Chapter V: Legacy in blood
It had been a week since Rhonan's delving into Bleakfalls Barrow, a trip that both humbled and excited him.
It was in the depths of the crypts that he realised how weak he was, the Draugr getting the better of him in close combat.
Having soon grown bored of watching Valka learn her words, he took Merrin and Balka out into the wilds, training the two in the ways of Hircine and Lycans in general. They excelled in his teachings, loyalty growing with each day under him.
Finely he decided it was time to deal with the Companions, the Lycans having caught his scent long ago, all were huddled within Jorrvaskr, readying themselves for a battle.
He knew he could delay no longer, they being needed back at the Peak to aid in the training of his Wolf Guard.
Line Break
Skjor looked on as the mead hall came to life, his shield siblings rising to the smell of food and ale. It had been months since his Aela had vanished, his misery felt by all.
Kodlak Whiteman, Harbinger of the Companions looked on from his seat, his children full of revelry and vigour. He was getting old now; it was good to see such spirit filling these hallowed halls.
Every went silent, tomb-like even, the doors having been kicked open as three figures entered. The reason for the silence, the entire circle had risen, weapons in hand and snarling growls rumbling deeply across the hall.
As the three entered, light hit the face of the lead. His hair was as black as night, eyes of amber glowing softly and a black beard growing across his lower face hiding the sharp features behind it.
Prowling forward, the man paused on the outskirts of the hearth, his stance relaxed, completely showing his confidence to the other wolves.
The circle could smell the Lycanthropy from them, just as the newcomers could smell it on them as well. "Greetings Companions of Ysgramor, I am Rhonan of Atmora, son of Kella, Shield Maiden of the Atmoran clan Naga. I would love to share pleasantries, but time is short. I demand to undertake the trial of blood" Rhonan stated, voice full of conviction.
Kodlak looked at him, staring into the mans soul even, trying to find the reason behind this stunt. "You know what the trial entails, youngsters these days. Fine Atmoran, we shall humour you. Vilkas, fetch the rune blade, we shall see if this ones claim is true" Here the circle snorted, Vilkas moving off to complete his task.
Farkas looked curiously at the man, his eyebrow raised. "I didn't know any still remained on the frozen continent" He said, voice a deep baritone.
Rhonan smiled softly at the near childlike question. "I was the last, the Atmoran wraiths tend to be bad for the health, watched as my mother fended off hundreds of the beasts, she gained true greatness that day, ascending to the realm of my father" he finished, his knowing smirk leaving a cold feeling in Kodlak's gut.
His inner wolf had been very quiet, too quiet.
Soon enough Vilkas returned, hefting an artefact of Ysgramor himself. As was tradition, Kodlak spoke. "All here present today, bare witness to the Trial of Blood. This blade, be the blood spilt by it hold true, shall glow blue. Be the blood false, nothing. False will mean the death of the supplicant, all may take the trial, none have passed" He said, voice grave.
"Your palm, Atmoran" He said. Rhonan didn't hesitate, making his way over to the elder; he gave up his hand, no pause before the blade sliced into flesh. Everyone held their breadth, eager to see the verdict, not that the non circle members knew what it truly symbolised.
As if on cue, the blade erupted in a shower of blue light, marking the first applicant to pass the Trial. Shock seemed to be the only emotion any of the Companions felt, the unspeakable had come at long last.
Gathering his wits, Kodlak placed the still glowing blade atop the table, before kneeling down in homage to Rhonan. "All hail! Ysgramor's Heir has come!" The old wolf roared.
As one, most still getting over the shock, the Companions knelt before the descendant of Ysgramor of old.
Slowly, Rhonan helped ease Kodlak to his feet, the elder feeling his age. "Rise brave ones, I've not come for such frivolous niceties. Come sit, I shall tell the tale of this coming to be" Rho said, his voice full of happiness. The Companions, old and new gathered before the hearth, each eager to hear the tale.
Taking his seat, Rhonan accepted a cup of ale before clearing his throat. "Long before Ysgramor left for his exodus, he fell in love. This love bore fruit in the form of a daughter. The mother did not last the birthing. Ysgramor in his pain gave the child to his sister, this and a culmination of the great many other pains leading towards the journey of him and his loyal five hundred" Rhonan took a sip of ale before continuing.
"After his departure, the daughter knowing fully of who sired her, trained her life away in the arts of the Shield Maidens, taking on many a foe. She became known as Vera Demonbane, a true warrior. Soon she came to fall in love also, giving birth to a girl before dieing in birth like her own mother, a sad tale follows my brothers, from mother to daughter this tale continues, each mother ending the same way… until mine own, my mother pushed through the birthing curse, bringing me into the world" drinking more he paused, gathering his wits before finishing the tale.
"My mother fell for only one man, for at the time no one else lived in Atmora, the land is now truly that of the dead. I stand before you now, the last of my line, Rhonan, Son of Kella, descendant of Ysgramor… and Sired by Hircine, Lord of the Hunt!" He heard a few gasps of surprise at this, the new bloods not realising the true significance of this.
Taking a deep breadth, Rhonan stood. "I come to claim leadership of the Companions, as my ancestor would want. What say you?!" He roared.
At first there was silence, before a slow thumping rhythm took hold, Skjor ramming his cup into the tabletop. The circle followed, also joining in the rhythm, before long the rest of the hall was partaking in the supportive tempo.
Rhonan stood their, soaking in the glory of a moment that had been too long in the coming.
Line break
The whole of Whiterun listened in both shock and awe, Jorvaskr was doing something only heard of in fables, roaring their approval, thumping their tears of happiness into the tables of the mead hall, sounding the Horn long since forgotten, the Horn of Ysgramor, only to be sounded at the coming of one who held his blood.
Before long the halls doors erupted as the mass of Companions marched out, shouting Rhonan, Leader, and Lord.
Atop the shields of the mighty host, smiling from ear to ear was Rhonan, his laughter joining those of his Companions.
Soon the rest of Whiterun joined in the celebrations; a hallowed lineage restored once more, a lineage of heroic deeds and the founder of Skyrim itself.
The roars of the crowds and his Shield brothers and sisters would be forever remembered in the hearts and souls of the city.
In the Hunting Grounds, Hircine looked on in pride as he and Kella watched their son take up his heritage, gaining the loyalty of his brothers and sisters in arms.
"He's grown so well, thank you for gifting me with the time I had with him Hircine" Kella said, tears flowing freely from her steely eyes.
Hircine merely growled a soft rumble, his eyes soft with affection.
Akatosh looked on, pleased with his Champions efforts. Alduin would once again be pushed back, this was a must.
The girl would aid young Rhonan in this, all to his plans.
The celebrations went on for a full four days, mead and ale flowing like a river from the halls of Jorvaskr. Meat and other foods shared in happiness, contests of strength and skill coming into existence.
Even the Jarl joined his people in the celebratory excess, revelry and music being heard all over.
A bright start for the dark times ahead.
(A/N) Bam! Didn't see that coming did ya! If you did… kudos.
Rhonan commands the Companions, now what is he going to do with such mighty warriors hmm?
Stay tuned till next time folks!
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