Times had changed. The frozen land of Skyrim almost seemed peaceful. The snow rarely fell upon blood soaked ground of brothers. The vast expanse of mountains no longer echoed the cries of death from the sky as the World-Eater, Alduin, had been slain. The dark brotherhood was a fragment of history that was to be hopefully forgotten as the assassins' corpses rotted in a sanctuary. The land was at a fragile peace but one could almost see points in which the land could be tossed back into chaos. The tipping points were as clear as the summits of the mountains above the clouds as the peaks stretched for the heavens above and one man understood that all too well.
The Throat of the World was a mountain that's majesty was on display for the entire world to be in awe of. The craggy peaks and jutting rock formations welcomed only the truly brave or foolish as the moment held no soft curve and shallow falls. It's unnerving mystery was blanketed by the snow cap that remained year round as if telling the world of its timeless beauty as the rest of the world was held in that miserable and binding illusion known as the constant march of time. Yet, for a single man it seemed to move slower than most.
This solitary man, who stood where almost none stood before, stood stoically. His leather armor gently hugged his frame, his black hair neatly slicked back, and his piercing brown eyes almost glowed in contrast to his dark skin. He was tall and was lean and was the true vision of an Imperial soldier. His face seemed incapable of fear or any emotion for that matter. His eyes seemed only concerned with what was happening before and before him held a great sight.
Upon an ancient wall covered in a language long forgotten and craftsmanship lost to the annuals of history, there sat a creature of legend. The wingspan of the mighty creature could engulf two small cabins and dull grey-chalk scales shimmered in the early morning light. It flapped its wing; sending two tiny blizzards in either direction but the human did not flinch or draw his weapon. He only looked upon the beast with the strangest of reactions. That was a smile.
"Dovakin…"Parthurnax boomed with the same joy, the dragonborn had upon his face. It was similar to the manner a father looked down upon a gifted son. "Thank you for letting this old dov be a mindopah once again. "
"Nox, Parthurnax. The past month was my pleasure." Valen replied with a bow. For the past month, The young Brenton had learned the ways of the dragons and was slowly learning their tongue with more fluency. His shouts had also become more substantial in their power. He could truly breath fire as the dragons did and his unrelenting force was now strong enough to shatter stone with only the second word.
Valen and looked out from the mountain and back towards the land he had spent so much time in. His face grew long and his mouth turned back a scowl that was as much of a signature as the signing of his name. He had a small dread of returning to the land of Skyrim. Even though he had found his own place in that unforgiving land, his time with Parthurnax started to raise questions he had never before asked. Before, he saw in black and white. The Stormcloaks were fools with misguided goals. The Dark Brotherhood were monsters that needed to be put down like the cowardly dogs they were and Alduin was nothing more than an intelligent monster but the time spent with the Grey Beards and Parthurnax had him questioning such defined lines of thought and reasoning. The trouble on his face became apparent to his dragon mentor.
"What is wrong, goraan gein?" Valen shook himself from his track of thought as his teacher's words boomed about the mountain. Valen only scratched his head as he looked upon his scaly father figure. Even as a dragon, Valen could see the worry upon his face.
"I just find myself questioning some previously held beliefs." Valen replied honestly.
"I am sorry dovakin but those are beyond my wisdom to tell you." Parthurnax extended his head towards Valen. His warm breath rushed over like a hot jet stream and felt comforting to Valen. "I am also afraid these answers do not lay upon this mountain." Valen caught the hidden meaning. He had learned everything he could from his favorite dragon. Valen raised his head once with his usual stoic nature.
"I know mindopah. I wish I could stay here longer. It is not like Skyrim needs it's Dragonborn at this moment." Valen almost seemed like a child saddened by the departure of a parent and Parthurnax understood. Valen never knew his parents. He had only known the tough life of a Cyrodil street urchin but Parthurnax couldn't help but take pride at what the young twenty-six year old had accomplished. Despite his age, he had been an honorable person and even defied the Blades out of pure honor. The events of the Dawnguard only impressed Parthurnax more but that exact incident also caused the young man doubt. His black and white world started to become gray. Valen had met a young vampire woman who was in no way evil or malicious. She, like Parthurnax, was actively defying her nature and wished to lead the life on an honorable person. Thankfully Serana had become a sister to Valen and had helped him drop his jaded and close minded view but Valen was still far from an emotional and sympathetic person. His time in the Imperial army and possibly his war against Alduin had forced the young man to abstain from emotion or compassion as it had gotten so many around him killed.
"You know that is not true." Parthurnax replied with a slight hint of scolding. "Skyrim and all of Tamriel still cry for their dovakin. I much enjoyed the company but even the answers you seek are not on this mountain. Now go, fahdon and may we see each other again."
"We shall, fahdon."
The return to Whiterun was long and thought provoking. As rolling mountains and snow covered land passed by, Valen had that cold and professional look on his face. Even as he was no longer on duty for the Legion, his demeanor was forever engraved by the experiences of the Legion and serving with the Dawnguard. No matter how much he and Isran had fought, Valen couldn't but help feeling the scars and lessons learned from that entire time. On top of that, if he made himself, he could almost remember word for word the screaming match Delphine and him had about the continued existence of Parthurnax. He never returned and he no longer received correspondence from them. Even Erik stopped writing to him after a month.
Valen could almost smell Whiterun. The burning of fireplaces and Adrianne's forge made him feel a little nostalgic and he could almost see Vilkas and Farkas tackling him after his extended leave. They would laugh and brawl until the sun set. That would be followed by an early morning hunt with Aela where she would chastise and tease him about how he was horrible at hunting and he would return to his preferred scaled and winged prey. The more he thought about it, not just Jorrvaskr but all of Whiterun might as well be his home. No matter how many times he ventured off or the calamities and catastrophes he prevented, he always returned to Whiterun.
He stepped out of the carriage and made a short walk past the gate and finally stepped into the greatest city in all of Skyrim as far as Valen was concerned. Adrianne's forge was the first welcomed smell he encountered. As he walked by, Adrianne noticed him and, taking a short break from her work, waved at him. Valen wondered how much Septims he spent getting his armor and weapons repaired.
The wooden cottages that lined the cobblestone road made the place seem quaint but still lively for its size. He entered the market with various stalls selling their goods and Valen noticed that a few more had been added. Valen continued his walk as he cordially waved at everyone.
He finally reached the cloud district. The houses here were grander and larger as they housed the Grey-manes and Battle-borns. Since the civil war had ended with Ulfric's head on a pike back to Cyrodil; the feud had ended but the families were still tense. Yet, what really helped end the feud was the marriage between Jon and Olfina.
Valen was about to turn and make his way back to his Companions when almost on queue Nazeem walked up and showed his ignorance. Valen used to be annoyed by the Redguard's attitude but after Valen became Thane and Harbringer and practically addressed most of his affairs in the Cloud District, it was laughable.
"Do you get to the Cloud district often?.." Nazeem started.
Valen only shook his head and walked off before anyone could answer. His sight was set upon the halls of Jorvaskr. This and Castle Duor had been the only two places where he felt comfortable laying his head and as he pushed aside the door to the great hall, he remembered why.
As he entered the great hall with the smell of roasting meats and old wood, the sight of the giant fire pit and the grand dining table seemed to call to Valen's weary body. As he drew towards his seat in the hall, he felt two hard, heavy smacks against his back and the greeting could only belong to a certain pair of twins.
"Farkas, Vilkas." Valen acknowledges their greetings. His tone was stoic and calm. Farkas and Vilkas smiled at each other as they didn't expect less from their Harbinger. The circled around Valen to now be in his field of view and their armors clanked with each step. Both were stout men, pure Nords with black hair. While both taller than Valen, Farkas was slightly taller and bulkier compared to his brother. Valen readjusted his leather armor as the pats on the back had shifted the armor uncomfortably.
"It has been awhile Harbinger. What were you doing up there?" Farkas asked innocently but Vilkas knew the question would never receive answer. Valen had kept secret all of his actions as Dragonborn. His antics in the Thalmor Embassy were never whispered in mead halls, his falling out with the Blades was a story that would never see a fireside and his learning of a shout with the help of a repenting dragon would never enter the ears of drunken men upon the melody a bard's song. As far as the world knew, the Dragonborn mysteriously rode into Sovengarde upon the back of a tamed dragon and defeated the World-Eater and that is how Valen wanted it. His Brenton blood did not have the same need for boasting and drunken bragging as the Nords did.
"I am sorry. I cannot discuss that." Valen's tone was stern but did not scold yet Farkas still looked a bit hurt at the lack of trust. Valen continued "I will be in Kodlak's room if I am needed. If you see Tilma, tell her I will be joining tonight for dinner." Valen patted the twins on the shoulders and took his leave. He felt bad for leaving them there like that but he was never good at keeping up a conversation without a few tankards of mead and he didn't like to be drunk.
He walked down into the sleeping quarters. The only soul currently in there was Tilma. Valen's wasn't too surprised. Midday found most companions out on jobs and contracts and Valen figured Vilkas and Farkas took one together nearby.
Valen walked up to Tilma, making sure to make his presence noticed and not startle the old woman. She was a den mother to the companions as well as the caretaker. She, alongside Kodlak , was the first to be nice to a former legionnaire looking to hone his skills before facing Alduin. Soon, these halls were no longer just a place to test Valen's steel and Tilma had gone from a maid of sorts to a wise old woman, he would go to for advice if Kodlak was busy.
"Hello Tilma." Valen announced.
"Ok, hello dear." Tilma said meekly. She rested her weight upon the broom as she looked over the weary Harbinger. "It has been awhile, yes?" Valen feared she would repeat Farkas' question.
"Yes, it has, Tilma but I'm here for a while." Valen replied. He tried to sound friendly but the lack of a smile and weariness made it hard.
"You look tired." Valen let out a mental chuckle as she without blinking went to worrying over him. She did this for almost any companion. A common joke was to call her mother when she had gotten on someone's hide about getting hurt or not taking time to eat and rest. Those episodes had involved mostly Teron and the twins but Valen welcomed the concern. "Why not rest a bit? You have time before dinner." Tilma offered.
"That is a good idea." Valen let out a weak smile and then he noticed how tired his body was. His time meditating and training with Parthurnax had drained him more than he initially thought. "Thank you, Tilma. I will be in Kodlak's…" Tilma did not let him finish.
"That is your room now, child." Tilma began to scold. "Kodlak left this whole hall to you and one day you shall pass it onto your successor. " Valen knew what she was saying was true but Kodlak's death had not been taken well by anyone. Aela disappeared. Vilkas and Valen destroyed the Silver-hand and Farkas locked himself in his room. The pain was so much that the destruction of the Silver-hand was not enough for Valen and he cleared out four dungeons full of draugr and other beasts and slew two dragons. Only when Kodlak found peace in Sovngarde did Valen's rage finally pass.
"I know Tilma but even after all this time, it still feels weird without him here." Valen Frowned at the ground. Kodlak had taught much to Valen. He had taught him the meaning of honor and mercy that Valen's time as an imperial soldier had deadened. Even as he stood in front of Tilma, he could almost hear Kodlak's words guiding him. "I better get some rest." Valen could only pass by Tilma. Thoughts of Kodlak reminded Valen of loss. He remembered that emotion's bitter taste
Valen entered the room of the Harbinger. Despite what Tilma said, it was not his. Valen maybe Harbinger but this was Kodlak's life. Valen could still feel the twinge of guilt like an insider interrupting a funeral. Valen tossed off his armor, and only kept on his trousers. He looked down at his weary body in a nearby mirror. His five O'clock shadow had gotten slightly darker and rougher. His chest was ridden with scars. The most noticeable was the one right over his heart. He placed his hand upon it. This was a monument to the ferocity of Alduin. The scar just above the heart was where the black winged nightmare had lashed his tail out towards Valen, smashing through ebony plate and leaving a scar he would never forget.
Valen fell upon his bed after taking count of his new scars. He looked up at the stone walls as his eyes grew heavy. It felt weird knowing he had ridden from Rorikstead to Whiterun without as much as a bandit attack. He could hear a few feint dragons far off in the distance but those were the ones that had sworn loyalty to Parthurnax and started to learn the way of the voice and since his confrontation with Harkon, he no longer needed to stay up all night worrying about vampire attacks. That thought reminded he needed to visit Serana since she took up residence at Lake View Manor.
Valen didn't know when he had been captured by the allure of sleep but it worried him he was aware he was in a dream state. He found himself in the middle of a thick forest like the ones outside Falkreath or Markarth. The trees were a maze of bark and leaves with no true entrance or exit He looked around and noticed it was nightfall in the dead of a Skyrim spring. He looked around trying to gain his bearing but the trees began to blend together and anyway out of this forest were not visible to his eyes.
He took a step forward and heard something echo that step. He spun on his back heel, steel sword drawn. He cursed as the dream did not equip him with his dragon bone weapons. At the end of his blade was only more forest. He sheathed his blade once more and decided that would be the direction he would walk until this dream ended or Tilma woke him up.
As he took another step, something crunched a breath's duration afterward. Valen spun once more, blade gleaming in the moonlight. The tip of the blade was pointed at a mass of dark brown fur. The mass fell and rose as Valen could hear it breathe. The mass rose, revealing a disgusting combination of man and wolf. Valen looked into its glowing eyes. He instantly recognized it as a werewolf.
"I am free of you Hircine!" Valen roared! The werewolf only continued to look upon him. He could feel it mocking him. "Release me or I will burn this entire forest down!" Valen roared like the dragon inside of him. He even noticed the growl in his tone. The werewolf only settled upon his haunches and continued to look at him. Valen sheathed his blade knowing it was only a dream.
"Valen." He jumped back in reaction to the werewolf. It spoke but spoke with the voice a female. Its tone was like the ring of a struck wind chime. Valen redrew his blade. The hair on his back stood straight up, he bore his canines and tightened the grip on his sword.
"I said release me. Our connection ended when I threw that witch's head in the fire and slew the beast that came forth." Valen roared once again. "You no longer lay claim to my soul." Valen barked.
Valen felt his mind constantly wonder as he continued to ponder the dream that had just plagued him. He had nightmares before. Being in the legion, it promised you two things if you survived. The first was you would understand the meaning of loss. Valen had lost track of how many lives were lost in just the battles he participated in and he could still hear the bitter cries of widows and families hearing someone they loved dearly now laid dead on a battlefield. The second was you would have nightmares and all of them would remind you of the first aspect of the legion.
Valen could almost smell the werewolf and he could almost feel the spring winds race across the skin even as the wind was still in the great hall of Jorrvaskr. Even as the sounds of the Companions hummed about the halls, He could hear its breath and the rhythm in which it exhaled and inhaled. Yet what haunted him the most was the voice. He woke up expecting Aela or even Serana standing over him but no one was there.
Valen swore as he realized how much it was consuming him. He had freed himself of lycanthropy. He massacred the witches that had cursed the companions and Farkas, Vilkas and he freed themselves. Farkas and Vilkas were happy to be back on the path to Sovngarde. Valen didn't know if Bretons went there as well but he felt relieved to be free of the instincts and blood lust that haunted him but now he swore he could feel it swelling in himself once more.
Valen slowly rose. He adjusted his simple clothes and walked out into the training yard hoping to find clarity. As he stepped out he saw a beautiful redhead unleashing arrows that stroke out with the wrath of the divines themselves. Aela turned and noticed as she now had a spectator. Valen took a seat and watched as she continued to fire practice arrows into the straw targets. He rested on the seat at one of the two outside benches and listened to the rhythmic impact of each arrow. His thoughts got lost in the consistent. For such things were rare for him. He could barely remember the last time he wasn't faced with a crisis that needed solving or a life in danger needed rescuing. What was even worse was he could almost feel his very soul stir at the lack of conflict.