Work Text:
Whiterun seemed somehow different since the last time she had visited. The people seemed less cold, less harsh than they had previously, or perhaps she was simply less reseptive of their looks. Caine slung her bow across her back upon entering, letting her gaurd down for the first time since she left Riften.
It felt good to be within city walls once more, even if these walls had filled her with responsibility she didn't want. Rememebering the dragon attack just outside of Whiterun, feeling its soul and its energy surge into her, the dragon that hit Helgen and left the smallest group of survivors, it made her bones itch with adrenaline with no way to release it. The memories were relentless, and it didn't take long for her nerves to frey and her body to become sick with unease. The Bosmer picked up her pace, vaugely registering a gaurd's taunts, another one commenting on the bow on her back, their words sounding far away as images and screams and fire danced in her head.
A solid chest came into her view, too suddenly for her to step out of the way before she crashed into the huge man's armor. Huge hands gripped her shoulders and she felt her entire body stiffen as they pulled her back and steadied her. Caine looked up at her captor, at the dark mop of hair that framed his face, and the equally dark paint that circled squinted chips of ice. This was a bear of a man that had her already on-edge nerves quake, and her muscles go rigid in violent anticipation.
The ice melted in recognition and the grip on her shoulders lessened as a broad, friendly smile crossed the bear's face. Caine was left dumbfounded, staring bemusedly as the man as he took one of her hands in his in an amicablre shake that felt forgein to her.
"You're that girl that helped us with that giant," the combination of his voice and the words he spoke had her sobering slightly as she remembered. The big man that handled a greatsword like one would a fork.
"Farkas." The bear seemed overjoyed that she remembered his name, his smile growing even wider and the ice in his eyes melting even further until there was nothing left but a beautiful shade of the sky. Caine felt herself smiling with him.
"Did you come back to join the Companions?" He asked, already dragging her up the steps that lead to the dead tree, reminding her for all of the world of an excited puppy, and his elation was contagious. She couldn't say no.
Jorvaskyr was a loud and rowdy place that stunk of ale and mead and the sweat of warriors. Being in the centre of it left her feeling overwhelmed and claustraphobic. Caine was lead across the room before she could fully take in her surroundings, and she was taken to a second floor that must have served as the Companions' living quarters. This floor was much quieter and it was here that Farkas seemed to realize that he had practically dragged her here. The bear of a man let go of her hand and politely cleared his throat.
"You're not officially one of us until you speak with our Harbinger, he's got a way of lookin' right into you and seeing your worth before you even say a word." The thought made her skin crawl, wondering what sort of things this man would see in her. But as Farkas lead her down a hall and to a set of double doors at the end of it, the disquiet seemed to fade.
The bear man motioned for her to wait outside as he slipped through the doors, the already muffled conversation becoming hushed and unreadable. Moments passed and the doors opened to her. Of the men that were before her, only the eldest of them caught her attention. He held an air of wisdom and authority that she didn't find in Farkas or the man that sat across from the Harbinger.
The old man's lip quirked. "Farkas tells me that you're looking to join our ranks. Is this so?"
Caine stepped into the room, a dark cloud seemed to encompass her, an icey stare boring into her so intensly she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but feel like she had just walked into a wolf's den. And the owner of that stare could sense it. "Yes. I would like to become a member of your Companions." She took pride in the way her voice didn't shake, but all that seemed to do was make the wolf's presense angrier.
The old man seemed to find her answer humorous, because his next words were spoken in a quiet chuckle. "The Companions are not mine, youngling. But the fire in your heart is bold, strong."
For the first time the man who shared the Harbinger's table spoke, voice laden with the same ice in his eyes. "Harbinger... you can't be seriously considdering her. I know their type, always sneaking about like cowards in the ni-"
"Enough, Vilkas." The old man cut him off. "You condemn the girl too quickly and refuse to see her potential."
Vilkas sneered slightly, studying her with stubborn hatred, sizing her up like a wolf would his prey, and Caine did the same. He shared Farkas' face, and undoubtedly his blood, but for everything Farkas was it was clear that his brother was the oppisite. Where Farkas was a bear Vilkas was built lean, and though the big man was kind and gentle, his smaller brother was dark and hard. His eyes remained ice when Farkas' had lit up. These two couldn't have been more different.
Finaly, Vilkas spoke, and Caine failed to hide the curl of her lip at his words. "Potential means little if she can't handle herself in battle."
"Well," she felt herself smile, though she felt no warmth in it. "I've never backed down from a fight. I would be as bold to say you wouldn't last five minutes with me in a ring."
"Words are wind, elf. Prove it." He eyed the bow at her back with a confidant smile and Caine hid her own.
"I will."
The old man had watched on quietly, but now that it seemed like they had come to a conclustion he nodded at Vilkas, drawing the wolf man's attention from her. "See what she can do, then."
Vilkas stood. "Follow me, elf." He didn't say another word until they were outside. "Don't think you can run and hide from this one, elf, real warriors face their battles head on."
Only if they want to get themselves killed. "I don't need to." She hissed instead as they stepped into what looked to be a training yard. His lip curled, and then the wolf man drew his sword and charged.
Caine felt a flutter of panic sieze her heart. He was quicker than she had originally anticipated. The Bosmer danced around his swing, using his momentum against him to push him off to the side. She used the time she bought herself to stamp down her fear and draw her bow.
One.
Vilkas regained himself, turning around to meet her gaze from across their battlefeild, his stare cold and hard. Time slowed.
Two.
She could see the moment he charged, the gears grinding in his head and Caine readied herself, heart pounding in her chest, but she wore a dispationate mask. Brynjolf had taught her that much. Don't let your enemies see your fear.
Three.
The wolf man's sword swung high above his head, ready to come down in a vicious downward strike. Caine let her feet slip into a familar stance.
Four.
She moved just as he brought the blade down, again sidestepping his attack, but instead of pushing him away, her bow swung low, the curved weapon catching on the warrior's feet and sending the man tumbling to the ground.
Caine had an arrow pulled from her quiver and drawn faster than the Companion could blink.
"It's just like you thieves to use tricks." He hissed angrily, though she noted with a bit of pride that he eyed the arrow warrily. Caine knew that she would never have bested the man in a test of strength, so she used the next best thing. She was lucky enough that he had underestimated her, but his anger had blinded him.
"Move and this arrow flies. Stand down."
The only form of a warning she got was the wolf's sneer.
A number of things happened before she could properly react. Her feet were forced out from under her, the arrow bounced harmlessly off Vilkas' armor as she hit the ground and her bow skidded out of reach. The impact alone had left her in a daze. Caine cursed herself for letting her gaurd down.
Vilkas' hulking form came into her vision, blocking out anything else and suddenly she was back in the Cistern. Ice morphed into green flame and as if from a nightmare the elf felt phantom fingers wrap around her throat, cutting off her air. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the world around her until she wanted to scream.
A weeping stone wall pressed against her back-
No!
Hands, wrapped around her throat-
Stop!
Weak, helpless, unable to do anything-
Never again.
Never again. The words echoed in her mind until they were all she could hear. Never again. She managed to get a knee in between them, pushing him off of her. Caine scrambled back and eventually she found her feet, reaching for the hilt of the dagger she kept at her hip. Never again. She wanted to scream the words. They were so loud and insistent. Never again would she be so weak, so helpless. Caine gripped the dagger painfully and fell upon the wolfman before he could get his bearings.
The struggle that followed was brief, and ended with her dagger at his throat, and a big hand engulfing her wrist, stopping the blade from tasting blood.
"I think that's enough."
Caine pulled her hand away abruptly, dropping the blade and straightening as her world returned to normal. Farkas offered his brother a hand, but it was refused as Vilkas pushed off the ground and pinned her with a violent look that screamed murderous intent before storming off into Joyvaskyr.
Silence fell between them, and it stretched as Caine tried to wrap her head around what had just happened. She remembered little after Vilkas had tripped her, only that...
A bow was thrust into her hands and Farkas stooped to pick up her dagger. "What happened to you back there?"
The Bosmer swallowed, taking the knife as if it could burn her at any moment. "I think I need some rest... the inn is-"
"Don't even think about it. You're one of us now. I'll show you to the whelp's quarters."
Caine nodded gratefully and followed him inside, suddenly feeling more drained than she had in a very long time.