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Being a Companion was not always so glamorous.
Most who joined their ranks knew this, but actually experiencing it firsthand was enough for some whelps to find that their ambitions were best suited elsewhere, rather than in the prestigious mercenary life. Even their most seasoned members had their fair share of dull, tedious, and otherwise troublesome duties that they were unable to avoid, but they persevered, for better and for worse.
Still, there were some tasks that no one wanted to take on, especially ones that had them go to the ends of Skyrim.
Midri and Vilkas were ordered to complete such a job, one that required them to be in the mountainous hold of Haafingar. Neither of them were too keen to travel such a long way from home, but Uskerva, the Harbinger, refused budge at their requests to be sent elsewhere.
"Look," the battle-hardened Orc said to them without glancing away from the respectably thick stack of written requests in her hand. "Everyone else is busy, and this is a time sensitive job that someone scrounged up all their Septims for. You can decline, but that wouldn't be very polite, would it?"
And so, without any more arguing, the couple found themselves in Solitude.
The mission itself was easy enough. They were tasked with retrieving a stolen heirloom—a golden, gem-studded amulet—that was presumed to be in an unmarked, bandit-filled cave half a day's walk from the city proper. The client's awareness of such particular details was certainly eyebrow-raising, but they knew better than to ask questions.
Despite their initial, and still somewhat present, animosity, the unlikely mage and warrior duo became quite the synergetic force over the years. They made quick work of the bandits and left that cave almost as soon as they entered it, amulet in tow. After a job well done, they retired to their inn room and spent the remainder of their evening relaxing and snuggling up. They were eager to begin their journey home since they were away for longer than they would have liked.
The following morning, Midri and Vilkas decided to dine together and leisurely browse the near infinite selection of shops the busy city had to offer, as they had some hours to spare before they needed to catch their first of several carriages back to Whiterun. They bought a few ornamental gifts for friends and family, but, as Vilkas firmly suggested, nothing too large so as not to burden their already cumbersome luggage. He, of course, was tasked with carrying them all.
Midri handed him another item: a small, hand-carved wooden sculpture of a wolfhound that he thought would be perfect for Uskerva. For once in his life, the Nord felt inclined to agree, and the thought of the figure sitting proudly on her desk amused him.
"Is that all?" Vilkas asked as he carefully placed the sculpture into the half-full pack hanging from his shoulders. The silence he was met with unnerved him. He looked up from the pack, and found that Midri was nowhere to be seen. Or heard, for that matter.
"Midri?" He called out into the crowd, but received no answer.
He called again, but the result was no different.
A third attempt. No response.
Panic began to settle in as Vilkas stood, alone, in the middle of the bustling market. Countless individuals bumped into him and shouted at him for being in the way. He did not care to acknowledge their remarks, though, because he was much more concerned with the sudden disappearance of his husband, whose stark white hair was lost in the endless sea of customers.
The Nord looked around, again, and again, almost enough times to make him dizzy. He knew the mage was perfectly capable of defending himself, but how could he ease his anxieties when Midri practically vanished into thin air in a city they were both unfamiliar with? Surely he would have said something before running off, but perhaps he was expecting too much.
Instead of standing around, Vilkas decided to start moving. He swiftly made his way through the streets, making multiple rounds without spotting even the slightest hint of Midri's whereabouts. The pounding in his head grew more unbearable with every step he took. He was really beginning to worry. The search was getting him nowhere. He sighed, and leaned against the stone wall of one of the shops near Solitude's entrance, but kept his eyes on the crowd.
As if his pleas were finally heard, he caught sight of Midri walking with an armful of baked goods, all smiles and waves to boot. Relief washed over him as soon as he was spotted in turn, but he was loathe to show it.
"Where did you run off to?"
"I said I was going to stop by the bakery for some goodies for the road, but I guess you couldn't hear me over all the noise." The Dunmer said, matter-of-factly. Upon noticing the annoyed expression on Vilkas' face, he playfully tilted his head. "Or maybe you weren't listening?"
Vilkas, ever the irritable man, huffed and crossed his arms. "I didn't hear a damn thing."
"Worried about me, huh?" Midri quipped at his husband, who looked as though he was moments away from cardiac arrest.
"Hardly."
"If you say so." Midri giggled, and plopped the recently procured sweets into the pack, which was now full to the brim with all its new additions. "Come on, let's get back and get this stuff packed away."
Vilkas nodded. "No running off this time, you hear?"
"I hear you."