The Wolf and the Dragon

Brooding

        The Next Morning

        The pale light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the window, casting its light over the figure laying in the bed. The man grumbled tiredly under the furs as the sunlight drifted across his face, momentarily blinding him. Vilkas slowly sat up in bed as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, groaning.  His head pounded in time with his heart as his stomach churned like the ocean's waves. In short, he had one hell of a hangover.

        Vilkas rubbed his aching eyes as he tried to will the pounding feeling away. His efforts were in vain as the headache and nausea persisted. He had thought that maybe sleeping it off would have cured him, but ever since he had taken the blood sleep had lost its allure to him. Maybe fresh air would help take the edge off.

        He gingerly threw the furs off of him and climbed out of bed, regretting it immediately. The minute his foot met the ground, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, so strong that he almost fell over. Vilkas waited for the room to stop spinning before he took his next step. The dizziness had dimmed to almost nonexistant by the time he reached his door. Carefully, he opened the door and left his room.

        The halls of Jorrvaskr were empty, everyone was still in their rooms trying to sleep off their wicked hangovers. The blissful silence was only punctuated with loud snores coming from the room across from Vilkas. The door was cracked open, allowing Vilkas to see his slightly older twin passed out. The bigger Nord was curled up in the fetal position (but still managed to take up nearly all the room on his bed)  with his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow as he snored loud enough to wake Ysgramor from his tomb. The sight was comical and Vilkas had to bite his lower lip to keep from chuckling as he made his way down the hall.

        He had almost made it to the doors that would lead him to the main hall when something inside him told him to turn around. Vilkas was standing in front of the large room that served as a bedroom for the whelps, and a couple Companions. And the sight before him made him pause.

        The young woman lay on her back with her hands just above her head and her hair fanned out across the pillow like a golden halo. As if they had a mind of their own, Vilkas' feet moved him silently until he was standing just beside her bed to gaze at her sleeping face. Her eyes were closed, showing Vilkas her creamy eyelids and the long lashes that lightly brushed against her cheeks. Full, rose colored lips were parted slightly, allowing small, even puffs of air to escape . She looked so peaceful and innocent as she dreamed, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

        A deep longing filled Vilkas as he watched the young woman sleep. Rhiannon didn't have to worry about the wolf dreams that haunted Vilkas every time he closed his eyes, she could dream "normal" dreams. Without realizing it, his hand stretched out toward the sleeping goddess, fingertips lightly skimming against her cheekbone. The skin was incredibly soft, a soft blush tinging the pale skin. Vilkas could have stayed there forever, drinking in the beauty before him as though he were drinking a tankard of mead.

At his touch, the young woman stirred slightly in her slumber, shocking Vilkas out of his thoughts. Her eyes opened slightly, revealing glazed cerulean orbs that froze Vilkas where he stood. He held his breath, hoping that Rhiannon wasn't really awake. Groggily, Rhiannon stared up at the man, still in a state of unconsciousness. Neither of them moved as Rhiannon's tired eyes tried to comprehend what was happening. After a minute or two, the heavy eyes drooped closed and her breathing grew steady once more. 

  Slowly, quietly, Vilkas crept out of the bedrooms, leaving the woman to her dreams. He silently climbed the steps, taking extreme caution to avoid the creaks in the stairs. Opening the heavy doors of Jorrvaskr, Vilkas , made his way to the training dummies that were lined up in front of the stone wall. Unsheathing the great sword strapped to his back, Vilkas gave it a few practice swings, admiring the glittering steel as it effortlessly cut through the air with a musical hiss.  Stepping closer to the straw dummies, Vilkas raised the sword up above his head, and took a mighty swing at the target, letting the rhythmic thuds of the sword fill the air like music.

Slowly, Vilkas' mind cleared of Rhiannon as he let the music of fighting take over his body.