Hey! Don't mind me, just rewriting a couple things to suit the canon, and to suit my own writing needs, because my God I was something else two years ago.
The howling all around her practically ruptured Cry's eardrums as she ran through the red tinted forest, dodging trees and brush as best as she could while keeping her greatsword in front of her, prepared for anything.
She was met by that anything when she paused briefly as the howling abruptly stopped. She gazed around her, peering into the trees for the threat she knew was lurking within the blood stained forest.
Suddenly, a black shape jumped from the trees and knocked her to the ground, saliva dripping from its jowls as the wolf snarled down at her.
Cry growled back and kicked her legs out with as much force as she could, flinging the beast off of her into the bushes nearby. It appeared almost at once and leaped out once more. The Companion rolled out of the way just in time, the wolf landing in the undergrowth where she had just been lying.
Cry scrambled to her feet and stood, panting, sword held out in front of her. The wolf spun to face her, gray eyes glinting as the two circled one another. Its teeth were bared in a silent snarl, daring her to try something.
However, at a second glance at the wolf's eyes, Cry had stiffened, and a laugh reached her ears as the wolf suddenly stood on its hind legs and began to morph before her eyes, turning into the familiar stag-skull masked form of the Daedric prince Hircine. His bare arms crossed over his bare chest, his stag-like dappled legs spread a few inches apart, clearly showing that he believed he was dominate. The emotionless eyes of the prince gazed at her from behind his mask as he spoke. "I didn't expect to see you back here so soon after our last meeting."
Cry gazed straight ahead, facial expression flat as he circled her. "The pain only exists here."
The Daedra chuckled quietly at this as he moved around to the front of her, his form now that of a young buck. "Do you think I don't know that? How else would I get you back here to fight me again?" he mused.
Cry merely blinked, no emotion showing through as he changed into the form of a sabre cat, long fangs hanging over his jaw as he came towards her. His soulless gray eyes were fixated on the Harbinger before him, willing her expression to change. It didn't however, and Hircine snorted as he stalked away. "You were such a beautiful wolf, Cry. Why would you give it up?"
"I don't worship Daedra," was her simple response, and Hircine chuckled once more, converting back to his masked human shape. He approached her again and stroked his hand across the Companion's cheek.
It took all of Cry's willpower not to flinch at the prince's touch, but she pushed herself to maintain her poker face. "Then who do you worship, dragon?" The last word left the Daedra as a snarl, and his hand withdrew as he walked away, the wolf form returning. "Shor? Ysgramor? Or, perhaps, you aren't religious."
"That is no concern of yours," she stated, and the wolf rounded on her, shaping swiftly into a dragon, his large head and two rows of sharp teeth extremely close to her face.
"It is my concern, love. You were once my child, as were most of whom are fighting against me." The dragon sighed and backed away to morph once more into a deer. He trotted around her briefly, appearing before her as the masked man once again. "Damn Kodlak Whitemane for turning so many of my own against me."
"He was only doing what was right," Cry informed him, and the soulless gray eyes fixed on her, morphing back into his human form.
"What of Vilkas and Farkas, hmm? Would they be willing to fight against me for their old Harbinger? Perhaps I should pay them a visit to see," he purred, and Cry flinched inwardly at the mention of the twins' names.
"If you lay a finger on either of them, I will personally see your soul sucked into Oblivion," she growled, but kept her face straight all the same.
Hircine waved his hand dismissively. "Empty threats, love." He sighed and glanced at the ground. "I suppose it's time you return to Nirn. Will I see you again sometime soon?"
"Perhaps," Cry responded, and Hircine blinked, once.
"I look forward to it."
The red forest disappeared, as did the Daedric prince. Cry opened her eyes to find that she was lying on her bed in Jorrvaskr. Every single part of her body was tense, as though she had been holding still in her sleep as she had been before Hircine, and she sighed, allowing her muscles to relax.
She slowly raised one arm, and then the other, looking at the bare skin on her form arms for the cuts she had received in the forest. She then lifted the blanket slightly so she could look at her legs, praying to the Divines that the bite she had received was gone.
It was, and Cry let out a slow breath of relief. She then lowered the blanket, turning onto her side, her eyes fixing on the form in the bed beside her. She smiled slightly at the sight of Vilkas's calm face, unruffled in his sleep from the responsibilities he had during the day.
Gingerly, Cry reached forward to move a strand of black hair away from his face, not wanting to disturb him. She tucked it gently behind his ear, drawing her hand back. For a moment, he remained still, and she thought she had been successful, but then the Companion stirred, his eyelids fluttering and then opening fully. He blinked a few times and then yawned before his eyes finally focused on her, and a small grin touched his lips.
"Good morning, love."
She blinked as she remembered Hircine calling her the same thing, but all the same, she smiled as well and stretched her neck forward so she could give him a kiss. "Morning."
Vilkas stretched one arm up over his head and yawned again. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, lowering his arm.
Cry was about to respond, but she decided against revealing her dream and remained silent, knowing it would only worry him.
Her silence must have told Vilkas something, for he blinked at her and then propped himself up on his elbow, head in his hand. "What happened?" he asked seriously, and she sighed, rolling over onto her opposite side so she was facing away from him.
"Nothing. I just had another dream, that's all," she revealed, quietly.
Vilkas knew what she meant immediately, and he slid closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "Do you want to talk about it?" he queried gently, and she shook her head. Vilkas, knowing when to drop a subject, rubbed her shoulder once more before he kissed it briefly. "You can tell me anything, you know."
When she nodded in response, he sat up and slung his legs over the side of the bed. Running a hand over his face, Vilkas glanced over his shoulder before standing to get dressed.
Cry didn't roll back over even when the leather pants he slept in fell to the floor, indicating that he was naked except for his undergarments. There was definitely something on her mind.
Vilkas wasn't sure whether he should question her once more, and he pulled on a daytime robe before moving to her side of the bed and sitting down beside her, one hand stroking her hair.
Cry's blue-gray eyes were fixed on the wall across from her, but when she felt Vilkas's hand on her hair, she glanced at him, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Honestly."
Her husband wasn't convinced by her empty promise, but he dipped his head in acceptance and then headed for the door. "I'm going to go get breakfast. See you upstairs?" Cry nodded again, sitting up for emphasis. Vilkas smiled at her and then left the room.
Cry sighed, a hand running through her hair momentarily, and she withdrew it when her fingers got caught in the tangles. Please, don't let him get drawn into it. Don't let it happen to either of them.
She slid out of bed and stretched, then padded out of the bedchamber and into the sitting room, where she settled down at the table in the corner and picked up the stack of letters waiting for her there. Most of them were from her housecarls, reporting anything having to do with activity in the other holds that she didn't spend as much time in.
Only the letter pertaining to Markarth, from Argis, gave her reason for concern: Jarl Thongvar thinks the Forsworn are planning an attack on the city, but nothing other than a few threatening letters have come from the matter. If the Forsworn do decide to attack, the Markarth citizens would suffer terribly. Perhaps you could come to the city, stay for a while. The Forsworn would run at the idea of having to face the Dragonborn.
Cry smiled to herself at that. Argis was young, and still viewed her as a wonder of sorts. She understood his fears, but doubted that her presence in Markarth would amount to much by way of scaring off the Forsworn.
Besides that, she'd dealt with enough Forsworn to last her a lifetime. Divines knew the last thing she wanted to do was go to Markarth to deal with a group of Reachmen who should realize they've lost, now that she'd taken care of their king.
Months prior, when she'd been looking to become Thane of Markarth, she'd gotten tangled in a bit of a conspiracy, and was thrown into Cidhna Mine for murder. She had murdered, but only because she had no other choice, and the other two she'd been charged with hadn't been her doing whatsoever. The Markarth guard knew that, of course, but had thrown her in prison all the same.
At least she'd come face to face with the head of the problem. Madanach was the Forsworn's chosen 'king', and head of their rebellion. While in prison, she'd been able to kill him off using her voice, thankfully, and had managed to escape.
Once the Silver-Blood family had learned of what she'd done, all accusations against her had been wiped clean, and she'd been able to leave the city in peace. It wasn't until only a month or two ago that she'd returned at the behest of the jarl, to accept the title of thane, and Argis had entered her service.
He now stayed mostly in Vlindrel Hall, the piece of property she owned within the city, keeping an eye on it and other happenings within the Reach. Her housecarls were useful to her that way, reporting mishaps or things of interest within their respective cities from their respective homes that Cry had come into the possession of, just as she'd gained the title of thane in every hold aside from Eastmarch, mostly because she knew that would involve becoming a Stormcloak in some form, and she didn't want to take on the civil war just yet.
She had a much bigger war on hers hands, currently, and she told Argis as much in the letter she meant to send back.
When her responses to all the letters were completed, she rose from the table and went to get dressed, wondering how in the world she'd gone from being a prisoner of the Imperials, to being the Dragonborn, Harbinger of the Companions, and Thane of almost every hold in Skyrim, all while still worrying over what she'd done in the past.
She supposed it didn't matter, now. That was the past, and anyone who knew about it was either dead, or silent about it.
Which was exactly the reason she hadn't told Vilkas, or any of the others.
And she planned on keeping it that way.
Cry walked up the stairs, freshly washed up and dressed in a simple blue dress. She headed over to where Vilkas was sitting and gave him a kiss before she sat down beside him, as was the daily ritual between the two.
One part was missing, however, and Cry gazed around the mead hall for the burly Companion that was supposed to make a disgusted noise as they kissed. "Where's Farkas?" she asked, and Aela looked up from her plate of potatoes and eggs.
"I think he's still asleep. Wouldn't wake up no matter what I did to him," the huntress informed.
Cry stiffened at this news, and Vilkas looked at her worriedly. "Is something wrong?" he questioned, frowning.
"I'm going to go check on him," she replied, standing up once more and hurrying for the living quarter stairs. Vilkas watched her go, and then looked at Aela, who sitting down the table from him.
"What do you know about this?" he asked her, and Aela shrugged.
"I don't know anything. I only said he was still asleep." Vilkas sighed and then stood up as well to follow his wife down to the living quarters. "Where are you going?" Aela queried
"To check on my brother," he answered, heading down the stairs.
Cry was already in Farkas's room, and was crouching beside the Companion's bed, one hand shaking his bare shoulder. "Farkas, you need to wake up!"
His eyelids were twitching, and every few seconds he would shudder or flinch, and then let out a small whimper. Now Cry was starting to get worried, and she shook his shoulder harder. "Farkas!"
Vilkas appeared in the doorway, and when he saw his brother flinch, he hurried over to join his wife beside the bed. "Farkas? Brother, wake up," he urged.
Farkas didn't respond to the shove his brother gave him, and instead merely whimpered again and then rolled over.
"Farkas!" Cry shouted, in an attempt to wake him up, as well as in a cry of panic. The fast asleep Companion didn't respond, and Cry put a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob that had worked its way up inside of her.
Vilkas, however, refused to accept the fact that his brother wasn't going to wake up from his dark dream, and he furiously shook Farkas's shoulders, even rolling him over onto his back so he could slap his cheeks. "Farkas!"
"Vilkas!" Cry had to yank the Companion away from his twin and she pulled him to her and closed him into a hug. She gazed at Farkas from over Vilkas's head, who had his face buried into her chest. The Companion on the bed twitched again, and Cry silently cursed Hircine for doing this to her friend, as well as to her husband.
I will kill you. One way, or another.
She heard a quiet chuckled beside her ear, and she felt hands grip her shoulders. I look forward to it.