Author's Note:
I did promise fast updates, now did I not? Hope you like this chapter. I wrote it all in a breath after I played these respective events with Amina.
Don't worry, I won't detail every single thing in the Main Quest, and there will be a lot of things changed. I'm not going to follow the main storyline word by word, and there will be a lot of plot changes and add-ons to enrich the story and make it my own.
Some experiences will be glossed over, some will not, depending on how important I consider them to the story and character build-up. You'll see more of Vilkas from the next chapter on, too!
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Vilkas sat on the steps of the training courtyard, looking up at Messer and Secunda chasing each other through the sky at snail's pace. There was a soft breeze in the air, as if the time was on the cusp of spring, and not reading for winter. Wind caressed his hair and kissed his jaw as he let himself relax, rubbing his sore muscles and rubbing ointment on his bruises and scrapes.
He could smell Farkas before he even approached him. His brother clasped a hand on his shoulder, making a loud slapping sound. He swore his twin was getting bigger every day, despite them passing their growing age by a decade now.
"I hope I didn't rough you up too bad, brother."
Vilkas smirked. "Please. I put you on your ass."
Farkas laughed, snorting for good measure. "That you did. Why aren't you asleep?"
He sighed, and rubbed at his face. "I fear we may have sent someone to their death."
"What do you mean?"
"A new whelp…she came today to be admitted. Eager, frightened little thing. I could hear her heart from the end of the hall. I think I spurred her on a dangerous quest."
"How?"
"I pointed out she was weak. Then a guard came with news about a dragon attack at Helgen, and she offered herself up on a platter to go there and investigate." He raked a hand through his hair. "You should have seen her, Farkas. More like a peasant's daughter than a warrior."
"Wouldn't be the first death you'd be to blame for, though."
Vilkas glared at him. "It's one thing to die on a mission, another because you were eager to prove yourself without even being a Companion."
"How is it any different though? She wants to be a Companion. Let her have it. She'd die sooner or later anyway."
Vilkas sighed again. "But she isn't one of us…she could have walked out the door."
"Brother, listen to me." Farkas said, snaking an arm around his brother's shoulders, and pressing his forehead to his, just as they did numerous times when they were kids. "You are not to blame for what someone else wants to do. If she wanted to go, she went. If she dies, she did at her own hand. Not yours. Not the Companion's. Just because she wanted."
Vilkas laughed, a raspy sort of thing. "Thank you brother. For all the others call you ice brain, they'll never know how insightful you can be. And I've seen you read my research books, you know. You should stop letting them think you're entirely daft."
"Pft. A big heart and bigger muscles. That's all there is to me. You've got the brains."
Vilkas shook his head. He could never understand why his brother took their jeers and insults so lightly. Even said with fondness, they grated him, and he couldn't see how Farkas could just shrug them off.
A beat of silence. The brothers sat quietly, watching the stars, tracing the constellations with their gazes, like they did every night out of the large window of their room.
"What else is on your mind brother?"
"Kodlak is trying to find a cure for the beast blood."
Farkas' eyebrows rose up. "Do you think he will?"
Vilkas shrugged.
"Do you want to give up the beast blood, brother? Because if you will, I will. I go where you go."
"You should take this decision for yourself."
Farkas shook his head. "No, brother. It's a nice thing to have. It gives me a sort of…freedom. But I go where you go. We are twins, from start to finish. I won't have it if you don't. Easy as that. I don't need it. You always had a harder time with it than I, though."
"Aye. The beast calls to me stronger than it does to you, or the others. I cannot sleep, as I hear howling whenever I try to close my eyes…I feel the need to hunt, to transform, to heed Hircine's call."
They lay in the snow, gazing up at the sky, bathed in blood, as naked as the day they were born. The moons had been witness to their crimes, their lack of control. He could still hear the screams ringing in his ears, the taste of flesh. They cried, two grown men shedding tears as they hadn't in ears, holding each other.
After that, there were many nights spent hunting, but never another one like that one. Never again another one, they promised. And kept that promise. But Vilkas still heard the screams. Still had nightmares. Still felt as if he could rip his skin off his flesh, something inside of him boiling, raking at him to get out and overpower him.
Too late did he realize it was not he who used the beast blood. The beast blood used him.
Vilkas lay his face in his palms. "I want to be rid of this."
"Then so do I, brother."
"Why do you always follow me around, Vilkas? You could keep the beast blood, if you so desire. I won't hold it against you, I won't judge."
"Brother, we were born together. We'll probably die together. And when we do, I want to see you on the other side. We will hunt together with Hircine. Or we will go to Sovngarde. Either way, I am with you."
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Amina was miserable. She was lonely, soaked to the bone, and frustrated. Her trip to Helgen had been stopped short by a storm that descended from the mountains, soaking the land and her to the marrow. It was still downpouring outside, though not as hard, and she knew that if she tried to leave from Riverwood now she'd just end up swimming her way to Helgen in a river of mud puddles.
She missed the companionship of Erik and Meeko, though she supposed that being a Companion would teach her how to deal with that. Meeko, the traitor, had curled up close to a fire in Jorvaskrr and refused to budge – not much of a wardog, that one. Maybe he was just sick of fighting after Meridia's little quest.
She sighed in her drink. The inn keeper said the herbal tea was supposed to calm her nerves and help her sleep well, but so far, her anxiousness wasn't letting up one bit. The more she approaching her destination, the more she was on edge. She felt like a tightly sprung coil ready to give out. At least the bard wasn't playing anything political, just "The Dragonborn Comes". She definitely wasn't in the mood for another Stormcloack vs Imperial squabble in the bar.
Someone sat up next to her. "You're an adventurer, right?"
Amina turned to regard the young woman who talked to her. "You could say that."
"I have a job for you...me and my brother really need your help. It's just near the town, so it won't take too long. And I have the coin for it."
Amina sighed. She wanted to refuse the woman, but if she needed help…it was her duty to offer it if she could. It was the honourable thing to do, right? Helgen wasn't going anywhere if she was late a couple of hours. And truth be told, she couldn't trek on the road the way it was raining, but she could take a short walk near town…right?
"I'm all ears."
"Me and my brother own the Riverwood Trader shop. We had a precious golden claw my brother adored….I don't know how he came across it, but he won't tell. Bandits stormed our shop a few days ago, and took the claw, and the claw only."
Amina raised her eyebrows. "Only the claw?"
And this is how Amina ended up making her way towards the top of the mountain to reach Bleak Falls Barrow. The ruin could be seen from Riverwood, overpowering the surrounding landscape with its regular shapes and impressive size. Its archways sprouted like ribs from the mountain face, shadowing the first rays of light coming with the sunrise. It took the better of two hours to reach it, but when she did, Amina knew she had to proceed with caution.
She snuck around the stone pillars, crouching low in the snow, trying to make as little noise as possible. There were three bandits on a lookout. Or well, supposed to be. It was her luck that they were talking among themselves, as she took out three arrows from her quiver. If she was fast, she wouldn't have to fight outside the Barrow at all.
The first bandit was easy, but his death alerted his companions, who readied their bows. They still hadn't seen her. Another arrow. And another. They fell like logs, half-buried in the powdery snow. Amina smiled at her good fortune.
The inside of the barrow reeked of dust and death. She barely managed to open the large iron doors without making any noise, but now she found herself trying to prevent herself from dry heaving. The stench was absolutely unbearable. But was it really a wonder when the ground was littered with dead skeevers and…was that a corpse?! She was fastly regretting ever accepting this job. She'd rather have swam her way to Helgen that deal with this stench.
Cocking an arrow, she killed the first bandit. Then, the second. She'd have to mind her arrows from now on lest she remain without any. She counted: ten left. Hopefully there wouldn't be as many bandits in the rest of the ruin. God knows why they'd try to go any farther. Why the claw only? And why take refuge inside a ruin filled with the dead, and possibly undead?
And then she remembered….the claw! That's why it sounded so familiar to her. She remembered sitting on her father's knees as he told legends of the ruins he and his mother raided in their youth, looking for gold and adventure. Some of them, impenetrable it seemed, featured a clever puzzle left over by the ancient Nords: a circular gate blocking the way, with symbols that needed to be matched exactly. If you did, the claw would bring you fortune, and if kept further, good luck. If not, death. Obviously, her parents avoided even considering getting into those kinds of ruins.
Amina remembered the symbols, travelling through all the stories her father told her. He often told her of his gods, but also of her mother's Nord gods, the deities that governed Skyrim and held it in their warm embrace. He'd whisper, his voice travelling through the night:
"The dragon claws of Akatosh open the gates, solving the puzzle, governing all the other deities and arranging them in the perfect pattern. Thus, he brings them all together for creation, or destruction.
Hawk of Kynareth, warrior-widow of Shor and goddess of wind and storm.
Snake of Shor, god-traitor who lead the other gods to creation of Mundus.
Fox of Arkay, patron of death who tricked man into giving up his long life.
Whale of Tsun-Zenithar, god of honest work and trials against hardship.
Bear of Stendarr, brother of the sun, father of mercy and righteous rule.
Owl of Julianos, god of knowledge, father of numbers and tongues.
Wolf of Mara, goddess of love, protector of Kynareth, mother of Arkay.
Moth of Dibella, goddess of beauty and fleeting desires, patron of the arts.
He holds them all in the palm of his hand, ordainer and protector. The claw places them all into the proper order to gain the world's treasures."
The Nord's must've really taken that whole "gain the world's treasure" really seriously, Amina mused. No matter. She'd get the claw, explore the rest of the ruin, and see from there. If she was right, the Golden Claw wasn't just a decoration…but also way to treasure. She'd share it with the siblings running the trader, obviously, but her coin purse was bursting with excitement.
She continued in the ruin, stepping over many draugr bodies strewn around in varios states of mutilation. She shuddered. She really didn't want to deal with the undead today.
"Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?"
Amina unsheathed her scimitar. It seemed one of the bandits was in trouble…or was an incredible coward. One of both. Maybe both. She walked forward towards the source of the voice. Amina winced when her foot connected with the webbed ground. She grimaced further when she saw the egg pods scattered through the room.
"Great…frostbite spiders. Ew."
The bandit that called out was trapped in the webbing, struggling to get out. "Please!" he cried out "Get me out of here! Before that thing eats me!"
A rustling. Both looked up to see a giant frostbite spider descend, its jaws clicking against each other, slobbering all over its web. Amina and the bandit both screamed in horror. The spider screeched right back, lunging at Amira.
"Fuck!"
"Kill it! Before it eats us!"
The spider was already wounded, so it wasn't a hard fight. All Amina had to do was avoid its bite, and slash its legs until the spider was just a squirming stump. She decapited it, cringing at the slime coating her sword. She grimaced. That sword was probably never going to get clean ever again.
"Cut me down! Before anything else comes!"
"Why should I cut you down?" she asked, one hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. "You're just another bandit. I ought to kill you where you stand."
"I have the claw! The treasure! And I'm not a bandit…y-you see…they caught me! Yes, they caught me! And forced me…to give up the secrets of the claw! I swear! I never meant any harm!"
She sighed. If he was telling the truth, she'd be killing an innocent. And besides, the bandits would never let one of their own get eaten by spiders….right? Right?
She cut him down, and expected him to thank her. Instead, she got a lesson in misplaced trust.
His eyes narrowed, and before Amina could realize it, he took a dagger from his belt, and swung it at her. He slashed her across her face, barely avoiding both eyes. Amina screamed in pain. She reeled back in surprise, and fell down. He kicked her in the stomach, and then laughed.
"You fool, why would I share the treasure with anyone?"
Amina groaned, holding her hand to her bloodied cheeks and nose. He kicked her again for good measure, sure that he had hit his mark and blinded her.
"Well, I have treasure waiting for me. Ta!"
As soon as he was out of sight, Amina growled.
"Oh, if you think I'm letting you get away…you have another thing coming, you snowbacked prick."
She got up, swiped the blood from her face, and readied her bow. The dungeon had to run out at one point. And when it did…when it did…that milk-drinker was getting an arrow to the face, and drop dead thinking he's perfectly safe. And she'd get that damned claw back and bring it to the traders in Riverwood. And fix her face with some very expensive salve bought with the gold coins she was going to bathe in when she got to 'his' treasure. She felt blood trickle down her nose and to her lip, and she licked it clean. Son of a bitch. Now she was mad. It was just her luck that she didn't get killed, and his bad luck that he left her alive. Because she sure wouldn't return the favour.
The tunnel in front of her was dim, but lacked the dampness the rest of the ruin had wafting through the air. There wasn't much light, but from what she could see, the walls were richly decorated with motifs of the gods and their worshippers. At the end of it was her prize. Both of them, actually.
She unleashed her arrow just as he managed to get the circular doorway to open. The claw fell from his hand as soon as he got hit. He died instantly. Not even a peep, just a wet squelching sound when the arrow hit. She felt a little guilty, but she had no time to ponder it.
She felt pulled towards the door, shoved forward by some wind that came out of nowhere. Her hair whipped around her. It felt like a storm was brewing deep inside the Barrow. Whispers were carried by the wind, some sort of song waving through the air and in her ears. She suppressed a shiver.
Amina was never particularly religious, but she found herself whispering a prayer as she entered the grand chamber of the Barrow. "Come to me Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror…"
A sudden wind picked up, and she felt oddly comforted. As if the gods were watching over her. The aura in there was as overpowering as the place was beautiful. She gaped at the large opening in rock, chiseled by time and water flow into a circular room, half-nature, half-monument. A stream rushed through the middle of it, unaware that it was invading the home of the dead. Waterfalls flowed on the walls, bathing the stone and filling the air with humid mist, heavy to the breath but easy on the eyes. Cracks in the rockface let light rays filter through like pillars, and she could see the dust dancing in them. Where the light shone grew lush vegetation, carving a path through the floor from light ray to light ray, up and down the stream.
She heard whispers on the wind. A chant. She knew she had heard it somewhere else before…but where? She felt as if she was pushed by the wind forward, and so she walked. Wearily, she made her way towards the great wall-like monument in front of her. It was semi-circular, similar to the one near Meridia's temple, and it hugged a pedestal with a stone dais and a tomb.
She faced the wall, allowing herself to experience what she had before. She felt her knees give out, the light fading from her eyes as comprehension of the word settled in. For many days she had replayed the scene at Meridia's temple in her mind, and for a while, she had herself convinced she dreamed it. Erik never spoke of it, wary of even mentioning it, as if talking about it might make something snap within them. It was magic, undoubtedly. And Erik avoided magic. He cared for her, wrapped her in furs, but did not ask. And for a couple days after, his eyes were clouded in fear and suspicion, until their easy companionship replaced it again.
She sighed, and got up to her feet. The sound of stone striking stone.
She whipped around, and was faced by the biggest Draugr she'd ever seen. "Unslaad Krosis." it said. And then it approached her.
The draugr yelled at her, and she found herself blown away, smacking into the wall behind her, hitting her head. Her brain felt like it was swimming in soup. She barely had the time to gather her wits before the draur struck. She ducked, and its blade hit the wall instead, making an eerie screeching sound against the stone. Ice bloomed where it struck, and Amina realised she was in deep, deep trouble. Only one hit of that thing could freeze her half-to-death. She had to act, and act fast.
She rolled to the side, barely escaping another hit. That's when she noticed the fire dishes next to the dais. She ran towards them, and making a grab for one, chucked it right at the draugr's approaching form. Its leathery skin burst into flames while it screeched in pain. Taking her chance, she sliced its head off clean with her scimitar, and kicked its body into the other fire dish. It twitched madly for a few minutes, and then, with a long sigh, its body seemed to deflate and lose its materiality. It broke apart in tiny pieces, and then into dust, sparkling in the light, picked up by the wind. Amina realised that this had been no ordinary draugr.
In the end, there was no treasure. Just a pouch of coins and an odd stone stabled, if you could count that as treasure. The tablet seemed to be some sort of old artefact, carefully designed and crafted. Its surface was pearlescent, if a bit dusty, carved with intricate designs and symbols. A dragon snaked through every corner and across the text, staring at Amina with its beady carved eyes. For a single moment, she felt watched. She suppressed a shudder, and stuffed the tablet knapsack with the rest of her loot. She'd take it to the Jarl's mage, maybe he knew what it was all about. It seemed magical, at least.
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She shivered violently all the way to Helgen, feeling hot all over and slightly restless. The wound on her face hadn't seemed to improve after applying the healing salve, and the trader didn't stock up any healing potions. She berated herself for not taking any with her in the first place. She gingerly touched her cheeks, and winced. The skin was started to get swollen and tender. But it was just a scratch. It could wait until she got to Whiterun.
The gates of Helgen seemed relatively untouched, but Amina was perturbed by the lack of sound, of guards, of horses and carriages. She pushed them with some difficulty, burying her heels in the dust and almost falling on her face.
And then she heard it: a roar to freeze her heart and send her running to Oblivion. She turned around, and saw the monster circling overhead in the distance, moving towards the lower plains. Its wings and maw glowed bright red, its scales shining like liquid fire in the sunlight. Every movement it made seemed to transform it into a moving flame, blackened and terrible. For a split second, it looked at her. She froze on the spot. Its eyes seemed to bore into her soul, scraping out some unknown fear she never knew she had and bringing it to the surface. Then, it flew away, fire on the wind, its roars making the ground quake underneath her feet.
She stifled a cry when she saw the inside of the keep. She brought her hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. She felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. There was death and destruction everywhere. Every build was nothing but rubble and broken dreams, and the roads were littered with charred corpses. What was left standing was marred by deep, long gashes and scorch marks.
She picked up a broken doll from the ground, a lost child's toy, never to be played with again. She hugged it to her chest and sniffled. She'd take good care of it, she promised. In the name of the children lost to the beast.
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The girl looked like death. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. A festering wound marred half her face, and she was shivering violently. The Jarl winced, but figured that she was a Companion, and probably been through worse.
She gave her report in brief, clipped words, a small smile on her face. Helgen had been, indeed, destroyed by a dragon. Baalgruf shuddered in his seat. He had to talk to Farengar, see what he could make of this dragon business. He had to take protective measures, before the supposed beast decided to make Whiterun its nest, preying upon his subjects and avenging its brother who was now decoration for Dragonsreach's hall.
When Amina entered Jorvaskrr, she felt all eyes on her. She paid them no heed, and stumbled down the stairs towards Kodlak's study. He was, yet again, in deep discussion with Vilkas, but the words seemed to rush away from her. She couldn't focus.
They turned towards her. "How was your travel, young lass?" Kodlak asked, sending a worried glance her way. Vilkas stood up, looking at her warily, noticing the state she was in.
"Helgen is just rubble and dust at this point." She said, then continued "I saw it, you know. The dragon! I thought they were only legends but…it flew over Helgen. It looked at me. Looked at me! The buildings were…torn down. Nothing remains." She shook her head, biting back tears. "Everyone there is dead. There's only ashes left to find."
"By the gods. May they rest in peace, free of suffering and mortal pain, happy in the halls of the gods. Any trouble on the way there?" he asked, surveying the damage to her face.
"Ah, while in Riverwood someone asked me to retrieve a heirloom, from a nearby ruin. Bandits stole it, and…I just couldn't refuse, you know? I know I had to get to Helgen, but they needed help and I…I can't refuse when someone asks my help…I thought how much I'd suffer if something dear were taken from me and I couldn't get it back." She shrugged. "I was stupid. A bandit was trapped, and said he was actually a prisoner to get me to release me. He then tried to blind me with his dagger." She grinned. "I got the last word in there, but he left me a gift." She pointed towards her face. "I put some salve into it, it should get better in a day or two."
Kodlak put a hand on her shoulder. "You did a good job, lass."
Amina's smiled threatened to break her face, opening her wound a little.
"I'm in?"
Kodlak nodded, the corners of his lips turning slightly.
"Awesome!" She then turned to Vilkas, and stuck her tongue at him. "Told you I could make it."
And then she promptly fainted.
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Author's Note:
Remember kids, don't let wounds unattended. Especially in Nordic ruins. Can you imagine how filled with germs those place are?
I love to torture my characters. I really do. It builds character, if you ask me (pun intended).
Reviews are very welcome and will be rewarded with sweet rolls! 3 Critiques also make my day, so don't be shy!