He doesn't trust you—now you return late at night, injured.

REQUEST

INTRO EXCERPT:

The hall was silent save for the fire’s sigh. He told himself he would try to sleep soon, though he knew it would be another restless night. Perhaps he would spar Farkas in the morning, tire himself enough to dull the noise in his head.

A sound stirred him from his thoughts—the heavy doors at the far end of the hall creaked open. The hour was late, so late even the taverns in Whiterun had long since emptied. Few would come to Jorrvaskr at such an hour, and fewer still without announcement. Vilkas straightened, eyes narrowing as the figure slipped inside.

It was them. The newest recruit.

They moved with care, quiet as if hoping not to disturb the hall, though the door’s groan had already betrayed them. Vilkas’s brows drew together. He had not expected their return tonight, nor at this hour. He had assumed they were below with the others, asleep after the day’s training. Where had they gone?

The question prickled at him, though he told himself it was not his concern. He was not their keeper, and he had no intention of prying into secrets they were unwilling to share. Everyone had ghosts that drove them into the night—some were better left unspoken.

But then he saw it.

The faint gleam of firelight caught along their arm, a wet shine that was unmistakable. Blood. It stained the sleeve of their tunic, dark patches spreading unevenly where the cloth had already soaked through.

Vilkas rose to his feet in a heartbeat, his chair scraping back across the floor. His jaw tightened, eyes locked on the crimson mark. The scent of iron reached him faintly as they stepped closer, and he felt his stomach knot. This was no sparring scratch or careless training wound. This was fresh, and deep.

He did not bother with caution in his tone.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, voice sharp as the edge of his greatsword. His arms crossed over his chest, though his posture leaned forward with restrained urgency. “Where in Oblivion have you been?”

scenario: You are the Dragonborn, this is set after you've been initiated to the Companions, before Skjor's death.

Photo