Chapter 1: Destined for battle

Pain.

A white-hot, searing pain that threatened to brand her eyes with its fury, squeezing tears of frustration from her eyes. Almerin cursed as she squinted against the sunlight, finally closing her eyes and blindly aiming her arrow towards the sky.

Somewhere to her right, she heard a muffled chuckle.

"You do remember that every time I miss, you are one arrow closer to exsanguination, right?" Almerin snarled, as she selected another arrow from her quiver.

"A fair trade, if I get to see that face again," Serana laughed. Almerin glanced at the vampire balefully, which only served to increase Serana's mirth. Serana screwed her eyes shut and tightened her jaw.

"I am the Dragonborn vampire lord!" Serana intoned in a vague approximation of Almerin's resonant voice. "And the tyranny of the sun is done, but only if I make this face every-"

Almerin elbowed Serana in the side, cutting off her monologue. The damage, however, was already done, as a reluctant grin crept over Almerin's face. Serana's face softened as she smiled back at her friend.

"We should only need one more hour to gather the pelts you need," Serana said. Almerin murmured agreement as she loosed a second arrow, and felt herself relax with the darkening of the sky.

Feeling energy flood back into her muscles, Almerin scanned the coastline, looking for a flash of – there! Almerin soundlessly gestured at the snowy sabre cat, indicating for Serana to follow her to a higher vantage point.

Crouching at the top of the ice shelf, Almerin watched the animal with satisfaction. Skyrim was hers. Mortals scurried across the earth, beholden to their mundane desires, completely unaware that she could change their fates at a whim. Almerin turned her attention to the sabre cat's head, using her newly restored stamina to focus on its eye. One well-aimed arrow would end its life, with minimal damage to the pelt. Almerin caressed her arrow, preparing for release.

"There it is! Kill the beast!"

A young woman in hide armour bolted towards the sabre cat, unsheathing a rudimentary steel sword. Startled, Almerin fired her arrow into the ground, unwilling to risk splattering human blood on her pelt. How dare she, Almerin seethed, her lips curling in frustration. Almerin had restrained herself from feeding for several weeks, enjoying the power of her vampire capabilities in combination with the curious thrill she gained from dominating herself. All for naught, as she would now be forced to teach this huntress respect.

Baring her fangs, Almerin sprang towards the huntress, only to find her body pinned firmly to Serana's torso. Almerin whipped her head around to stare at the vampire, suddenly furious.

"Werewolf!" Serana hissed, tightening her grip around Almerin's body.

Almerin stiffened, turning back in time to see an unkempt man with silver eyes stampede towards her sabre cat. Of course it would attempt close-quarters combat with the sabre cat, Almerin sneered to herself. The Companions eschewed magic, often allocating ranged combat positions to its female members. This left the males to flounder aimlessly within reach of their prey, vulnerable to attack and reliant on a strong initial blow. As expected, the female – was she a Companion too? – was poorly trained in melee combat, stamping on the ground and attempting to hack at the sabre cat with her sword. She would be much better served by heavier armour, Almerin thought.

Almerin watched, incredulous, as the man suddenly slashed its sword across the sabre cat's back. Blood welled from the gash, marring the sabre cat's pelt. If the werewolf's musk hadn't already ruined it, Almerin thought, as rage began to bubble in her veins. Dropping Auriel's bow on the ground, Almerin mentally reached within her blood to grasp at the form of the Vampire Lord.

"No!" Serana pleaded, pulling at Almerin's black hair.

"Are you serious?" Almerin scoffed. "He is isolated from his pack, weakened by his fight, and he stole my prey!"

"Killing a werewolf under a darkened sun?" Serana asked, her eyes wide with fear. "The Companions will know it was us, and we do not yet know if we could defeat them in open battle!"

Almerin scowled, the temptation to transform trembling momentarily within her chest. You're so lucky that you have never thought to challenge me, Almerin thought as she allowed herself to relax in Serana's arms. Looking back at the coast, Almerin noted that the pair had left as swiftly as they had come, the corpse of her sabre cat the only proof that they had encroached on her territory.

"Fine," Almerin said coldly, detaching herself from Serana's arms and ignoring her sigh of relief. "But our assault on the Companions begins now. We do not cease until I have stuffed that beast with these furs".

Almerin climbed down towards the sabre cat with dagger in hand, intent on salvaging some furs to emphasize her threat. Serana followed carefully, warmth returning to her golden eyes.

"So, Rin," Serana began in a teasing voice. "Of the three arrows you shot today, exactly how many hit their intended target?"

-x-

Vilkas shuddered as he leaned against an ice wall, refusing to look at Ria. The whelp was in tears, shivering in her thin armour, silently begging him to return her gaze. It's not as though I didn't warn her about all of this, he thought angrily.

Vilkas pushed himself off the wall, heading back towards Whiterun while continuing to ignore Ria's pleading eyes. He had been so close to transforming in front of the girl, so close to forcibly thrusting her into the Circle's revolting secret. He could feel the beast blood pounding in his temples, calling him to give in to the transformation. He gritted his teeth as he lengthened his stride, Ria now running to keep pace with him.

"Vilkas, I'm so-"

Vilkas whirled around, eyes blazing.

"Sorry?" Vilkas roared. "Sorry? For what, exactly? For insisting that we tramp halfway across the Pale because you wanted a challenge? For rushing at the beast without waiting for my signal? For continuing to wear that ridiculous armour, even though I know you are better trained in-"

Abruptly, Vilkas cut himself off, now furious at himself. He should have known better than to listen to the child, to expect anything from her. For the thousandth time, he cursed the Companions' insistence that hunting jobs be completed in teams. Vilkas inhaled sharply through his nose and resumed his march back to Whiterun, his anger now directed towards himself.

I should continue my journey alone, Vilkas thought to himself. He hated being burdened by company while fighting. Even Farkas was a distraction in battle, Vilkas unable to tear his eyes from his brother for fear of his safety. That feeling, of course, was a remnant of their twisted childhood, Vilkas stilling internally at the thought of his brother in danger.

Lost in his memories, Vilkas almost missed Ria's moan. Irritated, he glanced at her, only to have to hurriedly catch her before she collapsed to the ground. Internally, he groaned. He could see Whiterun from their current position, but knew that he would now need to make camp to allow the girl to rejuvenate.

Propping the girl against a tree, Vilkas unpacked Ria's bed furs, grateful for his keen vision as he searched for kindling. Squinting at the blood red sun, Vilkas estimated that they could rest for two hours before heading back to Whiterun, which would have them safely within its walls before Aela and Skjor began their nocturnal prowl. As Vilkas looked up from his fire, he noticed that the whelp had crawled across to her bed roll, avoiding his gaze. So be it, he thought to himself, as he settled back to watch the flames. Mesmerised by the dancing heat, Vilkas felt his eyelids begin to droop.

Vilkas bounded through the forest, his black fur stark against the snow that crunched beneath his feet. In the summer, his prey may have escaped him. However, the trees had long since shed their leaves, allowing him to catch glimpses of her as she fled through the forest.

A flash of wavy black hair, cascading down her back.

Pale white hands, illuminated by the soft yellow glow of her futile healing spell.

Golden eyes, pupils dilated in fear as she glanced backwards to see him closing in towards his kill.

With a final surge of strength, he leaped, pinning the woman to the ground. She was stunning, her proud oval Nord face contrasting sharply with her jet-black hair and strange eyes. Golden eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes. Golden eyes that seemed to draw him in, challenging him even as she bared her gleaming teeth in defiance.

A prize worthy of a hunt.

Vilkas shook his head at the thought, suddenly confused. Why had he even started hunting her? What was he to do with her, now that he had caught her?

A booming voice echoed through the forest.

KILL HER, MY SON.

Vilkas jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Panicked, he looked across at Ria, feeling himself become calmer as he noted that she was sleeping soundly. Vilkas stretched his stiffened limbs, mind racing as he recalled his dream.

Hircine's curse denied him true sleep, constantly taunting him with thoughts of the hunt and the temptation of victory. This dream, however, was unusual due to its vivid target. Whereas Hircine's dreams usually focussed on the thrill of the chase and the glorious challenge of being a predator, this dream left him haunted by a pair of golden eyes and the pounding heat of blood in his temples.

Vilkas snorted to himself. If Farkas could see him now, he would say that Vilkas was brooding, that Hircine was seeking new ways to tempt him. Farkas would shake him and remind him that he had endured months of separation from the wolf blood. That this dream, although potent, would not be worth the stress of troubling Kodlak.

Relieved, Vilkas shook Ria, his eyes already fixed on Whiterun. A strong mead, a fresh meal, and a warm woman would soothe his mood, and would give him the strength to ignore Hircine's call. As he hoisted his pack onto his back, he decided to swing past the Bannered Mare on his way home. The comforts there would certainly banish any lingering thoughts of golden eyes.

A/N: My first fic! I RP quite vividly in Skyrim, but realised when I looked back at my characters that I have started to forget those stories. I decided to jot down the story of my most recent character, and this is the result (can't believe it has taken me three years to romance Vilkas). Everything, of course, belongs to Bethesda, who can also take my heart if it will make TESVI appear sooner