[A/N] This is the fourth of several gift fics I'm writing as prizes for a fanfiction giveaway over on my Tumblr; this particular one is for the awesome (and awesomely named) procrastinationinthefirenation. It was definitely a little challenging to write, but I like how this one turned out.

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or anything related to it; that's Bethesda's deal, not mine (sadly). I also do not own Hrothgar; he belongs to procrastinationinthefirenation.

FROSTFALL

The sun rose slowly over the craggy mountains of the Reach, bathing the rocks with pale golden light and casting the shadows of the pavilions on the ancient courtyard. Twisting juniper trees, weathered by age, appeared blackened by the early-morning light at first, but as the sun crept higher, it illuminated the grey bark and the leaves of washed-out green. The air was still and silent, without so much as a single thrush's song to disturb it.

Sitting on the steps of Sky Haven Temple, clad in a simple shirt and trousers, Delphine gazed at the sunrise, her eyes unfocused. After hiding behind the mask of an innkeeper for so long, after dealing with noise and hustle and bustle every day for the last few decades of her life, she still had trouble getting used to the serenity of the ancient Akaviri fortress. Even with recruits for the Blades around, it seemed too quiet: a quiet that uncomfortably reminded her of a calm before a storm.

Which storm? she questioned herself. The civil war? The Dominion's war on Tamriel? Alduin's return?

One of them had been dealt with briefly, but was now raging once again and probably would continue for years yet; the Breton had seen enough at the ceasefire council to realize that neither Ulfric Stormcloak nor General Tullius had any intention of backing down. The other war... that had no end in sight, either, and the same went for the Aldmeri Dominion itself.

But Alduin... if her hunch was right, his end had already come.

"Whatever are you doing out here, my dear?"

She turned her head slightly. Stooped over with age and weariness, Esbern let the door fall closed behind him.

"I don't know," she said simply. "Waiting."

The Nord's face wrinkled even further with a confused frown. "Waiting for what?"

"You know who I'm waiting for."

Esbern nodded in understanding, but his eyes were grave and concerned. "He might not return, Delphine."

"He's going to at some point. His sense of duty will keep nagging him until he does," she said matter-of-factly, ignoring the implications of his statement

"The Dragonborn has fulfilled his duty, my dear. He's slain Alduin. What more can he do for Tamriel?" The Breton noted that he'd left off if the Dragonborn is still alive.

"He can kill Paarthurnax." Her voice was icier now. "You know as well as I do that he's still a threat, even with Alduin gone."

The Nord sighed. "Yes, I agree. But I think we both know that Hrothgar would never do that. He was – is not in the habit of betrayal... and now that Alduin's gone, perhaps Paarthurnax will not seek to carry on the destruction that his master caused."

Delphine raised an eyebrow at her colleague's admission of doubt. "I don't deal in hypotheticals when it comes to dragons, Esbern, and you shouldn't either. You and the Dragonborn are too trusting."

Esbern chuckled tiredly. "Not trusting, Delphine. Just good judges of character." He eased himself down onto the steps beside her.

Together, they watched the sunrise in silence. The sun had risen a little further in the sky, shining through the wispy clouds and warming the chilly morning air with its heat. Yet didn't seem quite as welcoming as a summer sun, this late-fall sun; it seemed a little colder, as if preparing for the winter to come. Though the seasons were not as noticeable in the Reach, a harsh winter would come all the same.

The Breton spoke. "Do you think that the Dragonborn will return?"

"And what will you do if he comes back, hmm?" Esbern glanced over at her: thoughtful, examining. "Welcome him back with open arms or condemn him?"

Delphine didn't respond.

"Alduin may be vanquished, my dear, but there is still a war out there: one that will reach Skyrim very soon," the Nord said quietly. "And I fear that the Aldmeri Dominion may wreak more destruction than Paarthurnax ever could." He stood shakily and turned to go back inside. "Should the Aldmeri Dominion turn their full attention to Skyrim, we will need all the allies we can get if we are to survive the onslaught – and if he survived his battle with the World-Eater, Hrothgar will be one of them." With that said, Esbern slowly walked to one of the heavy double-doors and pulled it open, retreating back into the cool darkness of Sky Haven Temple.

But Delphine stayed where she was. Though her eyes fixed on the sunrise, they were unfocused and far-away as her mind began to wander back to a rainy day at the end of Last Seed, a day when her world turned upside-down again...

She could have sworn that she had seen the man before.

Though he didn't look any different from any other Nord – tall and broad-shouldered, blond hair with stubble from a shaved-off beard on his chin, blue eyes – he seemed very familiar to her somehow. Had he passed through Riverwood before, perhaps with Ralof or Hadvar as they fled the destruction of Helgen?

But here he was, asking about renting the attic room of the Sleeping Giant. There was no attic room, nor had there ever been, but the only person who would ask about such a thing was whomever the Greybeards had sent to Ustengrav.

The Dragonborn.

She was fairly sure that he was not a Thalmor plant – but when speaking of the Dominion's agents, race alone was not evidence of treachery or the lack thereof – so there was only one thing left to do. She gave him the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and explained very carefully and clearly why she needed his help – that dragons weren't just coming back, but coming back to life; that she'd already traced a pattern from the Dragonstone's map; that she thought she'd found where the next dragon was going to be raised.

Surprisingly, the Nord – who'd introduced himself as Hrothgar (he did not provide a surname) – had agreed to help without looking too deeply into her motives, though she could tell from the pondering look in his eyes that he had plenty of questions.

Her hunch had proved to be accurate once they reached Kynesgrove and found the dragon being raised from the burial mound, regrowing tendons and muscle and scales over what once had been bare bones at the Shout of a monstrous black dragon (Alduin, she reminded herself, remembering that Hrothgar would later identify the World-Eater after he battled the dragon on the Throat of the World). But without time to fully regenerate, this newly raised dragon was more vulnerable to attack. It had tried to fly, and she'd shot it down, piercing holes in its wings and rendering it completely defenseless, and then Hrothgar had cleaved massive wounds in its sides with almost effortless swings of his greatsword.

And then she saw him absorbing the dragon's soul: golden, fiery light rushing towards the Nord and seeping into his skin with a radiance that made her shield her eyes slightly. And she knew that he was the one that the Blades had hoped for – and despite her weariness, a tiny spark of hope flared from where it had lain dead within her for so long.

Despite herself, a ghost of a smile curved her lips at recalling the memory. After nearly a quarter century of running and hiding from the Thalmor, she'd finally realized that night that it was time to stand her ground and fight back; it was no longer a foolhardy endeavor when she had others to stand beside her.

Through thick and thin – infiltrating the Thalmor Embassy, reclaiming Sky Haven Temple, recruiting would-be Blades and building up their ranks – Hrothgar had always been at her back: never faltering, always ready to step up and offer aid without hesitation. She could always count on him for integrity, honesty, and doing what was right.

Except when it came to Paarthurnax. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

It was after the ill-starred peace talks at High Hrothgar that she'd told him in the bluntest terms possible what needed to be done, why this dragon – Alduin's lieutenant, who helped him enslave mankind – had to be killed, no matter what. And for the first time since she'd met him, the Dragonborn had turned his back on her. Though he'd walked away in silence, Hrothgar's answer had been as clear as if he'd said it.

Idealist. Delphine shook her head, still feeling the anger from that night knotting up in her stomach. You can't afford to pardon your old enemies... especially not in times like these.

She sighed, staring at the brilliant sunrise painting the sky with bloody hues and feeling some sort of disparaging melancholy creep over her. Even without her confrontation with Hrothgar, the peace talks were destined for disaster. After maybe two weeks of impatience – three at the most – Ulfric and Tullius were already waging war on each other and the rest of Skyrim again; remarkably, neither had yet made a move for Whiterun yet.

Perhaps they're frightened of the prospect of the dragon that the Dragonborn captured finding its way back, the Breton thought, chuckling quietly under her breath before sobering. That was the last she'd heard about Hrothgar: leaving Dragonsreach on the back of a magnificent red dragon, flying to gods only knew where.

Not for the first time, Delphine felt doubtful of her confidence in Hrothgar's survival of his duel with Alduin. If the World-Eater truly was in Sovngarde, only the dead could enter –

Get a grip, she told herself sternly. He's the Dragonborn, the last if prophecy is to be believed. Surely he found a way. He's probably already back in Skyrim now.

But if that's true, then why hasn't he returned?

A deep, measured voice came from behind her. "Esbern told me that you'd be out here."

Recognizing it instantly, the Breton whipped her head around. Hrothgar stood just outside the doors to Sky Haven Temple, clad in his customary steel armor, but she could not glimpse the hilt of his greatsword over one shoulder. His blue eyes were still as clear as ever, but there was something else behind them, something troubled and tentative.

For a moment, she stared at him in something akin to disbelief, unable to find any of the words she wanted to say and all of the ones she didn't. Finally, she settled on turning around fully, standing as she did so and facing him.

"We heard the news from Whiterun," Delphine finally said. "Leaving on the back of a dragon... seems a bit too showy for you."

The Dragonborn smiled, but the unease in his eyes remained. "It was necessary to get to Sovngarde – or the portal to it, I suppose," he corrected himself, shrugging slightly. "The tomb it was in was high in the eastern mountains. I had no other choice but to accept Odahviing's offer."

She nearly raised an eyebrow at the edge of defensiveness in his voice, but held herself in check. "You killed Alduin then."

Hrothgar nodded.

Despite herself, the Breton smiled, or tried to. "That's – that's better news than I could have hoped for," she said honestly.

"It is a... a relief to me as well." The Dragonborn's countenance was pensive as he seated himself on the steps, next to where Delphine had been. "It's strange, in a way," he murmured, almost to himself. "To know that the task that I was chosen for by the gods is... over."

She sat back next to him. "You sound disappointed."

"I don't know what I'm feeling," he said simply. "Unmoored. Drifting without direction. I am still Dragonborn, but I no longer have the purpose of one."

"You came back to us, didn't you? To the Blades," she pointed out. "Stay here. Continue to train the recruits, help us rid Skyrim of whatever dragons remain – isn't that a worthy enough purpose for you?" Her tone came out a little sharp at the end.

"I will not kill Paarthurnax," Hrothgar said flatly. "Not even for you, Delphine."

'Not even for you'? She nearly frowned out of confusion at his words, but refrained. "And I don't suppose that any of my efforts to convince you would be effective?" she said cynically, wearily.

"No. I don't expect they will," the Dragonborn replied neutrally.

"Hmph." The Breton snorted. "Mark my words: you'll see what I mean. Paarthurnax is too dangerous to be allowed to live."

"The same could be said of either of us."

Delphine sighed again, more heavily. "Are you staying or not?"

A pause. Then: "I don't know, Delphine. In fact... I was not sure as to whether I should come back here at all." What was left of his former smile turned sad. "I guessed that I would not be welcome here for my decision to spare Paarthurnax."

"Then why did you return?"

Hrothgar turned his head slightly, lank blond hair brushing over his pauldrons. "I didn't want to worry you," he said simply. "I just wanted you to know that I was still alive, not..." His voice trailed off. "You've already had enough of losing others, I think."

The Breton's eyes turned to her hands: worn fingers entwined over her knees. Esbern was right, she thought. Not trusting... a good judge of character.

"Thank you for that." She was surprised to hear the words coming from her mouth; it seemed like ages since she'd sincerely offered thanks to anyone.

"No – thank you." One of his hands hesitantly reached out, hovering over her own for a moment before resting on top of her dry, whitening knuckles. "For all you've done for me."

Disentangling her fingers and sliding her other hand out from her knee, Delphine placed it on top of his broad, calloused hand. Slowly, an unguarded smile returned to his face, and she felt one on her own: unfamiliar after so many tense years, but welcome.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky, and the red and orange of the sky was slowly washed out into a pale, shimmering blue.

The End

[A/N] Thanks for reading, and please don't hesitate to review!

BrunetteAuthorette99