Mjoll prepared him, as did all Nords, washing and dressing Aerin in his best clothes, arranging his most prized possessions around him on a long table in their home. Normally, there would then be feasting and mourning for at least a night and day whilst he lay in state, but we had no time to let him rest so, lest he arise undead. Thus, the four of us took Aerin to the funeral pyre outside of town. Mjoll placed what were likely all of his belongings – perhaps some of hers, as well, even aside from Grimsever, her greatsword that I had recovered – and, tears running freely, yet with no sound and perfect poise, she poked a torch here and there into the piled logs. Each of us at a corner of the pyre held one aloft, in salute; stepped back as the flames intensified.
“You can go now,” the big woman murmured.
Feeling that it was more of a command than a release, we did so.
Next morning, still in full, gory armour, face now lined with streaked, dried blood, Mjoll approached our table in the Bee and Barb tavern, stopped before me, helm under one arm, kitbag strapped over the other shoulder; she looked as though she had been awake all night – likely had, in vigil. “I would go with you.”
“Whence?” I suspected I knew the answer.
“These vampires must be wiped out!” She said it as though she were spitting poison.
Thus did I travel for a short time with three companions: Aela, Vilja, and Mjoll. We informed the Lioness what Aela and I were, yet it did not appear to faze her, and she lived up to her name – though perhaps we should have renamed her ‘Mjoll the Dragon’, such was her fury. She wielded the new two-handed blade I gave her, an ebony Sword of Terror (probably much better than Grimsever, though I would not have suggested so) as if every foe we met were a vampire. I almost felt sorry for any undead we would meet, but we happened upon none, all the way to Fort Dawnguard.
We encamped for the night beside the small lake just inside Dayspring Canyon; we would be at the fortress early the next day. As I have elsewhere mentioned, Aela and I shared a tent, whilst Vilja had her own, shared with Mjoll for the nonce (and I did not know how I felt about that). My blonde Nord companion had long since ceased her offers to cook or do anything for us. In fact, she had had little to say at all since the naked hot spring dragon-fight. I think she knew what was going on in my lust-filled mind, and I should have sensed her discomfort – yet it was much more than that, as it turned out.
“We have to talk.” Vilja came upon us suddenly as I was helping Aela doff her armour just outside our tent – which, as I have related, we maintained a distance away for… decorum. Despite her tone, I would have known something was awry, as she normally said, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to jest talk a little, you and I?’ or some-such, when she wanted to ask or tell me something. Usually, it was not of major consequence.
“What is it?” I was terser than I meant to be; I saw the flash of hurt in her sad, blue eyes as I glanced up.
“I… I can’t do this… anym-more.” Her Nord-accented voice shook.
“Do what?” I foolishly asked.
“I… w-want to go home.”
We had completed Vilja’s quests, save for finding a relative of an acquaintance of hers, in order to remove a curse under which this acquaintance suffered. Thus, my next mistake. “We will stop at Breezehome on the way to Solitude – I needs must report for new orders at Castle Dour.”
“N-No. Shrelle, p-please, look at me.”
I did so, even though Aela was naked below the waist but for smallclothes, and I felt my nipples twitch, slit moisten, all yearn for attention.
I did not need more than another glance to see those bright eyes shiny with tears, Vilja’s pretty face twisted as had been Mjoll’s the other day – perhaps more so.
“No. I w want to go home… to S-Solstheim.”
Something clutched at my guts. Though distracted by Aela’s flesh as I slowly revealed it, I stopped, turned my full attention toward my other companion. “What? Why? I mean… We are not finished yet.”
“I c-can’t do this,” Vilja repeated. Tears dripped steadily onto the exaggerated bosom of her golden elvish armour.
“What? You do not wish to hunt vampires?” I insisted upon obtuseness. “Very well—”
“Y-You… her,” Vilja went on miserably. “Every n night, what y-you are doing… Eating p people – even if you d don’t… k kills them. And then… And then w what you do h here – in there,” she added, indicating our tent with a shaky hand. She appeared as though she might collapse.
I should have gone to her, but Aela was literally holding on to my arm – for support, as she had her brigandine half-way over her head, arms outstretched through it; she was blind and off balance.
“Get this off me,” came the muffled demand from the Huntress. “Then we can discuss it.”
“No.” Vilja’s tone hardened as I did Aela’s bidding. “N No discussing. I’m going home. I will get a carriage or j jest ride Bruse to W Windhelm for the next ship. I… c can’t stay with you any… m more.”
“I… uhh… But I need you,” I tried lamely.
“Oh? For w wot, may I ask?”
“Uhhh… You are a good companion. I like your cooking.” That was incredibly stupid; I had not eaten her cooking since…
Through her pain, she looked at me as though my skin were still green from that experiment that had gone awry at the Mage’s College in Winterhold a while back.
“You are a good fighter,” I offered instead. At least it was the truth; she asked about her abilities often enow.
“So is M Mjoll and… Aela. And any n number of others who would f follow you if you asked.”
“I need your healing skills.”
“You can get that p priestess of Azura, Areana or w whatever-her-name-is. Or Collette from the C College.”
I did not think that Collette would join me, but that mattered not. “The children love you,” I essayed instead.
“What about you?”
There it was, then. “I… uhhh…”
“That’s wot I thought.” She turned and fled.
Later, through her tent flap, tied shut from the inside, I entreated, “Vilja, I am sorry. I will go with you. I have to investigate those cult assassins—“
“No… p-please.” I can’t be w with you anymore.”
“Vilja, I…”
“L-Leave, please. Please… jest l leave.”
XVI Woe Betide
She left me before Aela and I returned from our hunt. Night found Mjoll sitting nigh the fire as, feeling reasonably clean and satisfied, we ambled back into camp; though we had not found any miscreants to feed on, just game, the flames of lust mounted after our moonlight, cleansing swim, during which we fornicated as much as the cold allowed. We looked forward to some relative warmth and comfort.
Vilja’s tent was gone.
Mjoll looked up from stirring the cooking pot, held on andirons over the fire. “I had to move in with you.” Her tone was tense, clipped diction more pronounced than usual. “It will be a little cramped until we can get another tent.”
I was suddenly afraid, and felt… something else I could not identify.
“What!?” I spat at the Lioness, my fear turning to anger. “You let her leave all alone?”
She must have seen the beast upon me as I approached; she rose, reached for her greatsword.
“Hold!” Aela interjected, physically getting between us.
“She insisted,” protested Mjoll. “Who am I to stop her? Besides, my pledge is to you – I cannot abandon you just like that.” Did I detect an accusing note?
“Vilja can take care of herself,” Aela reasoned. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
Indeed, I had overheard banter between them – and between Lydia and Vilja, for that matter – on that very subject; and I needs must agree. Still, it did not feel right. I was torn, though my ire cooled.
“Vilja owes me nothing.” I felt confused at my own defence of her decision to leave me. “But, Mjoll, please, I cannot let her go alone. I know you want to kill vampires, but…”
“I will go after her,” offered Aela. “And I will go with her as far as she lets me.”
I did not know how to feel about that, either. “I…” I bit my inner lip so hard I tasted blood; suddenly inflamed by it, I wanted to hunt again – or fuck.
It made more sense for Mjoll – or all of us – to go after Vilja, but I knew the Lioness would not wait; she would go on to Fort Dawnguard without me. I should therefore let her, and, with or without Aela, catch up with Vilja myself, persuade her to come back. Yet, I sensed the restlessness in the svelte Huntress; I knew she needed to… do something else, whether that be pray to the shrines of Hircine in the Underforge (very disappointingly, they had turned out to bestow no additional benefit, now that all three were together), or something else. Withal, I was more concerned with the thought of the two of them together, albeit I was not anxious – never mind jealous – that Aela might fuck Vilja; I was, disturbingly, more afraid that she was liable to eat her for real than simply eat her cunt. Yet, that was ridiculous, was it not? Aela had learned to control her hungers long ere I had.
At the same time, I yearned to see Mjoll naked, even if I could not ‘have congress’ with her. (I do not know why I persisted in trying to get myself into such untenable situations.)
“All right. Thank you, Aela.”
I helped her pack. We shared no words, aside from a cryptic comment Aela made: “Don’t let them intimidate you, sister. We both know how to keep our heads, while the men let their hearts rule.” Was it some kind of warning? Advice?
Mounting her horse, she admonished, “Don’t worry, sister.” She displayed that wolfish grin – which did nothing to assuage my fears. “I’ll take care of her.”
That is what I am afraid of.
“You two take care of each other now. Perhaps we can hunt together again, sister.” The Huntress rode away up the cobbled road at a canter.
I felt another sense of loss.
Not much later, I saw the Lioness in full splendour. She undressed completely before crawling into her sleeping fur in the tent we both now occupied, and I got an eyeful – or two. I myself was a large girl, but, though not a featherweight of fat lay on her, she was bigger: full, high breasts with big brown areolae and nipples lying flat (for the nonce); surprisingly narrow shoulders and hips; well-muscled limbs. She topped my height by almost a hand; head crowned with shoulder-length hair the colour of wheat, held back in several braids, which she shook loose for the night. I barely got a glimpse of the tantalising thatch at her crotch.
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