Elenwen pored over documents lain across her desk, as the day blended together with the ones prior, and yet one thing remained consistent in her thoughts: Cura.

If she was working with the Blades, as her suspicions held, she would be in great trouble should it be discovered.

The Altmer hoped her suspicions were just that: suspicions. If not, she would be unable to stay her hand even if she wanted to.

It was a troubling thought. She had only just really met her child. She did not want it to be this way.

"The Stormcloaks have sent their troops from Windhelm to the border of the Pale and set up camp." Rulundil stated as he entered her chamber with a knock at the door. "They're planning something."

"Don't bother me with such trifles!" Elenwen barked at him. "Unless they plan to attack Whiterun, or one of the larger cities, I do not care."

Rulundil leaned against the doorframe. "Well... I suppose I may as well get to the point. What are the odds that we would be spared, should the Stormcloaks prevail in the rebellion?"

"Slim to none." Elenwen spoke honestly. "The Stormcloaks would have our heads, and provoke war with the Dominion in the process."

Rulundil scoffed in amusement. "These Nords truly are incapable of seeing beyond two feet in front of them, aren't they?"

"Maybe Dragons will slow them down." Elenwen proposed. "For now, choke the population if you must; I want all traces of Talos worship stripped from Markarth. They have a hidden Shrine somewhere, I've heard."

"Whiterun supposedly has a giant statue of Talos in the central square." Rulundil stated.

"In time, Rulundil. In time." Elenwen stated. "Begin at Markarth and search the wilderness for hidden shrines. We will tear them out, root and stem."

"Their god cannot protect them." Rulundil slunk out of the room, leaving her to her work.

When Rulundil left, Elenwen shifted her papers, and opened the sealed document beneath them.

A response from Ulfric.

"Elenwen, I have received your word of our daughter. I must admit, I was quite surprised to discover that it was Cura, though I suppose it should have been evident.

A remarkable girl, she is. Since her arrival in Windhelm, she has quelled some of the unrest within the city, and put to death the killer who tormented our streets. She truly has a noble heart and a mind for justice. I am proud of her. She is a true daughter of Skyrim, and would be a worthy successor.

Unfortunately, I cannot name her my heir, at least not at this time. Only an Imperial victory could allow me that grace.

She will remain a Thane in my court, though I will grant her special privileges in my castle. In due time I will confront her with the news of my knowledge, but now is not the time.

We all have our parts to play. Such is fate.

-Ulfric "

Elenwen nodded and folded the paper. She pulled a roll of paper from the basket beside her and dipped the head of her quill pen in the ink blot, and readied to write her reply.


Cura and Delphine clashed sword and mace and shield for hours.

The fatigue was beginning to work its way onto the middle-aged woman, and she inhaled strongly as she struggled to maintain her footing.

Cura dashed forward and knocked her down with her shield before locking in place with the surprised reaction of seeing Delphine drop to the floor. "Oh! I thought you'd dodge that!"

Inigo pointed and began to laugh, and Lucien scoffed in amusement of the spectacle.

Delphine slowly pulled herself back up. "Not... not bad, Dragonborn. You managed to outlast me. My age is finally catching up to me." She surmised that to be the only plausible reason of her defeat.

"You're only in your 50's, right?" Cura asked. "Wouldn't your Elven heritage grant you longer life?"

"We real Bretons are more Human than Elf." Delphine told her. "Centuries of blood dilution will do that." She massaged her neck. "Anyways, you're not bad, you know. Your technique is well-honed. I can believe that you trained with the Companions."

Cura nodded. "So... what now?"

"Now Esbern and I will repair this dilapidated old temple and transform it into a worthy headquarters for the Blades again." Delphine informed her. "Go deal with those Vampires, or whatever it was you were doing. I'll send for you when we need you again. Could take a while, but a while's all you need, right? This isn't some lifelong commitment?"

"Very well." Cura resolved peacefully.

"This is the Dawn of a new age, Dragonborn. I'm glad to have you with us." Delphine extended her hand for a shake, and Cura took it.

It felt odd, hearing respectful undertones from Delphine, but it was nice. She felt that she and her friends weren't alone in this after all.

She decided to return to Fort Dawnguard, now that the matter of the Blades has been settled. Gathering her party, they did just that-return to Dayspring Canyon.

Lucien complained about needing to relax for a while, and Cura allowed it, and dismissed her party for the meantime, to go to the dining hall for some rest and relaxation, herself. It did not stand for long, as Isran located her and headed her way.

"Are you finished with your other obligations?" Isran asked.

Cura responded honestly. "For now, I should be."

"Since the vampires are no closer to finding the other Scroll than we are, I have a special task for you, Ankle-Biter." Isran informed her., certain that his next request would pique her interest.

"What is it?" Cura asked, taking the bait; hook, line, and sinker.

"I want you to investigate strange happenings in Morthal." Isran cut to the chase immediately.

"What's happening in Morthal?" Cura asked. She knew it was an odd place, but Vampires?

"A man burns his own home to the ground and kills his family in the process, and then immediately clings to one of the girls in town." Isran stated.

"How awful..." Cura lamented. "I will certainly look into it, but I'm not sure if vampires could necessarily be involved."

"Hjalmarch itself is a swampland environment, and rarely is bathed in sunlight. For years people have spoken of the curses in the bog." Isran explained. "Vampiric, or even Daedric activity is said to be prevalent there, according to the rumours."

"I've sent Vigilants there in the past," Carcette passed by Isran and interjected, as she walked over to the cooking pot on the southern side of the room and took a bowl. "but they found no evidence of Daedric influence." Softly, she began to give the stew a stir and began to pour it into the bowl.

"Hmph. Clearly you haven't searched well enough." Isran scoffed condescendingly. "There are rumours of vampire activity there. You know what you have to do." He looked to Cura sternly and walked on past her, before muttering. "I knew it would come to this one day. I knew. And no one believed."

Carcette brought the bowl of Beef Stew over to Cura and laid it on the table in front of her. "Here, Cura. Don't forget to take care of yourself every now and then."

"Thanks, Keeper." Cura stated on habit as she began to softly give her thanks to the Divines.

Carcette sat on the other side of the table, and Brother Adalvald entered the area at the same time. He immediately noticed Cura and waved to her. "Cura, how are you doing? I heard something about you going to Sky Haven Temple. Did you find the Elder Scroll there?"

"There was no scroll there, Adalvald." Carcette informed him. "But a Wall that dictates the end of Alduin."

Brother Adalvald quickly took a seat beside Cura. "Tell me all about it. I have to know this!"

"Well..." Cura began to detail their expedition, where she managed to persuade the Forsworn into allowing them entry by the Karthspire, amd the many intricate cavernous designs, and vacuous darkness within, as well as the booby traps that were present, and eventually she described what Esbern told them about the Shrine to Reman Cyrodiil, and the Akaviri conquest, and their initial purpose and return to their roots.

Adalvald was enthralled. "I would love to meet this Esbern fellow someday. I am sure we would get along quite well."

"I'm sure you'd have lots to talk about! He is quite the Historian." Cura laughed. "And maybe you could even converse with Lucien a bit. He's a Scholar from Cyrodiil."

"Who? The sheepish lad?" Adalvald asked. "If he's a scholar, I'd wager he's already at the library now, reading up on the Dawnguard's History, and about the Daedra. Say, Cura... you've had quite a number of encounters with the Daedra, haven't you?"

Cura took a sip of her stew. "More than I'd like, I'll say that much."

"I suppose that with you being Dragonborn, it would only draw them to you like Moths to a flame." Brother Adalvald surmised. "If they could convert the Dragonborn, they could probably wreak much havoc in Tamriel. Cities massacred, civilians tormented, armies decimated..."

Cura furrowed her brows. She hoped he wasn't about to bring Markarth into this.

"It would be a great tragedy." Adalvald finished, interlocking his fingers and shaking his head sadly. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're the Dragonborn, Cura. It puts me at ease."

"I hope to live up to the title." Cura said with faux confidence.

"In due time, Cura. In due time." Adalvald stated. "We're with you a hundred percent."

Cura smiled. "Thank you."

Even if things would never be as they were, there were some positives to be seen. At least she wasn't alone. Fort Dawnguard would be her new home, and the remaining Vigil and Dawnguard would be like her new family. It was strangely familiar and comforting, given the circumstances that brought her there in the first place.

Cura resolved that she would set out for Morthal first thing tomorrow morning. She would spend the rest of the day training the recruits again.

Agmaer was improving his form with a war axe and crossbow; he was a quick learner and very adaptable.

Beleval seemed to be unmatched with a crossbow, but her tact with a war axe sorely needed work.

Axes were quicker and lighter to swing than hefty maces, Cura discovered when she tried to use one for an example.

Florentius Baenius flagged her down in the middle of her session. "Ah, Vigilant Cura, I've found you! Arkay led me right to you, thankfully, otherwise I may have gotten lost in this big fort."

"What do you need, Florentius?" Cura asked, trying to remain professional. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Oh, it won't take long at all. I have these for you." Florentius opened his satchel and gave Cura a few Ambrosias. "Carcette told me that your other mentor gave you one to help with the pain. I wish you'd have told me sooner; I have many of them, saved from my travels to Elsewyr some time ago... three years, to be exact. I was in contact with Moric Sidrey in those days, and we discovered useful things that he would use for his project. He was a fine man, and a respectable colleague. I miss him."

"Thank you." Cura gratefully accepted them, and offered some comfort. "He was. I didn't know him very well, but he seemed like a nice man. He's in a better place now."

"He is. Arkay has told me." Florentius nodded, reassured in his faith. "Moric is in Aetherius now, and at peace. He does think about myself, Carcette and Adalvald a lot, though, Arkay told me."

Cura wasn't sure if he was just saying that to spin it positively, or if he actually had direct communication with the God of Life and Death, but it was nice to hear, just the same.

"Well... I'm glad to hear it." Cura expressed relief. After a moment of silence, Florentius decided to leave and return to the Alchemy lab upstairs.

Inigo was tinkering with his crossbow when he overheard Sorine and Gunmar talking.

Sorine scoffed as she began to twist the bolts into place on another crossbow. "Do you think Florentius really talks to Arkay?"

Gunmar pondered for a time. "I'm... not sure. I've never heard of the Divines speaking directly to someone before."

Sorine seemed to agree. "So, you think he's just crazy?"

Gunmar shook his head as he removed a steel chest piece from the furnace. "I didn't say that. I wondered if perhaps he did it for the attention, but every now and then he'll say something that makes me reconsider."

Sorine chuckled. "I suppose we're all a little crazy to be here, right?"

Inigo then decided to interject. "A little crazy, but lots of fun!"

Sorine laughed. "Well, it's certainly never dull in here."

"I wonder how Isran can stand it." Gunmar pondered. "He's always been a loner."

"Maybe he took the wooden stake out of his ass and used it on a vampire!" Inigo laughed, and then Sorine and Gunmar followed suit, until quickly stiffening when they noticed that Isran was glaring at them from the doorway.

"Keep it up and I'll turn you into a bunch of leather strips." Isran growled at the blue Khajiit upon hearing his insult.

"Sorry, sir! Won't happen again!" Inigo held up both of his hands defensively.

"It had better not." The Redguard was serious as ever. He was not about to have his authority mocked in his own Fort. "You're only still breathing because you're friends with Cura. Don't put that to the test." He turned around and left the room.

Inigo, Sorine, and Gunmar exchanged nervous glances and then proceeded to return to their work in silence.

Lucien was reading "Palla, Volume 1" in the library and was relaxing with a bottle of Honningbrew Mead at the same time. Life was good.

The prospective student had already seen some incredible things since he partnered up with Cura, and he was looking forward to seeing more to come. It was truly a masterstroke of fate that he would have approached the Last Dragonborn of all people at that Inn.

He only wished he could brag to his parents about it. They would never believe him.

Still, he could one day bring Cura to the Imperial city. He was sure she would love it.

She would be the first Dragonborn to set foot in the Imperial city in 200-plus years. Now, that would be historic.

The last was Martin Septim, but he sacrificed his life to end the Oblivion Crisis.

The crisis that created the Vigil of Stendarr.

Lucien's eyes widened as the realization hit him. He slammed his book shut and cast it aside, and fled down the stairs to find Cura.

It had to be divine will.

Cura was continuing to oversee the training when Lucien tugged on her robe's sleeve, catching her attention.

"Yes, Lucien?' Cura asked.

"I have to talk to you, Candle! Privately." Lucien excitedly yanked her to lead her out of the main hall.

"Wait for me." Cura told the recruits as she went along with him. Once they reached a quiet spot, she leaned her back against the wall, expecting Lucien to continue.

"Candle, when this is all over, maybe you'll want to see the Imperial city!" Lucien tried to move the conversation. "You'll get to see what made St. Martin so important!"

"St. Martin? You mean Martin Septim, don't you?" Cura asked.

"Yes!" Lucien pointed at her excitedly. "He was..."

"...The last Dragonborn to walk Tamriel, before I came along." Cura finished the statement. "Was that what you were going to say?"

"Before meeting you, I'd always fancied Dragonborns to be something of a legend." Lucien stated. "It seemed rather implausible. A degree of skepticism is always in order..."

"All right...?" Cura was uncertain as to why he was meandering like this.

"You know, though some scholars on Solstheim dispute it, the first definite use of the term "Dragonborn" is attributed to Saint Alessia, back in the First Era." Lucien stated. "After giving her the Dragon blood, Akatosh sealed off the planes of Oblivion, banishing the Aedra and Daedra from the surface of Nirn forevermore."

Cura was watching him as he paced back and forth. "From then on, Alessia's descendants were known as Dragonborn. Of course, that line ended with the death of Martin Septim during the Oblivion Crisis. But he turned into a giant Dragon and kicked Mehrunes Dagon back into the Deadlands, which seems to have confused things." He stopped and spun around to face Cura again. "Anyway, skip around a couple hundred years, and here you are, supposedly with that same dragon blood in your veins." He walked around Cura, and began to pace again, ever the philosopher. "The-somewhat primitive- Nordic myths claim that lets you absorb the soul of a dragon, which you've apparently done, and channel it into a Shout, which I have certainly seen you do-but as far as I'm aware, no one ever saw any of the Dragonborn Emperors do that. Maybe you're related to them-maybe the Gods just like you."

"I feel both blessed and cursed at times." Cura told him. She then crossed her arms. "You're not giving me any new information, Lucien."

"And to top it all off, you belong to an organization that was founded to counter groups like the Mythic Dawn." Lucien stated. "Its foundation was directly traced to the Crisis itself; as a measure to defend against future threats like the Mythic Dawn."

"Okay..." Cura was getting lost in the conversation. "Why tell me this? What do Saint Alessia, Martin Septim, the Oblivion Crisis, and the Vigil have to do with me being Dragonborn?" No sooner did she ask the question than she already pieced the puzzle together. This again? She grew irritated.

Lucien tried to reiterate. "Candle, we haven't seen a Dragonborn in centuries... and now, you're here, and you've even allied with the Blades, like Reman Cyrodiil and the Akaviri! This really could mark the resurgence of the Empire! Perhaps the Divines want to resurrect it. Refresh it anew!"

"Let me stop you there." Cura laid a soft hand on his shaking shoulder to calm the overexcited Imperial. "I have no interest in the Imperial Throne."

Lucien paused for a moment before collecting his thoughts. "Poppycock! Tamriel needs you, Candle! Not just Skyrim! You could be the one to beat down the Stormcloaks and the Thalmor, and reunite the lost territories!"

"I'm not a Goddess, Lucien." Cura stated. "I could never do all that."

"I'm certain you could, if you put your mind to it!" Lucien stated, throwing them both into a moment of awkward silence. "Wow... I sounded just like my mom."

"I would have to gain the support of not only Skyrim, but Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, and High Rock." Cura stated. "Truthfully, I have no idea where I would even begin with such an endeavour."

"Simple; start with Skyrim!" Lucien stated. "Defeat the Black Dragon, and everyone will know your name!"

Cura held a finger to her lip as her mind wandered to a vision of herself in Emperor's garb of old, sitting beneath the red Dragon banner, surrounded by the Imperial Soldiers, the Penitus Oculatus, and Delphine and Esbern, instated as her Stewards.

She would grant Lucien access to the Mage's University, and perhaps elevate the Vigil of Stendarr to a status allowing them to mingle with their Judicial system, with Stendarr's tenets. That would greatly depend, though, on many factors.

Inigo could become a high-ranked member of the Penitus Oculatus if he desired so, Serana could be her Ambassador, Carcette could be one of her advisors, or emissary between the Empress and the Vigil, if she were willing to do such a thing.

But at the same time, she would put herself in direct opposition to Elenwen, and Ulfric. She would be at war with both of her biological parents.

And she would have to quit the Vigil and the Dawnguard.

It was a very difficult thing to weigh down.

"So, Candle? What do you think?" Lucien asked.

"It's silly, but I suppose I shouldn't be too quick to rule it out." Cura stated. "I'll keep an open mind, but I promise nothing."

Lucien nodded. "It's your life, Candle."

Cura had nothing left to say on the topic, so she decided to pry a little into Lucien. "So, Lucien, I should have asked this sooner, but I wanted to know how you feel about all this; about Fort Dawnguard, the Vampire menace... it's probably not what you were expecting when you first came to Skyrim, I'd wager."

"Not at all!" Lucien exclaimed. "But it's all quite fascinating! I can hardly wait to see how things unfold."

Cura smiled in the face of his innocence. "Me, too. I just hope that things will go well."

The pair returned to their affairs.


Castle Volkihar was somber and guilds by darkened atmosphere as Lord Harkon paced the sullied stone floors.

The other vampires dared not interfere with him in this angry state, lest they suffer the same fate as Vingalmo.

"Orthjolf. I thought you said we would have the Moth Priest and Carcette's head. Whatever happened to that?" Harkon hissed.

Orthjolf was immediately caught by surprise and grew anxious with each passing second. "I... haven't heard anything concerning the squad I sent to carry your will out yet, my Lord."

"Must I really spell it out for you? Are you so blind to your own incompetence that I really must degrade this court and explain what has happened?" Harkon snarled.

"No, my Lord." Orthjolf bowed his head.

"You're walking a very thin line." Harkon lifted a goblet of blood from the table nearby and held it to his lips, drinking it down quickly. "Let it be known: one more failure out of you and I shall suffer your presence no longer."

"Yes, my Lord." Orthjolf said with shaking knees.

"Now, begone from my sight." Harkon dismissed him before the court.

Orthjolf fled with his tail between his legs, and other vampires in the area returned to their affairs, leaving Harkon alone to ponder.

The Vampire Lord looked to the hole in the ceiling, patched with wooden planks. It was but a hitch in his plans, but time was on his side. Even if he could not succeed just yet, the deaths of his foes were but a droplet of time away in the river of existence. He would merely need to wait, at worst.

As far as he knew, the only real thorn in his side at this point was Carcette. Perhaps he shouldn't have listened to his court. He should not have turned her: he should have made her into Cattle instead. She has proven herself to be dangerous to his court.

If he would see her again, there would be no mercy, nor room for reconciliation; he would destroy her, and everything she loves. He might even be inclined to visit Bhoriane, just to slaughter any remaining cousins or even her Church there. Just pure vengeance awaited those who slighted the Lord of the Volkihar Clan.

He slowly crept back into his private quarters and shut the door.


Dawn broke over Dayspring Canyon, rising the day.

Cura and her friends rallied to the lunch hall to decide the course of action.

"We leave for Morthal." Cura explained. "I think I'll take Carcette, Serana, and Lucien for this mission." She pointed to her people of choice, and Inigo became disappointed.

"No Inigo?" the blue Khajiit asked sadly, his ears drooping off to either side.

"Sorry, Inigo, but Sorine told me to tell you to see her. Something about Dwemer Schematics." Cura informed him.

"Blast it!" Inigo exclaimed.

"I think that's the idea she has in mind." Serana mused.

"Ugh, fine, fine. I shall see what she wants." Inigo pushed himself upwards and left the table.

Lucien pulled down his lower eyelid and immaturely stuck out his tongue at Inigo as he departed the room.

"So, any ideas concerning the Elder Scroll and my Mother?" Serana asked Cura.

"Oh, yes... I'm sorry, Serana... I haven't given it much thought. My mind has been pulled in so many directions." Cura excused herself and her scattered brain embarrassingly.

"The one place my father couldn't have torn apart in his search over the course of millennia." Serana recalled the sordid prospect.

"Could she be sealed away like you were?" Cura asked.

"I don't think so." Serana shook her head. "She said she wanted to stay awake in case the situation was resolved. It had to be one of us, and, well, she's so much more powerful than I am. It just made sense for her to be out here. Anything else?"

"Hiding with the Dawnguard?" Lucien asked in ignorance.

"They'd be even less welcoming to her than they've been to me. It would have been a bloodbath. And since the Dawnguard are still around, that must not have happened. Any other ideas?" Serana pointed out.

The group sat in silence for a moment before Carcette made a suggestion. "Maybe she pulled a Cura and hid inside the walls to avoid punishment." She narrowed her eyes at her protege.

"How did you remember that?" Cura was surprised.

"Vigilant Tolan was furious that day, when Cura brought a rabbit into the Hall and it chewed his robes." Carcette informed the others, making Cura's face redden with embarrassment.

"Keeper!" Cura covered her blushing face.

"Then she tried to hide inside a hole in the wall downstairs. We wound up patching it and hanging a map over it, but I will always remember her screams when Tolan pulled her out. With the rabbit wrapped in her arms." Carcette recounted further. "It was adorable, really. She must have been at about five or six years of age."

"Did you eat the rabbit?" Lucien asked out of curiosity.

"It had a heart attack..." Cura remembered sadly. "I've never had much luck keeping friends, it seems."

"Depressing." Serana echoed her sentiment. Then, a thought hit her. "Wait... that almost makes sense!"

"Really?" Cura asked. "Hiding inside the castle walls?"

"Not inside the walls, but there's a courtyard in the castle. I used to help her tend a garden there. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say that my father couldn't stand the place. Too... peaceful." Serana had an epiphany.

"Isn't that pretty risky, staying around the castle?" Lucien asked. "Especially since, well, apparently she's unwelcome there."

"Oh, absolutely." Serana agreed. "But my mother's not a coward. That is... I don't think we'll actually trip over her there. But it's worth a look."

"They aren't going to let us use the front door." Cura put it plainly.

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion." Serana waved a finger. "There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

"Perfect!" Cura exclaimed. "Once we've dealt with the issue in Morthal, we're heading there."

"I'll hold you to it." Serana stated.

The group stood up and began their departure to the murky lands of Hjalmarch.