Chapter 2

"Get up!" an angry voice called, pushing its way into her heavy mind. "Get up now!"

"What?" Elsa croaked, her throat feeling raw and dry while her eyes only just began to blink away the haze of sleep.

"I said get up! You're going to be late!" Lydia pressed, her voice rising with trepidation as she started grabbing things around the room.

"Late?" Elsa asked slowly, rising up in the bed on shaky arms. "Late for what?"

Lydia turned, her mouth open to answer until is fell into an angry glare "Don't you dare drink that," she hissed as Elsa brought a fresh bottle to her lips.

Elsa returned the gaze, rolling her eyes at the threat as she pushed the cool glass bottle to her lips and felt the strong burn of the liquid down her throat.

"That's IT!" Lydia yelled, launching herself towards her Thane. "Give me that, right now!"

"ARGH! GET OFF LYDIA!" she yelled, sloshing as much of the liquid into her mouth as down the simple dress she still wore over her armored pants.

"NO!" the Housecarl screamed, pulling the empty bottle from her Thane's hands. "That's enough!" she seethed, throwing it into the corner with the rest of the Elsa's weekly consumption.

"I'm your Thane!" Elsa stammered, looking at Lydia in complete disbelief. "And you hit me!"

"I am done putting up with your drinking," Lydia spat. "This ends. I've gotten you a job and you are already late. Now get up, you worthless drunk."

"Worthless?" the washed-up Dragonborn said, her mind working slowly as it screamed for a drink. "Worthless. Really?"

"Oh, I am more than serious, Elsa," Lydia hissed, roughly shoving some clothes into a bag. "This ends today."

"But Lydia, where am I going? I don't know anything about some job!" Elsa exclaimed, her eyes searching for one of the full bottles she knew she had hidden in the room. Spying on lying under some clothes by a chair, she causally shuffled her way towards it and waited for the Housecarl to turn her back. Grabbing the treasure up greedily, she quickly opened it and drained the contents while Lydia continued to grumble about something.

"What are you saying? I can't even hear you," Elsa called out, her voice gaining the air of a teenage girl.

"I said," she started slowly, turning to face the infuriating woman she was forced to work for. "That you are not ruining my life anymore. You are going to go work and figure your life out."

"Oh, I'm going to go work and figure my life out," Elsa mocked, standing on shivering legs.

"Put this on. Now!" she said sternly, reading the defiant look in her Thane's eyes.

What in Oblivion did I do? Elsa thought bitterly as she grabbed the set of leather armor and began pulling it on. She wanted to argue with her, but she felt the familiar shaking of her hands that told her another drink was needed should she wish to avoid other, more unpleasant things. Do what she says and get a drink, she told herself as she struggled getting dressed.

"-And you've completely destroyed the house!" Lydia said, her continued tirade finally breaking through Elsa's stubborn ears.

"Fine, I'm ready. Will you shut-up already?" she spat at the dark haired Nord, raising her arms to show that she was properly dressed. "Just take me to this job."

Lydia gave her an appraising look and frowned. "You need a bath."

"Ugh, Lydia, you are really getting on my last nerve," Elsa shouted, storming from the room and grabbing a bottle off a table. She quickly opened it and drank the majority of the contents before the Housecarl was able to react.

"You really can't stay sober for just one morning?"

Elsa gave her an angry glare. "No I can't. If this isn't acceptable for this job of yours, then fuck it."

The poor Nord looked at her mistress, her mouth twitching as she held back whatever remark that was itching to be said. Elsa, though, didn't notice as she moved towards the door. Who does she think she is? She grumbled to herself. I'm the Dragonborn! Who is she to tell me what to do?

"Come on, let's go," Lydia said, roughly pushing past her mistress and out the door.

"Um, excuse me?" Elsa said, stumbling after her Housecarl, the bright light of midday burning at her light blue eyes.

"Hurry up!"

Really? What's wrong with her? she thought sourly as she found her footing and followed Lydia up the hill.

At first, Elsa was convinced that the job was going to be for one of the small stall vendors, but her Housecarl did not stop her fast walk when they neared them. Then, she was certain it would be working for the Battle-Borns, doing some sort of silly task relating to their feud. Yet, Lydia walked by. Finally, it seemed that the Jarl had changed his mind, the stone steps to Dragonsreach looming in front of her, but Lydia slowed and turned away from the familiar steps. Instead, she moved towards a sturdy longhouse, set off from the city somewhat by a flight of stairs and an ancient stone wall.

"You have to be kidding me," Elsa muttered as Lydia began to ascend the steps to Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions. "You can't be serious, Lydia," She said louder as the woman pulled open the large, wooden doors of the ancient structure. Elsa had never taken much of an opportunity to look at it, but she was not impressed by the worn wood and high ceilings. Magnificent buildings were made of stone, not wood.

"I am very serious," Lydia snapped as the door thudded shut behind them, drawing the few eyes of the warriors that lounged around a large table.

"I don't want to work here," Elsa whispered to her servant, feeling the unwelcoming stares heavily on her back. "More importantly, they don't want me here."

"It's all been worked out," Lydia said again, her eyes falling on a thick, burly Nord that Elsa had seen around from time to time. He had a thick head of dark hair that hung to his shoulders and icy eyes that seemed to burst out from the dark war paint smudge carelessly on his face. His masculinity was only increased by a broad nose leading to thick lips and a strong, square jaw. "Farkas, I'm handing her over to you."

The large Nord's eyes sparkled as he looked at Lydia, his brutish features softening. "Alright. Kodlak has been expecting her."

"Wait a minute," Elsa said, her words coming out thick and slow. "I never agreed to any of this. I'm not about to work for these people," She finished making a disgusted face a Dunmer man and Imperial woman who were whispering animatedly amongst themselves. She immediately disliked them and their quick glances, silently cursing them to Oblivion.

"That's too bad," Lydia said roughly. "I've already commissioned the locks to be changed on Breezehome. You are not welcomed back until you straighten up and start acting like the bloody Dragonborn!"

"What?" she bellowed, a tense silence falling over the hall as the unknown warriors stopped in their whispers and stared. "HOW DARE YOU!"

"No!" Lydia yelled back. "How dare you! I have slaved away for you for years without a thank you or a kind word. I have cleaned up your messes, cooked your food, I've even have given you sponge baths when you refuse to get out of bed. I have put up with your wallowing in self-pity and drinking for too long and I have had it! You are a complete disgrace to your name, your titles, and most of all, to Ar-"

"YOU BITCH!" Elsa shouted, cutting Lydia off as she pounced on her Housecarl. She felt a hot rage fill her as she brought her fists down on the unsuspecting woman, feeling her smooth skin give way to the hard blows. The fight only lasted for a few seconds, a large, round arm wrapping itself around her and pulling her away from her target.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, thrashing wildly as Farkas held her off the ground. "Let go!"

"Farkas, put her down," Lydia said, pushing herself off the ground. The large Nord gave her a questioning look but did as she said.

"You are not coming back to Breezehome until you wake up and pull yourself together," the Housecarl hissed, wiping the blood that was dripping from her nose.

"Fine, I'll just go to one of my other houses," Elsa said, her cheeks still burning hot and her eyes brimming with tears. "If you don't want me, I'll leave!"

The cold laughter that rang out from the Nord woman's mouth calmed the fire that was coursing through Elsa's veins with how out of place it was coming from the kind woman that cared for her. She took a step back from her friend, unsure of how to react to her.

"Leave to where?" Lydia laughed spitefully. "To Solitude where you'll be arrested on sight? Or is it Winterhold where the mages will demand that you be turned away from the inn? Or even Windhelm where you owe more gold than your house is even worth? Tell me, Elsa, where will you go?"

The Dragonborn stared at her Housecarl emotionlessly, at a loss for words. She hardly remembered the incident with the mages or that bizarre night at court. She most certainly didn't remember how much gold she had spent at the various taverns around Skyrim to have a clear account of who she owed what. Lydia was the one that dealt with that.

"You have nowhere to go but here," Lydia said darkly, her voice harsh and commanding. "Do the work, clean yourself up, otherwise start looking for a cave the spend the rest of your days in."

Elsa looked at her friend in disbelief, a sense of betrayal and fury flushing her skin further. A sudden desire to hurt the woman filled her as the treachery settled like poison in her stomach. "I wish it had been you with me at Blind Cliff Cave," She hissed, turning from the stunned look that splashed across the woman's face. "Take me to this Kojack or whoever he is." She said to Farkas, ignoring the soft sniffling noises that were coming from Lydia.

Farkas took a moment to process what was said, his face dropping as Lydia ran from the hall. Looking down at the fuming Dragonborn, his eyes held a resentment that somehow felt out of place to her despite his intimidating features. "Alright," He mumbled, walking heavily towards a set of stairs.

Elsa was glad that the Nord didn't try to speak to her as he moved down the basement hall, its cool stone only interrupted by scattered shelves and doors. She blinked back a few tears that threatened to slip from her bloodshot eyes, trying to focus on the curving ceiling lined with thick wooden beams or strange artifacts that gleamed from inside glass cases. In the distance she heard the hushed tones of talking, the masculine voices getting louder with each step.

Her guide hesitated by a large double door that arched up towards the ceiling, unsure whether to enter or not. Looking around, she caught her reflection in one of many silver plates that stood upright in a nearby shelf. She was shocked by how red the whites of her eyes were, making the light blue of her eyes appear raw and angry. Her skin was dull and pasty under a layer of dirt, the golden tan she had acquired during her years of traveling completely gone. Bringing her hand up, she roughly rubbed at her cheeks, turning the skin under her light dusting of freckles bright red.

Farkas, turned and gave her a long look, before pulling open the heavy doors with a look of ease. Immediately, the hum of voices became clear as her towering guide led her into what appeared to be a study of some sort.

"But I still hear the call of the blood," came a heavily accented nordic voice from a back room, Elsa peeking around the Nord's large body to see who was speaking. She was shocked as she stared at a near double of Farkas, though he was smaller, both in his shoulders and in height. His face, too, had more narrow angles and sharp lines than the sloping geometric features of Lydia's friend. Yet, what struck her the most was the sharp look in his bright, silver-grey eyes that showed much more depth than the larger Nord's dull look. As the smaller warrior looked at her, she couldn't shake the unsettled feeling that filled her. It was like staring into the face of a hungry beast that was deciding whether she was potential prey. Stepping back behind the protective barrier Farkas gave her, she felt a shudder run through her.

"We will speak of it further," said the elderly man that sat across from the dark-haired Nord. His face, though covered in deep lines and a thick, white beard, seemed to radiate life as he glanced at her. His curious eyes rested on soft, puffy bags of skin that slopped down onto his cheeks. "But later, a stranger enters our hall."

For a moment, no one said anything, the air becoming thick and tense. The elderly man stared questioningly at Elsa, his eyes calculating and precise. Despite being somewhat hidden by the giant warrior's body, she could feel the burn of the younger man's sharp eyes, unnerving her even further.

"So this is she?" the old man said to Farkas, his face blank of any judgment he may have her during his brief appraisal.

"Yes. She put up a right fight coming here," The giant Nord replied.

"That explains the noises we heard," the old man said gently. "Thank you, Farkas. You may go."

"Kodlak," the warrior said with a nod before marching back down the hall towards the stairs. Elsa was almost sad to see him go as both sets of eyes now fully focused in on her.

"So you have come to join the Companions?" the old man, referred to as Kodlak, said thoughtfully, his face remaining still as a painting.

"Do I have a choice?" she spat at the man, her head beginning to pound slightly as her morning drinks wore off.

"Everyone here has a choice." he replied gently. "Lydia and Farkas only asked that I look at you as a favor. You can go anytime you wish."

To where? She thought, Lydia's words stinging her still. "If there's work and gold, I'll stay." she said strongly, her wounded pride making her voice sound more confident than she felt.

"Let me look at you now," he said, motioning for her to move forward into the light. Elsa complied, even though she hated the idea of anyone sizing her up.

"Master, you're not truly considering accepting her?" the near double of Farkas gasped.

"Fuck you!" Elsa spat at the man, her eyes narrowing with dislike. "Who are you to talk to me?"

The old man laughed, his face wrinkling with his numerous years. "She certainly has a certain strength of spirit!"

"She's a drunk, master!" the younger man said in bewilderment.

Elsa glared at the man as the old warrior continued to laugh. "I am nobody's master, Vilkas," he started, his voice calming to its serious tone. "And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

"A fire? She only has ale and mead in her veins!" Vilkas continued to protest, his brow wrinkling deeply.

The old man gave him a stern look, causing his eyes to drop to the ground. "Apologies, Kodlak, but perhaps this isn't the time to be accepting new recruits. Besides, with everything I've heard about her…"

"Vilkas, reputation isn't what matters. It's the heart."

"And the arm," he mumbled, crossing his arms across his sturdy chest.

"From everything Lydia told me, she has both."

"What did Lydia tell you?" Elsa interrupted, the color draining from her face at the thought of what the Housecarl could have said to the old man.

"Enough to give me some judgment of your character," Kodlak said easily, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "How are you in battle?"

"I'm still alive," she said with a shrug, doing her best to keep her temper in check despite the scowl the young man was giving her.

"Yes, you are," Kodlak said with a small smile. "Yet, we must get a handle for you skill. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm."

"What?" both Elsa and Vilkas said together. She didn't know or care why this Vilkas seemed to hate her, but she did feel the sting of disrespect at the old man's assumption that she needed to be tested.

"I'm the Dragonborn! Do you really think that I can't manage my way around a sword?" she fumed, her voice quivering as she held back the curses she wanted to through at him.

"Every warrior is tested, famous or not," Kodlak replied sternly. "Vilkas, show her to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye," he answered sullenly, giving Elsa a nasty look.

Stupid Lydia, she thought as she followed the man, I should be at home in my bed. It didn't help matters that her head was beginning to pound and she could feel the cold sweat of withdrawal begin to cover her skin. As they passed by a table, she quickly snatched up a bottle hoping to stave off the worse of the symptoms.

"I hope you know how to handle yourself, new blood," Vilkas sneered as they entered the ground.

Elsa snorted, following him down the steps more focused on the bottle in her hands than the irritated Nord with a sword.

"Oh, for the love of Talos, you have to be joking!" he said after finally turning to see nursing the bottle happily. "Will you put that down?"

"I only need one hand for a sword," she shot back at him. "I don't even see why you're bothering to fight me. You know I'm going to win."

"Kodlak said for me to have a look at you," he said, his expression darkening. "So let's do this," He finished, raising his sword and coming at her.

Elsa was not prepared for his quick charge, barely managing to grip her sword and bring it up in a weak block, her mind more focused on her drink than the fight.

"Is that the best you've got?" Vilkas jeered, swinging his sword out to the side in a furious slash that cut into her armor before he pulled back. Elsa gave him a look of disbelief, the blow causing her to stumble to the side, her sword hanging uselessly from her hand. She felt her anger rising as he gave her a sickly smile and came at her again. Holding tightly onto her bottle, she attempted to block his sweeping attack, but her weak, shaking arm was unable support the force of his long, steel blade, causing her sword to drop from her hand.

"Pick it up!" he yelled at her, his eyes narrowing with a look of disgust.

Elsa did as he said, draining her bottle and throwing it against the stone wall. With both hands free, she felt a little more prepared as he spun at her, his sword flashing with blinding light as he brought it down on her shoulder, the steel biting through her thin, leather armor and cutting shallowly on her skin. Rage filled her with the stinging cut, her heart beating wildly as she began to desire his blood. If he wants a fight, she thought darkly as the days frustrations rolled in her stomach, He'll have one! Charging forward, she let her instincts take control, her mind still to hazy to do anything fancy.

Yet, Vilkas still had the upper hand. His feet were steady and his arm steady, unlike Elsa's that continued to shake as her body demanded her deadly drink. His eyes seemed to pick up on her weaknesses, his grin growing into an irritating smirk as easily stepped to the side of her wild attack.

"You lack discipline and skill, Dragonborn," he laughed, bringing his sword up and sharply hitting her on the back with the broadside. Elsa screamed in anger, turning sharply and glaring at him as he turned to the small crowd that had gathered to watch the fight. "Have enough, new blood?" he asked as he brought his great sword crashing against her blade, the vibrations numbing her hands so that she dropped her blade yet again.

Elsa clenched her teeth, her anger giving her added energy. "You're no dragon," she hissed, picking up her sword and bringing it diagonally in a quick upswing. Vilkas again stepped easily out of the way, but his foot caught on a loose stone, causing him to flatter slightly. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, she moved forward and slashed her sword down at him, forcing him to block awkwardly with his long blade that was better suited for enemies at a comfortable distance, not for one that had somehow moved in next to him. Elsa shot him a dirty look as he quickly attempted to recalculate his position. Fucker, she thought as she lifted her knee and brought it soundly against the weak spot in his armor by his groin.

The effect was immediate. Vilkas' eyes widened and then squeezed shut as his face blanked of everything but pain. His sword clattered to the ground as his body crumpled, his hands protectively covering his manly region.

"Have enough?" she spat at him, moving away from where he lay moaning and grabbing a bottle of mead from a nearby table. A small crowd had formed at some point during their little battle, but none cheered her as they began whispering about her dirty tactics. She didn't care, though, as she slumped down on the ground by the longhouse. All that mattered is she had beaten the nasty Nord and she had a drink. For the moment, she was content.