Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Twenty-Four

Vilkas

There were many challenges to Ylva's constant traveling. The rest of the Companions had to pick up the slack while she was gone. I had to become more than just the children's father. The strain of her absence never failed to weigh on everyone. Worst of all, though, were the questions that the children asked. Their... incessant, repetitive questions.

If this war doesn't end soon, my children will drive me insane.

I loved my children, but there was only so much a man can take. There were only so many questions he could listen to before he snapped.

"Papa, when's Mama coming back?" asked Embla as I led her and her brother through the market by the hand. "I miss her already."

"Little one, she's only been gone a few hours," I said, shaking my head. "Now hush."

"But I really do miss her. Why can't she stay with us?"

"Because she's busy right now."

"She's always busy," said Jergen, lower lip jutting out. "When's she coming back?"

I forced myself to take a deep breath and count to ten. It would not do me any good to yell at the children. It would not be fair to them. Patience is a virtue, I told myself. "I don't know, little ones. She will come back when she can. Probably tomorrow sometime. She won't be gone as long this time, all right? Now will you please stop pestering me with these questions? You're giving your papa gray hair."

Their eyes widened. "Really, Papa?"

"It's just an expression. But please, enough questions."

We walked around Jorrvaskr to the training yard, where the children broke away from me and ran to the wooden weapons rack. They retrieved their wooden swords, Jergen pulling the long stave out of its place, too. "Papa, spar with us!" he said as he struggled to lug the heavy wooden stick to me. "Please!"

I smiled, taking the stave from him. It had been quite some time since Ylva and I had sparred with the children. If I was honest with myself, I had missed the mock fights. Training my children, albeit challenging, kept me on my toes, and it would all be worth it if they became strong warriors someday.

I had no doubt they would grow up to be warriors. It was in their blood.

Standing between them, I raised my stave in a defensive position, swiveling my head to watch as the children circled me. I may have been three times their size, but I had a sinking feeling in my gut that I would be hard-pressed in this fight. They were, after all, twins who did everything together.

It was Embla who struck first, lunging towards my left side. I parried her swing, then jumped backwards to avoid a slash to the knees from Jergen. He laughed as his sister attacked me from behind. Her sword connected with the back of my knees, nearly bringing me down. I managed to keep my feet, despite the pain, and backpedaled away from them.

Gods, this is going to be harder than I thought.

The training yard filled with their giggles as they watched me dance around them like a court jester. I parried and blocked as many of their swings as I could, but there were two of them, and one was always just out of my line of sight. They knew how to disorient and overwhelm.

The one advantage I had in the fight was my stamina. I had been sparring my entire life, and I had built up my endurance through constant training. The children were young, inexperienced, and tended to tire quickly. They had no way of knowing that a smart warrior reserved a portion of his strength at the beginning of any match. They were expending all their energy at once.