Wrath of the Dragon part 1

Serana couldn't help but smile as she saw him standing there. His chest was bared and his arms were wide open, almost hugging the air. He was already soaked which was no surprise as the rain was pouring down with an intensity they had not seen in years. From the cave Serana sat next to the fire and smiled as he stood there motionlessly. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief now that they were in a familiar area again.

Just two days ago they had entered the Rift. The mountains lay behind them and only the slopes were still around them. They had found a small cave, too small to even be a bear's den, and there they took shelter from the changing weather of spring. Actually… only Serana was taking shelter. Tarrion was standing outside letting himself be soaked through and through and he had a smile on his face while he was doing it.

He had missed the cold rains of Skyrim more than he ever expected. The warm climates of Akavir were something he did not mind, but there was a beauty to the harshness of Skyrim. It had a way of beating away the rough edges, to leave something smoother and more beautiful than before. Almost like the stones on a riverbed, all rounded and smoothened by the running water.

That is precisely how Tarrion felt now as the rain poured down on him. Like a stone that has been away from its place on the riverbed for too long. It may sound strange, yet to him this felt like coming home.

After a while he walked back into the shallow cave and shook his head like a dog to get the water from his hair.

"Don't put the fire out," Serana smiled at him. They did not really need the fire, but old habits seemed to die hard.

Without saying anything he walked over to her and gave her a passionate kiss. Instinctively she placed her hand on his wet chest. She could feel a scar under her fingers and she couldn't help herself as she wrapped her arms around him. His wet skin felt cold, yet she was overwhelmed by the sudden passion. Arcing he back she pressed her breasts against his chest and softly grabbed his neck. She couldn't help but moan slightly as she felt his hand cupping her face and she almost protested when he pulled back.

"Sorry about that," he said with a smile, though knowing he didn't need to apologize. "I really needed that,"

"Don't apologize," Serana panted slightly. "and I think I'm going to need some more of that."

He chuckled and sat next to her and took her hand. "There will be plenty of time for much more of that… but for now," and he listened how the rain poured just outside the cave. "For now I am so happy we are finally back."

"Even in this weather?" Serana asked and she couldn't help but smile at his beaming face.

"Even in this weather," he nodded.

At nightfall the rain stopped and the two continued their journey into the Rift. Riften would be another day away, but they were in no hurry. Tarrion could see the top of the Throat of the World in the far distance and he found himself staring at it a few times. He wondered why he was staring at it, since he had never done that before. Serana made the same joke he made to Paarthurnax long ago; "Dragons like mountains, right?" and he chuckled, yet deep down he felt a strange urge to take to the skies and fly to the peak of the Monahven. But seeing Serana walk next to him and feeling her hand take hold of his made these urges disappear and a smile returned to his face.

The next night they finally neared Riften and they could see the city walls in the distance.

"Finally home," Serana sighed. "Or near 'a' home, since you have more than one."

Tarrion chuckled slightly yet this stopped when he looked again at the walls. He saw no lights coming from torches or lanterns on the battlements. Even above the gate he saw almost no lights, except for two and this seemed strange to him. Riften was a well-fortified city with strong, high walls and a well-guarded gate. He remembered when he first reached Riften all those years ago and how two guards tried to make him pay the 'visitors tax'. He saw through their lies, yet it did tell him that Riften was well guarded… yet now he saw only two lights above the gate.

"What happened here?"

He heard Serana ask this question and when he turned his head he asked himself the same.

Next to the road that lead to Morrowind, on a small clearing there were scorch marks and signs of battle. Serana walked to the clearing and Tarrion followed her. They saw signs of a small battle that took place here some time ago. The scorch marks had faded a bit, and the two trees that were burned no longer smouldered. One burned corpse lay in the middle of a large area that was completely blackened by fire. It was impossible to determine who or what this was before, yet it seemed to have been a human. Whether this person was male or female, guard or peasant was no longer visible, only the charred skin remained and there were no signs of any weapons.

"Tarrion," Serana called out to him. "over here."

He saw what she found and a few massive tracks were clearly visible on the ground. Tarrion recognized the three-fingered claws instantly and the combination of these tracks and the burn and scorch marks made this clear. This was a Dragon attack.

"What do you think happened?"

Tarrion shook his head. "I don't know. A Dragon attacked, that is clear. But I do not know who was attacked, or why."

He sighed as he examined the tracks. "I thought I made clear to them that no humans would be harmed. Cattle and the like are fair game, but the citizens are not to be harmed."

"Maybe they thought you were gone for too long and they decided to make new rules?"

"Possible," he answered. "But if that is the case, they would not do so lightly."

They examined the place of the attack for a short while, but found no further clues. They left and headed to Riften where the lights had moved away to the rest of the walls. Knocking on the gate they heard two grunts from behind the steel-reinforced wooden door and a small opening opened and a strange face looked at them.

"Who are you? What do you want? Get lost!"

"We'd like to enter the city," Tarrion said, grateful the light of two torches prevented their eyes from showing in the dark.

"The city is closed," the man said. "Get lost."

"I am Thane Tarrion," Tarrion said quickly and he leaned in to show the guard his face.

The guard merely scoffed. "Thane Tarrion is dead for over a year… get lost or I'll make sure you have more arrows in your face than the Khajiit have fur."

And with that he slammed the opening closed leaving Tarrion and Serana completely confused.

"They think you're dead?" Serana asked.

"Apparently," he said stoically and he looked at the high walls. He grunted. "There are other ways of entering this city. Follow me."

Not wanting to dodge arrows as their homecoming gift Tarrion and Serana circled around the city and found a small unguarded door near the port. Riften was built right next to a large lake and the Riften fishery was renowned throughout Skyrim. But on this night it was poorly guarded and it took the two Vampires little to no effort to break in and enter the city.

For as long as Tarrion remembered Riften was likely the quietest town during the night in all of Skyrim, rivalled only by Morthal which lay next to a large swamp. Yet this night even Tarrion, who had face more terrors than he cared to count, had to admit there was an ominous silence that had fallen on the town as they walked through its streets and alleyways. They saw no-one walking outside on their way to their home, hoping Iona would still be there. The Nordic redhead would have fought to keep Tarrion alive, and they hoped she would still be in Honeyside, their house.

There they found the door locked, and Serana started banging her fist on the door.

"Anyone home?" she raised her voice in the hope she would be heard and after a few moments the door opened.

"What kind of maniac knocks on the door at this hour?" a female voice asked as the door opened and a strange person stood in the doorway. Tarrion had never seen her before and neither did Serana. She had long, blonde hair, a petite figure and looked sleep deprived. She was wearing a makeshift piece of armour, something a simple arrow would pierce and on her hip they saw a short sword in need of repair. Her skinny arms held a torch and it seemed unlikely she would be able to defend herself from something as simple as a skeever.

"Who are you?" Tarrion asked.

She looked at them with one eyebrow raised, or as far as she could raise it while being inches away from falling asleep. "I don't think you get to ask that question. You knock on this door, so who in Oblivion are you to walk around at night."

"I am Tarrion, thane of Riften…. Where is Iona?"

The girl, because she could not have been older than twenty, looked confused. "I do not know the name Tarrion and he certainly isn't a thane… but Iona is not here. She's likely dead in some gutter if you want to find her. Now… leave at once, or I'll call the guards."

Both Tarrion and Serana could have forced her aside with little to no effort, yet there was an emptiness in her eyes that made both of them stop. Not only that but what she said about Iona shocked them both and the door slammed in front of them.

Tarrion rammed his fist on the door a few times, but no-one answered. He was about to break down the door when he heard guards approach.

"Who in Oblivion is making that noise?"

Serana pulled him away and both hid in a shadowy corner and watched as two guards searched the area for a few moments before returning to their rounds.

"Someone's trying to piss us off. If it is that bitch Mjoll, I'll make sure she goes to jail this time."

Serana stepped from the shadows and watched the guards disappear around the corner, but Tarrion still stood in the shadows, trying to understand what was happening.

"Now Mjoll is in trouble as well?" he asked himself.

"It would seem so," Serana said and she pulled him along. "Let's go to the inn and ask if they know what is going on here."

Tarrion agreed and they left Honeyside and headed for the inn in the centre of the town.

Riften could be separated into three main levels of wealth. The house of the Black Briar family was the prime example of what the wealthy could possess in Riften. It was built near the Temple of Mara in the south-eastern area of the city, not too far away from Mistveil Keep. Honeyside was an exception to the rule that the wealthy houses were built in the south-east of the city as it was built in the north-west with windows looking out over the lake.

There was also the middle-class in Riften that spanned the majority of the city. Surrounded on all sides by canals, wide enough for small boats, it showed that if one would work hard enough, they could own a nice house and store, since most of the people living in this area of the city were shop owners and the more lucky fishermen.

The areas in the north and northeast of the city were more rundown than the rest and the less fortunate worked and lived there. Simple houses with one bedroom, or two small ones gave enough for most people to live in, yet many of the workers slept in Healga's Bunkhouse, where she had made an accommodation for those that could not afford a house. This seemed like a good think to Tarrion when he heard about it, but he also discovered that Healga, as a devout follower of Dibella, would often 'ply her trade' with various men throughout the city, asking for donations in exchange. This was not common knowledge, except for the men Healga had approached and to Tarrion who had found out about it via Healga's niece.

The Inn stood in the middle of the city. A large enough building for dozens of rooms and large feasts. The Innkeeper Keerava, an Argonian woman who was fortunate enough to have bought the place, would be able to provide the information Tarrion and Serana were looking for.

But after crossing a few small bridges across the canals and arriving at the inn, they saw someone lying under a small open window. One of the city's beggars, and there were a small number of them when Tarrion was last here, now rested in front of the window, apparently hoping to catch some of the warmth that came from inside. Tarrion ignored them, as he was in a hurry to find out what happened to the city during the time he was away, and Serana almost walked past them as well before stopping.

She looked at the beggar and saw she was a woman. Her hair was covered in dirt and lice. Her face looked completely famished and she breathed shallow breaths. But the scent that lay beneath the stench of her clothes and dirt-covered skin, was still perceptible… be it barely. The scent of blood she had smelled before.

"Tarrion..." Serana said softly as she looked at the beggar. "Tarrion!"

He turned around and saw Serana kneel next to the beggar. "What is it?" he asked as he walked towards the two.

"No…" Serana whispered to herself. "This cannot be…. Iona?"

With extreme effort the beggar opened one eye and Serana saw the same shape she had seen before, and now Tarrion saw it too. He dropped next to her and took her hand.

"By all the gods," he whispered to himself. "What has happened here?"

"Step away from her," a voice sounded behind them

As soon as he turned his head he stared right at the sharp end of a long sword. The tip of the blade was only a few inches away from his face and he recognized it. The nearly transparent blade and ornamented hilt were a combination he was familiar with and he realized he was staring at the tip of Grimsever.

The woman holding it stared him down and quickly saw the slightly glowing eyes of the person at the end of her sword.

"Die Vampire!" she shouted and lunged at him.

"Mjoll!" Tarrion shouted as he dodged her strikes. "Stop! It's me!"

Mjoll stopped for only a moment. "How do you know my name?"

Serana stepped between her and Tarrion and held her hands out. "Mjoll," she said calmly. "It's us, Serana and Tarrion."

It was then that Mjoll recognized Serana, as she still looked the same as when they left Skyrim more than two years ago, unlike Tarrion.

Mjoll stared at them both and slowly lowered her sword. Her face had weathered since last they saw her and her long, blonde hair had become dirtier than before. But the fierceness was still in her eyes, a fierceness that earned her the moniker 'the Lioness'. "You're both alive? And you're both Vampires?"

"We will explain all, we promise," Tarrion calmed her. "But Iona is hurt."

He walked toward the beggar and saw she had collapsed completely. Serana could still sense her heart beating, yet it was weaker than it should be.

"She is incredibly weak… we have to help her."

Mjoll sighed deeply and sheathed her sword, but when Serana looked at her she saw a deep pain etched in her face.

"Damn you, Iona," she said defeated as she walked towards her friend. "Why did you let it come to this?"

"What do you mean?" Serana asked. "What happened while we were gone?"

Mjoll shook her head and stared at the filth-covered woman and Serana saw a tear well up in her eye.

"I'll explain," she concluded. "but come with me. Take her to my house. There we have to talk."

Mjoll had always lived with Aerin, the man who nursed her back to health after he found her outside of Mchinzaleft, a large Dwemer ruin where she had lost Grimsever. But when they entered the house Aerin was nowhere to be found. The house itself was still liveable, yet not much more than that. There was one table with one chair and a few boxes stacked against a wall. The fireplace looked like it had not been used in a long while and the stairs to the basement were closed off. Upstairs there were two small bedrooms, but one was filled with cobwebs and a few skeever droppings. The other was still fairly well maintained and seemed to be Mjoll's bedroom. A few last smouldering embers were glowing in the fireplace.

"Here, put her on my bed," Mjoll suggested and Tarrion carried Iona upstairs and placed her on the bed.

"First we need to help her," Tarrion stated and all agreed. "Her body is weak so healing spells won't work. She needs food, water and warmth. We also should clean her as best we can."

All got to work immediately. Serana ran outside to fetch some water from the canals. It was clean enough and could be boiled without risking diseases. Mjoll shattered one of the large boxes from downstairs and brought the wood to the fireplace where Tarrion lit it with a simple spell. A few moments later Serana came rushing in with two buckets of water. The water in one of them was boiled, while the other was used to remove as much dirt and filth from Iona's body as possible. The stench that came from her was almost overwhelming and they removed all of the ragged clothes and threw them away as they were torn beyond repair. Tarrion felt shock and disbelief when he could count each of her ribs. Mjoll sat in front of him and he saw an occasional tear crawling from her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked her and she quickly rubbed her eyes and pulled hear tears back in.

"Yes… I'm fine… its jus hard to see your friend… like this."

Tarrion nodded and continued to wash Iona as best he could. Next to him Serana tried her best to clean Iona's hair, yet this proved to be futile. Eventually they agreed to cut off most of it. This pained all of them as Iona had fiery, dark red hair, something she was very proud of.

An hour later Iona was cleaner than she was before and her hair was cut to half an inch long. The warmth of the fire started to spread throughout the room and they moved the bed closer to the hearth, hoping it would warm her faster. Mjoll looked with a deep desperation at her friend and silently hoped she would pull through.

"So, Mjoll," Tarrion started as he stood up from beside the bed. "What happened here while we were gone?"

Mjoll did not react until Tarrion touched her shoulder, which seemed to scare her.

"Sorry… I just… didn't realize it was this bad."

"She'll pull through," Serana assured her. "It will take time and care, but I think she will survive."

Mjoll nodded. "Then… we should talk… but, preferably not here."

She glanced a few times at her sick friend on the bed and Serana nodded. "I'll stay here, just in case."

After a deep breath to composer herself Mjoll lead Tarrion downstairs where he sat down on one of the boxes.

"What happened here, Mjoll?" he asked her. "What happened to Riften? What happened to Iona?"

After another deep sigh she answered and Tarrion could hear her voice tremble, but he was not sure if it was out of anger or grief.

"Maven happened," was her first answer. "The bitch-jarl Maven Black Briar happened. She has taken control over everything and nothing gets done without her say-so. The Thieves Guild no longer hides in the shadows like they did before, and she owns them. This is all her fault, including what happened to Iona."

"Then start at the beginning," he tried to calm her. "How did it come to this?"

Mjoll took a few breaths to calm herself and sat down on the only chair next to the table. She stared at the empty hearth for a few moments before she started.

"You know Maven by now, right?" she asked and Tarrion nodded. "Well, then you should also know that she has been looking for a way to get rid of you ever since she became Jarl. The only reason why she didn't just kick you out was because of your popularity. The people love you and she knows it. She is arrogant, selfish and cruel… but she is not stupid."

Mjoll sighed again before she continued. "When you left for Elsweyr you gave her your word you would return within a year... and as soon as you left she was counting the days. When you did not return she removed you from office. The day after you were supposed to return, she made the announcement, declaring that you were untrustworthy as a thane. You gave your word that you would return within a year, and seeing as you didn't, you could no longer be trusted. A few people disagreed, but after a year of not seeing the famous Dragonborn, and constantly hearing Maven's…. propaganda if that is what you want to call it… only a few tried to stop her. Iona was the fiercest of them, and even after Maven made threats, she still continued. She outright called Maven a bitch, straight to her face, and even suggested the relationship between her and her son Hemming was not just parental. Maven declared her an outlaw then and there, and anyone that would help her would be an outlaw as well."

Mjoll scoffed and even made a slight chuckle at the memory. "It didn't stop Iona though. She is fierce and unrelenting," but then her face turned sour. "But also stubborn beyond words. As fiery as her red hair… but sometimes it seems like no rational thought enters hear head when she is like that. She was declared an outlaw and no-one would help her. Someone else was appointed thane and Iona was kicked out of Honeyside. Reduced to a beggar still did not stop her…. but time did. Eventually she started to get weaker and guards would spit at her as they passed. She used to be respected and well-liked by the people… but since no-one wanted to anger Maven, they all ignored her. I tried my best to help her… believe me I did… but she would not accept any charity. I urged her to find work… but as an outlaw she could find any. I urged her to leave Riften and the Hold altogether… but she would not listen."

Mjoll sighed again and Tarrion saw the same pain etched in her face again. "Dammit… and I could not help her anymore. She would not let me…. Damn her, she would not let me."

She stared blankly in front of her for a few moments before continuing. "Maven started to hoard the wealth of the Rift to herself. Mistveil Keep is a damn palace by now and she and her Thieves Guild eat like kings… while the majority of the Rift barely gets by. I can call in favours of people I have helped over the years to stay alive…. But, after more than a year of this… I will leave the Rift soon."

"Why did you stay in the first place?" Tarrion asked and he saw a muscle pull in her face.

"Because I don't want to abandon my …. Friends. I don't just abandon a friend like Iona and the people still need me."

She sighed again and shook her head. "But the rest of Skyrim is not much better."

"What do you mean?" Tarrion asked and he sat up straight when Mjoll gave him a stern look.

"Much has changed while you were away, Tarrion. You have been gone for two years… more than that, and the majority of Skyrim thinks you are dead. Only a handful still think you will return one day, but not all. And many see that as an opportunity."

"What do you mean?"

"The Dragons for example," Mjoll said. "You controlled them, right? Well, I think your disappearance caused a massive void in the balance of power among the Dragons. They never attacked us while you were here, but since a few months they have been attacking. Not the cities luckily, but we've heard of many a farmstead go up in flames and its farmers eaten."

"But they are not the only ones causing trouble," she continued. "We have not heard many reports and we only hear rumours and stories coming from the other holds. But they all say the same; the Jarls have all made a claim to the throne of High King of Skyrim and now all vie for it. We are not in an all-out war, or at least no-one wants it to be, but there have been a number of skirmishes in the Rift alone. A few rumours say that the Pale and Winterhold are the worst and the Reach has turned into one giant death trap. We haven't heard anything coming out of Haafingar, and maybe that is the worst part of it."

Mjoll's voice turned bitter as she continued. "Elisif doesn't seem to be doing anything. As the widow of the High King you'd think she would take control and at least try to be the voice of reason… but we hear nothing coming out of Solitude… and Maven especially sees that as a weakness and she has tried to convene a Moot."

"She has?"

Tarrion was shocked by this news. Convening a Moot was not done lightly, and in itself considered a claim to the throne of High King. To make your claim known to all the other Jarls would make them realize that you are trying to rule over all of them, a claim most of them would not welcome. Not only that, but there hadn't been a real Moot in centuries since the majority of the claims would come from Solitude and calling one had often been just a formality. If any of the other Jarls would call for a Moot, would be the same as denying the power and authority coming from Solitude. Tarrion found it unlikely that Elisif would sit by idly in the face of this.

But to his surprise Mjoll smirked, be it slightly. "Yes, she has… but no-one answered. I heard that Winterhold called for a Moot not long after her… and then Markarth… and then Dawnstar…. All on their own place and time, and all considered the others to be unworthy of convening one. And so half a dozen Moots have been called, yet none have actually been held."

She scoffed. "One could almost call it amusing."

Tarrion disagreed wholeheartedly, though he knew Mjoll did not mean it. Ignoring the Moot called by others, unless making your intentions known, would be considered an insult of immense proportions. Refusing to show this respect to the Jarls would be a reason for them to declare war… and of that Skyrim has seen enough.

Tarrion now stared into the cold and empty hearth, and he found himself gritting his teeth. Beyond reacting a few times he had said very little, and in his mind a storm of thoughts raged. He found all of it confusing and angering. The jarls had declared war on each other and Elisif is still not doing anything. What is she thinking? And the Dragons. Why didn't Paarthurnax keep them in line? Why didn't he teach them to obey the Way of the Voice, like he promised? And if he did, why are the Dragons abandoning it?

Too many thoughts raced through his head and so he asked something that he now noticed.

"Mjoll… where is Aerin?"

A muscle pulled in her jaw when she heard that name. She gritted her teeth before answering. "I don't care where he is," was her first answer. "But that doesn't mean I do not know."

Tarrion looked at her puzzled as she stared into the empty hearth again. "I said a new thane was appointed after you were removed, right? Aerin is that new thane. And to make sure I would be out of the picture, Maven offered him a young and pretty housecarl."

"What?"

"Maven gave him the title of thane, not because he actually does something. He dines with her and receives the privileges of thane hood… but he does not advice the jarl… no-one advices the jarl really since Maven does not want advice. But Aerin lacks a spine and is easy to manipulate. And with Maven offering him a new young housecarl every few weeks, Aerin does everything he is told and supports Maven in everything."

"He has a new housecarl every few weeks?" Tarrion asked and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what that meant.

"He doesn't kill them," Mjoll answered. "But he will get bored with them quickly enough. So after a few weeks, when he is bored with her… he asks for a new one."

Tarrion stared at Mjoll, trying to understand it all, but he hardly could.

"We are still talking about the same Aerin, right?" he asked just to be sure.

"If you would have told me five years ago he would turn into this, I would have laughed at you and probably throttled you then and there. But he has changed. The power and privileges of thane hood changed him. He asked me to be his housecarl, but I refused."

"Why?" Tarrion asked and he wasn't sure if he should ask. "I thought you two-…"

"You thought wrong," Mjoll answered sternly, yet with little anger. "I owe him for saving my life… but I do not owe him my life, and certainly not a relationship, although he asked often enough. I liked him… before Maven… and I will always be grateful to him for saving my life. But this does not make him a god that can decide to do with you as he pleases. I was a friend, yet he wanted more than friendship… something I could not give him. So I left him when he became thane and have tried to avoid him ever since."

Tarrion did not know what to think of it all, but before he made up his mind, Serana came downstairs.

"Iona is awake," she said calmly and Mjoll jumped up. "But she is still weak. We should let her rest more, or at least visit her one at a time."

Mjoll walked past Serana and left upstairs leaving her and Tarrion alone.

Serana came sitting next to Tarrion and saw he had been given bad news. "What happened?"

He gave her a summary of what Mjoll explained and she could hear the dread in his voice. She was happy to be back in Skyrim, and happy to be among familiar faces again... yet she knew both of them would have very little time to catch their breath from their adventure on Akavir. Tarrion felt the same, yet for now he wanted to take things one problem at a time. Iona was his first concern and he left upstairs.

As he neared the door he could hear the two women talk.

"I am sorry,"

"Don't be," Iona answered and Tarrion could hear how weak and frail her voice was. "I should apologize. I did not accept your help… even though I should have."

Mjoll did not answer and Tarrion entered the room.

Iona's eyes were half open and it took great effort for her to turn her head. Her face was cleaner than before and her red hair was shorter than it had ever been. A dark piece of wet cloth lay on her head. A piece of Serana's cloak that she had torn off and held in the warm water above the fire. She was too weak to move but a slight tilt in her mouth showed she tried to smile.

"You're back…."

"And I am sorry it took this long," he answered and he kneeled next to the bed.

"But… why?" she asked slowly. "You… said one… year."

He nodded and it pained him to see her this weak. "We stranded on Akavir."

Mjoll stared in shock at him, but Iona did not react for a few moments. When she did she turned her face toward the ceiling and closed her eyes.

"Of course you did," she said with a barely visible smile.

She spoke no more and Mjoll feared the worst, but Tarrion could still sense her heart beat, and he drenched the cloth in the hot water again and placed it back on her head.

"Rest now," he said kindly. "Save your strength."

Downstairs Mjoll composed herself again and realized she was standing in her own home with two Vampires. "How did you become a Vampire?" she asked him.

"Serana turned me," was his simple answer.

"And how did you-…"

"I have been one for almost two thousand years," was her simple answer.

"So…. That is why you are that pale? I thought you just stayed indoors more than outdoors."

"Why would you think that?"

"… I ehh…" Mjoll scratched her head and she felt a bit uncomfortable. "After we helped you to take down that Vampire castle near Haafingar… I heard that you moved in with him. About a year after that Aela came by for a contract one day and told me of that bet she should have made with Lydia."

"Oh, for the love of…. You too?" Serana blurted out.

"Wait, what bet?" Tarrion asked.

"So," Mjoll ignored them both. "I thought you two had just been spending too much time in the bedroom, rather than outside."

"I'll have you know, you can still do those same activities outdoors," Serana defended herself.

"What bet?" Tarrion asked again.

"Well, I don't know how adventurous you two are," Mjoll said with a sly smirk.

"I'm a Vampire, he was a Werewolf… how 'adventurous' do you think?"

"I didn't know you were a Vampire, never mind knowing about him being a Werewolf."

"What bet?" Tarrion asked again, now louder.

"Later, Tarrion," Serana blurted out. "First we need to go to Whiterun. We need to ask what in Oblivion is going on in all of Skyrim, and I have to tell Aela to stop telling everyone about that stupid bet."

"WHAT BET?"

=End of Chapter=

=Author's Notes=

And after a break that took a bit longer than i expected, were back! And just in time for a new Arc to begin.

I decided to let this chapter end on a more positive or humorous note. Can't have it be all brooding and 'doom and despair'.

But here we are at the beginning of a new story Arc. It seems their absence did not go unnoticed by the rest of Skyrim. I wrote down all the ideas I have for this arc… almost 5 pages of them.

To explain something: that line about what Iona had said about Maven and her son Hemming… if you look up Maven on the TES-wiki, you'll notice that her relationship with Hemming is a bit conflicting. He was likely first written as her husband, but later changed to her son. But a few lines still point out that he can refer to his siblings as his children, suggesting he is still Maven's son, yet he sired two children with her.

What does this mean? Is this sloppiness on Bethesda's part, or intentionally written? Is it a bug or a feature…? It is Bethesda, so: 'Yes'.

But that is it for now. Leave a review if you liked it or spotted mistakes. Till next time.