This entry comes from 1DaughterOfGod, who sent in two different short stories for my contest. Hope you all enjoy!

-------

Ylva

His greatsword comes down in all its fury. It's a good thing two-handed weapons are slow. Otherwise, it would have shattered my sword.

Rolling to the side, I dodged the blow just as it came down upon the space where I was standing. His right side open from the attack, I jab my blade; it glanced off his armor. Stepping back I try to reassess his skills, looking for any weak spots.

There! Every time he blocks, he rolls his right shoulder back. I feint right as he tries to block; he juts his left shoulder forward. I take advantage of that and slice my blade through the air.

The blade goes farther than I meant it to. It goes through the chain mail and into the flesh. He cries out in pain and drops his weapon.

I sheathe my trusty sword while he examines the wound. He bandages it, not looking at me the entire time. When he does, I can't tell if it's rage or admiration. Perhaps both.

After several ministers of silent assessment, I'm the first one to speak.

"Well met, Sir." I extend my hand out in peace. He stares at it and ignores it.

"It's not 'sir,' it's Vilkas. You may have gotten a lucky strike against me, but you're a whelp."

Sore loser much?

"Of course, Vilkas. I only meant it was a good match," I reply, trying to keep my temper in check.

"Hmph, of course it was, you were against me." Okay, wow! Sore loser and arrogant. He's getting more charming by the minute. "Now take my sword up to Eorlund to be sharpened. Be careful, it's probably worth more than you." He tosses the sword up, my reflexes grab it before I can think. He turns around as if I'm going to perform this task.

How dare he!

"No."

He stops dead in his tracks. Without turning around, he looks over his shoulder. "What did you say to me, whelp?" His voice is so cold, it would've made an ice wraith shiver.

Gritting my teeth, I shove the sword into his hands, releasing my anger. "I'm not your slave to push around and sent to do demeaning tasks that you can do yourself, were you not so 'busy' ordering everyone else around."

After that, I walk past him into Jorrvaskr.

Okay, not the best first impression.

-------

Vilkas

How dare she! How dare that insubordinate, little whelp! The beast turns with rage inside me. I should go straight to Kodlak and demand that she be denied access to our ranks.

Bursting into Jorrvaskr, all conversation stops as everyone looks at me. Looks like word of my humiliation got around. I snort. If nothing else, they're gossiping girls looking for anything to talk about.

Farkas trots over to me, obviously oblivious to what just occurred. As always. Not wanting to talk, I walk briskly past him, not giving a backwards glance.

Opening the door to my room, I shed my armor and change into casual clothes. I change and apply ointment on the bandage on my shoulder wound. The cut is bleeding, quickly soaking the virgin bandage with red. I have to give her credit, though, she got me good.

I settle down into the chair next to my bookcase, wincing as I bump my hurt shoulder against the arm of the chair. Opening my current book, I try to ignore my thoughts of her. The beast shifts restlessly deep within. Not being able to focus, I surrender my mind palace. Soon falling asleep... thinking of her.