With her coin purse heavier and travel packs much lighter, Elana set off for Whiterun with the mental note to run up into the mountains and retrieve Lucan's golden claw at some point.
Elana met with luck as she moved along with the road to Whiterun. Nothing attacked her, or if a wolf did it was foolish and came at her front. One quick slice ended her troubles.
As she approached a farm near the city's great walls, she caught sight of a small group of warriors fighting a giant. It would have been hard to miss, but Elana wasted no time in stringing her bow and firing as many arrows as possible to help the effort.
She was rewarded with a few septims for her trouble, as well as a recommendation from a lightly armored and green painted huntress to join the "Companions."
First things first.
The guards didn't part for her, not until she rasped, "I bring news of the dragon, from Riverwood."
She strode up the hill through Whiterun, taking everything in. She followed the natural flow of the city, and found herself climbing carefully carved stone steps up to Dragonsreach.
Ah, there's the famed Jorrvaskr. Elana would head there next, after tending to the Jarl.
Elana slipped through the doors and approached the Jarl, who was deep in discussion with his advisors. She would've waited for them to finish, but the housecarl identified her as a potential threat.
"I apologize for my voice, my Jarl, the smoke at Helgen damaged it."
"You were at Helgen." It was half a question. Interested may have sparked in Jarl Balgruuf but he maintained his relaxed sprawl on his throne.
"Yes. The dragon flew over Riverwood and-" She had to cough. "-was last seen headed this way."
All three, Jarl, housecarl, and advisor, seemed to sense that Elana had more to say. But with her rasp, they thought better of pressing for answers.
She was told to speak to the court wizard, and was subsequently dismissed.
Elana wandered over to the robed figure. He had a pleasant voice and cadence, and Elana could appreciate his fondness for snide comments. Of all the people she had talked to thus far, he was the one she wanted to talk to the most, though he left her little room.
Farengar, that was his name, wanted a stone, conveniently in the same hole-in-the-hill as Lucan's claw. She would fetch both. Eventually. But she had the feeling that trip would require skills she didn't have.
In keeping with that vow to not be weak, she slipped into Jorrvaskr.
Kodlak liked her at least. And the painted huntress, Aela, had smiled briefly.
No, it had to be the scowling, scruffy warrior Vilkas who would test her.
Holding her blade in her right hand, left arm across her chest for balance and protection, Elana watched the Companion, trying to use some of Gunnstar's tricks for reading people.
Then she gave up on that and swung.
It was a brief, if slightly rigged battle. Elana, who had barely gotten out a hello before Kodlak shuffled her outside to be tested, kept silent and noted each time her opponent held back.
She tried to hit harder when he tried to take it easy on her.
"Easy there, lad," he finally said as she nearly forced his sword from his hand, only to be shoved down. "Nice trick though." Vilkas offered her a hand up. "Now, be a good whelp and take my sword to Eorland up at the Skyforge. And be careful, that sword's worth more than you, lad."
He turned to walk away.
"I'm not a lad."
The clear, alto voice was unexpected after the rasping sounds of earlier. Vilkas turned on his heels. "What?"
"I'm not a lad. More a lass."
If he squinted and looked sideways he never would have guessed it. With her short hair and somewhat angular face, she easily passed as a young man not into his whiskers yet. She even wiped her nose like Belethor's errand boys. But now that she let her mannerisms free, Vilkas wondered how he ever mistook the lass for a lad.
"And where did you learn to swing a simple sword like the hilt accommodated two hands?"
She shrugged. "Greatswords were what my friend used, and by the time we were rich enough to afford a proper teacher, I was already in the habit."
Vilkas stared the new whelp, so seemingly weak but there was an iron core, and it could only grow from here on out.
"Well. I hope you don't prove to be a chatterbox."
She mock saluted him and started off in the direction of the Skyforge. "Just wait. I'll best you yet."
"That'll be the day, whelp!"
Many moons later…
It was a long, cold walk from the Throat of the World down to Whiterun in the night.
The weary traveler pushed aside vibrant, if dark, memories and focused solely on the destination and who was at the end of it.
The gatekeepers were reluctant to let a stranger in dragonscale armor into the city in the dead of night, until the frustrated travel pulled the bloody helmet off and declared that she was "Elana Stormblade, Dovahkiin and Thane of Whiterun and if they didn't let her in now she'd call down a dragon for a ride over the walls."
She was quickly allowed inside.
Breezehome opened silently as she stepped off the dark streets.
Elana sat her helmet down on the bookshelf and dropped her weapons down beside. She let her packs fall nearby, leaving her gauntlets on a chair.
Slowly, laboriously, Elana climbed the stairs.
Lydia's door was closed of course. But the main bedroom door was open. He always left it that way when she was gone. One less door between them.
Vilkas slept soundly. His face seemed more lined, more worried, then it usually did when he was asleep.
Elana crossed the room silently as a Nightingale and lightly sat down on her edge of the vast bed. The two sprawled when they slept and had needed a bigger one. Now, Vilkas carefully kept off her side.
She turned from his face and began to unlace her leather boots. She would have replaced them with dragonscale long ago had not the enchantment been so good. Now, she was adept enough to enchant better boots with twice the lifting power; she'd just forgotten amidst the mess with Alduin.
Behind her, Elana felt the door close.
Collapsing slightly, she kicked off both boots as strong hands began to undo her armor.
The dragonscales peeled off and she began to breathe easier, letting her exhaustion show.
He had to help her to her feet in order to pull off her sweaty and bloody breeches, leaving her only in thieves guild underthings. So many extra pockets full of supplies and he still didn't know where they came from.
"How long?"
He replied just as softly, "One day."
"One day? One day to upend the world? This heavy destiny took but one day?" She began to shake.
"Shh… Yes, yes but calm yourself. It's over. Calm, Harbringer. Dragonborn. Elana." He paused and she still shook violently. "Wife."
The one title she had chosen crumbled her walls just a little. He whispered in her ear, "lover," and she fell completely, letting herself be exhausted, done, weak.
"You forgot Stormblade," she murmured as he pried her shirt off.
"Yes I did," he said, chuckling quietly.
"And I like Dovahkiin better."
He pulled her into bed, sliding them both beneath the covers. "I forgot; forgive me?" In response, she murmured too quietly to hear, only making soft, warm noises like a kitten. Vilkas kissed her forehead. "Just sleep. You can forgive me in the morning. Preferably by picking up after yourself."
"ButIdon'tknowwhatyou're talkingabout."
He smirked, and knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep. "Don't pretend you don't leave a mess in your wake. You always litter armor, weapons, and dead bodies."
"Iresentthat."
"Sleep, precious thing." She made a non-committal noise and rolled over. "Love you, too."