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“You don’t really know a woman until you’ve had a strong drink and a fist fight with her” -Aela The Huntress

Part 1: The Fist Fight

Late was the hour in Whiterun when Farkas made his way back from a job. The moon shone high and bright tempting Farkas to transform but he resisted the urge. As much as possible he tried to avoid transforming, particularly if the situation did not call for it. His limbs were weary with exhaustion and he was eagerly looking forward to a hot meal and cold ale.  He had just made his way to the steps in Jorvasskr and into the main dining hall when he heard a familiar noise of bickering and the sound of flesh striking flesh in combat.

“Just admit it. You’re getting worn out, old man.” 

“Cockiness is an unattractive quality, Aela”

“It’s not cockiness, it's the truth!”

Farkas inwardly groaned. Aela and Skjor had begun their brawl before he had left for his job, hours ago, and clearly had yet to resolve it, despite surely being bruised and bleeding. It had all started from a stupid comment. Surprisingly, for once, it hadn’t been one said by Farkas. 

They had all been on the training grounds, going through their warm-ups for the day. Their newest recruit was being oriented by Skjor on what was expected of a new Companion and the whelp had expressed interest in learning from Aela. 

“Given your combat style with swords, you’ll be better off training with Vilkas or Farkas. Aela is just an archer.”

“ Just an archer?!”

Skjor should have shut up by then. Farkas would have shut up. Anyone with a lick of sense would have shut up. Just shut up, apologize, and back off. With her strong will, Aela would never let a comment like that go. She was too damn stubborn. Unfortunately, so was Skjor, especially when it came to admitting he was wrong. 

Skjor sighed. “That isn’t what I meant, Aela. Don’t take it so personal. Of course you are a skilled warrior, but your primary strength is that with a bow.”

“I choose to fight with a bow. It is a preference, just as we all have our preferences. I would never refer to you as ‘just’ a swordsman and yet here you are doing it to me.” 

“Like I said, its nothing personal. I’d appreciate you not making it out to be that way. I just meant that, given his style of two handed swords, he’d be better of learning from someone who fights up close and personal, instead of firing from afar,”

Aela had hissed at this, utter fury evident in her war painted face. The rest of the Companions were, by now, staring at the two. Though, whether it was with awe at Skjor’s nerve or pity for his choices, one could not say. There was a silent pause but Farkas knew what was going to happen. He and his brother had been raised with Aela, after all. He knew what came after that look. It was only a matter of time.

“Fight me. You don’t think I can do close combat? Well, I’ll prove you wrong. Fight me.”

Skjor scoffed at this. “I’m not going to fight you, Aela.”

“Coward,” she sneered. “Come on, old man. Put your septims where your mouth is. Fight me. Unless you’re too afraid…” 

That did it. Skjor was normally a levelheaded individual but even he could not steer away from a challenge. Thus, the fist fight began. 

It was impressive when it started and remained so for the first hour. By the second hour it got boring, as both Aela and Skjor were equally matched. By the third hour it had become downright annoying. The frenzy of their brawl took up so much space that the others could no longer train on the grounds themselves without the pair invading their space or being distracted by them. Farkas eagerly volunteered when Kodlak offered a job.  

This had all been nearly twelve hours ago. He had thought for certain the two would have been done with this pride contest by now. Wishful thinking, evidently. Farkas sighed as he picked up a rack of venison and tankard of ale as he moved to lean against the doorway between the training grounds to watch as the two continued with their brawl. 

By now Skjor and Aela, although still fiercely determined to prove the other wrong, were exhausted. The fist fight was abandoned and the pair were more or less wrestling at the ground, trying to topple the other. Farkas could only shake his head, “If Ysmer could see us now…” The two were so engrossed in this battle of pride that they didn’t even notice Farkas there. Or perhaps they didn’t care.

“Just. Give. Up.” Skjor gritted between clenched teeth, now pinned under Aela. She held him with her legs, straddling him in place while she attempted to pin his hands down.

“Why? Had enough?” Aela retorted, still trying desperately to pin his arms down. 

Skjor scoffed. “Hardly. I’m just getting started,” And with a strength that surprised even Farkas, Skjor utilized his core muscles to sit up and push Aela to the side, settling atop of her so that he now had her pinned under him, ignoring her sounds of protest and fighting against her efforts to break free.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Somewhere along their struggle, piled atop of one another, something changes between the two. Initially, Farkas thought it was exhaustion. Or, perhaps, the adrenaline had finally worn off and they were finally feeling the full effects of a day of beating one another. Whatever it was, there was a palpable silence that left the two to pause in their struggle for victory and just stare at one another before Skjor made the first move. He closed the already minimal distance between them, and covered her lips with his. Aela, after a stunned moment, returned the kiss. Farkas was certain Falkreath could hear the sound of his jaw dropping to the ground. There was always rumors and, if drunk enough, teasings about the two of them but to see it literally unfold before his eyes was something Farkas could never have imagined.

But just as suddenly as it began, so too did it end as Aela broke the kiss and growled at Skjor, seizing the opportunity to break free from Skjor’s grasp and punch him directly on the nose. The strike was hard enough on its own, but the surprise of it had added to the blow. Skjor let go of the Huntress and instinctively covered his likely-broken nose, giving the Huntress opportunity to escape. 

“Aela! Aela, wait!” Skjor called out, following her as she disappeared into the night.

Bewildered, Farkas continued to gape at the scene before him like a stuffed squirrel, wondering what the hell just happened. “Vilkas is never going to believe this…”

TBC....

A/N Part 2 coming soon!