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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Forfeit (part 3a)
Date: 2014-04-19 03:19 am (UTC)“Farkas, I’m sorry. I’ve never seen a poison like this. We know of nothing that can stop it. Even taking his leg won’t save him. All I can do is slow it down.”
“So there is nothing we can do?” Farkas was distraught. Vilkas could not, should not, die like this. Songs were not sung about warriors who turned to putrid mush in their beds.
“There is only one person who might be able to help, and even that may just be a rumour. You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me,” he pleaded. “I need to know.”
“Janshir.”
Farkas felt his heart stop. Janshir, Dunmer dragonborn. Janshir, former Harbinger of the Companions. Janshir, who had defeated Alduin in Sovngarde. Janshir, who had turned to the Dark Brotherhood. Janshir, who had assassinated the emperor. Janshir, former lover of Farkas, and the man who had broken his heart.
“Janshir. Crap.”
“I have heard that he was the best alchemist the College has ever seen. If this is true, he might be able to help.”
“Vilkas would not thank me for asking him.”
“Vilkas is in no condition to argue.”
“Does anyone even know how to find him?”
“Lydia might, or maybe the seer, Olava.”
“Lydia hasn’t heard from him since the day he left me. None of his housecarls have. It’s been more than two years.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll try Olava.”
Olava as usual was not hard to find, wandering as she did in the neighbourhood around Breezehome and the Whiterun gates. Unfortunately, no matter what inducements Farkas tried, Olava claimed no knowledge of Janshir’s whereabouts.
“I’m sorry, young man, but no-one knows where he is. All I can see is that their sanctuary near Falkreath was destroyed, and they moved on. They may not even be in Skyrim any more. It’s funny dear,” she muttered, sounding increasingly doddery, “he would be easier to contact if you wanted someone killed. But that’s just silly, isn’t it.”
A Black Sacrament? Did he dare? One trip out to the nearest bandit camp would get him most of what he needed. Surely if he realised that Farkas had performed the sacrament, Janshir would come in person? Thanking Olava, he left to consult with his conscience.
Consulting his conscience took all of five minutes, and the time it took to collect the necessary items, once he realised that he was willing to do almost anything to save his twin. He chose Breezehome to do the deed, as he still had a key, and Lydia had long ago returned to Dragonsreach to live. He reasoned that it would be highly hypocritical of Janshir to get offended. Exhausted, and feeling somewhat sullied, he lay down on the bed to wait.
Several hours later he awoke to pitch darkness, and the certain knowledge that he was not alone. Fumbling in the dark, he managed to light the lamp next to the bed. The person sitting in the chair by the door stirred, and waited for him to speak.
“Janshir? Are you Janshir?”
Janshir leaned forward, out of the shadows, fixing Farkas with a familiar ruby-eyed stare. “Why have you done this, Kas?”
Farkas flinched at the use of the old diminutive. “Don’t call me that. You have no right.”
“All right, Farkas. I know you. If you wanted someone dead, you’d do it yourself. Why did you call me here?”
“Vilkas is sick. Poisoned. I was hoping you could help him.”