He had always loved to watch her Shout.
There was something about watching the woman he loved become something more than human, something more like a dragon.
The first one she used, the first time he heard her Shout, her Voice, it was a concussive blow to her foes. As her lips began to move, her body naturally twisted into a rooted stance and she Shouted, face daring the men to stand back up as her Voice threw them through the air.
She taught him the words later. Fus Ro Dah. They didn't seem so strong from his lips and the strange language tumbled from his mouth like the stew Ria once made.
She then gave him the nicknames for each Shout. That one was called 'Unrelenting Force.' She had only known a piece of what would soon become another favorite, 'Whirlwind Sprint,' she said. He called it escape, but never to her face.
When she finally pieced it all together, she would use Wuld Nah Kest to escape uncomfortable situations. She had used it to get away from him more than once when he asked her something she didn't want to be honest about.
He would just go climb up Jorrvaskr, sit on the roof, and wait for the language of dragons to touch his ears again.
That, or particularly loud banging from the smithy. There was a reason Eorland didn't let her near Skyforge.
He loved the joy and passion on her face when she called forth fire with Yol Toor Shul. Su Grah Dun made her a blur, like a spirit, as she blazed through battle.
Then Elana came back from The Throat of the World and Sovngarde.
The relief of having her home wore off with worry at her re-adjustment to life with a fulfilled destiny. Things seemed back to normal when they went hunting together.
Of course, a dragon attacked, one not ready to accept her as the dominant dov.
That was the first time Vilkas heard her use 'Dragonrend.'
He never wanted to hear those words again or see them on her face. Before doomsday came knocking, she had tried to explain how each Shout did leave a mark on her soul, how they required an understanding beyond easy reach of those lacking dovah blood.
He hadn't understood properly until now. She used the Shout to force the dragon to the ground and keep him there. No wonder her Voice and face were twisted with hate at those words.
"What wound have you taken on your soul, what scar, for the sake of Skyrim?"
But he would never ask her aloud, never to her face. Only in little ways that she could pretend not to notice could he ask such a question. Elana would go on as if that one Shout didn't hurt her at all even as it saved countless, helpless lives. And Vilkas would go on pretending that the Words didn't bother him either.
Any other Shout she used, the words slipped easily from his mind like water, recalling only her names for them in the tongue of man.
But Dragonrend? Dragonrend he remembered. The three Words were seared in his head:
Joor Zah Frul.
