Stories of Skyrim

Vilkas & Farkas

Vilkas/Ingrid if you squint. Friendship!Farkas/Ingrid. Also, I'm not dead! I've been caught up in work and real life that writing has sort of taken a back seat. Three updates in one today, then probably another six months until the next! Thanks for sticking with me x - MS

"Farkas," Ingrid called across Jorrvaskr's main hall. She stood rigid, fists clenched against her thighs to disguise the trembling. "May I have a word?"

Farkas looked between Skjor and Aela, eyebrow raised to ask for a clue. Neither could give him one aside from a shrug and a reassuring pat on the back as he slowly stood up. Farkas had learned quickly that moving fast around the newest whelp was a bad idea. She had never reacted well to his presence, but she reacted worse to his movements. Farkas had travelled enough to guess at why.

Ingrid shrank as he approached, her eyes darting to seek an escape. He stopped three feet away, hands loose and held away from his weapons in a stance he hoped conveyed 'harmless'. Not that anything Farkas did could be classified as harmless. Ingrid seemed to catch herself, her mouth turning to a thin line and her shoulders squaring. "This way," she said firmly. And much softer, followed with; "Please?"

"Of course," Farkas said lowly. She smiled at him and turned on her heel. He waited to give her space before following her through the door and onto the back porch. Ingrid kept her back to him, but she walked almost on tiptoes, ready to spring away if she felt the need. Farkas was careful to scuff his feet, sniff, cough- anything he could do to give her audible knowledge of where he was.

Ingrid led him towards the Underforge, stopping just outside the hidden door. Farkas walked to the wall and leaned back against it, trying his hardest to be non-threatening. Sheer size meant that was a task and a half, but Ingrid's hands stopped trembling and she steeled herself before she began to talk. "I owe you an explanation," she said. It was that same resolute tone of voice that screamed her discomfort, but also her determination to see this through.

"No you don't," Farkas replied. It was an out if she wanted it. Though he suspected Ingrid was made of sterner stuff than she let on. "I know I can be... intimidating."

"I'd say fucking terrifying, but yes," she responded frankly and Farkas huffed a laugh. His reaction seemed to calm her a little, though her shoulders never lost that tight tension keeping them straight. "I wanted to apologize to you."

Farkas blinked. Whatever she had dragged him out here for, an apology was not it. He was expecting a 'we can't work together' or even a 'I'm leaving'. Not an apology. "What?" he blurted.

Ingrid smiled, her head lowering with shame. "For treating you with distrust you don't deserve," she said. "I misjudged you gravely when we first met. My unease led me to giving you attributes that I have come to realise aren't yours at all. I'd like to tell you why, if you'd let me."

He was quiet for a minute, just looking at her. Ingrid shifted awkwardly under his stare, but the fear had retreated right down. It was still bubbling away- he could see her still ready to run at a moment's notice, like a bird poised to fly. But there was a steel in her that hadn't been there before. "If you wish to tell me," Farkas said carefully. "I would be honoured to listen."

Ingrid's smile was genuine. Her shoulders relaxed, and she turned to lean against the wall beside him. She took a moment or two to gather her thoughts before she began to speak, her voice a quiet monotone. Rehearsed, but truthful. "There are experiences in my life that have left me with a subconscious fear of... no. That's not... when I was younger," Ingrid stopped, struggling with the memories.

"Take your time," Farkas said as gently as he could manage.

Ingrid nodded sheepishly. "My parents were keen to see me marry well. They chose a suitor who is... was. Was very similar in stature to you. He was what I thought love was supposed to be, I even agreed to marry him. He was a lovely man right up until he wasn't. The first time he hit me," Ingrid stopped again, her voice failing. Farkas closed his eyes, picturing someone like Ingrid standing up against someone his size. He was two feet taller and had at least a hundred pounds of muscle more than her. While it wasn't uncommon for marriages to hide such darkness, the image made his stomach turn. "He hit me because he'd seen me talking to another man in the market. When I tried to explain it was the butcher, it only made him angrier. The next day he came home with flowers and chocolates and promises that it wouldn't happen again. Like a fool, I believed him."

"It happened again," Farkas finished the story, knowing the pattern. Men like that didn't change with a few apologies and tears.

"And again, and again, right up until he dragged me out of the city and nearly killed me," Ingrid's mouth curved into a smile. Her eyes remained blank and glassy, though she wasn't crying. "If it weren't for a travelling priest of Mara, I likely would have died. The priest saved me, healed me, and let me travel with him. At first, I had bad days every day. I couldn't function if a man so much as raised his voice in the same room. I had nightmares... it took years for me to realise that suddenly, my bad days weren't as often. Eventually I couldn't remember my last one. I wasn't better, I'm still not better, because seeing you... sometimes I see you and I see him."

Farkas stayed silent. Ingrid raised her eyes from her feet, embarrassment making her shrink even smaller. She looked mortified at how much she'd divulged, her cheeks burning red and her eyes darting to the door. The trembling was back. "Ingrid," Farkas said her name before she could run. "I am honoured that you shared this with me. Your apologies are not necessary. I know what it's like to live with demons and I'm sorry that I resemble one of yours."

"Can't help genetics," she quipped weakly. Ingrid took a deep breath, a genuine smile flittering across her face and disappearing again. She met and held Farkas's gaze, before sticking her hand out to him. "Thank you for letting me talk."

Farkas shook her hand briefly. "Take care of yourself," his voice was as warm as melted butter, genuine and kind. Ingrid watched him leave and let out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. A certain pressure lifted from her chest, leaving her lighter than she'd felt since she'd first set foot in Jorrvaskr. Ingrid turned to the breeze picking up from the east, smiling into it as it toyed with the hair on her face.

She didn't turn when the back door opened. Not even when someone lingered behind her for a moment, eyes locked on the back of her head. He cleared his throat before stepping up beside her.

"Everything alright?" Vilkas asked quietly. "I've been looking for you. Skjor said you'd gone off with Farkas and... you're alright, aren't you?"

Ingrid moved a little closer, tilting her head until she could lean against his shoulder. Vilkas shifted to cover her both her hands with one of his. "I'm alright, Vilkas. Very alright," she said with a smile. He squeezed her hands gently, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth.