Aren had never really had a normal life, even before he'd discovered he was the dovahkiin. First off, he was half nord and half high elf which would make saying he was a rare breed an understatement. Secondly, his parents lived in two different parts of Tamriel since they had a little falling out during the great war. His mother, being the fierce nord that she was, had taken up resistance against the oh so mighty Aldemeri Dominion while his high elf father had remained loyal to his people. Aren had been barely one at the time and was thus given, without his father knowing, to his loving Aunt and Uncle in Bruma. After the war, things became a bit strained since both his parents wanted him and neither would compromise. The fighting between them in the little hut was so loud it woke the baby next door. It ended when the captain of the guard settled the matter just to keep the piece. His mother would have him one half of the year while his father would have him the other half.

Thus, the boy spent the next eighteen years being sent from Bruma to Summerset Isle and back again. Aren really didn't think anything of it when he was younger, like everything when you're young, it was simple; he spent the colder months with his mother where he learned how to be a true nord warrior and then the warm months with his father so he could be educated in the proper fashion. When he turned thirteen, though, the clashing ideals came about and he suddenly realized why mommy and daddy weren't living near each other. His mother told him that nords were high up on the bipedal food chain and had favor with the nine devines. The stereotypical high elf that was his father, on the other hand, insisted that anyone with elven blood was superior to the human or beast races that roamed Tamriel, in the eyes of the eight. He wound up just listening to his crazy grandpa after coming back to Bruma complaining of a headache; "Everyone's equal in the eyes on the divines, halfling. As for this Talos stuff, if it's not causing you harm, let it be. World would be a much nicer place if people could choose what flavor mead they drink without starting a war about it."

When Aren reached his thirtieth winter, he decided to go to Skyrim to see why his mother was so proud of the damned frozen piece of land. Along the way he got caught in an Imperial ambush along with a group of rowdy nords and a guy with a horse. The next thing he knew he was on the headsman's block because some bitchy red guard woman sent him there, despite not having anything to do with the rebellion. He wasn't about to run though, the idiot with the horse had proven you get shot if you run. Then, as if the divines themselves just wanted to make his day Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion, a dragon attacked. A dragon hasn't been seen in Tamriel in 300 years. So off he went escaping that predicament with a nord by the name of Ralof and somehow signing on with the rebellion along the way. After that he retrieved some stone from a cave filled with undead while trying to help a merchant retrieve some did everything have to do with dragons in this damned place?

He discovered he was dragonborn when he'd killed when of the scaly bastards just to help out the Jarl. The thing's soul just went into him with what he assumed was some spiritual nord voodoo that apparently the gods gave you. Neat. He discovered he could use a thu'um without practice and that his destiny was to stop the end of the world. No pressure, Aren. After a series of a few tasks he met the blades whom his father had told him were dead. Then he broke into the Dominion's embassy, where luckily no one recognized him despite having seen a few of them on Summerset, just to obtain information. Another few random tasks later he discovered the shout that brought dragons to the ground and a couple quests after that he rode a dragon to Sovengarde to defeat Alduin.

Everything settled down in Skyrim after he helped Ulfric win the civil war and now, three years later, he was living in Riften with his housecarl Iona, his loving wife Syglja, whose name he has yet to pronounce right despite the fact she was the one who stuck out in his mind after all his travels, and his son Halbjorn. He lived a relatively quiet life since most of the nords had just gone back to everyday life after everything was said and done. He didn't mind it in the least; who wanted a bunch of random idiots surrounding their home doing gods know what to get a glimpse of them? It was a nice life he had, until the eighteenth of Evening Star.

It was a week before New Life Festival and all the citizens of Riften were out preparing for the parties, the gift-giving, and the drinking that would ensue. Even that hagraven Gredla the Kind could be found buying presents for the orphans. The Thieve's Guild was as active as ever, with Brynjolf and Delvin caroling while Vex snuck through the houses stealing valuables. The Black-Briar's had retired to their lodge for the Festival, leaving everyone happy that they could have a drunk rant about them without having to worry about a visit from the Dark Brotherhood. The guards were decorating the town with ribbons and garland at the behest of the Jarl to make Riften seem a little more cheery.

Aren and his son were at Medesi's stand looking for a present for Syglja. Halbjorn kept pointing at the most gaudy bits in the case on the stand as his father held him, being only three he had an attraction to shiny things. "Red one, Papa!" He pointed to the flawless red ruby that had been shaped to a heart and left to dangle on a gold chain. Aren nodded at Medesi to see it.

The argonian pulled it out of the case with a smile on his scaled, green face. The pendant was a reasonable size and the chain wasn't too heavy. Aren asked, "How much?"

"630 gold, but since you saved my stand from that dragon's fire once I'll give you this beauty for 330; a fair price for the hero of Skyrim," Medesi said, trying to keep the necklace from Halbjorn's little fingers.

Aren took the coin purse out of his bag and counted out 630 gold, "No need to give me half price for doing what anyone in my position would have. Beautiful craftsmanship needs to be recognized fully anyway, right?"

"You're much too kind," Medesi said accepting the money. "Do you want this packaged?"

Aren nodded, "Please."

Medesi went to find a box for the necklace, leaving Aren and his son standing at the stall. "Hey Hal, did you finish your drawing for mama?"

"No, no more pencil," Halbjorn said, shaking his head.

Aren let out a fake gasp, "Why didn't you tell me? You were going to give it to her at the party next week. We're going to have to get you another pencil at The Pawned Prawn after this."

"Or I can give you one right now," Vex said, coming up behind them with a piece of charcoal in hand. "Accidently grabbed it when I had to do a grab and run because these idiots went off key."

She jerked her thumb at Brynjolf and Delvin who were both wearing red fancy suits, "It's not our fault we have no tenor. That one refused to help us, though."

Aren laughed, "Well, I look atrocious in red. It's so bad, people'd run at the sight of me."

"So you prefer confusing them by being an elf and wearing steel armor?" Brynjolf asked with a cocked eyebrow.

The dragonborn had gotten into the habit of wearing his armor wherever he went incase of dragons or bandits or assassins or vampires. Of course looking more high elf, people gave him strange looks wherever he went since his people bragged about their prowess in magic rather than with a sword. When he was a more active adventurer he had often worn his helmet so he just looked like a nord that was way too tall. The some of the Jarls he'd met had received quite a shock when he'd taken off his helmet to reveal gold skin and pointed ears.

Medesi, having finally finished wrapping the necklace, handed him a box with a string wrapping it up, "Here you go, have a happy New Life Festival."

Aren put the gift in his bag, noticing the three thieves' eyes light up, "If this goes missing from my position I'll personally gut all three of you. It's a present for Syglja who was nice enough to invite you all to our party."

"I picked it out!" Hal said proudly.

Vex inspected Medesi's case, "The heart necklace, hmm. Had my eye on that one for a while."

"It wasn't even the most expensive thing he had, why would you be looking at it?" Aren asked with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

And that was when all three men gasped, for Vex had just blushed, "A certain man was looking into getting me a present. Don't breathe a word of this or I'll make sure you never see another New Life Festival."

She huffed away while Brynjolf capitalized on the situation by singing "Vex has a boyfriend" and follow after her. Delvin, who had been silent for the most part, just shook his head, "Don't be surprised if Brynjolf doesn't show up or if Vex brings someone else along."

The old pickpocket followed after the other two, who were now chasing each other around the city like small children. Snow had begun to fall from the darkening sky making some of the market place clear out a bit. Halbjorn was desperately trying to catch on of the little flakes on his tongue, but hindered by the fact he couldn't get very far from his father's side. They made their way out of the market to go home and avoid the rush to the Bee and Barb that usually occurred around this time. Some of the guards nodded as he passed and wished him and his son a happy New Life Festival.

Honeyside was all lit up when they reached it with the curtains open to see the small tree they had placed inside as well as a rather exuberant dog named Vigilance attempting attempting to get the bone that had been placed on a branch as one of the many decorations. He opened the door to be greeted by the smell of his wife making horkar meat stew and sweet rolls. He put Halbjorn down, who immediately ran off to work on his drawing with Vex's stolen charcoal.

"Hello, love," Syglja greeted him as she came over, stomach bulging with their second child. "Did Hal behave himself at the marketplace?"

He hugged her and leaned over to give her a loving kiss, "Yes, he even helped me pick out a few things. Like this," He pulled out of his pack a baby frostbite spider in a cage which made his wife scream. He laughed, "Isn't this little guy cute? "We're going to name him Justice so Vigilance can have a sidekick on his many adventures."

"Sure it's cute now, but what happens when it's the size of the house? It'll eat the baby and Halbjorn for a snack!" She scolded him, noticing the huge grin on his face. "You're such a child sometimes! I want that thing right back where it came from!"

The little frostbite spider was staring up at her in complete fear, adorable fear. It wouldn't do any of that, not with the scary lady around. The golden man who captured him was nice to it as well. Why would it seek to do harm to them?

"Calm down, Vigilance will keep him in line," As if on cue, Vigilance came over and wagged his tail. "Won't you Vigilance?"

The dog barked happily and Syglja rolled her eyes, "I'm going to pray harder for a daughter."

He laughed, walking after her to the kitchen where the aroma was next to heavenly. Iona was at the table writing a letter to her darling Calder who'd captured her heart in one visit. He set the spider on the counter near some potatoes that had yet to be peeled which caused him to receive a glare from his wife. He let out a soft sigh and began to set the table before he got in any more trouble. The spider had scuttled to the side of it's cage and was now attempting to reach the piece of stray carrot that had been left there. Halbjorn's new bit of charcoal could be heard scratching a piece of parchment furiously which would only make his gift all the more sweeter when he gave it to his mother.

As Aren put the plates on the table, he noticed to letter addressed to him. "Um, when did these arrive?"
"They came for you while you were out. I didn't recognize either of the handwritings and neither did Syg, so we guessed you would and wanted to wait for you to come home. Must have forgot about them. My apologies my thane," Iona said this without even looking up at him. "Do you think love at the end of a letter is too forward?"

Aren picked up his letters to examine the handwriting while disconnectedly saying, "Not if you truly have the feeling for that melancholy, mutton-chopped guy. I mean... oh gods!"

"Oh gods, what's oh gods? Are the letters from the thalmor?" Syglja asked, very worried. She'd never seen her husband go that pale before nor had she seen him shake like he was.

Aren trembled, "Semi, well if you count that my father is a Thalmor agent. If not then no, they're from my parents."
Is something wrong? They wouldn't contact him unless something was terribly wrong. Maybe his dad had heard about his little break-in to the embassy. Maybe his mom heard about his dragonborn business. Maybe they were both gravely ill and were dying of some horrible disease like brain rot! He should have stayed in contact with them while he was here.

He felt two hands on his shoulders which made him breathe easier, "Perhaps you should open them before you get all worked up, love."

He let out a hefty sigh and nodded. Iona handed him the letter opener that had been on the table with the other mail. He read his father's letter:

Dear son,

I've decided to come and spend New Life Festival with you in that wretched, snow-covered, barbarian land so I could introduce you to my betrothed. I expect us to be received in a manner that befits our kind. Hopefully, spending time in that wasteland hasn't awaken something barbaric in you from your mother's frightful lineage. I know you do me proud in staying true to your superior altmer heritage.

Love,

Your Father- Teran'is

Well, his father had just made him look bad in front of two nord women who could both handle a weapon. He can't come to his son's home during New Life Festival with a fiance to boot, the place will be crawling with nords and other people who generally hate high elves. Plus, he'd probably disown poor Aren for marrying a nord, backing the Stormcloaks,and being the savior from one of their legends. Not good, not good, not good. He prayed to any aedra or daedra that'd listen to him for a snowstorm to delay his father at least a day. Unfortunately the only one listening was Sheogorath, who decided to send cheese to the dragonborn instead.

With a shaky hand, he opened up the letter from his mother and read:

Dear Aren,

I've heard many rumors of you from refugees coming to Bruma. My son, the dragonborn, I couldn't be more proud! I'm coming up to the homeland to see you on the Festival of New Life, hope you keep the mead plentiful. I'm meeting up with a man I've been corresponding with in Windhelm who I've known since we were children. Please make sure there is room for us both, I don't like the Bee and Barb much.

Love,

Your Mother Skadi

He nearly collapsed on the ground, but his wife had a firm hold on his arm to steady him. She lead him out of the kitchen to his chair by the fireplace and sat him down, luckily she didn't see Halbjorn's drawing which had been abandoned while the boy went to find his trusty teddy bear. Aren buried his face in his hands and groaned. Both of them at the same time? Nothing good would come of that. Plus they were bringing romantic interests to a party he was throwing. Not that they knew about the party, but he couldn't just kick them both out if they came. This was a nightmare and Sheogorath only sent dovahkiin more cheese that was beginning to fill his basement.

Something soft worked it's way up between his arms and he looked to see it was Hal's teddy bear. His son was looking up at him with concerned eyes, "Be happy, Papa."

He scooped up his little boy in his arms and set him on his lap, "Thanks Hal."

Meanwhile in Oblivion...

Hircine entered the Shivering Isles with the entire Twilight Saga on dvd, "Hey, Sheo! Molag Bal and I are going to watch this crap to see if it truly destroys the concepts of our creations, then probably go kill the author. You- what in the void are you watching?"

Sheogorath had his t. to Aren's life and was watching with a shoe of popcorn in hand, "Antler head needs to watch this! It's funnier than slowly roasting a live garden gnome!"

Hircine looked at the screen for a bit, then pulled out his cell phone and called up Molag. "Dude screw teen angst, lets watch some family drama. Yes, that asshole Aren is involved. Well I don't care if he murdered your precious vampires, one was trying to blot out the sun! Need I remind you that without the sun all life and unlife will perish. Yeah, uh-huh, thought so. See you in a bit."

He hung up and sat down by Sheogorath, taking a handful of shoe-corn. "So, why do you keep sending him cheese."

"Because those are cheddar covered dung beetles you just ate," Sheogorath stated.