Chapter 33
"Hey, Marcus," Benor's letter began. "I'm learning to read and write, thanks to Esbern here, but I'm still not good enough to do a whole letter, so Esbern's writing this for me. I hope you're doing okay, since I haven't heard from you in a while. I've been real busy here, learning what it means to be a Blade, and getting the forge here ready to use again. Esbern found some old books in what used to be the library, which made him pretty happy. Lots of history and stuff, which I guess is okay, but there was one book by a guy named Endoran, who was an armorer back in the Third Age. He used to make the Blades weapons and armor, and the book has all his techniques and secrets in it, so I guess now I'll have to learn to read better so I can find out what I need to do.
"Anyway, I hope this letter gets to you. I kind of miss the days we spent going into barrows and fighting bandits and stuff. News from the outside world doesn't get here very fast, but the Reachfolk let us know when important stuff happens, like the death of the Thalmor ambassador. I can tell you there was a lot of celebrating going on here. I think it's the first time I've seen Delphine really smile since we got here.
"There's been another dragon hanging around nearby, and Esbern thinks it may be roosting near Dragontooth Crater, north of here. Problem is we don't have enough people to go after it, and even if we killed it, it'd just come back since you're not here to take its soul. No rush or anything. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now. But if you happen to be in the area, it'd sure be nice to go out hunting dragons with you again.
"Well, I hope I hear from you soon. I know you're busy and all, but we were all kind of wondering if you had any luck finding out about the Shout you needed to kill Alduin. Guess I'd better finish this letter so Amalie can take it to a courier. Oh, she's one of the Reachfolk here. Nice girl. Real smart and a good fighter. Take care, buddy. Hope to see you soon. – Benor."
Marcus put the letter down and smiled faintly, staring into the fire. Benor's letter was about as transparent as the man himself. There wasn't a bone of guile in the Nord; he spoke plainly and truthfully, even when it wasn't always convenient.
The Blades wanted him to "come home." That much was clear. He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't gone back for a while, but one thing had led to the other and he'd forgotten all about them.
He'd been home from Riften for a couple of weeks, now, helping Alesan settle in and spending time with the children. Unlike his other adoptions, Alesan's adjustment was not going smoothly. He tried, and the others tried as well, but Alesan had been too active for too long to just sit idle. He was still a bit young to be apprenticed, and he didn't get along with the Jarl's sons very well, finding them a bit too entitled to feel comfortable around them. It wasn't all that long ago that Alesan had had nothing but the clothes on his back and a spot in the corner of an inn to sleep at night. By his own admission he knew he'd had it slightly better than his sisters, who'd slept outside in all kinds of weather.
But Blaise was feeling the constraint of sharing a room with a boy almost his own age; the two were about as opposite a pair as one could find. Blaise was quiet and introspective while Alesan very often "ran off with the mouth", as Marcus' own father used to say about his sister Anne. The Redguard boy seemed to always be looking for a reason to validate his existence. In a small town like Whiterun, as the adopted son of the Dragonborn, there were few opportunities and no need for him to do so.
Alesan enjoyed the martial arts lessons and training with the wooden sword and shield he'd been given, but his exuberance to find things to do to fill his time often put him at odds with the other children in town. Lars Battle-Born was his staunchest ally against Braith, who – despite her father's warnings – still felt the need to push the other children around. But instead of fighting her, Alesan would challenge her to physical activities such as roof climbing and wall-walking, which ended disastrously when Braith fell off the wall near Jorrvaskr, breaking her leg in two places.
Marcus had to curtail his son's excursions after that, and apologized profusely to Amren and Saffir for their daughter's injuries. Braith, however, had a new hero: Farkas, the Companion, had gently picked her up after splinting her leg and carried her to the Temple of Kynareth to be healed, and had stayed with her until her parents could be fetched. He gruffly told Alesan that walking the walls might be "great if you're a cat", but he shouldn't lead his friends into that kind of dangerous activity. Then he ruffled the boy's hair and said, "Come see us when you're old enough," and left the Temple.
There was no doubt about it, Marcus realized. Alesan needed more attention and guidance than his other children. Lucia had fit in right from the start, and Blaise had adapted well. Even Sofie was so grateful to have a family, and she got on so easily with Lu that he had never considered for a moment that Alesan wouldn't just fit in as well.
Now, with Benor's letter in his hand, he was wondering if this might not be the opportunity he was looking for to help Alesan bond with him. A trip to Sky Haven Temple with his younger son might be just what the boy needed to settle down.
He re-read Benor's letter, this time reading between the lines. He had no doubt that his friend had dictated the letter Esbern wrote for him, but he also couldn't help but wonder how much of its content had been suggested by the two veteran Blades.
Right out of the box, Benor was reminding him it had been a long time since any of them had heard from him, and they were wondering if his quest to find the Shout to defeat Alduin had been successful. That was probably Delphine's influence there. The woman was nothing if not single-minded, reminding Marcus of his purpose.
The guilt-trip wasn't lost on Marcus; truth be told, he missed those easy days with Benor, when the worst he had to worry about was getting through a barrow in one piece or taking out a dragon before it froze or fried him. The news about the dragon at Dragontooth Crater was probably Esbern letting him know he still had a job to finish.
The last point Benor made might have come from either Esbern or Delphine, but Marcus felt in his gut this one came straight from Benor himself: they needed more recruits. The solution was simple. He was the Dragonborn. He could bring suitable candidates to the Temple himself. Even better, he knew just where to start.
"But why does Alesan get to go with you?" Lucia whined, lower lip trembling.
Marcus sighed. He had a feeling there would be some argument over this. "It's only for a few days, chica," he told her. "Alesan hasn't had a chance to spend that much time with me; not like you and your brother and sister have. Once he feels more comfortable being a part of our family, everything else will fall into place."
"Will you take us on a trip with you then, Papa?" Sofie asked. "Like, just you and Lu by yourselves, and then you and me by ourselves?"
"And you and Blaise together?" Lucia nodded, slightly mollified.
Marcus considered this. It wasn't a bad idea. It would certainly give each of his children a chance for some "alone time" with their Papa.
"I think that's a very good idea, Sofie," he approved. "And while I can't promise when, I think I can promise I will."
"That's good enough for me," Sofie smiled. She turned to her sister. "You see, Lu? It'll be alright. You'll get a chance to have Papa all to yourself soon."
"I guess that's alright then," Lucia pouted. "But I'm next after Alesan, right Papa?"
Marcus threw a look at Sofie, who nodded behind her sister's head. "It's a promise, sweetheart," he smiled, hugging them both, and planting a grateful kiss on the top of Sofie's head for her insight and understanding. She might only be eleven years old, having celebrated her birthday the day after he returned home, but she was far more mature than her age would have indicated. Perhaps surviving on her own, selling flowers to buy food had something to do with that. Misfortune very often forced children to grow up too quickly. Sofie had handled her situation to the best of her ability, and it showed in her grace and manners. He was proud of his oldest girl.
There was a knock on the door downstairs, and he heard Lydia going to answer it. He knew who it would probably be; he'd sent a courier the day before yesterday to Iona in Riften, instructing her to close up Honeyside and meet him at Breezehome in Whiterun. Having little to no intention of spending much time – if any – in Riften, there was no need to keep the home open on the off chance he'd need it. And certainly no reason to leave Iona languishing, waiting for a Thane who had no desire to stay there.
"Can I help you?" he heard Lydia ask.
"I was told to meet Thane Marcus here," the red-haired Nord woman replied.
"You must be Iona, then! Come in!" Lydia said warmly.
Marcus sent the girls downstairs and peeked in on Alesan, who was trying to cram a month's worth of clothes into a small backpack. The Dragonborn chuckled.
"You won't need that many clothes, son," he pointed out. "Just enough for a few days. Iona's just arrived, so pick out a handful of things and get yourself ready, okay?"
"Alright Pa!" Alesan nodded excitedly. "Is Lars here yet?"
"Not that I know of," Marcus replied. "But if he's running late we'll swing by his house so you can light a fire under him."
"I thought you told me I can't use magic on my friends?" Alesan deadpanned, and Marcus was about to explain that he didn't mean literally, until he noticed the twinkle in his son's eyes and the slight lift at the corners of his mouth. Alesan was joking. It was a positive sign. He grinned back.
"Very funny!" he mock-scowled. "Hurry up, okay?"
"I'll be right down!"
Chuckling, Marcus went downstairs to formally introduce his daughters to his Riften Housecarl. Blaise was already next door at the smithy, having begun his work day almost as soon as the sun came up, and it was two hours past that now, but the girls insisted that Iona should meet their brother and at Marcus' nod they dragged her next door to make the introductions.
Lars showed up soon after, and they gathered at the front door of Breezehome to make their farewells, with tears and hugs from both Lucia and Sofie, and a one-armed hug from Blaise, who was given a short break by Adrienne to see his father and brother off.
"Come back safe, little brother," Blaise grinned.
"I'm almost as tall as you," Alesan grumbled. "I'm hardly little!"
"You'll always be younger than me," his brother smirked.
"That means you'll get gray before me, right?" Alesan shot back. Blaise blinked in surprise before grinning and lightly punching his brother in the arm.
"Look after Dad, okay?" he said soberly.
"You know it."
Marcus heard the exchange as he gave final instructions to Lydia about his investments, but pretended not to hear. Let the boys have their bonding moment.
Then they were off. Marcus and Iona shouldered most of the equipment, but Alesan and Lars were required to carry their own packs, bedrolls and weapons. Marcus had given each of the boys an Imperial shortsword and bow with a supply of steel arrows to protect themselves, just in case of an emergency. Since the carriages didn't go where they were headed, they would have to walk, and that meant a higher risk of encounters along the road. He hoped the worst they would encounter would be wolves, but Marcus was smart enough to realize that might not always be the case.
It hadn't been easy convincing Idolaf and Alfhild Battle-Born to allow Lars accompany them, but Marcus used his most persuasive voice to assure them he would look after their son, and that the trip would be good for the boy. Personally and privately, he felt all Lars really needed was confidence in himself, and that the patriarchs of his family put far too much importance on their allegiance to the Empire, and their expectations from their young son.
For most of the early part of the journey, the boys chattered back and forth about what they hoped they would encounter in their travels, and Marcus let them ramble, knowing they were safe enough. Soon, however, Lars began lagging behind. He wasn't used to walking quite so far. Alesan, who had spent the better part of the last two years sprinting from one end of Dawnstar to the other and back again, slowed down to keep pace with his friend, but he clearly wasn't happy.
"I didn't know it would be so far," wheezed Lars. "When will we get there?"
"Probably not until sometime tomorrow," Marcus answered mildly. "Longer, if we don't walk faster."
Lars nodded, seeing the look on his friend's face and taking a pull from his water flask. "Let's go then," he said, taking a deep breath.
It was slow going, even on the clear road, as young Lars frequently fell behind and they had to wait for him to catch up. The only thing that kept Marcus from being frustrated was the knowledge he wasn't on any kind of time schedule, and that they would get to Sky Haven Temple when they got there. Alesan was clearly frustrated, but it had been his suggestion to bring Lars in the first place, and he didn't want to admit even to himself that it might have been a bad idea. Soft city living had not prepared the young Battle-Born for this kind of life.
They made it as far as Gjuker's Monument before they lost the light. Both boys started nervously at noises in the dark, hurrying to gather as much firewood as they could find for Iona to get a fire going, around which they then huddled close. Marcus roamed the immediate vicinity ostensibly on watch for trouble, but also making sure the boys did the work assigned to them. As they ate the meal Lydia had packed for them, Marcus spoke to the two youngsters in easy, relaxed tones, telling them tales of heroics he'd read in books and asking them about what they would like to do when they grew up.
Tentatively at first, Lars began to open up, confiding his own fears about the civil war and how it might affect his family.
"I know Ulfric Stormcloak has a huge army waiting to attack Whiterun," he said. "I heard that from my Pa, who heard it from Grandpa. If Ulfric does attack, my Pa and Grandpa might have to fight. My Uncle Jon, too. I'm afraid they might get killed."
"Isn't your grandfather a bit old to fight?" Marcus asked idly.
"Maybe," Lars admitted, "but it doesn't mean he wouldn't try."
"And what do you think of the war, young Lars?" Iona asked, curious. Marcus realized he had no idea how any of his Housecarls felt about Skyrim's politics. Whatever opinions they may have had, they kept to themselves.
The boy shrugged. "I don't know," he said honestly. "It all seems kind of silly to me. I mean, I don't like that some people can't worship Talos if they want, like Heimskr goes on about all day—"
"All day, every day," Alesan put in sourly. "He never shuts up about it."
"But still," Lars continued, "I don't think that's a reason to fight each other. I mean, why don't they get together and fight the ones who told them they couldn't worship Talos?"
"You mean the Dominion," Marcus clarified, mildly impressed Lars had thought this out on his own.
"Yeah! That's right," Lars said. "They should be fighting those guys, not each other. My Pa used to be really good friends with Avulstein Gray-Mane. They grew up together and were really close. But then the war broke out and the Gray-Manes sided with the Stormcloaks while our family sided with the Empire. My Pa says the Gray-Manes were traitors, but I think they were really just standing up for themselves. That's what my Pa wants me to do, so why does he get mad when the Gray-Manes did the same thing?"
"Perhaps your father feels his friend should have felt the same way he did," Marcus suggested, watching the boy closely.
"I don't always agree with Alesan, but we get along," Lars pointed out. "I mean, if he wanted to join the Stormcloaks I wouldn't be mad at him for it."
You're still young, Marcus thought. You haven't felt deeply enough about something to feel the sting of betrayal when it happens.
My, aren't we being cynical? that dry voice mocked him.
Oh, you're back again? Marcus thought, keeping the conversation internal.
I told you I've never been far away, the Dragon God of Time reminded him. I didn't expect you to bring children with you in your quest to get stronger, though.
I'm having some family issues that need resolving, Marcus thought firmly. This is important to me.
Understood, Dragonborn, Akatosh replied gently. Just know that the longer you take to confront Alduin—
The more souls he devours in Sovngarde, Marcus simmered. I know, I know. I'm doing the best I can.
Akatosh chuckled indulgently. You're actually doing better than you realize. But you aren't there yet. Focus your attention on learning the Shouts you will need.
And his 'inner dragon' proceeded to list the places he would need to go to learn the words.
You could have put this in a letter, Marcus thought wryly.
Ah, so you figured that out, did you? Akatosh smirked. Rather clever of me, if I do say so myself. But a letter is only effective if you receive it. And you move around quite a bit. The couriers are tenacious, but even they have their limits. This way is much more direct.
Marcus gave an inward frown. How will I remember all these places?
You will…when you need to, Akatosh assured him, before the absence of the presence told him he was alone again – at least, in his own mind.
"Pa?" Alesan asked, worriedly. "Are you alright?"
Marcus put a smile on his face. "I'm fine, son. Just thinking to myself."
"You were thinking very deeply, then, my Thane," Iona remarked. "I've asked you the same question three times now."
"Sorry," he apologized. "I've got a lot on my mind. What is it?"
"I wondered just exactly why we're heading to this Sky Haven Temple in the first place."
Marcus smiled slyly. "Well, a good buddy of mine lives there now and I haven't seen him in a while. He's one of the newest Blade recruits."
Iona's eyes widened. "A Blade?" she breathed. "I thought they'd all vanished!"
"Who are the Blades?" Alesan asked. Lars goggled at him.
"Don't you know?" he asked incredulously. When his friend shook his head, Lars grinned widely, delighted to share something he knew. "They were the original dragon slayers, my Grandpa told me," he explained. "A long time ago, they used to protect the Emperor of Tamriel. But then the Thalmor almost wiped them out and they had to go into hiding. I didn't know any of them were still living!" He turned to Marcus excitedly. "Is that where we're going? Are we going to see the Blades?"
"Yes," Marcus nodded. "How is it that you know so much about them?" he asked Lars curiously.
The boy puffed his chest out proudly. "My Grandpa told me about them. His uncle was a Blade, back before the Great War. He said his Uncle Lars was sworn to protect Emperor Titus Mede and defend Tamriel, but he was betrayed by the Thalmor and they killed him on the thirtieth of Frostfall." Lars' face fell. "My Grandpa still gets upset on that day, thinking about his uncle. I was named for him."
Marcus' heart went out to the boy. No wonder his family put such pressure on him. Named for a family hero, he was expected to live up to the fame.
"Well, we'll be meeting with my friend Benor, and you'll get to meet the Archivist Esbern and the Grand Master Delphine," he told the boys. "We'll want to get an early start in the morning, so you'd both better bed down now and get some sleep. Iona and I will keep watch."
"For what?" Alesan asked, eyes widening in alarm.
"For anything that might try to get too close in the night," Iona said simply. "We're not in Whiterun now, boys. This is the wilderness. Thane Marcus and I will take turns watching through the night. When you're a little older, you'll be expected to take your turn at watch, if you go out adventuring."
The boys nervously eyed each other. This was something they hadn't anticipated. But the excitement at actually meeting a member of the legendary Blades soon made them forget their fear, and they settled down in their bedrolls, carrying on an excited, whispered conversation for at least another half hour before they finally drifted off to sleep.
"So, my Thane," Iona said when she was certain the boys were really asleep. "What's the real reason we're headed to Sky Haven Temple?"
"I have no ulterior motives, Iona," Marcus said. "I don't feel the need to keep Honeyside open, and you shouldn't be required to sit there in an empty house waiting for me to return. We're going to see my friend Benor because it's been a while since I've seen him, and I thought this trip might be good for the boys. Alesan needs to spend some time with me, and Lars could use some badly needed self-confidence. As for you…well, if you like what you'll see at Sky Haven Temple, and you decide it's the kind of life for you, I'd be happy to recommend you as a recruit."
Iona considered this. "I won't deny it's an honor to be asked, Thane," she said slowly. "But I can't help but wonder if I've displeased you in the performance of my duties."
"Not at all! This isn't a punishment," he insisted firmly. "And you don't have to join the Blades if you don't want to. But I thought I'd give you the opportunity if you wanted it."
"And if it turns out it's not what I want?"
"Then I'll send you back to Honeyside, if that's what you wish," he conceded. "I just hated the thought of you rattling around the place when I'm probably not going to spend much time there."
Iona wasn't sure what to think. She'd been in the service of Laila Law-Giver most of her adult life, and had even been Housecarl to two other Thanes – who had died under mysterious circumstances – and none had treated her with any sort of consideration for her feelings. Thane Jeran had been a lecherous sort who insisted his title gave him rights to her body. She'd submitted only because she'd been young and inexperienced and thought it was expected of her. A jealous husband was thought to have been responsible for his death, but Iona hadn't mourned his loss.
Thane Mikal was a brash young man constantly out to make a name for himself. His prowess with an axe was exceeded only by his bragging. It was rumored he had connections to the Thieves' Guild, but claimed the gold he brought home was from raiding bandit lairs and troll dens. His body was found in a birch grove covered with bee-stings, and while that had been announced as the cause of death, bees didn't leave one-inch long incisions in the region of the kidneys.
Iona hadn't mourned his death either.
She'd gone back to the rank and file after that, and there she might have stayed had not Jarl Laila herself called her up to serve as Housecarl to her new Thane. Not expecting much – previous experiences having told her it would be foolish – Iona was pleasantly surprised to find her new Thane was a man who actually wanted to do something positive for the people of Riften. She was even more pleased to find he was an honorable man with his head squarely on his shoulders. Discovering soon after this that he was actually the Dragonborn she'd been hearing about nearly sent Iona into a wave of hero-worship she hadn't felt since her step-father felled an elk with one shot and taught her how to field-dress it to bring home to her mother and four siblings. Daynan Sure-Foot was a Bosmer, but he loved her mother and treated her as if she were his own child.
Staring across the fire at her Thane now, Iona felt that same wave of admiration rising again. Not many Thanes would consider the feelings of their Housecarls. Thane Marcus, she was learning, was different.
"Thank you for that, my Thane," she said now. "I'll keep an open mind, and let you know what I decide. I'll take the first watch, if you like."
"Wake me in four hours," he nodded. "Sooner if something happens." He headed for his own bedroll and settled in, cushioning his head on his backpack. He was soon fast asleep, his dreams drifting between dragons, draugr and politics. He was tired and groggy when Iona woke him as requested four hours later, and spent the rest of the night pacing the perimeter to stay awake, going through his combat routine and casting simple spells to become more familiar with magic. He woke Iona when the sun peeked over the horizon and together they got the boys up and set tasks for them to help with breakfast. An hour later, they were on the road again.
They went through Rorikstead two hours later, and Lars grumbled they could have slept in a proper bed the night before.
"Consider it a character-builder," the Dragonborn told him, grinning. Marcus was well aware how close they'd been to the tiny town and its inn, and that they probably could have made it if they'd pushed on. But that wasn't the point of this trip.
Alesan complained of the cold, and Marcus decided to take the opportunity to indulge in some on-the-spot sparring with the two boys, "Just to warm you up," he told them. "Flats of your blades only," he warned. "I told your Dad I'd protect you, Lars, but it's better if you can protect yourself. If you have to do this for real someday, I'll expect you to use the edge, but until then we'll do it this way."
Iona sat down on a log nearby to watch the road and their backs while they practice-fought. Marcus taught Lars some basic moves which Alesan was still trying to master, and gave him pointers when facing a larger, stronger opponent. He set the boys against each other, calling encouragement to both, stepping in when he noticed they were doing something wrong, and stepping back to let them go at it again.
"The Battle-Born boy needs all the help he can get," Iona remarked, quietly.
"I know," Marcus said, watching the boys go at each other. "That's why I'm doing this."
"Won't his father—"
"Idolaf is too close to the problem to see it," Marcus replied sharply. "He thinks Lars should just know what to do, since he's a Battle-Born and they're all born with a silver spoon in their mouths. He doesn't spend the time to listen to his son or teach him what he needs to know."
"But the child isn't your responsibility," Iona pointed out.
"Isn't he?" Marcus asked, turning to look at his Housecarl. "Where I come from all children are our responsibility. If the parents fail to step up to the plate to teach their kids, then other adults have to step in, or the kids end up getting into all kinds of trouble. It has to begin at home, but if it doesn't it has to start somewhere."
"Is this how it's done in Cyrodiil, then?" Iona asked.
"I don't know about Cyrodiil," Marcus replied, "but that's how it's done where I come from."
"Aren't you from Cyrodiil?" Iona inquired. "You're Imperial, aren't you?"
Marcus hesitated. "I'm an Imperial," he admitted. "But I never said I was from Cyrodiil."
Iona stared at him as he turned his gaze back to the children.
"You're a strange man, Thane Marcus," she murmured.
He quirked a grin at her. "You have no idea," he smirked. "Keep your guard up, Alesan!" he called out. "Lars, wait for your opening. Every opponent gives you one."
Yes, he admitted to himself, he was a strange man. At least, as far as the people of Skyrim were concerned. Even if he hadn't been the Dragonborn, he would have been considered odd for his views on social justice. The people here lived one step above serfdom, with farmers owing fealty to their lords and the Jarls owing allegiance to the High King – or High Queen, if that turned out to be the case. They were centuries away from the kind of social structure he was used to. Change would come slowly to them, and it wouldn't happen without a lot of resistance from those who stood to lose from those changes. He might not live long enough to see any of those changes happen, especially if he couldn't find a way to defeat Alduin, but his conscience wouldn't let him not try.
After an hour he called the boys in. "That's enough for now. There's a spring pool over there," he pointed. "Why don't you two take a dip before we move out?"
"What?" Lars blinked. "You mean, get undressed with…with her here?" He blushed bright red, refusing to look at Iona.
Marcus choked back a grin. "Iona, perhaps you'd better—"
"I'll check out the road ahead, Thane," she offered, keeping her face completely neutral. "I'll call out if I see anything." Her eyes sparkled merrily as she turned and headed up the road.
"That water looks awfully cold, Pa," Alesan said doubtfully.
"All the water in Skyrim is cold, son," Marcus chuckled. "Just be aware that predators like wolves and sabre cats can smell sweat from a mile away."
"They can?" Alesan's eyes grew huge.
"As long as they're downwind of you they can," Marcus shrugged. "Of course, it's up to you, if you want to take the risk."
"Nuh-uh! Not me!" his son said forcefully. "Come on, Lars! I'll beat you to the pool!" He took off at a dead run.
"No fair, Als," cried Lars. "You've always been faster than me!" He chased after his friend. Both boys paused only a moment to drop their packs before jumping fully clothed into the pool.
Marcus grinned again. At least they had spare clothing to change into. It wasn't five minutes later that he heard yelling.
"Mudcrabs! Dad, there are mudcrabs here!"
Marcus drew his sword and hurried over, but soon realized these were the smaller sort, not the large ones he often encountered. "So kill them," he drawled. "What have you been practicing for?"
"Oh yeah!" Alesan exclaimed, dancing away from a persistent crustacean. The boys ran back to their packs and drew their swords, then spent the next several minutes learning just how sly and elusive a mudcrab could be. If they had been in any real danger, Marcus would have stepped in. As it was, he watched and waited until the last crab was dead and the boys were beaming with confidence.
"We did it!" Lars crowed, slapping Alesan on the back.
"Now I really need that swim!" the Redguard boy grinned.
"I'm proud of both of you," Marcus smiled. "You handled yourselves well. You're not ready to take on wolves, yet, but you did well."
He let them swim for a while before calling them out to dry off and change clothes. They caught up with Iona, calmly sitting on a rock by the side of the road munching an apple.
"I heard shouting a bit ago," she commented to her Thane. "What happened?"
"A little boost in confidence," Marcus replied smugly. "A small one, to be sure, but everyone has to start somewhere."
The lands west of Rorikstead rose steadily upward and became craggier the further they went. They were traveling off-road now, as there was no direct route to the Karthspire and Sky Haven Temple from here. They were threatened once by wolves, and Marcus ordered the boys to use their bows until the wolves got too close.
"Keep your backs against those rocks," he ordered them sternly, "or they'll circle around behind you. And try not to hit Iona or me," he added, before drawing his own bow and taking careful aim while the wolves were still far enough away. One went down to Iona's bow, and Lars hit another which slunk away into the underbrush. Alesan's shots were going too wide, and Marcus spared a look to see the panic in his son's eyes. He brought the wolf down just as it leaped, the body crashing heavily into the scrub bushes ten feet from the Redguard boy. Iona caught the last one as it leaped for her, grabbing it by the throat and lifting it before running it through with her sword.
Marcus turned to Alesan. "What did you do wrong, son?" he asked sternly.
"Huh?" The boy's eyes widened.
"What did you do wrong?"
"He panicked," Iona said simply, when Alesan turned away, unable to meet his father's eyes.
"Look at me, Alesan," Marcus said firmly, with no hint of anger. When the boy raised his eyes, his father smiled. "You panicked, and that was a natural reaction, but it could have cost you or your friend your life. You panicked, because your first shot didn't hit, because the wolf moved faster than you thought, because the wind shifted and you didn't allow for it. None of that matters. What matters is, you let all of that rattle you, break your concentration. You can't let that happen. When you shoot with a bow, you've got time to spare before your enemy is upon you, because you can hit him before he can hit you. So you need to concentrate and use that time to hit him as often as possible. Don't shoot where he's been; shoot where he will be. If you're good, if you're lucky, he'll never make it close enough to you to hit you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Pa, I understand," Alesan gulped. "I'll remember."
"Good," he smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Now come on, both of you, and I'll show you how to field dress the wolf skin so we can turn it into leather later."
Soon they were on their way again, crossing the boundary into the Reach and drawing ever closer to the Karth River valley. They found a path that led down into the valley that passed by a mine. The workers were all standing outside, and the mine's owner, a Breton named Perth, told them the mine was closed due to a draugr infestation.
"We accidentally broke into one of those old Nordic ruins this land just seems to be riddled with," he explained. "I've sent word to Jarl Igmund about it, but with the war going on I don't know when or if he'll be able to send men to clear the mine out so we can get back to work. Until then, we won't be pulling up any ore."
"I could do it for you," Marcus offered, "on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Keep an eye on my son and his friend here while Iona and I clear it out for you."
"You would do that for us?" Perth exclaimed, incredulous. "Why?"
"My Pa's the Dragonborn," Alesan said proudly. "He's not afraid of some stupid draugr!"
Marcus closed his eyes in resignation. He hadn't wanted the boy to spill his identity like that, but the damage was done. "I'm Thane Marcus of Markarth," he told Perth now, "as well as being Dragonborn. So as Thane of the Reach, it's my duty to help the people whenever and wherever I can."
Perth looked skeptical – none of the other Thanes he'd ever heard about had done anything for him – but he willingly agreed to keep the boys safe until Marcus and Iona could return, which they did two hours later, a bit beat-up looking, but confidently declaring the mine was cleared. Perth was both impressed and grateful, and awkwardly offered Marcus a pouch full of coin, which the Dragonborn told him to keep.
"Buy some new equipment with it," he insisted, and a grateful Perth enthusiastically shook his hand, thanking him profusely.
"Was it dangerous, Pa?" Alesan asked as they resumed their journey.
Marcus looked down at the boy. Only honesty would serve here. "Yeah," he sighed, tiredly. "Very dangerous. It seems to me that the draugr I've been fighting lately are getting tougher and tougher. The ones in the mine back there knew Shouts, like me, and some were casting frost magic. I'm glad Iona had my back in there."
It was several minutes before his son whispered, "Pa? What would happen to me and Sofie and Blaise and Lu if something happened to you?" The fear in his voice was genuine. Alesan had finally gotten the family he wanted, and now he was afraid it would all be taken away again. And his fear was not unfounded. Marcus had thought long and hard about this from the day he'd adopted Lucia. He motioned Iona to take Lars on ahead with her and drew his son over to a rocky outcrop to sit down and talk.
"Alesan," he began. "I don't ever want you to be afraid for your future, okay? You and Sofie and the others will always be well taken care of if anything should happen to me."
"Will something happen, Pa?" the Redguard boy asked worriedly.
"I can't promise you it won't," Marcus said honestly. "All I can promise is that I'll do everything in my power to come back to all of you. You're my family, and I love you all. But if something does happen, Lydia has instructions to become executor of my estate."
"You mean she gets a big axe and a black mask?" Alesan's brow furrowed.
Marcus chuckled. "Executor, son, not executioner. There's a big difference. It simply means that she will be in charge of the four of you until you come of age and receive your inheritance."
"Oh," his son said. "But what if you and Iona got killed back in that mine?" he continued. "That Perth guy wouldn't have known where me and Lars lived or anything."
"'Lars and I'," Marcus corrected his son gently. "But that's why I told him who I was. Knowing I was Thane of Markarth, he would have taken the two of you there, to Vlindrel Hall. From there, Argis would make sure you both got back home."
Alesan nodded, still troubled. "I don't want you to die, Pa," he said finally in a low voice.
Marcus put his arm across his son's shoulders. "I don't want to die, either," he said. "It will happen to all of us someday, but I'd like to put it off for as long as possible. But son," he continued, turning the boy to face him, "I'm the Dragonborn, as you told Perth back there. And that means I have a responsibility too big to ignore. It means I'll be putting myself in harm's way for quite some time."
"Then why did you adopt me?" Alesan cried. "Why did you adopt any of us? Maybe we should have gone to a family with a Ma and a Pa who stayed at home and didn't go off on adventures." He looked at the ground and kicked a bit of turf with his foot.
A twinge of guilt pierced Marcus. His son had a valid point. It wasn't fair to them to worry about him every time he left home.
"Maybe I was being selfish," he admitted. "I wanted to take you and your brother and sisters out of the difficult lives you had and offer you something better, because I've always loved children and because I wanted to do something good for all of you. You all deserve better than what life handed you. And maybe it isn't right that I have to go off and do these things I have to do while you all worry at home whether I'll come back or not.
"But Alesan," he continued, "please believe me when I tell you, you and your siblings have made my life so much easier to bear. All the worries and fears I have slip away when I come home and see all of you smiling at me, ready to share with me what you've been doing while I've been gone. That makes it all worthwhile to me, knowing how much I love each and every one of you. I couldn't be the Dragonborn if I didn't have all of you in my lives, because you're the reason I fight my hardest, knowing I'm fighting not just dragons, or draugr, or whatever it is. If Alduin wins, he will destroy this world and everything in it. You know that. I'm fighting to give each of you a chance to grow up."
Alesan sat in silence for a long while, taking in everything his father had just told him. He drew a long, shuddering breath, and Marcus realized his son was crying. There were no tears, but the silent sobs were keeping his son from speaking. Finally, the boy turned to him and slipped his arms around his father's waist.
"No one ever cared that much about me," he whispered. "Not for a long time, since my Pa – my real Pa – died. I'll try not to worry too much from now on."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Marcus said gruffly, ruffling the boy's hair. "Besides, worrying about me tells me you care a little bit about me, too."
"A little bit?" Alesan blinked. "More than a little bit!" he confirmed, hugging Marcus again.
They sat together for several more minutes, savoring the corner they'd just turned in their relationship, before Alesan pulled away and stood up. "We should catch up to Lars and Iona, shouldn't we?" he smiled. "They might get to Sky Haven Temple before us!"
Marcus grinned. "I'd be worried about that if I thought they knew the way," he laughed. "Come on, son, let's go!"
Nicely done, Dragonborn, came the dry voice of Akatosh in his mind. It seems I made the right choice after all.
Who else could you have chosen? Marcus quipped back. You didn't exactly have a long list of candidates.
Don't be smug about it, his 'inner dragon' warned playfully. There was a certain red-haired Breton girl in that cart with you. She might have done nicely.
The absence of the presence in his mind told him that once again, Akatosh had gotten in the last word.
[Author's Note: I feel I must apologize for the delay in updating this story. I had a serious bout of Writer's Block, which – when you think about it – is pretty bad when technically the story is already laid out for you. I wanted to confront the issue that all Marcus' adoptions seemed to go just swimmingly well. Anyone who has adopted older children will tell you that in itself is a fairy-tale. I definitely wanted to show more of Marcus bonding with his children, and having that difficult period of adjustment until things finally settle down.
Next up is Sky Haven Temple, and some hard decisions need to be made.]