to join. Just think about how good it would feel to have him sucking on your cock while I'm deep inside your ass.” 

“That….. is certainly an idea.” Vilkas swallowed. He wetted his lips hoping his brother would lean down just a little more so they could kiss, yet not wanting Twiggy to see. He gazed up at his twin wondering if his brother could see the uncertainty in him. He felt like a man being stretched on a rack. On one side was Farkas and everything he wanted. On the other was his wolf and everything he feared. Twiggy sat right on his chest adding weight to his painful struggle. 

The twig mused. “You know if you want Vilkas, we could always blindfold you. Then you wouldn't have to watch at all.” 

The sound of Twiggy's voice broke the trance his brother had placed on him. He closed his eyes and murmured. “I'll think about it.” 

“Okay.” Farkas kissed him in the center of his forehead and then let him go. The wolf sulked but was also thankful. He refused to look at twiggy as he took another drink of his ale and studied the plain wooden mug. 

Vilkas had to force his words out, making his voice grumble like a rock slide. “It's hard enough being open with you, brother. Now you want me to do it with Twiggy around...I can't promise anything. Especially with this damned beast always wanting to eat him.” 

“That's not reassuring.” Twiggy said. 

“It's not meant to be.” Vilkas replied. “But it's the truth.” 

Twiggy hesitated. He sat up on the bed crossing his legs. “As you said. I know all your secrets……. It's only fair that I share mine.”

Farkas poured himself a mug of ale and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “What is it?” 

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this for some time now. I just didn't know how.” Twiggy murmured almost inaudible. He spoke to the bed. His hands wadded up the blankets between his crossed legs while he chewed on his cheek. “My names not Bran.”

“What is it then?” Farkas asked. 

Vilkas scrunched his brows in thought. “Why would you fake your name?” 

Bran sat up a little straighter and sneered. “Because my name is Alexstyr Phineas Gilenand Aulintene.” 

Farkas blinked. “That's a mouth full.” 

“Aye.” Vilkas agreed. “It's a noble's name…… I heard that sir name before somewhere.” 

“That doesn't surprise me.” Twiggy said. “You guessed correctly from the very beginning, Wolf. My father is the Duke of Camlorn.” 

“Ysgrammor’s beard! Your father might as well be a king!” Vilkas said half doubtful even as all the little clues clicked into place.

“What does that matter?” Farkas asked.  

“Camlorn is the wealthiest city in High Rock which makes Twiggy's father the wealthiest most influential man in the province.” Vilkas answered. “That's why the pirates tried to ransom you. They know who you are.”

“Yes.” Bran whispered. “I thought my name gave me protection but it just made me a target. I should have guessed they were pirates the moment SHE changed her tune as soon as I told her my name. But I was naive and too full of myself to notice what was happening around me.” 

“You said your father was happy to let the pirates kill you.” Vilkas said. “I dont understand. Why wouldn’t your father pay the ransom?” 

“Because.” Twiggy spat out. “I have SIX siblings. My father already has his precious heir and two spares in line ahead of me. I wasn’t just useless. I was a burden. The trouble making little shite who was always ruining the families oh so important public image. The audacity of me enjoying the company of men. Of willing to interact with the lower class. Oh the bloody SCANDAL I started because when I did find a girl I had liked, she was a refugee dunmer! Can’t have that! My father was so desperate to get rid of me that he was willing to elevate a merchant to the nobility!”

Bran gripped the blanket beneath him tightly. A scowl firmly planted beneath his wet eyes. “When those pirates sent that letter I already knew he wouldn’t pay. Them killing me would be a favor to him.”

“So you what? Joined her crew so she wouldn't kill you?” Vilkas asked.

“Worse.” Twiggy's voice hitched, but he swallowed the bitter tears. “I catered to her ego so she wouldn't kill me. I was her…..PET. She had a gold collar made just for me. With a magical lock that I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to open…….. She had me chained on a leash like a dog. The only time I was allowed to leave her cabin was when she wanted to parade me around the deck or…….Or to use me to send a message to those that might defy her. Sometimes she would…..She…..” 

“Bran…..” Farkas said gently. He leaned back on the bed and planted a paw on Twiggy's back, rubbing it in wide gentle circles. 

“You don't need to say more.” Vilkas murmured. 

“She's a bloody sadist! And I was too afraid of her to even think about defying her. You all talk about honor, and courage. I have none of that. Calling myself a Companion is a farce!” 

“Nonsense.” Vilkas said gently. “Courage isn't the lack of fear and it's not something you're born with. You have to find it. Fight for it.”

“My shield siblings give me courage.” Farkas said. “If you and Vilkas had not been in Wolfskull Cave with me I would not have found the courage to face those necromancers. I would have ran.” 

“You're not the only one who fears death." Vilkas asserted. “I know that fear well.” 

“I don't fear death.” Bran breathed. “I yearned for it. Sometimes I still do……” Twiggy broke then. He covered his mouth trying to hide the sob that shook his shoulders.

“Its okay Szerető.” Farkas soothed. He put his mug on the table by his bed before resting his head in Twiggy's lap and wrapped his arms around the breton. Bran leaned over cradling Farkas as he cried.

Vilkas was silent. He couldn't imagine having to deal with such a situation alone. Through all of his own ordeals he had always had Farkas by his side. Had always had Kodlak and the rest of the Companions. It must be a terrible feeling knowing you're not wanted……. and then I only reaffirmed that by treating him like shit. Treating him like he doesn't belong.

That thought weighed heavily on him. He glanced up at the two on the bed silently holding each other and for once Vilkas wasn't bombarded by jealousy. He just felt guilty for being so selfish over Farkas when Twiggy had no one else. He gulped down the rest of his ale and left.

Chapter Text

“He's not the only selfish bastard in the middle of this mix. I am too.” Bran said as he chewed on his cheek. Another sore was already forming by his incessant gnawing, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Farkas swam over to him and sank back into the water so only his head was poking out. They were in the far corner of the bathing pools by the falls closest to Dragonsreach, but they still spoke in hushed tones. “Are you saying you don't want to share me either?”

“I'm saying sweetheart, that I love you more than anything, and because I do, I'm willing to step back and let you two have your fun. But I don't feel any more comfortable around Vilkas than he does me.” 

“You're still scared of him.” Farkas sulked. 

“Of course I am. He still occasionally looks at me like I'm a meal.” Bran scoffed. “He said he didn't know if it was himself or his dog trying to kill me. I'm inclined to think it was both.” 

“I won't let him hurt you.” Farkas swore. 

“I know, but I'm still uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe if he was tied up I'd reconsider.” 

“He might actually like that.” Farkas grinned.

Bran mused. “That smile says you do as well.” 

Farkas hummed playfully and hungrily. It was the only clue he gave before he snatched Bran away from the rocks and pulled him close. He breathed hot and heavy into the breton's ear and nibbled on it. “Seeing him lying there helpless and begging for me. I fucking love it.” 

Bran glanced around the pools. It was getting late. There were only a smattering of other people around, but he still felt his cheeks warm. It didn't stop him from wrapping his legs around the nord's waist. The whole town could watch for all he cared. “I'm willing to give it a gander. Though I'm not sure the wolf will be as easily persuaded.” 

“Let me worry about that.” Farkas mumbled into Bran's neck followed by his teeth lightly holding his pulse. He began sucking and Bran moaned. 

“Daddy you keep doing that, your brother isn't going to get a chance to be involved. Not that I'm complaining.” Bran tilted his head to the side to expose more of his neck. 

Farkas just replied by pausing, examining the love mark, and then went back to sucking on the same spot but harder. Once he was happy with his work he let go and said. “We should probably head inside anyway. It's almost dark.” 

“I can't possibly leave now.” Bran mused. “Or all of Whiterun is going to see just how excited you've gotten me.” 

Farkas's grin was downright wicked. “Good.” 

Bran's erection lasted till the second step out of the pools for as soon as he left the water the cold evening air chilled him to his core. He quickly dried himself and yanked on his clean trousers and shirt. 

Farkas seemed unbothered by the cold and Bran ushered him on while hopping from one foot to the next. “I'm afraid I don't have your northern blood sweetheart. You mind hurrying up before I turn into an ice sculpture?” 

Farkas snorted and threw his cloak over Bran's head. The breton wrapped it around himself like a blanket. The nord didn’t even bother putting his shirt on. He just flipped it onto a shoulder with his towel and led Bran back to Jorrvaskr. Hand in hand. 

When they got inside only Skjor, Athis, Lucia, and Vilkas were in the main hall. Lucia was sitting on the floor playing with some wooden toys while the adults chattered in hushed tones. Farkas urged Bran on without him and whispered quietly. “There's rope under my bed.” 

Bran replied with a hum before heading to their room. I guess I really should take the rest of my things out of the whelps quarters. Once inside their room he hung Farkas's heavy wolf pelt cloak on a peg and finished drying his hair as best he could. 

He debated whether or not he should take his clothes off and get comfy, but decided that he would wait for Farkas to give him orders. Instead he busied himself by lighting some candles, making sure there was ample Dibellian Oil on the nightstand and dug the rope out from under the bed. It was a little worn. Bran gave it a tug. Once satisfied it would hold, he hung it over the bedframe and let the ends lie over the pillows.

Farkas entered the room and tossed his shirt on the bar. He grinned at Bran, but stood by the door. Bran asked. “So is he coming?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You didn't tell him what we have planned, did you?”

“No.” 

“What if he doesn't agree?” 

“Then he doesn't.”

Bran lit another candle and the flickering flame gave him an idea. “Sweetheart? You said Vilkas gets off on pain right?” 

“Yeah.” Farkas answered, but it rang like a question. 

“I think I know just the thing to make him come completely undone.” 

“Really?” Farkas seemed intrigued.

Before Bran could articulate there was a knock on the door. Farkas opened it and Vilkas asked as he stepped through, “All right what is it you need to show me?”

The wolf paused when he saw Bran standing by the bed with a candle in hand. His brows furrowed with confusion and he turned to Farkas. His brother closed and locked the door, grabbed his brother by the shirt, and then shoved him against said door. Vilkas yelped, but was silenced by Farkas’s lips.

Farkas pressed up against his brother, completely obscuring Bran's view while he devoured Vilkas. The wolf was tense. He didn't move, say the lips he fervently kissed back as he breathed. “Is this all you wanted?”

“Not all.” Farkas growled. Some of the tension started to melt from the wolf. He started to wrap his arms around his brother's neck, but Farkas grabbed his wrists and pinned them up above Vilkas's head. Farkas's voice was deep with want as he said. “Im going to tie you to my bed and fuck you till morning.” 

“Oh gods, Farkas.” Vilkas breathed. He leaned up against his brother, sounding desperate. “Please.” 

Holy fuck. Bran thought as he watched the Wolf transform into a whimpering puppy. It was hard to believe just how quickly his walls crumbled in his brother's hands. Bran found himself starting to get aroused by it. The way Vilkas said his brother's name. The sounds he was making. It was intoxicating. No wonder Farkas enjoys him so much. Do I make sounds like that?

Farkas backed away from the door, pulling his twin with him until Farkas’s ass bumped into the bar. His hands had slid down to Vilkas's elbows where he held him tight to his brother’s sides. He pushed the wolf down and demanded. “On your knees.” 

Vilkas complied without hesitation. Bran snuck a glance around Farkas's broad back to see the wolf looking up at his twin with something akin to worship. The wolf still caught the movement. He paused. There were clear mixed feelings warring in his steel gaze. 

Farkas grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. “Look at me.” 

“I…… don't know if I can-”

“Your cock is going to be so far down his throat he won't be able to talk.” Farkas interrupted. “and you won't have to look at him.” 

Farkas nabbed the shirt off the bar and draped it over Vilkas's head blinding him. He pulled it tight to where it sat across the bridge of Vilkas's nose and secured it behind his head. Vilkas swallowed seemingly still uncertain. That was until Farkas undid his trousers and pulled his fully hard cock out. 

He grabbed his brother's hand and guided it to his waiting member. Vilkas took it in hand like being given something precious. Caressed it like a sacred artifact. Farkas let out a quiet moan and praised. “Good.” 

That single word was all that it took to reignite Vilkas. He wrapped his lips around his brother's cock and descended on him. Farkas grabbed the knot behind Vilkas's head and guided his brother up and down his length. The wolf laid his free hand on his twin's thigh to steady himself as he blindly and fervently sucked his twin's cock. 

“God's yeah.” Farkas groaned. “Go on. Take all of it.” 

Bran set the candle on the nightstand and grabbed his own cock as Farkas's words fueled his fire. A fire that grew even hotter as Vilkas eagerly opened his throat and swallowed his brother till his nose was buried in Farkas's curls. 

“Fuck!” Farkas swore. He held the wolf there savoring the warmth before finally letting his brother come up for air. “Come here.” 

Vilkas followed his twin's lead without question. He got to his feet and let himself be led to the bed. Farkas paused in front of Bran, giving the breton a deep kiss. Showing him he hadn't been forgotten. Farkas pulled his brother close and pulled off the man's shirt, peppering his chest along the way. Vilkas hummed.

Then Farkas shoved Vilkas, sending him crashing onto the bed. The wolf barely had time to shout for Farkas was on him in an instant. He nuzzled into Vilkas's neck and clamped down like a vampire sucking hard on his throbbing pulse. He drug his scraggy nails down Vilkas's sides leaving a red trail in his wake. 

“Nnngggghhh..Fuck” Vilkas groaned as he wrapped his legs around Farkas; holding him tight like a vice as he moaned out his pleasure. 

Farkas took his brother's wrists once more and drew his arms up above his head. He released his brother's neck and looked at Bran. He nodded at the rope. 

The breton didn't need any further instruction. He tore off his clothes and snagged the ends of the rope. He wrapped the rope several times around Vilkas's wrists before starting on the knot. He brought both ends up, twisted one of them into a loop and then brought one end around and under his wrists making sure the bight was under all the wraps. Bran brought the bight up through the loop and again before tightening it down. He double checked that his wrists weren't compressed or pinched. Vilkas could tug all he wanted. The rope wouldn't get tighter nor would he be able to get free. 

While Bran was securing the rope to the bed, Farkas slid down to cover his brother's stomach in kisses. He occasionally paused to leave a mark on his brother and absorb the moans the wolf was making. Once Bran was pleased with his work he took a step back to admire the sight. Vilkas tugged on the rope seemingly testing it as he gulped in air. He begged. “Farkas. Please.” 

“We're gonna make you feel so good.” Farkas promised as he removed Vilkas's trousers and massaged his inner thighs. Bran plucked the candle off the nightstand and wiggled it at Farkas in a question. 

He hadn't had the chance to explain his idea to Farkas, but the nord seemed to understand what Bran was suggesting. He nodded in approval before gripping his brother's firm cock. Only then did Bran realize he had never really had time to appreciate the wolf before. At Least not that he could remember. My gods he’s longer and thicker than Farkas isn’t he?

Farkas squeezed Vilkas's hip. “But first, we're gonna punish you.”

“Please.” Vilkas begged again and splayed his legs open so Farkas could nestle in between them. His twin grinned and teased Vilkas by lightly grasping his tip with his lips. 

While the wolf was focussed on his brother's administrations, Bran carefully wiggled the candle off the stick and slowly let some of the melted wax run down the side of the candle. He held it high so it would have time to cool a bit. A dollop of the wax dribbled onto Vilkas’s chest. The wolf gasped and flinched as the wax burned him. “Oh gods!”

The wax slowly rolled down his heaving chest to settle in the divot between his muscles. The wax solidified leaving a white trail. Bran had a sudden urge to cum all over the man. He wanted to see Vilkas completely spent painted with wax and seed. Just seeing the man tied up and helpless under him brought something inside the breton he had never felt before. He held power over this man and gods help him he wanted to unleash that power onto him. Possibly for revenge but also just for the satisfaction of watching him fall to his will. He dribbled more wax across Vilkas’s abs and back up to his chest in an arc. 

Vilkas hissed and pulled a little at his restraints as he leaned up into the pain and his brother's mouth alike. His voice hitched like a sob as he groaned. “Ohhhh fuck yes!” 

Farkas pushed his brother's knees up so his hips were tilted toward him. His thick fingers were inching down towards his twin's core while he continued sucking eagerly on Vilkas's cock. 

Bran couldn't wait anymore. His own cock was begging to be handled. He stroked himself with one hand and created art with the candle in the other. He was careful not to get too close to the wolf's face or groin while Vilkas sang his lustful song, completely lost in his haze of pleasure and pain. 

“Szerető.” Farkas commanded. “I want to watch you ride him.” 

“Fuck yes daddy.” Bran cooed. He blew out the candle and stuck it back on the candlestick before straddling the wolf. Vilkas’s chest was a mix of red warm skin and whiter warmer wax. Bran ran his hands up the man's chest admiring both his handy work and the firm muscle beneath. The man had already worked up a sweat.

“Wait.” Vilkas huffed. Bran paused assuming the man needed a moment to come down from his pleasured high. Farkas seemed to sense more for he released his twin’s cock and core.

Farkas lightly caressed his brother's legs and said gently. “Are you okay?”

Vilkas swallowed even as his panting grew more erratic. Then suddenly he was yanking at the rope in earnest. His voice was almost shrill as he stuttered. “S-s-stop…… I can't. I CAN’T!” 

Shit. He's panicking. Bran rolled off the nord and nabbed a knife out of the nightstand. Farkas grabbed his brother's knees mainly to protect his own face as Vilkas balked wildy. Farkas said. “Vilkas it's okay.” 

“Let me go!” Vilkas growled loudly and threatened to break the headboard with his tugging. Bran grabbed the wolf's arm holding him steady and quickly cut the rope. 

Vilkas bolted up, yanking off the makeshift blind fold. He gulped in air while looking around dazed. Farkas seemed just as distraught as he asked his brother. “What happened?”

“No.” Bran said quickly. “He doesn't need to explain.” 

Vilkas swung his legs off the bed and dug a fist into his forehead. He took several methodic breaths. Bran wasn't sure if the wolf was talking to them or himself as he stuttered. “I'm sorry……. I…..that was…I don’t know.”

The wolf huffed through his nose, apparently giving up trying to verbalize what his panicked mind was thinking. He looked at Farkas and then Bran apologetically and mumbled. “I should go.”

“It's okay, Wolf.” Bran said. “I'll go.” 

“Are you sure?” Farkas asked. 

Vilkas had put aside his own feelings and left me with Farkas in my time of need. The least I can do is the same. Bran was already dressing. He doesn't trust me. For some reason that stung. “Yeah I'm sure.” 

The Wolf was silent. He was still trying to steady himself, eyes distant, jaw tight, but there was something in his glance. A flicker of gratitude, maybe. Or just relief.

Bran laced up his trousers. When he cracked the door open he lingered for a heartbeat longer, unsure of what to say. But there was nothing that wouldn’t make things worse.

So he left.

The hallway outside felt colder somehow. He moved on instinct, needing distance, needing something, anything, to ground himself. His footsteps echoed softly down the corridor, carrying him away from that vulnerable, tangled silence.

He found himself in the kitchen.

Tilma sat near the hearth, her gnarled fingers working at a half-finished piece of knitting, the firelight catching in her silver hair. Across from her, Aela hunched over a scrap of parchment, a tankard at her elbow, sketching with the sharp focus of someone lost in thought.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Bran hovered at the threshold for a moment, the weight of the last few minutes still clinging to his shoulders. The warmth of the fire, the low murmur of Tilma’s needles, even Aela’s calm presence, it was all oddly soothing. Inviting, even.

But as he stepped inside, that peace felt like something fragile he wasn’t meant to touch. Like he was an intruder in a moment that wasn’t his.

“Hello deary.” Tilma looked up from her work, her warm smile inviting. “I thought you had gone to bed.”

“I did, but I guess I'm not tired.” Bran tried to sound better than he felt. He knew he failed. Aela turned to look at him. Her face was bare from its usual warpaint making her seem so much younger; Though there was black staining her fingers and smudged across her forehead. The breton took a seat beside her and noticed a smattering of freckles across her face. “Your freckles are cute. You shouldn't hide them behind that paint all the time.” 

Aela snatched Bran's thumb, bending it back as she hissed. “I want people to fear me. NOT to find me cute!” 

“Ow. Ow. Ow! I'm sorry!” Bran whimpered. The huntress let him go with a satisfied huff and went back to her sketch. 

“Now now missy.” Tilma said, pausing her knitting to wiggle a needle at Aela. “There'll be no punishment in my kitchen unless I'm doing it.” 

“Fine. Then you do it.” Aela grumbled. 

“You just did.” Tilma quipped though the old woman still gave Bran a stern look. “You need to learn to keep some opinions to yourself, boy. Especially if it's about someone else's looks.” 

“Yes ma'am.” Bran replied. 

Seemingly satisfied Tilma set her project, what looked like a partial glove that would only fit a child, on the table. She used the armrests to hoist herself onto her feet. “I'll make you some tea. That should help you get to sleep deary.” 

“I don't wish to disturb you.” Bran said. 

“None of that now. Besides, these joints need a rest and I already have water ready.”

As Tilma went to get a kettle off the fire Bran watched Aela sketch. Though to call it a sketch was to call an ocean a puddle. The detail was beyond what he thought plain charcoal could do. Aela was sketching a sabrecat lying along a cliff face. The beast scanned the river and forest below like a king surveying his land. Its front paws were crossed, its coat shaggy and lightly striped. Behind the beast near the edge of the paper were the remains of its kill. 

Aela carefully darkened the shadows behind the cat. Her eyes were as focussed and intense as the beast she had created. Bran said. “That's beautiful. You're quite talented.”

“Thank you.” Aela replied softly. She scratched her nose, smearing it ashen. 

“Is this a scene from a dream or based on a real cat you've seen?”

“It's how the beast looked moments before I pierced her heart with an arrow.” Aela's words were drenched in reverence. “She was a master hunter. I aim to memorialize her.” 

“I dare say you've succeeded.” Bran replied. 

“Next time I go hunting you should come.” Aela offered. “It would do you good to stop hanging off Farkas's apron strings.”

Instead of being insulted, Bran just pictured the giant nord in nothing but an apron. He chuckled. “Farkas might just tie me up in those strings if I tried to leave without him.” 

Aela snorted out a laugh. “Doubtful. The rest of us have yet to see what you're capable of, whelp. That needs to change.” 

“I suppose you're right.”

Aela put down the charcoal and leaned back in her chair. “That settles it then.”

Tilma returned with a simple clay cup and set it before Bran. He thanked her before she returned to her chair with her own tea. Steam curled from Bran's cup, carrying with it the soft, mingled scent of chamomile and lavender. Nostalgia hit the Breton like a hammer. 

It was the smell of quiet spring meadows and sun-warmed fields. Of sweet yet earthy grass with a whisper of wildflowers drifting through the air. The first sip tasted much as it smelled; Gentle and honeyed, like biting into an apple. Beneath the mild sweetness lingered the cool, herbal sharpness of lavender, grounding the warmth with something clean and calm. It was a drink that soothed rather than stirred, settling the thoughts and slowing the breath, as if the world itself had exhaled and grown still.

The last time Bran had had chamomile tea was the last time he had seen his little sister. Diaglia had been in the library writing poetry. Her lips pursed up in a pout as she crossed out a line and rewrote it. Bran had tried to convince her to skip her schooling and go riding with him. She had declined so instead he went to the whorehouse for his own Dibellian Arts studies. If Diaglia had gone riding with me would Alamayth still be alive? Would I even be sitting here right now?

The thought shook Bran for he realized that he was glad Diaglia had declined. Otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting there in the depths of Jorrvaskr. He would probably still be in High Rock chained to a marriage he never wanted in a life of misery. But here. With the Companions. With Farkas and even with Vilkas. Bran was starting to feel like he could have a home. 

“Thank you.” Bran said again as he took another sip. “This was an unexpected treat.”

“You are welcome dear.” Tilma's smile was as warm as a summer breeze. “Though you seemed troubled.” 

“It's…… It's Vilkas.” Bran said not wanting to get into his past with the old woman.

“Oh gods. That's my cue.” Aela said. She rolled up her parchment and headed for the door. She said as she dusted her hands on her shorts. “I'll see you soon for a hunt, whelp.”

Bran just waved. Tilma took a sip of her tea. “What about Vilkas?” 

“I'm trying to get along with him for Farkas's sake. Which is easier said than done. He loathes and distrusts me and I'm terrified of him. But Everytime I think I've made headway with him, he shuts me out again. And why am I even the one trying to make peace?” Despite the calming tea, Bran found himself chewing on his cheek again. “He's the one who tried to kill ME, yet I'm the one extending the olive branch. I'm either an idiot or a madman.”

Tilma hid a chuckle behind her cup. “You are making one hefty mistake right now, deary.” 

“And what's that?”

“You're assuming that Vilkas isn't also trying to make peace.” 

Bran muttered. “I’m not even sure if he wants to.”

“Well, that's because you don't know him nearly as well as you think you do.” Tilma declared. “He's always been slow to trust and even slower to show his feelings. Haven't you noticed the lack of arguing between the twins lately?”

“Yes?”

“Vilkas has clearly accepted that Farkas wants you by his side, and he's given you and Farks space. That's an awfully big step for him. I can promise you that.” 

“I guess you're right…..” Bran was reminded of when Farkas had been injured in Wolfskull cave. How difficult it was to get Vilkas to trust him with his brother even in that moment of need. “I just….. I feel like I wouldn't be so jumpy around him if he trusted me more.”

“Sounds like you could stem a little more trusting yourself.”

Bran huffed through his nose. “Gods. Him and I are more alike than I realized, aren't we?” 

“Oh don't fret, deary.” Tilma soothed. “Stubbornness and suspicion runs thick in the blood of all you Companions. I think you would find better luck with him if you extended the right branch.”

“And what is the right branch?” Bran asked.

Tilma leaned toward the table as if she were telling a great secret. He did the same. “Well a man's heart is through his stomach I always say. And the wolf has the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever seen. Make him some of his favorite sweets and he won't be able to resist.” 

Bran thought about when he found Vilkas munching on cookies in the kitchen. And when he had stolen sweets off his plate. “But his favorite is cherry pie right? I don't know shite about baking.” 

Tilma laughed. “Oh no. His favorite pie is cherry, but his favorite dessert is a simple honey nut treat. They only take a few minutes to make. I could show you tomorrow if you'd like.”

“I like that idea quite a lot actually.” Bran took a sip of his tea. “Thank you Tilma. Truly.”

“All in a day's work deary.” She hummed. She stood back up, tea in hand. “Now drink up and get some sleep.” 

She headed for her room. Bran sat by the fire sipping on his tea and contemplating Tilma's words. There was comfort in what she’d said, more than he’d expected. A quiet part of him wanted to believe it, to settle into it like a blanket fresh off the line. But comfort still felt like a borrowed thing. He wasn’t used to being welcomed, not really. The fire crackled softly like it agreed. 

Bran didn't stay alone for long. Light yet sturdy footfalls disturbed the soothing crackle of the fire. Bran turned to the source. Skjor stalked over as sure and confident as a wolverine. He was wearing his armor per usual, even as late as it was. In his right hand was a candle. Its small light competed with the hearth's over the shadows wavering across Skjor's face. His bad eye reflected the fire's lights like a glowing spell.

His voice was quiet yet it held its usual scorn. “We need to talk.”

“About?” Bran asked with a yawn. The tea, it seemed, had done its job. He wondered if Vilkas had left Farkas’s room yet. 

“About things we can't talk about here.” Skjor replied. “Cmon.” 

“Where then?” 

“Listen, whelp.” Skjor said a little harshly. “There's things you're privy to that you shouldn't be, and because of that you need to be part of discussions you shouldn't be. Discussions that aren't for other ears.” 

It took Bran a moment to catch the warriors meaning being as tired as he was. It's something werewolf related you twat. “Oh. Right” 

Bran threw his head back and finished his tea before sliding out of his seat. He followed Skjor up the stairs, ascending into darkness. The upper floor was empty and black as the void. Clearly everyone else had gone to bed. Wouldn't they had kept something lit if the Circle was meeting? Wouldn't Farkas have said something? It made him worry a little. 

“I can't see a thing up here.” Bran whispered. 

“Here.” Skjor handed him his candle. Not that its soft glow illuminated much.

Once outside Skjor took a torch off a holder on the old longboat and Bran held the candle up to light it. He followed Skjor with an ever growing pit in his stomach. The man seemed colder than usual and the secrecy felt wrong. Skjor opened the door leading into the Underforge and gestured for Bran to enter. He hesitated. 

Bran hadn't been in the Underforge since Vilkas had tried to kill him. The thought only fueled his anxiety.

"Why can't this wait until morning?" Bran asked cautiously. 

Skjor sighed. He glanced around before asking. "How much does Farkas mean to you?" 

"That's a little personal don't you think?" Bran huffed. 

Skjor grabbed his arm and pulled Bran closer to him. He spoke curtly. "Listen, whelp. If you actually give a damn about him, you'll go inside and listen to what I have to say." 

He released the Breton's arm. Bran glared at him. His intuition was screaming at him that something was wrong. Skjor was on edge and it was putting him on edge…...He wants to talk about Farkas? Are there more secrets? 

Bran huffed again and stepped inside the Underforge. Skjor followed, closing the heavy stone door behind him. Bran chewed on his cheek feeling dread at being trapped within. He stepped further into the Underforge where a figure materialized out of the mystical light. A werewolf stood before them. It was lean with brown and red fur and bright gold eyes. 

“Dibella’s Tits!” Bran yelped and jumped back bumping into Skjor and dropping the candle. The man snagged him by the shoulder and hauled him closer to the beast. He said. "I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form. She's agreed to be your forebearer." 

"My forebearer?" Bran asked, horrified. "As in turn me?"

"Yes."

"Does Kodlak know about this?" 

"We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted." Skjor sneered. "He thinks we've been cursed. But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? So we've taken matters into our own hands. If you want to stay here, you must join us in the shared blood of the wolf."

Bran pulled away from Skjor. He glared at the old warrior well aware that he was between Bran and the way out. Aela opened her maw whether to grin or snarl he couldn't tell. He tried to steady his voice as he said. "And if I refuse?" 

Skjor pulled a short sword from its sheath. It was so natural to see him with a weapon on his hip that Bran didn't even think about the fact that Skjor had it. He was keenly aware that he himself was unarmed. 

"I don't WANT to kill you Bran, but I want to make sure you understand the situation you are in." Skjor pointed the sword at the breton. The point of the sword dug into his thin tunic forcing him to back away. Skjor kept pushing until Bran bumped his back into the basin trapping him between stone and steel. The point of the blade dug into him just enough to bleed. The breton worried his pounding heart would impale itself on the sword. Skjor's voice was casual. Disconnected. "I don't trust you to keep our secret safe, so I'm offering you a choice. You become one of us. You won't be a member of the Circle, but you will be a true Companion…… Or I WILL kill you." 

Aela growled in agreement. Skjor’s good eye shone with the promise of death. His bad eye was more haunting than usual. The warrior went to Aela letting his sword fall. Letting Bran breathe again. He gazed up at her with something akin to worship. He stroked her arm. “After you feel this power, you will understand. Kodlak is trying to throw away our future.” 

Bran spun around and took a couple steps away from the basin. The large stone bowl in the center of the Underforge was filled with blood. A stark crimson that glistened eerily in the magical light. Bran swallowed. Skjor had left him an opening. If he could get the door open quick enough he would be free.

He bolted for the exit. 

Aela pounced. She sailed right over the breton. Her tail flicked him in the chest as she landed right in front of him and whirled around to growl in his face. She stalked on all fours forcing Bran back into the bowels of the Underforge with each step. 

"Please don't make me do this." Bran begged. His voice quivered as panic dug into him. "I swear to you. I'm not going to tell anyone. I've had ample time to do so already if I wanted to. Please! You have my word!" 

"And how much is the word of a pirate worth?" Skjor scoffed. "I've been to Hammerfell. I know all about Captain Blackheart and Bloodwake. I know what your tattoo means, pirate." 

Bran couldn't stop the rage, frustration, and fear that welled up within him. I'll never escape her! He shouted. "I'm not a bloody pirate! She took me as a slave!" 

Skjor didn't believe him. He could tell by the annoyed look in his eye. No one ever believed him. 

Skjor said plainly. "We all have pasts we're not proud of. I'm no exception. If it's any consolation I believe that in time you might be a strong warrior and a fine Companion. But as things stand now. I just can't trust you, and I won't give you the chance to put us in danger. But neither will I force you to drink. So, make your choice." 

"You ARE forcing me. This is a choice for you. So you can keep a clean conscience!"

Skjor had the audacity to look bored. "I'm getting impatient, whelp.”

Bran lunged for a last attempt for freedom only for Aela to shove him against the basin. Her blood glistening in the ominous light reminded him of the pigment used in his tattoo. He looked back up at Skjor, his voice barely a whisper as he pleaded. "Please. Let me go."

Skjor sighed. He examined his sword with a critical eye and muttered. "Damn you." 

Before Skjor could skewer Bran, a clawed hand grabbed the Breton by the back of his head and shoved his face into the basin. He just managed to gasp in a breath before the warm sticky blood slapped him in the face. Bran grabbed the sides of the basin as a primal desire to live took hold of him. He fought against Aela pushing with all his might, but what was the strength of a Breton compared to that of a nordic werewolf? His toes barely touched the ground and he flailed wildly to no avail. 

She pushed him harder till Bran's nose was scraping along the bottom of the giant bowl. Her blood squeezed into his eyes. Pressed into his ears. Pushed through his sinuses and down the back of his throat coating his tongue with iron. He choked, and a wave of her blood rushed past his lips and scoured his lungs. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't get free. She was killing him. He was going to drown in someone else's blood! 

The pressure against the back of his head was suddenly lifted. Bran yanked himself up with a desperate gasp, his face drenched red. He heard Skjor telling Aela. "I'm not saving you from Farkas once he finds out about that." 

Aela growled, her voice abnormally hoarse and deep. "The twins don't scare me." 

Bran sputtered, coughed, and gasped as the thick fluid coated his airways. A wave of nausea hit him and he vomited into the basin. His head started pulsing and his jaw ached as if someone had punched him. A wail was pulled out of him as a wave of pain washed over him. And then another. Bran shrieked as he clutched his skull and sank to the ground curling into a ball in the hopes of easing the agony. It only grew worse.

Then he started convulsing. 

A pain greater than any he had ever experienced consumed him. It felt like his body was tearing itself apart. Like his bones were hot iron being hammered into shape. He could only endure as that shape grew and stretched. Until his screams turned into howls. Until his thrashing stopped. Until the man he had always been was jerked away, replaced by desires of a powerful beast. A beast whose thoughts were composed of only blood, and the need to hunt.