Twenty:

Beastblood

Work for the Companions sent her all over Skyrim, a fact that she was actually quite pleased with. It made it hard for anyone to track her, and whenever she needed a Shield-Sibling, she could usually count on Farkas to volunteer, though every now and again she'd be paired with others that slept in the Hall. Athis, sometimes, and Aela had been willing to volunteer on a hunt or two before. She had also managed to acquire a few more words, most notably, the ones that strung together to improve the fire breath shout. It was Auriel's utter favorite, and it was no secret among the Companions that she very well was the Dragonborn, even without the training of the Graybeards.

It was almost two months later before Farkas mentioned that Skjor wanted to see her again.

"Hello there, sister," Skjor greeted.

"You asked for me specifically?" she raised an eyebrow. "To what do I owe this courtesy?"

"I have something a little different planned this time," he said, a slight smirk crossing his face. "But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet me in the Underforge tonight."

Auriel blinked. The Underforge was a space under the Skyforge, she knew that much. It was a space for the Circle, for those of the beastblood. If he was inviting her there...

"All right. I'll be there."

She occupied her day with little things. Answering letters from Brynjolf mostly. He'd been writing a bi-weekly report on the doings of the Guild. Keeping her in the loop. In turn, she'd sent him some ideas on places of the Guild to lift items from. There were other missives as well, from the College. Tolfdir wrote more often, informing her of things that she might want to look into and study, while telling her of specific students and their gains, or their amusing failures. And of course there was all sorts of information from the Bard's College, though most of it was rumors and conjecture. She still appreciated that the College head, Viarmo, took the time to write to the many bards that were not in residence at Solitude.

As dark approached, she made her way back up to the mead hall, and found Skjor and Aela waiting for her. Aela pushed on a section of the rock underneath the forge, and it slid open with only a hint of protest.

"Are you prepared?" Skjor asked.

"If you're doing what I think you're doing, this strikes me as a bad idea," she said after a moment of thought. "But I believe I am, either way."

"We bring you here to make you stronger, Auriel," he said firmly. "Let's go."

Auriel sighed, and followed him into the darkness of the Underforge. She almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of Aela in her werewolf form, but it seemed as though the huntress had good control over herself and other than a slight growl, made no threatening move.

"I'm glad you came," Skjor said with an amused smirk. "It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. That pitiful ceremony behind the hall a couple months ago doesn't befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting."

Privately Auriel thought he was being a bit optimistic. She was a mage, and a sneakthief, not a warrior. They had all gotten used to that, which surprised her a little, but the Companions were a diverse group that, while focusing on strength of arm, did not fail to praise strength of mind and skill. She suspected the latter was mostly due to Kodlak's influence. She hadn't caught him at it, but she suspected that between him and Farkas, the way had been smoothed for her, just a little bit.

"I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form?"

The redhead mage shrugged and nodded. While she had never seen other members of the Circle transformed, she had seen only Aela enter before them, and the wolf's fur had a reddish tint among the deep sable brown. It also helped that she wasn't attacking. Idly Auriel wondered if silver eyes were one of the things that would change if she accepted this insanity, and rather hoped she stayed herself. She was very fond of her unique blue coloration.

"She's agreed to be your forebear," Skjor continued. "We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed! But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?"

"I can think of a number of ways," Auriel said shortly. "And you would do well to recall that he is your Harbinger, and has more than earned your respect."

Skjor chuckled a little, and sighed.

"Well, I see it as a gift, and so does Aela," he replied. "And we're taking this matter into our own hands. To reach even greater heights in the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf. Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, Auriel?"

"...if I say no?"

"That is your choice, and we will not force you," he nodded a little. "But to join the Circle, your blood must be as ours."

Auriel sighed a little. Another unavoidable choice; she was willing to swear that the gods were mocking her sometimes, placing her in these sorts of situations. The kind she hated most, where she had no choice available, despite what was implied.

"That's about what I expected... All right, I'm in. I don't like it, but I'm in."

"Very well."

Skjor approached Aela, pulling a dagger from his belt, and grasped one of her long arms with on hand. He held her wrist over the rock formation that had formed a natural depression in the middle of the room, and slashed a long cut in her skin. Blood flowed rapidly into the bowl, then abruptly cut off as Aela yanked her arm back and licked the wound. Auriel watched in mild surprise as the injury sealed over without leaving so much as a scar.

The smell of blood was pungent, and unpleasant. Auriel approached the basin with reluctance, and found herself vaguely wishing that Farkas was there at her back. Not that she didn't somewhat trust these two, but this was something she didn't much like undertaking without the guarantee that someone would be able to keep her from going crazy.

She didn't even have a cup to drink from... reluctantly she scooped up some of the blood with her hands and drank. It tasted vile, and she had a sharp coughing fit, as fire washed through her.

She didn't remember much of the first change; leaping the wall, running and running. She fought against the demands of the beast, working to subdue it, control it. Her will was strong, but it was her first time trying something like this, and while she didn't lose, neither did she win. Aela and Skjor caught up to her at some point and she turned to fight them. She didn't know whether she won or lost, but when she at last came around, she muttered a few choice Aldmeri curses at how bad of an idea that had been.

Not that it didn't have its benefits, however. She sat up in the snow, and cold that usually plagued her was vastly lessened. Her sense of smell had become keener; she could tell Aela was there, could breathe in and taste envy, amusement, and a little bit of blood. He hearing, already sharp as an Altmer, had more than tripled in range and she winced at the flood of sounds that poured into her ears. Her eyesight had improved too, and she spent several minutes simply trying to adjust to the flood of new sensations.

When she felt she could deal with the sensations, she got to her feet, and Aela turned to grin fiercely at her.

"Yours was not an easy transformation," the huntress said. "But you're still alive, so congratulations. We even have a celebration planned for you."

"...that sounds just slightly ominous," Auriel grimaced a little.

"There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped just ahead at Gallows Rock," Aela gestured slightly. "The Silver Hand. I think you've met them before... We're going to slaughter them. All of them. Skjor's already scouting ahead, so let's hurry."

"And this is going to end well?" Auriel asked cynically.

"Dead werewolf hunters are always a good ending," Aela retorted.

"Until they come seeking retaliation," Auriel pointed out. "A group like this is not small Aela. If they attack Jorrvaskr, what then?"

"So you would let Skjor handle this alone?"

"...no. But I don't like this, and I'm vehemently opposed to this idea."

Aela snorted a little, and led the way to Gallows Rock, under the light of yellow, green and red skyfires, waving like banners over their heads. There were three Silver Hand members outside, and the two women made short work of them. Inside, the air was rank with something sharp and bitter, and Auriel covered her nose reflexively, trying not to gag.

"Look at this," Aela said contemptuously, gesturing to the bars that impeded their path. "Cowards must've locked down the place after Skjor charged in. You can taste the fear."

"Wait, charged?" Auriel frowned at her. "I thought you said he was scouting!"

"He was. For Skjor, a battlecharge is scouting."

The Altmer mage grimaced, and sighed. Either he would be fine, or he would be dead. Either way, he was undoubtedly too far ahead to catch up to at the moment. Aela pulled the chain and they slipped down the hall. The two Hand in the next room were easily dispatched by arrows through their throats, and Auriel poked around a little curiously, then jumped back as she encountered a werewolf hanging by one wrist in the closet.

"There's a dead one, isn't there?" Aela asked, peering around her. "Thought so. Nobody we know, by the smell. Some can't separate the animal from themselves. Go feral. This poor sod could've been anyone. We should keep moving."

It didn't make her feel much better, but she closed the door so that she wouldn't have to see it again. There was something almost sad about that, really. It made her glad that her own sense of self, and willpower were so strong.

The old fort held more werewolves, both alive and dead. Mostly dead. The few living ones were held in cells, and though it was tempting to unlock doors and let them loose, Auriel refrained. Werewolves—ferals, at least—were not known for their intelligence, and she had no desire to be ripped to shreds because it thought she was the enemy.

"Nothing we can do for this lot," Aela muttered, anger clear in voice and—to Auriel's surprise—scent. "Don't even want to think about what these cretins did to them before they died..."

The deeper in they went, the more Silver Hand they found. They also found bodies of people, and Auriel felt disgust flicker through her; were these people so incompetent that they mistook ordinary folk for weres? Maybe it was a good thing they were killing all these people...

The thought lingered, and then she gave herself a sharp mental shake. Thinking like that wasn't much like her, and it surprised her enough that she nearly got shot. Her reflexes were more than up to par, however, and she made herself sink into an icy calm instead of an anger-fueled temper. She could not afford to lose control now, and it would do no one any good if she did. Not Aela, not Skjor.

"We're getting close now," Aela cautioned. "Be careful. Their leader is a tricky one. They call him 'the Skinner.' I don't think I need to tell you why..."

Auriel grimaced and shook her head a little. With the way the air reeked of blood, pain, and death, no, there was no need for elaboration. She would be so glad when they caught up to Skjor and were done. Though she didn't, at this point, expect to catch up to him alive. She didn't doubt that he would have killed every Silver Hand in there, were that the case, and they had come across no bodies save the ones they made themselves.

It wasn't a heartening thought.

The room where they found the Skinner held three other members of the Hand as well. It was not an easy fight, but they survived. Aela scrambled up onto a dais at the back of the room and swore.

"The bastards! Somehow they managed to kill Skjor!"

"...I wish I could be surprised," Auriel sighed, wiping blood from her face.

"He was one of the strongest of our number! But... numbers can overwhelm," Aela looked down at the dead man mournfully. "I should not have allowed him to go alone. You should go. I'll make sure that we got the last of them, and see if there's anything to be gotten from the bodies. The Silver Hand will tremble at the sight of us."

"If that's your way of signifying that you have a lust for revenge, I'm simply going to say I told you so," Auriel sighed. "I'll help you once, though. Where would you like me to start?"

"The Silver Hand has been scouring the world for more pieces of Wuuthrad," Aela snarled a little. "According to some of these notes, you can find one group in the Rift. Take them all down, and recover that fragment."

Auriel nodded, sighed a little, and left Aela to her clean up. The clean, cold air was welcome after being mired in the stench of blood and death.

Going to the Rift actually suited her nicely; Brynjolf had been pestering for her to visit, so she dropped in on him and the Guild while she was in the area. She didn't tell him all of what she was up too—gods knew he probably didn't need to know she was now a werewolf—but she gave him enough of a rundown that he was pleased on her behalf.

She took care of the Hand in the Rift, and made her way back to Jorrvaskr, stepping past the other Companions and brushing by Farkas without so much as an apology as she sought out Kodlak. He glanced up at her in surprise when she closed the door to his sitting room, and she noticed his nostrils flare slightly as he picked up the change in her scent.

"Look, I went along with what Skjor said because I won't turn down a tool I can use," she said flatly. "But I'm not inclined to get involved in Aela's war of grief. Provoking the Silver Hand will do nothing expect entice them to attack us and continue the cycle of retribution."

She dropped into the other chair with a weary sigh, then placed the fragment on the table.

"And I found you this, by the way."

Kodlak blinked a few times.

"You've taken well to the blood," he observed.

"It has... certain advantages I hadn't considered," she said slowly. "I'm warmer now, which I will admit is an improvement. And I much appreciate the increase in my stamina and my speed. The sensory input is... a bit much at times, but I have come to tune out a good portion of it."

"And this was Skjor's idea?"

"His and Aela's," Auriel nodded. "I considered refusing, but in truth, I need some of these advantages. As much as I dislike admitting to it. They also set up the little meeting at Gallow's Rock that got Skjor killed."

"Ah Skjor," Kodlak's expression saddened. "Sometimes the blood runs too hot in even those who are strong of mind. I thank you for telling me of this, Auriel."

"I see no reason to keep it secret," she shrugged a little. "In fact, I see every reason to say it very emphatically."

"I will talk to Aela when she returns," he nodded a little. "Though I have heard whispers that she has done some retaliation of her own."

"...I wish I could be surprised," Auriel sighed. "I'm going to get some rest, and lay low for a couple of days. Send Far if you need me."

He nodded, and Auriel left Jorrvaskr. Her bed was nice and warm, and she was more than happy to fall into it. A long bath after waking helped her feel less like she smelled awful, and she spent a good day just cleaning and repairing her armor. The rest of the week she spent doing simple things in simple clothes; reading books that Urag had sent to her from the College under the Gildergreen, catching up on all of the reports Brynjolf had sent, and for a moment allowing herself to believe that she could have a simpler sort of life.

She had half-expected the beastblood to worry at her, to make itself known the way the words did on occasional, mostly whenever she collected a new Dragon Soul. But it was quiescent, and other than her newly enhanced senses, she was able to all but forget she now possessed it.

Farkas had been surprised, but mostly pleased by her acquisition of the blood. Vilkas notably less so. Auriel accepted Vilkas' suspicion and mostly ignored it; he had good instincts to not trust her, even if they stemmed more from the jealousy of a sibling than the knowledge of her deeds.

Aela returned at the end of the week, and tried to press Auriel into continuing the cycle of retribution, but Auriel refused. Instead, she accepted a job from Farkas, who tagged along with her. It was... nice to spend time with him. He didn't make demands of her, nor did he question what she did. It was simple, and Auriel found herself growing more relaxed around him, more contented.

It was a nice feeling.

Eventually, Kodlak asked to see her again, and she went willingly enough. The old man was generally a patient sort, and he and Eorlund had managed to coax her into the room for a few drinks of mead after particularly tough fights. She was growing fond of the old men, of the Companions as a whole; it had been a long time since she'd felt like she had the makings of a family, but this group, these people... they managed it. Somehow.

"You wanted to see me, Kodlak? What can I do for you?"

"You connections at the Mages College have... come in handier than I expected," he admitted. "They have sent me a great deal of helpful information on lycanthropy and its various forms."

She grinned slightly; the talk where that had come out had been highly entertaining; two inebriated Nords had been disparaging about what she might get, so she had challenged them to not find use from her connection. It was nice to be proven correct at times.

"And?"

"And I think I've figured out the way to cure us," he nodded lightly. "Have you heard the tale of how we came to be such?"

"Mmm... from two different sources. Vilkas calls it a curse; Skjor called it a blessing."

"Aye," he sighed a little. "That sounds like them... As in all matters of faith though, the reality is more complicated than one would tell you."

"So, you tell me. Give me the details that I can't get with Skjor dead, and Vilkas still pissed off at me."

"The Companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beastblood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power."

"And thus they became werewolves," Auriel nodded lightly. "Did he not suspect it was a trick or a trap of some type?"

"They did not believe the change would be permanent," Kodlak replied. "The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived."

Auriel frowned slightly.

"...I'm afraid I don't see how," she admitted after a moment. "They paid to turn select members of the Companions into werewolves, and you did get great power from the transformation."

"The witches didn't lie," he sighed. "But this change affects more than our bodies. The disease does more than alter our physical form, it seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity."

Auriel nodded a little in understanding; she had little doubts that Skjor was happy being part of such a pack, and she expected Aela would enjoy it too.

"And that is their choice," Kodlak waved a hand lightly. "But I am a true Nord, and I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home."

"And now you've found a cure."

"Yes. I believe so."

"How?"

"The witch's magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us," Kodlak sighed a little. "It is unlikely that they'll give it willingly, but we can extract it by force as necessary. I want you to seek them out for me. Destroy the coven. And bring me their heads, the seat of their abilities. From there we may begin to undo centuries of impurity."

"Two questions," Auriel held up her fingers. "One; you want me to do this alone?"

"I'm afraid so, lass. I have heard whisperings of Silver Hand forces gathering, and thus, I cannot safely grant you a Shield-Sibling. I apologize."

"All right, I can accept that. Second question; how do you know they're still alive?"

"...Hagravens are not generally prone to mortal expiration."

Auriel grimaced.

"You are going to owe me so much mead when I get back, old man," she grumbled. "You know I hate fighting hagravens."

He smiled a little ruefully.

"I know, and I apologize for this. I hope to cure those who desire it, though I am not yet positive on how. Your friend, Urag, has been sending most helpful tomes, and I suspect that the answer lies in one of them, at least."

"All right, all right," Auriel nodded. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Talos guide you, Auriel," he clasped her hand warmly. "Good luck."