This was a story requested by Liz_Danly, and I very much enjoyed writing this. It was interesting to shift gears and write about a canon character's past, or at least my take on it. Hope you all enjoy!

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7th of Rain's Hand, 4E 188

After waiting so many years, Kodlak finally agreed to let Farkas and me accompany Jergen on a job. The old man had intentionally given Jergen an easier task, so Farkas and I would be safer on the job. Our mission was to exterminate a rampant skeever infestation, on a farm in the western edge of the Pale.

The journey there, Jergen told us everything we would need to know about skeevers, and how to fight them. He told us that they were deadly in packs, and their bites almost always became infected. Farkas and I were sure we would be safe; we were wearing thick leather and steel armor, after all.

It took us two days to reach our destination on foot, and the farm was so remote, it took three hours just to reach it from Dawnstar. It was freezing, too. I wondered how areas of Skyrim could still be this cold when spring had already arrived.

Even though it took us so long to get to the farm, Farkas and I were excited. Our cold joints and sore feet could not deter our eagerness. We were finally going to do it. After all this time, we were about to take our first job.

"I bet I kill more skeevers than you," said Farkas as the three of us hiked through knee-deep snow towards the barn. "I bet you get scared and hide."

Pride stung, I puffed out my chest and scoffed at him. "Please. I'm not scared of anything. You're the one who's scared."

"I am not!"

Before I could counter him, Jergen looked over his shoulder and gave us both a warning glance. "Stop it, you two, or I'll send you back to the farmhouse and take care of these skeevers by myself."

Farkas and I straightened up after that.

As we got closer to the barn, Jergen reached over his shoulders and unsheathed his greatsword. Farkas and I took that as our cue to pull out our swords, too. My hand tightened around the hilt, a nervous shiver streaking down my back.

"When I open this door," said Jergen as we stood outside the barn, "be ready to fight. Skeevers don't like light, and they don't like having their nests disturbed. Remember to watch each other's back and don't get bitten."

We nodded.

With a heave and a grunt, Jergen pulled the door open and rushed inside. After just a second's hesitation, Farkas and I followed.

I had never seen a real skeever before; I had only ever seen pictures in books. Those pictures did not do the animals justice. I almost froze when I saw them. They scrabbled around on short legs, needle-like teeth bared in snarls. Salvia dripped from their mouths, their bald tails lashed back and forth, and they made the most gods-awful sounds I had ever heard.

But I was not a coward. I gripped my sword's hilt in both hands and charged straight into the fray. I slashed the snout off of one skeever, then ran another through on the same movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Farkas doing something similar to another pack of beasts.

Just remember your training, I told myself, hacking my way through the horde of skeevers. It's just like Jergen showed us.

Sharp teeth sank into my right bracer, and I turned to see a skeever worrying at my arm. Its teeth had not pierced my armor, but I was not going to give it the chance to bite through. I shook my arm, and when that did not work, I reached with my left hand and tried to pry its jaws open.

The skeever let go of my arm, but wasted no time in jumping up and seizing my left glove. It yanked the leather off my hand, exposing my palm and a few inches of my forearm. Before I could jerk away, the animal came back for another attack.

And it sank its teeth straight into my wrist.

Pain like fire scorched up my arm and into the base of my skull. I lost my grip on my sword, falling to the floor as the skeever ripped deeper into my arm. Tears welled in my eyes as the nasty beast tore at my flesh. I had to get it off me. Biting back my pain, I balled my free hand into a fist and jabbed the animal in the eye. The blow dazed it, and it let go of my arm. I scrabbled for my weapon before it could recover, and swung my sword into its neck. Its head flew clean off.

I held my wounded arm to my chest and kept fighting, Jergen's words of warning running through my head. He had said that almost every skeever bite got infected, and we were days away from the nearest healer. If the bite did get infected....

Don't think about that now, I said to myself. Keep fighting.

After a few more minutes, the horde had been wiped out. I dropped my sword again and fell to the dirty, bloodstained floor. Chest heaving, I looked at the wound that had not stopped bleeding, and it was starting to burn.

"Vilkas!" cried Farkas as he barreled towards me. He dropped to his knees and seized my elbow in his hand. "You got bit."

No kidding, idiot.

"I'll be fine," I grunted, trying to stand. "Let's get out of here."

Jergen strode forward and hefted me to my feet. "Take it easy, boy. Lean on me."

I did as I was told, and after Farkas picked up my sword, we left the barn.

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9th of Rain's Hand, 4E 188

"Easy, now," said Jergen, his hand cradling the back of my head. He held a waterskin to my lips and helped me drink. "Don't strain yourself, son."

Our return journey to Whiterun was taking too long. We should have been home by now.

It was my fault we weren't. The bite, as Jergen had warned, had become infected, and with no healing potions with us, I had begun running a high fever. It slowed our progress because I could not walk; the fever made me too weak. Jergen had to carry me. Each night had been filled with restless sleep and vivid nightmares. I tossed and turned in my bedroll, crying out for Jergen to help me.

This is all my fault, I thought as Jergen capped the waterskin and let me lie back down. If I hadn't been so careless, then we would've been home by now.

Farkas sat beside me, that same worried look on his face. That look had not gone away in two days. "How much farther do we have to go?"

Jergen sighed. "Normally, it'd take us four hours to get home from here, but with Vilkas being sick... it's too far. He needs a healer, and soon."

"He's not going to die." A muscle leapt along Farkas's jaw. "He'll make it. We just have to keep going."

"Your brother needs rest, Farkas."

"No, he needs a healer. You just said so! We're wasting time just sitting here!"

I expected Jergen to start yelling, too, but instead, he just sighed again. "I know you're worried about your brother, but believe me, the worst thing we could do right now is try to leave." Jergen then laid his big hand on my sweaty forehead. "Don't worry, pup, I'm going to get you home." He stood up, muttered something under his breath, then walked away from our camp.

Farkas scooted closer to me, picking up the waterskin and unstoppering it. "You'll make it, Vilkas." He held the skin to my lips, as Jergen had done earlier, and helped me sit up so I could get a drink. "You're strong. Stronger than me."

I managed a scoff. "No, I'm not."

"But you are. You're strong, and smart, and fast."

"If I were any of those things, I wouldn't have been bitten."

Farkas blinked, and a tear fell down his cheek. He ignored it as he capped the waterskin. "You can't die, Vilkas. You... you just can't. Please don't die. I... I can't lose you."

Jergen returned just then, a relieved look on his face. Two people trailed behind him. Two Companions. Skjor and Aela.

"When you didn't return," Skjor was saying, "the old man sent us to find you. What's happened?"

"Vilkas was bitten on the job," said Jergen. "The bite got infected."

"Then it's a good thing we packed these," said Aela, lifting her satchel over her head. She opened it and produced a shiny red bottle. A healing potion. "The old man thought you might need some."

Jergen took the potion from her and rushed it to me. With Farkas's help, he sat me up and poured the bitter liquid from the bottle down my throat. I coughed as the last of the potion rolled down my throat.

"That'll buy him enough time to get back to Whiterun," said Skjor. "But we still have to hurry. Skeever bites tend to cause more harm than most potions can heal."

Jergen nodded and quickly picked me up. "Farkas, gather up the gear. We'll get to Whiterun in time."

Even though his expression was blank, Farkas's eyes sparkled with relief. "Yes, sir." He set to rolling up the bedroll I had been lying on, packing the waterskin in the knapsack, and throwing it all over his shoulders.

"After what they've been through, they're sure to become Companions," said Aela, leading the way back to the main road.

"Did you hear that, Vilkas?" whispered Farkas as he marched beside Jergen. "We're going to be Companions!"

I managed a weak smile, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. I tried to say something, but my throat was too dry to form words.

We're going to be Companions.

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Just a quick little side note, when I was writing this, I imagined the twins to be twelve years old. Ylva was born in 4E 180, and I've always thought Vilkas was four or five years older than her. That's just my belief, and that's what I've been imagining since starting my series.

Hoping to get the next chapter for Victory or Sovngarde at least started this week, but school may have other plans for me. We'll see how the week goes!

Until next adventure! Love and sweetrolls!
~WG 💙