Comment!Fic Page 1 - "Oh, a little bit of this...a little bit of that."

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Welcome to the new Comment!Fic Thread. Some of you may know what this is, and others may not - comment!fics are small one - two comment (the LJ word limit for comments) fills based off of one word or one sentence prompts. All ES games are welcome here, as well as the DLC's. Please don't disclose spoilers for Skyrim's DLCs in your prompt, and if you have them in your fill please place warnings.

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FILL: Vilkas/F!DB: "Lovers' Knot" 6/?

[(Anonymous)]

Vilkas gets a nudge at his calf, and he turns to see Farkas, eying him and Miri. "I can take over," he says, crouching at the washing-tub, and Miri smiles and hands him the drying rag. "All yours," she says, "Vilkas, I'm going to go get my pack together, and then I'll be ready to go. I'll meet you out front of the gate in half an hour or so?"

"Alright," he agrees. He can feel Farkas's eyes on him as he watches her go, and he turns to him after the hall door closes behind her. "What?" he says.

"Only you're allowed to tease her?" Farkas says, face sliding into a grin. "And here I was thinking you were destined to be mortal enemies."

Gods damn it. For someone who barely picks up a book, Farkas is way too perceptive for his own good. "There's a line between teasing her and making fun of her," he says, bristling. "And we had a talk last night. She's a good girl."

"Mhm," Farkas says calmly. "So you're accompanying her to clear out a bandit cave on your rest day."

"Well, someone needs to watch her back," Vilkas snaps. "I'm not leaving the newly-trained recruit alone with a bunch of men and women twice her size."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Farkas says. He knows full well that neither of them sleeps after the transformation.

Vilkas throws his soapy rag at his brother and stomps inside, cheeks hot. He has packing of his own to do.

…

The walk to the camp feels impossibly short, despite the fact that it's considerably far away from Whiterun, and Vilkas is used to sprinting in his shifted form.

Maybe it's because he's not used to to traveling with any of his shield-siblings anymore, but it's nice to have someone to talk to on the trip west. Or rather, listen to--Miri keeps up a stream of nervous chatter where Vilkas can hardly get a word in edgewise.

She’s done enough for the Jarl that he wants to make her one of his Thanes, apparently. Vilkas thinks it’s a political move to make the Dragonborn loyal to his city more than any real kindness, but he can't bring himself to interrupt her while she talks about her big plans to buy the long-abandoned Breezehome, next to Adrianne’s, and bring it up to modern standards. “Not that living in Jorrvaskr with everyone hasn't been wonderful,” she adds hurriedly, like he might take offense. “But it would be nice to have a place all my own to come back to. A safe place, inside a nice city, with lots of other children running around…” She gets a misty look in her eye. “Be able to settle down, after the fighting’s all over. It'll probably be quite a while before that happens, though.”

“No shame in investing in the future,” Vilkas says, after a pause to jump over a rocky cliff. “If that sort of thing keeps your spirits up.”

“Well, that’s what I think, too,” Miri says firmly, smiling at him, and she’s off to the races again, books she's read about people whose fortunes have dramatically changed after the Great War, for better and for worse.

Vilkas is utterly charmed, despite his best instincts. Dragonborn Miri Wins All To Cause With Positive Attitude, he imagines the courier pamphlets reading, and has to stifle a laugh as she talks very seriously about how she’d like to keep bees in her future garden.

Gods help him, she’s smart and funny, full of big plans and ideas. Vilkas has never seen the appeal of the dreamy, waifish things Torvar blithers on about, and he doesn't think Miri is quite that naive, but there's definitely a certain appeal to her honest exuberance, now that he’s looking for it.

Farkas wasn't wrong to like her, he thinks. They might even do well together, should he be interested. Maybe he’ll talk to his brother about it when they get back to Jorrvaskr, if she proves herself today.

With great reluctance, he hushes her as they draw closer to the bandit camp. “Oh, sorry, am I talking too much again,” she says, and Vilkas huffs a laugh, shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he murmurs. “We’re getting close now, just over that hill. I would draw your bow, were I you.”

“Oh!” she gasps, and then drops into a crouch. There's a loud clatter and raucous laughter from the camp, and her eyes go big and round.