The Dunmer stood the in small cemetery under the morning sun without his blood boiling in his veins. He gazed down at the headstone of a recently filled grave with crimson eyes. He removed an ebony gauntlet, fished for the necklace that was tucked under his armor, and removed the scorched ring from the chain. He knelt down and dug a hole in the fresh soil at the base of the headstone that was deep enough for rain to not wash it out. He dropped the ring in and filled it up. He stood up, dusted his hand off, and slipped the gauntlet back on, then walked out of the cemetery through the marshy city where the people would glance their sympathies to their mourning thane. He hopped on Shadowmere by the entrance and solemnly walked away from Morthal.
The trek to Dawnstar was peaceful, beautiful, and brighter than before. The snow glistened in the sun like powered diamonds. Ryvren always hated the snow, but now it strangely brought him peace. It was silent, desolate, and would kill any unprepared traveler. It was nice. After a couple hour journey through the tundra, he arrived at the gates of Dawnstar. Leaving Shadowmere at the entrance, he slipped through the secret trapdoor hidden behind rocks. He climbed down the ladder to a hall lit with torches and went through the corridors that turned into icy caverns with a path that led to a red glow of the stained glass window. He carefully slid the sturdy window aside and stepped through to the chamber where his Dark family and children were chatting around the table.
"Listener!" Cicero joyously greeted.
"Papa!" The two children hopped from the table and ran to him.
He embraced them, holding his children close.
Aventus stepped back with a grin, about to open his mouth, then jolted in surprise. "Y-You're not a vampire!"
Ryvren straightened up with his daughter holding onto his arm. "No. I am not. Give me a moment." He walked passed them, making his daughter release him, and looked at Serana as he did. "Thank you."
Serana softly smiled with a dip of her head.
He went to his room, closed the door, removed his weapons, placed them on the bed, and then changed out of the heavy armor into a tan tunic that was stashed in the dresser and boots. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked at the dark armor on the mannequin with a heavy heart– never wanting his children wearing such a thing. He got up and returned to the others. "Lucia. Aventus."
Uncertain, his son and daughter approached him.
He led the way to the room and once the door was closed, he went to the bed and sat on the edge with his children standing before him. "I cured myself. That's why I went to Morthal."
"Why?" Aventus asked. "The Dawnguard are dead. You won't be hunted anymore."
"That's not the point." He looked them both in the eyes. "The point is that I put my power before you– before your mother. My own selfishness is what got her and Valdimar killed and you two taken. You don't need a vampire as your father. Starting tomorrow, we are going to look for a place to live in Whiterun hopefully, but if you need a day to rest, we can do it the next day." He was sick of traveling himself.
"Why not stay here?" Aventus asked. "We have everything!"
Ryvren looked his son in the eye. "This is no place for children and don't bring up Babette. You are not the same as her."
"But you call yourselves a family." He beamed. "I can actually learn how to–"
"Aventus," he snapped.
The boy closed his mouth.
He placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "I beg you, my son, do not follow my footsteps."
Aventus blinked, disheartened. "What? How can you say that? I want to be like you! To help children like you did with–"
He curled his lips, removing his hand. "You think what I do is heroic? I kill people who may or may not be innocent– we do not ask. Reasons be damned, Aventus. I get coin and Sithis gets souls. I've been trying to keep you away from this as far as possible. I tried to discourage you without scaring you, but not anymore. Do you know how many kids like you have been helped? You were the first one, Aventus. Ever. You think we do it to save people? We take lives, Aventus. Have Killian summon a spirit of man named Lucien LaChance and you will hear tales of death and treachery. Cicero can tell you story of madness. Killian's is a story of desperation. We are not good people, Aventus, nor do our stories have good endings. We lost two assassins last year alone. One was young and reckless and got killed." He couldn't help, but to smirk. "The other actually wanted to prove herself to me and was smitten with me." He frowned. "She was not happy that I chose your mother over her, but after threatening your mother, I put an end to her."
Both children gasped.
"She did?" Lucia questioned.
Ryvren slowly nodded. "Yep. One of the Five Tenets is to not kill another Dark member, but everyone agreed her threat could have been real. We have ways to get information and she was crafty. It wasn't worth the risk of assuming a bluff."
Aventus folded his arms. "But I still don't get it. You love your job. Yeah, there are prices, but why can't I do it? Everyone here seems to love it and I won't be dumb and get myself killed." He confidently smiled. "I'll be clever and sneaky– like you! Besides," he crossed his arms, "my story would be different. Not sad and depressing like the others."
"Aventus. The reason I chose this path is because I am not a good person. I never was. I have killed before joining the Brotherhood. Your father is in knee-deep of blood. Do I regret any of it? No. If you want to help people, son, there are many other ways. Sometimes sparing a life is more powerful than taking one."
"Have you spared anyone?" Lucia asked.
"Two." He looked at her. "Killian and Cicero."
"Why Cicero?" Aventus questioned. "I thought you don't like him."
He turned to him. "I don't, but he reminded me of someone. Do you understand what I am saying, Aventus?"
The boy solemnly nodded. "Yes, Papa."
His a knot formed in his throat, but he swallowed it down. "Good. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me and your mother. My crimes and faults are not your own. Just know no matter what happens, I will always be there for you, too. I love you both."
Lucia sat beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He pulled his daughter closer and kissed her head.
Aventus sat on his other side and hugged him.
Ryvren closed his eyes, fighting back tears as he held his children. Inhaling, he composed himself and released the children with a soft smile. "Now, go and have fun."
Aventus smiled as he and his sister stood up and tapped Lucia's shoulder and bolted. "You're it!"
Lucia ran after him. "Not for long!"
Ryvren chuckled at the sight. "They'll be alright, beloved," he softly mused. He stood up and opened the top drawer where spare clothing were neatly folded, but tucked in the far left was a dark dagger with a curved blade. He picked it up.
"Hey."
He turned around to Serana standing at the doorway. "Thank you. For everything. You've done so much more than I could ask for and thank you for bring my children here safe."
She closed the door. "They're good kids." She approached him, eyeing the dagger. "Did you show it to Aventus?"
He shook his head, returning the blade back in its secured place. "No. I would never show him the Blade of Woe. I just got the ideas of being an assassin out of his head." He picked up Auriel's Bow off the bed, offering it to her. "Protect it."
Serana bitterly smiled. "This is it, isn't?'
"It is," he heavily replied.
She carefully took the Bow, but placed it back on the bed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him. "Take care of yourself, Ryvren, please. If you need me for anything, you are welcome to Castle Volkihar."
He returned the hug. "It would be better that I wasn't."
Serana stepped back with a pained expression on her face. "Let me stay for a little while. At least so I know that you and the kids–"
He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to. You've done enough."
She crossed her arms. "You're still my friend whether you like it or not, Ryvren. You've been through a lot these last couple of days. I'm happy that you have your children back, but how are you doing?"
"I saw her grave this morning. Buried her ring." He looked away from her with a lame shake of the head. "I was on skooma for three years when I met her. We adopted the kids and I became an alcoholic after not drinking for seven years. All my life I've battled with addiction and I made those kids first year with us– with me– like Oblivion itself. I fought to recover quickly or I would have lost all of them, and then I wasn't there the night they needed me. Muiri and I didn't even make it to our third year together." He swallowed down a knot. "I was told to be grateful that I had her in my life, but I made her life worse. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I ruined her life."
"That's not true," Serana stated.
He snapped his gaze to her. "I chose power over my own family! I chose alcohol when I adopted my children! My wife was murdered for being married to a vampire!"
"And you gave up that power for your children," she sharply reminded.
"I was too late to save her," he bitterly growled.
"Ryvren." The young woman stepped forward. "I know this guilt may be carried for the rest of your life, but know that your kids have you again. Lucia loves you, Ryvren. What matters is that you're there for them now and you are. You fought and killed to get them back and you would have killed the gods themselves if it meant to protect them. You said so yourself. Don't forget that. You are the father I wished I had. You gave up vampirism and your addiction for them. You stopped your son from becoming an assassin. I'd say, you're doing okay."
"I know what it's like to have a bad father," he emotionless stated.
Serana folded her arms, listening.
"My father was a violent alcoholic and my mother was never there. My sister committed suicide when she was nineteen. I was sixteen."
Her arms fell to her sides, blinking. "You had a sister?"
He looked away. "The kids don't even know about her. Our uncle, Pop's brother, forced himself on her. Three months later she hanged herself. I bashed his head in with rock a month before she died. Then I started drinking three years later."
"Gods, Ryvren."
"I'm numb to it at this point. Pop died from the drink a year later. Didn't even know what happened to his daughter. All he knew was that she died by choice. Later, I started skooma…became a follower of Nirmina for a bit. Decades later, I washed up here…joined the Dark Brotherhood– then just…." He gazed passed her. "I don't want my kids to have a repeat of my father and I. I'm 145, Serana. Right now, I just want the kids to be happy."
Serana stepped forward, taking his hand into her own. "They will be, Ryvren. They will always miss their mother, but they will be happy. I know you'll make sure of that."
Ryvren sighed, nodding. "Yeah, you're right. You're right…."
"I am. Well," she sighed, stepping back. "I guess, I'll go."
He nodded. "Take care of yourself, Serana."
She looked him in the eye. "You take care of yourself, Ryvren." She picked up the Bow and her shoulders sagged. "I'm gonna miss us."
"So will I," he murmured. He watched the young woman walk to the door, carefully open it, stepped out, and closed the door behind.
Ryvren stood there, staring at the door. Part of him wanted to stop her, but the other knew it was better that she left.
It was better that she left.