My Random Skyrim Stories

The Mage Harbinger (Vilkas) 1

Vilkas sat tiredly in the empty mead hall. It was late in the evening, and he really should have gone to bed, but he was still in his armor, sitting grumpily in his chair by the hearth instead. It was bothering him more than he wanted to admit that their new Harbinger wasn't home yet.

She was a bit of an untraditional Harbinger... not because she was a woman though... she was a mage.

Or at least, she had been a mage. Vilkas was sure exactly what she would qualify as now.

She had introduced herself to Kodlak years ago as Lystrid Kjariksdotter, which sounded like far too Nordic of a name for a woman who appeared to be at least mostly Breton and reeked of magic.

When Kodlak had asked what business a mage had trying to join the Companions, she'd initially looked discouraged and revealed that she was actually half Nord, and had been raised by her mother's parents in High Rock after the Thalmor killed both of her parents. She'd always wanted to learn more of her father's heritage, but her grandparents had been emphatic on stamping that out of her. She'd never been allowed to even touch a real sword and was forced to learn magic instead.

So she'd learned summoning magic and summoned her own swords.

Vilkas still remembered the look impressed surprise on Kodlak's face when Lystrid had summoned the wicked looking blade to show him. And, despite his mistrust of anything magic, Vilkas had to admit that he was impressed by her stubborn defiance.

When she earnestly asked Kodlak if the Companions could teach her, Vilkas knew immediately that the old man wouldn't turn her away. And when Vilkas had handed her the first real sword she'd ever gotten her hands on, she did surprisingly well with it, especially considering that everything she had learned up until that point had been self-taught. After that, he honestly couldn't even begrudge her the convenience of using her summoned blades.

That had been about two years ago now, and she'd certainly come a long way since then. Despite being the newest and least experienced member, she'd proven most worthy when their war with the Silver Hand came to a head. She'd been the one to destroy the Glenmoril betrayers and then turned around the moment she arrived home from that and accompanied him to exact their revenge on the last of the Silver Hand.

And then, finally, she had been the one to free them from the curse of the beast blood. Vilkas hadn't questioned Kodlak's decision to name her the next Harbinger. On top of being clearly courageous and honorable, she had been nothing but kind and friendly to all of them. She had even given the legendary artifacts of Ysgramor to him and his brother. Even though they hadn't made it properly into Ysgramor's tomb until they returned to cure their beast blood, Lystrid had given Wuuthrad to Vilkas, and Ysgramor's great shield to Farkas. It was a great honor that she thought them worthy to wield them, and Lystrid consistently honored the Companions' legacy with her plans and actions...

...but even honorable and worthy as she may be, despite fighting by her side to defeat the Silver Hand, Vilkas had never been able to bring himself to truly trust her. She was still a mage... a summoner— the same school of magic that practiced necromancy; the foulest and most untrustworthy of all the magic users. So as much as he respected Lystrid, Vilkas could simply never trust a mage— especially not that class of mage.

...so why did her extended absences as of late bother him so much?

Why did he turn almost excitedly every time the same coppery-blond color as her hair glinted off of some random piece of metal in the sunlight?

Why did even something as common as a stormy sky make him think of her grey-blue eyes?

Why did the memory of her lithe figure in leather armor, dual-wielding those glowing summoned swords so gracefully as she slaughtered Silver Hand members haunt his dreams the way it did?

Vilkas was suddenly startled out of his drowsy, frustrated ponderings as a large, spectral wolf suddenly appeared, having phased through the back doors. Vilkas jumped nervously to his feet. The mostly see-through animal looked at him intently, before giving a mournful howl as it turned back toward the doors and suddenly disappeared in a crackle of sparks.

Vilkas felt like his heart jumped into his throat. That was Ylsa, Lystrid's familiar. He could only guess that that meant Lystrid needed help somewhere... why else would her familiar appear in the hall without her?

Vilkas hurried worriedly out the back doors, readying Wuuthrad as he did.