The Walking Dead

"You left before the attack happened?"

Idessia nodded. "Personal reasons," she explained, "I…I just needed to be elsewhere for a while. Carcette was understanding. Granted me leave with little explanation."

Isran grunted and brought his refilled cup to his lips. "You always were favored."

"You even more so, Isran." Isran said nothing to that so she continued. "When I returned, I found the smoking ruin." Her voice fell to just above a whisper. "All the people I had come to know, dead and rotting in the ice."

The line of her jaw was a tense one. Her eyes were turned down and her hand had tightened itself into a trembling fist. Isran felt the urge to reach out and take it, as she always seemed to do for him. But something stopped him.

Idessia swallowed. "I found a pair of them still there, the monsters," she told him, "Picking through the remains, desecrating the bodies. I kept hidden. Then one of them started talking about raising Keeper Carcette an undead. Turning her into his personal body slave." The way her lips curled spoke to Isran of something further than servitude but for the sake of his already flaming nerves, he refused to think on it further. She sniffed in disgust. "I stopped hiding after that," she finished, her tone low and cold.

"Celann and I went to the keep with a few others. Dawnguard recruits. To bury the bodies." Isran held his eyes to her, even as she broke his gaze. "They were all still there."

In the low light of the tavern's corner, Isran could see her jaw flexing. His eyes flicked down to her hands. To the way her nails dug into her palm, enough to redden.

"I left," Idessia whispered. She swallowed thickly. "I left them behind. I was so distraught, I…I couldn't bear to look at them anymore. I left without burying them." She refused to meet his eyes now but Isran could see the wetness gathering in them, see her lip tremble. "I abandoned them," she said, voice cracking, "I was so ashamed."

There wasn't a single worse person Isran could imagine than himself to comfort anyone regarding shame. His entire life was built upon it and he'd feel it to his dying day. Maybe even after.

Left without words once more, Isran pushed his plate of food towards the center of the table. When she looked down at it, he silently bid her take as much as she liked. It was a small comfort, practically even meaningless but it did bring a tiny smile to her lips. She took a single bite and worked it over in her mouth for some time before swallowing.

"After…everything, even staying in Skyrim was too much for me," she went on, "I went home. Back to Cyrodiil, the Imperial City. Where the gardens are."

Isran's hands twitched and resisted tightening them. "What did you do there?"

Idessia shrugged. "I wandered. I prayed. I begged Arkay for forgiveness. I…" she laughed softly, "I lost myself for a while. In drink. In fights. In the beds of strangers. Anything to forget, Isran. Anything."

"And after?"

"After," she repeated, "When my grief was spent and I was left empty and ragged, I had a revelation. A vision. It was like the clouds had parted and shined a light onto the right path, Isran. Showed me what I should do. What I should seek."

Isran nodded slowly. "You want justice."

Idessia smiled bitterly. "Maybe. In truth, it's much less noble than that." She leaned in close. "Revenge, Isran. I want revenge. And I've come back to Skyrim so I can take it. They're still out there. The Vigilants' killers and those like them. My duty did not die with my comrades. I know that now.

Isran hummed. "Anger, hate. They're as good a thing as any to keep someone going. I don't blame you."

"Ah, but it seems I waited too long. By the time I returned, the Volkihar were already destroyed. Defeated by a group calling themselves, 'The Dawnguard'." She looked at him and her smile just barely hid glittering white teeth. "A force led by a tall Redguard man with a shaved head, a thick dark beard and championed by the Dragonborn himself." Silence passed them for a few seconds. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who fits that description, would you?" "

A flash of amusement crossed his dour face. "Our group is stationed southeast of here. Dayspring Canyon."

Idessia scoffed in laughter. "Appropriate. And the Dragonborn?"

Isran's almost-smile falls. "He works with us as well," he answered naturally.

Idessia nodded and asked nothing further. "I wasn't ready to join just yet, though I wanted to," she said. "In the meanwhile, I've spent my time in Skyrim rooting out the survivors of their wretched clan."

Isran's face twisted into an even deeper frown than the one he always wore. He knew there would be some, this news was unsurprising. "How many?" he asked.

"Not enough to mount another attack like Whiterun. But I'm not so foolish as to believe that I've taken care of all of them. I have some ideas where others could be found. Important members who still wield enough influence to rally others. Pulled from notes within Volkihar castle."

"We searched that castle up and down," Isran murmured. Silently, he wondered if the girl might have hidden something from them.

Idessia pushed the plate back. "You should finish," she told him, "Take me to your fort, introduce me to your people and I'll tell you everything I know."

Within the half-hour, Riften was behind them. While Isran had walked from the fort to the hill and then to Riften, Idessia had not.

Isran took the reins, climbing up into the saddle and settling before extending a hand to pull Idessia up after him. There was more force to her grip than he remembered. Enough, at least, to warrant his attention. And her hand still sent waves of warmth through his body where her skin touched his. As did the rest of her; her arms around his waist, her chest pressed to his back.

Isran blinked to clear his slowing thoughts and ordered their mount to move on.

The horse trotted east, slowly along the cobbled path. The sun was over its height and was beginning to lower. It'd be dark before they knew it and Isran was not keen on going to sleep. Not with so much of the past swimming around in his head. He didn't go so far as to hope that Idessia would keep him awake but he hoped she would talk to him more when they arrived. Distract him. It's been years since he desired anyone's company.

"Your merry band." Isran grunted his protest at that and she chuckled. "Who else is in it?"

"I tracked down Gunmar and Sorine early on," answered Isran, "You remember them?"

"I do."

"They've been a part of it since the beginning," he said, "I've told you about Celann."

"It'll be good to see him again."

"An Orc named Durak who lost two wives to the vampires. A Nord farmboy named Agmaer who arrived greener than grass and still is but has proven himself. Then there's Florentius-"

"Florentius?" Isran felt the hands around his middle tighten, felt Idessia's entire body tense against him. Then quickly, she relaxed. "I didn't know he was back in Skyrim. How did he…Arkay?" Isran could hear the smirk on her lips.

"So he always claims," he grumbled, "In truth, I recruited him. He's our best healer and our best defense against an infection spreading through the ranks."

Idessia snorted. "Desperate times…"

"You have no idea."

The stony hills that marked the entrance to Dayspring Canyon loomed tall overhead as they passed underneath. Isran could already hear the near-silent rushing of the waterfall that overlooked a lake and faced the fort. Small, thin trees of red and green dotted the landscape, their leaves coating the grassy ground and crunching beneath the horse's hooves. It was a matter of minutes now.

"What of the Dragonborn?"

Isran did not respond. A dull stab of pain shot through his crooked nose.

"He's a part of it, you said so yourself," Idessia pointed out.

"I did."

"So…what is he like?"

Isran ground his teeth slightly. "A strong mage. A good fighter," He said carefully, "He was…instrumental in winning us the fight against the Volkihar. He lives west, in Whiterun. He joined because his spouse nearly died in that attack."

"I see." Idessia let a few moments of silence roll past before speaking up again. "So why don't you like him?"

"What makes you think-" Isran started but stopped. It was never worth the effort, lying to her. "He is arrogant," Isran growled. His mind flashed back to the letter and his voice fell even lower. "And infuriating. The boy has power, make no mistake, but he is far from the right man to wield it."

"Is he boy or man, Isran?" There was humor in her tone. "This sounds…rather personal."

Isran begrudgingly agreed and resolved to keep himself better reined in. "Hard to tell, the way he carries himself. Our alliance remains one of necessity," Isran explained. Quieter, almost to himself, he added, "The less he is around, the better for us both."

The horse continued along the path. Voices were beginning to reach them. "They say he was chosen by the gods," Idessia murmured.

"I've given up on trying to figure out the will of the gods," Isran said, "They do as they please. All we can do is adjust and press on."

"Maybe. But we're not so powerless, are we? It's why you started all of this. It's why I came back. There are some matters that we very well can take into our own hands." Isran heard the grin on her lips. "And beat to a bloody pulp, if that's what is needed."

Isran hummed. "I'll agree to that." Finally, he pulled the horse to a stop. "We're here."

He dismounted quickly and offered his hand to Idessia, who took it with an amused gleam to her eye. Her hood was up, though it was not cold. Not to him, at least. And her hand, as always, was warm enough to send shivers down his spine. Taking the horse's reins, Isran led it past the gates, nodding to the two watchmen on duty.

"I'm surprised Carcette never tried to move us to this place," Idessia told him, her eyes roving over the structure that seemed to take up the entire mountain pass and stretch to the sun itself.

"She knew of it but knew we didn't have the numbers or coin to repair and maintain it." Isran led her horse to the hitching post near the entrance and secured it. Someone would see to it soon.

"But you do?" she asked.

Isran looked from the fort to her and said again, "Our alliance with the Dragonborn remains one of necessity."

"So he's paying for this," Idessia shook her head, "You'll never be rid of him now, you know that?"

"I'm aware," Isran muttered as he walked past. Idessia followed him through the courtyard. Soldiers filled it, sparring, training, working in some shape or form and making Isran's quiet afternoon a thing of the past. The air was filled with footsteps and voices and ringing metal. There were more of them than the month before. That number had been growing since news of their exploits began to spread. They walked past Agmaer sparring with a recruit while a gathering of other new members looked on, with the grey-haired Durak at the front of the crowd, barking orders. Celann, he did not see and assumed he was inside.

"A good number," Idessia comments when they reach the end of the courtyard, coming to the path that would take them up to the fort's front door.

"The Dragonborn spreads news. His talking is good for that much, at least." The massive wooden doors were wide open when Isran and Idessia reached them. Idessia let her hood fall once she stepped inside, looking up at the ceiling and around.

Isran watched her. He took in the relaxed slope of her shoulders and the way her eyes gleamed in the small rays of light that penetrated the windows at the very top. Isran allowed himself some measure of pride. Between Gunmar's smithing and Sorine's designing, they had changed the fort from a crumbling mess to a place worth defending. But he would be remiss if he did not acknowledge how much if it never would have been possible without the coin to make it so.

Off to the side, Isran could hear voices coming from deeper within the castle's interior and even the rhythmic strike of hammer to metal. "Idessia?" he called.

Her head snapped back to him. She blinked, as if she had forgotten he was there. He didn't blame her. This was likely the most safe she's felt since she returned. "The others are nearby. Sorine, Gunmar and Florentius." He jerked a thumb behind him, in their general direction. "Do you wish to speak to them?"

Idessia shook her head. "It's not urgent. I'd very much appreciate a short while to sit down, if it's no trouble."

"It is none. We can discuss what you found later." Isran indicated one of the spiraling stairs with a nod. "That'll take you to the upper floor. Wait for me there. I'll find you a place to stay."

Idessia smiled and nodded, reaching out to grab his hand and squeeze his fingers before departing, leaving him suddenly cold and irritable. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired, nothing more. Isran watches her retreating back as she walks to the stairs. Her hand is at her head, undoing the ribbon that kept her dark hair tied up and pulling it off, letting it flow down the length of her back. Isran shook his head again and turned around, making his way towards the back.

"Ah, there he is! The man I missed most of all," Florentius' high, chipper voice filled the room and rang painfully around in Isran's head. The man raised a mug of ale as a toast from where he sat next to Sorine, who had yet another Dwemer contraption in near pieces on the table between them. Behind them, Gunmar stopped his work at the forge, likely from the sound of Florentius' voice, easily heard over the ring of metal.

"Florentius." That was all the greeting Isran was in the mood to give.

"Returned this morning to find you were gone," he chattered along as if Isran had asked, "Of course, I knew you wouldn't be even before Sorine told me. Arkay-"

"Is there anything urgent I should know?" He turned to Sorine.

"No but it's also only been a day, so…" she shrugged.

"A single day is all that's needed," Isran muttered and of the three of them, only Florentius seemed to be cowed by the meaning beneath his tone. He knew what today was. What it meant to Isran. Sorine only looked confused, as did Gunmar all the way in the back.

"On the way back from Riften, I picked up someone," said Isran, "A former Vigilant named Idessia. You all remember her?"

All three perked up. Likely grateful for the sudden change in subject. "Idessia's here?" Gunmar finally came away from the forge, trying to peer over Isran's shoulders.

"Idessia survived? And she's here?" Florentius seemed shocked. Then he started to rub his beard. "That is…so strange."

"She's been traveling for a while," he explained, "I sent her upstairs and I'll find her a place she can stay when I'm done here. She intends to join us."

"Wel, she's welcome too. Never enough of us," Sorine said.

"Seasoned veterans, especially." Gunmar had returned to the forge. He kicked a large cart, drawing Isran's attention to a large pile of practice blades. "Gonna be on repairs all damn week."

"I told you we should just give half of them hammers." Sorine turned in her seat.

"We don't have that many hammers."

"Then we can forage for some. Or get some made," she asserted, "That blacksmith in Riften has already offered his services once before."

"Aye, but do we have the coin for that?"

"Felwinter does."

She seemed to regret the words as soon as they left her mouth. A layer of quiet apprehension fell over the group at the name. One Isran seemed to be exuding all on his own. Sorine sighed and though she began to speak after a few seconds, she avoided Isran's burning gaze. "If we ask, he'll help us," she explained gently. "Regardless of-"

"Do as you please." Isran's voice was both quiet and deeply booming. "Leave Idessia to rest," he said, turning his back on them. "Leave me as well. I do not want to be bothered for the rest of the day."

He took their silence as agreement. He didn't bother to look back.

"Florentius," Gunmar called quietly, once he was sure Isran was out of earshot, "You said you were surprised that Idessia was alive?

"I thought she had been dead this whole time," he answered, "And I knew Isran had arrived with someone but I thought it had been Serana. Idessia was a surprise."

"You two didn't see her body at the Hall of Vigilants?" Sorine asked.

"I couldn't recognize most of them," Gunmar said somberly. He indicated to Florentius with his hammer. "He could."

"I knew she wasn't with the other Vigilants. Was sure she had died somewhere else." Florentius then just shrugged. "Ah, maybe I'm just losing my touch. Comes with getting older. My wife spent my entire stay making fun of all my new grey hairs."

Sorine sighed wearily and returned to her work. "Are you really still on this, Florentius?"

He was already huffing again. "She asked if I was going to join the Greybeards."

Behind, the ring of hammer striking metal paused. Gunmar's suppressed laughter could be heard in the resulting quiet