[A/N: This chapter was originally part of Ancestor Moths, but I had to split the perspectives into different chapters as it was just two big. A breather of a chapter. Focusing on the Companions settling in Riften. A few important components going on. A bit of silliness with our characters! As well as some relationship drama. That last bout of easiness for the rest of the tale as things will be amping up from here on. Hope you enjoy!]

Chapter 27: Company with Gutter Rats

The numbers of Dawnguard and Jorrvaskr were all exhausted of their travels, but their vigilance did not end yet. Skjor snapped back to his Companions, "This is the armpit of crime, people. Don't let the hedonism catch you off guard. We are here for a reason. To protect."

As they entered Riften, Aela stated growly, "I hate this city…"

Torvar erupted at the tail-end of her sentence, "I love this city!"

The whelps excitedly took in Riften's unwelcoming scenery. Even Riften was a elating sight to the four. It was another city to embark and discover. Far from their hay dummies and archery posts at Jorrvaskr. It was somewhere real danger was waiting. Windhelm was just the appetizer of their bloodlust.

The town stunk of fish and sewers, with a faint hint of honey from the Black-Briar Meadery. Beggars tented the sides of the streets and pled for coin. Maul glared them down as he rested to a pillar of a townhouse. Lustful wenches twiddled their fingers in a wave to the renown armed men. Brynjolf stood at his stall boasting his newest miracle cure of Wisp Mother tears. The townguard boldly drank mead whilst on the job, too busy wooing wenches and stumbling over their boots to even acknowledge the brigade of warriors making an entrance. A far different welcoming to that of Windhelm.

Vilkas observed, "Never seen such useless guardsmen in all my life."

"That's how Maven likes it." Isran replied, "After that peace council, Maven Black-Briar was coronated as the Jarl of Riften after Laila Law-Giver went into exile. She is a crime matriarch in this city, and for some reason, the Imperials thought her fit to hold power. She's turned it into a den of crime. Even the guards have given up. Maven sees to it that the Thieves Guild have their footprint on Riften, and they certainly have. Keep your gold purses close. Surely us being here will attract those skeevers from the sewers."

"Does anyone here even know what's going on?" Agmaer asked.

"Likely not," Durak replied, "They are too drunk on mead, money or harlots to care. But that won't stop us from saving their dim-witted hides, will it?"

They arrived to Mistveil Keep. Isran beckoned the Jarl first— Maven Black-Briar. She sat to her throne in a smug lean, with her son, Hemming, acting as steward. She lifted her chin to the array of warriors. "What is the meaning of this? A brigade of metal clad stinking up my keep for what exactly?"

"Jarl Maven, I am Isran," he announced, "I'm the leader of the Dawnguard. I'm sure you've heard of me. With our keeps being so close."

"Yes, I've heard of you. And your feeble attempts in avoiding taxes in my Hold. Quite difficult to slay vampires when you are rotting in the jails, isn't it? Very bold you came here."

"My Jarl, did you hear of the battle in Windhelm?" Isran asked in a thread of impatience.

She answered aloofly, "Who hasn't? Your point being?"

"My point?" Isran scoffed, "Vampires attacked that city. It would have fell if not for the efforts of our warriors, and the Companions. I believe this city will be next. That's why we're here. How's that point?"

"What are you asking, Isran? Please don't waste my time in being oblique."

"We're here to protect the city of Riften, and we'd like your guard cooperation in training for the threat. We don't expect compensation, we just want to end this threat before it takes anymore lives."

Maven lifted her chin and pondered, "The Companions and the Dawnguard. A strange combination, indeed. Very well, go off and do what you do. Do not expect special treatment. You lot want to waste your time preparing for some vampire threat, then it's no skin off my teeth. You can stay at Haelga's Bunkhouse if there's room. If not, squat with the cat people outside the city."

Skjor stepped forward, "You don't wish to strategize? Or… show even a shred of concern for your people among this news? Your people are in grave danger, Jarl Maven."

"Strategize what? You all seem to have a mind for war, if this codswallop even happens. I'm not too concerned on flights of fancy. However, I gladly indulge the extra flows of coin to my shopkeeps." Jarl Maven preened in her throne. "So please, go on. Enjoy what Riften has to offer. I'm sure your stay will benefit our streets, either way."

Isran looked to Skjor, and for once they were kindred minded. They didn't waste another moment in the hall.

"That… was disappointing." Aela glowered as she stepped from Mistveil Keep.

"That woman is a snake." Isran scowled, "Looks like if we are protecting Riften, we're doing it on our own."

"There's nothing for it," claimed Skjor, "We'll try to vet the guards best we can. Pull them from their cups of mead and maybe teach a thing or two."

Isran announced, "We'll camp outside the city walls, keep a sharp lookout for a vampire threat. I don't think we'll all fit at that Bunkhouse. This way, you and the others can stay inside and train the guardsmen."

Skjor asked worryingly, "You are sure of this? You all will be taking a risk being outside the walls. You'll be first to meet the monsters head-on."

"And we'll be their first sorry sight if they dare to crawl here," informed Isran.

Skjor queried back to the rest of Jorrvaskr, "So, what say you all? Up for slumming it in Riften for a while?"

"No. but what choice do we have?" Aela asked.

Vilkas brooded, "This seems like a waste of our mettle."

"The night of the New Life Festival was an unexpected attack." Skjor said, "It nearly destroyed Whiterun because we weren't prepared. This time, we will be. It's not a waste. It's what I wish Whiterun had that night."

The Companions and Dawnguard parted ways. With Dawnguard's hyper vigilance outside the gates, and the Companions close to prep the guard. The Circle and the whelps fled to Haelga's Bunkhouse, where the labourers of Riften would stay if they hadn't a place of their own. Skjor led before the Circle and the whelps and called attention to a tall, broad Nord woman with long, yellow locks, and full red lips. She was buxom, and an amulet of Dibella off her neck. She lazily polished her counter at the entrance.

She announced, not looking up from her cleaning, "This is the Bunkhouse… not the inn. If you're looking for a bed, the Bee and Barb is the best bet."

Skjor said boldly, "We're the Companions of Jorrvaskr. We've been assigned to stay here under word of Jarl Maven Black-Briar. You got eight beds to spare?"

Her eyes flickered at the towering men in steel armour. "Oh, wow. The Jarl sent you rugged warriors to the right place, then. I've got room downstairs in the basement. Sorry, the working man of Riften are already taking up space upstairs. It's a little unkempt, but the rent and food is cheap. May I ask why you all have come to Riften?"

"Official business right now," interjected Vilkas, "Can't talk about it. All you have to know is we're here to protect you and the city."

She paused her sultry glance from warrior to warrior on Vilkas, and seemed to stay there for a while. "Brave knights here to safeguard me? Why ever would I pry? I suppose that'll do. Make your way downstairs, all of you. Welcome to the Bunkhouse. I'm Haelga. If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, don't hesitate to call upon me. Day or night." She called attention to the latter.

Vilkas and Farkas walked last to a set of steps. Haelga seemed to materialize out of nowhere. A confident hand holding back Vilkas's chest. "There's something about your eyes. They are… cold as ice, and as mysterious as the Sea of Ghosts. I'm almost drawn to learn your name."

Vilkas stepped away, but her hand stubbornly followed. "Vilkas. Thank you. That's uh... flattering. I should get going. Farewell."

"So soon?" She pursued further, making Farkas watch on in amusement. "I thought maybe you'd like to have a drink with me? Maybe… show me some maneuvers with that sword of yours? It's long. Is that the only sword you have?"

Farkas suppressed his laughter as Vilkas uncomfortably shifted around her. "Yes… it is. I really have to go."

"I beg to differ."

He darted into the basement, with a snorting Farkas following.

In the cellar was dimly lit of candle light. Aligned in cots. There was barrels and crates cluttering the walls, hardly giving the feel of hearth. The whelps and the rest of the Circle were busy putting their things away by their beds.

Vilkas discreetly wiped the nervous sweat from his brow when his brother cackled. "Be careful with that one, brother, she'd eat you alive…literally." He gave Vilkas a slap on the back in camaraderie. It wasn't enough to stale his discomfort.

The whelps excitedly retreated up the Bunkhouse. Vilkas called to them heatedly, "Hey, where do you milk drinkers think you're going?"

They froze like deer in the underbrush. Athis sputtered a lie, "Uh. Going to tour the streets. Meet with the guard. Make sure there's no vulnerable entries into the city."

Vilkas raised, "Not going to the Bee and Barb to tour the mead reserves? Meet and drink with the guard?"

Torvar assured, "Of course, not! We are diligent to the dangers ahead."

"We'll be back!" Ria chimed.

Njada chuckled as she ran up the steps with Ria, Torvar and Athis following. Vilkas rolled his eyes to their exit, certain they were going to the Bee and Bard for a drink or two. Farkas shrugged, "Don't worry, brother, I'll keep an eye on them."

Vilkas jibbed, "Aye! It'll be hard to keep an eye on anything with your face buried in a mug."

"With me, they'll be buried deep in their mugs, too. Come on, Vilkas. It's been a minute since we've taken it easy. We just survived a war, and there ain't no vampires crawling over the gates yet. Kick your feet up for once."

Vilkas sighed and exhaled, "Fine. I'll come. Keep your gold purses close. We're in Riften, after all."

"Thief tries to steal from me I'll throw em' in Lake Honrich. Don't worry…" The two brothers made their way out the basement, leaving Aela and Skjor to themselves again. Aela pulled cobwebs out from the corner wall of her bed. Skjor fidgeted with his belongings stealing quick glances to her.

She turned to him and rested her back against the wall. "You know better than I do we can't risk losing our diligence here. These crime-ridden streets may need our help, but they could break our resolve before the vampires even dare to crawl here. Why should we be responsible to protect the lives of those who cheat and steal as a way of life?"

Skjor exhaled, "It's not about that, Aela. You know that. We aren't guards, we're not the law."

"I know but I don't like it. The twins and bootlicking whelps don't see it, but I won't dare let myself be squandered in the face of hedonism. There's only one thing I glutton for and I can't have it here. I haven't turned since the Falkreath forests." She gloomed into the far-off wall.

"I know. I can tell abstaining from the wolf is taking a toll on you. Perhaps, with our trail cold in Riften, the dullness of waiting makes the temptations burn brighter. You remember Vilkas when he was abstaining from the wolf. I don't wish that for you. Ever. But for now, we have to stay guard and wait. We are Companions in service to Riften now. We work alongside the Dawnguard. We must keep the secrecy of our gift."

"When the vampires do attack, I can't guarantee I won't turn. Something happened in the Falkreath forests… Hircine bestowed a gift. I accepted it. I won't shy from his gift any longer than I need to. So... just be prepared for that."

"Aela."

"No more talk."

Aela heatedly walked from Skjor, stomping from the steps, leaving the Harbinger alone with his troubling thoughts.

Farkas and Vilkas entered the Bee and Barb that was rallying in preach of a Priest of Mara.

"People of Riften, heed my words! The dragons returning and vampires preying on our people is no mere coincidence! This is a sign! A sign Lady Mara is displeased with your constant inebriation! Put down your flagons filled with your vile liquids and embrace the teachings of the handmaiden of Kyne!"

An Argonian behind the bar counter groaned, "Maramal, not again…Talen!"

"Keerava," composed Maramal, "Can't we come to some kind of understanding? These people must be aware of the chaos they've sown."

"Enough, Maramal." Talen, an Argonian barman scolded, "We've all heard of the vampires and dragons. Doesn't give you an excuse to harass our customers."

"Very well, I'll remove myself from this den of iniquity," the priest grunted.

"We're not kicking you out," Talen called to Maramal. "Just keep the sermons at the temple, and let us all sin in peace!"

The priest left hotly, a confusing introduction for Vilkas and Farkas. However, their attention was stolen to their whelps already engaged in heavy drink at a table to the far left.

"So much for diligence, you idiots." Vilkas said, catching the startling attention of his whelps. Ria spat mead from her nose and Njada went still. Torvar and Athis stunned and slammed their drinks to the table.

Farkas began to bellow in laughter at their reaction. "Pups… the lot of them."

To a neighbouring table were a trio of patrons in leather plated armour, a woman, a Breton and Nord man with red locks and a ginger facial shadow. The whelps cheered as Vilkas and Farkas joined them in drink, with Talen scurrying over with pints of mead to the two warriors.

"That's right! Drinking with the twins! Something to scratch off the bucket list!" Torvar cheered.

"Don't get used to it." Vilkas said it lightheartedly. Letting his usual gruff tone taper just a little.

The patrons in the next table peered over as the twins took their seats.

A Nord with bright, reddish hair said, "Quite the lively bunch. Where you all from?"

Vilkas replied, "Companions."

"Companions, eh?" He leaned in intrigue, "You've come a long way from Whiterun. What brings ya to Riften?"

"Vampires, but they ain't here yet." Farkas croaked through a low belch as he set his mead down.

"Hmph," a woman with silver blonde hair said, "Might as well get yourselves piss drunk before they show up. Wow… I feel so protected."

"Vex, come on. Let the heroes have a pint. I mean, what else is there to do in this city?" He introduced, "Name's Brynjolf. I thought I saw you lot coming into the city this morning. Nice to have some fresh-faced warriors among the droll glares of Riften. Never thought I'd see all of the Companions in one place. Blimey, there's a lot of you."

"That's not even all of us," smirked Farkas. "We got one more but she's out in the wilds risking life and limb."

"Who, Mimzi?" Njada sneered in a curled lip, "You mean being the damsel in distress? That dolt is probably headfirst in a bush by now."

"Wait," Brynjolf went silent and tapped his finger on the table. "Where have I heard that name? It's familiar. Shite. Delvin? You gottae hunch?"

"Never heard it, Brynjolf." The bald Breton grumbled, "Likely one of your harpies."

"That's it!" He slapped the table cheerily. "Mimzi! A fire-head pixie. Aye, I remember her. I flirted with her shamelessly, that one."

"See?" Njada grumbled under her breath, "Damsel…"

Vilkas raised in a gritty voice, "You knew her?"

"Briefly but I remember. She's a Companion, eh? I knew the lass was a fiery one. She still running around getting into trouble with Delphine?"

"Delphine?" Farkas asked.

"Bah. Not important."

"I need some air." Vilkas pushed out of the table in a deeper brood than usual. Farkas didn't follow, but that didn't stop him from his worried gawk following Vilkas out the Bee and Barb.

Vilkas barely took a breath of fresh air outside the inn when Haelga reappeared.

"Whoa!"

"You and I have a nipping habit of running into each other. Must be fate."

"Leave me." Before he could brush away, his back thudded against the side of the tavern. Her push nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

"You're playing cat and mouse with me. You're going to make me chase you, aren't you? Oh, but dearest, I love a chase."

He quickly fled from her grasp, picking up pace the further distance put between Haelga and himself.

"That woman is a fiend." Vilkas hushed to himself as he scrambled back to the Bunkhouse. Shooting glances behind his shoulder in fear she was following him.

Inside the Bee and Barb, the whelps were participating in a drinking game with the local meadery workers. Ria was already hurling into a bucket. Athis stumbled to his rump and fell flat in a snore. Njada and Torvar still kept up the fight through mugs of drink.

Keerava sneered from her counter, "Damn apes."

Njada drunkenly boasted, "Ya can't beat the Companions, ya dunnies! All we do… all day… in that hall… is drink!"

Torvar chugged down another pint. By the time he did, Njada fell unconscious on the floor. The meadery workers broke out in laughter. But Torvar kept the drink strong. His fellow whelps lay beaten and drunk to the floorboards, and each swig of his ale an effort to avenge them. He swooped down bottle after bottle, and as the meadery workers began to sully to their inebriation, Torvar would down another. The meadery workers relented and lifted their hands in surrender. Torvar hailed a slurred and stumbling celebration. "Aye! Hail, Torvar! The Mead King! No man can out-drink me! I am…"

His eyes went droll and he stiffed like a sawn log and tipped backwards, tepidly shaking the floorboards.

Farkas laughed at his whelp as his company with Vex continued. She asked, "You trained that guy?"

"Yup. Or training, still. He's got a lot to learn, as you can see."

"Can't imagine having to lower my standards in training the mentally declined. I'd have put them six feet under in a matter of days. Don't you ever just… want to punch them in the nose sometimes?"

"Nah. That's not how you teach. If I took my anger out on the whelps, they wouldn't learn. They can be kind of annoying, but they are good people. Besides, that's more of my brother's thing. He's working on it, though."

"For a big dumb Nord, you've sure got a big dumb heart…"

Farkas beamed a loveable grin. "Thanks! For kind of a mean girl, you've got a really pretty smile."

The words from Vex (as dry as they may be) made Farkas nearly jump in his seat. "Wanna get a room?"

Farkas nodded fervently like a puppy, "Oh, yeah!"

Vex set ten coins on the table for Talen, leaving the table with a confident jaunt. Farkas nearly tripped over his chair running after her.

Skjor sauntered from the Bunkhouse, meeting Vilkas on his way to the gates of Riften.

"Vilkas," observed Skjor, "You look like you just saw a ghost. What's wrong?"

"I need to go. Hide. She's probably following me."

"Who? What's wrong with you?"

"That lusty sabre cat. The Bunkhouse owner. Hilda or Holga or something," breathed Vilkas raggedly. "She looks at me like I'm a meal."

Skjor kept a glare as cold as steel, suddenly melding into an erupting laugh.

"This isn't funny, Skjor," snapped Vilkas. "I'm being hunted!"

"Just tear one off already, Vilkas." Skjor slapped Vilkas's shoulder. "Go tame the sabre cat. Might be the last time you have a bit of fun before we are flooded in bloodthirsty monsters. You know… the real crazed animals?"

"To Oblivion with that. I'd rather take a vampire right now. That woman would likely strap me to her bed and keep me prisoner."

The two startled at footsteps nearing the Bunkhouse entrance, where Vilkas was already running to hide behind the corner of the building. Skjor groaned to witness this, and composed as Haelga passed the corner.

"Oh, greetings." She said, "How is your stay so far, Harbinger?"

"Fair," nodded Skjor. "I'll take my leave."

Haelga asked with a fire in her eyes, "You haven't by chance seen your fellow warrior, have you? Eyes like moonstone and hair like ebony. We had some… unfinished business."

Skjor hummed and brought his gauntlet to his chin. "Vilkas? Hmm…" He glanced over to the corner of the wall, where Vilkas discreetly peered from the corner and shook his head, putting his fingers to his mouth in a shush.

"He went inside a few minutes ago. Probably sleeping, we had a long journey."

"Thank you, Harbinger. As you were."

Haelga fled inside her Bunkhouse promptly, leaving Skjor alone with Vilkas again. He slowly ambled from the corner of the wall and exhaled a bout of relief.

"You weren't jesting," chortled Skjor. "She's probably preparing the straps now. Out of all the creatures you've faced, none have made you this untethered in fear. Best run for it before she comes back out."

He sped walked down the pathways towards the Bee and Barb to hide within the confines of his other Companions. He passed the market where he thudded against Aela. She snipped, "Watch it, Basket-Head! What's up with you?"

"Hiding." He muttered before slamming into the Bee and Barb, leaving Aela flummoxed. She drifted along the pathways of Riften, grimly observing the depravity and sinful life of the townsfolk and guard. She knew their job in training the guard would be a gruelling feat. They had grown comfortable in the sin of Riften. Too comfortable. Like deer without predators. Aela suddenly felt a sharp throttle of her satchel and shot a glare at a hooded man scrambling away with a purse of coin. She gripped into her satchel for a second only to seethe that it was her own.

"Hey! Thief!"

Townguard fumbled for their bows. Traders gasped as Aela aggressively pulled out her own to strike the thief in the calf. Suddenly, an iron clad Nord woman plowed the thief to the cobblestone. She straddled the thief, giving the guards the head start to apprehend him. She grasped Aela's gold purse from the thief's clutches and the guards bound him in rope.

The Nord woman approached Aela with staggering breath but keeping a kind smile. She was near her own age. Fair but blemished in scars. She had daring war paint over her face. Blonde hair tied back in entwining braids. She tossed the purse back to Aela.

"That belongs to you, and you only." The woman had a thick Northern Skyrim accent. "You're a stranger here too, huh?"

Aela pushed the purse back into her satchel and smiled back and said, "Thank you. I'm a Companion. Not the only one here. But yeah… I'm Aela… many in Skyrim call me Aela the Huntress. What about you?"

"Hah!" The woman cackled, "That's funny! Many here call me Mjoll the Lioness. Strange, right? But you can just call me Mjoll. Another strong Nord woman with a strong title, I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Companion."

Mjoll held her hand out to Aela, who happily shook it.

"I heard rumours that the Companions were in the city. You're the first one I've stumbled across so far. It's an honour. Your hall is legendary, and your battles celebrated! I hope you don't find Riften as much as a toil as most. It's a sinful place, but I'm working to change that one day at a time."

"You're Riften's protector?"

"Aye, that I am. It's been difficult. Some people in this city would sooner keep things as they are than accept help, but I do what I can. The Black-Briars and Thieves Guild make this place nearly impossible to dwell in. It's been an uphill climb, and every step I take, Maven or the Thieves Guild set me three steps back. But I won't stop until this city is cleansed of wrongdoing."

"The Thieves Guild?" Aela asked, "That's why this place is brimming in thievery."

"Aye." Mjoll explained, "They live down in the Ratway… disgusting place. Honestly suiting for the vermin that live down there. Maven has them backed, and now that she's the Jarl, this place has gone to the wolves! My work is unending, but having you Companions here is a glimmer of hope. You all may stale some of the crime for a while."

"Where is this Ratway?"

"It's down the lower docks. But you don't want to go down there."

"I think I do," said Aela with a sureness, "You want to come, too?"

Mjoll stayed a glower of shock, curving into an ambitious grin. "You have a spark in your eye. I should know better than to warn you away. I'll be damned if I let you tread down there alone. Let's go!"

Vilkas ran back into the Bee and Barb, looking for Farkas. He raised a brow at his drunken, unconscious whelps on the floorboards. Talen asked in a bite of exasperation, "Please tell me you're here to gather up your friends…"

"Where's my twin brother? He looks like me… but bigger."

"Oh. He went upstairs a little while ago… in one of the rooms…" Talen was abruptly interrupted by Vilkas.

"Aye. Thank you." He hurried up the stairs, leaving the Argonian flummoxed as he looked to his partner.

"I'll be the first to say it, these Companions are freaks of nature." Keerava grumbled as she cleaned glasses behind the counter.

He ran up to the only door closed upstairs, and made a quick yelp, "Agh!"

He caught only a short glimpse of Farkas and Vex on the bed, but that was far too much.

She squealed, "What the—!" She leapt off Farkas, scurrying out the room shawled in a fur blanket.

"Brother!" Farkas barked as he covered himself in a pillow. "Knock first! How many times?!"

"Really, Farkas?" Vilkas grumbled as he stomped into the room, "You can't go a day?"

"What?! She was pretty! What do you want?"

"I'm being stalked by the damn bunkhouse lady and was hoping you'd be a brother and aid in my hiding! Not be here rutting another wench!"

Farkas perked a smile and mocked, "You're hiding?"

"Yes! Don't make light of this."

"Maybe just bed her and get it over with," crassly shrugged Farkas, "I mean… that's all she wants and what's the harm? She's got big trunks." He motioned his hands to his chest jestingly. "… you might enjoy yourself."

Vilkas curved a scowl of disgust. "That's repulsive, Farkas."

"Well, why not?"

Vilkas sighed and crossed his arms, "Because I'm not going to bed someone just so they leave me alone."

"Is this about Mimzi?" Farkas asked as he grabbed for his tunic. "Gotta be. Cause' you wouldn't be making such a big deal out of this if it wasn't."

"No." Vilkas groaned aloofly, "And it's never been. I trained her in the yard at Fort Dawnguard and you made an assumption. A wrong one."

Farkas lifted a brow and lowered his head in suggestion. "Ya can't lie to your twin, Vilkas. Are you going to just admit it already?"

Vilkas seethed through his nose. He crossed his arms and turned to the door as if he was going to leave. When he reached the door frame he spun back around. "Yes! Damn it, yes! It's about Mimzi! You called it. I feel like a crab pulled from the shell when that woman pursues me, because of Mimzi. She's out there in the worst of it, and I'm here. All I can do is worry and hear of her from other men all over Skyrim. It's… maddening. She is maddening! She's not even here and she still drives me insane."

Farkas went stale and quiet, before snorting into a chuckle. "You're so jealous right now. It's weird."

"What?"

"You," laughed Farkas, "You're jealous! Why are you jealous? Even if she did have a thing with that Brynjolf guy, it happened in the past. We all have a history. I mean - get over it. Don't mean she still has a thing with any of them."

"That's not the point, Farkas," snarled Vilkas, "Windhelm and Riften. Sure, she didn't have a thing with Ralof, but who is to say if he was even telling me the truth? Now this milk-drinker comes out of the white. Brynjolf or whatever. The Riften guy. So, what am I… the Whiterun guy? Is there a Falkreath guy, or a Markarth guy, too?"

"I'm sure you're not the Whiterun guy," snickered Farkas, "But I am sure you're jealous. You got feelings, brother. She had feelings, too. When we thought you were dead, who do you think was the first to want to sack that castle? You're the guy she wants. The sooner you accept that, the better you'll feel."

Vilkas groaned and hung his head. The root of it all finally coming into focus in his head. "I miss her."

"You'll see her again," smiled Farkas. "But for now, you should probably tell lusty bunkhouse lady you're taken. Maybe she'll back off."

"Doesn't feel right… Mimzi and I aren't together."

"But you both want to be. So, yeah. You are."

Vilkas looked up at Farkas and dimmed a smile, where Farkas returned one to his brother, as well.

"You really are wiser than you give yourself credit for, brother."

"Yeah, I know, now get out so I can get dressed."

Aela and Mjoll entered the confines of the Ratway, and the smell of rot and wastes was thick in a repulsive cloud that made even Aela grimace.

Mjoll stated, "A whole fortress under Riften… Who knows what hides down here."

"Nothing good. Stay close," muttered Aela as she pulled out her bow. They shambled to a chamber with an adjoining bridge. They followed tracks of muddy boot prints to a door. It opened into a vast cistern. It was a domed chamber. It was bordered by a platform and a tavern to the far end. The tavern was occupied by a few unwelcoming faces. Aela hushed, "What is this?"

"This… is the Ragged Flagon," stated Mjoll, "This is where you can find the Thieves Guild. They definitely would not greet us fair if we wandered further."

"This place is massive." Aela observed and looked up to the ceilings. "… and it's just under the surface."

Suddenly, a male voice chimed behind them, "You lassies lost?"

Mjoll and Aela drew their weapons and faced the voice in a startled glare. Brynjolf flinched and shot his arms up in surrender. "Oi, lasses, easy. It's fine, I'm not a threat. Perhaps we can speak civilly before the need to draw weapons, eh?"

Mjoll growled, "Brynjolf… I should have known you'd be part of the filth down here. Clacky bastard."

"Aye, lass, I should have known I'd eventually catch you down here. Ha, you don't give up, do you? I love that kind of fire in a woman."

"You're part of the Thieves Guild?" Aela asked in a detesting snarl.

Brynjolf rested his arms to his sides. "Yes. Been for years. Troll's blood, you're one of those Companions, ain't ya?"

"And alas. Two clashing factions meet." Aela scowled

"I suppose you two lovely ladies wouldn't leave and forget what you saw, would you? Even if I said 'please'?" Brynjolf bargained.

"If only life was that easy." Mjoll growled daringly.

"Perhaps," said Aela - raising Mjoll's brow.

Brynjolf curved a smile, "What did you have in mind, lass?"

"As you know - or you should - there's a vampire threat nearing Riften. When that happens, there are very few places the townspeople can hide. If you want us to stay quiet, perhaps when the time comes you may allow entry to the people of Riften to seek refuge down in these cisterns until the threat is vanquished."

Mjoll and Brynjolf met Aela's suggestion in varying stares. Mjoll was startled, but Brynjolf was subtly intrigued by the offer.

"You'll let this pass over some vampire invasion swaggle? Sounds good to me."

"It's not swaggle, you fool," snarled Aela. "The vampires are a very real, very terrible threat. They don't just come by themselves, either. They come with hounds decayed in black flesh, with gnashing fangs that sting like the glacial seas. Frostbite spiders that could ravage a mammoth. They attacked Whiterun, attacked Windhelm, and soon they will come for Riften. The townspeople will be allowed here when it happens, and you and your mates best not interfere. Or I'll will throw you and the rest of the cretins to the vampires first so the innocents get a head start. Are we clear?"

Brynjolf curved a smirk and leered his voice, "Gods, you're a firebrand, lass. Very well, if the day ever comes, the people of Riften can seek refuge here. But only while the vampires are running rampant. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly," replied Aela.

Aela had reached the surface with Mjoll who asked, "Are you certain that was wise? You sure you can trust the Thieves Guild? They are conniving, Aela. There's no guarantee they will keep their word."

"Once the vampires get here, they'll have to," she responded dourly, "… or Riften will fall."

"You certain these vampires will come? Is this really as grim as it all sounds?"

"Yes," croaked Aela as they walked through the streets. "I know they will. We all do. That's why we're here. Be ready, Mjoll. Cheats and ruffians are the last of Riften's problems now."

Mjoll was left with a dejected glare as she walked back to her home, looking back to Aela one last time before she went inside. Aela was on her way back to the Bunkhouse. Skjor was standing outside leaning up against the siding. He perked a smile at her appearance again. "Was wondering where you wandered off to."

"I have a plan to safeguard the townsfolk when the vampires attack," she announced, "It's not ideal… but it's the best play we have."

"What is it?" Skjor queried. Vilkas and Farkas exited the Bee and Barb on their way to the Bunkhouse. Farkas came out the doors with an aghast glower startling Vilkas.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"My purse," flummoxed Farkas defeatedly— scratching his head. "I think she stole my gold purse…"

Vilkas's confusion dwindled to exasperation and groaned, "She stole from you? Bedded you… and stole from you?"

"Yeah… I think so," moped Farkas.

Vilkas perked an amused smirk which he tried to conceal. "Smart. Devious… but smart," he slapped his brother's back in an ode of comfort across the bridge. They met with Skjor and Aela again.

"You two," glowered Skjor. "Had enough of Riften's mead and women, yet?"

"Oh, yeah," the brothers scoffed simultaneously, both fevered in the same exhaustion.

Aela crossed her arms and announced, "Good. I discovered the Ratway down in the reaches of the sewers. There's a large cistern— nearly abandoned. Just under our feet. When the vampires attack, we need to herd the people down there as soon as possible. It's the perfect place for them to wait out the raid."

"The Ratway?" Vilkas balked, "That's Thieves Guild territory."

"Not any longer, I spoke to their man, Brynjolf, and he's agreed to have them refuge in their sewers."

"That sod is Thieves Guild?" Vilkas broke out suddenly.

Farkas chortled, "He didn't call you a 'fire-head pixie' too, did he?"

Aela grumbled, "No, Ice-Brain. This isn't the right time to jest, either. You fools may be too occupied with the hedonism of Riften, but I'm still focused on our task at hand. Protecting these people. Tomorrow, no more skulking around. I expect you both to meet with the townguard and train them steadfast for the attack. You understand?"

Skjor perked a smile at Aela's assertiveness, where the brother's slighted and left back into the Bunkhouse for a night's rest.

Skjor added, "Hmph. Starting to think you should be the Harbinger. You did good, Aela. How are you feeling?"

"Don't," snapped Aela, "I'm doing the best I can. I don't need you trying to wiggle your way into my withdrawal of the beast."

"That was never my intent."

"Of course it is. I know when you're prying."

Skjor held his hand out to her and she slapped it away. She hotly stomped back into the Bunkhouse, leaving Skjor disheartened on his way out the streets of Riften. The night had crept over the Rift in comforting chirps of night birds. It was accompanied by the gentle churns of Lake Honrich. Skjor still held the hilt of his sword cautiously as he spied to the shadows. A looming fire from a camp near the gates. He walked to the Dawnguard, where Isran stood in his tent examining his letters and maps. Durak and Agmaer sat by the fire and called up to Skjor, "Good evening, Harbinger."

"Good evening." He shuffled inside Isran's tent.

Isran looked up to him and scoffed. "Locals driving you batty, yet?"

Skjor chuckled, "Not me. For the others, a little. I need to speak to you in regard to… our gift."

"That's what you're calling it, eh? What is it?"

"When the time comes… my Circle and I think it's best to use it if needed. We haven't turned in a long time and clearly it's taking a toll on my Circle. Particularly Aela, who heeds the call of her blood the most. More than me. She'll be a force to be reckoned with in her most powerful form. I think you know that."

Isran pressed off his map table and growled, "Are you being serious, Skjor? You asking for permission to turn into a monster when it suits you lot?"

Skjor curved a scowl. "I don't need to ask you for anything. I'm telling you. I remember quite clearly, I said you would not be my superior. We are working against a greater evil, that doesn't make us Dawnguard, and doesn't make you our leader."

"Then why tell me this?"

"Just clearing the air so when the time comes, you Dawnguard keep your weapons to the vampires. Not us. If you know what's good for you all."

Isran shook a gritty chuckle in his throat. "You threatening me now? Is that what's good for you?"

"Just clearing the air." Skjor remained crass, "… as you were…"

As Skjor left the tent, Isran growled under his breath, "If Kodlak could see you now…"

Skjor stopped in his tracks. His shoulders pensive. The leather of his gauntlets cracked as he clenched his fists. The wolf blood burned then, viciously so. He gritted his teeth and stomped from the campgrounds and back to Riften, leaving the Dawnguard angrily.

The docks of Castle Volkihar softly crunched the steps of Garan Marethi. The vampire greedily plucked clues from this undercroft. He spied along the undercroft entrance, following a scent left behind recently. A mortal scent. He followed this scent through the darkened abyss of the undercroft. He knew the host and knew her blood. Her Dragon blood. For he had once tasted the blood, himself. He cautiously followed her trail, leading into the abandoned courtyard. He went aghast at the hidden passage which was now opened into the moon dial. He fled into these tunnels, following the scent further into the long-abandoned corridors of Castle Volkihar. From there he followed their trail and entered another opened secret passage left behind. The tunnel opened into Valerica's laboratory. Garan Marethi startled at the open portal swirling in cackles of lightning and throwing winds. He marvelled his red eyes to the construct for sometime. Then immediately fled back to the higher reaches of Castle Volkihar.