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The Silver Hand Revised - The Silver Hand vs The White Wolf

Summary:

Finally, Jon had done it. He'd been accepted into the ranks of the Circle. It has been two years of strife and struggle, but he'd finally proven his worth. And now, he walked with Skjor to the underforge, he was barely keeping his giddiness under control. Much to his mentor's amusement, Ghost had no such reservations and gleefully bounded around them, the docile dog-like behaviour being a very stark contrast to his enormous bulk. If only Jon knew what lay ahead of him.

Notes:

Anyway Huge shout out to Ghost for making my ramblings legible. Please leave a review containing what you liked or disliked about this.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Jon Whitestark smiled as he collapsed into bed. What a day it had been. But he'd finally done it. It had been a long and gruelling journey, but he'd finally earned his chosen name. His loyal companion and friend, Ghost, huffed from beside the bed and caused his smile to widen. "Oh, hush, you great lummox," Jon teased, "we both know who gets fed better with Tilma around," his Direwolf huffed again and turned away, much to Jon's laughter.

However, as he lay, dressed only in a thin set of silken braies, the day began to catch up to him, and soon, he drifted off to sleep and memories.


[Flashback Start]

Lady Catelyn was glaring at him again, eyes full of bitterness and poison, wanting him gone. He did his best to ignore it, to let it roll off his shoulders, but something was different about this glare. Her gaze was far harsher than usual and much more open. Then he caught some movement from the corner of his eye. And he suddenly understood her harshness. A shudder ran up his spine as he saw the man who'd stood beside her; Lord Roose Bolton.

He had heard the whispers, of course. "What if he's Brandon's?" they'd ask. "What if he's the rightful heir?" and, of course, "Are we sure Lord Eddard's children are Starks?" The last one was the most painful. For it always carried a hint of him usurping his brother's birthright. And worse, they'd grown upon seeing him with a White Direwolf pup, with eyes as red as the sap that trickled down the heart trees.

He knew Lady Catelyn heard these whispers as well. And he strongly suspected that their increased presence was the will of the Leech Lord at play. He remembered well his family's history with the Boltons, of how the Starks of old brought them to heel with power and gave them their enemies to interrogate. And how that practice stopped when Aegon the Tyrant forced Noble King Torrhen to Bend the Knee.

"Ah, Jon Snow, a pleasure," a soft voice interrupted his musing. Jon nearly snarled at the way his name was emphasized.

"My Lord Bolton," Jon bowed as he spoke, trying to hide his discomfort.

"You may rise, young Snow," doing as bid, Jon placed both hands behind his back so that his clenched fists would not be visible. "You are probably wondering why I approached you, aren't you, Snow?"

"Yes, My Lord, I am," Jon spoke barely, keeping his anger in check.

A chuckle left Bolton's lips, "you are better than most boys your age, but your wrath is easy to spot young Snow," he chuckled again, "but that is why I am here." He locked eyes with Jon, "I want to help you, Son of Brandon," a thrill shot through Jon's body at the name.

"What Lord Stark had done is a tragedy," the Leech Lord said, his voice almost ringing as sincere, "naming you a bastard and stripping you of your birthright," he shook his head. "And for what? So that his own Southron Children can rule Winterfell?" Rage bubbled under Jon's skin, stoked by the Leech Lord's words.

"With respect, my Lord, Eddard Stark is my father," Jon growled.

"Is he?" came Roose's patronizing question. Barely, Jon managed to tamp down his anger. It wouldn't do to attack Bolton. Not when he was under guest rights. "Do you not greatly resemble Lord Brandon, Old Gods rest his soul, in both appearance and fighting style?" Jon felt his knuckles pop from how tightly his fists had clenched.

"Tis truly a shame that you are not the heir, for all can see; you are strong, brave, & noble. Winterfell would be blessed to have you as her master," he spoke loudly, attracting the servants' attention. Who were looking, pointing, and whispering. "Ah, forgive me, young Snow, I forget myself." Jon almost snapped, but the glare from Lady Catelyn halted his anger.

And then, Bolton leaned forward ever so slightly and, stage whispered, "know this, heir of Brandon," Jon felt the eyes of the servants on him, "you shall always have an ally in House Bolton." That's when his blood ran cold. And he knew, from the looks of the servants, his father, and Lady Catelyn, that he had been trapped. "A good evening to you, young Snow," the Leech Lord said before striding off, leaving behind a stunned Jon.

Panicked, Jon barely managed to slip out of the feast. With trembling legs, he ran toward his room. There, Jon began quickly packing his things. He would not be Bolton's tool. He refused it!

Ghost, his loyal friend, trotted up to his bed, carrying a quill. "Thank you, Ghost," Jon said as he took the quill and began to write a letter explaining why he was leaving.

During the hour of the wolf, Jon and Ghost rode out. Heading toward White Harbour, with plans of leaving Westeros. For good, he did not know. But, for the moment, he could not stay. Not when Roose Bolton could use his bastardy against his family.

[Flashback End]

Awakening to Ghost's snout nudging him, Jon groaned. "Westeros, huh?" Ghost shoved his head into Jon's lap, getting his attention. "Heh, you dreamed of Winterfell, too, huh?" Gently, he stroked his wolf's head as they sat silently for a moment.

"Jon, you awake? It's time for morning training." Vilkas said, popping his head into the room Jon had been giving upon being elevated to a full member of the Companions.

"I'll be out in a moment, Vilkas. Just let me get dressed," Jon said, silently sending Ghost to Vilkas.

"I'll ask Tilda to leave you some Jerky and porridge then," the older male said, "C'mon Ghost, I'm sure she's got some rabbit or goose left," he said, patting Ghost's head as the two made their way to the stairs.

Closing the door, Jon turned, facing the armor stand in his room. On it was the fabled Wolf Armor of the Companions. For a moment, Jon merely stood, admiring the armor. The symbol of all of his hard work and training. Then, with a shake of his head, he quickly began putting it on. The wolf-themed armor, painted white to match Ghost, fit him like a glove. "Truly, Eorlund is a master smith," he muttered as he admired the craftsmanship of the armor.

Strapping his Wolf Bastard Sword to his waist and placing his Wolf Shield on his back, he headed upstairs for a modest but hearty breakfast. "Ah, Jon," came the voice of Skjor, "I need a quick word before training," he said. Nodding his head, Jon grabbed two goblets of water and walked over to the corner Skjor had taken, "Ah, thank you," he said as Jon handed him the other goblet.

Draining a mouthful, Jon swallowed before asking, "What's this about, Skjor?"

"First, I am proud of you, Jon," he declared, catching Jon off guard. "I know I don't always show it, that I'm not the best at showing it, but I am proud of you." Sipping his water, Skjor momentarily closed his eyes, considered his words, and then spoke again, "you've grown so much in just three years, and you're still growing. You've truly taken my lessons to heart and mastered them." He paused once more.

"Let none convince you that your skills, position, and prowess are unearned. You wear that armor, wield that sword, and use that shield because you worked. You toiled, and you struggled until you became worthy of them. Always remember that." He declared, and Jon nodded, unable to say anything.

"For the main reason I called you over, I have something planned this time. But it's not for everyone to hear. Meet me in the Underforge tonight. We will speak more."

"Of course, Skjor. But I've never heard of this Underforge. Where is it?"

Skjor chuckled, "I forget you've never seen it. Beneath the Skyforge, where Eorlund works. The door is hidden, but I will show you the way." Jon nodded, and Skjor finished his goblet, "now, off with you. Before Tilda seeks your beast on me," he joked, dismissing a laughing Jon.

Quickly, Jon made his way to the table, where a plate of lukewarm jerky and porridge waited for him. A meal he finished at a reasonable pace before journeying outside to watch the other Companions train. Soon enough, Jon was ready for training.

Taking his shield from his back and drawing a dulled training sword, Jon took up his position in front of Athis, Njada, & Ria. Last week, just before Jon recovered the shard of Wuuthrad, Skjor had decided that two opponents were too easy for Jon and had added another foe. "BEGIN!" Skjor shouted. Checking Njada with his shield, Jon turned and blocked Ria's strike with his sword. Disarming her, he kicked her down and turned, barely avoiding a cut from Athis. The Dark Elf showed off his speed by forcing Jon back several steps, cutting Jon multiple times. Eventually, Jon managed to roll away from a slash and retaliate. But, Athis was gone before Jon's sword could reach him.

"JON! SHIELD ARM UP! DO YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDERS!" Skjor boomed as Jon finally remembered his shield. Barely, Jon got his shield between him and Athis' Shortsword. Seeing Ria move in with her longsword, Jon acted.

Batting Athis' sword away with his shield, he kicked the Dark Elf in the stomach and spun, his blade hitting Ria's. And while she was stunned, he drove his shield-covered fist into her chest, knocking her to the ground. Sensing movement behind him, Jon all but jumped forward. Pivoting, Jon slashed at Njada, who ducked and thrust her blade at his chest. A back step allowed Jon to catch it on his shield. From there, he knocked it away and slammed his pommel into her face, knocking her out. As Njada went down, Jon placed his blade behind him, stopping a swing from Ria.

Tilting his blade, Jon allowed Ria to fall to her momentum, freeing his sword just in time to lock blades with Athis. "Oh fuck-" Jon smirked as he forced the elf to his knees before booting him in the chest. Spinning, Jon clashed his blade against Ria's and, using his hand guard, knocked her blade down. A pommel smash later, and Ria joined Njada on the ground. Athis drew a dagger and lunged at Jon, forcing him on the defensive.

The Dark Elf was a hurricane, not letting Jon do anything but block.Eventually, Jon smashed his shield into Athis, staggering the elf and allowing Jon to back-step. With the new distance, Jon curled behind his shield and charged, ramming into the Dark Elf and finally knocking him out.

"Better, but still: Jon! You have your shield for a reason! Use it." Skjor boomed, "You did well using it to land hard hits and charges. Next time, you will fight with only your shield, for like Farkas, you have the strength to use it as a weapon."

Nodding his head, Jon placed his shield onto his back and drew a weighted sword from a nearby rack. Over the next hour, Jon swung the blade at a straw dummy, honing his stamina and strength. Pausing to grab a drink, he was interrupted by Ria. "Jon!" The Stark turned to face the brunette, "Some Tundra Spiders have been harassing Pelagia Farm. You want in?"

"Sure, why not?" Jon shrugged, finishing his goblet and mentally calling Ghost.


The duo had barely made it past the stables when a loud shriek got their attention. "That was Nimriel!" Ria exclaimed. Sharing a look with Jon, they both burst into a sprint, Ghost charging ahead. Drawing his sword and shield, Jon suddenly upped his pace.

Long legs lent themselves to a quick run, allowing Jon to tackle a Spider that had jumped at Nimriel. From the corner of his eye, Jon could see Ghost atop one of the Spiders, the largest of three by his count, and tearing at its abdomen.

Seeing the other two Spiders hiss and click menacingly at him, Jon shifted his stance so that he was between them and Nimriel, shield raised defensively. The smaller Spider, roughly the size of a large dog, suddenly leaped at him, to which Jon smashed his shield into its underside with all his might. A move that allowed him to take the larger ones, roughly the size of a horse, charge on his shield.

Weaving his head to dodge the large forelegs, Jon grunted as he was pushed back by the massive creature's tackle. Growling, Jon reached for his bond with Ghost. His eyes flared red, and with a burst of strength from Ghost, he threw the massive Spider back. Lightning fast, he turned and cut the dog-sized Spider in half.

Hearing a meaty thud and seeing Ghost rising from the ground, Jon turned and leaped at the biggest of the Spiders, this one around the size of a wagon. "RIA! DEFEND NIMRIEL!" He ordered as he joined his Direwolf in the battle against the massive Spider. Ghost nimbly dodged away from one of its forelegs, allowing Jon to slash it clean off.

The massive creature lunged at Jon, letting out a shriek. Hoisting his shield up, Jon blocked the poison-coated fangs of the Spider. "GHOST!" His massive Direwolf tackled the Spider again, knocking it over and allowing Jon to slash off another limb. Shrieking again, the Spider launched a web from its spinneret, which it used to escape Jon's sword. Seeing it rear up, Jon and Ghost dodged away, letting it spit poison at them.

"On my way-" Ria's words were cut off by a shriek as the poison impacted her.

"RIA!" Seeing one of his shield-siblings lain out caused something to snap inside him. A rage he'd only ever felt for brief moments flooded out. Before he knew it, he was sprinting toward the Spider. The monster took exception to his charge and lunged for him. Jon pivoted and slammed his shield into the Spider hard enough to launch it over the wall. Struggling to support its weight, the Spider hissed as it slowly backed away, Jon taking aggressive steps to ensure it left.

Turning, Jon sprinted as he placed his shield on his back and sheathed his blade. In a single motion, Jon slid on his knees to scoop Ria up before he got back to his feet and raced toward Whiterun. "WE WILL SEND SOMEONE DOWN TO COLLECT PAYMENT LATER!" He called over his shoulder as he ran.

Thankfully, the Guards had seen Ghost hurry toward them, so the gate was already opened when Jon arrived. Calling thanks over his shoulder, he set his sights on the temple of Kynareth. Ghost smashed into the doors, opening them and allowing Jon to burst into the temple.

Danica Pure-Spring surged to her feet upon hearing the screams of Ria. "Place her down right here," she directed Jon to a clean bed for the injured Imperial. "Please restrain her," the priestess instructed as her hands began to glow with golden light. The light began to build in intensity until the room was coated in a blinding gold glow. And when it died down, Ria was sleeping peacefully. Jon slumped in relief, Tundra Spiders weren't as venomous as Frostbites, but they were still among the most dangerous creatures in Skyrim.

"She is fine now, Companion. In dire need of rest, but fine," Dancia said, idly petting Ghost's head.


Good mood gone from the incident, Jon returned to the training ground, brutally hacking away at the straw dummies. "Ah, there you are, Jon," came Skjor's voice. Jon turned in time to see the aged warrior approach. "Come, walk with me," he said, beckoning Jon. Placing his weighted training blade back onto the rack, Jon turned and began to follow, Ghost bounding up to both men.

For a moment, Jon walked in silence. "Is it time?" Jon asked, a note of excitement entering his voice as he remembered Skjor's words from earlier.

The older male chuckled, "yes, are you ready?"

"I'm ready for whatever test is next." Jon declared, beating a fist against his chest.

"This is no test, new blood," Skjor said, "this is a gift. We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood. Now let's move." As they walked, Jon was scarcely able to keep his giddiness under control. Much to his mentor's amusement, Ghost had no such reservations and gleefully bounded around them, the docile dog-like behavior contrasting starkly with his enormous bulk.

Eventually, the duo reached an odd-looking wall beneath the Skyforge. Jon's eyes widened as he saw Skjor push against the wall, causing it to open and reveal a passageway. "I'm glad you came. It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. That pitiful ceremony at the hall does not befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting." Skjor spoke as they descended into a darkened room.

Hearing a low growling, Jon's hand reached for his blade. Quickly drawing it upon seeing a massive wolf-like creature standing over a stone basin. Only Ghost bounding up to the auburn-furred, bipedal wolf and nuzzled his head into its side stayed his hand. "AELA!" He yelped upon seeing her grey eyes.

Skjor chuckled, "I hope you recognize Aela, even in this form." He said, eyes alight with amusement. Which grew as Jon sputtered for a moment.

Soon enough, he sobered and said, "she's agreed to be your forebear. We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed. But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? So we take matters into our own hands. To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join us in the shared blood of the wolf."

"Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, friend?"

Jon felt his mouth hang open, his mind struggling to process everything he had learned. Yet, he could feel the power Aela radiated, both through his own senses and those of Ghost. He could 'see' Aela shining like the moon, a massive wolf howling above her.

Something deep within him awoke as he stared at the red-furred beast. Something primal and filled with wants. Something that yearned for power, for glory, for strength. The yearning was made all the more intense by what happened to Ria earlier.

And remembering that reminded Jon of all the times he'd wanted power. His mind drifted through memories, all the times he'd lost to Robb or Theon, throwing the bout to ensure they looked better. All the times he'd been beaten by Skjor or Kodlak. All the near deaths at the hands of bandits, spiders, trolls, and bears. All of it came rushing to the forefront of his mind. And with those memories came the ever-growing desire for power.

"If you need time, Jon, you may take it - you need only meet us when you are ready," Skjor said gently, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, and for the first time, Jon sensed the wolf beneath Skjor's skin. It froze him, the power Skjor commanded, even in his human form. For half a heartbeat, Jon looked upon a yellow-eyed, brown-furred mountain of a wolf.

The yearning increased, and Jon found his mind slipping back to his childhood, with Old Nan's tales of Skinstriders and changers, the men and women who could walk as beasts. Jon knew that he could slip into Ghost, that he could summon his wolf's strength when he needed it, and that Ghost would respond to his thoughts. Turning, Jon locked eyes with Ghost, looking for help.

Looking into the ruby-red eyes of his friend, Jon came to a decision. "No need, I'm ready," he declared.

"Very well," Skjor drew a Skyforged Steel Dagger and moved toward Aela. The she-wolf held her left arm above the basin and allowed Skjor to slash her wrist open. Jon grimaced at the smell of blood but waited for the bowl to be filled. Soon, Aela's arm healed, and she withdrew it. Allowing Skjor to step aside and hand Jon a goblet.

Grimacing at the implication, Jon still stepped up to the basin and filled his goblet with blood. Taking a moment to steel himself, Jon knocked back the gauntlet and felt the world fade to black.


As Jon regained his senses, he felt disconnected. His body was moving, but not by his will. And though he enjoyed the rush of wind flying past his face, it was still concerning. Eventually, he stopped, feeling a great thirst. A few sniffs of the air told Jon that a river was nearby, and he quickly raced over to get a drink.

Without pausing, Jon placed his snout into the water and began drinking, lapping the water up in huge mouthfuls. And when he first saw his reflection, he merely dismissed it as a Wolf Dream. Only when he stood and saw the rest of his body did he realize that he was not in Ghost's body. The memories of the Underforge and the ritual returned.

Power surged within him as he reared back and howled toward the moons. And as Jon lowered his head, he caught a scent he knew. "spiDeRRRr!" he growled out, slowly turning till he faced the direction the smell was coming from. With a building growl, Jon took off, calling Ghost to his side by reflex.

His Direwolf, once the size of a young horse, was now the size of a cave bear. And though he was not vocal, Jon could sense the same anger in Ghost. A savage feeling filled him, one that grew as they got closer and closer to the cave.

Soon, Jon picked up the hissing breath of the Tundra Spider and howled. A feral delight filled Jon as he noted the Spider fleeing, scared of its doom. Ghost sped ahead, a white blur that darted in front of the fleeing Spider. Then, his Direwolf let a silent shockwave escape his maw, blasting the Spider into Jon's claws.

Before the Spider could recover, Jon backhanded it, sending the creature flying. He growled as the Spider managed to land on the wall and start climbing. His growl turned to a beastial chuckle when Ghost managed to dive between its legs and rip two of them off. The Spider angrily hissed as it fell, landing painfully on its back.

Something hot and wet landed on Jon's chest, causing him to howl in anger as it burned through his hide. The Spider managed to rise, only for Jon to leap to the ceiling and, using his great strength, hurl himself onto its back. Green blood pooled on the ground as Jon stood back triumphantly.

As he basked in his kill, his ears perked up as he heard a howl. Aela's howl. She was calling him. Turning to Ghost, both wolves set out, racing north.


Aela was still a wolf when they arrived. A low, pleased growl left her maw at the sight of a massive boar Ghost carried, her stomach rumbling loudly as the duo approached. She greeted them, nuzzling Ghost warmly, almost purring in delight. She beckoned Jon down and nuzzled her maw against his when he lowered himself. It startled him to realize that he was taller than Aela. And much bulkier at that.

Seeing his gaze, Aela pointedly looked to Ghost, and Jon understood. Aela's form was that of a Wolf. His was that of a Direwolf. Still, the boar's smell wafted into his nose and reminded him of his meal. Between the three of them, the boar was swiftly torn apart and devoured, the taste of blood causing Jon to almost howl in joy.

As his hunger dimmed, Jon became aware of a new scent. Skjor. Suddenly, the world turned monochrome, save for a bright orange-yellow wolf that stalked further north. Aela growled, and together they ran after the figure, arriving at a small fort.

Aela led him into a groove of trees, where she shifted back. A groan left her lips that caused Jon to growl, eyes narrowing in desire. Aela chuckled, looking over her shoulder, "Not now, pup. We have work to do." Quickly, she went behind a tree and began instructing Jon, "To change back, you need to focus on the man."

Jon growled. He liked being a wolf. "I know, pup, I know," she laughed, "but remember Skjor's lessons - power means nothing with discipline and control," she lightly reprimanded, "now, focus on the man and let him surface once more."

Growling, Jon struggled for a moment before stilling. With a controlled breath, his body began to shrink. It was an unpleasant sensation: feeling his maw, arms, and legs return to what they were. And when Jon Whitestark stood as a man once more, he felt confined. Limited. "Don't worry, pup, that will fade in a few moments," Aela's voice called, "now unless you plan to fight like that, I'd suggest you go get dressed," she said, tossing him a bag of armor, his armor.

Swiftly, he dressed. Ghost dutifully watching for any threats that may come. "Where are we going?" Jon asked, sliding his blade into its sheath.

"The Silver Hand have taken over the old fort at Gallows Rock. They always make such easy prey." She said with a feral smile.

The trio began making their way toward the old fort, Aela leaping higher than Jon had ever seen her do. And once settled in a tree, she drew her bow and aimed. Sharing a look with Ghost, Jon drew his sword and shield. The limiting feeling from before beginning to lessen with each second.

With a new energy surging within, Jon stalked toward the entrance, "That's close enough!" a female voice shouted. Jon noticed her armor first, a full plate set with a chainmail hauberk underneath. "I'm warning you. Back off!" she growled, drawing a gleaming silver greatsword.

A sudden tension shot through his body at the sight of the hulking blade. Something the woman noticed, "LYCAN!" She boomed, causing several more Silver Hand to flood out. A growl rose in Jon's throat at the sight of so many silver weapons. He heard a distant twang, and the woman from before fell, an arrow jutting from her eye.

Guided by instinct, Jon sucked in a deep breath and howled like a wolf. And just like the spider, the Silver Hand members suddenly fled, all letting out shouts and cries of terror. A low growl left Jon's lips as a red haze enveloped his sight. With a roar, he shot forward and slammed his shield into a more lightly armored Silver Hand.

The force of the blow crumpled the armor and launched the terrified man into a wall. He was dead before he hit the ground. A feral smile crossed Jon's lips as he brought his sword down on another, more heavily armored Silver Hand. The combination of Skyforge Steel and his new strength meant his blade bisected the man. "GET AWAY!" Screamed a Silver Hand as he swung at Jon.

Weaving away from the hammer swing, Jon pivoted and kicked the man. Crushing his chest and hurling him away. Hearing a whistle, Jon tilted his head and watched a silver-tipped arrow fly past him. Jon smirked at the archer, who flinched back but nocked another arrow.

Spinning in place, Jon crouched low, dodging the second arrow. Smirk still in place, Jon sprung up and landed in front of the Silver Hand Archer. A Bosmer, who scrambled back. Sadly for him, Jon was faster. The Wolf Sword cleaved him twain, and Jon was in motion, slashing a volley of arrows out of the air as he sprinted toward the rest of the archers.

"Die, damn you!" One of them screamed, fear and adrenaline causing her to get sloppy. Jon effortlessly wove between the arrows, catching the last one and hurling it like a spear into the archer's body, causing her to crumple like a puppet with the strings cut. Basking in his kill, Jon heard a whistle and spun backward, blocking the incoming arrow with his shield.

"Was that necessary, Aela?" He asked, sheathing his blade and pulling the arrow from his shield.

"It snapped you out of your arrogance, didn't it?" Jon flushed slightly at her words, "relax, little pup, even Kodlak acted like this when he first got the Great Hunter's blessing," Aela said, an easy smile on her face. Then, she sobered, "still, have you gotten it out of your system?" Jon nodded, breathing deeply to center himself. "Good, be on your guard. Their best warriors will likely be inside waiting for us," Aela grunted, switching her bow for a wolf sword and shield.

Opening the door, Jon froze. "Do... do you smell-"

"Blood," Aela growled, "blood from our Kin," Jon felt sick. He also felt furious. His armor suddenly felt tighter, his sword shorter, and his shield smaller. "Remember Skjor's lessons," Aela growled, looking far more beastial than she did a moment ago. Jon growled but reined in the anger. He still took point, stalking into the building with his shield raised.

His rage grew as the room he entered was blocked by a spear door, one connected to a chain on a stone pillar. Yanking the chain down, Jon nearly ran down the stairs.

As he rounded a corner, Jon barely dodged the Silversword that surged toward him. A pained howl left his lips as the blade nicked his cheek, steam emerging from the wound. Snarling, Jon looked at his foe, a towering brute of an Orc. "No one bests an Orc!" he boasted, swinging his blade again. With a roar, Jon thrust his shield into the blade's path, the collision causing the Orc to stagger. Without pause, Jon swung and cleaved the Orc's sword arm from his body. The Orc howled as he fell to his knees, allowing Jon to thrust his sword into his chest. Snarling, Jon kicked the Orc's body off his blade as he sensed another foe.

An Imperial, armed with a bow, nocked an arrow and fired. The projectile flew toward Jon's head. "I'll mount your head on my wall!" She screamed. Curling behind his shield, Jon advanced, calmly blocking each shot. She grew more and more frantic as Jon got closer. And when he was close enough, a single sword swing caused the Imperial's head to roll across the floor.


As Aela and Jon proceeded through the fort, they discovered the remains of the Silver Hand's hunts, some of which had been chained and tortured. While the heads of several werecreatures: wolves, bears, lions, and even a werevulture adorned the walls. And each one caused Jon to grow increasingly enraged. Something he took out on the members of the fort.

Eventually, they reached the last room, and dread pooled in Jon's stomach. "Aela-"

"I smell it too," the Huntress said, "Skjor's here." She declared grimly. Steeling herself, she nodded at the door. A single kick from Jon nearly destroyed the door and blasted a hail of splinters into the room.

"Ah! Welcome, welcome," a pleasant voice said, "you're just in time!" a woman stepped, strutted, from the shadows. She was clad in a foul-smelling armor of bone and hide. Jon felt his body stiffen as he stared, an instinct warning him of the danger he was now in. From the corner of his eye, Jon spotted Aela growing more agitated.

"Oh! OH! Your nose is sharp!" She grinned beneath her snarling wolf helm, hungry eyes locking onto Jon and leaving him almost painfully tense. "Do you like it?" The woman twirled as if showing off a dress, "It's made from the bones of a weremammoth and the hide of a Werecrocodile. It's also very cozy~," she giggled, drawing a brown blade from her hip. "OH! IS THAT A DIREWOLF!?!" The sudden increase in noise had Jon struggling not to curl behind his shield, afraid of what would happen if he took his eyes off of her. "His fur looks so soft, I want to wear it~," Jon was used to feeling powerless. To feeling exposed. Jon was not used to feeling like a rabbit before Ghost, however. And that is how he felt under the woman's eyes. Ghost's ears flattened, which put Jon even more on edge. Few things could intimidate a Direwolf and fewer that could actually scare Ghost. 

"Oh, where are my manners? I am Krev Lycanslayer!" Alea growled while Jon barely suppressed a whimper. "Oh, I do hope you change. I know you'd both look gorgeous." She sighed, "I haven't gotten a new pelt in so long. You all refuse to change, to show me your real selves." A startlingly cute pout crosses her face, "why look like a boring man when you can take on the image of a powerful beast?!? And why not warm my walls forever?!?" And that was the final straw for Aela.

"YOU BASTARDS!" Aela roared, almost transforming into the wolf. Jon was startled until he noticed a body on the floor.

"Oh! Was he your packmate?" Aela screeched and lunged at the other woman, leaving Jon to deal with two archers and a swordsman. All of whom were well-trained and coordinated, as the swordsman would strike at Jon's sword and then roll away as the two archers fired at him.

"Ghost, deal with the Swordsman!" Jon ordered, charging at the archers while Ghost tackled the bulky knight. Hearing a scream cut short, Jon mentally urged Ghost to help Aela.

A red haze enveloped him, allowing Jon to lunge and thrust his blade into one of the archers, killing him instantly. Hearing the whistle of an arrow mid-flight, Jon leaned his head to the left. And though he dodged the worst of it, he was still cut for his efforts.

Pivoting, Jon hurled his sword at the second archer. The force of the throw carried the archer to the wall behind him, pinning his body. That's when he got a good look at Skjor's body.

Bile rose in his throat as he quickly turned away, not wanting to look at the skinless corpse. "I see you spotted my work on the boring one," Krev purred, knocking Aela down, "even his wolf was boring - urg, so brown, so dull," A kick with far too much power to be human sent Aela sailing into Jon's waiting arms. "Honestly, the world's better off without such boring wolves," Krev declared.

Something in Jon snapped at those words, and a wolf howled in his ears. "Oh! Oh! OH! You're changing! YOU'RE CHANGING!" Krev seemed to tremble in excitement as Jon's body began to morph. "Wait... Why are you not getting bigger?" came the confused voice of Krev as Jon's jaw lengthened. "No. No! NO! You're not meant to be a Lord!" Krev hoisted her Lycan Bone Blade and charged Jon.

Growling, Jon caught her blade in a vice grip. Ripping it from her grasp, Jon crushed the sword before backhanding the Silver Hand leader across the room. A howl left his lips, causing Ghost to howl back. A glance showed Aela transforming, a startled look on her face. Krev groaned as she barely stood up. Her once pristine armor was now cracked and broken.

"The world," Jon growled, "Would be better off without monsters like you, Krev," to which the woman laughed.

"Isn't it ironic, a Werewolf Lord, one of Hircine's Chosen, calling me a monster?" she giggled, "You're powerful for a newborn, but tell me, You're grace! How do Werewolves grow in power?" Aela let out a strangled whimper as Jon growled in confusion, causing Krev to double over from laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Didn't they tell you about your diet?" She laughed for around a minute before finally calming down. "Lycans grew stronger by eating the hearts of their kills!"

Jon's head snapped to Aela, who couldn't meet his gaze, confirming Krev's words. Revulsion warred with hunger. Still, Jon had chosen this. "Then yours shall be my first meal!" He declared before lunging, catching the deranged woman off guard, and tearing her heart out. Krev weakly clawed at his arm before she breathed her last and fell limp in his grip.

A moment later, Jon had reverted to his human form, blood dripping from his mouth. Grimacing, he went to Krev's basin and quickly washed his face. Looking into the mirror Krev had placed above the bowl, Jon felt conflicted. He could still taste his last meal, though it was much duller in his human form, and a part of him was concerned by just how easily he'd accepted his new diet. But he could also feel his body thrumming with power and energy.

Ghost padded up to him and nudged Jon's hand in concern, sensing his distress through their bond. "I'm fine, Ghost," he grunted, drying his hands before patting his friend on the head, "I'm fine." Turning his head, he saw Aela, a human once more, morning Skjor.

"The bastards," she growled, "somehow they managed to kill Skjor. He was one of our strongest, but numbers can overwhelm even the best of us. He should not have come without a Shield-Brother." Behind her rage, Jon could see Aela struggling to hold back her tears.

"Leave me, pup. I've stained your hands enough tonight." Aela began, her voice far softer than Jon had ever heard it. Then, it hardened, "I'm going to make sure we got the last of them and see if there's any information to be gotten from the bodies. You and I have work to do. The Silver Hand will tremble at our sight." Jon nodded, feeling the wolf inside growl in approval. The Silver Hand didn't know what they'd just unleashed.

Notes:

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