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.


Ducking beneath a sword that swung in her direction, Cry shot out her leg and knocked the draugr to the ground before stabbing her blade through its chest. The draugr let out one last guttural noise, and then the light in its eyes died. Cry pulled her sword out of it, and looked around at the pile of dead things she'd created.

"Well," she said, sliding her sword away, "that was that."

She turned and headed towards the Word Wall, eyeing the glowing blue light that was coming from one of the words. She exhaled slowly, and then focused all of her attention on the Word itself. After a moment, there was a warmth in her chest, and the meaning of the word flashed through her head.

Nodding to herself, Cry backed away again.

She had been using up a lot of her time looking for Words of Power. She would go on a job for the Companions, and while she was gone, she would pay a visit to one of the ancient temples that Arngeir had marked on her map. She would then journey through it, and retrieve the Word of Power off of the Word Wall inside.

So far, she'd only managed to collect four of them, which, she knew, was a pretty miniscule number. She was out of temples marked on her map, however, which meant if she wanted to go find more, she would have to visit High Hrothgar.

First, however, she would return to Whiterun, and let Vilkas know that she'd done the job he'd sent her on. With Aela wanting her to take care of the Silver Hand, and with having to make sure she kept up with normal jobs as well, Cry had an array to choose from, and that gave her more opportunities to find Words of Power. That was good, she thought, especially for only a week and a half of work. If nothing else, the perk of not needing frequent rest as a werewolf was worth it all.

After making sure she had looted all the chests, Cry headed outside. The sunlight was bright after the weak light from the candles inside the ruin, and she had to blink a few times in order to get rid of the sunspots in her eyes. When she had, she covered them with her hand so that she could see where she was without a glare.

The sun was almost directly overhead, which really was no help at all. She sighed to herself, and lowered her hand again, glancing around.

The temple had come out on the other side at the edge of a wood, which was probably part of the woods between Whiterun and Falkreath. Whiterun was somewhere, then, and closer than several of the other provinces of Skyrim. So she just needed to figure out which way was east, and she could go from there.

But… without the sun in a better position, she was at a loss.

"Piss," she said to herself, and she turned around in a circle, trying to think. She had entered the ruin from the west, she thought, which might mean that she was further east than she had been. If she was thinking about that wrong, however, she could end up walking in the complete opposite direction of where she wanted to go.

Cry glanced around a moment longer, and decided she would just wait until the sun started to go down before making a decision.

She moved into the woods a bit, and settled down on a rock there, poking at the ground with a long stick. She knew that she really shouldn't be waiting; she had already been gone for three days. Someone was probably starting to wonder where she was, and it was probably Vilkas.

She hated Vilkas, him and his nosy questions. Like, "Why were you gone for three days when the job was only in Solitude?" He really needed to leave her to her own business. She had gotten the job done, after all, hadn't she?

That was the biggest problem she had with it. Why did he care what else she had done with her time, so long as she had gotten the job done? He always seemed to know that she had gotten the job done, anyway, so what did it matter when she got back to Jorrvaskr?

She rolled her eyes at the thought of him and his questions, and glared down at the ground. She hated him.

Although, Farkas begged to differ on the matter. He had told her, more than once, that he knew that she didn't hate his brother, and his brother didn't hate her. It was just that they were both too stubborn to admit otherwise.

Cry had retorted by asking Farkas what he knew about such things, and he had responded plainly, "More than you, apparently."

She and the other twin had grown close since their trip through Dustman's Cairn, and her secret had come out into the open during that final fight within the last crypt. She was very grateful that Farkas hadn't told anybody else that she could spew fire from her mouth like a dragon. She knew that if Vilkas was privy to that, she would never hear the end of it.

Other than him keeping the secret quiet, they had shared stories of many other things as well. For one, Cry had told him that she had spent some time in Morrowind, and Farkas had said that he didn't know if he wanted to go to Morrowind, because he didn't see why anyone would leave Skyrim, even if they had the choice. Cry had not told him that she really hadn't had a choice, because that would have opened up a book of secrets that she really wasn't sure she wanted to share with anybody.

Then again, she hadn't really wanted to share the secret of being the Dragonborn with anybody, either, and here she was. And it was kind of a relief, having someone else who knew about her, and what she could do. That meant that Farkas often came to her rescue when Vilkas was demanding where she had been. He was able to talk his brother down without yelling at him, which was the only way that Cry was able to get away from him, so she supposed that was good. Although, she didn't mind yelling at Vilkas, sometimes, especially on occasions when she knew she would win. Those were good.

Still, Farkas told her it would be better for everyone if she didn't yell at him at all. "Vilkas doesn't yell because he likes to," he had said, once. "He yells because he thinks that's the only way you'll listen to him."

"Well, he's not wrong," Cry had replied, and Farkas had given the ceiling of Jorrvaskr a long-suffering look.

That hadn't really been true, of course. Cry just liked to be difficult, and she had a feeling that Vilkas liked to be difficult, too. She had been patiently waiting for him to say that he wanted to train her, but he hadn't yet, which was annoying. She wanted to be better with her greatsword, and she knew that he was a master at handling such a weapon, and yet he still hadn't offered to teach her anything.

She thought that was stupid. He was the Master at Arms of the Companions, after all. It was his job to help train the other Companions. And she was on the Circle, had been promoted shortly after Skjor's death, thanks to a good word to Kodlak from Aela. Why was he refusing to help train her?

Probably because he knows I'll kick his ass, Cry thought, smiling slightly. She would kick his ass, and she wouldn't even have to use her Thu'um to do it.

Or because she'd chosen to take the blood, and thus the easy way to a position in the Circle. That… that could be it, too. He hadn't mentioned it again, after approaching her that day, but she knew that, with Vilkas's own struggles when it came to his werewolf side, he viewed her differently. She hadn't bothered to hear whatever he had to say on the matter, and that had created a rift.

She tossed the stick she was holding to the ground and glanced up at the sky again, squinting. The sun seemed to be in the same position it had been.

"Damn!" Cry said in annoyance. She pushed herself up off the rock. She was not going to sit around and waste time waiting for the sun. She could find her way back to Whiterun; Skyrim was her home. All she needed to do was keep an eye out for plains.

She made an about face, considered it for a moment, and then turned around again and started walking that way instead.

As she walked, she thought about Skjor, and her heart ached. Although she hadn't known him for long, she had grown to admire him, how brave he was, and how much he cared about the Companions, and how much he appreciated the gift of the beast blood.

Cry had an appreciation for it as well. Thanks to it, she was able to go on multiple jobs a week, because she did not need as much sleep as she had before the blood. The urges were rough to fight against, but she had a feeling that her dragon blood helped with that, for whatever reason. Perhaps the dragon blood was more dominant, and it was able to talk the beast blood down.

Whatever it was, Cry was able to fight the urge to shift more easily than Vilkas, at least. Farkas had told her that was also part of the reason Vilkas was nasty, sometimes. "He had a rough night," the younger twin would say, and Cry would be forced into feeling sympathetic. She knew that Vilkas struggled, had learned as much from Aela and Farkas, who both seemed to have more control over their wolf. Vilkas, for whatever reason, could not get a rein on it.

And that made him pitiable, dammit.

She sighed to herself, and kicked at a rock in her path. So much for hating him, she supposed, when in fact, Farkas was right. She didn't hate him, not at all. She just… didn't know how to handle him, and his mood swings, which weren't even his fault, and it made it even more difficult, because she knew they weren't his fault, and yet she couldn't stop being frustrated with him because of them, and, and…

She paused, and lifted her chin slightly. She didn't know why she hadn't decided to use her heightened senses to find her way back to Whiterun. She could be an idiot, sometimes.

Her nose told her that she was heading the right way, and so she kept moving.

Her thoughts returned to Vilkas, and she couldn't force them to go anywhere else. Apparently, it was time for contemplation.

The worst part, she supposed, was that she didn't want to dislike him, and yet he made it so difficult to like him, even when he wasn't having one of his anger spells. He was just… distant, and surly. It made him hard to approach, and if she couldn't approach him, how could she learn to like him? Besides, maybe Farkas was wrong. Maybe Vilkas didn't want her to like him.

Cry knew that was wrong, however. No one wanted someone to dislike them.

Still. Vilkas seemed to push everyone away, and Cry felt like it was because he wasn't too sure of how people worked. In fact, she was almost positive he didn't know, because he acted as though he didn't have emotions whenever possible towards almost everyone else. Didn't he know it was all right for a human to feel something, once in a while, aside from frustration or annoyance?

She shook her head to herself. Maybe she needed to discuss this with someone else, and not Farkas, because she thought he was pretty biased about the whole subject.

Sighing, she realized there was only one person she could speak with, and decided to stop in Breezehome once she arrived in Whiterun.


"I'm sorry, my Thane," Lydia said, looking at her from where she sat across the kitchen table. Cry had decided to take the time and eat something, since she was taking a break anyway. While she'd eaten, she'd told Lydia all about her issues with Vilkas, leaving out the whole werewolf bit. "I just… I don't really understand what you are asking for my advice, on."

"How to handle him, I guess," Cry replied, gazing into the empty wooden bowl in front of her. "I mean, I've been doing my best with that, but I just - I think it's gotten worse, since I was put on the Circle, when really, it should've gotten better, right? Because we're equals, now."

Lydia looked thoughtful. "I don't know if that's really the question you're asking," she said, and Cry frowned, glancing up at her.

"What do you mean?"

Lydia tilted her head. "Are you attracted to Vilkas?"

"What? No, of course not!" Cry exclaimed immediately. "How could I be? I mean, he's stubborn, and he's never really said a single kind word to me. Lately, even, he's taken to ordering me around as though I'm still a whelp, when I'm a Circle member, just like him!" She fell back into her chair. "I don't - no. Why would I ever, in a million eras, be attracted to Vilkas?"

"... because he's handsome? And a good fighter." Lydia shrugged. "And he reads. You don't ever find a warrior who also has an interest in literary education." She smiled. "On top of that, from what you've told me, it seems that Vilkas may be attracted to you."

Cry pursed her lips, feeling as though she'd just bit into some bad venison. "No," she said. "That's nearly as impossible as me being attracted to him."

Although it would explain some of what Farkas had been saying to her, recently.

Lydia shrugged again. "I think the best choice would be to talk to him," she said, and seeing Cry's face, smiled. "I'm sorry, my Thane, but if you want to get past this point in your relationship -"

"There's no relationship."

"- you'll need to talk it out, whatever it may be, which could be two very different things for the two of you." Lydia paused, thoughtful. "And, maybe, you should consider saying no to him, sometimes, to remind him that you are his equal, and don't have to listen to everything he says. Just to see what his reaction is."

Cry sighed to herself. So much for talking it out with an impartial party. She pushed away from the table and stood.

"Thanks, I guess," she mumbled. "I'll be back tomorrow, probably, and maybe I'll take you on a job with me?"

"That would be nice, my Thane," Lydia replied, and Cry nodded, before exiting Breezehome, and heading towards Jorrvaskr.

Almost as soon as she walked inside, Vilkas stood in front of her, scowling. "Where have you been?"

"Out," Cry replied, dryly, and moved around him.

"A job that should have taken half-a-day ended up taking you a full day," Vilkas said from behind her, and Cry stopped, rolling her eyes upwards. "Care to explain how that figures?"

Cry turned around to face him again. Calmly, she crossed her arms, and looked him square in the face. "Vilkas," she began, "as your equal on the Circle, I think it's safe to say that I don't have to report to you where I was at all hours of the day." She tilted her head. "Besides that, the fact that you want to know is just the slightest bit creepy. Maybe you should explain to me why you have so much interest in what I do with my time?"

Vilkas's eyes narrowed. "When you're on a job from me, your time is my time," he told her.

"Is that so?" Cry questioned. "Well, then, I guess I'll just ask for jobs from the people who don't feel so possessive." She looked around, spotted Farkas, and called, "Hey, Farkas? Do you have a job for me?"

"Always," Farkas called back, and then looked as though he regretted it when he saw she stood with Vilkas. "Uh, I mean… if you need one."

"Yeah," Cry said, and she glanced at Vilkas for a moment. "I do."

She walked away from him towards Farkas, aware of Vilkas's eyes burning holes into her back. She shrugged him, and their conversation, off, stopping in front of where Farkas sat on one of the benches that lined the hall. He looked apprehensive.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Just me helping Vilkas realize that we're on the same page," Cry replied. "What's the job?"

Farkas glanced towards his brother, before looking back at her. He sighed. "It's in Falkreath, just some bandits who've been terrorizing the city. Should be no problem for you."

Cry smiled. "You're right," she said, taking the bounty from him. She looked over her shoulder towards Vilkas. "It won't be a problem for me."

Vilkas rolled his eyes, and pushed his way out of the Jorrvaskr. Cry smirked, and turned to face Farkas again, only to find him frowning at her. She immediately frowned back. "What?"

"Why do you do that?" he asked, and Cry furrowed her brows. "Antagonize him?"

"I'm antagonizing him?" Cry demanded, and Farkas crossed his arms, leaning back against the bench. "You must be kidding."

"I just don't understand why neither of you can just talk to one another like normal people," Farkas responded. "If you would talk -"

"Why would I bother trying to talk to him?" Cry asked. "All he ever has to say to me is something degrading, or he's demanding to know where I was. I don't have to tell him where I am all the time, despite what he seems to think!"

"See, and when you antagonize him by replying to that, you give him no reason to think that there's anything else to say to you," Farkas retorted. Cry shook her head, and Farkas exhaled a breath. "I know that there are reasons you don't want him to know where you've been -"

"Multiple reasons. Reasons that are kind of, like, life-or-death," Cry interrupted.

"See, I don't think that's true," Farkas replied. "No one would say anything if you were to tell everyone that you're the Dragonborn, and you know it."

Cry made a face in response, and Farkas sighed. "I just want to help."

"I realize this," Cry said, "and yet… you're not actually being very helpful." She held up the bounty. "I'm gonna take care of this. I'll probably be back tomorrow, mid-day or so."

"Fine," Farkas said. "Vilkas and I are going hunting; maybe we'll run into you on your way back."

"Or maybe I'll avoid the plains, so that I can avoid him," Cry replied, and she walked away.