Blaise woke in a cold sweat, gasping as he was jolted awake from the nightmare he just experienced. Always the quiet one of the family (not counting his father, at least), Blaise never made much noise even when he woke up in a fright. It had become a less recurring issue since he had been adopted, but the occasional nighttime fright did show its ugly face every now and then. Rubbing his eyes, Blaise glanced over to the opposite end of the room to see his adopted older brother, Hroar, still dead asleep and snoring up a storm as always. Smiling fondly, Blaise decided to take the time to get a quick drink of water.

He would have to be quiet though. It was a quiet night in Whiterun, as it usually was. Blaise slipped out of the covers and let his bare feet hit the hardwood floor. It wasn't Hroar he was so careful around, he slept like the dead. It was his parents. Years of adventuring taught them to be wary of any suspicious noises at night and to sleep with one eye open unless they wanted to wake up with a dagger to their throat.

Unfortunately, Blaise's father was known to be more alert than the average man. Being the Dragonborn, thane of Jarl Balgruuf, and member of the Companions tended to bring out that particular trait.

Blaise and Hroar's room was located on the bottom floor of Breezehome, the house that the Jarl gifted to their father after he killed his first dragon at the Western Watchtower. The staircase leading to his mother and father's room was directly above the doorway to Blaise and Hroar's room, with the guest bedroom that was oftentimes occupied by Uncle Derkeethus and Aunt Lydia situated across from it. Blaise needed to be careful not to wake them. Tiptoeing across the room, he stopped briefly to listen for any noise above.

Listening closely, he could hear the deep steady snores of his Argonian father, Desolas Perigalus. Also known throughout Skyrim as the Dragonborn. Back before his birth parents were killed by the Stormcloaks, Blaise had been led to believe that all Argonians were deceitful and savage. Desolas couldn't have been further from that stereotype. When he wasn't out adventuring, the Argonian warrior always made sure he had time for his family. He would teach them how to fight, sharing his skill with the sword to Hroar and passing on his knowledge of destruction magic, specifically lightning, to Blaise, who has always been more mesmerized by the arcane arts than his brother. He told stories of his childhood when he traveled from the Black Marsh to Skyrim with his parents and brother and would tell them his exploits as Dragonborn and his many adventures with the Companions. Overall, both felt lucky to have such a cool and caring father.

Completing the pair that was their parents was their Dark Elf mother, Brelyna Maryon. Anyone who first saw the pair together would be shocked to see an Argonian and a Dunmer behaving so cordial with each other, let alone romantically. But then again, neither individual seemed to conform to the stereotypes of their respective race. Brelyna was easily the best mother that either Blaise or Hroar could have asked for. The Dark Elf mage, whom Desolas had first met years ago when he traveled to Winterhold looking to better improve his grasp on destruction magics, stood out amongst most people of Skyrim as a purely caring individual. She was always so warm, attentive, gentle, and fearless in her own way. Dangerous when she needed to be, and one of the most powerful mages in all of Skyrim.

When all was calm and still in the night, Brelyna rarely if ever made any noise. Tonight seemed to be one of those nights.

With as much illusiveness and silence as the young Breton boy could muster, Blaise got the small drink of water he desired. Once he gulped it down, he started to make his way back to his room, but froze when he saw the familiar figure at the foot of the stairs.

The glowing blue eyes of his father gazed at him through the dark, concerned.

"Blaise," he said softly, not wanting to wake up the other occupants of the house. "Why are you awake?"

"I had a bad dream," Blaise mumbled, looking down, embarrassed.

Looking down, he didn't see his father's eyes soften until he spoke again, holding his hand out to his son.

"Come here."

Blaise shuffled over to join his father on the staircase, where they sat down together. Blaise hesitated before placing his head on his lap. Desolas softly ran his talons over his scalp in a soothing motion. Back before he was adopted, Blaise was afraid an Argonian's claws. It seemed as though they could rip through flesh with little to no effort on their part. But for all his fierceness in battle, Desolas was always gentle when touching his sons with his talons. It tend to be relaxing, especially when putting them to sleep.

After a few minutes of silence, Desolas spoke up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay," Desolas didn't press the issue. He knew his boy would come to him at some point. "It's okay to be afraid, Blaise. We all have bad dreams every now and then."

It was still a bizarre notion to Blaise that his father had nightmares. Why would he? He was invincible. He defeated Alduin, took down the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood, and helped kill Ulfric Stormcloak. Nothing could frighten him. What Blaise saw was a man who would come home after killing bandits and dragons but would still greet his children with a warm smile and hug. What he saw was a man who would play with his children no matter how tired he was. What Blaise saw was a loving husband who would help his wife cook dinner at night.

What he didn't see was the thin layer of sweat and blood that the man ached to get rid of but believed he never could. What he didn't see was a man who would lean on walls and furniture when he got home or he would collapse in exhaustion. What he didn't see was his Dunmer mother's back decorated with small bruises when the man would grab onto it so tightly after a nightmare. He couldn't because his father was a legend.

"But Papa, you're the Dragonborn. What could possibly scare you?"

Desolas sighed, he desperately wanted to go back to bed with his wife but his mind wouldn't give him a restful sleep.

"A lot of things. Losing you, your brother, your mother. Your Uncle Derkeethus, your Aunt Lydia. All of your aunts and uncles at Jorrvaskir. Heck, even your Uncle Cicero," Desolas gave a dry laugh at that last part. "Losing any one of you? That's what scares me the most."

That shocked Blaise. Desolas fought dragons, beasts, bandits, necromancers, powerful mages but losing his family is what scared him the most.

"You wouldn't let that happen though, Papa. You would protect us."

Desolas smiles softly, leaning forward to press his forehead against his son's.

"With my last dying breath."

Once he had gotten Blaise back to bed, Desolas made his way back upstairs to find his wife awake and sitting up in bed. Her red eyes gazed warmly at him, her long dark hair cascading down her back and shoulders in a way that made her look almost more beautiful than she already was.

"I'm sorry," Desolas said, sitting down next to his beloved. "Did I wake you?"

"It's no problem, love. Was it Blaise?" Brelyna asked in concern.

Desolas nodded. "Yes. But I think he's okay for now. He has Hroar with him, after all."

Brelyna gave a soft, warm laugh as she and her husband fell back into each other's arms and situated themselves warmly under the covers. She gave the Argonian a peck on the tip of his nose, making the man smile.

"And I have you. I guess everyone is lucky."

The whole family slept peacefully through the night. No nightmares would plague them for a while, but Desolas and Brelyna both knew that it was not the end of them. But they all had each other to rely on when the dreams became unbearable. If the day's adventure left Desolas gloomy and exhausted, he had Blaise and Hroar to liven him up with their cheerful demeanor and games. No matter how cruel and unforgiving the world could be, Desolas always had his family to look to.

So, long story short:

The Dovahkin was an Argonian immigrant from the Black Marsh named Desolas Perigalus (yes, Mass Effect reference. Don't hate me) who came to Skyrim as a child with his brother, Derkeethus. He married Brelyna Maryon and adopted two sons, Hroar and Blaise. Derkeethus married Lydia, making her Desolas' sister-in-law. The Companions also fill the role of surrogate brothers and sisters in Desolas' life.

His is first and foremost a member of the Companions and a loyal citizen of Whiterun. He wiped out the Dark Brotherhood (except for Cicero, which will be explained in future chapters) and the Thieves Guild (which I know isn't an option in the actual game but I wish it was), sided with the Empire over the Stormcloaks, and chose to side with Paaerthanaux over the Blades. He is mostly a fighter who specializes in single-handed weaponry, but also has a strong penchant for lightning-based destruction magic.