I'm back~

Miami was great. I got to see my family and friends and I took my boyfriend to the Everglades where he held an Alligator for the first time and I got to take a picture with Chris from Gator Boys! But I'm back now and you should see a new chapter every Thursday!

Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons are the prequels in that order.

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Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Far Away by Nickelback, Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters, I Don't Care Anymore by Phil Collins

Chapter Twenty-One

(5th of Midyear, 205 4E)

Rohan sighed tiredly, bored out of his mind as he paged through the book on his lap. He had hoped that reading something would make time go by faster, but he'd quickly lost interest to the point where he couldn't even remember what it was he was reading about. He quickly closed the book to read the cover, Lycanthropic Legends of Skyrim, and immediately let out a snort of laughter and let his hands instinctively brush across the small scar on the back of his head that he had acquired a year ago to the day. Einarr had still been recovering from the terrible injuries that dragon had given him, and he and Kiraya had been bringing him his lunch when the Harbinger unexpectedly transformed into a werewolf and knocked Rohan into a wall. He had blacked out after that and woke up in Kiraya's room with his arms wrapped around her.

Just thinking about Kiraya brought a pang of sorrow to his heart, and he wished once again that he wasn't stuck in Solitude. Sure, he had more than a few friends in the city, since it was where he spent the first ten years of his life, but he'd rather have Kiraya around than any of them. Rohan was sure she was feeling lonelier than ever, since she was stuck in Windhelm, the center of all racism in Skyrim.

"This stupid war needs to end already," he muttered to himself, dropping the book on the end table beside his chair.

The sound of a child's laughter reached him just then and he turned to see his nephew, Trystane, running into the hall, looking over his shoulder every couple of seconds. Rohan half expected to see Farkas chasing after his son, but instead he saw Kellen crawling after his older brother. The eight-month-old toddler had become more mobile lately, which meant that he needed to be constantly watched, since the little lad also enjoyed sticking anything he could get his tiny hands on into his mouth. Rohan practically jumped out of his chair and scooped Kellen off the ground when he saw his nephew grab a dried up piece of lavender plant someone must have carelessly dropped.

"Kel, don't put strange things in your mouth," Rohan scolded the boy, only to smile when Kellen grabbed some of his red hair and gurgled happily. "And, Trystane, you should be making sure he doesn't do that."

The three-year-old pouted and looked down at the floor. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Where's your papa? Isn't he supposed to be watching you?"

Trystane perked up then and pointed down the hall. "Papa ou'side."

Rohan followed the boy out of the Blue Palace and to the front courtyard where his sister Avyanna was sitting on a bench with Elisif while Farkas pretended to casually walk around. Rohan didn't miss the look of panic in the man's eyes, however, and quickly made his way over to his brother-in-law.

"Lose someone?" he asked Farkas quietly, passing Kellen over.

Farkas breathed a sigh of relief and held his son close. "Thank the Divines. Your sister would have my head if she knew I had lost him."

"I saw him crawl into the palace, love," Avyanna announced from where she sat. "I figured letting you panic was punishment enough."

"Honestly, Anna, you treat Farkas just like your mother would treat your father," Elisif giggled.

"Because it's easy."

"It's cruel is what it is," Farkas growled, carrying Kellen over to his mother. "She does it to me far too often, too."

Avyanna rolled her eyes and glanced at Rohan. "He didn't get into any trouble, did he?"

"He tried to eat some dry piece of lavender, but I stopped him," Rohan answered with a shrug. "Maybe you should feed him so he won't feel tempted to stuff his mouth."

"Aye, I'll go do that right now," his sister sighed as she stood and carried Kellen inside.

Once Avyanna was gone, Rohan glanced at Farkas and Elisif. "How mad do you think Anna would get if I went down to the docks for a bit?"

Elisif was the first to frown. "You know your sister doesn't want you going outside the city."

"I'm fifteen, I can look after myself. Anna was already training for the city guard at my age."

"I don't think your sister would want you going out alone," Farkas said.

"Come on, Farkas! I'm going mad with boredom in here! I think I've read every book in Sybille's library and I've worn out my sword's edge from constantly battering the training dummies."

"Hang on, you didn't let me finish. Avyanna wouldn't want you going out alone, so that's why I'll go with you. We could grab some fishing rods and sit by the docks for a couple of hours."

Rohan smiled and looked at Elisif. "If Anna asks, just tell her we went for a walk around the city."

Trystane walked up to Farkas and looked up at him with his striking silvery-green eyes. "Papa, I go too?"

Farkas hesitated for a moment before he nodded. "Aye, why not? We're only going to the docks. I can start teaching my son some valuable skills."

Elisif was clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing, but she let them go without saying anything. Farkas and Rohan borrowed some fishing rods off one of the guards, and Trystane rode on his father's shoulders as they made their way out of the city. Once they were outside the city gates, Rohan noticed a Khajiit caravan was set up nearby and immediately started walking over to it. Because of his friendship with Kiraya, he knew all the Khajiit caravans that traveled through Skyrim and recognized the leader of this one right away.

"I'm gonna buy a toy for Trystane and Kellen," Rohan told Farkas quickly.

The Khajiit leader, Ma'dran, looked his way as he approached. "This one recognizes you. You are friends with the rajhin, Kiraya, yes?"

Rohan nodded. "Aye, that's right. I'm Kiraya's friend Rohan."

"The boy with hair like fire. Tell Ma'dran, were you surprised by Kiraya's visit?"

Rohan frowned and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Visit? What are you talking about? I haven't seen Kiraya in over two months."

Ma'dran's ear twitched and he rubbed his chin. "This is strange, because this one saw Kiraya four days ago in Morthal and she told him that she was coming to see her friend, the boy with hair like fire."

Farkas walked over at that moment. "Rohan, do you have enough for the toys?"

Rohan turned to him. "Farkas, Ma'dran here says that Kiraya was coming to Solitude to visit. He says he saw her in Morthal four days ago! She should have been here by now!"

Farkas's eyes widened with concern and he turned to Ma'dran. "Was she traveling alone?"

"This one didn't see anyone with her, but she spoke of a Dunmer friend back at the inn."

"Dunmer friend?" Rohan echoed. "Kiraya doesn't know any Dunmer in Windhelm. Farkas, we have to do something, Kiraya could be in trouble!"

"Aye, I agree, but first we have to go back and write a letter to Einarr. He needs to know about this."

Rohan wanted to object, but he knew that there was no talking his way around it. Einarr was Kiraya's father and he needed to know that she was missing. Nodding stiffly, he started to follow Farkas back into the city. They were rushing up the slope, trying to get back to the gates as quickly as possible. In his rush, Rohan accidentally bumped his shoulder against a Dunmer man heading out of the city with a bottle of wine in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. He was about as tall as Rohan was and had a scabbed over scar across one cheek that looked like it came from claws.

"Sorry," Rohan apologized as he passed.

"Watch where your going next time," the Dunmer spat at him, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Rohan ignored the drunk elf and continued jogging after Farkas, his mind whirling with thoughts of Kiraya. Please be safe.

oOo

Einarr walked through the streets of Falkreath, uncomfortable under the stares of the citizens that had just witnessed their jarl being stripped of his position. Many of them weren't quiet as they spoke to one another, all of them wondering why the Dragonborn was enforcing the war, why he was fighting with Ulfric. Being right near the border to Cyrodiil, the citizens of Falkreath hold weren't fond of Ulfric and only a few people in the city supported the Stormcloaks.

It's not like I care for the bastard any more than they do, he thought to himself as he walked over to the barracks where the Imperial soldiers and hold guards that had survived the battle where lined up and being held prisoner.

One of Einarr's jobs was to encourage those captured to defect to the Stormcloaks and live to fight another day. Both he and Ulfric assumed that people would join the Stormcloaks by the dozens once it was told that the Dragonborn had taken up arms with them, but they both forgot how stubborn Nords like themselves could be. He could see the bitter hatred in the eyes of every soldier and guard lined up before him and instinctively knew that there probably wouldn't be any recruits for them here.

Ralof had been in command for this mission, having been promoted to captain after the Battle of Whiterun, and he was giving the traditional speech that every commanding officer gave to the prisoners. Einarr noticed Assa standing right beside the blond Nord, her gaze going to him for a brief second and looking away just as quickly. They hadn't spoken since he stormed off from her back in Whiterun, and he was actually starting to miss talking to her. He had gotten to the point where he greatly cherished his friendship with Assa and wanted to spend more time with her. But he pushed those thoughts aside as Ralof spoke to the captives.

"This doesn't have to be the end for any of you. You can have a second chance to fight for the right side. The Imperials gave none of us at Helgen a second chance and even sentenced three people who weren't Stormcloaks to the chopping block. Two of those people were Dragonborn and saved all of Nirn from being devoured by Alduin. Because of the Thalmor, who the Empire signed a truce with, one of the Dragonborns was murdered, simply because she was Ulfric Stormcloak's sister.

"The Dragonborn didn't deserve that, not after she nearly sacrificed her life to make sure the rest of us could live to see tomorrow. You could take up arms with us and fight back against the Empire and the Thalmor and make Skyrim our home once again." When no one spoke, Ralof grimaced and turned to Einarr. "But you don't have to listen to me. Listen to the other Dragonborn. Maybe he can convince you to make the right choice."

Einarr resisted growling in annoyance and nodded to Ralof as he stepped forward and looked at the captives in front of him. Only two or three looked like they were actually interested in what he had to say, so he focused most of his attention on them.

"Every word Ralof has spoken has been true," he began. "My sister and I were simply passersby who were in the wrong place at the wrong time when we were brought to Helgen to be executed. While Alduin was a bane on each and every one of our existences, where would all of you be had he not burned Helgen down that day? I'd think Skyrim would be an endless plane of fire and death had Lassarina and I not survived. We did our jobs and killed Alduin, and we wanted peaceful lives after that, but it seemed the Thalmor had other ideas.

"Because of them, my sister died in a fire the Thalmor set up to look like an accident. They robbed her of her future, widowing her husband and leaving two children, both still toddlers, without a mother. And if that wasn't enough a tragedy to our family, a little over two months ago the Thalmor kidnapped my sister's children. I have no idea if the Empire has any knowledge of the Thalmor's deeds, but I've had enough. Already the Dominion has stolen too much from me; they imprisoned my father for thirty years, they killed my sister, stole her children, and have even tried to have me killed."

When Einarr finally fell silent and one of captive soldiers scoffed, "You're probably just Ulfric's puppet, doing as your hateful lord commands."

Pale-blue eyes narrowing dangerously, Einarr's lip curled in the beginnings of a snarl and he stalked right up to the soldier, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and getting right up in his face. "The same could be said about the Empire you fight for! But it seems you're all too blind to see that you're being used as their puppets! I'll only say this once, I am no one's puppet. I fight for my own reasons: for the greater good and for my sister.""

The soldier's eyes flickered with fear for a moment, but then his gaze hardened. "Aye, I've heard all about your sister, the master thief. She runs the Thieves Guild and allows her underlings to rob good people of their belongings."

Another captive, a Falkreath guard, spoke up then. "Aye, I remember her! She and her Bosmer partner robbed Jarl Siddgeir of his valuables and they killed the guard on watch in the prison!"

"Your sister is nothing but a thief and a murderer," the soldier Einarr held spat. "She may have killed Alduin, but Skyrim is far better off without her evil poisoning the world!"

The soldier was on the ground seconds later, blood gushing from the nose that Einarr broke with his punch. He glared down at the bound man, feeling pure rage beginning to boil over deep within him and was about to pick him up to punch him down again when he felt two hands firmly grasp his wrist and pull him back. He looked over his shoulder and saw Assa's gray eyes staring into his. His anger was to close to the surface to dissipate right away and the beast blood roiling within him was only making it worse. He saw Assa's eyes widen in shock for a brief moment and she gasped before shaking her head and staring firmly at him.

"Einarr, enough," she whispered to him fiercely. "Walk away, right now."

He let out an ill-tempered snarl and yanked his wrist out of her grasp, turning away from the line of now-terrified soldiers that were just staring at him like he was a madman. He stalked away from the barracks, heading straight to the inn and barging in, seating himself in the empty table in the dark corner. He was starting to get downright sick of this damned war, which was becoming the new focus hate and disgust. It annoyed Einarr to no end how blind the people of Skyrim were to the real threat, the Thalmor.

How much more abuse will I have to endure to make Skyrim safe again? he wondered to himself. And we had to pick today of all days to have a battle.

The Fifth of Midyear, Hircine's summoning day. Einarr felt all but compelled to give in to the desire to transform into a werewolf and hunt through the sprawling forests, to tear the throats out of an entire herd of deer and feast on their flesh. But he had too much attention on himself right now and he really couldn't risk transforming. So he called over the nearest bar wench and ordered himself a bottle of brandy to drink by himself. Or at least he had planned to drink alone.

Einarr was just finishing off his third glass when Ralof and Assa sat down beside him, received their own cups and poured themselves some brandy from his bottle.

"How nice of you to buy a bottle for us," Ralof said, downing the contents quickly.

"Talos knows we could all use a drink," Assa muttered, sipping on the liquor slowly. "I really don't understand why you and every other captain needs to bring up Helgen."

"Because Helgen was where we got our second chance at life. We survived for a reason Assa."

The silvery-blonde Nord scoffed sarcastically. "Ralof, only a handful of people survived Helgen, and the one man who I wanted to come back never did."

"Ingolf was a good man, Assa. He died fearlessly."

Einarr glanced up from the depths of his cup and looked to Assa. "I wasn't aware your husband was in Helgen that day."

"He didn't die by the dragon," Ralof explained. "He was the soldier that was executed before Alduin began his destruction."

Right away Einarr knew which Stormcloak soldier Ralof spoke of. If he remembered correctly, Ingolf had been the muscular Nord with red-hair and brown eyes who had interrupted the priestess of Arkay and had willingly gone to the chopping block with his head held high. Einarr always wondered if his sister would still be alive if it hadn't been for him going first.

"From the stories you've told me and his actions at Helgen, I imagine he must have been a courageous and selfless man," Einarr murmured to Assa.

She stared at him a moment, her gray eyes studying his face intently before nodding stiffly and tossing back her drink. Assa swallowed the burning liquid and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"My husband was a man too kind for this world," she said sadly. "He always thought of others before himself and valued the happiness of his loved ones far more than his own. I miss him every day, but I know he's at peace in Sovngarde." She shook her head and sighed. "But enough about that. Einarr, why did you go and do something as foolish as punching a restrained man?"

"He deserved it after what he said about my sister."

Ralof nodded fervently. "Aye, there's no reason to go and say it's best that his sister's dead. I knew Lassarina well when she was alive, we helped each other escape Helgen, and despite being a thief, she was a good woman and I know Ulfric loved her. He mourned for a long time after the news of her death."

Assa briefly glanced at Einarr before she nodded. "I'm only sad I never had the chance to meet her."

Einarr grunted and drank what was left in his cup in one hearty gulp. He didn't like talking with Ralof about Lassarina, mostly because he hated lying to the man. Ralof was a good friend to Lassarina, and having to lie to the man left a bad taste in his mouth. Luckily, Ralof seemed to assume that speaking of his supposedly deceased sister was a touchy subject and was quick to leave it if Einarr steered the conversation in a different direction.

"I don't think we'll be getting many recruits out of Falkreath," Einarr said, flexing his sore fist.

"Not after breaking that Imperial soldier's nose, we won't," Assa scoffed.

Ralof shrugged and grinned a bit. "I don't know, a couple of the Falkreath guards seemed interested in what Einarr had to say. Might be some potential there."

Just then, the door to the inn opened and the last person Einarr expected to see walked in. He rose from his seat, his whole body tense and apprehensive when he laid eyes on his father. Assa seemed equally shocked and rose from her chair as well.

"Thorolf?" she called out his name. "What in Oblivion are you doing here?"

Thorolf's eyes fell on them and he rushed over. "Thank the Divines I finally found you."

"Da, why are you here?" Einarr demanded. "Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be traveling alone? The Thalmor are probably trying to hunt you down as we speak!"

"I didn't come alone," his father replied gruffly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as another man stepped inside. He was a tall, old Nord man with a bald head and full gray beard, wearing iron armor and carrying a greatsword on his back. "I asked Stenvar to travel with me."

"What about the girls?" Assa asked, concern clear in her voice. "You didn't leave them alone, did you?"

"That housecarl of yours, Calder, is watching Sofie."

"Why just Sofie?" Einarr wondered, a ball of worry forming in his chest. "What about Kiraya?"

His father sighed heavily and a scowl formed on his face as he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his belt pouch. "Your daughter is more of a troublemaker than you were when you were a boy. Part of me is thankful the Thalmor took me; I probably would have wrung your neck if you did what she's done."

Einarr snatched the paper from his father's hands and unfolded it with slightly shaking hands. When he read the contents, the tight rein he had on his wolf spirit nearly escaped his grasp.

Grandfather,

By the time you receive this letter I'll already be on a cart halfway to Whiterun. I can't stand staying in Windhelm anymore, so I'm going with Naril to Solitude so I can be with my friend Rohan and not have to worry about getting ambushed by a group of bullies who constantly beat on me. I know you'll probably bring this letter to my father, so to you, Papa, I will not apologize for running off. I told you I didn't want to stay in Windhelm, but you just abandoned me here. A girl with my appearance doesn't belong in this city.

I'll be fine in Solitude, you know that. Avyanna and Farkas will take care of me once I get there, and until I do I have my friend Naril watching my back. I'll see you once this war is over and gladly accept any punishment you see fit, but until then, I'm taking charge of my own life.

-Kiraya

Einarr crushed the letter in his hand and slammed his fist onto the table top, splintering the wood with his brute strength. "Gods damn it! I swear to Hircine when I get my hands on her I will tan her hide!"

"Wait, what's happened?" Assa asked, her eyes wide with alarm. "What did Kiraya do?"

"My brainless daughter has decided she's old enough to travel all the way across Skyrim by herself! She'd better pray a dragon or saber cat get her before I do! She'll wish I'd never bedded her mother once I'm through with her!"

"If nothing happened along the way, she probably already reached Solitude by now," Thorolf said. "She disappeared nine days ago. I tried catching up with her before I came here, but the cart she and her friend took had too much of a head start and I was traveling on foot."

"Aye, that's another thing!" Einarr growled, smoothing out the crumpled letter. "Who in Oblivion is this Naril she had to mention twice? I don't know who he is, but the fact that he took my thirteen-year-old daughter with him to Solitude is enough incentive to kill him with my bare hands!"

"Naril is a friend she made recently. I guess she must have been having problems with bullies and this Naril boy was watching her back. I never met him personally, though."

"I have," Stenvar said, speaking for the first time. "He's a young Dunmer boy that started living in Windhelm six months ago. Works as a courier, delivering mail from Windhelm to Morthal and Solitude. Never liked him much; he seemed a little too shady for my taste."

Einarr raked his fingers through his hair and growled angrily as he made a split second decision and collected his greatsword from where he had it propped against his chair.

"Einarr, what are you going to do?" Assa asked him.

"I'm going to go find my daughter!" he snapped.

"In Solitude?" Ralof demanded. "Einarr, the Imperials know you're allied with the Stormcloaks now. If you so much as step into that city, you'll be arrested as a prisoner of war. They can have you killed!"

Einarr looked at Ralof and the corner of his lip twitched up for a brief moment. "That's why I'm going to need the help of a master thief."

oOo

Kiraya muttered quietly under her breath as she sat on the moth-eaten bedroll the Thalmor had given her to sleep on and picked at the stitching of her left boot. After she had woken up a day later from that blow to the head she had received, she found herself in a small prison cell in a dark room only illuminated by a single candle on the nearby table. Terrified and desperate to find a means to escape, she quickly studied her surroundings, searching every inch of her cell for anything that could be of use to her. Unfortunately, the only things she had found had been the bedroll, an empty bucket and a wine bottle filled with water.

There were two cells built against the wall on either side, and a doorway connected the small prison to another room where she saw stacks of crates and a bunch of barrels. Probably the base's storeroom. For two days she had remained all alone in the cell; no one had come down to feed her or speak with her and the candle that had been lighting the room quickly burned out, leaving her alone in the darkness. It was only on what felt like the fourth day, today, that she remembered she had a way to get out of any prison cell hidden on her person.

"Come on," she growled impatiently at the stitching of her boot, almost impossible to see, even with her inherited ability to see in the dark as well as any Khajiit. "I need to start doing a better job when it comes to this."

For ten more minutes she picked at the stitching with her nails until finally it came undone and the fold of leather flopped down. The soft clattering of metal on the stone floor sounded like the sweetest of music to Kiraya in that moment. With a triumphant smile on her face, Kiraya collected the handful of lockpicks she had sewn into a secret fold off the floor. It was a little trick that Finverior had taught her and Rohan one day when he had been teaching them to pick locks. The Bosmer had told them how he had lockpicks sewn into all of his clothing on the off chance he should get arrested, something that had happened quite frequently when he had met Aunt Lassarina.

It seemed like a good idea to Kiraya at the time, so she sewed a patch of leather onto her boot with six lockpicks beneath it, figuring she'd never know when it would come in handy.

"I'll have to thank Finverior after I get out of here," she murmured, standing up and walking over to the lock of her cell.

It was only when she was kneeling in front of it that Kiraya realized she had made a novice mistake when she'd sewn the lockpicks into her boot. While the picks were strong and sturdy, they were completely useless without a wrench to hold them in place. Growling under her breath, she sat down and tried to think of a way she could substitute the wrench.

Her heart nearly flew out of her chest when she heard what sounded like a hatch opening and saw the light of a torch in the next room. Rushing over to her bedroll, Kiraya stashed the lockpicks where the wall met the floor and pushed the bedroll against them, hiding them from view. Then she sat on the bedroll and appeared to look scared as a Thalmor soldier entered. He held the torch in one hand and was balancing a tray in the other.

"Enjoy this, half-breed," the Altmer spat at her, setting the tray down on the floor and sliding it through the narrow gap at the bottom of the cell for food to go through. "You get one meal a day starting today, and it's always going to be our scraps."

Kiraya didn't talk back to him and only glared as he spat on the ground in front of her and left the prison room, leaving the torch on a wall sconce. Once she heard the hatch close, she moved over to the tray of food, her stomach rumbling loudly. She had gotten a bowl of chicken soup that was ice cold and only had one cooked chicken wing floating in the broth, a slice of hard, crusty bread, and a meager slice of cheese. It wasn't much, but Kiraya scarfed it down nonetheless and sighed contently once it was all gone. She was still hungry and tried sucking the flavor off the chicken bone to sate her appetite.

It was only when she curled her tongue around the curved bone that she blinked and came up with a brilliant idea. She pulled the bone out of her mouth and smiled at it. "Looks like I've found my wrench."

Rohan knows that Kiraya's missing, hopefully Einarr gets the news soon and his need to ground his daughter till the end of time will go away. Anyone want to venture a guess as to how he's going to get into Solitude?

And look at Kiraya being a little innovator! We all forget that lockpicks are useless without a wrench to hold them in place, but Kiraya is going to make due with a chicken bone. Think she'll be able to escape?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please Fave/Follow/Review! Getting your reviews always makes me smile!