Just a Man, Part I

Gregor woke to a quiet shack and sunlight streaming through his window. He rolled off his pillow and came to sit, yawning and shaking himself like a bear roused from a winter's sleep. He twisted his arm around at the shoulder, slowly waking the muscles there. It no longer hurt to do so.

Pushing off the bed, he padded, barefoot, over to the basin, the water pail and the mirror. He examined his face, the short beard covering his cheeks with only his chin shaved bare. A style he tried out on a dare once but kept ever since a young woman passing through town told him how much it suited him. Gregor proceeded to clean his teeth and wash his face before drying off and pulling a shirt over his back. The builders weren't coming today so he'd have some measure of privacy. He considered taking a horse to Dawnstar. Only a two-hour ride and he'd be back before dark, assuming he didn't get too drunk again.

He grabbed the sword next to his bed, tying the belt around his waist while pushing his way out of the shack, built next to the eventual house that would stand tall atop the hill. A place for him to stay until Heljarchen had more solid walls. He was offered a room at one of the other houses but he jumped at the chance at a place of his own, even one as small as this. Just past it was the beginnings of a forest, trees still bright with early morning snows.

Gregor busied himself with the day's tasks. He gathered firewood for the night while working a piece of dried meat between his teeth. He fed the horse, refilled the pail at the nearby river, went around the Heljarchen to inspect for any damage from the snow or cold.

And he trained. As he did when he was frustrated, content, or simply bored. The first thing he had done when he moved here was construct the sturdiest training dummies he could manage. As soon as he felt he could move again after their return to Solstheim, he went at them until he had been sweating profusely and swaying on his feet, all of the anger and fear dripping from his forehead and into his eyes like a soaked rag squeezed.

He was…better now. As much as a man could be after what he went through. He never spoke about it with the others. Not with Argis or Lydia, simply because he didn't know them very well and not with Jordis, because he felt she desired reminiscing as little as he did. And the Thane…

"Gregor!"

The training sword slipped from Gregor's grasp, halfway down its arc. It smacked against the dummy's head and went spiraling past it, clattering into the snow.

"That some new technique?" Gregor's Thane took the steps down from Heljarchen one at a time. "Should've used that one on Solstheim. Might have ended a few fights early."

Gregor huffed out a small laugh. He went to retrieve the sword, crouching to pick it up. He hesitated for a moment before turning to meet Felwinter's eyes.

His injuries had all but completely healed, as Gregor's had. He looked well, with that same ever-present half-grin spread across his face. As if one were the butt of a joke he was waiting for the right opportunity to tell. He was probably the only person who had been put through worst on Solstheim than Jordis and himself and yet, he didn't look like it. It shouldn't have been so surprising. He was Dragonborn, after all.

Gregor bowed slightly. "Honored to see you, Thane."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure." Gregor grimaced slightly when Felwinter looked away. For a moment, he feared his thoughts were beginning to show on his face. But then Felwinter turned back and asked, "How have you been? Have you met the others?"

He nodded back towards Gregor's shack, bid him follow. "Aye, I have. Played cards in Solitude and went out for drinks with Lydia, Jordis and Argis in Markarth, all in the span of a night. Jumping between cities, still something I'm getting used to." He didn't mention Whiterun. He hoped his Thane wouldn't either.

Felwinter pushed his way into the shack and Gregor followed, closing the door and placing the practice sword beside it. He felt something shift in the air of the cabin and a second later, heard the roar of a fire bursting to life. He turned from the door to find Felwinter sitting before the cooking fire, holding his hands out before it.

When Gregor joined him, the Thane took out a flask from one of his pockets and held it to him. "It's afternoon somewhere," he said, shaking it.

Gregor let out another small laugh and accepted it. "Don't know how much you hear, here in your own little corner of the woods," Felwinter started, taking the flask back when held out. "But a lot of shit has happened in the last few months. Thalmor sent me after a Stormcloak encampment. Lied to me that they had been preparing to retake Windhelm."

Gregor's eyes turned from the fire towards him. "Why would they lie?"

Felwinter just shrugged. "Maybe they were hoping I wouldn't be as gentle. I went to Solitude and they immediately asked for me to use the Dragons. I didn't. None of the Stormcloaks were killed but they're all imprisoned in Windhelm now, awaiting transport to Solitude."

"And what happens in Solitude?"

"At a guess? What was supposed to happen in Helgen, only on the scale of hundreds." He shook his head. "I have some time to think up what I'm gonna do about it. Nothing will happen until Elisif is crowned."

"At the Moot in a few weeks' time." Felwinter looked at him and this time, it was Gregor's turn to shrug. "I visit Dawnstar. I hear a thing or two. Like the Jarl making her preparations."

"Everyone and their mother is making preparations," Felwinter griped, "I'm not even gonna take a bath beforehand. But besides that, the Dawnguard was attacked by a former ally. I also learned that the elf who killed the Harbinger of the Companions before me is still alive." Felwinter paused to drink deeply as Gregor stared at him. Felwinter handed the flask off. "And both culprits work for Miraak."

The drink stopped halfway to Gregor's mouth. Slowly, his arm lowered. "You…you are certain?"

"I wish I wasn't." The exhaustion Gregor couldn't see on his face at first was beginning to come through. "The Companions know about Miraak now. The Dawnguard, as well. Jarl Balgruuf knows. Even Maven knows. Apparently, she has people reporting my movements back to her on Solstheim."

Gregor had drained the flask while he was speaking and disappointment pricked him when it ran dry. He wished his Thane had brought something stronger. He was too sober to be hearing this.

"I know you've been resting, Gregor. Or at least, trying to. I've tried to do the same but…" He leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers. "Miraak is very much on the move. He's already visited me here, at least once. He's preparing and we all need to do the same."

Gregor remained silent, keeping his eyes on the flames before him. He did not want this. Daedra, and undead and Dragon priests, he never asked for a single piece of it. Damnable oaths and honor. If only it was all so easy to be rid of.

But it wasn't. Things worth having were often hard to keep. So, despite every bit of sense telling him to keep quiet, Gregor asked, "How do we move forward?"

Felwinter blinked, seeming surprised. Then, he replied, "I'm going back to Solstheim. Remember the Stones?"

"Hard to forget."

"The Skaal have a lead."

As intriguing as that sounded, just the mention of Solstheim made old aches flare up again. He remembered the Khajiit, how she fought, how she died. Gregor's eyes involuntarily swiveled over to Felwinter's arms, resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. Large, meaty things, one bare, the other adorned with swirling black tattoos.

And the Khajiit, she had been so thin compared to them. It was a wonder that arm did not split her in two when he shoved it through her chest. He blinked at the memory, the loud squelching, the spurt of blood that coated the ground behind her. The memory of Felwinter's white eyes, his roar…

Gregor swallowed down a lump. His fingers tighten around each other. "When do we leave?" His voice rasped when he asked the question. He hated how obvious his fear was.

But Felwinter shook his head. "I'm taking Argis and Lydia this time," he told him, "You and Jordis have done enough for now."

The fear coursing through Gregor was shameful. The relief, even more so. "I just came to give notice and ask that you be ready," Felwinter continued, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "If things get hectic, I'd prefer you at my side."

"When things get hectic, will you be on mine?" Still, Gregor jerked his head in a nod. "You can count on me, Thane. I'll be ready."

Felwinter nodded back and then stood from his seat. He twists around slowly, taking in the sparse interior of the cabin. "Wards are still up. Enchantments looking good."

"En…chantments?"

Felwinter looked down at him. "What? You think I'd just leave any of this unprotected? C'mon now…"

Gregor shook his head but smiled. He stood with him. They walked together back towards the hall, down into the basement, black but for the few torches lit and burning.

Felwinter put his hand to a space in the wall, one outlined by planks of dark wood. The wall where Felwinter had placed his hand began to shift and move in place, as if they were looking at it through the bottom of a lake. Felwinter pulled his hand back. With it, he squeezed Gregor on the shoulder.

The portal returned to normal nearly just a few minutes after Felwinter stepped through and left Heljarchen. Gregor was still there, standing alone in the dark. He looked down at his hand, the same one that Felwnter had cast a spell upon to allow him access. He rubbed at it, as he did more out of habit than any actual effort. It felt like a brand, tying him to this world and life that was so foreign to the one he knew. Where bandits in a defensible fort were the greatest of his worries.

His hand tightened into a fist. Gregor twisted on his heel and quickly left the basement. He'd go to Dawnstar for that drink after all. He did not plan on coming back that night.

Pa was leaving again.

"Back to that island, I think." Lucia sat on her bed, bouncing occasionally. "Sols…" she paused, "Solssss…"

"Solstheim." Samuel finished fastening his last shoe and stood. Lucia stood with him. He continued, "Last time he said two weeks. He was gone for a lot longer."

"He never told me when he was coming back this time," Lucia said. She wasn't sure he knew himself.

Samuel pushed the door to their bedroom open, quietly, and stepped further out, peeking past the stairs. They found their Father standing over the cooking pot, stirring slowly. They greeted him, leaving their bedroom entirely. "Did you sleep well?" He asked in that rough, rumbling voice of his, as he did every morning. Both answered the same as they did every morning, though it wasn't always the truth.

Samuel walked over to the cabinet against the wall and began to retrieve the plates while Lucia sought out cups and rags. From the heavy creaks above their heads, both could tell their Pa was awake as well. When Lucia passed close to the stairs to set a cup at the table's head, they could hear him speaking with Lydia. When footsteps started down the stairs, Lucia hurried to look as if she were not trying to listen. Lydia came down first, Pa behind her. When he passed Lucia by, she felt a large hand touch her gently on the shoulder. When he passed Samuel, that same hand ruffled through his hair.

There wasn't much talking through breakfast. Pa finished first, as he often did. Instead of going back for seconds, he made to leave, to go into town and prepare for the trip ahead. Before he could stand, Lucia scarfed down the rest of her meal. Samuel ate quicker, though not as quickly. It was still enough to earn a warning from Father not to go too fast or he would upset his stomach again. Samuel did as told. Pa didn't move again until he was done.

Pa held the door open and let them out first. The sun was out but it was covered by clouds. Lucia asked him, "Where are we going first?"

Pa closed the front door. "Adrienne's. I need-" She darted towards the shop, taking off down the street before he could finish. Ulfberth, who was near the front door, tried to grab her as she ran past but she jumped around his grasping hands and nearly made him fall over attempting to reach for her again.

They weren't there for long. Afterwards, he directed them towards the market square, where he would buy food and anything else he might need. Lucia walked ahead, exploring separately from them, as usual, but Samuel remained at Pa's side, keeping pace, sometimes even leaning his head against his hip whenever he stopped long enough at a stall. Pa tried to talk to him but Samuel rarely gave more than a few words' answer. He just didn't feel like talking today.

They moved quickly, between the food stalls, Arcadia's and Belethor's, but it is still a few hours before Pa declares that they are (mostly) done. "Come on, lunch time," he told them.

Lucia hefted the brace of arrows she was carrying on her shoulders. "It hasn't been that long since breakfast."

"Don't care. Want food." Pa pointed a finger to the Bannered Mare. The other hand remained around Samuel's shoulder, who was leaning against him again.

As Lucia had said, it was early. The lunch crowd had yet to come in so the Bannered Mare was mostly empty. Pa let them get what they wanted, provided they didn't tell their father. Samuel had always liked Ysolda's cooking but he didn't do much eating here either.

"You two have any plans for tomorrow?" Pa wiped his hands and started working on beating the flakes out of his beard. "After I leave, I mean?"

"Training with the Companions," Lucia answered before Samuel, "Aela says I'm getting better with a bow."

"Do you feel you're getting better?" Pa asked, lifting a mug to his lips.

"I hope so." Her answer was quiet, quieter than she's been all day. If Pa noticed, which he often did, he decided not to pry.

Samuel wasn't so lucky. "Sam," he said and Samuel knew that tone of voice; rare, serious and not to be ignored. Samuel looked up from his food and met his eyes. So dark, Samuel and Lucia had once been convinced their Papa's eyes were black instead of brown. Until he shined a light into them, picked each of them up, held them close so they could see properly. Samuel remembered that day, mostly for how their Pa spent the rest of it complaining of seeing spots afterwards.

Those eyes were gentle now. Then again, Samuel rarely saw them angry. "What's wrong? You've barely said a word."

Samuel turned his eyes down again, working his jaw, rolling his food across his plate. Then, he looked up and asked, "What kind of creatures are on Solstheim? How strong are they?"

Pa blinked in surprise. He huffed out a small laugh. "Why do you…" Samuel's eyes flicked down to his nose. "...Ah." Felwinter's hand came halfway up before stopping. "Nothing I can't handle, I promise."

Samuel didn't look convinced in the slightest. He continued, "And I have to handle it. So the problems over there don't come here."

Samuel pursed his lips and looked down again. "I know," he mumbled. And he did. He still did not like it.

"Finish then." Pa tapped his plate, "I've got to see the Companions. Then, we've got one more stop."

Pa let out a long breath when they reached the top of the stairs, his meal weighing him down with each step. Dragonsreach stood tall and imposing before them. The sun had made its way past and now cast the castle's shadow over the eastern walls.

Lucia was waiting for them by the doors when they reached the top. Two guardsmen stood before it but upon seeing Felwinter approach, they moved to push open the door and let them inside. Lucia immediately slipped through as soon as the crack was wide enough and ran ahead.

"Lucia."

She stopped before she could reach the first set of stairs that would lead into the Jarl's court. Her eyes followed her Pa's pointing finger to a wooden bench against the wall near the door, which the guards had shut behind them. The hand came to Samuel's back and gently nudged him on. "Both of you wait for me here." Lucia returned as her Pa walked past and climbed up. Sitting next to Samuel, she still strained to look, seeing him approach the Jarl and his housecarl.

The Jarl did not smile at his approach and the housecarl never did. He had been in the middle of a conversation with his steward but then their Pa approached, a few quiet words were said and Proventus was dismissed. The Jarl stood from his throne and nodded towards the stairs. Their Pa followed him.

"Something bad is going on," Samuel said suddenly and quietly.

Lucia turned to face him but he didn't look back. His eyes remained down, on his feet, where they had spent most of the day. She asked, "How do you know?"

Samuel shrugged. "I've heard Pa and Father whispering about things. Like Solstheim and the Jarl and the Thalmor. Lydia is with them sometimes too. They'd stop talking when they saw me."

Lucia turned back towards the stairs at the far end of the court, where they had disappeared. Proventus had left as well. She took quick note of the lack of guards near the stairs. Then, Lucia shucked off the quiver of arrows and hopped off the bench.

"What are you doing?" Samuel whispered furiously, standing as well.

"Going to go listen."

"Pa said to stay here."

"Then stay." She turned her back on him and started to walk, slowly, so as to not draw attention. Despite his protests, she could hear Samuel following close behind, as he always did. They crossed the court, passed the large fire at its center and pretended to be doing anything else whenever a passing adult turned their attention to them.

Lucia put her foot down on the first plank when they reached the stair's base. She winced when it creaked. She dropped to her hands and knees and chose to crawl, as slowly and as quietly as she could manage.

She and Samuel reached as far up the stairs as they could go without being seen. She could hear their Pa's voice and unlike with Samuel, his voice didn't grow quiet as they approached, meaning he hadn't seen them.

"Brunwulf needs to know, Solitude needs to know, the Graybeards need to know, everyone needs to know." Pa's voice was rough, frustrated. It reminded Lucia of the old days. Before he was really her Pa. "But I can't just let this information out to the public, I have to have more to give. Solstheim may have the beginnings of a solution, does that not take priority?"

"I understand that, Felwinter." The Jarl sounded just as tired and agitated. They weren't simply talking, this was an argument. "What I don't understand is why you don't want me to tell them in your stead."

"It's the Thalmor, isn't it?" They heard Irileth say. "You say a word in Solitude and the Summerset Isles would know by month's end."

"If Elisif wasn't a near-powerless figurehead before…" Felwinter grunted, "When the Moot is settled. When the Holds are back in line, then I will tell them all myself. As I've said before."

"And we are supposed to just wait?" Balgruuf asked loudly. When he spoke again, he was whispering. "All of…that waiting for us in Oblivion and you think we should do nothing?"

Felwinter answered. "All I'm asking for is a little bit more time. I would have started up to High Hrothgar tomorrow, of course, but the Skaal have knowledge that may be of use."

Lucia turned to her brother, asked who the Skaal were and received a confused shrug for her trouble. Both heard footsteps; approaching from up top. Lucia frantically waved at Samuel to start down the stairs.

Felwinter and Balgruuf came to the top. Balgruuf had removed his crown; was holding it in one of his hands, squeezing repeatedly. "Do you trust this information? This man?"

"I'm not exactly swimming in options. If it's a clue that helps me fix things on Solstheim and helps us here then I need to follow it. Everything else will just have to wait. There's no going around it." Felwinter took notice of the kids, sitting at the end of the long table that stopped nearest the stairs.

"Nothing 'will wait', Felwinter." Irileth kept to their backs as the three of them began to descend. "The Empire and the Thalmor will continue to consolidate their power, the Moot will be here sooner rather than later. You know this, Felwinter. I just hope you've accounted for it."

"Best I can. Can't exactly predict when something like last time is gonna happen."

"You should be prepared either way." When they reached the base, entering the empty throne room, Felwinter's children kept their eyes on the table, on the wall but pointedly away from him.

"Lucia, Samuel." He called for them, reluctant heads turned to meet his eyes. "C'mon, we're heading out." They stood but saw that he did not follow them immediately. Instead, their Pa turned back to the Jarl and his housecarl. He lowered his voice but Samuel was still close enough to hear. "Things are fragile right now, Balgruuf. You know it, I know it and everything that's going on is just tossing oil into the flames." He let out a low sigh. "Too many people already know for my comfort and very few of them are people I would want knowing. If I can keep some control over breaking the news, then maybe I can influence the reaction. This could fracture Skyrim but it could unite it too. I will report back what I learn on Solstheim as soon as I'm able. If it is something that can give us a leg up then maybe I can push Skyrim to unite. Maybe."

The Jarl stared at him for a long time, heavy brow furrowed, mouth a hard, frustrated line. The housecarl remained as stoic and icy as she always was. The Jarl finally relaxed, though only slightly. "If all we can do is hope right now, then let us hope."

The sun was low when they departed the castle. Pa walked ahead, leading them down the stairs and into Whiterun once again. He kept a brisk pace, looking back at them only to make sure they were still trailing him. The streets were emptying, the stalls were selling the last of their wares and many people were moving towards the Bannered Mare. Their Pa even received a few invites to join but declined them all.

When they reached their home, Pa pushed open the door and waved them through. Father, preparing dinner, pointed to a corner where Lucia could keep the arrows she had been carrying.

"Lucia, Samuel." Pa's voice drew them towards the back wall of the house. He had his palm pressed against it. After a moment, the portal woke, like clear swirling water contained behind glass. He nodded towards it. "Go to Markarth. Ask Argis if he'll join us tonight."

The siblings shared a single look and suddenly, both were running up to it, Samuel showing his first smile all day. "You remember how to get to Markarth, right?" Pa paused and then muttered to himself, "Why haven't I labeled them yet?"

He stepped away and let them pass. The portal always felt strange to touch, cold enough to make bumps on their skin, like jumping into a lake. Or being thrown, whenever Papa got his hands around them. They rarely got to go inside and were never allowed to use it for themselves unless there was an emergency and no one was home. Still, in the few times they had gone through, to reach Solitude or Markarth, Samuel had memorized every path. The portal took them into a strange room, something Pa had called a "halfway space". There was stone beneath their feet, stone along the walls and more portals; bright and shimmering doorways into the other cities.

"This way," Samuel said before Lucia could get too far in the wrong direction. He approached the portal to the Markarth house, pressed his hand against it and smiled wider when it tingled. He pushed further in, hand first, then shoulder and then his head.

He blinked, his eyes quickly adjusting from the bright white flash of the portal to the sudden dark. Lucia bumped into him passing through herself and he stepped out of her path, twisting around to take it all in. They had just been in their house in Whiterun. Now, they were in Markarth. Every time was as incredible as the first, no matter how many times it happened. Pa had promised them that when they were older, he'd teach them. Samuel was never going to let him forget.

Tuneless whistling reached their ears from the dining area to their right. Before they could follow it, Argis came striding out into the living room, a sword on his shoulder. Lucia sucked in a breath to call his name but Samuel put a hand on her shoulder and a finger to his lips. Her mouth clamped shut.

Argis kept whistling, kept walking, oblivious to their arrival. He approached the table at the heart of the living room, lifted his sword from his shoulder and used it to gingerly shift an apple out of the basket at the table's center. He jerked his sword arm, popping the apple into the air and then caught it on the flat of the blade. It balanced there for a few seconds, not even trembling in his grip before Argis jerked his sword arm again, sending the apple higher into the air, this time, over his head. His other arm stretched out to catch it.

Samuel shouted. "Argis!" The Nord nearly jumped as high as the apple. His sword clattered to the ground and only a second after he laid eyes on the two of them, the apple tumbled to the ground, making sure to hit his head on the way down. Lucia burst out in giggles she had been fighting to hold back.

Argis grunted, turning slightly red. "Should you two be here?" He groused, though it was without heat. "Where's your old man?"

"Still in Whiterun." Samuel pointed back towards the portal. "Pa asked us to ask you if you would join us for dinner tonight."

"I…" Argis blinked. Then, he huffed out a laugh. "Sure. Why not." He bent to retrieve his sword and laid it flat on the table. He paused. "Wait, who's cooking?"

"Father's cooking right now."

"Ah. Good." Argis gestured for them to step through the portal and followed close behind.

While Samuel led them back to Whiterun's portal, Lucia turned around to look up at Argis. "You don't like Pa's cooking?"

Argis gave a small grin. "It's not…that bad. He just makes things too spicy for me. I think he does it on purpose."

Samuel pushed on through the Whiterun portal, marveling once again at the sudden change and getting bumped into once again by the next person coming out. The living room was empty. "Pa! Father! Argis is here!"

"Tell him to make himself useful and set the table." Pa's voice echoed from his bedroom.

"Didn't I tell you to do that?" Father asked, somewhere near the top of the stairs.

"Yes…but I don't feel like doing it, so…fine, I'm going." A pause with none of that familiar creaking. "Eventually."

Both children laughed. Behind them, Argis chuckled and patted both of them on the back as he stepped past.

Argis had departed and the house was quiet once again. Felwinter had walked him back to Markarth and then returned to see the children put to bed. He was avoiding clean-up. Moth would allow it tonight.

Moth climbed up to their bedroom once the last of it was finished, to wait for him. His eyes go to Felwinter's armor set against the wall, cleaned and waiting. He walked over to it, to the sword leaning beside it. He bent down and took up Zazikel, lifting it closer to his face and pulling it part way from its scabbard. It was almost strange not to feel magic humming through this one like with nearly every other weapon Felwinter owned.

"If you want to keep it, I can take the axe."

Moth didn't turn as he heard the door slowly close behind him. He let the sword slip down. "Not yet enchanted"

"Still thinking of a good one. Found this hammer on Solstheim that had fire, ice and lightning enchantments stuck on it. Hell to fight against." Felwinter dropped into a chair to unlace his boots.

Moth propped the sword back against the wall, next to the armor. "You sound impressed."

"And they worked so well together!" he crowed, "Two enchantments on one weapon is difficult and even then, it loses energy quickly." Felwinter jutted his chin to the axe hanging on the wall. "There's a reason your own took so long to set up."

"And three?"

"Never seen it. Especially not on a battlefield, until now." He ripped the shoe off and wriggled his toes, stretching them. "I haven't had time to study it. Even then, I wonder if I'd even be able to replicate it." He got the other boot off just as Moth took the chair next to him. Reaching over, Felwinter's eyes were drawn to the bottle of spiced wine and two cups sitting at the table's center.

Moth brought the bottle back and began to work on the cork before stopping. Then, he held it out.

Felwinter leaned forward and tapped the bottle with his forehead. Moth felt it run cold almost instantly. "Surprised you didn't open a bar in Hammerfell with that trick." He pulled the cork out.

"You know how Nords hate magic unless you're using it to shove their guts back into their bellies?"

"Yes?"

"Well, Redguards hate magic even then." He took up the ceramic mug when Moth poured his share, tapping it against Moth's own before taking a sip. "If I take this on the road, I'll be seeing double before I even reach Raven Rock?"

"You mean before you've finished your minute-long trip through the portal?"

"Yep."

"Water it down then."

"I'd rather fight drunk." Felwinter took another drink, sighing. "Heljarchen's coming along well, he said, "Gregor's doing fine, as is Jordis. Should invite them next time. Serana too." He stared at the wall, a distant look in his eyes. "I'd like to do this more often. Maybe when the Hall is finished and we have more room."

Moth took a pull of his own drink. "Solstheim. How long do you think you'll be away?"

Felwinter was shaking his head before Moth could finish. "After last time, I am not the man to be making predictions. Storn didn't put down any details. I doubt he had any to write down."

"Do you trust this man?"

"He cares for his people. If nothing else, he'll try to do right by them." Felwinter's fingers rubbed against the rim of the cup. "Just wish it didn't always involve throwing me at the problem."

"You're capable," Moth rumbled. "Even the gods see that."

Felwinter's jaw worked slightly. "Then, the gods haven't seen what he's capable of," he said quietly, "He can do everything I can but better and I…" he stopped, then he sighed heavily and brought his cup up to his lips. "Doesn't matter." His voice echoed within.

"Fel…" Moth took his hand, squeezed it, tried to convey comfort he didn't feel himself. "You'll figure this out. You always do."

Felwinter grunted dismissively but he squeezed back. He retracted his hand and wrapped both around his cup, staring into it. "Do you remember that young man I told you about at Fort Dawnguard? The first person I met on my way to join up."

"I remember."

"Kid's changed. The attack, the deaths…" He shook his head, "We had to force him back on bedrest. He's so frustrated and angry, you can feel it when he walks into a room. It's…familiar."

Moth placed his empty mug down. "Survivor's guilt can be…difficult," Moth said, "Especially if you feel yourself the cause."

Felwinter chuckled ruefully. "He very much does." He sobered quickly, muttering again, "Familiar."

Moth's eyes switched from the wall to him. To the tight lines around his mouth and the veins popping slightly under the skin of his hands around the cup. Moth turned away. He asked, "Are you hoping to find him on Solstheim?"

Felwinter grunted. "I certainly wouldn't mind. Would save me the trouble."

"Right. And how do you plan to deal with him?"

Felwinter rubbed his beard in thought. "One of Miraak's lieutenants, the one I faced on Solstheim, was empowered in a way. I don't know how but I could feel it when I clashed with her."

"She could Shout."

Felwinter's eyebrows jumped. "She could, indeed. I don't know of any others who can. Not even Idessia, by the looks of it. But who knows, honestly? I'll find out one way or another. The Dawnguard can have Idessia, when I track her down. The Dunmer…" He stopped there. Moth thought of Mercer Frey.

"Enough. This does not need to be spoken of," Moth declared, "Not tonight. Not while there's still time." Felwinter's eyes flicked away from the mug to Moth. Then, they turned away again. His tight features relaxed. Moth asked him, "Are you staying for breakfast?"

Felwinter looked at him again, eyes much softer now. "I'll stay. I'll grab Argis as well. Don't know what he said but Samuel was smiling again."

Moth grunted and stood from his seat. He reached over, took the bottle of mulled wine and resealed it before placing it down again. Then, he held out his hand.

Felwinter placed his empty cup within, smiling, proud of himself. In one motion, Moth placed it back down on the table and put his hand out again.

Felwinter took it, let himself be pulled to his feet, let himself be taken by the waist. Felwinter's arms came up, wrapped around his shoulders as he stared down at Moth with a loose, easy grin. The drink was already getting to him.

"You'll miss me when I'm gone, won't you?" Felwinter's hands squeezed his shoulders, thumbs running over his clavicle.

"I will enjoy the extra space." Moth took hold of his own wrist at the small of Felwinter's back, tightening the embrace.

The smile widened. "Will you now?"

Moth huffed. "No. I won't."

When he pushed in for a kiss, Felwinter was already halfway. Moth's hand ran up the length of his back, pulling his shirt with it until Felwinter was forced to part from him and pull it off the rest of the way. The garment was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, for one of them to trip over the next morning; Felwinter himself, most likely. Neither cared. Moth pressed his face into the broad expanse of Felwinter's chest, pushed his nose into the dark curling hairs there. His eyes closed as he felt warm skin and a strong, steady heartbeat beneath his cheek. Felwinter pushed him back and kissed him again, the candles and sconces in the room fizzling out together, leaving them in darkness.