The moment Ysmir had seen the tall, golden form in expensive robes waiting outside her door, politely interrogating her daughter, she had frozen where she stood. Farkas had actually walked right into her.

"What is it?" he had asked, then stilled, eyes narrowing at the visitor.

Then the woman had turned, and Ysmir had felt the tension drain from her so abruptly she sagged. Nenya. Not a Thalmor, just that brat Siddgeir's steward. "It's nothing," she replied, "Just an annoyance."

Nenya noticed her before long, likely by the clamor of the children. She straightened with a little smile as Darva's face broke into a welcoming grin, and she shouted "Momma!" as she launched herself down the hill to where her mother waited. Ysmir caught her up in a tight hug, wishing the Falkreath steward wasn't there to witness the relieved tears that slid down her cheeks as she gazed deeply at each of her children, hugging them tightly and touching their faces, reassuring herself that they were, indeed, all right.

The Altmer was politely looking away, even if her guards were staring from beneath their helmets. Assured for the moment that her family was fine (although there was no sign of Aventus), Ysmir reached the door and cleared her throat pointedly. "Nenya," she said politely.

"Thane," Nenya replied with a nod. "I hope I've not come at a bad time. Your little one said there was illness in the family recently?"

Ysmir shot a quick glance at Darva, who put her hands behind her back and gazed at the ground, drawing what looked suspiciously like Dovahzul on the ground with the toe of her shoe. "There was. It has since passed, but I was away at the time and hurried back as soon as I received the news. Is there something I can help you with?"

Nenya grimaced, "Jarl Siddgeir was quite distressed when you did not reply immediately to his summons."

"I only just returned. I received his letter somewhere north of Windhelm," she informed the steward, annoyed and not bothering to hide it.

"I am aware," the Altmer woman said, looking profoundly embarrassed. "Nevertheless, the Jarl has sent me to collect you and bring you back."

If Ysmir could hear the twins growling and grinding their teeth behind them, Nenya certainly could. "My children have been gravely ill while I was away, and I have had a long, hectic journey where I was beside myself with worry. Unless a dragon is at this moment attacking Falkreath, I am going to remain here long enough to see to my family, and pray to the Divines in thanks that they all survived. I'm sure his lordship will understand."

"Of course," Nenya replied, eyes flickering to a guard who had the audacity to snicker. "Just to be certain he does, I'm sure he'll be gratified to hear you left the morning you arrived home."

Ysmir relaxed. "Of course. That very morning."

Darva followed her into the house before whispering, "She knows it's dinner time, right?"

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Falkreath was one of Ysmir's least favorite holds, beaten only by Winterhold, and possibly Markarth. It wasn't really that bad a place, save for the rather heavy, morbid atmosphere that seemed to linger like a mist, and, of course, the Jarl.

Ysmir had first met Siddgeir when she was sixteen years old, fresh out of the College, and the way he had looked at her had made her skin crawl. True, several men had given her that look before, evaluating everything about her that could be of potential use, up to and including her body, but something about Siddgeir had made her feel as if he had dragged hands all over her, covering her in sooty, oily filth. As a Jarl he was a joke, and despite his better-than-average looks, she could never help but be reminded strongly of a rabid skeever in his presence. He was like a cruel, spoilt child that cared only for his own pleasures and comfort.

The fact that she all-too-often had to clean up his messes only reinforced that impression. But keeping him happy made life more easy than not, and kept the taxes from mysteriously rising along the lake shore, which helped more than just her.

It was with these thoughts in mind that she entered Falkreath with Nenya and her guards. She had very firmly told the twins and her housecarls to remain at home, pointing out that Inigo was still somewhere in Falkreath with Sofie and Runa. She would hardly be walking home alone, and the guards had gotten Nenya there safely, so they should be able to get back all right.

She suspected at least one of the twins had trailed them almost up to the city, anyway.

Rather than heading straight to the Jarl's longhouse, she made her way to the Dead Man's Drink. She hoped her daughters had been able to sleep there, but in her experience the inn was a relatively quiet one. The door creaked as she pushed it open, blinking for a moment for her eyes to adjust.

"Mother!"

Something hurtled into her, sending her staggering back a few steps into the sunlight. It was Runa, looking far less composed than usual, followed quickly by Sofie, who just looked happy to see her. Taking a moment to hold them tightly, right there in the door, Ysmir sent another quick prayer to the Nine in thanks that they were still with her.

"As glad as I am to see you, Ysmir," came Inigo's familiar voice, "you are blocking the doorway."

Ysmir laughed, ushering the girls inside. "Mother has to change for a meeting with the Jarl," she informed them when they asked what she was doing there.

"Can we go?" Runa asked, eyes alight with interest.

"No," Ysmir said sharply, then softened her tone at Runa's expression. "No. Not with Siddgeir. I'll introduce you to Balgruuf someday, or perhaps Elisif, but not with Siddgeir."

Inigo led her to the pair of rooms they had rented, and she closed herself in Inigo's to change, since the second bed squeezed into her daughters' took up too much space. Getting a pot of warm water and a cloth from the innkeeper, she hurriedly wiped the grime of travel from her skin, shivering a bit at the bite in the air before she changed into formal attire. Inigo knocked when she was brushing out her hair. "Come in," she called.

He slithered in so adroitly no one outside could have seen if she were still indecent. "I brought the paper and quill you requested."

"Would you mind making a letter for me? I don't want to get ink on my hands," she said, sitting down on the bed to pull on her boots.

"Who to?" he asked, turning the chair sideways at the table so he could sit without hurting his tail. He looked at the quill, wrinkled his nose a bit, and began to sharpen it with a claw.

"Illia, at Darklight Tower," she said, and Inigo paused, turning to give her a questioning look.

"This one wonders what you need Illia for," he said bluntly. Illia made the Khajiit distinctly nervous, as she had killed many of her former comrades while trying to prevent her mother from becoming a Hagraven after a fit of conscience. She was still a witch, and knew many dark magics, but was a genuinely good person, which made her perfect for Ysmir's plans.

"I've been asked to take a hand in correcting the behavior of Balgruuf's children," she revealed, and he sucked in a breath.

"So, what? You're going to feed them to a Hagraven?" he asked, only half joking.

"Even better," she replied, braiding the front of her hair so that it stayed out of her eyes. She'd found this had the added benefit of reassuring Nords in particular, since most of them went around sporting similar styles. "I'm going to make them think they're being fed to a Hagraven."

His ears flattened. "What?"

"Do you remember when you were little, and people would tell you tales about how, if you weren't good, some evil witch was going to steal you away and eat you?" Not a tactic she used on her own children. Divines knew they had been through enough without silly fears on top of it.

"Yes, but—ah, I see. So Illia is going to be your witch," he said, ears pricking back up, just a little.

"No, she's too pretty. But she knows how to handle Hagravens, which makes her ideal for keeping a witch in line," Ysmir corrected, smiling a little. "I'm still owed a favor by Melka."

Her friend actually hissed, ears folding flat along his skull. "The Hagraven that had you kill her sister?"

"She promised me a staff in return for clearing her tower of her sister and the Foresworn, but Petra broke the staff before I could claim it. So, Melka owes me a favor and I'm going to cash in. She keeps the children, scared but safe; Illia keeps her in line within, and I show up with the twins after they say their behavior has improved to 'save' them."

Slowly, his ears started to stand back up, the shining rings in them clinking softly. "What's to stop them from backsliding?"

Ysmir laughed, "Why, the witch will get away, of course! But she can only kidnap bad little boys and girls, so if they're good, they'll be safe!"

Inigo shook his head, but he was smiling. "I thought you liked children!"

"I do. But every time one of them opens their mouth I want to stick a skeever tail in it!" she exclaimed, rising and holding out her arms. "How do I look?"

"Like you work for the East Empire Company, and you want to drive a bargain," he replied.

"Good," she nodded, heading out of the room. "Tell Illia to meet me at Blind Cliff Cave in the Reach in a week or so." With that, she headed out, waving to her daughters as she went, then jogging lightly to the longhouse. No point in putting this off any longer. Stopping at the door, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed it open, letting her eyes adjust slowly to the dust-strewn gloom within.

"Ah, Ysmir," Siddgeir purred lazily, sitting up slightly. As she approached, Ysmir wondered caustically how he wasn't bored out of his mind, slouching there all day. She'd never seen sign of book or game, and Nenya took care of the business of the hold. What was it he did all day?

"My Jarl," she said, nodding.

Siddgeir smiled at her, eyes hooded. Ysmir felt a stirring of alarm. For once, he didn't remind her of a skeever. No, he was all sabercat right now; lazy and glutted and contemplating whether it wanted to strike. "I was rather distressed when you didn't answer my summons, but Nenya tells me you have been out traveling."

"Yes," she said simply, leaving it at that.

"You know," he said pensively, gazing at her and stroking the amulet he wore, reminding her uncomfortably of Babette, "I've known you for ten years now, and you've barely aged once you got past twenty. Family trait?"

"Yes," she said, gritting her teeth. The last thing she wanted to get into was her elven heritage.

"How lucky for you," he replied. "You're young, beautiful, likely to stay that way, and everyone in my hold loves you." He stroked the amulet again.

Unable to formulate a proper response to that, Ysmir finally settled on, "Thank you, my Jarl," all the while fighting a sinking, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was Siddgeir, after all. He probably just had a more disgusting task than usual for her, for him to flatter her this much.

He glanced to the side, pursing his lips in thought, fingers steepled together before him. "It has come to my attention that I am not very well liked in my own hold. I seem to be having a bit of a public relations problem."

"That's unfortunate," she said after another long, drawn out moment where she was apparently expected to comment.

"I have, I think, the solution," he said, turning back to her.

"Well, that's…good," she said, wondering why he was beating about the bush like this.

Siddgeir stood all at once, making her take a step back. She had actually never seen him standing before. He was taller than she expected. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand, pulled the amulet from over his head, and placed it over her palm. She looked down, feeling all the blood drain from her face.

An Amulet of Mara.

"Ysmir Dragonborn, will you marry me?"

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Hello everybody! As always, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. Had some of you going thinking the Thalmor had shown up end of last week, huh? *Mine is an evil laugh.*

Welcome new followers and favorites! Crazy week for me. I'm being moved up to working 40+ hours a week (as opposed to the 16 I have been working) so I'm not going to have that much time to write. I should have enough written ahead that it won't make that much difference, but it will mean I won't have been able to proofread quite as much as before, so if you see a mistake, let me know in a PM, please.

Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed! More reviews on this chapter than any before!

Nargus: My headcannon on wards is that the elves still use them, but the humans sort of just forgot to after moving to the shield-type ward. It has, after all, been a few generations. And as of this moment, Darva is not planned on ever becoming a dragon, though she would probably jump at the chance. With any luck, Uncle Sheo won't find this out.

Roger509: Yeah...There were enough holes in the lore that I sort of took it upon myself to make some out of whole cloth. Honestly, though, does it make sense to you that all the dragons are male? Even if the lore does say they "always were," you'd think they would come off a bit more gender neutral, or something.

Wynni: That tale is mine, although I have noticed the tendency toward tragedies in Tamriel. Sheo won't be showing his face until near the very end, because he's a pistol like that. Rest assured however, that if he thought Miraak was doing too bad a job fathering, he would show up. Probably. If he wasn't distracted by a butterfly that desperately wanted to be a mammoth, or something.

Wicked Lullaby: ...I should probably choose either Thursday or Friday to update instead of switching then, huh? :P Thanks! I send you internet hugs for that comment. ^_^ Miraak as a Papa would be interesting, since he really only knows Darva, and Blaise would try to steal his mask at least once, and Runa would desperately want to know how that stretchy sword worked, and Lucia would want to know all about the Dwemer, and Sofie would want to know why all the other adults keep glaring at him. I can't really picture him lending a hand with the farmwork, though. As far as the other thing...I think most of Tamriel doesn't really know what they're in for.

Msmusicful: These Miraak/Darva chapters are some of my favorite to write. I would probably fill the story with them if plot allowed.

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Next Week: Siddgeir is even more of a skeever than usual and Alesan has a surprise for the family. Also, Runa has an urgent conversation with her mother.