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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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2.This is War
The sullen Companion escorted me back along the corridor, his leader's offer still echoing round my head. I tried to push the distraction to the back of my mind, filing it under 'Things I Can Worry About If I Ever Survive This Battle.' At the moment it was about number ten on the list-number one was still that tiny little problem of Alduin the World-Eater; compared to that particular worry everything else seemed somewhat trivial.
Take each day at a time, Igne.
And right now, what I was looking forward too was some precious sleep. Although whether my stress-filled mind would let that happen was another matter.
By the time I made it up the stairs to the main hall most of the Companions had disappeared but Lydia was chatting to the Dunmer and the twin of the moody one about the merits of small blades versus great swords.
Old non-Dragonborn Igne would have had a snigger about that.
The big man was hanging on to every word Lydia was saying and I could have sworn that my stoic and disciplined, 'remember-Igne-we-have-a-job-to-do' Housecarl was actually flirting with the man.
My brain is far too tired to comprehend this.
I cleared my throat, interrupting Lydia in the middle of an anecdote, which seemed to consist of the imaginary time I had thought it would be a good idea to tackle a dragon with a dagger. Lydia turned, cheeks slightly flushed, "Ah, my thane, we were just-"
I couldn't help bite back a smile at the Housecarl's discomfort. Normally the situation was reversed.
Better make the most of this then.
"Remember Lydia, we have a job to do."
It was worth it for the glare.

With every step down towards Breezehome my heart and my spirit seemed to sink further. Around us both the townspeople and the militia were working on preparations for the battle; the Skyforge and Arianne's forge were bellowing smoke, sending thick black plumes of smoke into the clear blue skies as they feverishly tried to improve armour and weapons. Down in the marketplace Ysolda had made a game for children out of fetching buckets of water from the well to assist in fighting fires. There was probably some poignant observation about the reality of war to be made there but I was too damned tired to think about it, barely focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to keep my face an impassive mask.

When I finally got into Breezehome I staggered up the stairs and threw myself face down on my bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep.

I woke up to Lydia's persistent shaking of my shoulder.
"It's time."

At least I wouldn't have far to walk. Whilst I had been sleeping Lydia had cleaned and oiled my weapons and armour. Bless her. She helped me into the blasted thing, much heavier and more uncomfortable than my familiar Guild leathers. Staring at myself in the tiny mirror I felt like a little girl playing dress up. A pretender. Shoving the nagging thoughts to one side, I took a few steadying deep breaths, I couldn't afford to doubt myself now. People were counting on me. I glanced at Lydia and her calm nod was enough to give me focus. Composing my face into what I hoped looked like a serene, confident Dragonborn, I made my way out to the ramshackle barricades.

Jarl Balgruuf was waiting by the final gate, Irileth, Legate Cipius and the Companions clustered nearby. As I approached the Jarl I glanced over to where the Companions were waiting, heavily armed and armoured. They looked relaxed, unfazed by the approaching army gathering on the plains below. Everything about them radiated a competency that said 'I am elite, don't mess with us.' Even the disciplined legionnaires seemed impressed, casting awed glances at the legendary company of warriors.
And they want me to join them…

I shook my head, dispelling the distracting thoughts and walked over to the Jarl and his retinue. The Harbinger of the Companions made his way over to join us, the two twins and two others trailing him. Jarl Balgruuf nodded at us as we approached, his face looked grim. I sighed, "Let me guess, they've got dragons...or daedra...Oblivion gates...no?"
Apparently my attempt at levity was not appreciated. Irileth threw me a stern look as she explained, "One of the scouts has reported that they have trebuchets. And they're coating stones with pitch."
That is not good. The city, and the civilians hiding within the city, would be killed if we didn't do something to stop that. "What can we do to stop them?"
The Legate scowled, "If it just bloody rained, that'd help. No archers and no trebuchets, they'd have to come up the slope and we'd have an advantage."
"Rain?" My mind was starting to put together the tattered shreds of a plan. "I can do rain. I think."
"You think?" Jarl Balgruuf frowned at me.
"Well I know a Shout that might work, but I've never used it and I don't know all the words to it."
"A Shout?" The grey-haired leader of the Companions spoke, eying me speculatively.
I ignored him, waiting for the Jarl's decision. He nodded at me, face drawn but determined, "Alright, Thane. Do it."

The word that the Dragonborn was going to summon a storm quickly spread through the troops, with the archers covering their bowstrings with their rain-cloaks and all the regular troops craning their necks to get a demonstration of a Shout. Fighting to suppress my nerves I stepped through the final gate. Down below the Stormcloak army was almost at the foot of the ramp, just out of range, shield wall formed and spears ready. Dimly I heard murmurs behind me but I ignored them, focusing on the dark, coiled part of me that I had recently awakened.
"STRUUN"
My Shout echoed round the battleground, to the very heavens themselves. Darkness roiled in from the edge of sight, the sky darkening to a bruised purple, thick black clouds crashing together with thunder and lightning dancing. It covered the entire plain and I stared transfixed at what I had wrought. Then a drop of rain hit my cheek. Then another and another until a torrent was cascading from the sky. Lightning arced down, dancing down towards the plains. It was beautiful and terrifying and I threw my head back and laughed as the dark part within me revelled in my power. Below through the driving rain I could barely make out the Stormcloak, shifting uncertainly, caught off-guard by the sudden change in weather.

A hand clasped my shoulder. Half-turning, my hand dropping to my sword I saw Lydia, streams of water running over the wrought metal of her armour. She screamed something at me but I couldn't hear it over the crash of thunder reverberating through the sky. I frowned at her and she gestured to the battlements of the city walls, where the militia clustered under their cloaks.
Oh right, they can't shoot.
I began backing off towards the gate as the Stormcloaks began their advance, Lydia leading the way. At the gate, after Lydia and I had climbed through the barricade, I turned back and Shouted again, "LOK VAH KOOR."
With a soft whumph the darkness overhead was hurled to the heavens above, dissipating and leaving clear blue skies. My ears popped and the torrential rain stopped instantly. A cry went up from the battlements as the Whiterun militia unfurled their raincloaks revealing their bows and began firing at the Stormcloak soldiers pouring up the ramp, now deprived of most of their long range support and vulnerable to the rain of arrows. Those that managed to make it up the ramp and over the barricade were met by the fiercely disciplined ranks of the Imperial Legion, formed into a unmoving shield wall, spears bristling.

The clash of steel behind me caught my attention. A party of Stormcloaks had scaled the slope of the motte and were trying to mount a assault on the Jarl. The Companions and Irileth were already in the fray and I rushed to join them, battle lust stirring my blood. A Stormcloak soldier charged me, greataxe raised and I ducked under the arc of his cut and his arm, emerging behind him. It was an easy stab to the gap between his helm and gorget; an instant kill. More attacked and Lydia stepped up beside me, the two of us working in partnership.

I don't know how long the battle lasted, or how many fell to my sword. In the end the battle for Whiterun turned out to be a massacre. Stormcloak bodies covered the path to the city, blood turn-ing the soil and stone red. The priests and priestesses moved over the battlefield, tending to the wounded. More than a few Imperial and militia had been killed but Whiterun was finally safe.

For the moment.

In the distance the bedraggled survivors, almost all of them injured, dragged Galmar Stone-Fist back towards Windhelm. He had fought like a fiend, reforming the Stormcloak's shield wall and leading his men in one last rally until he took a spear thrust to his leg and his troops had dragged him back from the wall. Irileth had wanted to pursue them but the Jarl had ordered her back. We picked our way back to the city gate, trying not to look down as our feet slipped on the gore underfoot and trod on soft yielding flesh. My hand was still locked round my sword hilt and my muscles trembled and ached with exhaustion. At the gates the Jarl made his speech, pulling Irileth, the Legate, the Harbinger and myself onto the scaffolding with him. Not a word sank in as I gazed out over the exhausted and bloody faces of the soldiers, I was too tired. Everything faded; the cheers from the soldiers became a muffled roar that echoed with my heartbeat and my vision blurred. Dimly I was aware of people speaking to me and a gentle hand on my shoulder guiding me home.

OP has eagerly awaited this part and is very pleased, I can imagine it must have been a difficult bit to write. Keep them coming dear A!A you're making my day!

Glad you like it OP- it was a pain to write, definitely. I'm still not happy with it but argh! And in addition to writers block pesky real life got in the way as well...

Chapter 3 is also proving to be a bit of a bitch, mostly because it is pretty much irrelevant and everyone who's played the game knows what happens. But once that's out the way then I'll be cooking with bacon (or vegetarian alternative to go with the rest of your meal) as grumpy, confused Vilkas is such fun to provoke :)

Argh! and I just noticed the posting fail...should have been under the first Chapter...bangs head against brick wall

The following morning had Lydia shaking me awake again. Damn it, Lydia. My head hurt like hell and my muscles throbbed with a dull aching pain. Deciding to stay in bed for five more minutes, or half an hour, I tugged my blanket over my head trying to block out my annoying Housecarl. Then my body involuntarily curled around itself as a gust of cold air washed over me. Lydia had yanked the blankets off.
Evil woman.

I pushed myself to a seated position, rubbing my sleep filled eyes and grumbling under my breath about certain Housecarls that were too happy in the morning. She shot me a unfazed glance, "You have a meeting with the Companions at dawn, remember?"

No rest for the Dragonborn.

Once I was up, dressed and fed I headed up to Jorrvaskr. Most of the citizens were already awake, despite the early hour, helping the weary Legion clean up the debris and mess from the battle. Waiting at the steps of Jorrvaskr were two familiar figures. Tall, dark and far-too-happy-for-this-time-in-the-morning was waiting with tall, dark and clearly-not-a-morning-person-as-well.

At least we have one thing in common.

"Good morning, Igne. Morning, Lydia." The giant of a twin greeted us, tone far too cheerful for this early and this soon after a battle. Neither of the two Companions showed any signs of injury or tiredness and I envied them. I, on the other hand, looked like something that had been dragged through a hedge backwards. By a dragon. The Companion continued, "I'm Farkas and my brother is Vilkas." The saturnine twin let out a small huff that I guessed was his greeting. Farkas gestured at us to follow him and he led us round the longhouse to a large training yard overshadowed by a cliff. The clash of a hammer striking steel sounded from above and I guessed that that must be the elusive Skyforge Adrianne was always grumbling about. Farkas stopped in the centre and his twin moved up from behind us to stand next to him.
"Kodlak wanted us to have a look at you in one-to-one combat first. So you'll be fighting Vilkas. " He moved past me, leaving his twin and myself in the centre of the yard, clapping me on the shoulder with his hand as he passed. "Don't worry, you'll do fine."

Right.

Lydia and Farkas took a seat together on the bench, Lydia grinning slightly. I rolled my shoulders a few times, hoping to relax a little and trying switch my brain back into combat mode. Vilkas took a position in the centre of the courtyard, nonchalantly holding his greatsword in one hand, "The old man said to have a proper look at you, so let's do this. No magic, no tricks. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it."
The bastard was mocking me.
Fine.
I swung my sword, aiming at his neck with an overhand cut. He effortlessly batted my sword away, knocking me off balance and exposing an opening in my defence but he didn't press the attack, choosing to wait, contemptuously sneering at my effort.
I'll show him.
I feinted another blow at him, ducking under his deflection and turning my body into his as I aimed a cut across his abdomen. I had thought I was quick but he was faster, grabbing my wrist with his left hand before I could even make the cut, and twisting it until my sword clattered to the ground and he moved behind me. Instinct kept me fighting and I aimed a kick at his groin. It caught him on the thigh and he barely even noticed. A second later I felt the cold edge of his sword resting on the back of my neck. Then I was shoved roughly away, almost sprawling to the ground in an undignified tangle of limbs, pride wounded.

"You'll never make a Companion." It wasn't even said angrily. Just a mere statement of what he perceived to be fact. There wasn't anything I could say to that. Oddly I felt like crying, like a child getting scolded by a teacher they'd disappointed. He continued on, "I saw you fight in the battle as well as just now, you're weak. Your combat skills are poor and without your little tricks or your Housecarl to watch your back you wouldn't last a second in real fight."
His words struck a chord within me, more than that, they hurt.
"You think I don't know that?!" I snapped, snatching my sword up from the ground and turning back to face him, "Why else do you think I'm here?"
"To save yourself some money from our services in battle?"
"Vilkas-" His twin interjected from the side-lines, a warning note to his voice, but I was already swinging my sword at Vilkas. He barely managed to block my furious blow and I swung again the second I felt the pressure between our blades change, all my anger channelled at him. Again he caught my blade with his. I was just about to make a third swing when he effortlessly deflected my blade towards the ground and stepped back out of range.
"Better." His eyes stared down at me as I stood there, panting and utterly confused.
What the-?
"You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are."
And just when I thought we were getting along.
"You want me to take your sword just up that rock? The one that we are literally standing under? What's the matter-don't your legs work any more?"
The man actually growled at me, stepping in so close that all I could see was his armour and his face leaning over mine, blotting out the weak sun, "I gave you an order. Is that a problem, whelp?"
For a moment, as we glared into each other’s faces, I actually felt like storming out. But I didn't. I'm no quitter. I'll show you. Jaw clenched, I snatched the sword from his hand and stormed up the hill in a huff.

When I returned Vilkas and Lydia had all vanished but the older, bald man called Skjor was waiting for me under the eaves of the porch with Farkas.
"There is one last part to your test, girl."
I bit off a groan. Another test? Really?
"What do you mean?"
"Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad."
Wuuthrad? Was that the broken greataxe over the stairs? Better to keep quiet than to reveal my ignorance.
"He seemed a fool to me but if he's right than the honour of the Companions demand that we seek it out."
"So you want me to retrieve it?"
"This is a simple errand but if you carry yourself with honour on this quest you will be a true Companion." He stared at me for a long moment, assessing me before carrying on, "Farkas will be your shield-brother on this, whelp. Try not to disappoint. Or get yourselves killed."
And on that cheery note he left leaving a smirking Farkas.
Two can play at that game.
I widened my eyes, "So, you're going to be my shield-brother?"
"So I'm told," he replied dryly, reminding me more of his brother, "Let's see if you impress."
"Oh, I'm very impressive."
Pity I'm being sarcastic.

You said this chapter would be kinda boring, but I loved it! I really liked how Vilkas acted a little meanish and how the DB was actually stung by his words. I really love grumpy, meanish Vilkas! I hope you're having as much fun writing this as I'm having reading it A!A! I'm always excited for new updates!

I'm definitely enjoying it and thank you for the feedback! It's a challenge to write something that doesn't stand alone as a one-shot- I have to think about plot and continuity and not as much smexing- but I get to make Igne and Vilkas's relationship develop thanks to your beautiful prompt. :)

Vilkas is a grumpy meanie to write at the moment but underneath it all he's a big softie really...he just needs a trigger to make him realise it ...Muwhahahhahaha-release the plot bunnies of doooooooom!

Totally had too much caffeine

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