Whiterun, Whiterun Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 27
th of Last Seed, 4E202

The anniversary of Emperor Uriel Septim VII's death. Belinda, along with the help of her good friend, the Lynx Planeswalker and Telekinetic Lucien Nightmist, the Blades Lore Master Esbern, and the Lycanthrope Companion Vilkas, was able to find a connection between her and Uriel Septim. Of course, that wasn't easy, considering Belinda's ancestors on one side of the family was spread across the Multiverse because multiple members of her family were in fact Planeswalkers. But her great-great-great-great-grandmother was the Hero of Kvatch and her child was a Planeswalker who settled on Earth and planted roots there and the line then led to Belinda. The Hero of Kvatch was the descendant of a Planeswalker who planted roots on Nirn sometime before the Imperial Interregnum after the Reman line died. That Planeswalker, an Elf named Sigileth was the descendant of Amanisa Dragonspeaker. It was annoying and complicated and had required some research. But when it all came down to it, she was the descendant of Martin Septim and that meant she could claim the throne if she so chose. Not that she wanted or cared to, and she was a little more concerned about being the reincarnation of Amanisa Dragonspeaker while being like the millionth great-granddaughter of her. Logic?! What's that?!

"Of course she would be reborn into her own bloodline," Belinda groaned with exasperation as she flopped onto her bed. The cushion upon which her purple dragonet Spyro rested bounced a little, making him look at her in mock offense. "It's her blood! And I am a combination of all fuckish things from across the Multiverse! Got a bunch of Nord, Cyrodiilic, Breton, and Dunmer in me! Middle Earth High Elf! Dragon! Seriously, what the Hell even?!"

Lucien watched her with amusement from his seat in the chair beside the bedroom door. His fur was black with silver markings in elegant swirls, large, silvery paws; and a long, fluffy tail unusual to that of a Lynx, and more similar to that of a Maine Coon. His body was quite strong, able to crush the skull of a grown man under his large paws. His eyes were a soft teal, which matched his favorite velveteen cloak that he often wore when out. Like Belinda, he was a Planeswalker, but unlike Belinda, he was a telekinetic, able to move objects with his mind. He had also mastered illusion magic and was decent telepath. He had the stealth of a hunter, the strength of a warrior, and mind of an ancient mage. He was dangerous, but, as Belinda quickly found, he was arrogant, pretentious, and stuck up. Typical cat traits, but was prone to melancholy and would provide sage advice. Usually, that's when he started drinking and Belinda was grateful that he was an Old 'Walker full of ancient Elven magic and whatever the Hell else he had access to on his home plane.

Because, oh I don't know, ALCOHOL WOULD KILL A CAT?! Belinda had once reflected. So, too, would onions, garlic, peppers, grapes, and most other stuff she had seen Lucien put in his mouth. She absentmindedly scratched Spyro between his stubby little horns.

"Anyway, your birthday is coming up fast," Lucien pointed out, tail curling up around his front paws. He was capable of both physical and mental speech. Most of the time he simply spoke plainly. It amused Belinda when people got freaked out by it. She was amused by some of the dumbest things.

"Yeah," Belinda sighed, staring at the ceiling. Eighteen, she thought. About freaking time. Now she would officially be an adult. However, she didn't feel any different. She had been an adult for years now, something natural to being a Planeswalker, some of them anyway. "You have to be responsible for your actions, especially since they can change worlds and alter the courses of histories," her first mentor, a male half-Angel named Karr Ivorring, had told her after her Spark ignited. She rolled onto her side and looked at Lucien. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed. "You awake still?"

No response. He fell asleep. Belinda sighed and got up, leaving her bedroom for Lucien and Spyro to sleep and heading to the ground floor of Breezehome, her house in the proud city of Whiterun, in the center of Whiterun Hold in the center of beautiful Skyrim on the northern part of the continent Tamriel on the world of Nirn. After a year now, Belinda called this place home. She loved it here, well, most of the time. There was adventure, beauty, and she could live a great life. She didn't live alone, if Lucien was any indication. Dione came and went as she pleased, though right now her presence was required in Riften to run the Thieves Guild. There was also Belinda's Housecarl Lydia who occupied the other room upstairs and guarded the house and the Aetherborn Astral whose room was across from Lucien's down in the basement, though the latter was out shopping. Despite the fact Astral wanted to change the world, some things about Aetherborn was universal: A love of life and fine things. Astral's plan was to slay villainous people by draining the life force and giving it to the sick and wounded, and to use the wealth they would acquire from various bandit dens to build hospitals. It was noble, especially since Tamriel needed better facilities for the sick and wounded. The temples could only do so much to help and weren't sterile places to attend to the sick and wounded.

Belinda went to the cabinets and examined what she should eat. She was hungry, and wanted something quick and easy, or maybe one of the pastries she had bought at the market the other day…She went to the pantry and smiled. The lavender shortbread cookies she had made were still there. She grabbed the jar and pulled out half a dozen and sat down to eat them. As she munched on a cookie, her eyes drifted to her lower right arm. The arm and hand were scarred. Her right hand was missing the right finger and had scar on the back and palm where she had been pinned to a wall with a dagger. The hand was still stiff from that. There were scars on her lower armed where a thorny vine from a Saporling had grabbed her, but they had been covered up by beautiful tattoos of three Dragons. The black one was Alduin the World Eater, her bitter enemy. The greyish one was her friend and teacher in the Way of the Voice Zeyiizyol, whose name was once Paarthurnax; he taught her how to Shout like a Dragon. And the red one was her friend Odahviing. Both he and Zeyiizyol had been honored when Belinda told them about the tattoo, and the latter had, in a way, cried when Belinda showed him the tattoo of his deceased brother Alduin. Alduin had been the first, and Zeyiizyol after him, but they were brothers. Despite the fact that Dragons supposedly could not feel love, there was a brotherly love and affection there.

The tattoos had hurt like a bitch, for lack of a better term. Belinda had forgotten that this world was still a long ways away from having tattoo guns like her world, so various needles and tools had been used to create the images and imbed the ink. She was sure the thorns stabbing and carving and cutting up her arm had hurt worse, but at the time she was high on adrenaline and rage and hadn't registered the pain or the fact she was dying what should have been a very painful death. So, she was grateful when another Planeswalker, a powerful healer named Eveline, showed up and saved her life. Belinda was then pulled from her thoughts by a knock on the door. She looked up. Astral and Lydia had their own keys, so it had to be someone else. She got up and went to the door.

"Who is it?" she asked. Given everything that happened in the last year, she had a reason to have a healthy dose of paranoia. People did want her dead after all.

"Grete," answered an accented, female voice that was a bit deep.

Belinda sighed and opened the door. "Hey Grete, how are you?" she greeted, smiling. She quickly took note of Grete's attire: Rusted, light iron plates studded to a leather tunic buckled close on the upper torso; leather pants, leather boots that reached her knees, and leather gauntlets with braces on the side. She still had the beautiful rapier she had won from a Thalmor soldier she had felled in battle months ago. Her copper hair was put up in a ponytail and her hazel eyes had become very stern. Belinda blinked. "What's with the outfit?" she asked.

"I joined up with the Dawnguard," Grete answered.

Belinda had heard rumors of the Dawnguard starting back up out in the Rift Hold from merchants coming from Riften. They were recruiting members, but the leader was supposedly a hardass. However, there were stories coming in about increased vampire attacks. "Vampire hunters, right?" she asked.

Grete nodded. "And I've come to recruit you."

"Really?" Belinda asked.

"Isran needs good warriors, and I told him you're one of the best," Grete answered. "So he sent me to convince you to join."

"I'm game," Belinda told her.

"That was…easy," Grete muttered. "I expected you to be more reluctant to join, that you would want time to relax after the war."

"I expected the same of you," Belinda retorted. "But I guess neither of wanted to just sit down and rest after the war."

Grete nodded.

"Why don't you come in and I'll pour us some mead," Belinda offered.

"A little soft drink won't kill me, I suppose," Grete muttered, walking into the house and closing the door behind her. She noted the cookies on the table.

Belinda grabbed two tankards and went to a keg. After filling them up, she brought more cookies over. "So, how have you been?" she asked.

"Okay I guess," Grete answered. "I took Mother with me to Fort Dawnguard so she would have a safe place to stay while I'm out fighting vampires."

"Have you talked to Ralof as well?" Belinda asked.

"No; why do you ask?" Grete responded.

"The Dawnguard could use a healer, and Ralof has gotten much better," Belinda pointed out. "Thanks to Danica, Eveline, and Karliah, he can set a born, bring someone back from the brink, make a potion for just about every disease. In fact, he's be thinking about joining the Temple of Kynareth."

"Not a bad career choice," Grete commented. "Do you know where he's staying?"

"The Temple of Kynareth here in town."

"Think Astral, Lucien, or Dione would be interested?" Grete asked.

"Probably," Belinda answered as Astral entered Breezehome.

"Interested in what?" they asked, voice echoing.

"In joining the Dawnguard; we could use someone like you," Grete answered. Some part of her still didn't fully understand Astral's existence, but she had come to accept their presence.

"You know I am a vampire, right?" Astral asked, having heard about the Dawnguard themself.

"You are?" Grete responded, raising a brow.

"I don't consume blood like your typical vampire," Astral pointed out, joining them at the table. They folded their stony fingers and rested their chin upon them. "I drink life energy, which can still be fatal. I've been learning how to control it so I don't instantly kill people, much like how a vampire would have to learn how not to drink a person dry. That said, do not be so quick to judge a vampire, especially if they choose to be civilized. And of course, not everyone chooses to be what they are. I did not choose to be an essence drainer. I just am."

"The major difference between you and a blood drinking vampire is that you can't make other people Aetherborn though," Belinda pointed out, taking a sip of mead.

Grete nodded. She learned so much by being part of this circle of friends. Based on Belinda's customs and behavior, so unlike anything in Tamriel, Grete felt the young woman to be otherworldly. She had no idea how right she was. Lucien padded downstairs, Spyro perched and wobbling on his back. He was a light sleeper like any cat, but he could control whether or not he should wake. He did hear much when he slept.

"The Dawnguard is being reformed?" Lucien asked, moving close to Belinda so Spyro could climb onto her shoulders.

"Yes; I told the leader about you lot and he told me to recruit you if I can," Grete answered.

"You're a vampire hunter now? Suits you," Lucien commented. "It's just as well. Vampires are getting bold around here."

"Well, let us go pack some things and hit the road," Belinda said, standing. She went to the stairs.

"What about Dione?" Grete asked, turning slightly.

"She was called to Riften," Belinda answered, starting up the stairs. "We'll see if she's interested on the way to Fort Dawnguard. It's near Riften, correct?"

"Yeah, it is."

Belinda grabbed her canvas backpack and shoved in several pairs of undergarment and pads. She was bleeding again. Ugh! Groan! She packed a change of clothes and two extra pairs of pants, including her favorite pair of yoga pants and brown cargo pants. She added plenty of socks. She grabbed a few of her favorite books from back home, her notebook, and a pencil case and carefully placed them in the pouches that would work best. She changed, getting into her favorite outfit. The leather of her boots, bracers, and corset had been saved, thankfully. She donned her necklace and keychain of crystals. Her hair was already fixed up the way she liked it. She came downstairs and wrapped up food for the road, Spyro perched on her shoulder. Lucien and Astral came up from the basement, ready to go whenever Belinda and Grete were. Lucien wore a teal, velveteen cloak with slits on the hood so his ears could poke out with saddlebags over his back carrying books, scrolls, quills, ink, and an extra cloak in case something happened to the one he was wearing. He had a dresser full of similar cloaks, which made Belinda laughed. Astral dressed in a loose, white shirt and dark trousers, both looking clean and fine under a tunic of Skysteel plate armor with a turquoise hood that brought out their eyes, matching bracers and boots, and a belt holding a sword for defense. They seldom needed to use a sword. They had managed to move silently in heavy armor.

Lydia entered the house, dressed casually instead of wearing her steel armor. "Leaving again, my Thane?" she asked.

"Yep; hold down the fort until we get back…Whenever that'll be," Belinda answered.

They stepped out into the street. In late summer after the Dragon Crisis and Civil War, Whiterun looked as it should: A bustling hub full of merchants with stalls crammed wherever there was room. Arches of flowers and vines were raised between houses that hadn't been damaged during the Battle for Whiterun. Those houses that had been damaged were still being rebuilt. Statues and pillars of while horses were being built and raised and the wall was under repair. Still, merchants were content to come and sell their goods and boosts the city's economy to help with the repairs. Astral and Lucien drew up their hoods.

With all these merchants around, any number of vampires could have gotten in, Belinda thought, looking around.

"Should we get Sieghard?" Grete asked.

"No; his son was just born and he's planning on staying in or around Jorrvaskr for a while," Belinda answered. She sighed. "But he'll still want to know if I'm leaving the city for an extended period, so we may as well go see him. We'll grab Ralof on the way." She led the way through the crowds to Jorrvaskr, Mead Hall of the Companions.

"This place reminds me more of Rohan every day," Lucien commented, giving his feline smile.

Grete looked down at him. "What's Rohan?" she asked.

"An ancient place; don't worry about it," Lucien answered.

Grete sighed and looked ahead. Mysterious as always, she thought. The Plains District Square was busy and full of people. Wenches from The Banner Mare were moving around, bringing samples of wine or mead to people. It was Ysolda's idea probably, to bring samples and entice people to come having food and drink at the inn. Speaking of whom…The young, lanky Nord woman with short brown hair and kind eyes came over to offer them samples.

"Hey Ysolda," Belinda greeted. "What do you have?"

"We have wine brought in the West Weald and some Black Briar from two years ago," Ysolda answered.

"I'll try the wine," Belinda stated, taking a little ceramic cup. She hated Black Briar. Tasted too bitter. She sipped it. "Very fruit," she commented. "Mild sweetness and not dry. Most red wines are dry, so I tend not to care for them. But this is nice and sweet, fruity, and moist."

Grete took a cup of wine and sipped. "This is good."

"Oooh, let me ty!" Lucien exclaimed, levitating a cup his mouth. "Ah! Most excellent and refreshing! The West Weald truly has some of the best wines!" He looked to Ysolda. "Would be a dear and fetch a bottle for me? I simply must have a bottle for the road!"

Ysolda giggled. "Would you like some cheesy meat pies to go with that?" she asked.

"Do you have some already made?" Lucien asked, eyes going wide.

"We do," Ysolda answered.

Lucien turned to the others. "I'll meet you all back here," he told them. "I must get me wine and meat pies!" He followed Ysolda to the inn.

"That cat is such a lush," Belinda commented, turning and heading up a flight of stone stairs into Whiterun's Wind District.

This place was more residential, containing the homes of a few of the local merchants, the wealthy, and the Temple of Kynareth and Jorrvaskr. It also had restored Gildergreen Tree, a tall, ancient, and beautiful tree crowned with flowers in all colors and apples in varying colors of red, yellow, and green. It was surrounded by painted and polished benches and a ring of flowing water. The temple priests were here, offering healing and guidance and the local beggars were here. Pilgrims of Kynareth came from far and wide to see the Gildergreen's beauty and taste its fruit.

They went first to the Temple of Kynareth were Ralof was healing a child who had scraped her knee. He looked to the others with a smile. "Armor and weapons? Going on an adventure?" he asked. He was wearing a dark green robe with a sky blue hood and wrap, the colors of the Goddess Kynareth. He was your stereotypical looking Nord: Tall, buff, blond hair, and blue eyes, but he had a kind, welcoming smile.

"Yeah; Grete came to recruit us for the Dawnguard," Belinda answered.

Ralof looked to Grete. She looked good in that armor. "Nice to see you again, Grete," he greeted.

"Likewise," Grete responded. "So: Are you interested. We're vampire hunters. We're pretty good in the warrior department. We could use a few healers."

Ralof took a moment to think. He had his duties here at the temple, but at the same time, he did crave a little adventure. So he said, "Sure; give me a moment to pack." He did so hurriedly.

They then left and went around the tree, heading up another flight of stone stairs to Jorrvaskr, which was a large hall built up and crowned with the ship that had originally brought the ancient Nord hero Ysgramor and his 500 Companions, the greatest and bravest warriors, mages, hunters, advisors, smiths, and his own brother, to Skyrim. In Whiterun, they had found the Skysteel Forge and found that it made steel stronger. The first Greymane, whom had been the greatest smith of the time, worked the forge and mastered steel, and the Greymane family had worked the Skysteel Forge since then.

"Good morning, Belinda," greeted a white-haired Nord half a decade her senior. This was Thorald Greymane, the youngest son of Eorlund and Fralia Greymane and the next in line to work the Skysteel Forge. After the Civil War, he and his older brother Avulstein deemed it safe enough to return to Whiterun. The elder brother was to be the next Jarl after old Vignar passed since he had no heirs of his own.

"Good morning Thorald," Belinda responded. "Is Sieghard inside?" she asked him.

"Aye," Thorald replied. "Can't stop fussing over his pup."

Belinda smiled. "Well, I need to tell him I'm heading out again to help the Dawnguard with the vampire issue."

"First dragons, then war, now vampires," Thorald groaned. "Will this ever end? The more superstitious lot are talking about it being the end times."

"Yeah, the world tends to do that a sometimes, I've noticed," Belinda pointed out. "Good thing there's level-headed folk like us who don't buy into the superstitious nonsense." Of course, this world also isn't Innistrad, she thought, trying not to look amuse by the thought. There, people almost always have reason to be superstitious. Of course, she couldn't tell him that.

Thorald nodded and then hauled a cart of steel ingots up to the forge. Belinda, Grete, and Astral headed inside Jorrvaskr. Inside it was warm and homely, a massive hall with a large fire pit in the center surrounded by long tables that were currently clean, surprisingly. Usually the tables were covered in dishes and platters. Now that Belinda thought of it, it was also surprisingly quiet. She looked around and saw the 21-year-old Cyrodiilic woman Ria sitting at a table, reading.

"Ria? Where is everyone?" Belinda asked.

"Out back training or doing jobs," Ria answered, looking up from her book. "Aela wanted Jorrvaskr clean and quiet, for a change. It's actually nice, since it's quiet enough to read for once. I supposed it's because of little Kodlak that it's quiet."

"Right; I'm going to go see Sieghard, Aela, and Kodlak," Belinda pointed out. "I'm heading out and again and they'll want to know that I'm leaving for a bit."

Ria nodded and went back to her book. The others slipped downstairs to the living quarters. It was just straight ahead, past the barracks and Old Tilma's room and past the Circle's chambers. In the Harbinger's quarters, which were three rooms connected by a living space (it was clearly meant for the event of the Harbinger having a family). The living space was full of books and trophies from successful battles and hunts, and on the large rug in the center sat two adult Nords, both slightly taller than average. The man was Harbinger Sieghard Wolfson, who was 6'4" and over 200lbs of hard muscle and thick bones with a honey blond beard and shoulder length hair; sharp silver eyes, and tanned skin. It was a bit strange, seeing him without his armor and in casual clothes. The woman was Aela the Huntress, a tall, independent Nord woman who was still trying to kill the baby weight and get back in shape. She had long, wild auburn hair and the same silver eyes as her husband. She was dressed casually, which was also a bit strange to see. But, she never ever wore a dress or skirt. Shirt and trousers for her.

"Hello Belinda," Sieghard greeted, giving her a smile.

"Hey Sieghard; hey Aela," Belinda responded softly. She crept over and knelt, looking down at the cute little infant boy. "Aww, he's so cute and pudgy." She looked to Sieghard and Aela, who had both become like parents to her at this point. "Can you two believe you made a baby?"

"Hardly," Sieghard answered sheepishly. "I keep thinking: I have a son. I never thought I'd have a son, let alone one so perfect."

"I always thought I'd have a daughter before a son," Aela pointed out.

Belinda nodded. The women of Aela's family had all been Companions for generations, including her mother. Aela was a fierce warrior, fighting with a shield and short sword and quick as lightning, but her specialty was archery. She was on par with Dione's mother in archery.

"So, you're heading off into danger I take it?" Sieghard asked.

"Yeah; Grete asked if I wanted to join the Dawnguard," Belinda answered. "So I said, 'Sure!'"

"What's the Dawnguard exactly?" Aela asked.

"Vampire hunters," Belinda answered.

"Alright, just be careful," Aela told her.

Belinda nodded.

"Dead serious about that too," Sieghard added, giving her a hard stare. "You come home safe and unharmed. And preferably not a vampire."

Belinda nodded again. She hugged them both, and they hugged back. Then she stood and followed Grete away. They met back up with Lucien with a pack full of meat pies and a bottle of wine. At the stables, they tacked up the horses and started away from the stable…