"And the scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold. That when brothers wage war come unfurled! Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world!" A boy with dark-brown hair read aloud in his bed, with only a lamp on his drawer as light, while the cold winds surged outside of the house. A man with black hair which reaches his shoulder, a scar on his cheek, and a beard that almost reaches his chest, wearing a black leather cuirass with fur boots and arm braces walked inside. The boy looked up from his book and saw the man with a smile on his face. The boy jumped off his bed and out of his quilt to run towards the man with excitement and joy. "Father! You're back!" The boy shouted as he hugged his father. The man hugged the boy back and knelt down to his eye level and patted the boy's head. "Have you been a good boy while I was away?" The man asked with a smile. The boy nodded his head a yes. The man chuckled at the sight of his son's excitement.

"You didn't forget your promise, right?" The boy looked at his father with a doubting gaze. The man rubbed the back of his head and smiled. "Of course I did not!" The man grinned nervously while ruffling his son's hair. He walked towards the cupboard near the hearth and took out a wooden sword. The boy beamed as the man walked back to him. "Happy birthday, Marvous." The man sat down as he gave his son his present. The boy looked at his present in awe and proceeded to give his father a warm embrace. "Thank you, father. This is the best present ever." The man chuckled as he patted his son's head. "Your mother would be most pleased to see you growing up well and healthy." The man with black hair thought to himself. "Alright, so what have you been doing while I was out hunting?" The man stood up and carried his son to his son's bed.

"I was reading!" The boy gleamed. "Oho, you still remember your promise to your mother, it seems." The man pulled up a chair and sat next to his son. "And what have you been reading?" The boy grabbed the book that he left on his bed before running towards his father. Upon seeing the child's excitement, the man couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Song of the Dragonborn, huh." The boy nodded excitedly. "But father, is it true that dragons used to exist?" The man put a thumb under his chin. "Well, there are legends and books that say they did." This made the boy look at his father with wonder and curiosity. With a warm smile, the father continued. "They have lived thousands of years ago, during the first era. The dragons ruled Tamriel, and the one who was at the top was…" The man trailed while looking at his son to continue his sentence. "Alduin!" The boy shouted as he sprang up with his hands up in the air. The man laughed heartily at his son's excitement.

"Correct. And he also had his own followers, and appointed a few as his dragon priests. Can you still remember them?" The man looked at his son who was now sitting on his bed, face resting on his fist with his brows furrowed. "Hevnoraak, Nahkriin, Rahgot, Vokun, Volsung,, Morokei, Krosis and…" The boy named as he counted them on his fingers while trailing off. The man patted his son's head. "And Otar the Mad." The man chuckled. "I knew that…" The boy pouted. "Well, it's getting late. Let's tuck you in." The boy gave his father a pleading look. The man sighed in defeat as he looked at his son's eyes. "Go to sleep. I'll teach you how to use your sword tomorrow." Hearing this, the boy beamed with pure joy and tucked himself under his quilt. "Do you promise?" The boy said as he gazed at his father, hoping he'd reply. "I promise." The man knelt down next to his son and extended his pinky. The boy seeing his father's action, brought his arm out and extended his pinky, entwining his pinky to his father's. "Good night, father" The boy released their pinkies and tucked himself inside his quilt once again. The father gently placed a kiss on his son's forehead before saying, "Good night, son."

Morning came, and the boy was awoken by something crunching in the snow. He slowly got up and noticed that his father was not on his bed. The boy saw a pot was in the hearth, and the smell of beef stew made his mouth to drool, and his stomach to grumble. He picked up a bowl and ladle and poured himself some food. He sat at the table in the middle of the room and quietly ate his meal. Just as he was finished eating, his father came inside the house. "I see you're awake. And you've already eaten, too. Rest up your stomach, because we'll start your training today." The boy nodded and threw his bowl aside and grabbed his wooden sword from underneath his bed. "Are you not going to eat, father?" The boy looked at his father questioningly. "I already ate. Now, come. I want to show you something." The boy obeyed his father and followed him outside.

In front of the house were targets made of straw and wood in the shape of a person, a few log posts, a few bows and arrows, a pair of small bows and small quivers with wooden tipped arrows, and a few more wooden swords. The boy looked around in awe, while the father smiled at his son. "He's grown up to be like his mother." the father thought to himself as he looked at his son who was slashing at one of the dummies. "Come here, son." The man gestured for his son to walk over. "Yes, father?" the boy walked closer. The man patted his son's head and pointed at the rocks and boulders with a sack next to them. "We'll work on your strength, speed, and core, before I teach you how to fight."

Five years later…

A tall man wearing a thick, brown, bear's fur as a cloak over his iron gear, wielding a long bow, a steel sword sheathed on his left side, a quiver on his right, and a battleaxe strapped on his back, was crouching atop a tree branch, with an arrow pointed towards one of the two mountain lions feeding on a boar and deer. Taking in a long breath, the man focused his arrow, and in a short second, the arrow had pierced itself in between the feline predator's eyes. In another split second, another arrow lodged itself on the skull of the other mountain lion. The man exhaled and promptly jumped down the branch without much sound or difficulty, even as he landed on the cold snow. Despite wearing such heavy armor, his steps were quiet, almost as if he was a shadow. After taking out the arrow, he fixed the way his axe was attached so that it was on his lower back, as well as his bow being in front of his chest as he put the game he had caught on his upper back.

It was a chilly night, and the moon's shine can be seen in between the trees' leaves. After a few hours of walking, he had finally reached his home. A small cabin with some dummies made of wood and hay at the front. As he walked closer, the door opened. "Welcome back, Marvous." The older man smiled. Marvous dropped down the sabre cat's corpse in front of the house. "Yes, I'm back father." Marvous and his father shared a warm hug. "Let's eat!" The father exclaimed as he motioned his son to come inside. The pair shared a meal and started telling stories. "It seems you had a fun week of hunting, my boy." The father chuckled. "I was planning on returning home after killing the brown bear, but those mountain lions had caught my eye." Marvous scratched the back of his left hand. The father crossed his arms and looked at his son. "You're lying. You always scratch the back of your hand when you lie." The man pointed at his son's left hand.

The man smirked. "You were looking at the women bathing in Chorrol, weren't you." Marvous laughed nervously and just stared at his empty tankard. The man chuckled at his son. "You already reached your coming of age two years ago, my son. Tomorrow, you'll be seventeen. Why did you decide to stay with your old man?" Marvous looked at his father and around the house. "I didn't want you to feel lonely as you are already getting old, father." Marvous warmly smiled as he poured himself some ale. "You're as tall as a brown bear that's seven feet tall, and as strong as dozens of seasoned hunters. I often forget that you're still young." The man trailed off as he sipped his own drink. The man put his cup down and smiled. "What say you and I move to your mother's homeland?" This caught Marvous off by surprise. "So we're finally going to Skyrim?!" Marvous shouted with excitement and looked at his father in anticipation. Seeing this, the father started to laugh heartily. "You haven't changed at all, my son." He stood up and went towards the hearth, he removed one of the planks on the floor and took out three books and two journals. He blew on the books to remove the dust collected by them, and gently placed the plank back before walking towards Marvous. The books had a thick, black, leather cover, and the one of the journals was of the usual way a journal looks. But the other journal was crimson red with a black eye symbol.

The man handed Marvous the black journal first. "I will be giving to you my journal. Do not open it yet until tomorrow. These other ones will be given to you tomorrow as well. I trust that yo–" Marvous' father stopped midsentence before getting one of the satchels on top of the dresser and quickly packed the books and journal in it. He tossed the satchel towards Marvous and then armed himself with his steel battleaxe and steel war hammer. "I don't have time to explain! Just remember, your name is Marvous War-Arms. Son of Bjorig the Pale and Snill War-Arns. Do not forget that your mother and I love you always, Marvous." "But father, wha–" Before Marvous could finish his sentence, there was a loud banging on the door. "I know you're there, vampire! Show yourself or we'll burn the house down!" a man shouted. Soon, light from torches can be seen from behind the windows. "We know what you are you filthy spawn of Bal!" another voice shouted. Marvous was beginning to worry as these were voices which he recognizes. These are the townspeople of Bruma.

Just as Marvous was about to get up from his seat, the door burst open, revealing an angry mob. In a swift, successive, movement, Bjorig ran towards the mob with his weapons in an 'X' shape to push them down. Marvous ran outside with the journal and satchel still on him. Before he could utter a word, a man had knocked him out with a hammer to the back of the head. Marvous collapsed as blood gushed out of his head. In anger, Bjorig transformed into a form with dark, grey, skin, nose the same as that of a bat's, eyes as red as blood, long horns and legs like that of a goat's, and a reptile's tale. He was as big as that of three brown bears standing upright. Following with a loud and grotesque roar, the townspeople fell on their rear and petrified in place with fear. "M-Molag Bal!" one of the people stuttered which angered Bjorig even more. In a deep, snarly, voice, "I am not Molag Bal! I am just his creation. A creation which all of you shall forget!" With a snap of his fingers, the people were knocked unconscious. He transformed back into his human form and took one of the health potions that he had on him and ran towards Marvous.

A few hours later…

Marvous woke up with a splitting headache. He woke up and saw that he was sitting down next to the gate which leads to Skyrim, and his father was next to him. Bjorig noticed that his son awoke and gave him a warm smile. "I know you have many questions, but trust me. Your mother and I truly love you." Bjorig gently spoke before he started to cough up blood. Marvous stood up and tried to support his father who looked as if he was about to fall down. Marvous wanted to ask his father about what he had seen and heard, but the words seem to keep getting trapped in his throat. "I haven't drank blood in almost three decades, and because of that stunt I pulled, I'm dying." Bjorig chuckled to himself, while Marvous could only clench his fist. His father patted him on the back and gave him a warm smile. "I had a dream last night. Your mother, she came to me. She said that you have a greater purpose in Skyrim, that's why she asked me to bring you there." Bjorig became silent, his smile not disappearing, but is replaced with a sad smile.

"Happy birthday, my son. I'm sorry we can no longer celebrate it." Marvous just hugged his father as he quietly sobbed on his father's shoulder. "Let's go to Falkreath." the older man said. After paying the toll, they'd left to Eastmarch. In a few hours, they'd have reached Falkreath hold. The sun had already come out. The two made their way towards the inn. "This place looks… Hospitable." The older man commented as the two looked around. "Greetings! You two must be travelers. Welcome to Dead Man's Drink Inn!" An Imperial woman looking to be in her mid to late thirties called out. The father and son pair walked towards the bar and took a sit in front of the innkeeper. "The name's Valga Vinicia, owner of this inn. What would the two handsome travelers like?"

"I'll have a bottle of nord mead." The older man requested. "And what would the other gentleman like?" Marvous put his thumb under his chin. "I'd like something to eat." Valga chuckled. "I guessed you would say that. We have some cooked venison, some stew, and some sweetrolls. What would you like?" Marvous' stomach started growling. "I'll take two of those venisons." Valga chuckled and headed towards the fire spit that was roasting the meat and took a big plate to put the requested meat on. The father and son pair moved to a table next to them to enjoy what they had ordered.

Marvous dug into his food and began eating it as if he was a starved beast. After having finished his food, and his father his drink, the two started to ponder. "Let's take a stroll outside, son." Bjorig stood up and walked towards the innkeeper to pay. Marvous walked towards the door to wait for his father. After Bjorig paid, the two left the inn. "So this is Falkreath." Marvous commented as the two started walking. "Yes. Your mother wanted to move here before, but decided against it. She said something about wanting a peaceful life, but still chose to have our house built near the border." Bjorig smiled sadly as he reminisced. "Mother never told me about her past." The two walked outside of the hold's entrance.

"Your mother's clan, the War-Arms clan, was once a small family that did mercenary work together." The two walked slowly as they took in the sights. "The clan once settled down in Solitude after getting acknowledged by Jarl Svargrim, the Jarl at the time. The Jarl and the clan head became friends. But because of his… Sudden change, they had to stop him." The two decided to sit under a tree. "What do you mean by 'sudden change'?" Bjorig sat silently while staring at the sky. "He… Became a paranoid ruler as he grew hold. This was over a thousand years ago. And back then, Skyrim was split in half. Svargrim was High King of Western Skyrim while Jorunn the Skald-King was High King of Eastern Skyrim." Marvous leaned his back against the tree. "So he was obsessed with control, that's not a surprising change."

Bjorig took a deep breath and stood up. "Svargrim became a vampire lord." Hearing this, Marvous' eyes widened in shock. "Well, princess Svana, his daughter, alongside your mother's ancestors, they defeated the Svargrim. But, feeling betrayed and used, they went into self exile out of Skyrim. They travelled all around Tamriel, with most of them having died whilst in battle or during the journey." Marvous placed his hand on his eyes and sighed. "You'll learn more about your mother and her inheritance in those books and journals I've given you. But, don't open them yet." Marvous removed his hand and looked at his old man. "I only have at least two years left. So please, promise me, that you won't open them yet." Bjorig's knelt down and placed a hand on Marvous' shoulder. "I promise."

Fourteen months later…

Marvous became thane of Falkreath and owns a self-made manor called Lake View Manor. Bjorig was sharing a drink with the housecarl Rayya and telling tales while Marvous was out bounty hunting. Just two days prior, news of Ulfric killing High King Torygg had reached the ears of those in Falkreath. A week later, a new general has been dispatched and sent to Skyrim. His name is General Tullius. Marvous and Bjorig had decided to stay neutral during this time of war, especially since Bjorig has become much weaker. His once black hair has become gray in a matter of months. His muscular build has greatly deteriorated and his wrinkles had increased. Although he has grown weaker and older, his skills are still unparalleled and strength of a seasoned warrior. Bjorig was sitting down by the road near the lake when Marvous had come home. "What are you doing, father?" Marvous questioned as he plopped down next to his father. The moon was full and the sky was clear. The lake was still and thus reflected the beautiful night sky splendidly. "Just remembering the first time I met your mother." Bjorig smiled softly as he lied down on the grass. "You never told me that story before." Bjorig's smile grew wider. "Then perhaps I should tell you now. It was a night just like tonight. It has only been a week since I awoke from a pile of rubble. I was confused and hungry. And for that whole week, I had been praying on may farm animals in Chaydinhal.

Your mother was tasked with investigating the disappearances of the livestock, and on one faithful night, she found me in a cave whilst I was drinking the blood of a sheep. It was a night similar tonight. The moon was full, the skies were clear, and the stars shone ever so brightly, and the cool wind was refreshing." Bjorig paused and looked at Marvous who was listening intently. "Go on." Bjorig gave a small chuckle. "I've decided to just leave it at that. You'll be reading my and your mother's journal later on anyway." Marvous groaned at his father's nonchalant response. "Alright. Then let's head inside. Rayya was already making supper when I came home." The father and son stood up and started walking towards the house. Bjorig stopped and looked behind him, to which he only smiled and continued walking. The two were greeted by a redguard woman who was wearing a red sleeveless warrior's tunic, with iron shoulder pads, and her wavy hair was flowing down. "The food has been prepared my thane, master." She bowed gracefully at the two men who walked inside the house. "Yes. Thank you, Rayya." Marvous said as the two followed behind towards the main hall. The three sat down and began to eat.

Months passed by, and Bjorig had become too weak that he is forced to be bedridden. Marvous, to his displeasure, was tasked by the Jarl to take care of a newly established bandit camp near Dark Water Crossing. "Gods! Why is it always me…" Marvous grumbled to himself as he was walking towards Dark Water Crossing. He deep in his mind, thinking about his bedridden father, that he did not notice he had already entered the small mining community, or that he had bumped into someone. With his eyes glued on the ground, he held his hand out to the person whom he bumped into. In just a few moments, Imperial soldiers surrounded the place. "Halt!" An Imperial soldier stopped Marvous, which snapped him back to reality. "Yes?" He looked at the older man with fine, red, imperial armor. "You were seen helping a wanted man escape." Marvous shot him a questioning look until he realized to whom he was speaking to. The new general sent by the Empire; General Tullius. Marvous looked back and saw tall, burly man whose hands were bound and mouth was gagged. "You helped the traitor, Ulfric Stormcloak, escape. Are you a Stormcloak?" Marvous began to sweat.

"Hm? You look familiar. Take off your helmet." Marvous complied and took off iron helmet which made Tullius raise his eye brows. "You're Marvous, aren't you? The son of Bjorig the Pale? I heard that you helped out in taking care of bandits back in Cyrodiil." Marvous smiled nervously. "Yes. That's me. Marvous War-Arms." Tullius smiled but quickly frowned. "Look, I'm sorry but I have to bind you for now. I'll explain the situation to Elisif so that she can let you go." Marvous was about to retort but was immediately cut off by Tullius. "I know, I know. I need you to comply so that it's easier to explain without branding you a traitor, alright?" Marvous complied. He was bound by Tullius and then led to a carriage. He hasn't slept in three days and he has to worry about his father, as well as his own life now. After he had sat down, he let out a big sigh and rested his face on his hands. Before he realized it, he had drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note:

Hey, hey! I'm back you guys! I decided to give Marvous a proper and interesting background. I also decided to keep it as lore-friendly as possible. And yes, Marvous is half vampire. We'll get more on that later on in the story. It was a huge pain writing this as I had to go and read deeply into the TES lore and implement it into the story. I don't know how to explain clothing so yeah, it's going to be very vague. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the revamped story!