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Unnf! I'll be in my rack. That was a hot and steamy fill of epic proportions dear anon, really well done!

ohhhh my heart.......ohhh that was fantastic..sad very very sad...Vilkas is in a miserable way....his heart is sad....

The angst, it burns! I too hold out hope that she is still alive, though it is dimming. I just love a!a's writing, and will follow with bated breath, even knowing that s/he will not hesitate to break all of our hearts if that's where the muse leads.

I finally have internet back and I come back to an update!
I'm so happy!
I feel like this is going to go deliciously right or horribly wrong... Maybe both.
I can't wait for you to update again. I just hope that next time i can reply sooner than this one. :D

They could hear chairs scraping and the rumble of voices upstairs as the talks waged on. But Audric couldn’t make out which voice belonged to whom from under layer upon layer of stone and mortar, and he had no interest anyway, so he turned his face into Ralof’s bare chest and murmured nonsense.

“Do you think we’re missed?” Ralof asked, amused.

“I don’t know,” sighed Audric. “But I missed you; what took you so long?”

Frowning, he tightened his arm around Audric. “It isn’t as if you rushed to give me the news.”

“That’s true.”

Ralof had been in tow of Balgruuf’s entourage, having finally gotten wind of Ulfric’s return to power, out in the middle of his woods. Audric had made a show of welcoming him back into the world, and not entirely for his own benefit, either. Even as he lay beside his friend, basking in the heat of his body, his thoughts wandered upstairs.

There was a slow, rumbling trickle of footfalls above them, around them, as the meeting seemed to have exhausted itself. Ralof held him close, even as he fell into sleep, but Audric grew restless. Carefully, quietly, he removed himself from under his friend’s arm and tucked the linens over his chest. Without waking him, Audric placed a kiss goodnight on his forehead.

He found Ulfric loitering in a nearby corridor.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

Ulfric looked perplexed for a moment. “Would you believe it was a coincidence?”

“I’d believe it was luck. In any case,” he did his best not to turn red, “I could use a scrub before sleep. It’s dark out, and I don’t trust my reflexes. Come with me?”

Ulfric’s age showed on his face, not so much in lines and wear as in careful calculation. He thought before he spoke, far too much. “Alright,” he agreed, “but only so long as you allow me to recap the meeting for you, since you were too busy to attend.”

“Is that a grudge I hear in there?”

“Not at all. I think…”

When the pause stretched into silence too long for Audric’s comfort, he said, “Go on, say it: you were better off for it.”

“Your opinions have a way of bringing a room to boil.”

Outside, the noises of night all around them, Secunda was high in the sky and Masser tried to keep up. “Have you considered that perhaps it isn’t my opinions, but Nord pride that really drives the nail into things?” Audric was out of his clothes, wading into the warm water; he could feel Ulfric’s eyes on him. “Or maybe you don’t appreciate me all that much,” he teased.

His eyes falling to where the waterline hovered around Audric’s naval, Ulfric said, “I appreciate you well enough.”

Audric had his bath and there was no interruption of man or beast. He and Ulfric talked politics a little, but mostly they talked nonsense. Audric asked what growing up in High Hrothgar had been like, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that Ulfric had been a bit of a troublemaker.

“You did not,” he laughed, hearing that Ulfric had concocted a rather vulgar Shout to graffiti the courtyard stone.

“It was only the once,” said Ulfric defensively, his cheeks pink. “Besides, it faded…eventually.”

The earth trembled suddenly, and the air rushed, knocking them both forward; Audric was dumped into the water and Ulfric landed on his hands and knees. Grabbing his axe, Ulfric looked on in awe and mounting fear as a humongous shadow tore through the night. The dragon, silhouetted against the ruddy moonlight, circled around once, twice, and then let out a tremendous roar before disappearing past the horizon.

Audric was standing again, squinting into the dark, his entire body tensed. There was a fire that glinted in his green eyes as he watched the dragon, and it burned so strongly that it didn’t matter that he was standing naked and wet in the dark; packed tightly into that lean frame of bone and sinew, there raged a beast.

Still, when Ulfric came to his senses, he averted his eyes.

Once he was wrapped up in a towel, Audric threw his things over his arm and began the walk back up to Mistwatch. The path was winding and narrow, and the dirt and rubble slid easily underfoot, making it treacherous. Several times, he had to count on Ulfric to keep him upright.

“So then,” he whispered, once they had returned to their quarters. “You never did give me the end of the story; what’s the plan?”

“Tullius has it on good authority that Elenwen won’t risk putting sensitive information about the political situation — or you — into writing. She intends to run back to Summerset, and soon.”

“Alright, then how do we stop her?”

“Well,” and Ulfric felt like a cynical old man, truly, “Tullius believes that he can take her on the ocean.”

“Tell me you’re joking.” Ulfric gestured for him to bring his voice back down and he murmured an apology. “But he can’t! They won’t stand a chance! There’s no way the Thalmor will allow an Emissary to travel on a foreign vessel, and they certainly won’t be sending a lonesome cargo ship for her!”

“No, indeed.”

“Well if either of you have a better idea,” Tullius rose from his bed, looking irritated, “speak, why don’t you.”

Startled at having been found out, the two men stood in silence for a moment. Then, unsurprisingly, Audric found words.

“You can’t pull this off,” he said gravely. “Not with the entirety of your navy.” Stepping into some sleep clothes, he added, “To take on a Thalmor fleet, with all their battlemages and ancient tacticians and frankly, better sense…this is folly.”

“And? Do you suppose any of us stand a chance against Herself in single combat? Or even in a field skirmish, us against her little henchmen?”

“No, not exactly.”

Ulfric watched this debate with interest from the sidelines. He had to admit, he admired Tullius’ resolve, even if it was complete lunacy. Resilience in the face of certain defeat, that was something he could respect.

“I’ll tell you what,” Audric clapped a hand on the general’s shoulder. “You take your men, and Ulfric takes his, and I take a few of mine, and we ransack the place.”

“Ransack the Embassy?” Ulfric and Tullius demanded in unison, pausing to frown at one another after.

“There’s more than enough of us to take them, all together. And besides,” he added conversationally, “you have me.”

Ulfric looked skeptical, but Tullius appeared receptive. “And what kind of maneuver would you propose?”

By this time, Yrsarald and Galmar had woken from the commotion and had come to investigate. Their eyes shifted warily between Imperial General and Thief.

“Let Ulfric lead the Thalmor out; let him take a handful of soldiers in Stormcloak colors — not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to intimidate — and draw out the ranks in the front. Thinking they have the upper hand, they will rush the brigade, and then, from some hidden spot behind, the rest of the battalion can come screaming out.”

“Oh, I’m sure you think that’s very clever,” Tullius mocked, tired and not at all happy at being challenged. “But the Thalmor still have the advantage of numbers, and of the hill.”

“Ah, I’ve thought of that. See, you and your men will take formations of three: two pockets of archers and footmen, to close the enemy in from behind, and then a third sect to fence off the entrance to the Embassy, and to catch any reinforcements.”

Tullius was nodding, now. “But what of Elenwen? We can’t expend all of our resources dispersing her guard only to allow her to escape in the chaos.”

Audric smiled grimly. “That’s where I come in.”

“What?”

Audric turned, alarmed by Ulfric’s outburst. Joining him in his bewilderment were Ulfric’s right-hand men.

“It’s a dangerous mission, but he broke into Castle Dour, didn’t he?” Tullius jumped to Audric’s defense.

“Have you no concern for your pawns, general?”

“I’m a knight, at least,” Audric interjected sourly.

“About as much as you do for yours,” Tullius answered. “You’re willing to sacrifice your men and women to the Thalmor — out of a grudge or honor, I can’t tell — but you’d spare this single Breton? Why?”

“It isn’t a question of numbers, it’s about proximity!” he insisted. “My soldiers are well trained, and those Thalmor lapdogs don’t stand a chance. But Bellamy would be strolling right into the lion’s den!”

“I won’t go alone,” Audric said, laying a reassuring hand on Ulfric’s arm, but Ulfric pulled it back.

“And will that help be there to back you against Elenwen?” he spat the name as if it were foul poison.

Audric remained silent, but he knew that Ulfric knew he would never endanger his friends’ lives. They might be allowed to follow him in, but only so far. He couldn’t leave margin for error, not after finding Etienne, not after reading about the fate of a young Ulfric.

“Well let me ask you this, Dragonborn: do you intend on walking in through the front door? Even amongst the confusion of battle, I doubt you’ll make it in so easily.”

“Hardly. You see, there is more than one way to skin a skeever.” He had debated about whether or not to tell anyone about this, but it would seem that now, his hand was being forced. “There is another way in, a secret way.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing,” Tullius crossed his arms.

“I hope you never do; it’s where they dump the bodies.” He watched with an ounce of morbid satisfaction as the general flinched. “There’s a small cave mouth behind the Embassy, carved into the hillside. It’s easy to overlook, and I wouldn’t have imagined they were connected besides.”

“So, Ulfric causes a diversion, I take up the defense, while you go in and take on Elenwen, is that right?”

Audric nodded.

“Brilliant, we can save valuable time and resources.”

While the men settled back into bed, only to chatter with each other about the revised plan, Ulfric hauled Audric out of the room by his arm. It ached where his fingers had dug into it.

“What’s your problem?” Audric demanded. “I thought you’d be chomping at the bit to wash your hands of the Thalmor in Skyrim! Elenwen in particular.”

“All of your elaborate tactics aside, you don’t honestly believe you will defeat her, do you?” The lines in Ulfric’s face were pronounced by his desperate expression, and his eyes were wet. “You are a single man.”

“Where's your faith in the Dragonborn, now?” he asked, perhaps meanly.

“Your blood might be that of a Dragon, but your bones are mortal.” Ulfric held him in an urgent, unwavering gaze. “She will break your body.”

Remembering what he'd seen in the dungeon beneath the Embassy, Audric tried not to shudder. “Then I shall have to make sure that I catch her first,” he breathed.

After trekking through the blizzard outside, stepping into the Frozen Hearth felt like coming into the warm arms of a loved one. Audric had been trudging through snow and gale for too long; a hill that should have taken perhaps an hour to crest had taken several, as he’d had to dismount his horse and lead it against the wind. Peering around the Inn, he noticed Enthir was not here as he’d promised, and for the most part, Audric was relieved. He was exhausted from the trip and didn’t mind the opportunity to prolong getting his hands on that Elder Scroll. He leaned into the table and had a few cups and some hot food. He didn’t mind spending the coin, and he knew Dagur and Haran needed it. He fed himself well, and in spite of the straw mattress and drafty windows, he slept even better.

In the morning, the snow had at last stopped.

Of course, thought Audric bitterly, I knew I should’ve stayed the night in Windhelm. He had left Mistwatch the morning after he’d hatched his plan with Tullius, leaving the General to sort out the particulars and smooth things over with the Jarls. He supposed he ought to have waited in Windhelm anyway, since the weather had made no secret of its intentions. But then he would have risked running into Ulfric and, if it came right down to it, he might just take the Elder Scroll first.

Things were getting…tense, between them. Mostly he vented his frustrations by making passes at Ulfric, who would respond either with clever rejoinders or dumbstruck stoicism. It was infuriating, mostly because Audric could not tell what kind of game the man was playing — that was, if he was playing one at all. For all he knew, Ulfric thought him a young fool, and only indulged him long enough to amuse himself. Normally, Audric was content — happy, even — to be a thing of amusement, but not this time. Whatever he was doing, it needed to come to an end.

“Well, you look resigned to your fate.”

Audric blinked, snapped from his reverie, and found that Enthir was sitting beside him.

“I think if you stare at that wall any harder, you might bore a hole right through it.”

“Oh stop. And, you’re late.”

Enthir took a long swig from a steaming mug. “Got delayed by the weather, as you should have been. Did you really travel all the way through that squall? Isn’t there some fancy word or other in the Dragon tongue to simply bend the weather to your will?” he teased.

“No, not exactly.” Audric didn’t mean to be snippy, but he was annoyed with himself for having come through the storm and for being caught thinking about Ulfric. “Shouts are difficult, they require energy.”

“And I suppose you’d spent yours long before you arrived, hm? Give the next whore my regards.”

“Don’t be jealous, it shows your age.”

Enthir and Audric were friends, and very good business partners, but there was a thin layer of bitterness beneath their affection; Enthir had come onto Audric almost immediately, and Audric had turned him down. Still, they managed a close friendship, and Audric often felt safe coming to him for advice, which was why he was here at all.

“So, what brings you up here in a storm?”

“Well, your irresistible charms, and your infallible knowledge. What do you know about the Elder Scrolls?”

Enthir let the barb about his charms go and scrutinized Audric over the flickering candlelight. “I don’t have whatever information you’re looking for, but I know a place that does. Come on, we’d better get up to the Arcanaeum.”

“I…I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I’m exactly…comfortable…up there…”

“Don’t worry about it, stick by me and no one will say anything.”

Audric sighed and stood. “They don’t have to.”

He was a piss-poor mage and he knew it, and so did everyone up at the College, by now. Why Enthir continued to associate with him in the company of other mages was beyond him; he was so embarrassed, he hardly wanted to associate with himself whenever he was there.

The Arcanaeum smelled of parchment and leather and tallow. Every time the wind howled, the glass panes rattled and the candles flickered. It was quiet and warm, and the endless shelves of books felt like Sanctuary.

Unwilling to accost Urag, Audric strayed to the side, flipping through the pages of a book about a place called Labyrinthian. It fascinated him so, that while Enthir inquired about information regarding the Elder Scrolls, he tucked it away in his bag.

“Do you at least have any information on them?” Enthir was getting nowhere, and fast, it sounded like.

“Do you even know what you’re asking about?” the Orc demanded suspiciously. “Or is this for one of your unsavory trades, Enthir? Besides, even if I had one here, I’d never let you see it. It would be kept under the highest security; the greatest thief in the world wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on it.”

Audric smirked, and decided to lend aid to the pursuit. Leaning on the gruff librarian’s desk, he said, “It’s perfectly understandable that you’re reluctant to put the Scroll — or any knowledge of it — into the hands of somebody’s errand boy. But, what about the Dragonborn?”

Urag scowled at him; Dragonborn or not, Audric had made an impression on the College, and not at all the right one. “And what do you plan to do with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Audric sighed, “pick it up for a bit of light reading, I suppose.”

“To read an Elder Scroll, a person most have the most rigorously trained mind,” he snorted, “or else risk madness. Even so, the Divines usually take the reader's sight as a price.”

Alarmed, Audric almost toppled backward over a stack of books. “As a price? A price for what?”

Smug at having startled the mischievous Dragonborn, Urag folded his hands together and said, “The simplest way to put it is 'knowledge,' but there's nothing simple about an Elder Scroll.” His beady eyes twinkled as he examined Audric. “It's a reflection of all possible futures and all possible pasts. Each reader sees different reflections through different lenses, and may come away with a very different reading. But at the same time, all of it is true. Even the falsehoods. Especially the falsehoods.”

Metaphysical babble was all well and good, as far as Audric was concerned, but this was hardly the time. He was on a clock, after all.

“Alright, well I need to find one, so could you at least point me in the right direction? Unless the idea of this entire library frying up in Dragon fire appeals to you.”

That seemed to put the old Orc into motion. He shuffled about the locked shelves, muttering angrily to himself, stacking books into his arms until he had amassed a pillar of knowledge and set it on his desk.

“This is everything I have on the Scrolls, though it isn’t much. Don’t get your hopes up; it’s mostly lies, leavened with rumor and conjecture. And don’t you dare spill anything on them.”

With a hefty eye roll, Audric took the books in his arms and found a table to sit at. Enthir offered to keep him company, for which he was grateful. As much as the Arcanaeum brought to him a sense of comfort and nostalgia, he didn’t relish the idea of being caught alone by one of the students or faculty. There were a lot of things in this school that had gone missing and he could well account for most of them.

Some people might find bookwork dreary or tedious, but Audric soaked in it like a warm bath. He read carefully, taking notes in his journal of anything that seemed even remotely helpful; dates, names, times. But nothing seemed to point him in a certain direction. He’d begun to make note of the Ancestor Moths, but when he realized there was no way he could achieve that kind of ability in time to defeat Alduin, he scrapped it.

Then, there were the Ruminations of Septimus Signus. Audric must have been frowning pretty hard, because Enthir tried to shake him from his work.

“Are you alright? You’ve been at this a while, maybe we should get something to eat —”

“No, no it’s not — it’s this, it’s like…” he struggled to put his concepts to words, “it’s like poetry.”

Enthir chuckled. “What do you know about poetry?”

“Not much,” Audric admitted, “but I like reading it. Anyway, this is about as close as I’ve come to anything helpful. I need to speak with this Septimus fellow.”

Enthir’s face fell, and he looked upon Audric with genuine sadness. “Why don’t you talk to Urag about that.”

I apologize yet again for the slow update. Real life keeps running me ragged, but when I have the time, this fic continues to prove itself a happy place of escape. I hope all of you are well!

Tags: relationship: slash, race: Nord, race: Breton, char: Ulfric Stormcloak, series: audric

A!A, you have no idea how much seeing this made my day :) Love Audric as always

Thirded! Thirded! TAT this sounds amaze.

(im such trash i couldnt figure out how to anon so i deleted my comment and am trying again im so sorry)

i love you i love this fic i read the entire thing in one sitting and adored every line more than the one before it; you're an extremely talented writer, and both the depth of the plot and your flawless characterization make this an absolute joy to read. i can't wait for your next update! (:

Vilkas was sat on his bed. He wanted his feet to move but it was like he was frozen. A faint sound reached his ears and he stared at the floor while he attempted to bring it into focus.

It was a beautiful sound that Vilkas could only just pick up on. His heart was racing as the faint laughter once again reached his ears.

He wanted to get up and look down the hall but he couldn’t. The sound was getting away from him; he knew it would be gone soon. He just wanted to hear it up close one more time.

Vilkas’ feet moved and he pulled open his door and moved to the main hallway.

At the other end of it, Vilkas could see them. His brother was standing there with a big smile on his face and in front of him was a short woman with a mess of ebony hair. Farkas laughed with her and she adjusted the bow on her back before heading upstairs.

Vilkas let out a steady breath and suddenly wanted to run. He tried, he swears he tried but the harder he tried the slower he actually ran. He wanted to scream in frustration but just kept moving towards the doors she had gone through.

When he finally reached them he paused at the bottom of the steps and her laugh met his ears once more. Vilkas peaked up them but once again her back was to him. He just wanted to see her face, her smile.

She said goodbye to the people around the table and taking a bottle of mead from the table she went outside. Vilkas tried to call out to her but he couldn’t find his voice.

He climbed the steps, which seemed to take him an eternity, and then headed straight out the doors.

Cold hit him hard and fast. It was snowing, hard.

He shuffled his way through the courtyard fighting the blizzard. He felt his way across the training yard and towards the Underforge.

Once he got there the hidden entrance was already open and he slipped into the safety of it. The walls were thick with ice and the floor heavy with snow. He ran his hands along the walls until the narrow passage opened.

Ariella lay on the ground, eyes dead and staring at him. A gaping wound in her side and teeth marks littered her body. Vilkas stared at her cold dead eyes and felt something rising in him.

Vilkas bolted upright in bed, a cold sweat running over his body. He groaned and shook his head, reaching for the bottle of mead that would be beside his bedside. It was still far too early to be awake but he didn’t think he would be sleeping anytime soon.

This was everything I wanted and more.

My dearest Anon, please don't feel bad, I assure you it happens to us all. It definitely happens to me!

Thank you for your generous words, you've brought this anon great joy.

My next update will be awhile because I'm consumed with a new job, but I'm toiling on it as often as possible.

~Therion!Anon

Yay, internets!!!
Maybe both indeed ^_^
I'll try to update as I'm able, my new job is going to slow me down for awhile.
~Therion!Anon

owwhh!! That is so sad!

When I started reading this story, I did not think that the relationship between the two would be finished so !! I had hoped that Ariella would have found the cure for Kodlak and her brothers shield! Now there is bitterness! Very nice! Very sad!

Thisisnttheendrightiwillliterallydiecryingifthisistheend
Pleasepleasepleasedontlethebeactuallydeadplease
Iloveyourwritingandiloveariellaandvilkasandidontwantthistobeover

Oh anon, I bet your bunk is absolutely broken to pieces now.. ~ Not the A!A

Is that really the end? I can't believe it ended so sadly. Any chance you'll continue it with a happy ending? I notice he only found Ariellas bloodied robes not an identifiable body, does that mean shes still alive? Surely, the Dragonborn couldnt be felled by a troll? Still, it's a good story.

Is that really the end? I can't believe it ended so sadly. Any chance you'll continue it with a happy ending? I notice he only found Ariellas bloodied robes not an identifiable body, does that mean shes still alive? Surely, the Dragonborn couldnt be felled by a troll? Still, it's a good story

is this the end?

There is still more to go! (Vilkas hasn't redeemed himself yet)
I've just been really swamped with work and university but I'll be able to update in the next day or so.
There should be a fair bit (to reward you all for your patience)

Life returned to normal as it always did after the mourning period was over. Vilkas worked, taking whatever jobs he could find. Ria insisted upon joining him at the beginning but after he turned her away over and over she eventually stopped asking.

Days and nights spent at Jorrvaskr were spent either training or with drink. No one said anything about it because it was the same as it had been before.

The mead hall eventually came back to life. Stories were passed between members and joy echoed through the walls once again. New members knew nothing of the hardships the Companions had faced in the past year. They heard the stories but they didn’t know.

They had gained four new recruits, four that stayed at least. A Nord named Erik from Rorikstead; the boy was young and had pure intentions but was still in desperate need of training. There was a Bosmer called Gwen, she was skilled even if her curiosity with poisons unsettled some of the Nords. The last two new members called themselves brothers, though it was obvious they weren’t brothers by blood. They were had arrived from Cyrodiil; Adrian, a high elf with an affinity for greatswords and Dulok, an Orc who spoke simply yet his strength with a warhammer was unmatched.

The new whelps settled in as fast as warriors lived their lives, quickly. They picked up on who was in charge, who was the best to get jobs from and who was best to avoid and on which days.

The whelps loved Farkas and Athis. They knew to avoid Aela when the paper work was piling or if she had been at Jorrvaskr for an extended period of time. Not a single one of them approached Vilkas for jobs.

Life had its up and down as time went on. People entered and left their lives. Over a year went past, nothing was the same but nothing changed in those days.

There were some surprised along the way and for Vilkas most days blended into one; not much excitement happened in his life. Transformations for him became a weekly occurrence, at times even more frequent.

It was around that time that Farkas began to worry.

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