Taren. He came back to her so vividly she could almost reach out and touch him. His memory filled her heart with a flood of sunshine. "I love you," she whispered with a smile.

With his memory firmly in the front of her mind, she fought back the dark emptiness until it was barely there. Sure, there would be pain and heartache, there may even be death looming on the horizon, but she made it through the biggest tragedy of her life at age eight, and she did it alone. If anything, anything hurt worse than that, it was because she was giving it too much importance. She gave herself a few moments to bask in the warm glow of his smiling face and then gathered up all of the pain that Brand had been right about. She put it in a box and locked it, and shoved it to the back of her heart.

An hour later she was dressed in fine clothes and waiting for an audience with Jarl Kraldar.

The trip to Whiterun had been uneventful. Skjor and Aela weren't exactly talkative, but Brand could appreciate that. The pace they set was challenging, and wound through the wilderness along game trails and through hidden passes. They were avoiding, trouble, he knew, but he found himself fearing it less and less as the comfort of the pack spread over him. He delivered Cyréne's letter to Adrianne upon their arrival a few days later, and after reading it, the woman requested he return the next day.

When they arrived at Jorrvaskr, he was ushered into the quarters of the Harbinger. Skjor and Aela remained with him, and another pack member, Farkas, joined them. As soon as Brand walked into the private room, he felt aggression in the air. His gaze slipped, unreadable, to its source. A tall, broad-shouldered warrior with dark-hair leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and regarded him with an icy glare.

Ah, Vilkas, Brand thought, We meet at last. You do look like about the only bastard alive who could bring himself to break Cyréne's heart.

Brand developed instant respect for Kodlak Whitemane. The man impressed him, and that didn't happen often. The discussion preceded much like it had at the College. Kodlak seemed concerned, as did Farkas. Vilkas's fury radiated.

Brand watched him carefully when he described Cyrene's injuries from the poisoned arrow she took in the shoulder. Vilkas's jaw clenched and there was a flash of gold in his eyes, before he regained his composure. Oh you care, alright, Brand thought. You care almost more than you can stand.

"How are you in battle, Brand?" Kodlak asked, finally.

"I can handle myself."

Kodlak nodded. "Vilkas will test that out, but for now, I believe all of us are in agreement that you should have a chance to find a place here."

Three wolves nodded their agreement. Brand flicked his gaze back to Vilkas, waiting for the inevitable objection.

"I also agree," Vilkas said. "Unfortunately, since one of the members of our circle finds her priorities lie elsewhere – I don't see how we can come to a decision on this."

Skjor gave him a smug smile. "Well, now that you mention it, I do happen to have a letter of recommendation from the Arch-Mage herself."

Vilkas's gaze narrowed, but he said nothing. Kodlak took the letter and took his time to read watched his face. First it showed concern, and then relief, next he was nodding, then he let out a bark of laughter. Vilkas's head whipped over to him.

Kodlak put down the letter with a smile and stood. He extended his hand to Brand. "You find favor with Cyréne. Don't take it lightly, Brand. She's generous and kind, but when it comes to those she cares for, only a fool or a blind man would cross her."

Aela let out a chuckle. "Yes, Skjor almost got a taste of it while we were there."

All heads turned to Skjor who was giving Aela a look that clearly said she'd be paying later. He looked back at Kodlak, who was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

Skjor smirked, "I'd never even heard the pup bark, let alone snarl – made me proud." He sent a scathing glance toward Vilkas. "Only a fool would cross her."

"Very well," Kodlak said changing the subject. "Brand, you and I will talk for a few minutes and then Vilkas will test your arm out in the training yard."

Kodlak closed the door after the others left and motioned for Brand to sit down. "So, what has my girl been up to these past weeks?"

Brand relaxed a bit, "Saving my life, running the college like she was born for it, making an ally and friend out of an assassin who was scoping her out as a target . . . things that seem impossible."

Kodlak regarded him closely. "And is she in good spirits?"

"As good as to be expected, under the circumstances," Brand said cautiously.

"Ah," Kodlak said with a smile. "She trusts you, I see, and quickly at that. Are you worthy of that trust?"

Brand smiled. "I am."

That seemed to satisfy Kodlak. "Good. Now, I believe she sent a letter with you – you are to read it before you meet with Vilkas."

Brand thought that was odd, but nodded. Kodlak walked him to the door and called for Farkas to escort him out to the training yard.

Brand opened the letter as he walked, and read.

Brand,

He loads from the left hip, watch for the fade.

Cyréne

Brand laughed to himself and shook his head.

Vilkas paced the training yard in agitation. The newcomer and the news he brought with him caused him to curse under his breath. The man himself, this Brand, was a skilled and seasoned warrior, and would most likely be a huge asset. That much Vilkas could tell just by looking at him. The way his eyes scanned the room, assessing his surroundings, cataloging every exit, every potential weapon, every possible threat, screamed at Vilkas to proceed with caution. The fact that he smelled strongly of Cyrene, hadn't done him any favors in Vilkas's eyes, but the fact he smelled nothing like her sex probably saved his life. Vilkas calmed his thoughts as the man himself walked out into the training yard with Farkas.

They decided on great swords as a test weapon, and an hour later, Vilkas smirked and pulled Brand from the ground with satisfaction. "Finally! They send me a challenge. You're highly skilled, and will make a valuable addition, New Blood."

Still breathing heavily, Brand gave him a winded nod. "I seriously doubt that was a challenge, given my current state. You're highly skilled yourself, and I appreciate you not taking advantage of my remaining injuries."

Vilkas clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't mention it, you more than held your own, and I look forward to training with you in the future." He smirked again, "But, for now, you're still New Blood, so clean up the training yard."

Brand fired off a mock two finger salute and did just that. He looked up just in time to see a dark-haired Imperial woman lean into Vilkas's arm as they headed inside. He frowned, thinking of Cyrene, and continued with his task.

Early the next morning Brand headed down to War Maiden's as requested, and found Adrianne already hard at work at her forge.

"Ah," she said when she saw him. "Brand, is it? I'm glad you're here. I need to get measurements and talk materials with you if I'm to get all of this done by the end of the week."

"I'm sorry," he said politely, "all of what done?"

Adrianne grinned. "Oh, so it's a surprise then – your welcome home present. The armor and weapons of your choice are to be yours, friend. I have instructions to create two full sets."

Brand raised an eyebrow. "Two full sets?"

"Yes, practice and battle, heavy and light, whatever you want. I'm also under contract to create a bow, two daggers, a shield, and two other weapons of your choice."

Brand looked at her and shook his head. "Cyréne?"

"Who else? And, she's meticulous, so let's get started. She's already paid me for top of the line materials and labor, and I get the coin no matter what you choose, so choose what you want and we'll adjust it until it's perfect."

Brand grinned. He was beginning to feel more like himself every day.

Shaye yawned and stretched in her bunk. It was impossible to tell the hour inside the Sanctuary, but the low burning glow of the kitchen fires in the room below her signaled that it was sometime before dawn. She glanced over to Veezara's bunk and found it empty. She sat up, brow furrowed, and slipped her feet into a pair of fur slippers before easing out of bed to look for him. She found him in the main chamber of the Sanctuary, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pool, staring into the depths. As she approached, the dancing light of a small flame came into view on the water's surface. She continued forward and sat down beside the Argonian. The flame was actually a small candle inside of a floating box carved with delicate swirling designs. She'd never seen anything like it. Shaye leaned companionably against Veezara. "It's beautiful. What is it?"

He sighed. "It's a memory . . . for a friend."

Shaye cocked her head and looked up at his profile. "Do you want to talk about him?"

"Her" he corrected quietly.

Shaye wasn't sure what to say in response to that piece of information, and frankly wasn't sure she wanted to hear anymore, so she stayed silent.

Veezara followed her example and they sat together, unspeaking. Moments later Gabriella and Babette joined them. "I can hardly believe another year has passed," Gabriella said softly, her musical lilt tinged with something close to regret.

Babette sighed. "I've lived so long, and yet these last years, without her, have seemed longer than most."

Shaye began to get the uncomfortable feeling that she was intruding on something very, very private. Even so, her curiosity kept her rooted in place, even if her manners wouldn't permit her to ask questions. She nearly choked on her own saliva when the scruffy voice of Festus sounded right above her.

"The 5th of Mid Year already, huh?" he said quietly. When no one answered he continued, "Brat! She had no right to run off like that. That's gratefulness for you, all those lessons wasted. Bah!"

"She didn't run off," Veezara said tightly, "you know that old man."

Shaye felt her eyebrows nearly raise off her head at the Argonian's tone. For Veezara, it was tantamount to shouting.

"I know," Festus said dejectedly, "but it wasn't fair, I'll tell you that, and I'm still planning to give her a talking to if she shows up."

"WHEN she shows up," Veezara corrected.

The old mage sighed and gave the Argonian's shoulder a squeeze, "That's right my boy, that's right," and shuffled off.

Arnjborn came in smelling like a brewery, covered in leaves and dirt, and looking like pure hell a few minutes later, obviously just changed into his human form, and flopped down dangerously close to the edge of the water in silence. Just when Shaye thought it couldn't get any stranger, Astrid walked over, and kneeling, wrapped her arms around her husband, then shot Shaye a pointed look.

Shaye scrambled to her feet immediately and headed away from the strange gathering. She found Nazir stirring something over the fire in the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on around here?" she asked lowly.

He didn't look up, but he sounded amused, as usual. "Ah, it must be the 5th of Mid Year. That would be the birthday of our long lost Tempest."

Shaye blinked, "Our what?"

"Tempest" he stated simply.

Shaye's head began to throb. "What's a Tempest?"

Nazir chuckled, and came to sit across from her at a table. "That's a question without an answer, but I'll answer you anyway. Tempest was a sister, but an only child, a daughter but an orphan, a friend and an enemy. She was student and teacher, companionship and loneliness, a dead end and a bridge. Should I continue?"

Shaye swiped a hand over her face. "Not unless you plan to start making sense."

Nazir sighed and leaned forward to speak quietly. "Tempest is Arnbjor and Astrid's adopted daughter. She came to us as an orphaned fiver year old and we raised her as our own for years."

"Wait," Shaye whispered, "there was a child assassin – a real one? Not a Babette?"

Nazir nodded. "Yes, and she was brilliant."

"What happened to her?"

"That's a discussion for another time" Nazir answered quickly. He sat back in his chair and smiled as the family began to enter the room.

Kalv shouted again and walked a few more yards down the path from the throat of the world. An elder scroll – a damn elder scroll! How in Oblivion was he supposed to find an elder scroll? The past few weeks had been hell. Delphine and Esbern were driving him mad, Arngeir seemed to be constantly flying off the handle, the leader of the Greybeards was a dragon, and now he needed to find an Elder Scroll.

He shouted a final time and made his way into the Courtyard of High Hrothgar. He could hear Arngeir practicing unrelenting force at the top of the tower. Don't come down on my account, old man. I'm just trying to save the damn world here – it's not like you have a lifetime to meditate and practice shouting; oh wait, that's right you sure as hell do.

Kalv settled his temper somewhat and climbed to the top of the tower.

"Dragonborn," Arngeir said solemnly, "did you find the answers which you seek?"

Kalv wasn't in the mood. "I need an Elder Scroll. Where can I find one?"

Arngeir gave him a disdainful look. "The Greybeards do not concern themselves with the Scrolls, but such blasphemies have always been the stock-in-trade of the mages of Winterhold."

The man's scornful tone set Kalv's teeth on edge, and he suppressed the urge to give him a shove right off the edge of the tower. He gave the man a clipped nod and was soon striding down the 7,000 steps with Lydia trailing behind him.

"Well, my thane, what next?" Lydia asked tiredly.

Kalv didn't say anything for a moment, as he was still getting his temper under control. Finally he spoke. "I need information on obtaining an Elder Scroll."

Lydia shook her head. "And where, are you supposed to find that?"

"Arngeir recommends the blasphemous mages of the College of Winterhold, sanctimonious old bastard."

"My thane!" Lydia scolded.

"Well he is – they all are, the Greybeards, the Blades, the Thalmor, the Stormcloaks, the Empire – all of them so gods' damned sure they're right. It's sickening."

"I'd think you'd be pleased to be going to Winterhold," Lydia said pointedly.

"Why the Oblivion would I be pleased to be going to Winterhold, instead of home to Whiterun? The weather is awful and the roads are dangerous, and divines' only know what ridiculous requests I'll have to fill just to get some information." He unsheathed his sword and whacked a bush in half violently.

"Well," Lydia said slowly, "there are some things in Winterhold that are not in Whiterun."

"Like what?" he demanded.

"Like, things you've been missing and not able to shut up about for the last month and a half."

Kalv stopped in his tracks and a huge grin split his face. "Sweetroll!"