Chapter 10
Tirdas, the 12th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys awoke naked to find Aela the Huntress already dressed and standing over her in human form. She frowned as she tried to recall what had happened. It felt almost like a dream. After she became the wolf, she had followed Skjor and Aela down a secret passage and out of Whiterun. Lydia had tried to follow them, but they had quickly left her behind. Once in the farmland surrounding Whiterun they had moved like shadows through the night avoiding the houses of the farmers. In the woods they had tracked down an elk, killed him easily, and feasted on his corpse. After that they had led her here. Skjor had returned to human and gone off somewhere. Aela had returned to human a little later and dressed. There had been armor and weapons in the hollow log in this clearing.

"Good, you're awake. I was starting to think you might never come back. Yours was not an easy transformation, but you're still alive, so congratulations."

Was not coming back a possibility? Kodlak had mentioned that the Companions put down feral werewolves, so apparently there had been a danger that she hadn't even considered. She hoped that becoming a werewolf was worth the price she paid. She didn't feel stronger or faster, but she could see quite well despite the lack of moonlight, and she hear and smell so much all around her. There was also a hunger inside her despite her feasting on the elk during their run. "So, I'm a werewolf now?"

"Yes, you're one of us now. You were born into the pack, sister. I almost envy you. That first time is always the most... intense. You gave us even more trouble than Farkas did at his first turning."

Trouble? Daenerys remembered snarling at Skjor when he growled at Lydia. They also kept snapping at her when she wanted to feast upon the sheep and cows that… Oh, that was what Aela meant. Probably a good thing that they kept her from eating someone's livestock. "How long will it take before I have full control?"

Aela shrugged. "As I said, the first changing is the most intense. The next time you will have more control and remember more. How long until you have full control varies. Your wolf is strong."

Daenerys heard a cry not far from here, the sound of a man in pain. Aela looked in the direction of the scream and smiled. "You should get dressed. We have a celebration planned for you. There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand. I think you've met them before. We're going to slaughter them. All of them. Skjor's already scouting ahead."

Daenerys frowned at that even as she reached inside the hollow log. She could smell the steel of the armor. What she found inside wasn't her armor. It didn't have her scent on it, nor was it the leather armor with steel reinforcement that she had started wearing after inhaling Mir-Mul-Nir. When she pulled the armor out it gleamed in the moonlight like polished silver. She ran a hand over the breastplate appreciatively and noticed that a three-headed dragon was etched into the breastplate in fine lines. The helm and the rest of the armor were done in the same style. The arms and legs had a scale pattern despite being solid skysteel. The helm was a work of art with a dragon perched on top with its wings outstretched. The craftsmanship was simply amazing. "My armor! But Eorlund said it wouldn't be ready for a few days yet."

Aela laughed. "Skjor and I talked with Eorlund. We told him that we had something special planned. Normally when we induct someone into the Circle it would be a set a wolf armor, but Eorlund put so much effort into this it would be a shame for you not to wear it. It's so pretty it almost makes me want to wear metal instead of leathers."

Daenerys hid her surprise that Aela would call anything, even a suit of armor, pretty. She felt like she could just stare at her armor for hours, but now wasn't the time. Skjor was out there fighting alone. She could hear more shouting and cries of pain in the distance. She tried to dress quickly. However, the fastenings were not familiar to her. There were no buckles. Instead, two little bars of metal pinched the straps together. Once she figured out how to adjust the straps and pull them tight, they felt snug enough. She had reasoned that Eorlund had done something special to the wolf armor, so it would fall apart rather than crushing the wearer when they transformed. He had apparently done the same for her armor. This meant that Skjor and Aela had been planning this for some time. Even once she worked out the fastenings, it wasn't easy to dress herself and Aela wasn't offering to help. It wasn't easy, but she finally managed to don her new armor.

Once she was fully armored, Daenerys took a few experimental steps. She knew that the armor weighed more than the leather and steel she used to wear, but it felt lighter. How much of that was due to Eorlund's skill and how much was due to the blood of the werewolf, she couldn't say. Both the armor and her new strength felt good, but she didn't like the idea of just charging into battle with untested armor and abilities, especially against the Silver Hand. While Aela seemed to look forward to the battle, the Silver Hand were no pushovers. She had fought them, and they were not undisciplined bandits. They didn't simply charge into battle. They used tactics and ranged weapons. "How many Silver Hand?"

Aela shrugged. "A couple of dozen maybe by their tracks. However many there are, there will be a lot less come morning."

Three against 'a couple dozen' was not wise. Yes, there was a difference between a real warrior and the average unskilled soldier or bandit. She had seen the difference with her own eyes with Jorah Mormont, Grey Worm, Barristan Selmy, and others. However, raw numbers could overcome any skill. That was how Jorah and Barristan died. The most dangerous combination was numbers and skill together, like the Unsullied or the Empire's legionaries. The Silver Hand wasn't that good, but they obviously trained, and they fought as a team, not individuals. "This is foolish. We should have brought more men."

"That's fear talking, wolf-sister. You're stronger now and faster too. It takes a lot to put even one of us down. You need to face your fear and learn just how strong you are. Against three of us they're just sheep for the slaughter. I am going. Will you raise your shield in my defense?

Daenerys wasn't happy about this, but she wasn't going to leave her shield-brother and sister to fight alone. She also found she had an eagerness for the fight that she'd never felt before. "I will stand at your back so that the world may never overtake us."

"I will raise my bow in your honor," continued Aela.

"And my mace stands ready to face the blood of your foes," she replied. This was still foolish, and it bothered her that she was looking forward to the fight. She'd never enjoyed fighting. It had been something she'd done only because it was necessary.

"Come wolf-sister. It is past time we teach the Silver Hand who is the hunter and who is the prey." Aela took off at a jog moving through the woods with the sureness of a deer.

Daenerys followed after her and found it easier than she expected. Even without any moonlight, she could see quite well in the darkness. Her new armor felt lighter than her old armor, and keep up with Aela was easy.

However, despite the eagerness inside her, she wasn't comfortable with attacking like this. This whole thing was just so stupidly Nord. There were many things she admired about Nords. They laughed easily. They put a high priority on family and honor. She would trust the simple word of a Nord more than a document signed and witnessed. Nord women were more equal to men than women anywhere on Planetos with the possible exception of Dorne. The Nords honored their gods but didn't ram their religion down others' throats. She even liked that they expected more from their leaders. There were also things she didn't like about Nords, like the way they drank themselves stupid. She didn't mind a glass of wine sometimes, but what was the point of drinking yourself sick?

None of those things bothered her as much as the way Nords played at war. For Nords battle was all about honor. They saw battle as a proving ground. A good death in battle was to be celebrated rather than mourned. That was central to their entire worldview. Nords believed that it wasn't the life you lived, but how you faced death that determined if you made it into Sovngarde. Nords lived for this. Skjor and Kodlak against one hundred and one orc berserkers. Five hundred Companions versus the entire Snow Elf empire. Daenerys admired their courage, but battle wasn't a game.

She couldn't help but compare this planning fiasco against what she'd been reading in The Art of War Magic. Know your enemy. Know your battleground. Most battles are won or lost before the first blood is even shed. Words of wisdom that she could have used in her past life. Tyrion was a very smart man and gifted at ruling, but he had been altogether lacking as a general. However, even he would have told her that attacking an enemy encampment with just three people was foolish. Yet here she was doing it anyway. It wasn't just the new hunger in her belly. It was more because her oaths meant something to her. Skjor and Aela would still go in there even if she backed out. Even though it was foolish she wasn't going to abandon her shield-brother and shield sister to face the Silver Hand without her – which made her just as foolish as them. Damn all Nords!

Her self-reflection cut off when they reached their destination. She had been expecting a barrow. Instead, this was one of Whiterun's long-abandoned border fortresses. This one had fallen in war and not just from time passing. The stone walls were breached and collapsed in a dozen places and large central tower was just a shell. The whole place reeked of blood and Daenerys was amazed how much she could tell by scent. There was no one still alive. Just four corpses cooling in the night. She could also smell another wolf, but she couldn't tell where. There was too much blood and death.

Aela had no such difficulty. "Come one. We'll loot later. Skjor went this way." She led the way to a door at the base of the tower and inside to a tunnel that sloped downward into what had once been the basement of this fortress.

Daenerys followed along behind Aela. She could hear the shouts of combat up ahead, but Skjor obviously wasn't waiting for them. They passed two more dead Silver Hands. The light was better in here and Daenerys noticed that Skjor must still be in human form as they had been killed by a sword and not by tooth and claw. They were getting closer and could hear the clash of steel and cries of men.

Unfortunately, in their headlong rush they triggered a trap. Aela was well in front and Daenerys had no time to react when a spiked wall swung out and slammed into the huntress. Her leather armor offered almost no protection and it was mere luck that she was only impaled through the thigh. Aela howled in pain.

Daenerys rushed forward and helped Aela limp off the spike. She was alarmed by the amount of blood that started oozing out of the wound once Aela was free. "Hold still I got you." Daenerys summoned her Will, Focused on Aela's pain, and the simple Seeming of compassion and desire to ease her wolf-sister's pain. The golden light of healing magic bloomed in her hands and enveloped the wound. As soon as Daenerys released her focus on the Seeming, her emotions shifted from compassion to anger. "You'll live. Now let's get Skjor. Maybe from here on out we can act like we're the Companions and watch each other's back instead of charging in like a bunch of orc berserkers."

Aela frowned at her briefly, but then she laughed. "My, my, wolf-sister, what big teeth you have."

"Huh?" asked Daenerys. What did that even mean?

Aela laughed louder. "Nevermind, I'll explain later. It sounds like Skjor is just up ahead. Let's catch up and we can both scold him for hogging all the kills."

They caught up with Skjor fighting in what must have been the dungeon of the fallen fortress. Two long corridors lined with cells were mostly empty, but a werewolf was howling in one of the cells and rattling the bars trying to escape. There were several Silver Hand corpses on the stone floor, and Skjor was still fighting two men with shields. The two men worked well together, but they were both on the defensive as Skjor relentlessly hammered them with blows. Aela shot one of them in the throat, and Skjor made quick work of the other one., simply beating him down with his two-handed sword.

"About time you got here," said Skjor. His armor was splattered in blood, but none of it appeared to be his.

The werewolf in the cage continued to growl, snarl, and howl at them.

Skjor glanced at the beast and then at Aela. No words were spoken, but Aela nodded and then fired off several arrows through the bars at the caged werewolf.

"Feral?" asked Daenerys.

"Yes." Skjor shook his head. "Some can't master the beast. They let the beast master them. Nothing we can do about it except put them down. We haven't sired any werewolves but you lately, so it must be another strain."

Daenerys looked around noticing dead werewolves in many of the cells. "Or they're deliberately breeding werewolves. I think we would have heard in Whiterun if there were this many werewolves running around Whiterun."

Aela tilted her head to one side. "Why would the Silver Hand do that?"

"Experimentation maybe?" suggested Daenerys. "Perhaps they're trying to find something that can kill a werewolf easily."

Skjor shrugged. "Silver hurts us, but they already know that."

Daenerys frowned. Why else would they capture werewolves? Surely it had to be much harder to capture a werewolf than to simply kill one. "Maybe they're planning to release them near a town? They show up, kill the feral werewolf, and the town treats them like heroes instead of bandits."

"Sounds like the kind of thing those milk-drinkers would do," agreed Skjor. "I don't really give a shit. Let's finish the rest of this place off. Won't matter what they're up to when they're all dead. Aela, I heard one of them mention the Skinner."

Aela smiled a feral grin. "The Skinner is here? Why are we standing around talking? Let's go."

"Wait." Daenerys held up a hand. "There is something I forgot to ask. How exactly do I transform if it's needed?"

"You can't," said Skjor. "Not tonight."

"After being set free your wolf needs to rest," explained Aela. "Wait a day. Tomorrow night when the moons are up, your wolf will hunger. Then all you need to do is set it free."

"So, I can transform once a night, but not until the moon is up?"

Aela shook her head. "You will probably need to wait for the moon newblood. The more you feed, the stronger your connection to Hircine, and the more powerful your wolf. You become stronger and faster. You can stay a wolf longer, and you won't need the moons to transform, but even for Skjor and I, our wolves need to rest. Although sometimes the wolf will come out if you are in great need or pain."

"Less talk. More fighting," growled Skjor. He turned and headed deeper into the fortress.

Aela followed him and Daenerys followed her. Daenerys still thought that it was foolish for three to attack so many. Doubly foolish to do so when their greatest weapon, becoming a werewolf was not available. Tactics, numbers, and even sheer dumb luck could overcome skill. She would have been a lot more comfortable with a few more Companions, or even some of her followers along.

Skjor and Aela carved a path through the Silver Hand with contemptuous ease that made her doubts seem foolish. Daenerys engaged some in combat and held her own. She even managed two kills by surprising her opponents with a quick burst of Flames and then following that up with her mace. However, she didn't feel like Skjor or Aela even needed her. The only time she felt like she made a difference was when they entered a room where a gallery overlooked the main level. Two archers in the gallery started raining down arrows while three other Silver Hand charged forward and tried to pin them down. Her Shout of Yol-Toor-Shul set one of the archers on fire and slammed them both back. That distracted the other archer, and Aela shot twice. The Silver Hand were putting up a good fight. They attacked together mixing melee with archers, but it didn't matter. Skjor and Aela were simply that much better.

Skjor set a fast pace, going from one room the next with barely a pause. When a particularly thick door didn't budge when he kicked it, Skjor just kicked it two more times and then ran on through. He made it two steps before he fell down screaming with pain.

Daenerys wasn't sure why Skjor fell, but it was obviously another ambush. That he had called out in pain meant he must have been injured badly. She quickly scanned the room not wanting to be felled by the same trap. She had a glimpse of archers to the sides and men in front armed with shields and spear. Before she could take in more, a fire roared up rapidly spreading across a pool of oil that covered the entire area in front of the door including where Skjor lay. As traps go it was effective.

She grabbed Aela by the shoulder before the huntress could rush in. "I'll get Skjor! Kill the archers." As if to punctuate her command, an arrow glanced off her shoulder. Daenerys hurried forward into the flaming pool of oil only to come to a halt. The spearmen were standing just outside the pool of fire repeatedly stabbing Skjor. Worse he wasn't just on fire. His foot was caught in a bear trap, and that wasn't the only bear trap. The iron jaws of bear traps were scattered all about in front of the entrance. Fortunately, she didn't need to move to attack. She Shouted Yol-Toor-Shul at the spearmen in front of her, and two burning corpses flew backward. She reached down and grabbed Skjor to drag him out as more arrows struck her armor without hurting her. She'd thank Eorlund later. She pulled at Skjor, he was a large and heavy man, but she was able to move him a little. However, she could only get a little ways because the bear trap that had closed on his foot was anchored to the floor. She also realized that it didn't matter. Skjor's face was burnt, but he wasn't screaming. He wasn't even bleeding. Whether it was the fire or the spearmen that killed him, she was trying to save a corpse.

She released Skjor and rushed two of the archers yelling, "For Skjor! For the Companions!" as she charged.

The archers cast aside their bows and drew swords to meet her. She blocked one sword with her buckler while the other danced away from her mace. She heard a loud howl but was too busy fighting for her life to worry about it. She fought defensively while trying to circle around. She expected that to be more difficult, but the archers seemed to move so slowly. After a few exchanges of blows, she had circled so they had switched places. Her back was to the wall and their backs were facing the fire. She stretched out her hand and cast Shove. The opponent she targeted went flying back into the fire and bear traps. The other gawked at her for a moment, which was enough of an opening for her to smack him across the helmet with her mace. He dropped like a stone. The other had apparently fallen on a bear trap and his screams were already weakening. She looked across the room to see Aela in her werewolf form standing over a pile of corpses.

Aela glared at her and growled. There was no sign of anything human in that gaze, only an animal in pain. Instinctively Daenerys lowered her mace, bowed her head and looked down at the floor. A part of her railed against the submissive gesture that was so close to bending the knee. She held that part of her in check. Aela was grieving the loss of her mate and likely to lash out. Daenerys was not submitting to her, no matter how it felt. She was a woman, a Targaryen, a dragon, and not a wolf. She was just making it clear to Aela that she was not offering challenge.

Aela threw her head back and howled long and low.

Somehow Daenerys knew that this was a mournful howl and not an angry howl. Aela was not going to attack her. Daenerys stood back up and sighed. She hadn't even realized that she was holding her breath.

Aela turned from her and stepped over to the body of the orc warrior that she had slain. She reached down and picked up his corpse by the neck. Daenerys watched as Aela ripped the orc's arms off at the shoulder as easily as snapping a twig. She then ripped off the breastplate before dropping the orc back on the stone floor. With her claws she ripped open the orc's chest. Then she lowered her face to the bloody corpse and fed upon his organs.

Feeling sick at her stomach Daenerys looked away. She turned from the carnage and walked back into the still burning pool of oil. She ignored the sounds of the bloody feast and instead turned to the equally gory task of pulling what was left of Skjor out of the burning pool of oil. She'd been right about the foolishness of attacking the Silver hand, but she would have much rather been proven wrong. She would have to be wary of this new hunger inside her. Even more disturbing was that Skjor's corpse smelled delicious.