Honor Among Thieves

Two days limped past and Felwinter spent most of them in the guest wing of Brunwulf's palace, tirelessly copying down the lists he was provided with breaks to either stretch his legs or visit Candlehearth Hall, receiving toasts and scowls in almost equal measure.

He managed to convince Brunwulf to let him sleep in his own home, in his own bed at night. Afterwards, it was a simple few paces through the portal to take him back to Whiterun, where he ate dinner with his family, read to his children, kept Moth updated and indeed, slept in his own bed.

Finally, he had reached the end. Ralof's name was last on the last of the lists. It likely took them hours just to get it out of him and it was likely thirst or starvation that broke him. Felwinter waved a hand over the parchment, drying the ink before quickly folding it. Elenwen may have wanted the prisoners sent to Solitude for judgement but just as at the camp, she would not bother herself with the logistics of such a task, leaving Brunwulf to move them as he pleased. All the names had been copied and marked. The rest, from here on, was up to Felwinter, who still didn't even know where to begin.

A knock on his door. Felwinter stood, shaking out tight joints and stretching. The person knocked again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" Felwinter trudged over and opened the door to find Brunwulf taking up the entire frame, leaning against it, eyes on the ground and arms crossed. "Oh. You. You here for the lists?"

"I'll take the originals if you're done with them," Brunwulf said. When he unfolded his arms, his hands held a different, folded piece of paper. It was brought up and held out to him as soon as Felwinter noticed it. "A letter," Brunwulf muttered.

Felwinter took it, though he keeps his eye on the Jarl. "I know we're friends but why deliver this yourself? You have servants."

"Turn it over, Felwinter."

Felwinter looked down and did so. The twin daggers stamped in the top right was the first thing he noticed and immediately, his mood soured before he could even bother reading the name. He turned it back over and opened it roughly, nearly tearing it in two. His eyes scanned the letter and Brunwulf could feel him go from sour to downright frigid.

"Seems Jarl Maven requests my presence in Riften." His explanation of the letter came through teeth clenched tight. "'With haste', she says."

"Felwinter…"

"What?" He snapped, for he already knew what was going to be said.

"You have to go."

"I do?"

"At least learn her reasons."

"Learn her…" Felwinter paused. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then, another. Neither helped. "You're right. It would do me good to find out why people insist on whistling me up like some kind of dog."

Felwinter pushed away from the door and walked back to his desk. "The Thalmor, the Legion," Felwinter listed, taking a bag from beneath the desk and all but throwing his things into it. "I've got my own things to worry about."

Brunwulf cracked a small smile. "Like getting back to Whiterun? And your bed? And your man?"

"Not necessarily in that order…"

Brunwulf hummed and pushed off the frame. "You'll need supplies."

"Journey's not too far and I'll leave soon," Felwinter said. He hoisted the small sack onto his shoulder. "Now, even. I can leave now."

"Huh, well, good thing I had something prepared before I gave you the news." Brunwulf stepped away. "I'll meet you at the front."

"Sure." Felwinter waited until he could no longer hear Brunwulf's retreating footsteps. Then, he sighed. What Maven wanted, he couldn't guess. She only called when she had a use for him and he had received no letter from her in his absence. Whatever it was, it would just be another distraction. But as with all things as of late, what choice did he have?

Brunwulf was where he said he would be when Felwinter left the Palace of the Kings. The supplies were passed on with Felwinter assuring him the copies were secure and would remain so.

Brunwulf embraced him. "Safe journeys, brother."

"It's not my safety you need to be concerned with."

Brunwulf chuckled. "When she speaks to you, just remember, Skyrim can't handle another war."

Felwinter's smile dropped slightly. "Yeah. I've noticed that." He turned to look towards the city's front gate. "Gonna stop by my house and grab a few things."

Brunwulf nodded. "Sure. Take care, Felwinter." He turned and started back up the stairs. Felwinter started the other way, detouring through the back alleys to avoid the busy main streets until he reached Hjerim. The skies were overcast today, darkening the house but he didn't require a light to find his way. He walked over to a section of the wall beneath the stairs and pressed his hand to it, willing the portal to life.

He took it to Whiterun, stepping through into a quiet, empty house, all the others out for the day. The urge to join them or to just fall face-first into his bed upstairs was overwhelming but he pushed through, climbing the stairs to his room and tucking the folded pieces of paper somewhere safe. Moth would know what they were if he came across them.

Honeyside in Riften was empty as well. Strange, given how often Serana complained of the sunlight on their journeys together. "Serana? You there?" He called and heard only himself. She wasn't the type to roam around towns so he assumed she might have gone into the woods. Felwinter climbed out of the basement to the first floor, seeing books scattered and the general mess of a lived-in home. Like he told her, it was hers for as long as she would have it. Least she deserved after putting a sword through her own father's heart for Skyrim's sake.

Riften was busy today and unlike Windhelm, here, a bright sun greeted him. Morning mists rose from the waters below the walkway, fogging the town square, full of people at their morning tasks. Balimund had yet to reach his forge so Felwinter took to distracting himself with the rest of town, rather than making his way to Mistveil Keep. "With haste," the lady Jarl had demanded. He rounded the central market, slowly walked past the Temple of Mara and once he was before the Keep, he detoured.

Walking past the Talos statue and towards the cemetery, Felwinter was surprised to see it still standing. Brunwulf had closed his temple to the public and Balgruuf had seen some success stalling removal, despite Thalmor pressure. But Maven served her own interests and those interests benefited from remaining in the Empire's good graces. If she had warded off their attention in some way, he might do well to find out how.

Reaching the grave, Felwinter pushed one of the bricks in the wall aside, reached in and pulled the chain. "Surprised they bothered fixing this," he muttered when the grave's stony scraping didn't draw in half the city. He descended and closed the path behind him, conjuring a light to hang over his shoulder while he searched for the opening.

The wisp faded once he found it and climbed down into the Cistern. Always quiet, always sparse, water trickling down into the lake at the center of the room covered the low din of voices echoing off the walls. Felwinter got stares as he walked through, from faces he didn't recognize, mainly. New recruits, he suspected. It was customary for the Guild Master to be alerted when they joined but Brynjolf was well aware Felwinter wouldn't care enough to waste the ink and paper.

"Sapphire!" he called, his voice carrying across the Cistern, drawing every eye towards him now. "Where are the others?"

Silently, she pointed in the direction of the Flagon, where he was already headed. Quickly, he left the Cistern. After two more doors, he was in the Flagon, with little change of scenery except for more drinking and less whispering.

"Oi, Felwinter!" Delvin's voice rang out, not a care in the world for anyone near him. No matter how deep in his cups he got, Delvin always kept tabs on everyone who walked in and out of the Flagon. He was just rarely in a position to do anything about it, should he need to. But that's why they kept Vex around.

"Vekel, something strong," Felwinter ordered as he walked past. He clasped the arm Delvin held out and grabbed hold of the chair next to him. "Good to see you, Delvin. Get a haircut recently?"

The man's hand went up to his shaved, balding head and he scowled. "You'll get old too, you know."

"Maybe, but I've seen what I'll look like when I'm older and I am not interested." Vekel placed the mug before him. "Brynjolf around?"

"Brynjolf? Sure, he's around, muttering to himself 'bout…something."

"Was my name muttered at any point?" Felwinter brought the cup to his lips.

"Several times, not that I was listening." Delvin leaned in conspiratorially. "You in trouble or something?"

Felwinter sighed. "Probably."

Delvin hummed. Right after, he perked up. "Well, speak of the devil…"

Felwinter turned to where Delvin's eyes pointed. The red hair was the first thing his eyes caught, as was always the case. Unlike Delvin, Brynjolf had actually cut it and at the same time, let his beard grow out just long enough for Felwinter to notice. Brynjolf was coming out of the Cistern, arms behind his back, eyes on the ground and deep in thought. He muttered something to Vekel as he passed, likely the same thing as Felwinter. Still lost in thought, he kept walking towards Delvin's table. When he reached it, he pats Delvin's shoulder, pulled out a chair opposite Felwinter and sat.

"Boss," Delvin greeted.

"Not your boss, Del-" When he looked up, his eyes met the bottom of Felwinter's cup and widened. "Felw-"

Felwinter held up a finger, making him pause while he slowly finished his drink. The cup came back down and Felwinter sighed, already feeling the liquor reaching his head. Felwinter held his gaze as silence stretched between them. "What? You're not gonna ask me, 'how are things?'"

"How are you here already?" Brynjolf demanded.

Felwinter shook the empty cup into his wide open mouth. "'Already?'"

"Maven sent a letter asking for you only a few days ago."

In one smooth motion, Felwinter pulled the letter out of one of his pockets. He started tapping it on the table, as if in thought. "A letter…a letter," he mumbled. A crisp snap, a flash of light and suddenly, the paper was a thin film of ash on the table. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Brynjolf stood. "Let's go, Felwinter. This is important."

"And how do you know that?" He asked, brushing the ash away.

"She wouldn't call you unless it was."

"Yes, she very much would! She'd do it because she could and send me right back on my damn way." Felwinter picked up his cup and stood. As he rounded the table to reach the bar, he took in Brynjolf's frustrated and conflicted expression. "Settle down. I'll go see the woman…when I'm good and godsdamned ready." He clapped the cup on the bar and started back towards the Cistern, patting Delvin again as he departed.

"Gettin' pat like a damn mutt over here."

Felwinter could hear Brynjolf close behind. "You're not gonna be following me, are you?"

"I'm supposed to go with you."

"Fucking Oblivion, what does she want, Brynjolf? What has she told you?"

"Nothing." He spat the word like poison. "She's told me nothing. Just like you, she calls and she expects me to obey. At least you can get away from her."

Felwinter led them back through the Cistern and out the way he had come in. Someone had relit the torches in the graveyard entrance and Felwinter found his way easily. Some clouds had moved in since he reached the Flagon and he wasn't blinded upon leaving it. The winds had warmed and the fog had dropped but the smell of wet salt never left the air.

"How has she been treating the Guild?"

That left Brynjolf silent. Before they could pass the Talos shrine and come out onto the main road, Brynjolf stopped. So did Felwinter. "She lets us handle our business, for the most part."

Felwinter kept his eyes on the road, minding those who passed, especially the guards. "But…"

"But she's sending us after certain people now. Other business owners or people with connections to the Guild."

"We've gone after rivals before. What's different?"

"These aren't rivals, lad," he told him, "These are allies. We're severing our ties with people who aren't directly affiliated with her and we're doing it on her orders." Brynjolf reached up to rub the lack of sleep from his eyes. "Just the other day, she asked me about Endon. I think she means to target him next."

"Remind me who Endon is."

"Redguard silversmith in Markarth. Wife sells jewelry."

Felwinter grunted. "I remember now." A small group of people passed them by, paying them no mind. The pair began moving again once they were a certain distance.

"She was asking about his son, Cade, who ran off and joined the Stormcloaks."

Felwinter paused again. "The Stormcloaks. A Redguard traveled from one far half of Skyrim to the other…to join the Stormcloaks."

Brynjolf chuckled dryly. "Aye, that's the story."

"And the truth?"

"Seems the lad became smitten with one of Ulfric's men during the Markarth Incident. When the civil war started a few years later, they left to be together. They were never truly involved in the war."

"I'm not seeing why Maven would care…"

"She cares because she could blackmail Endon. Not with the truth but with the lie. That he was a Stormcloak. That Endon harbors not one but two traitors to the Empire. A word to the Thalmor and…" Brynjolf left it at that.

A word to the Thalmor and Endon's entire family would be in chains, even his small daughter. A word to the Thalmor and they'd probably demand Felwinter do it. Felwinter's fist squeezed. "That's low. Even for her."

"Maven doesn't have a low," Brynjolf muttered, "I've had to learn that the hard way."

"I'd never allow such a thing."

"You're welcome to try and talk her out of it, if you wish. We're here." He gestured to Mistveil Keep, standing tall ahead of them.

Felwinter's lips curled but still, he started up the stairs. "Why Endon? Why not someone like Erikur, that human headache?"

"Erikur has money and the Queen's ear." Brynjolf ascended with him. "He's probably the only one of her associates that needs her less than she needs him."

At the top, a pair of guards stood between them and the door. Felwinter didn't spend enough time here to be recognized for who he was but one look at Brynjolf and both men took hold of a handle. They pulled the wooden doors apart, sunlight pouring in and warmth flowing out. The court was empty, the table at its center sparse and the fires low. It was past morning and it seemed the Jarl hadn't attended her people just yet. The court mage's quarters, however, seemed less empty, given the low murmur of voices emanating from the side of the room. Once the noise of the doors closing behind them had faded, the voices grew in volume.

"I find the concept of sleeping with you not only repulsive but morally unsettling," a woman snarled, patience clearly stretched beyond its limits. "Does that answer your question?"

A petulant child with the voice of a man responded, "You listen to me, woman. I'd be careful wagging that pretty little tongue at me like that otherwise I may just have it cut off."

"Just stay away from me and maybe I won't weave a spell to shrink something that matters to you."

Felwinter stopped before the opening on his way past the mage's quarters and made sure his footsteps were heard. Hemming Black-Briar quickly moved away from Wylandriah, who he had backed up against a counter and straightened himself out. Quickly, he trudged his way past, glaring at both Brynjolf and Felwinter, as if they were the ones who threatened his sorry manhood. Once he was around the nearest corner, Felwinter approached Wylandriah's counter, where she was vigorously organizing a collection of potions spread out on top.

Brynjolf sighed his name but Felwinter held up a hand. "He do that often?" he asked quietly.

The Bosmer huffed. "No. Likely because he expected to have received a 'yes' by the first offer."

Felwinter leaned against the counter. "If you think he'll give you trouble, I could talk-"

"To Jarl Maven? She won't do a thing regarding him unless it affects her." She sighed heavily. She looked disheveled but Felwinter could find no signs that he had gotten violent with her. "Thank you, Thane but I'm fine. Maven recognizes my worth. Baseless threats are all he has."

Brynjolf's call was more forceful and this time, there was an edge to it. Felwinter sluggishly pushed off the counter and gestured to the back. "Lead the way, then," he told him.

He did, twisting immediately on his feet and turning towards the hall that led into the less public areas behind the throne. He took only one step and stopped, his eyes staring up at something. Felwinter came out of the mage's quarters to see what he did and what he saw was Maven's housecarl standing at the top of the stairs, glowering down. "I spoke to Hemming," he said in his guttural growl, coming down the steps one by one. "I've come to take you to Maven

"We'll find our own way, if it's all the same to you." Maul came to a stop before him, one of the few people Felwinter had to look up at to catch their eyes. But approach and glare were all he did. If Felwinter were anyone else, he'd just be grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged there.

Instead, he stepped out of Felwinter's way. "Then find it," he growled and gestured up the stairs. Felwinter didn't spare him a second look as he moved past. Brynjolf remained close behind, keeping Felwinter between him and the other man.

Once out of the court, Maven's voice became easy to follow. Down the hall and past the stairs, they came to a closed door at the far end. Felwinter steadied himself. He remembered what Brunwulf had asked of him. Then, he pushed into a small room with a wooden table at its center and cabinets lining the walls.

Her back to the door, Maven turned slightly at the sound, a jug of wine in her hand. When Felwinter pushed the door further open, he saw who she had been speaking to. Karliah leaned against the side wall, her hood down and raven-black hair longer than Felwinter had remembered. Unlike Brynjolf and others, it had been longer than a month since he had last seen her. Her violet eyes came onto them but remained neutral, her lips a tight line.

Maven's cool eyes were much the same, though the disregard was clearer. She turned back towards the counter where she stood and finished pouring herself a goblet of wine. She placed the jug down and picked up the cup, taking a slow sip before turning back. With none of the haste she demanded in her letter to him, Maven walked towards the center table and sat down at its head, one leg crossed over the other. She took another sip and said nothing. She barely even blinked.

Reluctantly, Felwinter stepped further inside. She looked past him and nodded. A large hand clasped onto the door and Brynjolf quickly moved to get out of its path as Maul began to close it.

Maven took another sip and then gestured with the cup to the table. Felwinter sighed. Then, he walked towards a chair and pulled it out with his foot, dropping into it heavily. Brynjolf took a seat on his left and Karliah, the right.

Maven never said a word but her eyes darted back and forth across his face and frame, taking in still-healing injuries. His nose had healed enough that people stopped asking about it but the cold still made it ache on occasion. He resisted the urge to start tapping his foot or fingers. Trying to fight off his agitation only made things worse.

"You got me here, Maven." His voice cut a sharp line through the silence, to the point that Brynjolf nearly jumped. "An entire province, nine holds, all demanding my attention but I am here." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Now tell me what it is you want so I can not be."

Karliah and Brynjolf looked more put off by his gall than Maven herself did. She finished her wine slowly, exhaling when it ran empty and placed the goblet gingerly on the table with barely a sound. Her fingers clasped over her knee, her piercing gaze remaining solely on him. The corner of her lips even seemed to have slightly turned upwards.

"Tell me about Solstheim, Felwinter."

The hand that wasn't on the table squeezed into a tight fist and his teeth ground together. Maven continued. "My contacts brought news of strange sightings and events. Further rumors place you among them."

"What contacts?"

"Irrelevant."

"Why do you need to know?'

"Solstheim, Thane Drakon." Steel entered her voice. "Speak quickly."

The other hand, the visible one, balled up. Felwinter's jaw flexed even harder, the thick hair covering it shifting. Then, both relaxed. "I was there," he said, "Someone sent assassins after me in Riverrun. I tracked them to the island."

Maven raised an eyebrow. "And found?" When he didn't respond, both brows furrowed. "Ships in the harbor burned, stranding you there for a month and when you do return, it is injured. Do you expect me to believe that this was all to stop assassins?"

"You can believe whatever you want."

"I want to hear the truth. Out with it."

Now, it was Felwinter's turn to forget to blink, his eyes roving over her. It wouldn't take much. He could cross the space before any could react…

"A threat," he said. Even as he spoke, he couldn't believe himself. "I learned of a threat, festering in Oblivion. It plans to use Solstheim as a staging ground before it comes to Skyrim. They hoped to get me out of the way."

All eyes were on him now. In the silence, he could hear Brynjolf's breathing deepen. "Another Alduin?" he asked quietly.

"Worse," said Felwinter, "Much, much worse."

Felwinter suddenly rose from his seat. "That is why I do not have time for this. I need to prepare, Skyrim needs to prepare. This threat will kill many, enslave the rest and I'm the only one who can stop it." He straightened out his clothes. "Your business concerns are none of mine. So, if we're done here-"

"We're not. Take a seat, Felwinter."

It took every bit of control Felwinter still had not to shatter the table. He said slowly, his voice almost rasping with rage, "I am here to settle a debt, Maven. To settle a debt and because I know you are petty enough to punish the Guild for my disobedience. But there is no debt, law or throne that gives you any true power over me. You'd do very well to remember that."

"You speak of my pettiness and my willingness to make the Guild experience the consequences for its Master's actions and yet, you make your threats. Odd, if you ask me." She stands up smoothly and goes back to the counter, pouring herself another cup of wine. "If only your conscience didn't get in the way, you'd have been free of me months ago."

She took a sip. "Felwinter Drakon," she murmured, more to herself, "Felwinter Gregory of House Drakon. From Dragon's Ascent in Stormhaven. Your great-grandfather was Lord Malcolm Nazeer, your grandfather was-"

"I know who he was." Felwinter's teeth remained clenched even as he spat out words.

Maven's lips quirked. "Your mother is the current High Lady of your house. Then, there's you. The Dragonborn. Tamriel's savior twice over, already seeking to make it a third." She gestured at him with the hand holding the goblet. "The upcoming Moot has put some thoughts into my head. Where we are now in regards to succession is because King Toryyg failed to provide us with an heir. Now his line is gone and it had only begun, what, a hundred years ago? But you, Felwinter, your family line dates back to the Second Era. Nine-hundred and twenty-five years." Another drink, her arms crossed. "You are in your thirties, are you not? If only you could make it seventy-five more years, your line would reach a thousand before it was snuffed out with you." She scoffed. "Assuming you don't have a bastard or five running around Hammerfell or Cyrodiil. None in Riften, though, unless that girl who you let live in Honeyside-"

"What. Is. Your. Point, Maven?"

"My point, Lord Drakon…" she gestured towards him again, "Is that I want what you have. A name that stretches on through time and history." She leaned forward. "You're not telling me everything. I know that as much as I know you're telling me the truth." She straightened again. "Something is coming for Skyrim and whatever it is, it has you frightened. Very frightened."

Felwinter wouldn't dignify that with a response. "So you'll have my help," Maven told him, "On condition, of course. You are to help spread my business and influence past the borders of Skyrim, starting with Stormhaven. In return, you will have my backing when it comes to dealing with the other Jarls and the Holds. My influence will be at your disposal."

"Is this the same kind of deal you gave the Guild?"

"Mmh, similar but if they had rejected the deal, it would be the Guild at risk of dying. You reject this one and it's the world that suffers. So I guess the difference is, you have less of a choice than they did. Which is saying something, believe me," she chuckled.

At first, Felwinter had been furious but now, he could feel sadness and disappointment filling him from the bottom up. This was what he had been afraid of. "I just told you of a disaster on the horizon and the only thing you can concern yourself with is your own profit."

"You have bigger concerns than my motivations, Felwinter. In the time since you've returned from your extended trip, you've been to Solitude, Windhelm and home in Whiterun. Tell me, do any of those Jarls know what is coming?"

His silence was enough of an answer. She continued, "And then between the war and Moot, would it be safe to say you've made very little progress on preparing in any capacity? Is that why you're so desperate?"

Felwinter's fury broke like a fever but with none of the relief. The Companions were all he had and even then, most of them did not know the full truth. He couldn't rein in the Thalmor and with what they planned to do to the rebels, in full view of Solitude's people, Skyrim was only going to fracture even further; breaking into pieces Miraak would have no trouble sweeping away. The memory of that army still haunted him; there were nights he'd lie awake but remain completely still, his heart pounding out of his ribs and him hoping it wouldn't wake Moth whenever he slept on his chest. As expansive as a tidal wave. If she actually managed to hold up her end of her deal, he'd finally start to get somewhere. All he had to do was swear.

Oaths only lasted until they were broken.

"What can you offer?" He asked quietly and struggled not to start trembling when she began to show the beginnings of a grin. She said nothing. She only took her free hand and with a wide sweep, she gestured to the two people sitting there with them.

Karliah's crossed arms fell, her eyes widened, her mouth drawn partly open. Brynjolf's hands were tight fists pressed against his thighs, nails threatening to break the skin of his palms. He spoke carefully. "We…are not soldiers, Maven," he said, "We're not killers."

"As long as you are in my pocket, you are whatever I tell you to be. Or, as of now, whatever Felwinter wants you to be."

"He's agreed to nothing-"

"Brynjolf." His tone, the resignation in his voice, betrayed his intentions more than anything else. Felwinter's refusal to meet his eye as Brynjolf gaped at him only settled it.

With that, Maven gave the first real smile she had shown all day. "Your first task, Felwinter, is simple; introduce me to your mother," she told him, "Write the letter tonight and have it to me by tomorrow morning for approval and posting. Are we clear?"

Felwinter grunted. It was all she was going to get out of him so she waved a dismissive hand. "Then, you may go."

Felwinter had never retaken his seat. He twisted on his heel and stomped out, shoving open the door and just barely avoiding knocking shoulders with Maul. Brynjolf remained seated, his eyes on the table. "Brynjolf." His head shot up at the sound of Maven's voice. She nodded to the open door. "I believe the two of you have business to discuss."

The effort to keep his voice neutral made it difficult to speak, words caught in his tightened throat. "If there's nothing else?"

"Only report back to me on whatever he decides going forward. I would know that he is putting you all to good use.

Brynjolf let out a slow, unsteady breath. "The Guild, Maven. They aren't going to like this."

"Soldiers don't have to like their orders." She made sure to emphasize the first word. "They just have to do as they are told."

"And if the others rebel? This could fracture us!" He closed his eyes and breathed again to reel himself back in.

"That's your job, Brynjolf?" she told him, "Otherwise, why bother keeping you around?" She pointed at the door again, her patience at its end. "I suggest you go do your job, lest he break the news by himself.

Brynjolf looked at her. Then, he stood and without a word, walked out the door. "Karliah, you may go as well," Maven said. The Dark Elf's eyes swiveled towards her. "If I have further questions, I expect a response. Promptly." Maven stood again. "Now leave me."

"Felwinter!" He kept walking, hearing Brynjolf's jogging footsteps catching up to him. He had made it back to the Cistern before Brynjolf had begun his shouting but now he was catching the attention of every person there.

"Felwinter!" A hand wrapped around his forearm. When Felwinter finally stopped and turned to look at him out of the corner of his eye, it was like seeing a stranger. The man was heaving, his face as red as his hair, even in the damp chill. When he spoke again, Felwinter could feel the heat of his fury rumbling behind his voice. "What are you doing, Felwinter?" he seethed, as if one wrong word could set him off.

"What I have to."

"And what the fuck is that, huh?" He demanded. Felwinter shook out of his grip. "What is it that you fucking have to do?!"

"Keep your damn voice down." The entire Guild was watching them now.

Brynjolf turned around and faced them. "You all don't have better things to do?" He thundered, "Quit your gawking. Get back to your own business."

Eyes were quickly averted. Conversations resumed, forced and palpably uneasy. Karliah entered the Cistern last, weaving her way through the small groups near the entrance and approaching. Brynjolf turned back to Felwinter, who spoke before he could. "Gather the others. You want truth, fine. But we speak in private." Felwinter stalked off without waiting for a response, heading towards one of the rooms off to the side.

"Brynjolf."

His head swung towards her, his braids striking him in the face. "Ah. So she speaks," he snarked.

Karliah brushed it off. "We need to hear him out."

"What else is there to say?" Brynjolf leaned in and lowered his voice when eyes started turning their way again. "He tells us, without warning, that…something is coming and then he forces us to the front lines. What is there left to say?"

He began walking towards the exit, towards the door that would take him into the Flagon. Karliah followed. "Maven forced us to the front, Brynjolf. He accepted, yes, but given the circumstances…"

"Delvin, Vex, Tonilia!" His voice boomed into the Flagon, bouncing off the sewer walls, "We need to talk. Now." Quieter and to Karliah, he asked, "Are you saying you believe…"

The look on her face made him go quiet. "I've been having dreams," she told him, "I can't explain them but they haven't been good. And I'm always left with the same empty feeling I get whenever I've spoken to Nocturnal."

Brynjolf's mouth drew slightly open. Meekly, he said, "I've had nothing like that."

"It's not just that." Her eyes flicked towards the door as she heard the voices of the others approaching. "Maven's contact. The one who told her everything. It was Glover."

Brynjolf released a sharp stream of air as if he had been punched in the gut. "What?"

"She might have heard rumors but he confirmed everything for her, including Felwinter being on Solstheim." The others had reached the door. "Say nothing, Brynjolf," she told him quickly, already walking back. "To anyone."

Brynjolf was left standing there, jostled out of his daze only when Delvin clapped him on the shoulder as he stepped past.

Brynjolf was kind enough to let Felwinter explain himself and in turn, Felwinter respected that by telling them the unvarnished truth. Something threatened Skyrim, Maven offered the members of the Guild as soldiers in Felwinter's army and Felwinter had accepted.

Reactions were predictable. Brynjolf found himself stowing his own anger just to "do his job" as Maven put it. Something that mainly involved keeping Vex's hands away from Felwinter's throat.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" She shouted from behind Brynjolf, her voice already going hoarse with the stream of expletives she had spewed beforehand.

"A very desperate man," Felwinter spoke so quietly, it was unclear who he was speaking to. He looked like it and sounded so as well. "Otherwise, I never would have accepted."

Brynjolf put her hand on her shoulder, even as he kept the other wrapped around her arm. "You need to calm down," he whispered to her, "Calm down and give him a chance to explain."

"Explain what, Brynjolf?" She shoved her free arm against him. "What in Oblivion is there to explain?"

"The reality of the situation, for one." Tonilia was seated on a barrel beside Vex and Brynjolf. The cold look in her eyes spoke of anger to match Vex but her rage remained silent.

"Aye, lad." Brynjolf turned to him. "Maven knew you were keeping something from her. We're at least owed the truth in full."

"The truth," Felwinter echoed beneath his breath. His stomach squeezed. He couldn't remember his last meal.

"I know you have your reasons, boss. I'm sure they're good ones." Delvin sat close to him, to his right while Karliah kept to his left. Hands clasped, he leaned in towards Felwinter's ear and spoke beneath Vex's rage. "Vex is right to be angry about all this, you know. But at least she can fight. Me?" He chuckled slightly. "M' an old man. Could never fight, never had the smarts for magic…" The slight smile he had lowered. "Never had much love for the sight of blood, even after the time I spent with the Brotherhood."

Felwinter turned and caught his eye. In them, he didn't see anger ready to tear him apart or daggers of ice boring into him. He saw understanding and just beneath that, he saw fear. Fear of the future, fear of whatever frightened Felwinter so much, he felt he had no choice but to take the deal.

He remembered well the last time he had such a conversation; not even up to a week ago now. Five to five, oh but they were so unlike the Companions. And now, Felwinter was going to make the two work together. He had to resist the urge to start laughing.

Felwinter reclined in his seat, too tired to even remain upright. It was only just past midday. "I will start with this," he said, making eye contact with all of them, "When the threat reaches our doorstep, I have no intention of making any of you fight." That prompted shared looks, murmurs. "Fuck what Maven says. Fuck Maven in general. None of you signed up to be soldiers. There will be other tasks I may need you to do but I swear, fighting will not be one of them." He made sure he was looking at Delvin when he said the last part. The older man's jaw flexed but still, he gave a short nod. His shoulders seemed to relax just a bit.

"Secondly, nothing we speak of here leaves this room," Felwinter went on, "I am serious. Not a word to any other member of the Guild. When the time comes, I'll break the news myself. And certainly not a word to Maven." As long as she remained ignorant of the scope of their situation, she'd be forced to defer to him on how best to deal with it. It was the only way he could retain some leverage in this whole mess. He'd give her the details when it was time; when it was too late to do anything about it.

From that point, just as with the Companions, he told them of what actually occurred on Solstheim. He told them of Miraak and what awaited them in the depths of Oblivion. He told them of Miraak's challenge; face him, match him or die. Watch everyone he knows die. Before, Brynjolf had asked if this was like Alduin and Felwinter had told him that it was worse. Unlike Alduin, Miraak could do everything Felwinter could, just with centuries to perfect them.

"There's nothing you need to do just yet. Right now, I'm running from hold to hold, trying to settle lingering issues so that Skyrim will be more stable by the time he arrives."

Vex was shaking her head and only now did he hear the fear in the way she spoke. "No. No, Felwinter. This still isn't fair."

"What ever is, Vex?"

"You can't force us to fight in this war!" She shouted, moving away when Brynjolf reached out to her again.

Felwinter replied simply, "Maven can. At least my way saves lives. Your lives, especially." He rose to his feet. "This war is coming, whether you fight in it or not," he told them all, "I told you of the Daedric army but I cannot express the sheet force Miraak has at his disposal. All I know is that like Alduin, there is no outrunning it. If it isn't stopped here, it won't be stopped at all."

With effort, Felwinter pulled himself from his seat. "You'll hear more from me down the line but for now, remember what you swore. Not a word leaves this room." He looked each of them in the eye again, saw the disbelief, the anger, the fear and felt his stomach sour. He still wasn't telling them the entire truth and when he did, he'd be lucky if they did not abandon him outright.

Felwinter began walking towards the exit, passing through the group of Vex, Brynjolf, Tonilia, forcing his leaden feet to take him out of the room and away from the others. When he pushed through the door, his pace increased, trying his best not to shove through those in his way.

"Felwinter." He heard his name once he reached the ladder that would take him upwards. He turned to face Karliah, who had followed him out of the room, as silent as a shadow. She had her hood back up, covering her face from everyone except for those she faced. "The others will understand, eventually," she said, "You just need to give them time."

He stared at her. "As long as they adjust to it. And quickly."

"This isn't something that happens quickly," she told him, "They never got a say."

"Neither did I, Karliah. No one ever seems to remember that. Or care." He rounded on her. "What were you doing with Maven?"

"I'm not her contact, if that's what you're wondering." Felwinter's brow deepened further. "She had questions. About…about the Skeleton Key."

"Why?" He asked slowly.

"I don't know. She never explained her intentions but I fear the worst. She knows how connected I am to the Guild. Same as with you, she could use them as a bludgeon against me to get whatever she wanted." The Dunmer's eyes closed as she let out a small laugh. "It must be infuriating. Many of them joined because they wanted their freedom above all else. Now look at what's happened."

"They could always leave," Felwinter muttered, "Get away from Maven. From me."

"No one leaves the Guild, Felwinter," she said, "Once you're a part of it, you're a part of it. Whether you want to be or not. No matter how much distance you try to put between yourself and it."

Felwinter let out a sharp, bitter bark of a laugh. "Good to fucking know." He turned his back on her and started walking again. "I've got a letter to write. I don't want to be bothered."

Karliah watched him disappear out the exit and stared at it for a few seconds more before turning back towards the Cistern.

Felwinter decided to remain in Riften. He wasn't used to it, hearing the water sloshing beneath him in the dark, silence of the night. He could have gone to any other city. He could have even gone home but then he knew he wouldn't get done what he had to. Neither would he have been surprised if Maven sent someone to check on him in the night or early morning, make sure he hadn't left.

Serana hadn't returned but when Felwinter saw that her pack, her sword and a few books were missing along with her, it eased his mind. She could be out wandering the night or even at the Fort. Either way, she proved a long time ago she could take care of herself.

He had been at the table, working on the letter for the last half-hour and had made little progress. He had to be careful with his words. He needed to be formal, congratulatory, even brown-nosing while also making sure his mother understood that he didn't mean a single positive thing he wrote about the letter's subject. Maven expected duplicity, which was smart of her. What wasn't was letting him write the letter at all, allowing him to introduce her to the very person who had trained him to be so deceitful and backhanded.

He would start a second letter once he was done with the first, post it when he returned to Whiterun; another thing Maven must have known he would do but was banking on his need for her support to be too great to turn down. Which it was.

He will write to his mother of himself, of her son-in-law, of her grandchildren. He will write of recent events but not of Miraak. She needed to know. If there was one person outside of Skyrim who could be trusted with this information, it was her. It was him who was not ready. Not ready to tell her that her son was walking into the jaws of Oblivion once again for the sake of the world.

So many plans to visit her, see her again fifteen years after his sudden disappearance from home. So many plans made with Moth, promises made to his children. So many things he needed to say to her face, that could not be said in a letter. Felwinter sighed, took out his flask and drank deeply.

The day it had happened was both a blur and his most vivid memory.

He remembered being woken very early by his mother. She dressed him quickly, answering all of his questions with frosty silence. She led him out of the house and into town, still dark but early enough in the morning to be empty. He held tight to her hand and was all but dragged along as he tried to keep pace with her striding footsteps and her seemingly limitless stamina.

They walk and walk and walk, a horse was an expense they could not afford. Out of the square, out of town. By the time they reached the treeline, the sun was just starting to break over the horizon and Felwinter was huffing. His mother slowed her steps a bit then, either for his sake or because her own weariness was catching up to her. Still, she insisted they continue, that he keep up. She took them down the main road that led west through dense, tall trees, the first rays of sun warming their backs. One of the few times she broke silence was to ask if he remembered these trees, this path. He couldn't be sure so he said no, just as she had taught him. If you did not know the whole truth, deny it all and learn when you can.

He learned it soon; the whole truth. He learned it when they finally made it out of the trees and came face to face with twin black stone towers, high walls emanating from them and projecting a circle around the massive castle situated at the top of a high hill. The memory of the last time he saw those towers, these gates was still as fresh as it ever was but the banners of black, adorned with a roaring golden dragon stretching its wings across the banner's expanse removed what little doubt he had.

Dragon's Ascent. He was…

Not home. This wasn't home. He had never been allowed to call it home.

His mother's weariness disappeared once the castle was in sight. Her pace increased and Felwinter had to nearly jog just to keep up, too out of breath to ask why they had come back here. Before the gate stood two tall guardsmen, a Breton and an Orc, adorned in black uniforms and holding heavy polearms. Both stared them down, a silent warning. Ready to turn them away, with force if necessary. Woman and child continued to approach anyway and soon, both men began to do the same.

But then his mother lowered her hood. She told Felwinter to do the same. She let her night-black hair fall and drape over her shoulder, braided in a style she hadn't worn in a long time. Both guards stopped and gaped, for the familial resemblance had always been terrifyingly striking. Then, as one, both men lowered at the waist.

"Open the gates," she commanded, voice as hard as an ebony sword but with a deadlier edge. They rushed to obey. The Breton slammed his fist against the gates, yelling at those on the other side to open. A voice came back, reminding them that they were to have no visitors, calling the Breton an idiot for good measure. The Breton only slammed his armored fists even harder, telling them to do it quickly. The gate was partially opened, revealing one woman at the center. She only needed one look at Delilah before she had the gate opened the rest of the way.

His mother strode through, Felwinter close behind, every guard present bowing as she passed. Before they had started up the hill, one of the guards called for her attention. When she turned a cold eye onto them, he lowered his head and averted his eyes. He asked if she would like a horse to take her the rest of the way.

That stopped her. She looked down at her son, sweat beading on his forehead and the dampness around his collar. Then, she started back, taking his hand. A horse was produced quickly. The Orsimer helped her on while the Breton assisted Felwinter, taking him by the ribs and heaving him up. Felwinter held tightly onto her waist as she spurred the horse into a stroll, leaning against her back as the world glided by.

By horseback, the trip was short. She climbed down and quickly helped him. They had come to the massive iron-studded doors that led into the castle proper. That is where she had stopped, stopped and stared at the castle that loomed high over her head. She kept a grip on Felwinter's hand that was just short of too tight.

Two women approached from the side, servants, bowing quickly. One led the horse away while the other greeted his mother and invited her into the castle.

His mother remained where she stood. "Where is he?" Her voice had gotten sharper somehow.

"In his quarters. Requesting you." The serving woman gestured to the castle again. "Please, my lady, I fear there is not much time."

A few more seconds ticked by before Delilah finally looked away from the castle and towards her, staring until the woman began to shift uncomfortably. Then, Delilah looked towards a small grove of trees that surrounded a garden. Felwinter remembered it. It was one of the few dotting the property but it was closest to where he had trained with Ser Castel. It was where his mother went to pick herbs for alchemy or to sit and read or even just to watch him train.

She held out her hand to him again. When he took it, she led him over to a stone bench at the garden's center. Then, she sat. Hesitantly, he followed suit and together, they did…nothing. Just waited. For what, Felwinter did not know. All he did know was that his mother would not enter the castle she had once called home and refused to be convinced to do otherwise. Some tried. Some even begged but it seemed she would hear and be moved by none of it.

They remained outside in silence, save for the birds and the insects Felwinter watched to keep himself awake and entertained. They remained like this for a long time until a serving woman approached once more, her eyes lowered to the ground and her hands clasped before her. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She tried again and this time, managed only a silent croak.

It was on the third attempt that she finally seemed to find her words. "Milady, I…" she swallowed, "I am deeply sorry to come bearing such news."

Barely. Just barely, he heard it. His mother's breath catch in her throat. Even the garden's creatures seemed to go silent.

"Lord Lucius Bastion Drakon…your father, has passed."

The world came to a halt. The air left Felwinter's lungs in a deep shudder. He struggled to catch it again, as if they were still striding through the forest. Without a look back at him, his mother ordered that he remain where he was. She rose to her feet, stepped past the woman and finally began walking into the castle. Every person she passed kept their eyes on the ground, their heads lowered.

Felwinter doesn't remember what he did for the hour she was gone. He doesn't remember the hour even passing, just his eyes on the grass and a ringing in his ear. The words were playing over and over in his head and still, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't. Any moment now, Lord Drakon would come through those doors and see him, thunderous that Felwinter had dared to set foot on his land once again.

He heard his name called. His head shot up to see his mother walking over to where the horse had been hitched. Quickly, he stood and followed, tripping over his own numbed feet. His mother hoisted herself up into the saddle and then reached down for him. She put him in front this time, one arm wrapped around his waist while the other held the reins.

They left the castle, the gardens and then Dragon's Ascent as a whole. The horse took them back into the forest from which they had come and eventually, back into town, now alive and hard at the day's work. She took them further still, until they were within Wayrest proper. All around, they traveled, from building to building, talking to so many different people that Felwinter had long since stopped bothering to count them all. All he knew was that they had arrived when it was still morning and by the time they had finished, the sun was beginning to set.

Felwinter was exhausted. He was hungry from the small amount they had eaten during their time and in such a terrible mood, he had nearly forgotten what he had heard earlier. Nearly. His chest squeezed at the memory.

Though he knew better than to rush his mother, when he looked into her eyes, he could see that she was as tired as him. Finally, bravely, he asked, "Are we going home now?"

She took her eyes from the road and looked down at him. She didn't seem annoyed but the opposite. Instead of reprimanding him for his impatience, his mother gave him a small smile.

"Yes," she said, "We're going home."

She looked as tired as him but also satisfied and maybe even a little of something else. For the third time that day, the memory of the news took the breath from his lungs.

When his mother told him they were going home and set them down the western path, the wrong path, he realized that east no longer took them home.

He was dead. Lord Drakon was dead and deep down inside, Felwinter could feel nothing but relief.