In which Grelod is dead because a certain Dragonborn may or may not have poisoned her and killed her. Grelod just so happens to die at just the right time. Hooray; Isran is finna adopt a kid. Sneak peak into the future of my story/series, Valor and Vanity.

P.S, I picked the name Saar up from some fanfic I read awhile back. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what it was named nor what it was about. I just really liked the name. If any of y'all know a fic about an orc named Saar, I would appreciate you directing me to it.

Isran sighed, batting away yet another thieving hand from his hip and glaring at the perpetrator with enough suppressed hatred to kill a small animal. The shifty guy's hands flew upwards in mock surrender and he backed off, laughing with his buddies. Riften was just as stickily hot and disgusting as he remembered, and perhaps a little more ripe with vagabonds than usual. He couldn't blame them much; everyone had to make a living somehow in a place as unforgiving as Skyrim, and Riften was a good place to start. That didn't stop them from being as annoying as all Oblivion. Shaking his head, Isran grumbled under his breath as he made his way towards the gem of Riften; the orphanage. And by gem, he meant the one of the biggest piles of shit in the city, save for the Ratway and Helga's Bunkhouse. He shivered a little at the mere thought of Helga; at least you could tell for yourself that the Ratway was no place to be. Helga's Bunkhouse was deceptively innocent; most people who stayed there didn't know that you were more likely to get date-raped by Helga than get a decent night's rest until it was too late. God, was he lucky to still have somehow maintained his virginity in the (thankfully brief) time he'd stayed there.

Isran waded through the marketplace crowd and touched his hip, relieved to still feel his gold pieces clinking in his pocket. He had to hand it to the Riften townfolk; some of them really were crafty pickpockets. Thankfully not crafty enough to wring any gold out of him. The wooden bridge creaked under his feet as he walked towards the orphanage, and he grimaced as it came into sight. He really wasn't looking forward to dealing with the utter cunt of a caretaker (if she could even be called that much), Grelod the Kind. Ha, Grelod the Kind. What kind of half-assed sick joke was that meant to be? He'd lived in the orphanage for a brief time after he'd left Hammerfell, since he'd been orphaned by those stupid fucking vampires. His fist tightened at the mere thought of vampires and he peered over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for any glowing, red-tinted eyes. He saw nothing, and sighed. Frowning, he turned his attention back towards the orphanage. He really didn't want to go in, but he had offered to go look in the orphanage for kids who were about to turn of age to direct to the Dawnguard for work. He wasn't one to shirk his duties, so here he was. At the time though, he had been pretty sure he could handle it, but now... if he was honest, he wasn't.

He was sure Grelod was going to be as much of an old bitch as he remembered, and he really didn't feel like flipping his shit when she inevitably made some sort of snide remark. He rubbed the darkened lines around his wrists, clenching his jaw as memories of that damnable closet came back. He tugged his sleeves down, crossing his arms. When he thought about it, he never really had liked dark, enclosed spaces much after he'd left for the Vigilants of Stendarr. It was of no matter anymore; those days were nearly a decade behind him. Or had it been a decade already? He couldn't tell anymore; the concept of time tended to escape him when he hadn't slept in nearly three days. Second thought, maybe he ought to have slept before dealing with Grelod; when he was a little rested he tended to be a little more agreeable than usual. He considered back-pedaling and getting a room at the Inn, but swept the idea away. He was probably going to end up throwing down with Grelod; it'd be a good idea to have some extra money to pay off the bounty he was sure to incur after this visit. Deciding he'd been standing in place for too long, (he probably looked like a moron) Isran forced his feet to move. Dread pooled in his stomach as he approached the surprisingly formidable door of the orphanage. He tried to swallow the feeling, but it persisted on lingering in the back of his mind. Frowning, he reached down for the doorknob and let the door swing open. The hinges squealed horribly as it opened, and he stared into the deceptively warm looking room. His legs felt stiff.

Shit, he really should've made Celann do this.

Celann wasn't abused here. Celann would have no problem walking in here and looking for kids who were almost of age to try to cajole into joining the Dawnguard for a form of work after they became of age. Why had Durak thought this was a good idea in the first place? They were kids for Stendarr's sake; they'd probably be no better than vampire fodder! Swallowing thickly, he turned to close the door and power walk away when a head peeked around the corner. He sagged in relief when he saw it was only some random kid. The kid stared at him for a second before disappearing back into the room and yelling,

"Constance! There's a weird guy at the door!"

Weird guy? Oh, the kid was talking about him. Fuck. He couldn't just leave now, he'd look stupid! Wait, the kid had yelled for Constance, not Grelod. Constance was okay. Ah, Constance. The only part of the orphanage that had made it somewhat bearable. Constance stepped into the main area and peered at him in confusion.

"Thank you, Hroar." She called over her shoulder.

What the fuck kind of name was Hroar? Who hated their child enough to name them Hroar? 'Probably parents who leave their kids at orphanages, dumbass.' Isran spat at himself.

Looking a little creeped out by his lack of response, Constance tentatively asked, "Are you...here to adopt?"

Isran started a little, remembering he was standing like a weirdo in the doorway of an orphanage. What had she asked him? If he was going to adopt a kid? Shit, fuck, he kind of needed to answer that. 'Say something stupid!'

Isran's tongue felt a little heavy as he croaked, "Y-Yes..."

'Fuck, not that!' Constance's eyes lit up with delight and she clasped her hands together. Fuck. He couldn't go back on that!

Constance hurried over and ushered him inside. "Oh, joy!" She eyed his odd expression and frowned. "You look ready to fall over. Are you alright?"

Isran pressed his lips in a line and heaved a shaky breath, looking around. "Sure. This place just...brings back some unpleasant memories."

Constance tilted her head. "Oh?" Her voice dropped low as she sympathetically asked, "Were you one of the kids here when Grelod was still around?"

Isran, with his mind a little occupied (mainly by a chorus of SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK), only registered the bit where she asked if he had been an orphan and he nodded in assent.

Constance hummed in sympathy. "Y'know, you do look a little familiar. What's your name, hun?" Constance asked, startling him a little when she took his hand in hers and lightly stroked the dark marks that marred his wrists.

"I-Isran."

Constance's head shot up and she looked at Isran incredulously. "By the Gods! Is it truly? I remember you!" She smiled a little sadly. "You used to tick Grelod off so much. You didn't hear it from me, but I'm glad she's gone. I'm sure you already knew that, though. I bet you jumped for joy." She joked.

Isran's brain short-circuited. "She finally died!?"

Constance looked a little surprised. "Did you not catch that last bit I said earlier when I asked if you used to be orphan here?"

Isran opened and closed his mouth, feeling a load of tension whoosh out of him like a great gust of wind. "N-No, I was just a little distracted. She really is gone?"

Constance giggled quietly. "Thankfully, yes. I was half expecting her to burst from her grave and start wailing at the kids again, but she didn't. Deader than a doorknob."

Isran chuckled a little, pulling his hand from Constance's in favor of letting it rest on his head. "I'm usually more composed than this but damn...that woman is one of the only things that can scare the everloving Oblivion out of me. You're running the orphanage, then?"

Constance smiled brightly. "Yes. I've never seen these kids look happier."

Isran peered into the next room, looking at the kids. A handful of girls were participating in a braiding circle, two boys were wrestling while four others kids cheered them on, a couple boys and girls were sparring with wooden swords, and all of them were just generally having a good time. Except...one kid. An orcish child was sitting on a bed with his legs drawn up and he was staring at the wall vacantly.

"Grelod would lose her head if she saw this," Constance leaned on one hip, and smiled as she watched the children.

Isran couldn't tear his eyes away from the orcish child. He looked...familiar.

The kid looked over, and met his eyes. Isran wiggled his fingers a little to say hello, and the kid just listlessly looked back away, drawing his legs up tighter. Constance followed his gaze.

"Oh, that's just Saar."

"Saar?"

"Yeah. He's been here longer than all of these kids; he's the only one who was still around for Grelod. He arrived about six years ago, when he was seven years old. I don't think I ever saw him happier than on the day she kicked the bucket about four months ago. She was truly horrible to him, beating him for no actual reason and constantly insulting him, just because he's orcish. He's resilient, I'll give him that, but her torture has broken him down a little." Constance looked awfully sad as she said, "No one has wanted to adopt him because he's an orc, and they want a cute. affectionate kid. Most folk come in here wanting a kid who looks like them, and they don't want some 'ugly, distanced orc kid'. Y'know, some parents have even said that to his face! It's horrible, really."

Isran frowned deeply at that, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him. "They didn't know what they were talking about. He's very cute, in his own way, and if they bothered to even look below the surface, I'm sure he could be a very loving kid. I can't think of any kids I've met who hasn't loved someone or something. If they couldn't see that, they didn't deserve him." His fist tightened as he thought back on the days he lived in the orphanage, watching all of the potential parents passing him by without a second glance.

Constance looked rather moved by his words, and suddenly looked hopeful. "Maybe you'd like to adopt him? Just that alone proves to me that you'd be a good father, so that part is covered. Do you have anywhere a child could stay? A job?"

Isran's mind jumped to Fort Dawnguard and he grimaced. "Do you know about that crumbling ruin called Fort Dawnguard?"

Constance frowned. "On the outskirts of Skyrim, not far from Riften. Yeah, I know it. Why?"

"Well, it isn't crumbling anymore. I've been living there for awhile and I've been restoring it. I'm working on reopening the Dawnguard and enlisting more members to counteract the rise of the threat of vampires. I've got a good start, actually. I get commissioned often get rid of vampires, and since there are an abundance of those, I get pretty stable payments."

Constance looked rather impressed. "I'm normally not keen on letting mercenaries adopt kids, but you seen put together. You could definitely protect him too. You have my consent to adopt any of the kids in here, but are you ready now, or do you need time to think?"

Ah, yes. Thinking. That was probably a good thing to do before he went ahead and...adopted...a fucking child...and became a parent.

Holy shit, what the fuck was he doing?!

He was a vampire hunter! A ever-loving, honest to Stendarr, vampire hunter living in a crumbling ruin! Fort Dawnguard alone was such a dangerous place for a kid to live, and having a vampire-hunting father made it at least 14 times worse! And a kid would no doubt be very unhappy with a father who was really not good at talking about his feelings ('Shut up'), generally being affectionate, nor just being a parent. He didn't even know the first thing about parenting!

Feeling a little bit like a cock, Isran stuttered out, "I-I'll need to think about it. Being a p-parent is no joke, and I don't know if I'm father material. I'd need to clean the place up a little more too, a-and..." Isran trailed off as he looked over at Saar.

From across the room, Saar scoffed and tucked his face into his knees.

Isran's heart flew up into his fucking throat. Saar had been listening the whole damned time. Thinking back on his words, Isran felt his chest ache. He had unknowingly been giving Saar hope. Hope that maybe someone gave enough of a shit about him to adopt him. And Isran was going back on that. Stendarr, there sitting on that bed was him. All Isran could see was himself sitting there, staring vacantly as all the other kids got adopted by a loving family, and everyone left him there to rot. All he could see was himself, sitting there with a stony face, hiding a heart torn in two.

He would not let that kid become like him.

"Isran?" Constance prompted him gently.

Isran's eyes burned and he hurriedly blinked.

Part of him screamed 'No!' and the other half, the louder half, screamed 'Yes!' when he croaked, "Saar. Bring him over here."

"But you said you needed time to think-"

"Bring him...over here. Please."

Constance stared at him as she called Saar into the room with them. Slowly, Saar shuffled over.

"What did you need, miss?" Saar asked, avoiding Isran's gaze.

"This is one the people who used to be an orphan here. He's looking to adopt, and he asked to see you."

Saar crossed his arms protectively around his chest and hissed defensively, "I'm here now."

The underlying malice in his tone was drowned out by the hesitant hope beginning to shine in his eyes.

By Stendarr, the kid looked exactly like he used to.

"Look at me, kid." Isran asked, pushing as much gentleness in his voice as he could.

Saar looked at him. Isran looked down at his wrists, and then at Saar's. Same marks. He grabbed Saar's hand, making sure his own scars were visible, and he stroked a thumb over Saar's scars. Saar's breath caught.

"Do you...do you really want to adopt me?"

Isran's chest ached worse than it had before. "Maybe I do."

"Why? There are a bunch of other kids in there, kids who are better looking and happier than me. Why do you want me?"

Just like that, the last of Isran's self-control ebbed away.

"We match." Isran said simply despite his throat feeling awfully tight. "So...what do you say? Would you like to be my son?"

Saar bursting into tears right then and there and jumping into Isran's arms was answer enough. Isran would never, ever admit it to himself, but he was pretty sure he was crying too. He signed the papers an openly-sobbing Constance thrust into his hands, and made his way towards the Inn with Saar's hand with his.

Celann is going to fucking kill me, but this is worth it. It is so, so damn worth it.

Isran and Saar sat on the bed in the Inn.

"So..." Saar mumbled, turning towards Isran. "You hunt vampires? What made you decide you wanted to do that?"

Isran grimaced, patting Saar on the head. "Of all things to ask, you ask one of the hardest questions for me to answer."

Saar hunched his shoulders and meekly said, "Oh...sorry."

Isran rubbed his face, huffing a short laugh. "'s alright. The reason kind of relates to why I adopted you, in a very roundabout way."

Saar looked interested at this, and asked, "Tell me, then?"

"Yeah, sure. Constance mentioned that I used to be an orphan at Honorhall. She didn't mention why I ended up there."

"How?"

Isran frowned deeply and wrapped an arm around Saar. "I used to live in Hammerfell. I was a lot like the other kids at the Orphanage. I was happy, smile-y, and energetic. I lived in a small village with my four cousins, two aunts, one uncle, my maternal grandpa and paternal grandma, and my parents. All of us lived relatively peacefully. We weren't rich, we weren't poor. Just normal." Isran's eyes darkened as he said, "Normal, that it, until a mob of Molag Bal vampire cultists overran the village. I watched in terror as everyone I ever knew was murdered, and at the end I was knocked out and awoke as the only survivor. I still can't decide if the Gods thought I was important enough to keep alive, or hated me enough to put me through that."

Saar wrapped his arms around Isran and leaned his head on Isran's chest. Isran sighed, squeezing Saar's shoulder lightly.

"After that, I was sent to an Orphanage in Hammerfell. It was alright, but I was...different. No one wanted me because of my weird, broody nature. Eventually, that orphanage burned down and I was sent to Honorhall when I was...well, I can't have been any older than eleven. Say, how old are you, kid?"

"I'm thirteen." Saar reported.

Isran nodded. "I'll remember that. I lived in Honorhall until I became of age. I left the orphanage in search of the Vigilants of Stendarr, since I'd heard they hunt vampires. I wanted my revenge, so I figured that'd be a good place for me. I was wrong. They were all soft, too ill-prepared to face any real threat. I left the Vigil with my friend, Celann, when I was twenty-one. We fell out when I was twenty-three, but now we've made amends and since I was twenty-six, we've been rebuilding the Dawnguard and fighting those blood-sucking fiends."

"That's...really sad. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Saar sighed, tightening his arms around Isran ever so slightly.

"Thanks. I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what happened with your...?"

"It's fine. I don't remember them that well. We lived on a farm near Markarth. They were killed by the Forsworn while out hunting. That's all there was to it; I didn't even see it happen." Saar shrugged indifferently. "I was around five. How old were you?"

"Nine, I think."

Saar didn't say anything else and frowned. "Let's...move on from this. It's not good to brood about it. Why don't you tell me about you?"

"About me?"

"Yeah. What do you like to do, eat, drink..."

Isran frowned. "I've never really thought about that, actually."

Saar looked up at Isran with a bemused expression. "Is hunting vampires the only thing you do?"

"...Generally, yeah."

Saar huffed a breath, shaking his head. "There's got to be something you do with yourself."

Isran wracked his brain and offered a couple of scraps. "Well, I like venison stew and boiled creme tarts. I like swimming, reading, and...that's it, I think. Wait, no. I practice restoration magic, and I can kind of do alchemy. I'm pretty shitty at it, though. I like shooting crossbows and sparring with my colleagues, and I like to drink water, mostly?"

"Do you drink anything other than water?"

"...I don't drink much. I'm a very stupid drunk."

"Okay, but if you had to drink, what would it be?"

"Why would I have to drink?"

"Isran, c'mon."

Isran pondered for a moment, trying to figure out which alcoholic drink got him the least sloshed. "Uh...Honningbrew Mead, I guess."

"Are you a light-weight or something?"

"...Perhaps. Aren't you a little young to drink?"

Saar's cheeks darkened at that. "I don't drink often. Besides, the kids in Skyrim drink when they hit 10 anyway."

Isran chuckled at that. "Yeah, you've got me there, kid. I suppose it makes sense you drink, but I'm not condoning that. Drink water, it's better for you anyway."

"I will. If I was offered a drink, I just like ale."

"What do you like, anyway? I told you about me; I'd like to know more about my son."

Saar beamed at the use of the word 'Son' and gladly reported, "I like swimming and reading too, but I also like sparring a lot more than those. What can I say? I'm an orc. I like the same food as you, but I also like vegetables and fruit. I also kind of like to draw, but I'm pretty shitty at it."

"Huh. Most orcs I meet just like to beat the shit out of everything."

"Don't get me wrong, I love doing that, but I like reading and drawing too. What are you going to do, sue me?"

Isran barked a laugh, thumping Saar on the back. "Good point, kid." Isran sighed, keeping his hand on Saar's back. "Listen, I uh...I didn't actually come to the orphanage to adopt a kid. I won't lie, I adopted you because you reminded me of me. This was a total impulse thing. But I...don't regret it. If you'd told me yesterday I was going to adopt a kid, I might've hit you. But now that I have...it's, well, I-I really don't know how to explain this. I'm gonna warn you now. I don't think I'm parent material, shit, I don't know the first damned thing about raising a kid. But for you, I'm going to try, okay? I am always going to l-love you with all my heart. Cherish that L word right now, because don't count on me saying it often. I'm really not the best at being affectionate. Listen though, I might be a terrible dad, but I'm going to try my hardest to do it, I'll never expect you to call me 'Dad' if you don't want to, and I will always protect you. I'll never raise a hand against you, I will...okay, I might yell at you, but only if you're being a shithead, and I will always love you for who you are. I don't care that you're an orc. I don't care that you might be a little distanced. I don't care if people think differently of you or me. You're my son now, and that's the only person you've got to be. Alright? Yeah, I'm kind of talking directly out of my ass right now, but I mean every word of this. Every word."

Saar didn't say anything for a very, very long time. Isran heaved a breath, shuffling Saar in his arms and rubbing Saar's back. 'Holy shit, am I shaking?'

"...I love you too, Isran."

This time, Isran was willing to admit to himself he shed a couple tears right then and there.