𓇻 ft. aela the huntress x werewolf gn reader
𓇻 content. graphic murder and werewolf transformation, gore.
𓇻 summary. after being inducted into the Inner Circle and blessed with the werewolf curse, Aela comes forward to request your help with hunting some members of the Silver Hand.
𓇻 extra. crossposted to dA + ao3. this one was written in 2015 and unedited. descriptors like e/c were used so feel free to use the custom reader insert tool.
𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, share, reblog or send in asks!
You jostle yourself awake when you hear the door creak open. Your muscles twitch tightly in alarm, before a familiar scent calms you. Pine needles, sweat, and feathers from arrows seem to be Aela's trademark scent, only all the more prominent the day you tasted her blood on your lips - a fierce stab of bitterness that you'd never have guessed. She stands in the doorway, staring into the room, scowl prominent on her face. Ria and Njada were sleeping already, Torvan was snoring away, whereas Athis watched from the safety from his bed.
"(y/n)," Aela says, voice scratchy from trying to be so quiet. Usually she was loud and rambunctious, ever throwing taunts and offering to brawl with you, not caring if one of you got hurt. She had only started acting this way when she gave you the werewolf blood, because she knew you could handle it.
You say nothing to the Dark Elf as you get up from your bed, knowing he is watching and may or may not tell Kodlak later, depending on if it suited him. You dress quietly into your armour, only looking up after you tie your boots, only to notice she is gone. It makes no difference; you can always follow her scent trail - fresh and enticing, always setting your blood roaring when you were near her. You would have been able to locate her blindfolded.
The cool night air presses against you, cooling your warm body. Ever since you were given the wolfblood, your body heat was remarkably high - which wasn't so great when you had to wear heavy armour and thick clothes to persuade the other companions not of the Circle that you were very much affected by the cold.
You pass through the streets of Whiterun, nodding at the night guards patrolling, who seem to recognize you and utter a simple and curt, "Companion," as a way of a greeting.
You spot Aela beside the well, arms crossed and looking almost like an indistinguishable shadow, although you would never have doubted it is her.
The guards let you two pass through the gates; the walls are too high for you to climb over them, even when transformed, and with these guards around, you do not risk it. You aren't particularly fond of accidentally killing innocents either, when your bloodlust controlled you - or at least, not anyone that you knew.
Aela is quiet as you both trek down the pathway and beneath the archways that guard the entrance to Whiterun; it is only after you two pass the stables that she rounds on you, eyes remarkably bright in the starlight. "Can you feel it calling, [sibling]?" she smirks, fingers noticeably twitching.
"I have followed you, haven't I?" you respond, cocking your head in an arrogant way. She bares you her teeth, but you recognize it as a more primitive smile. She turns away from you and breaths in the air, her breath puffing out in front of her when she exhales. You blatantly stare at her, waiting for her to respond.
“The wolfblood cannot be controlled,” she says, finally, voice rising despite the fact that this requires high levels of secrecy. But a quick sniff of the air lets you know that you are alone with her, even though you are both standing beside the road, just upwind of Whiterun Stables. “Some nights, Hircine calls us to hunt for him. Vilkas and Farkas ignore this,” she continues, sounding remarkably upset with them. “Skjor and I are the only ones who accept this.” She eyes you out of the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable. “Then you came along. You take to the wolfblood remarkably well.” There is praise in her voice, and it takes you a moment to realize that you are leaning in towards her. “Will you run with me tonight, (y/n)?”
“Of course.”
She flashes you a triumphant look, arrogance and pride flashing through her emerald eyes. “Good,” she says, mouth twitching into a slight smirk. “Come with me; the road is far too open a place,” she frowns then, eyes darkening. Without so much as another word, she saunters off, feet stepping silently across the stones with practiced ease, starlight glinting off of her auburn hair. There is no moon tonight - not that either of you need it to see.
“Why didn’t we transform in the Underforge?” you dare ask.
She doesn’t spare you a glance over her shoulder when she responds, “It would have drawn too much attention.” She doesn’t elaborate, and you suppose that is alright.
It takes far too much time to get to a shielded area, with trees lining the sky and shadowing your steps. You only have so much time left, you know. Something inside of you feels more at ease, beneath the shelter of the tree tops, an insatiable hunger gnawing at you. “Aela,” you try, but she has already stopped, face pointed towards the tree tops, shoulders hunched. She knows.
“You can hear him call to us,” is all she says. She strips herself of her armour, underclothes doing little to stop your mind from wandering. The pieces of cloth are dumped unceremoniously onto the ground with a soft whump. “We will bring him glory, [sibling].”
She looks over her tanned shoulder at you, her eyes glinting an inhumane yellow. She does not cry out in pain; she only folds herself backwards with an echo of bones snapping, vertabrae making themselves visible along her spine. She falls forward, russet hair draped along her front this time.
All you see is her backside; her body visibly breaks out into a sweat, shivers overtaking her form. The crackling of bones that once sounded sickening are deafening loud on your heightened ears. Gore is what meets your eyes next as she sheds her human skin; it is enchanting to watch, no matter how sickening it is to see. You turn away when she looks like some form of twisted monster.
You have to shed your own clothes; you are stark naked, the air of Skyrim breezing through your hair and over your shoulders and in other nameless places. You pull on that instinct that is roaring fiercely in you; when nothing happens, you think of asking Aela -- even though she is underway of her own transformation and isn’t likely to understand you at the moment -- when your knees snap backwards and you fall forward, ankles twisting before reverting back then twisting again.
You let out a shrill noise of anguish, because nothing could ever describe the pain that is transforming. You muscles are constantly contracting and relaxing, knuckles popping and moving in a jarring sensation. Your stomach empties itself, contractions fiercely stabbing through your body. You’ve only had a few transformations that you could count on one hand, and it never gets any easier for you, no matter how smooth Aela or Skjor tell you it is.
Whatever noise you are making is cut off when your vocal cords shred themselves, blood convulsing past lips that are no longer your own. The pain almost blacks you out, the darkness would have been comforting.
Hircine is not a merciful Daedric lord, however; you are aware of every sensation that tears through you, although it all blurs together in blacks and reds. You are not aware of what happens for the rest of the duration, but the next moment you are aware and conscious of what is happening, you are still hunched over, long limbs in your vision.
Aela has never been one for comforting, but a soft growl still meets your keen ears, (y/n)? You shift your weight backwards onto your haunches and hindlegs, strong muscles rippling beneath your skin.
Blood and human skin litters the ground - your sharp nose detects it both easily. Your long fingers grapple at the ground, digging through the soil that once felt hard underfoot that so easily tore now. You pivot unsurely, awkward and gangly as you peer over at her.
Aela? you ask. Her green-yellow eyes glint at you, even through the darkness. Recognition floods through you. Aela.
The wolfblood was always hard to control at first; but recognition had flooded through you faster than when you had transformed with Skjor. Your muscles twitch, remaining in your hunched position as your trot over, snout poking at her shoulder.
Aela, Aela, Aela, Aela, you repeat, sounds vibrating through your throat with each jab of your snout at her shoulder. She does not retaliate; she only watches you with keen eyes. If you had ever thought she was beautiful as a human - which you have thought many times before, admittedly - you thought she was stunning now. She was in her element, tall and lanky, reeking of power and bloodlust. She was more confident in this body than she ever was as a mortal. Your wolfblood keeps thinking alpha, alpha, and your conscious self felt inclined to agree.
[Sibling], is her response, and she tips her muzzle briefly to your own, ears flickering. You do not speak to each other in the sense that you would as mortals - you growled out sounds at each other, words and meanings heard beneath each grunt and whine. It was a language just between you two. An intimacy that you loved to share with her.
We honor Hircine tonight, she reminds you, when she catches your eyes wandering. We will tear a group of Silver Hands asunder, her lips peel back in a feral grin. You return the gesture. In a fortnight, I will help you attack another; Skjor will go ahead of us. Do you understand? She has spoken to you of this mission a couple times before, but now was not the time to worry about it.
Hunt, hunt, kill, kill, comes the simplist mind of the wolfblood, demanding sacrifice. You would never deny Aela though, so you give a jagged nod of your head. Let us taste their blood on our tongues, and smell the fear from their bodies, then, comes a jagged noise that would have amounted to a wolfish laugh.
She turns tail and lopes off, picking up speed as she went along. You chase after her, easily catching up to her, the unfamiliarity of running on four limbs almost causes you to stumble, but you catch yourself numerous times. The wind whips across your [h/c] fur, the chitters of the flying owls and clacks of nearby mudcrabs whistling in your ears. Freedom tastes sweet on your tongue, face turned toward the sky as you run with her, both of you free.
* * *
There they are, cowering like cravens, Aela sneers, hunching over the encampment of the Silver Hands. There are only five of them; young blood by the smell of it, with one older. It is likely that they are new recruits with the older man teaching them the warning signs of the lycanthrope. Hah! Do they not know of us here? Are they really so ignorant? [Sibling], shall we go and give them a greeting? She turns to you, eyes not wavering from your face.
Yes, you grunt, blinking slowly at the few mortals; only a few of them were awake. They would be easy prey. Yes; let us hunt them, Aela. You tense your muscles along your haunches, coiling your muscles and leaning forward. Your steps are light as you tear down the slope, giving out a warning howl.
The Nords jostle themselves, raising cries of alarm and surprise. You jaws are parted; their fear tastes like victory in your mouth, and it is easy to tear through their flesh, blood tasting like copper running through your jaws and past your teeth.
It is satisfying, seeing the young Nord’s eyes go bright with feverish fear and an instinct for survival, a pleasing crunch of bones meeting your ears as you grip his forearm tighter and wrench backwards. His muscles spread apart like sinew, and the shrieks that wrench from his lips are delicious. If the three others were slumbering before, they were surely awake now as your victim screamed.
It is easy for the wolfblood to grow tired, though. You tear through his jugular and take sick pleasure in seeing his blood pulse outwards, matting your fur and blood spraying across your muzzle.
Aela is already on her next victim, gnawing on his ear in a teasing way before she sprints away, leaving a raspy survivor in her wake. She pivots on her sharp-toed feet and slashes her persuer across the face, claws marking his face like a grave. He instinctively drops his weapon and raises his hands to his face, a guttural cry of surprise rising. She lunges forward and wrenches his ribcage open, gore spreading across the ground in a matter of seconds. He is dead within minutes.
The remaining two try to make a run for it. You give chase, jaws snapping at their heels as they scampered away like scared deer. The eldest of the group suddenly turns and brandishes a blade, sinking it into your shoulder and wrenching a surprised howl from your maw. How dare he!
The silver burns like liquid fire through your veins. You growl at him, springing backwards in high leaps, blood pulsing from the wound, heat flashing through you.
How dare you, you growl out, furious and ferocious all in one heartbeat. You lunge towards him and snap at the hand that bears the blade, snapping it in a quick twist of your jaws. He gives a half-hearted jerk, although there isn’t much of a surprised scent coming from him. The blade catches the corner of your lips, a red hot fire bleeding through you.
He will pay. They will all pay for hunting down your kind.
You tear into his face, blood blinding you; hot and sticky dampening your face further before you retreat. A quick snapping sound resonates through the clearing, and you pivot, [e/c] eyes blinking in surprise at the sight of another Silver Hand going limp, eyes rolling into the back of her head.
Aela stands tall behind her, hand clenching from where the other’s neck was moments before. The Silver Hand had held a silver dagger, dangerously close to where you were, blinded and incapitated. She would have killed you if Aela hadn’t been there.
Thank you, you say, more of a breath than actual sounds or words. Aela tilts her head, before she turns. You both leave the bodies, trekking through the forest. The smell of gore is still fresh in your mind, although that could also be due to the fact that it was smattered across your maw and between your eyes.
Aela is always a few strides ahead of you. You do not demand to stride beside her. Protect the alpha, is what your blood sings of.
The wolfblood is what made you mercilessly kill the Silver Hand, you know. Or at least you hope so. It is what comforts you when you think of what Aela asks of you, at least.
The wolfblood is also what whispers to you - things that you think you wouldn’t otherwise think of the Huntress. Protect, is what is echoing, deep in your flesh and bones. The instinct is not unwelcome; it gives you strength, the power to be brave and courageous and every bit of the Companion that Aela seems to think you are.
You nearly bump into her, so deep in your thoughts you are. Aela? comes your whine. She says nothing, only lopes forward again and splashes into the river that you recognize as the one that tears into the earth beside Whiterun.
There isn’t much cover nearby, but at least it is close to where you two transformed. She sinks beneath the shallows, or at least, as much as she can. She has no shame in rolling over to get her back, and as soon as she deems herself clean enough of the gore that had once stained her fur, she instructs you to wash off as well.
You emerge soaking wet, fur matted close to your body. Aela gives a sharp bark of laughter at the sight of you, even though her russet coat isn’t much better.
The sun will rise soon, she explains as she moves again, silent as ever. You pad alongside her, tail brushing against the undergrowth as you let out soft huffs of air. The other Companions will suspect something if we are not back soon.
Especially Athis, you respond, thinking of how the Dark Elf watched you leave. She looks over at you, making a quizzical sound but does not otherwise question you.
When you arrive at the site of where you transformed, you both simply stand quietly. Aela quickly becomes restless and moves around the clearing, simply enjoying the last bit of freedom she has before she transforms.
You like being a werewolf, you observe.
Yes, she responds without looking at you. Her gait quickers before it stops altogether, and she turns her snout towards you. There is no worry of how others will react to what I say or do. I am my own person. I own everything; nobody can hold me back. I am free. You decide you have nothing to say to that, so instead you return to watching her pace.
You do not know how much time has passed before she suddenly stops and looks at you, an amused glint in her eyes. You are always watching me, [sibling].
Am I? I haven’t noticed, you reply wryly, offering a quick session of barked laughter. ..It is hard not to.
She hesitates, eyes keenly watching you. You are interested in me, she says boldly, although with a very confused accent underneath.
You are an interesting person, you confirm, although you know that is not what she meant. Her ears fold and she bares her teeth. She trots forward, a warning growl ripping from her throat.
Your ears fold and you tuck your head quickly, wolf instinct whispering harshly, alpha, alpha. You are tired of it telling you what to do, what to think of her. You never let yourself be subjected to your more primal nature; it tells you to rebel and challenge her, even though it remembers her as alpha. You wish to be her equal, in more ways than one. She has always called you [sibling], or even, once with a sneer, ‘pup’.
Aela is an enigma; power in her movements and grace in her steps. She is mistress only to Hircine, daughter of the wild. She is untameable, untouchable, unreachable. These intimate night strolls with her is all you have to seeing her carefree gestures, the only time you listen to her howl freely and without care. Subconsciously, you had been watching her - judging her movements, watching her reactions. The primal instincts first saw her as a challenge, a rival for prey and territory, but now it saw her beyond the folds and safety of the pack. She has since achieved the title of ‘alpha’ - surpassing even Kodlak. She was the only one you answered to.
She was the one who had given you the wolfblood; she was the one whose blood coursed in your veins. She was always there, scent thick and choking, something that you reveled in. As your forebear, she was more intimate with you than anyone else could be.
Aela, you say, and this time she flickers her ears. This time she listens to you. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. Aela, Aela, Aela, you say, her name rolling through your throat and past your lips. You are dizzy with the sensation of knowing that only Skjor and you have the privilege of hunting with her. Of being with her. You are the only one who I could be interested in.
She offers a wolfish grin, and lopes a bit closer to you before bumping muzzles with you. I am inclined to agree, [sibling]. She does not elaborate, and while your blood hums with the knowledge that what she’s just said implies means that she feels the same doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s carved in stone.
Tonight, you are alive. Tonight, all you want to do is live with her, in this moment where you are eternal beings and only the moon is your witness.
I am glad to hear that, Aela, you rumble back. Taking the initiative, you continue, There is still some moonlight left; do you want to walk with me, still?
She laughs, ears folding and lips peeling back in a grin. There is nothing that requires my assistance. Let us go.
The night welcomes you like lost lovers, your blood roaring to know that you are safe with Aela by your side. There is nothing that could stop you; just the inner wolf roaring and making you twine beside each other as you pace the earth.
Anon requested: “could I request a Aela The Huntress(Skyrim) x Vampire Male Reader? Something similar to your Serena x werewolf reader. Except reader is a vampire and one night is going out for a stroll with his son and daughter and Aela happens to be in her Werewolf form and accidentally attacks the reader and his kids but he protects them and She gets hurt but reader tends to her. They then get to know each other and get together and she becomes great mother to reader kids and both later have their own child. On that Aela the huntress x Vampire Male Reader request I forgot to mention that reader is related to Serena and is a Vampire Lord.”
~~~~~~~~
It was a cold, cloudy night in Skyrim, one were no matter where you went it was dim and dreary. A light mist dampened the heads of anyone outside.
Three figures, two children and a man, were out walking the footpath near Lakeview Manor. The boy and girl were bundled up in cloaks and warm clothes while their father wore red and black armor underneath a dark grey cloak. An ebony sword hung from his hip, ready in case a creature attacked.
“Papa, what plant is that?” The little girl asked while pointing to a large purple flower. The man chuckled and knelt down beside his daughter.
“This, Sofie, is called a Deathbell. They’re used to create poisons.” Sofie quickly pulled her hand away from where she was touching the petals of the bell-shaped flower. The boy ran ahead and froze when he heard a branch snap.
“Papa, there’s something moving in the bushes over there.” The boy pointed at a large bush, and y/n put his hand on his sword hilt. It was probably nothing, but in Tamriel there was always a chance it was something.
“It’s probably just an elk. Trust me, they’re more afraid of me than you are of them.” No sooner had y/n said this than a large form crashed out from the foliage. Standing before the family, the werewolf let out a loud howl and charged.
“Papa!”
“Alesan, Sofie, behind me!” The two children ducked behind their father, and y/n pulled his sword from its scabbard. Lightning flickered at his fingertips, and without hesitation he shocked the charging werewolf.
The werewolf howled in pain and snarled, raising it’s claws to swipe at the man. Y/n pushed his children back and raised his sword, the metal screeching as the werewolf’s claws ran down the blade.
“Alesan, take your sister and get back to the house!” The boy opened his mouth to protest.
“But papa—”
“NOW!” The two children took off running towards the manor. As soon as they were out of sight, y/n spoke to the werewolf again.
“My children don’t need to see their father become a monster.” Shadows gathered around y/n, then dispersed quickly as wings burst from his back. His skin paled, his eyes flowed a deep red, his canines became long and razor sharp, and his hands became clawed. The vampire lord let out a bellowing roar, and flew at the werewolf.
The werewolf had only seconds to react. It was not enough. The pale, clawed hand of the vampire wrapped around it’s throat and hurled the werewolf into a nearby tree. The tree splintered and fell, the werewolf collapsing at its base. Y/n grabbed the werewolf again and slammed it once, twice, thrice against the ground, each time cracking the earth with the impact.
The werewolf lost consciousness, staring up at the vampire lord above it.
<—>
Aela groaned as she opened her eyes. Her head was pounding, and her ribs ached like a boulder had landed on her. The faint light from a torch barely illuminated a ring of stones surrounding where she laid, bound by cords, on a table in the middle. The scent of blood lingered, and turning her head Aela could see the body of a mage covered in blood with their throat ripped out.
“I see you’re awake.” Twisting her head around as far as she could, Aela saw the form of a man lurking in the darkness. She could only just make out his features, nothing definitive that could identify him except a red glow were his eyes should be.
“Who are you?”
“A question I might ask you, werewolf. Normally I would just kill you and dispose of the corpse, but I recognize that dagger you carry.” The man picked up a dagger—her dagger, Aela realized—and twirled it around idly. “Skyforge steel? Very few people have the honor to carry one of these.”
“Unbind me and I’ll show you just how much honor I have.” The man seemed unfazed by her threatening tone.
“Answer me first. Why was a werewolf attacking my children and myself?” A faint breeze blew towards Aela from the direction the man was standing in.
“If I attacked your family, it was an accident.” Aela sniffed the air, and scowled at the scent carried from the man. Death and blood, and the stale scent of long dead blood. “I know what you are. You’re a vampire. No doubt your ‘children’ are just your former meals turned undead.”
No sooner had the words left Aela than the vampire was baring his fangs an inch from her face. Even in the dim torchlight, she could tell he was handsome. Sharp cheekbones and his y/h/l, y/h/c hair made for quite the fetching combination were it not for the burning red of his eyes.
“My children are only ten. Barely old enough to play with wooden swords, much less be vampires.” Aela glared up at the vampire, then closed her eyes and sighed.
“Listen, my name is Aela of the Companions. I didn’t mean to attack your children or you. Now can you please untie me and we can forget we met one another?” The vampire stared at her suspiciously, then straightened himself up.
“Here.” In the blink of an eye, the cords binding Aela to the were cut. She sat up, wincing at her aching ribs. Her dagger was handed back to her. As soon as Aela stood up she tumbled to the ground, sharp pains emitting from her torso. Broken ribs. As if tonight wasn’t bad enough.
“Let me help you.” A pale hand was offered to Aela. She took it, and the vampire wrapped his arm around her before leading her down an overgrown path.
“I’ve told you my name, but you haven’t told me yours. Who are you?” The vampire was silent for some time before he answered.
“My name is y/n, of the Volkihar clan.” Aela’s brow knit together in confusion.
“The Volkihar?” Y/n adjusted his arm around Aela’s shoulder.
“An old group of vampires.”
“So why come here?”
“Needed a change of scenery.” A large home loomed in front of the pair. Y/n guided Aela up the steps and opened the front door. The inside smelled of woodsmoke and dried herbs. Two children were sitting at a large table in the middle of the main hall, and rushed towards y/n as soon as he entered the manor.
“Papa, you’re home!”
“We thought you had gotten hurt or—” The two children became quiet at the sight of Aela. Y/n guided her to a chair and turned to his children.
“Alesan, Sofie, this is Aela. Aela, these are my son and daughter.”
“An honor to make your acquaintance.” The children giggled at Aela’s formal greeting. Y/n cleared his throat.
“Children, Aela is going to be staying with us until she’s healed. I want you to be on your best behavior, alright?”
“Yes papa!” The children spoke in unison. They ran off deeper into the house, and y/n walked over to an alchemy table in the corner of the room. He returned shortly with a minty scented salve.
“It’ll make your ribs hurt less as they heal. You can sleep in the spare bed.”
“Thank you.”
<—>
The sound of a baby crying was what woke y/n up. Groaning as he dragged himself out of bed, the vampire lord went down the hall to the nursery, lifting the infant from the crib and holding it close to his chest.
“Come now, hush. I’m here, no need to cry.” The baby’s cries quieted down to soft whimpers as y/n rubbed small circles on its back.
“Is everything alright?” Aela stood in the doorway, already dressed in her usual armor. No doubt she was preparing for another hunt, or going on a mission for the Companions.
“Yes, they just woke up. It’s all fine now.” Three and a half years had passed since Aela and y/n had met. In that time they had occasionally met one another in their adventures, then courted one another before marrying and adopting a baby from Honorhall Orphanage.
Y/n had entrusted Aela with the whole truth of who he was, the next in line to become Lord of the Volkihar after his parents passed. He had introduced Aela to his sister Serana—who had started dating a werewolf, funny enough—and taken her to see Castle Volkihar (from a distance, y/n refused to set foot in that damn castle again).
“Sofie is going to come with me to learn how to use a bow. I think she’ll make a fine Companion one day.” Aela brushed their baby’s hair out of its eyes. The child gurgled happily and grabbed at her fingers.
“I’ve always thought she’d be an alchemist. Be careful out there.” Y/n gave Aela a kiss, and she returned it with a smile.
“Always am.”
~~~~~~~~
I don’t own the above gif, all credit goes to the owner.
The commotion from the training yard resonated through the heavy wooden boards of the Mead hall. Skjor threw you against the rock foundation wall and pulled you onto the tip of your boots by the front of your leather armor. Your brothers burst through the doors to see the glint off the dagger you'd pressed against the warriors throat when he laid a hand on you. Your eyes were locked on eachother but you could feel the presence of the other Companions growing around you.
"I will never be like you." You hiss beneath your breath.
"Then you will never learn respect!" Skjor twists your arm backwards, turning you to face the growing crowd.
The sharp sound of Vilkas' inhale nearly drew your attention while you attempted to thrash away. The movements only forced more pain against your shoulder blade. A soft gasp breaks through your lips when the elder pulls your hair back to lift your chin.
"This is what it looks like when you lack honor!" He bellowed through the tense air.
"Skjor!" You met Aela's beautiful green eyes when she threw herself forward. "That is enough."
"You coddle her, Aela. This... coward." His steel boot dug into the curve of your leg.
The air whipped through your hair and you plummeted to the ground. Sharp pain radiated through your knee caps that split, bleeding on the cobble stone. Turning your head back, Farkas' calloused hand cupped your cheek, tilting her face back to his worry creased, painted eyes.
"She is no coward, Skjor. She needn't be in the inner circle to be a companion!" Aela became a physical barrier between you and the superior you often clashed with.
"That disrespectful welp will never be a companion."
That was the last you heard of the argument when Vilkas caught your wrist in a bruising grip, digging into the flesh and tearing you from his twins arms and into the mead hall. He pushed you forward. The thick carpets wrapped around the souls of your boots and you tripped forward, catching your weight in a delicate move no brash warrior could pull off. It was always a topic of argument between you and your eldest brother that you chose to be a rogue over a warrior. But Aela comforted you, trained you in archery. She helped you through the long harrowing nights and sided with you during fights with the other Companions. Vilkas never understood you, and there you were beneath his fierce scrutinizing gaze, licked by the flames from the lit fire over your shoulder.
"Why do you test him, Y/N?" He threw out his arms, attempting to reign in his temper in the form of pacing the length of the great table back and forth.
With a defeated sigh, you pulled out a chair, sitting weakly to inspect your torn knees. He was silent as you wet a cloth and dabbed away the blood that began to clot and scab.
"Answer me!" He rose his voice, surprising you. "How long will they house you if you keep this up?"
The door clicked behind you and Aela ran a hand through her red hair, careful of the braid. Anxiety and frustration were written across her features but she ignored your brother, stepping closer to your aching form.
"You overstepped today. More so than usual, I can't protect you if you continue down this path. He could kill you, he could disown you-"
A tonkard flew through the dim lighting, splattering wine across the wall. The tapestry clattered to the ground in the silence but all attention was on your brother's broad shoulders as he left the room. His footfalls echoed and the sound of the door slamming against the frame made your shoulders jolt against better judgement.
Aela pressed her fingertips to her eyes and knelt before you. Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your forehead on hers and entwined your fingers through strands of her soft, shimmering hair.
"Why do you do this?" She whispered.
"I don't want to be a beast."
Your fingertips brushed back along her jaw, thumb running along her bottom lip and she covered your hand with her warm palm before tearing away hesitantly. She rested the heels of her palms on the waxed table, leaning toward the hot flames. The heat seemed smothering in the silent tension and neither of you could face eachother but you knew what was coming. It was always coming.
"Is that what you think I am, Y/N? A beast?" Aela steeled her voice with a strength she always kept stored away beneath the surface.
"Don't start this again." You sighed and rose to your feet with a slight limp. "I may be younger, but I'm not ignorant. Don't speak to me as though I am."
"You should leave." She whispered.
"I'm working on it." You grumbled back but a simple 'no' from her and you couldn't move. Your world tipped upside down, everything that was known seemed lost and beyond reach with a simple sentence.
"Leave Jorrvaskr." She was emotionless, impossible to read.
"I'll see you tonight for supper." There was a heavy weight in the finality of your tone as you forced the door open with your aching shoulder. You had to get away from this maddening place, these maddening people. Clear your head.
There was a glimpse of Farkas' frame as you descended the steps from the Cloud District and into the babbling, endless commotion of the city and boring lives of the common folk that lived there. You wondered far too often what the people of Whiterun would think, knowing their protectors are dark, blood driven animals. But you could never do that to her.
You'd played that moment over in your head, a painful, heart-breaking mantra. Words you'd hoped you would never hear. Though a few hours of drinks in the Bannered Mare and the scrapes of your knees and bruised pride seeped away off of your skin. But you swore, you swore to Ysgrammor himself that if Mikael played Ragnar the Red one more time-
"This is the first song I ever learned." He smiled toothily at you when you turned over your shoulder, more irritated than reason warranted.
It was a waiting game, and divines did you wait with baited breath for his next few words. They would surely be his undoing, and you were more than happy- honored even- to deliver him to the gods. He ignored the glare, relished in it perhaps and his sing song tone grated in your troubled, already raging, drunken mind.
"There once was a he-" Surprise flashed over his wide, frightened eyes when you leapt from your stool, successfully throwing him over the carved log bench. He sputtered up at you when you pulled the lute from his clenched, white knuckles.
"Heros are over rated." A large, meaty hand wrapped lightly around your forearm and pulled you away, knocking all of your weight off your feet.
"Put me down, Ulfberth..." You complained as he lifted you onto his shoulder. The crisp night air stung your cheeks when the taverns warmth left. The nord carried you with ease up the stone pathway despite your protests.
"Foolish girl." He muttered, though it came without malice. "That's no way for a Companion to behave."
"Haven't you heard?" You rasped, his harsh shoulder pressed into your ribs, lessening your air but you stayed where you were placed and let your arms sway beneath you. It wasn't worth fighting him off. "I'm not a Companion."
He tossed you down into the stream that was lightly flowing down from Dragons Reach. A loud gasp and you were flailing up from the splashing water, sobered from the cold. He stood in the shadow of the shrine of Talos, chuckling at your discomfort shaking the water droplets from your furs.
"Go back to your wife." You muttered and swatted his hand away when he reached to mess your damp hair. "Thank you, for taking me home."
"Call it what you will." He grinned in the darkness but didn't leave until you started up the steep stairs to the Mead Hall.
Only steps from the painted doors and Aela spoke behind you from her spot leaning against the wall.
"Where have you been, Y/N?"
"I did as you said. I left."
She closed her mouth on her next comment and stepped away without another word. The frustration seeped back into your body and you prepared for the harassment that awaited you beyond the doors. Warmth washed over your wet limbs when the door cracked open and brought life back to your cold body. But the music and laughter and chattering died down with each step you took towards the Companion quarters. Vilkas cut you off at the stairs.
"You must listen."
"I'm done, Vilkas." Your voice was soft and it was apparent he had expected you to yell. "I won't continue to fight the same battle with you, with Skjor."
"You've been drinking. Today we've delivered a blow to the Silverhands! Celebrate." He brushed your words off, pushing your shoulder in a light hearted way. It was at that moment, when his forced smile faltered, you knew he realized he lost you.
Skjor met your eyes from across the tables before be glanced towards Aela, sulking to grab her bow.
