Victory or Sovngarde

Chapter Thirty-One

Vilkas

"Any sign of them?" I asked Eirik as I came down from the Underforge and into the broken watchtower. We had been expecting Ylva's rescue party back for the past two days, but so far, they had not shown. I was beginning to fear the worst.

Eirik shook his head, just as anxious as I was, although for different reasons. These people were his friends, his family, once upon a time, and he was worried for their safety. "No, but if Ylva was hurt by the Thalmor—which she probably was—they may be taking their time to get back. She probably can't ride hard and fast in her condition."

I clenched my teeth and nodded. He was right. Ylva was more than likely a victim of the Thalmor's torture, and as such, would not be able to handle a hard horseback ride.

We waited. And waited. And waited. I paced back and forth, chewing my lip raw, as Eirik remained planted at the watchtower's entrance, eyes plastered to the horizon. Perhaps it was not that much time, but it felt like an eternity. I just wanted to see my wife again, to hold her and make sure she was all right. Was that too much to ask?

Then, at the sound of hooves clip-clopping over the ground, I raced to the tower's entrance to investigate. Three black horses trotted up the grassy hill towards the watchtower, carrying four figures cloaked in black. The horse in the middle, the one with two people on its back, rode ahead, and the person in front lowered their—her—hood.

Ylva.

There she was, in all of her beauty. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes shadowed by purple circles, her hair wild, but she was alive. That was all that mattered to me.

"Vilkas!" she cried as I raced towards her. She threw off the furs bundled around her shoulders and slid off the saddle, straight into my arms. I held her, buried my face in her hair, and took in her scent. Gods, how I missed her scent. The intoxicating aroma of fir trees and mountain flowers. It was her. She was here, with me. She held me as I held her.

"Oh, my love..." she breathed against my neck.

"Dear one," I said as I pulled back to look at her face. Tears sparkled in her bright eyes. It was then that I noticed the streak of snow-white hair falling from its place behind her ear. I curled it around my finger and shook my head. "What have they done to you?"

She said nothing, choosing instead to bury her face in my chest.

Then, still holding her to me, I reached into my satchel and grabbed the three coin purses that contained the rest of the thieves' payment for the job. It was not easy to get the extra five-hundred septims that they wanted, but I managed. It was worth it. "The rest of your payment, as promised," I said as I handed Brynjolf the gold.

Ylva looked up, eyes going wide at the amount of gold I passed to the thief. "Vilkas—"

"Hush, Ylva. It's all right."

The red-headed thief studied the coin purses, weighing them in his hands, before tossing them to Femke. She set them in her saddle bags, then retrieved a bulging satchel. She handed it to Brynjolf, and he handed it to me.

"The rest of her gear," explained Femke with a nod of her head. "Don't suppose you need us anymore."

I shook my head as I pulled the satchel onto my back. "Thank you for bringing her home."

The thieves shared a look, then each gave me a salute and turned their horses around. With a command from Femke, the trio trotted away.

For a moment, Etienne turned his head around, glanced at Eirik, then grinned. "See you around, friend."