So this is an idea I've been wanting to get out for a while, enjoy.

Filia of War, as was her official name, was just like all the other girls in Whiterun; she wore dresses, loved her father immensely, and even helped out her father by selling small trinkets, but…these trinkets turned into a supply of daggers and short swords by the age of nine. She had made them herself and was quite proud to be the apprentice of Eorlund Gray-Mane, the greatest smith in Skyrim. Many of the children thought him to be scary, but she had been brought up around the large old man. All of this set her apart from the other children, especially the girls, but one thing set her apart altogether that made everyone adore, respect, or hate her; she was Kodlak Whitemane's daughter.

This obviously meant that she knew how to handle a sword. Since she was young Kodlak had started her out on daggers, but they quickly bored the young warrior and she was trying to perfect her swordsmanship. In her head it made sense to understand the sword inside and out, so she made every sword she held from the time Eorlund took her on as an apprentice.

This is where the true Nord's story begins, a beginning a very select few know of. This is what made her the hardened warrior that was capable of the harsh decisions that the leaders of Skyrim couldn't make. And a woman no man could break.

"Filia, wake up. I told you, little one, we must make way early if we are to make it to High Hrothgar on time," the Harbinger of the Companions softly woke his daughter. He would take her to see the Greybeards so she would know about the legend of the Dragonborn. Kodlak had wanted his daughter to grow up as a true Nord should, being taught lessons in her history. He thought he could do something better, he would take her to the 7000 steps beside Ivarstead and she would spend a few weeks with the Greybeards. It would do her some good to be in a calm place full of Nord heritage. He worried greatly about his daughter.

Little Filia did as her father bid, but she wasn't happy about leaving her home to visit boring monks. That also meant leaving her two best friends, Vilkas and Farkas whom she had grown up with since she could remember. They bragged that Eorlund would take them up as apprentices while she was gone and forget all about her. She promptly replied that she hoped they set their heads on fire in the process. Filia Whitemane, or Filia of War as the members of the companions affectionately referred to her as, was a beautiful Nord girl with long fair hair and blue eyes. Her father constantly told her of her warrior mother whom she took after. Her mother died of a sickness shortly after her birth, but the girl's spirit was never struck down by this. She remained a fierce and wild one that lightened the hearts of all in Whiterun. Although her father secretly started to worry about the developing body his daughter was starting to possess.

Kodlak was a Nord warrior and as such he and his daughter would walk to Ivarstead and clime the 7000 steps. He took his pace slow so the girl would not tire herself out too much. He was proud of her, she was a strong one. She carried her own pack even though she knew that it was a long way to High Hrothgar. It took only one day to get to Riverwood and Kodlak let his daughter sleep peacefully in the Inn the resided there. The following morning the made it to the stair's leading straight to the Throat of the World. Most would sigh upon seeing these steps, but Filia smiled and looked at her father and said with her dazzling smile, "Bet I can beat you to the top Papa." His heart swelled with love for his only child and he picked her up and hugged her.
"Yes, my dear, it's almost certain you can, but you must make the rest of the journey with someone else. I will come to pick you up in three weeks time." Kodlak would have loved nothing more than to spend three weeks telling her fiery daughter of stories of dragons; he had other duties to attend to.

His daughter knew this and nodded. "Alright Papa, but who's to come with me?" she looked up into her father's face with not disappointment, but respect. In Filia's mind, her father was to go on his own awesome adventures that she would one day join.

"The Jarl of Whindhelm. As a young lady and warrior I can assume you'll be respectful?" His loving daughter smiled and affectionately kissed him on the cheek.

"Of course Papa," she answered.

With that he gave his daughter one last hug and an extra cloak and made his way through Skyrim to help her people. Filia did not have to wait long for the Jarl to appear. He was about the age of her father and walked with a swagger in his step. She knew him best as The Bear of Eastmarch, her father had told her stories of his fighting prowess and Filia was overjoyed to be in his company.

As for the Jarl, he took one look at her and smiled, "Filia Whitemane?" he asked in voice that commanded power. Her own father's voice did that, but she already knew every story of her warrior father; this warrior was strange and new. She nodded enthusiastically and picked up her bag, ready for the journey. He laughed, "An honor to meet you."

"You as well," she said hastily. He motioned for her to start the trek up those 7000 stairs. With a determined grin she started up them. He followed beside her easily and Filia felt like he was taller than her father even. After about 50 stairs and her constantly looking at the Jarl to find anything about the man she decided to open her mouth. "Papa says that you're called the Bear of Eastmarch," she blurted out.

The giant warrior-Jarl looked down at the little lass and laughed. "Yes, that is what they call me."

Filia nodded, looking away like she had been given a fact that was truly interesting. Then she looked back up at him. "Well, people call me Filia of War," she tried to sound casual about it. The Jarl smiled at the young girl before him. He knew Kodlak well and could tell this was his famous daughter. She was quite pretty and every bit a Nord daughter of Skyrim, dreaming of being a warrior when she grows up.

"Well, Filia of War," at this she smiled, "I cannot wait to fight with you on the battlefield one day." Filia's heart soared with her dream of fighting bad guys and being just like one of those epic stories that the bards are always singing about. The Jarl didn't know that he had just released the floodgates for Filia's talking.

"Me either Bear of the Eastmarch, my father says that someday I can fight with him too. Won't that be grand? And then I'll really be one of the companions! Eorlund Graymane says that I'd be a wonderful blacksmith, but I want to fight. I practice with the weapons I make, so maybe I'll even make my own armor one day. Oh, by the way, can I call you Bear? Bear of Eastmarch is grand, but a mouthful," she paused momentarily for the Jarl to answer.

He chuckled, "Only if I can call you Filia." She agreed and went on talking a mile per hour. The Jarl was a quiet man so he didn't mind the young Nord lass to talk. He spent little time with his own son since the Greybeards took him in for training and when he did meet with his son, he was quiet and reserved, not at all like children should be.

A thought occurred to Filia, "Why's a big important Jarl going to see the Greybeards?"

"I am going to visit my son, Ulfric," the Jarl replied with a smile that didn't seem at all very happy to Filia.

"How old is he?"

"He'll be 17 summers by now, nearly a man."

Filia nodded in disappointment. She would've preferred someone her own age. Elders didn't like to play games like hide-'n'-seek, or tag. "I'm only 12," Filia told the elder man matter of factly and then continued on with her constant talking.

It took the couple 2 and half days to reach High Hrothgar. Filia was covered in her cloak and her father's but that still didn't take the nip of the snowy tundra away. Filia soon realized it was well worth it when the giant temple set many ideas of adventure and treasures into her head. "That place is huge, Bear, maybe it won't be so boring," she told the Jarl. He just chuckled at the girl and they continued inside.

Once Filia stepped inside she saw four robed men with a normal looking young man who definitely had a resemblance to Bear. They turned to see the duo and Filia really didn't know why she was there. One monk stepped forward and Filia was pleased to see that he did indeed have a grey beard. "Ah, you must be Filia Whitemane." Filia nodded and the monk continued. "I am Master Arngeir, if you come this way I will show you where you'll be staying." Filia nodded and followed the monk, but not without turning and seeing the strange reunion between father and son. They looked at each other while the other monks receded into the temple. Filia thought it strange, she knew without even thinking about it that she would jump with joy after being without her father for so long. This boy was strange.

When Filia awoke Arngeir collected her and showed her through the temple. He also told her the history of the Greybeards and their founder Jurgen Windcaller. Filia only started being interested then. "I don't understand. Why shouldn't he use a power if he has it?"

"The Way of the Voice is to powerful for anyone to control aside from the Gods and the Dragonborn, child," the monk explained. Filia had heard about this Dragonborn and he interested her a great deal. It was all just a legend her father had told her, but he was supposed to come and save them from the dragons that would come back.

"So only the Dragonborn can use the Voice to fight, huh?" Filia shrugged, disappointed. Too bad the Dragonborn didn't exist.

"By the Way of the Voice, yes. Do you understand?" he asked. Filia really didn't, but she said she did. Maybe she'd ask her papa about it, he knew almost everything.

Filia didn't see the three other monks very often through the next few days. It seemed like Arngeir would never run out of boring stories. Anytime he did say something cool he tried to explain to Filia that it wasn't good to fight. Why did her father send her here? He knew she was going to be a warrior someday! These monks seemed to hate fighting, even though Filia knew that they were supposed to be great warriors.

One evening after escaping Arngeir, Filia found Bear sitting with his son. She still hadn't properly met him yet. The two weren't talking or saying anything. Just looking into their plates and eating. Filia decided that they could use a little company. She slowly crept into the room which caused the two to look up at her. Bear smiled and went to introduce the two, "Ah! Filia, this is my son Ulfric. Ulfric, this is Filia of War." Bear gave a subtle wink to the young girl which made her grin. She felt like that title gave her a history of awesome heroic slayings and conquests.

"Hello," Ulfric mumbled while Filia sat down on the bench across from the two. His father cast him a disapproving look and smiled in apology to Filia. She didn't seem to notice and started one of her famous conversations.

"Master Arngeir said that his fellows can't talk because they have voices so powerful that a whisper could kill a man. Guess that must mean he isn't as powerful as them or else he'd kill us all already by now, huh? Are you going to be like Master Arngeir?" Filia asked Ulfric. The only son of the Jarl, Ulfric raised his head to reveal a nasty glare at the younger girl. She just blinked innocently back at him waiting for him to answer. She obviously didn't recognize her insult to the young man.

The Jarl simply laughed at her question and patted his son's shoulder to settle him down. "The monks say Ulfric is learning the voice wonderfully, Filia. He might even be like Jurgen Windcaller," he told the girl with a wink.

She laughed, "That'd be great. He's the only one who actually used the voice to fight. Can you imagine a warrior like that? They'd be unstoppable," Filia said with a nod to confirm the unknown fact. Little did she know that had what been on young Ulfric's mind of late.

"Hmm. Indeed no one would stand a chance, but would it be right?" he asked. Filia didn't know what he meant was it right.

"If you have the gift, why not use it?" Ulfric spoke up to his father. Filia looked to Bear for his reaction.

"Because there is no honor in using the gift of the voice as a weapon," he bit rather harshly at his son. Ulfric turned back to his plate, glaring at it. Filia winced, having thought the same thing as Ulfric voiced. He looked back at her and sighed. "I guess that's my cue to be off," he smiled tiredly at her.

"G'night!" she called to the Jarl and he waved a colossal hand on his way to bed.

Ulfric was fuming. His father didn't want him to join the war against the Thalmor, but how could he stay here when he knew that it was happening. Filia jumped when he pounded his fists into the table then got up and marched from the room. "Wait! Where are you going?" Filia followed him. In anger he pushed the smaller girl out of his way. Now that was a mistake. Filia had been in quite a few brawls with other children along with Farkas and Vilkas. The other companions had told her certain ways to get rid of bullies. Especially Skjor, he said you can use the momentum of a person's who's bigger than you to bring them down. Filia thought that was crazy at the time, but just them she found that she quite understood it.

Filia took hold of Ulfric's arm and with all her might threw him the way she was falling. It resulted with him crashing into a table and her remaining on her feet with her fists in the air ready for more. Before Ulfric could even get up his father and a couple of the monks rushed in at the sound. Filia gulped and realized that throwing a student of the Greybeards didn't count as respectful.

The Jarl looked amazed that the small girl could throw down his son. Ulfric himself was just as shocked. Filia dropped her fists, "Sorry, I'll clean up the mess." She wanted to bring no shame upon her father, since it was he who arranged for her to stay there after all.

Ulfric stood, dusted himself off and gave the girl a bitter look. "Ulfric can help," his father interjected for him. He looked at his father, but he wouldn't budge and quickly turned around and left the room. The monks nodded and withdrew as well. Ulfric decided to now take out his anger with cleaning. He lifted the table by himself and started picking up the plates of food. Filia used a nearby broom to start cleaning up the mess. They cleaned in silence until Filia grew tired of it.

"I'm sorry—"

"You do not need to be sorry," Ulfric quickly quieted her. "I am the one who pushed you," he explained further. She didn't fail to notice that he didn't apologize, but for once in her life she kept quiet.

For the rest of her stay she did not speak to Ulfric, but tried to listen this time when the monk told her stories. She tried to understand just what the Jarl of Windhelm meant when he said the Voice shouldn't be used for fighting. She learned that it was a gift from the gods, specifically Akatosh. A gift from the gods was too pure to use on mortal men. That was why only the Dragonborn could use the shout and even then they would use it for good against things mortal men had no chance against. Filia thought maybe her father did make some sense sending her there after all.