Epilogue

(Seven months later)

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: My husband pointed out a few things I forgot to mention, regarding Barbas' status in the Dragonborn household, and what happened to Hircine's Ring. I have updated this Epilogue to include it here.)

"You're doing fine, my love," Marcus soothed as he wrung out the hand cloth in cool water and placed it on Tamsyn's brow.

"I don't…feel like it," she gasped. "Oh!" She groaned as another contraction hit her. "I forgot…how much…I hate this part!"

Marcus chuckled. "Good thing, too. The human race would have died out ages ago if women remembered the pain of childbirth like it was yesterday."

"You can laugh," Tamsyn gritted, "…ungh! But I'm the one…going through it!"

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Glancing at Bothela at the foot of the bed, he smiled reassuringly. "It will all be over soon, dearest," he promised. "And then we'll get to hold our baby."

He still didn't know if he would have a son or daughter, but he had insisted Tamsyn not tell him if she knew. He wanted it to be a surprise. All things considered, he felt lucky enough to be home – or at least, at home in Markarth – when Tamsyn had gone into labor. At first Bothela had been surprised when she arrived to find out that Marcus intended to remain in the room during birth.

"Hmph!" she snorted. "We'll see about that. Most men clear out with the first screams."

That had been ten hours ago, and in that time Marcus made himself useful, assisting Tamsyn while she walked the floor, until the contractions came so quickly she had to take to her bed. Now, all they could do was wait. At one point Bothela suggested he wait in the other room with Cicero and Argis, but Marcus declined. He had remained, and while the old Reachwoman's eyebrows rose, Marcus could sense approval from her.

"I guess the Dragonborn's made of sterner stuff," was all she said.

Casting his mind back while Tamsyn rested fitfully, Marcus reflected on all that had happened in the last several months.

Despite a general feeling of uneasiness in dealing with necromancy, Esmerelda went ahead with her ritual to speak with the two dead assassins. Tamsyn left Markarth before the interrogation, stating it would look as though the Arch-Mage of Winterhold condoned the act if she remained. Marcus stayed as a witness to the events, few people in Skyrim questioning the honor and integrity of the Dragonborn at this point.

But the interrogation proved fruitless. The departed souls, even in death, and under coercion, could tell them nothing about the person who planned and plotted the assassination of Interim Jarl Nepos. They could only say they had been exploring a ruin when they felt someone or something take control of their minds. After that, they remembered nothing. When asked if Jarl Ulfric had been involved – Marcus' worst fear – the souls informed them they had been deserters, and Ulfric had known nothing of the plot; it had happened after they deserted. Marcus had breathed a sigh of relief, but it presented another worry. Somewhere out there was a powerful necromancer with Thalmor leanings.

Filing it away with all the other things he had to worry about, Marcus decided to concentrate on things he could control. He made regular visits to the Vale to bring supplies, speak with Ondolemar and train with Gelebor. The Knight-Paladin had had many long centuries of perfecting his fighting style, and Marcus felt his respect and awe of the mer increase with each visit. In a moment of gratitude, he confided to Gelebor about his conversations with Akatosh, whom the Snow Elf knew as Auri-El.

"I'm not surprised," Gelebor told him with an indulgent smile. "Auri-El speaks to each of us in His own way. The fact that you have been chosen by him to address the wrongs of the world is a heavy burden, so it does not surprise me that he would choose to remain with you, to guide you. You are blessed in this, Marcus." And the Dragonborn felt unaccountably humbled by the benediction.

As it turned out, both Gelebor and Sylfaen could still read the language of their kin. Marcus was delighted to add copies of the translated books he'd found to his private collection, restored to pre-Thalmor-invasion condition with help from Urag and plenty of coin.

Ondolemar settled into life in the Vale as well, in awe at first of Gelebor and Sylfaen, and fearful of the Falmer. But after several weeks with no incidents, he admitted to Marcus that he was beginning to see individual personalities emerging from the twisted beings that shared the Vale with them. His documents proved to be invaluable in helping the Alliance – as Tullius, Ulfric and Balgruuf had taken to calling it – target hidden Thalmor outposts. Brynjolf and his people infiltrated several to recover even more intelligence, with only minor casualties. Usually those were Thalmor toadies and Dominion guards, but there were the rare occasions when Bryn would lose a raw recruit who hadn't paid attention.

The documents also revealed several plots the Dominion had in motion, and Marcus was kept busy traveling around Tamriel to thwart their efforts. The results were mostly positive. Leaders in High Rock, Hammerfell and Black Marsh expressed appreciation to the Dragonborn for exposing Thalmor operatives in their midst. Of course, it meant he was painting a broader target on his back, and there were at least two more attempts on his life, one of which might have succeeded had Cicero not been with him.

Marcus gave Aela the Ring of Hircine, much to her surprise and delight. He had originally intended to chuck it down the Red Mountain, as he had threatened to do to Mephala's Blade, but Tamsyn warned him that Daedric artifacts never really get destroyed, and that Hircine himself might recall it back to the Hunting Grounds to wait for another unfortunate soul to give it to. With that knowledge, Marcus decided he'd rather have someone hold on to it so he would at least know where it was.

Once the scholars at the College had deciphered the inner workings of the portal that Cicero and Argis had brought back from Cyrodiil, they were able to duplicate its enchantments and create two more similar to it. The original, of course, had had to be destroyed in order to figure out how it worked.

Sergius Turrianus took charge of the process, and a team of apprentice- and adept-level mages worked with him, but it still had taken most of the last several months to perfect the portals. Rabbits sent through in the beginning sometimes came out…deformed on the other side. When the problems had finally been sorted out, Tamsyn volunteered to test it first, but her entire staff voted her down.

"You're far too important to us to risk, Arch-Mage," Tolfdir said firmly. "I'm an old man, and I've lived a long and fruitful life. I'll do it."

"But you're my Master Wizard!" Tamsyn protested.

"And if this doesn't work, then Faralda will succeed me," the old Nord insisted. "But we are not putting you or your child at risk, my dear, and that is final!" With those words, he stepped on the portal, and everyone held their breath until he reappeared on the other across the room.

"By Ysmir!" he exclaimed happily. "I think it worked!" Then he fainted from the stress.

As Tamsyn had stated earlier, one portal was taken to Blackreach, and the other kept at Winterhold, remaining hidden deep within the bowels of the College in the Midden, where they had been created. Sergius and his team immediately began working on a second pair of portals and soon had them ready for Mzulft and Bthardamz. It was Brylyna who figured out a way to add symbols around the base. Touching the symbol before stepping onto the platform enabled them to change the destination.

The pair that had been claimed by the Grey Fox, down in Cyrodiil, had been ensconced in his quarters under the Imperial City, with the second one being delivered to the Thieves' Guild in Riften. Brynjolf was suspicious at first, but quickly saw the advantages such a device would bring to his Guild. Items that had been…appropriated in Skyrim could now be 'liquidated' in Cyrodiil, and vice versa. But the Grey Fox kept his word to keep Tamsyn informed of any suspicious activities by the Dominion within Cyrodiil, and Brynjolf was kept busy between his trips to Winterhold, Sky Haven Temple, Blackreach and Whiterun.

"I think I need two more of me," he complained at one point.

"Don't say that too loud," Delvin Mallory warned. "I'll bet that Arch-Mage could figure out a way to do it!"

There was a subtle shift in operations within the Guild. They were becoming less and less about thieving and more about espionage. It paid better, and only the die-hard pickpockets like Viper grumbled about the 'good old days.' He didn't seem to mind his share of the coin, however, when he successfully liberated sealed messages from Dominion couriers.

Tamsyn kept her promise to the Gray Fox to retrieve Mehrunes' Razor for him, as a reward for saving her from the Thalmor. In point of fact, however, as her pregnancy kept her closer and closer to home and Winterhold, she introduced the leader of the Cyrodiil Thieves' Guild to her husband, the Dragonborn, and sent them off together.

At Karthspire, Delphine had gained several dozen recruits to train up as Blades, and Sky Haven Temple was nearly at full strength. There had been a shift in the dynamics of that Order, as well. No longer focusing on killing dragons – unless the dragons refused to join them – they began to concentrate on taking out Thalmor patrols, which still trooped across Skyrim as if they owned it.

"I'm going to need another place to put people," she complained to Marcus at one point. "We're starting to get over-crowded."

"I'll look into finding another place for you," he promised. After much diligent searching, and some major housecleaning, Skuldafn Temple was chosen. With Alduin gone, the portal to Sovngarde was closed forever. Reaching the Temple itself was nearly impossible unless one had wings, but through the sheer force of his will, Marcus was able to convince some of the lesser, unnamed dragons to carry Blades on their backs. It was the start of his Air Force, and he was pleased to finally begin this important work, which he knew would be a key to eliminating the Dominion. Benor had been named as the new Grand Master of Skuldafn, and the promotion had pleased and surprised the young Nord.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this honor," he admitted. "I'm still kind of new to being a Blade myself."

"But you've committed all the Tenets to memory," Delphine told him. "Faster than anyone I've ever seen. And Amalie will be there to help you as your Archivist. She's also a formidable witchblade, and will be able to train your recruits in magic."

This was something everyone had foreseen; Benor and Amalie were married in a Reachfolk ceremony two months following the death of Lord Harkon. Though sad to be parted from her people, Amalie nonetheless stated she felt her place was by Benor's side, and if he was leaving Karthspire to head up a new Blades' Temple, she would be going with him. The fact that she had immersed herself in Blades' lore didn't hurt, and that one of the lesser dragons kept coming around to be near her was a bonus. She had named it Mistwing, for its grey-white color, which made the dragon inordinately happy.

Marcus finally negotiated the purchase of the land in the Pale that Jarl Brina Merelis had available, and indeed, Tamsyn had not been wrong. The sweeping vistas to the south and east were breathtaking, and he could still see Whiterun and the Throat of the World in the distance. Jarl Brina had also given him a Housecarl, a steadfast, sturdy Nord by the name of Gregor. His cheerful manner and enthusiasm were a refreshing change from some of the dour people Marcus had had to deal with.

But building a house required someone to remain on site to supervise things. Not knowing Gregor all that well, Marcus appointed Lydia as his Steward, and when she and Gregor met for the first time, it was quite literally 'love at first sight.' The two couldn't seem to keep their eyes – or their hands – off each other. Within two weeks, Gregor produced an Amulet of Mara and Lydia accepted. They were married a week later in Dawnstar by the priest of Mara, Erandur, who was rebuilding Nightcaller Temple into a proper place of worship for the Goddess of Love.

This left Sofie, Lucia and Alesan alone at Breezehome, requiring either Tamsyn or Marcus to remain there until Heljarchen could be finished.

"Papa," Sofie told him one night, "Miss Arcadia has offered me a place at the Cauldron, if it will help."

"I can stay at Jorrvaskr," Alesan added. "I'm practically there all the time anyway."

"That doesn't help Lucia, though," Marcus frowned.

"I could go to the Bards' College in Solitude," Lucia stated. "Please, Papa! I'm almost twelve!"

"You just turned eleven, Lu," Alesan scowled. "It'll be months before you're twelve!"

"Shut up, Als!"

"That's enough, you two!" Marcus said firmly. "Lucia, you're still too young to be away from home like that. Sofie, I'll take Miss Arcadia's offer under consideration. I don't want you to interrupt your apprenticeship, if we can avoid it. Alesan, you've been neglecting your chores again, so I'm not sure how well you'd do at Jorrvaskr. Being a Companion means being committed. You haven't shown commitment yet."

"Sorry, Dad," Alesan mumbled, his dusky face darkening. "I'll get them done right now."

In the end, Sofie moved in with her master, Arcadia, and Alesan – at Vilkas' insistence, surprisingly – moved into the whelps' quarters in Jorrvaskr. It left a very lonely, sullen Lucia at home alone – except for Barbas' company – but Marcus promised her he would speak with Viarmo when Lucia turned twelve, to see if she would be accepted. He also explored the possibilities of purchasing a home in Solitude so that either he or Tamsyn would be close by if needed. He got a bit of sticker shock when Jarl Elisif informed him of the price of Proudspire Manor, but Tamsyn gushed over the place, and even he was impressed.

"We're building one house and buying another, is that it?" Tamsyn giggled.

Marcus gave a rueful laugh. "I'm just becoming Thane all over the damned place."

Becoming Thane of Solitude – replacing the traitor Erikur, who was involved in several extortion schemes and confidence scams against the Jarl – wasn't so bad, he realized, when it gave him another Housecarl in Jordis the Sword-Maiden. She was as blonde as Lydia was brunette, soft-spoken and a bit younger than his Steward, but Jordis was a fierce fighter and loyal to her Thane. When Tamsyn suggested they bring Lucia up to Solitude to live at Proudspire, where she could at least be close to the Bards College, Jordis immediately volunteered to watch after the child in their absence.

"I'll keep her safe, my Thane," she promised. Lucia was delighted, and even more so when Jordis began teaching her songs she had learned in her travels with the Legion before coming into the service of Jarl Elisif.

Jordis never batted an eye when a talking Daedric dog followed the Dragonborn's daughter around, and in fact seemed to get along quite well with Barbas.

"Sheesh!" Barbas complained at one point, "all dat time in da Legion has woiked on dat goil. She knows more dirty jokes dan I do!"

She never told them in Lucia's hearing…or Marcus'.

Barbas seemed to enjoy living in Solitude, and it wasn't very long before most people knew his nature. Nervous at first, then curious, he was soon accepted as just another curiosity of having the Dragonborn take up residence in their city.

"How long do you think you'll stick around?" Marcus asked Barbas once, during a quiet evening by the fire in Proudspire. "I mean, at some point, you'll have to return to Clavicus Vile, won't you?"

"Yeah, sure, someday," the Daedric mutt admitted. "But it'll do him some good to sit 'n stew in that pit of a cave for a while. It might take a hundred years or so for him to admit he was wrong and straighten up, and do the job he's s'posed t' do."

"A hundred years?" Marcus blinked. "I'll be dead by then!"

"Don't be too sure o' dat, Dragonborn," Barbas replied. "Dragons live a long time, and you've got dragon blood in you. Besides, Lucia might still be around. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm really fond of da goil. I t'ink I'll stick around at least until she passes. Eh…too bad I won't get t' see her in da afterlife." He whined a little and dropped his head to his paws.

There wasn't much Marcus could say to that, except, "Thanks, Barbas," and ruffled the dog's fur. Barbas' tail thumped happily on the stone floor.

Marcus also could not help but notice that there were more people inhabiting the Dawnstar Sanctuary. There was a child there, Babette, who turned out to actually be a vampire. Marcus realized with horror that she was the same child vampire who had attacked them at Lucia's farm, and who had murdered his daughter's aunt and uncle. At first hostile towards him - and the feeling was mutual - Cicero smoothed things over by explaining where matters stood regarding the Dragonborn and him. Not entirely satisfied, Babette nevertheless agreed – after a stern lecture from Lucien LaChance – that she would not offer harm. For his part, Marcus knew there was only just so far he could push his Dark Brother. Cicero had accepted Babette as one of the Brotherhood. He had to let it pass, and grudgingly did so. The latest recruit, however, had Marcus writhing in despair, even while Cicero pranced about.

"He has the words!" the little Imperial cried. "He has the words! Mother has spoken to him! Ohhhh…Cicero has a Listener now!"

The boy had come in with Babette, and after Cicero had finally settled down, Marcus took him aside and spoke to him.

"Aventus Aretino," he said sternly. "I thought you were going back to Honorhall?"

The boy didn't look the least bit ashamed. Bemused and surprised at the turn of events, yes, but not ashamed. "I did go back," he scowled. "I stayed there for the last two years. Did you know that? Did you ever stop in to check and see how I was doing?"

Marcus opened his mouth to speak. To be fair, he'd been busy, but not so busy he couldn't have managed a visit.

"I watched Samuel and Runa and Francois and even Hroar get adopted. No one even looked at me! And when Constance tried to get people to adopt me, they'd all make the sign of Mara and say, 'Not that one! We've heard about him!' Do you know what that's like?"

Stricken, Marcus bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Aventus. I didn't realize your reputation would follow you as far as Riften."

"Well it did," the boy simmered. "Several new kids came in, and they got adopted, too. But I stayed because no one wanted a kid who tried to summon the Dark Brotherhood."

"Where were you going when you left?" Marcus asked.

"Back home to Windhelm," Aventus shrugged. "The house is mine, after all. The Jarl said it would be. I figured I'd just go home first and try to think what I could do to live."

"What happened to bring you here?"

"I met Babette on the road," the boy replied. "At first I thought she was a kid like me, but when we got attacked by wolves she showed me who she really was. She told me all about the Dark Brotherhood, too – the real Dark Brotherhood." Here he threw a glare at Marcus, as if upset by the older man's deception. "She said she was heading to a new Sanctuary since the Dragonborn – that's you – destroyed the old one and killed all her family there. She said I could come with her, and since I didn't have anything better to do, I came."

"Aventus," Marcus began, "I may have been wrong about destroying the other Sanctuary. Cicero knows about that, and we've made peace."

"I know," Aventus nodded. "I've heard all about it from him. He's an odd duck, but he's the Keeper, and that means he deserves respect, so…" The boy's voice trailed off. "I just never expected a corpse to talk to me! This just keeps getting better and better!" His eyes were shining, and Marcus knew the boy was well and truly lost. Or perhaps he'd been found. He had a place and the start of a family, and perhaps in time he might also agree to help in Marcus' other endeavors. For now, Marcus knew he could not interfere in the boy's training.

For his part, Cicero was jubilant. "Oh, dear brother!" he sighed. "Cicero is so happy right now! We have a Listener now, and soon the jobs will come in. And we will find new recruits, as well. Everything is going so well! Pinch me, Brother! Cicero thinks he's dreaming!"

Marcus burst out laughing. "You're too dangerous a man to pinch, Cicero! I know better than that!"

Tamsyn stirred and groaned. "Here we go again," she muttered.

Bothela bustled in and helped Tamsyn to a semi-inclined position. "It should be soon, now," she advised, after checking on Tamsyn's progress. "You'll have a son or daughter before the hour is out."

Forty minutes later, after much sweating and groaning – she never cried out – Tamsyn gave birth to a tiny, pink ball of arms and legs with a voice as loud as her father's. Bothela cleaned the baby and wrapped her carefully in a soft blanket before placing her in her father's arms.

"Congratulations, you two," Bothela smiled as she cleaned up the after-birth. "You have a daughter. Have you thought of a name yet?"

Tamsyn smiled weakly. "I was going to leave that choice to you, my love," she told Marcus.

He blinked past the blurriness in his eyes, gazing down at the swaddled bundle in his arms. "I thought we'd name her after her grandfather," he said softly, as his daughter peered out blearily at the world with deep blue eyes. "Her name is Julia."

END

[Author's Note: I hope you've enjoyed this tale, twisted a bit from canon. That's what writers do, though. We take a familiar story and turn it into something you've never heard before. There are several people I'd like to thank, starting with all of you, who have been with me from the beginning. Little did I realize a year and a half ago when I started a short story about a guy from our world ending up in Skyrim that I would have come this far. Special thanks go to Pietersielie, 115SecretsToUnveil and A Week Of Sundays for their regular reviews that kept me on the right path.

To answer a few questions some of you have had: yes, Golmonah and Paarthurnax will probably meet; no, there probably won't be any baby dragons. She's VERY old, you see. Yes, the Falmer will probably become less of an immediate threat. As Gelebor points out in the game, they are already showing signs of increasing intelligence. It won't happen in Marcus and Tamsyn's life-time, or even in their children's, but it will probably happen that they will be less "monstrous-looking" than they are now; but without Divine Intervention they will never again look like Gelebor and Sylfaen. As for those two…well, you'll have to wait and see.

To answer Atlas, yes, I will be addressing the Second Great War, and it will probably be a fourth book, if all goes well. The next book will deal with the Dragonborn DLC. Some of you even suggested titles; I have decided to go with "Into the Ashes" (thank you to Ivanbreyten for that).

Finally, to Guest James, you have an interesting idea, and I'll have to think about it and do some research before I make a decision on that. It certainly would be in keeping with Marcus' character to do something like that, but he would also consider the argument against such an action; in other words, what would be the downside of doing it, and would the world be better off for it?

Once again, a big thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. It is greatly appreciated! Keep watching for "Into the Ashes." I will be working on that soon.]