I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, or any of the characters and/or plot lines associated with it.

This is gonna be a fun finale, you guys.

Y'all don't even know what's coming your way.

Review Response:

Guest: And I'm here with more!

Shane Scaffa: I'm glad! I hope you like this installment, too!

Three Points of View

Cry Silverworthy closed her eyes as a gust of wind blew over the training yard, causing her hair to flutter backwards off of her neck. She let out a breath and leaned into the wind, pressing her hands against the overlook's wall, enjoying the feeling immensely.

"Cry." She opened her eyes at Vilkas's voice, and turned to find him standing behind her.

She smiled, and offered him her hand. He took it, and she pulled him forward so that he could join her on the overlook, gazing out over the plains of Whiterun.

They were silent for a moment, and then she glanced at him. "I received another letter from Solitude."

"I saw it," Vilkas replied.

"I don't understand why they want me to go," Cry sighed, and Vilkas smiled to himself, sliding an arm around her waist.

"You're the Dragonborn," he said. "Obviously, that raises you to a higher stature, even if you weren't the sister of the High Queen to be."

Cry snorted to herself, and Vilkas chuckled, pulling her against him. "Didn't the two of you make a bet on who would win?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"It was more of a joke than anything."

"Hmm." Vilkas turned his attention to the plains, and the sun setting over the mountains. "You know what this reminds me of?"

Cry allowed herself to grin. "Your proposal."

"Mhm."

"Or, I should say, your poor attempt at a proposal."

"I shouldn't have even had to ask you," Vilkas pointed out. "It was sort of set in stone, wasn't it?"

"I'd say so," Cry agreed. She turned and leaned back against the wall so that she could look at him. "You weren't ever going to be rid of me."

Vilkas tilted his head as he studied her, smirking. "Can't say I ever wanted to be."

"Oh, please," Cry said with a roll of her eyes. "You didn't like me at first."

"I thought you were full of yourself, for someone who didn't know how to fight properly," Vilkas admitted, "but I know you didn't like me, either, so -"

"I didn't know how to fight properly?" Vilkas took a step back as her voice thundered, and Cry inhaled sharply, bowing her head. "Sorry, sorry. I forgot that happens." She then lifted her eyes to his and glowered. "But you're wrong. I beat you fair and square that first bout we had!"

Vilkas sighed outwards through his nose. "Yes, yes," he mumbled. "Continue to rub it in my face. But you must admit that you didn't know nearly as much back then as you do now, and you partially owe that to me."

Cry lost her glower, and her smile returned. "I didn't join the Companions because I wanted the free bed and food," she told him.

Vilkas stepped forward again, and he took her chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting her head up so that she met his gaze. "I'm glad you joined us, and I'm glad you beat me that first bout," he told her. "Otherwise, things would be much different, and I don't know how I'd feel about that."

Cry gazed up at him. "I'm sorry, Vilkas," she murmured. "I know I've said it already, countless times, but… you can always use one more apology."

"And you can always use one more reminder that it doesn't matter," Vilkas replied softly. "You're who you are now, and that's what's important, because you're who I swore to be with, no matter what." He let go of her chin, and put his arms around her waist instead. "You are my wife, and, as far as I'm concerned, that's the only thing that matters, and the only thing that will matter, for a very long time."

Cry smiled softly, and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss against his lips. Vilkas returned it, gently, and then she settled back down, and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Vilkas's hand drifted up to her hair, and he brushed his fingers through it.

"Vilkas," she began after a time, turning her head so that he would be able to hear her clearly.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come to the King's Moot with me?"

Vilkas smiled to himself, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Of course."

Ziris Coldwater peered over the edge of the wall she was crouched behind and studied the target. He was sitting in a chair on the raised section of deck, drinking a bottle of mead. He didn't look like he was going to be moving for a long while.

Brynjolf popped up next to her, and hummed to himself. "Well," he said after a moment, "at least he's drunk."

"He seems to be one who drinks all the time," Ziris agreed. She lowered herself back down and turned to face her partner. "So, you go talk to him, and I'll sneak in there and grab it."

"Why do you get to do the sneaking?" Brynjolf asked, and she gave him a look that answered his question. Brynjolf sighed in annoyance, but it was obviously fake, and he grinned. "Fine, fine. I'll go do what I do best, and let you do what you do best." His grin widened. "Even though picking pockets has never been your strongest skill."

Ziris shoved him, and pointed towards the drinking Nord. Brynjolf waved his hand, and stood up, straightening the shirt he was wearing. He then sauntered over to where the Nord was seated on the raised deck, and began to speak with him.

"Good afternoon, sir!" he greeted, and Ziris poked her head over the wall again to watch. He bowed to the Nord. "How are you doing on this fine day?"

The Nord blinked drunkenly at him. "Do I know you?" he asked after a moment, his words slurring, and Ziris shook her head to herself, before she slid around the wall and began to dart between the shadows lining the big boat building, towards where the Nord was seated.

Brynjolf sighed to himself. "No," he said. "I'm here to ask about joining the Companions."

The man eyed him. "I'm not really the one who you should be talking to about that," he said. "She's inside, busy."

"Oh," Brynjolf said. He did a good job sounding disappointed. Ziris scooted into the the last of the shadows, right beside the Nord's chair. "Could you tell me about the Companions, at least?"

"That would take a long time, my friend," the man slurred.

Ziris paused in reaching her hand towards his pocket when he lifted his bottle to his lips and slurped some mead from it. When he was done, she shuddered a bit, and continued reaching forward.

She could see what she was trying to steal from him already, just barely poking out of his pocket. She reached forward as far as she could without falling out of the shadows, and slipped her middle finger through the chain on the silver and emerald pendant necklace.

"The Companions is a group of warriors," the man was saying to Brynjolf, who nodded like the man was all knowing.

"I see," he said, sounding awed.

Ziris refrained from rolling her eyes, and she tugged, gently. The pendant freed itself from the Nord's pocket. Ziris quickly snatched it up into her hand and darted away as swiftly and silently as she could.

She raced away from Jorrvaskr, out of the Cloud District. Ducking behind the Bannered Mare, she opened her hand and grinned down at the pendant, turning it about in her fingers.

"Ziris." She jumped when Brynjolf rested a hand on her shoulder. "Relax," he advised."It's only me."

She let out a breath, and showed him the pendant. "Got it."

"Aye," Brynjolf agreed, "good job."

He reached forward to take it, but Ziris pulled it away. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked him.

Brynjolf gazed at her, frowning. "This was my job, remember?" he asked after a moment. "I only brought you along in case I needed help."

"Which you did," Ziris responded, "and so we're going to split the pay."

"Split it?" Brynjolf chuckled. "I don't think so." He reached out and place a hand around the chain, tugging it, and her, towards him. "Give."

"No," Ziris answered. "I stole it, I get to hang on to it."

"That's not -" Brynjolf tugged again, and this time, he pulled her close enough that she could kiss him. Brynjolf snorted, and pulled back, successfully prying the pendant from her fingers in the process. He grinned, and held it up to show her. "Mine."

Ziris shrugged. "Whatever." She started to say something more, but then there was suddenly a loud rally of horns playing a fanfare from somewhere far off, but loud enough so that they sounded nearby. She frowned, and looked at Brynjolf. "What is that?"

"No idea," Brynjolf answered. He snuck out from behind the Bannered Mare and started in the direction it had come from, towards the gates of Whiterun. "Come on!" he said, waving his hand towards her. "Let's go find out."

Ziris followed after him, and, sticking to the shadows, the two thieves made their way through the gates of Whiterun and down to the main road, hiding behind a crop of rocks.

Peering out from behind it, Ziris recognized the flags that were waving off in the distance immediately, above what looked to be a battlement.

"Oh, look," she sighed. "The Stormcloaks are coming."

"Sithis's blood," Hainin Marshal muttered, watching as the troops marched by, never ending, apparently. "What in the name of all the Gods are they doing in Whiterun?"

The Bear of Markarth waved proudly over the heads of the Stormcloaks as they marched on down the road, in the direction of the gates of the city. It wasn't hard to miss.

Nazir, who was standing beside him, shook his head. "I'd guess they're here to pick up the Dragonborn and take her with them to Solitude."

"What's happening in Solitude?" Hainin asked, glancing at him.

Nazir stared at him for a moment, as though wondering if he was actually asking the question. When Hainin didn't say anything, Nazir rolled his eyes. "The King's Moot, Hainin."

"What?" Hainin looked at the passing Stormcloaks in disbelief. "The King's Moot is happening? And we weren't invited?"

Nazir exhaled patiently. "You did kill the Emperor, Hay."

"Sure, but they don't know that." Hainin gestured towards the parading soldiers. "Why did they bring a fucking battalion?"

"Kings like to be over protected," Nazir responded.

Hainin snorted to himself. "It's idiotic."

"Doesn't explain why they've decided to travel with Cry," Nazir went on, ignoring him.

"I can take a few guesses," Hainin said. "Ulfric's decided having Cry's support ups his chances even higher than they already are, or…" He waved his hand at the Stormcloak banners. "Cry was more involved in the war than we thought she was."

Before Nazir could reply, a large man in Stormcloak officer armor road past on a big gray horse, shouting as loud as he possibly could: "Make way for Ulfric Stormcloak, General of the Stormcloak Army, and Jarl of Windhelm, and his left hand general, Faisley Honeyrunner!"

Following close behind him was Ulfric Stormcloak himself, riding a brown stallion and cloaked in royal garb. Riding beside him on a speckled mare was who Hainin knew to be Faisley Honeyrunner. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight, and she was smiling to herself as she rode along beside the jarl.

Hainin waved at the two of them as they rode past, but neither noticed. A few more rows of marching Stormcloaks followed behind them, and thus ended the parade. He and Nazir were allowed back onto the road, watching as they continued on further ahead.

After a moment, Hainin rolled his eyes and looked at Nazir. "Doesn't seem like he thinks anyone else could be chosen, does it?"

"I mean, he did win the war," Nazir commented, beginning to walk again. "Although, he started it, too, so… I don't know. Nords are odd."

Hainin followed after him, because there wasn't much else he could do, grumbling a bit to himself. "Full of themselves is the proper saying."

Nazir chuckled. "I won't argue with you."

"Wait a minute," Hainin started after they had walked for a bit. Nazir glanced sideways at him, and Hainin frowned. "Why are we going to Solitude?"

"We may not have been invited to the Moot, but that doesn't mean we can't be in attendance," Nazir responded with a grin.

"But I didn't actually want to go," Hainin muttered under his breath. "I thought we were just stopping in Whiterun to say hello to Cry, and then making our way to Solitude to kill something." He glanced at Nazir. "Are we going to kill something?"

"None of the important people," Nazir said, "but, sure, I don't see why not."

That seemed to cheer Hainin up, because he smiled. "All right."

They walked on for another minute or two in silence, and then Nazir looked at him again. "Do you actually care if he gets chosen?"

"No," Hainin said with a grin. "Not at all. But it's fun to complain, isn't it?"

Nazir glanced sideways at him, wondering if the Imperial was joking. "I suppose so," he said at last.

They continued on after the royal procession, keeping a fair distance between them. When they reached the place where the procession had stopped, just before the first gate to the city, they ducked behind some rocks to watch.

A group of soldiers near the front of the long lines raised some horns to their lips and blew a fanfare through them. When they were done, the man who had shouted before repeated his call, "Announcing the arrival of Ulfric Stormcloak, General of the Stormcloak Army, and Jarl of Windhelm, and his left-hand general, Faisley Honeyrunner!"

Hainin leaned closer to Nazir. "Is she really so important as to warrant her own announcement?" he asked. "She's the left-hand general."

Nazir was watching the redheaded Nord closely. "I don't know," he murmured. "But she looks very familiar to me, and I can't place why."

Hainin thought about it for a moment, thinking about the last time he'd encountered Faisley and Ulfric, which had been when he was dealing with the vampires. He knew that there was a reason she looked familiar to Nazir, but he couldn't remember what it was.

Oh well, he thought. If it's important, it'll come to me.

The line of Whiterun guards that were waiting for the jarl and Faisley parted, to let an important looking man through. He crossed over to where Ulfric had stopped his horse, and bowed.

"Jarl Ulfric," he began, "it is an honor to have you in Whiterun."

Ulfric slid off of his horse and walked over to him, in order to shake his hand. "It's good to be here," he said.

Hainin sighed to himself. He had to admit that Ulfric did have a nice voice.

"Jarl Vignar has prepared rooms for you and your companions in Dragonsreach," the important guard said, "as well as ordered space to be made in the barracks for your soldiers."

Hainin glanced at Nazir and let his eyes roll. Was this visit really worth all this fanfare?

The Stormcloak procession split as they entered the gates of Whiterun. The many soldiers followed the Whiterun guards towards the barracks, while Ulfric Stormcloak, Galmar Stone-Fist and Faisley Honeyrunner followed Captain Sinmir towards Dragonsreach.

Cry and Vilkas were standing outside Jorrvaskr as they walked past, and Cry nodded to her sister, who smiled back. By the time they'd disappeared into the palace, Farkas had emerged from Jorrvaskr.

"What are they doing here?" he queried, indicating the palace, and Cry shook her head.

"I'll assume they wish to travel to Solitude with Jarl Vignar," she answered, and then she turned and entered Jorrvaskr.

Vilkas and Farkas remained outside for a moment longer, watching Dragonsreach. When Vilkas turned and went inside, however, Farkas followed.

They found Cry on the outside eating area, sitting in a chair and watching Njada and Athis duel. Vilkas sat down in a hair nearby, and Farkas took up post against one of the posts holding up the roof of the eating area.

"Do you honestly think they're just here for Vignar?" Vilkas asked Cry, who didn't respond.

Some time passed, during which Njada defeated Athis, and both went back inside Jorrvaskr, leaving the three members of the Circle outside alone. They were still there when Faisley herself rounded the corner into the training yard, grinning.

Farkas went to meet her as Cry rose from her chair.

"Hello, again, Farkas," Faisley greeted warmly.

The Companion offered her a grin of his own, and bowed to her. "Future High Queen."

"Faisley."

She brushed past Farkas and into her sister's waiting arms, hugging her tightly. Her sister laughed. "It's good to see you, too."

Faisley held her sister away from her at arm's length, and grinned. "You've avoided me like a plague since the war ended," she commented. "Any particular reason?"

Cry offered her a shrug. "Busy with… Harbinger and Thane stuff, I guess," she responded. "I sort of had to restake my claim with all the jarls once the Stormcloaks won the holds."

"Sure," Faisley agreed. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's all right," Cry answered, grinning. "It was easy, once I reminded them that I was the Dragonborn."

Vilkas stepped forward, and Faisley turned to him. "I know we've never met, but…" She offered him her hand. "Brother-in-law."

Vilkas shook her hand without responding, and Cry bit her lower lip. Farkas slid up beside her, and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry too much," he suggested quietly. "He'll get over himself."

Cry wasn't so sure, but she chose not to respond. Instead, she scooted away from Farkas and back over to Vilkas, taking his hand in hers and sliding up closer to his side.

"So," she said, looking at Faisley. "Why are you in Whiterun?"

Faisley offered her a look of confusion. "You didn't get my letter?" she asked. "I sent one, asking if you'd like to travel to Solitude with the procession."

"Oh," Cry said, glancing up at Vilkas. "I got a letter from Solitude, but not one from you." Her husband shrugged, signifying he hadn't seen a letter from Faisley, either, and Cry turned back to her sister. "It's kind of you to offer, though."

"It was Ulfric's idea," Faisley said, sounding sort of proud.

"How interesting." Cry exchanged another glance with Vilkas. "Well, I suppose since you're already here, we may as well travel together."

Her sister beamed. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure Ulfric will be, too."

"Attending the Moot?" All four of them turned to see the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, Ziris Coldwater, emerge from a patch of shadows, her head tilted to one side. Her second-in-command, Brynjolf, joined her, dressed in normal civilian clothing rather than his armor, like Ziris was.

Farkas scowled at them while Cry slipped behind Vilkas a bit, avoiding Brynjolf's gaze.

"What's the Thieves Guild doing in Whiterun?" her friend grumbled.

"We have business here," Ziris answered coolly, "as I'm sure the Stormcloaks do."

Cry knew Ziris from Helgen, where they'd both almost been killed. They'd been there with a battalion of Stormcloaks, as well as the current Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Hainin Marshal.

Needless to say, after the mess with the vampires, Cry had a better relationship with Hainin than she did with Ziris, whom she'd only met and spoken to maybe twice, at least in person. All three of them had been keeping in close contact, however, through letters, mostly because the three of them were leaders of important factions in Skyrim.

Brynjolf glanced over at Cry, and she inhaled when his green eyes met hers. She quickly slid out from behind Vilkas, and looked at Ziris, in order to hide her uncomfortableness.

"I hope this business doesn't involve the Companions," she said to the Guild Master.

"Not at all," Brynjolf replied for Ziris.

Cry couldn't help but glare at him. "I don't believe I was talking to you."

"Easy there, dragon," Brynjolf said, holding up his hands and grinning. "No need to blast me with your fire."

Cry swallowed against the Shout that was burning in her throat.

Before she could speak, however, Vilkas stepped in: "How do you know about the Moot?"

"You forget that we have connections with the Jarl of Riften," Ziris said.

"The previous Jarl of Riften," Faisley said, butting in. "If I'm correct, and I know I am, the jarl you had ties with was Maven Black-Briar, and she was Jarl for about… a year?"

Ziris bristled, but Brynjolf stepped in before she could retort. "Apologies, my lady," he said, bowing. "With all the change in leadership as of late, it's difficult to keep track. You are, of course, correct. We came to Whiterun to do business, and we just now heard of the Moot from several soldiers."

"Oh, come now, Brynjolf," a voice said from behind him. "You don't need to suck up to her yet."

Cry smiled. "Hello, boys."

Ziris turned to see Hainin Marshal and his Speaker Nazir standing back a few paces. Hainin was smiling cheerfully. He pushed through Ziris and Brynjolf to get to Cry, and tossed his arms around her in a hug.

Nazir passed through them more carefully and politely, and offered the Companions a bow of his head.

"It's good to see you," he said to them.

"Isn't it fun that we're all here together?" Hainin asked gleefully, pulling out of the hug and slinging arms around both Cry and Vilkas's necks.

"Oh, yes," Cry said with an exhalation, glaring at the thieves. "I'm overjoyed."

There was a stiff silence as Ziris and Cry met eyes, and Ziris was tempted to storm up and shove her. Instead, she turned her gaze away, and straightened her shoulders.

"We should all calm down, I think," Faisley said after a moment. "It doesn't matter who's here, and who's not. Whiterun is an open city." She cast a look in Cry's direction. "You may be Thane, but you don't own the city, Sister."

"Sister?" Ziris asked in disbelief, glancing between Cry and Faisley with wide eyes.

Hainin followed her staring, and then he gestured to the two of them. "You didn't know that?" Ziris didn't respond, and Hainin looked at Nazir instead. "I guess that's the reason why the Stormcloaks are here. I completely forgot they were sisters."

Nazir rolled his eyes, and Hainin chortled, looking at Ziris. "The Dragonborn is the little sister of the future High Queen of Skyrim. What luck!"

Cry closed her eyes, and let out an exhale. "I may not own Whiterun, but it is my city, my home," she said, directing it to everyone.

Her eyes drifted to Brynjolf again without her meaning them too. "There are some people I don't want in my home."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. "You must be able to make some exceptions," he said.

Cry glanced away, and Ziris stepped closer to Brynjolf. "I think we'll return to Riften, now, since our business in Whiterun is concluded," she said, glancing up at her partner. She reached for his arm, and tugged on it, signaling it was time to go.

Brynjolf, however, was still watching Cry. "Do we need to go rushing off so soon?" he asked after a moment. "We've only just arrived."

"He's right," Hainin pointed out. "Stay awhile, Ziris. Forget about the Guild for a time, and travel with us to Solitude."

"Won't you?" Nazir queried. "It'll be such a merry gathering with all of us together."

"I really don't think -"

"Oh, come on, Ziris," Brynjolf interjected. "It could be fun. When was the last time we took a trip just because we wanted to?"

Ziris glanced up at him. "The Guild -"

"- will be fine," Brynjolf finished for her. "Delvin and Vex have been in charge before. They can handle it."

Ziris let out a breath, and glanced around at everyone present. "We'll talk about it tonight," she finally said. "Come on, we should get a room at the inn."

She pulled him away from the others, out of the Cloud District and toward the Bannered Mare. When Jorrvaskr was out of sight, she glanced at him.

"How do you know Cry?"

Brynjolf didn't even falter. "The lass came to Riften during her dragon adventure, looking for information about that old man who lived in the Warrens for a while. You remember him?"

That answer seemed to content her, but Brynjolf had left out some information. Cry had come to Riften looking for the old man, but she'd done a lot more there than simply find him. Brynjolf wasn't ashamed to admit that they'd spent a night together in the Bee and Barb.

It was hard to ignore the lass. She was beautiful, ethereal almost, in a sense of the word. She reminded him of the rising sun, oddly enough, and all the fire that came with it. And when she'd spoken to him, he hadn't been able to resist the obvious song in her voice, and she hadn't been able to resist the charm in his.

It had only been a night, however, and then he'd never seen her again. It didn't matter, now, of course. He and Ziris were 'on again', as she liked to call it, and he was perfectly content.

Still… seeing Cry again, after all this time… it was going to linger with him, especially if he and Ziris decided to travel to Solitude.

It was fine. He'd handle it. That was what he was good at.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be a party.