Elder Scrolls: Skyrim
The Raven and the Wolf
Chapter 1
The noisy bustle of the city's streets died as Whiterun's citizens closed up their stalls and exited the Bannered Mare, some smiling with flushed cheeks and breath laden with fresh mead. When everyone retired to their respective homes, the guards took to the streets, patrolling under the soft, dimming lights of their torches.
Celeste stared down at the streets from the roof of the tavern, shrouded in black armor that seemed to melt within the darkness of this moonless night. Her crimson eyes tracked the rotations and patterns of the guards, her goal lying in the building to the east of the Wind District courtyard. She sighed, shaking her head slightly.
This is bullshit, she thought as she slid silently off the roof, taking to the shadows like an alley cat. Even old Delvin said this was crazy. Avoiding the guards was child's play for her. The challenge was how to get into that ancient building without getting caught. Normally, it wouldn't concern her. She was normally quick enough to dart back into the shadows to make any potential squealers question their eyesight. But in this case, this building was filled to the brim with battle-thirsty warriors. Celeste sighed inwardly and made her way around to the back.
It was just as she expected. As she entered the back area, she was greeted with the sight of numerous archery targets and practice dummies. The benches and chairs were strewn with dirty dishes and half-finished mugs. Her nose wrinkled at the combined smell of old mead and stale sweat. Shadows have mercy, how can anyone live like this?! She silently cried out. The Thieves' Guild may have made its home in the sewer, but even they had managed to dispel the odor of...excrement.
Celeste crouched underneath a window next to the door, pressing her ear against the wood. This was one of the few things that came with being a Dunmer that she was truly thankful for. Even though the entire building had been fashioned from a huge, derelict nordic longboat, her sharp elven ears could pick up the soft shuffles of movement. Thankfully, it seemed Jorrvaskr seemed to have joined the rest of the city in slumber.
Quick as a flash, Celeste whipped out her small knife and lockpick and expertly opened the lock. Not missing a beat, she slipped inside, still terrified that she would greet the angry sword of a pissed-off Companion.
The main hall was just as grand as she had heard, complete with a roaring fire and a huge dining table that wrapped around the fireplace. Trinkets and trophies hung proudly on the wall, more than a few had her struggling against her own self-restraint. However, it was still in the messy state as the training yard. Celeste steeled herself, reaching into her pouch and thumbing the rim of her vial of invisibility potion. Celeste berated herself for not replenishing her supply of potions, she had gotten distracted in the market that day. Knowing better than to think about it now, she shook it off, assuring herself that her hour-long concoction would be enough to do this quick job. Just get in, get the jewel, get out.
The sleeping quarters weren't in any better state than the other areas of Jorrvaskr. She barely needed to watch her footfalls as the snoring ringing through the hall seemed to drown out any other noises. Celeste grunted quietly in disdain, not understanding these strange Nords. Even thieves—such as herself—found pride in a clean home. She froze when she heard the gentle creak of old wood, darting into the nearest dark corner. She whispered a quiet prayer to the shadows as the noise continued. After a few agonizing seconds, it died, though Celeste remained as still as a dormant draugr for another minute. When she was sure it was safe, she crept towards the Harbinger's room. Nocturnal, Azura, Meridia, Sithis, Hircine...guide my steps...
To her horror, the storied Harbinger sat at his desk, pouring over a book. Icy claws of fear gripped her heart. Not even her near-drowning in the depths of Irkngthand had her so fearful. Not wanting to use up her emergency invisibility potion, she sighed silently and deeply, allowing herself to melt into the shadows—the power of the Agent of Stealth. It took a great toll on her mental reserves, but it was better than losing them to the swift swing of a sword. She scanned the area carefully for her prize, making sure to keep the aging warrior in the corner of her eye. It was with sinking realization that he must have placed it in his bedroom. Slowly, Celeste crept through his study and into his sleeping quarters. She had to fight the urge to close the door silently behind her, as to not arouse suspicion. A smile spread across her face when she saw something glimmering on his dresser.
The beautiful magenta stone sparkled like rays of starlight. There, right in her grasp, was one of the Stones of Barenziah. To most, these were gems with little to no value, preferring to keep treat them like trinkets or good luck charms or some such nonsense. Without a second of a doubt, she snatched the gem and high-tailed it out of there, not allowing herself to breathe until she made it outside.
Celeste leaned against one of the pillars that held up the small shade roof over the benches, letting out a deep sigh of relief. She tossed the gem around in her hand a little, kissing it before placing it in her pouch. Thank Nocturnal, this didn't end badly! She had done it! She had broken into Jorrvaskr and taken her prize without a single scratch! Celeste pushed off against the pillar and started her way back to the shadows of the street.
The moment her first step hit the cobblestone, a pair of strong arms hooked onto her neck, burying her face from the nose down into their flesh.
"What are you doing, little rat?" a deep, menacing voice growled in her ear.
Fuck! She cried out silently, unable to unleash the profanity physically. How could she be so fucking careless?! She knew the moment she had snatched the gem, she'd gotten a little sloppy in her haste to escape. She knew she was far too experienced to know better than to take pleasure in her spoils on the same fucking spot she stole from!
Celeste dug her teeth into the man's flesh, startling him enough to loosen his grip on her. Unfortunately, he snatched her hands in a steely grip as she tried to squirm away. The man managed to drag her back into the building with her struggling all the while. "You damned thief!" he snarled, trying to wrestle her back into submission, somehow managing to keep her hands away from her dagger's sheath. Killing was not the purview of the Thieves' Guild—or her own morality, to be honest—but a good scare with a dagger to the throat might be just the thing to keep herself from facing the embarrassment of citizen's arrest.
"Let me go, damn you!" she hissed. "I already have what I want!"
"You honestly think I'd let some damned thief go after breaking into Jorrvaskr?!" the man growled.
The two continued to struggle, stumbling blindly around the main hall, focusing on nothing but subduing the other. Celeste fought with all her might, trying her hardest to free herself. His grip was like chains of steel, nearly cutting off the circulation to her fingers. That said it wasn't as if he wasn't struggling as well. Celeste had done a number on him from biting, scratching, and kicking. His skin was covered in pink lines from her nails, his forearm still bleeding from that first bite.
Finally, Celeste rammed hard into him, trying to force him to the ground. The impact was enough to send him reeling back, but suddenly, gravity intensified and they plummeted to the floor. Only they didn't stop falling. The two tumbled down the stairs, bashing through the doors that led to the sleeping quarters. Celeste had somehow managed to land on top of him, the combined force of her wait and the sudden stop on hard wood floor crushed all the air from his lungs. The two just lay there in shock for a while, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
"Well, seems like you caught a rat, Vilkas," a gravely yet noble voice suddenly shattered the silence.
Celeste lifted her head just enough to see the voice's origin, still unable to move. It was the Harbinger himself, still in his sleeping clothes and staring at the two with a gleam of amusement in his still sharp blue eyes.
"From the feel of it, Kodlak," Vilkas responded, just as incapacitated as Celeste. He didn't even bother lifting his head off the floor. "I think I caught a mouse instead."
It took a moment for Celeste to register she had fallen in such a way her chest had smushed his hand between the two of them. Without thinking, she jolted upright and smacked him hard upside the head. "Asshole!"
"Says the thief!" Vilkas snapped, propping himself up on his elbows.
"I didn't even steal anything important, jackass!"
"How can you yell at me when you fucking stole?!"
Their bickering continued for a while, mostly because the two of them were still too sore to move. After watching the two for at least five minutes, Kodlak decided to intervene.
"Alright, that's enough."
The Harbinger helped the two to their feet, making sure to keep a firm grasp on Celeste. He looked at her directly in the eyes. His glare sent shivers down her spine, reminding her of her days under Mercer Frey's thumb, a feeling that reminded her way too much of how a dog stared at a rabbit, sizing it up to kill. However, after a moment, it softened to something more inquisitive, leading Celeste to relax enough to register the features of the two men.
Kodlak had clearly been a great warrior in his time. Even though his time was waning, his skin still rippled with strong muscles. His pale blue eyes were dulled with age, yet they still sparkled with wisdom.
Vilkas, on the other hand, was a warrior in his prime. Still donning the trademark wolf-themed Companion armor from wherever in Oblivion he had suddenly returned from, he was the absolute visage of what Celeste imagined the companions. His eyes were the same odd pale blue as Kodlak's, shining as if they were tiny blue moons. His hair was black and messy, swept back like a darkened wave.
Celeste jumped as Kodlak reached for her mask. "Don't worry, girl," he said gently. "I just want to see your face."
Even though she remained tense, she allowed him to remove her mask and lower her hood, revealing her Dunmer features and allowing her pale red hair to fall across her shoulders. By the looks of the two men's faces, she guessed that they had been expecting some abomination rather than a normal woman. "Were you expecting, maybe, a falmer?"
"That tongue will get you into trouble one day, girl," Kodlak scoffed.
"I'm used to it, and my name isn't 'girl', old man."
"Do not talk disrespectfully to Kodlak!" Vilkas snarled, taking a step towards her. However, Kodlak merely put a hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough Vilkas," Kodlak said. "Now, what is your name child?"
Celeste stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out why he hadn't killed her yet. Finally, her eyebrows knitted and she muttered, "Celeste. My name is Celeste."
"Celeste, huh?" Vilkas commented. "Not much of a dark elf name. Were you raised elsewhere?"
"My origins are none of your damned business," Celeste snarled, still bitter from her foiled theft attempt. Vilkas opened his mouth to respond, but Kodlak cut him off.
"What did you steal?"
Seeing no other way out, as the old man's grip on her collar was as tough as dragonbone, she reached into her pouch and drew the stone. A look of confusion washed over the two Companions' faces.
"That's worthless," Vilkas said. "Why would steal that?"
"It's important to my family," Celeste responded, determined not to incriminate the Guild. They were her family after all.
"Why didn't you ask?" Kodlak asked.
"Let's just say, I prefer to cut out the middle man. Since when has anyone not discovered the value of something, then turned around and sold it to the highest bidder?"
"How dare you—?!" Vilkas practically roared.
"What, you're human, aren't you?!" Celeste snapped, feeling a rush of emotion and memories. "No matter how honorable or noble some Men and Mer are, greed will always take over! You think this stupid war is actually over freedom to worship Talos? No! It's to fuck everyone over and for Ulfric to usurp the throne! I steal because there are those that have been forgotten! You have enough gems and sweetmeats to not miss a few trinkets here and there!"
"Easy, Celeste," Kodlak tightened his grip on Celeste's collar, a signal for her to simmer down. She did so, although reluctantly, still matching Vilkas's angry stare with her own. "Now, here's what we're going to do. Celeste, you stole from here, so you must be punished."
"Fine, throw me to the guards," Celeste muttered, not even bothering trying to get away. I'll just break out anyway. Dragonsreach's dungeons aren't as impenetrable as they think.
"No..." Kodlak said, catching both thief and warrior off guard. "I have a better idea," a grin spread across his wizened lips, his eyes gleaming with cleverness Celeste was all too familiar.
"No..." Celeste breathed, not believing her horrible luck. "You can't mean...!"
"You've got a good arm there, and you seem honorable...for a thief."
"We can't accept a thief in our ranks!" Vilkas protested, only to fall silent under the glare of his master.
"And since you found her..." Kodlak thrust Celeste into Vilkas's chest, the two bodies impacting each other with an audible thud. "She'll be your responsibility, Vilkas."
The two stared as the old man as he sauntered off, a small lightness to his step told them that he felt good about his decision. Within an instant, Celeste shoved herself off Vilkas, growling menacingly. Vilkas seemed to want to oblige, but he merely scoffed and motioned her towards his room. "Come on...we'd better find some things to make you a decent bed." Celeste stared at him, dumbfounded. Not once in her entire life had she been caught and the victim had actually reasoned with her. She sighed, deciding it was too late to question it, and begrudgingly tromped after her "captor".
What in Oblivion have I gotten myself into now...?
Chapter 2
"Papa! Papa!"
The roar of flames combined with the screams of panicked and doomed Imperial citizens drowned my desperate cries. I plowed through the mob of people, going against the current of flight. Once free, it took me little time to crash through the gates and into the inner sanctum of the Imperial City. I raced towards the palace, my normally muffled footsteps pounding against the hard stone streets.
"Girl! Dunmer!"
My head snapped to the source of the cry, but I didn't slow down. A guard was waving towards me, beckoning me to him. For one in my life, I wanted to do what he said. Fuck, every fiber of my being was screaming for me to do it. But I shook my head, tears of fear and frustration running down my pale blue skin.
"I have to find my father!" I cried, ignoring his panicked demands for me to get to safety. I pressed harder, chasing the eye of the storm behind me. Steam and fire concealed the majority of the horizon amongst the rooftops of the capital, but I knew what was going on. And I had to stop him!
Clouds painted as red as blood rumbled above me with lighting and dark magicka. I slowed down for a split second, captivated with fear at what I saw above me. At that instant, something snatched my leg, forcing me to trip and land face-first onto the hard street below. I struggled by instinct, trying my hardest to release a spell in one hand while I fumbled to grab my bow from its quiver with the other. The moment I managed to roll onto my back, a large, twisted daedra leapt atop of my chest, crushing the air from my lungs so hard, it made my vision black out for a moment.
A pair of large, warped golden eyes stared down at my form when I managed to open my eyes again. It parted its maw, saliva dripping down its sharpened fangs. I tried to move, scream, squirm, anything to get away, but I was pinned by the sheer weight of this thing. A sick grin crept across lipless mouth, full of desire and hunger. My breathing escalated to hyperventilation as it leaned closer to me...slowly opening its mouth...it's disgusting fangs growing closer...and closer...
"FATHER!"
Pale fuchsia light streamed in from the small, frosted glass windows. It mingled in odd fashion with the water droplets sliding fluidly down Celeste's newly-washed skin. She sighed quietly, standing naked next to the bath basin, using a fresh towel to dry the area of neck under her hair. Although she could have easily have made a break for it—she didn't sleep nearly as much as most, even for a thief—her mind was elsewhere.
I haven't had that dream in years... Celeste mused, casting a very weak fire spell, strong enough only to warm her hands to the point her touch could evaporate water. She slowly combed her fingers through her hair, drying it nearly instantaneously. Is it because I'm among all these warriors? Celeste sighed heavily, shaking her head before those awful memories started to flood back. Instead, she decided to focus on her current situation.
The moment Kodlak had managed to tie her down so she wouldn't escape, he laid down the law. She would serve the Companions as a newblood—she decided that's what they called their fresh meat—in order to pay off her "desecration of Jorrvaskr" and the attempted theft of the jewel. When Celeste began to protest, he stated all too simply that should she break the deal, he would publically expose her for what she was and who she served, essentially destroying her reputation as both a citizen and a thief in one fell swoop.
Celeste let out an exasperated groan at the notion, tossing the towel on the nearby end table and snatching her clothes. Fucking honor-obsessed assholes, she grumbled silently as she slipped into her trousers and low-cut white blouse. Why in Azura's name did Nocturnal's gift of luck run out on me then? After a moment, she shook her head, her freshly dried rose locks whipping from side-to-side. It wouldn't help to let her temper get the better of her. She drained the basin and gathered up her pale blue cape—a keepsake from her time in Cyrodiil—as she made her way through the halls of the sleeping quarters.
Although the sun had already begun to rise, only Celeste was currently active within Jorrvaskr. She snorted, still trying to get used to the cloying stink of sweat and...another scent she couldn't quite pin down. Wet pelts, maybe? She shook it off, returning to Vilkas's room.
Her "captor" lay sprawled out across his bed, tangled in his sheets after a night of tossing and turning. Needing only a few hours of sleep each night—a quirk she readily exploited—she had found entertainment in watching him chase after something in his sleep, or bite down hard into his pillow. She scoffed, wondering if he was trying to tear into a meal or into a woman.
Although she knew he was asleep, she paid no heed as she cleaned up her meager side of the room. Kodlak had confiscated her Nightingale armor, her sword, and her bow, leaving her only with the dagger she had forged and enchanted herself. While she protested at first, Kodlak merely replied this was part of their agreement. Regardless of the burning rage she felt from being separated from her most reliable equipment, Celeste was pleased he wasn't aware of her abilities as a mage.
Celeste bundled her cape up against her face, and took a deep breath. Its gentle scent brought back many fond memories—her adoptive Breton father who had made the cape, the day she finally grew into it, her first heist, and her first visit to the Imperial City. Celeste paused, sorrow suddenly blooming in her heart. She missed her father dearly. As her mind wandered back to her childhood, she wondered what type of person she would be now if he hadn't disappeared...
"Bit of an early mouse, are you?"
The sudden break of silence made Celeste jump. She twirled around on her heels, the sight of a sleepy Vilkas staring at her. His eyes were hard to read, mostly because they were hidden behind bedraggled charcoal hair, although he seemed to be finding amusement at her being startled. Celeste quickly composed herself, still sore at her captor. "I'm a thief, we don't sleep much."
"I wouldn't suggest spreading that around to the others," he grumbled.
"I can handle myself, thank you very much," Celeste snapped.
"They're more skilled than you think they are."
"And yet I managed to tear you up, even without weapons."
Vilkas's mouth snapped shut after that. A smug smirk tugged at the edge of Celeste's mouth. His master wouldn't have bothered recruiting her if she couldn't hold her own, that she knew at least. Satisfied with her tiny victory, she returned to fixing the sheets on her cot, holding back a snicker when she heard Vilkas's head impact his pillow, and he let out an exasperated sigh. If he wanted a battle, Celeste would give him a war.
To say that the appearance of a complete and utter stranger leisurely eating her meager breakfast in the training yard was strange to the other Companions was an understatement at best. Celeste completely ignored the curious stares and hostile glares as she chomped down on an apple. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two young Nords whispering in the corner, one with a particularly sour disposition. Celeste snorted quietly, a not-so-subtle signal of not giving a damn. This seemed to infuriate the grumpy one, though she didn't seem willing to do anything.
"You could introduce yourself, y'know."
Vilkas took a seat across from her, snatching an apple off her plate. Her mouth twitched a little at this, but she let it slide. Too risky for a fight now, even a verbal one. Same damned thing if you're a dragon, she mused.
That single thought made her mind drift back to High Hrothgar. She took another bite of the apple, savoring its sweet flavor. I wonder how Paarthurnax and the Greybeards are doing...? It'd been at least half a year since her harrowing trip into Sovngarde—the fabled Nordic land of the dead—and the slaying of the dreaded World-Eater. She scoffed aloud, still amused by the fact an insignificant thief like her—and a Dunmer as well!—would end up a Nordic hero.
"What're you laughing at, little elf?"
Celeste's mind snapped back to reality. Vilkas was staring at her with a half-eaten apple in his hands. As usual, his eyes were difficult to read—something that truly irritated her. She caught glances of concern and hostility but she couldn't see any further. Observation of others was a key tool in her line of work, but there'd always be a few jackasses like him that'd fuck up her entire day. And lo and behold, she was captive to one of them.
"I'm laughing," she crossed her legs smugly, allowing her white blouse to show off a little more of her breasts. Seduction was also a useful little tool, even if it were just to fluster the target. "At the sight of you pinned to the wall by my arrows as I steal every last valuable you had right in front of you."
Vilkas didn't rise to the bait, yet he held her gaze as he reached for the last bit of bread on her plate. Not breaking eye contact, she snatched his hand as it hovered over the delicious loaf. Instead of clawing her nails into his skin, she merely held his wrist firm. The intensity of their two gazes could have sent sparks flying if they could. Celeste had to admit, she was impressed by this man's persistence. The sight of her unnatural—or at least, unnatural to humans—crimson eyes were enough to make a would-be pursuer think twice. Her fiery gaze didn't seem to faze Vilkas, and she found herself somewhat unnerved by his strange, pale blue eyes. She couldn't see behind the veil of determination and irritation, his inner thoughts flitted behind those icy irises, teasing her irritation.
"Are you two going to do that forever?"
A gruff, yet distinctly female voice broke them from their staring contest and they simultaneously snapped their heads to the newcomer. A well-built woman stood before them, eyeing them with stern curiosity. Celeste held back a snort. With the olive face paint streaking her face, her tall stature, and ancient armor; she looked just like the carvings of ancient Nord heroes that littered the tunnels beneath Skyrim. But a sharp glance from Vilkas convinced her to remain quiet, though she did allow herself a thought. How cliché, she grumbled silently. Every second of this day was going to test my temper, it seems.
"Who's this whelp?" the woman asked, gesturing towards Celeste. It took everything she had to not bristle at this remark. I've lived three of your lifespans, human... she growled internally. It took her a moment to acknowledge the small tilt Vilkas gave her, prompting her to speak for herself.
"Name's Celeste," she replied plainly. Kodlak had kept up his side of the bargain. None of the other Companions knew why she was really here—repaying a thief's debt. Oh, the boys back at the Flagon would never let her live this down.
"Huh, you look like a lightweight. You any good with a blade?"
Again, Celeste fought the urge to show this arrogant woman just how good one could get with a blade after two hundred years of training. She squirmed angrily in her chair, not allowing Vilkas's clearly amused smirk to grate her any further. Instead, she lowered her eyes into an intense gaze. "Is that a challenge?"
To her surprise, the woman barked with laughter. "Ah, you've got a fire in your belly! I like that! Too many newbloods around here are too obsessed with formalities."
Celeste stared at the woman, a little taken aback. Lip like that from a footpad in the Guild would have gotten the backhand treatment, as well as their cut revoked—a way to keep young thieves from ending up in an early grave. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, Celeste spoke, "Aaaaand, you're supposed to be...?"
"This," Vilkas spoke up before the woman could, earning him a stern look, "is Aela. She's a member of the Circle, like me." Other than the name, the many pale scars etched across her tanned skin were far more than enough of a nod towards her rank.
"So how about it?" Aela said. Celeste tilted her head. "You, me, on the training ground. Now."
A wide grin slowly spread across Celeste's lips. This is exactly what she needed. "Alright," she nearly purred, eager for a chance to stretch out her building stress. She was halfway out of her seat when Vilkas barred her with his arm.
"What in Oblivion are you-?!" she snarled vehemently. Every inch of her was buzzing with pent-up anger and stress from the utter humiliation of being leashed to gods-damned, honor-obsessed, mead-swilling fools because of her stupid mistake! A fire inside her began to ignite, her fists clenching so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her mouth began to twitch, silently forming the word yol towards Vilkas.
Not a split second later, Celeste found herself dragged to the center of the training yard, standing opposite of Vilkas. The warrior drew his steel greatsword from its resting place on his back, dropping into a perfectly executed offensive position. Celeste blinked, trying to process what just happened. "You think you can fight me with that tiny little dagger?" Vilkas smirked, eyeing the sheathed weapon on her belt. At that moment, her mind finally caught up and she grinned, lowering herself into her own stance. She stirred the magicka within her, calling to Aetherius for aid in bringing her spell to reality. The magic materialized in plumes of ethereal, cerulean mist around each of her hands. The tendrils of the spells power weaved their way into the form of a pair of swords, their blades jagged and sinister, though as sharp as a sabercat's fang.
"Who said that's my only weapon," she growled seconds before she lunged at her opponent.