A/N: Hello all! This is my first time posting a Skyrim fic on here (though I have been posting for a while on the SKM) This is the first in a possible series with this DB and lovely, sweet, simple Farkas. Hope you enjoy it!

Finding Home

Amielle found herself truly at peace walking in the shadows of Jorrvaskr in the late evening. She ate with the others and then slipped away without them really noticing, descending the stairs down into the living quarters. She liked hearing the laughing and sparring from down there, the echoes of it soothing her troubled mind.

It had taken her a few weeks to get used to her room being at the far end of the corridor rather than walking into the crowed 'welps' room. It hadn't felt right at first; it had still been Kodlak's room. But the others had noticed and one day she found them all in there, clearing out his things for her. She had been touched and realised this was their way of telling her that they had accepted her as harbinger.

But this evening, she had more of an agenda than simply resting in her new room and listening to her friends from afar. Two of them hadn't been present at dinner and she was concerned. One was Ria but as Amielle poked her head around the door to the welp room, she saw the young woman was fast asleep. She wasn't surprised really: Ria had only that afternoon returned from a hunt. Still, Amielle thought it important to check on her.

She frowned at her own trail of thought as she wandered down the corridor further.

She wondered when this sudden concern for others had happened. Amielle had been brought up to look after others but at a distance. There is no purpose in being too close to anyone. If you are too close, you cannot see the big picture. Her father told her that often throughout her childhood. She had never questioned it before, after all he was the Imperial count and she was simply his daughter, eager to learn. She knew that this attitude her father had instilled in her had made her appear cold and aloof to her fellow Companions at first.

But then she came to realise that these people, this odd collection of fierce warriors, were becoming her friends. That in turn made her realise that they were the first friends she ever had. Now she was caught between somewhere between her old distant demeanour and the relaxed, approachable person she would like to be. She sat with them at dinner and listened to their stories but tended to leave the table before anyone else, her desire for her own space growing too strong.

Down in the living quarters was perfect. She still felt like she was a part of it (she could hear pretty much everything, even if she didn't want to) but she could enjoy it while relaxing in her own chambers with a goblet of wine and a book.

Amielle's thoughts ground to a halt at the same time as her feet. She had reached her second destination before she ended up in her own chambers. She had been struck at how unusual it was for Farkas to not be at dinner. Vilkas had been there, laughing with Aela about some job they had gone on before Amielle had even joined. So she had no clue as to why Farkas had not joined them.

She was about to knock the door when she realised it was already open. A smile quirked at her lips. That was typical of Farkas: nothing to hide.

She stepped inside his room and saw him sat on his bed in a pair of breeches and a loose white shirt, his back against the pillows and his legs propped up in front of him, a book resting on his knees. She blinked at the unexpected sight. He didn't notice her at all. So she took the opportunity to watch him for a few moments. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing when she noticed that, as his eyes travelled across the page, he mouthed the words. Occasionally, he stopped on one word and mouthed it several times, apparently struggling with either it's pronunciation, meaning or both.

"What are you reading?"

He jumped and Amielle fought not to laugh again. He was all muscle and war-paint and to see him jump was an amusing sight to say the least.

"Ah...nothing really." He took the book from his knees, slammed it closed and slipped it under his pillow.

She frowned. Farkas was never secretive. "Are you alright? I've never known you to miss dinner before."

"I...wasn't hungry."

She raised an eyebrow and his stomach rumbled. He fidgeted and the book slipped out a little from under his pillow. He tried to push it back under but Amielle was too quick for him. She leaned over him and snatched it. She turned it over and read the title.

"Imperial History and Culture? Why in the divines - "

"You are always talking about Cyrodiil. I wanted to know why it was so great."

Amielle was immediately struck with guilt. Had she really gone on about home that much? She hadn't wanted to offend anyone or make it seem like she didn't want to be here. She looked across at Farkas and saw that for the first time since she'd met him, he was embarrassed.

She felt her resolve soften. Farkas may not think about the meaning of life, or politics, or world problems but she knew that didn't make him stupid or any less complicated than anyone else. She had to admit, at first she had trouble thinking of him as anything other than a strong, powerful bag of meat; nothing more than a simple weapon.

But that all changed as she came to know him, and especially around the time of Skjor's death. She found herself seeking his company more than anyone else's - though not openly of course, her noble, Imperial pride would not allow it. She found that all the others kept themselves closed, only showing a hint of their grief. Farkas' reaction to his death had been the most honest and Amielle found herself seeing him in a new light. Now, instead of laughing along with the others when someone made a joke about him being stupid, she felt a little offended on his behalf. And she wasn't sure if she was glad or angry that he didn't take any offence himself.

She smiled and placed the book on the bed between them.

"It's not that great, really." There was plenty she missed about home: her mother, her sister, occasionally her father, the bustle of the streets, the political debates. "I just...I suppose it's hard not to talk about. It was home."


Had she really said 'was'? She stared back at him and took in his messy war-paint, his dark, tangled hair and his innocent expression. She thought of Ysgramor, of Skjor, of Kodlak.

"Yes. Was."

"You are staying then?"

She was startled by the question. "Of course! What made you think I wouldn't?"

"Vilkas said you'd want to go home. Now the dragons are all gone and the war's done."

She smiled. "Ignore him. I am not going anywhere." Amielle hadn't realised she had even been considering leaving until she said she wasn't. Now she thought about it, she supposed she did imagine going back to Cyrodiil sometimes. But never seriously, never with intent.

Farkas suddenly grinned so wide, she was sure she could count his teeth. "Good. I am glad."

Amielle tried to convince herself it was hunger that made her stomach flip, not him. Still, she found herself brushing her fingers against his and beginning,

"Farkas, I would - "

"Brother!" Vilkas' shout bounced off the walls as he rounded the corner into the room.

Amielle pulled back as though she had been burnt. She glanced up and Vilkas and smiled weakly, ignoring her flushing cheeks. She also tried to ignore how Vilkas was looking down at them with something that looked suspiciously like amusement glittering in his eyes.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing." Amielle said quickly, standing and straightening out her tunic. "Were were just discussing books. And I was checking Farkas was well since he wasn't at dinner."

Vilkas didn't look convinced but thankfully, he didn't press it. Instead, he slapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "Come. There is still food left. We should make the most of it before Tilma clears it away."

Farkas nodded and Amielle forced another smile. She bade them goodnight and left them in Farkas' room. She knew she should just go into her chambers and forget about it but she found herself lingering outside, wanting to hear what Vilkas had to say about his brother's reading material.

She heard Vilkas snort loudly. Then it sounded like he had chucked the book to the side. "I have never known you this smitten, brother. Not so smitten that you would take up reading."

And even though no one was watching her, Amielle's cheeks flamed. Her stomach twisted and her breath became shallow. Gods, what was wrong with her? It was just Farkas. And Vilkas was probably just teasing anyway.

She heard Farkas' simple grumble in response and then she heard footsteps. She rushed to her chambers and opened the doors. She stepped inside and just as she was about to close the doors behind her, the twins emerged, shoulders bumping. Vilkas smirked at her and she glared but Farkas nodded and her face quickly changed into a smile.

"Goodnight." He said, and Vilkas' smirk grew.

"Goodnight, Farkas. Oh, and Vilkas. Of course. Sorry."

Vilkas started to laugh and Amielle closed the door quickly, cringing. She rubbed her face, cursing herself.

She had never been like this before. Any men she had taken a fancy to had guessed and made a move on her themselves. And they had all been the sons of noble men, very eager to do things 'right' so her father would approve. This was completely different and she had the feeling that if she wanted anything to happen between her and Farkas, she would have to make a move herself.

She forced herself to stand up properly and poured herself some wine, wondering when she had relented that she really did want something to happen.

She downed the goblet full and winced. She poured herself another and decided to take it to be with her. Now, a book. Yes, a book would keep her mind off it. As she perused the shelf, she stopped on one about Nordic culture. She hesitated before picking up and retreating to her bed.

Surely a little research couldn't hurt...?

Oh, Mara! I am doomed, aren't I?