(AN: Here we are at last, the fifth and [hopefully] final installment of my Elder Scrolls series. Set some seventeen years after the events of The Dragonborn Emperor, we pick up with Eirik's daughter Sigrun, who was born at the end of The Dragon and the Bear. Like with most of my stories, i shoot big for this one. I have high hopes to make of Sigrun a hero to match and surpass such modern stereotypes as seen in MCU's Black Widow and Agent Carter.)

(Realistically, though, i don't want to finish writing this story. I've grown disillusioned with writing them, since my main character is [in the rough drafts] starting to look like an OP mary sue [like Rey, another property of Disney, like the MCU], and i have no story to go forward with. At least this has taught me that long series aren't my thing, since i can't keep coming up with new and unique situations for each new story.)

Wanderlust

Sigrun sat upon a stone on the pebbly southeastern shore of Lake Ilinalta in the verdant woodland hold of Falkreath. Coming down here to the lake was one of her favorite activities, and today she had been afforded enough free time to do just that. These times were few and far between as far as she could remember, and she always relished them when she could. The stillness and clarity of the lake brought peace to her whenever she felt upset or worried. Many times she had swam in it, despite the dangers of slaughter-fish therein. When she was eight, one bit her on the foot: that evening, the family had fish to eat. Ever since then, she rarely had incidents with slaughter-fish and came to enjoy her time in the lake as much as that on its shores.

But this day it was different. She sat on the stone, looking this way and that, down the southern shores of the lake. Though it spanned most of the length of Falkreath, she could only look eastward, where the White River made its course down towards the sea. Time and tide had taken their toll on the restless young Nord woman and she did not feel at ease on the shores of Lake Ilinalta. She wanted to follow the White River down to the sea, following the same path that Ysgramor and the Five Hundred Companions made when they returned to Skyrim. Then she wanted to see the world beyond the woods and valleys of Falkreath. She wanted to see the mountains covered with snow, the windswept golden plains of Whiterun, the crags in the west, the marshlands of the east, even up into the far north, in the lands of snow and ice, where even summers were hoary-white.

With a sigh, she removed her boots, then hiked up her trousers and waded out into the water. Though it was early summer, the water was cool and tickled her toes. Out she went about knee deep, then looked down at her reflection. Many people often stopped at her home, Lakeview Manor, which was a short hike from the lake: they often told her that she looked like her father. This was true to some extent: she had her father's long, wavy hair that was the color of chestnuts. She also had her father's nose, and maybe a few other features which she could not immediately notice. She saw quite a bit of her mother in her reflection as well: she had her eyes, blue-gray that, in the right light, turned to amber, as well as her mother's full lips. Seeing their features reflected back at her reminded her, day by day, of who they were. Her mother had been a great adventurer, who had traveled the length of Tamriel, and later settled down to protect Riften. Then she had met her father, who had also traveled no small span of miles: from Skyrim to Cyrodiil, then the isle of Solstheim, mainland Morrowind and High Rock.

Adventuring was in Sigrun's blood.

She reached down with her hand cupped and brought the cool water up to her face, washing herself of the dirt and sweat thereon. For she had only stopped here for a few minutes of rest during the day's work. Her father, when he was not protecting the people of Skyrim or feasting with the Companions in Whiterun, was a woodsman. From her earliest memories, she had always been kept busy in some way, never being allowed to fall into idleness. As a little girl, she helped her mother when they had people over at the house, which was more often than not. When she became old enough to wield an ax, she joined father in the woods around their house, cutting down trees. About the same time, her father and his huscarl began training her how to wield a blade. Such pursuits were greatly to her liking, for she enjoyed the rush and sting that came upon her while sparring. As much as she enjoyed heating her blood with thrusting, parrying and wielding a shield, these martial pursuits had the unfortunate side-effects of leaving her drenched in sweat at the end of the day. The weather in Skyrim was often very cold and even if she had no qualms about sweat, being sweaty in the cold weather could be dangerous. Therefore she often went down to the lake to cool off: over the years, she cherished such times, for they were her moments, the small amount of time that was hers and hers alone.

While she stood out in the water, pausing for one brief moment from the rigor of the day, a voice called out her name behind her. She turned around and there, on the bank, stood Jonna, her best friend. She and her mother lived with Sigrun and her family at Lakeview Manor for as long as she could remember. They had grown up together, eaten at the same table together, played together, sparred together and were as good as sisters, though they could not be more different. While Jonna was at least five months older, she was shorter by a head. Jonna had the blue eyes and golden hair of her mother, but what features were not from her mother she did not speak of: unlike Sigrun, Jonna never knew her father. Furthermore, while Sigrun was quiet and reserved oftentimes, Jonna had a tendency to be louder and more assertive. Only when they sparred did the differences fade away and they seemed to be as sure as shield-sisters, though they had never fought in the shield wall.

"Still out here?" Jonna asked.

"Always," Sigrun replied.

"Da wants you to come back to the house," Jonna stated, referring to Sigrun's father Eirik as 'Da.' He had been the closest thing Jonna had to a father, and no one in their house seemed to mind. "He says we still have another two logs to cut."

"I'm right behind you," Sigrun answered, sloshing through the shallow water back onto the shore, where she took up her boots and held them in one hand while she walked alongside Jonna back towards the road.

"And why are you so gloomy?" Jonna sighed. "Of all days to be sad, why does it have to be today? Haven't you forgotten what today is?"

"I'm not gloomy," Sigrun grinned. "Just...thinking."

"About what?" asked Jonna.

"Oh, what it would be like," she replied. "In the world beyond the forest, over the mountains and across the lake." She looked southward, the direction of the road: a phalanx of tall, evergreen spears rose up from the bulk of Falkreath. "A place with something other than spriggans or slaughter-fish." She sighed, then turned to Jonna. "I want to see those places, Jonna. Don't you?"

"Well, of course," Jonna playfully scoffed. "But aren't you at least going to put on your boots first?"

Sigrun looked down and realized that she was still bare-foot. She sat down and, after wiping her feet with her hands, put her boots on. Once she was shod, she leaned over to Jonna's ear and whispered:

"Happy birthday."

"You liar!" Jonna retorted, shoving the taller woman playfully. "You forgot, I know you did!"

"Did not!" Sigrun returned. "I've even gone and purchased you something. Went down to the Riverwood Trader and bought it myself, I did. But..." She pointed at Jonna. "...you can't know what it is until tonight."

"Gods, I wish you were a little more lively," Jonna teased. "Remember your sixteenth birthday?"

"I'll never forget that," Sigrun chuckled fondly.

"I let you guess what I bought you," Jonna exclaimed. "It's more fun seeing you struggle to guess what you might be given."

"If you say so," Sigrun smiled.

"So why were you out here?" asked Jonna.

Sigrun sighed. "Like I said, I was thinking."

"Uh-huh?" Jonna nodded. "Thinking about what we talked about?"

Sigrun smiled fondly. What they talked about often meant a great number of things. When they were eight, they promised that they would live together, die together on the same day and be buried or burned together. When they were thirteen and boys suddenly became something more than a nuisance, they promised that they would also marry together, but only until they had both bloodied themselves with battle and not to any milk-drinker. Sigrun had promised that whoever could win her heart and defeat her in unarmed combat would be worthy of her love: Jonna, being less serious, had sworn that she'd marry whoever could out-drink her. But lately, they talked about other things.

"Yes, I have been," sighed Sigrun. "Very seriously."

"And?" Jonna asked.

"We'll bring it up tonight," Sigrun replied.

"We?" Jonna chuckled. "No, no, no, no. No, you bring it up. I'm going to be enjoying myself. I'm eighteen today!"

Sigrun smiled. In about five more months, on the 17th day of Last Seed, it would be her eighteenth birthday. That was, of course, one of the many reasons that brought her to the shores of Lake Ilinalta this day. The restlessness of youth was still strong in both of them, and they were eager to see the world and do more than merely cut wood and tend the house. Her time would soon come and she wanted to be out and about in the world beyond the forests of Falkreath.

They returned to the clearing around Lakeview Manor and returned to their chores. As the light of day was starting to wane, the girls were still busy with their work, hair tied back and faces covered in sweat and wood-chips. For a brief moment, they let down their axes as Eirik, Sigrun's father, walked towards them. He was a tall man, with long hair the color of chestnuts and a forked beard that had grown long in the years since his return to Skyrim: of late, however, his beard showed signs of graying at the end and his hair was streaked with lines of gray. Despite his age, he was still as powerfully built in his youth, and could still wield an axe or great-sword. Both of the girls looked up to him: not merely because he was taller than they were, but because of who he was to each of them. To Jonna, he was the one who had given her and her mother a place to live, and he was the Dragonborn. For Sigrun, he was her father.

"Well," he said, looking down at the pile of chopped wood they had made behind them. "You've worked hard today. I think this calls for an early break. I'll get the wood put away into the shed. You two go and practice until dinner's ready."

Sigrun thanked her father, then walked the rest of the way to the wood-shed with Jonna and put away their axes. Then they ran into the house and came back with their practice shields and wooden swords. The practice shields were proper shields, though they were not toughened with hide on the rims, as battle-shields often were. Their swords were wooden for they were still young and had not swords of their own.

After they found their gear, the two young women ran back outside and began trading blows on their shields. Years of practicing together had given them mastery over what martial skill of swordsmanship they could pick up. Jonna's mother, a former huscarl in the employ of the High Queen by the name of Jordis, knew more about how to properly wield a one-handed arming sword than Eirik, and she had often taught them throughout the years. They drank in her teachings and, before long, had assimilated the martial training of the huscarls into themselves. Sigrun was taller and her arms had a longer reach, but Jonna was fearless: she would often charge in, shield up, and try to overwhelm Sigrun with the suddenness of her attack. Throughout the years, they knew how to counter each other's moves and could fight until one or the other called for a break or they were both exhausted. But in spite of all of their training, they had yet to fight a real opponent.

About an hour or so into their dueling, and several bruises and dirt-stains later, Eirik disappeared and them re-appeared, a basin of water in his hands.

"Alright," he called to them. "Come get cleaned up: it's time for dinner."

The young women set their weapons on the side of the house and washed their faces and arms with the water from the basin. Then they took up their weapons and, with Eirik coming up behind them, went inside the house.

As soon as they entered the house, a chorus of hails and greetings rose to meet them. Sigrun stepped back apace as Jonna rushed into the arms of her mother Jordis, who was waiting for her within. Sigrun smiled as Jonna was showered with congratulations and well wishes from those gathered here: it was not every day that one turned eighteen. A quick glance brought Sigrun's eyes to one at the edge of the group of those gathered to celebrate Jonna's birthday, the one she had been looking for: her own mother Mjoll the Lioness. Even in her mid-forties, Mjoll was still as mighty and fair as she was in her youth. If there was anyone that held equal awe, love and respect in Sigrun's eyes as her father, it was definitely her mother.

Walking over to her mother, Sigrun kissed her on the cheek, then turned to the crowd.

"When did all these people get here?" she asked.

"Earlier today, when you and Jonna were out working," Mjoll replied. "Now where are your father and brother? They should be here for the feast."

"Da should be coming in any minute now..." Sigrun began, then paused to turn around and see Eirik striding through the door through which the two young women had just come. "There he is!"

"And where is your brother?" Mjoll asked.

Sigrun stood on the tips of her toes to gaze over the crowd. Her brother Bjorn, who had inherited Mjoll's red-golden hair, could usually be found with his nose stuck in a tome. Though he was not the firstborn, he was certainly no less special than Sigrun. Aside from the story of his birth, he had taken to reading faster than his sisters and had actually helped them learn the more 'difficult' words of the common speech. When he heard from his father about how, while living in Bruma, he had learned rudimentary enchanting skills, Bjorn took it upon himself to become a mage. Though it certainly surprised Eirik, both he and Mjoll had been supportive of his decision. Bjorn was two years younger than Sigrun and not as tall or as strong as she had been. In fact, it was because of his size that Sigrun had, one year long ago, learned a very important lesson.

"There he is!" Sigrun noted, gesturing across to the long table in the dining room. Bjorn was seated by himself, almost fully engrossed in his books. Breaking from the crowd, she walked over to her brother and pulled the book down from over his face.

"Have you forgotten what day it is?" she asked.

"No, I haven't," Bjorn mumbled. Fifteen was a rough age to be, as Sigrun knew all too well.

"Do you plan on joining us?" she asked again. He nodded. "Do you have your present?"

"Yes," groaned Bjorn.

"Good," Sigrun grinned. "Now go wish Jonna 'happy birthday' before I hit you over the head with your beloved books."

"Sis!" he protested.

"I'm only teasing," she dismissed. "But still, get your ass up and give her your best wishes."

Bjorn mumbled something, then went to the crowd to give Jonna his wishes. Sigrun walked over to the other side of the house, where the lower bedrooms were kept. A wall divided the guest-rooms on the one side from those which had been the children's rooms when they were younger. Now the room had been converted to a store-house, and here Sigrun had hidden her present to Jonna. She made sure that it was still there, then ran back into the great hall to join the guests.

Lakeview Manor, the house that had been the home of Sigrun, Jonna and Bjorn, was a rather large estate, rivaling Dragonsreach in Whiterun. Built a stone's throw from the main road that led from Oakwood and Falkreath to Helgen and Riverwood, it governed the road and kept watch on Lake Ilinalta. The top floor was where Eirik and Mjoll slept, and the bottom floor where the children and house-hold servants slept. In the center of this was a great hall where guests were entertained and where the family ate their meals. There was in the center of the house a stone chimney, built after the fashion of many of the other provinces of the Empire, that gave warmth to the hall and the upper rooms, which were built around it, and from the hearth a long wooden table was arranged. It was at this table that Jonna's birthday would be celebrated.

At the head of the table sat Eirik, and at his right-hand was Mjoll the Lioness. At Eirik's left-hand was Ralof of Riverwood, his closest friend and his right-hand in the Sons of Skyrim, to whom both Sigrun and Jonna looked up as though he were a trusted uncle. On the right side of the table and to Mjoll's left sat Sigrun, with Bjorn after her, and on the left side of the table and to Ralof's right sat Jonna and her mother Jordis. There were others gathered here as well, friends of their family who were invited to the party. Of the Sons of Skyrim, two others besides Ralof were present here: Angrim the Old, the eldest member and no less doughty, though he was almost seventy, and Perla One-Eye, another older woman who had fought with Eirik, Ralof and Angrim on the Battle of the Plains and the Siege of Solitude during the Thalmor Insurrection.

Aside from these notable ones, there were four others seated on both sides of the table at the very end. There was Thorald Grey-Mane, the now patriarch of Clan Grey-Mane, a once prestigious Nord clan that had fallen on hard times since their betrayal by the Battle-Born Clan. Across from Thorald was a Redguard woman named Rayya, a former corsair who had served intermittently as a huscarl for hire. She had often visited Lakeview Manor and regaled the girls and Bjorn with tales of the strange lands she had visited: from the blistering deserts of Hammerfell to the savage, desolate Morrowind, and even into the very land of the Aldmeri Dominion itself, into Valenwood and Elsweyr. After these two were the stable-boy Finn and Fjolti, a bard who had been patroned by Eirik. At the very end of the table was an empty seat that, though the long table was filled with thirteen people, Eirik and Mjoll insisted be placed there and not occupied.

As soon as all were seated, Eirik stood from his seat, a cup in his hand.

"My friends," he said to them. "The Divines are good to us. For today, Jonna comes of age. Let her now drink the cup and then we shall all celebrate with feasting and music and forget the troubles of the world, if only for today." He then looked to his right, a smile upon his face. "And in anticipation of things to come."

Eirik then passed the cup to Jordis, who said "Drink now, my daughter, and take heart." Jonna accepted the cup and, warily looking at the guests, all of them eying her, then slowly took a sip. With sudden eagerness that surprised all of them, she then drained the cup and slammed it upon the table. Cheers rose from the guests and those near Jonna rose their cups in congratulations.

"Is that it?" Jonna asked. "I should become an adult more often." Some of the others laughed at her jest, then they sat down as the food was brought forth.

All throughout the meal, those gathered talked about this and that. Sigrun listened intently to any news of the outside world, especially of that from the other holds of Skyrim. Strange and terrible things had been going on in the world outside of Falkreath, as she learned. The Sons of Skyrim, the group of defenders of the Seven Holds, had been busy of late, often operating at opposite ends of the country. Of the southern holds, there was news that, with the death of Vulwulf Snow-Shod, a new Jarl of Riften had been appointed. A young woman by the name of Runa Fair-Shield had been named the new Jarl of Riften: little was known about her save that she was supportive of the Sons of Skyrim.

The "loyal holds", as the northern five holds were called, were in turmoil as usual. The cities were overrun with refugees from the "lost" holds in the east and west, and unrest was growing. The High Queen of Skyrim relied on her counselors in the Blue Palace in Solitude, and her only public appearances were to make speeches reminding the people of Solitude of their duty and loyalty to the Empire and that it would save them. But the truth was that the loss of the Reach and Eastmarch, the "lost" holds, spoke otherwise.

"I thought you said," Mjoll interjected as Angrim was about to divulge into details of what was happening in the Reach. "To leave the troubles of the world behind us." Eirik shrugged and grinned, then took another drink of his mug.

After most of those present had eaten, it was now time for Jonna to receive the gifts that had been given her by her family and their friends. Jordis gave her an axe, whose haft had carved into it runes of power. Bjorn's gift was a book on sword-fighting, which Jonna accepted gratefully: it was, in his mind, the best he could give her. Most of the others gave money: not very much, but the small amount grew with each small sack of septims placed before her. While Angrim was placing his sack and regaling Jonna with a well-meaning but lengthy parable about one of his many adventures in his younger days, Sigrun stole away to the store-room and brought out her present, which she laid at Jonna's feet once Angrim left.

It was a shield, made after the fashion of Nord warriors. The bosse in the center was of steel and its rim was lined with cured hide. No charge or device was upon the shield, but on the rim of the bosse were carved runes. Jonna smiled widely as she weighed the shield on her left hand.

"It's perfectly balanced," she said. "How did you know?"

"Who knows you better than me, sis?" Sigrun returned.

Mjoll presented Jonna with a cloak lined with fur, which was also well appreciated. Thorald and Eirik then presented Jonna with a gift they had gotten for her together: a short steel sword forged by Hermir Strong-Arm, the Companions' smith before the Skyforge. Jonna received it with similar gratitude as the other gifts. At this, Jordis arose and placed her hands upon her daughter's shoulders.

"My daughter," she said with a smile. "How you've grown! No mother could be happier to have such a daughter as you. As my mother and...father...said to me when I came of age, I will tell you now some good words of advice." Jordis' eyes were swimming with tears, Sigrun watched on from across the table and Eirik lowered his head. The others looked on in raptured awe, eager to know what sage words Jordis would impart.

"Honor the Divines," she began. "Love your family and this land of ours. Never surrender what you believe in. Speak the truth at all times, so that your word's oath may be stronger than the bones of the earth on which we stand. Never fight in vain, or draw steel if you're not prepared to take a life. Alas..." Her gaze lowered, then after a brief moment of silence, she spoke again:

"Alas, this world is a terrible place, dark days are upon us and it is a hard thing to go through life without fighting. When you must fight, fight to win, even if there is no hope, and be the last to quit a battle. Do not be afraid of death, for there are worse things in this life than to lose a life, and all men and women die at the last: when your time has come, die covered in blood and with your weapon in hand, that you may join the great heroes in Sovngarde. Do this, my dear Jonna, and you will not need to prove anything else to anyone, in this life or the next."

The others grumbled "Well said" and Jonna and Jordis embraced. Sigrun, meanwhile, walked over to where Eirik stood.

"Are you alright, father?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," he sighed. "Just lost in thought...and memory."

Sigrun's blue-gray eyes, glistening in the light of the hearth and the candles at the table, turned to the ground as she tried to muster up her courage to ask her father of what she and Jonna had been planning for years.

"If you have a moment, I want to ask you something," Sigrun spoke at last. "Well, you know, now that Jonna is eighteen, she's old enough to go out on her own. And, well, I'm only five months younger than her, so it won't be too long before I'm eighteen as well. And I was hoping, well, if and when Jonna decides to strike out on her own, that I be allowed to go with her."

"No," Eirik shook his head.

"But why not?" Sigrun pleaded. "I know how to fight, I can read and write, and two warriors are better than one..."

"You're still too young," Eirik sighed. "Five more months, then we'll talk about this. But for now, you must be content to remain here at home."

"Da, please, I'm not Lu..."

"I said no!" he replied firmly. Everyone at the table heard this and were now gazing at the father and daughter, deep in their discussion. Eirik flushed with embarrassment, then walked back to his seat and took up his cup. "Let's have another round for Jonna!" This was met with cheers from those around the table, but Mjoll gave him a knowing glare.

Sigrun, meanwhile, her cup still in hand, quietly sipped and eyed the empty seat at the far end of the table. Though she loved her family and had no regrets, there were two things in the family that were not often discussed. The first was that Jonna, though loved and accepted as a sister by Sigrun and Bjorn and another child by Eirik and Mjoll, had no father. As a child, Sigrun had asked Jordis about it, who, usually open and friendly, suddenly became quiet and cold. Eirik and Mjoll told her that she would know in time, but that time, it seemed, never fully came.

The second thing never discussed was that Sigrun had another adopted sister, a Colovian girl named Lucia. At ten years old when Sigrun was born, she was the oldest of the children. She had been raised in Lakeview Manor, the same as Jonna and Sigrun, by Eirik and Mjoll, taught the same things as the others had been taught, eaten food at their table and worshiped the Divines with them. But a cloud fell over this happy family as adolescence drove a wedge between Lucia and her adopted parents. Then one morning, when Sigrun and Jonna were five, the family awoke to find an empty bed in the children's room and Lucia's bow and quiver of arrows missing. At every meal a seat was reserved, in case Lucia should ever return: but for thirteen years she had not yet returned.

Sigrun knew that she had embarrassed her father in front of the guests by bringing up Lucia, and she felt truly sorry. Who was she to spoil Jonna's big day in such a way, after all. But in her heart, she knew that the wanderlust she had been feeling was not going to go away, no matter whether her father had said yes or no.

"Happy birthday, sis," Sigrun whispered, though her heart quietly said: "I tried my best."

(AN: I know everyone [meaning only one person] wanted to know what happens to Eirik after everything that has happened so far. Which surprises me, i thought everyone hated Eirik: you know, 'he's too weak', 'he's too good', 'he's too boring', 'he's a Nord', 'he's a Stormcloak', all that typical stuff. Besides, this story was specifically a passing of the torch. I mean, Eirik has already fulfilled his role as Shezzarine, being Warrior [it's more than just his class], Observer [at the High Hrothgar meeting, observing Serana's vengeance and Crixus' rise to power] and King [although not a ruler, he did 'de facto' rule Riften, along with Falkreath, during the interim period]: just as Talos was Warrior, Observer and King.)

(If anyone is reading this, please be so kind as to drop in some reviews. I would like to know how this story is going so far, especially if our two main characters are becoming over-powered and unlikable. I know there's not a lot of violence now, but there will be [enough to warrant an M-rating])