Enter the Silver Hand
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater waved his staff away and gestured to Isobel to come closer. She approached him and paused at the base of the stairs leading to his throne, waiting to be invited up. To the apparent shock of the rest of his audience, who gasped and murmured in response, Balgruuf stood and went to Isobel's side.
"You do not look well."
"I am sorry, my lord. I haven't slept in...two days..." She could barely think straight and ached all over. A bed would be glorious. "I wanted to make myself more presentable, but Irileth thought you would want a rep-"
"I want my healer to examine you." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, barking orders. "Proventus, fetch Ingrid. Irileth, a chair for the girl, and some water."
Taking a kinder tone with Isobel, he helped her sit on the chair his housecarl brought over and then crouched beside her. "While we're waiting, why don't you tell me what happened out there?"
Gods, what did happen? Isobel asked herself. She wasn't entirely sure she understood what the others babbled about after she struck the killing blow to the dragon's throat, but something very strange had happened, and it hadn't ended with the damned beast's death. She was seeing and hearing things and everyone from the group who'd gone with her was calling her Dragonborn. Stories of Tiber Septim came to mind and she wasn't at all sure she liked the idea of being as widely known of as the God of War and Governance himself. It's ridiculous.
"Yes, my lord. I...ah...we...we found the dragon and killed it..."
He laughed, holding a cup of water to her lips. "It was that easy, was it? Drink this. Slowly."
"More or less that easy," she mumbled.
Balgruuf was regarding her with a strange look and a thread of anxiety wove its way through the weariness she felt.
"And when it died...I...I can't describe it. The beast died, and it burst into flames before my very eyes, and a surge of energy..." She waved a hand weakly, at a loss to put the moment into words. It had felt like nothing else she'd ever experienced.
"And then...no, It's silly, I haven't been sleeping, I must have been hearing things."
"No," one of the guards interjected. "We heard the dragon Mirmulnir speak to her as it died. 'Dovahkiin, no' it said." The others who had returned from the Western Watchtower with Isobel and Irileth nodded, murmuring their agreement.
"She uttered a shout, my Jarl. And you must have felt it not too long ago. When we neared the city, we felt a rumbling disturbance."
Balgruuf's eyes searched Isobel's, humor and curiosity dancing there. "I did, but...is it possible?" he whispered to himself. "The Greybeards are calling you, Isobel. You must go to High Hrothgar as soon as possible."
She thought to ask him what he meant, but the world suddenly felt like a listing ship and Balgruuf was reaching out to catch her as she fell to the ground. The last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the Jarl's voice, deeply concerned, demanding that a room be prepared for her at once.
x ~ x ~ x
Isobel awoke in a sea of luxury, on a thick mattress covered with sheets and blankets the likes of which she had never seen. Her armor was on a stand nearby, repaired and polished, along with a clean tunic and leggings made of what appeared to be linen. She smelled better than she had smelled in days and realized she'd been bathed.
"Where am I?" she asked out loud, not expecting an answer.
"Dragonsreach," a pleasant, motherly voice replied, startling her. An older woman appeared at her side and began to wipe her forehead with a cool cloth.
"What?" Isobel was slightly alarmed. "How...? Who are you?" She struggled to sit up and the woman helped position her against the headboard.
"My name is Ingrid, and I am the Jarl's healer. You collapsed during your audience with him and he insisted that we see to your well being."
This was beginning to sound familiar to Isobel and she rubbed her head. "Am I okay? How long have I been here?"
"You are remarkably well for someone who spent the better part of a day slaying a dragon and hasn't slept properly for who knows how long. You were exhausted, bruised, beaten up. You've been sleeping for about day now." Ingrid began checking the bandages and poultices she had applied to Isobel's various wounds, slightly startled by what she saw. The girl was healing rather quickly and her color was much improved.
Isobel tried to climb out of bed. "A day? A full day? I shouldn't impose upon Jarl Balgruuf's hospitality any longer, I..."
Ingrid put a hand on Isobel's shoulder. "If the Jarl wishes to care for you, he will. Relax." She sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap, her kind eyes searching Isobel's face. "The Jarl wants to speak to you. I promised him I would bring you to him when you were ready, but I expect you are hungry, yes?"
Isobel's stomach growled, a perfectly timed response to the question. She grinned sheepishly and nodded. "I think so."
Ingrid went to the door and stepped out. Isobel could hear her speaking with someone, a servant perhaps. Ingrid returned a moment later with a flagon of wine and a goblet. Isobel watched as the nurse filled the goblet and put it on the bedside table for her. She then turned to the wardrobe and opened it.
"The Jarl's wife has provided this for you to wear this evening," she said, holding out a red dress with fine embroidery along the neck and hemline. She held a set of new underclothes in her other hand, and lay the garments at the end of the bed.
There was a knock at the door and a moment later a servant entered with a tray of food. The young woman set the tray upon Isobel's lap and retreated with a smile. The scents of roasted salmon and vegetables with a wedge of cheese and a loaf of bread assaulted her senses and for a moment all she could do was breathe in the delicious smells. Her stomach growled again and with a laugh she dug in. Ingrid watched as Isobel polished off the meal, an amused smile on her face. When the plate was empty, she set the tray aside and levelled her gaze on Isobel.
"Let's get you dressed and ready."
It was a new experience for Isobel, this being cared for, waited on, and dressed. It wasn't unlike living in a fairy tale and she wished she could enjoy it more, but she was feeling rather anxious. She was having a hard time seeing the Jarl in this new light. He seemed far...kinder than when she'd first met him. He'd been stern, seemingly unimpressed by her, his primary interest being to protect his hold and his people. He supported the Imperials and she had wondered more than once what he might think if he found out about how she had come to live in Skyrim. Surely he could have arranged to have someone take me back to my room at the Bannered Mare and care for me there. Why keep me here? It mustn't have been safe to move me.But she couldn't feel any evidence of serious injuries, and couldn't recall being that hurt when she'd returned. Before she knew it, Ingrid was arranging her hair in a thick braid and stepping back to view the results of her efforts.
"And there you are, fit for a meeting with the Jarl." She picked up a pair of soft leather slippers and handed them to Isobel. "Put these on and I will take you to him."
"Ingrid, am I...I mean, I'm not...in...trouble? Or...something?"
The healer laughed and reached out to pat Isobel's cheek. "Oh no, dear Isobel, you are not in trouble. Quite the opposite, actually, but the Jarl does not like it when others steal his thunder, as he puts it. Come along." She put a hand at the small of Isobel's back and steered her out of the room.
"Try not to look so nervous, child. You should be very pleased with yourself. It isn't everyday that a slip of a girl can impress Jarl Balgruuf the Greater as much as you have."
Ingrid walked her out of the Jarl's quarters to the great hall. Isobel barely noticed the grandeur of her surroundings, she was so nervous. All this talk of dragonborns and shouts, and what had happened to her at the watchtower, were all adding up to be more than she had bargained for. So much for keeping a low profile.
Balgruuf's usual retinue was with him, and they all stared at her when she walked into the room. She felt intensely uncomfortable and it took every ounce of effort not to turn and walk out again. Ingrid's hand at the small of her back provided just enough encouragement to get her all the way to the Jarl's throne.
He wasted no time getting to the point. "You have done us a great service, Isobel, and I want to name you Thane of Whiterun. You have my permission to purchase property here. Talk to Proventus, he can help you with that. I will also provide you with a housecarl." He snapped his fingers in the air. "Lydia!"
A dark-haired Nord woman stepped forward and bowed to Balgruuf. "It would be an honor, my Jarl." She smiled and bowed to Isobel, as well.
Isobel barely managed to smile in return, trying instead to pay attention to Balgruuf. He was talking about the Greybeards again, suggesting she was Dragonborn, to the apparent dismay of his steward.
"You must not keep them waiting, Isobel. You should leave in the morning. Lydia will see to it that you are properly outfitted and have enough rations for the journey. I will also send a donation of supplies for you to give to the Greybeards when you arrive."
"Yes, my Jarl." Isobel was nervous and apprehensive about what was being thrust upon her without as much as an 'if you please', and how it might focus attention on her, but she found herself getting excited at the thought of a new adventure.
The Jarl handed her a goblet of wine and raised his own cup to her. "To Isobel Navale, Thane of Whiterun."
The rest of the evening was a blur for Isobel, worried as she was about being thrust into the fray, as it were. She gladly took advantage of the Jarl's generosity with his mead and guest room and did her best to enjoy herself, lest this were her last chance to do so.
x ~ x ~ x
When Isobel returned from High Hrothgar three weeks later, she was a different woman in many respects. She was stronger, faster, leaner, and felt she was at the peak of her health. She had come to understand her fate as the Dragonborn and didn't fear it as much as she would have thought; it came with benefits, after all. Isobel learned more about the new form of magic she had discovered, shouts, or Thu'ums, and mastered one under the training of the Greybeards. With Unrelenting Force, she could push things away from her. She had learned part of another shout, Whirlwind Spirit, which allowed her to run much faster for a short period of time. She was Dragonborn, like Tiber Septim, or Talos, the 'greatest hero-god of Mankind', as he was often called. This was a gift the gods had bestowed upon her, it would open a whole new world of possibilities for her, and she felt she could do anything.
Isobel had sent word ahead to her housecarl, Lydia, that she would be returning, and found the woman waiting for her when she stepped into her new house, Breezehome, at midday.
"Honor to you, my thane." Lydia met her at the door, bowed slightly, and took Isobel's cloak and bag. "There is stew in the pot, and some bottles of ale are chilling in a bucket at the back of the room. Is there anything I can get you?"
"A tour of the house would be nice and I'd like to get out of this armor and into some real clothes before too long." She had gone swimming earlier in the day to get cleaned up, but everything she had with her was dirty.
Lydia nodded and paused in the middle of the main room of the house. "Living room and dining room here." She nodded toward the fire pit, which sat a few feet inside the front door dominating the room, chairs set before it. "You've got quite a bit of storage here, and an alchemy lab in this back room." She tipped her head toward the stairs.
Isobel climbed up the stairs and looked around the landing. There were cupboards and chairs tucked into the corners, and the rest of the space was divided into two rooms. The floor was sturdy enough, but the planks were not fit together tightly, and she could see through them to the floor below. What little smoke there was from the fire drifted up through the floorboards to the ceiling and was then whisked away through vents that appeared at regular intervals along the peak of the roof. Lydia showed Isobel where she slept and then pointed to the room on the opposite side of the landing.
Isobel opened the doors and stepped into the larger of the two bedrooms. There were trunks and side tables for storage, a small table and two chairs sat in one corner, and a large bed was set up against the wall opposite the door. The standard furs and blankets that most Nords slept on covered the bed, and candlelight sent shadows flickering around the room. She nodded, pleased with how the place had been fixed up.
"I like it, it's cozy."
There was no place to bathe, however, and she wrinkled her nose at the sight of a chamber pot by the bed. It was a minor thing; she could always go swimming, or they could bring water in from the rain barrels and warm it by the fire, and wash that way, or bring in a tub...her thoughts drifted off as her stomach growled.
"Lydia, let's eat. I'm starving." She was hungry for more than just stew and ale, and hoped to track down Farkas later, but kept that thought to herself as her housecarl helped her out of her armor and went back downstairs to serve their dinner. Isobel changed into a pair of loose pants and a tunic and returned to the first floor.
The two women sat by the fire and ate, and Isobel asked questions about Whiterun, what Lydia's duties would be, and what being Thane meant, exactly. As it turned out, it simply meant the Jarl favored her and she was more likely to get away with breaking the law in his hold. Some would hold her in higher esteem because of that title, but word had already spread throughout the hold that Isobel was the next Dragonborn and would surely save them all from the returning dragons. Lydia felt she was bound to earn respect based on that fact alone. Others might resent her for her sudden rise in favor, and even more still were likely to be too concerned with their own survival to pay her any mind.
As Lydia cleaned up, Isobel stared into the fire, drinking her ale and pondering her next move. She craved adventure and excitement, but would need to continue to earn a living. Treasure was never a guaranteed thing. Perhaps if she concentrated her efforts in Whiterun for a time, she could establish herself and her home base; it had worked for her in Riverwood, though she had not stayed there long.
"A Septim for your thoughts, my thane."
Isobel looked up to find the dark haired woman regarding her with amused curiosity.
"Please, Lydia, call me Isobel. I mean, if you have to be formal in front of other people, fine, but when we're here at home, Isobel will do." She put her empty ale bottle down and stood up to stretch. "I was just thinking I might go out to track down a friend of mine, have a few drinks, see where the evening takes us..." She let her voice drift off suggestively and winked at Lydia.
The Nord woman blushed and looked away. "Should I find another place to stay this evening?"
Isobel laughed. "You'd do that? No, it's not necessary, and where would you go anyway?"
"My father lives here." Lydia replied, pointing to the Wind District.
After a moment's pause, when Isobel did consider asking Lydia to go to her father's house for the evening, she shook her head. "Thank you, but no. This is your home, too, Lydia. If you want to spend the night somewhere else, do, but don't go out of your way on my account."
"As you wish, Isobel. Perhaps I could unpack your things, send your laundry out?"
"Yes, please, Lydia. Thanks." Isobel pointed out what she wished to keep and what she would be improving and enchanting for a higher resale value, and then paused thoughtfully. "You should pick out the best of the armor and weapons, and I'll fix them up for you."
She left Lydia's company shortly thereafter, and wandered up to Jorrvaskr. The windows burned brightly, but she could hear the sound of weapons clashing and circled the building until she found the training area around back. What she saw surprised her; Farkas apparently had a twin brother. The two men were standing with their heads close together, talking, gesturing with their hands. It seemed an important conversation and she kept to the shadows, watching the two men, trying to figure out which one was Farkas.
The wind shifted and Farkas could smell that the rumor he'd heard at the Bannered Mare was true; the Imperial girl was back. His eyes scanned the area and he caught sight of her leaning against a nearby wall. He put a hand on his brother's arm.
"Let us speak of this tomorrow, brother. I believe a friend wishes to see me."
Vilkas looked over his shoulder to see the Imperial woman standing in the shadows. This was his brother's latest infatuation, surely, not a recruit. She certainly was a curiosity. Rumor had it she was the most recent to fall into the Jarl's favor, and that she might be Dragonborn. Farkas was clearly ensnared in whatever web she was weaving, and Vilkas didn't like it. His brother wasn't the brightest star in the skies and was ruled by his passions. She was smiling, raising a hand to wave at Farkas. She smiled coyly, batted her eyelashes, and licked her lips. Vilkas suspected she was a well-schooled manipulator and had his brother wrapped around her little finger, but he couldn't blame Farkas and was even envious of his brother's good luck; she was young, good looking, and healthy. He nodded and watched as Farkas went to the Imperial. The two of them chatted briefly, and then they disappeared around the side of Jorrvaskr, Farkas's hand at the small of her back.
x ~ x ~ x
They drank at the Bannered Mare over a tray of cheese, bread, and apples, and Isobel told Farkas stories of her adventures. He laughed to think of her actually enjoying her time with the Greybeards. As she put it, they were four old men, who did not speak, save for the one who instructed her. They spent most of their waking hours in silent contemplation of the way of the voice, ate simply, and did not drink. It had clearly done her some good, though; she looked healthier than he recalled.
"Three weeks at High Hrothgar. I just can't see it," he chuckled as they settled their bill and left the inn.
They walked toward the city gates and she left a breath of air out in a huff. "Please, if it had been that easy I'd have only been gone a week. No, to begin with, there's the bloody climb up there. They say it's seven thousand steps, but I think that's an exaggeration. I can understand why the Greybeards don't leave the place." She held up a hand and began counting. "The damn steps, wolves, bears, ice wraiths, an ice troll, and a bloody dragon! I managed to avoid most of them, either by sneaking past or scaling the mountain, but there were some moments there..." She shook her head with a grimace.
"Then there were the tests, to see if I could shout and learn how to use other shouts, and it started the moment I got there! No time to rest, to clean up, eat. Then they sent me off to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and that wasn't-"
Farkas grabbed her arm and stopped her, his eyes wide. "You went to Ustengrav?"
She nodded, smiling to the city guard who opened the gates for them. "Nearly froze my ass off, thank you. And of course no tomb is only ever full of dead bones. If I weren't adept with the restoration spells and potions, we would not be having this conversation. I can't tell you how happy I am I took up archery."
He laughed out loud at that and encouraged her to keep talking. He was taking her to a small grove of trees near the river, hoping no one was camping there. "But you found the horn?"
"Yes and no. It's a bit of a story, but someone else had taken it, to lure me to Riverwood for a conversation. Of course I had no choice but to go. Turns out it was a friend, of sorts, and I've...agreed to help her with something that will...What's this?"
They had stopped by a stand of trees along the river. Farkas peered into the canopy of green and smiled, leading Isobel through the trees to a small patch of grass with a fire pit, within steps of the water. The shoreline was rocky enough here that mudcrabs wouldn't be able to get to them without making a great deal of noise first; it was a safe spot.
Farkas pulled a fur out of his pack and unrolled it, laying it out on the ground. A small pile of kindling and firewood was nearby and he quickly built a fire while Isobel got settled on the fur.
"I thought you might like this. It's a fishing hole, campsite for hunters, a place to watch the stars..."
Isobel leaned back and looked up. The sky was clear, the stars sparkled brilliantly, and pink and blue wisps of color undulated across it all. She sighed. "It is nice."
He couldn't resist the sight of her exposed neck and crouched down beside Isobel, pulling her into his arms. She gasped with surprise, but moaned softly as his lips worked their way from her jaw down to her throat.
"Yes, Farkas, this is very nice," she whispered huskily, taking fistfuls of his hair in her hands. The smell of steel, leather, oil, and sweat filled her senses. She had missed his affections, truth be told. Perhaps she would join the Companions.
x ~ x ~ x
It wasn't long before Farkas presented Isobel to the Companions' harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane. He was indeed that, Isobel thought, with his white hair and beard. She wondered why she hadn't seen him before, and recalled that Farkas had said he was ill. Her first impression was that he was a fair and kind man. He reminded her a bit of her own father, really, and she liked him instantly. Not everyone else was as receptive to her potential joining as Farkas and Kodlak. Vilkas seemed against it entirely. Isobel had been around Jorrvaskr enough to know that the Companions thought Farkas was the muscle, and Vilkas was the brain. Her charms would not work on him. Her fighting skills and cunning were more likely to win him over and as it was, Kodlak wanted Vilkas to take Isobel out to the training grounds to spar. Vilkas scowled at her and stalked out the back of Jorrvaskr. Tossing a winning smile to Kodlak and Farkas, she followed.
"No magic or shouting!" Farkas called after her with a laugh. "I think Vilkas is going to be surprised."
Vilkas was waiting, a practice sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He nodded to a weapons rack where dulled daggers and swords of various sizes were hung. She chose two short swords and squared off against him.
He lunged at her, bringing his shield up and swinging out low with his sword. Isobel jumped up and to the side, deftly avoiding both weapons, and spun around, smacking Vilkas's backside with one sword. Other Companions were gathering to watch and Vilkas growled angrily at the taunt. Turning to face her again, he barely had time to bring his shield up to protect himself before she thumped both swords against it, pushing him back a few steps. There was some applause from the growing crowd. He bellowed, rushing at her, and again she spun to one side. Rather than embarrass him further with a smack to the bottom, which would have been quite possible, she simply waited for him to catch his balance and face her again. She was ready to begin sparring in earnest and briefly regretted antagonizing Vilkas. He came at her hard.
For several minutes they exchanged blows, scoring point for point. Vilkas began to turn the tables on Isobel, spanking her with his shield more than once and calling her a little imperial girl, which threw her off just a bit. When he became more aggressive and rushed her repeatedly, she resorted to tumbling tricks to evade him, but she lost one sword during a back roll. Thinking Vilkas to be slower than he was, she tried to retrieve it, only to find him pinning the blade to the ground with his foot. He raised his sword, but she abandoned the blade and rolled away. Leaping to her feet, she realized too late that Vilkas had rushed at her again. He didn't hit her hard, just enough to knock her to the ground, and promptly stepped on her second sword.
"Do you yield?" he asked with a certain smugness. He didn't think much of the shift in the air or the murmur of voices around them, and simply stared down at Isobel.
She smiled, a glint in her eye. "I do not, Vilkas, and if I were you I'd be very careful what you do next. I haven't figured out how to conjure dull bound blades yet." She moved her free arm slightly and he felt something poke his behind.
There was laughter from all around them now, and he turned just enough to see that she was holding the point of a magic blade to his arse. Even though it barely appeared to there, for he could see through it, it felt real enough. He couldn't help but let out a gruff laugh as she relaxed her arm to give him room to move.
"Fair enough, lass. Fair enough." Standing back, he reached out a hand to her and pulled her up to her feet. "You've got skill and you're resourceful, I'll give you that."
Isobel smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
Kodlak joined them and raised an eyebrow at Vilkas.
"She can do well enough in a fight," he admitted.
"Come now," one of the women nearby called out. "She did better than I did when I first joined."
"There's plenty of ale to be had if you wish to nurse your ego, Vilkas," another member shouted with a laugh as the group broke up and everyone continued with their own tasks.
Kodlak clapped a hand on Isobel's shoulder and smiled. "I must retire, but we will speak again. You are always welcome, Isobel."
She could see Farkas smiling at her from the steps of Jorrvaskr, but Vilkas was speaking again, passing a sword to her. And so it was that her career with the Companions began. She was to run errands. Winking at Farkas, she did as she was asked.
x ~ x ~ x
The Companions have given me one final challenge before inducting me. I am to retrieve a fragment of Wuuthraad, the Blade of Ysgramor, from Dustman's Cairn, while Farkas judges my valor.
Isobel smiled to herself as her eyes wandered over to where the warrior sat, sharpening his sword. They had set out early in the morning and made it to the Cairn in good time, and were now preparing to enter the cave. She had found them a place to hide near the entrance, under a rocky outcropping surrounded by trees. She put her writing kit into her pack and wondered briefly if she could talk him into a quick bit of fun before they set off.
"Farkas," she said, her tone putting much meaning into that one word.
He laughed, sparing her a grin. "Shouldn't we celebrate after our victory?"
Pouting for effect, she shrugged and checked that her bow, arrows, and blades were all secure. "As you wish."
They exchanged amused glances and then got serious about the task ahead of them.
"I'm quite adept at picking off the enemy from afar, so if you can keep that damn noisy armor of yours from clanking too much, this should be pretty easy."
Within an hour, she was regretting having said anything of the sort. While she was able to kill many draugr before they woke, there were more of the dead guardians here than she'd seen in her travels, and keeping up with them was a challenge. The loot they were collecting along the way helped take the sting out of the fight. They finally found themselves in a central chamber with large chairs, some tables and a bookshelf, with three smaller chambers branching off to one side. The first, on the left, was open; the second caved in; the third sealed with a steel gate. Isobel pointed to the first chamber.
"More potions!" she said, peering into the darkened space. "I'm going to take a look. See if you can find a way to open that gate." Leaving Farkas to explore, she stepped into the room on the left, collecting the potions she had spotted on a side table. "Oh, here's a lever."
She reached out and pushed the lever to the right and was relieved to hear grinding gears and the rattle of steel, until she turned around to see she had opened the other gate, but had also locked herself into the smaller chamber. Moving the lever back to its original position didn't do anything.
"Shit! Farkas? Farkas, where are you?" Rushing to the gate, she peered out between the bars to find Farkas staring back at her from across the room. He burst out laughing and nearly fell to the ground in his amusement.
"Now look what you got yourself into."
"Very funny. When you're finished laughing your ass off, could you help me out?" She gripped the bars and tried to shake them. There was no give to them at all.
He came closer to her, eyes scanning the walls. "Hang on, hang on. Just sit tight and I'll find the release."
The sound of footsteps drew her attention to the left and she saw five people rush into the room through the gate she'd just opened. They spread out across the room, weapons drawn. "Farkas, look out!" she shouted, reaching for her bow and arrow.
"Your mistake, Companion," one of the men growled.
"Which one is that?" another asked.
"It doesn't matter," the first replied. "He wears the armor, he dies."
This last comment confused Isobel and she looked up to see what was going on. Farkas had turned to face the others, who were pressing forward. She fumbled with her arrows and nocked one, bringing the bow up to aim. Farkas had backed up to the bars of her current prison, blocking her shot.
"Killing you will make for an excellent story," another member of the small band of men growled.
Isobel's mind raced. This was not good at all. He was outnumbered, and if he died, she was in a very awkward position. Alone with five men, locked in a cage. Shit, shit, shit. Don't lose it now, girl. Breathe, she thought as she stepped to Farkas's right to aim again.
"None of you will be alive to tell it," Farkas shouted.
What happened next was so unexpected, it took a moment for Isobel to understand what was going on. At first she thought Farkas had been shot in the belly with an arrow, though she couldn't see where it might have come from. He suddenly bent over at the waist, and began pulling at his armor. There was a shift in the air, similar to that which she felt when using magic, and then Farkas was...
Sprouting hair? Isobel froze, transfixed by the sight before her. Farkas was changing, no longer a man, but a beast, a...Werewolf?Isobel was horrified and hoped she was seeing things, but as she watched, the gentle warrior became a tall, ferocious wolf that could walk on its hind legs. Gone was the man, and in his place was a mountain of fur, fangs, claws, and a snarling, murderous disposition.
"You never should have come here!"
"You won't be leaving alive!"
And then Farkas, or what had been her lover, was lashing out at the others. Why they had foolishly taunted him instead of taking advantage of his transformation was beyond her, but it was proving fatal. As the men shouted and tried to land hits with their swords, Farkas's claws ripped a man's throat out with one swipe, peeled the flesh off another's face. It took all of Isobel's strength to turn her focus on his attackers. She managed to get one in the eye with an arrow, dropping him instantly. It was too little too late, however. The screaming was over, the men were dead, and the wolf that was Farkas ran to her left, out of sight. Within seconds the bars that had held her captive were sliding up into the rock above her.
Farkas ran back into her line of sight, himself again, and approached her to collect his armor. "Isobel? I am sorry if I frightened you."
She let out a startled yelp and took a step back. "Don't you come any closer! Just...What the...You..." She paused, took a breath, and shouted, "What the fuck was that?"
Farkas looked thoroughly apologetic as he refastened his armor. "It is a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts, fearsome."
Isobel thought she might be sick. This wasn't quite what she had signed up for. "What? You're going to make me-"
He cut her off, raising his hands. "No. Only the Circle have the beastblood. Prove your honor to be a Champion. 'Eyes on the prey, not on the horizon.'" He looked around at the damage he had caused. "We...ah...we should keep moving. There are still the draugr to worry about, and the fragment to find. Isobel?"
She took a tentative step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Farkas stared back at her, not some animal, not the beast she had just seen kill four men in a matter of seconds. It was just Farkas. She shook her head, not sure she should trust herself to speak. Trust. Can I trust Farkas? He has been a kind man, a good friend to me, a lover, but...It was too much to take in and she needed some air.
"Isobel, please." Farkas reached a hand out to her, eyes pleading with her.
She looked at his hand, wondering how it was it wasn't covered in blood, and shuddered. He saw it; she could tell by the way he withdrew his hand and looked away.
"I...need time, Farkas. Let's just go."
x ~ x~ x
What had started out as a nice walk in the country and an afternoon of adventuring, with the promise of an intimate encounter under a blanket of stars, ended on a very flat note. Farkas explained that the men who had attacked him were members of the Silver Hand, sworn to slay werewolves, but that was the extent of their conversation from that point on. They continued through the cave and found the fragment of Wuuthraad, finally stepping back out into fresh air as the sun was setting.
Barely able to bring herself to look at Farkas, Isobel broke the silence. "We should camp here for the night and head out at dawn."
He nodded his agreement and began to build a fire, while she prepared a meal of bread, cheese, and dried fish. They had found bottles of mead on their journey, and she opened those and set them out. They ate and drank in silence, and when they turned in for the night, they slept apart.
x ~ x ~ x
Isobel wanted to go home to think about what had happened and how she felt about associating with werewolves, but Vilkas happened to be returning from a job and met her and Farkas at the city gate. He took in their subdued demeanor without comment.
"You have the fragment?" Farkas nodded. "Then you should come to Jorrvaskr immediately. Both of you."
Isobel nodded, deliberately looking anywhere else but at the two brothers. Vilkas was a member of the Circle, too, as was Aela, Skjor, and of course Kodlak. Werewolves. I can't believe it. And yet, now that she thought of it, they all had golden colored eyes, something she hadn't seen before. Why didn't I notice that?Other thoughts came to her then, the way Farkas made love, the howling she'd heard after their first night together...
Vilkas's voice interrupted her train of thought as they climbed the steps to the Companions' mead hall. "Let's collect the others on the way to the training grounds."
Farkas was nodding, holding the door open for her, and then they were surrounded by other members, welcoming them back, asking about the fragment and their adventures. If she had thought to try to get out of this, to just call this a favor for some friends and leave, never to return, it was too late; they were accepting her as one of their own and she felt she couldn't refuse it, not now. She was led outside to the training grounds, and presented to the Circle members.
Kodlak spoke. "Brothers and Sisters of the Circle. Today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?"
Farkas stepped forward, speaking to Isobel directly. She met his gaze. "I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us," he responded.
"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asked.
Farkas's response was immediate. "I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us."
A wave of guilt washed over her then. He means it, truly, and has never given me reason to doubt that he would stand at my side if I needed him. Any member of the Circle would, likely even Vilkas. And here I am thinking Farkas is somehow less a man because he has this...ability? What am I afraid of? Even as a beast, he seemed to know who I was, that I was a friend. It didn't sound like the tales she'd heard, of mindless beasts who would kill their loved ones. There wasn't even a full moon; could he change at will?
Kodlak continued to ask questions; Farkas answered them. Each response deepened Isobel's sense of guilt and she could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes.
"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"
"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."
"And would you raise a mug in her name?"
"I would lead the song of victory as our mead hall reveled in her stories."
"Then the judgement of this Circle is complete." Kodlak said with a smile. "Her heart beats with the fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."
"It shall be so," Vilkas replied. The others nodded somberly and, after a brief pause, made their way back into the mead hall.
Farkas lingered behind Kodlak, who stepped forward and took Isobel's hand. "Well, lass, you're one of us now. I trust you won't disappoint."
"Thank you, Kodlak. I appreciate the trust you've placed in me." What else can I say? She wanted to ask him about the Circle's gift, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She wasn't supposed to know, after all.
He clapped a hand on her shoulder and nodded to the door. "You both look tired, and have earned your rest. Come in and drink with us if you are up to it."
Shortly, Isobel and Farkas were alone in the darkened training area. He watched her carefully for a moment, keeping his distance from her.
"Isobel, can we talk about this?" There was a sadness in his eyes, uncertainty in his voice, and it nearly undid her.
"Yes...no. I mean, let me speak." She reached out tentatively and took his hand in hers. Now, it didn't look like something to be feared; it was simply a strong, hard working hand, capable of a loving touch. "I feel terrible, and I don't mean about what happened. That was a shock, but I think I lost sight of the fact that you were still you, just...just-"
"Different?" Farkas supplied, hopefully.
"Yeah, different. I think I'm okay. And I am sorry if I disappointed you."
He stepped closer, maintaining eye contact, and slid his free hand into her hair. "I would never hurt you, Isobel. You are my shield sister, my friend. I would have told you, but I couldn't. I wish you hadn't found out that way."
She shivered then, whether from a chill or desire, she wasn't sure. But she did feel desire. Now that she had made up her mind to accept this strange and frightening development, she wanted to be with him. She pressed her cheek to his hand and smiled.
"I understand. Would you like to come to my house for a drink? Maybe stay the night?"
He pulled her closer, smoothing her hair back. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, and before she could say anything else, he was kissing her again and leading her toward the Plains District, to Breezehome. They stumbled in, Isobel mumbled an apology to Lydia, and then she clambered up the stairs to her room with Farkas in tow. She was nervous, though she knew nothing had really changed; she simply knew something else about him now. Nevertheless, it felt as though this was their first time together and she giggled when she felt herself blushed as he paused to watch her undress. The sight of him naked before her, all muscles and manliness, desire burning in his eyes, aroused her and she shrugged off the last of clothes. A low growl escaped his throat as he advanced on her, pulling her body close to his.
Farkas lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. He stretched out alongside her, slid his hand up her leg and over her belly to cup her breast in his hand. He pinched her nipple, teased it, and sucked on it, sending shivers of delight throughout her body. She groaned as his hand dipped between her legs.
"You are not afraid?" Farkas asked, his breath tickling her cheek.
"Perhaps a little," she replied honestly. "But it's...exciting."
He could certainly feel her desire as his fingers played with her and slipped between her folds to tease her. Animal instincts took over as she moved her hips against him, and he was on her and sinking deep into her, quickly.
"Ah!" she cried out, bucking her hips up to meet his as he thrust into her.
They made love with a new intensity. Farkas took her roughly, shifting her from her back to her stomach to her knees, bringing her to a climax more than once. When she thought she couldn't go on much longer, she'd find herself begging for more. Farkas finally shouted out with his own orgasm, the steady rhythm his hips had been keeping shuddering to a halt. They lay together, panting, for several minutes before Isobel spoke.
"I'm glad I didn't let a little thing like lycanthropy put me off. That was…great." She smiled as laughter rumbled in Farkas's chest.
"So am I, lass."
Isobel drifted off to sleep, arms and legs entangled with Farkas's, with a smile on her face.
A/N: Greetings, readers! I am happy to be back after a lengthy time out to deal with RL. My year started with a call from my doctor – abnormal test results from my physical, tests for cervical cancer, the dreaded waiting periods, surgery and more waiting, all while dealing with sciatica, and The Man Cold. The good news is I do not have cancer, and I managed to get over the other ailments as well. Yay me! Consequently, I have been encouraging all the women I know to keep on taking care of themselves with annual check ups. So consider yourselves encouraged.
My thanks goes out to Zute, Zevgirl, and Mille Libri, for their support and encouragement, not only with my writing, but also during the past few months. Bethesda should also get some credit here, of course, for giving me a universe to play with. And I certainly can't thank my readers enough for popping in to read and comment. Reviews are always greatly appreciated! I hope to hear from you. Cheers, Biff
