Ysolda hugged Arenar close to her, her head lying on his chest. "You did brilliantly today." He smiled softly at her in the darkness, his hands around her as well. "Good night, love."
"Good night, dear." It took a good ten minutes, but soon enough Ysolda was asleep and her breathing steadied. Arenar wished sleeping were that easy for him now. Far too many nightmares haunted his dreams now-a-days. A few good stamina potions were ingested every morning now, far away from the prying eyes of his wife and his cabal of bodyguards. They couldn't see him like this. It would ruin the war effort. It would trickle down into the ranks and demoralize the men.
Outside of his pitched tent, Arenar could hear the creaking of ballistae and catapults being moved into firing positions, the repeated thunderclaps of battalions moving to better stations, the rapid-fire hammering of nails and stakes to fortify the walls, and the moaning of the dead and dying. A year ago, Arenar would have called it a sad day to see (let alone hear) anyone in pain. Everything at Helgen changed that. He was just trying to cross the border, to get away from the roaming Thalmor Justiciars who were 'cleansing' (pillaging) the Cyrodiilic countryside of 'heretics' (anyone who breathed). He never was part of the army, never wanted to join, and thankfully it was over before he was forced into service.
That first time he picked up steel and defended himself against those two Stormcloaks in the crumbling Helgen keep… it was almost exhilarating. The closest thing he could compare it to was skooma: a very fast and quick drug with a great high but it left you feel empty when it was over.
When he first made it to Whiterun he joined the Companions, expecting he would find more than enough foes while part of the group, more than enough times to wet his blades with the blood of his enemies. When he was elevated to the Circle, to become a werewolf, it was a dream come true. Everyone that stood before him could easily be flayed. It was magical, seeing his claws swipe and cut into a steel cuirass as if it were a fresh sweet roll.
But then like an addict who had one horrible high, it all came crashing down when he went to Falkreath.
Arenar kept his head down and mouth shut. From what he could tell from the rumors around Whiterun, tensions were high between the two cities. Having just been announced as Thane, he had even better reason for keeping low. He was just passing through, on the way to Solitude to go to some Thalmor party, as good as that would do.
As he walked past two of the chatting locals, he stopped. Did they just say werewolf? "You two, what are you talking about? What werewolf?"
One of the women looked at him oddly. "Some bastard named Sinding mauled a girl to death so they locked him up."
"They should have damned well executed him," the other said.
Arenar nodded. He hadn't heard of a Sinding in the Companions but he'd seen enough of what persecution his kind faced in Silver Hand bases. The man needed to be saved, so long as he wasn't a murderer. He had seen far too many werewolf heads on pikes.
The Imperial made his way to the Falkreath barracks, almost surprised no one stopped him. Sinmir's observations about Whiterun's security applied most everywhere apparently. The jail was mostly empty, only a single guard patrolling, obviously bored. The only prisoner was in a circular chamber and water was filled in the bottom. Their eyes met and an unseen understanding passed between them: a brother in arms.
The two met at the gate. "You need to help me. I didn't want to murder the girl, I lost control." Arenar's memories flashed to his first time in Whiterun where he very brutally murdered Heimskr. The entire sequence had been like a dream and it took more than a few prods to Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas so he could remember it all.
"What do I have to do?"
Sinding held out his hand, showing off a strange and bestial looking ring. "This ring was supposed to help me in my transformations, but it doesn't work, it just makes them worse. I was going to appeal to Lord Hircine for help, but I was captured before I got the chance. You need to catch a large beast that stalks around this hold. If you take this ring and kill the beast for me, I will be eternally grateful."
Arenar took the ring and put it on his hand. "Good luck." In reply, the fellow werewolf only transformed, ripped the bars from his cage, and escaped. The door to the jail was closed behind Arenar before the guard could even mention it.
The arrow let loose with a twang and the great beast fell, the arrow sticking between its eyes. Arenar did expect something to happen. What he did not expect was that a ghost of the stag would materialize right in front of him.
"I've been watching you, young hunter, and you please me," the stag said. "I am Lord Hircine. You are fighting for that man Sinding, but he is liar and a thief. He stole the ring from me so I cursed it. It is his own undoing. As a fellow hunter, I ask that you join in on the hunt for him. He waits at Bloated Man's Grotto. You had better hurry, prey does not wait for its predator and there are many predators searching for him." The stag dissipated then as the last word was said.
Arenar stopped. Would it be worth helping Sinding and to go against Hircine? His mind drifted to Kodlak, and his fears of being sent to hunt for all eternity with the daedra. It would be unwise then to anger him if he should die before facing his own inner wolf in Ysgrammor's tomb…
His sword was pressed to the other's neck. Sinding looked up, his wolf eyes pleading. He was human, in full control this time. "Please…" he whispered. The blade plunged into the soft flesh, the biggest and only weakness to the form.
"Skin him," the voice of the daedra commanded. And so he set to work. As his hunting knife slid into his flesh, the fur shifted and molded, turning itself into a piece of armor. "You have done well, my champion."
Arenar stared into the face etched into the armor. That could easily have been him. His fur provided literally no protection against weapons. Even though he vowed to never again transform, his first deal was done.
Author's Note: Hey. This is sort of how my chapters are going to go for a while, stuck in flashback mode. We're leaving Imperial City (present day) for a while so we can lead up to what happened last chapter. Also, as I go over some of the in-game quests, I will not be using exact dialogue. I don't know how to get to it so I'll be add-libbing and doing the best I can to capture the character's personalities. I'm sorry if this bothers you guys.
