Fredas, 16th day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203

"You would give your own coin to help my son?" Mralki asked.

I watched as his son, Erik, spoke with Vilkas. I remembered the lad watching us after we defeated the dragon; his bright red hair made him hard to miss. That same night, he listened to Vilkas' and my stories, absorbing every detail. He was enthralled, hanging on to each word. I knew the boy was eager to become an adventurer with the way he was captivated by our stories. I expected him to approach us, which he did that morning. He was keen on becoming an adventurer. When he asked me to speak to his father about it, I was happy to oblige.

Mralki was reluctant. After the Great War, he settled in Rorikstead with his wife, who died when Erik was young. One look at Mralki told me how much he suffered. The thought of sending his only son into the world worried him. I didn't blame him, but I knew what he did—he couldn't keep Erik home working the farm forever.

"I would. This should do it," I answered, handing him enough Septims to cover the cost of Erik's armor.

"I'm moved by your compassion. Your kind deed will not go unrewarded, my friend," Mralki assured me, gripping my hands in gratitude.

I gave him a small smile. "I don't need a reward. Make sure you arm the boy with sturdy gear before he ventures off on his own. If you'll excuse me, friend, my shield-brother and I should be off if we want to make it to Whiterun before sundown."

"Safe travels and may the divines bless you now and always, Harbinger."

"And you as well," I said.

I returned to my table, to find Erik still talking Vilkas' ear off. This is not the shy thing that approached us earlier, I thought. Meanwhile, Vilkas looked down at his mug of water, as if wishing it was mead. I fought back my smirk, deciding to spare my shield-brother further torture.

"I heard of Dwemer defenses, but to—oh! Hello Harbinger!" Erik greeted, offering me a broad grin. "Your shield-brother was telling me about the close call with a centurion."

"And I was telling him if you weren't there with me, I would be dead," Vilkas added, being his typical dour self. He was always crankier when he was hungover.

"Vilkas is right. An adventurer's life is not an easy one. It's filled with peril at each turn. If you decide the risk is worth it, I've provided your father with enough coin to fit you with some decent armor," I told the boy.

Erik's face lit up, jumping out of his seat and brought me into a hug. I became as stiff as a board and patted his back, not used to hugs. The boy meant well, but Divines damn it, why were Nords so affectionate? Vilkas snickered as I made a crude gesture with my free hand, which didn't quell his laughter.

"Thank you so much! I don't know how you did it, but I promise I won't disappoint you and… oh, I'll get off of you," the boy said, blushing.

"Yes. That's a good idea," I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

Erik pulled away from me, still beaming at me as though I were Talos incarnate.

"Thank you. What can I do to repay you? Name it. I'll give you anything… except my firstborn."

I snorted. "Best you don't offer me children. As I told your father, you don't have to repay me. Jorrvaskr's doors are open if you want to join us. Until then, good luck. I look forward to our paths crossing again. Come on, Vilkas. Let's say goodbye to Jouane and Rorik so we can leave."

Everything was in order when we saw the older men. We received the expected treatment—thank you for helping us, we wish you luck with the dragons, and so on. What I didn't expect was Jouane handing me a bulky package that weighed as much as a small child.

"Dragon bone?" I asked, putting the package onto my horse.

Jouane nodded and answered, "Along with the scales. I thought it was wise to give these to you in case you wanted to use them."

The gesture was thoughtful, but I had no clue what to do with the bone or scales. The possibility of crafting armor with it remained, but how? If I struggled to create a basic ebony dagger, there was no way I could work with something as complex as dragon bone. With how scarce the materials were, I didn't have the margin of error like I did with steel or iron.

"Thank you for your generosity. Both of you," I said.

"There's no need to thank us, friend. If you're in need of healing, I'm at your service. And as for you," Jouane said, slapping Vilkas on the back, "treat her well."

"Of course I will. She's my Harbinger," Vilkas said.

Jouane gave him his all-knowing stare, one that unsettled me. I was Vilkas' Harbinger the same way he was my shield-brother. We pledged to fight alongside each other, for better and for worse. It was nothing out of the usual. What did the old Breton mean by that? I shook off the thought. I liked Jouane, but life must be boring in Rorikstead if we were a source of entertainment.

We rode towards Whiterun, our journey quiet. It worked for us. Vilkas was irritable after a night of socializing and needed his space. Meanwhile, I woke up that morning with the same coiling dread in my chest from the day before. There was something else that I let slip through the cracks. It urged me, heeding me to listen.

I shoved it deep down, telling myself I would deal with it later, knowing I wouldn't. Instead, I thought about how to deal with the dragons returning. I have to see the Greybeards, don't I? I grumbled. The idea soured my mood. We hadn't parted on the best terms. They were helpful, to an extent. If it hadn't been for their help, I would have never learned how to use my Thu'um, but it frightened me. I told them I wanted nothing to do with this Dragonborn business and took my leave.

The attack at Rorikstead raised an important question—did I make the right decision all those months ago? For the longest time, I convinced myself I had. The dragons vanished, so I stopped worrying. It seemed simple until it wasn't. My mind spun at the myriad of questions. How had they vanished again? Why were they back?

Vilkas' voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Why did you pay for the boy's armor?"

"Mralki didn't have enough to cover the expense," I answered him.

"Yes, but why bother at all? The boy's adventurous spirit is none of your concern. He might get himself killed in a matter of days."

Vilkas wasn't wrong. We both knew the tales of foolhardy men and women who adventured and vanished. Erik might become one of those cautionary tales. I honored my instincts and gave the boy the opportunity to prove himself; however, my decision wasn't based on instinct alone.

"I try not to forget that I got to where I am because people I had faith in me. When I can, I do the same for others."

The same person passed through both of our thoughts—Kodlak. The old man believed in others when no one else did. I hoped Vilkas wasn't comparing us. No matter how honorable I tried being, I could never be Kodlak Whitemane.

"He would be proud of you," Vilkas said.

I shook my head, the guilt stirring in my chest. "I've made mistakes that Kodlak hasn't."

He rode closer to me, slowing his horse's pace. "We discussed this yesterday. We'll work on the matter of dragons together."

"I know."

I flashed him a pathetic smile, said little else, riding ahead. Vilkas' offer meant more than he understood. He wasn't able to help me with my lingering unease, along with things I hadn't thought of in months. The dragons were only a part of the problem.

Mondas, 8th day of Mid Year, 4E 202

I made it back to Jorrvaskr before noon, ready to be rewarded for Clearspring Tarn. Most of the jobs that Aela gave me involved wolves or sabre cats. Imagine my surprise when I encountered a troll instead. The creature almost took me out with its massive claws. I grinned while thinking about it. It was my most challenging job so far. It felt good to accomplish something that wasn't running a wolf out of a citizen's home or roughing up the local loudmouth.

The jobs alone weren't the best part, but the training was invaluable. Though I trained with Farkas, Aela took an interest in my archery skills, or lack thereof. I didn't mind the way my muscles ached at night, or that I struggled to keep my eyes open in the evening. It was so silly to take such joy in exhaustion.

A few Companions waved at me as I entered the yard, and I waved back. Things had improved since my encounter with Njada. The Circle and Ria were the only ones who seemed to know about me being Dragonborn, and they didn't ask questions. If the other Companions knew, they never mentioned it. I preferred it that way. We didn't need to have that conversation yet.

My relationship with most of the Companions improved, anyway—Vilkas ignored me, for the most part, and Njada flashed me surly looks each time I saw her. That wasn't out of the norm. Vilkas still treated me like I was the dirt beneath his boots, but he left me alone. Njada avoided me as much as possible. But I sensed her gaze on me when I wasn't looking, pondering how to get her revenge.

I paid neither of them any mind. I was just eager to train. Farkas handed my ass to me on a silver platter when we sparred with maces a few days earlier. I planned on returning the favour in kind, even though moving him was like trying to push a boulder. That was my goal—but first, payment for the troll.

An arrow flew from Aela's bow, hitting the bullseye. The woman never failed to impress me.

"Nice shot," I said.

She lowered her bow and turned to me, grinning. "My pa drilled it into me. You'll get better in time."

"Don't count on that. I have the aim of a horker."

We shared a laugh, recalling the incident from three weeks prior. Poor Athis. He took an arrow to the knee. I worried that his days as a Companion were over. Lucky for him, it wasn't serious. It didn't go deep enough into his kneecap to cause lasting damage. After healing him, apologizing profusely, and a drink at The Bannered Mare, the Dunmer and I were on good terms, but he made me swear not to practice my archery around him ever again.

"Practice makes perfect. You've got a bow on you," she observed, pointing to the quiver on my back.

"I found it in the troll's den. It looks enchanted too, but I can't tell what it does. Did you want it?" I asked.

"Keep it. You need to become familiar with archery. Take some of my arrows and let's give it a go."

"Can I get my payment for the job first?" I asked, hoping that it distracted her.

"Training first, then we'll discuss payment."

I sighed and pulled the bow out, a faint silver glow surrounding it before it faded. The bow was in pristine condition. Sparks coursed through me when I gripped it. Whatever enchantment it had, it was unlike anything I experienced before. I wondered how such a fine weapon wound up in a troll's cave.

Aela handed me an arrow. I nocked it and got into position, eying the middle of the target. I had to remind myself to keep my grip loose. From the corner of my eye, I saw Aela nod in approval. Taking a breath, I let the arrow fly loose, watching as it soared towards the target. It landed on the rung near the bullseye, no small feat given how bad I was three weeks prior.

I turned to Aela, who rewarded me with a nod of approval.

"Not bad," Aela said, handing me another arrow. "Do it again."

This continued for a while. Most of my shots stayed along the two rungs closest to the bullseye, with a few straying on the outer edges. My last shot landed near the centre of the target, but not quite touching it. My brows shot up. I almost had it. If I kept this up, I'd be able to hit it in no time. When did I become so excited over nothing? I wondered.

I took the arrows out of the target and handed them back to Aela, whose green eyes beamed with pride. "Not bad. You're almost there. Keep this up and you'll have a decent shot soon."

I didn't need her approval, but I glowed at her praise.

"And here's the promised reward for the job. Say, I have something else you can do. Consider it moving target practice." Aela tossed me a bag of Septims.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, a little more curious than I cared to admit.

"We've got some traders coming who are short on wolf pelts. See if you can find some."

"I'll take care of it," I said.

"Excellent. Go get some rest. You did some good work today. Don't forget to see Farkas before you head back inside. He was asking about you."

I nodded, thanked her, and sought Farkas. He was underneath the shade, munching on an apple. My stomach growled. Farkas must have heard it, grinning, and tossed me a green apple from the bowl Tilma laid out that morning.

"Saw you practicing with Aela. You look less like a mudcrab with a bow," he said, flashing me a smirk.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you I never held a weapon before I came to Skyrim?"

"You mention it once every training session. Doesn't mean I'm gonna let up."

I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed before returning his focus to his apple. Farkas' ribbing wasn't so bad. After the incident with Athis, I deserved every bit of teasing for my lacklustre ability. At least I improved. When I came back from Aela's job with those wolf pelts, he'd have to eat his words. Farkas would find something else to poke fun at. I expected it, and maybe I wanted it. He had a way of making me laugh, even when it was at my own expense.

We ate our apples in silence, so I scanned the yard. I saw Vilkas training Ria with a battleaxe. I couldn't help but feel jealous—I didn't want to, but it was stronger than me. Two months passed since I joined the Companions. I used my battleaxe on jobs, but received little training. Farkas was skilled with two-handed weapons, yet wanted me to learn one-handed ones. Vilkas was the Companion most skilled with larger weapons, but the only time I trained with him was the first day. He must do it on purpose, I thought.

A bemused laugh came out of me, and Farkas' brought his attention back to me. He gave me a questioning glance, and I swatted my hand, dismissing his concerns. Farkas shrugged and went back to eating his apple. What if he brought up my training with Vilkas? It was an option. Vilkas was his twin, but that seemed cowardly. I'd have to approach him myself. He'd chew my head off sooner than train me, but he couldn't ignore my existence forever either—not that I minded it. I'd rather be talking to a draugr, but they don't offer training.

"Why can't I train with Aela?" Ria asked Vilkas.

My ears perked up at her question. Since when does she want to train with a bow? I pondered.

"Because you wanted to learn the longer blades. Aela's never used anything bigger than a dagger," Vilkas replied, not looking impressed by her query.

"It's just… I think our fighting styles are very similar."

"Well, you can either get better with a bow or try to learn from me."

"Okay, fine. Can you remind me again about how far I should hold this blade?"

"Let's go through this one more time, then you can take a break."

An idea clicked. If Vilkas didn't want to train me, Ria could give me tips. In exchange, I'd teach her the little I understood about archery. Training with Vilkas was preferable, but learning with Ria was a decent option.

The timing was perfect. Torvar stumbled into the yard, ambling to a training dummy. Farkas muttered something under his breath, excused himself, and left to deal with him. Vilkas dismissed Ria, and I waved the Imperial over.

"Hey. How did your job for Aela go?" she asked, taking a seat next to me.

"I'm alive, the troll is dead, and I have a new weapon," I answered, handing her the bow. "Check it out.

Her eyes lit up as she examined the bow, admiring its craftsmanship. "What a find! That's—wait a second. How come your trolls hide fancy weapons and all mine hide are corpses?"

I blinked, innocent as I ever was. "That's simple. My trolls are richer than yours. This one was a Thane of the Rift."

"Oh, shut up," Ria snorted, giving me a playful shove as I broke into a laugh. "Thane my ass. The bow is beautiful, though. You better learn how to use it."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." I tilted my head at Vilkas, who was giving the training dummy a thrashing. "The local grump is the only one who can train me in two-handed weapons, but he doesn't like me."

"You don't have proof of that."

I glared at Ria and she changed her tune. "Okay, he doesn't like you, but that doesn't mean he won't train you."

"I'm going to broach the subject with him. If he doesn't go for it, are you willing to give me some tips? I'll teach you more about archery. You can use my bow if you want to."

"How can I say no to that? You're on, but talk to Vilkas. Whether he likes you or not, he has to come around at some point."

"Well, well, well, well. What did I just hear?"

My blood boiled as Njada made her appearance. It was the first time since the courtyard shook that she dared approaching me. She looked like a cat that stumbled into a bowl of cream. Ria rolled her eyes. We said nothing wrong. The problem was that we didn't need to misspeak for Njada to cause a scene.

"That depends. Are your ears clean, Companion?" I asked.

"What was it I was hearing about Vilkas not liking you?" she asked, her voice saccharine.

"Hey, that's none of your business! This was a private conversation between friends!" Ria snapped.

"Something you would have more of if you weren't eavesdropping," I added.

Njada winced. "Very funny."

"It is. And if I recall, you don't like me either. Were you two planning on starting an 'I hate Anyaie' group?' If so, I'm pleased to see you making friends."

"So should I tell Vilkas you threatened me with your Thu'um last night?" Njada said, raising her voice loud enough for him to hear.

My mouth tightened into a line and I glowered at her. So she figured out I was Dragonborn. Maybe it was stupid to pretend she wouldn't after what happened the last time. Worse, she wanted to use it against me. Ria sensed my seething rage, and laid a calming hand on my arm. I took a deep breath, urging myself to check my temper. If I didn't, I risked losing everything I worked for in the last two months.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked.

"Not much. I'm trying to understand why you're here instead of, you know, fighting dragons."

"There are no dragons right now."

Njada grinned. "Really? We got a report about a dragon two days ago. Burned down a small settlement in the Rift. Wait, weren't you on a job yesterday? And you didn't think of investigating it?"

I shot out of my seat, Ria following suit.

"Th-that's not true!" I stammered, all color draining from my face. But what if it was true? My internal alarm blared, ringing in my ears. What if Njada wasn't trying to provoke me? If a dragon attacked the Rift and I wasn't present… the Nine shouldn't have spared me at Helgen.

"Oh, you're right. It's not true. But it was damn worth seeing you squirm."

A laugh peeled right through her when I didn't answer. It took Ria clutching on to my hand to stop me from punching her. Dragon attacks were no laughing matter. She wouldn't dare joke about it if she were at Helgen. These fucking Nords and their legends. Legends mask monstrous truths. They don't capture the wretched scent of burning flesh, or the screams of young ones at the sight of their parents engulfed in flames. Those red eyes. My throat burned.

"What's wrong? Dragon got your tongue? Gods. If this is how you react to a dragon threat, we're all screwed."

"Fuck off!" I shouted, and the world shook.

I saw genuine terror on Njada's face the last time it happened; this was different. Her amber-colored eyes shone with smug satisfaction, a smirk on her lips. I trembled with rage. She played me, and I let her win—but I wasn't about to let her have it so easily.

"You bitch. You fucking bitch," I hissed.

Ria couldn't stop my fist from connecting with Njada's nose, sending her tumbling backwards. I panted, looming over her as she gripped onto her bleeding nose. If the Companions didn't want me after this, so be it. But I wouldn't let some Nordic hussy insult me, no matter how right she was.

Ria restrained me before I got another swing in. "Anyaie, stop. Vilkas is coming. You're going to end up…"

"I don't give a fuck! If I'm getting kicked out, she's going to suffer for it!" I growled, straining against Ria's grip.

"You're dead," Njada snarled.

She stood up, wobblier than before, but ready to fight. The others came. I heard them, but the blood thrummed in my ears as I focused on Njada. Fuck them knowing I'm Dragonborn. I'm going down on my own terms. Just as I was about to break free from Ria's grasp and lunge again, Farkas grabbed Njada from behind. Vilkas trailed behind him and turned his contemptuous gaze my way.

"You. What's the meaning of this?" he barked.

"She used the Voice on me," Njada said.

"I didn't!" I protested.

"Njada provoked her and…" Ria started, but Vilkas wasn't having it.

"Unhand her," Vilkas ordered, and Ria did as she was told. "Come, new blood. Kodlak will decide if it's worth keeping you or not."

"Do it," Ria whispered.

I nodded and followed Vilkas into the hall. Ria was wise, thinking I had a better shot convincing Kodlak that this was a misunderstanding. I had to be an idiot and jeopardize it by asking Vilkas. "I guess it's not worth telling you I'm innocent before I go see Kodlak?"

Vilkas stopped cold in his tracks and turned to face me. I expected his usual disbelief, and I was right. "You think that's a good idea when you've caused nothing but trouble since you've gotten here?"

"I'm sorry, but trouble?" I repeated, crossing my arms. "Save what's happened with Njada, I've done nothing. I've kept my head down and done the work. If anyone's caused trouble, it's you and your dour attitude."

He let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, I'm the problem, am I? You threatened a Companion with your shout twice."

This again? I scowled at him for a change, battling the urge to shake his shoulders and tell him I didn't shout at his shield-sister. What was his infatuation with my Thu'um? Why did he care so damn much whether or not I was the Dragonborn?

Instead, I answered, "I will say it for the last time, Companion. What happened with Njada both times was not my Thu'um."

"You're as good of a liar as you are a Companion. Don't bother with Kodlak and leave. Your insolence today shows that you have nothing to offer us, as a Companion or Dragonborn."

"Fus!"

The shout spilled out of me quicker than fire on oil, pushing a wide-eyed Vilkas down the steps and into the banquet table. He grunted at the impact, the plates clattering around him as the food soiled his armor. I should have been remorseful. It was wrong to abuse my Thu'um. But I got wicked pleasure from seeing his stunned face as I approached him.

"That is a Thu'um. Don't ever forget it," I said.

The others came into the hall. I imagined what the Thu'um must have sounded like to them. Maybe the fact that I blew my chance at becoming a Companion should have bothered me, but I didn't care, not when Vilkas tested my patience. I was tired of being pushed around by him.

Vilkas pulled himself up, trying to make it look effortless. And that wasn't even the full effect of my Thu'um, I thought, eying him as he struggled. If he hadn't been such a perpetual piss-off, I might have helped him get up. Oblivion, I might have apologized. Instead, I watched in satisfaction as he grunted.

"You're… you're a damned bitch," he growled.

"And? What are you going to do about it, you miserable bastard?"

Vilkas drew his sword, his eyes glinting like the steel of his blade. I grabbed my battleaxe and lunged at him, but he parried my strike. Talented bastard, I cursed. We went on like this, almost matching each other strike for strike until Vilkas, with one sweeping motion, brought his sword down on my axe with all his might. It loosened my grip, the axe about to fall from my hands. I growled and kicked him off of me, granting me a chance to firm my grip.

He didn't rush back into combat. Instead, he circled me, waiting to see if I moved. The sweat dripped down my forehead. Few opponents I faced posed a challenge like Vilkas did. I had no hopes of emerging victorious. All I wanted was to shake him a bit to get my point across.

"Given up?" he asked.

"Not a chance," I answered.

That was the assent he needed to spring forward, slashing his blade. I avoided the impact, thrusting my axe towards his side and—nothing. Vilkas was too quick, and his blows soon came as an onslaught. It was a miracle I dodged them until one made me stagger backwards. My reflexes kicked in and I regained my balance, giving him the opportunity to strike me again. I deflected that blow with my hilt. Vilkas pushed down on it, trying to make me lose my grip a second time. I hissed, clinging onto the blade with all my resolve. We were in a deadlock.

"Surrender," he demanded, his voice strained.

"Call it a draw," I hissed.

"No!" he growled, forcing his sword against my battleaxe, wanting me to lose my balance. "Don't make this harder. Surrender and I won't hurt you."

"You are the one making this hard, Vilkas!" I snapped, pushing his sword back. "You've got a shit personality, but you won't hurt me."

"You don't know me!" he grunted, pushing against the battleaxe.

I held my ground, refusing to let him move me, but my arms were weary. How much longer can I withstand this? I pondered, feeling everything ache.

"And you don't know me! Let this go," I breathed out.

"Enough of this madness!" a voice boomed.

Reality nestled its way back into our combat-addled minds. We ruined Tilma's immaculate table, the crumpled tablecloth stained with smashed food. Broken plates and utensils littered the ground, along with a spilled pitcher of ale. The other Companions stared, unsure if they should have been cheering a good fight or pretending they didn't allow us to wreck the hall. Vilkas and I stood at the center like petty children caught fighting over nothing.

The worst part was the disappointment etched onto Kodlak's face. My blood turned cold as his reproachful eyes fell on me. I braced myself for the fallout, accepting that I would wallow at a tavern in a matter of minutes.

A/N: Hey folks! Apologies for the delay! Real life's been busy and I've been busy tweaking older chapters too. I'll let you know when those are re-posted!