Hello, hello! I'm sorry this one took so long to come out. I've been working a lot of overnights at the hospital, and when I do those I'm usually too mentally tired after to write. And one of my patients spit in my eyes so now I'm worrying about contracting all these diseases, waiting for bloodwork to come back. AH!

So, thank you to HereLies, Arquise, conorjmck, Wolf, Arch-Daishou, Pint-sized She-Bea, Blinded in a bolthole and ggs1995. Thank you all for your support, thoughts, questions, reviews, everything. It really does mean a lot to me!

This chapter is a bit of a step back from the questing, and the second half of the chapter kind of ran away with me. But I think it's appropriate considering the xenophobia and times... anyway. Enjoy, hopefully!


"You can't hold me, I 'm too slippery, I do no sleeping, I get lonely

You can touch me, if you want to, I've got poison, just might bite you.

Lie in circles, in the sunlight, shine like diamonds on a dark night,

Ain't no mercy, in my smile, only fangs and sweet beguiling,

Future, he don't, try to find me, skin I've been through, dies behind me

Solid hollow, wrapped in hatred, not a drop of venom wasted."

- The Bootleggers. "Fire in the Blood/The Snake Song"


"I still think you should have killed her," Fenris put in after they left Fort Dawnguard. It felt good to have a full stomach and a good night's rest before descending back out into the balmy southern hills, but he was uneasy and irritated at her behavior back at the Fort. Serana should not have her life. "There's no telling what she can do."

Evelyna waved her hand. "I'm more dangerous than she is, Fenris. Besides, she's a sheep in a wolf's den. Do you think she'll try anything there?"

He frowned, bothered by her casualness. "I wouldn't call a vampire a sheep, by the way you've explained them. Do you know how many of your kind she's probably killed? You should be more worried. If she does anything, Isran plans on punishing you for it."

"Well, he won't do that either."

"He made the threat. You didn't address it, either. I'm surprised."

"Not in front of the enemy."

"Well, at least you see her as such," Fenris allowed, jaw clenched.

"I noticed that you were ready to intervene for what he said...?" Evelyna looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"I'm... no."

"What was that, then?"

Fenris felt a blush creeping up his neck and towards his ears, but he managed to still scowl. "I don't take kindly to threats, Evelyna."

"But it wasn't directed towards you," she smirked, eyes dancing with delight.

"Venhedis," he growled, shifting his gaze forward. "Are we in Winterhold yet?"

She laughed, running her hand on the horse's muzzle. Meeko prowled ahead, nose searching diligently for something interesting. Fenris shook his head, balling his fists at his sides, though he wasn't particularly angry more than irritated.

"Oh, by Talos, Fenris. You said I don't bother you that much."

"Not always."

"You can flirt with me too, you know. I wouldn't mind it." She grinned wickedly, playfully. "In fact, I may enjoy it."

"Tempting," he allowed, lip curling slightly into half a smirk.

Evelyna smiled wide in the daylight, and behind her Fenris could see fields of hot springs and low tundra, steam rolling through the valley. "Is it? That's reassuring, I had thought you were made of stone."

He swallowed hard. "Er, no," he knew he was flushed now, but he went on anyway. "Delphine would have your head," he told her, "You're the dragonborn. You're not allowed to get involved with anyone."

He noticed an instant shift in her. Her smile waned, her joy burnt out like a weak candle in a drafty room. A woman stared back at him, alone in all the world. Gone was her audacious, playful, wild attitude, replaced by a grieving, solemn loneliness. She was the dragonborn. She would never be considered someone's equal. Dragonborn was a title given to dead kings and outlawed gods, like Talos. What man could ever take her hand and not feel ashamed, not for himself but for her?

She was a dragon, he was a wolf. Wolves and dragons could not live among common men, for fear of destroying them.

"It's my choice, Fenris," Evelyna said after a moment. "Why? You truly find me so repulsive?"

Fenris sighed, hands relaxed at his sides. A wave of guilt swelled in him. "You are far from repulsive, Evelyna." He owed her that much at least. And it was the truth, though one he didn't even like to admit to himself. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her, it was that he felt like he had a duty to his friends, to find them first, before he pursued a woman.

He had relaxed a bit in his time in Kirkwall. After all those years, the thought of leaving Hawke's side had crossed his mind more than once. Maybe he could get a house somewhere. Maybe he could find a woman he liked. Maybe he could function like any other normal elf.

"Hmm," she said with a faint, solemn smile smile, "I'm glad, then. For a while there I thought I looked like an old hag."

"Not yet anyway," Fenris chuckled faintly, baritone voice rumbling. "Which is surprising, since you're elderly by my standards."

Evelyna let out a small chuckle, and Fenris tried not to feel so guilty.

Merrill was the only single female in their group of misfits, but he could never have seen himself with that naive child. It felt like ages, a thousand ages ago when he had first met Hawke and his mage-sister. Evelyna, though, she was something different. In Thedas, Evelyna would not be considered beautiful, even by a fellow elf. She'd be marked for a bandit or barbarian, or a savage native in the jungles, and not allowed in the cities.

Which was interesting, because here, those who recognized her marked her as a hero. And yet, very few actually did recognize her, fewer even respected her. There were never any trumpets blaring to welcome her to a city, no Jarl coming down from their throne to greet her, no free ale or wine, no one offering the dragonborn a sprawling bed to sleep in. It was different. Quieter. Modest. And Fenris liked it.

Hawke hadn't been able to go anywhere in Kirkwall without someone bowing to him. Once he became the Champion, people respected him to the point of reverence. It was annoying, for Fenris. He could go nowhere with Hawke without many eyes upon him. It was an uncomfortable way to live as a fugitive.

Though he wasn't a fugitive anymore. Not here, and not after he killed Danarius. This was something Fenris had to remind himself every day. It was one thing to live life increasingly more paranoid and strict, to place restrictions on the self in order to preserve one's safety and survival. But it was a different thing completely to reverse that order, to allow oneself to truly breathe. Fenris was at a loss of how to do so. Evelyna, to his benefit, wasn't. And though she may or may not be oblivious to his inner struggles with this, she was a fine example of how to live.

Which is why, later, at camp, when Evelyna began to strip herself free of her armor and clothing, Fenris did not complain like he had before. He sat beside the fire, running Evelyna's whetstone over the edge of his blade. It was a hypnotic and meditative ritual, but Fenris could not lose himself that day. His thoughts remained on that abomination, that creature Serana. That thing had no right to live, and Evelyna was wrong for turning her back on her.

He noticed Evelyna disrobing when her single steel pauldron fell onto a stone beside her feet. By the time he looked up, she had removed her leathers and furs from her legs, bare from the waist down but facing away from him, standing not terribly far away. His ears burned instantaneously, and he feared that she would look over her shoulder and catch him staring.

She pulled her leather vest over her head and tossed it to the ground. She really had no shame in being naked in front of him. Fenris couldn't help but feel that that was just how it was, that it wasn't her trying to actively flirt with him. Which was good, there was less pressure on him that way. Here, in Skyrim, people just didn't care about that sort of thing. And Skyrim was all the more better for it, really. Why should Fenris feel ashamed of his markings when others felt no embarrassment being naked, out in the cold wild?

"Oh, Fenris, it's so warm," she told him when she was knee-deep in the water. Unruly black hair shifted as she looked over her shoulder at him, smiling.

He looked back down hurriedly at his sword, embarrassed to be seen watching her like some virginal little boy. What a stark contrast he was, to be such a menacing whirlwind of death on the battlefield, and an awkward, uncertain man before a woman.

"You can join me. The water's deep enough, you won't see anything." Fenris heard the water splash a little bit. "See?"

He lifted his gaze nervously, and saw that she had submerged herself so that only her shoulders and head were visible above the water. Fenris took a breath and sighed. "One of us should be out here, in case we're attacked."

Evelyna smirked. "There's no one for miles, Fenris. Look, I'll even prove it. Laas yah nir." She looked around, narrowing her eyes on something to the east before continuing. "There are some wolves far off, an elk near them... we're fine. Besides, I've seen you mostly naked anyway."

"What?" He nearly choked.

"When I was taking care of you. I had to see where all of your cuts were." Her hazel eyes danced with delight as she smirked at him, flicking some water from the spring towards him. The water drops fell short, but Fenris ran his whetstone along the blade in stony, contemplative silence.

"Have I offended you?" She asked gently, sitting near the edge of the hot spring, shoulders submerged as well. The sky above them was a dull pink as the sun found its way behind the mountains to the west.

Fenris didn't answer, conflicted between feeling violated and relieved. She knew how extensive his markings were, and was apparently not repulsed by them. But did she like them? That was worse, if she did. Like others in his past, perhaps she thought they accentuated him, that they were a source of attraction. His stomach churned at the thought.

Evelyna sighed and tilted her head back to look at the sky. Fenris watched her out of his peripherals, glancing up to see her with her eyes shut, head tilted towards the sky. He realized that he could, indeed, see more than nothing with the clear water, but his eyes did not linger. He was no drooling lecher, even in her presence, even if she did seem to actively try to tempt him. He was a better man than that, he hoped.

Fenris sighed and put his blade down quietly. He stood and looked at Evelyna, and though her eyes were still shut, the corners of her lips were twitching upwards just the slightest.

"Don't look," he warned, knowing that she could hear him though she gave no sign that she did. He turned away and then removed his steel breastplate, and then his gauntlets, shoulder pieces and Orcish boots, and then shivered. He removed his black tunic and leggings, and decided to keep his smalls on, glancing behind him to make sure she still wasn't watching. Thankfully, her eyes were still shut.

Fenris stepped into the spring, and felt a flutter of relief in his chest at the warmth of the water. Like a hot bath, the water seemed to wash away the imperturbable cold. Fenris sank down in it, sitting against the stones. Roughly ten feet away, where Evelyna sat mostly submerged, she had done him the decency of not looking at him as he got in the pool. If she did, she had said nothing and hadn't given any indication that she had.

"It is warm," Fenris said after a moment, finding a somewhat comfortable spot on the stones, a safe distance across from Evelyna. Most of his chest was submerged, and he had not felt a pleasure like this in months. The baths he had taken in Whiterun and Solitude were nothing like this, with its warmth. This water was bordering on hot. This was the first time since he crashed in Skyrim that the cold felt like it was being driven out of his bones.

At last, Evelyna opened her eyes and smile at him. He was thankful for the fading light, the pale, late-spring sun falling down across the western edge of the world. Of this world, Tamriel. His markings were revealed, but if Evelyna was repulsed, she didn't show it.

The wolves Evelyna had sensed howled in the distance, their solemn voices echoing through Eastmarch. It was answered by a distant rumble, a roar.

Evelyna groaned, and Fenris felt himself go tense. "Fasta vaas," he growled.

Evelyna rolled her eyes. "It's too far, I don't think it will bother coming this way."

It was a struggle to convince himself to stay in the hot spring. "They can fly - what's to stop him? I'm sure your horse would be a good meal for a hungry dragon." Fenris looked to the cow-colored beast, where it stood chomping on some dried grass not terribly far from them. Meeko's ears were perked up, searching for the sounds.

"I'm sure she would be," Evelyna agreed, looking sadly at her own horse. "I should get you one. In Windhelm."

"Please, Evelyna, I am in your debt enough as it is."

She chuckled and then scooped some water in her hands, splashing her face with it, scrubbing away the dirt from traveling. "You have no debt with me."

"You are mistaken, Evelyna," he rumbled, sinking a bit lower to submerge his own shoulders. This was warmer than the ocean in Tevinter, more soothing than any bath he had ever taken. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back. The wolves in the distance howled again, and he felt a slow shiver despite the heat of the water.

A breeze blew across Eastmarch, causing the pines to tremble, their leaves rustling. Twilight was beginning to settle on the world around him, long minutes passed before he opened his eyes and sat up straight.

Behind Evelyna, on the other side of the long tundra, rose jagged snow-capped mountains, burning pink in the waning sunlight while the rest of the world rested in shadow.

"I wonder..." Evelyna began after some time, "I wonder if your lifespan will expand... being here."

"An interesting thought," Fenris said, splashing water on his own face and running wet hands through his hair. "I doubt it, though. I was not born here."

"No, that's true," Evelyna agreed. "But still..."

"We both have a lot of questions."

"Ask me one of yours, perhaps I could answer."

Fenris crossed his arms over his chest, and sank a few inches deeper in the water. "How does... necromancy work, if it does not require blood?"

"It does require blood," Evelyna said hesitantly, "and I hear that it corrupts the soul of those that use it. But... it does not summon demons... like the mages in Thedas do. It will reanimate a wolf, say, or a draugr. But these things are no stronger than they would have been living."

Fenris sighed. "It sounds wrong, still."

"It's banned by the College, I've heard."

He smirked wryly. "I suppose we'll find out when we're there."

Evelyna chuckled. "Alright, I get a question." She dipped down in the water, tilting her head back to submerge all of her hair. When she rose, her black hair clung to her straight and slick. "How did you kill your master?"

He had not been expecting that. Green, almond-shaped eyes flew to hers in a wary search. She had missed a spot of dirt on her narrow jaw, and he was sure if he looked down he could see the shape of her naked body. But he kept his eyes up, and swallowed hard.

"I tore out his throat." He remembered those cold eyes, wide with fear. That bearded chin trembling as the man met his deserved death. Fenris lifted his arm out of the water, curling his fingers. "I lifted him up, with one hand," he explained, reliving the moment. He ignited his markings, and hot spring glowed blue mysteriously. Evelyna watched in silent, almost fearful awe. "And then I let him fall."

He dimmed himself, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling naked. Evelyna was smiling faintly, hardly at all. "I wish I had seen it," she admitted. "You are in your element, when you fight. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Aye, me too." She stood up then, unexpectedly, and Fenris looked away a moment too late. Evelyna stepped out of the hot spring, chuckling quietly to herself. She went to the horse, water dripping down her back, hips, thighs...

Fenris couldn't bear not to look, at least for a moment. Evelyna plucked a bottle of wine from one of the satchels, and as she was turning to head back towards the hot spring, Fenris shifted his gaze, thankful he was still in his smalls, and submerged mostly underwater.

Evelyna got back in the hot spring, settling down where she was before. "There's nothing like a good fight, a hot bath, sweet wine, and a warm bed. Am I right?"

Fenris opened his eyes and saw that she was handing him the bottle of wine. He took it gladly, knowing that he'd have to drink up if he were to survive this conversation.

There is only so much of this a man can take. "There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman, I'll agree."

Evelyna threw her head back and let out a laugh. "Beautiful is not exactly what I was expecting, but I'll take it. Gladly."

He chuckled lightly deep in his throat and took a long sip of wine before handing the bottle back. The stars were beginning to peek through the darkening sky, and he knew it would be a beautiful night, with or without the aurora dancing above.


"Welcome to Windhelm, Fenris."

He pulled the wolf furs about him tighter, shivering. His fingers and ears had gone numb days ago, since they had put the hot springs behind them. Ice had been caked on the bottom of his Orcish boots, making his footing treacherous at the very least.

"I dislike it already," Fenris replied into his furs. The wind howled across the icy harbor down below, whipping frozen mist into their faces. The sun had set an hour ago, but even when it had been high in the sky it gave off no noticeable amount of warmth, only making the snow blinding to look at.

Evelyna chuckled, but even she looked frozen half to death. She suppressed a shiver and crossed her arms over her chest. Fenris noticed the goosebumps on her exposed skin, and remembered the hot springs. After he had called her beautiful, little had happened. They had watched the stars, and Evelyna showed him the constellations. In Thedas, he had seen these constellations before, though they were placed in the sky differently, and he had other names for them. But what stood out about that night was not the stars, but Evelyna, naked and laughing and kind, wild but not a brute. Clearing his throat, he looked away, at the stones covered in ice at his feet. Massive studded doors guided them into a courtyard, with a huge brazier burning against the cold, and a steeple-shaped building with smoke pouring from its chimney.

Like Solitude, everything in Windhelm was made of stone. But snowdrifts gathered in the corners, against the walls and homes, and the city was barren of any life aside from some lucky, dry vegetation growing between the cracks of the roads. Icicles as tall as Evelyna hung from the edges of the roofs precariously. Everything was gray and white, aside from the braziers burning with hot embers and the blue, open sky above.

"I know a place warm," Evelyna told him, stepping around a Dunmer woman looking through her satchel. Fenris followed her up some slippery stairs and into a building called Candlehearth Hall.

The heat was a wondrous thing. Fenris sighed in relief as he stepped into the tavern. Though it was dark inside, it was warm.

Evelyna went first towards the left, to a woman behind the bar. She was running a rag along its wooden surface, but paused as her eyes flitted over the both of them.

"Welcome to Candlehearth Hall," she drawled in an accent that vaguely reminded Fenris of the poor in Kirkwall, "Got some good bread and cheese if you'd like a bite to eat."

"Ah, please," Evelyna smiled at the barkeep, putting some coins down on the counter. "And two bottles of spiced wine, if you have it. Also two rooms for the night."

"Of course," the woman reached beneath the counter and found them what they were looking for; bread, cheese, two bottles of wine and two keys. "Now, enjoy your stay and don't break nothing."

Evelyna smirked and led Fenris up a flight of old stairs. On the outside, Candlehearth Hall was made of frozen stone, but the inside walls were insulated by stained wood, perhaps as old as the city itself. A massive hearth burned in the center of the spacious upstairs, its heat palpable and welcomed. Fenris swirled the wine in his bottle as his gaze slid over the sight before him.

Chandeliers made from iron and hollowed out horns hung from the vaulted ceiling, or stood atop iron stands in the corners bathing the room in a dim glow.

Evelyna sat down at a small, intimate table not far from the fire and the bard, a Dunmer woman with light hair and bright red eyes. Fenris sat across from his companion, and Meeko immediately curled up at their feet.

"We will stay here tonight," Evelyna said softly, "and leave at dawn. Windhelm is not a city fit for us to stay in."

"Because of the Stormcloaks, you said?"

"Yes. There's a lot of racism here, though. We will not be welcomed as elves."

Fenris nodded, pulling the cork from his wine bottle. The heat at his back was beginning to drive out the cold he felt beneath his furs and armors, but the wine would speed up that process. He took a long swallow and found the corners of his lips pulling slightly into a faint smile. "Why? I've seen more Dark Elves here than in any town yet."

The bard in the corner pulled out a lute, but no one seemed to be truly listening. Evelyna pulled apart a block of bread and bit into it slowly, thinking. "The Dunmer... when they cross from Morrowind, this is the first city they come across. Usually, they'll stop and settle here because it's too cold to go on."

"Oh." Fenris took a bite himself, and dropped a piece by Meeko's head. "And how far off is our next town? With the mages?" His tone soured as he said the word.

Everyday had some bit of struggle in it, where Fenris spoke of how little he actually wanted to go to Winterhold. But he knew that Evelyna couldn't change their course. It was absolutely necessary, and he'd have to live with it.

Evelyna pressed her lips together in consideration. "Not too far. But we're only there to ask questions, remember. To find out about the Elder Scroll and to find a Moth Priest."

Fenris nodded and looked at the bard, distracted, as she began to sing.

"We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone.
For the age of oppression is now nearly done.
We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own.
With our blood and our steel we will take back our home."

All hail to Ulfric You are the High King!
In your great honour we drink and we sing.
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives.
And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!
But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean.
Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams.

All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!
In your great honor we drink and we sing."

Fenris drank his wine, watching the crowd carefully as the song ended. No on booed the Dark Elf, all raised their tankards in honor of the High King. Fenris noticed a quiet man, fully armored in steel with a longsword at his back, bald and scarred, grunt at the end of the song. But other than him, everyone cheered the girl.

The Civil War, until this point, had been hardly at the back of Fenris' mind. He had not seen any fighting, only small handfuls of soldiers from either side walk the roads sporadically. His green gaze met Evelyna's uncertainly.

"If you were forced to choose a side," he began, turning his bottle around on the table, "which side would you join? The day may come when you must choose." As it had for Hawke, and himself.

Evelyna bit her bottom lip, hazel eyes focused on the burning hearth at the center of the hall. "Well... it was the Empire that lifted their axe for my neck, though they had no reason to kill me. I was not on their list, I was not supposed to die. I was just a Bosmer, trying to flee the country."

"So you'd join the Stormcloaks?"

She sighed, keeping her voice low. "I would not fight for this Usurper if I could help it. Besides, he has no place in his army for lowly elves, I'm sure."

The bitterness in her voice took him aback, but only for a second. Fenris nodded, taking a swallow of wine. Evelyna continued.

"We have dragons to worry about. Both sides should ceasefire in order to address this problem. There will be no world to fight over once Alduin conquers it, will there?"

"No," Fenris agreed, "I suppose not. But it seems as if the dragons haven't really given too many people a problem. No one is building any walls, no one's smithing better weapons..."

Evelyna nodded, hazel eyes focused on his own. He shifted in his seat, turning the bottle of wine around, watching the dark liquid through the green glass swirl about. "We've lost a town to Alduin, and no one seems to really care. It disgusts me."

Fenris took a sip of wine, finally beginning to feel warm inside and out. "Did you know anyone in Helgen?"

Evelyna shook her head, hair spilling over her shoulders. "No. You'll find I don't exactly know anyone, really. My family and I always kept to ourselves, and we didn't live in any city."

The Dunmer bard picked up a drum and began to sing a different song, one Fenris hadn't heard before. He saw the innkeep place a plate down before the armored man in the corner, and he thanked her with a nod.

Fenris sighed and leaned back in his chair. "For many years, I never stayed in any city long enough to become friends with anyone. My contact with people was restricted to stealing their coin, paying for the essentials, and hiring mercenaries to pick off the slavers that chased me."

It was a solemn, open look she gave him. Evelyna's lips curled in a slight frown as she locked her fingers around her own wine bottle. "I'm glad there are no slavers here to chase you."

"As am I."

Fenris remembered the Fog Warriors, his closest friends until he met Hawke. Of all the battles he had been in, all the men he had killed, that group haunted him. They cared for him in a way that had been truly foreign until Fenris met Hawke. They showed him independence and freedom. They ruled themselves. And he had murdered them in cold blood, all at the words of a magister.

Fenris bit out gruffly, "People do horrible things when they're being chased, I've found."

Evelyna's head tilted in curiosity. Inquisitive eyes searched Fenris' features; his jaw, narrow face, harsh eyes, dusty skin, snow white hair, strong nose. "Such as what, Fenris?" She asked softly, gently, so quietly that it could have been a whisper among the singing, the drumming and the cracking of the hearth.

"When I escaped my master in Seheron, I was injured somehow. The fighting was... intense, I thought the whole city was being put to the torch. I fled the city, but I was injured, and I nearly bled out. The Fog Warriors, the rebels, found me and nursed me back to health. I followed them and befriended them. I lived in awe of them. They were free to do as they pleased, with their affections, everything. They answered to no one, they did not punish each other. And then..." Fenris retreated into himself slightly, before remembering where he was. He cleared his throat, looking away. "Danarius arrived, and ordered me to kill them. Something in my mind clicked. I didn't want to do it, but I did. I killed them all. They never raised a blade to me."

To her credit, Evelyna's expression remained sad and stoic. If she was disgusted by his dark confession, she did not show it in the least. "What happened?" She asked softly.

"Danarius was injured... not by me, but by them. I looked around, and saw their bodies, their faces. They were my friends, and I murdered them. I couldn't... I ran. I left Danarius there, and I ran for years."

Fenris met Evelyna's gaze, daring her to call him cruel or wretched. She would not be away from the truth, if she did. She only sat across from him, watching him silently.

"You were still thinking as a slave," she ventured, "you cannot be blamed for it."

Fenris was surprised. What did she know about being a slave? Nothing. Though... she was correct, or at least, he hoped. It was a shockingly sensitive thing to say, and Fenris found himself mulling it over for a moment before he inclined his head.

"Thank you," he murmured, "but I will never forgive myself for it. I've only told Hawke this before, and that was many years ago now." I will never stop seeing their faces in my nightmares. I'll never stop hearing the sound of my blade cutting through them.

Evelyna's lips pressed together in thought, but there was a swell of noise downstairs, across the inn. Voices, many voices, carried up the wooden stairs and into Candlehearth Hall where the rest of them ate, drank and listened to the Dunmer bard. Fenris shifted in his seat, looking behind him towards the stairs. After a moment, he saw a soldier appear, clothed in Stormcloak garb. He held a large flagon of ale in his hand, and twisted around to call out to someone behind him.

"Oh, no," Fenris faintly heard Evelyna say. Things grew quiet upstairs as another soldier appeared, drinking from a tankard as well.

Fenris looked at Evelyna, and saw the trepidation in her eyes. What was she afraid of?

What had been only two soldiers turned into three, four, eight, eleven. Suddenly, the upstairs of Candlehearth Hall was teeming with Stormcloaks, all wielding mugs of ale. Some were bandaged up; one with an eye-patch, one amputee missing a hand, one with soiled wrappings on his legs, three on their arms. Fenris' gaze slid over each one carefully, these men free of their iron helms, but with swords, maces or axes hanging at their hips.

They were loud; their voices carried to the rafters above. They cheered and boasted of their exploits, boisterous and belligerent. They were drunk, but not off of wine and ale. They were blood-drunk. Fenris looked at Evelyna, who was also watching them. Irritation and slight anxiety warred in her eyes, but the rest of her face was a mask of indifference.

Fenris nudged her calf with his booted foot. She turned quickly, as if startled, and Fenris leaned across the table. "I think they've just come back from a battle."

Evelyna nodded. "I think that as well. I think they've won."

Fenris took a swig of his wine. "We should not linger here, if that is the case." It didn't sound safe to be around so many Stormcloaks, not in this city where elves were despised. Fenris suppressed a growl as a soldier began boasting about his kill.

"There is little more volatile than a blood-drunk soldier," Fenris said to his companion.

"We'll appear suspicious if we leave now. Give it a few minutes, Fenris. They aren't ale-drunk yet."

Minutes did pass without issue. Evelyna even ordered them each a flagon of ale after they finished their bottles. Fenris felt light-headed in a way that only wine made him feel, and he was so very grateful for it. All this adventuring with Evelyna, though he enjoyed it, left little time for quiet, solitary rumination with a nice bottle of wine and his bare feet stretched before a hot hearth. His stomach was warm, his whole body finally warm for the first time since the hot springs.

The Hot Springs. Fenris swallowed nervously as the innkeep set two flagons of ale down in front of them. He busied himself by gazing into his glass at the amber ale. But when he blinked he saw her naked, in the Hot Springs and at the lake near Riften.

She was a tempting creature. Fenris glanced at her and saw her lift her glass, taking a sniff of her drink. Her lips curled in a smile, and her eyes fluttered open as if she knew he was watching her.

He had told her one of his darkest secrets, and she had handled it well. She was not horrified and disgusted by him, which is what he had expected. She still sat with him, still spent her money so that they could both have a pleasant night instead of casting him away like the brute that he was.

The music kicked up. The Dunmer bard strummed her lute and sang, but one of the soldiers picked up the drum, someone else began to play the flute, and Candlehearth Hall erupted in a fit of song and dance.

Fenris was thankful for the distraction, feeling as though Evelyna could sense his thoughts of her nakedness in the water, as if she could tell that he felt his pulse quickening with the memory. The Stormcloaks drank freely, clapping each other on the back heavily, chortling and shouting with each other. Fenris tried to hide his annoyance.

And then a soldier stumbled into Evelyna, apparently missing one of his dancing steps. Fenris went rigid, feeling an alarming need to stand up, but knew it would draw too much attention.

"Watch it," Evelyna hissed, shoving the man away. This man was one of the ones with an injured arm, a Nord with pale blond braids and stony eyes. Fenris scowled as the man approached after a brief, clumsy stumble, clearly deep in his drinks.

"Don't put your hands on me, you little elf-bitch," He slurred, glancing between Fenris and Evelyna.

Fenris didn't like the soldier's tone. Bitch was not a label he branded with women; only Varania, Hadriana and other female magisters. Even when Aveline would insult Isabela, Fenris would wince at the word. Regardless, Evelyna was not one. She was many things; wild, fierce, occasionally temperamental, rash - but not a bitch.

Fenris pushed his chair back, but caught a warning glance from Evelyna. Her grip tightened slightly around her mug of ale, as if she were about to throw it in the man's face.

Another soldier paused, hearing the conversation, and joined his comrade, grinning with a row of broken teeth.

"Watch your feet," Evelyna replied, almost sounding bored. "I know it's difficult when you have such a big head."

The man reached out, making a fist in Evelyna's wolf pelt around her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them dangerously. But Fenris was quick. The man's friend laughed loudly, clutching his stomach. Fenris shouldered past him, sending the man stumbling, and curled his fingers around the other man's throat, squeezing, bending him back away from Evelyna. He growled, "Take your hands away," hoping that this would not draw much attention.

"Fenris," Evelyna's voice was a warning, quiet and serious. The Stormcloak let go of Evelyna's fur and gagged, trying to gasp for air. Evelyna was then on her feet as well, trying to pull Fenris' hands away from the Stormcloak's throat. The man's stony eyes were wild with fear, feeling his windpipe closing in.

"Fenris, we don't want this fight," she said, and he let go reluctantly. Then someone whistled, and a tankard of ale narrowly missed Fenris' head.

Evelyna, through no more magic other than her own nimble body, pulled an axe on the Stormcloak, holding it to his throat as he turned from her, taking him hostage.

Candlehearth Hall fell to an abrupt quiet. Fenris felt all of their eyes on him and Evelyna. The man being held hostage whimpered pathetically, throwing his hands up at the feeling of a sharp axe against his jugular.

Another Stormcloak drew an arrow on a bow, and Fenris drew out his sword. He had been in worse situations than this before. But would they be able to leave the city if they slaughtered eleven Stormcloaks? They'd be hung for murderers and traitors for sure.

"Hold your fire," Evelyna shouted, "I am the Dragonborn, the Dovahkiin. Lower your damned weapons!"

"Bullshit," one Stormcloak laughed, taking a step forward, pulling his arm back to chuck his tankard at her.

"I am!" Evelyna didn't see her hostage's hand come up to clumsily strike the side of her head, nor his other hand to draw her sword from his belt.

Fenris kicked the man in his side, making him curse obscenities and gasp for air. It was a safer bet than leaning down and taking the sword, and Fenris could do it again if the man attempted to pull out his sword a second time.

The other Stormcloaks didn't know what to think, clearly. The few that thought she could be telling the the truth halted, but they were not convinced. The others were signaling to each other in brief but not subtle glances to attack.

"Shout at them," Fenris said, then again, "do it!"

Evelyna glanced at him, and then at the Stormcloaks. "I will, I'll do it," she threatened, "let us be in peace. We've done naught to you. Your man here threatened me."

Evelyna's hostage whimpered, a blubbering fool now that he was faced with potential death. Fenris kicked him again for good measure, suddenly thankful for his Orcish boots, wondering if the man was as big of a fool on the battlefield.

"The Dovahkiin's a Wood Elf? A woman?" One of the soldiers spat at the ground, showing them what he thought of that.

The bald, armored man appeared beside Evelyna, and Fenris cursed himself for not noticing his approach. The man drew his sword, but it wasn't to hurt Evelyna. He angled his armored body towards the Stormcloaks, as if he were there to defend her and Fenris.

"I am," Evelyna replied, making a fist with her free hand in her hostage's hair.

"Prove it!"

"Fus!"

Candlehearth Hall shuddered, and the ten soldiers across from her all stumbled before the Voice, the weakest version of that Shout that Fenris had once endured as well. He felt a swell of pride and amusement, deep down in the pit of his being as all the soldiers staggered to their feet, cursing and clutching each other for support.

"See?" Evelyna snapped at them.

"Lower your weapons, men," said one of the Stormcloaks uneasily.

The looks the soldiers gave her ranged from hatred to awe. Fenris wondered if one would kneel while the other chucked an axe. The man at her feet whimpered again.

"By Talos," one of the Stormcloaks muttered, completely in awe.

Another inclined his head, "Our apologies, Dragonborn."

She released her hostage and scowled at them, shaking her axe at them. "I'm more of a Nord than any of you!" The man beside her chuckled, and Fenris narrowed his eyes uncertainly. "If Alduin comes to take Windhelm, I won't try to stop him, not if this damned city's filled with men like you."

There was a grumbling of an argument, but no one truly raised their voice or their blade. Evelyna shoved the man at her feet with her foot, square in his back, and he hunched forward weeping, glad for his spared life.

Fenris looked at his companion, heart racing. What had she done? What had they both done? Regret swelled in him like a storm. They'd never be able to leave the city alive.

"No one attempt to follow us," Evelyna warned, glancing at Fenris and the other man beside her. "I can shave your faces with my axe from twenty feet, and my arrows find their mark more than not. My Voice never misses."

"I'll see you out, Dragonborn, if I may," the man beside her offered, nodding at them both. Fenris clenched his jaw, wary of this traveler, whose sword resembled his own.

Evelyna nodded. "Yes," she said as she threw her bag onto her back and looked back at the soldiers warily.

They were lucky to escape without a true fight, Fenris knew. But he itched for it, he wanted to unload some built-up fury. On the road to Windhelm, they had encountered a bandit and a small pack of wolves, but it had been nothing they couldn't handle. And being in Evelyna's presence around the clock made Fenris anxious after a while, having to be on his guard in case she flirted with him again. He didn't want to appear the virginal boy to her anymore.

Cautiously, the three of them turned and left the upstairs of Candlehearth Hall, leaving behind the Stormcloaks muttering and murmuring, some cursing and others harrumphing. Evelyna had caused quite the stir. Fenris couldn't help but glance over his shoulder several times, but no one dared pursue them.

"I don't think we can stay here, Fenris," Evelyna said.

The man chuckled beside Fenris. He was a big man, strong-shouldered with heavy, steel-plated armor with fur beneath it. He was older, with a clean beard and a thick brow.

"It's probably not a good idea for you both to be here," the man said with a friendly grin. "Not after that. Drunk, victorious soldiers aren't known for being level-headed."

Evelyna snorted in laughter. "They'd be fools to follow us. But you're right,...?"

"Stenvar," the man said with a nod. "If you're looking for mercenary work around here, I'm your man."

"I will keep that in mind," she said, heading straight for the heavy doors. Fenris followed her, with Stenvar behind them, out into the blustery cold. "You didn't have to step in, in there."

Stenvar shrugged. "I've been getting lazy in there, off their ale and salmon. It isn't everyday the Dragonborn gets into a brawl at my favorite watering hole. It's a story to tell, if nothing more."

"Well, we appreciate your help," Evelyna said, heading towards the gates to the city. Fenris looked over his shoulder, but no one was following them out of Candlehearth Hall. "My name is Evelyna, this is Fenris."

Fenris nodded his acknowledgement to Stenvar, wondering if the man would leave them alone now. But he didn't.

"Talos guide you both," Stenvar inclined his head, before stopping near the burning brazier to see them off. Evelyna kept walking, but paused to wave.

"You too, Stenvar."

"Remember, my blade's for hire if you have need of it. If you ever dare to step into this city again." He laughed then, and waved, turning back towards Candlehearth Hall.

Evelyna chuckled nervously and turned, walking briskly towards the gates of the city. Fenris' stomach churned, wondering if any moment now the soldiers would come bursting out of the inn, signaling to the guards to capture them. But there was no shouting, no alarm bells; only the cold howling of the wind blowing up from the sea, whipping a mist of snow into their faces.

"I can't believe we escaped that," Fenris said, glancing over his shoulder as they put the gates behind them. He was cold again, dammit.

"Neither can I. We're lucky. The Stormcloaks show more respect to the dragonborn than say, maybe the Imperials. The dragonborn is a part of their history, to be dragonborn is to be the... incarnate of the perfect Nord, say. Their behavior tonight should shame them. What irritates me is that they may have tried to kill us, if we were... anyone else."

Fenris nodded, glancing over his shoulder again. But there was no one there. The fires within Windhelm burned dim in the howling, frozen wind.

At the stables, Evelyna whistled loudly, and a man emerged from his home just above.

"Aye, someone there?" He asked, leaning over the stones to look down into the stables.

"Ah, hello there," Evelyna said. "I'd like to buy a horse for my friend here."