Loredas, 13th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Kjell slept uneasily, as much from his circadian rhythm having been interrupted as from his encounter with Vilkas. Although he was the first in the shared quarters to wake, he feigned sleep until after all the rest had risen and headed upstairs. He couldn't shake thoughts and images of the previous night from his head. Kjell had known for a long time who and what he was, but he felt unable to predict what Vilkas would say, do, or think.

The only place Kjell felt safe, like he was in his own space, was in the bed he slept in. Vilkas never came into this room, so it was the only place Kjell felt certain to avoid any awkward conversations, at least for the time being. He spent the morning trying to organize his thoughts on the whole matter, knowing he'd eventually have no choice but to have that talk. It wasn't until around midday that he was (rudely) interrupted.

"Get up, already, lazy!" Njada's voice barked at Kjell from the doorway. "Kodlak's been waiting to speak with you. And since Tilma was kind enough to get some clean water for you, I'd say you'd better wash up before you go see him."

Njada walked across the room and gave Kjell's bed frame a hard kick for good measure, before stalking out of the room. Kjell took a final few moments to psych himself up before finally rising from his bed to face the day.

When Kjell emerged from the stairway in the upstairs hall, he was relieved that none of the Companions were there. Tilma was tidying up the room when he entered. She looked up and beckoned him over.

"There you are, dear," she said gently. "I've got some water here for you to wash with, but I can't carry it down all those stairs, at my age."

Tilma gestured toward a large bucket of water sitting next to the hearth on the floor. Kjell thanked her and picked it up, carrying it back down to the currently empty shared quarters for some privacy. Then, after he had washed, dressed, and taken the water back up to discard it, he walked down the long hall to meet with Kodlak.

Kjell had spent the morning so stuck on Vilkas that he had forgotten to worry about Kodlak, or Farkas, or the Companions' secret. Now, he wondered nervously what Kodlak would say to him. Just stay calm, Kjell told himself, if they were going to kill you over this, they'd have done it by now.

"Uh... you wanted to speak with me?" Kjell said, standing at the doorway of Kodlak's quarters.

"Ah, yes," Kodlak answered, not mentioning how late into the day Kjell had stayed in bed. "The day has come to rejoice in your bravery. We'll assemble tonight to officially initiate you into our ranks."

"So, my trial..?" Kjell asked vaguely.

"You've done well," Kodlak said.

The fact that he made no reference to Kjell's knowledge of the Companions' lycanthropy was confusing. Had Farkas not given Kodlak all the details? Or was Kodlak just politely ignoring that Kjell knew too much?

"One more thing," Kodlak said, just as Kjell started to turn back out toward the hall.

"Yes... ?" Kjell asked hesitantly.

"Speak to Eorlund if you want a better weapon than... whatever that is," Kodlak said, eyeing the dagger Kjell kept sheathed on his leg.

"Right," Kjell said agreeably, holding in a scoff.

Still, he figured, it wasn't a bad idea to shop for a better weapon or some nicer armor pieces. After all, he had collected a good bit of coin on the handful of jobs he'd done. So, as much to get out of Jorrvaskr and avoid Vilkas as to better equip himself, Kjell spent the afternoon among the shops and market stalls. He stayed away from the Companions' hall until evening.

When he arrived, stepping into Jorrvaskr, there was Vilkas standing just inside the doors as if he had been waiting. Kjell stifled a groan. He knew they had to clear the air sometime, but he didn't want to deal with any serious talks right now.

"They've been waiting," Vilkas said simply. His voice seemed to be lacking an edge that Kjell had grown accustomed to. Is this because of what happened last night? Or because I'm being initiated? Kjell wondered.

"Sorry," Kjell answered. "I got caught up, I guess..."

"It's out back," Vilkas said, beckoning Kjell to follow him across the hall to the back doors. "And... we should talk," he added hesitantly.

"Yeah, I know," Kjell said. "But not right now."

Vilkas nodded as the two emerged into the evening air to see the Circle gathered around in the training yard. Kjell studied Kodlak's face, expecting him to look annoyed at Kjell's tardiness, but he didn't appear to be.

"What do I do..?" Kjell asked Vilkas under his breath as they walked across the veranda toward the training yard.

"Just stand there before everyone and listen, basically," Vilkas answered. "Farkas will do the answering."

"Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold," Kodlak began as Kjell and Vilkas took their places. "This man has endured, has challenged, and has shown his valor. Who will speak for him?"

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us," Farkas answered.

"Would you raise your shield in his defense?" Kodlak asked.

"I would stand at his back, that the world might never overtake us," Farkas recited.

"And would you raise your sword in his honor?" Kodlak continued.

"It stands ready to meet the blood of his foes," Farkas said.

"And would you raise a mug in his name?" Kodlak asked.

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in his stories." There was an amusing twinkle in Farkas's eye as he answered. Kjell wondered if it was his first time giving this endorsement for anybody.

"Then the judgment of this Circle is complete," Kodlak went on to conclude. "His heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

Then all the Circle answered, "it shall be so."

The rest of the night was filled with revelry, and though the rest of the Companions hadn't been a part of the Circle initiation, they were there to feast, drink, and celebrate. Kjell appreciated it. The more people to mingle with and pass between, the easier to avoid Vilkas – who Kjell noticed looking over at him several times. Kjell took the first opportunity to disappear down into the living quarters to the safety and relative solitude of his bed.

. . .

Tirdas, 16th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

For two days since his initiation, Kjell had avoided Vilkas as much as possible. He was only in the other's presence in a group setting. Every time, he could feel just as much as he could see Vilkas throwing him nervous glances. But Kjell knew Vilkas wouldn't say anything about it with anyone else around.

Finally, on Tirdas, Vilkas was headed out on a job along with his brother – one that was expected to take several days. Kjell finally felt like he had room to breathe without worrying that he'd find Vilkas at every turn insisting that they needed to talk. Not only that, but given that the rest of the Companions didn't really pay as much attention to Kjell as Vilkas and Farkas did, this would be a golden opportunity to get back to Honningbrew Meadery and try to reschedule his rendezvous with that fence. His trial with Farkas had come up so suddenly, he'd had no way of making it last time. He was sure the fence would be short with him for it, but he had to go back and make a new arrangement.

Kjell could appreciate the position he supposed Vilkas must be in, he thought as he walked the road from the city gates to the meadery just after midday. The culture of Whiterun (and even more so the Companions), from what Kjell gathered, seemed rather stereotypical – warrior-centric, obsessed with perceptions of strength, dominance, and toughness – the Nords that foreigners pictured when they pictured Skyrim. Not to say that the same didn't also exist in Riften, but it certainly wasn't the primary atmosphere where Kjell was raised. And Vilkas... Kjell didn't know much about his past, but he was sure kissing men would be contrary to whatever expectations Vilkas had been raised with here. When he tried considering from that point of view, it was easy for Kjell to understand that Vilkas would be eager to clear the air.

Honningbrew Meadery was considerably less busy now than it was the last time Kjell had been, but the owner was not behind the bar counter this time. Kjell took a seat all the way at the end and purchased a bottle from the Cyrodiil, while a young Nord stood down the counter attending to another customer.

"You again?" the Cyrodiil grumbled quietly. "You didn't show up last time."

"Something came up and I need a do-over," Kjell said.

"Tch. Fine. Fredas, first clean knuckle on the eighth finger," the Cyrodiil said. "No more do-overs."

"Won't miss it," Kjell replied.

"One more thing," the Cyrodiil added, as Kjell quickly finished his bottle and stood to leave. "Don't come here again. You'll risk my cover."

. . .

Turdas, 18th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

It had been two uneventful days, and still Kjell didn't know what he would say to Vilkas when he got back and they finally spoke. At first, he didn't think too hard about the hot spring incident. Vilkas was physically attractive, that was explanation enough for Kjell to have given in to him momentarily. But, with the twins gone for several days now, Kjell was forced to admit to himself that he actually kind of missed Vilkas's snarky attitude. He may even have been secretly looking forward to seeing him again. It didn't make sense, and maybe Kjell was just overthinking it in his boredom, but he decided he really should at least hear what Vilkas had to say and see what would happen. Now he was almost eager to have that conversation.

This day, too, was uneventful – until the afternoon, when Skjor approached Kjell.

"There you are," Skjor said as he caught Kjell behind Jorrvaskr on the veranda.

"Need me for something..?" Kjell asked. He found Skjor's opener odd, since he hadn't made himself particularly difficult to find throughout the day. In fact, he was pretty sure he had already seen Skjor at least twice over the course of the day. What's this going to be about...? he wondered suspiciously.

"Yes," Skjor answered. "Aela and I have something a little... different planned. But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet us in the Underforge tonight," he said with a conspiratorial air.

"The what now?" Kjell asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Right, I forget that you've never seen it," Skjor said. "Beneath the Skyforge, where Eorlund works."

"Ah," Kjell said. "Hence the name, I guess."

"Right," Skjor said. "The door is hidden, but I'll show you the way. Just meet me in the yard tonight."

. . .

"I'm glad you came," Skjor said that evening, when Kjell approached him outside of the hall. "It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers."

As Skjor spoke, he led Kjell to what he could now see was a very faint outline in the stone underneath the Skyforge. The outline looked to be in the shape of a crude doorway. Skjor pressed a hand on the cutout, and it fell back and slid to one side. Kjell, meanwhile, wondered what he was in for. I don't know about Aela, but Skjor has never liked me, he thought, trying to puzzle it out in his head. Am I about to get murdered..?

The doorway opened into a cave-like room with a low ceiling and a stone basin carved into a pedestal in the center. Kjell was startled to find a werewolf standing behind it. He stopped short, suddenly realizing he had come here unarmed. Shit! I thought I was being sarcastic, but I really am about to get murdered! But the werewolf didn't make a move for him, or any other move at all. It only stood calmly, looking on.

"That pitiful ceremony behind the hall does not befit warriors like us," Skjor said, his voice cutting through the tension.

"You mean my initiation?" Kjell asked.

"And I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form," Skjor added sternly.

Kjell looked over at the werewolf again, his head tilting slightly to one side. How in Oblivion would Skjor expect me to recognize that? he thought in disbelief. This guy's delusional.

"You are due more than some calls and feasting. Aela's agreed to be your forbear," Skjor went on.

Realization suddenly dawned on Kjell. Skjor and Aela were here to make him one of them. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Did he want to become a werewolf..? He had never really thought about it. Naturally, his kneejerk reaction was to recoil from the idea, the way anyone might from any alteration of their humanity. But what would being a werewolf actually mean? Would it really be so bad? After all, the Companions were werewolves, and at least two of them clearly loved it. And for that matter...

"Shouldn't the others be here, too?" Kjell asked. He was stalling, but it was a valid question.

"We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted," Skjor said. "He thinks we've been cursed."

"To be fair, I think a lot of people would agree with that notion," Kjell said.

"What could they know of it?" Skjor asked in counter. "How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? We are stronger, faster, and our senses far more acute than any ordinary human. We have been blessed."

Skjor looked at Kjell expectantly. Kjell still hesitated.

"To reach the heights of the Companions, your blood must be as ours. You must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf," Skjor said. "But the choice is yours. We will not force you."

You'll put on an awful lot of pressure, though, Kjell thought sarcastically. He looked from Skjor to Aela's grotesque, looming form. Did he really want to be that? But, he supposed, the Companions managed to keep that a secret from... well, everyone. So why not take the plunge into their "blessing"? It wasn't as if he ever had to use it if he didn't want to. And realistically... what was Skjor going to say if he refused? What was Aela going to say? Were they all just going to casually walk out of here and never speak of it again? It seemed unlikely... Kjell looked back to Skjor.

"Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world?" Skjor asked expectantly.

Kjell took a deep breath (or was it a deep sigh?) and nodded as firmly as he could, trying not to seem nervous. Skjor unsheathed his sword and sliced open Aela's forearm, holding it over the basin so the blood pooled inside.

"Drink," Skjor instructed.

Kjell tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of the blood, but it was powerful, almost overwhelming. He leaned over the basin and reached a cupped hand down inside, scooping up the beast blood and bringing it to his lips. It was warm and tasted metallic, like... well, like blood, he supposed. But, after a moment, it seemed that a red flash flooded his vision. His heart started racing and he could feel the blood it was pumping streaming strongly through his veins. Beyond that, the feeling was indescribable. It was as if an entirely new set of knowledge and instincts were taking over Kjell's brain, and at the same time enticing him to relinquish control. So he did.