My Random Skyrim Stories

A Simple Dragon Fight (Vilkas) 8

Vilkas felt so childish for getting himself flustered over something as simple as fetching Kirstrid's clean small clothes for her, but his heart raced as if he were a teenager again, getting his first glimpse at a woman's cleavage. He also felt stupid that he'd actually gone through her pack to find them instead of just handing her her pack, but he honestly didn't regret it either.

When she'd grumpily told him he could turn around he'd struggled not to stare even more, and he was sure there was no hiding how red his face must have been.

Seeing her in his shirt... by Ysmir, that was going to haunt his dreams now...

She seemed as flustered as he was when she asked him to help her get properly to her bedroll, and Vilkas did his best to simply focus on the practical aspects of things.

Kirstrid grumbled something about feeling lightheaded and just wanting sleep before handing him her half finished mead bottle. Vilkas took and drank the mead himself as he set about getting her bedroll set up for her. Then, as he helped her to the bedroll, he was very careful to not look down the front of his large shirt that she wore... even though it hung tantalizingly low in front as she leaned against him...

It was encouraging that she was able to stand and shakily walk the few steps, mostly on her own though.

He'd told her he wouldn't look, so he felt guilty for it, but he couldn't help but admire her for a moment as she was settling into her bedroll... one of her legs did have wicked looking lightning burns all the way from one hip down to her calf, and the other leg had old burn scars from her ankle up to her knee...

But Vilkas still thought she was a breathtaking beauty... especially the shape of her hips that he could still see once she'd pulled the top of the bedroll over herself...

"What?" She asked suddenly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow that very clearly told Vilkas he'd been caught staring.

"A..." Vilkas cleared his throat, "apologies," he said quickly, but then he realized she might have looked more self conscious than angry... "was just thinking how glad I am you're alive, Harbinger," he replied genuinely.

Kirstrid sighed, sounding a little more like her grumpy self, and relaxed more fully against her bedroll. She grumbled something under her breath that Vilkas only half heard... something like "might not be if," and "making my heart..." something...

Vilkas's brain wanted to imagine he'd heard, "I might not be if you keep making my heart jump like this," but that was surely at least half wishful thinking...

"What was that?" He asked... trying not to sound obviously hopeful.

"I might not be if you don't let me sleep," she grumbled much more clearly.

Vilkas cocked an eyebrow at her... that definitely was not what she'd said at first. "And now I won't get any sleep trying to make sure you don't die in your sleep," he grumbled in response.

Her lips quirked into a subtle smirk at that before her eyes fell shut. "At least," she murmured as she appeared to fall asleep, "I know I'm... in good hands..."

Vilkas was well aware that the Nords' innate healing magic tended to work best with rest, so Kirstrid's passing out from exhaustion could be a sign she was recovering... but on the other hand, passing out from blood loss would be a sign she was dying...

For several nerve wracking moments Vilkas watched to make sure she seemed to just be sleeping... that she was breathing easily... that there was no signs of blood in her lungs anymore...

Once Vilkas was convinced she was, in fact, simply sleeping, he got up and got a few more practical things done... like setting up a trip line across the entrance attached to some of the bandits' old rusty cook pans so he'd be woken quickly if anyone came intruding while he slept, and then changed out of his bloody clothes himself.

As he stripped, he imagined he could see Kirstrid's eyelids fluttering open, and got self-consciously back into a pair of pants as quickly as he could.

Then he got out his own clean bedroll and set it out beside Kirstrid's, a safe but warm distance from the fire. He checked again to make sure Kirstrid's bleeding actually had stopped before settling in beside her, sleeping at her back with her facing the fire.

As he tried to relax, Vilkas realized he couldn't handle going back to pretending his feelings were platonic... not after the fright of coming so close to losing her... not after actually getting her to blush like he had...

Usually when they camped and had to sleep close for warmth like this, they would sleep back to back... but Vilkas couldn't monitor that she was still breathing like that...

He rolled over and instead wrapped his arms around her like he'd wanted to for so long, letting her back rest softly against his chest. He made sure his arm nearest her wound was low across her waist where he wouldn't accidentally put pressure on her injury. She would probably kill him if she woke before he did in the morning, but being able to feel that she was still breathing was worth that risk. And then he'd have to admit it to her, he decided, he would tell her when she woke how he'd fallen in love with her... that he'd loved her ever since that last fight with the Silver Hand.

He dozed off with silent prayers to Mara running through his mind, praying he'd actually have the chance to tell Kirstrid what he needed to before she killed him.