Vulnerability

Originally posted on the Skyrim KinkMeme. Cleaned up and edited for publication on both here and A03.

The old walls of Jorrvaskr are thick, sturdy things held together with more than just the bricks and mortar that hold up the hull of the old ship. They've guarded the Companions of Ysgramor for untold generations; there's safety and a sense of security there for those who call its storied halls home. Quite a number of secrets, from small to large, have been kept in its long history, but none have been so closely guarded as the enormous, unwavering, never-ending crush Ria had on Vilkas.

Ria knew her limitations; she's no seductive beauty like Aela, and she doesn't have the temperament to strong arm anyone into bending to her will like Njada. She's a simple Imperial girl, mixing it up with a bunch of burly Nords (and a lone Dunmer). The Companions are her family. Stories of the Companions, of their honor and nobility, have touched her heart since she was a child, and now that she was part of that distinguished group, she refused to sully it with stupid, childish romances that inevitably soured into awkward tension. So she quietly nursed her infatuation in private while hoping no one noticed.

She tried to stop, once or twice; it would have been easier if she had fancied anyone else. Though Vilkas is intimidating, even when he often doesn't mean to be, Ria knows he's really extraordinarily kind underneath his gruff exterior. It was Vilkas who had vouched for her honor during her proving quest, and it was Vilkas who had taken her under his wing when she expressed an interest in learning the long sword. He began inviting her along on his frequent hunting trips for the opportunity to tutor her on her fighting skills. Though Ria had been no unskilled young blood, she had grown under his strict tutelage. His mentorship had paid off; it wasn't long before Ria was able to handle any assignment given to her by the Circle easily, and oftentimes more efficiently, than some of the more seasoned warriors.

In those early days, Ria had allowed herself to hope; she'd read meaning into everything that Vilkas did or said. There had been plenty of instances when they had hiked far into the plains of the Hold and they wouldn't be able to return to the city before daylight. They'd camped often, and the long conversations they'd have over the fire had said more to her than mere words could ever convey.

But then Kodlak died, and everything changed. Any free time Vilkas had was no longer spent in her company, but rather in cozy, private conversation with the new Harbinger. Months passed without him asking her to join him on one of his trips, and recently when he left the Hall, it's with the Harbinger at his side. They were gone for weeks; when they returned, Vilkas looked refreshed, reborn, and like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If there had ever been anything between Ria and Vilkas, it was obviously gone now.

Though it is a poor consolation, she is thankful she can heal her wounded heart with the same secrecy she had nursed her crush. Being allowed that much dignity enabled her to keep her head high and pretend the meager friendship she still has with him is enough. In fact, as time marches on, when the sun is warm and her purse is full of septims from a job well done, she can almost believe it.
It's exactly one of those days as Ria finds herself sitting between Torvar and Athis at one of the tables in the big stone porch that faces the courtyard. All of the Companions are here; drinking, laughing, and placing bets. Two weeks ago the Harbinger had returned from one of their many trips, bringing with them their usual tales of honor and glory…along with a new wrestling move they picked up from a temporary traveling companion. Farkas in particular had been fascinated with this new move, and once he had mastered the basics he had challenged Vilkas.

Some things never change, and sibling rivalry is one of them. Vilkas had accepted this challenge with a grin and a taunt, and the match had been greatly anticipated. The excitement had pulled old Tilma from her cleaning rags, and had even managed to pry Eorland away from his precious forge to observe.

It's a good old fashioned bare knuckled fight, so there's no need for weapons or armor. Farkas came out of Jorrvaskr wearing a pair of trousers and nothing else; Vilkas was more conservative with the addition of a simple homespun shirt.

Farkas swaggered immediately into the courtyard, but Vilkas took the time to pause near Ria, stretching out his arms as he watched his twin throw a few punches in the air to warm up.

"Where's the betting headed?" he muttered just low enough for only her to hear him.

"It favors Farkas," she chuckled at the indignant look that crosses over Vilkas' face. She patted his back consolingly. "I bet on you," she told him in an overly placating tone.

Vilkas barked out a laugh. "He may be bigger, but I'm faster. With such a vote of confidence, how could I lose?" He walked away, still smiling as he went to meet his brother out on the courtyard.

As the Harbinger had been the one who indirectly started this latest competition, it had been decided that it would be the Harbinger's signal that would start the fight. From their place on the porch next to Aela, they raised their hand high into the air. When everyone quieted, and the twins readied their stances, that hand dropped. The brawl began.

The men circled each other, holding their fists close to their center as they grinned and eyed their opponent. Farkas feinted a left, and then threw a right, leaving Vilkas little time to bring his own arm to deflect the blow. The crowd on the porch broke out in to raucous cheering. Next to Ria, Torvar jeered.

"That strength of Ysgramor ain't gonna do you a damn bit of good if you can't hit him, sludge for brains!"

Athis reached around to swat at the Nord, and Ria decided to vacate her seat before the two started their own fight. Across from her Aela and the Harbinger laughed as they slid apart to make room for Ria between the two of them.

"A tactical retreat," Aela approved as Ria sat down.

"She could take them both," the Harbinger murmured while keeping their eyes on the brothers. "Ria, at least, takes her training seriously."

It's true that Ria resents the relationship between the Harbinger and Vilkas, but she's tried hard not to turn that resentment directly onto the Harbinger. Since approaching Kodlak with the request to join, their conduct has been above reproach. They've been an epitome of the Nord version of honor. They are stingy with their praise; it's so rare that when it comes everyone knows that it is well-deserved. Ria flushed with unexpected pleasure, thinking that if she's reached the point where she can sincerely accept a compliment from the person who has captured Vilkas' interest, maybe she can finally move past this pointless infatuation.

Out in the courtyard, Farkas hollers as Vilkas escapes from a headlock, and manages to throw his bigger sibling on the ground at the same time. Any pretense of finesse is gone from the two fighters and their sparring match has degraded into the simple brawl like everyone knew it would. Both men are bruised, and their knuckles are bloody, but they're grinning like fools. The atmosphere is jovial and light-hearted; it feels almost like it did when Skjor and Kodlak were still alive.

The fight ends, and Vilkas reaches out a hand to help Farkas off of the ground. Farkas swats the proffered hand out of his way with a good natured grumble, so Vilkas laughs and takes off his shirt to mop the sweat off of his face.

Vilkas' chest is…magnificent. It's thick with heavy muscle that comes with the years of heavy training and fighting that Vilkas has done. His abs are well defined, and there's a line by his hips that point to his groin that makes Ria forget how to breathe for a second or two. She feels like she has just run head first into a wall of pure lust; she wants Vilkas in a primal, visceral way that takes her completely off her guard. She's never seen Vilkas in any state of undress, and while she's *imagined* it, often alone in her bunk, trying desperately to keep her moans of pleasure to herself, her imagination is sorely lacking when stacked against the wonder that is reality. There's a sound of breaking glass, and it seems like every head is turned to look at her, Ria belatedly realizes the bottle she had just picked up to drink from has slipped from her suddenly boneless fingers to shatter upon impact with the floor.

The blood rushes to her face, a deep red agony accompanied by the sudden overwhelming urge to become a hermit. In that instant she knows, bone-deep with perfect clarity, that everyone on that porch is aware of the secret writ large upon her face. It's all she can do to mutter a barely audible excuse to go get Tilma, who had been sitting across the way and is already reaching for a broom to clean up the mess, before she bolts for the doors that have thus far provided her with sanctuary and comfort.

Idle chatter and good natured ribbing resume almost immediately; Ria's momentary lapse into a stuttering idiot is barely noticed, much less commented on. For all that the rest of them know she's just had too much to drink; Shor knows that's usually the cause when someone's ale gets spilled on the floor. Later, when Ria has calmed down enough to think like the mature, rational adult she is, she'll recognize that it's not the big revelation she'd feared it would be. She'll put her mask back on, pretend that nothing is wrong and everything is as it should be.

What Ria doesn't know is that Vilkas noticed her abrupt departure, and the look he shoots toward Aela and the Harbinger is equal parts question and concern. Aela smirks as she brings a bottle of mead to her lips, and the Harbinger contents themselves with raising a pointed eyebrow in Vilkas' direction. Somehow, this wordless dialog conveys to Vilkas exactly what he wants to hear and a slow, satisfied smile that has nothing to do with the fight he's just won spreads across his lips.

Ria doesn't know it yet, but she's just become prey.