Author's Note: Hey there everyone. This is the adopter of this story, Exmongum. I am just letting you guys know that the first thirteen chapters were written by Jackalope89, and that I have received their intended intended future plot-points. I fully intend to fulfill these plot-points as well as I can. I hope I can reach all of your expectations.

Prologue

Three years ago, Skyrim, home of the Nords, was attacked by dragons for the first time in thousands of years. The dragons were not only led by, but revived by the oldest and most powerful of their kind; The World Eater, Alduin. The fear, terror, and chaos sowed by these creatures terrified the people that called the province home. The dragons ran amok, fearing nothing that the petty mortals could do to them. That was, until, the Dragonborn came!

A warrior of great renown, courage, skill, and bravery, the Dragonborn became more and more powerful after each dragon he slew. During his journeys, the Dragonborn met and befriended many groups, often rising to the top of each order, strengthening them like never before. He learned their skills, and even surpassed the greatest members of each group.

Finally, the Dragonborn confronted Alduin, in the realm of Sovengarde. Together, with great heroes of the past, he slew the World Eater! His name grew, but he had not done it alone, though it had been his blade to fell the great dragon. He had help from friends. Among them an ancient vampire who had been in hiding for millennia. The Companions, whom were the first group to take him in and train him, whose deeds were renowned throughout Tamriel. The Mage's College, where he had begun as an apprentice, but rose through the ranks and unparalleled speed. The Thieves' Guild, whom he had built back up into what they were in their glory days. And many more.

But after defeating Alduin, stopping the Stormcloak Rebellion by defeating its leader, halting a crazed vampire with the help of the vampire's own daughter and an organization dedicated to protecting humanity from the undead, and even stopping the First Dragonborn, Miraak from returning to wreak havoc upon the world, the Dragonborn, vanished. Few knew what he looked like underneath his helm. Those that did, would not say who or where he was, for he had done what he set out to do, and returned peace to the land…

Chapter 1. Quiet Life No More

In a cozy home, in a thriving city called Whiterun, sat a Nord. A somewhat tall and well-built Nord, as they tend to be, was sitting in his chair, reading a book with some Firebrand Wine on hand. The fire in the fire pit keeping the house pleasantly warm. And unlike most Nords, this one preferred the quiet life, despite having had been the Dovakhiin, in public, a few years before.

In a room adjoined to the kitchen, came the sound of *thwack* *thwack* as two children, who had been taken in by the Nord a few years prior, were having a private training session, but normally trained with the Companions. Although this Nord was too young to be the father of either of child, he was proud of whom both were growing into.

Lucia, an Imperial girl who had been cast out by her uncle and aunt after her own parents had passed, had been the first to be taken in by the Nord. When he first found her, she was quiet and shy, and often bullied by some of the other children. Now, she was in training with Aela the Huntress of the Companions, and had grown bolder since being taken in. To the point where the children that had bullied her, either left her alone, or had come to respect her and became her friends.

The boy, the adopted brother of Lucia, was Blaise. Both of his parents had been in the Imperial Legion, but had been killed in an ambush. He had been given a place to sleep in the stables outside of Solitude, but had not wanted pity. Blaise was headstrong, stubborn, and almost too prideful when the Nord had come across him. The Nord had made a personal note that the boy's parents should not have both been in the Legion at the same time, so the boy would not have been in the situation he was now, but it was too late for that now. When the Nord had brought the Breton boy home, he had gotten into a number of fights with other children. But the Nord had taught Blaise a few important, if humbling, lessons, often involving the follies of too much pride. Now, Blaise was becoming a quick study. Learning not only how to fight with his fists, but with his mind as well. And Blaise hoped to learn magic either from Serana or his father to further this.

Although young enough to be an older brother to both children, the Nord let them call him 'father', 'papa', or whatever they wanted. Though it did make the Nord feel like an old man at times, when he was only about ten years older.

As for other orphaned children, the Dragonborn, who had plenty of influence before leaving the public life, had made personal inquiries for them to go to good homes, or at least to the orphanage under Constance Mitchell, a kind woman who would look after children until homes could be found. And a civil war often left plenty of orphans.

Behind the reading Nord however, was a certain old friend who was not very happy with how lackadaisical her friend had become over the last few years. And she was going to let him have a piece of her mind. Again.

"Get up you big oaf!"

"Gaah!" The Nord jumped out of his chair, onto the ground, completely taken by surprise. "Serana! What in Oblivion was that for!? I was almost to the best part!" The Nord looked forlornly at his book, which had ended up in the fire.

Serana pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, "You've read that book at least ten times. Ten times! All you do anymore is read, drink, and sleep. Day in and day out. You were given a chance to be someone in charge out there, someone who has the power to make a difference! Though, the only good thing you've done is spend time with Blaise and Lucia, I give you that much."

The Nord picked himself off the ground with agility that belied his size, and dusted himself off, "Your point?"

"You used to do a lot of good. Helping people, stopping bandits, saving the world. And last I checked, you were made Thane of Skyrim, a hero to everyone, and even extended an invitation to the capitol that still stands, maybe even as a possible new Emperor!" Yelled the vampire, her eyes glowing with frustration.

The Nord took one last look at what had been his book, before turning back to his friend, "Yeah, well I was kind of thrown into that life. You know I never cared for titles or anything like that. In truth, this is all I've wanted. A peaceful life. Especially one without the world needing to be saved every other day. Thanks to Balgruuf, the other Jarls, and a few others, I've been able to have that life. One that doesn't require me running from one end of Skyrim to the other. And besides, like you said, I'm able to spend more time with Lucia and Blaise."

Serana shook her head. While it was a good thing that the children now had a constant parental figure in their life that made sure, in extreme events, they can even look after themselves, the Nord often put all other responsibilities off.

"You mean a lazy, milk-drinker's life? A fat king's life? And yet, you thrived out there. Helping people. Restoring order. Making people see reason. Keeping the peace! Not in here, or one of your other houses. You and I BOTH know that, Hern Hammerhand."

Hern flinched a little. Serana only used his full name when she was mad at him. She often acted like the older, much older, sister he never had, and this was one of those times. Ever since he had found her in a, what he had called 'a very uncomfortable looking bed in the ground', the two had grown quite close on their adventures. It had never gone beyond friends, for a few reasons (though both felt something, neither brought it forward), but they considered each other family at the very least. And while he hated to admit it, the vampire in front of him did have a point. But that didn't mean he would capitulate so easily.

"What about Blaise and Lucia though? You said it yourself, I am spending more time with them now than I could before," he tried, in vain though.

Serana gave her friend a deadpan look. "Yeah, you are. But half the time they're training with the Companions or learning other skills. YOU on the other hand, have become lazy, complacent, and-"

Hern drowned her out in his head. Thinking back to when he first came to Skyrim, at eighteen and looking to make a new home for himself. He had grown up in Cyrodil, but had never liked the big city. But shortly after crossing the border, his life had been completely turned upside down. Granted, it hadn't been all bad, like Serana (despite her nagging at him), Blaise, Lucia, and some of his friends. But unlike many of his Nordic brethren, fighting had not been one of his main goals, despite natural talents at it, amongst many other talents that came naturally to him. He suddenly felt a sharp stabbing pain in his neck.

"Ow!"

Serana leaned back, a small trickle of blood came from her mouth, but her face showed her annoyance, "That's what you get for tuning me out, again."

Now, most people would be worried about contracting Sanguinare Vampiris, or the disease that turns one into a vampire, particularly if just casually bit by a Vampire Lord, but Hern wasn't most people. Like his friend, he had his own special transformation, aside from Serana and the children, only a very few and trusted knew about it, as most people would have rather unpleasant reactions. Like trying to bury a sword into his belly. While it made him not particularly resilient to silver, and grew hair in places hair normally never grows on a human, it had many benefits to it. Like being immune to diseases. Though if he wanted, he could allow himself to be turned. But he only used his werewolf form in certain situations.

Hern sighed, but before he could say much else, a knock came at the door. Hern and Serana both looked at each other quizzically as it was nearly supper and they weren't expecting company.

"Come in!" Called the vampire.

"Hey, I bought the house," fake-whined Hern, then turned to the door himself, "Come in!"

In came Lydia, a longtime friend to the four residents of the house, whom, with the blessings of Hern, had joined the Companions a couple years prior. Yet she always stayed in touch to the person that had been her Thane.

"Hern, Serana, I hope you and the children are doing well?" asked the former Housecarl. But she was soon mobbed by the two children whom had both come in to see what the ruckus was about, which at first was the usual bickering. But had grown excited to see Lydia who had often taken care of them when Hern and Serana had been out running around Skyrim, making sure everything didn't go straight to Oblivion.

The vampire and werewolf both let out laughter, as their friend had to nearly fight off both kids. They had seen her take on giants, mammoths, bandits, vampires, and even dragons. But a couple of children could tackle her down, no problem.

"We're doing fine Lydia, but what brings you here at this hour?" asked Hern.

"Well, I was on my way back from a quest with Aela to clear some bandits out that had camped just across the river, when we came upon an Imperial messenger."

Hern had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going, an instinct he had developed over the years since coming to Skyrim, and whispered, "No." To which Serana could only smile at Hern's discomfort.

Lydia continued, "He told us he was bringing a message for someone in Whiterun, but wasn't sure where the house was."

Hern spoke a little louder, eye beginning to twitch. "No." Serana's smile got a little bigger, eyeing the Nord.

"So we asked if we could see who it was addressed to, and when he showed us, it was you Hern. It has the Imperial Crest on it, so I brought it the rest of the way," finished Lydia.

"FUCK!" Shouted Hern, but was quickly reprimanded by Serana, with a punch in the shoulder, mainly because of Hern's language around the children. Hern felt it may bruise, but the children couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Yeah yeah, yuck it up you two," said Hern, while under his breath he said, "See if I get you two any sweet rolls for a week or so."

Serana and Lydia both bent over the momentarily distraught children and said, "Don't worry, we'll get you sweet rolls."

Hern could only grumble at it, while Blaise and Lucia cheered.

Lydia handed the letter to Serana, and told the group, "Goodnight! I need to meet back up with Aela at Jorrvaskr, so I can't stay long. It was nice seeing you all again!" and went back to Jorrvaskr after the group had said their goodbyes.

Serana began opening the letter, but figuring he should just get this over with, Hern 'yoinked' the letter out of her hands, opened it and began reading it. Much to Serana's chagrin.

Hern 'Dragonborn' Hammerhand,

Thane of Skyrim and Her Holds,

Ysmir of the North,

Slayer of Alduin,

Legate of the Imperial Legion,

Leader of the Companions,

"And a few more titles that that you'll never know," thought Hern mockingly, but he wasn't wrong.

We have an emergency that requires your attention, and possibly of those you trust most, as you may need their help. We cannot afford to put into writing what the emergency is, as it may spread panic and fear. With the looming threat of the Thalmor and Skyrim still recovering from the Civil War, we believe it to be obvious why we would not. We implore you to make great haste to the Imperial Capital as soon as you can. We know we agreed three years ago to let you retire in peace, without exposing the man behind the helm, as thanks for your services with Alduin, the Civil War, the Volkihar threat, and much more, but this is something that a man of your talents is needed for. The guards will let you and your entourage in without fuss when you hand them this letter.

Signed,

Masia Esdrena

Elder Council Secretary

"By the Nine!" Yelled Hern in frustration, "Knowing my luck, it'll be another damned 'world saving' thing I have to do, because everyone else will be too damned focused on something with much less significance!" He turned to the vampire whom had counseled him on many matters, "Wanna bet a thousand gold septims that's what it is?"

Serana gave him a knowing look, "Why would I bet against the same thing I was thinking?" and gave a laugh, which was soon followed by Lucia and Blaise.

Hern grumbled to himself again. "All I wanted was to read, sleep, eat, and not have to save the world for once. That too much to ask for?"

The family, odd as it was, sat down at the table and had a loud, but happy supper. While doing so, they made plans to travel to the Imperial City. As much as Hern loathed going, an Imperial Summons was an Imperial Summons. He would obviously take Serana with him, as she was one of his most powerful and trusted friends, and brigands still roamed the roads. The children really wanted to see the capitol city of the Empire, and after much nagging and bugging on the children's part, with some help from Serana, Hern agreed. But they would need a couple more companions, not so much for Hern or Serana, but to make sure kids would be okay.

That night, in bed, Hern had a dream. And not one he really wanted, like the one with a Bosmer woman and Redguard woman he'd had the other night. Or the one with delicious foods and wines from the Divine, whose taste was unrivaled. This one came from someone whom he had not spoken to in sometime.

Before Hern, appeared a woman taller than even an Altmer, bathed in light.

"Greetings again, my Champion. It has been some time since we last spoke," said a familiar voice.

"Oh, Meridia. Been a while. No more ghost things at your temple, right?" Responded Hern, taking a more casual voice to the Daedric Prince than most mortals would ever dare.

If the Daedric Prince wanted to give the Dragonborn a rude look, she held off. "No. But you have been summoned to the Imperial Capital. Know this-"

Hern rolled his eyes, "What is it this time? Deep sea monsters coming to land? One of your siblings attacking Nirn again? Your temple being taken over by Divine worshipping skeevers? Or is it something else?"

Meridia was silent for a moment, but spoke again, "You do know I could utterly break your mind here."

"Crap. Over did it I guess." Hern didn't care much for most Daedric Princes, though Meridia was an exception, he had to admit. She hadn't yanked his chain when he helped her a few years back. Not to mention they both did not care for the undead. "Sorry about that."

Meridia let it go, for now, "I will overlook it this once, as you have done much to put the dead to rest for me. But as I was saying Champion, you must go to Paarthurnax and visit him before traveling to the capitol. For the mission you will receive from the capitol will, at one point, coincide with what your mentor will give you."

"Meridia, you and I both agree on at least one thing; that the dead should remain dead. Why are you so interested in this?" asked Hern, just wanting to get to the point.

"Because Champion, there is a force in the world that has not been seen in thousands of years. And they are resurrecting an army of the dead, to overrun the land of the living. More than this, I do not know. As if I am being blocked by one of my siblings or some other powerful force," replied Meridia.

That got Hern's attention. Serana, while a vampire, wasn't technically an 'undead'. Plus, she was much livelier than many who were considered 'alive' anyway. But draugr, ghosts, shades, and many other types of the dead resurrected had always been hostile, to say the least. But to raise an army of the dead, that was not good, not good at all.

"So, the Elder Council heard about this? How?" asked the Nord.

"By way of the Elder Scroll of the Sun. The Moth Priests have been studying it since you sent it to Cyrodil after your victory over the World Eater. As for your mentor, his mission comes from Akatosh himself." Meridia spoke with a hint of venom about the Dragon God.

"Meridia may not be evil like some of her siblings, but even she doesn't care much for the Nine." Thought Hern amusingly.

"Lovely, Meridia. Any other advice?"

"Yes, Champion. You may wish to take as many as you can with you on this journey. For this one, will be unlike any other. Make sure you bring along those you trust most, for this journey, you will need as many of those you can trust as you possibly can. As the dead won't be your only foe. More than this, I cannot say. Farewell Champion, for now, for we may meet again before this is over."

With that Hern woke up with a start, sitting up in bed. Realization hit him like a Frost Atronach's punch. "I really hate it when they do that," he said, "and always stingy with information," he finished in his thoughts,not liking always waking up so suddenly every time a Daedric Prince left his dreams.

"Who do what?"

"Gah! Serana! Every time?" Hern asked, a little surprised that the vampire was standing next to his bed.

"You and I both know I enjoy it," said the Vampire, a hint of mischief in her voice and a smirk on her face, who had been silently keeping an eye on the person she had grown close to in her years since he freed her.

"You know, I've always wondered. Don't you get bored not needing to sleep?" asked Hern.

"You'd be surprised how often someone has tried to kill you while you sleep, Hern. It keeps me entertained." Said Serana, a knowing smile on her face again.

It had been an unspoken agreement, a rather one-sided one on Serana's part, between the two; that Serana would be the Dragonborn's unofficial bodyguard, mainly for when he was a sleep or otherwise indisposed. Hern went along with it because nearly anyone else wouldn't be so blunt with him, aside from a couple of the more senior members of the Companions, but they had their own duties. And Hern had his own, personal, reasons for letting her do so.

"So, who was it this time?" asked Serana, not letting it go, but having a decent idea of what happened.

"Meridia. Seems there's more to this blasted Imperial Mission than what even the Council may know."

"Not the worst of the Princes to talk to," pointed out Serana, trying to find the bright side.

"Yeah, but they have a bad tendency to do things their own way, the lot of them."

Serana couldn't help but smirk. Most people would barely even say or mention the word 'Daedra'. This man, granted in many ways, who was much more than just a mere mortal, took a far more callous and off-handed approach to not just Daedra, but even the Daedric Princes themselves. She had never really been able to tell if, when it came to dangerous situations, if he was just incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. She soon came to the conclusion it was a mixture of the two after meeting him. When the man had faced Alduin, challenged her father, and opposed Miraak, Hern hadn't even blinked. Though, the odd thing was, despite his attitude towards them, the Daedric Princes had not lashed out at the Dragonborn. Yet, at least.

"So, does this mean the return of the Dragonborn?" asked the vampire.

Hern sighed. He wasn't looking forward to it, as he would have to go out and do stuff again, but he replied, "Looks like it. I'll have to dig out my old armor. Maybe forge some new. And I'll have to gather up some people as well. But first things first, we're headed to the Greybeards."

Serana gave him a proud smile. Although when she had first met him, and helped her with her family 'issues', often giving her support of every kind, she was glad she could poke and prod him in the right direction (and for fun) when needed. A paying of her debts, in a way. He had even offered to help her cure herself of vampirism if she ever wanted to. All she had to do was let him know and he would be there. Serana wasn't quite ready to give it up yet, especially now with this new mission coming up, but she certainly appreciated the intent.

"Hern, get some sleep." Said the vampire.

"Yes mother. Ow!"

"I'm not your mother."

"Yeah, you could be my great-grandmother's, great-grandmother's, great-grandmother," said the Nord in a fake mocking tone, "Ow! Hey! No biting!" exclaimed Hern in false panic, grabbing his neck again.

It was one of the few downsides to having Lycanthropy. He had a very fast healing rate, but when one of your closest friends is a vampire that'll bite you if you get smart with her, it could become a literal pain in the neck.

"That's what you get for that 'grandmother' remark. Now, goodnight Hern." Serana went back to the hallway on the upper landing and took a seat, and read a book by candlelight. But always keeping her enhanced senses on full alert for any break-ins. She had lost one family, but she would be damned if she would let this one go to some cutpurse!

However, even she failed to notice the icy blue eyes from the cracked doorway she had just come from. Eyes that belonged to the person who vowed to keep her and the rest of his family safe. For those that attacked the family or friends of the Dragonborn, never lived long after. It was one thing that Hern kept secret from Serana, that ever since becoming a werewolf, sleep was merely a pleasure, rather than a necessity for him. He did so, as he was the only person she had ever told her entire story to.

Combined with his draconic nature and pack mentality from his werewolf side, Hern was fiercely protective of those closest to him. And he would be damned to the deepest depths of Oblivion if his kids suffered more, or Serana ever had to go through such pain that her father had put her through again. Or what from anyone for that matter. Those that attacked the family of the Dragonborn, felt the full wrath of a dragon. And so far, none of those that had threatened his family, had ever survived the wrath of the Dragonborn.

The next day, the family got up and began their preparations. First, they would make their way to Riften, to Ivarstead, and then up to the Throat of the World where Hern would meet with the old dragon Paarthurnax. But first, Hern had a few other messages to send out. The first was the easiest, as it was to the Companions, but he would come back through Whiterun to meet up with them first. The rest, other than one, he had to send to the various holds, by one or another means. The final letter he would deliver upon arrival in Riften.

Outside the gates, the group of four met up with Vilkas and Farkas, the twins of the Companions and close friends of Hern. The two would help make sure bandits stayed back without Hern having to reveal himself too early, as the last thing he wanted was for certain groups to get wind about him before he was ready.

The two brothers had complemented each other for years. Vilkas was the wiser of the two, but no pushover in a fight, while Farkas was the brawn, but no fool either. The two, along with Aela the Huntress, had taken over day-to-day operations of the Companions since Hern retired from the public, but Hern was still the Harbringer, the first named leader of the Companions since Ysgramor himself. Meaning that major quests were often brought to Hern through one of the three members.

At the stables, the group began grabbing their horses. Vilkas grabbed a brown horse while Farkas got a mottled one of brown and white. Serana, with Lucia behind her, was on top of a pure white horse named Frost. One of the best horses in the province, and second only to Hern's own, a pure black horse with glowing red eyes, Shadowmere, with Blaise sitting behind Hern. Hern was quite fond of the horse, it was faster, stronger, and far more intelligent than any other. But it could also be temperamental, and had to be convinced to let one other than Hern be on its back.

"I swear, every time I see that horse of yours Hern, I can't help but think it wants to take a bite out of me," said Farkas, eyeing Shadowmere a little warily.

"Nah. He prefers chicken stew," replied Hern with the offhanded comment. Shadowmere shook his head and turned it towards Hern, to which replied, "Well you do! No sense in being so sensitive about!"

Varkas could swear that he thought he saw the demonic horse give Hern an annoyed look, but shook it off. "If Hern wants to ride that damned horse, let him. Probably the only one that can anyways. Farkas and I need to concentrate on the road ahead."

Hern, rather than wear the armor he had grown famous in, had opted to wear a studded cuirass, iron helmet, iron boots, and iron gauntlets. When the others asked him why, all Hern did was shrug his shoulders and say, "Because I felt like it."

When the group was ready, they took off, waving to the occasional Hold Guard that they came across. They met little trouble along the way, aside from the occasional bothersome Frostbite Spider or troll, which were dealt with quite easily.

When they arrived in Riften, it was growing dark. Hern led them to the inn and after getting a few rooms, headed out to chat with some old friends with Serana, while the others ate their meals and listened to the local bard play a song they were all familiar with.

Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you

The Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes

Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes

For the darkness has passed

And the legend yet grows

You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come

"Well pups, it seems your father is still remembered fondly," said Vilkas, after the bard finished and the room applauded.

Lucia and Blaise nodded. Even back in Whiterun, the bards would play The Dragonborn Comes fairly often. Though most never associated the Hero of Skyrim with the lackadaisical Nord that was their adoptive father.

"Isn't there another song that's been making its way around about him?" asked Farkas, setting down his bottle of mead.

"Can't say, though it wouldn't surprise me." Responded the other twin, "He certainly has enough fans. I'm almost jealous. Almost."

"What do you mean Vilkas?" asked Blaise.

"Well kids, the reason why he went into retirement is so that the both of you could live a normal life, without being swarmed by his admirers," answered Vilkas.

"Yeah, and that most women, some of them single even, want to have the next Dragonborn," jested Farkas.

"And you two wonder why I have to keep a close eye on you," came Serana's voice. She had returned in the midst of the conversation, and silently made her way to the table.

"Hey Serana. Uh, sorry about. Won't happen again," Farkas said, a little nervously. Few things could startle Companion, but Serana was at the top of the list of those few things.

Serana folded her arms across her chest, a disapproving look on her face, "Yeah, you've said that the last hundred times. Yet, here you are, doing it again."

"My brother. Always has a way of sticking his foot in his mouth," laughed Vilkas, and was soon joined by the kids and even Serana.

"Where's father, Serana?" asked Lucia.

"He'll be along shortly. His meeting is taking a little longer than what he thought it would," replied the Vampire.

"Not too long though at least," came Hern's voice.

The group looked to where it came from, and saw Hern close the door behind him, and took a seat at the table.

"How'd your meeting go?" asked Farkas, trying to sound indifferent, but a slight bit of contempt could be heard.

"It went well enough. They'll be meeting us on our trip back," replied Hern, cutting some meat on his plate. "I know The Companions don't much care for them, but I have a feeling we'll be needing their abilities Farkas."

"As much as it pains me to say, Hern is right brother." Vilkas wasn't thrilled either, but he could see why they would need the help of such people if what Hern said was true.

"At least you boys aren't trying to start a brawl," Serana commented with amusement.

Farkas folded his arms across his chest, as if put off by the comment, "We don't start fights. We finish them."

"True, Farkas. And that's why I'm glad for you and your brother's assistance with this," said Hern, finishing his meal. "In the meantime, how about we all get some shut eye for the night? You should too, Serana. I know you don't actually need it, but a little rest never hurt anyone."

Serana scoffed a little, "Oh? Worried about me nodding off while on the Seven Thousand Steps?"

Hern's eyes widened, "That was one time! I didn't know someone had slipped some sleeping potion into my mead!"

Serana wasn't done, and in the most casual tone, "A sleeping potion? No. That was the same stuff you had with that Sam guy a while back. And then you woke up next to a frost troll the next morning in nothing but your underclothes."

Everyone got a good laugh, even some of the neighboring tables. While Hern's cheeks flushed a little at the experience, he couldn't help but join in, and took a swig of the mead in front of him.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Hern stayed up in his room. He had certain business to discuss. And although Serana knew of his involvement with the group, the person he was about to contact didn't particularly care for the vampire.

"Lucien! Come on out, I know you're there," called Hern, quietly but firmly.

Before him, what looked like smoke began taking shape before him, but then turned into a spectral figure.

Lucien bowed a little to the Listener, "Ah, Listener. It has been a while. I assume you have a message for me to deliver?"

"I do, Lucien. Have the Brotherhood meet up with the Thieves' Guild in that place. Tell them to bring her too."

Lucien had a confused look on his face, "Listener, whatever for? The new Sanctuary is thriving. You mean for us to abandon it?"

"No, Lucien. I do not. But I fear I may be going a very long way for a very long time, and I think I'll need all the help I can get. Besides, I know for a fact the Sanctuary has become rather crowded as of late. But let Nazir and Babbette know at least, if no one else is around. The rest will listen to them," explained Hern.

Lucien bowed again to Hern, "It shall be done, Listener." With that, the ghostly form of the assassin vanished without a trace.

Hern sat back in his chair, glad it went smoothly, and began going over everything in his head. "The letters should be getting to the rest by now, and Serana took care of her letter. Next stop, Ivarstead."