A.N. Yep, I know. You cannot save Roggvir's life no matter what you do in the game. You can save him from execution but he is scripted to die so that you can complete some minor quest upon his death. But it is not my intention to follow exactly how the events unfold in the game. Besides, this is my fiction. So, he gets to live. XD

Dovahkiin

I had been with the Companions for nearly six months when I killed my first dragon. I had already gained knowledge of a few shouts by then through the word walls I had accidentally came upon while completing contracts for the Companions. When I saw these ancient words, I could understand them without effort, as if recalling a piece of lost memory from the past. But I still could not use them. It was only after I slain and absorbed the power of the unfortunate dragon that decided to hover close to the ground, I could unlock the secret of the power of my Voice.

I have no particular talent in archery. Neither have I shown any aptitude for magic save for some basic healing ability, despite my Breton heritage. The only weapon I could use and use well until that time was my swords. But being a Breton has its advantages, even if I am not particularly great with the arcane art of magic. We can withstand the power of magic better than any race. Coupled with my healing ability, magic alone cannot deal me a devastating blow. The dragon probably thought it better to attack me with its claws or jaws.

Dragons are magnificent creatures, the first creation of Akatosh. They are proud of their power and do not shy away from a battle. I harbour no ill will towards them unlike Delphine. But I understand that my life is more precious to me than that of any dragon. I also know that my only chance to unlock the secret of the Voice and get closer to Alduin is through consuming the souls of slain dragons and making their knowledge my own. Being a Dragonborn means sharing the same hunger for the power of the Voice with Alduin. For whatever reason Alduin saved me from the axe of the executioner, I can feel that he is waiting for me to grow stronger.

My second encounter with Alduin was all thanks to Delphine's insistence that she needed proof that I was indeed the Dragonborn the Greybeards thought I was. I developed a strong dislike of the Breton Blade from my first meeting with her and I'm sure the feeling is rather mutual. But neither of us could make much progress for what each sought without the other's help. As long as she understood I wasn't looking for a friend in her, I could live with accepting her help in my quest to become closer to Alduin.

The power of Alduin I observed in Kynesgrove was breathtaking. I knew the dragon who saved my life in Helgen was infinitely more powerful than any of the dragons I managed to slain. But even after learning 'Slow time' shout, it still amazed me to watch him to resurrect a dragon. "Flesh against time" was a power that belonged to the realm of the Divine.

Alduin still refused to officially recognise me as a Dovahkiin but I knew that despite his cutting remark that I was a false Dragonborn, he had accepted that I had the soul and blood of a dragon. The resurrection of the dragons was more for my benefit than Alduin's. My power was still insignificant compared with his and it would probably remain that way without the dragons he had been resurrecting. Every dragon he threw my way was a challenge and an opportunity to get a step closer to Alduin, the most powerful creation of Akatosh. But would I ever become as powerful as he is now? I doubt it and he probably doubts it too.

What is it that Alduin wants from me? Why doesn't he just go ahead and bring the end of the world now? Why save me at all in the first place?

"Why on earth did you have to earn yourself a huge bounty on your head in Haafingar? All that for a rebel sympathiser. General Tullius, given half opportunity, will gladly put your head back on the chopping block and the Thalmor must have heard of it too."

From the unmistakable tone of annoyance in Delphine's voice, I can see that she failed to come up with a feasible infiltration plan. She doesn't invite me to sit down with her around the long table in front of a fire place and I'm glad of that. I stop at the threshold of her secret room so that we can keep our physical distance and try on an innocent smile, knowing that I made it nearly impossible for her to sneak me into the Thalmor Embassy. I didn't really believe that the Thalmor had anything to do with the return of the dragons. I only agreed to go there because I heard a rumour that Ulfric was once captured by the Thalmor and the current Thalmor Ambassador was his interrogator. The possibility that I might be able to find more information about him was the only reason I went along with Delphine's crazy idea.

"You forget that the Thalmor can only be kicked out of Skyrim once the rebels win the war. But never mind that. My stance on the war didn't bother you when you sought out a Dragonborn and it won't help for you to dwell on our political differences. Let me just say it was important for me to rescue Roggvir when I found out why he was about to be executed. I couldn't do it without leaving plenty of witnesses behind."

I had no time to plan for the rescue and although 'Slow time' shout helped me get both myself and Roggvir alive out of Solitude, I could not accomplish that feat without killing at least several Solitude guards and the Imperial soldiers while the civilians watched on. Besides the only people who are known for using their shouts in Skyrim are Ulfric and myself, aside from the Greybeards who never leave their safe haven.

"In any case, I'm no good at pretending. That's not my style and being with the Companions for so long didn't really help to develop my other potentials. But if the Thalmor are as paranoid as you are, there might be a secret passage from the Embassy to outside. If there is a way out, that usually means there is a way in."

"I will look into it. Can you give me another month?"

"Send me word to Jorrvaskr when you find a solution."

With that, I turn my back on her and leave her to her concerns about the details of the operation.

Windhelm

"Here, Gytha."

Ralof waves at me from a table in the corner. His beaming smile always warms my heart. I have no doubt in my mind that I owe him my life. Alduin provided an opportunity for life but it was Ralof who showed me how to seize that opportunity and make it out of Helgen. He is a capable warrior and has a kind heart.

"It is always good to see you, friend."

It is still early afternoon and the upstairs of the Candlehearth is deserted, apart from us and a Bard who is playing the flute. Besides, we are in Windhelm, the safest city for the Stormcloaks and Stormcloak sympathisers. He speaks quietly nevertheless, and I appreciate the discretion. Having taken my seat opposite him, I return his smile and raise my tankard brimming with sweet mead.

"In honour of Ulfric and his great Stormcloaks."

"To the true sons and daughters of Skyrim and our dearest Breton friend."

We both take a long sip of the warm drink and enjoy the pleasant sensation of contentment for a moment before Ralof speaks again.

"This is the first time I've seen you in Windhelm, but you've been to the city for at least a few times, I hear."

"What makes you think that?"

I have been to Windhelm whenever I came near the city, mostly for the Companions business. They weren't necessary visits but I loved this cold city of blizzards, the capital of the first Empire of Tamriel founded by the legendary Nordic hero Ysgramor. It gave me an insight into the minds of the Nords in general and Ulfric in particular.

"Oengul War-Anvil often talks about his Breton friend who found him a legendary sword. His description of this friend seemed to match your appearance. I haven't seen a Breton with fiery red hair like yours, you know. Anyhow, he told me that he had seen you a number of times over the years and once he saw you talking to Brunwulf Free-Winter, who seemed to have lost his temper with you afterwards. What happened then?"

Brunwulf? It takes me a little while to recognise that name. The Nord is a war veteran who became disillusioned with war in general. He advocates peace and tries to undermine Ulfric's cause by pointing out the Jarl has turned a blind eye to the living conditions of the Dark Elves. As a foreigner and Breton, I am not entirely comfortable with the Nords' suspicion of other races. But they are no more prejudiced than Bretons in the High Rock or the Imperials in Cyrodiil. The elves themselves were not exactly known for their cosmopolitan values. When you are in a foreign land, you must make an effort to show respect for the natives' way of life and become accepted. You must prove yourself their friend and ally first. They will then come to your aid when you need it. That is how things work in reality.

"You know how he greets new faces in the city?"

"You mean … his infamous opening line? 'You one of those 'Skyrim for the Nords' types?' It's no secret he despises Ulfric and his cause. But hardly anyone pays much mind to him."

I laugh heartily at Ralof's attempt to impersonate Brunwulf's air of moral superiority. It makes Brunwulf sound like the idealistic short-sighted buffoon he actually is. He is too blinded by his contempt for the shortcomings of his kinsmen to understand that it is the Nords who are suffering a far greater injustice than his friends who make no efforts to endear themselves to the Nords of Skyrim. He is so blinded by his desire for peace that he cannot see there is no peace in Skyrim while the Thalmor violates the land and persecutes its people every day. The ex-legion soldier himself claims he is no hero and I fully agree with that assessment. Expressing his beliefs requires no exceptional courage: He is not in danger of disappearing overnight because of it.

"I asked him back whether he believed Morrowind belonged to the Dark Elves. And then suggested that perhaps he should find out how the Dark Elves would respond to my question. I should have left it there but I could see he was muttering that condescending word 'fool'… So, I asked him how he felt about his Nord brothers and sisters who were hunted down in their own land by the Thalmor, kidnapped and tortured for not deserting the God who built the very Empire that betrayed him… I told him I didn't care whether Talos truly achieved divinity, but I would not give up my right to self-determination without a fight. I told him that's why I could understand his kinsmen better than he could. I didn't hang around to hear another pathetic word of insult from him."

I take another long sip of my drink, and Ralof smiles warmly.

"I sometimes think you are more of a Nord than many of my kind and I'm not just talking about your drinking."

"I know," I reply in jest. "I've also settled quite a number of disputes through fist fighting."

Ralof bursts into laughter. Perhaps the image of a little Breton woman throwing punches around was a little too much for him. When he stops laughing, however, his tone takes a serious turn. Just as well. The bard has begun to play 'The Age of Oppression'.

"When are you going to join us, Gytha? Are you still not ready?"

"Soon," is all that I can tell him. "How is the Jarl of Windhelm?"

"Ah so, we are back to your favourite topic. I think it's about time to tell you that Ulfric has been asking about you. He has shown much interest in you."

"He has?" Though I've suspected as much, it still pleases me to hear it.

"What else did you expect? You've escaped Helgen, turned out to be a Dragonborn, and rescued at least two dozen Stormcloak soldiers and sympathisers from the hands of the Imperials and the Thalmor. Roggvir, Avulstein and Thorald are some of the best fighters we have among our ranks and were instrumental in capturing the Whitehall and the Falkreath Hold. The Stormcloaks call you 'gift from Talos'. Ulfric has every reason to show interest in you. He says he wants to know you personally."

All the way to Windhelm from the Reeking Cave, I've been wondering how to go about asking Ralof to arrange a private meeting with Ulfric. The Jarl's reciprocal interest means I don't have to feel awkward about making that request. But the sense of relief is almost trivial compared with the elating feeling spreading rapidly through my veins.

Ulfric wants to know me personally. I am finally worthy of his attention.

"Ralof, I would like to meet Jarl Ulfric in private."