[A/N: Starting a brand new story from scratch, will be uploading as I get time to write. I've been meaning to write a short story for my Dovahkiin, Mimzi. Her back story, mostly consisting of original characters with peppered guest appearances from the canon! This story is a spin-off of my novel Dawn of the Companions, please go check that out if you haven't, especially if you wanna see some Dawnguard/Companions cross-over action!

There's a lot of mystery to Mimzi's past in Dawn of the Companions. Here it'll all come to light. I hope you guys enjoy! Please review, follow and favourite if you liked the first chapter! Let me know what I can brush up on or do better. I'm very open to criticism as it helps me grow better at writing! Thank you for the read!]

Chapter 1: Wailing in the Winds

Skyrim was a frigid land at best in winter, but no corner bit worse than the Pale. A collective of open white terrain and pine trees waging war with the unforgiving winds. With such vast fields and altitude, the winds off the mountains raked a brutal greeting. Insulting worse with drafting ice. Home to prey and predator, sparse of travellers. Untainted by city structure by the Nords preference. Those daft or stubborn enough to live in this treacherous Hold made stead in the town of Dawnstar. Built on the northern coasts of Skyrim serving as a garrison. Rich in iron and silver mines but poor in weather. Only those who dared to brave the chill made their bounty.

If the blistering cold wasn't enough, this frontier village wasn't a novice to strife. Pirates and bandits were regular pests— following the greedy scent of Dawnstar's wealthy mines. Snowy sabre cats and ice wolves dominated the trails. Ice wraiths an element of dreadful surprise against a traveller's back. The wilds a team of monsters that could mettle the cold far better than Skyrim's people. Yet, Dawnstar still exalted onward. Septims to be made with the harbour and mining was opportunity, regardless. Their mines brought an alchemist, a blacksmith, a general goods trader, and even an inn. A needed respite for the harbouring sailors transporting goods to and from Dawnstar. Its people well-meant and hard working. Guided by Zenithar's teachings and all the Divines' household influences.

But in good there is always a sinister croak. Along the cradling mountains of Dawnstar was Nightcaller Temple. Much as the name preserved. The only times guardsman would see the tower flutter in torchlight or echo in voices was after dark. It was not a place to be trifled. To be investigated. It was left alone and Dawnstar prayed it would do the same for them. As time carried on, this continued to be true. Little did they know a Daedra's influence breathed so heavily there. Perhaps sweeter in the ignorance. Vaermina's pets did well in keeping themselves hidden from Dawnstar's vigilant townsfolk. But on the 6th of Evening Star, 182 E, a priest from this tower explored the neighbouring pines in broad daylight. He pressed his luck for alchemical ingredients among the forest.

Casimir was a studious Dunmer, patient and intuitive. One of the stranger projects of Vaermina's cult. Scorn and malice weren't his compass as much as his superiors would like. In fact, he enjoyed the bliss of quiet out of the dark shadows inside. He enjoyed the hum of Dawnstar's breath down the mountain. A Daedra's bark was weighing heavier everyday, and these moments gave him space to finally breathe.

A few hours before dusk set in the hollow cold quick as the sun set over the mountains. His basket was plentiful in frost mirriam and nirn root. He had scoured for Ice Wraith teeth, but it was always a gamble happening upon an Ice Wraith by intent. The creatures were a guarantee to appear if not desired, however. Always burdening plans when least expected.

With the shade now blanketing the forest and the chill setting in, he started back to Nightcaller Temple. It was only a matter of time before sabre cat and wolf alike came out for the hunting hour. As he turned tail up the icy plateau, there was a faint mewl beyond the underbrush into forestry. He was certain it was a sabre cub. Assuming it was followed by the unhinged wrath of their mother. He hurried his pace back towards Dawnstar's chiming harbour. Then he heard it again, far more distressed than the last. It carried louder and fluxing, a cry a cub wasn't known for. It was enough to stall him. He turned back to the shroud pine, waiting for the wail again.

Not a wail but a flurry of babyish wet coughs, then followed with a belly cry drowning out the whooshing wind. Casimir set his basket down then. At first, he investigated for the curiosity, but this faded into a subconscious worry.

Azura's light, be merciful and show me that is not a child…

Casimir's dreaded suspicions were proven true when he stepped through the undergrowth. Spotted in the thickness of pine was the small movements of a head stumbling through frosted heather. Their cries pulsed louder and far more distressed the longer they weren't answered. Judging by the cries, certainly an infant. No older than two seasons as they were able to struggle on feet. Casimir pulled through the winding branch and dead bush.

A child left to die after a bandit raid? Strayed too far from a mother's watch? Abandoned in the woodlands by a mother who couldn't be bothered? Hmph. Not a mother at all.

"Little one," he coaxed softly, getting closer to the mewling child, "Come here. Come, now. Don't fret."

He made it through an opening of blanketed leaves and pinecones. The ground dry and frigid. No snow was able to fall and stay for long under the thick canopy of trees above. As he did, the child was just a stone throw from reach. She stumbled to the forest floor like a fawn during their first breaths. It was if she knew she'd been rescued, as her fight to walk had spent the second he spoke. Her cries went to distressed whines as she lay whistling breath. Casimir stumbled to the child's side, gently pulling her up under her chilling arms. He wilted at the bones from her ribs so prominently felt. The cold off her skin sending into his hands.

"Let me take a look at you, daelha." He inspected her for any injuries.

B'vek.

A Nord or Imperial, he couldn't decide. She wore only a cote barely covering her ankles, and a thin and dusted child's tunic underneath. Her nappy was soiled and frozen, only adding greater chill to the child's core. He unpinned it and threw the waste into the underbrush. Her chubby cheeks were blistered and frozen to the touch. Her nose as red as her hair, swirling over her eyes in soft curls. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken, but still holding a radiance of sapphire. No visible injuries to his relief, but the elements had inflicted far worse. He knew she had to have been fending for herself for the entirety of the day. It was truly an unsound miracle she hadn't froze to death or been snatched up by hungry predators.

I can heal wounds. I can't heal the effects of the cold. Or famine and thirst.

Casimir pulled a piece of bread from his satchel. The girl was already clawing for it. He let her slip the morsel from his hands. As she ate, Casimir shot another glare along the woods. Still no threats but the dark was setting in. She drank steadily from his canteen. Not too much as the water was cold. Her temperature was low enough. He wove his coat over her as she continued to eat, trying to bring any sense of warmth. The way back to Dawnstar was a thirty-minute trek, more than enough time to give the predators a head start. He started to stand up with her from the woodland. The girl didn't object to it. She reached her hands up to his shoulders after she finished the bread. Laying her cheek to his chest for a bout of comfort. She couldn't talk, but it was the silent gesture of trust.

They left the forest and made a quick stride back to Dawnstar. His robes were not known to the hardy townsfolk yet, but they would undoubtedly ask questions. Far better a solution than taking her to the temple. The hair stood to the back of his ashy neck to think what his fellow cultists would do. He rejected the option, knowing he was in no rank to oppose their judgements.

In the moments of steady travel, breath came back stronger to the child. She was dozing now, in need of it, he was certain. He cradled her head to his shoulder, taking her weight in gentle strides up the plateau. His cloak and coat weaving her in his warmth. Every now and then, her small fingers would clench the fabric over his shoulder. Small, restful whimpers escaping her shivering lip. He found himself in a mild contentment. Appreciating every little whistle from her nostril and tickle of her hair on his chin. A child was rarely an occurrence in his life. A completely alien thing. Nothing he ever imagined for himself. He fretted the squalls she'd make on the way to town. Yet, she was purely quiet. As if whatever comfort he had provided was exactly what she needed.

What do I do? Find her parents? Leave her in the care of those far more suited? Who would have her? If I could I'd…

He staled the idle chatter in his mind then. Would he keep her? Surely not. Vaermina cultists be scorned to such innocence in their keep. If the cult wasn't a factor he could. But would he? Hundreds of years without a wife and without a stead. They say you're never prepared. That it happens when you least expect it. But could he do it? A Dunmer father to a Nord girl. Oh, how brows would furrow. Morrowind and Skyrim alike. It would invite such needless trouble. However, the longer he cradled her back to safety, the more demeaned that trouble was.

Her cold had left quickly in his arms. Regaining the usual warmth a healthy infant should have. The child was warm, unusually warm. Considering the relentless cold. He placed a hand to her forehead and it almost stung.

A fever.

She was deep in rest, but the more he inspected her face the more trouble he saw. Swelling hives and a clammy forehead. She was starting to shake, the first onslaught of a deadly flu.

The street lanterns were all lit. The chimneys puffing smoke. The townspeople were few outside their homes. He ran into town with the child now. Beginning to feel her heart rate fluctuate on his chest.

"Help! Child in need! She needs a healer, immediately!"

The Dawnstar guards darted over, leading him to the Inn.

"We don't have a temple here, but we have an alchemist. Whose child is this?"

Casimir blathered as he rushed into the Windpeak, "I do not know. I found her stranded in the pine. Famished and frozen. She must have caught something."

The guard raised, "Stranded?"

The Inn wasn't lively, not until the guards and Casimir barged in with a lethargic child.

Thoring broke from his droll trance quick, "What's the meaning of this?"

"Go get Frida. She'll be settling in for the night but don't leave her doorstep until she answers." A guard ordered to a comrade.

They left quickly, leaving Casimir and the other guard to settle the girl down to a bed. Thoring darkened the doorway.

"What happened?"

"Sick child. The elf found her stranded in the woods."

"Shor's bones…"

Casimir tried a healing spell, but it did little against sickness. She needed alchemical healing. A clairvoyance spell then to pace her heart. It beat slow, murmuring faintly with every tap in the chamber.

"She's fading! Where is the alchemist!" Far more desperation in Casimir's tone. Even subtly surprising himself. There wasn't much room to contemplate as he drew into panic.

The doors of Windpeak Inn swung open, bringing the guard and an elderly woman from Dawnstar's bleak chill. Frida was an older woman, not shy of her sixtieth winter. Her talents in alchemy were her life's work. As she came into the room, she already had a few elixirs in a satchel. Thoring had just finished laying wet rags to the child's forehead. Casimir had his back against the wall. The room was starting to swell in people, but he refused to make way. Refused to make space until he knew she was back to health.

"Mara's mercy," she wilted, "A babe as fresh as spring. Gods be patient she hasn't burned too far."

She plucked an elixir from the satchel, gently lifting the child's head up and to the side. A few drops of the potion inside of her cheek.

"Her heart's stopped!" Casimir squalled; brazing passed Frida to worryingly cradle the child's head.

"Patience!" Frida barked.

Casimir swelled in fear, waiting with bated breath for the potion to bring a miracle.

"She was starved. She doesn't have the strength she needs to fight the disease. There has to be something you can do. Sera, please!"

"I said patience!"

Thoring, the guardsmen, Frida and Casimir stayed steady prayer. For Casimir, he didn't have the comfort of a prayer. Vaermina was no kind saviour. But all he could do now was pray, there was nothing else.

Frida hushed beside him, "Mara take pity. Please."

Mara? I am not a student of your teachings. I am a creature your light would never indulge. But I ask of you be merciful to this girl. Bring her back to Nirn. If you cannot, fold her in your arms with love.

Then she choked on air and coughed, her face beginning to wince before she weakly cried. Casimir exhaled a flood of relief, bowing his head over hers. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Frida clasped his shoulder.

"There, there. Your daughter is safe."

"She… she is not my daughter."

Frida took her hand back at the statement. She puzzled the tear down his chin before saying, "She may as well be."

Casimir cradled her again, soothing her so naturally it stained the words of Frida in his head.

It was nearing midnight, but Casimir sat at the fire with the girl in his lap. She gnawed a chicken bone after eating the entirety of the meat, flapping a rag doll Thoring had brought on Casimir's thigh. Frida sat beside him, enjoying a cup of canis tea. Despite the hour, the child was in no straits to sleep. Her belly was full of food and apple cider, a generous amount of energy returned for the little one. She was beginning to giggle now, watching the rag doll swirl in the air.

"Just awful," observed Frida, staring into the fire after digesting Casimir's story, "How a parent could leave their own child in the pit of the Pale."

"It was just a guess. Could be any number of things."

"It's the work of the Divines you were there."

Casimir faltered at hearing it. He had no place to speak kindred on the Divines. However, the prayer he made was just moments before the girl came to. He couldn't help but indulge it.

Alchemy can very well change how we perceive the world, Casimir. It wasn't a miracle it was medicine. Don't be too quick to flight of fancy.

He changed the subject, "I am no master in alchemy, but I do enjoy tampering here and there. If you don't mind, may I ask what ingredients were in that elixir of yours?"

"Oh!" Frida chimed, "Inquisitive, aren't you? The true strains of an alchemist, that. It was a very long time ago when I brewed it. My age is a burden to memory, nowadays. I believe… a pinch of vampire dust. Hawk feather. Supplemented with wheat and an anther flower. A special anther flower. The name escapes me, but I believe you can only find them in the small patches of green left in Morrowind. Blue and scarlet petals… Gods… what is that name?"

Casimir made a guess, "A Mimzi?"

"Yes!" Frida croaked matronly, "A Mimzi. Very rare flower. Almost extinct. I got my hands on one back in the Great War. They are excellent for ailments, so I made this little specialty. Never had to use it till now."

Casimir looked down to the girl again, she was resting her head back against his chest, playing with his fingers gently. He warmed a smile. Some strange paternity seemed to bloom right under his nose. He didn't dare to think of the events tomorrow. What his choice would be. Yet, with her on his lap, he couldn't imagine another home for her.

"There is an orphanage in town," said Frida almost startlingly, "Whiffet Hall. They haven't been up for long, but the ladies who own it are hand picked from Mara, herself. Sweetest girls with an inherent love for children. They have a few tikes in their care as of now. I think they just took in a girl close to her age, too. You may want to stop in to visit them tomorrow. You know… if you can't take her."

Casimir struck at the comment. His first instinct was to battle it, but why? He couldn't take her. Not to the temple. Not to Vaermina's corrupt gaze. A gaze he foolishly was drawn into. The very idea of leaving Nightcaller was likeness to a dagger. Likely held by one of his fellow cultists— piercing into his gut.

Frida sat up after the string of silence and departed, "I best be off. Make sure she gets plenty of water. Comfort is essential in children this age. Especially what this little dove has been through. Be sure to be generous with it."

"Yes, mum," said Casimir faintly. He watched her leave the inn and the frigid air from Dawnstar brought a sudden thought.

She doesn't even have a name. Will you leave her without at least naming her?

He didn't have to think too hard on a name. It came has natural as breathing. He plucked her up against his hip, taking her back to the room to rest for the night. She had her thumb in her mouth and the rag doll still clutched under her arm. When he went to set her down to the hides, she snatched his robes. Casimir froze to it. She didn't cry or whine. She didn't pout. She had already closed her eyes at meeting the softness of her bed. Her hand still pulled him.

An action far too persuasive to not melt into. He breathed a small smile and cuddled into bed with her, allowing her to huddle into his arms one last time. One last time. He rallied war at that point. Between his better and lesser self. Would he rob her the comfort of two maidens far outweighing his expertise with children? Other kids her age to play with? The simple life around her own kin? Or would he take her and be stripped of his affiliation with the cult forever. An act not certain in safety. Possibly the one that will bring his end, and put the elixir of Frida's to waste.

Morning sun wasn't a generous amount of warmth in the Pale. Not even noon could quell the chill. Not enough to take away the stinging from Casimir's cheeks. He came up to a longhouse by the harbour. Skirted in snowmen before the deck. Lovingly made by the children inside. He had the girl bundled in a fur coat and hood. He carried her inside Whiffet Hall with a sullen lump in his throat. She didn't talk much. But she certainly chirped the word 'house' and 'cold' on their way over. When they got to the steps, she pointed to the doors, "Inside!"

"Yes. Let's see what's inside," replied Casimir fondly.

There was a surprising waft of warmth when he opened the doors. Flurries of children playing and squeals and squeaks of laughter. Their little feet knocked on the wood floor. Going from one room to the other. The room had two children beds. Neatly tucked and clean, and a crib. Toys carelessly scattered the floor. Wooden swords, shields, a rocking horse and dolls. Even paintings by sweet little hands adorned the walls.

A woman nagged, "Mithelda! Jesper needs his jumper!"

"It's in the pile of fresh linen!"

There was a moment before Casimir and the child were even noticed. Two boys just ran past without a care. Even one of the caretakers, a Nord with long, flowing blonde hair and a girdled hide dress walked around the corner with another babe on her hip. She took a while to notice the Dunmer standing before the doorway. When she did, she spooked, "Oh! Didn't see you there. Sorry… this place is a mess."

"It's fine. I… found this child in the wilds last night. She needs a caring home. By the looks of it, this place is…"

"Oh, that's right!" She excited, "Frida told us. She's a good friend." Then the woman's attention was fully on the child in Casimir's arms, "A fighter if I've ever seen one. Oh my, she's lovely. Hello, darling."

The child shied at her hand reaching out, withholding into Casimir's arms.

"I am Alessandra. I run the home with Mithelda. Basically, my second-hand. Or I'm hers. We make sure the children are well tended to."

"I can see that," relieved Casimir, glancing back to the well-lit home and toys.

Alessandra smiled down to the girl and asked Casimir, "What's her name? Or she hasn't one yet?"

"Mimzi." Casimir promptly said, "Her name is Mimzi. It's a… strain of anther flower in Morrowind. It's elusively rare."

Alessandra smiled bright, "Fitting! We'll make sure to let it stick." She set down the baby in her arms, "Come, come, Mimzi! Let me introduce you to Luna!"

Mimzi pulled over Casimir's robes and whined, pushing her face into his chest. Alessandra scooped her from Casimir with a struggle, pulling at his heart with every whip of her cries. He looked away, certain to be ridiculed for his tears if he let them show. Mimzi wailed in resistance, reaching for Casimir who distanced to the door. Alessandra tried not to say it, but it was evident the bond. It pained her to see it being torn.

He turned his back to Mimzi's cries, letting his own tears fall in turn.

"Dada!"

The cold of Dawnstar did not dry the water from his eyes, neither. Especially as Mimzi's wails we're still heard several feet from the door. Leaving her was leaving a part of himself as he trudged the crunching snow. He fought the pull of his boots, wanting to go back and change his mind. Yet, he knew it was never to be had in his lifetime. Just a small meeting left a change he couldn't separate from. Not even when he entered Nightcaller Temple. The child turned him from Vaermina that day onward. Every step he took then on taking him to something ribboned in light.