I do not own Elder Scrolls V, not any of the characters/plot lines associated with it.


Someone said in the comments of another story that they wanted a one-shot of Cry and Vilkas before they became a couple. This isn't exactly that, but there's bits of it inside.


Cry goes through a lot in a matter of weeks, including choosing a weapon that she will take all over. Thankfully, there's someone around who can offer inspiration.


Also, hey! Gonna put all the short stories about my Skyrim characters in A Collection of Stories, but because it makes more sense that way. If you're wondering where something went, it probably ducked into A Collection, so check the other chapters!


A Sharp Decision


Cry examined the sword that was being held up for her inspection, and then she shook her head.

"I don't think a short sword would suit me," she said, and Eorland let out an impatient breath.

"So what do you want, then? I don't have all day, lass," he said, putting the sword back down on the edge of the forge, and Cry shook her head.

"I really have no idea."

"Well, then you look at these, and make up your mind on your own. I have work to do," the blacksmith said, and then he walked off towards his grindstone.

Cry gaze down at the weapons sitting on the edge of the forge. All of them looked nice, but none of them were speaking to her. She'd always been told that when a weapon was right for someone, it spoke to them. None of these were doing that.

"Well," she said after a few moments, "I guess I'll make up my mind later."

Eorland didn't respond, and when she looked over at him, she saw it was because he had the grindstone going, and most likely hadn't heard her.

She started down the stairs towards the training yard of Jorrvaskr. She glanced around as she reached the bottom, and saw that most of the other Companions had come outside as well, and were training in various parts of the yard. Vilkas stood on the raised dining area, his arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed, as he took in all the trainees.

Cry passed by where Athis was standing with Aela, and watching as she showed him the proper way to hold a bow. Aela looked over at her as she passed by, and Cry smiled at her.

Instead of smiling back, the woman returned to her explanation, and Cry turned her gaze to the ground, picking up her pace, slightly.

"Hey, you! Whelp!" She turned, and saw the other twin, Farkas, crossing the yard towards her. She frowned to herself, wondering what he wanted. It had already been made clear to her that none of the Circle members spoke to the whelps unless they wanted them to do something.

Farkas paused in front of her, and Cry shied backwards. "Did you pick up a weapon, yet?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"None of them seemed right," she explained, and Farkas sighed.

"Well, you'll need to find something, because we have a job to do, you and I."

Cry frowned slightly. "We do?"

Farkas nodded. "Skjor wants to be the one to explain it, though, so we should head inside."

Cry nodded, and followed him towards Jorrvaskr. They passed Vilkas as they went, and she accidentally brushed against his shoulder. She winced, expecting to get scolded, but he merely grunted and sidestepped.

She relaxed, and went into Jorrvaskr after Farkas. Once inside, they found Skjor sitting at the mead hall table, eating a late breakfast of fried venison and eggs. He glanced up at them, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Must you interrupt while I'm eating?" he asked, directing the question more to Farkas, who shrugged.

"You said it was urgent."

Skjor snorted, and looked at Cry. "It is," he said. "Someone's found another location of one of the shards of Wuuthrad."

"A shard of what?" Cry asked, completely confused, and Skjor exchanged a look with Farkas.

"Of Wuuthrad. You know, Ysgramor's axe?" Cry's expression must have answered that question, and Farkas snorted to himself. "Whelps."

"Easy, brother," Skjor said. "Not all of them were raised here in Jorrvaskr like you."

That caught Cry's attention. She looked at Farkas, curiously, but Skjor kept talking before she could asked him any questions.

"You and Farkas are going to go to Dustman's Cairn and retrieve the shard," he told her.

"Why aren't I going alone?" Cry asked.

"First of all, you may be skilled with a weapon, but you're not skilled enough to fight what's down in those ruins on your own," Skjor responded. "Secondly, Farkas will be there to assess you, and to ensure that you do the mission honorably. Thirdly, this is a mission that Kodlak decided you could handle, so it's best if we send someone along with you to make sure you don't mess it up." He grinned at her. "Fair?"

"Fair," Cry replies wearily.

"Good," Skjor said, sounding pleased. "Head our as soon as possible. Now, let me get back to my food, would ya?"

He turned back to the table, and Farkas took Cry's arm and tugged her away from it. She looked at him.

"So, you were raised here?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Vilkas and I were found by our father in a cave surrounded by Hagravens," he explained. "They don't know what we were doing there, and neither do we. The only life we know is the one we've had here as Jorrvaskr, and it's the only one we care about."

Cry smiled slightly. "I'm glad you found a home," she said to him, and he shrugged.

"It's a good one." He then looked at her again. "Get yourself a weapon, and meet me at Dustman's Cairn when you can. It's a bit to the north east of Whiterun. Just follow the road, and you'll get there."

Cry nodded, and then Farkas was out the door. She stared after him, wondering how he had so much energy. Glancing around, she exhaled a breath. Where was she going to find a weapon she could use temporarily?

"Whelp." She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Vilkas had entered Jorrvaskr again. He approached her, and gave her a once over. "Don't you have a job to be doing?"

"I do, but I still don't have a weapon," she responded, and Vilkas released an irritated sigh.

"Why didn't you just borrow one from Eorland like Skjor suggested?"

"This might sound stupid to you, but none of those weapons spoke to me," Cry informed him, crossing her arms. "When I pick a weapon, it needs to feel as though it'll work well with me, and none of those felt like that."

Vilkas was silent as he gazed at her, and then he snorted to himself and looked away again. "Well, you'll have to pick something, at least for this one job," he said. "Come here."

He led her around the edges of the mead hall to a weapon rack where a sword and a battle axe hung. He took the sword off of it and handed it to her. "Use this for now."

Cry gave the sword a few swings, frowning to herself. She then looked at Vilkas again. "I don't like it."

"Well, you don't have a choice," he said. "You should've taken better care of your other one."

"You broke it in half!" Cry exclaimed, and he shrugged.

"It was flimsy." He pointed to the sword she was holding. "You'll use this. Go."

Cry glared at his back as he walked away again, and then she exhaled angrily and stalked out of Jorrvaskr into the streets of Whiterun. She hated Vilkas so much, him and his stupid temporary sword.


"Hey, congratulations on your job!" Njada called to Cry as she passed where she sat at the mead hall table. "I heard Aela and Farkas talking about how well you did."

Cry shrugged one shoulder. "It was nothing, really," she said, "just some draugr."

And some bandits that were after a werewolf, but the werewolf was on my side, so it's no big deal.

Except for the fact that it was. A huge deal.

She settled down in a chair at one of the tables in the corner of the dining hall, and rested her chin in her hand, gazing at the floor. She didn't want to think about it, but it was all that she could do. Farkas was a werewolf, the rest of the Circle were werewolves. What the actual -

"Hey." She glanced up and found Vilkas standing before the table, studying her.

"What do you want?" she asked him, not really in the mood to be ordered around.

"Skjor wants to speak with you," Vilkas responded, gesturing towards where Skjor stood against one of the wooden supports.

"Then why doesn't he come over to where I am?" Cry queried, under her breath.

"Hey, watch that tone," Vilkas warned, frowning at her.

Cry glared back, and pushed herself into a standing position before shoving past him towards where Skjor was. She stopped in front of him, and crossed her arms. "What?"

"Not in the best mood, are we?" Skjor queried, and Cry chose not to respond. "Well, we'll see how you feel after your ceremony."

"My what?" Cry asked tiredly, and Skjor exhaled a breath.

"Your ceremony to induct you into the Circle."

That caught her attention. She looked at him, her eyebrows drawn together. "Wait, what?"

Skjor nodded. "Farkas discussed it with me, and I discussed it with Kodlak, and he feels that you're ready to join the Circle," he told her.

"But… I've barely been here a month," Cry said, still frowning. "I don't understand -" She cut herself off as she finally understood it, and she met Skjor's gaze. "Oh. Right."

Skjor nodded again. "Exactly. So, after dinner, meet us in the training yard, and we'll get you inducted." He walked away, leaving Cry to return her gaze to the ground, deep in thought. Was she going to have to become a werewolf, too? Because she didn't want to be a werewolf, not in the slightest. But, she supposed if all the other Circle members were, and if she was going to be part of the Circle…

She let out an exhale. This wasn't going to improve her mood in the slightest.


Right after dinner, Cry headed out into the training yard, and she found the Circle members already there, waiting for her. She walked up to them, and Kodlak grinned warmly at her.

"Brothers and sisters of the Circle," he began, glancing around at everyone present. "Today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman had endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor." He looked once more at Cry. "Who will speak for her?"

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us," Farkas stated, straightening his shoulders. Cry glanced at him, and he winked back, grinning. Cry turned her gaze to her feet.

"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" Kodlak asked Farkas.

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us," Farkas responded smoothly.

"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes," Farkas assured.

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

Cry glanced upwards, and saw that Farkas was still grinning at her. "I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories," he said proudly.

"Then the judgement of this Circle is complete," Kodlak determined, looking around at everyone once more. "Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that he mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

Everyone spoke up then, in agreement and confirmation of Kodlak's words: "It shall be so."

And, just like that, it was over, and Kodlak was gesturing her forward to him. "You're one of us now," he began. "I trust you won't disappoint."

"I'll do my best not to," Cry promised, and then she glanced around to make sure none of the whelps were close by to hear what she had to say next. "I do have a few questions, however."

"I would imagine so," Kodlak agreed. "Farkas told us about your discovery of our secret."

"Yeah, so… you're all werewolves?" Cry demanded. "How did that happen?"

"Through a long, arduous, and not exactly pleasant, story," Kodlak replied with a tired sigh. "Perhaps I will tell it to you, one day."

Cry let out a breath of her own. "All right, well, does this mean that I have to become a werewolf?" she asked him, and he smiled at her.

"Not at all," he said. "It is a choice one should be free to make, whether or not they are part of the Circle. Not all Companions need to hold the ability to hunt like a wolf, my girl; it does not change your standing in the slightest."

That relieved Cry to no end, and she felt her shoulders relax. "Thank you," she said, and Kodlak nodded in agreement.

"Why don't you go speak to Eorland?" he suggested. "I think it's high time you chose a weapon."

Cry grinned sheepishly, and Kodlak winked at her before turning and heading back into Jorrvaskr. Cry headed up to the Skyforge, where she found Eorland settled down at the grindstone. Before he could start working, she trotted over to him.

"I need a weapon," she announced, and Eorland gave her a dry look.

"Didn't you come say the exact same thing to me two weeks ago, and then promptly not choose one?" he queried, and Cry nodded.

"I did, but now I need one, because I'm part of the Circle."

"Oh, are you?" Eorland tilted his head. "Interesting."

"Why?"

"Well, the last whelps to join the Circle were Farkas and Vilkas," Eorland responded, "and that was almost two years ago, now."

Cry frowned. "Really?"

Eorland nodded. "And those two have been with the Companions practically their whole lives." He shrugged. "Ah, well, perhaps Kodlak sees something in you." He turned and nodded to the weapons that were hanging off of the rack nearby. "There's a selection for you to look at; Skyforge steel all. Pick one, and don't come back until you need it sharpened."

Cry smiled, and she walked over to the weapons rack. As she looked them over, she heard grunting, and the sound of a blade hitting one of the training dummies. Peering over the wall, her eyes landed on Vilkas. He was holding a greatsword that glinted in the setting sun, and swinging it furiously at the training dummies. Each swing made contact, because of how long the blade was, and how wide a reach Vilkas had while swinging it.

As Cry watched him, the weapon sang.

She turned to Eorland. "I want one of those," she stated, pointing.

He grunted as he rose from the grindstone, and walked over to where she was so that he could see what she meant. After a moment, he snorted. "No, lass," he said. "You're too slight to wield a greatsword like that."

Cry scowled at him. "I want a greatsword," she said, determined. "I don't care how heavy it is; it's what I want to fight with." She crossed her arms. "Make me one."

Eorland gazed at her steadily for a moment, and then he cracked a smile. "You're serious, aren't you?" Cry nodded, once, and he nodded back. "All right, I'll make you a greatsword. I should have it ready in two days or so. Do you think you can wait that long?"

Cry nodded again, and then she grinned. "Thanks, Eorland."


"Whoo-hoo!" Cry cheered as she swung her blade and it sliced easily through the wooden neck of the training dummy. The head of the dummy went flying across the training yard. She grinned down at her greatsword. "I knew you were the right choice for me!" she said to it.

Farkas came out of Jorrvaskr as she turned to another dummy and started attacking it as well, whooping happily the entire time. He stopped next to Vilkas, who was leaning against one of the posts over the dining area's cover, and nodded towards Cry.

"Looks like someone was inspired by you," he said to his twin, teasingly, and Vilkas rolled his eyes in response.

"I don't know where she got the idea that she's going to be able to use a greatsword extensively," he stated, dryly. "She's too short, and it probably weighs as much as she does."

Farkas snorted. "I doubt it. Look at her." He gestured towards Cry again. "She's more muscular than you are."

Vilkas responded by reached over and smacking Farkas on the back of the head. Farkas laughed, and walked away, rubbing his head, and Vilkas returned his attention to the newest member of the Companions, head tilted as he watched her cut off yet another dummy's head.

She cheered again, twirling her sword around, and the corner of his mouth raised in a smile. She certainly had spirit, if not size. Perhaps she'd be able to handle the greatsword after all.

"Vilkas!" He blinked, and realized that she was looking at him, and had been the one to call his name. She held up the sword, grinning toothily. "I'm going to be better than you in no time!"

"You wish!" he returned, and then he went after Farkas, who was chuckling once again.


So that was fun, right? I thought it was fun.

Please go read A Story's Conclusion.