This story is from Vilkas' perspective and follows the Companions questline. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible as far as dialogue and story progression, but some small changes and additions need to be made at times to make the transition from RPG to fantasy story. This story will follow the Companions questline as closely as possible, each chapter being a different quest, but time will tell if that's where the story will stop. In other words, we may run out of questline, but may not run out of story.
In case it's not obvious from the description, this story is a Vilkas x female Dragonborn adventure romance. Despite the title, I have no current plans to turn this into a smut fic. I don't feel my skills are up to par.
This is the first fanfiction I've written in quite a long time. Please leave me with as much feedback and constructive criticism as you can! I'd like to start writing again, but am still unsure where my quality stands.
When Vilkas saw her for the first time, he wasn't very impressed. He had been sitting in Kodlak's outer quarters, discussing their...problem at the table in the corner. He'd only agreed to discuss it with Kodlak because the older man had assured Vilkas of their privacy, to which he then proceeded to have their conversation with the door wide open, in full ear shot of anyone walking past. In hindsight, probably not the best idea. Regardless, he had been thoroughly distracted by the issue at hand.
"But I still hear the call of the blood," Vilkas admitted shamefully, resisting the urge to bow his head.
"We all do," Kodlak nodded, eyes understanding. "It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome"
Vilkas steadied himself with a deep breath, "You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."
In fact, Vilkas had known they wouldn't. As if the whispered conversations between Aela and Skjor that his heightened hearing had no problem eavesdropping in on weren't clue enough, their long disappearances followed by reports of mass slaughter by some wild beasts confirmed all suspicions. Farkas, who loved a good fight more than almost anyone Vilkas knew, even admitted that their curse was beginning to have far more consequences than profits. Well, that was after long conversations between brothers over several tankards of mead had helped Farkas's position solidify.
Kodlak's voice hardened, "Leave that to me."
A steady stomping grew louder as someone in heavy armor ran down the hall toward Kodlak's quarters. Expecting Farkas or Skjor, Vilkas looked toward the open doors, only to be surprised by the face of a complete stranger, a young Nord woman. Her breathing was slightly labored as she came to a stop in front of them, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, clearly not yet used to the exertion. Her build was slight, almost to the point of being overtaken by the armor she was wearing, like a child in their parent's wardrobe. Her thick brown hair was cut to just below her chin, and barely visible beneath her iron helmet, horned on the sides. Her innocent facial features were undercut by recently acquired, not quite yet healed mild scarring on her face, making him wonder what she could have possibly been through to give her those wounds. She didn't carry herself like a sellsword, she wasn't wearing legion armor, and didn't look like a Forsworn or bandit.
Kodlak sat back in his chair, to all the world relaxed, "A stranger comes to our hall."
Her eyes, a stunning blue, met Kodlak's as she announced in a voice a pitch or two deeper than Aela's and hoarse, like she'd been recently yelling, "I am Eliana Fire-Sword. I would like to join the Companions."
Kodlak's lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile causing more wrinkles to appear on his elder face, "Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you. Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit."
Strength of spirit? What in Oblivion was the old man on about? When had Jorrvaskr become a temple, accepting any wayward soul that ventured in.
"Master," Vilkas started quietly. "You're not truly considering accepting her."
Kodlak turned around, eyes burning softly at the unspoken reprimand in Vilkas's tone, "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."
He felt his cheeks redden slightly from overstepping his bounds and he inclined his head with respect. However, with a stranger watching, he couldn't keep himself from saying, "Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."
Kodlak turned back to the young woman, who was watching their exchange curiously, looking back and forth between them slowly, "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."
Vilkas nearly snorted and replied sardonically, his arms crossed, "And their arm."
"Of course. How are you in battle, girl?" Kodlak asked, his arms crossed like Vilkas' own.
Her head cocked slightly to the side as she paused a moment, eyes going a bit out of focus, likely deciding how she'd like to reply. In the silence, sounds of raccous conversation could be hear from upstairs. After several seconds, she settled on, "I can handle myself."
Kodlak hid his disappointment in her answer well, but not well enough to keep Vilkas, who had known him for longer than most others, from noticing, "That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm."
His pulse jumped when he heard his own name. What in Shor's name was Kodlak doing? He didn't want to do this! This job would be better suited to Aela or Skjor, even Farkas. One of the other initiates could test her arm just as easily, and even give her a taste of what was to come.
"Vilkas," Kodlak brought him back from his thoughts. "Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."
"Aye," he agreed as he stood, resigned. He began to walk out of the quarters, boots thumping softly on the ornate rug, and noticed she hadn't yet moved. "Not here. Out in the yard. Come on."
That seemed to spark some movement. He moved at a deliberately slow pace to see what she would do. Would she charge ahead of him assuming she knew where they were going, or would she follow along like a good little new blood? Apparently, the latter, as he climbed the stairs to the main hall. He couldn't say for sure which outcome would have annoyed him more.
He passed several Companions on the way up. Athis and Njada were sporting some fresh wounds, though Athis had clearly gotten the worst of it. It was a good thing Athis' skin tone made bruises difficult to make out, considering how often Njada gave him new ones. Part of him wanted to tell Athis to give it up, if only for his own sake, but that persistence in the face of defeat is what made him a Companion.
The main hall smelled of old mead, sweat, and fresh blood, likely from the recent brawl. He headed out the back doors into the sparing yard, past the benches scattered with forgotten bowls of food. The day was bright and the sky clear, though distant rumbles of thunder off the mountains forecast a coming storm.
With a silent sigh, Vilkas turned to face the young woman, and wasn't entirely able to keep the disdain from his voice, "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry. I can take it."
He pulled out his old banded iron shield, a shield that had saved his life more times than he would care to admit, and drew an sword with it. He preferred his greatsword, but he was ordered to test her arm, which would be easier to do against a hard surface like the shield. Bracing his feet, he took his stance and prepared for a fight.
She drew her steel sword, took a deep breath before winding up and slammed down onto his shield with more force than would be necessary for a mere test, staggering him a bit. She gave him a moment to stand back up and steady himself before hitting him twice more, this time at a more normal strength. Her arm was adequate, and certainly showed room for improvement, but not so poor he would refuse admittance. He nodded as he sheathed his sword and shield, "Not bad. Next time won't be so easy."
She stood silently, staring at him. He felt something like strong tug in his stomach, making his words sharper than he intended, "You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you."
She still stared at him as if expecting something more, not saying anything, weapon still drawn. Getting irritated, he drew his sword again and handed it to her. If she wanted orders, fine. "Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are."
Finally, she took off without a word, jogging up the hill toward the Skyforge, armor clanging loudly. He shook his head as he looked away and started in toward the main hall again. He hadn't really needed his blade sharpened and felt slightly naked without its weight on his body. Something about her silence had unsettled him into giving her the unnecessary task.
He sat down at the table, a plate of grilled leeks and salmon steak in front of him. A fork in hand, he raised it above the food, but never stabbed it. A body sat heavily next to him, permeated with a permanent hint of mead. Torvar.
"How'd it go with the girl?" Torvar asked, picking a leek off Vilkas's plate with his fingers.
Vilkas glared at the other man, "She did fine. She's running an errand to Eorlund."
Torvar nodded, "She looked tough. Not much, but enough."
Rather than respond, Vilkas began eating his fish. It was cold, but still qualified as edible. He'd had much worse, including the conversation at hand.
"Think Ria's excited. She won't stop chattering about not being the newest anymore, but I'm sure you'll hear all about that in your training. Njada seems less excited, and Athis is downright angry about it. I think he's just afraid this new blood will kick him as badly as Njada does," Torvar continued.
Vilkas finished his meal in silence, ignoring Torvar as best as he could. His incessant chatter wore Vilkas's already frayed nerves to the bone. It had been so long since he'd unleashed the beast beneath his skin, it was tearing at him to get out. Damned curse. Damn Hircine. He grabbed a bottle of ale on the table, chugging it like a boy to soothe his mood.
"Enough of your drivel, Torvar," Vignar called loudly from across the table. "Leave some of us to dine in peace."
They started in on each other, with Brill occasionally jumping in to help Vignar, though his help wasn't really needed. As Vilkas finished his supper, one of the doors to the yard opened. A strong, chilled breeze came in with it, likely from one of the rainstorms that liked to show seemingly at random. Eliana stepped inside quickly and ran past the table, carrying a shield that he had seen with Aela on occasion, likely running another errand.
Finding that he had seen enough for one day, he stood to retire to his rooms and the bottles of mead near his bed. Maybe he would find his opinion on the Nord improved in the morning.
Thank you for reading! If you feel so inclined, please leave feedback and let me know what you think.
I do not have a set posting schedule. I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. Thank you for understanding.