My Random Skyrim Stories

Sword Thief (3) Not Jealous

Vilkas's fight with the damn woman proved she had gotten much better than Vilkas had expected. She moved subtly and quickly, and had a lot of strength for her size... he was loath to admit it, but she really was good. If her initial test had gone anything like that he would have been much more sure of her ability to make it into their ranks. She definitely impressed him now... not that he was about to tell her that. He still didn't trust her.
She offered to spar with him several more evenings after that... an offer he took her up on at first...
He spent a few more evenings out under the moons, crossing swords with the Dragonborn.
It was... actually fun. She kept up with him and she didn't hold back... she kept him on his toes, and... by Ysmir, the sight of her working up a sweat in the moonlight... her cheeks flushed and eyes flashing with adrenaline... it didn't take long for that sight to begin haunting his dreams and he immediately began turning her down after that.
He still didn't trust her. He couldn't let her get into his head, that would just make it all the more difficult to hate and avoid her.

Of course it was already getting more difficult to avoid her... Farkas, Skjor, and Aela had been eagerly giving her every job she would take, and Kodlak expressed that he wanted Vilkas to start giving her slightly higher profile jobs as well. The more weeks went by, the more difficult that got to avoid too.
Finally one morning, Vilkas grudgingly let her have a job requesting the retrieval of an old dwarven sword... an old family heirloom for some family in Markarth... it was a high paying job that was going to be a serious pain if she messed it up.
Vilkas at least half expected her to steal the dwarven sword and disappear for a few more years... and he'd have to clean up the Companions' reputation and hear everyone tell him he'd been right...
But until then, he'd sit here in the hall and wait for her... and at least pretend he actually expected her to come back while he mentally rehearsed what he'd tell the client... they probably weren't going to get paid for this one...
Vilkas downed a mug of mead and slammed it grumpily back to the table at that thought. He wasn't sulking...

"Not like you to be drinkin' like that this early in the day..." Farkas commented bluntly, pulling Vilkas from his thoughts.
Vilkas sighed and looked up at his brother... he was probably the only person who knew Farkas well enough to hear that that blunt comment was also laced with concern and a question.
"I gave our... new whelp a job," he grumbled, barely resisting the urge to call her a 'damned sword thief' instead of 'new whelp'.
Farkas's face split into a grin.
"That's good," he nodded, "Ysa's been itchin' for something more interesting than killin' skeevers an' scarin' debtors."
"Who?" Vilkas looked up at Farkas with a raised eyebrow.
...that wasn't quite the name she'd given Kodlak...
...Farkas hadn't...
"Oh, Ysabyth," Farkas smirked, "I call her Ysa..."
Vilkas cringed. He had... he'd given her a pet name...
"...she said her friends call her that..."
Ok, that wasn't quite as bad as what Vilkas had originally thought—
"...an' it's easier to yell in the heat of the moment and all..."
"The what?!"
"Huh?" Farkas looked in confusion at Vilkas's expression of shocked and disturbed disbelief, and then understanding slowly settled in... "not that kind of 'heat of the moment'!" Farkas laughed, "I meant battle! Guess I know where your brain's been!"
"Shut up, it has not!" Vilkas growled, but Farkas kept laughing.
"You can lie to yourself," Farkas sniggered, "but you can't lie to me!"
"She's the damn whelp who stole my sword, I'm not—"
"She's the Dragonborn, and you think she's pretty," Farkas cut him off with a smug grin.
Vilkas felt his face heating up, and Farkas just laughed harder.
"Fine, she's physically attractive," Vilkas admitted through gritted teeth, "that doesn't mean I like her, or trust her."
"You looked pretty upset at the thought that I'd been with her..." Farkas teased, "you gonna try and tell me that wasn't jealousy?"
"That was concern for you," Vilkas replied irritably.
"Mmhmm," Farkas nodded, clearly not fully believing him. "You know you don't have to worry about me," he smirked, "Kodlak raised us better than that—"
"Which is why I was shocked," Vilkas interrupted with a grumble, "and worried she might have seduced and corrupted you."
"I'm too stubborn for that, and she's not that type," Farkas rolled his eyes, "you'd know that if you gave her a chance."
Vilkas just scowled.
"Don't worry," Farkas continued with a chuckle, "you'll know about it if I bed her, 'cause there'll be an amulet of Mara and a trip to Riften first."
Vilkas felt his stomach turn at that thought... his brother couldn't marry the Dragonborn— that damned thief... Vilkas couldn't stand that... the thought of Farkas standing at the alter of Mara with that beautiful little woman... with her smirking and smiling like she did... those shining hazel green eyes...
Farkas's laughter suddenly pulled Vilkas back from those thoughts...
"I knew it! You're jealous!"
"Shut up!" Vilkas snapped. He reached across the table, grabbed a loaf of bread, and threw it at Farkas's face.
Farkas was laughing too hard to even bother dodging and the loaf of bread bounced off his forehead and into the hearth. Soon the whole hall was filled with the smell of burnt bread and Tilma angrily shooed them out the back door.