Orange light flashed off of the cold steel of the spinning blade. Caillech was slumpped in a large wooden chair, her dark hood pulled up over her head, hiding her face from the prying eyes of the Companions. Her slender fingers twirled her Nordic dagger on the dark wood arm. Eorland had given it back to her a few hours after she had arrived back at Jorrvasker with Farkas. Serana had decided to rent a room in the Bannered Mare, barely giving Caillech a glance as she vanished into the inn. Farkas had split from her side to find Skjor and deliver the fragment of Wuuthrad's blade. He had given her hand a reasuring squeeze before dissapearing bellow the mead hall, into the sleeping chambers bellow.
One by one, the companion's retreated into the lower halls and to the night's blissful call of sleep. Soon she was the only one left in the mead hall. The glowing fire pit in the middle was dying, calming into smoldering embers. Caillech examined her blade, her brow furrowed into a cold glare. You coldn't even tell it had been so poorly cared for only a few days before. The edge was gleaming, and cut through a strip of leather like it was hot butter. She could see herself reflected in the blade, her gray eyes gleaming in the orange light. Twisting her wrist, she played with the blade, turning it towards her, then away, and back her her. Her reflection in the blade, was suddenly covered in crimson, blood dripping from her salivating mouth, her eyes glowing as bright as the full moon.
The blade made a high pitched ringing as it skittered across the floor. Caillech leaned forward in her chair, pressing her fists against her eyes, blacking out the intrusive orange light from the fire. Her breathing had peaked, and her wolf side bubbled at the surface of her consiousness, a low growl eminating from her throat.
"What is happening to me?" she whispered to herself, running her fingers through her long almost black hair.
"May I join you girl?" Nearly jumping out of her skin, Caillech looked up at the Harbinger of the Companions. Kodlak Whiteman looked down at her, his one good eye gazing at her with concern. Caillech gestured with a wave of her hand at the empty chair beside her, offering it to the old Nord. He sank into the seat gingerly, his slow movements indicators of his age taking it's toll.
"Farkas told me what happened in Dustman's Cairn." he said quietly and leaning towards Caillech, who was very intently stairing at a small spider crawling across the floor.
"Well at least he told you..." she muttered darkly, crushing the spider under the toe of her boot. Kodlak leaned back into his chair, the wood creaking from his weight. Caillech looked over at him. He was much older than she remembered. His hair was almost snow white, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. He looked exhausted, both physically and spiritually. He was watching her carefully, rubbing his lower lip with his thin finger. It was as if he was choosing his steps over the surface of a frozen river.
"The call of the blood is strong in you..." he said and paused analyzing her reaction. Caillech kept silent, chewing on the inside of her lower lip. "He said your wolf side, has no control. No remorse."
"Some of us are cursed, Kodlak... Some of us are blessed..." she whispered so quietly, she could barely hear herself. Those were Hircine's words coming out of her mouth. She could almost feel the Daedric Lord's presence beside her, and could hear his lips curling into that crooked smile. Caillech closed her eyes and clentched her jaw tightly, her hands beginging to shake. Bright blue, terrified eyes flashed in her minds eye. Her stomach twisted. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Unclentching her jaw, she ran her tounge over the torn flesh on the inside of her cheek. She hadn't even felt herself biting down.
"What do you think, Caillech?" Kodlak asked her, leaning forward, trying to make eye contact. Shifting towards him, her silver eyes met his dark blue ones.
"I don't know... I think... Both." she murmered. A hateful lump built in her throat, and she tried to swallow it away. Taking a deep shaky breath, Caillech looked down at her fingers, she could feel Kodlak's gaze burning into her skin. She had always worried what Kodlak thought of her. After her father had abandoned her here as a child, the harbinger had taken her and the twins, under his wing. He was as close to a father as she will ever know.
"I watched you grow up, Caillech. I always knew you were the strongest out of the three of you." he said, obviously speaking of her two cousins. The three of them were inseperable growing up within the walls of Jorrvasker. Caillech's heart ached at the memories, she wished she could have stayed young. "There was a change in you, right before you left these walls."
Caillech's whole body tensed and she glanced at the toes of the Harbinger's boots. Something had changed her. Something had made her feel like she needed to escape. "Yes..." she breathed quietly. She had left Jorrvasker after Hircine had blessed her with his gift of lycanthropy. The lump in her throat threatened again as she remembered that day.
"Lexy. Where are you going?" Farkas asked her, standing in her bedroom doorway, watching her shove her belongings into a large knapsack.
"Go away, Farkas," she snarled at him, shoving the dark haired and silver eyed boy out of her way. She slung her sword from her shoulder and marched towards the doors of the Hall, little Farkas hot on her heels. She swung the door open so hard, it cracked against the stone wall. She climbed the stairs to the Mead Hall two at a time. Her little cousin struggled to match her pace, stretching his legs to stay right behind her.
"Where's the trouble Lex?" Vilkas met her at the top of the stairs, punching his open plam with a fist, grinning at her. Caillech weaved passed him, barely giving him a glance. She marched towards the main hall doors, thrusting her heel into the wood of the door, they burst open. Blinking against the blinding sunlight Caillech paused at the top of the stone stairs, shielding her eyes from the light. Vilkas and Farkas used this to their advantage, planting themselves, shoulder to shoulder, blocking her way down into the city.
"Lex." Farkas pleaded with her, his eyes looking up into hers.
"Where are you going?" Vilkas asked, his adolecent voice firm and his eyes demanding. Caillech looked down at her young cousins. She was the eldest of the three by only a few years, but the two boys hadn't fully matured as she had. After they had been left by their fathers, she had assumed the role of big sister and parent over the two. But they were almost grown now. They didn't need her. She took a deep breath and pushed passed her cousins, biting her lip to keep it from trembling, the heartbroken looks the two were giving her was too much to bear.
"Stay here." she ordered to two boys.
"Caillech!" Farkas called to her back. She practically ran down the stairs and weaved through the Whiterun guards partolling the square. She refused to look back. She knew they were watching her with horror. And she fought back tears. She was leaving them just like their father. Breaking their trust all over again. But she had to. She had to leave. She couln't be trapped in those walls for another minute. She didn't know if she would ever see them again. She prayed to the Divines in vain, to keep them safe from all harm. She ran from the walls of Whiterun as tears began to flow freely down her cheeks.
Kodlak's voice pulled Caillech from her memories, "I hope one day you will be able to tell me why you left for so long." he said and touched her head lightly, rising to his feet. She nodded solomly, sinking back into the wooden chair once more. She was greatful he didn't press her for her story, she didn't know if she was ready to explain herself quite yet. "Get some rest, girl. Tomorrow is a new day."
"Thank the divines you're here. I was getting sick of listening to these drunks." Serana grabbed Caillech's hand and pulled her into the chair beside her. She had rented the biggest room possible at the Bannered Mare, the only room with a balcony overlooking the inn below. She was sipping Cyrodiilic brandy from a small glass. Caillech hadn't been able to sleep in Jorrvasker, she could sense she was being whispered about behind closed doors.
"Are you drunk?" she asked, glancing at the half empty bottle of brandy on the small wooden table in front of their rests. Serana's ivory pale skin was slightly flushed in the cheeks, and her eyes were vauge.
"Of course not." she said grinning at Caillech, flashing her pearly white fangs. "However, you look like you might need to be. Saadia, darling!" Serana stood and walked to the edge of the balcony, calling down to the young Redgaurd woman who helped run the inn.
"No, Serana, I don't-"
"Hush now," Serana dismissed her protest with a wave of her hand, not even looking over at Caillech. "Saadia, bring up some of your best Nord mead please, my beautiful companion here is in need of a strong drink." her words were begning to slur together slightly. She teatered back to her chair and sat back down as elegantly as she could.
"You should 'ear some of the rumors going around this city right now." she stage whispered at Caillech, leaning forward towards her. It took almost all the will power Caillech had not to lean away from the vampire, her breath was almost pure alcohol.
"How much have you had to drink?" she asked Serana.
"Apparently Helgen was attacked by a Dragon." Serana wasn't even paying attention to the words coing out of Caillech's mouth. But she was almost glad Serana had ignored her. A dragon? "And I guess while we were skulking around Dustmain's Cairn, and you were going beast on those would be killers, the Western Whiterun Watchtower was attacked by another dragon. My that's a tonge twister isn't it? Western Whiterun Watchtower..." Serana drifted from the conversation, repeating the tripple W phrase under her breath. She gave a squeal of excitement as Saadia walked through the doorway between the bedroom and the balcony, carrying a large bottle of Black-Briar Reserve mead in her hand.
"Ma'am." she said offering the bottle to Serana, who waved her away.
"Give it to her," she said gesturing at Caillech. Saadia took a few steps closer to her. Caillech snagged the bottle from the Redgaurds grasp, nodding to her in thanks. Uncorking the mead, she took a drink straight from the bottle. The sweet drink flowed over her tongue and the spice bit at the back of her throat as she swallowed the delicious drink. This was indeed the most expensive mead there was in Skyrim, if not all of Tamriel. The Black-Briar family empire stretched far and wide.
"So dragon's huh?" she said looking at Serana who was examining her finger nails as Saadia dissapeared back down to the bar. She straightened up and leaned towards Caillech again, beaming.
"Yes, dragons. Which is unbelievable in and of itself, but here's the kickster..."
"Kicker. Serana, here comes the kicker."
"Whatever. Here's the kicker. A man who had escaped Helgen, came to Whiterun to warn the Jarl about the Dragon. He went with a dispatch of guards to take down the dragon that attacked the watchtower. When they succeded, he absorbed some sort of power from it, and instinctually knew how to Shout. Just like the Gray-Beards, without any training." Serana took a breath, "And I'm hearing the reclusive old bastards called to him, requesting him to enter High Hrothgar. The guards are calling him Dragonborn," she said and sipped at her brandy. Caillech just stared at her for a moment.
"A lot has happened in the last 12 hours hasn't there?" she said. It was a rhetorical question, and Serana smiled and nodded.
"I'm just glad the world didn't get boring while I was gone." Caillech laughed. Hardly. The world would never get boring, there were always going to be wars to fight. She slumped back into her chair and took another swig of her mead. So the dragon's had returned from legend, and a Dovahkiin had appeared. A lot had happened while they were underground. She almost regreted being away, she would have loved to help fight a dragon. While she had been away from Skyrim, she had been to the Imperial City. She had become facinated with the Dragon War of the Metheic Era, she knew the overview of the war, but the details tended to get hazy about motives and the defeat of Alduin the World eater.
Sipping her mead she turned to Serana, who was watching the men and women bellow with interest. Serana was always facinated with human's and their behavior. Caillech supposed if she had been locked away from the world in a slumber for mellenia, she would probaly be interested in daily lives as well. But human's tended to bore her senceless. She much prefered being out in the wilds, hunting in both her human and wolf forms. She loved the freedom her wolf side gave her. She could run faster than almost any creature, and she was stronger than almost every living thing. With a snap of her jaws or a swipe of her ebony claws, she could claim lives. She would hunt with packs of wolves, they seemed to enjoy her company as much as she liked theirs. Even in her vulnerable human flesh, wolves treated her as family.
Caillech's limbs began to tremble slightly, and she shook her head, taking a long pull off of her bottle. Distracting herself from the thought of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of an elk. She really needed to get her urges under control.
"Speaking of which..." Serana leaned forward, craning her neck to look over the edge of the balcony to the fire pit below. "I think that's him..." she said. Caillech followed Serana's line of sight, looking down at the four benches surrounding the large fire pit in the middle of the inn. Then to the bar. A large man was sitting on one of the barstools, a couple guards standing beside him and talking animatedly, lifting their tankards and drinking with him. His armor was light leather, criss crossing down his torso, and covering the tops of his shoulders. He wore a black hood pulled over his face, with a light brown embroidered leather at the front, casting a shadow over his eyes. He had two swords sheathed on his back, with a quiver of arrows she had never seen before. The Nord had fingerless leather arm bracers, and knee high boots, with dark iron buckles keeping them in place around his muscular calves. Caillech could barely see his face, but what she could see of it was definietly Nord. A strong jaw and chin with pale skin, and fine dark growth of hair layering his jaw and upper lip. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and his arms were thick under his armor, she could only imagine what the rest of his body looked like.
Serana and Caillech stood slowly, walking forward to the edge of the balcony. The unknown Nord stood and smiled at the guards. He was impossibly tall, towering over the two men beside him. He had to be as tall as an Altmer, possibly taller, and wider than both. His body tapering down to a slim waist from strong shoulders. By the looks of him, he was extremely strong, but also athletic and agile. Caillech wondered how he managed to get a build like that.
"He has the build of Tsun doesn't he?" Serana whispered to Caillech. There was almost a lustful tone to her voice as she mentioned the deity of Trials against Adversity. She was right however. From legends, Tsun was a mountain of a Nord, and stood taller and larger than even the High Elves.
"To the Dovahkiin!" a guard shouted lifting his tankard in the air spilling the amber liquid.
"Dovahkiin!" Serana shouted beside Caillech, lifting her brandy, joining the rest of the inn, honoring the Nord. Caillech's jaw tightened along her grasp around her mead bottle. The Nord lifted his head to look up to where Serana's voice had carried down from the balcony. Piercing light green eyes met Caillech's silver ones, a familiar crooked smile playing on curved lips. Caillech's breath quickned and her chest felt tight as she fought for a full breath. Her grip tightened, and the bottle in her hand shattered, sending mead and crimson blood spilling onto the floor and over the edge of the balcony.