Whiterun Hold, Skyrim Province, Tamriel

Morndas, 11th Morning Star, 4E 202

Jorrvaskr

Harry tried to run, but the red-haired woman ushered Harry inside the building with a firm grip on the scruff of his neck. She beckoned the little girl to follow them inside. She followed meekly. They moved past what looked like arrow targets, past a covered porch, intricately carved designs wrapping around the supports.

She slammed the door open. An older woman looked up, but she turned back to her sweeping, shaking her head at the disruption. At a look from the woman, the lady went down some stairs Harry hadn't realized were there.

The massive hall radiated warmth. A wide long table took up much of the room, which was decorated richly. Trophies adorned the walls: stags with massive antlers, tanned furs, weapons.

The room was surprisingly empty, considering the amount of seats at the table. The woman unceremoniously let him go, gesturing for him to sit at one of the tables, before doing the same to the girl.

Harry unconsciously adjusted his glasses, running his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. He dared a glance up. The woman gave him an intense stare, gazing right through him, as if she already knew everything. She didn't look like she was going to kill him, though, and the younger girl had been there with Lars and the bully. She hadn't spoken up, but she hadn't looked too pleased with the situation either.

"All right, whelp. Explain."

"What's there to explain?"

"Lucia said it right. The only Dragonborn I know of is an elf. In fact, she's a Thane around these parts, helped the Jarl defeat a dragon."

"Lucia?" Harry asked. "That's your name?"

"Yeah," the girl said.

Curiosity satisfied, he turned to the woman. "What's a Thane?" Harry said blankly.

"A person of some esteem in a hold."

"Oh."

"According to the legends, she's the last. So why are two running around?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." He chanced a question. "So you know Ven?"

"A little. Invited her to be a shield-sister when she helped us kill a giant. She's deadly with a bow, almost as good as I am."

Harry relaxed a little bit, losing some of the tension in his posture. "You still haven't told me who you are. Or where I am."

"You're in the mead hall Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions. I'm Aela the Huntress."

"I'm Harry. What are the Companions?"

"An order of warriors. We fight for glory and honor, and occasionally do things for coin." She smirked. "So the question is, what are we going to do now?"

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Harry asked.

"If you were trying to hide, you weren't doing a very good job."

Harry wasn't having any of it. He'd had enough of Stenvar's mocking to have to deal with hers too, even with the odd good humor the gruff nord been in lately. "I think I do pretty well for my age."

"Well for your age, perhaps. But it was sheer dumb luck only Lucia and I saw you."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb won't help you. I know what I saw," Aela said.

"Does that mean you're not going to say anything?" Harry crossed his arms and met Aela's eyes squarely, before turning to Lucia.

Lucia shook her head. "I won't. When my parents died, my aunt and uncle…well, I know about secrets, and how to keep them. Even though it'd be nice to shove it in Braith's face. Now it makes sense, the way you weren't scared of her!"

"The Companions have honor. None of the Circle will say anything. You have my word." Harry visibly sagged in relief. "On one condition," Harry shot her a panicked look, "I train you."

"Why would you train me?" Harry asked, bewildered at the offer.

"Just because I'm resting on my haunches in Whiterun right now doesn't mean I'm not paying attention to what's happening in Skyrim. With Vignar, how could I not?" She put her hand on her chin, stroking it. "I've got my own problems, but that dragon was here for you," Aela said.

"And the legends…You can kill a dragon, but the World-Eater just brings them back to life. Only the Dragonborn can kill them permanently.

"Now Ven—Ven's a seasoned warrior. She uses the thu'um on instinct. But you're a baby wolf, biting with milk teeth and running when you can't find purchase."

Harry frowned. "I can't stay here."

"And why not?"

"I'm heading home. We only stopped in Whiterun—"

"We?" Aela interrupted.

"Yes, 'we'" Harry said irritably.

"Well, you know Ven—I'd like to hear the tale on that one—but it's clear she's not here. She'd have been in the thick of things with us. Your guardian is not much of one."

"He said he had a bodyguard," Lucia piped up. "And that he was an orphan like me."

"A hireling, then. A mercenary." She snorted. "Amateurs. Just proves my point. I'd be doing you a great disservice if I left you in their capable hands."

"He's done pretty well," Harry felt compelled to say something, Stenvar had at least tried, even though Harry had remained cross with him for much of the time—

"He?" She laughed, loud and robust. "There's the problem right there. Men, they think with their hearts. It's all about straightforward charging, no finesse. Women, we think with our heads."

"But!" Harry began to say, but as he brought his mind back to the Bannered Mare, he really couldn't say anything against it. It wasn't his fault, though. The inn had been relatively safe. Stenvar didn't know it was full of people, that it would be bad if a dragon attacked and he were discovered, that his instincts had been warring back and forth. It was a right mess.

"And just where is home, Harry?" Aela asked

He moved to speak, but shut his mouth. He began again, "It's far from here." Not an untruth.

"How far?"

Harry was tired of the questions. "That's none of your business. Can I go now?"

"We haven't settled things."

"And if I called the guard?"

"After the dragon attack? Are you kidding? They're still a disorganized mess."

Harry conceded the point. "So I'm to be a prisoner here. You'd really tell everyone if I left? Convince the guard that I was Dragonborn?" An idea popped into Harry's head. "They'd call you mental. Everyone knows the Dragonborn is an elf, right?"

"We've hunted that trail already. I saw you. Lucia saw you."

"Sure. You saw me cast a spell. Like a fire cloak, right? Except it was a magelight cloak." Harry nodded to himself. "Yes, that's it quite clearly. I obviously can't Shout."

"Don't think you'll get out of this that easily, whelp," Aela said, narrowing her eyes.

"Honestly, unless you can prove it, I think I'm free to go." He slid his chair back from the table and made to leave.

Lighting fast, Aela unsheathed her blade and leapt at Harry, grinning wolfishly. Harry, hearkening back to his lessons with Ven, drew his golden dagger and brought it up just in time to block her strike, if barely.

"Fancy footwork."

"Thank you."

"I recognize it. Ven's been training you, hasn't she?"

"Maybe." Harry thrust the dagger at Aela's unguarded midsection, but she brought the blade low, catching his attack on the crossguard. She pushed him back, her superior strength knocking him to the ground easily. He jumped up quickly, shooting a jet of flames at her. She leapt to the side, sweeping one of her feet low and nearly tripping him as he dodged.

"Strong use of magic for a youngling, but I could have killed you twice now," Aela commented casually.

"I know," Harry said, face grim. "You have longer reach."

"So if you know, why are you still fighting?"

"Go down without a fight? I don't think so," Harry grinned. The fight reminded him more and more of his training with Ven. Fighting like this exhilarated him; while there was an element of danger, he knew she wasn't trying to kill him, and out of everything, he missed the training sessions with Ven the most. All Aela needed to do was call him little hawk, and he'd be home.

"You know, you've got spirit. If you joined the Companions, you wouldn't be youngest. That honor belongs to Farkas and Vilkas."

"Who?"

"They're out on business with Ria. They've been Companions for a long time, since they were younger than you." They clashed and broke apart again, Harry breathing hard, winded, but Aela wasn't even affected.

"No," Harry gasped.

Without his knowledge, she'd backed him against the wall. Harry glared at her, standing proud, defiant. She held her blade to his throat. "If you're going to be so careless about what you are, you need more training. A drunken imperial on skooma could have found you. And while you've got a few skills, I could have killed you many times over. Your training is clearly unfinished."

"I need to get back. I can't stay here. And I'm not careless," he muttered petulantly.

She sheathed her blade. "It would be better, but I'm not asking you to stay here. I'm going with you. Skjor's still here; he can deal with the jobs for a while."

"You'd do it without pay? With the threat of dragons and Thalmor and who knows what else?" Harry said.

"Don't you know anything? Nothing is more glorious than the hunt, the thrill of taking down something larger than you, whether it be dragons or an organization of elves that need to keep out of Skyrim's business."

Harry knew better than to question serendipity. She was willing to keep his secret, guard him, even train him. She could have killed him several times over, and the Companions were obviously well known and reputable if Lucia hadn't contradicted her. "Fine."

"Great!" Aela slapped her thighs. "Now let's go find that guardian of yours. I've got a means to give him a piece of my mind."