Dragon From Ash - Legacy (Not Updated) - Chapter 19 - Mortigaunt (2024)

Chapter Text

A day like any other

Arngeir rose first, so early that not even the keenest eye could spy sunlight to the east. Oldest and most in tune with the teachings of Paarthurnax, he was the closest thing to a leader among the Nords of High Hrothgar, and moved with deliberate grace. He preferred to meditate in darkness and gaze upon the stars as he contemplated the gifts of Kyne.

Borri was the next to wake. His way was to walk the halls of High Hrothgar in the predawn grey, stopping at each window to reflect upon the shifting light and shadow upon the snow and rocks without.

Wulfarth was out of his bed before Einarth this morning, but that was happenstance rather than design. Neither of them relished rising early, but the example of their fellows made it seem an unworthy thing not to be about their day by the time the sun peeked over the distant peaks beyond Riften.

The Greybeards ate simply and little, and what was not given by the people below was grown in modest gardens sheltered by the bulk of their monastery. Wulfarth was not unskilled in the arts of plants and vegetables, and on this morning he stooped to study a batch of radishes that seemed almost ready for harvest. In the end, however, he let them be. They had not had a delivery from below in some time, but their stores were far from depleted. It would hurt nothing to allow the little ones a bit more time to grow.

Einarth was the youngest, and since that day when the Dragonborn's Thu'um had echoed across the plains of Whiterun, his contemplations and duties had often brought him to gaze upon the path below. Tradition held that there were seven thousand steps leading to the threshold of High Hrothgar, and Einarth was determined to be the first to see the Dragonborn's approach.

It had been nearly two months since the Greybeards had shouted Dovahkiin, and yet none had come to claim the title. Those few pilgrims who came to High Hrothgar only left offerings or bowed their heads before the statue of Talos below the great doors, and so the Greybeards waited.

Once, their order had been many, and the halls had rung with song and the whispers of voices empowered by the Song of Kyne. Five hundred years ago, the Emperor Cephorus had come to the Greybeards, seeking their blessings and their wisdom in the battle against his sister Potema. He had knelt on the stones of High Hrothgar, and the Greybeards had gazed down upon him. But that was then. Now, four old men lived on a mountain, forgotten by all but a few who kept to the old ways.

But the winds of Kyne were ever-changing, and the sound of Thu'um came once more upon them. Great Paarthurnax counseled that none who kept to the Way of the Voice should let pride steer their actions, but each of the Greybeards had felt a small stirring of unworthy hope. Perhaps now, it said. Now, with the dragons upon us, we will once more be as we were.

After all, it was known that the Dragonborn would come to High Hrothgar. Whosoever Akatosh had chosen for this momentous task, it would be the duty of the Greybeards to train them. Man or woman, great or humble, they shall come, and our teachings shall go with them.

It was not done, to long for glory. That had been the way of the War-Chiefs, of the misguided Tongues who had used Thu'um to carve their names in blood and stone. But still, as they went about their days, the Greybeards had new thoughts of the world below, thoughts that had not dwelt in High Hrothgar for an age.

And atop the mountain, Paarthurnax too was waiting. Dovahkiin. An old word. Old things come again.

They Greybeards spoke little, as those who have lived too long together had no need for words. Each knew what the others would say as they went about their business, and so there was no need to waste Kyne's holy breath on trivialities. The Greybeards spoke only in True Need, and that time was not yet now.

But still, the silences that filled the halls of High Hrothgar were pregnant with possibilities. Old things come again. The world was changing, and the Dragonborn would come.

Jolf's reaction upon seeing Velandryn and Serana together was less than ideal. The Nord stiffened, and doubtless would have screamed had not both the Dunmer and the vampire stepped forward at the same time.

"Don't!" Serana wasn't positive which of them had spoken the word first, but the effect was to transform the sailor's panic into mute terror.

Velandryn sighed. "Your people's doing, I take it?"

Serana winced. Not the best greeting I could have hoped for. Still, he wasn't wrong. "They grabbed him a little after we left. I…helped him escape."

A quirked eyebrow told her that Velandryn not only wanted to know more, he wanted her to know that he was curious. I'd forgotten about this part of him. He'd grown more confident, as well; he didn't even bother asking the obvious question. So, she sighed and gave him what he wanted. "My family and I…didn't see eye to eye. I left."

Velandryn glanced over at Jolf. "Now I almost feel bad for all of the curses I heaped on him." He shrugged. "I'm not feeling any magic now, so I guess this is just what happens after an extended stay with the family Volkihar?"

She winced again. He's not wrong. "He'll be alright, with time." She leaned down and put a hand on the Nord's shoulder. "We'll leave you be. Is there anything else you—"

"Just go!" It was more sob than speech. "Please! I never want—" His voice broke, and the rest came out a whisper, "never want to see you again."

She felt paralyzed, unsure of whether she was better off trying to do something for him, or respecting his wishes. I leave him, what happens?

"You won't convince him." Velandryn's voice was soft, pitched for her ears. "If you truly regret what happened, return when it's not so raw. Right now you're the enemy, the same as the rest of your kin." She looked up at him, and saw the faintest hint of light in his eyes. "An easy mistake to make, I fear."

Does that mean—she cut off that line of thought before it could consume her. First things first. She knelt, and placed a bag of coins on the bench. "It's yours, Jolf. And…I'm sorry." She was, more than she quite knew how to explain. "I hope you…" she didn't know how to finish that sentence. "Be well."

She retrieved her bag, and, forcing herself not to look back at the hunched Nord, headed to the dock for what would hopefully be the last time. Velandryn was leaning against a warehouse wall, and it annoyed her to no end how smug he looked. At least, I bet that's what he's feeling. She couldn't always be sure with him. Still, though, it was better than hate, and his eyes were too light for that.

"So…" her voice trailed off as she realized she didn't know what to say next. Do I ask for his help? Offer to help him? She'd never been in this situation before, and the songs usually glossed over this bit. The heroes just learned of each other's problems somehow.

Velandryn looked up at the arch of the city overhead. "I have a room at a good inn. Warmth, food, music." Another raised eyebrow. "And a place out of the sun. At least one of those must sound good to you."

She smirked at him. "Well, if you're paying, sure." Then, as she realized what she'd just said, her heart leapt into her throat. This is no time to tease him! He wasn't trying to kill her, but she had no idea what had happened since last—

He chuckled, though, and her fear evaporated. "I'll pay, but it's an investment. You have the Scroll again, and I'd bet there's a story to go with it."

They started to walk, and she adjusted the pack on her back. "And you're here, looking—" she glanced up and down, taking in his eclectic attire "—like…I don't actually have words to describe it. Should I even ask?"

He glanced down, and snorted. "I could have sworn I'd changed." That was more to himself than to her, but he shrugged and glanced over. "What do you say to skipping the games?"

"The games?" She hadn't seen much in the way of games here, unless feasting and dancing counted…

"Where we spar for tidbits of what the other one was doing since we parted." He smiled, and she could easily have mistaken it for genuine. "I saw the way your father looked at that Scroll. That you have it makes me very much doubt that you are his creature."

She shuddered. "Never again." She would stop Lord Harkon. Then, because she was an idiot who couldn't stop herself from teasing her one ally in the world, she added, "Or we just made a fantastic mockery, to fool you."

Another laugh. She'd missed that sound, she realized, and what it represented coming from Velandryn. There had been little laughter in Castle Volkihar that was not at someone else's expense. Velandryn, though, seemed to take cruelty and violence with deadly seriousness. When he laughed, it was because he found something to appreciate. "I may not be a Moth Priest, but even I know you can't fake the pressure that thing puts off!"

Even you know? Unless she missed her guess, he was better versed in the Elder Scrolls than every Nord in Solitude combined. "You can feel it too, then?" She'd been aware of it, and pressure wasn't a bad word for the feeling.

He nodded. "Very faint, but I think I could close my eyes and point to it, if the need arose."

She chuckled. "A good party trick to do with an Elder Scroll."

The Dunmer snorted. "If that's the best party trick you can conjure with an Elder Scroll, then you aren't half the woman I thought you were."

She smiled to herself, and glanced around to make sure they weren't being followed. Force of habit, I suppose. It was so nice just walking and talking that she could almost forget how many things they had to worry about. "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you'd be angrier, considering…"

"How I left?" He wasn't smiling now; he seemed almost lost in thought. "I had a lot of time to think out there, and you weren't the one who wronged me."

"But I was!" She was just full of things she shouldn't be saying today. "You never would have come to the castle if it wasn't for me!"

Velandryn started to say something, but stopped. She glanced over at him and saw he was looking at a pair of Imperial soldiers. For a moment she couldn't understand what it was that had caught his—oh.

One of the soldiers was a Dark Elf. Female, young by the look of her, and staring back at Velandryn with an expression that looked suspiciously like…joy? For some reason, this little one annoyed Serana, and she hoped the patrol would just make their way on down the road.

It was not to be, however, and the other elf approached them, eyes fixed on Velandryn. "One blood, brother!" She pressed a fist to her chest, and bowed, smiling widely.

The Dragonborn stiffened, and Serana wondered what the phrase meant. He co*cked his head slightly, and studied the other elf. His eyes were dark, and she could almost feel his anger. "Are we, then? Mehn k'chall! Imperial n'wah rise above their station, it would seem."

The other elf looked mortified. "I'm sorry…I…" she bowed her head and hurried away, the other soldier shooting Velandryn a bewildered look before hurrying after her.

Velandryn watched her go, eyes hard and face stony, and Serana managed to wait for all of five seconds before she couldn't take it any longer. "What was that all about?"

Velandryn was still looking after the other elf. "It's something outland Dunmer say. Means we're all the same." He laughed, though there was no joy in the sound. "They run, and then they have the gall to claim…what? That they're as good as us, just because we share blood?" A snort. "Joins the Legion, then comes mewling around with that 'one blood' drivel. Beh Vekh! Disgraceful fetching s'wit." For a moment, she thought he was going to spit.

She'd seen him angry before, but this was different. Somehow, that little elf had inspired in him a contempt such as she'd never felt from the Dragonborn. What happened to your thoughtfulness? She hadn't witnessed this side of Velandryn before, and it put her uncomfortably in mind of the Volkihar.

No, that's not fair. Velandryn wasn't nearly that bad, but it was still unnerving to watch him behave this way. He's better than this.

They walked in silence for a minute more, until Serana just had to say something. "You do realize your anger's irrational, right?"

"Excuse me?" She almost had to admire that he'd managed to make those words sound at once calm and furious. He's knows what he's doing with his voice.

Still, she wouldn't back down. "You just attacked that poor girl for no reason!"

"You aren't Dunmer, you wouldn't—"

"Understand?" Now she felt that familiar irritation rise; he was wrong, and she wasn't going to let him get away with being so stupid. "I know what happened with your people, remember? There's no way in Oblivion that child was two hundred years old, and don't you say otherwise! Unless I'm missing something, she didn't have any say at all in where she was born!"

Velandryn paused for a second. "Still, she has no right to—"

"What? Grow up surrounded by humans? Maybe her parents are the ones you should hate, the ones who fled, but that is on them! So she hears stories of Morrowind, the land of her native blood, but she'll never see it, because they hate people like her!" The romantic in Serana was going full tilt now, and she doubted she could stop even if she'd wanted to. "So, she joins the Legion. Again, surrounded by humans. Assigned to Skyrim." She glanced around for effect. "Not a lot of elves here, are there?" She looked back to Velandryn, who she hoped was beginning to get the point. "And then, one morning as she's making her rounds, what does she see? Another elf, this one looking like he stepped out of a story about the Dunmer of Morrowind!" She was just making things up now, but Velandryn did have a look about him that none of the other Dunmer she'd seen could match. "And then, when she finally works up the courage to—"

"Alright, enough!" Velandryn seemed more annoyed than amused, but at least his anger had subsided somewhat. "I can't stand hearing about how I killed her pet dog as well as her parents when I called out her foolish little greeting."

"That's all it was! A foolish gesture! So why did you get so…bent out of shape over it?" She recalled an old saying. Men, like metal, lose their worth when they lose their temper. Somehow this elf had done what vampires, draugr, and dragons could not, and broken the temper of Velandryn Savani.

For a moment, she thought he would lash out again, but he only sighed. "We are our struggle, Serana. The first act that set us apart from the Aldmer was striking out to forge a new path. They ran from that, and then they—" He sighed again, and quickened his pace. "You know where I'm going with this. I don't begrudge her the hardships she's lived, but 'one blood' is a bit more than I can take."

Serana kept pace with him effortlessly; she wasn't letting this one go, no matter what little noises he made about understanding. "Velandryn Savani, you are better than this!"

At that, he stopped and turned to look at her. A long moment passed, and she felt the skin on her scalp began to prickle. What's he thinking? His face, for once, was totally and truly inscrutable. Finally, he gave a short, sharp laugh. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? I could stretch out a hand and everyone who's ever been hurt can come flocking to me. I could give and give, without prejudice or favor, and all the ills of the world can at last be healed." A snort, and he tilted his head, seeming to regard her with new eyes. "I'm not a monster, Serana of the Volkihar, but I'm not going to cut myself into some limp-spined wretch just because you think I'm not nice enough!"

For a moment, words failed her. "This isn't about nice!" How can he be so blind? "This is about respect! She deserves that, the same as anyone else!"

"Then let her earn it!" She'd never seen him outraged before; every word burned in the air. "Let every one of them suffer, and then they can call me 'brother!'" He seemed to regain himself then, and Serana too realized that they were at the center of a circle of people, all watching wide-eyed.

Velandryn grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her down a tiny side street, away from the eyes of the Nords. As the buildings blocked the sun, she felt more strength fill her limbs, and her irritation flared as well. She yanked her arm away and shot him a glare—nobody grabbed her—but he was already pacing, eyes still blazing but now well within the limit of what she expected from him.

"You've suffered; how can it not incense you? I don't know what you went through to become," he waved a hand, "as you are, but surely some child clamoring to be called a," he glanced around, and lowered his voice still further, "vampire would be beyond the pale. I can't pretend to know, and I wouldn't claim to, but how can you not despise them for claiming your pain as their own?"

"I'm not going to insult them in public, if that's what you're intimating." Some mortal claiming to be a vampire might bother her, she knew, but the idea was so foolish that she hard time taking it seriously. Then, Serana understood. "It's not what she did, it's what she represents." She still thought he was wrong, but…I see where he's coming from.

Velandryn leaned against the wall behind him, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Thousands fled Morrowind when we were at our lowest. They abandoned the home of our people, the promise of Veloth, to save themselves. Those who stayed, did so with the knowledge that their own kin, their own blood, had left them to die so that they might be safe." He bowed his head. "Do not ask me to love them, Serana. That girl out there did not strike a blow against me, but I have walked the Serj'ruhn of Necrom. The bodies that could not be identified, lineages exterminated so completely that none remained to lay them in their ancestral tombs, these are the legacy of those who fled."

"But if every Dunmer had stayed, they might still have died." She'd picked up a little of what had happened in Morrowind. "Maybe more Dunmer live because of their actions."

Velandryn shrugged. "Perhaps. Or the wrong Dunmer live today, and my nation and my people would be the stronger had they perished. That is not for me to say."

He seemed willing to stop there. Serana, however, was ignoring the little voice that was telling her to let this go. "Who would you trade that girl's life for, hmm? You say the wrong Dunmer lived? That's her. She's the one who lived, so if you could walk up to her and slice her open, and in doing so bring back someone who perished, who would be worth it? Because we're talking about one soldier, not every Dunmer who ever fled from danger!"

"Why does this matter to you?" She'd expected more anger, but he sounded almost resigned. "You show up again with an Elder Scroll and a hunted look, and your first order of business is to make sure I'm being nice to random mer I meet on the street?"

"Because you're better than this!" She meant that, and if there was a bit more emotion in her voice than usual, well, such things happened. "You've a good heart, and I watched you fight Movarth because it was the right thing to do. You pretend to have contempt for Skyrim's people, but you shed blood in Morthal on their behalf." She had to smile at the memory of Velandryn and Lydia, disheveled and exhausted, helping her kill the master vampire. "You helped me get home even knowing what was waiting there. You tried to convince me that I was on the wrong side, and here I am!" It might have only been her imagination, but she thought his eyes had softened the tiniest bit. "You…you're not the sort of person who hates like that!"

Velandryn smiled with his eyes, and somehow she could see the sadness there. "For Dunmer, the hate isn't something you choose. We get it with our mother's milk, and it's nursed to vigor as we grow. If you think I'm better, then—"

"That's horsesh*t and you know it!" She tried to avoid cursing—it was crude and common, as her mother had said—but Velandryn was going too far. "I just left the only family I've ever known because I saw them for what they were. You're at least as smart as I am, so there's no way I'm buying that you're just some poor fool elf unable to think for himself! I thought Dunmer didn't leave Morrowind? Why are you here if you're so gods-damned helpless in the face of your beliefs?" he didn't respond, only stared off into space. "Velandryn!"

He blinked, only once, but it was enough. "I'm trying to think." If he was upset, his voice gave no hint of it. Maybe a bit of tension there, but he has a handle on himself again.

"About?"

"Whether you're right." She hadn't expected that.

"And?"

He gave her a look that was unmistakably unamused. "I haven't decided yet." He closed his eyes again, and Serana waited.

Damn that woman! She'd been back in his life for less than an hour, and already Serana of the Volkihar was tying him in knots.

Who would you trade that girl's life for? He didn't have a good answer. And he had to be honest, with himself if with nobody else. His hatred hadn't been well-reasoned. It had been reflex, something that bypassed rational thought. True Dunmer had nothing but contempt for outlanders. Obviously. There were good reasons to be suspicious, to mistrust, as history had shown. But hate?

Hate, real hate, was strong. It had sustained him through the night at Gnaal Mur all those years ago, and even now he remembered the bitter taste in his mouth. What that poor stupid girl back there had conjured in him was little more than disdain.

And why was I so adamant? He knew he should despise her, but in light of all that he'd been through, a foolish word just wasn't worth the energy outrage would take. She isn't wrong; I never would have left if I'd taken every lesson as intended. Certainly, there were those in the Temple who viewed his trip abroad as betrayal.

He opened his eyes to see Serana looking at him. Infuriating she may be, but…

In truth, he didn't know how to finish that sentence. She'd changed since they'd parted ways, and the woman he'd met on Jolf's boat had clearly done some soul-searching. I wonder whose it was.

Jokes aside, the fact that she'd been willing to call him on his…well, let's just call it an overreaction…meant that travelling with her would be far more interesting than it had been. I wonder if this is who's hiding under the vampire who wanted to go home.

He realized that she was probably waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. An apology or concession that she was right just wasn't going to happen, of course—he hated admitting he was wrong—but she deserved…

"So, this is the true Serana of the Volkihar who says these things?"

"What?" An odd redness— blush was the word— had bloomed in her cheeks, easy to see since her skin was so pale and clear. He'd noticed the same thing with Jarl Elisif the night before, and decided to figure out what it meant. A reflexive tell can be useful. That would have to wait, however.

"This." His wave was meant to take in all of her, and everything she'd done. "You're stronger than you were." Stronger. That was a good word for it. I got stronger out there in the wilderness. It seemed she had as well. "Before, you never would have had this argument."

The redness in her cheeks grew more intense. It's related to blood, isn't it? If so, it was curious that it could happen in vampires. She raised her chin to stare him down. "So? Are you going to admit I'm right?"

He shrugged. "I won't rule anything out." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "It isn't…beyond the realm of possibility that I acted in haste." He turned. "Come on. I want to leave Solitude today."

The vampire walked close beside him, and pitched her voice low. "You know I'm right, though."

She doesn't know when to give up, does she? He ignored her, and turned towards the main gate into the city. Blighted vampire.

Serana was mostly certain that she'd won the argument, but the pace of Velandryn's strides made her think right now might not be the best time to bring it up again. The elf was setting a blistering pace—when did he get the energy to move like this?— and if she'd been mortal, she might well have been winded by the time they reached the gates.

And what gates! In her preoccupation with the Dragonborn, it took her a moment to realize where they were, but as reality sunk in, her surroundings were all she could focus on. This wall, draped with red banners bearing diamond-shaped dragons and wolf-head sigils, had to be the border of Solitude. The real city. It was hard to believe that all of the bustle below and behind them was only the outskirts, but the scale of what lay before her left no doubt as to where the center of this activity lay. As they walked through, she had to keep from craning her neck to gape at the metal and stone above and around her. This could hold off…anything!

And yet, Velandryn seemed wholly unimpressed. He's seen this before, though. The Dark Elf wasn't being cold, exactly, but his manner made it clear he was in no mood for conversation.

Then, they were through, and all thoughts of Velandryn Savani ceased. Solitude!

In her childhood, the city that ruled Haafingar had been something of a backwater. The jarls might bellow about the glory of the Wolf Kings, but everyone knew that any glory Solitude could claim was a result of its location, a windmill notable mostly for being a curiosity, and little else

Time makes fools of us all. It was abundantly clear to any and all that Solitude was, at the very least, a city assured of its own significance. The crowds on the city-like sprawl leading down to the water had been beyond impressive, but the scale of the marketplace through which Velandryn now led her nearly took her breath away. I saw the docks below, after all. And yet, it had been easy to view that mass of ships as something abstract, a symbol of this Empire out of Cyrodiil. This, now, around her, was wealth and commerce and power on a scale she'd never even imagined. A stall selling some sort of flatbread piled high with meat and vegetables sat cheek-to-jowl with a great stone building, two stories high and painted a dozen shades of blue, festooned with banners and a sign that proclaimed it 'The High Road.' Judging by the sounds coming from within, it was either a tavern or a tremendously untalented music-hall.

With a start, she realized that she'd lost sight of Velandryn, and spun, panic rising in her throat. Then, she saw him, staring back at her with something in his eyes that might have been amusem*nt.

"Quite the scene, isn't it?" His words could have been mocking, but his voice wasn't.

"It's…like nothing I've ever seen..." It hadn't even occurred to her to attempt deception. Is this what we've—they've—made? That mortals could turn Solitude into this…she didn't even have a word for it…was staggering. That they could do so while her own family lived holed up in a single icy keep was…troubling.

Velandryn co*cked his head, ever so slightly. "You lived in the days of Alinor and the City of White-Gold, untainted by Alessian uprising." A tiny shake of his head. "And you would have lived and died on a tiny rock in the middle of the ocean."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" She'd left, and now she was going to see everything she'd only dreamed of. Even if the Alessians did taint White-Gold. From what she understood, though, that might just be his elven bias talking.

His nod was so small that she half-wondered if it was only her imagination. "So you are." He pointed. "We're here."

The sign over the door proclaimed this place the Karthview Inn, and Serana wondered why Velandryn had picked such an opulent-looking place to stay. He doesn't seem the type to seek out luxury. She might be wrong, however, as the Dunmer showed no hesitation in walking up to the doors and pushing them open.

Inside, he waved her to one of the tables, narrow but secluded, with a wonderful view of the square outside. "A better place to talk, isn't it?"

Well, she couldn't disagree with that. "Not a bad inn, all things considered."

He laughed. "And best of all's the part where I don't pay for a drake of it!" Then, his eyes regained their sharpness. "I did not expect to see you again so soon." He glanced down, and she knew he was looking at where the Elder Scroll sat on her back. "I'd rather expected…" he trailed off, and did not seem eager to continue.

Serana decided to help him out. "Let me guess. You thought I'd be at the head of a vampire army?" She kept her voice low, but nobody was paying them much mind anyways. "Well, sorry to disappoint but I think the only thing the Volkihar'll be doing with me is hunting me down."

Velandryn's eyes narrowed slightly. "I get the feeling there's quite the story there." His need to know was almost palpable.

She shrugged, pleased with the power she had over him. "Well, if you must know…"

She told him the story over the next hour or so. Well, she told him most of the story—there was no need to bring up her dream, Mintuile, or a few of the other things she'd seen and done, after all—and waited for his reaction.

She was not disappointed. "So you just walked into his rooms and stole an Elder Scroll?" He kept his voice low, which made the emphasis on his last words hiss out like steam.

She hoped she wasn't blushing. "I told you before, it's mine. I wasn't going to let him keep it."

She might have been imagining it, but she thought he might be looking at her with something akin to respect. "I confess, I didn't think you had it in you."

Instantly, the warm feeling was gone. "Thanks for believing in me."

He raised an eyebrow. "I believe my eyes, and the last I saw of you, rebellion was not foremost in your mind."

She knew she was scowling now, but she couldn't help it. "I'm here, aren't I? Do you want my help or not?"

"Your help, is it? And you need me not at all?"

Oh, right, he's smart. "I'd say we need each other. I don't have many friends at the moment, and you're lacking in the area of people who can slaughter master vampires with their bare hands."

Velandryn chuckled. "So it is." He shrugged, and looked as though he was going to say something else, but at that moment a matronly Nord woman bustled over.

"Master Savani! I was out, and just saw you'd returned! You left in such a hurry before I'd feared you run off and leave us entirely!" She placed a bulbous bottle in front of him, smiling broadly. "We don't get many Dunmer in here, Kyne knows, but I found a few bottles of sujamma in the back." She winked at him. "I need someone to tell me if it's any good though."

To her shock, Velandryn actually laughed. "Well, if it's in service to the greater good…" He made a show of cracking the seal on the bottle and raising it to his lips, swallowing what looked to be a generous gulp. His coughing and sputtering, however, seemed genuine.

"Don't tell me you can't handle your liquor, Velandryn." Serana could no more have danced naked in fire than refrained from teasing him at that moment.

"Stakh ran! Where'd you find this?" he turned the bottle in his hands, though Serana could see no label.

The Nord woman laughed. "That bad, eh?"

Velandryn shook the bottle thoughtfully. "I was expecting some watered-down swill. Didn't think I'd be getting raw trama grey." He placed the bottle gingerly on the table and rubbed his eyes. "You ever get more Dunmer in here, real Ashlanders, I mean, give them that." He smiled, and Serana knew it was purely for the other woman's benefit. "A little taste of home."

She snatched the bottle from the table before Velandryn could do anything else and took a small sip. She didn't have much liking for alcohol, but she was beyond curious at what this strange 'sujamma' tasted like.

Oh, God! She'd never tasted fire, but this couldn't be far off. Swallowing was agony, and she was momentarily grateful that breathing was a habit rather than a necessity.

"You drink that? On purpose?"

Velandryn chuckled. "That's not Great House brew. Ashlanders make it, and they're the only ones with a taste for the stuff." He tapped the bottle once more. "Leave this one, Alfa, but I think that'll be enough for now." He glanced over at Serana. "You want anything?"

The Nord woman—Alfa— smiled down at her, but the burning in Serana's throat left little room for any hunger or thirst. "I'm fine," was all she could manage, and even that was said in a worryingly raspy voice.

If the other woman noticed, however, she was kind enough not to say anything. "Just give a shout if you need anything."

With her departure, a tension that Serana hadn't noticed left her body, and she swallowed, testing her throat. Only a little pain. "I really can't believe you drink that." It might explain his voice, though.

"Only the Ashlanders, like I said." He picked the bottle up, looked at it for a moment, and then put it back down. "But I'm keeping this, if for no other reason than to make Lydia understand how I feel when someone brings out the mead."

That was an opening she could use. "So, Lydia." She met Velandryn's eyes, though the look there told her he knew exactly what the next words out of her mouth would be. "Where did she get off to, then?"

Velandryn shrugged slightly. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

"I thought we were done with games."

"So we are." He was silent for a moment. "I sent her to Morrowind, to make contact with some friends in my homeland. I hope that you were telling the truth about breaking bonds with your family, since she was carrying a copy of that map, and by now it's likely that the Temple has a copy."

"Oh." She recalled some of the things Garan had said about his people. "They don't like vampires very much, do they?"

"No." Velandryn didn't seem interested in sugarcoating anything. "They're unlikely to take immediate action so far beyond the borders of the homeland, but I was thinking in terms of contingencies. You should probably be more worried about the copies I sent to Jarl Balgruuf and the Dawnguard, to be honest."

Oh. For a moment, she felt a stab of rage that he'd abused her map in such a way. Then, reality set back in, and she realized what he was saying. "You didn't expect to come back, did you?"

He shook his head. "I didn't know." His eyes lit up, just the tiniest bit. "But, on the off-chance that…something went wrong, I wanted to ensure that the Volkihar were torn asunder by all the fury I could muster."

"And now?"

"I live." He intertwined his long fingers and rested them beneath his chin. "Castle Volkihar is likely too remote to be much a target for anyone in a position to act, but at least now the information is in the hands of those who can do something about it." He raised his eyes and looked at her, eyes sharp. "Or is your father's plan not contingent on that Scroll you have?"

"He said the only way to find one Elder Scroll was with another, and seemed fairly certain that he would need all three." She shrugged. "It's possible he was keeping things from me, but given what happened with the ship…"

He picked up where she'd trailed off. "He's grasping at anything that could help. Ancestors save us if he ever gets his hands on both a Scroll and a Moth Scholar, then." He gazed away for a moment, lost in some reverie. "You said your mother had one as well? Can we assume it's secure, then?"

"Has." It was important. Her mother was not dead. She forced a little chuckle she didn't really feel. "Considering it took them four thousand years to find me and I wasn't even awake, I think we can count on Mother to elude their grasp a while longer."

Velandryn exhaled, eyes grim. "That won't be enough, Serana. You are immortal, all of you. There's only one way this can end."

I know. She'd known since she'd decided to leave, decided to tell her story to Velandryn Savani. She didn't respond, but then again, it hadn't been a statement that needed an answer.

She forced a smile. "There were Dunmer there, you know. Two of them."

"Oh?" He didn't exactly sound happy, but some of that grim dread was gone from the atmosphere. "I'm curious how you found them."

She rejected the easy joke. Just off the main hall. If she knew Velandryn, he was already aware of the language he'd used, and had a retort lined up."Very different from you." She fancied she saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. Didn't get to use your riposte, did you?

"I'm glad to hear it." A smile, exquisite in its artifice. He's getting worryingly good at those. "I'd quite like to keep the only Volkihar with whom I can claim commonality to be you." She didn't know what to say, but fortunately, he continued with only a small pause. "Tell me, who were these Dunmer?"

She told him a little bit about them, and then hesitated. How will he take what Garan said? He was so proud of his heritage…

Still, he'd wanted to know, and Garan's contempt had sat in her gut for weeks now. Nothing for it. "One of them, Garan, said you were…" she couldn't do it. She couldn't look him in the eyes and call him—

"Let me guess. Ashlander trash? Or did he call me men'gha?" She gaped at him, and the light in his eyes. "You said his name was Garan Marethi, no?" He chuckled. "And he claimed to be from House Dres? I'd be insulted if he didn't think my name made me an abomination!"

Her confusion must have shown on her face, since he quickly explained his amusem*nt. "House Dres are traditionalists, slave-holders and perhaps the most disagreeable Dunmer you'll ever meet. They were hit hard during the period preceding the Reclamation, but they've never lost their contempt for 'lesser blood.'" His eyes darkened a bit. "That one of them finds me reprehensible is not shocking." He gazed down at the table. "They serve their purpose, but I confess that I have never loved the Dres."

She recalled Mintuile, naked and without agency, and a part of her rejoiced at the thought that Velandryn was nothing like Garan.

"I see." One thing, though, still nagged at her. "So that elf outside, what would Garan—"

He didn't cut her off with an outburst, though the fire in his eyes hinted that he was tempted. Instead, he overrode her with words that trickled out as though he were loath to let them go. "There's no need to finish that thought. I can see where you're going with it, and you aren't wrong."

Let it be, Serana. She could recognize wounded pride, and Velandryn was much calmer than he had been before. He has to know he was wrong. She nodded. "Just admit you were out of line with what you said to her."

The Dragonborn leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Only when you admit you gleefully dove into a topic on which you have neither cultural nor historical context." He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them she almost felt as though he was smiling. "And she said something very stupid."

Well, he isn't wrong. "She's young."

Velandryn snorted. "Yes, I recall the story you spun for me. Alone in the world save for me, and I broke her fragile heart." He lapsed into silence then, and Serana joined him.

Let it be, Serana. This time, she did. "So, you'll help me keep the Scroll away from my father?"

Velandryn nodded. "I'd like to think so. Can you think of some reason why I shouldn't?"

"Well, you asking questions like that does make me wonder…" At the look in his eyes, however, she trailed off. It was disconcerting how quickly he could go from jovial to deathly serious.

And indeed, his words were heavy with sincerity. "I just declared war on your entire clan in no uncertain terms. I can understand that you and your father don't see eye to eye, but—"

"Is that what you think this is? Some family dispute?" She wanted to laugh, or maybe cry. "Velandryn, I watched them feed on children! There was an Altmer woman who'd been a plaything for centuries! Do you know what I did when I left? I snapped her neck, and she was so broken inside that I know I did her a kindness! They're monsters, and I won't let them inflict themselves on anybody else!" She furiously blinked away the tears threatening to form. "I've made my choice, and if you doubt that, there's nothing more to say."

"Then so be it." Velandryn sounded almost…gentle? She looked across to see him incline his head slightly. "For what it's worth, I didn't think you'd be here."

"You…what?"

"Like I said before, I was certain that the next time we met, you'd be one of your father's creatures." He rubbed at one of his eyes, suddenly looking very tired. "I saw your determination to get home, and misunderstood." New energy seemed to suffuse him then, and he met her eyes once more. "I haven't been so happy to be wrong in a long time."

What is this? She rather liked it when Velandryn said kind things to her. Smiling, she leaned in. "And I'm glad you aren't a frozen corpse out in the wilderness." Wait, no. That wasn't how you—damn it all! She'd been at Castle Volkihar so long that she'd completely forgotten how to talk to somebody she actually liked, and now she'd gone and said that.

"So am I, for that matter." His response was bone-dry and carried his mood perfectly, and Serana wanted to curse herself. That instant of odd tenderness was gone, and in its place was their usual standoffish camaraderie. At least we're not enemies anymore.

With the moment between them well and truly dead and not trusting herself to meet his eyes, she scanned the room, hoping to catch something happening that could spur the next conversation. Her eyes flitted over humans and a few elves, hoping to scope out—

"Is there anything I can get for you, sersho?" It wasn't Alfa this time, but a younger woman, pretty in a common way, with light hair and a nervous smile. Her eyes were fixed on Velandryn, who looked slightly amused.

"Serjo." He corrected her with something that might almost have been a smile, and she wondered if even he knew he was doing it. "The final syllable mush have strength." He tapped his throat. "Voice it. Jo."

She blushed. "Serjo?"

Velandryn tapped his forehead with a pair of long fingers then waved them airily in her direction. "Ba vanat, sera. It is as though I were back in Ald Sura."

The other woman's skin turned redder than Velandryn's hair, and she bobbed her head and murmured thanks. Dear Lord, just get it over with!

Serana turned to Velandryn. "Did you need anything else?" She gave the girl a pointed look. "I could use some water. Cold."

The girl sniffed at her. "As you wish, milady." She turned back to Velandryn. "Master Savani?"

Velandryn's head snapped to regard her with a motion that put Serana unsettlingly in mind of a predator, and he studied her for a very long moment. I didn't know red eyes could look that cold. "I shall be fine. Leave us."

The girl looked confused, but Velandryn's unceasing stare got the better of her after only a moment, and she bowed her head and scurried away.

"You know, I'm not certain she's going to bring me water."

Velandryn actually laughed at that. "Well, it seems she found herself a spine in the worst way."

"What?" Clearly these two had met before. And given her interest in Velandryn… "Were you and she…" The words weren't coming to her, but even thinking about Velandryn and that woman—bodies twined, his skin dark, hers light, both of them gasping in pleasure—No! "What's your history?"

Velandryn snorted. "Last time I saw her she was hovering outside my room. Guess she decided she wanted to bed the savage Dunmer after all." He reached out and lifted the bottle of sujamma to his lips, then clearly thought better of it. "Though maybe I should have had her bring something else to drink before I snapped like that."

"Umm…so, why did you?" Just when she'd though she had him figured out, he went and did something like this. "You were being friendly enough with her before."

"She insulted you." She hadn't expected that, and metaphorical breath caught in her throat at the words. "You're one of mine now, and I won't stand for disrespect."

"One of yours, am I?" Molag Bal might have something to say about that.

He chuckled. "Forgive me, that came out more…possessive than I intended. Guen helet bri am thil. We are bound by purpose, though our goals may not be the same." He blinked. "Companions, maybe, or allies, though one is too broad, the other too impersonal." A shrug. "Either way, I won't stand to have my…" his mouth twisted slightly "…companion attacked." His eyes flashed a merry red. "I think we can provide all the strife we need perfectly fine without any outside assistance." She had to laugh at that, and relaxed back into the chair. Is this what it feels like, having someone on your side?

Dunmeris was similar enough to Aldmeris that she picked up a bit of what he'd said there, and he wasn't wrong. He needs to work on his phrasing though. "Unless I missed something, we still haven't reached an agreement on how we're going to work together."

He leaned in, elbows on the table. "Tell me. In what realistic future do you leave Solitude alone, without me?"

She considered half a dozen scenarios before shaking her head. "Not unless you did something completely out of character."

"And I'm all but certain that you're sincere in your desire to keep yourself and the Scroll as far away from the Volkihar as possible." He stroked his chin. "We're together now, for better or for worse, and everything else is negotiation."

"Just like that?"

"Believe me, it's more than a little odd on my side as well, but when you yelled at me over that fool of an outlander, I knew?"

"How?"

He laughed. "Because if you were trying to lull me into complacency, calling me a bigot wasn't the wisest course of action." He tilted his head, ever so slightly. "I'm Dunmer, remember? I know a thing or two about righteous fury."

She had to smile at that. "Well, all right then." She leaned forward to match his pose. "Shall we…negotiate?"

Velandryn chuckled. "I'm going to High Hrothgar. You'll come with me, and once I know more about this entire Dragonborn business, we can figure out how to deal with your clan." A single finger, tapping at his lips. "I'm sympathetic to your goals, but I can't ignore the dragons any longer."

That was a fair enough offer, though it seemed that Velandryn had something of a gift for stumbling into distractions and detours, and so might never actually reach the Greybeards he'd spoken of. I could use that to my advantage. "We keep an ear out for any rumors, and an eye out for any Volkihar agents. We learn anything, we move to stop them."

Velandryn began to nod, but aborted the motion. "I'll help you clear them out of a cave or send warning to a Moth Priest, but I won't go gallivanting off to Daggerfall because you heard a whisper that someone smelled a vampire."

"Very well." It was a fair deal, and she was reasonably certain that if anything extraordinary came up she could talk him into helping her with that as well. He's too curious for his own good. She was the same way, which was probably why she was not in the least unhappy to be going to these odd monks who seemed to be all that were left of the Tongues of old.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Velandryn had jerked upright in his seat, eyes locked on something behind her.

"Vel!" Velandryn winced, and Serana spun to see a blonde Nord waving at them from across the room, a huge grin plastered across her face. "I found you!" She strode towards them, only barely missing pushing several other patrons aside. She wasn't quite as big as Lydia and had already shown more good cheer in five heartbeats than the housecarl had in their entire time together, but she moved with a similar ease that made Serana wonder if this woman too was a warrior.

"And next comes Tullius, followed by the jarl, and the Madgod bringing up the rear…" Had Serana's hearing been as dull as a mortal's, she never would have heard Velandryn, though there was something about the angle at which he was holding his head that implied he wasn't as displeased to see this human as his tone might imply. And, indeed, when he raised his voice it was cordial, if somewhat dry. "Jordis. Should I bother offering you a seat, or are you going to take one regardless?"

"You couldn't stop me if you tried!" The new woman pulled one of the chairs back and slid in. "Plus, I paid for your rooms, so I'm pretty sure I own you now or something."

Velandryn only gave a bark of laughter. "Serana, meet Jordis Sword-Maiden. Jordis, Serana of…" he paused, and the look in his eye sent a playful shiver down her spine. If he's that pleased with himself, it won't end well for me.

There was no way she'd let him go through with whatever game he had planned. "Just Serana works fine for me. A pleasure, Jordis." She spoke quickly, not letting Velandryn share whatever quip or oh-so-clever title he'd thought up to mock or hint at her heritage.

"Any friend of Vel's is a friend of mine!" Whoever this Jordis Sword-Maiden was, she seemed friendly enough, and the way that the Dragonborn twitched every time she called him 'Vel' was simply delightful. The Nord turned to look at him now. "It's 'the Sword-Maiden,' though. You wouldn't want to go getting it wrong."

"Jordis, you call me Vel. You should be happy I'm playing along at all." He likes her! It was beyond odd to see, but it was obvious that Velandryn Savani was genuinely fond of this woman. Will wonders never cease? "Is there any particular reason you felt the need to hunt me down?" He scanned the room. "You're not one step ahead of Tullius, on his way to have me clapped in irons?"

"You wish." Jordis grinned at him. "You're just stuck with me." She looked over at Serana. "So, just Serana, how do you know Vel here?"

Serana was beginning to see why Velandryn had that air of amused exasperation around this woman. I wonder what's going on behind that grin, though. "He…helped me out a tight spot some time ago, and we just met up by chance." She tried out a smile on the Nord. "Might be we travel together for a bit."

Jordis paused, and glanced at Velandryn nervously. "Umm, I'm not sure how to say this…"

"She knows." Velandryn spoke with neither urgency nor concern. "Just Serana figured it out on her own, no Thu'um required."

If he keeps up with that stupid nickname, I'm going to call him Vel as often as I can. Serana blinked. Wait, so Jordis knows he's Dragonborn? Somehow, she'd imagined him being more careful with that fact. Not to mention she saw him Shout? "How exactly did you two meet?"

If Jordis was confused by the question coming out of nowhere, she hid it well. "We were clearing a cave of necromancers, and Vel found us." She leaned in. "They were summoning Potema. The Wolf Queen herself, and Vel sent her back to the dead!"

By the tone of her voice, Jordis clearly expected that Serana knew who this Wolf Queen was. She glanced over at Velandryn, who shrugged. "She's not wrong. They were some sort of cult, I'd wager. They'd cobbled together a binding ritual that was materializing something, though I still have my doubt that it was actually the Empress Potema." His fingers traced something on the table. "It was shoddy work, and I managed to pull it apart."

"Don't listen to him, he was a blessed hero!" Jordis seemed intent on recounting the story in her way, rather than Velandryn's more subdued retelling. "Standing in the middle of light and magic, wrestling with the demons from beyond the grave. He cast the Witch Queen back, and probably saved the city."

"We're calling her the Witch Queen now?" Velandryn sounded amused. "Should I be afraid that if I leave the city, I'll hear stories of us facing down Mannimarco and an army of Daedra by the time I return?"

Jordis slapped the table, laughing. "You should have thought of that before you joined up with the Young Wolves of Solitude! Glory follows us, and songs of our valor ring from here to Sovngarde!"

Serana's puzzlement must have shown on her face, because Velandryn quickly explained. "The band she leads. Would-be heroes, the lot of them." For a moment, he looked as though he wasn't done, but it passed and he turned to Jordis. "As appreciative as I am for your hospitality, we have to be on our way. Where would I find carriages for Morthal?"

"Morthal?" Jordis lowered her voice. "Aren't you going to High Hrothgar?" She gave Serana another sidelong glance and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "When you said 'she knows,' you were talking about Dragonborn, right?"

Serana answered her, not bothering to whisper. "Yes, he was." She smiled at Jordis and Velandryn. "And my hearing's better than either of yours, so whispering just makes you look like a fool."

"That it is." If Velandryn was bothered by Jordis' attempt at secrecy or Serana's own barbed response, he hid it well. "Jordis, you're better off not trying to keep secrets from Serana." He glanced over at her, with something akin to amusem*nt on his face. "She's rather good at ferreting them out."

Spoken by someone else, in another tone of voice, she would have taken it as an insult. She knew what he was really saying though, and felt the lips of her own mouth twitch upwards. "And without you even showing me your Thu'um. Should I be hurt?"

A heartbeat passed, and as realized what she'd said, Velandryn's eyes lit with wicked fire. "If you wanted to feel my Thu'um, you only had to ask."

She knew she was blushing, but responding would only encourage him. "Back to what he said, Jordis. Best way to Morthal?"

The human shrugged expansively. "Cart, maybe? Boat? Never been there myself." Her nose wrinkled, just a little. "Not much reason to go there when you've a real city all around you."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, actually." Velandryn's voice was thoughtful. "The marshes had a feel about them. I'd not be shocked to learn that there are old things hidden in those mists. Vampires, perhaps, or even fouler things." He caught Serana's eye. "And every hero has to hone her teeth on an evil vampire."

How is this Velandryn Savani? He'd always had a humor about him, to be sure, but this was verging on geniality, and she'd never thought of him in that way. What happened since I left?

Velandryn was just the tiniest bit astonished at how flippant he was being. Ancestors only know why I'm in such a good mood, but I'd best be careful not to make a fool of myself. Fortunately, Jordis didn't seem to have noticed, though he hadn't missed the look Serana had sent his way. Calm yourself, Savani. These weren't his friends back home, after all. You're in a Nord city under Imperial control, and two friends sitting at your table doesn't change that.

Not to mention the task ahead. For now, he just needed to focus on getting to High Hrothgar, and the first leg of that journey was Morthal. And for that…

Jordis was saying something to Serana about the flower crown woven into her black hair, and Velandryn returned his attention to his friends. Friends, in Skyrim of all places. It was a strange thought, but both of these women had proven themselves true allies and more besides. A few more like them, and this province might almost be…livable.

He only realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts when Jordis said that damnable pet-name of hers again. "Vel?"

He fixed her with his gaze. "You have thoughts on how best to travel to Morthal?"

She showed him her teeth. She smiles more than any human I've ever seen. "Nope! I was saying you and Serana should spend a few more days here! If you're going to be stuck on a mountain with some old monks, you should at least make sure you have your fill of living beforehand. Hearthfire's in full swing! Get some more flowers for your hair!" She nudged Serana, who looked away. "Vel, I'm going to show you—"

"Jordis." He spoke her name quietly, but it worked. Thank you, Dov. He couldn't always control it, the tone in his voice that gave words more than mortal weight, but when it succeeded, he could cut through conversation like the Razor through flesh. "You know who I am. What I am." Serana had felt it too; her golden stare was burning from his right. "I have tallied long enough."

She didn't look away, to her credit. "Aye." A smile—just a little one. "Admit it, though. You would have had the time of your lives."

"I would never doubt you, Sword-Maiden." He'd enjoyed being carefree, but that was a luxury beyond his ability to afford. He gave her a small smile, trusting that it was more comradely than grotesque. "If we stayed, I'd never find the strength to go back out into the wilderness." That wasn't true, but it wasn't wholly a lie either. Solitude was by far the most tolerable place he'd experienced since coming to Skyrim, and the thought of climbing a frozen mountain sounded distinctly unpleasant.

"You aren't kidding." Serana was a terrible example of a vampire princess, he'd come to realize. Far too likable. "Her idea does sound like it would be nice, Vel."

Oh, by the Corners! He restrained himself from any of a dozen biting responses. Mentioning her vampirism or family would be unnecessarily cruel, and despite how obnoxious Jordis' little name for him was, he didn't want to truly hurt her. And isn't that a shock. Still partially in disbelief at the idea of sparing the feelings of a vampire, he contented himself with a glare. "You're doomed if I leave, Serana." As she began to scoff at him, he smiled with all of the mockery he could twist into that expression. "Or do you think you'd find someone else to argue with before you go mad from boredom?"

He saw the laugh coming before it bubbled out. "You may be right." She gave a little sigh and turned to face Jordis as well. "So, now that Vel has taken all of the fun out of my future, I think we'd best be on our way."

Jordis was looking at him with an expression Velandryn couldn't quite puzzle out. Is something worrying her? Finally, she shrugged. "Go by cart. I know you'd be on the mercy of the tides otherwise, and the captains tell me they're something fierce up the delta. If you leave here at the worst possible time, it can take you a full two days to reach Morthal."

He supposed that someone in Jordis' position would have to know something about commerce out of Solitude, but it wasn't a knowledge base he'd associated with the glory-hungry young woman. "My thanks, Jordis. You've been more help than I can repay—"

"Vel, you're Dragonborn!" She was grinning again. "I've half a mind to rally the Wolves and come with you. Who knows what you'll find on the road, and where better for a hero to be than travelling with you?"

Velandryn considered it for all of ten seconds. It would be inconvenient to have so many on the road, and Jordis was far better placed to be an asset in Solitude than just another sword. Besides, there's nothing the Wolves could do that Serana couldn't do better. Speaking of Serana, she wasn't doing much of a job hiding her displeasure at the idea of having more companions. Not that I blame her. He too had been looking forward to more conversations with the vampire, and a pack of rowdy Nord nobles didn't figure anywhere.

Fortunately, there were ways to dissuade her. "Jordis, if you want to help me there is no better place for you than Solitude."

The Nord blinked. "Really?" Another of those grins blossomed. "Because that kind of sounds like you're trying to get rid of me."

Velandryn chuckled. "In that case I'd just tell you that I sensed a dragon out in the hinterlands. I need someone I can trust in the city, and the Young Wolves could be a valuable asset in the months ahead."

Clearly Jordis hadn't thought of this. "You want us to what, recruit for you?"

Velandryn's laugh was genuine. "Nothing so definite. I don't know when I'll be back, but a force of friendly warriors is never a bad thing. You need to make sure that Solitude stays strong." He thought for a moment. "And if you absolutely have to sing those songs, try and throw one in about how elves aren't all monsters. I'd prefer friends to enemies, if it's all the same to you."

"Aye, we can do that." She almost sounded solemn. "You'd best stay safe, Dragonborn. You go and die without bringing me my glory, I'll have to drag you back from Sovngarde to finish the job!"

Another laugh. "I'll miss you too, Sword-Maiden." Velandryn rose. "I'm going to pack my things. I have some items in storage with the Cumberland Vaults –"

The Nord raised a hand to stop him. "There are rooms under Proudspire Manor that haven't been used since my grandparents' day. Say the word, and I'll have anything you want stored there."

Even better than I'd hoped for. He'd merely wanted to see if the Karthview could move his things, but Proudspire Manor might be just what he needed. So long as I'm not storing anything irreplaceable. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jordis. It was merely a question of competence. She does mean well, though.

While Velandryn went to gather those of his things he intended to bring with him, Serana was left in the front room with Jordis. Without the Dragonborn, neither of them quite seemed to know what to say. The Nord did seem to have something on her mind, however, if the looks she was giving Serana were any indication.

Finally, the vampire could stand it no longer. "Is there something you wanted to ask me, Sword-Maiden?"

"Hmm? Oh, ah, well, nothing much." That she was embarrassed at having been found out after staring so openly said something about the woman, though Serana wasn't sure exactly what it was. "Just wondering if you've some elf blood in you. With eyes like that—"

Serana shook her head. "Just…I'm me." Words couldn't explain how little she wanted to do this right now. "I like you, and you've been kind to me. Can we leave it at that?" It was true, she realized with some shock. Whatever spell Velandryn had fallen under seemed to have claimed her as well. The Nord's obvious good faith and open friendliness had managed, in the span of a single conversation, to turn her into…is she a friend? Well, that might be going a bit far, but the thought of the blonde woman turning away in disgust or terror—or going for her sword —at the revelation of Serana's true nature twisted in her gut.

Her fear was for naught. "As you say, Serana." Jordis leaned in, smiling wickedly. "Did he say anything about Elly?"

Serana blinked. "Who?" No, he most certainly did not.

"Jarl Elisif. They met at the banquet, but I haven't been able to get a word out of her. Vel can snap shut faster than a clam when he's a mind to, so I'm coming to you."

He met the Jarl? On the heels of that thought came another, even less pleasant. "What happened between them?"

"I know! It's killing me too! See what you can get out of him, no? If you're traveling with him, you can work him over. Any letter to Solitude addressed to," her mouth twisted, "Jordis Proud-Spire will reach me."

He met the Jarl? And Jordis calls her Elly? She was still having trouble with that thought, but Jordis was clearly waiting for her assent. "I'll see what I can do."

Jordis grinned. This woman does like smiling. "You're a good one, Serana." She pushed her seat back and stood. "Tell Vel anything he leaves in the room I'll take care of, but he'll have to stop off with the Cumberland Vault to tell them his stuff is being transferred." She waved, and was gone.

Serana collapsed back into her chair, feeling winded. That woman is a handful. She saw Velandryn exit one of the halls, gesturing to someone out of sight, and headed over to meet him. He was in his travelling clothes, with a modest pack slung over one shoulder. The hilt of a sword peeked over one shoulder, and a pair of daggers rested on his belt. He looks a proper adventurer.

He nodded in greeting, and she quickly relayed what Jordis had said. Not the bit about the jarl, though—I'm going to get that out of him on my own time.

Velandryn Savani scanned the main room of the Karthview Inn, strode over to their table, stoppered the bottle of Ashlander sujamma, and tucked in into his cloak. "It'll keep me warm of a night." His eyes flashed her a smile. "I'm ready to be on the road once more. Shall we?"

Carefully, she placed her crown of white flowers on the table. They would wither and die in the days to come, and she had no desire to witness that. Let them stay beautiful, maybe bring some joy to somebody else first. Besides, they weren't proper for travel on the open road.

She gestured out to Solitude, and the world beyond. "Let's be off, then."

Velandryn saw something on the way to the gates, and for a moment, his heart fell into his stomach. Then, he saw Serana twitch, and knew that she had seen it too.

The Dunmer from before, the girl who'd said a single stupid phrase and set off their whole blighted argument, was watching the road from a guard post, her partner a few paces away. Her face was still, but Velandryn almost fancied that there was a grief in her eyes that hadn't been there before. They locked gazes for a long moment, and then she turned away.

Beside him, Serana started to say something, but Velandryn raised a finger. "A moment."

It was the work of a moment to reach her, and in no time at all he stood before the other mer, though she would not meet his eyes. Finally, after a long and awkward moment in which he searched for something to say, she bowed slightly. "I hope you will forgive my earlier statement, citizen. I did not intend to give offense." Her voice was softer than it had been, diffident in a manner that sounded strange coming from a Dunmer. Damn it, I hurt her.

At that moment, Velandryn realized he didn't know what to say to make this right. Fortunately, old training bubbled to the surface, and the words came without thought. "There is no offense in words truly meant, sera." The benediction was almost in smooth in Cyrodilic as in Dunmeris, and the familiar thought brought his thoughts into order. "I...have not met many of our blood born in the Empire, and did not expect to hear those words from you." His bow was slightly deeper than hers, a gesture of contrition whose meaning he hoped she knew.

The depth of her answering bow was all the answer he needed. Matching mine, or as near as she could. "You're the first I've met who was born in Morrowind." Her eyes had become lighter as she spoke. "I don't—"

He cut her off, only realizing after he'd started speaking how rude that was. Damn. "One blood is a good oath. Use it proudly, and if any dare call you outlander, remind them that Veloth himself was born an Aldmer."

Her smile was back. "One blood, brother!" Her salute brought her fist to her breastplate, and the thump of leather on metal had a solid sound.

"One blood." He reached out and gripped her shoulder in a show of solidarity, though he had no idea if the gesture was known beyond Morrowind. "Fare well, sister."

Serana couldn't hide her smile when he rejoined her. "So, what happened?"

"We spoke." They could probably find a carriage, or someone who knew of them, at the plaza with the two fountains. He'd seen a stable there, and the road south was broad beyond it.

"You're not going to admit I was right, are you?"

"Do I need to?"

Her laughter probably should have annoyed him more, but it was a rather nice sound.

Jordis—

I'm writing this in haste. Alfa should make sure it reaches you.

If you notice any increased Imperial activity in the city, send me a message. I made a bit of a deal with Tullius, but I'm worried that if the situation changes I won't know about it until too late. I'm not asking you to betray confidences, just keep me up to speed on what the Empire is about.

Also, make sure that

It might also be wise

Jarl Elisif is following words scratched out to point of unintelligibility

The jarl will need your support as well. Any aid you can give her in establishing herself as a power in Solitude would go a long way towards making your city, and Skyrim, safer.

Be well, and thank you for the aid you have rendered me.

Go in the Light of the Ancestors.

—Velandryn Savani

It was two and a half days to Morthal by carriage, which meant three nights on the road, and the first was to be passed in a town called Dragon Bridge. Velandryn wondered aloud why it was called that, and Serana could barely hold back her laughter. "You'll see when we get there."

In truth, there hadn't been a town when last Serana passed this way, but the Dragon Bridge had been a fixture since before she was born. Now, it seemed that a pair of small settlements had sprouted on either side of the grim span, and what had been a desolate stretch of road was humming with activity. Of course, it was the dead of night the last time I passed this way. Her mother hadn't stopped to admire the sight, and so Serana had only seen it in passing. Now, as the carriage rolled down the hill into the town, she let herself take in her surroundings.

It had been overcast since morning, which Serana liked. It did mean, however, that the views over the water were more fog than vista, and as the sun dropped in the sky, there was no glorious riot of color. Indeed, their approach into Dragon Bridge was darker than the hour required, and little past the bridge itself was visible beyond the town.

The road from Solitude had been beautiful, running along the hillside with the water never far away, but the mountains had never been more than remote scenery to the west. At Dragon Bridge, that all changed, as the wide delta below Solitude narrowed and became more gorge than valley. Serana nudged Velandryn, and pointed. "The Reach is that way, up the river."

The man, heavyset and thick-jowled with a bushy mustache, whose cart they'd paid—overpaid, in Serana's inexpert opinion—to ride on, chortled. "Aye, miss, but best you stay away. The men up there are savages who'd eat a pretty little thing like you up for supper!"

Serana ignored him. Velandryn was studying the bridge, eyes narrowed. "How old is that?" There could be no doubt what he was asking about. The Dragon's Bridge, as it had been called when she was young, drew the eye not only because of its size, but by being so very different than the modest wood and stone structures at its base. It bore ornate carvings of dragons in flight, and the pillars that rose above the walkway were topped with claw-like crowns. In the center, where the span was at its highest, two pillars rose to become an arch of some twelve feet or more, topped with a pair of dragon heads seemingly roaring defiance to those below.

"The Dragon Cult had it made, or so I've heard." They'd ordered many such monumental projects; it was said that the workers who'd labored on the bridge had been thrown from the top once it was complete, to consecrate its majesty in blood.

"Interesting." The Dragonborn was taking in the town as well, but she could see his eyes keep returning to the bridge. She couldn't blame him, as she was still trying to pull more detail from its stones. "I'm impressed that it's so well-maintained. Too useful to destroy?" His voice grew soft. "But then why leave the carvings?"

In truth, Serana had no idea. However, a pair of mounted soldiers were riding towards the cart; a quick glance showed her that all traffic on the road was getting at least a cursory inspection. They wore the red capes of the Legion over leather and steel, and were each armed with sword, shield, and bow. Their casual approach, however, seemed to suggest anything but readiness for battle.

"Welcome to Dragon Bridge!" Serana couldn't see anything of the two behind their full-faced helms, but she thought it was the one on the left who'd spoken. She hadn't been expecting a woman, though. That armor hides her sex well. "Is there anything you'd like to declare?" None of them answered for a long moment, and she trotted her beast closer, removing her helmet to reveal a severe face with olive skin and almond eyes. "Know that the penalty for transporting contraband has been increased to one hundred septims per item seized and detainment until investigation is complete."

The cart master—she'd gathered that he was some sort of itinerant merchant— rose and pulled a scroll from somewhere in his clothes. "I am a member in good standing of the Northern Winds Trade Guild, and covered by their Articles of Membership. My cargo was inspected in Solitude, and any further delay will only result in lost profit. If you would be so good as to point me towards their charter-house…"

The soldiers looked at each other for a moment, then the one who hadn't yet spoken shrugged. "Cross the bridge, their hall's on the Morthal side." He too removed his helm. "With the war on, inspections are up, even for the guilds. I'd make sure you didn't 'accidentally' bring anything you shouldn't have before going much farther."

The woman took the scroll from the merchant and studied it. "This seems to be in order. Proceed directly to the guild house and unload." She seemed to notice Velandryn and Serana then, and moved slightly closer. "And you?"

Velandryn only spread his empty hands. "Nothing but travelers headed to Morthal."

"Nothing in Morthal but bugs and stink." Serana tensed ever so slightly at the woman's tone. "What sends you there?"

Velandryn opened his mouth, and Serana instantly recognized the look in his eyes. Oh no you don't! She didn't need him snapping out for the soldiers to mind their own business. "We're potion-makers." The Legionary's head swiveled to look at her, and Serana was suddenly very conscious of her eyes and skin, either of which could rub a suspicious mind the wrong way.

Fortunately, Velandryn had caught on, and gave a bark of laughter. "Morthal's a pit, to be sure, but there's no better place to harvest marsh plants."

The merchant, apparently, had had enough. "You two, off now!" A moment later, they were standing before the soldiers, bags at their feet.

The cart rumbled off, and the woman watched it go. She turned to her partner. "Make sure the auditors check them tonight. I want whatever he's smuggling found before he can get it out of here." Her focus shifted back to them, and Serana once more fought the urge to look away. "Dangerous work, swamp-hunting." For a moment she looked as if she was going to say something else, but then she waved her hand. "One law, citizens!"

"One emperor." The fact that Velandryn had to consciously choose his facial expressions, Serana realized, gave him quite the edge when lying to others. If she didn't know his eyes, she might have thought he wasn't annoyed at reciting what was undoubtedly an Imperial mantra. "Is there aught else you need, and if not, might you point us to rooms for the night?"

The soldier shook her head. "Four Shields Tavern has cleaner beds, Blessing of Kyne across the span's got them cheaper." She paused for a moment. "Don't know if you're lying or actually fool enough to go into those swamps hunting plants, but either way watch your step. It'd be too bad if something happened to you."

Serana, once more, found herself unable to stop her retort. "I'm glad you care."

The Imperial snorted. "If you get shot by bandits or mauled by beasts, most likely we have to go hunt them down. We're stretched thin enough as it is without having to go and hunt down some rat-bagging deserters because you two couldn't keep your heads." She wheeled and rode away, not even bothering to say goodbye.

An instant's discussion steered their steps towards the Four Shields. Serana wanted so see the bridge up close, but the thought of inferior lodgings just to save a few drakes was not one she was willing to entertain.

Serana was already looking around, trying to take in as much of Dragon Bridge as possible. No doubt Velandryn thought her a fool, but even this handful of buildings was fascinating in its own way. She fancied that she could see where the Imperial styles met the local designs. Those roofs have to be Nord. They were steep and came to a ridge on the top, obviously to prevent the buildup of snow, but the walls below had a patterning that made her think of those legendary lands to the south, the realm of Cyrod.

If Velandryn was impressed by the architecture, he wasn't letting it show. He moved with an assurance he'd lacked when they parted, and strode towards the inn as though it was the simplest thing in the world to go and barter with complete strangers for food and lodging. Maybe it is, for him.

The Four Shields wasn't much different from the other taverns and inns Velandryn had found since coming to Skyrim. The same large fires keeping the chill at bay, the same half-drunken Nords passing their evening in quiet revelry, and the innkeeper cut from the same cloth as all the others he'd seen.

Serana quickly commandeered a table in what passed for a secluded corner of the hall, and Velandryn had to chuckle at the look on her face as she surveyed the room. "Not your people?"

"I'm shocked you don't feel this way. A bunch of rowdy Nords and you in the same room?"

"I've had some practice." He rubbed his hands together, enjoying the warmth. "Plus, I do know how to pick my battles."

Her sound of disbelief was far from subtle, and he flicked a finger in a gesture of dismissal as old as the Chimer.

Her grin told him that she knew full well what he'd been going for. "Since you like this place so much, how about you go and secure us some rooms and food?"

"You mean secure me those things, no?" Feigning ignorance, he'd learned long ago, was the best possible way to needle intelligent people. At least, it works on me. "I'd figured you wouldn't need either."

He response was to throw something at him. He caught it more by reflex than anything else, and found a pale pouch made of some soft skin in his hand. He hefted its surprising weight, feeling something shift within. "What's this?" He looked inside, and almost dropped the purse in shock.

A fortune lay within. A ruby the size of his eye winked at him from a bed of coins, some of which looked like they'd been taken from—is that an Alessian Royal? Some of these coins had to be three or four thousand years old, and that wasn't even getting into what looked like tiny ebony ingots stamped with some script he'd never seen. "Where in Oblivion…"

"I took a bit of spending money when I left." She smiled at him. "Do you think it'll cover my half of our travel expenses?"

She was teasing him, but he couldn't even care. He studied the Royal, a coin half again as large as an Imperial septim, made—if the treatise he'd read on the history of coinage was accurate—from the quicksilver alloy called mithril. It had fallen out of favor the moment the Alessians stopped considering it a 'holy metal,' and this coin was probably worth at least a hundred drakes to the right collector. "I think we'll make do." Truth be told, he still had most of Jarl Idgrod's reward tucked away in various pockets and purses about his person, but it never hurt to have more to spend. Just in case.

Something else occurred to him as he crossed the room. With what's in the purse, I could probably buy the inn outright! He'd never much worried about money in the Temple, and it was nice to not need to start now.

By the time he returned to Serana, she had pushed her chair back into the corner, eyes scanning the room. "They have what we need?"

He tossed her a key. "We have beds, and food and ale are coming." He sat opposite her, taking a quick inventory to make sure he hadn't left anything important on the cart or, ancestors forbid, in Solitude. "I hope you like stew and bread."

She would have preferred blood, most likely, but she only nodded. Then, she folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, curious in spite of himself.

"What were your parents like? Your family?"

He blinked. "Why?"

"You've seen mine, so I'm sure you saw we aren't exactly normal." Something that might have been a smile twisted one side of her mouth. "I'm…curious. I want to know what a Dunmer family is like."

He snorted a laugh at that. "We come in more than one style, you know, and mine's not a typical story."

"Well, now I want to hear it even more."

Another laugh escaped him. "It's not that interesting, I'm afraid. Both my parents are alive and well, the last I heard. My father is serving as a priest in Irse Muur, and my mother's probably somewhere in the Ashlands with her clan." He hadn't thought of either in some time. "I wonder if they've learned I'm Dragonborn yet?"

Serana was leaning forward again. "Wait, your mother is an Ashlander? Aren't they nomads in the wastes? How did they meet?"

"Ashlander doesn't mean barbarian, you know. The Urshilaku—my mother's clan—are well-respected in the Temple. They were the first to acknowledge the Incarnate, and that's earned them a sort of…" he fished for the right words, "spiritual superiority. The way I heard it, the clan was near nal'Gnisis, and she and my father chanced to meet a few times." He didn't much want to go into the details of their courtship right now, however. "Sooner or later the inevitable happened, and I was born somewhere near the Foyada Oryll in West Gash. It was a lean year, so I was sent to the Temple for raising." He shrugged. "I see them now and again, and I spent a few months among the Urshilaku once I could carry my own weight."

"So you never really lived with them?" There was something akin to sorrow in her voice. Does she pity me?

"Not as such." It had never occurred to him that it might be odd. "They never bothered with marriage, and were both busy. I trained under my father for a time when he was in Mournhold, but the name of Savani doesn't shift enough water to warrant true blood allegiance."

He couldn't figure out what look she was giving him, and the arrival of the serving-boy with their meals made the point moot. The next few minutes were given over to eating, and by the time he realized how hungry he'd been, he was mopping up the last of the broth with what remained of a chunk of coarse bread. Not bad, for Skyrim fare.

The room had grown louder as the evening lengthened, and now they had to raise their voices over the clamor of the other patrons. Finally, Serana cast her spell of silence once more, and Velandryn nodded his thanks.

Serana, casting done, returned her hand to her lap. Velandryn watched the movement, fascinated in spite of himself. A glance might mistake her for nothing more than a pale human, but her hand…

Where the skin lay over the meat of the palm, it was merely pale. Where it stretched over the bone, however, it verged on translucent. Every movement became a play of subtle color and tone, if one knew how to look. And I haven't before now.

"Something wrong with my hands?"

He met her eyes, hoping against hope that his thoughts didn't show. "No, just…how did it happen?"

"Excuse me?"

Oh, right, need to articulate the entire thought. "I was wondering how you became…as you are."

She waved her hand, indicating the shroud of silence. "A vampire?" At his nod, she smiled with what he almost thought was a condescending air. "Is there something you don't understand about how it happens?"

He studied her, wondering if he'd made an error in judgement. "Your father, at least, was not bitten." It was only a guess, but it fit. Vampiric lines do not come into being without a progenitor, and Harkon claims to be one such.

She made no reply, but her smile was gone. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't ask about that, actually." Her eyes were fixed on what remained of her dinner. "It's not a pleasant story."

A better mer would have stopped asking then, and respected her obvious discomfort. "Few worth knowing are."

When she raised her eyes, they were as hard as he had ever seen them. "How much do you know about the origins of vampirism?"

"A bit." In truth, he was probably better-educated on the topic than most humans. The Temple might consider them anathema, but they were the most prolific creation of the King of Rape, and demanded understanding. "There's some…disagreement among the records. Some speak of a Nedic woman named Lamae Bal, but a few mention a ritual of blood upon the corpse of a defeated foe."

"I've never heard of the second one. It's a nice change, though, you not knowing everything." Her smile held nothing even remotely akin to joy. "Lamae Bal might have been the first, but the Volkihar got our gift from Molag Bal himself." She was silent for a long moment more. "My father…got his attention by sacrificing a thousand of his own subjects. When the altar was drenched and we stood among the charnel, he came to us. The ritual itself was…degrading."

Her face was drawn, eyes looking down and at nothing. When she spoke, her voice was uneven. "I won't revisit it, but all three of us were there." She met his eyes again, and forced perhaps the most unconvincing smile he'd ever seen. "Not really a wholesome family activity, but I suppose that's what happens when you offer yourself to a Daedric Lord."

Or, it's what happens when you choose Molag Bal in particular. He understood, however, that saying anything flippant right now might well shatter the fragile relationship they'd built. "And after? You became the Volkihar?"

"We were always the Volkihar." Her smile had regained something approaching real humor. "We became vampires. As you might have figured out, it…hasn't exactly been great for us. I'm fairly certain it was the prophecy that drove my parents apart, but," she smiled again, "it hadn't been a home for a long time before that." She gave a cough that might have been either a laugh or a sob. "I can see that now."

Velandryn wasn't often without retort, but he was finding it hard to say anything. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"I'll be fine. It's just…I am what I am. I don't like thinking about how it happened, though."

For the first time since her return, he understood exactly how Serana was feeling. "If you need anything—"

She was staring at the table again. "I'm sorry, but can you leave me alone for a bit?"

Velandryn rose, torn between sympathy and a bit of annoyance. "Of course."

"Thank you." One look at her face wiped away his ire. She looked on the verge of throwing up. Whatever she's feeling, she doesn't need me right now.

When he was a half-pace from the table, he must have passed through the ward of silence. The hubbub of the room crashed over him again, and he made his way through the crowd. I need some fresh air.

Serana looked out at the room, but saw something else entirely. Grey halls, the scent of blood and iron, pain as she was forced down, fear as she beheld—No! Her mind rebelled, and she slammed her hand down on the table with such force that the wood splintered beneath the blow.

Sense returned all in a rush, and she was back in the inn, seated alone at a secluded table in the corner. Her ward was still up, and none seemed to be paying her any mind. She closed her eyes, and, with some effort, brought her breathing back under control. I'm here. She was gone from Castle Volkihar. I'm a vampire. The ritual is done. It had been decades. Or millennia. Either way, she was in control. Not him. No matter what had happened, now she was free.

You will never be free. The voice was hers, but the words belonged to her father. And to my mother, and to the child who laid her flesh on the altar for the King of Rape to defile. She belonged to Molag Bal, body and soul.

Shuddering, she pushed herself up from the table. Despite not wanting to talk to Velandryn, the thought of being alone with her thoughts was even more unpleasant. The ward vanished with an almost inaudible whisper, and she stalked through the crowd to the door.

Night had fallen fully on Dragon Bridge. Lights burned in every window, and poles topped with lanterns cast golden pools of light on the ground. She peered through darkness that parted before her eyes, searching for the Dragonborn.

"You lost, miss?" It was a Nord, big, blustery, and obliviously helpful. "It can get dark here at night."

"I'm fine." For a moment, she wondered if this human was angling for something other than giving aid, but he simply nodded cheerfully and entered the inn. She shrugged and headed towards the bridge. That's where I'd go.

She found Velandryn Savani standing on the Dragon Bridge, looking north. The wind tore at his cloak, and the fabric flapped around his long-limbed frame. The hood was blown back, and his hair had been freed from the cord that usually bound it to billow out behind him. With his arms thrust into pockets on his cloak and his eyes staring towards the horizon, he could well have been another ornamentation wrought by whatever long-passed Dragon Cultists had raised this bridge from the stone.

She moved quietly to stand beside him, saying nothing. The landscape before them must have nigh invisible to him, but you wouldn't have known it from the intensity of his stare. To her, it was cliffs rising from a river, and a great expanse of water bordering a black and foreboding marsh far in the distance. Solitude was visible as a hint of darker black against the sky, with perhaps the faintest suggestion of light along the horizon. The clouds hid the moon and stars from view, and no aurora shone down on them tonight. And still, Velandryn was staring out there.

Finally, she had to ask. "Can you actually see anything?"

He didn't turn his head. "The spell's called night-eye. Guess what it does." There was the merest hint of humor in his voice, and the knowledge that he wasn't angry over her abrupt dismissal loosened a knot in her chest that she hadn't even known was there.

She gave him the chuckle he'd almost earned. "You wouldn't want to miss all of the water and rocks." Then, because her gluttony for suffering seemed bottomless, she returned to their previous topic. "I'm sorry for before. I didn't want to talk about it, but being alone with my thoughts…" For a moment, she felt herself falling back, but she leaned against one of the stone pillars, and the cold roughness pulled her back to the moment. Dragon-carved stone, not the stone of the altar.

"Back home, every Acolyte wanted to rise to power." If Velandryn had noticed, he gave no sign. "We'd strive, scheme, sometimes backstab—do a terrible job of it, of course, but the intent was there—all with the goal of rising through the ranks of the Temple. Every scholar wanted to become a Prelate or a Canon, every warrior a High Ordinator or Armiger-in-Repose. And, just now, I found a concrete reason why." He waved a hand before him, pointing to the shadowed landscape below. "They have chambers at the top of the Temples, and there is no feeling in this world like looking down."

She understood then, and felt a rush of affection for Velandryn Savani. Nothing like a pointless argument to pull my mind out of the dark. "What's the point of being so high up? Feeling, you say? You can't feel any of it." Instead of Castle Volkihar, she was filled with the revelry of Solitude. "I'd bet that you, a lowly Acolyte, could get more out of walking through Blacklight for a day than one of the Canons could from a year's worth of window-gazing."

"I could go down whenever I pleased, of course. In this fantasy where I've somehow become an Arch-Deyhn, why shouldn't I take an afternoon to move among the Corner of Six?" He managed to inject the smile that wasn't on his face into his words. "And then, when I'm tired of sociable and lively conversation, I can retire to gaze down from above. See the whole, which is invisible to those on the ground."

She shook her head. "You have it backwards. You're smart, but you'll get so caught up in seeing the whole city that everyone just becomes pieces to you." She realized where she was going, but was somehow unable to stop herself. "So long like that, and even if you go down, they aren't real. They're just…things, and they won't always do what you want!"

"Serana…I'm not your father." His voice was as gentle as she'd ever heard. "I'm not out to rule the world."

"I…I know." She'd thought she was free. That was foolish of me. For now, she focused on the moment. Just me and Velandryn here.

With some effort, she fished around for something to pull her mind out of the places it kept going, and recalled Jordis' words. "So, tell me about what happened with Elly."

It was a rare pleasure, seeing Velandryn completely off-guard, but all the sweeter for it. "How did—oh, Jordis?" She wished he'd been flat-footed a bit longer, but she'd take what she could get. "She's using you to ferret out what happened?" He almost smiled. "I'm a little shocked that she didn't get it out of Elisif."

"So something did happen between you and the jarl?"

Velandryn nodded, more to himself than to her. "We met in the Blue Palace. It was nice to find someone who understood the weight of an unwanted role placed on your shoulders."

"You mean being Dragonborn."

"And her being jarl. She's doing the best she can, but I get the feeling she's badly in over her head." He glanced over at her. "Remind you of anyone?"

Even Serana had to laugh at that, despite her annoyance that Velandryn was apparently sneaking around and meeting nobility while she was trying to stop her father from conquering the world. That isn't fair. "So you found a kindred spirit."

"Among other things. She's…quite extraordinary, you know. You'd like her."

"Would I?" For whatever reason, hearing Velandryn describe this woman like that was making her more and more annoyed. "Does she do tricks?"

Velandryn did not seem amused. "Save your scorn for the ones who deserve it, Serana. She defended me against General Tullius, and is the first person with any power who didn't try and use me the moment she found out who I was."

He met Tullius? She'd picked up enough to know that he commanded the Legion here, but something else struck her first. "You don't think I have any power?"

"You leveraged your history to make me facilitate your return to Castle Volkihar. You might not have known I was Dragonborn, but let's not pretend there was anything like trust between us. We were using each other with all the vigor we could muster."

"Fair enough." That stung. She had been wary, true, but there had been moments where she truly thought that Velandryn had been…what? Fond of her, perhaps, or displeased that they were at odds. "So, she's your new favorite human. Good for you."

There was a long moment of silence. "May I ask an odd question, Serana?"

"Go ahead." The night was not looking pleasant right now. I should go back inside soon.

"You do know that I like you, right?"

What? That was a stupid question. What does it matter how he—

"I only ask because a lot of things suddenly make sense if you've been working with the assumption that I don't care for you."

Oh. She hadn't thought that, of course.

Except…

Except for the fact that, no matter what he said, she was still treating him as though he could turn on her at a moment. It hadn't been a conscious thing, but there had always been a knowledge in the back of her mind. A relic, perhaps, of her time among vampires. No affection was true, after all. Not even family. And he was mortal besides. It's only a matter of time before he turns on you.

She fixed him with a glare. "If this is some game on your part…"

He held up his hands. "I swear on the bones of Alandro Sul."

She turned away, not wanting him to see her face. "What did you mean? You've said plenty about how we're just working together. Are you saying we're suddenly friends?"

He laughed from over her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to turn. "I'm not saying I trust you, just that I like you."

"Explain." She kept her eyes fixed on one lantern in Dragon Bridge that was flickering a bit. The weak one. It would go out first.

"Not much more than what I said. I like you. You're smart, opinionated, clever, funny when you've a mind to be. I won't claim we always get along, but as a person, you're someone I'm very happy to have met."

She knew she was blushing, and she hated it. This is how he feels? "Well, you could be worse too."

His laugh was long and genuine. "Glad to hear it." With a whisper of cloth, he moved into her field of vision, peering at her face. "I'm going to get some sleep. Long road tomorrow."

It was only when he was away from her, heading down the bridge, that she realized he'd completely cut the jarl out of their conversation. Clever bastard.

She didn't mind as much as she might have, though. They would have plenty of time on the road together, and, somewhat to her surprise, she liked him as well. If I have to be dependent on a mortal, I could do worse than him. She would spend a little longer out here, she decided. Her thoughts weren't so unpleasant, now.

Dragon Bridge did dark well, Velandryn decided. Two steps beyond the pools of light, the night swallowed everything. Even with night-eye, he didn't trust that darkness, and wanted to be in his room, curled up under the covers. Stop using magicka to warm me. He wasn't running low, but the low-level warming was no match for actual heat.

It was dark and he was distracted, and so he didn't notice the human waiting in the shadows until it was too late. Or, if he was being completely honest with himself, the human might have been hiding too well for him.

"Master Savani, a moment?"

He froze. "I'm afraid you might have me confused with someone else."

"Oh, I don't think so. At least, I do hope you are Velandryn Savani. Otherwise, I think some questions are in order."

He turned, and beheld the most ordinary-looking human he'd ever seen. Brown cloak over greyish clothes, sandy hair atop a plain face dotted with a bit of stubble. The kind of human you don't notice in a crowd of three. "Usually, people have questions once they figure out who I am. You're the first one to threaten inquisition if I'm not."

The man smiled. "As you are Velandryn Savani, I'm here to give you a word of advice."

Velandryn exhaled, and gathered his magicka in his hands. If there was an attack coming, he'd be ready. "I'm listening."

"A Dark Elf and a vampire on the road aren't going to pass for alchemists. I'd recommend being mercenaries, or perhaps itinerant adventurers. Fewer questions that way."

Suddenly, things became clear. "You're one of Tullius'. Letting me know that the guard are keeping an eye on me?"

The human held up a sheet of paper. "This report recommends detaining you and your…lady friend, as you are obviously passing through under false pretenses. It has, most unfortunately, gone missing." The man smiled again. "A very good evening to you, Master Savani."

This didn't quite seem like the general's style. "That's it? No veiled warning, no admonition to stay on the Legion's good side?"

"I'm not with the Legion, Master Savani. It would be wise, of course, to stay in the good graces of those who protect the roads and catch ne'er-do-wells before they can bring harm to the citizenry." He bowed. "Fare thee well, Dragonborn." With that, he vanished into the gloom again, and not even Velandryn's night-eye could make him out.

Well, damn. It was one thing to know that the Empire had spies in Skyrim, quite another to run into one face-to-face. I suppose that's just another wonderful aspect of being the gods-damned Dragonborn. Fortunately, it seemed as though nobody had been close enough to overhear them. Though I suppose he set it up that way as well.

Shivering, he headed towards the Four Shields. He was too tired for this.

"Ulfric's real problem wasn't killing the king, it was being so sloppy about it."

They'd left on the Morthal road as the sun was rising, in a cart loaded down with boxes of finely made tools and bolts of cloth and silk. "Things they can't make in the swamp," the driver had explained. "I load up with lumber and herbs when I'm there." It was around noon now, and they were stopped near a small hamlet, taking their meal while the merchant bartered with the locals.

Serana shot her traveling companion a look. "Weren't you the one waxing poetic about Jarl Elisif? And now you want to give the Stormcloaks tips on how better to kill their enemies?"

Velandryn jabbed a finger in her face. "That scorn right there is the reason Nords are all so terrible at using subterfuge. Ulfric might be dishonorable by Nord standards, but he still marches in and guts Torygg himself. Morality aside, it would have been better if he had blades in place to decapitate the Imperial leadership. That way, instead of having to flee the city, he could have at the very least thrown it into chaos."

Serana still didn't know too much about what exactly had happened when High King Torygg had died, but she wasn't in the mood to argue. No, wait, the other thing. She was always in the mood to argue with Velandryn. "And you, from what, three nights in Solitude, think you can just dance in and plan a takeover of the city?" She snorted. "No wonder everyone thinks you're arrogant."

"I am arrogant. It's one of my best qualities." There was a low stone wall that ran along the road' Velandryn had found a perch and now lounged there with an infuriating insouciance.

"What's gotten in to you? Last night you were…well, you, and today you're spouting off nonsense."

Velandryn blinked. "I got some perspective after we parted. Ran into someone who knew me."

"Ah." Then, what he'd said sunk in. "Knew you how?"

"By reputation." His dark tongue slid out and moistened his lips; Serana found the motion oddly hypnotic. "An Imperial spy of some sort. Said we were terrible liars, that the Dragonborn and a vampire would never pass for herbalists."

Well, that's not good. "So the Empire is, what, keeping watch over you? Didn't you say General Tullius promised you free passage through Legion territory?" Perhaps this was how the Empire got its revenge; make the Dragonborn squirm.

Velandryn did not seem to be squirming now, however. "He was actually very clear about that. He said, and I'm quoting from memory here, 'I am not with the Legion, Master Savani.' He might have been lying, but it seems an awful lot of effort to go through just to unsettle me."

Serana was fully engaged now, mind racing. "Why would he say that at all? If he is a spy, he's just blown his cover. If not—"

"He's got me jumping at shadows." Velandryn sighed. "I came to the same conclusions last night, and then I realized something." He fell silent, and Serana waited.

A long few moments passed, and the look in Velandryn's eyes grew increasingly self-satisfied. She glared at him, and he gave her a sly smile.

Finally, she laughed. "Oh, all right. What did you realize?"

His eyes laughed, even as his false smile faded. "That either way, they're scared. The Empire is walking softly on my account. Either they're misdirecting me, or playing a hand so I know that other forces are keeping watch." He leaned his head back and squinted his eyes against the sun. Not for the first time, Serana felt a stab of resentment for the hood that shielded her face. I'd like to feel the sun on my eyes as well.

"Well, congratulations, I suppose." That had come out dryer than she intended. "And that put you in a good mood?"

"In a way." His eyes were still closed, arms stretched along the wall. Were he anyone else, she'd have thought him carefree. "I'm running around trying to figure out what in Azura's name comes next, and the Empire is keeping one eye on me just in case I go rogue." He tilted his head forward to look at her. "Two years ago I had never left Morrowind, never even thought about leaving. Now? Now I've got the Penitus, or the Blades, or whoever shadowing my footsteps." He laughed again. "Nobody knows what in Nerevar's name they're doing. We're all stumbling around in the dark."

It was comforting, in a dark way. Unless that's what they want him to think. "Who are the Penitus and the Blades?"

"The Blades were the Empire's intelligence network. During the Great War they got wiped out, and now the Penitus Oculatus handles that sort of work." He shrugged. "At least, that's what everyone says." He stroked his chin. "Maybe there's a real spy group out there, one that not everybody knows exists."

She considered that. "If there was a group like that, though, they'd be glad to have the Penitus Oculatus running around. Good cover."

He nodded. "Agreed. My mind went straight to them, and he didn't have to say anything." A pause, then a quick tilt of his head. "So maybe that's another layer of deception I got handed." Rising, he yawned. "I slept terribly last night, and now I'm worrying again. Thanks for that."

She grinned at him. "Happy to help."

"Come on, let's see if that cart's ready to leave. If we're going back into that damn swamp, I'd rather be done with it sooner."

Morthal still put Velandryn on edge, but the knowledge that they were only going to be there long enough to grab their horses and head out was somewhat comforting. He'd begun to feel a sort of urgency since that midday conversation with Serana the day before, when his good cheer had evaporated in the face of the fact that he really had no idea what was going on. The Empire might only have one eye, but I'm fully blind. And for now, the best thing he could do to ensure his success was get to High Hrothgar and the Greybeards.

Considering that the Jarl had given them use of her stables, it was only reasonable to go and speak with her, though Velandryn had the sneaking suspicion that the old woman had him exactly where she wanted him. At least Serana's here this time. He'd insisted on that much, at least. She wasn't sitting, though, preferring to lean in a corner.

Idgrod Ravenscrone poured herself a cup of tea. "It's far too early in the day for alcohol, those louts in the tavern be damned. Would either of you care for any? Silver-white from Falkreath."

Velandryn remembered all too well the games the jarl had played the last time she'd brought out the drinks. "I'll be fine. Serana, would you like some?" He was a little curious to see how the vampire would react to the shrewd old ruler.

Serana, however, only shook her head. The jarl peered at her. "So, I can't help but wonder at how you're still travelling together." She looked over at Velandryn. "She's a Volkihar, you know. If you've gone and gotten yourself enchanted, I can have Falion here in a moment to deal with it."

Velandryn laughed. "Serana's here as my…spiritual advisor." He glanced over at her, and she stuck her tongue out.

The jarl sniffed at him. "You'd best be careful. Whether or not she can be trusted, keeping a vampire at your side will win you no friends."

He could almost feel Serana bristling. "I'm right here, you know."

"Oh, settle down child." She peered at Velandryn. "How's that make you feel?"

"Like you've a fairly solid grasp on the obvious reasons I shouldn't travel with Serana." he leaned forward. "Rest assured that I have a far more through list of reasons why I should." He glanced over at Serana. "Anything you want to add?"

The Volkihar scowled at the Ravenscrone. "Only that you are a perfect match for your town, Jarl Idgrod."

At that, the old woman burst out laughing. "Right you are, child! More right than you know." Her laughter subsided, and she gestured to Serana. "Sit, if you'd like. There's no thrall business here, and I've no more barbs for you."

Serana sat at last, and the jarl regarded them both over her teacup. "I won't bother getting into your business any more than I need to. You're heading to High Hrothgar?" At Velandryn's assent, she nodded. "Good. Tullius and little Elisif have been harping on me to 'contribute' more to the war effort. As if more of Hjaalmarch's sons and daughters marching off to die will make a lick of difference."

"You don't think the war can be won, then?" Serana's interest was clearly piqued, and the jarl didn't miss that either.

"I think that trying to occupy half of Skyrim is foolish, and that every day this war persists, we are all losing." She sniffed angrily. "If anyone can make them see sense, it's the Dragonborn."

Velandryn felt a bit as though she'd just punched him in the gut. "You expect me to, what, stop the war?"

"Who else? The dragons have returned, and the ones who should be protecting us are busy slaughtering each other!" Shriveled the Jarl of Morthal might be, but her fist made a respectable thud when it slammed onto the table. "I've given up trying to pound any sense into their thick skulls, so you'd best train yourself up to the task right quick!"

Velandryn could feel another laugh coming on, though that sick feeling in his stomach remained. "I'm afraid you might be giving me too much credit."

"And responsibility." Serana had engaged now, and her golden eyes were boring holes into the jarl. "It's not his problem if you can't keep from slaughtering one another."

"Perhaps you need to drink some blood, to un-addle your wits." Idgrod pointed to a tapestry that showed a mountain over which a dragon flew. "Dragons are part of our oldest legends. Like it or not, the fate of the Dragonborn is linked to that of Skyrim." She jabbed a finger at Velandryn. "Help us, and you'll find aid at every hearth. Let us wither and die, and you'll share our doom."

"Doom…" The word felt proper somehow. And so the Drum beats on. Lorkhan was dead and gone, however, his great task passed to mortals. "What you ask is difficult, perhaps impossible, but, once I have spoken with the Greybeards, I will do my best."

"Your best. Pah!" Idgrod spat on the floor. "I've seen men and women do their best for decades, and what changes? Nothing! You are the Dragonborn! The Elder Scrolls told of your arrival! You will do this, or die trying!"

For a moment, her passion took Velandryn off-guard. He'd pushed his chair back and risen a bit, but then Serana leaned forward, stopping just short of reaching out and physically grabbing the jarl. "The Elder Scrolls? What do you know of them?"

Idgrod Ravenscrone laughed, a cackle that sounded more than half-mad. "You don't know?" She looked between them. "Neither of you know?" She cackled again. "Elves and vampires, and you don't know more than me!" She was laughing so hard that tears were running down her face, but managed to bring herself back under control with a shuddering sigh. "Ah, I needed that."

Velandryn, however, was done playing games. "What do you know?"

She studied him. "Only fragments. Do either of you speak the old tongues?"

Serana nodded. "Awl luhk bralv."

"Well, I'll be damned. How old are you really, girl?" When Serana did not answer, the jarl continued. "The song only exists in fragments, but a few of us have pieced some of it together." She closed her eyes for a moment, then began to speak in a high, keening voice that had the cadence of recitation. "Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah, tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!"

Something in Velandryn's head was throbbing, a voice that demanded to be heard. And the Scrolls have foretold, of dark wings in the cold…Impossible! It was one thing having Dov in your head, but to just know a language by instinct was beyond the possible.

The Jarl wasn't done, however. "ALDUIN, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau, voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!"

Serana had gone pale. "Finish it." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "How does it end?"

Velandryn barely heard either of them. At the word Alduin, a shadow had fallen over his mind, so profound that he could scarcely breath. Alduin is returned. Mirmulnir's last taunt, so long ago.

Alduin isn't just an old Nord god.

He's an actual dragon.

Something happened then, a phenomenon that came but rarely to Velandryn Savani. His mind rebelled, and forced away the thought it was having. All notions of Alduin, speculations on his nature, were replaced with a single overriding desire. I must reach the Greybeards. Somehow, then, this would make sense.

He realized that the other two had fallen silent, and one look at Serana's face told him all he needed to know. "How bad is it?"

She gave him a sad little smile. "Well, the only part that directly references the Scrolls is Alduin's return. A bit about brothers waging war, and then it turns into doom, gloom, and eating the world."

Velandryn sighed. "So, Alduin's a dragon—"

Serana frowned. "Of course he's a dragon. He's the World-Eater."

Velandryn shook his head. "An actual dragon. I hadn't known that."

"Oh." She was silent for a second. "I guess it makes sense. Who else better to base your god on?" She smiled again, still without any humor. "At least that means he can't literally eat the world."

"At this point, I wouldn't bet against it." Velandryn had never felt despair like this before. Somehow, the name was filling him with hopelessness. No! This wasn't him. Whatever miasma corrupted him had no place in the soul of a Dunmer. This is, as all things are, a trial, and like all things shall be overcome.

Blessed Ancestors, witness my obedience to our ways.

Blessed Triune, witness my dedication to the True Faith.

Blessed Nerevar, witness my resolve!

The mantra calmed him somewhat, and he was able to think clearly again. "So, this Alduin has, for lack of a better word, returned. This return was presaged by the civil war in Skyrim, and I, as Dragonborn, will hopefully defeat Alduin and, by extension, the other dragons that have shown up. Did I miss anything?"

The jarl shook her head. "That is how I understand the situation." She favored them with a sly smile. "Remember, I bought you, Dragonborn. Gold, aid, and more. Now, it's your turn."

"Fine." Things were moving too fast for Velandryn to try and turn the tables right now. "I'd like to leave come morning. Do you have chambers we can use for the night?"

"Aye. Come morning, I'll have Valdimar lead you across the Labyrinthine Pass."

Velandryn remembered him, the Nord who'd helped them in Movarth's lair. "We've worked with him in the past. He's a good man."

"Why do you think I chose him?" Her eyes sharpened. "Do you really think there's anything you've done in my hold that I don't know about?"

Velandryn thought for a long moment, casting his mind back in search of something she might not have learned. "Which technique did I use to kill Movarth Piquine?"

The jarl, however, was unimpressed. "When my roof is leaking, I don't ask which tool the carpenter will use to fix it. All that matters is that I can sleep in a dry bed."

Velandryn sighed. "One of these days, I'll see you without an answer."

Idgrod cackled. "Days? Years, perhaps, and you'll get one." She sat back in her chair, and suddenly she was just an old woman again. "I'll have some sweet honeyed mead sent to your room, Dragonborn." She winked at him, and Velandryn sighed.

"I've agreed to your terms, Jarl Ravenscrone. There's no need to threaten me further." He rose, already tired from the journey yet to come.

When they were out in the mail hall, waiting on their rooms to be made ready, Serana finally relaxed. "You know, I'm not sure I've ever met anyone quite like her."

Velandryn nodded his agreement. "She reminds me of some that I knew back in the Temple."

"I'm not sure if I love her or hate her, to be honest." Serana twirled a bit of hair around her finger; one of the braids that usually wove behind her ears had come undone. "She reminds me of someone, too."

Velandryn watch the movement of her finger, pale skin contrasted against her ebon hair. "Oh?" he blinked, breaking the spell. "Who's that?"

Her smile was a brilliant flash of white teeth as her dark lips curled upwards. "Why, you." As she laughed, he saw a servant entering, and headed over to find his rooms. I don't think I know how to answer that.

A single bottle of mead sat on the small nightstand beside his bed. Velandryn grimaced to himself, but tucked it into a pouch, just in case. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

Serana didn't sleep that night, which was not unusual. Her body's natural—or unnatural, depending on your point of view—tendencies had her more alert at night, and right now sleeping during the day wasn't an option. Besides, she dreaded the thought of what dreams she'd be subjected to now that she had turned against the will of Molag Bal.

So, she 'd brought a few books from Castle Volkihar, and Velandryn had a couple more that she'd borrowed. Right now, she was trying to get a feel for how people behaved. It was one thing to know the names of the Emperors or the High Kings, but there were so many tiny things that still felt wrong to her. The magic, for one. Velandryn might use it, but almost none of the Nords she'd encountered seemed to have any affinity for the craft at all. What happened? It was conceivable that the ways of the clever-men had simply fallen out of favor, but it still seemed strange.

The book she was currently reading was a drama set in Cyrodiil, concerning the multi-generational conflict between two families. The author seemed to take for granted that the reader understood certain facts about two groups called the Colovians and Nibeneans. She'd heard Velandryn mention those words, but she wasn't sure if it was a racial distinction or just culture.

She asked him when she saw him the next morning, as they prepared to depart. "A little of both. They're all Cyrod, but you spend that much time breeding within your group, some differences will emerge." He shrugged. "Honestly, I mostly just go by the names. Nibenese names are full of vowels, and Colovians have more of the Nord in them."

He paused for a second. "Also, there's Heartlanders. Not sure if they consider themselves a third distinct cultural group, but they're there. Why?"

When she'd explained what she'd been reading, he nodded. "Smart. If you figure out a good way to keep them straight, let me know. I've heard the Nibeneans have more meric blood, but who knows if that's true. In Skyrim, you can't go wrong calling them all 'Cyrod' or 'Imperial,' if you're feeling," his mouth twisted so slightly that she wondered if could have been unconscious, "patriotic."

She considered that for a moment. I can live with that. If she ever went to Cyrodiil, she'd likely have to learn more, but for now she should be fine.

Outside of the jarl's hall, they found a half-dozen guards, all mounted, with the horses they'd left in Morthal so long ago saddled and waiting. Well, that's convenient. At the head of it all was a man who she assumed was Valdimar.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Savani." Valdimar bowed from his saddle. "Shall we be off?"

They headed south into the foothills, climbing until the town was laid out below them. Velandryn turned back as they crested a small ridge, and the party awkwardly halted their progress.

Serana spurred her horse over to his side. "Something on your mind?'

Velandryn shook his head. "That swamp. I don't know what's out there, but I'm not sorry to be leaving."

Serana understood that feeling all too well. She too could feel the power in the mists, the omnipresent pressure that never let her forget that Morthal stood on the edge of…something. Still, though, the opportunity was too good to pass up. "What would the Nords say of their Dragonborn being afraid of a swamp?"

Velandryn, in answer, raised his voice. "Valdimar! We need a local's thoughts!"

The man in question rode up, smiling. "What can I do for you, Dragonborn?"

Velandryn blinked once. "I thought you weren't calling me that, based on how you called me in town."

Valdimar shrugged. "There? I was told to keep it quiet. But these are loyal men, every one. Besides," his smile widened, "word is there's been a dragon spotted up at Labyrinthian. Made them feel better, knowing they rode with the Dragonborn."

"Delightful." Whether it was the dragon or the faith of their escort that had put Velandryn in a bad mood, Serana couldn't say. But I can certainly guess. He'd given here enough information about the fight against the dragon at Whiterun for her to know that he wasn't exactly relishing going up against another.

And yet…

A part of her was excited. The thought of fighting a dragon at this Labyrinthian place was enticing in a mythic sort of way. Despite the fact that it was probably just rumor or one of the great beasts passing by, she almost hoped she'd be able to see one. Imagine, seeing a dragon in the flesh!

Some hours later, after passing below a fort where Imperial colors flew and guards peered suspiciously down at them, they reached what was unmistakably a ruin, and Valdimar signaled a halt. "Be wary. We're entering the outskirts of Labyrinthian."

At the risk of appearing a fool, Serana found herself unable to keep her curiosity squared away any longer. "So, Labyrinthian." Velandryn and Valdimar both looked over at her. "What do you know about it?"

Velandryn opened his mouth, but for once, he was beaten by someone else.

"It's the largest Dragon Cult site in Skyrim, so far as we know. A full city back when it wasn't ruined, rather than just a bridge or a tomb." Valdimar spoke while staring around them. "Shalidor was the one who gave it the name, and the stories say he created a great maze below the city, with a treasure for the one who proved himself worthy. Back hundreds of years ago, they'd send the ones who wanted to be Archmages out here, to pass through the maze and prove themselves." He scratched at his nose. "And every few hundred years, some bandit lord or sorcerer decides that he's going to set up there. I don't think any of them have even found it, though."

"Not to mention Jagar Tharn stowed a piece of the Staff of Chaos here back during the Simulacrum" Velandryn had apparently decided he could no longer bear not being a part of the conversation. "I'd always assumed he'd simply put it in Shalidor's Maze, but this place is big enough that he could have gone and hidden it somewhere else entirely." He was looking up at a crumbling tower, still some twenty feet high but with great holes in the sides. "It's more than just a stone maze, that's for sure."

"There were other Dragon Cult cities, you know." Serana had seen the maps, with the ruins clearly marked. "I heard that the stone was stolen for other buildings." She'd heard it from one of the men who'd been carting the stones to Solitude, back before he'd become a vampire. "Why didn't the same happen here?"

"Well, I wouldn't build with Labyrinthian stone." Valdimar looked a bit embarrassed. "I mean, I'm sure it's not cursed, but I think you'd be asking for trouble if you went poking through the ruins and just taking what you wanted. Trolls, spirits, maybe draugr; we shouldn't have trouble if we stay on the road, but not everyone who goes into Labyrinthian comes back out."

"And yet, the jarl had us take the pass." Velandryn, for his part, did not sound particularly awed. "Isn't it possible that it just doesn't make sense to quarry stone from such a remote location? The road we came up is doable enough by horse, but I wouldn't want to be the poor mage responsible for moving these rocks down the hill. Besides, I saw significant deposits back down by Morthal; any that you needed could come from there with much less fuss."

"You'd be wise not to take this place lightly, Dragonborn." That was another soldier, a tall woman with long braids. "There are old ghosts here."

"I'm sure there are." This, as least, was said with more respect. "And I've no intention to disturb them, but this is the primary overland route between Whiterun and Morthal. I find it hard to believe that you're losing travelers regularly."

"You're not wrong. So long as you don't camp here on nights when the moons are wrong, or go exploring, there's no danger. The roads are well patrolled, but bandits and who knows what else lurk off of the main paths, so don't go exploring."

Velandryn shot Serana a glance. "Should I be worried now?"

She gave him a smile. "I'll let you know before I go to look at anything, but you'd best do the same. I'd hate to lose you because you heard some old words calling."

It sounded like banter, but she could see that he'd gotten her message. If there were any of those walls he'd mentioned, the ones with the dragon script on them, he might not be fully in control. She wouldn't let anything happen to him if he were to lose himself. Without him, I get the feeling that everyone would be a lot less welcoming.

He flashed her a salute. "Mur alla, breyti."

She grinned at being called difficult woman, and wondered what it said about Aldmeris that it had been a single word. Of course, difficult man is bruntyu, so maybe they were just a difficult people.

As they entered the city, everyone rode a bit closer together, and Serana found herself gawking as though she were back in Solitude. Even in ruins, the scale of the place put to shame Morthal, and some of the halls would have rivaled anything she'd seen in Solitude. This city, how have I never—

Then, it hit her. "Bromjunaar!"

Velandryn froze ahead of her. "What?"

She was too excited to care about the odd note in his voice. "This is Bromjunaar!"

She'd heard stories, of course. The city that sat atop a mountain, where the greatest of the Dragon Priests had gathered to perform whatever rituals their masters required. I never thought I'd see it!

"The capital." Velandryn's voice was half-whisper, half-growl. "The seat of the North, and the Moot of Konahrik."

She spun, almost falling out of her saddle. "Where did you—" Realization came a moment later. "That's right."

It was something out of a bedtime story. Konahrik in Bromjunaar. She'd never given it much thought, but the words simply belonged together. And apparently whatever dragon is riding in Velandryn's head thinks so as well.

Valdimar was staring at the both of them, and Serana quickly smiled. "Just something I heard a long time ago. So, where do we go from here?"

The party continued through the onetime capital, which was still mighty even in ruin, and Velandryn drew closer. "There's power here."

"Do you mean—"

"Not a wall. At least, not nearby. Just…a feeling." He sighed, slumping slightly in the saddle. "This place was important." Another glance around them, taking in the snow-covered streets winding between tumble-down buildings. "It's huge, even after so long. Despite what I said, some stone must have been taken. How large was it before?"

That, Serana could not answer. Something struck her then. "Konahrik. How did you know that name?"

"I couldn't tell you. I just…Konahrik comes from Bromjunaar. That's something that is true."

"I heard that as well, but nothing more." She had the uneasy feeling that it might never be solved, that she'd have to go on with only a single piece of this puzzle. "If anything else comes to you, tell me, okay?"

"Of course. After all, you've more experience—" Velandryn cut off and stared skyward. "Dragon."

"What?" Then, she heard a distant roar. "It's coming?"

"I don't know." Velandryn raised his voice. "Valdimar, there's a dragon about! We need to find cover!"

To his credit, the Nord lost no time. "On me! On me!" He took off up the road, the rest of them close behind.

It had been a long time since Serana had done anything more than trot on a horse, and she could feel the impact as they pounded up the stone way. Ahead, Valdimar peeled off to the left, into an open space where a two-storied building in better repair than most flew Imperial banners while a number of travelers and a few bored looking Legionaries milled around with no clear purpose. Looks like some sort of waystation.

"Dragon! Dragon!" At Valdimar's shout, the scene devolved into chaos. Soldiers ran for cover while others emerged with shields and spears. A child began screaming, and his mother clasped him tight. Some of the travelers took up arms, and in less than a minute they were surrounded by an impromptu force of defenders. Serana could make out sixteen Imperial soldiers, and another dozen travelers who looked like they knew how to fight. Perhaps twenty more were clutching spears or swords with varying degrees of competence; they'd be little help, expect perhaps as a distraction.

Clearly, Velandryn agreed. "Get them inside!" He pointed at an old woman with a rusty mace. "Anyone who can't fight, make sure they're safe!"

"Will that work?" The one who seemed to be in command of the Legionaries was a tall Nord with red hair and a close-trimmed beard. "It's a dragon!"

"It won't attack helpless prey while there's a real fight to be had." Velandryn spoke with absolute certainty, and Serana hoped that he was right. "Is there another place you can hide them? I'd like to use that main hall as our cover."

In the distance, another roar sounded, and Serana could just barely make out what might have been the beating of wings.

The soldier grimaced. "A few places, but nothing with as much protection."

Velandryn cursed quietly. "Then get them far from here. Somewhere with an intact roof, off of this main square. If the dragon comes down here, I don't want them to be collateral damage."

Both Valdimar and the Imperial nodded, and Serana marveled at how easily they conceded command to someone who sounded as if they knew what they were doing. Then, she realized she'd done the same. Ah well, it's not like any of us would do better.

Velandryn gestured at the central tower. "Use that for cover, but don't concentrate your archers." He waved to indicate the ruined buildings around them. "Move from shelter to shelter. Believe me, if it focuses on one place, there's nothing here that can hold it back."

Serana looked around at the open plaza. Not a lot of cover between that middle building and the surroundings. "Should we set up somewhere else? This much open space, it's a risk."

"Not a good idea." That was the Imperial. "Intact roofs are rarer than you might think, and this tower's the only place in the area with both elevation and cover."

Velandryn dismounted, rubbing his chin. "In that case, I'll try to draw the dragon there. If I can keep its attention, maybe you lot can ground it."

Just then, another roar sounded. From the looks on everyone's faces, Serana figured this one was close enough for even their mortal ears to hear.

"Go! To your places!" The urgency in Velandryn's voice was at odds with the stillness of his face, and the dissonance made him suddenly seem like something not fully Dunmer. Is this the Dov he mentioned?

"Wait!" That was one of the travelers, a Redguard in heavy armor. "Why are we listening to this elf? Why are you in charge?"

Velandryn gave him a single withering glare. "I'm the Dragonborn." He looked the dark man up and down. "If you don't have a ranged weapon, get in cover and be ready to swarm him when he touches down." He raised his voice. "Anybody with a battleaxe or warhammer, you might stand a chance of cracking the scales, but be careful of those claws."

The crowd was rapt now. The word, Dragonborn, had rippled through them and now they stared at Velandryn Savani as though they beheld a ghost. Or a god. He mounted his horse again. "The key is mobility. It's fast, but we're agile. Don't move in straight lines, and never strike from the same place twice! Once it's grounded, stay behind it and watch the tail. Everything vital is deep inside, so try and cripple the limbs so we can get close enough to kill. Now, go!"

There was no cheer, no rousing cry. The crowd simply exploded into activity, and Serana looked up to see something moving behind the low-hanging clouds. "It's coming."

Velandryn had dismounted, and gestured towards the tower. Valdimar had led his Morthal troops off to secure vantage points, and the Legion men were preparing. Once more, it was just the two of them. As they walked, he suddenly looked very tired.

"So, how much of that was actual knowledge?"

"All of it, but not mine. There are things that I just know about dragons now, after all."

She nodded, for once at a loss for riposte or sarcasm. "Where do you want me?"

"At my side. Your magic is as strong as mine, and if this works, he'll be trying to kill me and ignoring the others." Velandryn smiled in the human fashion. "Did you think you wouldn't be staring into a dragon's gullet?"

"Not for a moment." It was a slow thing coming, the realization of what they were about to do. "This is really happening, isn't it? We're fighting a dragon."

"So it seems." If the prospect excited Velandryn, it didn't show. "I suppose now I'll get to be the only mortal living to have fought two of these bastards."

Inside, the tower was more ruin than fortification. Someone—perhaps the Empire, perhaps some defensively-minded natives—had built wooden platforms and stair way that gave access to the more defensible holes. There was also a single stairway that stretched up to a hole in the ceiling. All about them, people ran this way and that, grabbing gear or herding panicked noncombatants out of the structure. The sight of two young men clutching each other, eyes wide, send a pang through Serana's heart. That's who we're fighting for. At the end of the day, Jarl Idgrod was right. All of the politics meant nothing when compared to the return of the dragons.

Velandryn paused beside a rack of bows, looking them up and down before moving on. Bows didn't do much against Mirmulnir. Besides, his role this time was to draw the beast's attention. Magic and Thu'um should be enough.

Serana also passed up the ranged weapons, but grabbed a long pike that, but for her inhuman strength, would likely have been far too heavy and unwieldy for her to use with any skill. As it was, he figured it might pierce something, and the eight or so feet of sanded wood between the cruel steel head of the weapon and its base meant that she wouldn't have to get quite so close to the great beast. Smart. The thought of a dragon's breath on the vampire wasn't a particularly pleasant one.

For the briefest of moments, the absurdity of that last thought struck him. I'm pulling for the vampire now. A month ago, he'd have laughed himself senseless at the thought of Serana going up in a puff of indignant smoke. Now? Now he didn't know. Somehow, she'd become important to him. He hadn't been lying on the bridge, after all. He genuinely liked her, for all that she could be completely insufferable at times.

As they climbed the stairs, he saw Serana carefully hoist the pike to avoid a support strut. The movement, at once deadly and oddly innocent, sent a rush of warmth through him. Never thought I'd call a vampire 'friend.'

They reached the roof, and Velandryn beheld their battlefield from above for the first time. A moment's glance told him that this tower had once been taller, and this had been an internal floor, so rather than parapets to hide behind there were only irregular remains of the walls. Unfortunate. They'd have to be careful with their positioning.

Below, the plaza had all but emptied. Most of the soldiers were in the buildings at the periphery, peering up from hidey-holes and the best-protected bits of stone they could find. It won't keep them safe under a direct barrage, but if I can keep its attention, they might be able to wound it enough to bring it down.

Serana achieved the summit, and whistled as she looked out. "Not exactly the walls of Solitude, is it?"

Velandryn tried to get a feel for the space, to understand the flow of the battle, like the histories said. The commander should plan around the terrain, but how can I do that when the enemy flies?

"You have something to counter the dragon's breath?" He had a few spells in mind, but he wasn't sure if they'd work on her. At least not well enough to help if she's caught in the fire fully.

Serana shrugged. "A few. Mostly I'm hoping this one doesn't favor fire."

"Doesn't favor fire?" Velandryn felt something lurch in his gut. "What does that mean?"

Serana leaned the pike against a portion of half-collapsed wall. "Not all dragons favor fire. The stories tell of those who breathe the winter's frost, and others who can drain the strength from even the strongest heroes." She shrugged. "Fire might be good for you, but it's not ideal for me."

They don't all breathe fire. The only way he'd survived against Mirmulnir was by taking advantage of his body's natural resistance to flames. I'll need to be more careful. It was only one more variable in a plan that was filled with them. So why do I still feel sick? His knees were unsteady, and something was pounding behind his eyes.

"Velandryn? Hey!" Dimly, he became aware of Serana's voice. "What's going on?"

"I didn't know their breath was cold." His own voice sounded distant as well. "I have Dov in my head, but I missed something so fundamental." His eyes found hers, and the concern in them was easy to read. "Serana, what else don't I know? What else is missing?" He was gripping the low wall too tightly, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Serana, I—"

She cut him off. "You don't have the luxury of doubt right now, Dragonborn!"

"I'm leading them into battle with incomplete information! What they don't know—"

"All they need to know is that you're up here, ready to lead!" There was something akin to desperation in her voice. "They're following you! Their Dragonborn! If you falter, how many of them will stay?"

She wasn't wrong, he knew. Still, his dragonlore had suddenly become ashen sand. It's dangerous enough to stand on, but try to fight with your feet in it, and you're sure to be dragged down. "You're here too, you know. Aren't you worried that we're about to die?"

She shrugged, and smiled at him. "I don't have a lot of friends right now. Can't go abandoning the one person who puts up with me."

That made him laugh. "Likewise." He felt a sudden surge of affection for the vampire. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

Another smile, with those golden eyes shining. "So am I."

He studied the sky, and the shadowy shape moving through the clouds. "I suppose it's appropriate, fighting one of them here, but it would be nice if there were a Legion or two nearby."

Serana's laugh was an airy thing, delightful in its incongruity with their surroundings. "They'll arrive just after we've slain it."

"Claim the kill in the name of the Empire." Somehow, this was helping. "Well, let's kill the damn thing so we can quarrel over who gets the credit." He was peering into the clouds again, hoping to make out some shape or shadow. He'd have to shout to get its attention. And then there's no going back.

"Velandryn." Serana's voice was quiet but not calm. There was something in there, as if she were holding back emotion. "Thank you."

"For what?" His mind flashed back over the last few days.

"For…for this." Her wave took in the both of them, and where they stood. "For traveling with me, arguing, even—"

Now, it was his turn to cut her off. "We're not done yet. We've both got our duties to fulfill." She's scared too. It wasn't like her to bare her soul so easily.

And, indeed, the moment passed. She nodded. "Right." Another small nod. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He scanned the sky. The waiting is almost worse. "Thank you, for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." As Serana spoke, he saw the shape, felt the flutter of wings deep inside. There!

"Get ready." He inhaled, feeling the cold air of the Hjaal, of Labyrinthian and Bromjunaar-Long-Fallen, and of the dragon far above. Where did you come from? He knew, however, that it didn't matter right now. Wherever they've come from, I'll stop them. There was no other option.

"FUS!"