Chapter Text
“Hey, wake up,” a gruff voice rumbled in her ears, jostling her.
A groan pulled from her throat as Avíon stretched aching muscles. Pain raced between her shoulders, and it felt like someone had knocked the wind from her lungs. She hurt all over. And as she blinked into the darkness, she couldn’t help but stare at the broad chest of the Nord who was currently cradling her in his arms.
“Avíon,” he began. “You alive?”
“Y-Yeah,” she replied, tensing at stinging that shot through her limbs. She tried to wriggle free, but to no avail. The arm around her shoulders tightened, preventing her movement.
“Hold still. You took a pretty nasty fall.”
‘So… that’s what happened.’ She vaguely recalled coming upon the abandoned campsite. Farkas had grumbled about her going through other people's’ things, but Avíon had simply dismissed it with a wave. She’d puttered around and poked through satchels before stumbling over her own feet and plummeting into darkness.
She’d completely overlooked the darkened pit just a few steps away.
“Farkas,” Avíon murmured, making another attempt to free herself. Not that she didn’t appreciate his care; she just did not want him to see the blush that stained her cheeks at his proximity.
He grunted, unrelenting in his hold, and a sword-calloused hand pressed over her lips. Leaning in, she shivered as his breath tickled her ears.
“Quiet. We’re not alone.”
That was enough to shut her up.
She nodded, taking this moment to soak in her surroundings. It was pitch black, save the eerie green hue from the glowing mushrooms that sprouted along the walls. A sudden, sick feeling twisted in her gut. There was a reason she avoided adventuring beneath Skyrim’s frozen landscape. Dank caves littered with shed exoskeletons were always a strong sign of ‘Turn back now’. And anything that was even remotely related to ancient Dwemer ruins was met with a resounding, “No.”
But somehow, thanks to her own greed and clumsiness, she’d landed them in this mess.
Moments passed, and whatever Farkas had heard must have moved on. His hand lifted and he continued to secure her in his hold. Rifling through one of the pouches at his hip, he withdrew a single, red vial, popped the cork, and pressed it into her hands.
“Drink,” he urged.
Avíon didn’t need to be told twice. She downed the syrupy potion in a blink and shuddered as it took effect, easing her aches and closing any open wounds. Farkas slowly stood, carefully placing the small Redguard on her feet. His hold lingered, steadying her. A quick, quiet ‘Thank you’ was his reward.
“As it should be,” he started, adjusting Wuuthrad across his back. “I can’t let the Harbinger have all the fun.”
Harbinger. It still felt odd to have that title. She was obviously the newest member of the Companions, and for Kodlak to have named her his next-in-line - it made her nervous and nauseous. She knew that most were okay with following her guidance, but there were still some who felt otherwise. She couldn’t blame them. How could she follow after someone as wizened as Kodlak? Those were big shoes to fill. Glancing at the Nord at her side, she hoped she was doing all right.
There was only so much responsibility a single person could take…
Turning her gaze towards the sky, Avíon frowned. They were miles beneath the surface. What little light should could see was just a speck far far above them. “I guess climbing out isn’t an option?”
Farkas shook his head. “Not a chance. You were too heavy, the walls are covered in ice, and the only rope I had snapped on my way down.” Roughened hands carded through his hair. “We’re stuck.”
Avíon wrinkled her nose. “I’m not heavy.”
“You have too much junk in your pack.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
She huffed. “Ass.”
Gray eyes shifting towards their only other option - into the icy tunnel that stretched ahead and curved off to the left - Farkas tightened the buckles on his bracers. He was tense. The padded leather under his armor creaked at his movements.
“We’re heading in, aren’t we?” Uneasy.
Avíon nodded, looking over her bow. It was thankfully undamaged. “Gonna have to.”
“Maybe there’s an exit,” he muttered.
Dipping an arrow into some frostbite venom, the Redguard grunted. “Here’s hoping.”
Readjusting her leather cuirass, she drew up her hood and readied her bow. There was still a slight ache between her shoulder blades, but it was bearable. Her yellow eyes glinted in the dark. Unshifted, her beast always lingered just below the surface, lending courage when the human had none.
“I’ll take point. Follow my lead.”