CHAPTER ONE : THE WALLS OF WHITERUN

Forever cold. That was how her father had described his homeland of Skyrim to her all throughout her childhood. Cold, bitter, and violent ; she had not been disappointed. Even on the brightest of days, snow was still within walking distance from anywhere in the country. Of course, she had not expected her father to be a liar. Vergil White-Hawk was many things to many different people, but never a liar. There had never been a doubt in her mind that the place would be just as uninviting as she was led to believe. In fact, it was something she had been looking forward to. Growing up in such a cosmopolitan world like Cyrodiil made Caine feel pampered and privileged. While her Imperial upbringing felt very at ease on the safe, boisterous streets, her Nord blood begged for a taste of adventure. Of danger. Her fingers ached at a chance to put her archery skills to the test. All her life, she had felt the need to succeed at some sort of warrior means. Her father's own Daedric greatsword hung over the doorway to her parents' home, but she was much too small to wield such a thing. She might have gotten her relentless spirit, golden eyes, and ruddy tanned skin from her father, but her size and figure were both credited to her mother. An Imperial, she was a woman of grace and fragility, sporting the trademark dark hair of her people. So archery it was. The ability to survive on her own was won over time, and it was simply time that had kept her from striking out on her own and seeking out her roots in Skyrim.

Standing on a small snow-covered knoll, amber gold eyes gazed up at the trading city of Whiterun. It was here that her father had companions, or so she had been told. Pulling her small traveling satchel in front of her, Caine dug through a mountain of odds and ends recovered from her travels, as well as a slew of lockpicks. Had she a mind for it, there was a lucrative career in thievery suited to her talents. A sarcastic grin crept over her pale, chapped lips briefly. Pick pocketing, silence, and lockpicking came easily to her, but it was a risky trade ; one her father would not approve of and her mother would scold her for. However, she had no qualms over stealing from ruffians and looting dungeons. The various little gems in her bag said as much. Pulling the map of Skyrim out of her bag, she unrolled it and compared the drawing of the west side of Whiterun to the actual building. Dragonsreach was at the top and stood out the most. The pictures matched well enough and without another moment, Caine began the trek down the cobbled pathway toward the gate. She was told to seek out a place called Jorrvaskr, a large hall built below the infamous Skyforge. Patting down the black belted tunic and leather vest covering her torso, a small lump stood out to her and she removed it. The small bundled package was a mystery to her, but her father had asked her to give it to someone at Jorrvaskr called Eorlund Gray-Mane.

Tossing the little package up and catching it repeatedly, Caine walked under a few fortified pathways and look out vantages, all winding up a hill towards the main gate. She looked around at the guards, who were mostly ignoring her presence. There were some Khajiit caravans parked outside off to the side, to whom she gave a nod of polite acknowledgment. From her understanding, Skyrim wasn't the most forgiving place for people of non - Nord descent, especially the feline caravaners. They were looked upon with an eye of disdain and untrust. If even just a friendly nod from a traveling stranger was enough to restore their faith in others, the few seconds it took was worth the effort. Continuing up to the main gate, she was suddenly halted by a guard. He stepped forward and blocked her path, sporting an air of puffed - up significance. " Hold right there, stranger, " He said, motioning with his hand for her to remain still. " Official business only. Whiterun is not accepting visitors at this time. "

Raising one eyebrow, she crumbled the map in her hand with slight annoyance. When it was possible, avoiding speech was something she sought after. However, this time around it seemed she'd have to exchange words. " I must speak with Eorlund Gray-Mane, on behalf of Vergil White-Hawk.

" You mean the famed companion White-Hawk? "

The companion? Why is he saying it like that. Perhaps he means companion of Gray-Mane? Caine thought. He said it in such a strange way, she had thought she heard him wrong. Whatever she had heard, it looked as though the name drop was changing his mind. " Sure. "

" Door's always open to Companions, but seein' as how you're not White-Hawk, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline you entrance. Even if you do have a message for Gray-Mane. I can arrange for the message to be sent, if y'like. "

" No, I'm afraid this is a private matter. " Without another word, she strode away and uncrumpled her map. In the small inset, there was a hasty sketch of inside the fortress. Jorrvaskr was scribbled over at the east side, so that was where she headed.

The east wall was situated much taller than the west, and appeared to be situated up higher, probably due to the fact that it was so close to Dragonsreach. Scaling it would only be mildly difficult for the young woman. She might not have had the strength to wield a greatsword or go toe-to-toe with a horde, but she was light and agile. It would be a long way up, but the challenge was well met. Her belt was lined with two different sets of daggers, from which she extracted the pair of straight edge. Given to her by her father, they were Skyforge steel, smithed right over the wall that stood before her. Using the daggers as picks of a sort, she began to scale upwards, seeking out cracks to fit her blades into and using them to leverage herself further up the wall. Being careful of where she placed her feet, it was quickly noted that the walls of Whiterun were very, very, very old. The reinforcement, while sturdy, was very outdated. Was there no such thing as maintenance in Skyrim? Not only that, but the guards walking about the hold didn't do a very detailed perimeter search. In fact, every time she saw one heading her way, all she had to do was remain very still ; much easier said than done when hanging on a vertical wall by sheer will power and what strength she had. Guards never bothered to look directly at the wall itself, just the surrounding ground. Apparently, they had never had someone trying to get in by such a manner. The lack of defense at Whiterun made Caine think that those in charge were ill-suited. At the moment, she could not complain, though. After all, their neglect was aiding her in her ultimate goal.

It did take a bit of time and gumption, but Caine finally set her gloved hands flat on the top of the wall and heaved herself up. Held up by her arms, flatly laying against the top of the wall, her feet still had holds in the large cracks of the outer wall. Allowing herself to catch her breath, she looked about with her thin golden eyes, seeing the back of a large building. From her vantage point, she could see a small back courtyard below her with no one about and noticed that she wasn't really that far from the ground on the other side, suggesting a hill. Most of the wall she had scaled was filled in with earth, it seemed. That, at least, accounted for the lack of maintenance. She maneuvered her daggers back into the belt quickly and carefully, noting that she might ask Gray - Mane for a touch up after the damage done by the climb.

From her quick look about, there weren't any witnesses, however, from where she was at .. There was no way to see every inch of the wall directly below her without giving away her position. If there was someone below and she moved forward to look, she'd be a sitting duck for an arrow straight through skull. Really, did it have to be so difficult to deliver a package? She thought, bitterly. Her father had warned her that Skyrim was a tough place. With a deep breath, Caine hoisted herself up and bounded over the wall, landing on her feet in a crouched position. The shock from the landing rattling her bones a little, especially after the tough climb she had just put them through. When the shaking eased, she stood up and was about to remove her hood and assess her situation when the flat of a large blade caught her in the side of the face. The force was enough to send her spinning. Her arm shot out and caught the wall enough to steady her but her ears were ringing and her eyes felt watered. Suddenly, A gauntleted hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat. Not enough to compress her airway, but with enough strength to lift her off the ground.

" You look like you're up to no good. " Caine heard a rough baritone speak when her ears stopped their incessant ringing. She couldn't see the face of her assailant. One of her hands was clutching at the wrist of the hand gripping her throat while the other reached into her belt and pulled out a blade. There was no intention to use it, as she had pulled it out by the very tip of the hilt. Arms shaking, both from the minimal air and her previous climb, she lifted the dagger up for him to see. On the blade, ' White-Hawk ' was beautifully inscribed. Hopefully her father was as famous in this place as he had boasted about. The hand released and she dropped to the ground like a pile of rocks, ungracefully. " Where did you get that? "

Farkas had seen her coming from miles away. Well, not necessarily seen, but smelled. The strange mixture of Nord and Imperial blood gave off a very muddled, strange scent. Not something one would smell very often in that particular part of Skyrim. However, the scent of a woman was another thing entirely. A naturally floral smell, as opposed to those of the others he lived with day in and day out. A new smell. It was refreshing, especially since most of the women at Jorrvaskr took on the scent of the monsters and men they slew. More strange than the smell itself, but where it was coming from ..

He might have impressive senses due to his wolf blood, but there was no way he could have smelled someone from ground level on the other side of the wall. Leaning casually against the back wall behind Jorrvaskr, he had just wandered outside to get some air. Farkas would be embarking out to the North to take care of a small group of bandits soon. Until then, he wanted to enjoy the marketplace sounds drifting up to him from the square. When he caught the scent, at first he was bewildered. It didn't take long to hear her coming though. The subtle clink of steel against rock was amplified by ten to his sensitive werewolf hearing. Someone, or some woman, was climbing the wall. He might have felt intruded upon if he wasn't so damned impressed !

Finally, the lithe figure threw herself down over the wall. It was probably higher up than she had expected, which caused her to stagger a bit. When she finally stood full up, well .. That was when he decided to introduce himself.

The woman moved back up to her feet slowly, choking out a response. " F - Fath..er. " Placing her hand back on the stone wall for support, Caine gathered herself and regained her bearing. " They belonged to my father, Vergil White-Hawk. "

The man began to circle her carefully, forcing her to step away from the stone wall. While he did so, she looked about the area ( her initial intention before she was .. interrupted ). There was a large building with some old tables and benches and two large oaken doors. It was quite a beautiful building, if she was anyone to judge. The man stopped circling her, though when he was behind her, he did get painfully close. She could hear a faint sniffing sound and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. " Okay, " He said with slight amusement. " I'll admit, you smell like he used to. And you have his eyes. "

" You knew my father? "

" I was young. He left when I was about nine, but I did. "

While a bit skeptical, Caine turned a critical eye on him. He was much taller than she was, by a head at least, and very broad. A large man covered in heavy, old armor, he was also covered in scars. He had shoulder - length hair, jet black, and pale ice blue eyes ; lighter than she had ever seen. For a moment, she felt captured in those light eyes, if only because they were surrounded by black war paint, like a cloud of darkness. Two lost shards of ice shrouded in the night. Tearing away from his eyes, which regarded her with more amusement than before, she looked down at the ground. " What do they call you. " It wasn't so much a question as a statement. Her voice was very flat, as bell-like and fragile as it was.

" Farkas. "

" Where can I find Eorlund Gray-Mane, Farkas. "

" It's a little rude not to introduce yourself, isn't it, Lass? "

" I'd .. Rather not, " Caine replied with a look of disdain.

" You still mad about the throat thing? What exactly did you expect? " A chuckle rose in his throat as he spoke. Caine felt her face turn slightly pink, but she hoped that her ruddy, tanned skin would hide it. To Farkas, it didn't, but there was no need to tell her that. Already, he got the feeling she wasn't the joking type.

" Caine. "

" Well, Caine, he's above. At Skyforge. Just follow the steps. " He swept an arm towards the right and watched as she skulked off in that direction. His finely tuned eyesight had managed to analyze every detail of her face within the span of their conversation. She was very plain, aside from those golden eyes. Though, plain with a fiery Nord spirit. Although he could snap her like a twig, she had stood up to him well enough. He raised an eyebrow in interest as he continued to watch. The sway of any woman's hips always managed to catch his attention. With one last chuckle and shake of his head, he turned towards Jorrvaskr and was off to tell Vilkas and Aela of his encounter.

Hello everyone ! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you all enjoy the revamp of this old story of mine. Only a few things have changed from the original, but I hope to be able to keep up with a weekly timeline I have set up for myself. In any case, please read and review !