I do hope that you all enjoy this first chapter to my new Skyrim Fanfiction.

I would like to make a disclaimer that if the writing makes me come off as a kind of charlatan that is not my intention. I am plying my hand at a writing style that I have never tried before.

I hope you all enjoy this first chapter I will update when I can. Cheers!

In the fourth Era, the petulance of man and merkind, regardless of how grand or petty it was, seemed to be almost infinite. There was the ever waging war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, that (thankfully enough) The Companions didn't tire themselves with; but much in Vilkas's opinion the reasons behind the war, if someone were to ask him, tipped the scale of petulance on the side of the latter. He wasn't without beliefs and, one would be hard pressed to find a single person no matter their origins without. But, to claim the reasons behind the war were objectively justified would be absurd. Was Tiber Septim a great man? By all accounts of his exploits, no matter how questionable, Vilkas could easily agree and people were in the right to remember him for them. But, the question of his divinity was, to him at least, a matter for the philosophers and not that for minds of Tamriel's governing bodies.

It was these sort of topics that people discussed that annoyed Vilkas to great lengths. Even now, as he sat at the table in Jorrvaskr in front the fire pit that burned brightly while he and his fellow Companions ate breakfast at their leisure, he had old Vignar Gray-Mane to thank for his inability to enjoy his breakfast due to his intolerable ramblings of the unjust acts of the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. "It isn't right!" Old Vignar exclaimed with great passion. "We have the right to believe in our gods in any way we see fit. Who are those damned elves to say who we can and cannot worship!" Vilkas held his tankard in a tight grip and his eyes closed trying to yield his rising irritation as his jaw clenched and temples flared.

There was a prolonged sense of envy that had long planted itself in Vilkas towards his brother. Farkas had a more agreeable temperament than he; not by a large margin by any means; but, agreeable to the point where he was more capable of tolerating such aggravating twaddle without obvious signs. Vilkas had attempted at one time to profit from his brother's example but the Gods seemed to have cursed him with a brain that refused to listen to his own wishes. It was the same even when they were children to which did not exactly earn Vilkas very many friends when he and his brother were growing up but he neither had the mind to harbor any guilt for it.

He was always perceived as a strong willed soul with an air of intuition. While flattering as it may have been, he always found it as a childish way to get away with saying that he was stubborn. He couldn't place his finger on as to why people, fellow Nords even, would comment about it. Stubbornness was a common Nordic trait. The Stormcloaks being the primmest of all the examples. But, for his fellow Companions to say it was off putting. Aela was stubborn, as was Farkas and Njada. Even Athis, a dark elf, was stubborn. Vilkas didn't meditate on the question for too long – there was no point, he felt. And, he couldn't spend too much time scrolling through his thoughts when to many petty happenings surrounded him.

"I would dare any elf to challenge my beliefs. I'd soon put them down for the trouble." Exclaimed Vignar, once again cutting through Vilkas's thoughts.

Vilkas stood from the table with his plate – the contents thereof being of cooked horker meat and sweet roll – along with his tankard and took to sitting outside in the back for the remainder of his meal. It wasn't entirely so he could face the morning with peace but mostly it was for Vignar's sake that Vilkas left before he lost whatever sense he had left.

There were several reasons as to why The Companions didn't dally into politics. They neither had the time nor patience to care. To Vilkas especially he never saw a difference in the ultimate objective of any war ever waged. In the end, war was simply a demonstration of tact to garner power as the end result.

When Vilkas stepped outside he felt the air was cool as it was dry much like the table he was sitting at. The table creaked when he sat and the legs shifted under his weight. Thin sheets of ice hung from the edges of the table and in between the crevices which made the surface of the table slick and almost completely smooth save for a few bumps. He was content to eat in the cold silence of the morning. Upon contemplating on which he would prefer, he considered the empty training yard to be a blessing. It was away from the noisy hustle of main hall of Jorrvaskr as his Shield-Siblings crowded around each other and bantered to one another. He was most irritable in the youngest hours of the day before breakfast. Between then and when breakfast was finished was a test to see who would be the first to try his patience.

What made the pleasurable experience of eating outdoors better was that Whiterun was a fairly quiet city. Its people would be just now preparing for the day to be as they dressed themselves and prepared their own breakfasts so they could go about their day to day with relative ease. Vilkas cut into his food and chewed as he thought about what living in that great cesspool of a city that Solitude was like. He had been there enough times to know that having a quiet moment to oneself was a practice in the chimerical.

As he ate, Vilkas could only think about what the day would bring and he was eager to get to work. He couldn't stand to go to long without. Not that he had a problem with downtime, but he could hardly distinguish the two. He enjoyed what he did, providing that the coin that their clients offered was preferable to their regular rates. Vilkas was a warrior as he was trained to be ever since he and his brother were boys. Fighting was his life and his future. He held true to what the Companions believed in and he was honorable, which was the most important part of the job. No matter who was fighting; whether it was low-life bandits or a fearsome predator of the wild and dense forests of Skyrim's wooded regions; he always made sure that he held the honor of Companions along with him.

"Is the heat of Jorrvaskr to much for you this morning?" Kodlak Whitemane spoke with the usual good natured and relaxed tone that unknowing to itself, had the ability to sooth even the most heated of tempers. Kodlak never acknowledged if this was a conscience effort. Vilkas supposed it didn't really matter. What mattered is the effect that Kodlak's words had on them all. One word could give them courage, and a few minutes of speaking with the old warrior could grant you wisdom that only he could bestow. Kodlak was an inspiration to them all and he lead them all with the same honor that they so often' spoke of.

Kodlak sat on the side of the table opposite Vilkas and Vilkas responded with, "I needed to escape from Vignar," in a sardonic tone as he looked out passed the stone wall to the dark blue, morning sky of the winter where the wind was chilly and clouds were black. The kind of weather that Nords were naturally accustomed too. But, onto the other races that called Skyrim their home, it was the time of year that kept them indoors in the comforting touch of a fires warmth, under cozy candle light where they would sit with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and a warm beverage to further deepen their comfort.

"I see." Kodlack responded knowingly. "I understand your querulousness. We aren't the type for likes of politics and the Gray-Manes are a passionate bunch, however I did not see any of our Shield-Siblings taking part in the discussion and nor did I witness any of them leave as you did." Vilkas chewed the remains of his breakfast with lethargic slowness as he was catching a sudden intimation from his Harbinger. "So I would urge you steal yourself. You may find that its easier than you seem to believe."

"I highly doubt that I could." Vilkas retorted.

Kodlak gave a wry chuckle and scratched at the table with his index finger. His long, white beard gave a slight flutter as the wind made it passed the wall of the courtyard and he looked up at the mountain range, instantly taken in by its beauty. He always liked to peer up at the Throat of the World that stood sentinel with the sharp, jagged peaks of its summit scratching against the sky as the monastery of High Hrothgar peered down, silhouetted behind the clouds like an apparition from an obscure and forgotten past.

"You know, I brought in a new member yesterday." Kodlak uttered candidly. "Not the typical sort that we normally get around here. The Jarl's court wizard asked me to take a look at her. He seemed damned eager to be rid of her. She's been going to and from Dragonsreach for weeks; sometimes staying all throughout the night if permitted."

"Doesn't sound like Companion material." Vilkas commented dryly.

"Yes. She's more of a scholar than a fighter – an enthusiast in alchemy and arcane enchantments, and related fields. Why, when I went to see her - she was hunched over Farengar's alchemy table, rapidly mumbling some incoherencies to herself like some sort of madman. I don't know what she was doing, but it looked like delicate work. I didn't think too much of her when I first came upon her but after a I had a chance to sit down and speak with her I could sense a certain strength of spirit. She needn't tell more than what she did but what she shared was enough to convince me that she would do fine here. Now, fitting in however is another matter entirely."

"Why?" Vilkas raised an intrigued brow.

"You haven't met her yet. It would be easier for you to see for yourself than it would be for me to explain why. All I will say is that she has a kind of walk and talk that we don't see around here." Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest and tried to imagine what kind of person Kodlak was describing to him. The Companions were no strangers to taking in foreigners. People from all walks of life, from many different lands have sought them out. Certainly this woman could not be anything more than something they had already seen in another. Kodlak may just be exaggerating. "You will see your fill of her when she comes by later. And, Vilkas," Kodlak's tone became more serious and he immediately attained Vilkas's full attention. "I urge you to guard yourself around her. I don't imagine you will care for her being a Companion."

"Does this worry you?"

Kodlak leaned forward on the table and rubbed his face then moved to stroke his beard. "Not to any extent. You take your duties very seriously as do the rest of us. As for our new member – well, she is a woman of studious and eclectic habits and I do not yet know how everyone will adjust to her. So I ask that you attempt to practice some patience. It may be while before anyone is used to her."

Vilkas looked hard at his Harbinger and for a few seconds both were quiet in a contemplative pause. "Kodlak, with all due respect – you're being awfully delicate about the matter. Why not just explain her plainly? Why the discretion?"

"It is not easy to explain the ineffable, son." Kodlak replied sincerely. "Even I have a hard time to put into words what to say of her. She's like any other person in a way. She has her strengths and her faults. But, I am confident that she will make a very fine addition to Jorrvaskr. And, last I checked we have some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

Vilkas sighed in frustration at Kodlak. He did not like being kept in the dark in these matters. For whatever reason Kodlak was keeping a lot to himself which Vilkas found odd and made him feel somewhat uneasy. He took a deep breath and took a drink from his tankard. He wiped his lips then rubbed his hand over his face before clasping his hands together, rubbing them against one another as he thought.

"I suppose," Vilkas spoke slowly, "That if you feel that she is right for us – than who are we to disagree. Should she prove otherwise we will handle it accordingly. Just as we have always done." When Vilkas finished speaking he had a secondary statement hiding in between the context of his words. Kodlak understood it as, "Do not let this end up like Uthgerd." It was an unfortunate accident what happened with Uthgerd and one that Kodlack knew could have been prevented. It was such an awful waste that they withdrew her from Jorrvaskr for she was an excellent warrior but such a waste it was for the boy's life that she had inevitably and unnecessarily taken.

"Worry not, lad. I feel great things may come of this. You just wait." Kodlak finished confidently.

Once breakfast was over, Vilkas had gone about his day in practically normal fashion. He prepped himself for any jobs that may venture his way. Dressing himself in the standard armor that he, Kodlak and Skjor often wore that bore homage to the majestic wolf. It was a heavy yet comfortable amalgamation of forged steel, leather and fur that hardly required time to get used too. It was an excellent set to be worn by a warrior of considerable mettle and reputation for it was easily recognizable. He squeezed his hands into fists as he fitted his gloves and strapped the buckles. He fastened his sword that sat inside its sheath around his waist and took a deep breath. Feeling ready now that he was dressed.

When Vilkas exited his room, his brother was just shutting the door to his own bedroom across the hall. Though they were identical twins; it was never a challenge of observation to tell them apart. Farkas was a mountain of a Nord that was sparing in his voice but not so much in his wide-eyed glares. His broad shoulders and overbearing height could render the fieriest of heads to feel weak at the knees and cause them to buckle under their weight and his deep voice could sound like the growl of a raging predator if he was angered. The chilly, stone depths of Jorrvaskr's living quarters meant that their non-nord contemporaries would be making haste back up to the top of Jorrvaskr to the main hall where the fire kept them warm. As for Vilkas and Farkas, they enjoyed taking their time.

Vilkas gave his brother a friendly pat on his back and said, "How are you this morning, brother?"

"All is well." Farkas replied plainly. "You hear? Kodlak's brought in someone new!"

"Yes." Vilkas sighed tiredly. "He mentioned it to me earlier. He wouldn't say much about who she is. Mostly he went on about that she seems to have a passion for the arcane."

"What?" Fakras looked hard at his twin with a confused look.

"Magic – brother." Vilkas replied with repose as he was used too resorting to such pleonasms for his brothers' sake. "She has a love for magic and potions."

"Hmmm…" Farkas responded as he thoughtfully rubbed his stubble freckled chin. "A mage is to be a Companion? Hardly makes sense." Vilkas agreed with a hum and a subtle nod of his head. As they spoke to one another they made their way down the arched, windowless corridors of Jorrvaskr's lower level. Chandeliers that hung only over the intersecting corridors lit the dull, gray quarry stone of the halls aside from a few lit scattered candles before they reached the doors that lead up to the top level.

The two brothers continued to converse with one another as they made their way to the dining table until they were stopped by Tilma. She was an elderly lady who was well within the twilight years of her life. She came upon them with an inquisitive look and Vilkas stopped talking so that Tilma made address them.

"Excuse me, boys?" She said politely. "Could one of you be a dear and head to Arcadia's Cauldron for me? I have a list of materials that I need to get. I would do it myself but Jorrvaskr needs cleaned and my old bones don't care much for the cold anymore."

"I'll get it, Tilma." Farkas offered.

"No, no, brother! Allow me." Vilkas uttered suddenly and took the list that Tilma was holding before Farkas grabbed it.

"Are you sure? I can…"

"No, no, no. I could use the walk." Vilkas made off with the list and walked out into the brisk cold. He descended down the stone steps of Jorrvaskr to the Winds District of Whiterun right into the park where the Gildergreen stood in its proud decadence. Vilkas understood that tree was significant to the city for its historical and religious significance – especially to the temple of Kynareth that stood across the park directly opposite Jorrvaskr. Its history is fascinating; of this Vilkas had no doubt; but the damned thing had been dead for so long that he felt that it should be forgotten.

He went down another flight of stone stairs that lead him to the main market place where the market stalls stood empty as their owners still had not opened them up. A few were laying out their goods to be sold but that was all to be seen until later when the market would be packed with people looking to purchase and barter.

Arcadia's Cauldron was thankfully one of the first stores to open in the morning and Vilkas stepped inside followed by a small jingle of the bell that hung above him to let the owner know that a patron has stepped inside.

Vilkas stepped in and was greeted with a gust of warm air that came from the square shaped hearth in the center of the main room that lit the entire place. The woman in charge, who the store was named after, was leaned over another lady at her alchemy table. She quickly turned her head and smiled when she saw him close the door behind him with a small click. Arcadia walked behind the counter where hand-made concoctions of different varieties stood in bottles of different colours along with different alchemical ingredients from flowers to other organic material and waited for Vilkas to state his business. He pulled from his pocket the list that he had taken from Tilma and was about to speak before a loud clanking of glass interrupted him from the alchemy table. He looked over and saw a woman with a slender frame wearing greenish-blue robes with white, silken trims facing away from him closely bent over the table too busy into her work to notice anything that was happening around her.

"May I help you, Vilkas?" Arcadia asked with a smile. Arcadia was pleased to see Vilkas. She had always thought he was a very attractive man. His dark, shoulder length hair and unshaven stubble always caught her eye but she most adored his icy gray eyes. Such a unique eye colour; she thought. But, her admiration was always from afar since he was always coming and going from Whiterun. The price one had to pay to be a Companion as was the kind of standard that they adhered to.

"Ummm…yes." Vilkas said as he turned his eyes back on the sheet of paper. He scratched his temple and said, "Let's see here."

"AH! AH HA HA!" The unknown woman shouted in a victorious manner very suddenly. "I've done it! I've don't it!" She stood up from her stool with vigor, pushing it against her leg and almost making it fall over. She ran over to Arcadia with zeal and that was when she took notice of Vilkas through dilated pupils. She laughed, tucked her hair behind her long pointy ear and said, "Do excuse me! It's hard to contain one's excitement when they have made a very momentous breakthrough. Do come and see for yourself!" She ran back to the alchemy table and Arcadia went with her.

Vilkas exchanged glances between the girls and the counter before he sighed and approached the table himself to see what the fuss was about. "Now!" The woman said sharply to garner their attention. "Of course after numerous attempts, I have done it!" She repeated then wiped sweat from her forehead. "After mixing Fly Amanita - which we all know is a common fungus - with the root of a Creep Cluster and the wings of the lovely Monarch butterfly – I have succeeded in creating a compound with the necessary various effects that will revitalize and protect the Gildergreen!" The altmer woman squeaked, bounced up and down on her toes as she rapidly clapped her hands together in a puerile manner. It could have gone without saying that no greater delight could have shown across the altmer's face.

On the table in front of them there stood a green bottle about the size of a wine bottle with a thick, dark liquid that Vilkas almost thought was mud if the scent didn't convince him otherwise.

"And, you managed to do it without nullifying the effects of any of the other agents?" Arcadia inquired with an incredulous expression but with obvious excitement. The altmer nodded with a wide smile. "But, you added so much! How could you without causing some kind negative reaction?" Arcadia was sure that with so many compounds; some even extremely volatile; that some sort of backfire would have occurred.

"You give me far little credit, Arcadia." The altmer retorted. "I am a practiced alchemist with an intimate knowledge of the field. The only way to prove that something can be done is by making the attempt. Now, hurry with the samples. The sooner that we record the results, the sooner I can add them to my publication. Quickly now! Quickly! The significance of this is highly acute." The altmer said as she waved the back of her hand at Arcadia.

Now that the moment had at present revealed itself, Vilkas observed with careful scrutiny all that he could of the excited alchemist standing before him. In height she stood over six feet tall about the same height as himself. She had light red hair and like all High Elves that he had encountered in his life she had fair and smooth skin that still held the golden complexion indicative of all Altmer. Her eyes entire were like that of brilliant emeralds that were sharp, piercing and seemingly observant. Her facial features were sharp, narrow and pronounced that gave her whole expression an air of alertness and decision. Arcadia returned handing out a blue cloth that was wrapped around something therein and the altmer reached out for it allowing Vilkas the sight of her hands which held a very feminine elegance and were blotted with ink, faint burn marks and light patches of discoloured skin like a caustic material had damaged it upon contact showing the evidence of the altmer woman's practice. Yet, despite the state of her hands, she demonstrated a delicate touch as she went about the alchemy table.

It was here where Vilkas came upon a notion of intrigue towards the altmer whom he had a growing suspicion.

"Excuse me, miss?" Vilkas inquired curiously to the altmer. She looked up at him with wide eyes that subtly shook from left to right and despite how cold it was outside she had a clear sheet of sweat on her forehead. "You wouldn't happen to be the newest member of The Companions by any chance, would you?"

"An excellent observation, Vilkas!" She said with a toothy smile. "You certainly live up to your reputation for being as quick as a whip - least, that's is how your Harbinger had put it but, you're too slow. So, I personally would call it amateurish at best. I mean no disrespect I assure you. Kodlak was a bit sententious and proudly boastful." Vilkas felt a kind of bitterness fill his heart at her comment.

"Oh, but where are my manners? I have not introduced myself." She raised her hand out and said, "An'Aloriander. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Companion. If you find my name too much to bear than you may call Annie as many of my associates often do." The way she had pronounced her nick-name sounded like 'On-Nee' and Vilkas repeated it as he had heard it.

"Pleasure." Vilkas replied dryly as he shook her hand. "Apologies, but I need to get what I have come for and be off. Will you be making your way to Jorrvaskr later?"

"Obviously. I did not join for the sake of saying I had been accepted." Vilkas once again felt a bite of annoyance. Did this woman know no ounce of respect?

"Indeed. Well then, enjoy your morning. We in The Companions will see you this afternoon."

"Indeed, you shall." Annie poised.

Vilkas had done what he had come to do and slowly made way back to Jorrvaskr. He breathed deeply through his nose and shook his head. He honestly did not know what to think of the new Companion to be; assuming she'd make it which Vilkas doubted with great strides. She was to slender and frail looking with no trace of muscle to be hinted at. She looked like she would run from a fight before it even started and if that didn't kill her than certainly one if his Shield-Siblings would. She was rude and disrespectful that went beyond the childish insults that The Companions routinely threw at one another.

Despite all that, Vilkas still garnered some level of intrigue towards Annie. The sheer amount of enthusiasm, excitement and energy she shared about her work was contagious enough that he wondered if her compound would actually work to bringing the Gildergreen back to life. There was passion in her for sure which could help her on her way to being a Companion which served to show what Kodlak said about her to be true and he felt guilty for having doubted the old man. There was passion in her, or as Kodlack had put it, "A fire burning in their hearts".