Hircine is the Daedric prince whose sphere is the Hunt, the Sport of Daedra, the Great Game, and the Chase; he is known as the Huntsman and the Father of Manbeasts.

They met her as instructed and together Iona, Lydia and the three companions walked a short distance from the city. When they reached a field bare enough, Iona looked to the sky. "ODAHVIING!" she Shouted, waiting until the red dragon approached. She saw Vilkas and Aela tense beside her and held up her hand. "Don't," she said as he came into land.

"Briinah," he said, his voice rumbling as he bowed his head in acknowledgement of her presence, "Drem yol lok."

"Greetings to you as well, Odahviing. I would ask a favour of you."

"Of course, Dohvakiin. What is it you would wish?"

"I wish to return, with my companions, to Skuldafn."

"That is a dark, abandoned place. Gaaf, sil. Ghosts of Alduin and his ilk."

"Will you take us?" she asked. "It is of great importance that we reach the temple."

"Unslaad Krosis. I shall take you and those with you, Dohvakiin."


When Odahviing departed, Iona strode ahead, only realising that she had left the others behind when she reached the end of the thin walkway that lead to the temple proper. Kodlak was watching, apparently somewhat bemused, as the others recovered from the flight. Iona smiled beneath her mask and waited for them to follow her. She lead them through the deserted temple, past the long decayed bodies of draugr, the bones of dragons and, eventually, past a pile of ash that had once been a dragon priest. She reached behind her back and drew the staff the priest had wielded against her, moving towards the portal in the centre of the courtyard.

A blast of blue light signalled the opening of the portal and Iona felt it pull at her, tugging her inside. She turned to the others, saw the apprehension on their faces, and stepped backwards into the portal.

The skies of Sovngarde were bright with stars, the air clear – a far cry from her last visit. She settled down upon the grass to wait for the others. Kodlak and Lydia came through first, both of them moving to the top of the hill on which they now stood to take in the sight of Shor's hall in the distance. "It is just as they say," Kodlak said quietly after a moment. "Truly, a haven for all nords."

Soon, Vilkas and Aela had joined them, and Iona allows Kodlak to take the lead, allowing herself to appreciate her surroundings now that they were no longer covered in Alduin's great fog. There were people walking around, most heading towards the hall and yet others simply sitting in the sun. Iona smiled as she saw a face she knew and hurried forward.

Gormlaith glanced up at the sound of running feet and pushed herself from the grass. "Dragonborn," she said, bowing slightly in greeting. "It is good to see you again, although I had not expected you for some time."

"I'm not dead," she dismissed the point, "Simply passing through."

"That is not something many people do in Sovngarde," Gormlaith laughed. "You have a new mask?"

"What? Oh, yes." Iona had not yet obtained Konahrik when she defeated Alduin, and had instead been wearing a mask that boosted her magic abilities.

"And you fight with a sword, not your magic. I knew you would see the light one day."

"Quite," Iona said, managing a slight laugh. "Gormlaith Golden-Hilt," she said after a moment. "My companions and I are launching an attack on the hunting grounds of Hircine. We would be honoured if you would join us in this quest."

"You brought more people?" Gormlaith moved to look at those who had come through the portal with Iona as though to assess them each in turn.

"This is Lydia, my housecarl, Vilkas and Aela of the companions and Kodlak, their harbinger."

"Companions? We haven't seen any of them for many years now."

"They go to the hunting grounds," Kodlak said, stepping forward, "Living out their eternity with Hircine in his games."

"Well then, I should be most eager to join your quest. I shall go now to Shor's hall, and bring with me Felldir and Hakon, who I am sure will be honoured to join you too."

They walked the short distance to the hall together and then hung back as Gormlaith went inside. Iona nodded to Tsun, who showed no sign that he saw her, and turned to the others. "Gormlaith and the others were the three warriors who first defeated Alduin, banishing him in time and allowing me to fight him here in Sovngarde."

"That must surely have been a fight to behold," Kodlak said, not looking at her but instead with his head tilted back as he took in the vast sky, full of stars.

"Maybe." Iona shrugged. She couldn't really remember the fight, which had raged for many hours even with the aid of the three masters of the Voice. The only part that was truly impressed upon her memory was the moment when Alduin was slain, his soul fleeing to the skies of Sovngarde.

Sounds on the bridge made her turn back to Shor's hall, where Gormlaith, Hakon and Felldir were leading what appeared to be a small army. Iona gaped.

"The companions of Sovngarde would not be left behind!" Hakon shouted as they reached the end of the bridge. "One last fight, for the glory of Sovngarde!"

"Thank you," Iona said, taking a deep bow to the assembled heroes. Once they had all crossed the bridge, she turned to the near unmoving Tsun. "Will you send us on to the hunting grounds?"

"I can send you there," he said after a moment, "But I cannot bring you back should you fail in your mission."

"Well then let's get on with it!" Gormlaith shouted. "For Sovngarde!" The cheer was taken up on all sides, mixed with a shout long known to the companions. "For Jorrvaskr and the glory of Ysgramor!"

Iona could not make out the words of Tsun's Shout, but she felt the effect instantly. Her vision blurred, the skies of Sovgngarde replaced by the roof of a dark cavern. Wolves howled, and through a gap in the ceiling, Iona could see a red moon. Bloodmoon.

Without any true warning, the wolves were upon them. The warriors of Sovngarde, being already dead, fought without fear or mercy, while those who had journeyed from Nirn fought with more caution. Kodlak and Vilkas seemed unwilling to attack the wolves that surrounded them, while Aela withdrew out of harms reach, bow at the ready, willing to attack anything that threatened her. Iona chewed her lip for a moment and took a deep breath, preparing her shout. "RAAN MIR!" she bellowed, and the wolves stopped, cowed by her Voice.

In the ensuing silence, a figure approached, garbed in leather and fur, his helmet decorated with large curled antlers. "Hircine, Lord of the Hunt," Iona murmured.

"Quite," he replied, stepping towards her. His voice exactly as it had been in the vision, everything about him telling her that this was the same man. "It has been some time since last we spoke mortal, some long years." She started and he laughed at her confusion. "Still you have not worked it out? The days of your trials grow long, and we grow bored watching you struggle through them. Appeasing a Prince is difficult at best, but appeasing a bored Prince? Well now that is another story. Tell me, mortal, what is it you seek here in my realm?"

"I seek freedom for the souls of the Companions," she replied, her voice shaking.

"Liar," Hircine replied simply. "You seek my appeasement. You seek answers to your questions, an end to these trials." The wolves growled, padding towards their lord and master, teeth bared as they turned to face the army of Sovngarde. "Well, mortal. If you wish to pass my trial, you must defeat me in battle, without the aid of your army."

"I will fight without them, if you will leave your pets behind."

"If you can beat me in battle, I shall grant a boon to all the living companions present here today!" he laughed, clearly anticipating his own victory.

"And you must swear to free the souls of the companions should I win."

"I will free those who wish to be freed, and keep those who wish to stay if that is to be your boon. Now mortal, will you fight me?"

"I will."

"Then let us begin." White light enveloped them and Iona suddenly found herself alone with Hircine in the centre of a large ring. The heroes of Sovngarde stood surrounding them, as did the wolves of Hircine. "You wish for my approval, and so you shall fight me as you see me now, a deadric Prince in all his glory!"

Iona barely managed to draw her sword to deflect Hircine's first strike. He looked like a man, yet he fought like an animal, tooth and claw, trying to find purchase on her armour. She knocked him with the hilt of her blade, but he simply batted it away, jumping onto all fours, his eyes gleaming through the slits in his helmet.

"You cannot beat me, Dohvakiin," he snarled. "No one can defeat me!"

"You've been beaten before," she panted, "Or you will be one day."

"What nonsense is this?"

"The Bloodmoon. You have been defeated in the Bloodmoon." He snarled again, this time leaping at her from behind. She ducked and he missed, his claw instead catching upon the fabric that covered her hair while she wore the mask, tearing it. She scrabbled desperately to catch it, to secure it back in place, but it soon became apparent that she could not wear the mask and fight Hircine at the same time. She pulled the mask off and threw it to one side. The companions were behind her, but it was only a matter of time until they saw her face now – if they hadn't already.

Vilkas watched from the side as the Dragonborn fought. There was something here he didn't understand – he had been lead to believe the Dragonborn was a master sorcerer, able to defeat enemies with nothing more than a flick of her wrist, yet here she was battling it out with a sword, and not one that was particularly well handled either. He realised now that she had fought in the same way when they battled the dragon in Whiterun.

There didn't appear to be anything holding him and the others back from the fight at first glance, but he could feel some force repelling him from moving any nearer when he tried to step forward so as to see what was happening clearer.

When Hircine ripped the mask from the Dragonborn's face, he felt more than heard Aela's sharp intake of breath and the clenching of her muscles. He watched as she struggled to keep the mask in place and then, realising it would not work, throwing it away.

Now it was his turn to freeze. The air locked up in his chest as he realised just who it was facing Hircine. He could only see the back of her head, but he was sure. As though to tell him he was right, a voice whispered in his ear, one he had heard not a small amount of times these past few weeks. "Go now, I will remove the barrier for you. Run."

And he ran forward, feeling the barrier lift for just the briefest of seconds as Hircine leapt at Iona, his claws tearing through the skin of her face. She collapsed to the ground, a mess of blood, sweat and tears.

"You have intervened, mortal," Hircine boomed. "Is it that you wish to take her place in this fight?"

"I'll do that," he replied, drawing his sword and moving between the deadric prince and Iona. "Hold him off, just for a short while. It will not be long now." When Hircine attacked, Vilkas was ready for him, knocking him away with the flat of his blade before swinging. The Lord of the hunt was easily the fastest of the pair, and his strength was not something to be underestimated, easily matching and quite probably surpassing Vilkas' own.

Still, this did not mean he didn't put up one hell of a fight, causing Hircine more than a little grief. Within less than a minute they were both out of breath, both bleeding from superficial wounds. Anger was clear on Hircine's face as he moved back, like a wolf preparing for one last attack.

He leapt, a snarling mass of something that wasn't quite a man, but wasn't a wolf either. Vilkas saw death in the prince's eyes and raised his weapon in one last desperate stand when…

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

Iona heaved herself to her feet, one hand covering her right eye, blood oozing out between her fingers. Blue light filled the cavern, pinning Hircine to the ground. "It's not so much fun now is it," she said, wiping blood from her lips, "playing these games. Not when you're mortal." Hircine growled and tried to push himself up from the ground, only to be pushed back down by the power of the Shout. "Admit defeat," she told him, "And I spare your life."

"This is not defeat," he panted, finally pushing himself to his feet.

"JOOR!" she Shouted, forcing him down once more. "You can be killed while this Shout is in effect. You know it, I know it. Admit defeat before the army of Sovngarde, Lord Hircine of the hunt, or you will be slaughtered like the animal you are." Still he did not speak, but simply kept trying to force himself up from the ground, even to crawl forward towards Iona and Vilkas. "JOOR!" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as, finally, Hircine fully collapsed onto the ground.

"I admit my defeat at your hands, Dohvakiin."

"Then by the terms you set yourself, you owe every living companion in this room a boon."

"Anything that is within my power to grant," he growled. The power that had held the others back had dissipated, and now Aela, Lydia and Kodlak moved forward to join them, facing Hircine as Dragonrend finally wore off. He moved to his feet, rolling his head as though warming down. "Companion," he barked at Kodlak, "You make your request first."

"Very well," Kodlak said. "I request that all Companions held within the hunting grounds are given the opportunity to live their eternity out in Sovngarde."

"Your boon is granted. Next, you." He pointed a clawed finger at Aela.

"I ask that the Companions of years to come be given the same choice between Sovngarde and the hunting grounds."

"You ask too much girl," he growled. "I will grant this request for the Companions as they are now, but future generations must be made to understand the truth of the choice when they take the beast blood. That is when their choice will be made. You," he turned to Vilkas, "What is your boon?"

"My brother…" he began.

"Is dead," Hircine snapped. "Nothing can be done for him that has not already been done. I will grant you one conversation with him before your return to Nirn, but I can do no more." Vilkas nodded, and now everyone turned to look at Iona. "And you Dohvakiin," Hircine said with narrowed eyes, "What is it you ask of me?"

"Understanding," she said.

"That is not something I can give to you. That will come in time, from those who know your full story. For now, mortal, I will allow that you have exceeded my expectations and passed my trial. Hircine is appeased!"

As Hircine uttered the words, Iona felt something tug at her, pulling her from the ground. She blinked once, twice and opened her eyes to find herself at the top of a snow covered mountain; the Throat of the World. Back on Nirn, she realised for the first time just how much blood she had lost and her head began to spin, she moved her hand away from her eye, but there was no change to her vision. She could see the blood on her gauntlets, but even as she looked her hand appeared to blur before her eyes and very suddenly the ground was rushing towards her.

They did not begin the long descent until the following day, when Iona's head had been sufficiently healed and bandaged. Her eye was not damaged, but her vision had been obscured by blood leaking into it from a forehead wound, which would heal well enough now that it had been treated. The air grew warmer as they passed High Hrothgar, and the snow began to thin out as Ivarstead came into view. They didn't talk much on the way down, the things that had happened in the hunting grounds, the secret that had been revealed, weighing them down a little. When they reached the hamlet at the base of the mountain, Iona revealed her intentions.

"I'm heading to Riften," she said, not turning to look at any of their faces, "Alone. I can't go to Whiterun in this armour without my mask, and if I'm seen with all of you too much, people will figure out who I am anyway."

"At least let me…" Lydia began.

"No," Iona said without letting her finish. "People know you're my… the Dragonborn's housecarl. It wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together."

"You're in no fit state to be wondering the country alone girl," Kodlak said his voice harsh, but his eyes soft. "You are a companion, and a companion should accompany you."

"I'm sure Vilkas wouldn't mind," Aela suggested, a little too innocently.

"No, I'm sure he would not," Kodlak agreed, turning to the hulking nord.

"I want to do this alone," Iona said, deliberately avoiding Vilkas' eyes. "I need some time to think. To be by myself. It's not far from here to Riften, and I can get back to Whiterun from there easily enough. Besides, what with all my scars, bandits'll probably avoid me." She managed an almost convincing grin. "I'll stay a night here and head out to Riften I the morning."

"Iona," Lydia began, "I really don't…"

"I'll manage," she replied. "I always do, right?"


Not quite trusting the others to let her leave on her own, Iona rose early the following morning, walking quietly past Lydia's bed and into the main part of the inn. The room was quiet, the embers of the fire still not quite dead and only one person sitting at the bar. She was not at all surprised that it was Vilkas and it seemed that he was unsurprised to see her too.

"I thought you might be up early," he said without even looking.

"I need this time," she said, almost pleadingly. "Just to… get my head straight."

"I get it," he replied, turning a little so she could see the side of his face.

"You spoke with Farkas, didn't you?"

"Yeah. He's in Sovngarde now, with a few of the others. Most of them were too lost to Hircine's games to even care where they were anymore."

"But you got Farkas out. That's got to count for something."

"Yeah, I guess. I know I have a choice now. I know Sovngarde will be there for me but… but I've seen Hircine now, I've seen his games. Suddenly the part of me that's the wolf… well, it doesn't really feel like a part of me anymore."

"Keep looking. There will be a way to get rid of it in this life."

"I hope so."

"You're not going to try convince me to stay?"

"Is there any point?" He turned to look at her fully now. "If you want to go, you'll go, nothing I can do to stop you, you'd just Shout me down."

"No I wouldn't," she whispered.

"Well I'd like you to stay." He shrugged. "But I won't make you." He stood and turned to the room he and Kodlak had booked for the night. He stopped about a foot to the side of Iona and turned to look at her. "Don't get hurt."

"I'm the Dragonborn, what could possibly go wrong?" she joked. Vilkas laughed a little, but it was clearly forced.

The kiss was short, but warm. Iona broke off and ran for the door. She wasn't sure how she felt about anything in her life at the moment, least of all Vilkas. The night's rest had done her some good, the pain in her head having faded quite significantly. The road was quiet so early in the morning, the birds only just beginning to sing, the touch of night still lingering across the land, but her hand never strayed too far from her weapon, loose in its sheath at her hip.

Her journey was, however, uneventful for the most part, and she reached Riften before sundown having killed nothing more interesting or dangerous than a pair of wolves far out in the wilderness where she could safely dispatch them with the use of her Voice.

The very first thing she did was head to Honeyside (inadvertently discovering how Lydia had found her way into the underground manor in the first place) and change into a simple tunic. She didn't want to return to Whiterun quite yet, which gave her two choices – she could either drop by the Ragged Flagon, or patron the Bee and Barb. When she settled upon the flagon, she changed once more, donning her Guildmaster's armour.

The secret passage to the cistern was still undiscovered, so she skipped a treacherous journey through the Ratway and was greeted warmly by Brynjolf at the base of the ladder. "Good to see you lass," he called as she waved once in his direction. "Though you look a little worse for wear. Didn't get caught I hope?"

"Not quite."

"You brought anything worth having?" She nodded, dropping a bag that contained a large fortune in gems and enchanted weaponry by the desk. Technically, it was more looted than stolen and had in fact been sitting in her manor for a few years now, but she doubted anyone at the guild particularly cared so long as she kept bringing it in. "Up for a drink, Bryn?" she asked, pausing at the edge of the Cistern.

"I'll skip it today. There's a dark crowd in there today."

"Darker than usual?"

"Aye, much darker." She shrugged and headed through into the bar. The place was almost deserted – even Dirge had deserted his usual spot by the entrance, and Vekel had his eyes fixed on his lone customer, who was talking in a loud, high pitched voice, his speech coming thick and fast.

"But mother and I weren't all that welcome, you see. We moved on, we found a new home. Of course, Cicero is rarely welcome these days, and mother is so… silent." Vekel caught Iona's eyes as she approached the bar and shook his head very slightly – a warning, perhaps? – but it was too late. The stranger had seen her.

"And who is this?" he cried, dancing up to her, the bells upon his hat ringing loudly. "Another thief hiding in the filth of course, scurrying in the Ratway like the vermin you are!"

"Shut it you!" Vekel snapped at him. "I won't have you insulting my regulars."

"Oh yes?" he laughed, a laugh as demented as the small jester appeared to be in his patchwork suit of red and black leather. "And what will you do when Cicero prays to his mother for your name? Mother listens to Cicero, even if Cicero cannot listen to mother!" Vekel through his hands in the air.

"The bar's closed," he shouted. "Go to the Bee and Barb if you wan't a drink." He stormed into the back room, slamming the door behind it. Iona could hear the distinct sound of a bolt sliding into place at the other side. Shrugging, she took a drink anyway, placing a couple of Septims in its place.

"Cicero will show them," the small man whispered. "Cicero will show them all, when mother speaks." Iona had a growing suspicion about the little man, and kept stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. It was possible he was simply mad… but there was a strange darkness to his madness, an edge she didn't like.

A strange, mad thought occurred to her as she remembered her dreams, the many things she had seen. "Darkness rises when silence dies," she said quietly. The muttering stopped instantly and when she looked again, the jester – Cicero – was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"What… what did you say?" his voice was quietly excited, building up, bubbling to something huge.

"Darkness rises when silence dies," she repeated.

"Haha!" he crowed, leaping from his stool and sending it flying. "Cicero has done it! They said it could not be done, but Cicero has done it, done what they said he could not! Cicero has found the listener!"