Parely


Felwinter woke with a grunt to knocking at his front door. His face shoved into the pillow, his single open eye glanced over to the window, saw the first streams of dawn filtering through. Early morning and Maven was checking to make sure he hadn't slipped away in the night, just as he predicted. The knocking came again, louder this time. Felwinter slipped out of bed, trudging across the cold wooden floor to the door. He didn't bother with a shirt.

When he pulled it open, the young Nord garbed in Riften's violet stepped back slightly. He put his fist to his chest in a salute but before he could speak, Felwinter stuck the folded letter out to him. The guardsman's mouth clamped shut and after a second, he took the letter with meek thanks. "Jarl Maven would like to know what you plan to do next."

Felwinter blinked slowly. "I plan to leave."

"Yes, she believed you would say that. She is asking for details."

Felwinter began to scowl but stopped. Like Dantos and the Thalmor, this kid didn't deserve his ire. Or Maven's if Felwinter sent him on his way. "I am returning to Whiterun. I have my own business there."

The kid was smart enough to know what he meant and did not push. He only nodded and said, "She believed you would say that as well."

Felwinter grit his teeth. "Are we done here?" he asked, already pushing the door closed.

"Yes." He saluted again. "Safe journeys, Thane."

Felwinter only grunted, shutting and locking the door. He exhaled deeply, then he yawned, running his fingers through his hair. Whiterun. And Balgruuf. He needed to speak to Balgruuf. He should have told Brunwulf when he had the chance but the move against the Stormcloaks had been even more difficult than he had expected. His expectations had been dire to begin with.

But not only the Stormcloaks. Brunwulf was a friend. While he was thirty years Felwinter's senior, the man had always been full of strength and life; his broad, grizzled features belying a kind and deeply feeling heart.

Now, he only ever looked older than he was. He looked tired, as if he could never get as much sleep as he needed. Even when he smiled, there was a dimness to the light in his eyes. Putting even more on the man's shoulders grated against Felwinter's conscience. But like he told the Guild, Miraak was coming. Whether he or the others knew it or not, whether they were ready or not. It was never a matter of if he told them but when. And how. Felwinter began to dress himself.

Breezehome was quiet when he stepped through the portal. It was still early. He left the children to sleep and climbed the stairs, rounding the corner and pushing into his bedroom as quietly as he could. There, he found Moth, wrapped in his covers, splayed across the center of the bed, face buried in his pillow; not so different from how Felwinter was less than an hour before.

Felwinter let his bag down on the table and closed the door. He pulled off his boots, leaving them against the wall before slowly making his way over to the bed. He climbed on, his weight causing it to dip. Moth opened one eye and stared at him for a second. Then, he opened the other. "Felwinter."

"Whole bed to yourself. I see you're enjoying my absence." Felwinter crawled until he was positioned over him, caging Moth with his arms.

Both eyes closed again. "If you take issue, you're welcome to stop me."

"But I'm never here when you do it."

"That is your problem," Moth yawned, tusks bared.

"Or a challenge…"

"Magic is cheating."

Felwinter rose and spread out his arms. "And I am a well-known cheater."

Moth sighed. "It's admirable, in a way. How you never deny it."

Felwinter chuckled and both men devolved into soft laughter. Moth shifted around beneath him, held his arms out and Felwinter lowered into them, feeling lips press gently against his neck and a rough, calloused hand run up and down the length of his back. He was starting to fall asleep again.

But after some time, Moth patted him on the back, wordlessly telling him to move off. Then, he sat up and began to get out of bed. "It's still pretty early," Felwinter reminded him.

"I know. There's something I need to do." He began to search for clothes. While he did so, he asked Felwinter of Riften, of Maven and the Guild. Felwinter told him that both knew of Miraak now. That Maven had informants on Solstheim and they had been reporting back on his movements. That the Guild had been conscripted into fighting against what was coming and that it hadn't been a popular decision.

"These spies. Do you know them?" Moth asked while fastening his boots.

"No. Not sure it's worth it to find out either." Felwinter sighed, "My money would be on the merchants but she gave me nothing to work with." His eyes traced over to his desk and spied Kodlak's journal, sitting on its surface. He walked over and took it up. He must have forgotten to put it away before he left.

Moth grunted and stood. "A few of the Companions have returned successful but Vilkas can speak to you more on that. We've had no trouble here and…"

Felwinter put the journal away and turned back to find Moth's eyes boring into him, harder and even more serious than usual. "Moth?" he called. The Orsimer blinked as if in a daze. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to come with me, Felwinter," he insisted, "To Jorrvaskr."

Felwinter's brow tightened. "Is there something wrong with the Companions? What you just told me was good news."

"I'll explain everything soon." He gestured to the closed door. "Please."

The shift in tone between them sat like a rock in Felwinter's chest. Still, he nodded. "Alright. Let's go then."

Moth grunted again, rougher this time. The house was quiet still. Felwinter followed him down the stairs and out the front door, stopping to lock it behind them. The sun was rising and there was a chill in the air. Few people littered the streets, either heading towards their jobs or home after a night of drinking. Few hailed them, as they always did. There were some days Felwinter wished he could just go unnoticed.

They started to walk. "What are your plans now that you're back?" Moth asked.

"Wondering if it's too much to hope I could catch up on sleep." Felwinter shrugged. "The Stormcloaks, the Thalmor, Maven. One of those things could take a lot out of a man."

"You know what you have to do though."

"I know, I know." Felwinter ran a hand down his face. "I'll be telling Balgruuf the truth. When I get the chance, I'll head to Windhelm and do the same with Brunwulf."

"Will you stop there?"

"For now. I need this Moot to go off without a hitch."

"The entire province does."

Felwinter let himself be led away from their home. They made it only a few steps before he heard someone call out from behind him. "Felwinter!" The voice called. Felwinter stopped, as if he was unsure what he was hearing could be right.

He turned and despite the fact he was sure he had recognized it, it still surprised him to see Serana, of all people, jogging up to him. "Sera-oof!" Felwinter's voice was cut off as he was tackled in a crushing embrace. "Ribs, Serana," He wheezed, "Please."

She let him go and stepped back, her face wide and open and happier than he had ever seen her. Then, she frowned. "Your nose," she said, "Who did you piss off?"

Moth chuckled behind them. Felwinter's hand came up to his nose. "I…didn't start it. This time, at least." He shook his head and took her by the shoulders. "I just came from Riften, I was wondering where you had gotten off to." He took the sight of her in. "You look well, Serana," he told her. Quieter, he asked, "How do you feel?"

Her smile softened. "Better. Just like you said."

"Just like I said." He smiled even wider and let her go. "Did something bring you here? Are you just visiting?"

From there, her smile deflated entirely. "I…"

"Serana." Moth's voice stopped her before she could try to speak again. "Not here," he told her and her mouth clamped shut. "Head to the longhouse I showed you. Up on the hill." He pointed in the direction of Jorrvaskr.

Moth left them without another word and Felwinter watched him go. A gentle but cold hand took him by the arm and his eyes turned back down to Serana. "Come on," she murmured. Once again, Felwinter let himself be pulled along. All he could glean from their tones and their expressions was that this would not be good news. His mind was racing. If anything had happened to Aela, Vilkas, Farkas or the Jarl or anyone close to him, he would have been told already. Though he very much wanted to, Felwinter did not press the point.

Instead, he asked, "How are things in Riften? And with the Dawnguard?"

She led him into and through the town square, markets stalls still in the process of opening for the day. "I'm rarely bothered in Riften though I met someone there. I can't remember his name. Big man, Nord-"

"Redundant."

"Be quiet. Thick, blonde mustache. A blacksmith."

"Balimund. He's a friend."

"He said as much. Became a lot friendlier when I said I knew you."

Felwinter felt the back of his neck heat up and he quickly changed the topic. "Have you met Maven?"

"The Jarl? No, I haven't."

"Good." Felwinter pulled his arm from her hand and took the lead towards the longhouse. He asked question after question. Her relationship with the Dawnguard was improving, to his surprise as well as her own, admittedly. But, indeed, many of them no longer considered her as an outsider, only there because the Dragonborn favored her. Sorine, Gunmar and Florentius even seemed to regard her as part of the group's leadership; asking for her insight and considering her advice whenever she thought to give it. It went without saying there was at least one who coldly disagreed. Aside from that, she read her books, she worked on her alchemy, she practiced her sorcery and swordsmanship, she went out into the woods at night to explore and occasionally hunt.

And just a few months after having to shatter her clan and kill her own father. "It's good you're doing well with the Dawnguard," Felwinter said. They passed the Gildergreen and Serana's head turned to follow it, as many did when they first laid eyes on the tree. "Of course, I had to threaten Isran…"

Her head snapped back to him. "You threatened Isran?"

"I won't bore you with the details." He grinned and she scoffed. As they approached the Jorrvaskr, the sounds of early morning training reached their ears. "Have you met the Companions yet?"

"I haven't. But I've heard they're good people."

"When they aren't getting on my last nerve, sure." They went around towards the back. "Shame they're always getting on my last nerve."

She chuckled. "Do they know this is how you speak of them when they can't hear you?"

"I say worse things to their faces." The training yard held a sparse amount of people. Most were still sleeping. Though he would often be one of them, Farkas wasn't the one to miss a chance to throw around the whelps; the fight of their lives was a warm-up for him. Vilkas was likely still inside and Aela, out in the plains. For the best. She'd likely notice something off about Serana before anyone else.

The two stopped at the edge of the courtyard and watched Farkas as he took on two of the newest recruits. Green boys who had just learned which end of a sword went into their enemies a few weeks back. He didn't hold back either, coming down to one knee to avoid a swing at his head before taking the pommel of his greatsword and jamming it into the younger man's ribs. When he doubled over, Farkas grabbed him by the head and tossed him aside. The second one came running in, covered in dust after he had previously been thrown to the ground. He was quick and managed to get a good punch to the side of Farkas' head before he could react.

Serana winced slightly. "That can't be good for him."

"He's fine."

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean there's nothing there."

"But there is nothing there. I've checked. I've been checking him for years now," Felwinter told her, "No bleeds, no cracks, no free fluids, nothing. Farkas is as thick-skulled as he is…thick-skulled."

Farkas responded with a punch of his own, this time into the younger man's gut. He yielded quickly after that, as did the other, who hadn't even bothered to pull himself off the ground. The fierce look on Farkas' face fell into mirth. He pats one on the shoulder, helped the other off his back and then sent them on their way with orders to be back again by noon. He tossed one of them his blade to return to the rack. Huffing out, Farkas yanked repeatedly on the collar of his shirt to allow the heat to escape. He began to pull it off.

"Hey, ice-brain!"

Farkas paused, the shirt halfway up his head. "Felwinter? Is that you?"

"No, it's fucking Queen Elisif!"

"I don't know what Queen Elisif sounds like," Farkas called back.

"I…fine, that's on me." Serana coughed to cover a laugh and turned away when Felwinter looked at her. "C'mere a second."

Farkas pulled his shirt back down and started in the opposite direction, towards one of the water barrels. "Wrong way, Farkas," he heard but ignored it, rounding one of them and bending down for a drink. Felwinter turned to Serana again. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

"Yourself," she told him, "You have to deal with yourself."

"Hey, I…I'm not…" Felwinter sighed and Serana laughed again, this time, not bothering to hide it. Her eyes turned back to Farkas and to her surprise, they met his'. His head had been pulled from the water, his ear-length hair slicked back and he was staring at her with an almost unsettling intensity.

"Farkas!" Both Serana and Farkas jumped when Felwinter belted out his name. This time, he approached, quickly coming around the barrels and crossing the yard. He was shaking water from his hands and rubbing them on his pants to dry them.

By the time he reached them, Serana realized he hadn't blinked once. Or even looked over at Felwinter. "I…" He paused. Then, he shoved out his hand. "Farkas," he greeted. Before Serana could take the hand, he pulled it back, wiping it on his pants once more for good measure before sticking it out once more.

Serana took it before he could change his mind again. "So I've heard."

"Farkas?" His eyes flicked over to Felwinter, as if he had forgotten he was there. Felwinter pointed to her. "Serana."

"Serana," the man repeated. He still had hold of her hand. He frowned slightly and looked down at it.

Serana's small smile disappeared. Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand from his grip. "Felwinter, Moth will be here soon. We should really get inside."

"Sure, just through those doors." Felwinter gestured and she departed quickly. He made to follow but two hands wrapped around his shoulders, stopping him.

"Who is she?" Farkas whispered, despite the fact they were alone.

"Your breath stinks." Farkas began to squeeze his shoulders. "Damn it, I just told you her name is Serana, didn't I?"

"Is she from around here? I've never seen her before."

"That's because she's from Riften. Alright, you know what…" He shook Farkas' hands off him. "I have business to take care of. We'll talk about…" He gestured to all of Farkas. "This another time."

When he entered Jorrvaskr, the fire was low at the center but well-tended. Off to the side, in a shadowy corner, Serana sat, her glimmering eyes on the other entrance. They turned on him when he entered and she stood. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"

Felwinter opened his mouth but stopped when he thought better of it. He nodded towards the stairs that would take them down and she followed. He led her to the living quarters, through the long dim hall towards the other end. "Do you remember the man I told you about?" He asked quietly once they entered the room. "Kodlak. Kodlak Whitemane."

Serana closed the door behind them. "I remember."

Felwinter sat down in one of the chairs. "This was his place," he murmured. He gestured to the bookshelf behind him. "These were his books." He jerked his chin to the wall. "Those were his boots." He smiled slightly.

She smiled with him. "I guessed they weren't yours. From the lack of smell." She walked over to a weapon case placed against the wall. A finely made knife was sealed within, a layer of dust covering it. "But it's your room now, isn't it?"

Felwinter looked at her silently. Then, he shrugged.

"You haven't touched anything."

His hand lowered behind the table and came back up, wrapped around a bottle of liquor. "I've touched some things."

"Of course."

Suddenly, her eyes shifted over to the closed door. Felwinter stopped working on the cork. "Serana?" She blinked, as if breaking out of a trance. "What's-"

Knocking cut Felwinter off. It was Moth's voice that came through the door. "Are you both in there?"

Serana spoke before Felwinter could. "It's open," she said.

A few heartbeats passed before the knob turned but when Moth opened the door and stood to the side, a dropping pin would have sounded like thunder. Serana's eyes never left Felwinter's face. Not once did she see him blink.

Isran's own face was just as careful and as neutral a mask. He was armored lightly and weaponless. He stepped into Kodlak's room after Moth and came to stand at the center, just before the desk. Behind him, Moth pushed the door closed and turned the lock.

"Felwinter," Isran greeted, the most polite Serana had ever seen him be.

Felwinter didn't respond. Instead, he chuckled softly. "I see why you didn't want to tell me anything." His hand went back to the liquor bottle and ripped out the cork easily, despite struggling with it just minutes before. He filled the mug on the desk, his eyes never leaving Isran.

"We need to talk," Isran told him.

"You should have written a letter."

"You have enough kindling."

"I could always use more."

"Felwinter." Felwinter's eyes snapped to Moth, who had moved to the wall opposite Serana. He had put himself between the two of them. "This is important."

"And how do you know that?" Felwinter placed the bottle down loudly.

"Because I wouldn't have brought him here otherwise."

Felwinter's jaw worked but to that, he had no response. He looked to Serana, who only nodded. Then, he turned back to Isran. "What do you want?"

Isran looked away from him. His eyes began to run over the room. "This your office?"

"That's none of your business."

"It's nice. Surprisingly."

Felwinter leaned forward. "Out with it, Isran."

Isran finally set his eyes back on him. He took a step closer to the desk and to Felwinter. To the side, Moth watched him like a hawk. "A week ago, Fort Dawnguard was attacked. By a platoon of vampires and mortals. We were taken by surprise."

Felwitner chuckled again, shaking his head. "And you need me to do your dirty work for you. Hunt some people down."

"I don't need you to hunt down Idessia for me," Isran spat the name like bile. "I need answers."

Serana asked, "Felwinter, did you know her?"

"Know who?"

"Idessia, the woman who led the assault. Because she knew you."

"Never heard the name."

"She said you killed someone important to her."

"Do you realize how little that narrows it down?" Felwinter brought the cup to his lips.

Then, Isran asked, "Who is Alva?"

He stopped before he could take a drink. The cup slowly lowered back to the table. "Why?"

"Answer the question," Isran snapped. Felwinter glowered, hand slowly beginning to squeeze around the cup. He lifted it again and took a drink, staring at Isran, waiting. Isran grunted deep in his chest. "She said you would know the name," he finally bit out, "And that 'Alva' was the reason she attacked us."

Satisfied, Felwinter replied, "Alva was a vampire. Part of a brood living in Hjaalmarch's swamps. She preyed on the people of Morthal, wanted to enslave the guards so they'd have control of the town."

Felwinter's eyes lowered to the desk. His gaze became distant. "She took a man, Hroggar, as her thrall for protection. But he was married. Had a daughter. So Alva ordered another vampire she had recently turned to get rid of the family. To make it look like an accident."

Serana gasped and Moth growled. When Felwinter's eyes flicked back up, they landed on Isran's face; the picture of fiery rage barely reined in. An odor drifted into Felwinter's nose, something like ashes on the wind.

Isran began to pace. "And then?" His voice sounded as if he were being strangled.

"This…idiot newborn burned the entire fucking house down," Felwinter spat, "But she grew a soft spot for the girl. She tried to turn her-"

Isran exploded, "She what?!"

"Keep your damn voice down!" Felwinter seethed through clenched teeth. Isran resumed his pacing, faster now, nostrils flaring with each breath. "The newborn failed. The girl died." Isran's fists began to tremble. "When she attacked me, I found out her connection to Alva. I checked it out the next morning, knocked Hroggar out cold and found Alva sleeping inside a coffin." Glowering at the ground, Felwinter poured himself another drink. "I woke her up. Right before I jammed the knife into her throat."

"She would have had wards," Serana pointed out.

Felwinter guffawed rudely. "She certainly made an attempt."

"This is all funny to you?" Isran turned on him again.

"Families destroyed, children being murdered. Fucking hilarious, Isran."

"Enough," Moth spoke up before Isran could reply. Isran turned away, running a hand over his mouth and beard. "Felwinter, the vampire coven?" Moth asked.

"Wiped clean."

"Alva's body?"

"Left it there. Town eventually discovered her and her coffin. Put two and two together."

A period of silence followed, what they had just learned becoming more and more unsettling with each passing second. Facing the corner, voice barely rising above a whisper, Isran asked, "The girl's father?"

"He was suspect in their deaths but was absolved of their murder. He left Morthal. Probably Skyrim entirely." Felwinter paused to take another drink. "So, how do you know this 'Idessia'?"

Isran's eyes swiveled over to him, even as his face remained pointed elsewhere. "I mean, you clearly do. So speak up, daylight's wasting."

Isran stared for a few more seconds. Then, he turned to face Felwinter entirely. "Idessia was a former Vigilant of Stendarr. One of those I thought had been killed when their headquarters was attacked. She showed up in Riften while I was there-"

"What were you doing in Riften?" Felwinter's eyes flicked over to Serana and back, narrowing.

Isran ignored the question. "And used her magic to hide that she had transformed into a vampire. She convinced me to take her back to the fort. Her forces moved in not long after."

Felwinter sighed and rubbed his face. Then quietly, he asked, "How many lost?"

"Seven. Durak and Celann among them."

Felwinter looked as if he had been struck. His breathing became audible. "Gunmar, Florentius, Sorine…"

"Alive."

"Agmaer?"

"Nearly. But alive."

Felwinter let out a slow, sharp exhale. Then, an inhale. "I will visit the fort when I can. If nothing else, to see the others. I don't know anything about Alva's relation to your friend. You would have been better off asking her." Felwinter suddenly rose to his feet. "As a matter of fact, you should go and do that."

"What?" Isran stared up at him.

"You've said your piece, haven't you? What business do you still have here?"

Isran moved in closer to Felwinter. "I came for answers on why my people were attacked. Why my people were killed."

"And I told you that I don't know. If there's anyone who you should be interrogating…" Felwinter tapped a finger to Isran's chest and had it slapped away. "It's yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"'She hid her transformation from me.' Gods, you've been dealing with vampires for how many years?" Felwinter asked, stepping back, "How in the world could any one of them make it past you so easily?"

Isran said nothing but his lip had begun to curl. "Was it sentiment? You finally found someone who could stand to be in a room with you and she wasn't dead?" Felwinter then cocked his head. A cruel smile began to play on his lips. "Or was it-"

Moth was between them before Isran could close the distance. The Redguard's eyes were bulging from his head. "Think about your next words very carefully."

Felwinter's jaw worked. Then, quietly, he said, "No. I don't think I will." He sat back down behind Kodlak's desk, picked up the cup and gestured to the door. "I have nothing left to say to you. See yourself out, Isran."

Isran glowered at him for a few seconds more. Then, he turned around with a snarl and ripped open the door before stomping out.

After a few moments, Serana went over and pushed it close. She turned to find Moth murmuring something to Felwinter. He stopped when Felwinter's eyes moved over to her. They softened. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he told her.

Serana shrugged weakly and remembered her parents. "I've seen worse."

"I've heard his side," said Felwinter, "Is there anything he's keeping from me?"

Serana shook her head quickly. "No. He…they were friends. Good friends, from what I heard from Florentius. He and Gunmar and Sorine knew her. Celann too. It's likely how she gained his trust so quickly."

Felwinter grunted. He sealed the liquor bottle and placed it back where he had gotten it.

Felwinter ran a hand down his face. "Just left the Rift and now I'm going back. Alright. That's fine." His attention turned towards the door. "But there's someone who can't wait." He rounded the desk.

Serana looked over to Moth, who indicated that they should follow. "You're going to see the Jarl?" Moth asked.

"Not saving this until I come back." Felwinter pulled open the door and led them out of Jorrvaskr, the front entrance this time. Serana put her hand up to shield her eyes when the sun hit them and just out of the corner, she saw Farkas talking to someone beneath a giant statue of a bird. She quickened her steps.

Felwinter touched her shoulder once they reached Whiterun's giant tree. "I might be up at Dragonsreach for a while but I'll see you before you go."

"Alright." Felwinter turned to Moth and gave a silent nod. Then, he left them, feeling their eyes on his back as he trudged up the stairs to Jarl's castle. It was midday now. He had planned to save this talk for the afternoon but he realized had just been stalling. What would he do until then, with that kind of pressure weighing on his mind? Especially with Isran walking around the city.

The mere thought of Isran started to tug on his focus. Felwinter wrenched his mind into place. He did not need to think about that. Not now, otherwise, he'd think of nothing else for hours.


Serana sat in a chair next to the door, watching Moth stand over a simmering pot. He was much quieter than Felwinter and seemed to rarely speak unless spoken to. She asked him, "Was this your first time meeting Isran?"

"It was."

"Right," she murmured, "Probably shouldn't have expected Felwinter to invite him here to meet the family." She looked out a nearby window, towards the blacksmith next door, an Imperial woman and a large Nord man speaking to another woman in a priestess' robes. She turned back. "Felwinter never said what he wanted to speak to the Jarl about."

Moth's hands stopped. Worry pricked her. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

"It is not for me to discuss. You will likely find out sooner rather than later."

Serana heard footsteps walk up to the door, heavy and familiar. A second later, it was pushed open, Felwinter's frame blocking the stream of light flowing in behind him. He had looked tired when she had first seen him but now, it looked as if the rings around his eyes had deepened in just the past hour.

Moth finally looked up from the pot, straightened with a sigh once he saw the look on Felwinter's face.

Felwinter stared back, then turned his eyes down. "Serana, may we speak in private?" He put his hand to the door.

She blinked then nodded and stood. Felwinter held the door further open. Serana stole one more concerned look back at the both of them before stepping outside.

Felwinter pushed the door shut and locked it. Then, he went over to the table and dropped heavily into Serana's seat, running his hand over his beard.

Moth resumed his work on the food. "It is done?"

"Yep."

"How did Balgruuf take it?"

"There was cursing. He had to sit down," Felwinter told him, "Irileth tore into me for not saying something earlier. In short, they took it about as well as expected." Felwinter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, one hand back on his face and beard. "When Irileth got it all out of her system, they wanted to start discussing options. None of which I had to give. Balgruuf wanted to tell Legate Quentin but I talked him out of it."

Moth grunted, "Good. Telling the Legate would be the same as telling Tullius."

"And telling Tullius would be the same as telling Elenwen. The entire fucking Dominion would know before any of the other Jarls did." Felwinter leaned back again. "He wants me to tell them all at the Moot."

"Would you?"

"It would be the only time they were all together." Felwinter shrugged. "It's a good idea, even if I don't like it."

Moth grunted again. He reached down for a bowl and filled it with something brown and steaming. "What are you cooking?" Felwinter asked, even before the smell reached him.

"Your breakfast. It's noon and you haven't eaten." He went over to the table to set it down in the spot he usually sat before returning to the pot to fill a second bowl. Felwinter stood and walked around the fire, accepting it when it was held out to him with quiet thanks. He set it down in his own spot. A bowl of bread sat at the center of the table and Felwinter was already starting to warm it.

They ate together in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the voices and wind outside, reflecting off the walls. "So you've met him," Felwinter finally said.

Moth kept his eyes on his food. "So I've met him."

Felwinter tore off another piece of bread. The insides were steaming now. "How did it happen?"

"Samuel." Moth drained his bowl.

The piece stopped halfway to his mouth. Then, it lowered. "What about Samuel?"

"Encountered him when he first entered the city. Said he asked for you." Moth pushed his empty bowl to the center. "Saw him again the next day and Samuel led him to me."

Felwinter's fingers were starting to pierce the loaf by the time Moth finished speaking. He hummed but said nothing more, tearing at the bread with his teeth now. When Felwinter finished, he stood. "Going to go find Vilkas. I'm sure he's got a lot to talk about."

Moth took up both bowls. "If you find Serana, ask her if she wants to stay the night," he told him.

Felwinter paused and turned back. Moth met his eyes. "The company would do her good."

Felwinter huffed in amusement. "I'm sure she'd appreciate it. She can get chatty when she's comfortable around you." He pulled the door open. Still smiling, he looked back. "You could learn something from her," he said.

"Get out, Felwinter."


Serana agreed to stay the night, meet the rest of their family. She met their children, kind and curious. She met Lydia, a woman who told Serana she was Felwinter's subordinate but who spoke to him like a friend, with all the ribbing and disrespect that entailed. It amused her how often Lydia would punctuate her most scathing insults with Felwinter's title.

But soon, it grew late. Moth put the children to bed and Lydia bade her good night before returning to her quarters upstairs. Serana remained in the living area with Felwinter. "The damage was less to the fort itself and more to the people," she said to him when he asked more about the attack.

He shook his head. "Durak, Celann. They were good men."

"Agmaer pulled through, at least."

Felwinter hummed. "He was the first person I met when I entered the canyon," he told her, "He was watching the waterfalls, some distance from the fort. He admitted he was too nervous to go in but he did when I agreed to walk with him." He paused. "I also promised not to tell anyone that he was afraid."

"From what I saw of him during the attack, I never would have guessed."

"I hope this doesn't break him."

"He was taking Durak's death pretty hard when I left," Serana said, "From what I heard, Durak might have taken a fatal blow defending him. So I hope so too." She sighed and clasped her hands together. "I'm worried about how they'd handle another attack, if one were to happen."

"The fort's defensible," Felwinter said, "If the damage is as minor as you say, they should have no trouble fortifying defenses."

"Even with the fort, they got to us."

Felwinter glowered at the flames. "Say what you will about Isran but it's rare the same trick will work on him twice. They had the element of surprise. They don't have that anymore."

"Neither can they march a large enough force down into the canyon without drawing attention." Both turned at the sound of Moth's voice, coming from the back, near the children's room, door now shut. "Either the Dawnguard's or the Rift's Jarl. And if they aren't wearing Imperial or Thalmor colors, it could be seen as an act of aggression from one of the other holds. Maybe even the prelude to another civil war." Moth came to stand behind Felwinter. "Either way, the response would be severe."

Felwinter chuckled. "That's just assuming they're close enough. Idessia knows Alva and Alva was part of a coven in Hjaalmarch. How many holds would this force have to march through just to reach the Dawnguard?"

"Shortest path would be…" Serana closed her eyes, searching her memory. She opened them. "Straight through Whiterun."

Felwinter leaned back and spread his arms. "Where I would meet them. With open arms and two dragons." He pushed to his feet and Serana followed. "The Dawnguard is likely safe. It's me she's looking for. Why she didn't target me here, I can't say."

"Should we speak to the Jarl?" Moth asked him, "If there's concern about another vampire attack…"

Felwinter rubbed his beard. "I'll write a letter before I leave. One for the Companions as well." He turned to Moth. "Can you deliver them?"

Moth touched his shoulder. "I'll see it done." Then, he leaned in, pulling Felwinter down slightly and said softly, "The kids are asking questions. About you leaving," he said, "And about Isran."

"I'll talk to them."

Moth nodded. He turned to Serana. "Will you be returning to Riften?"

"She was going to but…" Felwinter stepped around Moth and went over to the wall. He slapped his hand on top of the bookshelf. "I convinced her to stay." He slapped it again and grinned at her. "Other people are bribed with money, Serana takes books."

Serana laughed gently and shook her head. "If that's alright," she said to Moth.

"Of course it is. You are welcome anytime." He nodded to her once more and then turned towards the stairs, slowly climbing them until his footsteps disappeared with the sound of a closing door.

Serana approached the bookshelf. "What you and Moth were talking about, regarding Idessia's possible plans." She ran a finger over the spines of several. "How did you both figure things out so quickly?"

"We didn't, not really." Felwinter shrugged. He was leaning on the bookshelf now, propped up by an elbow. "We just looked at her possible options, then we looked at the pros and cons for each."

"None of what you said I ever even thought of," Serana admitted. She pulled a book out and cradled it in her arm.

"Moth's former Legion and I was a mercenary in Hammerfell for a while. Strategies, tactics, you pick them up." His head turned towards the back. Serana followed his eyes to his children's bedroom.

"You never told them. About Isran."

He looked at her. "If it were up to me, they'd never find out." He pushed off the shelf. "Take what you like," he muttered, passing around her.

He knocked gently, just to see if they were asleep but Lucia responded immediately. Felwinter pushed the door open when he was permitted to do so. Both children were wide awake and from the looks on their faces, they had been speaking. Felwinter closed the door behind him. They were shrouded in darkness for only a second before a ball of light appeared in Felwinter's open palm. He let it float upwards until it hit the ceiling. There, it remained, casting light across the whole room.

Felwinter sighed and pulled a small chair from the wall to the space between both beds, lowering into it. Slowly, so as to not break it like the last two. "I know you've both heard a bit," he started.

"You're leaving again." Lucia's jaw worked. She tried and failed to keep her tone even.

"Not for a few days," Felwinter assured but from the looks on their faces, it didn't matter, "But yes. And even after I return, I'll only stay for a short while." He looked at both of them. Whatever disappointment they might have been feeling pricked him as well. "We'll spend time together when we can. Eventually, things will calm down."

A terrible lie and mumbling was the only response he got from the both of them. Felwinter prepared to stand when Samuel sat up. "Pa?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"The man I met at the front gate," he said, "The one who had been asking for you. Father told you about him?"

Felwinter's jaw flexed. "He did."

"And you spoke to him."

"Unfortunately", he thought but aloud, he said, "I did."

More silence as Samuel tried to figure out the best way to ask what he wanted to ask. Always so diplomatic, approaching situations in the most roundabout of ways.

Lucia was so much more direct. "Samuel said he looks like you." Felwinter gave it a few seconds to click in her head. Then, her eyes widened. "You're related, aren't you?"

Felwinter looked at her for a long time. Then, he finally answered, "His name is Isran." Recognition flashed across both their faces. They had heard that name a number of times, eavesdropping on their fathers' conversations. "And he is my father."

The silence was palpable. "You said you never met him," Samuel murmured.

"And I hadn't. Not for thirty-one years. He leads the Dawnguard. After the vampire attack, I went to join and found him by accident. Now, listen, both of you." He stood from the chair and took it in his hands. "He may be my father but he is still a stranger. Talk to him only if necessary. But your father and I would prefer that you didn't speak to him at all." Felwinter's tone lowered. "He is not my family and he is not yours." He put the chair back against the wall. "I'll see you both in the morning," he said.

Both bid him goodnight and the light above their heads faded into nothing. Felwinter stepped out of their room, closing the door quietly. He made for the stairs, wishing Serana the same goodnight before he started up them. She had taken out a stack of books, propped up next to her. She turned from the book she had buried her face in and waved quickly before turning back.


"She tried to turn her."

Over and over, those words rumbled through Isran's mind. It was deep in the night. He was tired but he couldn't sleep. On the rare chance he managed, he was assailed by old memories, wrapped in nightmares to make them seem even worse than they already were, ensuring he never stayed asleep for long.

He would see his wife, a wide gash in her throat, surrounded by a pool of her own blood, her eyes filled with terror as they stared up at the ceiling. He'd see his daughter, dead-eyed in his arms, her own blood scalding his skin. His throat hoarse from screaming.

Then, he would see those eyes snap to him. His vision would fill with sharp teeth and an open maw. He'd feel the pain of a thousand heated knives sink into his neck. He'd pull and pull and pull but what had him in its grip never released. It would clamp down tighter and tighter until his hands finally went up to its neck and…

That was the part that woke him. Had him yelling and seizing so violently, he knocked over the nightstand and earned the attention of the owner. "Apologies," he had said when she had bravely knocked on his door. He said it from the bed, the door still closed. "If the stand is broken, I will pay for it."

"That is appreciated, sir," she replied. "It is nothing we haven't seen before. Lots of boys from the war pass through here on their way home."

It hadn't happened as he dreamed it. Kali had died fighting. His Kiara, quickly, as human as the day he had helped Kali bring her into this world. But that image was one he couldn't get out of his head. A mother dead, hoping against hope that her child would get away. A daughter, cowering, praying, silently begging to be saved.

A father nowhere to be found, nowhere near to help them.

He should have asked Felwinter for their names. Names he'd burn into Idessia's skin alongside all those she had taken from the Dawnguard. This 'Alva' was who Idessia fought for. This 'Alva' was the woman Idessia had chosen to align with over the people who called her sister, over her own humanity and morals. Did she even know? She claimed to have hunted down stragglers from Volkihar because of a grudge but what Alva did was far more cruel; even Whiterun and the Vigilants could defend themselves.

Isran rolled out of the bed, got to his feet. In the dark, he made his way over to his bag and opened it. He rummaged through until he found what he was looking for. A small, cork-stoppered vial, filled with a clear liquid. Something for sleep, Florentius had said when he slapped it into Isran's hand, not caring for what Isran wanted. As soon as Florentius was out of sight, Isran had dumped it into the nearest waste bin. An hour later, he'd find a small bag filled with several more hanging off the knob of his door.

Isran ripped the cork out with his teeth and downed the contents. It'd likely work quickly on an empty stomach. He hadn't had much of an appetite either. He tossed the empty vial into the trash and reached over to close the bag. A small folded sheet of paper slipped loose from one of the pockets. Isran didn't need to open it to recognize it.

He knelt to pick it up. He wasn't sure why he brought it. He had seen enough of it. Some foolish part of him had thought…that maybe…

Isran shook his head and his vision swam. He tucked it back into the bag, more securely this time, and closed it. When he slipped back into bed, his mind was already sliding beneath the surface.

He dreamt again. Not like before, of fire and blood and pain. No, this one was…gentler. A dream of a small garden, thriving, despite the cold. Of a cloudy, grey sky and the first snows, drifting down, gently caressing his face.