Auhtor's note: I'm not much of a smut or romance enjoyed, and I have little experience in writing such things, so do try not to judge this chapter too hard. Most my fics mc's end up in so much distress that they have little time for anything than struggling for lives... so yeah, just enjoy the read.
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After a while of waiting, the noise of Jorrvaskr's hall had quieted, and Erik found himself lingering in the familiar scents of mead and burning hearths. His eyes swept across the carved wooden beams above, noting the history embedded in the very structure of the hall. It was a reminder of the legacy he was intruding upon, but it didn't faze him.
Soon enough, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Emerging from the living quarters below the main hall was Aela, her stride confident, her presence commanding despite the casual air she carried. She spotted Erik almost instantly, her piercing gaze locking onto his, and a smile curled at her lips as she approached.
"I know I told you to visit," Aela said, crossing her arms with a teasing smirk, "but I didn't think I'd see you again so soon… and certainly not with a fragment of Wuuthrad in hand."
Erik returned her smile with an amused side glance. "Fate is a strange thing," he replied. "I didn't exactly plan on acquiring a fragment of Wuuthrad, much less find myself in need of borrowing the Skyforge after our little meeting." He tilted his head slightly, his tone laced with playful irony. "Yet, here we are."
Aela let out a soft chuckle, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She leaned in slightly and winked. "Fate, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were hinting at something more."
Erik paused for a moment, considering her words. His eyes traveled over her, taking in the sharp angles of her face, partially hidden beneath her war paint. The paint, fierce and tribal, did little to hide her natural beauty. Her form, lean and strong beneath the layers of fur and leather, was equally striking.
Unlike the necromancer whose memories still haunted his mind, Erik had not abandoned his more... primal desires. He still considered himself a hot-blooded man, after all.
Rubbing his chin, he met her gaze again with a smirk. "I did no such thing," he said smoothly. "But I won't deny that I'd be a happy man if you were to share a drink or two with me sometime."
Aela raised an eyebrow, though the grin that tugged at her lips was unmistakable. She shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a playful spark in her eyes. "Why not?" she said, as if the idea of a shared drink was a casual proposition. But then, her tone shifted as curiosity crept into her voice. "But first… there's something I'm curious about."
Erik's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly in caution. "Oh?" he prompted.
"When we first met," Aela began, crossing her arms and leaning a little closer, her tone becoming more probing, "you said you were heading to Riften, right?"
Erik raised an eyebrow, but said nothing at first, simply giving her a small nod of confirmation. He knew where this was going.
Aela's smile widened at his response, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. "It just so happens," she continued, her voice taking on a playful, almost accusing tone, "that someone in the Rift cleared out an ancient ruin recently. Slaughtered draugr by the dozens and even took down a dragon priest soon after we parted ways."
She let the words hang in the air, studying Erik's reaction with a knowing grin. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, would you?"
Erik sighed, though there was a hint of amusement in his exhale. He knew he couldn't hide the expedition to Forelhost, not for long, and Aela, well—it seemed her instincts were sharper than most. "A dragon priest, eh?" he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck as if considering the weight of the title. His tone was dry as he added, "Are you sure you're not overestimating me?"
Aela's eyes narrowed as her smile took on a more skeptical edge. "Maybe I am overestimating you…" she trailed off, her gaze steady and probing. Then, as if weighing her words, she added, "Then again, answering a question with another question? That's usually a telltale sign of someone with something to hide."
Erik let out a genuine laugh at her insight, leaning back against one of the wooden pillars of the hall. "Oh, I've got plenty to hide," he said with a grin. "But a good drink might loosen my tongue, who knows?"
Aela rolled her eyes, but the grin on her face didn't waver. "You never quit, do you?"
"Not when I know something's worth pursuing," Erik replied smoothly.
She chuckled, the hint of a challenge sparking in her eyes. "I like that in a man," she said with a shrug, as if admitting it were no big deal. "Alright, then. Once you've got some time, let's head to the Bannered Mare. I'll be waiting."
Erik crossed his arms, a look of amusement dancing on his features. "I knew you couldn't resist a little dash of mystery," he said, his tone teasing.
Aela's laugh echoed through the hall, genuine and full of warmth. Before she could reply, however, both of their attentions were drawn to the heavy footfalls approaching. Vilkas had returned to the main hall, but he wasn't alone. Walking beside him was an elderly man, bare-chested despite the cool Whiterun air.
Erik's gaze immediately took in the sight of the newcomer. Despite his age, the man's physique was nothing short of impressive—long, flowing grey hair framed a weathered but proud face, and his body was bulging with muscle, each sinew and vein standing out in stark relief.
His posture was straight and unyielding, exuding the confidence of a man who had mastered his craft over decades. His hands, thick and calloused from countless hours spent at the forge, left no doubt about his profession. This was no ordinary blacksmith.
Vilkas and the older man came to a stop in front of Erik and Aela. Vilkas gave Aela a nod in greeting before turning his attention to Erik. "This is—"
Erik interrupted with a knowing smile. "Eorlund Grey-Mane, master of the Skyforge." He nodded with genuine respect. "Not many people in Skyrim would be ignorant of his name."
Eorlund gave a curt nod, unfazed by Erik's flattery. His sharp eyes quickly sized Erik up as he extended a hand in greeting. "You must be Erik," he said, his voice gruff but steady. "That fragment you brought is indeed authentic. I've appraised it myself. But Vilkas mentioned something about you needing to borrow the Skyforge?"
Erik grasped Eorlund's outstretched hand, meeting the man's gaze with equal intensity. As their hands met, Erik felt Eorlund's grip tighten, the man's callouses rough and hard against his own.
For a brief moment, Erik could see the flicker of surprise in the old smith's eyes. He had clearly felt the well-worn hands of someone no stranger to hard labor or battle. Erik held back a chuckle, keeping his amusement to himself.
"I've acquired some good materials lately," Erik said, his tone casual but confident. "The kind of materials that would go to waste in any forge other than the Skyforge."
Eorlund's brow arched, though his expression remained mostly impassive. "Is that so?" he muttered, releasing Erik's hand and crossing his arms. "And what makes you think the Skyforge is just sitting here, waiting for any wanderer with 'good materials' to come by?"
Erik met Eorlund's gaze without flinching, his smile unwavering. "The Skyforge isn't just for anyone. I know that. But I wouldn't have come here if I didn't think these materials and my skills were worthy of it." He glanced briefly at Vilkas, then back to Eorlund. "Besides, I figured a fragment of Wuuthrad would at least buy me a conversation."
Vilkas snorted in amusement at that, but Eorlund's expression didn't change.
The blacksmith studied Erik for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke. "A conversation, maybe," Eorlund said, his voice carrying a hint of dry humor. "But you'll have to prove more than just good manners if you want to work the Skyforge."
Erik's smile widened slightly, recognizing the test in the smith's words. "I wouldn't expect any less."
Aela, who had been silently observing the exchange, grinned. "Looks like you've got yourself a challenge, young man," she said, her tone light but her eyes glinting with excitement. "Better not disappoint."
Erik shot her a sidelong glance. "And here I thought we were just going to have a drink," he quipped.
"Who said it can't be both?" Aela teased, crossing her arms and leaning back, clearly enjoying the situation.
Eorlund cleared his throat, drawing Erik's attention back. "I'll tell you what," the old blacksmith said, his voice stern but not unkind. "If Vilkas is vouching for you then I'll take a look at your materials... bring them to the Skyforge, and if they're as good as you claim, I'll give you a chance to earn the right to use it..."
Erik nodded. "I'll have them ready by morning."
"Good," Eorlund said. "Then we'll see if you've got what it takes to work with the Skyforge come morn." He turned to Vilkas and gave him a short nod. "Come, Vilkas. We've got work to do."
With that, the master blacksmith turned and walked away, his powerful frame moving with the grace and strength of someone who had spent a lifetime honing their craft. Vilkas followed after him, though he gave Erik one last glance before disappearing down the hallway.
As they left, Aela glanced back at Erik, a smirk still playing at the corners of her lips. "Looks like you've impressed the master," she said. "Now all you have to do is prove it."
Erik chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sure I'll manage, but it certainly won't be easy..."
"That's the fun part," Aela replied with a wink. "Now, how about that drink? I've got a feeling there's more to your story than you're letting on."
Erik gave her a mock-serious look. "I told you, I've got plenty to hide."
"And I'm plenty curious," Aela shot back with a grin grabbing Erik's arm and dragging him toward the exit.
...
The room in the Bannered Mare was dimly lit by the soft glow of the hearth's embers, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. The air was thick with warmth and the lingering scent of mead and worn leather, though now it felt quieter, more intimate.
The bed creaked faintly as Erik towered over Aela, pushing into her being. His breathing grew heavy, his muscles going slack with a sense of contentment as he released his essence. Aela lay beneath him, her auburn hair tousled against the pillow, her form wrapped loosely around him as she painted with a flushed face.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft crackling of the fire and the distant hum of voices from the tavern below. Erik glanced down at Aela, her features softened in the half-light. She lay with her eyes half-closed, as if savoring the aftertaste, her body still glowing with the warmth of their shared moment.
The heat between them had simmered down, and they each took a side of the bed, covering themselves in the sheets.
Finally, Aela broke the silence, her voice hushed yet still carrying that familiar edge. "You're full of surprises, Erik." She turned her head, her eyes meeting his, curious but guarded. "One moment, you're some wanderer with a fragment of Wuuthrad, and the next, you're… a savage beast..."
Erik smirked, running a hand through his hair. "I've been called worse, I suppose."
She chuckled softly, shifting onto her side to face him. "You've got secrets. I can tell." Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment, as if she could peel back his layers with just a look. "What's a man like you really doing in Whiterun? It's not every day someone clears out a tomb full of draugr and lives to tell the tale. And don't give me that 'fate' nonsense again."
Erik sighed, leaning back further as if considering how much to reveal. "I guard my secrets jealously..." he trailed off, a grin spreading across his face as he reached under the sheets, cupping Aela's mound. "But considering your performance just now, I suppose I can tell you a thing or two..."
Aela raised an eyebrow, slapping his hand away. "Go on then, don't keep me waiting..."
He chuckled a low sound that rumbled in his chest. "Let's just say, I've been a lot of things in my time. A skald, mage... now I'm just wanderer."
Erik rubbed his jaw, feeling the rough stubble there. "I didn't come here for any grand purpose. Not at first, anyway. I'm in search of something something—something very important to me. Along the way, I got tangled up in all sorts of things." He gestured vaguely. "A dragon priest here, a Dwemer a chance encounter with a beautiful huntress there... It's not exactly what I had planned."
Aela studied him, her expression unreadable. "So you're not just some wanderer then. You've got a past… one that's catching up to you." Her voice was thoughtful, as though she were piecing together a puzzle.
Erik met her gaze, his eyes steady. "We all have a past, don't we? The trick is not letting it weigh you down."
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a slight smile. "Is that what you're doing here then? Trying to outrun yours?"
"Rather than outrun, I'd say I'm trying to catch up to my past," Erik admitted, his voice quieter now. "But Skyrim… It's got a way of drawing you into its chaos whether you want it or not."
Aela shifted closer, propping herself up on an elbow as she looked at him, her eyes searching his. "Well, You don't seem like a man who'd run from most things. In fact, you seem like someone who's looking for something—and you're very close..."
Erik raised an eyebrow at Aela's words, her perceptiveness catching him off guard. "You're not wrong," he said with a chuckle, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, "but that's as far as you'll get for today."
She tilted her head, clearly not satisfied, but let it go for the moment. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The distant crow of a rooster echoed from the stables outside, signaling the arrival of morning. Erik stretched, his muscles still loose from their time together, the tension from his travels and battles seemingly washed away in the night's embrace.
He glanced at Aela, who was lazily lying beside him, her fiery hair splayed across the pillow, a satisfied grin on her lips. "This," he said, running a hand through his hair, "was rather therapeutic." There was a playful glint in his eyes as he added, "We should do it again sometime."
Aela's gaze flickered down as Erik stood, the sheet sliding away to reveal his scarred, battle-hardened form. His pale skin glistened faintly in the early light, the product of sword mastery, evident in the defined muscles and marks from seemingly old scars, a result of his battle with Rahgot that simple healing spells and potions couldn't erase.
Her grin widened, and she let out a low whistle, one hand propped under her head. "Shor's beard, you make a fine sight."
Erik snorted, shaking his head in amusement. "You're incorrigible." He turned his back to her, gathering his armor piece by piece. The familiar weight of the leather and darkened metal of the Ebony Mail settled over his shoulders, each piece sliding into place with practiced ease.
As he strapped on his greaves, he could feel Aela's eyes still on him, her gaze like the weight of an arrow ready to fly.
"Next time," she said, her voice carrying a note of challenge, "we'll do something more exciting than drinking. How about a hunt?" Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she sat up, wrapping herself in the blanket. "I know a few spots in the wilderness that might just get your heart racing more than sword practice."
Erik couldn't help but laugh as he buckled his sword belt. He slung his cloak over his shoulders and turned toward the door, pausing to give her one last glance. "I'll take you up on that," he said with a grin. "But I warn you, I'm not easy to impress."
Aela arched an eyebrow, her voice confident and teasing. "Oh, don't worry. I won't have to try."
He laughed again, his deep voice filling the small room. With a casual wave over his shoulder, Erik left the room, the door creaking as it closed behind him. The warmth of their shared night clung to the air, but now the world outside awaited.
As he made his way down the narrow hallway, Erik's thoughts lingered on Aela's words. Perhaps, for once, this hunt would be more than just the thrill of the chase.
Outside, the day was already beginning to stir. Whiterun's streets hummed with life, but Erik walked with an easy confidence, the events of the night leaving him with a sense of calm that had eluded him for some time. The Bannered Mare faded into the background, but the promise of more to come lingered on his mind like the fading warmth of the sun's first light.
And as Erik stepped into the morning, he couldn't shake the feeling that, in more ways than one, things were about to get far more interesting.
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