A/N: Before I begin this story, I had to make Phoenix a vampire so it would work in the story. Phoenix is actually a werewolf in-game.
--
How could they have been so blind?
The Circle, the Companions whom were werewolves, all had benefits of their wolfish forms. One of these benefits being enhanced senses.
But for some unknown reason, Vilkas was the only one who detected the undead scent of the strange nord woman who had walked into Jorrvaskr months ago.
She had become a worthy Companion, and was a skilled warrior. She was a brunette, her hair reaching her chin and defining the roundish shape of her face perfectly. She had sharp features, those of almost-natural determination. Her eyes were blue, but with a closer inspection, had flecks of gold in the irises.
It was possible that the reason for her eyes not being pure gold and her vampiric scent not being as prominent as the standard vampire could be due to her dragon blood.
But Vilkas could detect she was a vampire from a mile away.
He'd not said a word to the other Companions, as they would all turn in her defence. She was a well-respected Companion, as well as being the famous Dragonborn.
But that did not phase Vilkas. Not one bit.
Vilkas despised her. He detected the dark undead in her, and knew she couldn't have the 'heart made of pure gold' as everyone thought she had. He was the only one who noticed the dangerous glint in her eyes, the gold specks flaring as if they were flames igniting deep within her.
And flames could only mean danger.
It was on a moonlit night. The full moon brought out the wolf in him, and it begged for a hunt no matter how hard he tried to withhold it. He never understood why his fellow Circle members did not get these beastly urges, but he put it down to the likely possibility that the werewolf within him was simply more prominent.
It was well past midnight now, and Vilkas could not control his urges any more. He felt the werewolf raging inside of him, begging to be released. He needed to feast, even if it was just one organism that he would hunt down and take the life of.
He hurried as far into the plains of Whiterun as he could, before the werewolf in him broke free.
The transformations were always a little strange, but he eventually got used to the almost-painful feeling of the change.
He stood on his legs, head stretched, crying to the full moon.
It was time to hunt.
--
It was a tranquil, peaceful night.
Perfect for Phoenix to feast.
She had been out for some hours, her hunger barely satisfied after weeks of not feeding. She found bandits, took down whole groups of them with her vampiric abilities. Of course, she was not a powerful vampire lord that she'd heard so much about, but her vampiric abilities really out-shined that of the bandits. She even took out small packs of wandering night-shift guards, and of course quickly sprinted away before another guard (or person) found the corpse and went back to Whiterun for reinforcements.
--
Vilkas had found plenty of already-slain people littering the plains. He feasted on them all, but could not help but feel confused as to why there were so many free corpses dotted about the place.
That's when he smelt the oh-so-recognisable scent.
Of a vampire.
The only thing he had on his mind was routing out and slaughtering this foul, undead creature. Little did he know that it was no one else but Phoenix.
