Vilkas
"... and so, since she has not reported back, we can only assume that Faerie's mission to rescue Ylva has failed."
I pinched the bridge of my nose and gritted my teeth together to keep from making a smart comment. I knew that the plan wouldn't work. But did anyone listen? Of course not.
Across the war table, Marina continued, "I hate to think the worst, but Faerie wouldn't fail her mission unless she were killed. And the Thalmor certainly wouldn't take anymore prisoners."
Ulfric crossed his arms and exhaled heavily. Since hearing of Ylva's capture, he had been residing in Whiterun to "help" with the war effort. How he could just drop all his responsibilities and leave his people to their own devices was beyond me. He had not been of that much help, anyway. His services would be better put to use in Windhelm. However, I supposed that it boosted the troops' morale to see their leaders banding together in this time of crisis.
"We can't afford to send anyone else there," said Ulfric, "and the Thalmor will have undoubtedly doubled security now that one rescue attempt has been made." He glared pointedly at Marina. "You should have consulted me before making any plans. I know what that place is like. I know—"
"Yes, Ulfric, you know everything there is to know about the Thalmor, don't you? I didn't have time to write you a letter and ask for your advice. You wouldn't have given me anything good, anyway!"
Ulfric recoiled. "How dare you speak to a Jarl like that!"
I slammed my hands down on the table. "Both of you, stop it!" I couldn't keep my peace any longer. I did not want to be here, playing mediator for these two childish leaders, in the first place. "Arguing and passing blame won't change what happened. We can stand here all night and argue about who's at fault, but it doesn't change the fact that Ylva, my wife, is still a prisoner, and you're not doing a damn thing to help her!"
Ulfric opened his mouth, but I hissed to keep him quiet. "And don't you say that her life means a lot to you because she's the Dragonborn General or she used to live under your rule. Don't you dare say that. She is my wife, the mother of my children, and I will not have you patronize me any longer, Ulfric! I won't. If you don't want me to march out of here and go rescue Ylva myself, you'll refrain from making anymore derogatory remarks to Marina."
Silence followed my outburst, both Ulfric and Marina too stunned to speak.
I huffed and snatched my cloak off the table. "If you'll excuse me, I've got two children to put to bed, and I really don't want to delay having to tell them that their mother still won't be coming home."
As I stormed out of the war room, I overheard Marina tell Ulfric to wait before her light footfalls chased after me.
I spun around to face her, pressing my lips together to keep from snapping at her. It wasn't her fault, and she had dealt with enough rudeness from Ulfric as it was.
"Vilkas, I'm sorry we can't do more for Ylva. Where we are... the war isn't going well, and we can't afford to send troops to Haafingar to save her when it'll only result in heavy casualties."
I dragged a hand down my face. That wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it wasn't unexpected. "Then what can you do?"
"Wait and pray that the war turns in our favor. But without Ylva, I don't.... Vilkas, can you say, without any doubt, that she can hold out until she's rescued?"
Gods, the last thing I wanted to think about was my wife enduring torment. I had done everything I could to keep that thought from entering my mind. I had nightmares filled with her screams and blood, nightmares far worse than any of the dreams I had suffered when I was a werewolf.
"Vilkas?"
I sighed and pushed those thoughts deep down. "I don't know. Ylva is a strong woman, the strongest I've ever met, but... even steel can only take so much before it breaks."
"I'm not giving up on her, and neither should you." She rested a hand on my arm. "Go home. I'm sorry I've kept you from your family."
I gave a nod, then walked away, trying to tune out Marina and Ulfric's bickering.
Would they ever get along?
Probably not.
As I stepped outside, into the chilly night, I hurried my pace down the stairs leading down to the Wind District and made my way to Jorrvaskr. It was almost time, and I didn't want to be late.
I only stopped by the dinner table to grab half a loaf of bread and an apple before heading downstairs to tuck the children into bed. I hated to rush through their nightly routine, but it was just this once, and it would be worth it.
In between the door leading into the downstairs area of Jorrvaskr and the children's room, I had managed to scarf down my food, not really caring that I should have slowed down. When I reached the bedroom, I found that the children had already dressed for bed and were both patiently waiting for me on their beds. I gave them a weak smile before approaching Jergen's bed first.
"Will you tell us a story, Papa?" asked Jergen as I pulled the blankets up to his chin. "You tell great stories."
"Not tonight, little one. I'm sorry, but I have to go somewhere."
Embla jumped up and ran to cling to my cloak. "No! Don't go anywhere, Papa! Don't leave us like Mama did!"
It hurt not to tell the children what had happened to Ylva, but I knew their fragile minds could not handle the truth. If they knew what had truly happened... they may never recover. I knelt down and held her by her shoulders. "I'm not going far, and Mama didn't leave. She just had to take care of some business. She'll be back."
"When, Papa?" A tear ran down her cheek. "I miss her."
I swiped the tear away with my thumb, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I do, too, little one. Keep your chin up. Mama will come home to us. She always does." Gently, I scooped her into my arms and carried her back to her bed to tuck her in properly. "I'm not even leaving the city, all right? I won't be gone longer than an hour, but I will still be gone past your bedtime, so that's why you have to go to sleep now."
"Why are you going out so late?"
"I've just got to meet some people who are coming in from out of town. They couldn't arrive until late at night, and I don't want to keep them waiting." I kissed her on the forehead again. "Go to sleep, all right? I love you both."
"We love you, too, Papa," they said in unison.
After shutting the door to their room, I pulled my hood up and headed back upstairs. If I did not hurry, I would be late, and I was not in the habit of being late for anything.
I certainly did not want to be late for this meeting.
Once I left Jorrvaskr, I headed into the Underforge, walking past the Totems of Hircine Aela had gathered many years ago. From there, I moved down the hallway towards the exit hidden under Whiterun's walls. When I was a werewolf, this exit had been key to helping me escape the Hold without being seen by any of the guards or citizens. Ylva had used it to smuggle Ulfric into Whiterun. I myself had not had any need for it in a long time.
Tonight would change that.
After stepping out of the tunnels, I came outside the city, approaching Eirik. I had asked him to wait here in case I was running behind schedule, so the people I was meeting with would not think I was setting up a trap or I had decided not to hire their help.
"They'll be here shortly," said Eirik. "Etienne hates being late."
"And these people won't just stab me and take my gold?"
"They may be thieves, but they have a code. And that code says no killing. You won't have to worry about anything, Vilkas."
Then, three dark figures approached us, as though materializing from the shadows themselves. All of them wore black cloaks, and all had their hoods up. As far as I could tell, there were two men and one woman. I stood up straight, heart pounding, hand instinctively going for the sword that was not at my side.
"Etienne," said Eirik as he approached one of the figures. He wrapped his arms around the man, and the stranger did the same. "It's good to see you, my friend."
"And you, Eirik," said Etienne, his voice carrying a distinct accent. "How's mercenary work?"
"Can't complain, but I can't say I don't miss thieving."
I cleared my throat, hating to interrupt their reunion, but I had a job for them, and I wanted to get down to business.
Eirik turned. "Right, sorry. I'll leave you to your business." He nodded to Etienne, then turned and left, heading back into the Underforge.
I pushed my hood down. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."
The biggest figure, a broad-shouldered man wearing black leather armor that was covered in pockets and buckles, stepped forward and pushed his own hood down. He was a Nord, with long red hair, a red beard to match, and bright green eyes. "Interesting place for a meet," he said, voice accented, but like no accent I had ever heard. "Why here?"
"If the Companions' Master of Arms was seen meeting with three dark strangers, it would turn heads. I don't want this to reach the Legate presiding here in Whiterun."
"I understand, then. Well, let's get to introductions." He clapped his hand together, then motioned for his partners to step forward. "My name is Brynjolf. This here is Etienne Rarnis..." He motioned to the second man, the Breton that Eirik had spoken to, who had also removed his hood, "and last but most certainly not least, Femke, the esteemed Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild."
The woman removed her hood at last. She was an elf—or at least someone with elf blood in her. Her raven-black hair had been pulled back away from her angular face, and when she looked at me, her slanted green eyes seemed to capture my soul. She wore a strange earring, as well, on one of her pointed ears. She, like Brynjolf, was wearing black armor, and around her neck was a unique, triangular amulet.
"I find it interesting that a Companion would reach out to the Thieves Guild for aid," she said, her lilting voice smooth and calculated.
"I wouldn't if I weren't desperate. But I can't afford to be choosy anymore. I need help, and if the army can't offer its assistance, then I'm not going to wait around for someone else to come along."
"What's the job?" asked Etienne. "Eirik wasn't very specific in his letter."
I took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth. "I need you to sneak into the Thalmor Embassy and break my wife out of prison."
Brynjolf jerked backwards, Etienne blanched, and Femke scoffed.
"You want us to break into one of—no, the most heavily guarded buildings in Skyrim and break your wife out?" she asked. "Do I look like someone with a death wish?"
"We're thieves," said Brynjolf. "We don't break people out of prison. We take stuff that belongs to other people and bring it to our clients."
"Think about this as stealing my wife back and bringing her home. If it helps, imagine she's a family heirloom that I want back."
"That's your job, you know," said Femke. "You Companions bring back what rightfully belongs to people. We're the ones who steal it in the first place."
"I can pay you." I reached into the satchel at my side and pulled out a massive coin purse. "Five-hundred septims now, and a thousand more when you return."
Femke almost seemed appalled that I would only offer that much. "Fifteen-hundred septims split three ways is hardly sufficient."
I could feel my last shred of hope slipping away from me. "I can't afford anything more. This is everything I have. Please."
"Boss," said Etienne, "I don't have to take any of that."
Both Femke's and Brynjolf's heads swiveled to the Breton.
"What?" said Brynjolf. "Are you crazy, lad?"
"No, I'm not. This woman, his wife, saved me from the Thalmor Embassy almost ten years ago. I've been waiting for a chance to repay that debt."
"You want to go back there?" asked Femke. "Seriously?"
"That's the last place on Nirn I want to go, but if it means that I can thank my savior, then so be it."
I was so close to pleading with these people. I almost dropped to my knees to beg. "I would go after her myself, but I can't do it alone, and I can't ask anyone to go with me. My children don't need to lose both their parents. Please. I'm giving you everything I have."
Brynjolf took the coin purse from me. "Five-hundred now?"
I nodded. "The rest when you bring Ylva home safely."
Femke sighed. "We want fifteen-hundred septims when we return."
"But I don't have—"
She raised her hand. "You're asking us to do the most suicidal thing any person can do. I expect proper compensation. You'll pay us that much when we return, or the deal's off."
Brynjolf reached out to Femke. "Lass—"
She swatted his hand away, glaring at him. "No, Bryn. I'm handling this." Then, she turned back to me. "Do we have a deal?"
I had no idea how I was going to come up with five-hundred more septims, but it hardly mattered. My wife's life was on the line. I would sell my soul if I knew it would help. "Yes, we have a deal."
She nodded, seeming to be pleased with the change of terms. "We'll have to gather supplies, and we'll leave first thing in the morning." She raised her hood. "Meeting's over."
The men followed her example, and Brynjolf stuffed the coin purse into the satchel attached to the bandolier across his chest. Then, in perfect unison, they turned on their heels and left, heading towards the main gate into Whiterun.
When they were gone, I fell to my knees and clutched my head in my hands. I knew that, in the grand scheme of things, five-hundred extra septims was nothing. But how was I supposed to come up with that much more money in such a short amount of time? How could I work, if Marina and her army wouldn't let me leave the city?
I was not the best at praying, but I bowed down right then and there and prayed. I prayed that I hadn't made a terrible mistake. I prayed that these thieves would keep up their end of the bargain. I prayed, most of all, that they would bring my wife home safe and sound, and that she would be healthy and strong when she returned.
"Gods, please..." I whispered, "I... please bring Ylva home to me. Please. Let me hold her in my arms again. Let me see her again. Bring my children's mother back to them. They need her, just as badly as I need her."
I had no idea if the gods were even listening to a former lycanthrope like me, but I hoped they were. I hoped they would listen, hoped they would do as I asked, hoped they would show mercy on me and grant my pleas. If I didn't hope, what could I do?
Hope was all I had.