I had almost forgotten about how ashy the sea air turned even before we got to port.

"How does it feel to see those walls again, Companion?" asked Gjalund.

I squinted over the edge of my face mask. We had sailed through night and day, arriving by the next nightfall as Dewèale had predicted. With the moons out and their light shining between clouds of ash, and distant torchlight flickering against the horizon, I could see the bulwarks' shadow against the night sky, but details escaped my sight. The darkness of the stone walls jutted like an imposing figure over the sea, blocking the stars behind them from view.

"Still daunting," I said at last. "Has the ash gotten worse around here?"

"The winds must have blown some ash further out to sea," explained Dewèale in the midst of the crew working to prepare the ship for docking. "Not uncommon."

Farkas and I kept out of the way while the crew tossed ropes, fetched cargo from below decks, and stowed the sails. They shouted to one another as they worked, some cursing, others joking. Norfring seemed to be getting the brunt of the abuse, though he hurled insults as cutting as ones hurled at him.

The chaos around us would've driven my wolf mad. Once again, I thanked the gods for the purification of my blood. I doubted there would be a day that I would not be thankful for this truth. No matter how many times Aela would corner me and beg me to let her make me a beast again, I would always refuse.

"But you're the best tracker in the Companions, even without the beastblood!" she'd say, once every few months. "Imagine how much stronger you'd be. Imagine how good it would feel to be one with your wolf."

Sorry, Aela. Not for all of the money in the world.

The ship reached the docks, and the crew stepped aside to let Farkas and me off the deck before they resumed their work. We waved backward to Gjalund and Dewèale before we made our way toward the end of the dock leading into town.

But we were stopped by a Dark Elf flanked by two guards. The Dunmer man wore richly-dyed robes, and his face was pinched so it made it nearly impossible to see his red eyes past his squinting.

"I don't believe I recognize you," he said, "and you're not crew. The Northern Maiden didn't have travelers on her manifest, either."

Farkas and I pulled our masks down. "Last-minute addition," I explained. "Vilkas and Farkas Moonborn, on personal business."

"Those names sound familiar...." He cupped his chin in his hand for a moment before looking at us more closely. "Oh, yes! You came here with the Dragonborn who saved us from Miraak's curse."

"That's us," said Farkas, pulling his mask back over his face.

"Personal business, you said?" He motioned behind him for the guards to stand down. "Will you be here long?"

"Probably not," I said, donning my mask again. "We don't plan to wander far, either."

"Good, good. Well, I am sure that you are weary from your travels. The Retching Netch should have open beds and plenty of warm food to ease the fatigue."

"We remember, thanks."

With a nod, we let him walk back up the docks.

"Got stopped by old Adril, did you?" asked Leilarald from behind us. We turned to watch as he set down a small crate for the dock workers to inspect. "He's uptight but he's just doing his job. Oh, before I forget, Captain wanted me to let you know that we plan to sail out of here in two days' time, and we won't be back for a while."

"Thanks for the warning," I said as I extended my hand for him to shake. "We'll be back for that trip."

He shook my hand firmly before taking Farkas's grip in his own. "Captain doesn't like tardiness, so if you're not here when we're ready to sail out, we ain't waiting for you."

"As I said, we'll be back."

With a nod from each of us, we walked away from the bustling docks and toward the town. Torches lit the way across the wooden dock and toward the town square. A handful of guards in their bug-like armor plating patrolled between the housing on our right and the square on the left. A couple of other citizens, wearing loose tunics and trousers dyed either deep red or rich blue, waved to us when our paths crossed.

When we made it to the small town square, I scanned the few shops around us, hoping that somehow I would see a pair of Nords matching the description that Dani gave us. No such luck; very few people were out now, but plenty of noise filtered into the air from underneath the inn's door.

Maybe they would be down there, drinking after a hard day's work.

Even if they weren't, we needed a place to stay for the night. Farkas and I made our way inside the Retching Netch, out of oppressive ash and into gentle warmth and jovial chatter.

At the top of the stairs were a few tables and chairs, and some mercenaries took up residence at these places. They barely stopped drinking when they saw us, but they gave us a nod and a careful gaze.

I returned the nod but otherwise paid them no more mind as Farkas and I went down the stairs into the main dining area. All of the noise we'd heard topside came from this room. The drink seemed to be stronger than usual tonight, as there were arm-wrestling contests, boisterous arguing, and even dancing on the tables. One of the barmaids perched on top of the bar, her gray legs crossed on top of one another and her bare foot bouncing up and down while she laughed with another Dunmer dressed in leather armor.

We skirted around the chaos to one of the few empty tables and sat down. We slumped our bags onto the floor beside us and rested our elbows on the rough wooden surface of the table.

"Quite a crowd," remarked Farkas, tapping his fingers on the table in a steady, heavy rhythm. "Didn't think Raven Rock had this many citizens."

"Maybe the mines opening led to more business," I said with a shrug, "which would lead to more workers looking to make their fortune. Could be seasonal, too. Some of these people may be here for a short while, sending their earnings back to their homes and families, before they return."

"Like our mother and her husband."

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. "Just like that."

Just then, the barmaid that had been sitting and talking to that patron when we arrived moseyed over to our table. She tossed her ashy-white hair over one shoulder and leaned on the table just a bit. She smiled at both of us. "Welcome, travelers. It's been some time since we've had fresh Nord faces around here. Can I interest you in some sujamma on the house? I'm sure you've had a long journey at sea."

"Yes, thank you," I said, "and whatever is on the menu tonight."

"The hardtack we had for dinner isn't really settling well in my stomach," added Farkas with a grin. "Something hot would be great."

She smiled wider, her teeth surprisingly bright. Maybe the Dunmer here took better care of themselves than the Nord barmaids back home. "I'll be right back with that. You need a room for the night?"

My brother and I nodded in unison.

"Okay, then. I'll be right back with your food and drink. And when I return, I want to hear all about your travels. You seem like interesting men, and I am dying for some interesting men to talk to. Oh, and if you need anything else, my name is Fatamie."

When she turned to flounce away, I curled my lip a little. Maybe the barmaids in Solstheim weren't so different than the ones back home. Seemed as though she were trying to flirt her way into a bigger tip.

"What?" asked Farkas as he leaned across the table a little, voice low. "You're making a face."

"Ah, she's just trying to act interested in us to get some money out of us." I worked my gloves off my hands and laid them on the table. Glancing down, I traced my thumb over my wedding ring, studying the familiar grooves around the circumference, feeling the almost imperceptible engravings etched in. In the near-decade since I put this ring on, I can scarcely recall ever taking it off. I had thought I'd remove it any time I had to train with the whelps or needed to fight, but it fit on my finger so well, it never got in my way. Now, if I removed it to wash my hands, my hand almost felt too light without it on. Like I was off-balance.

In a way, I was, without Ylva at my side. Gods, we hadn't even been gone that long, and I missed her more than I could put into words.

Quickly, Fatamie returned with a tray laden with bowls of stew, dark bread, and tankards of sujamma. She set the food and drink in front of us, then pressed the tray into her chest and leaned against the table again. "I hope you like it. I helped make the bread this evening."

I broke off a piece of the loaf and dipped it in the stew. I popped the morsel in my mouth, chewed, and thought about how spoiled we were back in Jorrvaskr to have such delicious meals every day. The bread was bland and the stew blander than that, but it was hot and fresh, so I supposed I couldn't be too upset. It was leagues better than nearly cracking my teeth on hardtack.

"Thank you for bringing this to us," said Farkas after he took a long swallow from his drink. "Hot meals always taste better after a lot of travel."

Fatamie giggled. "Oh, that's the least we can do for weary adventurers like yourselves. So, what brings you to Solstheim?"

"It's personal business," I said without looking at her.

"I know your type." She rested a dainty hand on my shoulder, drumming her nails on the plate of armor. "You like to keep to yourself, don't you? Let your actions speak for you. Sullen mercenaries are my favorite. A few rounds of sujamma, and they forget all about brooding. They open right up like ashen grass pods."

"We're not mercenaries," said Farkas. "We're Companions."

Her eyes grew wide, and she put a little more weight against my shoulder. "Wait, are you the same Companions who came all those years ago?"

"One and the same."

I shot Farkas a withering look. "It's nothing to brag about, right, brother?"

"You saved this town! Around here, you're heroes." She pushed away from me, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "This calls for another round of drinks." She snapped her fingers toward another barmaid. "Dallsa! Bring some more sujamma for these Companions! They're the ones who stopped Miraak and saved Raven Rock!"

The air in the tavern shifted, as though everyone took a collective gasp. All conversation ceased, and in the back of the inn, someone dropped a spoon. The clatter of metal against the stone floor nearly deafened me in the tense silence.

I dropped my head and ground my teeth. Gods, would I ever be able to escape the attention? The stunned gazes around me burned my neck, and I missed Whiterun all the more.

Now I understood why Ylva traveled in secret, why she kept her hood drawn around her face and her gaze at her feet when she walked through towns. Everything went so much more smoothly when no one stopped her to sing her praises, as though she blessed the very ground she walked upon.

I supposed I signed up for this when I married her. And, admittedly, I enjoyed the attention on occasion, but right now, I wanted to fade out of sight.

"By the gods, you're shaping up to be more and more intriguing," said Fatamie once conversation resumed, though more reserved and quiet than before. She dragged an empty chair over to my side and sat down. "I didn't know it was going to be my lucky night."

"I wouldn't go that far," I murmured.

The other barmaid, Dallsa, sauntered to our table, fresh cups of sujamma in her gray hands. She set them down in front of us, leaning forward far enough to cause her black hair to cascade dangerously close to our food. She flashed Farkas a wide smile that sparkled in her red eyes before she stood back up to bring a chair to his side.

I clenched my hands into fists and took a slow, deep breath. Now I could see what they were planning. These women wanted to join us in our room later.

"Heroes of Raven Rock," said Dallsa while she rested her hands on the table next to Farkas's arm. She rapped a beat on the rough wood, inching her fingers closer and closer to my brother's gauntlet.

"Well, we can't take all the credit," said Farkas, slowly moving his arm away from Dallsa's fingers. "Ylva was responsible for most of it. We only helped with small things."

"Oh, right, the Dragonborn," said Fatamie, using one hand to prop up her chin while the other traced the woodgrain on the table with her manicured nail. "She didn't come with you this time?"

"No," I said in a measured tone, making sure my hand was well out of Fatamie's reach. "She's back in Skyrim."

"Probably taking it easy after waging her little war, right?" Fatamie leaned heavier against her propped hand. "Don't get me wrong, hearing about a single woman challenging the entire Thalmor presence in her province and somehow succeeding is the stuff of legends here, but even you have to admit that it was foolhardy."

"She's the strongest woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I never doubted that she, out of anyone else in the world, would be able to succeed in her quest."

Fatamie leaned back in her chair for a bit, then her foot kicked against my greaves. "Quite high praise for a single woman."

I glowered at her and shoved her foot away with my shin. "She's my wife. There's no other woman more deserving of that praise from me than her."

Fatamie's demeanor shifted, but only a bit. She sat up slightly in her chair, and her free hand stopped moving for a second. But her foot under the table kept kicking gently against my leg.

Apparently, married men weren't off-limits to her.

"So, traveling without your wife," she continued while she batted her eyelashes in my direction. "Must get lonely without the company of a female."

"It is," said Farkas, who was now sitting on the very edge of his seat because Dallsa was practically falling into his lap. "But we'll manage. Our wives are worth waiting for."

By now, I'd lost my appetite, and I hoped making a quick exit to our room for the night would deter these harpies from making any further advances. "Listen, we've been traveling by boat for the last two days, and my brother and I aren't seafaring men by nature. Trying to sleep in a raggedy hammock inside the belly of a sea-tossed ship hasn't agreed with either of us, so if you'd be so kind as to give us our room key, we'd like to retire for the night."

"Are you sure you don't want separate rooms?" asked Dallsa while she folded her arms across the tabletop beside Farkas and rested her bosom against them. "Surely you'd like some privacy from one another after being confined to such close quarters on The Northern Maiden."

"It's more expensive that way," said Farkas, his gaze locked firmly on her face and not where she so clearly wanted him to look. He was picking up on what they were trying to do, and if we didn't get out of this soon, he was bound to say something nasty.

I'm close to doing the same.

"Perhaps we could run you a bath first?" offered Fatamie. "Clean, hot water, gentle soaps, all that steam.... Sounds relaxing, hmm?"

I gritted my teeth, barely stopping a diatribe that was sure to earn me a slap across the face from the offended barmaid. After a beat and a deep breath through my nose, I had regained an ounce of my composure. Enough, at least to keep myself from making a scene. "The food has gone cold, and we'd really like to go to sleep. We have important business in the morning, and we don't have time to dawdle or entertain any locals."

It seemed that Fatamie only heard the part about entertaining locals, because she redoubled her efforts to get into my bed for the night. She flashed what I assumed to be her winningest smile, dragged her bare toes across my greaves once more, and was as bold as to grab my forearm and squeeze it with her delicate fingers. "Are you totally sure? I'm sure you'd find us very entertaining."

That did it. The small touches under the table, the sickeningly obvious flirting, the poorly-veiled attempts to seduce me, I could forgive all that. But being as bold as to grab me in any way and speak to me in that tone?

Time to get nasty.

I leaned in close so that no one else around us would hear me. I was an outsider, after all, and any slight against the barmaids could be met with physical violence. "Remove your hands from my arm unless you want to lose your fingers. Good luck serving customers with nothing on the ends of your arms but mutilated stumps."

Her ruby-red eyes widened, and her hand shot back as though my forearm had spontaneously caught fire. Her gaze searched my face, trying to get a read on how serious I was about my threats.

I can assure you, I am deadly serious.

Dallsa, too, seemed to take me for my word. Coupled with the sharp glare that Farkas now drilled into her face, she slowly eased out of her chair and wordlessly excused herself to go back to her duties.

Without taking her eyes off me, Fatamie rose from her seat, grabbed the cold food and warm drinks placed them on the tray she'd left on the floor, and scurried back to the kitchen.

"We didn't get the room key," said Farkas once she'd left earshot.

"I'll get it from Geldis," I replied, beginning to rise from my seat, but then I saw the familiar innkeeper approaching our table, so I sat back down.

"Well, 'ello there, Companions," said Geldis with a tight smile on his face. "I didn't realize you was the guests my barmaids were cryin' about."

"You need to tell your barmaids to keep their hands off married men," I grumbled as I folded my arms across my chest.

"We didn't mean to really scare them," added Farkas. "They just didn't seem to care."

"Sorry, gents. I understand your frustration. I'll 'ave a word with them." He set a room key on the table between us. "Your stay is on the 'ouse tonight, as an apology for the way you was treated."

I shook my head, reached into my satchel, and retrieved some coin for him. I pressed the gold into his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Don't worry about it. I know you can't police what your employees do. Hopefully, they'll have learned their lesson this time."

Geldis stored the gold in his apron pocket, patting the fabric a couple of times as though to make sure the coins were safe inside. "Fatamie and Dallsa are used to gettin' their way. I hired 'em shortly after you lot left Raven Rock, and they've been good for business. They keep the locals coming back, but they can go a bit too far. Don't worry, I'll make sure they know to leave you alone as long as you stay 'ere."

"We should just be here for the night," said Farkas. "We're hoping to stay with family the rest of the time we're in Solstheim."

The innkeeper shifted his weight to one side, cocking his head slightly. "Didn't realize you 'ad family 'ere. Why didn't you stay with 'em the last time?"

"Long story," I said. "Short version is they've only been here the last few months. They came to work in the mines about five months ago."

"Oh, you're talkin' about Mr. Bjorn, ain't you?"

We nodded together. "His wife is our mother," said Farkas.

"Ah, she's lovely. Comes in here with Bjorn and some of the miners after a long shift belowground. Sometimes, she'll bring sweets for the staff."

"Do you know where they live?"

He nodded, tight smile breaking into a warm grin. "Just on the outskirts of town. Councilor Morvayn put 'em up while they do their business. The 'ouse they live in used to belong to the Severin family, but after it was discovered that those lyin' sons of bitches were planted 'ere to assassinate Councilor Morvayn, they were executed, and the 'ouse sat empty until Mr. Bjorn and Mrs. Ronaine moved in. It's quite a lovely 'ouse, if you forget about the previous tenants."

"Are you saying we could go over there now?" I asked.

"Ah, it's late, and I'm sure they're already asleep. I understand you're eager to see 'em, but best to let them have a good night's rest before you impose on 'em. I 'eard that Mr. Bjorn sleeps with a crossbow under 'is pillow, for fear of any unexpected guests showin' up to take his earnings from the mines."

I thought Danilaith said her father was mild-mannered. Maybe he'd gotten scared by something in his time here, so he was just being cautious.

"Anyway," continued Geldis as he motioned down the hall toward the rooms, "why don't you get some sleep? Mornin' will come soon enough, and I'm sure you're ready to sleep on solid ground."

As anxious as I was to meet my mother, to get to know what happened to us, I knew Geldis was right. Just because Dani made a lucky guess about who we were didn't mean that our mother would. If we disturbed her sleep with a knock on her door in the middle of the night, she might not believe us when we say we're her sons. A stunt like that could land us in a cell for the night, or worse, impaled by a crossbow bolt.

So, with a heavy sigh, I took the key off the table, grabbed my satchel, and stood up from my place at the table. "Thanks for the meal, and for the room. We'll get some rest now."

After Farkas got to his feet, Geldis showed us to our room, bade us goodnight, and returned to his duties as innkeeper.

After I unlocked the door, I threw my stuff down by the bed closest to the door then locked the room behind us. Just as a preventative measure, in case Geldis's talk with his barmaids didn't deter them completely.

"Morning can't come soon enough," said Farkas, shedding pieces of his armor and placing them in a neat pile inside the footlocker at the end of his bed.

"No, it can't," I replied while I loosened the straps at my shoulders. I focused on the task of loosening the leather fastenings under my armor plates, keeping my mind from wandering to what to expect from tomorrow.

It didn't do that great of a job. I couldn't help but let my mind wander. I imagined what our mother looked like now, what she would say and do when she saw us standing in her doorway. Would she burst into tears? Jump for joy? Have a heart attack? Gods, I hoped not.

And how would I take it? Would I collapse? Weep? Stand there with a dumb tongue while she tried to get answers out of me? What if she didn't meet the expectations I'd set for her? What if I didn't meet her expectations?

Focus, Vilkas. Just take the next few hours a minute at a time.

But that was easier said than done.