The Dragon fell down from the sky in the Land of the Dead. The human, the living man in the realm of the dead, raised his sword to the sky and yelled – Shouted – and as he finished the word, the dragon flew away while on fire. He sat down and breathed heavily, his sword fell out of his sword. He grabbed to his shoulder and felt the blood that was dripping from a wound. His armor was covered with blood from the dragon. The souls that were in the Land of the Dead cheered and laughed as they had witnessed what many of them had dreamed of, for a long, long time. But the man didn't cheer. The man wasn't going to celebrate. He was going to continue to fight off the other dragons that had been resurrected by this black dragon. His job wasn't over. He rose as a soul was reaching towards him. They looked at each other, but they didn't say anything to one another. They nodded; they understood what they each wanted to say. They had never met before – or, the soul hadn't met him, but he had met him with time-travel. The soul was from thousands of years earlier, when and he had vanquished the giant, black dragon to the future, thinking he had stopped the dragon. But he had been wrong – only delayed what they thought was the end of time. Perhaps he himself had just delayed it – but he didn't care. He knew he had done what was right for him. He turned around and saw an Mage opening a portal.
"Through here you go back to the Land of the Mortal; back to Skyrim. I hope you will be blessed with peace in your future, young Dragonborn."
"So do I." he replied and walked through the portal. No thank you – just a rude exit. He knew what he was, and had started to getting used to being something more than most man. He was Dragonborn. He was the savior. Tonight, and for the rest of his life forth; he was the hero that Skyrim had looked for.
He returned and could see where he was – at Dragonsreach in Whiterun. The city he had been the most to lately. He was on the balcony, where they had trapped a dragon, to make it help him defeat Alduin, the black dragon he just had defeated. He could see a long table with plenty of food, drink and people around it. He walked up to them and removed his helmet.
"The deed is done. Alduin is gone." The Jarl, whom the Dragonborn knew as Barlgruuf, approached him and gave him a big hug.
"I knew I put my trust in the right person when I first saw you. You remember when you first came here?" The Dragonborn laughed while he sat down at a seat.
"Indeed I do. I had just escaped Helgen and the claws of the Imperials."
"Alduins first attack when he came back, wasn't it?" The Dragonborn nodded and reached out for a mug of mead.
"Say, Asgeir…" the Jarls steward had started to speak.
"You say that Alduin is gone, but how do you know that for a fact?" Asgeir Dragonborn rose to his feet again.
"I'm covered in blood. I absorbed his soul, I can feel him. I have defeated over a hundred dragons, most of them alone, and you question my skill in slaying dragons?"
"I'm just saying, it's not the first time someone is saying that they defeated Alduin, but only for him to return to our time. If we are to even believe that."
"Proventus. That's enough." The Jarl spoke and sat down on a chair that was around the table. The steward looked down at his feet. They all could see he wanted to question some more.
"We trust the Thane of Whiterun. Let us feast to the victory! We never doubted you would win, so while you were away, we prepared a feat for your honor, Dragonborn." Asgeir thanked the Jarl deeply, and after some quick words, they started to eat. Asgeir recognized some of the men that had joined them. Some were from the Battle-Born clan that he had helped a few months back. Some were other Jarls and Thanes from different Holds. Even the Imperial General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloack were there – and they were eating in peace with one another.

After the feast, they hired some bards to play some songs, they drank until they couldn't walk and the night was still young. Skyrim was happy. Skyrim was at peace this one night. No-one fought or battled. Thugs were in the cities, bandits celebrated with the guards. Dragons were hiding – wolves howled in the distance, but this was the one night were there was not reported any deaths. Except for among the animals in the wilderness – but they killed to feast upon the feeling of something good coming. In fact, every single creature could feel the future being bright. Barlgruufs steward even apologized to Asgeir later on the night, complimenting him on being one fine Thane and an excellent dragon-slayer.

The next day, Asgeir Dragonborn knew what he had to do. He had the Blades under his command – he would send them out to slay dragons. They were ready, and they could track them far better than he himself could. He was going to talk with Jarl Ulfric, to ask for his help to take the throne for himself. Who else to be the new High King, than himself? The Dragonborn who took the mighty Alduin? He knew what his first ambition was – to create peace between himself and the Thalmor, between Skyrim and the Imperials and to hunt do his best to create peace in this beautiful land. He didn't want to lose anything now – he couldn't lose anything. But first thing first… he had to talk to Ulfric before going to the Blades.