Righteous Anger

Idessia's skin tingled in the heat. The water surrounding her steamed relentlessly, filling the room. At least, that was what she assumed. Her eyes were closed and her arms bordered the ring of a tub.

Hands dug into her hair, in smooth rhythmic motions. Fingers ran over her scalp, more scratching and massaging than cleaning. The hands continue in silence for some time, moving water, the only sound. Then, those came down to her shoulders, squeezing the tired, tense muscles there. Then, they slipped even lower.

"Behave," Idessia muttered, her eyes remaining closed. A giggle came as reply but the hands returned to her shoulders.

"You've always had such beautiful hair," Alva told her gently, taking some of the water and pouring it over Idessia's crown.

"It's hardly that exciting."

A gentle flick to her ear. "Maybe to you, darling."

Idessia's eyes opened. The house came into focus, the fireplace, the table, the shelves along the wall. She leaned back to look at her face as Alva worked over one of her arms. "I leave soon," Idessia said.

The scrubbing stopped. Then started again, slower. "But you don't want to."

She never did. "I have a duty. These are my-"

"I know, Idessia. You don't have to justify it to me. I understand." She let the arm slip back into the water and moved over to start on the other. "What you told me of your past, on the streets of Cyrodiil." Alva shook her head, raven black hair coming loose from behind her ears. "I'm glad you have people to belong to."

Idessia turned her eyes towards the window, a slight opening in the curtain, letting moonlight through. "You have the same, don't you?"

The hands stopped. "I thought I did," Alva murmured, "I do now. I have you."

"This fighting. If it wasn't for the fighting." Idessia sank deeper into the water, until the surface was at her chin. "I kill to defend but I've never enjoyed it. Not like some I know. Necromancers, Conjurers, Vampires, Werewolves. No matter how much…less like men or elves or beastfolk they become, there's still terror when they reach the end. Light that leaves the eye."

Idessia sighed and straightened out, making her voice clearer but softer. "One day, I'll make my peace and retire. Then, you and I can settle down somewhere. Away from Skyrim, if that's what you want."

Alva hums. "I would like that, I think. Once my own affairs are settled."

The fire danced in the hearth, warming the air as she felt Alva's cool skin rub against her. Outside a window, she could see snow drifting gently from the sky.

Alva never liked to speak of her "affairs". Every inquiry was met with silence or deflection. So instead of pressing again, all Idessia said was, "I just hope you are not in any danger. Or if you were, that you'd trust me to help."

A pause. Then, a pair of lips pressed against the side of her wet hair. "I do trust you. I do. I just ask that you trust me in return."

"I do," Idessia intoned. After a short while, she said, "The Vigilants, they won't miss me for one more day."

She could almost hear Alva's lips curl. "Oh? And what will you do all day?"

Idessia felt herself smile, to her own surprise, though she should not still be surprised at what Alva could pull out of her at this point. "Well, to start, whatever you want me to do. I'm sure we can find our own way from there." Idessia's hand rose out of the water, reaching up for Alva's face.

Alva said nothing. When Idessia touched her skin, it was cold, as it always was. But she felt something different this time. Something wet and thick running against her fingers.

Then, it dropped into her eye, startling her, blinding her. "Alva?" Worry leaked into her voice. Her hand returned to scrub at her eye. When she looked down at it, she saw crimson. She looked down at the water of the bath and saw the same. Crimson.

She started to rise out of the darkening water. "Alva…" she called again and when she received silence once again, she twisted around rapidly, soaking the floor.

Alva stared ahead, past her. Rivulets of red fell from a deep gash in her throat like thick rain.

The world filtered back to Idessia; the real world, in all its harshness. The fireplace is long dark. The house has gone to seed, cold and empty. A different kind of cold than the one she could no longer feel on her skin. Cold, like a penetrating wound deep in her chest.

Idessia continued to the stairs on the other side of the living area and took them down, one by one, until she reached the door. Then, she pushed it open. Slowly, as if she were still not ready to see it so…empty. The basement is damp and dank, two years without being maintained. She quickly crossed the room over to the wall, past where the coffin used to lay and began to run her hand against the stone.

Her fingers find the switch after a short search and push in. A portion of the wall shifted beside her, sank and turned. A small compartment opened, filled with alchemical ingredients kept in sealed and labeled jars. Deathbell turned black, moldy and wilted butterfly wings, most were useless now. Still, Idessia began to pick through them, examining them one by one for anything that might still be of use. She knew she wouldn't find much here and that she would need to go out into the swamps to find the rest. Soon, while it was still night. She did not feel like fighting with the sun.

She remembered when she knew nothing of this room. When Alva made her promise not to come down here. Where she would see all this, where she would learn the truth before Alva was ready to tell her.

Now every memory of before and after was tainted with blood. She could not even

think of Alva's face without seeing red. At least it was still the face she remembered. Idessia never saw what happened after, what was done to the body once the Jarl learned the truth.

Idessia stopped, her hand falling to her side. Old memories assailed her, of regrets and things left unsaid. Idessia had been given a choice and she had chosen Alva. Turned her back on everything she had known, everything she had been, all in the hopes that they'd have a life and a future together. Azra used to say that was what Idessia mourned the most; the future she could have had.

The future she lost when that murderer took it from her. And now Azra was gone too, at the hands of that same murderer. Her body an eviscerated, headless mess that would have been left to the beasts of Solstheim if Idessia hadn't come along and laid to rest her remains as she deserved. If the Master hadn't been graceful enough to grant her leave to do so.

Idessia felt the rage well up within like a brewing storm. Her hand returned to the ingredients with more vigor. That anger was the only thing to keep her going, she knew that. But as long as she got the revenge she wanted in the end, she couldn't care less if it burned her to ashes. As long as Felwinter died in those flames as well, screaming. She'd hang on to life as long as she could, just so she could hear it.

The sounds of a door opening reached her ears. Wasting no time, footsteps stomped down the stairs. Footsteps too even for a drunkard and too loud and heavy for a thief. No matter. Dispatching whichever fool had stumbled into the home would hardly be worth the effort. She continued.

The footsteps reached the bottom and the door was shoved open. Idessia still didn't turn. His breathing was loud and familiar enough.

"What do you want, Rolff?"

Behind her, paper crinkled. "The gray skin has a few additional requests." His loosened speech spoke of cheap mead, as did his breath from across the room. She almost wished it had been one of the hapless guards coming to investigate. She wasn't forbidden from killing them. "He's on another job for the Master so I've been sent to deliver."

"Taros has you as his messenger now?"

That sobered him. His words were clipped when he replied, "I'm no one's messenger, woman."

Idessia placed down her pack and finally turned and approached him. He held the paper out further, likely in the hopes she wouldn't come closer than necessary. For all his bark, it was clear she unnerved him. Quicker than his eye could follow, she snatched the paper from his hand and turned back. "Shame. It's the most useful you've been since you got here."

"What are those for anyway?" Rolff crossed his arms.

She returned to the wall. "Messenger boys don't ask questions. They deliver what they need to…" She immediately pulled an item off the shelf from the new list, "And then, they leave." She tucked away a second item. Then, she turned around to look at him. Standing there like he had nowhere else to be. "So leave."

Rolff sniffed and rubbed a finger over his nose. Then, he grinned. "I think I'm good right here."

Idessia rolled her eyes and shook her head. They lost Azra and gained this. All because Isran's unwanted bastard had neither shame nor honor. Nor control over the power the Master gave to him.

"The Dunmer told me about this place. That a woman you knew lived here."

Idessia said nothing.

"Told me what she was planning to do too." She felt Rolff's eyes bore into her back. She felt his judgement even more. "That's why the Dragonborn killed her."

"We all pay for our actions, one way or another," she said, "Isn't that why your brother is dead?"

She heard the wood of the frame creak as Rolff pushed off it. "We…they had cause," he seethed.

"They always do."

"They had good cause." His tone rose.

"They always do. Doesn't bring back those caught in the middle, does it?" Idessia took the last of the requested items and secured them. She closed the bag and hefted it into her shoulder, glass vials clinking within. "Not that you would know. Big brother always made sure to keep you as far away from danger as possible. Didn't need you in everyone else's way."

His footsteps, booming in her sensitive ears, started towards her. Idessia barely had to turn when she brought up a glowing hand, finger pointed at his chest. The footsteps ceased.

"Careful now. Taros isn't here to protect you," she reminded him. Her hand dropped and he remained in place, hackles raised like a wild dog. He stank as one too. She stepped past him, heading back towards the stairs. "At a guess, you're still here because you were ordered to help me."

He does not confirm it but neither does he deny it, which was confirmation in and of itself. "Follow," she ordered then, "We're heading towards the swamps and if I'm going to have to deal with poisonous spiders, I'd rather have you standing in front of me."

She felt his icy stare in her back. But follow, he did. Despite everything, she smiled at that.

Still, a lump welled in her throat as she passed through the empty living room again and stepped out into the night. She left it behind but the memories followed her. She feared they always would.

Felwinter took the steps down from Jorrvaskr, eyes on his feet, thoughts elsewhere. Until he nearly tripped and stumbled the rest of the way down. From Eorlund's roost, Farkas barks out a loud laugh.

Danica, standing before her temple with one of her Acolytes, sends the young man on his way and promptly called Felwinter over. Felwinter dropped the stone he had been ready to chuck at Farkas' head and went.

"How are we today, Thane Felwinter?" She asked, smiling eyes glittering beneath her hood, "Playing nice with other people?"

"Farkas isn't a person." Instinctively, he twitched his nose. No pain. "Other than that, I'm doing fine."

"You've been doing a lot of running around as well."

"Keeping busy. You know how it is."

"Hm." Danica saddled up beside him, facing the Gildergreen. After a moment, he turned to do the same, silence only broken by greetings of those passing by.

Until it was she who broke it. "The man from the Dawnguard. You've met with him, yes?"

Felwinter closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He opened them again. "I have."

Danica hummed again. Then, quieter, she asked, "Was this your first time meeting him?"

"We met in the Dawnguard. I'm part of it, remember?"

"Yes…that is what I meant. Was the Dawnguard your first time meeting him?"

Felwinter tore his eyes from the tree and looked down at her, only to find her staring back just as intently, no hint of amusement in her eyes. Silently, he looked away again, back at the tree. Almost as silently, she said, "Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, Felwinter."

After a long while, Felwinter simply grunted.

"He is…"

"…He is."

"Ah." She looked away, back at the tree. "You know, when I first laid eyes on him, I found him staring up at this tree. Isran seemed really taken by it."

"Surprised he told you his name."

"He was a Vigilant. A brother of the faith. It is a matter of respect," she said to him. Felwinter only scoffed and she chuckled in response but quickly sobered. "Felwinter, look at me."

He did. Once again, her eyes were uncharacteristically serious. "I am not going to ask your story. It is not my place. But it seems to me that it took a great deal for him to come down here to see you personally."

It did take a great deal. It took several of his people killed. Still, Felwinter muttered, "I wish he hadn't."

"But he did." Danica touched his arm, "Do what must be done with him, Felwinter. After, it is up to you."

Felwinter huffed. "I am perfectly capable-"

"I know." She smiled gently, "But everyone has their limit."

Felwinter sighed and turned his eyes down to the tree's roots, as great as the rest of them. In the sections of dirt between them and in the shade and protection of the boughs grew patches of flowers, sprouting a variety of colors. Felwinter stepped forward and picked one, a purple mountain flower. He broke the longer part of the stem off.

Then, he seemed to remember where he was. He turned towards Danica, brow arched, and smiled sheepishly. "Need this for something."

"A potion?"

"I thought you weren't asking my story." His grin spread even wider, earning a scoff and a derisive shake of her head. Felwinter tucked the flower gently into his belt and put his hand to his stomach, bowing low. "Blessings upon you as well, lady priestess."

"If I were not a holy woman, Thane Felwinter…"

"I know, I know. Lucky me."

"Can't believe you made me walk," Felwinter grousing rang out into the trees. Small animals paused only to glare before taking off.

"It was ten minutes and it was just until we were out of sight of the front gate." Serana's nails dug sharply into his waist and he flinched. "You said yourself I should keep a low profile. You summoning Arvak in the middle of town wasn't going to help that."

Arvak shook its head, likely at the sound of its name. Felwinter steered the horse down the path, heading east. A rock wall to their left and a small river flowing past to their right, they were getting close to the fort.

"Still," he muttered and received another dig.

After a short while, Serana said, "Back in Whiterun, you asked if I had met Maven."

He grew serious. "I did."

"Should I be concerned?"

Felwinter seemed to think about it. "Maybe," he decided, "She doesn't like me, if that wasn't obvious."

"And you don't like her back."

"There isn't much to like. Regardless, I wouldn't put it past her to use you to get to me." Felwinter's head turned to keep an eye on the waterfall as they passed it by, draining into a small lake. The same one the river fed into. "I say it all the time but-"

"'Watch your back.' You do say it all the time." Serana teased him, even if she couldn't help the smile growing on her lips.

Fortifications lined the width of the path that led up to the fort, larger than the ones Felwinter had seen when he had last come down this road. Clear signs of a battle covered them from top to bottom; scorch marks, holes patched with wood, broken chunks of stone. Felwinter wondered how badly it looked before they had begun repairs.

Those upon the walkways above the gate, doing the repairs, began to take notice of him and Serana. Or maybe just of Arvak. He sees the suspicion in the eyes of some but recognition in the eyes of others. Some even wave. Ultimately, it is the latter that wins out and the gates are pulled open as he and Serana approach.

They open to a small crowd gathering on the other side, more eyes on the horse than on him. Felwinter dismounted. Serana does as well and Arvak faded with a neigh and a fizzling hiss of magic. A crowd was gathering before them but before Felwinter could speak, commotion rose from its flank. A big hand appeared on the shoulder of one young woman and gently moved her aside, allowing Gunmar's familiar visage to pass through. Felwinter's mouth remains open but no words come through. Instead, he steps forward and is taken in a hard embrace.

It was a long while before Gunmar released him. "Felwinter. Lad, look at you." Gunmar stepped back to do just that, taking him by the shoulders. He nods. "By the Nine, it's good to see you. You look well."

"So do you. Despite the circumstances."

Gunmar chuckled, deep in his chest. Aside from a few new scars, including one prominent one tracing the length of his bearded cheek, he hadn't changed much at all. He turned his eyes behind him, towards Serana. "Serana. Welcome back," he told her kindly and she nodded with a smile. A genuine one, which Felwinter was glad to see. "Come, you must be tired. How were the roads?"

"No trouble, surprisingly."

"Aye, I'll bet. Most bandits have enough sense to avoid squatting near an occupied castle.

It was only after they started walking did Felwinter notice Gunmar's hobbling and the splint around one leg. He called Gunmar's name and pointed down when the Nord turned to him.

"Ah. Just twisted. Should be good in a few more weeks."

"Should you be walking around like this?"

"No, I should not. But I'll be damned before I let Florentius oversee repairs on his own."

"He can't be that bad."

"The man removed several nails from the troll enclosure's fence before 'Arkay' told him to come and ask me what 'load-bearing' means," Gunmar snapped good-naturedly, "It took six hours of corralling to get them back inside. Only then was I permitted to even eat a morning meal."

"Even with Florentius helping you?"

"He didn't help. He was too busy enjoying his own morning meal!"

Serana coughed to cover up a laugh behind them. Felwinter made no such attempt, his own guffaw echoing into the air.

"Aye, I thought you might find that funny."

Gunmar led them up the path, through the dispersing crowd. As they passed the cooking spit and reached a bend in the path that curved towards the fort's entrance, Felwinter saw the tablet. Carved from stone, it had all the looks of a grave marker. Which it likely was.

Felwinter pulled ahead of the others. Gunmar and Serana stopped a few paces away, leaving him on his own. Felwinter approached the tablet and lowered to one knee. Closer now, he could see the names etched into its face, the sigil of the sun at its crown. Celann and Durak's names caught his eye but he took the time to read each and every one. There were ones he did not recognize, which meant they had likely joined only a few months prior.

Felwinter reached into his cloak and pulled the purple mountain flower from within, well-preserved. He lay it at the base and then brought his hand up to grip the head of the gravestone tightly. He said nothing. There was nothing to say. Only something to do.

In one smooth motion, he stood again. He returned to Gunmar, who waited patiently with Serana. He smiled but the scars on his face still made him look older than he was. He led them inside, pushing through recently repaired doors. Felwinter stepped through, taking in the atrium. "Guess they never made it this far."

"No. We kept them in the courtyard until they turned tail." Gunmar limped up to his side. "Looking back, I'm not sure they were even trying to."

"If Idessia wanted Isran alone, they could have been trying to keep everyone out here," Serana said.

Gunmar sighed, his face tightening at the name. "Perhaps."

"Felwinter?"

As soon as Felwinter turned at the sound of his name, he was taken in another embrace, squeezed until the air began to rush out of him. "Sorine, you've been training," he wheezed, her squeezing beginning to irritate deeper injuries.

"She challenged me to arm wrestle the other day and managed to shift my arm out of place," Gunmar told him, a rare air of smugness about him. "She's very proud."

"I'm gonna shift your jaw out of place if you don't keep quiet." Sorine let him go and looked up at his face.

Felwinter sighed. Sorine smiled gently. "Been a long few months, hasn't it?"

"I'd say more than you know but…" Sorine shook her head.

Two hands came down on his shoulders. "Ha, there he is! Little cousin, it's been too long!" The hands squeezed and rocked him back and forth with surprising strength.

"Am I some child's toy now? Stop shaking me." Gunmar chuckled behind them. "And 'little cousin'? What, because we're both Redguards?"

"Half." Florentius' hand came down hard on his shoulder once before slipping away. "Better question is, how have you been?"

"I trust you see the nose?" He gestured to his face and Florentius laughed.

"Felwinter." Before anyone could speak again, all eyes turned to Gunmar. He jerked his chin towards the staircase. "He is upstairs…" Felwinter grunted derisively. "But I think you should talk to Agmaer before we bring him down."

The mood between the group sobered quickly. Felwinter remembered what he had been told. "Where is he?" he asked.

"Training dummies, at the back of the hall."

"Why?" Florentius asked, crossing his arms.

"Because he was starting to snap at people, that's why."

"I'll go see him. I'll meet you all in a bit." He nodded to them and promptly made his way over to the back of the castle, where the dogs often stayed and slept. As he got closer, he could hear the sound of blows landing on wood.

One of those dogs lay on the floor now, just around the corner, watching Agmaer. His ears perked up when Felwinter's footsteps reached them and his tongue lolled out of his mouth once recognition set in. He stood and padded over, shoving his wet nose into Felwinter's open palm, sniffing relentlessly.

Felwinter ran his hand over Bran's head, his back and saw that he was alone. In the meanwhile, he took in Agmaer, too focused on splitting the dummy in half to notice his arrival. He could see why Florentius was so incredulous. From what little Felwinter could see of his face, it was twisted in pain, likely of multiple kinds. The young man was still wrapped in bandages, around his arms, the parts of his torso that could be seen, even his shaved head; a new development. As was a lot of him. The short, flaxen beard was certainly new and his frame had changed. He had first come to the fort with the short but lean frame typical of a farmer but in his time with the Dawnguard, he had grown considerably broader, his forearms corded with veins. He'd be as big as Gunmar or Felwinter himself one day, if he kept up. The Dawnguard trained him well. Durak had trained him well.

"Agmaer!" Felwinter had to shout to be heard over the sound of the axe striking wood over and over again. The Nord turned, eyes furious at being disturbed, nostrils flared.

But as soon as they landed on Felwinter, all of that melted away. Felwinter stepped past Bran and approached. As soon as he was close enough, the axe clattered to the floor. Agmaer took him in an embrace. Considering his wrappings, Felwinter did not return with the same enthusiasm.

After a long while, Felwinter pushed him back and looked at him. Saw the fire in his eyes as well as the grief. "I won't ask how you are." Felwinter's voice rose just barely above a whisper, "Just know that I understand what you're going through."

Felwinter hadn't told him about Kodlak. Maybe he would one day. Agmaer's eyes turned down. After a second, he stepped away from Felwinter and bent to retrieve his weapon. "What's our plan?" He asked.

Felwinter watches as he returns to the dummies. "We're still working on it." The axe was buried in the dummy's head with a loud thud and then ripped out. "I'd like to look around first."

"Well, you do that," Agmaer said, "Sick of being cooped up in this place."

"Agmaer…"

"All while those…bastards continue to live long past their due!" He was shouting. Bran had already taken off. Felwinter wanted to try and get him to calm down but who was he to speak? The Dunmer was second only to Miraak on the list of people he needed to die to find any sort of peace in life. Elenwen was a close third.

Agmaer had returned to the dummy with renewed zeal. Felwinter turned at the sound of footsteps and noticed Florentius come up from behind him, watching Agmaer from his side with some measure of concern and disappointment.

"Agmaer." The Nord stopped again. When he turned, his eyes immediately went over to Florentius and he snarled under his breath. "You've had your fun," Felwinter told him, "You need to return to your rest."

"I don't need rest." The sweat beading his forehead had to be from more than just exertion.

Agmaer twisted away again, pointedly this time. Now, even in nothing but torchlight, Felwinter could see slight lines of red begin to well up along his shoulder blades. Beside him, Florentius sighed wearily.

"Agmaer, look at me."

Agmaer ignored him. Felwinter spoke anyway, "Healer's word is law and Florentius hasn't cleared you." The silent treatment continued, "Like I said, I know how you feel. What you believe you need to do to find peace." A strike across the chest sent straw flying into the air. "But you aren't going to do that if you bleed out fighting a training dummy."

Agmaer paused and then looked down at his chest. Another line of red from another stitch coming loose. "I can fix it myself," he mumbled, his fire apparently simmering out.

"Damn it, that's not even the one I was talking about, Agmaer."

Agmaer's shoulders deflated. After a short while, he let the axe fall to the ground again. He began to walk back towards them. "How long is this going to take?" He grumbled.

Florentius stood aside and gestured out of the chamber. "As long as it needs to."

"Florentius." The priest stopped. Felwinter asked, "Where is he?"

"In his quarters. I told him you were here, he told me to go away." Florentius shrugged. "I'd give it a few more minutes."

Felwinter grunted. Following Agmaer down the path towards the small part of the fort Florentius had set aside for himself and the students he had taken on. Felwinter could hear padding at his heels, a curious Bran. At the end of the long hall, near the dining area, Gunmar and Sorine waited, speaking.

Bran slipped past them and loped up to Gunmar, who with some difficulty, went down to one knee. "Let's hope you didn't open anything on the inside." Florentius pushed Agmaer onwards.

Agmaer took only a few steps and then stopped. "When you're ready to go after these bastards, I want to be the first to know." He wasn't asking.

Felwinter said back, "When we find the bastards, I'm going to need you at your best. Now go. I'll see you before I leave."

Gunmar's attention remained on Bran, even as Felwinter drew closer. Felwinter watched as Gunmar murmured to the dog in low tones and Bran basked in the attention. "Saw Sceolang's name on the memorial," he said. Bran turned slightly towards him.

"He fought with us. He died for us."

"Did he take issue?" Felwinter nodded towards the stairs.

"No. Wouldn't matter if he did."

Felwinter chuckled, "Good," he sighed and stretched his shoulders. Just being here made him tight. "I've heard Isran and I've heard Serana. Now, I want to hear from both of you. What happened?"

Gunmar pushed back to his feet, Sorine's hand beneath his arm to help him. Their retelling filled in some blanks, on how the force moved, their true size and how the fight was initiated but for the most part, it matched both accounts he had already heard.

"Isran and Idessia were friends," Sorine told him, "We all knew her but none of us could have guessed what she had become."

"When the pair of them had returned, Florentius told us that something 'dead' had just walked in with Isran. Arkay's words, apparently. We assumed…"

Felwinter's eyes flicked upwards, locked onto Serana who was coming up from behind to join them. "I don't blame you. Serana, you got here after the attack had started?"

"I watched them approach." She stopped beside him. "I couldn't get around them and warn everyone without drawing attention. When I was finally able to get through, Sorine told me Isran was fighting Idessia on the roof of one of the towers. She escaped soon after I got there. Said she spared me because I killed my father. Apparently, she's been hunting down Volkihar herself. Said it was revenge for the Vigilants."

"Vampires kill Vigilants and she takes her revenge by becoming a vampire and killing a Vigilant." Sorine's bitterness could practically be tasted. "How does that make sense? How?"

"It is not supposed to make sense," Gunmar told her, "Revenge is a fool's game." Felwinter was inclined to agree.

Sorine asked, "What do you know of Alva, Felwinter?"

"Alva was a vampire in Hjaalmarch who sought to put it under her coven's control. She was sloppy and when I found her out, I killed her. The connection to Idessia, I don't know. Good friends, maybe?"

"Florentius saved one of the bodies." Gunmar gestured further down the hall. "He thought you might want to examine it."

Felwinter turned to him, incredulous. "Why?"

"Something about Arkay. Honestly, Felwinter, I try not to ask."

"But given how often he's right…" Felwinter ran a hand down his face and beard.

"Felwinter." Serana's gentle hand came to his arm. "Before that, there's something I'd like you to see on the roof."

"Sure. Gunmar…"

He nodded and started away. "I'll tell Florentius to get the body ready."

"Lead the way, Serana."

"Is that what you wanted to check?" Sorine asked, walking beside them.

"I wanted to see if it was still there." She led them to the stairs and up. "It was left there when Idessia escaped."

Felwinter's pace slowed. Then, they picked up.

At the top, Serana pushed open the door, remaining in the shadow of the corridor while Felwinter and Sorine stepped out into the cloudless daytime. Felwinter strode forward, hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he moved towards where Serana had indicated, towards the edge that would overlook the courtyard. When his eyes adjusted enough that he could lower his hand, they turned to the stone beneath their feet.

And the faded black ring burned into it.

Felwinter didn't blink. "Has it rained since the attack?" He approached it.

It was Sorine who answered, "No."

Felwinter stopped at the ring's edge, scuffed it with his boot. Nothing. "And you said she escaped?"

"A green ring of-Fel, what…"

Felwinter had dropped to his knees and pressed his nose to the warm stone. The slightest whiff was all he needed.

Felwinter rose back up but his head remained hanging, his hands gripping his thighs. He felt…he wasn't sure. Dread more than fear. Frustration more than anger. Disappointment most of all as well as a sudden, debilitating sense of exhaustion. The war hadn't even started yet.

Felwinter stood and started back towards the door, to the stairs, ignoring the calls of his name. Serana and Sorine shared a look and followed the best they could as he stomped down the spiraling staircase and through the halls of the castle.

"Florentius!" He shouted, voice echoing, earning the eyes and silence of everyone in the vicinity. He didn't care. "Florentius, where are you?!"

A door opened at the far end. A brown hand stuck out and waved him down. Felwinter practically jogged towards it.

"I have the body ready here." Felwinter barrelled past him and approached the cadaver lain across the examining table, covered by a piece of tarp up to the neck. Florentius had preserved the body well but even with magic, there would always be some signs of decay.

A woman. Not a vampire or a Dunmer but a Nord. Despite it all, it wasn't the body that captured and held Felwinter's attention but the personal effects Florentius had placed beside it. A shortsword, a tome, enchanted gloves.

And a mask. The final nail.

Felwinter picked it up and brought it closer to his face. Barely, just barely, he could see his hands trembling. "Did she Shout?" he asked after a long, quiet time.

"Pardon?"

Felwinter turned slightly. "Like me. Did Idessia Shout?"

"I…" Serana stopped.

A new voice took the place of her own. It said, "No. She did not."

But the Khajiit could. He would need to have a word with the Greybeards after this. And Paarthurnax. For now…

"Call everyone into the building," he ordered, "Everyone."

He stepped away and went out the way he came, pushing past Isran standing in the doorway.

—

Felwinter climbed to the second floor, towards the balcony overlooking the atrium. A packed atrium, with some bodies filtering into the adjacent halls and others, outside the door, far from where he stood. That's fine. He felt like raising his voice.

"Dawnguard!" The call carried across the expanse and little by little, the din of conversation came to a halt. Footsteps came up beside him towards the balcony's railing. He did not need to turn. The flicking eyes and the whispers told him enough.

"Nearly a month ago, you suffered a blow. An unknown opposing force with not only the strength to attack you at your own fort but the gall. And you were wounded. You were hurt." His gaze flicked over to Agmaer, who turned his eyes down. Sorine's hand came to his shoulder, even as her own eyes hardened.

"I have not called you in here to provide peace. I cannot do that," Felwinter said to the crowd, now entirely silent. "But I can provide answers. And direction." He began to pace. "Because, and hear me well, Dawnguard…this is not over. And this is much bigger than one attack."

"The woman's name is Idessia," Isran spoke before Felwinter could continue. Felwinter let him. This part was his to tell. To admit. "She was a Vigilant of Stendarr, as I was. As Celann was. As some of you were. And like us, she was not present when the Volkihar attacked them at the Beacon and slaughtered our comrades." He bent over, gripped the railing. "She is a powerful mage and is…was a trusted ally. It allowed her to deceive anyone who looked at her of her true nature. Myself included."

"Such mistakes can no longer be afforded from this point on. Idessia did not act alone or of her own volition. I know because just three months ago, I had been attacked by assassins in the town of Riverwood. Assassins-" Felwinter brought up the carved mask. Sparked murmurs of recognition. "Wearing these. They led me to the island of Solstheim, off Windhelm's coast and there, I discovered a plot. One to take the island, Skyrim and eventually, all of Tamriel."

The hand holding the mask lowered. "His name is Miraak and he was the first Dragonborn. Under the rule of the Dragons, he served as a priest but when he discovered he had the power to kill them, he turned against his masters. Not in humanity's favor but his own. At some point in his time, likely when faced with defeat, he pledged himself to Hermaeous Mora and has lived in Oblivion all this time, training, learning. He makes plans now to return, using Solstheim as a staging ground."

"Idessia, the woman who led the attack, has pledged herself to his service. This strike against the Dawnguard was done on his orders." Felwinter stopped his pacing. He leaned on the railing, gripped it tightly. "He had made an enemy of me once in Riverwood and again in Solstheim. Now, he has done so a third time. And worse than that, he has made an enemy of you. " Voices ripple through the crowd. Quiet but enthusiastic. He could build on this. "Her master will be found and her master will pay for what he's done." The murmurs grew into open agreement and the enthusiasm spread. "As for Idessia, she will be found. She will be brought back here and she will die as she fucking deserves, Dawnguard; screaming!"

Raucous cheers, applause, stomping. The enthusiasm grew several-fold. There was no one easier to rally than the angry. Righteous or not, misplaced or not, to bring them to one's cause, one would need to give them what any person bristling with anger desires the most; an outlet. A target. His mother taught him that. Lord Drakon before her.

"Go on, prepare. And every time you leave this fort to go to the training yard or out into the land to cut down those monsters wherever they dwell, you take a look at that headstone." Felwinter pointed in its general direction. The crowd grew quiet. "Take a good, long look at every name. Remember their faces, how they fought, who they fought for and most of all, remember who took them from you."

The Dawnguard erupted once again. Whatever Miraak's intent was in attacking them, the only thing he succeeded in doing was lighting a spark beneath their feet. There must have been something more but for now…

"Gather the others." Felwinter doesn't bother raising his voice above the crowd's. Isran would hear him fine. "Meet me on the roof."

He stepped away before Isran could ask more, feeling his eyes on his back until he turned the corner and started to climb.

From the Companions to Balgruuf to the Guild, there was a remarkable similarity in how they all received the news. Shock, anger, palpable, gut-twisting fear. But how else was one supposed to respond to the end of the world?

"What you told the others…" Sorine murmured, arms crossed. She practically folded into herself. Her eyes stared past him, as if in a daze.

Felwinter leaned against the stone wall, the others standing in a close circle around him. "Not the whole truth," he admitted.

"Why not?" Isran was pacing, fists opening and closing. His anger at the news was enough for everyone else.

"I don't need word spreading of the danger's true scope before I am ready." He pushed off the pillar and turned towards the courtyard below, where training had resumed with vigor. To his surprise, Agmaer was nowhere near it all, trying his hardest to reopen several more of his stitches. Maybe he had taken Felwinter's words to heart.

Those who weren't training kept busy in other ways; repairing and improving gear, manning the fortifications, repairs and reinforcements, some others prepared for a trip into the Rift to gather supplies, from Riften or the wilds.

"I told them what they needed to hear," Felwinter said. "Not something that would have them shucking off their armor and running back to their homes. I need the Dawnguard ready for what's coming."

Isran stopped pacing and took a step closer. "So what? You're conscripting us?"

Felwinter chuckled ruefully. "Is it conscription if they're willing?"

Isran took a deep breath and resumed pacing.

Serana spoke up. She asked, "Why didn't you tell us this in Whiterun?"

"From what you told me, I didn't know the two were related. I just thought this Idessia character was yet another woman this one went and jilted." He threw his hand out towards Isran, muttering, "At least you managed not to leave a kid in her lap."

Isran kept pacing, his eyes anywhere else.

"The magic Miraak's people have been using to move back and forth between here and Oblivion, it has a distinct smell to it. Ink and rot," Felwinter explained, "It doesn't seem he can use the ability himself or if so, not for very long."

"So an unending Daedric army and at its head is someone like you. Forgive me for asking, Felwinter," Sorine said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "But you are banking on more than just us, aren't you?"

"The Companions know, as does Jarl Barlgruuf and…" Felwinter grunted, "Maven."

"The way you make it all sound, it still isn't enough."

"That's why I'm keeping things under wraps for now," he explained, "When the Moot is decided, when Elisif sits on the throne, Skyrim can be united behind her." Felwinter let out a breath. "Then, I can figure out the rest. Such as how to get the Legion on board. And the Thalmor out of the way."

Felwinter straightened. "I know this was sudden and…a lot bigger than you originally believed." He laughed slightly. "This was how it started before, didn't it? A surprise attack revealed to be something much bigger."

Silence. Then, Florentius chuckled. "You're right. What's one more threat to the world, eh?"

Felwinter smiled but sobered quickly. "This is the best I can do for now. I'll…try to write back when I find out something new."

"What do you plan for now?"

"High Hrothgar. What better place to learn about the Dragonborn, right?" He looked at each of them, met each of their eyes and found something different than what he had seen in the Guild. In that, he found some relief.

"You have to go, the world needs you again." A hand gripped his shoulder. "But despite everything," Florentius said, wearing a smile bigger than he had any right to, given the circumstances, "It was good to see you again, Felwinter."

"I…" Felwinter sighed. "Yeah, same here." His eyes turned up and found Isran's retreating back. He pulled open the door and started down the stairs, pulling it closed again. He didn't spare a single one of them a look back.

Felwinter turned away only to find the others looking all the same. The same hand patted him again, gentler this time. "Don't worry about him," Florentius murmured, "You go on and do what needs to be done."

"Aye. We'll be here and ready, whenever you call us." Gunmar grinned and held his arms out wide.

Felwinter groused. "I just got these ribs back." But he accepted the embrace anyway, the air spewing out of him when Gunmar squeezed and even managed to lift him slightly off the floor.

The others remained on the tower to speak while it was Serana who walked with him down the stairs. She went with him as he checked in on Agmaer, still dutifully in his bed and she walked him to the gates. "You're not heading back to Riften?"

"Not yet," she admitted, "Like you said, there's work to be done. I'll stick around and see what I can do here for a little while longer." She touched his arm. "Stay safe, Felwinter."

He reached up and touched her shoulder. "You as well." Then, the arm reached around and pulled Serana into a sidelong embrace. "And visit when you can, alright?"

"I'll try." She grinned. "Turns out your husband makes for better conversation."

"Trust me, I told him the exact same thing."

One candle lit his quarters, set next to the shattered mirror of his dresser. In its light, Isran sat on his bed. In one hand was an old blade, long and slender with a slight curve upon reaching the point. In the other, a whetstone, dragged slowly and carefully across the sword's edge, glittering even in the low light.

It was one of the few things that focused him and brought everything raging around in his head to a standstill. Its sister lay propped against the wall, where it had been for nearly a year now, unused though never truly forgotten.

Knuckles rap against his front door. "Go away," Isran snapped at it, mostly on instinct.

He heard the knob turn anyway. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Only one person had the temerity.

Florentius pushed the door closed behind him. Then, he locked it. Loudly, as if reminding Isran a lock existed. He walked further in and came to a stop just a few paces from the bed and Isran. "Felwinter's departed for Whiterun."

Isran kept sharpening, saying nothing.

"Figured you'd be happy to hear it," he said. The sound of stone on steel was the only response returned. "Given how…complicated your feelings towards him seem to be."

The stone stopped.

The other man let out a dry, sardonic laugh. "No one's surprised. Every uncomfortable emotion you experience gets expressed as anger. Grief, exhaustion, guilt-"

Isran shot to his feet. The grip around the sword's handle grew tighter and tighter, to the point of trembling. Why…are you here, Florenitius?"

The easy, open look on Florentius' face fell, sharply and without warning. "You heard what was said. How much bigger this is than we originally anticipated. And just how central Felwinter is to all of it, our survival included. I'm here, Isran, because we are going to need to work with him. You are going to need to work with him."

His voice was rising. Florentius wasn't a man given to shouting. He closed his eyes and breathed, seeming to remember that. "I just need to know that you are capable of that."

Isran breathed himself. Forced his shoulders to relax and found it difficult. Instead, he sat back down, returned his focus to the blade, taking the stone over it slowly and deliberately. "What makes you think I am not?" he asked quietly.

Florentius scoffed. "Because you're in here," he told him, "Instead of coming to us, orchestrating our next steps, you're in here, sulking." Isran ground his teeth but kept the stone moving.

"I do not su-"

"Moping, then! Whatever pleases you!" A few tense moments passed, silent except for Isran's constant, even ruminations. Finally, a quiet sigh. Florentius approached and after a second, sat beside him, the bed sinking in. "Isran, listen," he said quietly, "I'm not going to pretend to understand how you must be feeling. About Felwinter, about Delilah. About…about Kali and Kiara."

The stone stopped again. "But you've always been the surer hand. We know it. Keeper Carcette knew it. Even Idessia knew it. We need that going forward. He is still not giving us the full scope but if we are to survive this, we need Felwinter and if Felwinter is to survive this…he needs us. He needs you. He will never admit it but he does."

The stone shifted in Isran's loosening grip, reminding him that it was there. He tightened his hand around it, just to keep it from falling.

Then, voice roughened, he said, "Alva lived in Morthal. Felwinter did his own examination but I wish to see what else we can learn."

He could almost hear Florentius' grin return. The man clapped him hard on the shoulder and stood. But Isran wasn't finished.

"We also need eyes on Volkihar Castle," he said, "If they are involved in any way, we need to know. And to shut it down." He reached over to the other side of the bed and picked the scabbard off the floor. "Tell the girl…Serana, to prepare. She is going to have a word with her mother."

"Thane?" Lydia's voice was the first sound to reach Felwinter's ears when he stepped into Breezehome. The only sound. The others must have been out.

"Lydia!" He affected a more enthusiastic tone than he felt. He closed the portal behind him and stepped towards the stairs. "Did you miss me?" He asked, "Did you miss me and my burdens?"

A tired sigh then footsteps on the stairs. "Where's Moth?" He asked, "I need to speak with him."

"The square but Thane…" She lifted her hand, a folded sheet of paper held between her fingers. "This came just as you left."

"That so?" Felwinter shrugged out of his cloak and started to work on his overshirt. "Who's it from? Tullius? Maven? I want to know if I should use it to wipe tonight." He pulled his arms out of the sleeve and pulled it over his head, stretching in the process.

"From a man called Storn-"

The shirt was ripped off and Felwinter's hand was out and open before she could finish. Eyebrows raised, Lydia handed the letter over, he took it closer to the nearest window for light. Any humor he had come in with was suddenly gone, his eyes focused as they slid over every written line, his brow deeply furrowed.

He let his hand drop and looked away, rubbing his beard with the other. He seemed deep in thought. "Planned to head up to High Hrothgar. Learn what I can about this very first Dragonborn." He shook his head. "That can wait. I need to go back to Solstheim."

Lydia opened her mouth but stopped when Moth's voice came through the door, speaking to someone, likely Adrienne.

"After tomorrow," Felwinter decided, then and there. "I'll head to Solstheim the day after tomorrow."

"We will head to Solstheim." Felwinter tore his eyes from the door to look at her. She waved her repaired arm. "Can't leave me behind this time, Thane." She paused and seemed to think.

A grin spread over Felwinter's face. "Are we dragging Argis?"

She nodded. "We should drag Argis. I doubt he's got anything better to do."

"Even if he did…"