Disclaimer: Skyrim and all its canon content are the property of Bethesda Game Studios. No infringement is intended.
Reksadonviing and any unrecognizable names are characters of my own devising.
Notes: Fav/alert thanks go out to Apocalypse Survivor and TheDragonEmpress.
Contrary to what the dovah expected, Ria proved insistent in her want to get to know her.
"Oh, honestly. You look fine."
Reksadonviing's attention didn't break from that of her reflection in the crystal-clear spring. She remained crouched at its edge, still as a statue, reveling in the atrocity that was her mangled visage, mirrored back on the water's placid surface. Or that was how she wanted to make herself seem. Acting the part was key. This was as much a test of her resolve as the girl's.
"You think they'll think less of seeing you for a little mud? Scars might as well be Jorrvaskr's definition of body art."
The spaded tip of the dovah's tail twitched like a cat's, betraying feigned anxieties. She told herself to remain tense, wings arranged just so around herself, refusing to look aside as the footsteps drew closer.
Ria's hand, so smooth and brittle-looking, reached around into her field of vision. Her fingers brushed against Reksadonviing's muzzle, palm pressed over the sealed gash, avoiding the claw wound that had continued to simmer and fester.
More alarming, though, were the weak wisps of gold light that danced about said hand - imbued with a healing spell.
Deciding to drop the statuesque ruse, Reksadonviing snorted at the touch like an affronted horse, sharply turning her head to look down at the now-startled Imperial. "Is that why I asked you here, joor, to critique my appearance?"
"N-no."
Where the stutter might have once given her a thrill of satisfaction, to know she could strike fear into another being's heart, the gray dovah backpeddled. Her jowl quills folded and she looked away, as if embarrassed by the schizophrenic turn in mood. "Ah, my apologies, girl. Krosis. I forgot myself for a moment."
Neither of them had reason to think this meeting had been arranged purely on chance. A few tense days had passed since the operation at the Skyforge. Reksadonviing had continued to mull over Ria's invitation, watching what she could of Jorrvaskr from the air. In a few instances, she had crept close again, using the city wall for cover, and eavesdropped on what conversations were held in the hall's training yard.
Few exchanges didn't defer to a topic which somehow related to her, the threat she posed, the supposed betrayal she would enact once she had the city's collective trust. What she had since learned was that the Companions were no guild to turn one's nose up at. A select few of their members would not hesitate to throttle or gut their opponent than suffer accusations of being simple thugs only motivated by gold.
Reksadonviing wanted to know a little more about who these people were whom she was being asked to meet. The best way she could think to do that: to convene a meeting in secret, in the forests west of Falkreath, with the one of their number who decided to make such a request. Whether it was to call Ria's bluff or discover to what extent she wished to work her way into the wayward dovah's good graces, that remained to be seen.
Said warrior, following her nearly-spited reception, was quick to forgive her host. She did not say as much, but she carefully stepped around past Reksadonviing's furled wing. She knelt by the pond and splashed water on her face. Torchbugs hovered nearby in the early evening air, their yellow light cast onto the new ripples. "Don't worry about it, Reksa. I know I kept you waiting. And with no one to watch your den - "
"That's the least of my concerns," the dovah rumbled. "I took it by force once, and can do so again."
"It must have been an interesting battle. Will you tell the story to the others?" Ria, face lighting up again with the same naive hopefulness it had shown at the Skyforge, sat down on the bank, arms folded around her knees like a child eager for an exciting campfire story.
Reksadonviing scoffed and shook her head, unsure of whether to feel amused or disbelieving of the trust this woman was already granting her. Nothing ever came to her easy. Why should this be any different?
"Please. Let us skip the pleasantries. I summoned you here to discuss more prudent matters."
"Such as?"
"Jorrvaskr. I'm not so sure I will be welcome there."
Ria tilted her head. Her eyes went distant for a moment as she thought the response over, and then glanced back. "Well, besides the obvious, why not?"
Reksadonviing's tail twitched and curled around. She arched her neck up and her head down, dorsal spikes bristling, intent on making an imposing silhouette of herself. "Because if whispers and gossip are anything to base a conclusion on, your fellows have dealt with my kind before, on far less civil terms."
"And you think they won't entertain hearing from you even with my vouch?"
The dovah sighed, praying for patience. "Delaal, I don't think you would have had the presence of mind to humor me were you a minted dovahkriid yourself. Where does that say you fit into your mead hall's hierarchy?"
The smile, knowing and unfaltering, did not fade from Ria's face. "That's one of the best things about the Companions: there is no chain of command. I mean, yes, there's the Circle - our eldest members - and our Harbinger plays adviser to the group as a whole. But no one man or woman is under the jursidiction of another. We're all free to behave as we please, within the bounds of our oath."
"Hrm. That explains the likes of Athis and... What was the other's name?"
"Torvor," Ria's smile split into a grin. "He thought he hallucinated the whole thing, 'til I showed him the dagger."
You kept that blasted thing? Reksadonviing tried not to scowl at the memories. She snapped lazily at a passing torchbug and watched it flit frantically away to mask any reaction. "Then I suppose your fellows are even... anticipating my arrival?"
"Only with a mug of ale or two by means of defense, I can assure you. Dinner utensils aren't very deadly to your kind."
Reksadonviing feigned a pause of contemplation. In reality, a few things her nose had told her didn't immediately make sense. She hadn't been able to correlate which faces matched which scent. But she already had an inkling that questioning Ria would answer nothing of it, even if - at present - she reeked of that same feral smell.
Time to test the waters.
She rose to her feet in a smooth, deliberate motion. Her ridged skull brushed the overlapping tree branches above. "Return to Whiterun. You and your friends shall have the favor of my company, whenever I feel that may be best."
Flustered, Ria scrambled to stand up. "Now hold on. I didn't hike a day and a half for that to be it."
"It is as much time as I've seen fit to spare you, girl. I've agreed to your promise. Do you truly wish to test my patience further?"
Even faced with a smoldering green glare, the imperial stood her ground. Her hands remained loose at her sides. "I don't want to test it at all, Reksa. I thought you came to Whiterun to make allies of its people."
"In due time, yes. That process is simply slow in coming. There can be no room for misunderstandings. For you that may mean a passing fancy, getting the chance to speak to a dovah. For me, it's my very life at stake."
"But you're going about it too slowly. People are still afraid of you because you stay away from them," Ria argued. "If anything, you're regressing instead of progressing, letting things stand in your way for fear of going about it the wrong way. It looked to me you could use some help, a different kind than what Eorlund can give. The Companions are your best chance of getting it."
"Hiif," Reksadonviing growled, quills flaring. She turned sideways, making sure the gap in the trees that led out of the pondside clearing was visible to Ria. Nearby birds chirped in alarm and took flight, but the forest was otherwise quiet. "Dovahkriid vis hiif zey?"
Ria shrugged. No translation was needed to read the dubiousness in the grayscaled's voice. "I know, it may seem unlikely. But can you name anyone else in Whiterun who might be willing to listen and defend themselves if need be? The knowledge they can withstand anything a dragon can bring to a fight might comfort them enough to hear you out."
Reksadonviing blinked, mildly astonished. She hadn't considered that. "And you, what do you take comfort in, that you would risk meeting with a dovah, alone and virtually unarmed?"
From the encroaching darkness, an arrow flew, silent and unexpected as the one who loosed it. Reksadonviing blinked, dumbfounded, as the steel head glanced harmlessly off her muzzle, no more than a few inches short of her eye, to flip end-over-end and splash into the pond.
"Easy," Ria smirked. "A dovahkriid guard."
The startled dovah whirled around, holding herself low to the ground. An unfortnate sapling snapped in half at the strike of her lashing tail. Her eyes scanned the treeline, but saw only empty space between the trunks and undisturbed bush. She sniffed, but only the same peculiar smell she thought Ria could not explain met her nose.
"Kolos hi?"
She froze as Ria's tanned hand reached up to settle on her face for the second time that evening.
"Settle down, Reksa. It's only Aela."
Growly, panicked breaths quieting, Reksadonviing didn't think to shake off the hand. Her astonishment doubled. Ria had shirked her side of the bargain?
The imperial smiled, eyes apologetic, cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry. After what happened, they couldn't let me 'face' you alone."
"Fos - you told them?" the dovah accused, more surprise than anger coloring her words.
"She didn't even make it out the door."
A lithe figure stepped out of the trees. The soft musk finally had a descriptor, and a face.
Reksadonviing's lips curled up in a defensive, besides ugly, snarl. A deep thrum of discontent reverberated up from her chest.
Mungrohiik.
Werewolf.
Aela the Huntress looked distinctly unimpressed. "Thought so. Only a whelp would think meeting a dragon alone could ever possibly be a good idea." She crossed her arms, a well-worn bow gripped in one hand. "Are you satisfied, Ria? You've seen how fidgety this thing is now, prone to fits of rage, and you want to bring it back to Jorrvaskr?"
The 'whelp' remained where she stood, hand resting on Reksadonviing's face. The vulnerable, contrite look disappeared, and her tone went stern. "That's a very crass generalization, Aela."
"I'm only telling you how I see it."
"This is just posturing. You didn't see what happened the other day. How cautious she was around Eorlund - "
"I saw the dagger. It all could have been a ruse."
Ria made a strange rolling motion with her eyes. Reksadonviing glanced sideways at her. "You're so quick to distrust."
Aela's jaw and fists clenched. "I have my reasons. You haven't been called on to fight a dragon."
"Nor have you had the chance to yet get to know this one," Ria fired back.
"What is there to know? Honestly, even if you can bring yourself to disregard history and the stories, you haven't seen what these things can do. I have. The carnage that follows is unlike anything petty bandits or highwaymen can wreak."
Ria snapped her fingers, the movement so sudden Reksadonviing nearly ducked away. The gold wisps of light reappeared. "Then think of the advantages having one on our side would grant us."
Unabashed, Ria pressed her spell-charged hand against the scale-stripped skin of the dovah's muzzle. Reksadonviing squinted and grimaced against the new warmth that spread through her face at the touch. The swollen, infected wound seemed to dry in a matter of seconds. The red flesh smoothed itself out with the help of the healing tome, turning gray upon softening, and then slightly pebbled with the makings of new scales rising across its surface.
Aela still appeared unconvinced. "Ysgramor help us," she muttered, striding forward. She pulled the younger girl away by the arm, turning her to be glared straight in the face. "This is nothing to go starry-eyed about, Ria."
Ria bristled again. "It'd be better than what has been happening. She's the talk of the city, always in a negative light. If the Companions could help turn that opinion around, help Dragonsreach foster a greater understanding of dragons - "
"It would sully our name. Farengar can use her as a test subject for all I care."
Backed up against the pond's edge, Reksadonviing's eyes narrowed and her quills flexed uneasily. The werewolf was berating her as though the dovah weren't even standing there. "Sully how?" she demanded, pointedly.
Aela's warpaint-streaked face, whose eyes were a shade of green not so different than the dovah's, glared up at her. "You have the audacity to ask?"
She sounded almost genuinely puzzled.
"My audacity pales in comparison to your lack of benevolence, joor."
"Good. Because I don't seem to recall any point in the past where harboring your ilk ever did Nord kind any favors."
"In the past, no," Ria insisted. "But think of the present, Aela. Whiterun would be the envy of every city in Skyrim if it had a dragon ally. The war wouldn't - "
"Wouldn't what? No matter, because I would refuse," Reskadonviing snorted and shook her head. She had no desire to make a pawn of herself in Keizaal's boiling civil war. "Your vision far outstretches your reach there, girl."
"At least that's one thing we can agree on," Aela begrudgingly admitted. She released Ria's captive arm. "So let us forget this nonsense."
"May we consult with the Harbinger at least?" Ria relented, with less resolve but still firm with her words. "Let the Circle vote after Reksa has said her piece."
"Geh. Lest it impugn your guild's sense of... tolerance?" Reksadonviing added, her inference clear. Concerns of misinterpertation had fallen by the wayside. This was a challenge she could see herself holding her ground on.
Aela's gaze turned distant and baleful while she thought, so alike that of a wolf. She spent a long while weighing the argument, bow slung over her back, and paced slowly around, looking the dovah over from all available sides. Ria's eyes followed her every move.
While she had the time, Reksadonviing watched and thought on what little of Aela she had seen here. The woman was not unlike Keinlassrahgot: a spiney, conflicted exterior belying a greater intellect. Given time, perhaps reaching some middle ground with the huntress would have its benefits, different to those knowing Ria afforded her.
Sunset finally vanished from the surrounding forest. The shadows around the clearing darkened to inky black. Ria had struck a torch to light the clearing by the time Aela's private deliberations ended. The huntress placed her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders.
"Fine. One chance, dragon. You may pay call to Jorrvaskr once. If Ria will swear for you so passionately, we're entitled to give you the benefit of the doubt, however slight. Such is how our family functions. You fail to impress, or so much as look at anyone the wrong way, you can find your allies elsewhere. Are we clear?"
Author's Notes: Finally, there's one of our werewolves. Even if Reksa's meeting Aela it isn't on the nicest terms, at least the dragon hasn't blurted out any derogative names related to the fact. Yet. :/
Dov terms/phrases:
delaal - honest / honestly
dovahkriid - dragonslayer
fos - what
geh - yes
hiif - help
joor - mortal
kolos hi - where are you
krosis - sorrow (used in context in the place of 'sorry')
