Vilkas
Sweat dripping. Heart racing. Mind spinning. Sword shining in the sunlight. Straw flying as the steel blade cut through the dusty burlap. Wood splintering and shattering.
Panting, I lowered my greatsword and stared at the damage I had done. That was the sixth training dummy I had destroyed this week. These last two had been loaned to us by the small army now stationed outside Whiterun—ever since Ylva's capture, we had been on high-alert. No one was allowed in the city without proper documentation and anyone related to Ylva in any way was not allowed out.
It had been a long and hard two weeks.
I could not go looking for my own wife, and that made me so frustrated. Hence why I was taking it out on the training dummies.
I raised my sword and rested it against my shoulder, leaving the debris to be taken care of later. I walked into Jorrvaskr, ignoring everyone inside, and went straight to my quarters. No one tried to talk to me, thank the gods; they all knew I was not in the mood for small talk.
All except one person, that is.
When I reached my room, I found Farkas standing in the center, arms folded and face hard with a scowl. I knew that look. He was not going to let me leave without speaking his mind.
I skirted past him to place my sword in its rightful place on the weapons rack. "Farkas, please. I don't want to talk."
"Then just listen to me."
I huffed but knew that resisting him was pointless. "What?"
"You're not helping anyone by sulking around Jorrvaskr. Your kids need you. So stop sulking and be a man!"
"And if this had happened to Tyra, what would you do?"
"Not sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself. I'd do something."
"And what do you suggest I do? Hmm? Go looking for her? In case you forgot, there's a bloody army outside the city!"
"If you're desperate enough, you'll find a way. I know you, Vilkas. It's not like you to just give up."
"I haven't given up! There's nothing I can do from here!"
Farkas opened him mouth to counter me, but the door creaked open behind him and Tyra came inside.
"I heard the yelling and knew you two were going at it," she said, shutting the door behind her. "What is it?"
Farkas took a step closer to his wife and put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm trying to get Vilkas to see sense."
"Anything I can do to help?"
I shook my head. "Stay out of this, Tyra. Farkas shouldn't have ever opened his mouth."
Her face hardened into a scowl, and for the first time in my life, I was actually a little afraid of my sister-in-law. "Vilkas, I am a heavily pregnant woman. Do not cross me." After staring at me for a moment longer, she turned and looked up at Farkas. "Did you tell him?"
"I couldn't. He kept interrupting me."
I crossed my arms. "I'm still right here. What is it?"
Tyra turned to me. "Legate Brunelli said she may have something for you to do. Something that can help Ylva."
"And what is it?"
"She wouldn't say. But she wanted to meet with you as soon as you were able."
I pursed my lips and sighed heavily through my nose. "And you're telling me I should do this?"
Tyra nodded. "If it'll get you to stop brooding."
"I haven't been brooding."
Farkas rolled his eyes. "Please. You put your teenage self to shame with the amount of sulking you've done."
"Vilkas, we're not trying to be unsympathetic. We know this is hard for you, but you're a grown man with two children who are counting on you. You have to pick yourself up and keep moving. It's what Ylva would want."
Tyra was right. My wife would never allow me to mope around Jorrvaskr like this. She would have kicked me in the seat of my pants a long time ago.
"All right," I said finally, "I'll go see what the Legate wants. I shouldn't be gone long."
Tyra smiled. "I'll keep an eye on the twins for you."
With that, I left to talk to Marina.
Clouds had moved in since I had been outside, blocking out the sunlight and painting the city in a drab, gray shadow. Perhaps it was my bad mood, or perhaps it was the cloud cover, but Whiterun looked so... dull. Lifeless. No crickets chirping in the grass. No birds singing in the branches of the Gildergreen. Even the stall owners seemed to be subdued as they called out their wares.
I made the long trek up the stairs leading to Dragonsreach and made it a point to look down whenever I passed by someone heading the opposite direction. I did not want to see their sympathetic looks, see the sorrow in their eyes. Sympathy would not bring my wife back.
Neither will sulking, according to my brother.
I pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside Dragonsreach. I ignored everyone, the maids, the nobles, and even the Jarl, as I made my way to the war room upstairs. Ylva had brought me there a couple times, when she needed my advice on a strategic move or decision. While I had not been the most credible source, according to some, Ylva had greatly valued my counsel, and I was glad to help her in any way that I could.
Marina stood with her back to the table strewn with maps and flags, an unfolded piece of parchment in her hands. She did not seem to have noticed me, lost in her reading. I softly cleared my throat, and she spun to face me.
"Vilkas, I am glad you've come," she said as she placed the paper on the table. "I have some news for you."
"My brother and sister-in-law told me you had found a way for me to help Ylva, not that you had news."
"I'll get to that. I've just received word from one of our spies that she has successfully infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy."
My heart skipped a beat. "Is she going to break Ylva out?"
"That's why we sent her. She will have to lay low for a little while, but she knows what she's doing. I have total confidence in her."
"Total confidence?"
Marina sighed and shook her head. "You have to have a little faith, Vilkas."
"I'm a realist. I can't help it."
"We will bring Ylva home, one way or another. In the meantime, I have a task for you."
I straightened my back. "Yes?"
"I need you to keep your chin up around the troops. They're already losing morale about what's happened, being without their leader, who, as you know, is the most-beloved woman in all of Skyrim. You, her husband, are supposed to have hope. They haven't seen any hope from you, and that is shaking their faith."
That was not what I was expecting to hear. "That's your all-important job? You want me to act hopeful?"
"It may not seem important, Vilkas, but we need it. If we don't have any morale in our ranks, our squadrons will crumble. Bravery can only take a man so far, for a man can't be brave for a cause he does not believe in."
I sighed, head dropping. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Was this really happening? I had come to see Marina with the expectation that she had a real job for me. I had not come to hear some worthless spiel about hoping against all hope.
For a long time, we were silent. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my mind. Yes, this was not what I wanted to hear, but Marina had a point. I knew as well as anyone else that troops needed to be confident. After Kodlak had died, Ylva had raised the morale of the Companions so we would not be consumed by mourning. It had worked, too.
I shook my head at long last, finally looking up. "This is not my area of expertise. Being positive, I mean."
"Well, learn. I'm sorry, Vilkas, but I don't have time or resources to baby you. If you want to help your wife, then prove that you believe she'll return soon."
I pursed my lips and elected not to say anything.
Marina sighed. "You may go."
I nodded and gave a slight bow. "Thank you." Then, I turned on my heel and left.
Since I had made the climb, and I did not feel like tackling all those steps again, I decided to pay a visit to Eirik in the prison before heading back home. He was only supposed to stay in a cell for a few weeks, but when he began to curse Ylva morning, noon, and night, the Captain of the Guard believed it best to keep him locked up until he could calm down. "It's safest for everyone," he had said.
As I stepped inside, I nodded to the guard on duty before progressing deeper into the dark and damp prison. Whiterun was not known for its hardened criminals or heinous miscreants, so the dungeon was usually occupied by a petty thief or drunkard. At the moment, only Eirik was locked within one of the four spacious cells. He saw me as soon as I walked in, and he spat through the bars at my feet.
"Your wife too good to visit me now, old man?" he sneered as I got closer. He aimed another spitball at me, but I stepped aside before it could splatter on my chest.
"The guards haven't told you anything, have they?"
He shook his head. "Not like anything happens 'round here, anyway. What would they have to tell me?"
"Ylva was captured by the Thalmor two weeks ago."
The news had an unexpected effect on Eirik. Instead of sneering or scoffing, he took a step backwards, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Gods... I don't even know what to say." He shook his head and crossed his arms. "How?"
"Ambush. No word from them, so they don't want to negotiate a surrender."
"No, they wouldn't, would they? Not their style." He sighed and shook his head once again. "I never wanted this to happen to her, Vilkas. I'm so sorry."
"I know. I don't resent you, and neither do any of the Companions."
"Are there any plans to free her?"
"The Legate said something about a spy, but I don't exactly have much confidence in one person going into the most heavily-guarded building in Skyrim to free the Aldmeri Dominion's most-wanted fugitive."
Then, his eyebrows raised, and a crooked sort of grin quirked on his lips. "I think I can help."
I jerked, spine snapping straight. "How?"
He leaned closer to the bars and motioned for me to do the same. "Well," he said in a lowered voice, "I used to live in Riften, as you know, but I didn't tell you—or anyone else, for that matter—that I used to be a member of the Thieves Guild. They got me off the streets, gave me a job, kept me out of that terrible orphanage. I only left because I grew into my Nord body a couple years ago and couldn't be silent and swift like the rest of the thieves."
Brow furrowing, I pursed my lips and shook my head a little. "How does this help?"
"See, one of my best mates, a Breton named Etienne Rarnis, was once captured by the Thalmor. He would've been killed if not for your wife. He knows how to get in and out of there, and he always told me that he would do anything to get even with his, and I quote, 'raven-haired savior.' I could send him a letter, set up a meeting between you and him."
"And in return, I suppose you want out of this cell?"
He shook his head and leaned backwards, away from the bars. "No. I'm doing it 'cause it's the right thing."
I nodded slowly, then reached through the bars to shake his hand. "I was wrong about you, Eirik. You're a good lad."
"I'm an angry drunk, but thanks for the compliment. If you can just get me a quill, ink, and some parchment—"
"No, you're coming home with me. I think you've done enough time in here."
He grinned, shaking my hand once more. "Thank you, Vilkas."
"No, thank you. You've given me a reason to hope."