Chapter 3

Vilkas rarely dreamed, but several weeks after his return to Jorrvaskr, he did. He saw Alba, but it wasn't Alba as she was. It was Alba as she should have been—all sun-kissed skin and easy smiles; eyes that didn't feel a thousand years old. She bestowed one of those magic smiles upon Vilkas, and his entire soul filled up to the brim. Vilkas wanted to go to her, to embrace her, or maybe just to bask in her presence, but for some reason he couldn't quite get close. Then, dream Alba's smile faded. Her skin fell grey and her eyes lost their light.

"I'm going to Sovngarde," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow.

He wanted to ask her why—if she was ill, what was wrong, if anything could be done—but no words came out of his mouth. Then he was shaking, rocking back and forth and back and forth, some invisible force ruling his body.

"Vilkas!"

He felt hands on his arms shaking him awake, and he opened his eyes. Farkas's warm, blunt face welcomed him back to the land of the conscious.

"Brother, the Jarl has requested additional guards at Dragonsreach. We need to go."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Vilkas sat up in his bed.

"What?" he asked blearily. It couldn't be more than a few hours until sunrise. "What's going on at Dragonsreach?"

Farkas shrugged.

"I'm not sure, but Irileth said it was urgent."

Vilkas dragged himself from his bed, grumbling all the way.

"Probably received some anonymous threat to the Jarl. Elf's always been too paranoid."

It wasn't an anonymous threat, of course. Nobody of importance would tell Vilkas anything, but the gossip among the guards was that the Dragonborn had asked the Jarl for help imprisoning a dragon on the Great Porch. It sounded preposterous, but when Vilkas saw the giant stock-shaped beam already built into the porch for just such a purpose, Vilkas had to accede that perhaps the plan was not as far-fetched as he had first supposed.

The guards mingled and murmured amongst themselves while the Jarl and the Dragonborn took center stage on the porch, discussing their plans out of earshot of the faceless troops. A stab of hurt that the Harbinger hadn't mentioned this audacious plan of hers to the Companions got past Vilkas's defenses, but he shoved the hurt aside. She'd already made it clear she didn't want the Companions to get mixed up in her work as the Dragonborn. Vilkas might disagree with that decision, but he couldn't contest that it was her decision to make.

And a part of Vilkas grudgingly accepted that maybe the Harbinger was right to leave the Companions largely out of her dovahkiin-related activities. He, along with the rest of Skyrim, had heard about the truce she'd negotiated between the Stormcloaks and the Legion. That was exactly the kind of political maneuvering the Companions did not want and could not afford to be associated with. An organization like the Companions did not manage to stick around for thousands of years by getting involved with messy politics.

These thoughts occupied Vilkas's mind as he, the Companions who'd answered the Jarl's call, and the rest of the guard anxiously waited for the dragon-snaring trap to be sprung. Supposedly, the Harbinger was going to use her thu'um to call a dragon to them, then lure it into the porch where it could be pinned by the giant stock hanging in the rafters.

Vilkas hadn't seen the Harbinger use the thu'um very often. She reserved it for the times that she really needed it, so he'd only witnessed her knock enemies to the ground with just her voice a handful of times. Each time had been memorable, though. Each time had reinforced to him that the Harbinger had abilities and skills that he could never possess, no matter his talent or training.

Eventually, the Harbinger and the Jarl moved to the edge of the porch and made their final preparations. It set Vilkas on edge—not just the idea that a deadly dragon might soon fly into the building, but also that he stood so far back from the Harbinger, on the upper decks with the soldiers. She stood out there—so exposed, so separated—and if something were to go wrong Vilkas would be too far away to help.

Jarl Balgruuf gave the word, and the Harbinger shouted into the cool pre-dawn air, drawing back momentarily before thrusting forward to emit a thu'um so loud and clear that Vilkas thought the Divines themselves must have heard it. Not for the first time, Vilkas stood in awe of the Dragonborn. He could not understand the words, but there was no doubt in his mind that the dragon would come. Not a soul alive could hear a voice like that and resist its call.

The dragon arrived shortly, swooping through the air and immediately knocking an unfortunate guard high above the ground and off into the distance, destined to meet an untimely demise in short order. Any loss of life was awful, but Vilkas couldn't afford to be distracted by the poor man's fate. He aimed his bow at the dragon, but its rapid movements made it difficult to land a hit. He waited for the dragon to hold its position, but that generally also meant the dragon was about to blast another section of guards with deadly fire.

The Harbinger shouted at the dragon again, and this shout seemed to force the massive red-brown beast to land on the edge of the porch. The Harbinger came very close to the dragon, baiting it and taunting it to keep its attention away from the other guards. She lured the dragon further back into the building, dancing out of the way of each of the dragon's vicious, snapping bites just in time. All the while, Vilkas kept shooting arrows at the beast. He understood that the Harbinger wanted the dragon alive, but he'd be damned if he let his Harbinger die because he held back fighting a dragon.

His eyes flitted from the dragon to the stock, then back to the dragon again as he held his breath, waiting for the creature to fall into just the right position. The dragon was wiley, and seemed to sense the maneuvering that was going on, never quite moving as the Harbinger led him. Eventually, the Harbinger was forced to move quite close to the ancient beast, making herself too tasty a snack to resist, and the dragon darted forward to snap his deadly teeth at her. The Harbinger whirled out of the way, but the dragon's teeth caught her arm, ripping a long gash through her armor.

"Now!" the Harbinger cried out in both pain and urgency, and the guards let the beam drop. It landed heavily on the dragon's neck and wings, pinning it to the floor. The guards on the ground floor quickly worked to lock the stock into place, and the creature was well and truly captured.

Clutching tightly to her arm, the Harbinger cautiously approached the dragon. She and the dragon spoke, though the dragon spoke half in its own inscrutable language, and half in Cyrodilic. It was jarring to hear his own tongue approximated by the beast's earth-shaking voice, but somehow it was done. Still, Vilkas found it difficult to understand the creature's words. The Dragonborn seemed to have no such difficulty, and in surprisingly short order her interrogation was ended. She turned away from the beast and marched to the Jarl, thanking him for his assistance, and telling him he would not need to keep the beast there for too long. Then she left.

The guards milled about nervously for a while, understanding that the operation was over, but uncomfortable with the idea of simply leaving the dragon there unguarded. Eventually, Irileth found Vilkas and his shield-siblings and told them they were free to leave. She assured Vilkas that the guard would have double watches on the beast at all times, and he made it understood that the Companions would be willing to help if looking after the dragon ever became too much. Irileth nodded in gratitude, and Vilkas realized that that was the sort of thing he might do in the future if he truly were to become Harbinger. He dismissed the thought, though the pleasure of acting as spokesman stayed with him.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Vilkas was exhausted from having woken up so early, and a bit overwhelmed at having participated in trapping an ancient monster in the Hold's palace. How could one simply go back to regular training after a start to the day like that? But there was nothing else to do, so Vilkas went about his regular regimen in a fog. Everyone about the hall wanted to talk with the Harbinger, to hear about her conversation with the dragon, but the Dragonborn was nowhere to be found. There was nothing for it but to continue with life as usual.

That night, sleep remained elusive. Vilkas picked up The Real of Barenziah from where he'd left it on the floor and sat up in his bed to read, hoping eventually he'd tire enough for sleep to find him. The history was in actuality a finely-packaged sordid melodrama, but those kinds of stories were the best for distracting.

Several paragraphs into his reading, a soft knock sounded from his door.

"Come in," Vilkas said, not looking up from his book.

It was probably Farkas. When the beast blood had still run strong in both of them, Farkas had made a habit of coming to visit his brother on nights when he had trouble sleeping. The blood may have been cleansed since then, but the habit remained.

"I'm going to Sovngarde tomorrow."

Vilkas started at the feminine voice, jumping a little as he fumbled to put his book away. He looked up and found the Harbinger standing in his doorway, dressed in a long night dress and wearing no mask. So startled was Vilkas by her appearance that it took a moment for the oddness of her words to register with him. An awful, shapeless dread seeped into his bloodstream as he realized that he had heard eerily similar words from her in his dream the night before.

"What? How? Why?"

Alba pursed her lips, but did not answer.

"May I come in?"

"O-of course."

Vilkas jumped out of bed, taking a moment to right the furs so his living space didn't look quite so messy. He decided the loose pants he slept in were good enough, and found a wrinkled grey tunic on the floor to cover his bare chest. For a moment he considered picking up the pile of books spilling out of his bookshelf, but decided against it. There was only so much he could do. He pulled his two chairs into the middle of the room and sat down, waiting as Alba took the seat across from him.

"Odahviing—the dragon I spoke with today—he told me that Alduin is in Sovngarde, regaining his strength by feasting on the souls of the fallen. He won't be truly defeated unless I kill him there, and the longer I wait the more powerful he becomes."

Vilkas swallowed thickly, processing the new information as best he could.

"Will you be able to return?"

"I think so. I won't be dying, you see, just…visiting."

She was going to Sovngarde? Sovngarde may be the best place to be if one was dead, but in Vilkas's view it was much better to be alive. Vilkas's hands clenched where they rested on his knees, his fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers. A frantic energy seized hold of his heart, an urge to grab as much of Alba as he could—her time, her words, her essence—whatever he could get. She was a rare resource.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice thick with tension.

"... Yes," she said slowly. She leaned forward in her chair a bit, her features softening, and she looked about ten years younger than a moment before.

"I want you to know Alba."

Vilkas frowned at her and crossed his arms across his chest disapprovingly.

"You think I don't know you? Ysmir's beard, woman, you've dragged me halfway across Tamriel and back."

She shook her head emphatically, her chestnut hair waving back and forth as she did so.

"You know the Dragonborn, the Harbinger, but you hardly know Alba. If I am unable to return from Sovngarde, I want someone to have really known me."

Vilkas pursed his lips. He was a practical man, and all this talk of multiple identities inhabiting one person—well it was all a little too fanciful for his tastes. Still, this was what Alba wanted, and she was leaving in less than a day to risk her life for all of Tamriel. The least he could do was humor her.

"Whatever you want to talk about is fine with me, Alba. My time is yours," he said gruffly, reaching out and patting her firmly on her bandaged arm.

As soon as he'd done it he remembered why her arm had been bandaged in the first place, and he winced in sympathy.

"Did I hurt you? How is your arm?"

Alba smiled and shook her head ruefully.

"It's fine. I had it healed hours ago." She smacked her arm with her other hand playfully.

"See? Good as new."

Vilkas cocked his head.

"Still. I find whenever I have a wound healed, it doesn't feel quite right for a while. It's almost as if the body doesn't quite believe the wound is truly gone. I'd imagine it's even worse if the injury was made by dragon teeth."

Alba shrugged.

"I don't know about that. Dragons are fearsome creatures, to be sure, but they're still just mortal beasts. I swear half of the deaths attributed to dragons in Skyrim were probably the result of someone being too overcome with fear to fight back."

Vilkas couldn't help but snort.

"You try to tell me that the real you isn't the Dragonborn and that people shouldn't be afraid of dragons in one breath?"

"I'm just saying there are much more frightening things out there. At least a dragon is straightforward. You can see it, you know how it will move, how it will attack. And you just have to keep hurting it until it dies."

She was almost painfully matter-of-fact about the matter, bringing a smile to Vilkas's face. She would have fit in among the company of Ysgramor, no doubt. He was glad that Kodlak had seen that in her when he had not.

"So," Vilkas said, leaning back into his seat and making himself comfortable, "you told me that you want me to know Alba. What is there to know?"

Alba's mouth twisted, her full lips distorting beneath her oddly-narrow nose.

"I… I don't know. It feels strange to just talk about myself."

Vilkas huffed, and forced himself to swallow his frustration. The last thing he wanted was to lose his temper with Alba on what was possibly her last night on Nirn. For not the first time, he envied his brother's natural patience.

"Well, I can always tell you about the history of the Companions-"

"-Anything but that!" Alba interrupted desperately.

Vilkas couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Ok, I'll spare you."

A thoughtful look crossed Alba's face, and she straightened the skirt of her nightdress out on her lap before speaking.

"Actually, that reminds me of something I was wondering about. I was trying to imagine what you thought of the beast blood when you first joined the Circle. Were you surprised? Did any part of you have reservations? Nords don't seem to have a very positive view of werewolves."

Vilkas shrugged.

"I honestly didn't think much about it at the time."

"Ha! I find that hard to believe, you've never met a problem you couldn't think to death," she said, mirth generating warm smile lines on her face. Vilkas couldn't help the rueful smile that rose to his lips.

"I may be a bit too much in my head now, I'll give you that. But I was given the beast blood when I was only sixteen. At the time I can't say that I was thinking about much at all aside from becoming an official member of the only family I've ever known. That and women, of course," he said with a chuckle.

Alba laughed awkwardly, then coughed into her fist, hiding her flushed cheeks behind her hand. It reminded Vilkas that Alba might not know how to react to even the tamest of bawdy humor.

"Did you ever doubt, before Kodlak talked to you about purification?" she asked, steadfastly attempting to move the conversation past Vilkas's joke.

"Honestly, no. You have to understand, the Companions were—are—my life. Considering that all of the men and women I most looked up to might have made themselves into… monsters… That wasn't something I was willing to let myself think. It took Kodlak's dream of being denied entry into Sovngarde to challenge my beliefs."

"That must have been very difficult."

"Aye, it was. My first instinct was to reject everything Kodlak said. But Farkas, he seemed to agree with Kodlak, and I couldn't ignore both of them. I decided to give it more thought, study up on the history of the Companions. Eventually I came to understand that the Companions have changed a lot over the years. The blood wasn't essential to their legacy."

"That makes sense," Alba said.

It felt good to tell someone about his struggles to give up the beast blood. No new members had joined the Circle in quite some time, so Vilkas had been unable to discuss his dilemma with anyone who hadn't been directly—and emotionally—involved in the issue.

He looked up at Alba, who was nodding thoughtfully along to his story, and it occurred to him that he didn't really know why she had accepted the beast blood. She had purified herself almost immediately after Kodlak—even before they'd let the tomb of Ysgramor the first time.

"Why did you accept the blood? You got rid of it almost as soon as you could," Vilkas asked, genuinely curious.

He had felt conflicted when Aela had admitted to him that she'd initiated Alba into the blood. A part of him had been angry with Aela for not accepting Kodlak's wishes, and for potentially promising the young woman's soul to a Daedric prince before she really knew what she was doing. Another part of him had been thrilled to see what the blood would look like in a warrior as fierce as Alba. It would be magnificent. In the end he had never even seen Alba transform.

"I'm not sure… It all happened very fast, and I regretted it almost immediately. But I was alone in the Underforge with Skjor and Aela, and they told me it was the only way to join the Circle. I wanted so much to be part of the Companions. Kodlak had told me that many members of the Companions did not have families of their own; that the Companions had become their family. I barely remember my parents, and Erdis… She was like a mother to me in many ways, but her first loyalty was always to the Dominion. I wanted so badly to be a part of something, and Aela and Skjor told me that's what I needed to do."

"You never had to accept the blood to be a part of the Companions, even then," Vilkas said.

The thought that someone who never wanted the blood in the first place had had it thrust upon them was deeply unsettling to him.

Alba shook her head sheepishly, her wide chin dipping down towards her chest.

"I know. I could have said no. I didn't really know how to say no back then. And frankly, Aela intimidated me."

Vilkas chuckled to himself.

"Yes, she has that effect on people."

"But you are right. I had a hard time saying no to people for a long time. Being Dragonborn… it means you have a lot of power to get things done, which also means a lot of people will ask you to do things for them. It took awhile for me to realize that learning when to say no was just as important as being able to say yes."

There was something darker haunting Alba's practical words, something that caused Vilkas to lean forward in his seat. Normally he wouldn't pry in these kinds of situations, but… well she'd asked him to get to know her, hadn't she?

"What happened?" he asked grimly.

She didn't pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, which Vilkas appreciated, but it did take her a little while to answer. She looked down into her lap, then back up again.

"There was this little boy in Windhelm. He asked me to kill the old woman who runs the orphanage in Riften. She was a horrible woman. She beat the children, mistreated them, refused to let them be adopted by willing parents. I thought that she deserved to die, and the little boy… he was so desperate."

Vilkas tensed, bracing himself for whatever might come next. He had his own feelings about honor and the proper way to live one's life, but he was also aware that his domain of experience did not even begin to contain what it meant to be the Dragonborn. Whatever she told him, he would do his best to withhold judgment.

"So I killed her," Alba continued. "The Dark Brotherhood came for me not long after that, said that I'd taken their contract. They told me I had to kill one of a group of hostages as payment, but I refused, and killed their leader. I ended up killing every single member of the Dark Brotherhood in their hideout in Falkreath."

Alba wrapped her arms around her torso and hugged herself, shuddering softly before continuing.

"Everything I do seems to have these kinds of… long-lasting, life or death repercussions. Yet another reason why it's easier to separate myself from the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn can carry the responsibility, the guilt. I cannot."

Vilkas frowned, unsure how to respond. He was shocked that Alba had had anything to do with assassinations, contrary as they were to the nature of the Companions. He also could sense the upset and unease coming over Alba, and he'd hoped her last evening before she left for Sovngarde wouldn't be weighed down by her duties and regrets.

"I… I am sorry. It sounds as if you made the best decision you could under the circumstances."

Alba looked up from her lap and smiled a sad smile.

"I certainly hope so."

Unacceptable. Vilkas might be the dour old man, but he'd be damned if he let his brooding attitude spread to others. He stood to his feet rapidly, startling Alba with the sudden movement.

"We need drinks. I'll be right back."

Quickly, Vilkas walked across the hall to Farkas's room, where he knew a generous supply of ale and mead could be found. Farkas wasn't there, so Vilkas helped himself to several bottles of his favorite brews, as well as two tankards. Farkas wouldn't be pleased, but Vilkas could fix that later.

He returned to his room and poured himself and Alba a full glass, taking a long pull from his tankard before looking at Alba again. She eyed her tankard a little dubiously before taking an experimental sip.

"Divines have mercy, you can't tell me you've never drank before either."

"Of course I have," Alba said defensively. "But not very much. And usually wine."

"Alba. You live in a mead hall."

"I know, but… Look, I can't help it that my social adjustment is strange. I basically grew up under house arrest."

"That excuse worked ten years ago," Vilkas said, taking another long drink from his tankard. "What about now, Alba, hmm?"

Alba flushed, then grit her teeth and brought her mug to her lips, tipping it back and guzzling until it was empty. Once she was done, she slammed the tankard onto Vilkas's table and wiped her mouth triumphantly.

"There. I did it."

"Do I have to make you do everything, Alba?" Vilkas said, a smirk rising to his lips. He loved saying her name. "Shor's bones, I'm probably still the only man you've ever kissed."

Alba's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Only because my experience with you was so disappointing I gave up on men altogether."

Vilkas couldn't help but bark out a sharp laugh at her quick retort, though in truth the words struck a little too close to his genuine concerns regarding the matter.

"You've got quite a tongue on you, lass. But I suspect you only feel that way because you haven't received a proper kissing yet."

Vilkas took another healthy drink from his tankard, remembering as the liquid warmed his belly that Farkas liked to keep some stronger brews than Tilma served upstairs. If the Harbinger questioned his behavior later, he could always blame it on that.

"A proper kissing?" Alba asked, her heavy eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Come here," Vilkas said, getting to his feet and holding a hand out to her.

"Why?" she asked, eyeing his hand suspiciously.

"Because I refuse to allow you to go to Sovngarde not knowing the difference between a kiss you might give your mother and kissing"

Alba stood, a bit tentative, but lay her hand in his. Vilkas closed his fingers around her palm and pulled her to him, moving his other hand to her cheek and stopping mere inches from her face.

"A proper kissing," he said, speaking softly and letting his eyes move lazily between her eyes and her lips, "starts at the same place as a kiss."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Alba's, just as he had those weeks earlier, then moved just far enough away from her that their noses still brushed.

"But then it keeps going on...," he kissed her again, letting his lips linger this time before putting a breath of space between them.

"And on" another kiss, "and on," another kiss, "until it becomes something entirely different."

Vilkas pressed his lips to Alba's again, but this time he didn't withdraw. He demonstrated how to merge each individual kiss into one extended experience, like combining several stances into one fluid attack; like ordering stanzas together to compose a poem. Alba returned the gesture, quickly adjusting to his cadence and moving with him.

Vilkas moved his hands to Alba's back and pulled her closer to him, relishing the new information his nerves sent him about the texture of her clothes, the shape of her body, the parts of her that were firm and tough and the parts that were soft and yielding. In turn, Alba moved her hands to wrap around his neck in a way that Vilkas found intensely satisfying. She didn't quite know what to do with them, so they mostly just hung around his shoulders, adding to the gravitational pull that drew him down to her. Even so, Vilkas felt a thrill run through his gut at just the idea of being held in Alba's arms.

"Why are you smiling?" Alba asked between kisses, and Vilkas realized he was indeed smiling against her mouth at every opportunity.

"Because I am happy."

As the words left his mouth, Vilkas recognized how true they were, and how surprising. Vilkas wasn't exactly an unhappy person, but peace and joy were emotions that often eluded him. How strange it would be that this little woman—his Harbinger, the Dragonborn—would bring those gifts to him?

Unable to resist the pull of her any longer, Vilkas resumed his affections in earnest, pulling her even tighter to him, as if she might otherwise fade away. His breathing raced, and he maneuvered Alba over towards his bed, careful not to trip as their feet tangled with each other on the short journey. He sat on the bed and pulled Alba onto his lap, his lips finding hers again as soon as possible. Her hands started at his chest, but then moved up along his neck and into his hair and by Ysmir that felt good.

The intensity of Vilkas's need for her spiked, and he acted with more urgency against her, his mouth moving faster, his hands reaching further. In one strange moment, that urgency reminded him of her imminent departure, and his desire for her safety merged with his physical attraction to her in a dangerous way. His kisses grew harder, more desperate, and his hands wandered past boundaries that he knew they shouldn't.

After a moment of thoughtless passion, Vilkas noticed Alba's difficulty keeping up; how her fluid, eager movements had grown halting and awkward, how her lithe body stiffened under his hands. He immediately retreated. He still held her close to him, perched on his lap, but his hands returned to her waist, and his kisses fell soft and light. He could almost taste the comfort and ease returning to Alba's body, and felt ashamed that he'd let himself get carried away. Out of the blue, a blind moment of panic shot through him, and he questioned why he'd started doing this in the first place. Then another voice reminded him that she was leaving tomorrow, perhaps forever, so he didn't much care if this was a mistake.

Alba pulled away from Vilkas, her expression calm and pleased.

"Have you still given up on men altogether?" Vilkas asked, his voice lower and rougher than usual.

The corner of Alba's full mouth quirked upwards, and shook her head.

"No, I suppose not."

They remained still for a moment, and Vilkas wasn't quite sure what to do next. Alba's hands still rested on his shoulders, but it was as if their earlier fire had burned through all of its fuel, and all that was left were dying embers. She'd be leaving now.

Alba slid off of Vilkas's lap and got to her feet, then spoke with her back towards Vilkas.

"It's getting late. I should sleep."

"Aye."

Vilkas rose as well and returned his chairs to their normal places in the corners of the room, fighting against the fear and panic he could sense haunting the periphery of his mind, waiting for a chance to strike. He didn't want her to leave. But she must.

Alba headed for the door, and Vilkas followed her, wanting to see her out. She turned back to him before exiting.

"Thank you, Vilkas. Thank you for talking with me tonight."

Vilkas brushed off the thanks.

"Whatever you need."

Alba stood in the doorway and looked at him for a long moment, the air heavy between them. Goodbyes had never been either of their strong suits. Deciding to take initiative, Vilkas stepped to her and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Come back," he said from somewhere behind her ear.

"I'll try."

REVIEW RESPONSES:

Constipated Genius: I mean Vilkas has his own problems but TBH I think Alba is the one being emotionally distant, haha. And I totally dig the over-the-top manly Nord warrior thing, even though it's kinda dumb. Where Alduin went isn't meant to be a mystery. This chapter just takes place between learning Dragon Rend at the Throat of the Mountain (and fighting Alduin there) and then going to Sovngarde to fight him there. Hopefully the timing of the story makes more sense now. Also thank you for correcting me on how to spell Kodlak! I was actually so convinced I was right, then I looked it up and I was just like shoot… gotta give it to my friend Constipated Genius. Thanks for reviewing!

The Aberrant One: I'm sorry you had difficulties coming from a strict background! It sounds like you're in a good place now, though, which is wonderful :) I actually also come from a very religious family (and still consider myself to be religious), but thankfully it wasn't a negative experience. I guess it's possible to come from a background that is conservative but not restricting? I'm not sure! But Alba definitely suffered some negative consequences from her upbringing. I also looked up some cut scenes of Apollyon, and I'm not sure how similar their personalities are, but I love that you associated Alba with a lady who is badass! Haha. Thanks so much for reviewing, and I hope you liked this chapter!

Nina: Yeah I think he's pretty adorable too :) And I totally agree that Alba is the one who gives strength to the Dragonborn. She'll figure it out eventually :) Thank you for your continued support!

Sonia: I love when people spend a lot of time rationalizing irrational behavior haha. I also am glad you liked the kiss. I wanted it to feel like most first kisses do: nice, but kind of awkward. Thank you for reviewing!

Guest: New chapter up now! I will update every other day.