A few things:

1. I have not finished writing this story.

2. As I have not finished writing this story, updates will be sporadic, and under no kind of schedule, so you'll just have to keep coming back to check.

3. I am taking liberties, so don't come at me with your lore. I just want to tell the tale I've crafted for my Dragonborn.


Cry gazed up at Jorrvaskr, which looked out of place in the Wind District. Everything inside of her was against entering the building, when only a few weeks before she'd been elated by the offer to join up with the Companions from the redhead she'd met while fighting the giant outside Whiterun.

She said as much to Lydia, who'd just joined her at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the building, and her housecarl frowned.

"Why is that, my Thane?" she asked, and Cry exhaled.

"I don't know, but I really don't want to go in there. I just want to finish with the dragon business, and then maybe think about doing something like this." She waved her hand at Jorrvaskr. "Besides, almost everyone in Whiterun knows me as the Dragonborn. Who's to say that the Companions don't?"

"You know what Delphine said," Lydia began, cautiously. "You need to hide out until the Thalmor stop looking for you, or until she and Esbern figure out where Sky Haven Temple is. This is the best place to do it, because you'll be able to train while you wait. The Thalmor wouldn't dare come looking here in Whiterun, not with the city still being neutral in the war."

Cry's shoulders slumped. "I know," she muttered under her breath, "I just can't believe I agreed to this without putting up a bigger fight. Let's go."

She started up the stairs, and Lydia followed after her. Cry pushed her way into the building without hesitating, and found herself walking right into a brawl.

A young Nord woman was beating on a dark elf, shouting insults as she went. Meanwhile, several other people, most of them Nords as well, were standing by, watching, and shouting insults of their own. Cry was relieved to hear that the insults seemed to be directed at both parties in the fight, and she was impressed when the dark elf ducked out from beneath the Nord's fist and started attacking her from behind.

Lydia stepped up next to her, frowning. "This seems to be something they do on normal occasions," the housecarl said, and Cry nodded.

"At least they have a way of entertaining themselves," she decided, and then she looked around. After a moment, she spotted the red headed Nord who had been the one to invite her to the Companions. Until Delphine had brought up putting her in hiding the day prior, Cry hadn't thought of the group of warriors.

Now here she was, and she imagined that the redhead would be more than happy to give her instructions of where to go to get initiated.

"Wait here," Cry said to Lydia, who nodded, and then Cry made her way around the long table in the center of the room towards where the Nord stood with her arms crossed, eyeing the fight with a critical expression.

"Hello," Cry greeted once she'd reached her, and the Nord turned to look at her instead. Immediately, she smiled.

"Good to see you again," she began. "Decided to join up after all?"

Cry held out her arms. "I suppose so."

"Then you'll want to talk to Kodak," the redhead said. She gestured towards the side of the room, where Cry saw a staircase leading downwards. "He should be down in his rooms, in the living quarters. They're at the end of the hall."

"All right, thanks," Cry said, and the Nord dipped her head before turning back to the fight.

"Bloody her nose, Athis!" she shouted, and the dark elf took a swing at the woman's nose.

Cry backstepped as the duelers stumbled in her direction, and then she turned and crossed the mead hall to the stairs the redhead had indicated. There was a door at the bottom of them, and she pushed it open, finding a long hallway on the other side.

She glanced both directions, then went the only way she could, to the partially closed doors at the opposite end. As she approached, she heard voices coming from the room, and she paused, listening. Probably wasn't the best way to begin her time with the Companions, by spying like this, but she didn't want to interrupt an important conversation, and this one sounded very important.

"But I still hear the call of the blood."

"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome."

"You have my brother and I, obviously, but I do not know if the others will go along so easily."

"Leave that to me."

Before Cry could ponder over these statements, which she'd discerned to have come from two separate people, she was being pushed into the room from behind. She staggered back to an upright position and whipped around to see Lydia struggling to regain her feet as well.

"Lydia! You - I told you to wait upstairs!" Cry exclaimed, and Lydia offered her a sheepish, apologetic look in response.

"Strangers come to our hall."

Cry stiffened, and carefully turned back around. Seated at a small table in the corner of the room were two men. One was much older than the other, and both were watching Cry. The older one looked curious, while the younger scowled slightly, as he first took in Lydia, and then Cry.

Cry cleared her throat and approached the table. "Hello," she greeted, glancing between the two of them. They both wore matching armor that was lined with what looked like wolf fur. "My name is Cry, and I would like to join the Companions."

The older man's eyes twinkled. "Would you, now? Stand back; let me have a look at you," he suggested.

Cry took a few steps back and lowered her arms to her sides. The old man appraised her for a moment, and then hummed to himself. "Perhaps. There's a certain strength of spirit," he said.

Cry preened, slightly, but her excitement failed her as soon as there was a scoff from her left.

"Master, you are not truly considering accepting her?" the other man seated at the table asked, and Cry immediately scowled at him.

Before she could say anything, however, the older man did. "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

Vilkas let out a breath. "Apologies," he said, gruffly, "But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

Cry was about to retort, to tell him exactly who she was, but Lydia nudged her from behind, and she realized that she couldn't. Huffing to herself, she crossed her arms and remained silent.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes, men and women come to us to seek their fame," Kodlak stated. "It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm," Vilkas said, frowning at Cry once more. She frowned right back.

"Yes, you're right." Kodlak looked at her again as well. "How are you in battle, girl?"

Cry leaned forward on her toes, and then back on her heels. "I can handle myself," she finally said, and Kodlak smiled.

"That may be so." He nodded towards Vilkas. "This is Vilkas. He will test your arm."

"Wait, what?"

"I am not testing her."

Kodlak frowned at them, and both Cry and Vilkas fell silent. He fixed Vilkas with his cool gaze. "Vilkas, you will take her out to the yard, and see what she can do," he said, calmly.

Vilkas scowled slightly, first at Cry, and then at the ground, before he mumbled, "Aye," and rose to his feet. He pushed past Cry out of the room, and Cry glared at his back before going after him. Behind her, she thought she heard Kodlak release a chuckle.

Vilkas led the way back through Jorrvaskr, and towards the set of doors in the mead hall that Cry and Lydia hadn't entered through. As they passed, they must have caught the attention of several of the Companions, because by the time they'd made it outside, they'd gathered a crowd.

Cry glanced around. Jorrvaskr had a small sitting area on a raised platform attached to it, and beyond that, there was a small yard filled with training dummies and targets for archery practice. It seemed to be a pretty good setup.

Vilkas paused in the yard, before the training dummies. He'd snagged a shield on his way out the door, and drew a steel sword of the likes Cry had never seen before from the scabbard at his waist.

He gestured to her with it. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's get this over with," he said, stonily, and Cry joined him in the yard, pulling out her own blade as she did so.

Vilkas eyed it critically for a moment, and then he smirked slightly, and looked at her. "Just take a few swings at me, so I can see your form. Don't worry; I'm sure I'll be able to take it."

Cry saw red as a fire began to burn deep within her chest. Vilkas raised his shield, and Cry immediately started swinging at it with all her might. Her confidence grew when she noticed him staggering under the force, and she merely started to swing harder, sweat forming on her forehead.

When Vilkas lost his balance completely, it took a lot of her willpower not to keep swinging. Instead, she slid her sword away, and offered him a hand. He eyed it for a second, then accepted it, and she helped him to his feet.

"Not bad," he said, his voice gruff, "but there's definitely room for improvement, and until that happens, you'll be a whelp, which means you do what I, and the other Circle members, tell you to do."

And, before Cry could ask any questions, he had shoved his scabbard into her hands. "Take that up to Eorlund, in the Skyforge, and ask him to sharpen it for me. And be careful with it; it's probably worth more than you are."

With that, he turned and sauntered off, pushing his way through the crowd on the sitting area, which had thinned.

Cry gazed at the place he'd disappeared, and she let out a frustrated noise as Lydia came over to where she stood.

"I already hate him," Cry announced, and then she looked around. "Where do you think the Skyforge is?"

Lydia pointed. "Up there."

Cry followed her finger, and released another huff. She then started for the stairs that would take her to the place Lydia had pointed too, pointedly dragging Vilkas's scabbard along behind her.

It clanged against each step, and when she reached the top, she looked around, surprised. The Skyforge was definitely something else; it was huge, and looked as though it was hot enough to destroy even the hardest of materials. Sitting at a grindstone nearby was an older man with graying hair, who Cry immediately recognized as a Gray-Mane. That had to be Eorlund, the best blacksmith in Whiterun, and perhaps all of Skyrim.

She walked over to the grindstone, and stopped in front of it, waiting for Eorlund to look up from his sharpening. He did so, after a moment, and she held out the scabbard.

"Vilkas told me to bring you his sword," she said, and Eorlund lifted an eyebrow.

"You the one that was giving him a beating down in the yard?" he queried, and Cry didn't hesitate before offering him a beaming smile and nodding. Eorlund laughed. "Well, good on you, lass. Vilkas could use someone to put him in his place every now and then, aside from Kodlak." He took the scabbard from her and leaned it against the wall of the forge. "Anyhow, I suppose I should welcome you to the Companions. Isn't any better a place for an aspiring warrior."

"Are you a Companion?" Cry asked him, suddenly feeling curious. Eorlund shook his head.

"No, but I'm glad to work for them," he said, and then he nodded towards Jorrvaskr. "None of them know how to properly work a forge."

Cry grinned, and then she looked down towards her own scabbard, where she'd replaced her sword. She carefully pulled it out, and winced. Her beating had taken its toll on the blade. When he saw it, Eorlund tsked.

"You can't fight anything with that," he said, and he took it from her, eyeing it before shaking his head. "No, you'll need to find a new weapon, lass."

"You're probably right," Cry sighed, watching as he pitched her sword into a wooden tub of water. "I guess I should be going."

"Hold on, I have a favor to ask of you," Eorlund said, and then he reached behind him and grabbed something large and round, and wrapped in brown parchment. "Aela asked me to work on a new shield for her, and I've just finished it. My wife is in mourning, however, and I need to return to her. Would you bring this to Aela?"

"Sure," Cry said, and she took the heavy shield from him, staggering a bit under its weight.

"Thank you," Eorlund said. Cry nodded to him before she turned and staggered back in the direction of the stairs, wondering who Aela was.

As such, she was forced to ask, and the Dunmer she'd noticed fighting with the Nord earlier informed her that Aela was downstairs.

"Saw what you did to Vilkas outside," he said as she started to turn away. "That was pretty impressive."

Cry glanced at him. "Thank you."

"I'm Athis, by the way," he said, holding out his hand. She shook it. "I know you're probably wondering what an elf like me is doing with a gang of Nords, but Kodlak said a warrior's heart can be found in any race, and so here I am."

"Good for you, then," Cry said, smiling. "It's good you've found a place."

"Yeah, especially when it's hard for my kind to get work here in Skyrim nowadays, 'cause of the war." Athis shook his head, sadly. "We dark elves are the most disliked, by Nords, Imperials, other elves… it's a sorry life we live. But, I'm here now, I have a steady pay, and I'm happy."

"And I hope you stay that way," Cry said, adjusting her grip on the shield. "Thank you for the help."

She walked away from him towards the stairs, and she worked her way down them, one at a time. She'd sent Lydia to Breezehome; it would just be too much to explain if she followed her around the whole time she was here. She felt sorry to do it, knowing Lydia would most likely be spending a lot of her time at Breezehome while Cry was in hiding, but she didn't know what she could do to help it.

She poked her head into three different rooms before finding an occupied one. Inside, she found her friend the redhead, speaking with an older Nord that had a scar across one of his eyes, which was clouded and most likely sightless.

"Hi," Cry greeted, sliding further into the room. "You're Aela, right? I have your shield." She held out the package, and the redhead took it from her.

"I've been waiting for this, thank you," she said, and then she looked Cry over. "So, you're here to stay, are you?"

"You know this one, Aela?" the man inquired, also giving Cry a once over. "I saw her training in the yard with Vilkas."

"Ah, yes, I heard you gave him quite a beating," Aela said, lifting an eyebrow at her. "Tell me: could you take Vilkas in a real fight?"

To be honest, Cry wasn't sure. Vilkas hadn't swung at her once, and had simply stood there while she attacked him. Instead of expressing her doubts, however, she merely shrugged.

"I don't care much for bragging."

Aela grinned. "A woman who lets her actions speak for her. I like that." She gestured to the man. "This is Skjor. He and I are Circle members. Vilkas you know, he's the third member, and then there's his brother, Farkas."

"Farkas! Get in here!" Skjor bellowed, suddenly, and after a moment, a familiar face appeared through the space between the door and the wall. Cry had to do a double-take. He looked just like Vilkas, but with longer hair and silver eyes that were just a shade more pale. She remembered seeing him when fighting the giant as well. In fact, she remembered fighting with him, side-by-side, and getting some good work done. She hoped she would have the chance to fight with him again.

"Did you call me?" he asked, and Aela rolled her eyes.

"Yes, ice brain, we did," she said, and she nodded towards Cry. "Take our newest whelp to the other whelps' room, and show her where she'll be sleeping."

Farkas looked at Cry. "Oh, I remember you. Come on, then."

He turned and walked away. Cry followed him after a moment. As he led her down the hall, he spoke: "Aela and Skjor like to tease me, but they're good people. They challenge us to be our best. It'll be nice to have a new face around; it gets boring, sometimes."

"Yeah?" Cry asked, examining the hallway of the living quarters. The walls were stone, the floor was stone, but the walls had a curved shape to them, and there were rugs on the floor with nice designs. It was a good looking place, homey, but not in such a way that deterred from the fact that a group of warriors lived there.

"Yeah," Farkas said. "I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life." He paused outside a set of closed doors near the other end of the hall. "The quarters are in there. Just drop your head on a pillow whenever you get tired. I'm sure the others are eager to meet you. When you've introduced yourself, come find me, and I'll give you something to do."

"Sounds good," Cry replied, and Farkas nodded to her before turning and heading through the door that would take him back up into the main hall.

Cry could hear voices coming from inside the room behind the closed doors. She assumed that it was the other Companions she had noticed before, the dark elf Athis being one of them. She supposed that if she was going to be living and training with them, she may as well get introductions over and done with.

She debated knocking first, then decided that there probably wasn't a point. She opened the door, and found four other people seated on the edges of the beds in there. They all looked at her as she entered, and Athis was the only one to smile.

"Hi there," he said. "They tell you this is where you're going to be sleeping?"

Cry nodded, and then she waved. "Hello," she said. "I'm Cry."

"I'm Torvar," a Nord male said, rising from the bed he was seated on. "This is Njada, and Ria, and Athis."

"Good to meet you," Cry said to them. The two women he'd gestured to looked apprehensive. They examined Cry as though she were a weird specimen on the bottom of their boots. Cry did her best to look pleasant nonetheless.

After a moment, Athis must have decided that the air felt weird, because he stood up as well. "Cry was the one to fight with Vilkas up in the yard a little while ago."

"Good for you," Torvar said. "He seemed even more disgruntled than usual afterwards."

"Ah, so he's like that to everyone, then," Cry said. "I was wondering."

"Vilkas has a rough exterior, but he's a good teacher," one of the women, Ria, stated. Cry glanced at her. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes were flashing. Cry understood what that meant almost at once; Ria liked Vilkas, probably in the kind of way that Vilkas didn't even know existed.

Poor you, Cry thought, studying the young Nord. Good luck with him, I suppose.

"Do you think he should be Master at Arms instead of Skjor, too?" Torvar queried, and Ria glared at him.

"Bite me."

"Where?" Torvar queried.

"Stop it, both of you," Njada, the other woman, said. She looked at Cry. "Most of us are idiots, in case you couldn't tell."

"Thank you for making sure I knew," Cry said with a grin.

All four whelps looked at her approvingly. "You'll fit in no problem," Athis said.

Cry grinned. She suddenly felt a little less annoyed by the fact that she'd had to go into hiding. She thought that, as long as she was here in Jorrvaskr, with this group of people while she was, she'd be able to handle putting a hold on her main quest, no problem.