AN: For a Kink Meme prompt requesting backstories of minor Skyrim characters. One of the "bonus points" characters to include was Ria, and, well, I couldn't resist. I love Ria. If you've read this on the SKM, I'm making a few minor revisions for clarity's sake (and, for that reason, I'm not putting the whole thing up at once).
WARNINGS: This fic eventually contains character death (including the death of a child) and one non-graphic NSFW scene later on. I will not be putting warnings at the beginning of each chapter, because it would get redundant, but... I mostly want to warn you about the child death, I guess. It's not my goal to trigger people.
Disclaimer: The places and characters portrayed in this fic belong to Bethesda, with the exception of Maris, Pontius, and Nereus, who are my own original characters.
It was a long journey from Bruma to Falkreath.
Ria didn't remember it. She was too young, not even a full year old. It was a risk her family had taken, hoping to make their way in the world, as they'd yet to have any luck in the city. In Skyrim, they would start life anew. They could start a farm, escape from the most oppressive rulings of the Thalmor. They had just enough coin on them to hire a wagon and cross the border, but, beyond that, they had little else they could manage.
Pontius set to work immediately with the blacksmith, while Maris and the children stayed in the small farmhouse where a Nord family had taken pity on them. So long as Maris earned her keep tending the farm and helping Jorck and Irja, she, Nereus, and Ria could stay.
And that was where Ria spent her first couple of years, in that little farmhouse on the edge of Corpselight Farm, with her older brother and Jorck and Irja's son Mathies to keep her company. That was home, at least to her, though her parents still wistfully told stories of Bruma and spoke of returning one day.
When she had seen four winters and Nereus had seen seven, they had almost free run of the village, so long as she stayed by his side and they didn't go off into the woods. Mostly, this meant they sat by their father at the forge, listening to him argue with Gowan and Gowan's son, Lod. On days when they were extremely lucky, the other children, who were few and far between, would join them in games of tag or of Guards and Bandits, or they'd lollygag outside the Jarl's longhouse and wait for his pompous teenage nephew to appear so that they might pester him. That was a game they learned early on to be careful when playing, as one time it ended with the oldest among them being dragged to Falkreath prison for the afternoon.
Her favorite days had always been the days when she and Nereus would sit by their father, as it meant the other children couldn't ignore her for being the youngest and a girl at that. She could sit and watch as he crafted and fixed swords for the Jarl's guards, and she could ask if she might have a sword for herself. Her father laughed it off each time, saying swords were for warriors and she was going to be a refined young lady, if her mother had anything to say about it.
Whatever her mother did have to say about it would soon be lost, however, when Ria first laid eyes on the Companions.
It was a sunny day in Second Seed when the two men came to town on horseback. The older of the men had a thick beard and a swirling tattoo on the side of his face, and his fellow warrior had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and sturdy cheekbones, made more sharp by the stripes he'd painted on either cheek. Ria watched from the deck of the blacksmith's house, full of wonder at their surprising grace.
Before her father could jump from his workstation and stop her, Ria ran into the path, desperate to get a better look. She was young yet, and didn't always think. All she knew was that she had to find out who these men were and what they were doing in Falkreath.
"Whoa there!" the older of the two men called out as he reared back his horse to keep from trampling her. "Watch your step, young one."
"Who are you?" she asked, openly and brazenly and in such a curious tone that her mother might have died of embarrassment if she had been there to hear.
"Who's asking?" said the younger man with a smirk.
The bearded man shot his fellow traveler a stern look before searching again for the little girl. "Kodlak Whitemane," he said was a soft smile, "and this is Skjor. We're Companions from Whiterun." His tone was gentle, much more suited to a grandfather than to a chiseled warrior.
"What's a Companion?"
"Protector of Skyrim, that's what," Skjor said with a laugh. He wasn't quite as gentle as his comrade, but he still seemed amused by the girl's curiosity. "Warriors. Why, you looking to join up?"
Ria couldn't help herself frowning. "Papa says I can't be a warrior."
"Nonsense!" Kodlak's laughter was booming, echoing around the wooded town. "Anyone with a brave heart and a strong arm can be a Companion."
"Anyone?" Shock crossed over her face as she heard the words.
"Anyone." The man shot her a wink before he and his fellow Companion made their way back down the path.
Ria was awakened from her gaze following them by her father's arm tugging her back to the smithy. Even as he lectured her about safety and about being wary of strange men on horseback, her mind flitted back to those warriors, to the giant swords strapped to their back and their shining armor glinting in the spring sunlight. His words were lost on her completely for the rest of the day.
And for the days immediately following, Ria constantly thought about those men and their horses and their armor and their swords, and she listened to others only when the names came up. "I hear they're looking for the last hold-out of the Dark Brotherhood!" Valdr had said, and, "Word down at Dead Man's Drink is that there are werewolves in the woods and the Companions are hunting for them," was the exciting news from Solaf. But the most interesting was Lod, who told her, "Did you hear? A couple years ago, the pair of them fought off a hundred and one Orc beserkers!"
That settled it, then.
She was going to be a Companion, whether her mother liked it or not.